Almost Dead (Lizzy Gardner #5)(88)

“Is she safe?”

“No. He still has her. We believe Shelby is tied up. He has a gun.”

“Were we right? Is it Frank Lyle?”

Another nod.

Lizzy had no words.

“He wants to talk to you, Lizzy.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, only you. Says he’ll kill her if we don’t bring you there now.”

Lizzy was already on her feet, grabbing her jeans and T-shirt. She started to put on her holster, but Jessica stopped her. “No weapons.”

Kitally had been standing by the door the entire time. “Wait!” she said to Lizzy, “I have something for you.” Then she ran off, her footfalls skittering down the stairs in record time. By the time she was running back up, she passed Jessica on the stairs going down.

“I’ll be in the car,” Jessica shouted, clearly annoyed. “Try to hurry!”




Five minutes later, Lizzy jumped into the passenger seat.

Jessica didn’t wait for her to buckle up. She put her foot on the gas pedal and gunned it.

Once they were on the highway, Jessica asked, “What was Kitally’s problem?”

“No problem,” Lizzy told her. “She was concerned, that’s all.”

“You two have grown close.”

“You’ll always be my first assistant,” Lizzy said with a smirk, hoping to change the subject.

“Thanks. I was worried.”

Awkward silence followed. They were both worried about Shelby, but they had a fifteen- to twenty-minute ride in front of them, too, and it wouldn’t do much good to sit and stew in fear of what might lie ahead when they arrived at the scene. “How’s the FBI program working out?” Lizzy asked.

“All is well. No regrets.”

There was a moment’s pause before Jessica said, “What about Hayley?”

“What about her?”

“Still wandering the streets at night?”

“Not so much,” Lizzy lied. “I think she’s finally moving on.”

“How so?”

“She registered at the local community college.”

“Really? What class is she taking?”

“Art.”

“The Art of Weaponry?”

“No, smart-ass. Painting and drawing.”

“Hmm.”

And that was it. That’s all the chitchat they could handle considering the circumstances, both knowing that a young girl’s life was at stake and that anything could happen.

Going well over the speed limit, it still took them twenty minutes to get to the area in Auburn where it seemed every media van and emergency vehicle in Placer County had set up camp. A long line of dark sedans and police cruisers dotted the area.

“SWAT has been set up,” an agent said in greeting as soon as they climbed out of the vehicle, “but there’s only one window, and they can’t get a visual. Perpetrator said he’ll shoot her if anyone throws a smoke bomb. He’s not going out without a fight.”

They were on foot now, ignoring the journalists who shoved microphones in front of their faces.

The federal agent held up the crime scene tape and led them up the hill. They stayed on a path for a while until another agent took over and led them off the trail, through trees and thick brush that had been marked with small white flags. The ground was thick with dead leaves and pinecones, but the flags were easy to see.

The grade got steeper as they went, and they hiked for much longer than Lizzy had anticipated they would. It was cold and drizzly, but by the time she got within a hundred yards of the cabin, she was sweating. It was good to see Jimmy Martin at the front of the group, talking on his radio. He clicked off as Lizzy reached him.

“I thought you retired a long time ago,” Lizzy said.

“So did I.”

Jimmy gave Lizzy a hard look. He didn’t like this one bit. “He wants to talk to you. Wants you to walk up to the cabin, knock three times, and then say your name.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I absolutely want to do this.”

Another man, a guy in a helmet dressed in black, the upper half of his body covered with a thick bulletproof vest, looked at her and said, “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“No weapons on you, right?”

“That’s right.” She’d left her gun with Jessica. She held up her arms. “I’m clean. Let’s do this.”

They set off.

Lizzy followed the nameless man in black.

Behind her, she could hear Jimmy Martin back on his radio, barking orders. She glanced over her shoulder, made eye contact with Jessica before she slid out of sight behind a tree. She’d managed a smile, but it was tenuous at best.

Stay focused, she told herself. Despite the drizzle, the leaves on the forest floor had been protected from the rain by the trees and crunched beneath her feet.

“Just the woman,” a man shouted from the cabin as they approached.

She didn’t recognize the voice, but she knew it was him.

It felt as if Spiderman were back from the dead, his copycat wannabe trying to make a name for himself.

“Step back!” he ordered the man in the vest. “All the way back until you’re with the rest of your guys.”