No Mercy Page 10

  Dylan hurried to speak with people in front of the neighboring home on the left and asked if everyone was out of the house. When he was reassured they were, he ordered everyone to back up farther away from the fire.

  As he did, he looked over the crowd, checking to see if someone was watching the fire with a different kind of interest than the neighbors, who would look horrified or in shock. An arsonist often liked to see his own handiwork—if this was arson. Dylan scanned the crowd twice, but no one in particular stood out from the rest.

  He also searched those surrounding the house for Tom, hoping he would be one of the onlookers and not a victim.

  Two police cruisers, lights flashing, pulled up behind the fire truck. Soon they had the area cordoned off as the firefighters did their job. Officers spoke to people in the crowd, asking for questions, looking for witnesses.

  Dylan spotted Lieutenant Marks of the BPD and went up to him. “What can I do to help?” Dylan asked.

  Marks looked mildly surprised. “You just happen to be in the neighborhood?”

  “Yes.” Dylan gave a single nod. “Do you know whose home that was?”

  Marks blew out his breath “According to the address, it belongs to Dr. Zumsteg.”

  Dylan’s heart hit the pit of his stomach. “That’s his vehicle out front. I’m certain of it.”

  “Damn.” Marks’ features tightened. “The doc is a damned fine man. I hope to hell he wasn’t inside that home.”

  “That makes two of us.” Dylan stared grimly at the fire that was dying down, as did Marks. The firefighters had managed to save the houses on either side of the decimated home. “Tom’s been a friend of mine since childhood.” Dylan looked at Marks. “Tom was also a close friend of Nate O’Malley.”

  Marks cut his gaze from the fire to Dylan. “That’s a big coincidence.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Dylan shook his head, an ache deep in his gut. If Tom had been in that house when it exploded, another member of the CoS was gone.

  By the time the fire was out, and the neighbors had been interviewed, Dylan was exhausted. He’d kept himself busy enough that he hadn’t allowed himself to believe that Tom could really be dead.

  Dylan heard voices and cut his attention to firefighters who were carrying a charred body out of the wreckage. He didn’t want to get any closer, afraid of somehow recognizing Tom in what would be a horror to look at.

  Forcing back the fear that it was another one of his friends, Dylan strode toward the firefighters and police officers attending to the body. His stomach churned when he looked at the sickening remains and caught the smell of burned flesh. It would take a DNA test or dental records to confirm the victim’s identity.

  Dylan started to turn away when he saw a metal bracelet burned into remaining flesh on the wrist of the body. Dylan crouched next to Lieutenant Marks and pointed to the soot-covered metal.

  “Dr. Zumsteg wore a medical ID bracelet for a blood disorder.” Dylan thought he might heave. This wasn’t just another body. Now he believed it was his friend. “I think that’s what’s on the victim’s wrist.”

  “Shit.” Marks shook his head. “If this is Zumsteg, you’ve lost two close friends in the span of less than two weeks. What are the odds of that?”

  Dylan considered Marks’ words and the postcard Dylan didn’t have a chance to get from Tom. Could it be possible that the deaths were somehow related?

  He thought about the rest of the CoS. Belle, Marta, Leon, Christie, and himself. Was it a stretch to think that each one of them could be in danger? Tom’s would have been the last postcard and now it was a puzzle piece likely missing forever. He’d planned on giving Dylan the note tonight, so he’d probably had it on him.

  The adrenaline rush from all that had happened started to fade. Now his skin prickled. Was he reading into this something that just wasn’t there? Pulling at straws.

  “Lieutenant.” One of the firefighters caught Marks’ and Dylan’s attention. “We found what I believe to be the cause of the explosion.”

  Marks made a quick introduction. To Dylan he said, “This is Lieutenant Lee Hansen, BFD’s arson investigator. Lee, this is Special Agent Dylan Curtis with DHS.”

  After Dylan shook hands with the arson investigator, Hansen continued. “A Molotov cocktail was thrown into the house, likely through a window.”

