Apparently feeling the same way, Kowalski released a low breath of his own once the man turned and began walking again. He spoke into his headset, his voice a whisper: “Tommy, we’ve got a live one out here.”
Anspaugh immediately came on the line, loud, sounding excited. “I see him. Don’t move; don’t do a thing.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Lil’s okay?”
She gritted her back teeth. Kowalski appeared to notice the grimace and chuckled. “She’s fine.” When he cut the connection, he cocked a brow. “Aren’t ya, Lil?”
“Don’t even go there.”
He chuckled again; then they both got back to business, focusing on the screen. The man in the jacket had finally reached the front walkway of the target house. Lily knew what he was seeing-the outside lights on, every window illuminated. She had made the suggestion, though Anspaugh hadn’t liked it, thinking the guy would be scared off by the possibility of being spotted. Lily had argued it. An eleven-year-old babysitting for the first time would do exactly that, have the place blazing with light.
Her gut told her the choice had been the correct one.
“Go; what are you waiting for?” Kowalski said as the man lingered, his gaze scurrying constantly, like a rat trying to decide whether to go for the cheese in a trap.
God, did she hope this rat went for it.
Finally, his suspicions apparently assuaged, the suspect took a single step toward the house.
“He’s on the move again!”
The man continued walking, now appearing in the second camera, which was positioned directly above the front door. He reached the porch and walked right up onto it.
“Ballsy,” Vince said.
“Very.” Lily hadn’t expected this. She’d figured the guy would skulk around to the side, slip into the backyard, where he could find some privacy to break a window.
Not that he’d rung the bell; he wasn’t that brave. Again, he just stood there, glancing back at the street, then edging closer to the front window. Close enough to peer in, cupping one hand around his face.
“He’s trying to see if there really are kids inside.”
Anspaugh’s voice crackled. “What the hell’s he doing? Why hasn’t he made his move?”
“He’s still checking things out,” Vince said.
“Ask him if he put the toys all over the living room, in full view from the windows, and has cartoons jacked up loud on the TV,” Lily murmured. Another of her suggestions: Mom and Dad were out; kids would go a little wild.
Anspaugh confirmed as much.
“Keep holding tight,” Vince advised. “The worm’s trying to grow a big enough set of balls to go through with it.”
That wasn’t difficult to believe. If this guy was Lovesprettyboys, he had already shown himself as someone ready to pay others to do his nasty work for him. Not that she truly believed that meant he hadn’t molested any children yet; something deep inside her already knew better. But his innate cowardice-the cowardice of anyone who raped small children-would leave him suspicious of any new situation, always on the lookout for a setup.
The man moved. Staying low, beneath the bottom ledge of the window, he scurried across the porch to the side of the garage. Where there was a door.
“He’s going for it,” she whispered.
Their suspect opened the door and stepped inside. They lost him from view. Then, suddenly, voices shouting, Anspaugh barking orders, screaming at someone to “Get the fuck down!”
More shouts. “No, dude, you got it all wrong!”
“Tell it to the judge, slimeball,” Vince said with a wide grin. He gave Lily a not-very-surreptitious thumbs-up.
She smiled back, liking the man a lot more than she liked his supervisor. “It’s over,” she said. “We got him.”
At least, they got someone. Lily truly hoped the man they had caught in that house was Lovesprettyboys. But something inside her had begun to suspect she wouldn’t fall apart if he turned out not to be. Because, no matter what, she’d been part of bringing down some sick bastard who’d had very dark intentions toward two young children.
She’d acted instead of reacted. Had done something strong and powerful instead of just being a victim.
“It’s enough,” she whispered. It didn’t bring Zach or Laura back, but she’d actually made a difference. She could return to Washington and tell Wyatt she was ready to get back to her real job. Back to her real life. Maybe even get back to actually enjoying living it. Though it had been so long, she wasn’t sure she remembered how.
“Let’s go enjoy the show,” Vince said, reaching for the handle on the back door.
“Let me get my jacket.”
Grabbing it from the passenger seat, she turned around to see Kowalski hop down onto the street. He appeared to be waiting for her; then suddenly his attention was drawn somewhere out of her range of vision. “Who the hell are you?” he asked.
Lily didn’t know whom the other agent was talking to. She didn’t even know if he was concerned or merely curious in the final seconds of his life.
She didn’t hear the gun, didn’t anticipate any danger. She just knew, as she watched Vince Kowalski’s brains and half his head erupt against the inside of the open door, that he’d been shot in the face.
Lily grabbed for her weapon. Her fingers brushed the grip. But before she had even pulled it from its holster, she felt the first bullet strike. The force flung her back.
Then another shot. Such pain.
And her world went dark.
15
Christine Harrington’s life had been saved because of a determined man who had apparently been in love with her for a long time.
At least, that was the gist of what they had gotten during Sam’s brief phone conversation with her mother. So far, they hadn’t had a chance to confirm it. When the woman arrived home, safe and sound, in the company of the man Sam called Uncle Nate, mother and daughter had fallen into each other’s arms and cried together, not saying more than a few loving words.
Alec’s heart twisted, hearing her, watching Sam’s terror give way to relief. But she was with the right people to deal with it. Family. Friends.
He stayed in the background, hovering with Wyatt and the other members of the team, who had shown up within minutes of Sam’s conversation with Judge Nathan Price. All of them stood outside in the cold, because Sam had flown out the front door and down the steps the very moment Price’s car had pulled up.
Finally, Sam pulled away, rubbing her tears onto her own sleeves. Her gaze shifted, quickly scanning the faces of those nearby, until it lit upon his face, as if, now that she knew her mother was okay, she needed to see him. And only him.
Her smile took his breath away. The softness in her eyes stopped his heart midbeat.
She had feelings for him. It was crazy, given the brief time they’d known each other, but it was also true.
More bizarre? He felt the same way. That liking he’d been feeling for her had somehow built to the point where he’d do bodily harm to anyone who tried to hurt her. He wanted to commit violence on their unsub just for putting those tears in that woman’s eyes.
Love? He had no idea, never having experienced it before.
But it was more than liking, and damn sure more than lust.
“Mrs. Harrington, do you mind answering a few questions now?” Wyatt asked.
“Of course not, and I hope somebody else will, too,” the woman said. “I’d like to know why on earth my daughter believed I had been murdered.”
“Oh, God, Mom, you have no idea. I thought you were going out on a date with somebody you met online tonight.”
“I was supposed to. It was all set up, and I backed out at the very last minute.”
Which was probably why Darwin had jumped the gun, posting his vicious message on Sam’s blog. How infuriated he must have been when she’d canceled.