Unwritten Rules (Phoenix, Ltd. Book 1) Page 26

  “So are we. And we’re faster and smarter. Nothing will happen to your family. I promise.” She held his gaze and softened her tone. “Let me do this for you.”

  He hesitated. She followed the warring emotions in his eyes and released her breath when the stronger side won.

  “Okay.”

  She smiled and turned to Patrick. “This is my number one client. You’d better not let anything happen to him.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. Now let’s roll.”

  After the men left, she changed into slim knit pants, a turtleneck, and rubber soled shoes. They might not make much of a fashion statement, but tonight she was glad the clothes she kept at the office were black. Out of habit she checked her Glock before slipping it into a shoulder holster. She usually preferred to wear her weapon on her belt, but the encounter with Chick might get physical and the holster was more secure.

  She parked a few blocks from Carter’s mother’s house and circled the area on foot, checking for lookouts before picking her way down the alley. About halfway down the block, Zoë stepped from the shadows next to a garage.

  Madelyn’s pulse fluttered erratically. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Which house is it?”

  Zoë pointed to a tidy bungalow with a finished second story carved from the attic, much like every other tidy bungalow on the block. The yard was small, and the detached garage faced the alley. Downstairs the curtains were drawn, but a light shone brightly through an upstairs window.

  “Is that the room?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she still in there?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll start with her.”

  They crept across the yard, moving from bush to bush until they reached the small back porch. Madelyn climbed onto the wrought iron railing then pulled herself onto the roof. Zoë followed. They bent low and moved swiftly until they knelt beside the bedroom window dormer poking through the low roof.

  Madelyn leaned over and peered inside. A dark-haired woman sat on the bed with her arms crossed and her back to the window. Madelyn knocked softly. The woman tipped her head but didn’t turn. She knocked again. This time the woman swiveled to face her.

  It was Carter’s mother, no doubt about it. She appeared to be in her mid-sixties and had thick, black hair shot with silver, but her eyes sealed the deal. They were the same brilliant blue as her son’s.

  Madelyn motioned for her to open the window. Mrs. Devlin gave her a suspicious look but unlatched the window and shoved it up a couple of inches. The old wood groaned softly.

  “We’re here to help you.” Madelyn kept her voice to a whisper.

  “Did Carter send you?”

  “Yes. Can you let us in?”

  His mother bent down and examined her closely through the glass. “Are you Madelyn Li?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Devlin seemed satisfied. She slid her fingers under the sash and pulled hard. The window shuddered in its tracks and slid up another foot. “Carter told me you were going on his tour with him. Where is he? Why didn’t he come with you? They haven’t hurt him, have they?”

  Madelyn put her finger to her lips, and Carter’s mother nodded. “Sorry.”

  Madelyn slid her shoulder under the window and shoved upwards. It slid up about ten inches. “He’s fine. He’s with Patrick Lynch. They have some things to take care of.”

  “Things related to the numbskull downstairs?”

  “Yes. We’ve come to get you and your mother-in-law away from him. Do you think you can climb through this window? We’ll help you down to the porch.”

  Mrs. Devlin stuck her head out the window and looked down. “Oh, honey, I don’t think so. That man put something in my tea, and I’m still dizzy.”

  Madelyn would never forgive herself if she let Carter’s mom fall off the roof. “Zoë can wait with you while I unlock the door from the other side. Is there another way in that doesn’t involve breaking glass? We have to be as quiet as possible.”

  “The bathroom window’s unlocked. I could never get through it, but you might fit.”

  “Thank you. Zoë, keep Mrs. Devlin company. I’ll knock three times when I’ve got the door unlocked.”

  Zoë nodded.

  Madelyn inched along the side of the dormer until she found the unlocked bathroom window. She wiggled and jimmied until it opened far enough to accommodate her shoulders and hips. She would end up with a few bruises, but she should be able to make it. She slipped off her loaded holster, reached through the window, and lowered it to the top of the toilet before squeezing through.

