Читать книгу Targeted For Murder - Elizabeth Goddard - Страница 10

ONE

Portland, Oregon

9:30 a.m. Saturday, October

Hadley Mason rubbed Butterfinger’s soft fur, gently urging her neighbor’s cat back inside. She’d agreed to feed and love on the tabby Persian for Teresa. An easy enough task, except for—a sneeze tickled her nose. Thankfully, Teresa would be home tomorrow.

Stepping into the carpeted hallway between the artist loft apartments, she pulled Teresa’s door closed behind her and moved to her own.

Then froze in her steps.

Hers was ajar.

Frowning, she eased it all the way open and peeked inside, assessing the situation. She wasn’t normally fearful but sometimes a girl had to be cautious, especially since she lived in the newly refurbished building that served as an artist community in a run-down part of town. Should she call the police? No...not yet. Not if there was any chance she might have accidentally left the door open herself.

But she really didn’t think she had.

Stepping across the threshold, she glanced around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Her surreal paintings of animals in different environments covered the walls and would normally set her at ease.

But not now.

“Is someone here?”

“Hadley...” Coming from the dining room across the apartment, the voice sounded strained.

“Dad!” Hadley rushed through the foyer, past the kitchen and into the small dining alcove. With his business travel schedule, she wasn’t supposed to see him again until Christmas in a couple of months. What a nice surprise. And she would have said as much except when she saw him sitting in the shadowed corner chair, she hesitated.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Her father wore his typical polished business suit but it was crumpled. His posture was slumped and his usual bright eyes were bloodshot as they studied her.

“Hadley, please sit down.”

Fear slithered up her throat. Her father was all she had in the way of family. She never knew her mother, who’d died when she was born.

“What’s going on?” She asked the question in a daze. “Why are you here?”

“Please.” He gestured to the chair.

Hadley slowly obeyed, never taking her eyes from his pale features. The sweat beading his forehead. “Daddy,” she whispered. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He leveled his pained gaze at her, struggling, battling with his words. Then he gave a subtle shake of his head. “I never meant for any of this to happen. For you to be dragged into this.”

“Dragged into what? You’re scaring me.”

“There’s not much time. I need you to listen carefully.” He fought for breath. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m an agent...with the CIA.”

Hadley frowned. Snorted a laugh. But that was preposterous. Wait...was he serious? “You’re not a financial analyst?”

“No, that’s just my cover.”

She had to have misunderstood. “As in...wait...are you telling me that you’re a spy?”

Unbelievable.

“Yes. I just wanted to make the world a safer place for you, sweetheart...but instead I’ve brought danger to your door. I’m so sorry.” He slumped farther into the chair.

“Dad!” Hadley rushed to him and grabbed his hand. “Should I call a doctor? What should I do? Tell me and I’ll do it!”

“There isn’t time.”

“I don’t understand.”

She hated the tears blurring her vision. He wasn’t making sense, so she needed to be the strong one—to get them through this.

But then he lifted his suit jacket away from his body, revealing a blood-soaked towel pressed against his chest and what would have been a crisp white shirt. Only then did Hadley notice the blood dripping to the Persian rug, which hid the crimson color well.

Her heart plummeted.

“I’m calling 911! You need an ambulance.”

He grabbed her arm, held her tight, surprising her with his strength.

“You’re going to bleed to death if I don’t call for help.”

“I’ve been shot, and there’s nothing anyone can do for me now. I’m not going to make it.”

She could staunch the flow, adding to his efforts, but he’d already lost so much blood. Now she understood better his deathly appearance...except for one thing.

“Why, Dad? Why did someone shoot you?”

“Someone put a contract out on me. Probably because of a past operation. And that’s why I’m here. To warn you. You have to get out, Hadley. You have to hide.”

“Me? What does this have to do with me?”

“You’re my family. They have targeted you for elimination, too.”

“But...why?”

“I don’t have all the answers. My best guess? Revenge. I’ve done terrible things, Hadley, but sometimes the ends justifies the means, or at least I used to believe. But nothing is worth you getting hurt.” He pointed to a backpack on the table. “That’s for you.”

Hadley pulled away from him and glanced at the pack, then back at her father. She was losing him.

God, help him. Help me!

