Catch As Cat Can

20

“You must be the redhead who came with the cops to O’Dowd’s last night,” Yancey Kilbane said to Sunny from his vantage point walking behind them. “Made me move this up sooner than I wanted to.”

She could see that Kilbane moved stiffly as he herded them onto the boat. But he had no trouble keeping the gun on them. “So who are you?” he asked Mike.

“I’m her father,” Mike snapped.

Gun or no gun, Dad’s not about to roll over, Sunny thought, caught between pride and worry for her father. I just hope he doesn’t get himself hurt.

But Kilbane laughed at Mike’s feistiness. “Boy, you keep an eye on her, the cops keep an eye on her, it must be hell to date your daughter.” He poked them along up to the bow of the vessel, where Abby Martinson sat slumped behind the gunwales, silver duct tape wrapped around her wrists and ankles and forming a gag over her mouth.

Her eyes went wide when she saw Mike and Sunny, but all she was able to manage was a muffled “Mmmmmph!”

Yancey Kilbane tossed a roll of tape to Mike. “You see how it’s done,” he said, nodding toward the tied-up Abby. “Now do the same to your daughter.”

I’m getting heartily sick of duct tape, Sunny thought as Mike began to wrap the stuff around her ankles. She nervously licked her lips. Especially the taste.

“Look, Bear—Yancey. You have to realize you’re on borrowed time,” Sunny said as Mike finished with her wrists. Anything to keep from being gagged as well as helpless. “The police are on the way.”

“Kind of figured that, especially since you know my name.” Yancey took the roll of tape and motioned for Mike to lie down. “And you must have talked to your buddy Neil to turn up here. Why you jumped the gun before the cops arrived, I don’t know. But as long as Neil gets here before they come, I can do what I got to do. When I first arrived down here, it was just business as usual, a two-fer to cut out the competition. But now it’s a question of earning.” He shook his head, a greedy glitter in his eyes. “You won’t believe how much some mob guy out in L.A. will pay for a picture of good old Neil—dead and done.”

The sprouting, receding hair and the full beard certainly softened Kilbane’s image from the hard-faced biker in his mug shot. But obviously he’d abandoned whatever act he’d put on to win Jasmine’s heart as Bear. He efficiently trussed up Mike and then checked Sunny’s bindings to make sure they’d make her stay put. At least he didn’t gag them—yet. Apparently, he wanted some entertainment as he waited for Neil.

“So why did old Neil come and tell you about our little meeting? That’s a definite no-no.”

“He needed money,” Sunny lied easily. “He couldn’t get to his stash when the marshals dragged him off.”

“Yeah, Neil is all about the money. At least he was back when he was Nick. If you know about the marshals, then I guess you know he was Nick, too. Abby here was actually pals with him when he was Nick, back in California.”

Abby made another noise through her gag.

“I thought I’d blown my chance when I realized the cops were onto me.” Kilbane shook his head. “I got away from that old bartender broad I was squatting with before the big raid. But when I went looking, Neil’s shop was locked up, and his house was empty. Then I sat in a diner, reading this throwaway newspaper, and I saw a picture that looked familiar. It matched an actress’ head shot in this briefcase full of stuff on Neil that I—picked up.”

“From Phil Treibholz,” Sunny said. After you killed him, she silently added.

Kilbane shrugged. “He didn’t need it anymore. And it turned out to be useful. It put me on to Abby here. A nice, quiet town like this, I was able to find a home address for the Martinsons in the phone directory. Then all I had to do was watch until she took Mom’s car out for a spin.”

“After which you got in touch with Neil.”

“I found a couple of phones when I went through the detective guy’s pockets, getting rid of his ID. One was obviously a burner, a phone Tribe-whatever had picked up after he arrived here. And there was just one local number on it. Pretty easy to figure out. So I reached out and touched old Neil, told him his little friend here would be in deep trouble if he didn’t get his butt over here.”

Kilbane frowned. “Now I’ve got to wonder if you gave Neil enough money to skip town and leave me holding the bag here until the cops come.” The look on his face promised that no good would come of that.

