Linda’s younger sister. No, MAX, there’s no need to go into police
files, probably a waste of time.”
“She’s single and she’s alone,” Sherlock said. “Not good at all.
Hurry, Adam.”
“She’s alone,” Becca said. “She’s alone, just like I was.”
At one o’clock in the morning, beneath a nearly full, brilliant
summer moon, Adam pulled his black Jeep next to a dark-blue
Ford Taurus parked on the side of a two-lane blacktop road. They
were some fifty yards from the old farmhouse with its peeling
white shutters and sagging narrow front porch.
There was no need for introductions.
Two men, both in their thirties, fit, one wearing glasses, the
other smoking a pipe, were leaning against the side of the car.
Savich said, “The guy in there?”
“The lights are still on, but we haven’t seen any movement at all.
No one left since we got here. Chuck and Dave are around the
back.” He took out his walkie-talkie. “You guys see anything?”
The answer was clear and loud. “He hasn’t come out this way,
Tommy. You and Rollo haven’t seen anything?”
“Nothing.”
Dave said, “There’s no movement in the house that we can see.
Chuck wants to go up close and look through the windows.”
“Tell Chuck and Dave to stay put,” Adam said. “Here’s Savich,
he’ll give you the rundown on what we’re facing.”
Savich was concise, his voice clipped.
“I don’t like this,” Tommy said and puffed frantically on his pipe.
“Damn, a woman living way out here, all alone, no neighbors for a
couple of miles. I’ll bet he scoped her out really fast and that he’s
been here with her. God, this doesn’t look good. We’ve seen nothing
of either of them. Maybe she’s not here. Maybe MAX is wrong
and she was never here.”
“Yeah, right, Tommy,” Rollo said, and he sounded depressed. He
was short, dressed all in black, and he was perfectly bald, his head
shining brightly beneath the summer moon.
Tommy the Pipe said, “Maybe he left before we got here. It
could be that he took her with him, as a hostage.”
Linda Cartwright was a woman alone, and Becca knew he’d
been in there, with her.
Damn the bright moon, Adam was thinking, it lit them up as
clearly as daylight from the front of the farmhouse. But there were
thick pine trees crowding the eastern side of the small farmhouse.
Folk grew potatoes in this area, and so much of the land was cleared, open just occasional random clumps of pines and maples dotted here
and there, but no place to hide. There was a big mechanical digger
sitting in the middle of an open field. There was a small sagging
porch in front of the house, a naked lightbulb burning over the front
door.
On the eastern side of the house, he could get to within twenty
feet of the structure before the pine trees played out. It would have
to be good enough. He pulled out his Delta Elite, thoughtfully
rubbed his temple with the barrel. Then he said, a feral gleam in his
eyes, “I got a plan. Gather round.”
“I don’t like it,” Savich said after Adam had fallen silent. “Too
dangerous.”
Adam said, “I was thinking that all of us could go in guns blazing,
raising hell, but the woman might still be alive. We can’t take
the chance he’d pop her then and there and then kill two or three
of us, what with all this damned moonlight.”
“All right,” Savich said after a moment, “but I’ll go with you.”
“Bullshit,” said Adam. “I don’t care if you’re a damned FBI agent
and your goal in life is to catch bad guys. You’re still married and
you’ve got a kid. What I need from you and everyone else is good
cover. I hear you’re a pretty good shot, Savich. Prove it.”
“I’m coming with you, Adam,” Becca said. “I’ll cover your back
from right behind you.”
“No.” He held up his hand. “I’m the professional here. Just say
some prayers, that’s all I ask.”
“No,” Becca said, and he realized then that if he wanted her to
stay put, he’d have to have one of the men tie her down. He didn’t