  Once inside she shrugged back into the holster but kept the gun in her hand and waited, listening for footsteps on the stairs. After a few minutes of silence, she stepped into the hall. Light from the first floor filtered up the stairs, and a ball game blared on the TV in the living room.

  A strip of light shone under the bedroom door. Madelyn tapped her knuckles three times and turned the handle, but it didn’t budge. She examined the knob with her fingertips. No button. She found the keyhole. No key.

  She had no choice but to leave Zoë and Mrs. Devlin in the room while she took care of Chick. Pressing her cheek to the door, she whispered, “Stay put. I’ll go down alone.”

  “Check the doorframe,” a voice whispered back.

  She ran her hand up the side of the wooden frame. Halfway across the top, her fingers encountered an old-fashioned key. She plucked it down and inserted it in the lock. She turned the key slowly, trying to minimize any sound. A soft click rewarded her efforts, and she opened the door.

  “Mrs. Devlin, you stay here. Zoë, follow me.”

  “Shouldn’t we call the police?” Carter’s mom whispered.

  “We will as soon as we make sure Chick is no longer a threat to Gran.”

  “Is that his name? Chick? What a silly name for a grown man.”

  Madelyn smiled. “Just stay here, please.”

  Weapon in hand, she pressed her back against the wall as she and Zoë inched their way down the stairs single file. Madelyn stopped two steps from the bottom and raised her hand. The commentator’s voice rose as an outfielder caught a long fly ball. She poked her head out just far enough to catch a quick glimpse of the living room.

  Chick sprawled in an easy chair staring at the television, and Gran sat on the sofa with her head tilted sideways at an unnatural angle. Madelyn couldn’t see her face, but she prayed the woman was asleep.

  She pulled back into the stairwell. “We need to separate them. Take the back hall and create a diversion in the kitchen. Then get Mrs. Devlin out of the house.”

  Zoë slipped past her and disappeared.

  Madelyn waited, her heart pounding. She leaned forward again when a sudden clattering of pots from the kitchen brought Chick flying out of his chair waving a pistol and spouting a string of profanities.

  “Wha-what?” Gran sat up and shook her head. “What are you carrying on about?”

  Chick pointed the gun at her. “Someone’s in the kitchen.”

  She waved him off. “Oh, that’s just Mr. Jankowski from next door. He likes to leave me pennies.”

  “You’re nuts, you know that? Go in there and get rid of him. But don’t say anything about me, or I’ll shoot you both. And I’ll be listening.”

  Gran grumbled as she pushed herself up from the sofa and shuffled out of view. Chick had moved out of Madelyn’s line of vision. She drew her weapon and slowly shifted her weight down to the last step. The board groaned.

  She sucked in her breath and waited, listening, but the noise from the television filled the room, drowning out all other sound. Could it have masked the creaking of the step too? She couldn’t stay frozen on the stairs and leave Zoë without backup. She had to take the risk. She eased her other foot to the floor.

  Sensing motion to the right, she raised her gun the second Chick Avery sprang out in front of her. He faced her in a shooter’s s
tance with both hands holding a small black automatic aimed directly at her chest.

  “Well, Ms. Li. This looks like a Mexican stand-off.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Drop your weapon, Avery.”

  Chick snorted. “You’re in no position to make demands. Set your gun on the floor slow and easy and put your hands up.”

  Madelyn held her position with her Glock pointed at his face. “That’s not happening.”

  “I’ve got all night. Do you?”

  Did she? She desperately wanted to wrap this up so she could get to Carter before the meeting at the pier went down, but she had promised to protect his family. She would have to trust him to take care of himself until she had fulfilled her promise. “I can wait as long as you can.”

  “Well I can’t,” declared a voice from above her on the stairs.

  A baseball exploded out of the darkness and beaned Chick in the middle of the forehead.

  He dropped like an anvil, and his gun clattered to the floor. Madelyn kicked it away and knelt to check his pulse.

  “Did I kill him?” Carter’s mother peered over her shoulder.

