Page 25 of The Agent

The two men headed for the staircase, Hernandez falling into step behind Caleb, letting him take the lead.

You could say a lot of things about Hernandez, but Caleb felt good knowing the detective had his back.

The two of them moved together as if they’d been a team for years, scouting the hallway, using hand signals to direct their movements.

They found the bathroom and master bedroom empty, then crept down the carpeted hall toward the single door at the end of it.

Caleb’s instincts began to hum, growing stronger when a muffled sound broke through the silence.

He signaled for Hernandez to pull back. They paused in front of the white door, exchanging a significant look. Someone was in there. Slowly, Caleb rested his hand on the door handle, glanced at the other man again, then pushed his way into the room, weapon drawn.

A strangled cry came from the bed.

Caleb’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, a soft curse exiting his mouth as he stared at the elderly woman bound and gagged on the bed. Had to be Lydia White.

Caleb held up his hand to silence the crying woman, scanning the bedroom. There was a door, ajar, at one end of the room. Hernandez slipped toward it, then kicked it open and yelled, “San Diego Police Department!”

Nobody was in there. After examining the narrow closet, Hernandez stepped back and said, “Clear.”

Disappointment tightened Caleb’s chest. Damn it. Grier had been here, and for a while, judging by the empty food containers littering the carpet.

Caleb went to the woman’s side, pulling off her duct-tape gag as gently as he could. “Lydia White?”

“Yes,” the woman croaked. “Oh, thank heavens you’re here! He was going to kill me!”

Caleb helped her into a sitting position.

He pulled the knife from the holster on his ankle and quickly sliced open the tape binding her hands and feet together.

Holding it by the corners, he set the pieces of tape on the table next to the bed for forensics to print and bag.

He knew without a doubt whose prints they’d find on the tape, all over the room, in fact.

That son of a bitch had been here, scheming and watching Marley.

Caleb’s eyes drifted to the window, then narrowed at the hole in the wall beside it.

His pupils contracted as Hernandez flicked on the light, but adjusted quickly, and he noticed flecks of blood on the plaster where the drywall had been broken. Grier’s DNA would be on it.

“Mrs. White, can you identify the man who did this to you?” Caleb asked.

She nodded, a soft sob sliding from her mouth. “Yes, yes, I’ll never be able to forget that face.”

“I know you’ve been through quite an ordeal,” he said, keeping his tone quiet. Behind him, he heard Hernandez barking into the radio, arranging for a forensics team and an ambulance. “We’re going to take you to the hospital, to get you checked out, all right?”

The elderly woman’s eyes filled with tears. “It was so terrible, officer,” she said in the raspy voice usually heard from long-time smokers. “He was here for that dear girl across the street. He was so angry!”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Kincaid is under police protection. You are, too, now,” Caleb assured her. “Mrs. White,” he continued, “the man who did this to you—did he say he would be coming back? Did he give any indication of where he might have gone?”

“No. No, nothing,” Lydia stated.

Caleb turned to Hernandez, who carefully walked through the bedroom, making sure not to touch anything. “Miguel, can you stay with Mrs. White while I go across the street to Kincaid’s?”

Hernandez nodded, taking Caleb’s place at Lydia’s bedside, offering surprising words of comfort as he reassured her the paramedics would be there soon to examine her.

But Caleb wasn’t worried about Lydia White as he left the house. The elderly woman was dehydrated and in shock, but she would be fine. Marley, on the other hand…

His chest constricted as he realized how close Grier had been this entire time.

He bit the inside of his lip so hard he could taste the blood in his mouth.

Christ, he was scared for her. He’d seen the digital photo one of Hernandez’s men had taken of Marley’s locker at the hospital, the thick black X marking her face in that picture.

He couldn’t let Grier hurt Marley.

Swallowing hard, he ignored the sharp metallic taste and walked faster. When he marched into Marley’s living room, she was still on the couch, her hands clasped in her lap. Officer Thompson stood by the window, watching the scene outside.

“Is the old lady all right?” the young officer inquired.

“She’ll be fine. Thompson, do me a favor and excuse us for a moment.”

With a nod, the officer left the room. Caleb heard the front door open and shut, then Thompson’s footsteps as he descended the porch steps to help out the others.

“You have to listen to me right now,” he began, his throat tight as he looked into her gorgeous eyes. “I know you’re angry with me, and I don’t blame you for that, but please, Marley, just hear me out.”

“Okay,” she said softly.

“I need you to understand how much danger you’re in.

” An eddy of fear swirled in his stomach but he ignored it, trying to remain calm as he laid it all out in front of her.

“When I first moved in next door, I suspected Patrick would come back for you. Not to hurt you, but to convince you to leave town with him, or maybe just to say goodbye. I suspected he was obsessed with you, and when he sent that email, I knew it was a matter of time before love, or infatuation—whatever you want to call it—pushed him to see you.”

Marley unclasped her hands and pressed them on her knees. “And now?”

“Now he wants to hurt you.” He sank into the armchair Hernandez had occupied earlier. “He was across the street for who knows how long, and he must have seen us together. He also has to know I’m with the DEA, because he saw me there during the warehouse raid.”

“So he thinks I’m working with the cops.”

“Or at the very least, sleeping with one.” He flinched when he saw her eyes darken. “What he did to your locker was an act of violence, and it’s an indication of what he wants to do to you.”

“I know.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I know the danger, Caleb. I can feel it. Where are you going with this?”

