Mortal Pursuit

73

Cain beckoned to Lilith and Tyler, then followed Trish inside the van. Roughly he pushed her into the bench seat. She huddled there, panting, while he stared down thoughtfully at the dirty mop of her hair.

Even handcuffed, she couldn’t be trusted. She’d already demonstrated considerable talent as an escape artist. Getting out of a locked trunk underwater was a stunt worthy of Houdini.

But Houdini himself couldn’t shed a pair of cuffs if his hands were in plain sight.

Cain surveyed the rear compartment. Bolted to the doorframe was a padded grab bar. He tested the mounting. Secure.

Groping in his pocket, he produced the key set taken from Officer Wald’s belt. From the slight widening of Trish’s eyes, he could see she recognized the item.

“Every time a bell rings,” Cain whispered, “an angel earns his wings.” He jingled the keys. “Sounds like your partner’s flying right now.”

She didn’t answer.

The van rocked on its springs as Lilith hopped into the rear compartment.

“Got to uncuff the Mouseketeer for a second,” Cain said. “If she moves … if she even breathes too hard… grease her.”

Lilith unholstered her Glock, the silencer already discarded, and touched the muzzle to Trish’s cheek.

Bending low, Cain reached behind the cop and jerked her wrists sideways. With Wald’s handcuff key he unlocked the left cuff. Trish offered no resistance as he pulled her right arm forward and up, bringing her wrist alongside the grab bar.

The open handcuff dangled on its short chain. Deftly he threaded it under the bar, then raised her left arm and snapped the cuff over her wrist again.

She was manacled to the doorframe, her hands at eye level.

Perfect.

“You wanted me, boss” Tyler, peering in through the side doorway.

Cain studied him. The younger man looked pale, his eyes glazed. “Feel okay to drive” he asked dubiously.

“How far”

“Back to the Kent place. So we can finish things.”

Nod. “I can make it.”

The statement seemed an expression of optimism more than fact, but Cain was prepared to accept it. He didn’t want Lilith at the wheel. He wanted her in the rear compartment, standing guard. Her cool, feral gaze never missed a thing.

“I’ll take the Porsche,” he said briskly. “Tyler drives the van. Lilith, you stay back here with the Girl Scout.” He smiled at Trish. “You were a Girl Scout, weren’t you”

She looked away. “No.”

Cain merely laughed, amused by the transparency and pointlessness of the lie. He tossed Wald’s keys to Lilith, then climbed out and shut the side panel with an echoing slam.

Quickly across the parking lot, his boots slapping asphalt in a clockwork rhythm. The Porsche was unlocked. He slipped behind the wheel.

Ally glanced at him, and he favored her with a cold smile.

“I just knew we’d be together again, freckle-face.”

She lowered her head, a shudder dancing lightly over her thin shoulders.

The keys were in the ignition. Cain guided the Porsche forward. Headlights flared in the rearview mirror as the van lumbered in pursuit.

Out the gate, onto the winding road. He opened the throttle, enjoying the engine’s power. Behind him, the van struggled to keep up.

On a short straightaway, he studied the girl’s profile in the glow of the dashboard. Wetness gleamed in the corner of her eye.

“Scared, Ally”

“No.”

“You ought to be. I got some real special plans for you.”

The Porsche rounded a curve, hugging the rutted road. The van’s headlights dimmed as Tyler fell farther behind.

Cain thought about what would come next. With duct tape he would bind Ally and Barbara to the two beds in the master suite. Then snuff them both, quick and nasty-the girl first, followed by her mother.

The rearview mirror was dark now, the van lost to sight. He was alone with Ally, the two of them as closely confined as travelers in a space capsule, and as far removed from the rest of the world.

He thought of Marta. She had been his passenger too.

“What about Trish” Ally asked above the engine’s hypnotic drone. “What’ll happen to her”

It was touching how she fretted about her hero even in the last minutes of her life.

“Trish gets to hang around for a little while. Another ten, twelve hours maybe.” Cain pictured the things he and Lilith would do in the trailer. “If she lasts that long.”

“She’ll find a way out,” Ally whispered.

“Not this time.”

“You always underestimate her.”

Despite himself, Cain nodded. The same thought had pestered him.

Then he saw Trish Robinson as she was now: disarmed, handcuffed, guarded, a prisoner with a gun to her head.

His last fears faded.

“The rookie’s good,” he said mildly. “I’ll give you that.” He smiled again, a private smile. “But she’s all done now.”