Dead Even Part 34

"Never heard of her." Jules frowned. Had he underestimated Mara? Had she sold the house in his absence?

"She live there?" he asked.

"I have no idea. I followed her here." Burt paused. "If you're looking for FBI, though, maybe you're looking for her. She is an FBI agent. And I suspect the guy who came with her is FBI, too."

"So you're telling me there are two in there?" Jules nodded in the direction of Mara's house.

"Two that I know of."

"How about this other house? How many?" He tilted his head toward Mrs. West's.

"I don't know about that house. I don't know who's there."

"Who else is over there? With the two agents?"

"Some blonde woman, pretty. Mid-thirties, maybe. Another woman, dark. Small. I saw them yesterday, but I didn't see them today."

Annie. Mara. No surprise there, Jules thought.

"A girl? Blonde girl, about twelve, maybe looks a little younger?" Jules asked.

"Didn't see a kid." Burt shook his head.

"She's got to be in there," Jules muttered, more to himself than to his unwanted companion. "Where else could she be?"

They stood in the same place for another few minutes, the gun still solid in the middle of Burt's back. Finally, Burt said, "Look, my arms are really starting to hurt. I don't know what you're doing here, or what you want with those people, and frankly, I don't give a f.u.c.k. Let me just turn and leave. I haven't even seen your face; I can't identify you even if I wanted to. Not that I want to. The last people I need to see right now are the cops. . . ."

"What do you want her for?" Jules asked. "The woman you followed here."

Burt took too long to come up with a good answer.

"Don't bother trying to think up a story. Just tell me the truth, G.o.dd.a.m.n it. What do you want with the woman? She your ex or something?"

"Someone paid me to follow her."

"For what purpose?" Jules poked him again with the gun. "Turn around. I want to see your face."

Reluctantly, Burt did as he was told. "I'm supposed to take her out."

Jules stared at the man for a long moment.

"By take her out, I a.s.sume you don't mean on a date," Jules said dryly. "You mean, you're supposed to-"

"Get rid of her, yeah." Burt slumped back against the garage.

"Well, that would certainly create a lively diversion, wouldn't it?" Jules said thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Maybe we could help each other." Jules lowered the gun, but only slightly.

"Maybe. What is it you want?"

"I want my daughter. And my wife. They're in that house." He nodded in the direction of the house across the drive. "But you're telling me there are two FBI agents in there. One is the woman you're after. . . ." Jules scratched his head and continued to think through the situation.

"You know, maybe we can help each other." The other man nodded. "I want the woman to come out; you want to get in."

"We need to draw both agents outside," Jules observed.

"Then you can slip inside, do whatever it is you came to do, and we both go on about our business."

"There are two agents outside," Jules told him. "We need to get rid of both of them. How are you with a knife?"

Burt shook his head. "Never used one. Gun is my weapon of choice, and right now, you're holding mine."

"So I am." Jules pondered the situation, trying to figure out how best to utilize this strange turn of events.

When it came to him, he thought himself quite brilliant.

"I have an idea," he whispered.

"Great."

"We're going to have to work together on this."

"Whatever." Burt's eyes were still on the stranger's gun.

"This is how I see it." Jules leaned closer, and laid out his plan.

"Hey, that could work." Burt nodded with a little more enthusiasm, now that he hadn't been shot in the back. "I can see that working."

"You get what you want; I get what I want. Then we both go on our way."

"Sounds good to me."

"The timing is important, though. We have to wait until the guy there by the end of the garage makes his move toward the front of the house. Should be in about another-" Jules looked at his watch and pushed in the pin on the side that illuminated the face. "-four minutes or so. He'll start over to the house, keep to the shadows, walk all the way around to the front. I'm thinking he might go around to the other side before he starts back."

"He does." Burt nodded. "At least, he did last night. There's that hedge over there, he walks along it as far as the back fence, then he comes back around again. Sometimes he stands in the doorway and just watches the street. There's a small porch out there, and it's dark without the lights on. He sometimes hangs out there a little. I was behind the hedge last night and watched him."

"Good, good to know." Jules smiled. "Now, all we need is for the agent in this house to come out. I don't know what's taking him so long. . . ."

"Oh, him? Last night he was mostly out by the front. There are some shrubs around the front steps."

"Yes, yes, I know them."

"Well, he stays mostly around the shrubs. Sits on the step, sometimes smokes a cigarette."

"Great. I've got that covered. Give me five minutes." Jules slipped out through the vines. "Then watch for me to come back around the corner of the house. We'll give the guy there by the garage about three minutes, then you'll make your move."

"And you'll take care of him?"

"I'll take care of everything."

"Great. Great." Burt nodded. "It could work. It could be dicey, there's some room for error, but not bad for impromptu."

"Thanks." Jules patted Burt on the back and started out of the shelter. "Good luck."

Burt grabbed him by the back of the shirt and held him motionless.

"My gun," Burt reminded him. "You've still got my gun."

Jules pulled it from inside his belt and handed it over.

"Sorry."

