Quinn hung up first.
“Any word on Adam Scott?”
Quinn shook his head. “Yes and no. He’s disappeared again. My agents out in New York have managed to track down some of his identities, but they’re old. We were able to put together his past movements, but we don’t know where he went. He could still be here in Seattle-or he could be halfway across the world.”
“What about the yellow Hummer?”
“We found it at the airport, long-term parking. We’ve brought it in as evidence, but there’s nothing to tell us what his plans are.”
“You think he flew somewhere?”
“He didn’t leave the parking ticket in the car, but security cameras indicate that it went through the kiosk at ten forty-five Sunday morning.”
“Right after Lucy left with her family.”
“I flew her out of a private airport. She wasn’t at Sea-Tac.”
“Maybe he wasn’t following Lucy. Coincidence?” She frowned and sat down across from Quinn and glanced at Dillon, who was watching her. He hung up his phone.
“That was Jack,” he said. “He’s taking Lucy to the hospital. We’ll meet them there at noon.”
Quinn pulled out some notes from a stack in the corner. “You and Dillon arrived at the island about two p.m. He brought Lucy to the helicopter at two fifty-six p.m. By the time we went back, found you, it was after four.”
“I can buy that he watched Dillon rescue Lucy. I think he would have monitored her online virtually the entire time he was gone. So he knew what happened, he couldn’t reach his people, he disappeared. Why not go to the airport right then? Why wait until Sunday morning?” Kate pondered.
“You think he was waiting for a chance to grab Lucy again?”
“Yes.”
“But he must have seen the security on her. Jack Kincaid could intimidate Osama with one look.”
“Right,” Kate said. “But he’s patient. He isn’t going to do anything stupid. And do you think Jack Kincaid is going to stay in San Diego forever? That man is itching to get back to whatever it is he was doing in Mexico in the first place. A week, if that. He’ll leave her in good hands, I’m sure. But eventually everyone will become complacent. They’ll assume Adam Scott left the country. And when they least expect it, he’ll get Lucy. We stole her from him. His ego took a huge blow. He’s not going to sit by and do nothing.”
“We’re not going to get complacent,” Dillon said. “I know what Adam Scott is capable of. He’ll wait a day, a week, a year to get to Lucy. And to you. But I don’t think we’ll have to wait a year.”
“Why?” Quinn asked.
“Because he’s been dealt a huge blow. That’s eating at him. We have Roger Morton in custody. Eventually, we’ll get information from him. Scott doesn’t know what or when. He’s fuming-betrayal by his supposed friend, Kate rescuing Lucy, Lucy back home.” Dillon paused. “I think he’s already in San Diego.” He opened his cell phone. “I’m going to warn Jack.”
Trask followed Jack and Lucy to the hospital. Visiting her near-dead brother perhaps? Interesting. Add another dynamic to the situation.
Just how loyal was Lucy to her family? What would she do to save them? She would be home soon enough, and he needed time to plan the next move.
He quietly broke into Dillon Kincaid’s house.
Trask walked through the small bungalow. He admired the doctor’s taste. Not quite minimalist, simply sparse, classic, and dark. Dark furniture against hardwood floors; luxurious rugs in the living room and dining room. The kitchen was well-appointed, with gourmet cooking utensils and state-of-the-art appliances. The master bedroom continued the dark theme, navy blue bedding and window treatments. The second bedroom had been converted into a home office.
Though the house was not even fourteen hundred square feet, it was well laid out. Particularly for his purposes. Set far back from the street with a long, narrow front yard and a long, narrow backyard. The garage was in the rear, detached.
Perfect.
Trask sat down at Dr. Kincaid’s computer and logged onto his private server. The feds hadn’t found it; even if they had, they wouldn’t be able to track him here before he was ready to reveal his location. He took out his equipment, set it up in Kincaid’s bedroom.
He couldn’t have planned this better had he tried.
All he had to do was wait, and with the doctor gone he could stay here indefinitely as long as he was careful. One of the many Kincaid clan members could be checking on the house, though so far he hadn’t seen anyone drive by. He wouldn’t use the lights. There was food in the refrigerator and pantry. Enough to sustain him for some time.
He had three options. Wait until Lucy was free of her military bodyguard. Wait until Dillon Kincaid came home and use him as bait. Or find a way to kidnap Lucy from the hospital. Out of her house she was far more vulnerable. Trask wouldn’t take his chances head-to-head with Jack Kincaid, but a well-placed bullet in the back of the head could stop any man.
Lucy walked into Patrick’s room alone-Jack was waiting right outside the door.
She closed the door, feeling for the first time like she could breathe. She loved her family, appreciated everything they were doing for her, but the last two days had been suffocating. All these people who loved her and they were trying not to walk on eggshells around her because they wanted life to return to normal as much as she did. But they’d seen what had happened to her. They couldn’t pretend they didn’t know. Nothing had been left to their imagination. They had feared the worst and seen it happen. She couldn’t look at them without the guilt crashing down around her.
All she wanted was to be alone. But at the same time, she never wanted to be alone again.
Her heart beat with the rhythm of fear, which saturated her blood and made her doubt that she’d ever be able to reclaim her life.
She stared at Patrick in the hospital bed, her pulse racing. His long lanky body seemed to have shrunk. He had on an oxygen mask and an IV gave him nourishment. He was in a coma, because of her.
Not being dead hadn’t really sunk in. Death had come too close, and she was still trying to wrap her mind around her mortality. She couldn’t think about being raped, maybe later. Maybe much, much later.
Dillon had risked his life to save her. Jack, a brother she barely knew, had come home just for her. Patrick was in a coma because of her.
She’d been so stupid. No, stupid didn’t cut it. She’d been irresponsible. She deserved everything that had happened to her. She had listened over and over to the warnings from her family about strangers and the Internet, but never in a million years had she thought anything would happen to her.
You didn’t deserve anything that happened, Lucy.
It was Dillon’s soothing, commanding voice in her head.
None of this is your fault.
She didn’t know if she believed the phantom Dillon, but somehow it made her strong enough to cross the room and sit next to Patrick’s still body.
His head was bandaged, and for some reason that bothered her more than anything. It made everything more real. That he’d had brain surgery because of the explosion that nearly killed him. That he was in a coma and might not survive.
She ached for Patrick, and for herself. For what she had done to her family.
What Adam Scott had done.
Intellectually, she knew she had to stop blaming herself. Emotionally, she couldn’t. Not yet.
Lucy took Patrick’s hand. Suddenly, the urge to talk, to tell Patrick everything, hit her. He couldn’t look at her with pity, he wouldn’t tell her everything would be all right. He wouldn’t offer her food or suggest that she get some sleep.