  His pulse beat strong in his neck.

  “No. He’ll be fine.” Madelyn picked up the ball and tossed it in the air, catching it in her right hand. “That was some fastball.”

  “With three boys, I got a lot of practice. The ball was Carter’s. He left it in his room when he went away to college.”

  “Thanks for your help.” Madelyn removed a pair of handcuffs from the leather case on her belt. She rolled Chick to his side and cuffed his hands behind his back.

  “No problem. I’m Margaret, by the way.” Carter’s mother stuck out her hand, and Madelyn shook it.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Margaret. Why don’t you call the police? I’m sure you’d like to get this man out of your house.”

  “As soon as possible.” Margaret brushed imaginary dirt from her hands. She skirted Chick’s inert form and headed for the kitchen.

  Madelyn contemplated the unconscious man on the floor. She was tempted to splash water in his face so she could question him before the police arrived. Neutralizing him wasn’t enough. She needed information. She needed the complete picture—who was involved and why? With Chick in custody, who was meeting Carter, and what did they want?

  She wished she could blink her eyes and materialize at the pier. Patrick and his agents were well-trained and highly experienced, but they were only human. She would never forgive herself if something went wrong and she wasn’t there.

  A commotion distracted her, and she stepped into the living room. Gran came charging out of the kitchen with Margaret and Zoë close behind.

  Zoë shrugged. “I tried to keep her outside, but she wouldn’t have it.”

  “Where is he? Margaret said she knocked him out. I want to see him.”

  “He’s over here.” Madelyn pointed to the body on the floor.

  Chick groaned, and his eyelids fluttered.

  Gran bent to examine him. She poked the lump on his forehead, and he winced. “Nice knot. You can see the stitch marks from the seam on the ball. Margaret’s got quite an arm. I wish I’d been here to see him go down.”

  Three heavy knocks sounded from the front door. “Chicago police,” a deep voice boomed. “Mrs. Devlin, are you okay?”

  Margaret opened the door, and two burly cops stepped into the foyer.

  “Hello Charles, Rusty.”

  The shorter of the two, a sergeant, walked over to the women clustered around Chick. The man stirred and groaned again.

  “What happened here?”

  Gran piped up. “Margaret nailed him.”

  The sergeant squatted beside Chick and checked his goose egg. “Nice work, Mrs. D.”

  “It was all those hours I spent pitching to you and Carter in ninth grade when you wanted to try out for the varsity team. What a waste of effort. You dumped baseball for football as soon as you got a look at the cheerleaders.”

  “It was time well spent.” He pointed to Chick’s forehead. “You’ve still got what it takes.” The sergeant pushed to his feet. “The ambulance should be here any minute. We’ll get this dirtball out of your house and take your statements.”

  The ambulance arrived, and Madelyn gave the police a succinct description of the evening’s events. The burglary and kidnapping charges alone would keep Chick in jail for the time being. The additional charges could wait until everyone connected with the plot was in custody.

  She checked her watch every couple of minutes as the officers wrapped up their questioning, and her stomach danced a nervous jig. She had kept her promise–Margaret and Gran were safe. She needed to go. Now. It would take at least thirty minutes to drive across town, and she wanted to make contact and be in place well before the eleven o’clock meet. The minute the sergeant flipped his notebook closed, she turned to Zoë.

  “I’m leaving for the pier,” she said in a low voice.

  “Do you want me come with you?”

  Madelyn shook her head. “I need you to stay with them.” She glanced at Margaret and Gran. “I’ll call you as soon as the operation’s wrapped up.”

  “Will do.”

  “Why are you going to the pier?” Gran asked loudly.

  Madelyn sighed. Whatever had made her think she could slip away without a battle? “I need to help Carter with something.”

  “Margaret and I will come along. We’re great in a tight spot. Let me get my coat.”

  Gran was so much like Grandma Li it was scary. Same petite stature, same feisty confidence, same well-meaning interference. Heaven help her if those two ever met. She took a deep breath. “I’ll bring him back as soon as we’re finished. I promise. Zoë,” she shot her operative a pointed look, “I’ve got to go.”