“I don’t care about the backpack, Dad. Let’s get you out of here and somewhere safe—like the hospital.”

Her mind was going in traitorous circles. She couldn’t think clearly or straight. She was going into shock, herself. All Hadley knew was she must do something to save her father. She eyed her cell on the counter and started for it but he held her in place with a death grip, his expression painfully desperate.

“Listen,” he hissed.

She didn’t recognize her father. Who was this man?

“Pay attention. Your life depends on it. The pack contains everything you’ll need to disappear. Cash and a passport. A new identity. Don’t use credit cards. Too easy to track. Grab your weapon. Take it with you...” Coughs spasmed from him, preventing him from saying more.

“What? I can’t leave now! What about the gallery? Friday is my national debut.” But as she said the words, she realized how shallow they sounded with what she was facing—her father’s death. And the chance that his killer might come after her next.

“I know it’s hard to take in all at once. I wanted to protect you. To keep you safe, but my world is...my world’s colliding with yours. Lose your identity. Disappear. Hide and...”

Now her childhood was all making so much more sense. The Krav Maga weekends. The firing ranges. Oh. My...

Her father’s head tilted forward. Hadley wanted to hug him, to keep him with her. “Daddy! Please, don’t leave me. I love you.”

His eyes were closed. Was he gone? Had she lost him? His lids fluttered, then he opened them again. “Leave now before he finds you and kills you. Trust no one. In the backpack—”

His eyes shut again and his head lobbed forward. Hadley sensed that he was gone. That her father no longer resided in this body. The thought overwhelmed her. She couldn’t comprehend it all.

Gone.

Just like that.

He’s gone.

Hadley dropped to her knees, pressed her face into her father’s jacket and sobbed. “No, Daddy, no!”

His words echoed through her mind. Leave now before he finds you and kills you.

Was this real? Was any of this real? Hadley wiped her eyes and nose and tore herself away. She stood to her feet and grabbed her cell from the counter, then called 911. No matter what he said, she was calling the police. If she could even believe someone was after her, why couldn’t the police help? Or the CIA, the people he worked for? The reason he was dead and she was in this predicament.

“What is your emergency?” the dispatcher answered.

“My father, he’s been shot. He’s...he’s dead. And he says someone is trying to kill me, too.”

The dispatcher asked for pertinent information that Hadley gave her. Afterward, she hung up and stared at her father’s body, still in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. She paced the apartment, everything he’d just told her swirling through her mind in a vortex of confusion. Bile rose in her throat, moisture dampened her palms. She glanced at the backpack.

Leave now.

Trust no one.

Hadley snatched the bag and unzipped it. Shock rippled through her. Cash. There was so much cash. She’d never seen that much money in her life. Where had he gotten it? She glanced at him, then averted her gaze. She didn’t want to think about her father as he was now in the chair. She didn’t want that to be the prevailing memory of him. She tugged out the passport and saw her alias.

Megan Spears from Iowa?

Sirens rang out in the distance.

Panic cranked tighter around her throat. What would the police think when they found her with a bag of cash and a fake passport? Found her father dead? She glanced at her hands and her blouse. She was covered in his blood!

What do I do? What do I do?

Her entire life had just been ripped from under her. Her father’s, too. She’d lost her father and possibly her identity. Add to that, if the police would suspect her of his murder first and if they found this bag of cash and a fake passport, they would have a lot of questions for her. She would have no answers. Would they even believe her?

Think. You have to think.

She had to hide the bag. But where?

Teresa’s apartment.

Her friend wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

But if Hadley hid it and the police found it, then what would she say? She shook off the thought, refusing to let doubts freeze her into inaction.

She was running out of time and didn’t have many choices.

Hadley snatched the bag and ran across the hallway. She unlocked the door, urged Butterfinger out of the way, and stashed the backpack at the top of the coat closet behind some boxes.

Oh, Daddy...

He could have gone to the hospital instead of coming to her apartment. If he had, he might have lived since the shot hadn’t instantly killed him. He might have survived! But he chose to come here and warn her instead of getting treatment. He’d sacrificed his life to give her everything she would need to survive.

Hadley was the reason he was dead.

Just like she was the reason her mother had died.

