beeper vibrated against his hip. He didn’t bother glancing at it. Sutton was probably three shades of purple by now. But he’d have to wait. Kershaw was after Olivia. He had to make sure Olivia was safe before he focused on Kershaw.
What if he isn’t after Olivia? What if you read him wrong because of your fear for her? Then Kershaw’s timeline was getting bigger by the minute. Sebastian dragged a hand over his face. Don’t go there. Olivia’s accident on the heels of Kershaw’s escape was too much of a coincidence.
The beeper’s renewed massage centered him. What do you know? You know Kershaw wants to hurt you through Olivia. You know he means to keep his promise. You know he’s on his way.
Don’t you?
He took his handheld computer from his pocket and punched in numbers. He was letting his fear for Olivia screw up basics. First things first. Check to see if the fugitives were back into custody.
Not as of five minutes ago. That would be too easy.
Kershaw’s transfer was to the new federal prison in Berlin, and he had a mother who lived in Nashua. She’d been vocal in her demands for a closer incarceration so she could visit. Cruel and unusual punishment having her boy so far away, she’d claimed. As if sonny’s kidnappings, rapes, armed robberies, felony assaults and murders were nothing more than school-yard scuffles. She’d abet her worthless spawn in a second and lie through her false teeth about it. He made a note to put a check on her telephone records and tack on some surveillance.
The safest thing for Kershaw to do was to hunker down. Hunkering down meant getting outside help. But Kershaw also had an agenda. He’d keep moving. Moving, he made a target. All Sebastian had to do was connect the dots.
And protect Olivia.
He swore. One was never supposed to touch the other. That was the agreement. That was the plan. How could he be two places at once? How could he stay by Olivia’s side and stalk Kershaw?
He had to find a way or else all he’d built over the last twenty years was worth nothing.
“BING!” UP POPPED the instant-message window asking if he wanted to accept a message. He clicked yes when he saw Okie’s name highlighted on his buddy list.
Okie: Hey, I think something’s gone wrong.
Sk8Thor: No slip, sliding?
Okie: Slip, slide all right. Slip slide right into a coma.
Sk8Thor: Him?
Okie: Her. U said it’d B ok.
Sk8Thor: He’s hurting, isn’t he?
Okie: Yes.
Sk8Thor: That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?
Okie: Yes.
Sk8Thor: Then what’s wrong?
He could feel the hesitation and cursed it. That’s what came of counting on someone else. But this required finesse, and one trick he’d learned long ago was how to make the best of any hand he was dealt. This one was too sweet to pass up.
Sk8Thor: He wouldn’t help u when u needed it. He had to pay, didn’t he?
Okie: Yes, but, she’s nice, u know. I didn’t want 2 c her hurt so bad.
Sk8Thor: This way he’s hurting more. You’re not gonna quit on me, are u?
Okie: 2 late now.
That’s right. Too late now. You’re my hands and eyes, and you’re my fall guy. One by one he was going to breach each of Falconer’s defenses. Then he’d pull the last pin and watch while all Falconer stood for caved in around him. How far did you have to push a man to betray his ideals? Not as far as most people thought. Affluence made people cream cheese soft. Falconer thought he knew it all, thought he could shed one skin and slip into another without the fat at the seams showing. But Sk8Thor saw through the stitches. A man’s heart never changed. And Falconer’s heart was as black as his. Sk8Thor was lean and mean and hungry. And Falconer, even wearing his hunter skin, couldn’t compete with a lifetime of surviving in the sewers.
Falconer didn’t stand a chance.
“Time to set up for show-and-tell.” He typed one last note to Okie and pressed the send button. Laughing, he asked the screen, “Who do you trust, Falconer? Who do you trust?”
Chapter Three
When Sebastian could no longer put off Sutton, he stepped out of Olivia’s room and got out his phone. Leaning against the hallway wall, he tried to blink away the image of Olivia’s too-still body, but it was etched into his brain. Every detail of angry bruises on chalky skin became a horrid scene filled with accusations. As he punched in Sutton’s number, he started to stride. The only way to stay ahead of the nightmare was to move.
“Where the hell are you?” Sutton barked.
“Hospital.” Sebastian paced the outside of Olivia’s room as if it were a cage.
Sutton swore more colorfully than a seasoned sailor. “What happened?”
“Kershaw got to Olivia.”
Sebastian wished for static over the clean phone line. Anything to break the density of Sutton’s silence.
“Are you sure?” Sutton asked.
Sutton liked black and white, but Sutton hadn’t worked the field in a long time. And the field was nothing but shades of gray.
At Sebastian’s silence, Sutton cursed again. “Not the gut thing.”
Never mind that gut was often the thing that broke a case wide open. “Kershaw swore he’d get back at me through Olivia. The fact Olivia was hurt the same day as Kershaw’s escape can’t be coincidence.”
“Got anything to back you up?”
“Soon,” Sebastian said, thinking of Olivia’s car. Cyril Granger should be done with the automotive autopsy by the end of the day.
“How soon? I need results.”
No doubt because the prison riot, the murder of his men and the escape of three dangerous felons had become a media circus. Wiser to say nothing.
“I’m sending in a team,” Sutton said, his words tight and sharp.
“No.”
A fist banged on wood. “Listen, Falconer, that lone-eagle crap isn’t going to fly this time.”
“You’re glad enough for it when you need clean-up.”
“This situation is raking in too much media. It needs containment now.”
Sebastian stilled. “Kershaw’s here. He’s after Olivia. I’ll get him.”
“I’m pulling you off duty. Take some personal time.”
“Kershaw’s
