Dead Aim, Page 2

  Lord, she hated hospitals. They reminded her of that night when her father—

  “Hey, it's about time you woke up.” Sarah Logan smiled down at her. “How do you feel?”

  How did she feel? She hurt all over and she was seeing Sarah through a haze. “Dizzy.”

  “You should be. You got clunked by some debris that washed up on that roof you were clinging to and got a dandy concussion. You've been unconscious for almost twenty-four hours.”

  “Water?”

  “You don't remember?”

  She tried to concentrate through the pain. Swimming. She had been swimming. Dirty water. She had tried to climb to the top branches of a tree jutting out of the flood, but the branch had broken. She vaguely remembered managing to clamber to the roof of one of the housetops. “Some of it. I don't remember being hit on the head. Is that all that's wrong with me?”

  “Bruises everywhere. Exposure. You must have been in that water for hours before they spotted you on the roof. You're a mess.” She took Alex's hand. “And you're going to have to explain to the authorities how you got that way. Ken Nader's helicopter blew up and crashed in a glade across the dam. Do you know anything about it?”

  A rifle lifting, aiming at Ken's helicopter. A fiery explosion that lit the sky.

  “They shot him.”

  Sarah stiffened. “What? Who shot him?”

  “There were three men. I think . . . it was the pilot who shot him. They did it. . . . I couldn't believe it.” She closed her eyes.

  Running. Slipping and sliding down the slope.

  Bury the bitch.

  Her lids flew open. “Landslide. There was a landslide, wasn't there? Was anyone else hurt?”

  Sarah shook her head. “But the entire area is buried under a mountain of rock.”

  “They wanted it buried. They did something. . . .”

  “What?”

  “I don't know. Dynamite? No, it wasn't an explosion. I heard a low rumble and then the rocks— I don't know what they did.”

  “No one heard an explosion. Not after the helicopter crashed.”

  “They did it. I know they did it.”

  “I'm not saying they didn't. I'm saying no one heard it.”

  “You believe me?”

  “I'm scared to believe you. I hope you'll go back to sleep and when you wake up you'll tell me this was a bad dream. If you don't, then, yes, I'll believe you.” She patted Alex's hand. “I've got to go back to the site. It's time for my shift. You get some rest. After this is over, I want you to come home with me and recuperate. You'll like our place. It's on the ocean and it's very peaceful.”

  “How's the rescue operation going?”

  “Okay. Three more canine rescue teams arrived yesterday, and they're a big help.” She paused. “We found Janet Delsey's parents. They're both dead.”

  “Damn.” She felt the tears sting her eyes. “God, I'm sorry.”

  “We all are.”

  She swallowed hard to ease the tightness of her throat. “I need to get back. When can I get out of here?”

  “A day or two. You'll have to talk to the police first. They want to make out a report on the helicopter crash.”

  “Murder. It was murder.”

  “Then tell them that.” She leaned forward and brushed a kiss on Alex's forehead. “I'm glad you're still in one piece. You scared me.”

  “I want to see the police now.”

  “I'll call them when I leave. Though I think you should give it a few hours.”

  “It's been too long already.” Her lips tightened. “Ken would be alive now if I hadn't asked him to take me over that gorge and pick me up. I want those bastards caught. I can't let them—” She inhaled sharply as a thought occurred to her. “If they set off that landslide, couldn't they have started the other one that buried the entire town?”

  Sarah nodded grimly. “A very nasty possibility. But no one's found traces of any sabotage. I hope to hell you're wrong.”

  “I do too. Why would anyone . . .” She shook her head. “I can't think. Nothing makes sense.”

  “Rest. You're still pretty woozy. Just tell the police what happened and let them put the pieces together.”

  She didn't know if she could do anything else, Alex thought wearily. Her head was pounding and all she could see was Ken's helicopter exploding. . . . “Thanks for coming, Sarah.”

  “Hey, we're friends. You'd have been here for me. May I do anything else for you?”

