He nodded as he looked through the big front windows out onto Main Street. “My father wasn’t pleased with my choice of career, but to his credit, he encouraged me endlessly. When he died, I realized that it was time to make a change. Fact is, I was getting burned out. I remember reading John Douglas’s book and being struck to my gut when he wrote about his wife cutting her finger. He wrote that what he paid attention to was the way the blood splattered, not his wife’s injury. It could have been me. So, when my father died, I resigned and took over my father’s business. I’ve been doing it now for five years.” He paused a moment, sipped his coffee, closed his eyes, and said, “Fact is, I like it, and I’m good at it.”
“What is it?”
“We design and build parts for helicopters, like guidance systems, primarily for the army, but we’ve built components for all the other branches of the military as well. I’ll tell you though, after some of our negotiations with the military agencies, I’ve thought life was easier at the Bureau.”
She laughed, and realized she liked this man. It had been so very long since she’d even looked at a man and actually saw that he was male, a male to admire and make her laugh. It felt rather good, actually. Carlo had burned her to the ground, the bastard.
18
T he house was quiet. All was well. Katie had made coffee for the deputies, double-checked all the locks, and looked in on Keely before sinking down beneath three blankets on a bed so soft she was convinced her mother had ordered it for her from heaven. Miles was with Sam, who had on his new, spiffy red Mickey Mouse pajamas. Miles hadn’t bought anything so she guessed he was sleeping in his shorts. Now, that was a strange thought. She hadn’t thought about a man’s shorts in a very long time. Boxers? Katie grinned and nodded. Yeah, she’d bet he wore boxers.
Miles lay on his back, feeling Sam’s heartbeat against his side, and his soft hair smooth against his neck. He still wasn’t over the debilitating fear he’d felt for those endless hours before Katie had called. He wondered if he’d ever be over it. They’d been lucky, so damned lucky. He pulled Sam tighter and felt him wheeze a bit in his sleep. No nightmares, so far. He’d have to keep a real close eye on that.
Miles was so tired he felt like his skin was inside out and his brain was in a fog bank. Yet he couldn’t seem to shut down and sleep. So he lay there, listening to his boy breathe.
He closed his eyes and thanked Alicia yet again for encouraging Sam to get himself out of that cabin window. He’d wondered many times if she really was keeping a close eye on her son from the other side, if there was an other side, but if there wasn’t, how had Sam heard her voice? Miles knew it was Sam’s subconscious that had prodded him, but it was still somehow reassuring to believe, if even for a moment, that her love for her son overcame the silence and separation of death.
The air was soft, warm. He would swear he felt a brief touch of fingertips on his cheek. He smiled as he closed his eyes.
He had no idea how much time had passed. But one moment he was thinking about the problems with the new rotor blade design on the army’s new Proto A587 helicopter, and the next he was alert, ready to move. He lay there, listening.
There was a scraping sound.
It stopped. Then nothing.
Surely Clancy wouldn’t come back to try yet again to get Sam. There were two cops sitting just around at the front of the house.
It was probably just a branch whispering against the side of the house in the night wind.
No different sounds now, nothing at all.
Miles drew a deep breath, and settled in again. He imagined he’d be hearing things for many years to come.
“Hold yourself real still, Mr. Kettering.”
Miles’s heart nearly seized. His eyes flew open. He looked up into Clancy’s shadowed face, and pulled Sam closer.
“Yeah, I saw you wake up. Then I decided to wait just another minute, and sure enough, you were out again.”
Miles didn’t want to wake Sam. He whispered to that round white face above him, “What the hell are you doing here? How did you get past the cops outside?”
Clancy grinned, and Miles saw he hadn’t escaped scot free from the van. He had a split lip with some dried blood on it, his cheek was swollen and covered with three Band-Aids. There was another cut over his left eyebrow, a Band-Aid patched vertically over it. His right arm wasn’t in a sling, but he was holding it stiffly against his side.
Miles felt the muzzle of the gun, sharp and cold against his neck. Clancy leaned his face real close to Miles’s, and he smelled Clancy’s breath-salami and beer. He said, real low, “It was easy as kicking dirt. They were nearly unconscious last time I checked. By now, they might be dead, the morons. I’ve worked enough on cars to know about what not to do with a car exhaust. Pretty dangerous things, if you don’t know what you’re doing. Yep, nothing so easy as the car exhaust. Easy as cooking a hot dog. You see, the bozos kept the car turned on because they were too wussy to take the cold. That was when I knew exactly what to do.”
“You murdered two people just to get to Sam?”
“That’s right, Mr. Kettering. What’s your point?”
“Who’s paying you to do this? Who?”
“Well now, Mr. Kettering, that just isn’t any of your business, now, is it?”
“You have to know this is insane, Clancy. Half the state is looking for you. There’s no way you’ll get away with Sam, no way at all.”
“You know, Mr. Kettering, with all your yapping, I’m wondering if I shouldn’t just pop you now.” The muzzle dug in. Miles didn’t move, barely breathed, and he thought,
“You don’t look too good, Clancy. I’m surprised you’re even walking around. I saw the van explode. It was a burning hell.”
“When the sheriff fired I slammed into that tree and knocked myself silly, but just for a minute. I saw the sheriff kill Beau and got the hell out of the van. Yeah, I wanted to pop all of you, destroying my van like that.”
But Clancy didn’t pull the trigger. So Clancy didn’t want to kill him just yet, thank God. Why not? No silencer, that was why, and this was not the time for gunfire.
Then Miles realized Clancy wanted him alive so he could carry Sam. He wanted two hostages.
Miles didn’t even blink. He tried to unfreeze his muscles and his heart after the immense jolt of fear that had shut him down for a moment.
“Wake up the boy, Mr. Kettering. I won’t ask twice.”
He did, lightly stroking Sam’s cheek, speaking quietly to him, telling him not to be afraid, everything would be all right.
Sam’s eyes opened, focused on Clancy. “You’re a bad man,” Sam said, that little voice strong.
“Hello there, you little brat. Too bad you’re so valuable, I’d sure like to twist off your head. You got Beau killed, and I’m going to have to pay you back for that.”
“Why do you want him so badly, Clancy?”
“I just might tell you someday,” Clancy said. “Not that I necessarily believe it.” He took a couple of steps back to stand at the end of the bed, his gun aimed directly at Sam.
“Don’t even think of trying anything, Mr. Kettering, or I’ll shoot the boy. Believe me on this. I ain’t got nothin’ to lose here. Both of you get up now. You might as well put some clothes on, Mr. Kettering, it’s pretty cold out