Mike tried to get a look at his watch—impossible, with all that tape around his wrists. But Sunny understood his anxiety. Neil should be turning up soon, she thought, if he’s going to show up at all. Let’s face it, he doesn’t have a history of being a stand-up guy. Like Charlie Vane, he put on a big song and dance about being the victim of circumstances. Maybe he’d persuaded himself that this was just one more circumstance he couldn’t change and moved on.

She swallowed, hard. The police didn’t seem to be in any rush to put in an appearance, either.

Boy, wouldn’t it be ironic if we got ourselves killed trying to save Neil from doing one good deed in his life—because he decided not to do it after all?

A car came past the diner and rolled to a stop at the foot of the pier. The driver-side door opened, and Neil Garret stepped out. He squared himself up, but it was hard to look heroic in a cardigan sweater.

He must be freezing, Sunny thought. But then, she realized, he wouldn’t have been able to bring a coat along if he escaped by bailing out a bathroom window.

“Good old Neil.” Kilbane chuckled. “Somehow I knew I could depend on him.”

Sunny strained her ears. No sirens. No police. Kilbane was going to kill Neil, and then he would turn on the rest of them. Inconvenient witnesses. Collateral damage.

She twisted her wrists, testing the duct tape bonds. There was a little give—Mike had managed that much. But she didn’t think she’d be able to get free before this dirty business was all over.

Kilbane rose from behind the gunwale when Neil was about halfway down the pier. “Hey there, Neil, step right up,” he said.

Neil stopped. “Not until I see Abby.”

“Sure, buddy.” The biker leaned down and hauled Abby into view. “Here she is, alive and—well, not exactly kicking. But breathing.”

Neil took a few hurried steps forward, then stopped. “You’ve got to let her go. That was the deal.”

Kilbane brought up his gun. “It’s a little late to start negotiating, friend. She’ll go after we finish our business.”

Neil shook his head. “No. Before.” He managed a smile, even if it was more of a death’s-head grin. “Afterward, I don’t think I’ll be able to protect my interests.”

“Hey, look. I’ve got lots of hostages.” Kilbane hoisted Sunny and Mike to their feet.

While he was doing that, Neil suddenly ran forward.

“Everybody down!” Sunny yelled. She dropped to her knees as Mike and Abby went flat.

Neil brought up the gleaming gun he’d kept hidden behind his leg. Kilbane aimed his pistol. Their shots went off almost at the same time, a brutal blow to Sunny’s ears. The biker jerked a little, letting out a startled exclamation. But Neil was flung on his back, his borrowed gun clattering on the wooden planking.

Kilbane pocketed his pistol and brought a hand to his other arm, wincing a little. “Huh. Grazed me.”

Moving his injured arm carefully, he brought out a cell phone, transferred it to his good side, and raised it to take a picture. “There’s one. But I guess I should go for a little more insurance.”

He replaced the phone and got out his gun, carefully making his way to the dock. For a moment, he stood over Neil. “Head shot is sure, but that would mess up the picture.” Kilbane brought his pistol down, aiming for Neil’s chest.

“Police! Freeze!” a harsh voice shouted.

Kilbane twisted, snapping off a shot at the figure running up the pier.

Two more shots roared out, and the biker reeled, an almost comical look of astonishment on his face as he looked down, his free hand plucking at his chest. He tried to bring his gun around, but it dropped from his fingers. Then his knees gave out, and he toppled onto his back.

“Everybody all right?” Will ran forward, kicking the pistol farther from Kilbane’s hand.

He knelt beside Neil, feeling his neck for a pulse. “Everybody on board, I mean.”

Sunny poked her head a little higher, succesfully heaving up onto her knees. “We’re okay. Just tied up,” she said.

Will nodded and started back down the pier. Sunny managed to get to her feet, waving her taped-together wrists. “Hey, aren’t you going to cut us loose?”

“After I call in for backup—and an ambulance,” he shouted over his shoulder.

Will was back in a few minutes, clambering onto the boat, then freezing for an embarrassed moment when he realized he still had his pistol in his hand. Will quickly holstered it under his coat, then reached into his pocket to pull out a folding knife. With the help of that, he quickly sliced away the tape from around Sunny’s wrists.