  “Camera . . . Lost my camera . . . Could you get me a replacement and special lenses until I'm able to choose one for myself?”

  “Sure. I know what you use. And I may do such a good job of choosing one for you that you'll decide to keep it.” Sarah moved toward the door. “Now I've got to go collect Monty from the security guard in the gift shop downstairs before he's spoiled rotten. Everyone in the gift shop was giving him belly rubs.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “I'll be back tomorrow morning. If you need me, call me on my cell phone.”

  “I know what kind of pressure you're under. You don't have to come back here.”

  Sarah grinned. “I don't have to do anything. I'll see you tomorrow.”

  “It's quite a story,” Detective Dan Leopold said. “Is that all, Ms. Graham?”

  “Isn't it enough?” The detective had been polite but totally noncommittal as Alex told him what had happened at the dam. “For God's sake, they murdered Ken Nader. They may have been responsible for that landslide that buried the town. Don't you believe me?”

  “Easy. I didn't mean to upset you.” He added earnestly, “And I think there's every chance there's substance to your story. You're a photojournalist who's been in some rough spots, and you're used to accurately reporting what you see. It's just that we'll have a few problems verifying.”

  “What problems?”

  “First, no one saw a second helicopter in the area.”

  “I told you, there were no lights.”

  “Two, Nader's helicopter crashed in the glade, and if there was any evidence of a second helicopter being there, the resulting fire must have destroyed it. Three, we haven't found a conclusive cause for the explosion.” He paused. “No bullet was found.”

  “Were you looking for one?”

  “No, good point. But our forensic team isn't stupid. They look for everything. Naturally, I'll tell them to go back and see if they can find anything that would corroborate what you've told me.”

  “Dammit, I saw it.”

  He nodded. “You also thought the same perpetrators started the landslides. Why would they do that?”

  “How the hell do I know?”

  “We've been told by the experts that the slide was probably caused by an aftershock to an area that was already unstable.”

  “What? They just issued a report that there was a ninety percent chance the area was stable.”

  “But not a hundred percent chance. They said they could have been wrong. We found no trace of explosive devices.”

  “Look again. And look at Arapahoe Junction.”

  “We will. I'm just telling you how it is.” His lips tightened grimly. “There's no way we wouldn't delve as deep as we can when it concerns a tragedy of that magnitude. Since the World Trade Center catastrophe, everyone is being damn careful. But there have been FBI, politicians, engineers, and scientists by the carload all over that site, trying to find out what happened to cause that dam break and the ensuing landslide. No one found any signs of sabotage. There were readings on the seismograph machines in San Francisco indicating a possible four-point-two earthquake in this area the night the dam broke.”

  “It happened,” she said through her teeth. “I don't know about the dam or Arapahoe Junction, but I know that second landslide was caused by the same men who killed Ken Nader.”

  “Then I'm sure we'll find some evidence to prove it. You said they called the pilot Powers? We'll try to trace him. I'll check out everything you've told me.” He stood up. “I'll do my best. I'd like y
ou to come to the precinct tomorrow and look through the mug books and databases of suspected terrorists. Will you do that?”

  “You bet I will.”

  “Don't get your hopes up. You'll have to get lucky to find them.”

  “I have to try.” She met his gaze. “You have to try too. You can't let them get away with it. You're not even sure I'm telling the truth, are you?”

  “I'm sure you think you are.” He wearily shook his head. “Look at it from my point of view. You've been in the hospital for two days suffering from concussion. Isn't it possible that you might not remember things exactly as they occurred? It's happened before with head-injury victims.”

  “No, it's not possible.”

  He smiled. “Okay. It wouldn't have made any difference anyway. I'd still do my job. Come on, Jerry, let's get out of here.”

  The lanky young sergeant in the corner, who'd been silent throughout the interview, rose to his feet. “Good night, Ms. Graham, I hope you feel better.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I'll see you tomorrow at the precinct,” Detective Leopold said.

  “Oh, I'll be there.”

