Chapter Thirty-Three. Why did you kill him, Otter? Kat inquired evenly, not missing a beat

"Why did you kill him, Otter?" Kat inquired evenly, not missing a beat. She watched the expression on Otter’s face turn from surprise to confusion in rapid succession.

"I didn’t kill him," Otter said, meeting her eyes. "He was dead long before I got there. I thought you did it. Cops are looking for a woman."

He said it so quickly, and with such assurance, she was pretty sure he was telling the truth.

"Maybe it was the blonde," Frank offered helpfully. "You know, that Scout chick."

Kat turned to look at Frank. She tried to keep her face expressionless, but he thought he’d detected a hint of surprise at his suggestion, as if she hadn’t considered that possibility before.

"Perhaps," she acknowledged. She gave him a small nod and a half smile that acknowledged his attempt at cooperation.

She rose and turned to leave. She looked back at Frank before she closed the door. "Dinner will be in a just a little while," she said, ignoring Otter.

After she had gone, Otter turned to look at Frank. "What the hell happened to Scout, anyway?" he asked.

Frank debated not answering. But he’d been curious about the same thing himself. "Dead is what I think. Hunter wanted to know everything I knew about her, like she couldn’t ask her herself." He paused, remembering. "At first I thought I was following Scout’s track from the crash site--that somehow she’d made it here and then Hunter caught her. But now I think maybe Hunter caused the car to crash and she brought Scout back here."

"That doesn’t fit," Otter said. "Hunter wouldn’t have left such a clear track between the road and this place."

Frank shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe it was snowing and she thought the tracks would be covered up by the time anyone found the car. Or maybe she was in a hurry to get Scout here while she was still alive, to find out what she knew," he speculated, "but she died before Hunter got a chance to question her."

Otter pictured the hatch that had been left open--the hatch he had used to gain access to the bunker--and another scenario occurred to him. "I don’t think Scout was that badly hurt in the crash," he told Frank. "I got inside through another entrance that had been left standing open. I think Scout used it to escape, and Hunter went after her."

Otter thought back to the short glimpse he’d gotten of Hunter in the TV monitor, just after he’d gotten into the bunker. "I saw Hunter on one of her surveillance cameras bringing Scout’s body back here. She brought it through a door just like this." He nodded toward the main entrance beside them.

"It was this door, I bet," Frank said. "She brought something in she didn’t want me to see. Made me turn my face to the wall."

"But if she killed Scout when she tried to escape," Otter wondered, "why bring the body back here? Why not just leave it out in the snow?"

That didn’t make sense to Frank either. "Are you sure Scout was dead when you saw them? Maybe she’s still alive and Hunter’s got her in there somewhere."

The thought gave Otter a chill. What the hell was Hunter planning to do with all of them?

Kat returned to her computer to see whether she’d gotten any response from Kenny. His e-mail was waiting for her.

Good to hear from you. I was getting a little worried. The contract on you is up to a million and a half. I’m pretty sure Garner is behind it. There are rumors three people who went after you all are missing. (You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?) I don’t know if that includes Otter and the woman. The woman is going by the name of Scout. Can’t pin down anything else on her. Let me know if you want me to keep looking. The helicopter pilot you asked me about had his throat cut a few days ago. No suspects, but police are looking for a woman client he was supposed to have met.

She e-mailed her thanks, saying she’d be in touch, and logged off. So Otter was telling the truth.

Kat could not picture Jake cutting Sam’s throat. She didn’t want to. But she knew that was probably what had happened. She felt none of the fury over Sam’s death that she had initially, when she thought Otter had done it. It was no less brutal a murder, and Kat still regretted that Sam probably had died because of his association to her. But Jake meant too much to her now, and the woman had no memory of killing anyone.

It had been hard enough for Kat to bring herself to tell Jake the truth about Jake’s past as a bounty hunter. She would spare her the vivid, violent details of what had apparently been one of her last acts before her amnesia. Kat wondered whether Jake had been fleeing the murder scene when her car had crashed. It kind of made sense. The airstrip was on the same lonely road where the wreck occurred.

It really didn’t matter now. She knew what she had to do. The police were looking for Jake. That had to be considered in any plan to get them both to another destination. Kat didn’t want to move Jake far if she didn’t have to, but she had to at least get into another law-enforcement jurisdiction.

Kat was lost in thought, staring at the blank computer screen, when she heard a muffled cry through the closed bedroom door.

Jake thrashed around violently in the bed, crying out "No! No!" in a voice filled with anguish.

Kat flung open the door so hard it slammed against the wall. She was at the bedside in an instant, fumbling for the light. She put her hands on Jake’s arms and shoulders to pin her to the bed, to keep her from hurting herself further.

Gripped in her nightmare, Jake was feeling no pain from her injuries. "Let me go!" she screamed, struggling against the restraining hold Kat had on her.

"Jake, it’s me," Kat said, trying to awaken her, but maintaining her firm grip. "Everything is okay, you’re safe. It’s Kat." She rambled reassurances until Jake finally did calm and opened her eyes.

"Kat?" Jake asked. The nightmare was already fading.

"I’m here." She took her weight off her hands, releasing her hold of Jake. But one hand remained on Jake’s shoulder, lightly caressing it.

"Blood," Jake said in a strained voice. "There was a lot of blood." Mercifully, the details of the dream had already evaporated. All that remained was a large splotch of red in Jake’s mind. She was still breathing fast, but the sense of panic was past.

Kat leaned over Jake and gently embraced her, pressing her lips against Jake’s forehead, which was damp with sweat. "You’re all right now, it was just a dream," she whispered.

"Was it?" Jake wondered aloud. "Or are my nightmares memories of things I’ve done?"

Дата добавления: 2015-10-30