Mortal Ties

TWENTY-THREE

CARRIE Ann Rucker was fifty-nine, a placid woman with graying blond hair and a crooked front tooth that lent a certain charm to her smile. She owned a small handcrafted jewelry store and was wearing a sample of her merchandise with her neatly pressed jeans and white blouse—a pretty pair of chandelier earrings.

She also worked as a mule for a drug cartel. Her only arrest had never made it to the grand jury, thanks to some clumsiness on the part of the arresting officer and a very expensive lawyer. One who also worked for said cartel.

“And you never looked inside the bag,” Lily said.

“He asked me not to, and I agreed. I do believe in keeping my word, don’t you?”

One of the interesting things about Carrie Ann was the way her attention stayed with Lily. Sure, Rule wasn’t saying much, but people always noticed him. Especially women. Even if Carrie Ann was wired for women, Lily would expect her to take more interest in a guy who occasionally turns into a wolf. “That seems like an odd thing to ask. Even odder that you agreed.”

Carrie Ann smiled comfortably. “I’m not a very curious person.”

“Remarkably incurious, considering you’ve been arrested for transporting illegal substances in the past. Substances you had no idea someone had planted in your car,” Lily said dryly. “Hard to believe you wouldn’t want to make sure this man you’d never met before wasn’t taking advantage of your helpful nature.”

“He had such a good vibe. I’m sure it was all perfectly innocent.”

“Are you, now? And yet the FBI takes very little interest in scavenger hunts.”

Carrie Ann just smiled.

Lily looked down at her notes, wondering how much longer to push. Carrie Ann was a pro. She knew what to say and when to shut up, and she was enjoying herself way too much. She knew damn well Lily didn’t have a lever to pry loose any actual facts. Sure, she’d given them a description of the “nice older man” she met at the park, but that only meant that whoever really had her make the drop looked nothing like the guy she’d described.

Lily looked up from her notes. “That’s what he said he was doing, right? Setting up a scavenger hunt for the grandkids. He asked you to leave a Macy’s shopping bag at the base of the Dutch windmill. He specifically asked you not to look inside.”

“That’s right.”

“He was a white male, about seventy. He had white hair, thick for a man his age. You don’t remember what he was wearing, but you’re sure you would have noticed if he’d been in a suit.”

“No one wears suits on Saturday at the park, do they?”

“You think he may have been wearing glasses, but you aren’t sure about that, either. And you don’t know his name.”

“He must have told me,” she said apologetically, “but I don’t remember it. And I think the bag was from Macy’s, but it might have been Nordstrom’s. I shop at both places, and I’m sure it was from one of them.”

Rule touched Lily’s arm lightly and stood. She glanced up. He’d taken out his phone and was heading for the door of the office they’d borrowed from one of the local agents. She looked back at Carrie Ann. “How much do you think the bag weighed?”

“Oh, not too much. Perhaps as much as two or three books?”

“It’s curious that you would think of comparing it to objects made of paper. It did, in fact, hold paper.”

“Oh?” She said that politely, as if she felt a certain social obligation to express interest.

“Mmm. Ms. Rucker—”

“Please make it Carrie Ann,” she said warmly.

Lily bared her teeth in something not meant to be mistaken for a smile. “Carrie Ann, I hope you’ll search your memory carefully. Amazing as it seems, that nice old man was not arranging a scavenger hunt. As I said, the Bureau takes very little interest in such things. We do, however, really perk up and pay attention when kidnapping’s involved.”

The slight widening of her eyes was Carrie Ann’s first unscripted response. She didn’t like that word, not at all. Whoever told her to make the drop hadn’t given her any hint it might be ransom money. She recovered quickly, lifting one hand to her throat and allowing herself to look uncertain. “Kidnapping. Oh, surely not. If one of that nice old man’s grandchildren was—”

The door opened. “Lily,” Rule said. “They tried for Beth. She’s okay. Murray isn’t. I need to get there quick.”

Lily shoved her chair back and fixed Rucker with a look. “Stay here.”

One second later, she was out the door and flinging orders at the first face she saw. “Get me a driver and a car with a siren. Black-and-white or Bureau—whichever’s faster. I need the car waiting on the street by the time the elevator gets me down there.”

“What—”

“Do it. Now. Bergman!”

The door at the end of the hall opened. The woman’s face creased with annoyance. “You yelled?”

“They attacked my sister. One of Rule’s people is badly hurt. I’m leaving. Keep someone on Rucker. Use this attack to shake her loose, if you can.” She flung the last over her shoulder as she headed for the elevator bank, Rule beside her. “Who called you,” she asked him, her voice low, “if Murray’s badly hurt?”

“Patrick.”

“Patrick? But—”

“I added him to Beth’s detail while you were questioning Tony. The attackers came at her in the stairwell of her building—four men, two from above, two from below. Beth is unharmed. Murray took at least one bullet in the chest. I told Patrick to call an ambulance. I need to be there. Murray’s not conscious now, but if he survives long enough for the EMTs to load him, he could wake up.”

“Right.” Badly hurt lupi were dangerous. Murray might Change; he might see any attempt at help as an attack. Rule could control him. She jabbed the elevator button and thought about the stairs, but they were on the thirteenth floor. Rule might beat the elevator down, but she couldn’t. The car she’d ordered probably wouldn’t be there yet, anyway.

Bergman caught up with them. “Is your sister all right?”

“I think so. Four men came for her. Could have been an attempted hit or a snatch, but my money’s on the latter. Who sends four men to kill a single young woman?” She looked at Rule. “What happened to the attackers? Was Patrick able to hold on to any of them?”

“Who’s Patrick?’ Bergman said.

Rule answered Lily, not the other woman. “Two are dead. One escaped. One is alive, but badly injured.”

Bergman scowled. “Sounds like one hell of a mess. Your sister didn’t repel four men on her own. Who’s this Patrick?”

“One of Rule’s men.” Lily stabbed the stupid damn elevator button again and looked at Rule. “Are the locals on the scene yet?”

He looked blank. Rule tended not to think about calling the cops.

“Someone’s probably called it in,” Lily told Bergman as the elevator finally opened. “At least one shot was fired. Get in touch with the locals. Make sure they’re expecting me and Rule.” She and Rule stepped into the elevator.

“Wait. What do you mean, he’s one of Rule’s men? Were you expecting something like this?”

“Not like this, no.” The doors shut on Special Agent Bergman’s frustrated face. Lily looked at Rule. “You were, though. You sent Patrick.”

“Belt and suspenders,” he said obscurely as the elevator started down. “Lily, the two dead—Murray took out one, and Patrick got the other. The badly injured one, though, that was Beth’s doing. Do you want Patrick to take responsibility for him? I need to let him know.”

“Shit.”