As soon as she was free, Will pressed the knife into her hand. “Take care of the others. I’m going to do what I can for Neil.”

He dropped back to the dock, took off his coat, folded it up, and put it to Neil’s chest, both hands on top.

A pressure bandage, Sunny realized.

“What about Kilbane?” she called, cutting her ankles free.

Will just shook his head.

Now that Sunny could move around, she got to work getting the tape off Abby and Mike. She was especially careful getting the tape gag off Abby’s mouth. Lips are always more fragile in wintertime, and the sticky stuff from the tape could pull off skin and turn a mild case of chapped lips into a bloody mess. Sunny succeeded in getting Abby ungagged without any terrible consequences.

Abby grimaced a couple of times, trying to get the taste out of her mouth. Then she said, “That man kidnapped me right out of the supermarket parking lot! I never even managed to get in and do my shopping.” She peered down at the dock. “Is he—?”

Mike took her by the arm. “Some things you just don’t want to see.”

As he spoke, Sunny slipped over the side of the boat to land on the pier.

Mike sighed. “And then there’s my daughter the reporter.”

She walked over to where Will was working on Neil Garret. “How’s he doing?”

“Losing a lot of blood.” Will’s face was pale. “I knew there was trouble as soon as I spotted your car there—empty. So I drew my weapon and advanced while these two were playing Gunfight at the OK Corral.” He glanced toward the landward end of the pier. “It’s just as well. Where the hell is that backup?”

Actually, the first reinforcements to arrive weren’t police, but Val Overton and the federal marshals. Her lips thinned to a tight line as Will and Sunny brought her up to date on why Neil had slipped away—and what he’d done since. “The news vultures are going to be all over this story—sorry, Sunny, but you know the people I mean.”

“No offense taken,” Sunny assured her. “Some of my best friends were vultures.”

“So, unless you want to deal with them, Will, I’ll take over here.”

Will breathed a sigh of relief. “Gladly,” he said. “As it is, there are people in the department that like to think I’m too fond of the media spotlight.”

Like Captain Dan Ingersoll, Sunny thought.

The second wave of first responders to put in an appearance was the ambulance. Paramedics immediately took over from Will and went screaming off with Neil on a gurney and a deputy marshal riding shotgun as a bodyguard.

“Executive decision,” Val said. “Neil may have left our custody, but I’m ruling he didn’t actually leave WitSec.”

After that, it was a dead heat between the first police cruisers arriving and the onslaught of the TV news vans. Will got Ben Semple in his blue constable’s uniform and several deputies in sheriff’s department green to run interference, keeping the media people at a reasonable distance while Val’s people made a few preparations, like covering Yancey Kilbane’s body with black plastic sheeting.

Will paid no attention, having other things on his mind. “Where were you guys?” he hissed to Ben, who shrugged in reply.

“The first I heard of anything going on was a report of shots fired. So I hauled butt away from outlet-land and came here,” Ben said, but he looked troubled.

So much for bypassing 911 in hopes of getting a jump on things, Sunny thought. Apparently some folks in headquarters must have decided Will was telling tall tales. She pursed her lips tightly to keep those notions from spilling out. That could have gotten him—gotten all of us—killed.

The cameras had assembled by now, and Val stepped forward, showing her silver star. “I’m Deputy U.S. Marshal Valerie Overton. We had a shooting incident here tonight, an attempt to murder a person in the Witness Security Program—what’s commonly called witness protection.”

She made a brief statement, not mentioning Neil Garret nor his previous name, but identifying Yancey Kilbane, or rather, tentatively identifying him subject to fingerprint evidence. Just as she was finishing up, a screaming police cruiser arrived and Captain Ingersoll and Sheriff Lenore Nesbit arrived.

“We’d like to thank local law enforcement for their help and quick response to keep this attempt from becoming a tragedy,” Val said as the sheriff and the captain hurriedly huddled with Will, trying to catch up on what was going on. That was something Sunny wasn’t let in on, but from a distance, she watched Lenore Nesbit’s expression as she listened and then saw her talking sharply to Ingersoll.