But she couldn’t think about that now. She had to focus on her father’s purpose for coming here—to warn her. She had to think about his instructions.

Why didn’t she leave, as he’d said? She knew she should, but she couldn’t bring herself to give up everything she’d worked for and just walk away.

She glanced through the peephole just as a man in a suit, wielding a weapon, burst through the door of her apartment. Her heart jumped up her throat. Hadley gasped for breath and pressed her back against the door.

He was not a police officer. Who was he? The man who killed her father? And now wanted to kill her?

She peered through the peephole again, fear and adrenaline rushing through her veins. She could see very little through the hole, but the man exited her apartment and closed the door. Holding a cell to his ear, he mumbled curses and other words she couldn’t understand.

But she caught the last thing before he disappeared from view.

“...retaliation, payback. I have to clean up loose ends.”

The words gripped her throat and squeezed. Hadley couldn’t breathe.

Her father had been right. She couldn’t trust anyone. Quickly Hadley went through Teresa’s closet to find old clothes she could wear. She and Teresa were about the same size, and no way would she go back into her own apartment. After donning an old blue jean jacket over a fresh T-shirt and tugging a cap over her strawberry-blond hair, she crammed the bloody clothes she’d worn into a plastic garbage sack and then into the receptacle. Hadley didn’t have time to properly dispose of the clothes. She wasn’t even sure how.

After changing, she grabbed the backpack from the closet and climbed through the window and down the fire escape, grateful for old buildings.

In the alley, she had to hurry before the police arrived and cordoned off the space. The sirens grew louder. At the corner she caught a cab and asked the driver to take her to the airport. As it drove away from the curb, two police cruisers pulled up to the building.

An ambulance, too.

Took them long enough.

She sank into the seat of the cab, but she risked one more backward glance. The man who’d broken into her apartment spoke with the police. Hadley stared out the passenger window thinking about her father’s instructions.

Trust no one.

Who was the man who’d come to her apartment? Was he acting alone, or were there other people after her? How could she protect herself if she didn’t even know who she was up against? There had to be someone who could help her but her father hadn’t given her names.

Whenever she was dealing with a problem, her first instinct was always to call her father. Not that she expected him to fix everything for her—she just always felt better about things when she’d gotten his calm perspective and useful advice. Her heart clenched at the thought that she’d never be able to call him again. Tears spilled over her cheeks again. All these years, working as a struggling artist, and finally her work would debut on the national scene in a few days and what did any of it matter? Her father wouldn’t be there at the opening reception.

If she didn’t clear things up before the reception, neither would she be there. At the moment, she didn’t even care.

She sniffled and turned her attention to the cabdriver who eyed her through the mirror. The windshield cracked and spidered at the same instant the driver’s head jerked back, blood splattering the seat.

Tires screech and the cab accelerated, swerving precariously back and forth on the road. Everything happened too fast. Hadley’s mind couldn’t wrap around what was happening. The driver had been shot in the head. No one controlled the vehicle now.

She screamed and gripped the seat.

God help me!

Horns honked and metal crunched as vehicles crashed and twisted together.

The cab flipped two times and finally came to a crunching stop against a concrete divider.

Hadley groaned. It hurt to move, to breathe. She dragged in oxygen.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head, wanting to wake up from the worst dream of her life.

Leave now before he finds you and kills you.

He might have found her, but Hadley had to do what her father had instructed her to do and disappear. Lose the killer again before he killed her. Or her father’s warning and his death would be for nothing.

But it was too late for the cabdriver.

He was gone. Hadley knew it.

Oh, God, help me. He has already killed someone else because of me.

Body aching and mind in shock, she grabbed the backpack and rolled out of her seat onto the concrete, hiding behind the cab as she carefully avoided the glass and twisted metal littering the road. Her pulse roared in her ears.

The cabdriver...dead... She could be next. And if she didn’t get away from the people gathering to help, anyone near her could be killed.

Because of her.

Based on the trajectory of the bullet that killed the cabdriver, she figured the killer had shot from building on the southeast corner. Hadley used the wrecked cab as cover, she crawled over and into a narrow alley littered with garbage and smelling the same, then stood and ran the length of it until she came to another building. Hadley slipped around the corner. Leaning against the brick wall, she caught her breath as she listened. She dusted off the broken glass that clung to her clothes and tried to look normal so she could melt into the crowd. Not draw any attention.

