The Darkness of Evil (Karen Vail #7)(50)

Victoria dug it out of her purse and handed it over.

“Now remember. If I smell anything wrong. If I hear anything out of the ordinary. If I see a car pull up anywhere it’s not supposed to, I’m going to stick this knife in your daughter’s stomach. Then—” He stopped himself. “Well, you don’t want to know what I’ll do after that, trust me.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Now take a deep breath with me.” Marcks threw his shoulders back and filled his lungs. Victoria forced herself to follow suit. “That’s it. Good. Okay now. Forty minutes. Starting … now.”

Victoria ran for the garage door.





24


A chill rattled Vail’s body. “This correctional officer. Kubiak. Have you interviewed him?”

Ramos stamped his boots against the barn’s cement floor. “Scheduled for tomorrow morning, 11:00 AM.”

“Mind if I sit in on that?”

“If you think it’d help, fine with me.”

“What are the ramifications of this?” Curtis asked.

Hurdle folded his arms across his chest. “First thought is that this is no coincidence. Second thought is that Kubiak had a hand in the escape. And if he’s willing to risk his career to break Marcks out of Potter, he may’ve arranged other things for his friend. Third and most important thought is that he may know something about his whereabouts.”

“So you don’t think we should wait till tomorrow,” Ramos said.

“Hell no. Get over there now. I’ll call Potter, see if Kubiak’s shift is over. If not, I’ll make sure he hangs out till you get there but I’ll make it clear they’re not to freak him out. We just have some questions. We’re looking for help locating the fugitive. That’s it. If he’s gone for the day, I’ll get his home address.”

“This guy a flight risk?” Vail asked.

“Only if he realizes that we’re on to him. Regardless, I don’t want to get blindsided. Until we know what his deal is, whether he’s helped Marcks or not—and I’m thinking he probably did—we treat him as a person of interest and a potential flight risk. Let him prove otherwise.”

“We’ve got a wiretap in place for Marcks,” Ramos said. “Since we’re already up on that wire, let’s see if we can get something from Kubiak.”

Vail pulled out her phone to text Robby that she was not going to make dinner. “Looking for what?”

“I’m thinking we drop some bread crumbs, then watch him eat. If he does shit his pants when he hears we want to talk to him, he may call Marcks—or someone who’s in contact with Marcks—which may ultimately lead us to Marcks.”

“It’s a slower approach,” Hurdle said, “but I like the idea. And if we weren’t dealing with a violent criminal who’s just killed two people, I’d be on board. But I’m not sure we have time to wait and see if Kubiak may have a way of contacting him.” He turned to Tarkoff. “Ben, what do you think?”

Tarkoff leaned back in his chair. “Try it for a few hours and see if he bites. A guy like that, if he really did put his career on the line to help Marcks get out, he’s gonna want to warn him ASAP. I say if we haven’t heard anything in three hours, we have another chat with him.”

Hurdle rocked back on his heels a few seconds. “Okay. Do it.”

“Does Kubiak have a wife and kids?” Vail asked.

“Married, one young son,” Ramos said. “And he rents. Doesn’t own his home.”

“So if he is involved, his career’s over anyway. He could take off.”

“Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen,” Hurdle said. “Yes?”

“Hell yeah,” Ramos said as he gathered his keys off the worktable.

“Take Vail, get up there, and sell it good. Don’t give Kubiak any reason to think we know he’s Marcks’s bud.”





25


Marcks sat on the living room couch facing the front window. The curtains were drawn, but he could see through them whenever headlights turned toward the house. While that would give him some warning if police or tactical vehicles came up the driveway, if they set up shop down the street and approached on foot, he was screwed.

Of course, this whole escape was fraught with risks. Tonight was just one of many.

Nathan sat facing him three feet away. Not far enough to attempt an escape and not close enough to present a threat. Not that he presented a threat to Marcks. But it was better to follow Orlando’s rules of engagement—and that meant keeping your distance.

Cassie was between them, crying.

“At least let me comfort her,” Nathan said.

Marcks glared at him. “Stay right where you are. She’ll get over it.”

“She’s just a little kid.”

“I can see that.”

“Why are you doing this to us?”

Marcks debated whether or not to answer him. “Because you had what I needed. I think you could just chalk it up to wrong place, wrong time. In other words, rotten fu—rotten friggin’ luck.”

“Are you going to let us go?”

Marcks looked away. “All depends on Victoria, Nathan. Simple as that.”