No Mercy Page 11

  With a growl, Salvatore started to reach for his humidor to get the key to the door above the safe. He hadn’t indulged in a few days, but right now he wanted to snort a line of coke more than he cared to admit.

  A knock at the office door jerked his attention from his thoughts and his hand from the humidor. Why would Christie bother him this late at night? He frowned and strode toward the door, unlocked it, and yanked it open to see his wife standing in front of him, a robe wrapped around her slender form, her red hair tousled.

  “Someone is at the front door.” Christie furrowed her delicate brows. “The doorbell has been ringing. I thought you might not want me to open it myself this late at night.”

  The doorbell rang insistently through the house as she finished speaking. He hadn’t heard it before, thanks to the soundproofing in his office.

  Without answering her, he headed down the hallway to the front door that was heavy and solid behind the security door.

  He peeked out the peephole and saw that Dylan Curtis was on his doorstep.

  For one moment Salvatore wondered if Curtis had guessed who had ordered the murders of the circle members. He mentally shook his head. No doubt Curtis was here for a more noble cause—to inform and warn them.

  Salvatore opened the door. The irritation that was likely on his features would be excused as being interrupted at such a late hour.

  “What’s going on?” Salvatore tried not to snap as he spoke through the screen of the security door.

  “Dylan.” Christie moved beside Salvatore and he wished he’d sent her to bed. “Has something happened?”

  “Do you mind opening up?” Curtis gestured to security door.

  “Of course not.” Christie bit her lip as she looked up at Salvatore.

  He clenched his jaw tight, unlocked the door, and pushed it open, but did not invite Curtis in.

  Curtis looked from Salvatore to Christie. “There’s no easy way to say this. Tom is dead.”

  Christie’s eyes widened and she clapped her hand over her mouth as if to hold in a scream.

  Salvatore tried to look appropriately shocked. “What happened?”

  “An explosion at his home.” Curtis moved his gaze to Salvatore. “It was a bomb.”

  “My God.” Salvatore looked at his wife and put an arm around her shoulders as shock and disbelief crossed her features.

  “That’s not all.” Curtis turned back to Christie. “Marta’s in the hospital.”

  Christie’s fear filled eyes widened. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “The doctors don’t know.” Curtis looked at Salvatore. “I don’t have time to explain anymore. I believe we need to get everyone in the circle to safety. I think we’re all being targeted.”

  “Of course.” Salvatore held Christie closer. “I won’t take any chances with my wife’s safety.”

  “Where is everyone?” Christie looked terrified.

  Curtis shook his head. “We don’t have time to discuss it. You should leave your house now. For all we know, a bomb could be set to blow in your house.”

  “I have my keys.” Salvatore reached into his pocket.

  Dylan shook his head. “We know my truck is secure. Come with us.”

  Salvatore’s mind worked through this unexpected problem. He hadn’t planned on being expected to go into hiding. Perhaps he should have.

  Everything incriminating he owned was tucked in the safe, all of it handwritten. He kept nothing that would be of use to the police computerized. Nate, however, had put much on his own laptop. Fortunately, Salvatore had “acquired” the laptop and he had destroyed the hard drive himself in one of the two rooms beneath the house that he accessed via the bookcase.

  Even an explosion wouldn’t open that safe. He had no reason to be concerned.

  As far as going with Curtis, this might be a very good thing. He would be able to keep tabs on the rest of the circle and in the loop about what progress was being made on the five remaining postcards.

  Christie looked up at Salvatore and he gave her a nod. “We will go with him.”

  She wrapped her robe more tightly around her as they stepped over the threshold and Salvatore locked both the front and security doors behind them.

  When they reached the truck, he saw that Belle was sitting in the front passenger seat. He heard the locks click as Dylan gave her an obvious signal to unlock the doors.

  “Oh, thank God,” Belle said as Christie climbed into the back seat.

  The two women hugged, tears rolling down both their faces. Salvatore found it difficult to wear a concerned expression when all he wanted to do was take a gun with a silencer and shoot all three of them in the head right now. He could picture the blood spatters and imagined himself calling the cleanup crew to get rid of the bodies and the truck.