Ignoring the pain and grief, she ran a few blocks and slipped down yet another alley and caught another cab.

“Take me to the airport.” She didn’t know where she would go, but she had to get out of town and fast.

Maybe she would simply ask for the next flight out.

Her father was dead. A cabdriver was dead because someone had put out a contract to kill her father, and now her.

Forget her national debut.

Forget her life. Her only focus should be on how to survive. Her father had given her the tools he believed she would need. A passport for one, but she couldn’t imagine going overseas without a plan. She didn’t know enough about international travel.

The spy world wasn’t her world.

Until today, she’d had no idea it had been her father’s.

Maybe she could hide in a city somewhere. Get lost in the crowd, except she would be terrified of every single person who stood within an inch of her.

Her father might have made sure she could protect herself. But she couldn’t protect herself against an unseen villain. Until she identified the man who would come to kill her...

Everyone was an assassin.

Southwest Oregon

4:00 p.m. Saturday

Cooper Wilde checked his footing on the rock that hung hundreds of feet above the Rogue River, then raised his binoculars. As he breathed in the scent of the old-growth forest and took in the vivid evergreens and rocky canyon, the tension in his neck drained away.

He loved it here.

A scream echoed from somewhere to his west. Cooper’s gut tensed.

He heard the collective gasps of the women from the Rogue Valley Knitters and Knature Club behind him.

“What was that?”

“A woman screamed.”

“Or a panther, a mountain lion. I hear they can sound like a woman screaming.”

“Do you think a bear got her?”

“This is bear country, after all.”

He zoomed the binoculars out, searching for something he could focus in on.

“Shh, quiet. Let him search in peace.”

“There!” one of the women shouted. “I see something.”

He eased away from the binoculars long enough to get a glimpse of where the river carved through the canyon, narrow and steep. That was a good mile from where they stood. He saw nothing to indicate a problem. But appearances could be deceiving.

Even though he considered this an undemanding hike, nothing was ever quite that easy in the Wild Rogue Wilderness, the region surrounding the government-protected portion of the Rogue River. This rugged landscape drew thousands of tourists and thrill seekers every year, many of whom took foolish risks.

Was that all the scream had been? A thrill seeker out for the time of her life?

Instinct told him no.

Frowning, he continued searching. “What did you see?”

“Someone running. The trees are thick so I only got a glimpse.”

Then Cooper saw something, too, and pressed the binoculars tightly against his face. Through a copse of deciduous trees that had lost most of their leaves, he spotted a woman wearing a blue jean jacket, running for all she was worth.

Now... What are you running from? He searched behind her and saw a man carrying a weapon. Were they running together—maybe from a bear? Or was the man chasing the woman?

Indecision weighed on him.

Hesitation on his part could cost a life. Pain from the past echoed through his gut.

Cooper dropped the binoculars and peered back at his Wilderness, Inc., employee Melanie Shore. “Take them around on the short loop. I’ll meet you at the trailhead if I can.”

“Wait, what?”

“You’ll get your hike, ladies, don’t worry. But it’s my job to make sure you’re safe, too. Unless you’re signing up for wilderness training today...”

“No, no,” several replied.

He didn’t blame them. They didn’t have the training to help—he did. He’d served on Special Forces. A designated marksman. Although it had been five years, he’d never forgotten that familiar sixth sense that raised the hair on his arms and neck. It was what made him one of the top wilderness survival trainers. The reason his father had insisted his children enlist, get military training first.

Cooper didn’t like the way his mind and body transformed into a creature of habit from his past, but if it meant saving a life, he’d go with it. He edged down until he got a grip on the rock and climbed down the cliff face until he could drop into the woods.

Feet on the ground, he pushed off and kept moving in stealth mode, his own weapon at the ready. He didn’t like the hikers to see it. Didn’t want to scare them, but in bear country and otherwise, he always carried.

Hearing the grunts of a struggle, he picked up the pace.

Near the rocky ledge overlooking the river, he saw the woman fighting with a man who looked more than capable of snapping her like a twig.

He let his body move into instinct mode—and charged.