  “Pretty crazy stuff,” Jerry Tedworth said to Leopold as soon as they'd left the hospital room. “Do you believe her?”

  “She makes it hard for me not to. She's smart and she's strong and she absolutely believes what she's telling us.”

  “Like you said, she's had a bad knock on the head.”

  “Wishful thinking. I hope to hell she didn't get it right.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because if Arapahoe Junction and the dam were also targets, that would mean mass murder. Who commits mass murder? It takes a special kind of criminal. Nuts. Sociopaths. Terrorists. We don't want to have to deal with a case like that.” He punched the button at the elevator. “We'd better hope she's just having hallucinations.”

  Breathe deep. Calm down.

  Her head was pounding and Alex forced herself to unclench her fists. All this emotion wasn't going to help anything. Leopold hadn't been out of line in suspecting she might not have all her marbles at present. At least he had listened and promised he'd check into everything she'd told him. But it didn't stop the anger and frustration she was feeling.

  Anger and frustration and this haunting antiseptic smell of a hospital room.

  Dad . . .

  She quickly blocked the memory. Don't think about her father. Jesus, she had to get out of here. She didn't need that wound ripped open. Well, tomorrow she'd go to the police station and see if she could identify any pictures in the mug books.

  If they were there, she'd know them. Every feature of those faces was engraved permanently on her memory.

  “She's being discharged tomorrow,” Lester said as soon as Powers answered the phone. “Two police detectives were there to see her tonight.”

  Powers muttered an oath. “You should have gotten to her while she was unconscious.”

  “I told you, her room's right next to the nurses' station. I couldn't do it without being noticed. I'll find a way to put her down tomorrow.”

  “You'd better. If you'd been on time, I wouldn't have had to take down that helicopter. And, dammit, she can recognize me.”

  He didn't care that the woman could also recognize both him and Decker, Lester thought. “Maybe you shouldn't have come along.”

  “And trust the two of you to do the job right? I had to be sure. It's too important. I'm the one who has to report to Betworth.”

  Bastard. “Well, you can trust me to do this one. I'll let you know when she's no longer a problem.” He hung up.

  He leaned back against the brick wall and looked up at the seventh floor of St. Joseph's Hospital. Too bad he hadn't been able to reach Graham before she talked to the police.

  Oh, well, he was used to doing damage control.

  Sarah was waiting for Alex when she came out of the police station late the next afternoon. She was still wearing her work clothes and had obviously come straight from the site. “Any luck?”

  Alex wearily shook her head. “It seemed as if there were thousands of faces. . . . They were all blurring together. But I'll be coming back.”

  “I know you will.” Sarah unlocked her car door and motioned for Monty to get in the backseat. “That's a given. When?”

  “Tomorrow.” She got into the passenger seat. “I'll need to pick up my rental car at Arapahoe Junction so that I'll be mobile. May I go back with you?”

  Sarah nodded. “That's why I'm here. I thought you'd want to go back.” She pulled away from the curb. “Why don't you try to nap on the way up there? You probably shouldn't even be out of the hospital yet.”

  “You're the one who should be sleeping.” Alex glanced back at the golden retriever, who was stretched out on the backseat. “Like Monty.”

  “He needs it. Monty's the one who does the work. I just go along for the ride.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Alex stared unseeingly out the window. “Leopold isn't sure that I'm not imagining everything. He says there's no proof. Do you believe me, Sarah?”

  “Damn straight I do. I called John after I left you last night. He's going to try to light a fire under the FBI team who's doing the investigation at the dam.”

  If anyone could do that, it was Sarah's husband, John Logan, Alex thought. He was a billionaire whose influence stretched from the political elite of Washington to Wall Street. “Good. Though I don't know what the hell they're going to find at the dam that they didn't before. They went over that entire area with a fine-tooth comb.” She rubbed her temple. “But maybe they'll be able to find the helicopter and pilot.”

  “That's possible.” Sarah gave her a sideways glance. “Now stop thinking and close your eyes, dammit.”

  “What else did Logan say?”