  As Christie put her seatbelt on after she sat behind Belle, Salvatore eased into the seat behind Curtis.

  Yes, he would have to kill Christie. It might put suspicion on him if she were the only one who did not die, and he couldn’t take that chance.

  If he had his handgun with him, he could pull it out and shoot the fucking federal agent in the back of the head then kill the other two bitches before they knew what was happening.

  Even though he’d loved his wife since high school, he had never been able to forgive her for not bearing him sons. It was time to take care of her, along with the rest of the circle, and move on.

  CHAPTER 11

  Belle had a hard time pulling herself together, but she felt she needed to for Christie’s sake. They got out of the truck after Dylan parked in the hospital parking lot. Christie still looked pale and shaken, and kept her bathrobe and one of Dylan’s jackets tightly around her. Belle hugged her friend with one arm as they headed to the front doors of the hospital.

  Salvatore walked behind them with Dylan, who was answering most of Salvatore’s questions but dodging others. Some information Dylan seemed to be holding back, and she assumed it was because of the investigation.

  The glass doors slid open and they walked into the lobby. The hospital had been remodeled and smelled like new carpet and paint. Belle waited with Christie as Dylan showed his credentials at the information desk and asked where Marta’s room was. He was given directions and then they headed that way.

  When they reached the nurse’s station, Salvatore, Christie, and Belle were told they would have to take a seat in a small waiting area. Dylan had once again shown his badge and he went down the hall and out of sight.

  Belle and Christie sat next to each other as Salvatore paced the room. Christie rested her head against Belle, who still had her arm around her friend’s shoulders.

  The horror of the day weighed on Belle. They’d just had Nate’s memorial, and now Tom was dead and Marta was clinging to life.

  “What’s happening?” Christie’s voice was thick from crying. “What’s in those postcards that makes us all targets?”

  “I don’t know.” Belle swallowed back the fear enhanced by Christie’s words. “Whatever it is, it has to be bad.”

  “It’s a nightmare.” Christie was dry eyed now as she raised her head and looked at Belle. “How can any of this really be happening? I feel like I’m going to wake up and find out it was all a bad dream.”

  “I wish it was a nightmare.” Belle stared at her lap. “Because then none of this would be real.”

  She fingered the hem of her sweater, feeling its softness between her fingers. That small movement helped to ground her in a strange way, like a touch of what was real when everything around her was so unreal.

  What was going on? Why were they being targeted? What was in those damned postcards?

  She knew Nate would never intentionally put them in danger. He must have thought that he could give them clues to something big, knowing that they would all discuss the cards if something happened to him. He must have been certain that he wasn’t going to survive whatever trouble he’d gotten himself into.

  Nate, she thought, h
er chest hurting with the pain of all that had happened, what did you get us all into?

  ~~*~~

  Dylan strode down the hallway to Marta’s room. He didn’t recognize the BPD officer at the doorway, but his name patch said Hathaway. Dylan showed his creds.

  “Lieutenant Marks said to expect you.” Hathaway opened the door to the room and let Dylan in.

  His gut sank at the sight of Marta amongst all of the tubes, along with a horrifying-looking instrument inserted into her skull. Marta was not a small woman but with the way she was hooked up on a life support system, the bed seemed to swallow her. Seeing his friend like that sent a sharp pain through his gut.

  A blonde woman sat in a chair beside the bed, holding Marta’s hand in hers. The woman’s blue eyes were red and it looked like she was holding onto her composure by a thread.

  She met Dylan’s gaze as he stopped directly in front of her. “I’m Special Agent Dylan Curtis with DHS. I’m also a friend of Marta’s.”

  “I’m Nancy.” The woman looked at Marta and back to Dylan. “I’m Marta’s wife.”

  “Marta spoke of you with love and pride.” Dylan studied the pretty woman’s face. “I’m sorry meeting you wasn’t under better circumstances.”