“Someone needs to stay here in the house with you,” he said. “And I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t object. You need protection.”

“Okay,” she said without any argument.

“Though I’d prefer it if you’d agree to stay in a safe house,” he added.

Bitterness flickered across her face. “I’m not leaving my house, Caleb. Patrick has already turned my entire life upside down. I won’t let him chase me from my home.”

He’d known she’d say something like that.

“Then an agent will stay here. Grier is going to find out what happened tonight. We might get lucky and he’ll waltz back to White’s house, unaware that we found his hideout, but I’m not holding my breath.

He was probably in the area, saw the police activity and took off. ”

“So search the neighborhood,” Marley burst out, sounding frustrated.

“We are. Units are combing the area as we speak, though my gut tells me Grier will be long gone by now.”

“But he’ll be back.”

“He’ll be back,” Caleb echoed. “He might consider it too risky to come to this house, but he’ll find a way to get to you, Marley. I’m certain of that.”

She released a shaky breath and turned her head away, but not before he saw tears forming in the corners of her eyes. He wanted so badly to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he knew she wouldn’t allow it.

“You probably shouldn’t go into work for a while,” he continued. “It’ll be too hard to protect you there, and today Grier showed us that he can find a way into the hospital without getting caught.”

Marley’s jaw tightened. “So I’m just supposed to sit around and wait for him to kill me?”

“He won’t kill you.” Caleb’s pulse sped up at the mere thought. “I won’t let him.”

She fell quiet for a few long moments, then cleared her throat. “It can’t be you, Caleb.”

“What can’t be me?”

“The agent who stays here. I don’t want it to be you. Or your partner for that matter.”

Something shifted in his chest. There, his heart had officially cracked in two.

He wanted nothing more than to stay here with her, to protect this beautiful, generous woman who had once trusted him so willingly—and so misguidedly.

It killed him that she didn’t want him around, though he understood perfectly why that was.

But God, he wished she would trust him now, to protect her, at least. He’d still be next door, but what if that wasn’t close enough? What if he wasn’t fast enough?

His palms began to sweat and he rubbed them on the front of his pants. “No,” he finally said, his voice sounding hoarse even to his own ears. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you, Marley.”

* * *

T HE SHRIEK OF SIRENS reverberated in the night, causing Patrick to sink farther into the bushes.

He’d been hunkered down in the small park directly behind Marley’s cul-de-sac for the past hour, ever since he’d heard that first siren wail in the distance.

Seconds from hopping the fence at the edge of the park, he’d been forced to retreat, and now he hid, waiting for the opportunity to get the hell out of here.

Evidently the cops had discovered his hiding place, which sent a rush of fury to his gut.

A flash of color caught his eye, and he peeked out to see a cop car cruising along the street in front of the park. Patrols. They were obviously casing the entire neighborhood.

“Damn it,” he muttered, ducking into the bushes again.

What was he supposed to do now? He’d planned on going for the money tonight.

The black backpack slung over his shoulder contained the syringes and sedatives he’d stolen from the hospital earlier this afternoon.

He still couldn’t believe he’d walked in undetected and managed to break into one of the medicine cabinets.

Managed to leave Marley a nice little message, too.

Now his plans were shot to hell. It could’ve been so easy.

Break into the house next door to Marley’s and stick a needle in that cop bastard’s throat before he knew what hit him.

And then, with the cop in a drug-induced slumber, Patrick would get his money from Marley’s bathroom while she worked the night shift.

He’d considered going back to the hospital after that, waiting outside in the parking lot for her to come out.

Even contemplated forgiving her for sleeping around on him.

God knows, starting a new life would be a lot more fun if he had someone with him.

But now…now everything had changed.

He peered out again, breathing a sigh of relief when he noticed the cruiser had disappeared. He needed to make a run for it. If the patrols turned up nothing, the cops might start searching the area on foot soon, and he couldn’t afford to stay in this damn park all night.

He crept out of the bushes and stayed in the shadows, using the oak trees for cover, his guard on high alert with each careful step.

Rocks lined the edge of the playground. He bent to pick up a decent-size one, then kept moving.

He neared the sidewalk, his gaze darting up and down the street, and finally he zeroed in on a beat-up old Toyota with rust coating the doors.

There was no telltale flash of an alarm as he approached the decrepit vehicle. Perfect car to hotwire.

Fingers tightening over the rock, he glanced around the dark, deserted street, then smashed in the driver’s-side window and held his breath. No alarm sounded.

He was in business.

Rapidly, he opened the door and slid into the car, his hand reaching under the dash and yanking out a bundle of wires. Two minutes later, the engine rumbled and Patrick sped away as if his life depended on it.

Because it kind of did.

He drove fast. His breath came out in sharp puffs, growing steadier the farther he got from Marley’s neighborhood. He glanced in the rearview mirror every two seconds, but no police cruisers appeared behind him. No flashing lights. No sirens.

Relief pounded into him. Shit. That had been close. Too close.

When he decided he was far enough away—he’d driven for a good half hour—he pulled up at the curb in front of a small strip mall and let the car idle.

Then he slammed his hands against the steering wheel in fury.

Damn it. What the hell was he supposed to do? He needed that money.

Then you’re just going to have to get her to bring it to you.

A slow smile stretched across his mouth. Yeah. Yeah, that could work. Marley would have to bring him the money. But how? How could he get her to— He straightened his shoulders, the smile widening.

And just like that, he knew exactly what he needed to do.