Promise Not To Tell(37)

She smiled. “You’re flying, too, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yeah.”

CHAPTER 22

“Got to take this slowly,” Anson said. “It’s easy to make the case that what happened at Zane’s first compound was a random thing. You and Virginia may have wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time. Some idiot was out in the woods, playing with his gun, saw a couple of tourists and decided to give ’em a scare.”

“Whoever it was, he definitely wanted to give us a scare,” Virginia said. “And maybe kill Cabot while he was at it.”

They were in the office of Cutler, Sutter & Salinas. Anson was behind his desk. Cabot was at the window. Virginia was perched in the client chair. It was late afternoon in what was proving to be a very long day.

She was starting to sense the oncoming crash that Cabot had predicted. She was still wired but she knew from past experience that it was possible to be utterly exhausted and incredibly tense at the same time. Still, she wasn’t having a genuine anxiety attack. When you had to deal with those on a frequent basis, you learned to recognize the subtle nuances. I’m a professional. Don’t try this at home.

“We’re not going with the random-shots-fired theory,” Cabot said. “Too many coincidences involved.”

“All right, let’s think this through,” Anson said. “First, how could anyone have known that you two were headed for Zane’s old place?”

“That,” Cabot said slowly, “is a very good question.” He turned around to face Anson. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since we left the Wallerton house. I would have noticed a vehicle following us on such a long drive. But it occurs to me that the one connection we have is a tech company – Night Watch.”

“So?” Anson said.

But Virginia understood immediately. She looked at Cabot. “You’re thinking that the killer may have tracked us?”

“Maybe he managed to hack into my vehicle’s GPS system,” Cabot said.

Anson raised his brows. “That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think? It’s also possible that someone followed you the easy way, Cabot – just stuck a tracking device somewhere on your vehicle.”

Cabot shook his head. “I went over the SUV with a fine-tooth comb when we got back to Seattle. Didn’t find anything.”

“So maybe he was watching you,” Anson continued. “Once he realized you were leaving town, he could have followed you at a safe distance. When he saw you take the turnoff for Wallerton, it wouldn’t have required a rocket scientist to figure out where you were headed. If he knows the territory, he would be aware of any shortcuts in the area. Maybe he got to the house ahead of you and waited for his chance.”

“Okay,” Cabot said. “That’s a possibility. I think it’s interesting that he tried to take me out with a handgun from several yards away while hiding in a stand of trees. He couldn’t have had a clear shot. Either he doesn’t know enough about guns to realize that the odds of making a hit under those conditions were poor, or else he just hoped he’d get lucky.”

“If he’s the same guy who shot Sandra Porter, he may have assumed that because the handgun worked the first time at close range, it would work the second time at a distance,” Anson said. “Or maybe he just didn’t have time to buy a rifle and learn how to use it.”

Cabot went back to the window. “Looks like we’re dealing with someone who’s got some tech skills but not a lot of experience with firearms.”

Anson snorted softly. “Doesn’t give us much to go on.”

“No, but it does point to the Night Watch connection,” Cabot said.

Virginia looked at Anson. “Cabot checked out the org chart at Night Watch. The oldest employee is the boss and he’s only about thirty-five. As far as we can tell, there is no one at the company who is old enough to be Quinton Zane.”

“Doesn’t mean there isn’t a link to the past,” Anson said. “By the way, I had a nice chat with a Seattle police detective named Schwartz. He’s young, ambitious and willing to trade information. I agreed to cooperate. He is now my new best friend.”

“Did he have anything we could use?” Cabot asked.

“No.” Anson turned to Virginia. “But he did tell me that they’ve taken down the crime scene tape in your back room. If you’ll give me access, I’ll get the cleaners in right away so that you can reopen soon.”

Virginia shuddered. “Thank you.”

Cabot turned to Virginia. “Looks like you’re going to have me as a houseguest for a while longer.”

“Okay,” she said, “but I think you’re the one who needs the bodyguard. Whoever was in those trees today was shooting at you, not me.”

Anson looked at her. “What that tells us is that the bastard may have some reason for believing that he needs you alive.”

CHAPTER 23

They did takeout again for dinner. Virginia reflected on her new diet as she deposited items into the appropriate recycling and compost containers under the sink.

“You do realize that I’m not getting my customary ration of veggies,” she said.

“There was tomato sauce on the pizza,” Cabot pointed out. “And olives. They count.”