  “So someone just blew this house to shit.” Dylan ground his teeth. “It definitely wasn’t an accident.”

  “That’s what my preliminary investigation suggests,” Hansen said.

  The investigator studied Dylan, as if reading him. “Once we’ve conducted a thorough investigation, we will get with BPD and DHS.”

  “This is too much of a coincidence.” Marks’s forehead creased as he frowned. “Both Nate O’Malley and Dr. Zumsteg dead? A little unbelievable that they would be unrelated if you ask me.”

  “I’m going to call in a team,” Dylan said. “I believe this relates to an ongoing investigation.”

  His skin grew cold as he realized Belle had been alone the whole time he’d been helping with the fire and the investigation. He’d thought she was safe out in his truck, but that was before he’d discovered this explosion had been a deliberate act. Murder.

  He turned to Marks and Hansen. “I’ve got to check on something.”

  Dylan didn’t wait for a response as he made his way through the rubble and back out into the street that was crowded and still surrounded by neighbors who looked on with worried expressions. Dylan’s heart pounded and his blood raced through his veins as he hurried to check on Belle. He ran to where his truck was parked. The lights were off and the engine was no longer running.

  He jerked open the passenger door.

  His heart nearly stopped and a wash of cold swept him from head to toe.

  Belle was gone.

  For a moment he stood there, his gaze sweeping the cold truck cab. His heart jackhammered. His keys were no longer in the ignition. Her purse was where she left it on the passenger floor. The jacket he’d given her to wear wasn’t there, so she was probably wearing it. But she was gone.

  He whirled and slammed the door shut, trying to think. Had the person or persons responsible for killing Tom have taken Belle?

  Almost crazy with the need to find her, he whirled to go back to the thinning crowd and locate Marks. They had to find Belle.

  Just as he turned, he saw her walking toward him, away from the crowd. He braced his hand on the truck, afraid his legs wouldn’t hold him up. He’d been so afraid she’d been taken and worse—the possibility that she’d been murdered, too.

  She had her arms folded, hugging the jacket around her as she neared him. Blue and red lights flashed, illuminating her face.

  “I told you to stay in the truck.” He didn’t mean the sharp bite in his tone.

  She didn’t seem to notice. “Is it true that was Tom’s home?” Her lower lip trembled. “Was that his body they brought out of the house?”

  Dylan took her and held her close. So damned glad she was alive and in his arms, he squeezed her even tighter to him. He knew the only thing he could do was tell her the truth and let her know that her life could be in danger. All of their lives could be.

  “I believe it was.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head, his hand cupping the back of her head as she buried her face against his chest. He wasn’t sure how he could comfort her. “I’m so damned sorry.”

  Her shoulders trembled with the force of her sobs.

  Hair on the back of his neck prickled. “I think I should get you out of here.”

  “I just want to go back to my hotel room.” Her voice sounded small as she spoke.

  He worked through everything in his mind. If he was right, and someone had been watching them, they might know where Belle was staying. They’d also probably know where his ranch was, and that he was a part of the CoS.

  “We need to go somewhere else.” He drew away and took her by the shoulders. “I know a little bed and breakfast. I�
��ll take you there. Okay?”

  She nodded, tears running down her cheeks and a fearful expression on her features. “What about the others?”

  He opened the passenger side door for her. “While I’m driving, you call Leon, Marta, and Christie.”

  She stepped up into the chilly cab and dug his keys out of the jacket pocket. “Sorry for scaring you. It was just that you’d taken so long and I wanted to know what was going on.”

  “It’s all fine.” He took the keys she handed to him. “As long as I know you’re safe.”

  Once he’d climbed in, started the truck, and heat was blowing from the vents, they headed away from the horrific scene and back down the hill.

  After Dylan gave her instructions as he drove, Belle started to make the calls. Her hands shook as she found Leon’s name in her contacts and pressed “Call”. Everything felt so surreal. Each member of the CoS might be targeted? Why? Nothing was computing in her brain for it to make sense.

