Nico clenched his jaw. Bear wasn’t hearing a thing he said. One mistake in all his years. One time —
“You got something to say, Nico?”
“I tried to do what you said. Sometimes things happen.”
“No. No. Things don’t just ‘happen.’ You did this. That short temper of yours — that’s what did it.”
Nico bit back his answer.
Bear glared at him. “What about the wife and kid? How’d you expect to get Giordano outta there without them seeing you?”
“He told me they were gone.”
“And you just believed him.”
“He had too much money ridin’ on it to cross me.”
“Apparently he didn’t get the message.”
Nico said nothing.
Bear knocked his knuckles against the desk. “The wife — can she finger you?”
“Never saw me. She was busy with the kid.”
“You hope so.”
“That’s what she told the cops.”
Bear’s hard eyes drilled into Nico. He slid a hand to his face. One finger traced the scar along his jaw line.
Nico went cold.
“Listen to me good, Nico. I don’t want you thinkin’ with that mule head of yours. I just want you to do what I tell you. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“When you leave here, go home. Stay there. Tell your friends on the force to keep their ears out for any more word from the detectives on the case. We gotta be sure that crime scene opens up by tonight. When you hear it’s clear, call me. I want the money outta there long before dawn. Go at one a.m.”
“Where you want me to take it?” Nico tried to keep his eyes from that trailing finger.
“I’ll let you know. Right now I don’t care if we have to bury it in my backyard. I just want it out of there.”
“Okay.”
“Nothin’ goes wrong. Nothin’. We get the money. The cops and G-men stay clueless about the robbery and Giordano.”
“It’s done. I guarantee you. It’s done.”
Bear dropped his hand, but his gaze was cold. “You done a lot for the family, Nico. I’m givin’ you this chance to make things right. You understand?”
Nico swallowed. “Yeah. I understand.”
“Go.”
As Nico left the room he could feel Bear’s eyes shooting daggers at his back.
TWENTY-SIX
Kaycee closed her kitchen door and tested the lock.
They were out there somewhere. Watching.
Weight descended upon her, as if the sky bulged down. The staring eyes lasered holes in her back. She spun around and cast wild looks over the yard.
Her gaze fell on the storage shed. Had Hannah crept in there sometime this morning, now too afraid to show herself? Kids could be like that. They did stupid things when they were scared.
Like adults.
She headed over to the shed, hearing the grass swish under her feet, feeling the sun on her head. Her chin lifted, and she drew in a long exploring breath through her nose. No smell of blood. That sense hadn’t returned since she’d been on the stairs . . .
At the shed Kaycee pulled back the creaky door. Its musty, dirt-drenched odor leaked out.
Empty.
She let the door fall shut and headed for the garage. Twice she stopped to look behind her.
The small garage was dim. Kaycee hit the button to open the rollup door. Eyes flicking in all directions, she passed around the front of her PT Cruiser and got in. She pulled the car key out of her purse and tossed the handbag on the passenger seat. Buckled her seatbelt.
Backing out the driveway, she reached for the remote button clipped to her visor to shut the garage door. Her fingers slid over the top of the visor — and hit a slick edge. What was that? Kaycee snatched her hand away and braked. The visor snapped down.
A photo slipped out and into her lap. A five-by-seven of the dead man on the dark yellow floor. One side of the picture was smeared with red.
“Ah!” Kaycee flung it away. She thrust the car into park and fumbled with her seatbelt. Shoved open her door and threw herself out on the gravel. One foot slid out from under her. Her legs scissored until the foot took hold. Kaycee righted herself and swiveled toward the car, panting.
For a long moment she stared at the picture on the passenger seat floor. It lay face up and vivid. The dead man looked so real. Any minute now he’d sit up, right out of that photo.
Her right fingers felt sticky. She jerked up her hand and saw red.
Kaycee moaned. In her peripheral vision she saw more red on the door where she’d touched the handle. She jumped away.
Slowly Kaycee’s fingers raised to her nose.
They smelled like blood.
Something inside Kaycee snapped. She bolted around the car to the house.
At the back door she grabbed the knob and twisted, knowing it was locked, knowing the key was in her purse in that violated car. Knowing they were here, so close, watching and laughing. They wanted her to think she was mad.
But now she had evidence. Something to take to the police.
Tears burned her eyes. She swiveled around and stumbled two steps toward the yard. Threw back her head and shouted, “Where are you?” Kaycee’s throat closed up and her muscles went stiff. “What do you want from me?”
Mocking silence.
She strode across the grass and turned in complete circles, looking, shouting. “Come out here! What do you want?”
Motion from next door caught her eye. Kaycee wrenched around and saw Mrs. Foley, gaping at her like she was nuts. Kaycee’s mind bleached white. “Is it you?” she screamed. “Are you doing this to me?” She stomped toward the old woman. “Why are you doing this? Why?”
Mrs. Foley whirled and disappeared into her house. The door slammed. A lock clicked.
Kaycee pulled up short, breathing hard. She blinked through hot tears, logic slowly returning to her mind. What on earth was she doing?
Grimacing, she peered at her blurred right hand. The red was smeared all over.
That blood she’d smelled while climbing the stairs. Maybe it wasn’t from her dream at all. Maybe it was this blood now, on her fingers.
How had she known this would happen?
Was it from the dead man?
Helplessness and panic whirled inside Kaycee. What was happening? Who was doing this to her? They were taking over everything. Her house, her car, her life.
Her gaze cut to her car in the driveway. Its engine was still running, the driver’s door open.
Hannah. She had to go find Hannah.
Kaycee’s fingers curled inward. Okay. Whoever these people were, they’d made a big mistake this time. That photo and blood were evidence. Just wait till the police got hold of it.
Mouth firming, Kaycee bent over to swipe her bloody fingers against the grass. Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the car.
She closed the driver’s door. At the passenger side she peered through the window. The photo hadn’t moved. Somehow, she’d thought it might.
Screams rose in her mind. Footsteps and running. A door opening to bright sun . . .
Wait. That detail wasn’t in her dream. She’d seen a bright light but not a door opening. Where had this come from?
Kaycee pressed both hands against the car, leaned in and breathed.
Slowly the sounds and sights in her head faded. Kaycee pushed hair off her hot cheeks and gathered what courage she could find.
It took all she had to open the car door.
Her purse sat on the seat, her house key inside. Kaycee forced her gaze to the horrifying picture. She needed to put it in a plastic zip bag for protection. But she couldn’t leave it here while she returned to the house. She didn’t dare. By the time she got back out here, it could be gone.