However, Lenore was graciousness itself when she joined Val to face a pack of reporters rabid for answers to their questions. “We’re still ascertaining all the details for this incident,” she told them. “We’ll need statements from several witnesses and from the officer involved.” She softened a little to seem a bit more human. “We’re also dispatching an officer to reassure the family of one of the witnesses that she is all right.”

Sunny saw Ingersoll whispering to Ben Semple, who jumped into his cruiser like a shot. Off to Mrs. M., she thought. Good.

After the usual media hoedown was concluded, Sunny, Mike, and Abby were escorted to the sheriff’s office in Levett to give statements about what happened. Will, of course, was expected to write a report.

They arrived to find Helena Martinson already there, courtesy of a ride in a prowl car by Ben Semple. Mrs. M. wrapped her arms around Abby. “Safe. Safe. Thank God she’s safe.” She opened one arm to embrace Mike, who quickly pulled Sunny into a group hug.

“We’re all safe,” he said, “all of us.”

*

In the end, Abby had to extend her vacation by a few more days, waiting for the media frenzy to wear down. But at last they were yesterday’s news. Sunny took a day off herself to organize a farewell dinner. She wanted to make something that Abby was unlikely to find in California, the land of light food. Finally, she settled on pot roast with ginger snap gravy, mashed potatoes, and glazed carrots.

Delicious scents came wafting from the kitchen to fill the whole house as she worked with Mike to set the table with the good china. Five places—for Helena and Mike, Sunny and Will, and Abby.

The Martinsons arrived first, Mrs. M. bearing the usual coffee cake, Abby with a bottle of red wine. “I know this feast is supposed to be the opposite of West Coast cuisine, but I didn’t think that would disqualify a California wine.”

Sunny got to work with the corkscrew as the doorbell rang. Mike went to answer and returned with Will, who also carried a bottle. “I thought of stopping off and getting a box of O’Dowd’s house special,” he joked, “but then Gene Avezzani slipped me a bottle of the good stuff.”

They settled in the living room with glasses, and Shadow’s inquisitive face poked in from the hallway. “There’s our hero,” Helena Martinson said, and Shadow was coaxed in for a lot of petting—not that it took all that much persuasion. Sunny smiled at the look on Will’s face as the former hostages made much of the cat. After all, he probably deserves a little credit for shooting the cold-blooded killer.

Soon Shadow lay in a boneless little heap on Sunny’s lap while small talk flowed overhead—a little neighborhood gossip and Abby’s travel plans. “My return tickets may have taken me all over God’s country, but at least they weren’t nonrefundable. I’m taking a much more direct flight from Boston.”

“That’s a long drive,” Mike glanced at Helena.

Abby shook her head. “I’ve already booked a car service—for an ungodly hour in the morning.” She grinned mischievously at Helena. “Knowing Mom, she’ll be up to wish me bon voyage. But then she can go back to sleep.”

A timer buzzed in the kitchen, and Sunny rose to her feet. “Just a couple of last-minute things, and then we can eat.”

The feast tasted every bit as good as it smelled, and conversation suffered for a while as everyone concentrated on eating. “It’s a shame Val Overton wasn’t able to accept your invitation,” Will said. “I think she’d have enjoyed this.”

“I suspect you never passed it on to her, trying to guarantee yourself a third helping,” Sunny mock-accused him.

“The thought never crossed my mind . . . much,” Will assured her. “But Val was out of town as soon as she recovered Phil Treibholz’s briefcase from where Kilbane stowed it on the Ranger. I think she’s trying to track down the leak that allowed Treibholz to find Neil in the first place.”

“How is Nick—Neil? I’ll never get that straight in my mind,” Abby said. “He was taken off to the hospital, and that was mentioned in the news. But afterward—nothing.”

Will hesitated for a moment. “Officially, Neil is dead.”