"No harm, no foul," Burt a.s.sured him.

What a rube. Jules shook his head as he slipped through the shadows toward the back of Mrs. West's house and around the far side. Jules shook his head as he slipped through the shadows toward the back of Mrs. West's house and around the far side. But that rube is the best shot I have to make this work. . . . But that rube is the best shot I have to make this work. . . .

Jules stood in the midst of the shrubs that Helene West had long ago planted along the front of her house. There was just enough cover for him to blend in long enough for him to get his bearings and to plan his course. The agent he stalked was leaning on the opposite corner of the house, well in the shadows himself. Jules watched him for a full ten minutes, but the man never seemed to have moved a muscle. He unsnapped the sheath, then slowly removed the knife. Keeping to the mulched beds, he crept along the porch, then around it. Knowing he must keep the element of surprise on his side, he made a sudden rush and slammed the knife into the back of his unsuspecting target. A whoosh of surprise escaped the lips of his victim, and Jules pulled the knife out, then reached over the slumping figure to slice the man's throat from one side to the other. He let the body down easy, the rest of the way to the ground, and watched the mulch grow soggy and red. Wiping first the knife, then his hands, on the back of the dying man's shirt, he dropped the knife back into its holder and stepped around the corner of the house, searching in the dark for his new best buddy.

He spotted him there, at the arbor, gesturing for Jules to stay put. Sinking back into the shrubs, Jules watched for the agent across the way to make his move. After a long seven minutes, he finally did. As soon as the agent disappeared around the side of the house, Jules's new friend emerged from the shadows. Burt ran toward the back gate of the house next door, waving in Jules's direction so that he would know it was clear for him, too, to move.

But instead of following the agent to the front of the house, where he was expected to surprise and overtake him, Jules kept to the shadows that surrounded Mrs. West's house and, standing in the middle of the driveway, fired two shots straight through Burt Connolly's back.

The shots echoed through the backyard, and just as Jules had antic.i.p.ated, the back door of Mara's house flew open. He watched a woman emerge and fly off the deck as two men ran from the front. As they gathered around the fallen stranger, Jules ducked behind the cars and made his move toward the open front door. He figured he'd have, at best, a scant few minutes before his window of opportunity closed. He couldn't afford to be on the wrong side of it when it did.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

Miranda was the first to reach the fallen man. After checking and determining there was no pulse, she looked up at Aidan and Will, who'd run down the drive from the front after hearing the shot.

"Nice aim, Cahill," Will noted. "But we need to talk about the fact that you left the house alone and without telling me you were going."

"I didn't shoot him." She frowned. "I thought Aidan got him."

"I was on the other side of the house," Aidan told them.

"Which leaves Rob," Will said. He cupped his hands and called across the drive. "Hey, Rob. Great shot. You got him."

When there was no answer, Aidan called out, "Rob? You out there, man?"

Aidan and Will exchanged a worried glance.

"Something is not right," Aidan said under his breath. "Rob should be out there. . . ."

Aidan crept along the garage and headed for the West house next door.

Moments later, he'd made his way around to the front, where he found what he'd feared.

"Will," he called across the drive.

"You found him?" Will called back.

"Yeah. Yeah, I found him."

"He hurt? Need an ambulance?"

"Too late for an ambulance. But put a call in for the local police. We're going to need them. . . ."

"My G.o.d, what happened?" Miranda asked anxiously as Aidan trotted back toward them. "What's happened to Rob?"

Before he could answer, Annie ran onto the deck and down the steps.

"What's going on?" She grabbed Miranda's arm. "We heard a shot."

"Looks like your ex-brother-in-law showed up right on schedule. We think Rob Flynn took him out," Miranda said.

"Good thing I made Mara stay inside. I told her if Julianne woke up, she needed to be in there with her, in case she had heard the shot, too." Annie bent down and peered at the body. She stared for a long minute, then looked up at Miranda and asked, "Who is this?"

"Isn't it Jules?"

"No." Annie shook her head.

"Are you certain?" Miranda bent down next to Annie to get a closer look.

"Positive. I don't know who it is, but it isn't Jules Douglas."

"You're kidding." Will leaned forward as well, but the face wasn't familiar to him, either. He reached down and patted the man's pockets until he found a wallet, then carefully removed it, opened it, and took out the driver's license.

"Burton J. Connolly," Miranda read over Will's shoulder. "Who is he? I don't know that name."

"I do," Will told her. "Burton Connolly is the name of the owner of the black pickup that followed us from the prison."

"What black pickup? What are you talking about?" Miranda stared at him.

"When we were leaving the prison-after we spoke with Vince the other day-there was a black pickup parked in the lot. Whoever was behind the wheel picked up a map and held it in front of his face just as we were walking past. Well, naturally, it drew my attention."

"Naturally," Miranda said dryly. "I don't remember seeing him or the truck."

"Well, it was there. I didn't catch the plate at the time, but I did notice some dings on the rear fender. The day we arrived here, when I went to move the car, the same truck pa.s.sed by."

"How did you know it was the same truck?" she asked.