  Nancy looked at Marta. “She’s talked about you and your Circle of Seven many times over the years.” A tear squeezed from one of Nancy’s eyes. “She commented on how she’d wished you all had done a better job of staying in touch.”

  “I agree.” Feelings of regret ran deep, burning Dylan’s soul like a white-hot river of lava. Nate, Tom, Marta. People he’d loved but hadn’t taken the time to keep up with. Even with Nate, Dylan felt he should have been there for his friend far more than he had.

  He took the only other empty chair in the room and sat close to Marta. “What can you tell me about what happened tonight?”

  It looked as though Nancy was struggling to speak. “I had a late shift.” She brushed hair from her eyes. “When I got home, I checked on the kids and both were sound asleep. Sometimes Marta waits up for me, sometimes she’s asleep. I didn’t see her in bed, so I went into the bathroom.”

  Nancy’s eyes welled with tears and her voice was thick when she continued. “Marta was on the floor by the toilet, blood in a pool by her head.”

  Dylan’s gut tensed as he leaned forward in his chair and braced his forearms on his thighs. “Take your time.”

  She took a deep breath then let it out again. “I called 9-1-1. While I was waiting for them, Marta stopped breathing. I tried mouth to mouth, but couldn’t get her to breathe.” Tears rolled down Nancy’s cheeks. “The paramedics made it just in time. They were able to resuscitate her and brought her to the hospital where they induced the coma.”

  Dylan waited for her to go on.

  Nancy wiped tears from her face with the back of her hand. “Why would someone do this to her?”

  Dylan studied Nancy. “Did you see anyone around when you got home?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Where are your children?”

  “With my mom.” Nancy looked back to Marta. “She lives close to us.”

  Dylan pulled his phone out of its holster. “I want you to call your mother and tell her a law enforcement officer will be coming to take her and the kids somewhere safe.”

  Nancy’s eyes widened and she put her hand over her mouth before lowering it. “You think our sons and my mom might be in danger?”

  Dylan hesitated. “It’s a precaution. We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet.”

  Nancy released Marta’s hand and reached for a purse on the floor by the bedside table. She pulled out a cell phone and pressed a couple of icons.

  By the time Nancy had her phone to her ear, Dylan was already speaking with Sofia Aguilar, the Resident Agent in Charge, and explaining the situation. Sofia was at her home, but took calls all hours of the night when it came to something as important as this.

  His RAC didn’t drill him about the cards, but he knew she would later. She focused on the problem at hand. “Give me the address and we’ll get the kids and grandmother to a safe house. I’ll get a couple of agents to the hospital for security. I’ll also see to safe houses for Salvatore and Christie Reyes as well as Belle Hartford.”

  Dylan caught Nancy’s attention from her phone call and got the grandmother’s address before relaying it to Sofia.

  “I will call you back with information.” Sofia’s voice was a little harder. “You and I also have a few things to discuss.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Dylan blew out his breath as she disconnected.

  Nancy set her phone on the bedside table. He could see her hands were shaking.

  She turned back to him, fear in her eyes. “Are the kids going to be all right? Can you keep them safe?”

  “We will.” Dylan took her hands in his and squeezed. “Stay with Marta. I’ll have someone bring you a tray at mealtime. I don’t want you going anywhere without an escort.” As the fear in Nancy’s gaze magnified, he added, “Just as a precaution.”

  “Whatever you can do, do it.” Her expression turned hard. “And find whoever did this to my wife.” She took Marta’s hand in hers again and gripped it. “So help me, if Marta doesn’t pull through, I’m going to find the one who did this and kill them myself.”

  “We’ll find him.” Dylan stood. He placed a hand on Nancy’s shoulder and squeezed. “You can count on it.”

  She looked at him for a long moment then nodded and turned back to Marta. He went to the opposite side of the bed and took Marta’s other hand in his. Her fingers were warm but her body so still, so lifeless. A lump rose in his throat as memories of times long ago scrambled in his brain. So many memories of all of them and he hadn’t bothered to make new memories with his oldest friends. Now they were being taken away from him one by one.