  It was after midnight and Leon sounded sleepy but concerned as he answered the phone, and clearly saw her name come up on his caller ID. “Belle?”

  “Leon, I’m still with Dylan.” She took a deep breath, trying to keep from sobbing. “Tom’s dead.”

  “What?” Leon sounded fully awake now. “Tom?”

  “Dylan thinks someone might be targeting the CoS, and the remaining five of us are in danger.” The words didn’t seem real as she spoke them. “He believes it might have something to do with the postcards.”

  “You’re sure?” Leon’s voice held disbelief. “How did Tom die?”

  She explained about the explosion and that Dylan thought it wasn’t an accident.

  “You need to get yourself and your family to safety.” She swallowed and proceeded to give Leon the instructions Dylan had spelled out to her. “Dylan said to go to a small hotel in Sierra Vista where you can go under an assumed name without showing ID. Some kind of crappy no-tell motel.”

  “Shit.” Leon bit out the word. In the background, Belle heard Leon’s wife’s voice, asking what was going on. Leon’s words were a little muffled as he must have pulled the phone away from his ear. “Babe, get the kids together. I’ll explain in a minute.” His voice was clear again. “Okay, we’ll go.”

  “Tell Leon to call me in the morning,” Dylan said.

  She repeated the instruction.

  “I still have Dylan’s card.” Leon sounded agitated. “I’ll get a hold of him. Both of you be careful.”

  “Just get going.” The urgency within Belle made her jittery. “I’m going to get a hold of Marta and Christie.”

  Streetlights flashed by as Dylan drove. She disconnected with Leon and pulled up Christie’s number. The call went straight to voice mail. Feeling almost frantic, she pressed redial and again she heard Christie’s voice, telling the caller to leave a message.

  “Christie.” Belle tried not to rush her words. “Call me. I need to talk with you. It’s urgent.”

  When Belle disconnected, she looked at Dylan. “What if something has happened to her?”

  “We’ll go to their house.” Dylan’s expression was grim. “See if you can get a hold of Marta.”

  Belle nodded and got Marta’s number. The call was answered after two rings.

  “Hello?” The voice was not Marta’s and it was far from calm. “Who is this?”

  “This is Belle Hartford.” A sick feeling gripped Belle’s stomach. “I’m trying to reach Marta.”

  “This is Marta’s wife, Nancy.” The woman sounded like she was crying. “We’re at the hospital.”

  “Oh, Nancy. What happened?” Horror rose up inside Belle, clawing its way through her chest as her gaze met Dylan’s. “Is Marta okay?”

  “She’s in serious condition.” Nancy’s voice was tight. “Someone hit her over the head. When I found her there was blood everywhere.”

  “Oh, my God.” Belle put her hand over her mouth then lowered it to speak. “Are you at the Copper Queen Hospital?”

  “Yes.” Nancy sobbed. “The force of the blow caused swelling to her brain and the doctors induced a coma. They said it was to protect her brain from being damaged by the swelling and pressure.”

  “We’ll be there.” Belle’s heart thudded. “We just have to check on Christie.”

  Nancy was apparently too distraught to question why Belle had called at this hour and why she was checking on a friend this late at night.

  “Ask her if there are police officers at the hospital,” Dylan said.

  Belle asked Nancy the question.

  “Yes.” Nancy’s voice cracked. “Why?”

  Dylan took the phone from Belle. “Tell one of the officers to stay close, that Agent Curtis with DHS believes it might be an attempt on her life. I’m going to call BPD to make sure an officer is posted.”

  Belle could hear the woman’s frantic questions. Dylan said, “We’ll be there as soon as we can to explain.”

  After he ended the call, he handed the phone back to Belle. “Try Christie again.”

  Belle’s mind was spinning as she brought up Christie’s number. When it went to voicemail for the third time, she wanted to scream.

  While she tried to call Christie, Dylan spoke on his phone and she heard him address someone as Lieutenant Marks before giving a quick rundown and asking for an officer to be posted by Marta’s hospital room.