  “Quite a bit.” She made a face. “He said for me to go home. He said it was bad enough that he had to worry about me on disaster sites, but he wasn't about to let me run around with scumbags blowing up dams.”

  “And you said?”

  “Nothing. He didn't expect me to cave. I told him I'd be home when the job was done.” Her expression became shadowed. “Which may be pretty soon. I think they're going to change the status at Arapahoe from rescue to recovery tomorrow. They say there's not much chance of there being anyone left alive.”

  “Shit.”

  “Right.” She drew a deep breath. “But even if the job is done, I'm not leaving you alone here. If you won't come home with me, I'm staying with you.”

  “No, I can't blame your husband for being worried. He's right. You have enough on your plate without worrying about me.”

  “Shut up,” Sarah said. “We've discussed this before.”

  “I'm not your responsibility.”

  Sarah didn't answer.

  God, she was stubborn.

  Stubborn, loyal, and brave, and the best friend a woman could have. All good reasons to get her to go home to her husband and leave Alex to solve her own problems. But Alex couldn't argue with her right now. She was so exhausted she could barely put two sentences together. She leaned her head back against the seat rest. “We'll talk later.”

  Sarah chuckled. “That's what John said, and in exactly that tone.” She switched on the headlights as the sun disappeared behind the mountains. “And I'll tell you what I told him. Don't mess with me or I'll sic my dog on you.”

  Alex found herself smiling as she repeated, “We'll talk later.”

  “Go to sleep. It's going to be another hour or so before we get to the site.”

  Alex doubted she could sleep, but she fell silent, gazing out at the rolling foothills through which they were driving. This was wonderful country. Purple shadows, white peaks in the distance, such a beautiful place. Terrible things shouldn't happen in beautiful places like this. . . .

  2

  She woke with a start to full darkness.

  Monty was barking, jumping back and forth on the backseat, trying to climb up to the back window
.

  She shook her head to clear it. “What's wrong with him?”

  “I don't know.” Sarah was looking at her rearview mirror. “Maybe he doesn't like that asshole tailgating me.”

  Alex glanced behind her at the two brilliant headlights glaring from the car behind them. “Monty's smart, but I doubt if he's aware of traffic violations, Sarah.”

  “You never know.” She frowned. “It's not like him to—” Her expression cleared. “The idiot's passing me, thank God. I'm going to let him do it. I don't know what his hurry is; I'm doing the speed limit. You'd think that—” Monty lunged over to the side window, and his barking became frantically shrill as the car pulled almost even with them. “Easy, boy. It's okay.”

  But it wasn't okay. Alex caught a glint of metal in the hand of the shadowy figure driving the other car. Oh, God, a gun. “Duck!” She reached over and pushed Sarah down and against the door.

  The glass shattered.

  Sarah gasped as the bullet struck her. Blood stained the shoulder of her sweater as she slumped forward.

  The jeep skidded across the tarmac, the headlights spearing the valley hundreds of feet below.

  Alex grabbed the steering wheel, her foot reaching over to stomp on the brake as the jeep plunged off the mountain road.

  Death.

  They were going to die.

  The jeep plunged down the steep, rocky slope toward the waiting darkness.

  The jeep stopped abruptly. Alex realized dazedly that it had hit a tree.

  Monty was crawling over the back of the front seat, trying desperately to get to Sarah.

  Sarah.

  Blood was still running down Sarah's arm and she was slumped against the door.

  “Sarah . . .” She had to get Sarah out of the car and try to stop the bleeding.

  She opened the passenger door and started to get out.

  Nothing was beneath her feet.

  She looked down and swallowed hard as shock ran through her. The jeep was balanced on a jutting outcrop of the mountain, hundreds of feet above the valley. The vehicle had only been stopped from catapulting over the ledge by a scrawny pine tree balanced precariously at the edge of the slope. There was no way they could get out the passenger door. She reached over Sarah and pushed at her door. It opened a crack and then stuck. She opened the window. “Out, boy.”