  “I’ll see you soon, Marta.” Dylan squeezed her hand one last time before he turned away and walked to the door. When he opened it, he stepped back into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

  He stopped in front of Officer Hathaway. “DHS agents will be here to relieve you within the hour.”

  The officer acknowledged Dylan, who turned and walked to the nurse’s station where two nurses were talking. The nurses were red-eyed and he could tell they’d been crying. He overheard one of them say, “Dr. Zumsteg was a wonderful man.” Her voice cracked.

  The other nurse looked up and saw Dylan. She’d been the nurse he’d shown his credentials to earlier.

  The curly-haired brunette nurse stood and approached the divider. Her badge had her picture and her name was Carrie Prince. “What can I do for you, Agent Curtis?”

  “I’d like to talk with to Ms. De La Paz’s physician.” He looked from Carrie to the other nurse. “And I’d also like to speak to you a moment about Dr. Zumsteg.” More DHS agents would be asking questions, so he intended to keep his questioning brief.

  Carrie nodded. “I’ll see if I can reach Dr. Miller.”

  While they waited for the doctor, Dylan asked the two nurses if they worked closely with Dr. Zumsteg and they both had.

  “I can’t believe his house just exploded.” The other nurse, Jan Wickenburg, blew her nose with a Kleenex, then lowered the tissue. “How could that have happened?”

  “Rest assured it’s being fully investigated.” Dylan looked at both nurses. “Did anything seem different about Dr. Zumsteg tonight, out of the ordinary?”

  Carrie frowned and shook her head. “Not that I noticed. I was just coming in as he was leaving. He nodded to me and told me to have a good night, but that was it. Although he did seem a little more subdued.”

  “My shift started about an hour before Dr. Zumsteg left.” Jan tilted her head. “He seemed preoccupied. He is normally a little more talkative. Not a lot since he’s so busy, but today he was quieter.”

  A woman in a white coat approached, stethoscope around her neck. As he turned to her, Dylan saw by her badge that her name was Dr. Emma Mil
ler. She was gorgeous, her blonde hair pulled back with a clip, and a no-nonsense look about her. Dark circles were under her eyes, but that didn’t detract from her beauty. He wondered if the darkness was caused by exhaustion or the death of Tom. Or both. When he looked into her gaze and saw the depth of pain within them, he knew.

  “Dr. Miller, I’m Special Agent Curtis with DHS.” Dylan held out his hand. She shifted the chart she was carrying to her left arm then took his hand. Her grip was firm.

  She held his gaze as they released hands. “What can I do for you, Agent Curtis?”

  Dylan nodded to the empty corridor. “Mind if we speak in private?”

  “Not at all.” She fell into step with him.

  He came to a stop, out of earshot. “I have a few questions to ask you.”

  She didn’t smile and he was certain why there was such pain in her gaze. “I’ll answer whatever I can.”

  First things first. “Please tell me about Marta De La Paz’s condition.”

  “Certainly.” Dr. Miller explained what Nancy had already told him, about the blow and having to induce the coma. “We’re doing everything we can for her.”

  He asked her a few more questions before he said, “How well did you know Dr. Zumsteg?”

  The pain was back in her eyes. “I knew Tom well.”

  He dove in. “You were seeing Dr. Zumsteg outside of work.”

  Her eyes widened slightly. It took only a flash for her to compose herself. “Yes, but we were discreet about it. How did you know?”

  “I’m adept at reading people.” Dylan studied her. “You’re doing a good job at holding yourself together, but I have a feeling when you go home you’re going to fall apart.”

  She cleared her throat. “So you need to question me?”

  “Yes.” Dylan took in the magnified pain in her eyes. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be the last.”

  “I understand.” She visibly swallowed.

  “I need to know if you noticed anything different about Tom earlier today.” Dylan watched her expression intently. “Did he mention anything unusual?”

  A look of recognition dawned on her features. “You’re the agent he spoke about, a good friend of his. He was supposed to meet you tonight.”