  Dylan made a second call as Belle left Christie another message. She heard him explain the situation in more detail to whoever was on the other end of the line.

  She realized they were almost to Warren, where Christie lived. Dylan shoved his phone back into its holster and guided the truck to one of the terraces where some of the nicer homes were located.

  Belle gripped her phone so tightly that it dug into her hand and her fingers ached. When they pulled into Christie and Salvatore’s driveway, Belle was opening her door before Dylan had brought the truck to a full stop.

  He grabbed her arm as he put the vehicle into park. “Stay here.” His expression was hard as he looked at her. “Lock the doors when I get out. I need to make sure it’s safe.”

  The look on his face told her she shouldn’t argue because she wouldn’t win even though she wanted to see for herself that Christie was okay.

  But what if Christie wasn’t all right?

  Dylan climbed out and waited for her to lock the doors before he strode to the wrought iron security door at the entrance.

  CHAPTER 10

  Salvatore held his phone to his ear and listened to Ryan Davies. Salvatore stood in front of the special bookcase he’d had installed when his contractor cousin had put in the safe. Just one flick of a switch and the bookcase would swing open to a set of stairs that led to two rooms beneath the house.

  In those rooms, he had enough supplies for himself and Christie to survive for well past a month. And beyond that…freedom. If anything ever went down where he needed an out, they would be gone once things had cooled.

  He listened to Davies, a mercenary for hire that Salvatore had retained through his most powerful cousin, El Verdugo. Dr. Tom Zumsteg was no more. And thanks to a bug Davies had planted in the doctor’s phone at the hospital, Salvatore knew that Zumsteg hadn’t had time to give his postcard to Dylan Curtis.

  Salvatore gave a triumphant smile as he ended the call with Davies. Now Salvatore needed to get rid of the rest of the circle to make sure they didn’t figure out the meaning of the cards. Once Salvatore had gotten more out of Christie, after hearing what had been on her own card, he’d known that those notes were meant to point back to him.

  It was too bad Rodrigo required the services of Davies now, so the mercenary wasn’t available to wipe everyone out who needed to be eliminated. Salvatore would have to rely on others to rid him of those he despised…every single member of the circle.

  He couldn’t allow them to figure out what Nate O’Malley had been trying to tell them.

  Salvatore’s phone rang and he looked at the screen. Oscar Garcia,
a nurse at the Copper Queen Hospital, with more good news, he had no doubt.

  “Is she dead?” Salvatore asked instead of giving a greeting.

  Oscar cleared his throat. “No.”

  Sudden fury burned in Salvatore’s chest like heated metal as he held the phone to his ear and said the words slowly. “Marta De La Paz is not dead?”

  Oscar was clearly trying to sound confident as he spoke. “The doctors do not know if she will recover.”

  “You will make sure she dies.” Salvatore clenched and unclenched his free hand as he stopped and stared at the closed door. The office was soundproofed and his wife would not hear even if he shouted. He managed to maintain control. “You are a fucking nurse. You can go into her room when there is an opportunity. Smother her with a pillow. Anything.”

  Oscar let out an audible breath. “The authorities have posted a guard at her door. A policeman.”

  Salvatore’s body went rigid. Law enforcement had already figured out that the precious circle was being targeted? Had Dylan Curtis figured it out so soon? He had to be behind it.

  Trying to relax his muscles, Salvatore forced himself to take a deep breath. He should not be surprised since Curtis was a federal agent. With the attack on Marta and the explosion happening at the same time, however, Salvatore had hoped Curtis wouldn’t have time to catch on until tomorrow when it was too late and the rest of the circle would be dead.

  “Find a way,” Salvatore said in a fierce growl to Oscar. “Kill her.”

  “Yes, sir.” Oscar had barely spoken the words when Salvatore disconnected the call.

  If only they had known where Curtis was tonight, they would have taken care of the one man who could have put everything together so quickly.

  Salvatore made another call, to his most trusted man, Paco Esperanza. He’d have Paco keep an eye on Oscar and make sure he did the job.