Nancy Bush's Nowhere Bundle: Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide & Nowhere Safe. Nancy Bush
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The gasp from Liv was almost a shriek. Her hands were at her mouth, and she was gaping at the television. Auggie’s gaze slammed from her back to the screen.
“. . . Laurelton police are waiting to notify next of kin before releasing the male victim’s name. If anyone has information, please contact the authorities. . . .”
“What?” Auggie asked her. “What?” But he was getting that strange feeling, like electricity running beneath his skin, that said something momentous was about to happen.
“That’s my apartment.”
He jumped off the bed, wishing to high heaven he had a DVR at this place. “Your apartment?” he snapped. He’d seen her apartment from the backside, but then she’d appeared on foot with her backpack and he’d followed her, never actually turning off the main road and into the drive of her parking lot.
“Who . . . who . . . oh, my God . . . Trask? Is it Trask?” She swayed on her feet, and he took two large steps and grabbed her by the arms, steadying her.
“The neighbor? The one who saw the photos?”
“Maybe it’s someone else. Maybe it’s . . .” She couldn’t come up with another alternative.
The news had moved on and suddenly there was Pauline Kirby, standing in a bright blue dress outside a two-story glass building with a large wooden door and thrusting a microphone toward Lieutenant Aubrey D’Annibal. The image caught Auggie unawares and he stood there in frozen surprise, his hands still clasped around Liv’s shaking shoulders.
“That’s Zuma,” Livvie choked out.
“Lieutenant, can you give us an update on the mass murder that took place here yesterday? Do you know what precipitated this deadly slaughter?”
D’Annibal winced a bit at the word “slaughter.” “We’re still sifting through evidence and interviewing employees.”
She jumped on that. “Has the missing employee been found? Ms. Dugan?”
The faintest hesitation and Auggie held his breath. D’Annibal said, “As soon as more information’s available, we’ll make sure the public’s made aware. Zuma Software’s owner, Mr. Kurt Upjohn, is through surgery, as is the other injured employee, Ms. Jessica Maltona.”
“We understand they’re both critical,” Pauline said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Aaron Dirkus, one of the deceased, was Kurt Upjohn’s son. Is Mr. Upjohn aware his son is dead?”
Auggie sucked air between his teeth while D’Annibal did something similar on the screen. “Yes,” he stated flatly.
“He suffered bullet wounds to his abdomen, whereas Ms. Maltona was shot in the chest?”
“We hope to have some good news about their recovery soon,” D’Annibal deflected.
“Is it true Zuma Software was creating software for the military?” Pauline leaned forward, trying to create a fake kind of tête-à-tête.
D’Annibal didn’t buy it for a minute. “As soon as we learn something definitive, we’ll let you know. Thank you.” And he moved away. The show cut to Pauline staring directly at the camera as she wrapped up with comments about how she hoped good news would be forthcoming about capturing the gunmen so we could all sleep more soundly in our beds.
Liv had collapsed against Auggie, and he’d wrapped his arms around her. He led her to the bed and had her sit down. She seemed to be boneless, so he told her to lie down, and she did so with a blank look on her face.
“Trask,” she said. “It’s Trask.”
“What’s his last name?”
“Um . . .” Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t . . . Martin, I think.”
“I’m gonna go find out what happened,” he answered, already moving, already planning.
“I’m going with you.”
“Stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll get some more information and I’ll bring back some soup.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” she said, swallowing hard.
He’d been halfway out of the room, but now he crossed back to the bed. Looking down at her, he said tautly, “I’ll be back. I promise. Do you believe me?”
She hesitated. “Yes. I don’t know why you’re doing this, but yes, I believe you.”
“Stay put. Try to relax. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
“An hour . . .”
“Or so,” he said. “Don’t panic. Trust me.”
She nodded, and he was gone.
He phoned the lieutenant as soon as he was out of view of the house. D’Annibal answered on the second ring, as if he were waiting for his call, which he probably was.
“Where the hell are you, Rafferty?” D’Annibal demanded as an intro.
Auggie shot back, “What happened to this Trask Martin? Who’s on that? He’s Liv Dugan’s neighbor.”
“We know that. Did she tell you his name?” he asked suspiciously. “We didn’t release it.”
“Yeah, she told me. She nearly fainted when she saw that he’d been gunned down!”
“You know, the only reason we’re not chasing her down like a dog is because supposedly she’s been with you,” he returned levelly.
“She has been with me. Ever since yesterday afternoon.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
Auggie thought about how Liv had climbed into his Jeep and held him at gunpoint and decided some things were better left unsaid. “We struck up a conversation and one thing led to another.”
A hesitation, then, he managed to laugh faintly. “You always get the women.”
“It isn’t like that.” Yet, he thought. It isn’t like that yet. “I haven’t told her who I am, but she’s scared, and she thinks the other Zuma shootings were incidental, in that she thinks the killer was after her.”
“Why?”
“Mostly because of her past . . .” Auggie gave him an abbreviated rundown of Liv’s mother’s death and the package that was sent, and finished with, “I don’t know if she’s right, but I want to follow this through. Even if it doesn’t pan out with the Zuma shootings, there’s