Abby’s fork clattered to her plate. “D-dead?” Tears appeared in her eyes. “He tried to save me, and I never got to thank him. When we were together, I wondered about Nick. There was this seed of doubt. He always seemed to take the easy way out, and—well, that kind of colored how seriously I took the relationship. He was kind to me, good, but when he got me that job in the Valley, there was this question—did he do it for me, or was he just breaking things off? Then, when I got kidnapped, he put his life on the line for me—and I guess I got an answer.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Will apologized. “As I said, that’s the official story. The truth is, I don’t know. Neil was in pretty bad shape when they took him off. I certainly couldn’t say whether or not he’d pull through. But remember, the first thing they tell people in witness protection is that their old life must be dead to them—and they have to be dead to their old life.”

Abby stared. “So when they’re saying he’s dead, that might be a cover to protect him?”

“Maybe.” Will spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “The only thing that’s sure is that you’ll never get an answer from the WitSec people.”

“And some people don’t care about answers, only assets,” Sunny said. “The lawyer that put Treibholz on Neil’s trail turned up in town this week. Neil’s ex-wife wants everything of his that isn’t nailed down. They’re fighting with Ollie over the walk-in freezer Neil installed in the store.”

“That’s terrible,” Helena said.

Mike shook his head. “Vultures.”

But Sunny stayed silent. If Neil did survive, he’s starting his new life without any of his “buzz off” money, she thought. No more being his own boss. I wonder what kind of scheme he’ll wind up involved in to keep from being a greeter at Big Box, Inc.?

She glanced at Will and put her hand over his. It doesn’t matter anymore. Alive or dead, Neil is out of our lives. And I know who really saved us.

Sunny leaned toward Will, keeping her voice low. “Are you all right?”

He looked at her for a moment, a slow smile appearing on his lips. “What, are you expecting a galloping case of PTSD?”

“You shot Yancey Kilbane,” Sunny pointed out.

“After he shot at me,” Will replied. “It’s not the first time I pulled out my gun—or used it. In the heat of action, you’re usually too busy—and yes, a little scared—for any deep thinking about what’s going on. That comes afterward. Yancey Kilbane was no saint. I’m not going to lose any sleep—or peace of mind—over what happened to him.”

But I bet poor Jasmine is going to miss her Bear, Sunny thought. The guy who was going to change her life.

“So, no regrets?” she asked Will.

“One,” he said. “That nice tie you gave me for Christmas got pretty messed up while I was trying to help Neil. And I don’t think Abby’s get-out-the-spot trick is going to work on a big bloodstain.”

Sunny patted his hand. “Then I’ll have to get you a replacement. After all, your birthday isn’t that far away.”

*

Shadow looked up at the humans gathered around the table, enjoying the aromas from their plates. His humans, he liked to think of them, his clan. When two-legs sat around like this and ate a lot of food, they were usually celebrating something and acted happy. They certainly left him purring earlier. So he was surprised when Good Petter started making sad noises with water coming out of her eyes. That eye-water was a specially bad sign.

Often, when two-legged Shes made eye-water, either they or their mate went away. Good Petter didn’t have a mate, but Shadow had the suspicion she’d be going soon. It was just in the tone of voice she used talking to the others.

That would be too bad. He’d miss Good Petter.

But it wouldn’t be as terrible as if Sunny were to go away. Cats were supposed to wander, but two-leggity people, ones close to a cat’s heart, should stay where they could be found. A cat wanted to be able to depend on them.

Some humans, though, were just undependable. Take the Generous One, for instance. He’d been friendly and a lot of fun, playing with Shadow and tossing him delicious tidbits. But now it seemed he was gone. Shadow had caught rides with Sunny several times when she went to that place where she spent her days. But when Shadow went next door, to the store where he figured the Generous One lived, it was always closed and empty. Even the scent of fish was disappearing.

Maybe the Generous One was more like a cat and went off wandering, Shadow thought. The two-legs were always getting crazy ideas, making things, doing things that didn’t make sense. Shadow had learned early that he certainly couldn’t hope to understand them, even though he’d grown attached to a few.

All he knew was that the Generous One was gone.

That was too bad.

Shadow would miss the Generous One.

Especially, he’d miss the fish.