  Zoë wrapped an arm around Gran’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

  Madelyn sprinted down the sidewalk to her car two blocks away. When she reached it, she jumped in, cranked the key, and roared off.

  She cursed every red light, every car that crossed her path. It didn’t matter that Carter was a seasoned field agent, experienced enough to handle any situation. It didn’t matter that he had three competent FBI agents backing him up. She needed to be there.

  As she drove through downtown, she fought the urge to push the lights or weave around slower traffic. A ticket or an accident would only slow her down. She parked on a side street several blocks from the pier and checked the time. Ten ’til eleven.

  A short epithet hissed from her lips. She was late. She would have to locate Carter, Patrick, and the agents without alerting anyone. No matter how badly she wanted to race in with guns blazing and round up the bad guys, the element of surprise was now her most potent weapon.

  ****

  Carter shifted his weight and leaned against the wall of the Ferris wheel ticket booth. Several yards away, Pat Lynch crouched in the shadows behind a wooden horse on the silent carousel. One of his agents was tucked into a dark crevice at the base of the Wave Swinger, and the other hid behind a windmill on the miniature golf course.

  The tourists had departed for the night, and the squawking gulls had retired to wherever gulls retire. The only sound was the soft slap of waves against the pier. Pat had talked to the park manager before closing time, so no lights glared or guards patrolled. The silent rides and deserted restaurants formed a ghostly montage in gray and black.

  Carter paced, unconcerned about drawing attention. He wanted them to find him, and the sooner the better. He didn’t care who it was. After weeks of anonymous attacks, he craved face-to-face confrontation.

  Nothing would give him more satisfaction than to twist Chick Avery into a pretzel with his bare hands, but Madelyn had convinced him to leave the bastard to her. She’d asked him to trust her and he did, but he’d feel a lot better with confirmation of her success. They had decided to forgo cell phone contact for practical reasons, but he’d give every penny from his next ten books for
a simple “they’re safe”.

  A tiny sound caught his attention. A pebble scuffed by the sole of a shoe. He straightened and turned his head, trying to pick it up again.

  “Devlin.”

  Laura Burns materialized in front of a shuttered Mexican cantina twenty feet away. She was good—he had to give her credit. He hadn’t sensed her approach, and the silence in his earpiece suggested she’d slipped by Pat and his agents too.

  He stepped toward her. “I’m here, as requested.”

  “Ever the obedient little spy, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not here to play games. What do you want?”

  A glint of light reflected off the barrel of a silver automatic in Laura’s right hand. “I know you’re carrying. Drop your weapon.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  She lifted the pistol. “Because I’ll shoot you if you don’t.”

  “If Chick were here, he’d tell you you’re way out of your league. You’d be dead before you squeezed the trigger.”

  “Well, he’s not here, but I can reach him with the touch of a button and tell him you’re not cooperating. He might take his displeasure out on your mother and grandmother, and I’m sure you don’t want that. Now drop the gun.”

  Carter caught a flash of movement some twenty yards behind her along the edge of the pier. He squinted, but couldn’t distinguish a shape against the inky backdrop of lake and sky.

  Pat’s voice crackled in his ear. “Step aside. You’re blocking my shot.”

  Carter turned his head and whispered, “Hold off.”

  Laura waved her pistol. “I said drop it.”

  He ignored her command and focused over her right shoulder. The darkness stirred again, but closer this time. Then a wave of black satin rippled in a glimmer of light, and a faint, pale oval appeared. His heart leapt. Madelyn. She wouldn’t be here unless Mom and Gran were safe. Now he could do whatever he had to without fear.

  He took a step toward Laura, then another.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot.” Despite her threat, she backed up.

  He stopped, but Madelyn’s form gradually solidified as she continued to inch forward. He raised his voice, hoping to mask any sound she might make. “Do you intend to kill me? Is that why you’re doing this? What do you and Chick hope to gain?”