Dark Pursuit

“One of the stewards was involved. The husband knew it and set this elaborate plan to catch him. And the whole thing went awry—” “That’s a story, Margaret!” He banged his cane so hard against the floor shock waves jittered up his arm. “This is real!”

“I know. But what if—”

“Get out of my way!”

Movement in Darell’s peripheral vision turned his head. Kaitlan stood halfway down the hall, shoulders drawn inward, round-eyed. Her clothes looked thrown on, her hair mussed.

Margaret followed his gaze. The vibrations from her smoothed out, as if she’d been caught making a scene. Her hands fell from the doorposts. “Good morning, Kaitlan.” She forced a wan smile.

Kaitlan approached warily, head half turned, looking at them askance. “What’s going on?”

Darell glared sideways at Margaret. “We were just discussing today’s plans.”

“Nothing’s changed, right? We’re going through with this insanity?” Kaitlan pulled up beside him, hugging herself. Her cheek mixed deeper shades of purple and red, streaks down to her chin. The scrapes she’d taken from her fall stood out angry and rough.

Margaret sucked in air at the sight of her.

Kaitlan touched her fingers to the area and winced. “I know. I look terrible.”

Her vulnerability ripped at Darell’s chest. What Craig had done to her. And her cheek screamed only of the surface pain.

He would get her out of this.

“Absolutely no change, Kaitlan.” Darell planted a hand on Margaret’s shoulder and firmly pushed her aside. “I’m calling Craig right now as a matter of fact. And I need total silence”—he hitched his eyebrows in a glower at Margaret—“from the two of you.”

Nose in the air, he thumped his way across the office with rank determination. His heart rat-tatted—and that infuriated him.

He reached his desk, feeling like a prisoner approaching the noose.

forty-six

Darell sank into his desk chair and surveyed the phone. He could feel the eyes of the two women at his back. Margaret and her dread of his failure. Kaitlan’s life dependence on his success.

Calm yourself, man. Collect your thoughts.

He picked up the receiver. Mentally he scrabbled for last night’s reasoning about his plan.

How serendipitous that Craig Barlow had possessed the nerve to hack into his manuscript. For once being thought old and infirm had worked to Darell’s advantage. The kid wouldn’t have dared such a thing three years ago, when Darell’s work was still being published.

Darell half turned. “Kaitlan, do you know the number to the Gayner Police?”

“No. I would just call Craig on his cell phone.”

“Okay, doesn’t matter.”

But somehow it did. That small unknown—a portent.

Darell dialed 411 and requested the number to the Gayner Police Station.

“Is this an emergency?” the operator asked.

Only my granddaughter’s life. “No, the front desk will be fine.”

As the computer-generated voice intoned the seven digits, he wrote them down, then disconnected. He stared at the receiver in his hand.

For Kaitlan.

Darell dialed the number.

“Gayner Police.” A woman’s voice.

“Good morning. This is Darell Brooke. I’m trying to get through to Officer Craig Barlow.”

Stunned hesitation vibrated the line. “The Darell Brooke? The author?”

In that inopportune moment it all flooded back. The adulation. The reputation he’d once wielded. How he missed it.

“That’s correct.”

“Wow! Hello! I’ve read all your books. This is amazing; how are you?”

“I’m well, thank you.”

“That’s great. Great! Are you writing again? I can’t wait to read a new book from you.”

That would make two of us.

“Yes, I’m writing. In fact, that’s why I’m trying to reach Officer barlow. I need to ask him some research questions about police procedure.”

Silence behind him. He pictured Margaret and Kaitlan holding their breath.

“Oh.” Hesitation coated the woman’s response. “Uh, you sure you don’t mean the chief?”

“No. His son, Craig.”

“Oh, okay. He’s on patrol. I can contact him with your phone number. I’m sure he’ll call soon as he can. He’s a fan too.”

No kidding.

“That would be great.” Darell gave the woman his number. “Tell him I’m stuck on this manuscript until my questions are answered. I’d appreciate talking to him as soon as possible about setting up a meeting for tonight.”

“I will. So nice to talk to you!”

“Thanks. You too.”

Darell hung up the phone—and exhaled. His hands trembled.

“What happened?” Margaret blurted.

Darell started. Turning stiffly he threw Margaret a look. “I left a message, all right? That’s all I can do at the moment. Now stop gnashing your teeth and fix my breakfast.”

He hoped he could eat.

Margaret’s hand rose to her chest, all argument beaten out of her. Besides, it was too late. Events had been put in motion.

“I … Okay.” She gave Kaitlan’s shoulder a harried pat as she drifted away.

Kaitlan sidled over the threshold, her arms still clutched and brows knitted. She leaned against the wall, eyes begging Darell to tell her all would be well.