Line Of Sight Part 16

"Stefan!" Katie grabbed his head in both hands and forced his eyes to meet hers. He looked dazed and horrified. "Stefan, please talk to me. Come back. Talk to me."

"Can't," he gasped. His face was going dirty-pale, and as she watched, a trickle of red dripped from his nose. He didn't seem to feel it, even when the trickle became a flood. Katie had come prepared this time; she'd grabbed chamois cloths from Angelo's extravagant car-care rack in the stables, and she hurriedly took one and folded it to catch the blood flow. "Oh G.o.d, Katie, I can't."

"You are. You're talking to me. Just stay with me, tell me whatever you see, okay?"

"Can't," he said again, and for a second his dazed eyes locked on hers. "Can't shut it off. She's scared. Drowning."

Teal was clinging to the link, trying to send information at what must have been overwhelming strength. And he could neither shut it off and save himself, nor fall into it completely and give in.

Katie was his only lifeline.

"Just tell me what happened," she said, putting her lips close to his ear, trying to keep her voice calm and gentle. "Please. Please try."

He gasped it out, voice thick and wet behind the b.l.o.o.d.y towel pressed to his nose. "She-took out the one with the gun on-Lena-kicked open one of the doors-but-couldn't jump-going too fast-sun too bright-"

"She saw where they were?"

"Sepulveda. Pa.s.sing Sepulveda. On the 110."

"How far ahead of us?"

"Don't know."

"Stefan, I just pa.s.sed-" What the h.e.l.l was that? "The 405. How far ahead of us?"

He was almost sobbing with effort. There was sweat on his face now, and sweat darkening his silk shirt. "Ten miles, maybe. Don't know, Katie, please. Just drive. They hurt her."

"Teal? They hurt Teal? How badly?"

He shook his head again. "Taser."

Oh Christ. He'd stuck with Teal during that? No wonder he'd screamed. Katie checked his nosebleed; it was lessening again, but he'd lost a h.e.l.l of a lot of blood over the past few hours. You're killing him, Katie. You're killing him, and it's not fair.

As if he heard her thoughts, he said, "It wasn't your choice, Katie. It was mine. Whatever happens."

"I know," she whispered, and stroked his forehead and hair. "I know, honey. Let go now."

"Can't. She won't-"

Stefan's eyes went entirely blank, and he went slack.

Gone.

She'd lost him completely. He was with Teal now.

Katie wiped tears from her cheeks, strapped herself back in and peeled out hard to merge back into the constant traffic. She drove like a demon now, totally focused on the goal. The Jaguar blew through open s.p.a.ces, braked and drafted like a race car. It didn't like the rougher pavement of the breakdown lane, but she controlled its tendency to shimmy and kept moving ahead, always ahead.

It took ten more minutes before she spotted a sign up ahead. Sepulveda Boulevard.

The truck had pa.s.sed Sepulveda ten minutes ago. She was catching up. She had to be catching up.

Because everybody else was looking for the wrong d.a.m.n van.

Chapter 11.

T he world was pain, a constant red haze of it, and Stefan wanted to just turn away from it, burrow into the darkness and hide. Katie's voice had been like a drill in his head, all the questions, questions, and it had been so hard to answer from where he was.

He could see his body behind him, slack and empty in the pa.s.senger seat of Angelo's cherished Jaguar. He could see Katie, gorgeous sweet Katie, glorious in her fury and resolve as she steered the car in and out of traffic. Oh, Katie, I don't want to leave you. He wanted to tell her that, but words were gone now, and he was being pulled inexorably away, into the red haze, into the world where Teal was trapped.

Fall, or jump. He couldn't hang on any longer. It was ripping him apart to try.

Stefan let go and dived into the mind of a seventeen-year-old girl. A girl with more power than he could really comprehend, but still just a kid, a scared and angry kid. A hurt kid, now, thanks to the vicious Taser jab her guards had administered to keep her in line.

Teal was lying on the floor, next to Lena Poole, who had raised her blond-and-purple head to stare at her friend. Are you okay? Stefan couldn't hear the words, except as a distant buzz, but he could read her lips in the dim light. Teal?

First Katie, now Lena. Stefan supposed Teal looked as dazed and frightening as he had earlier. Whatever Teal answered, it brought a flash of relief to Lena's face, relief that was immediately overshadowed by fear as a big hand buried itself in her hair and dragged the girl upward. At the same time, Teal received similar treatment. Stefan felt the red-hot pull as Teal was jerked up to her knees. Her hands were still restrained behind her, but her legs were free. She was in bare feet, and the truck's floor felt cold and gritty.

Flashes of light illuminated things inside the truck. Nothing that would help him identify it, but he saw the faces of the kidnappers. They'd taken off the masks, maybe because of the warmth of the van, maybe because they no longer cared whether or not the girls saw them.

Teal made sure to look at the faces, and Stefan looked through her eyes. The first man was tanned and very hard-looking, with a shaved head and a tattoo of a roaring lion on the right side of his bare dome. He was the one with the Taser, and he seemed to enjoy his work; Stefan hated the way the man's eyes slid over Teal. He could feel the girl's disgust, as if she'd been covered in slime and was unable to wash it off.

The second kidnapper was a woman, and the instant Teal's eyes fixed on her, Stefan felt a pure, hot spurt of fury go through her. This was personal, he sensed; this was her betrayer. He hadn't gotten a clear look at her before, but Teal stared at her now, surely deliberately, to give him a chance to etch the woman into memory. Sheila Prichard. The woman who'd tried to blow them up with a b.o.o.by trap in her apartment, who now loaded a clip into an automatic pistol with cool competence. There was nothing but contempt in her eyes.

The third was another man, shorter and stockier than the bald man. He had a mess of brown sun-streaked hair and a golden-tanned face. A surfer, Stefan thought; he had the look, and the cat-quick reflexes. There were two others, but they were in the cab of the truck and visible only as dim shadows in the narrow sliding window.

Five adults, for two young girls. An elaborate plan, clearly nearing fruition from the att.i.tude of the three holding the girls hostage. They all looked tense, silent, and antic.i.p.ating something big.

Maybe the final handoff. Because Stefan no longer had any doubt that this was only the beginning of their plan; the girls were going to be transferred to someone else, or some other place. A plane, a boat...something capable of getting beyond U.S. jurisdiction, because these shadowy masterminds, whoever they were, must have known that the FBI was hot on the trail, much less Katie's mysterious government friends.

But why? What did they want? It was clear that they didn't just want money, or they'd have already demanded it. The number of people they'd killed to get this far meant that money wasn't the point.

The girls were the point.

Lena's lips were moving again, but the angle was bad; Stefan couldn't see her clearly enough to read the words. Whatever they were, Sheila leaned over to put her face very close to Lena's, and he read her lips clearly enough: They want you both. There was more, and he thought she said, spoiled little b.i.t.c.hes, which matched the vindictive contempt and the cruel light in her eyes.

Someone was calling his name. He felt tired, very tired-Teal was weakening, too. She swayed, but the surfer holding her by the hair yanked on it to keep her upright and still.

Not far now, the bald one said to Sheila, and she nodded. Such a pretty girl. A waste of beautiful skin.

Stefan felt himself slipping and struggled to hold on. He needed to know where. He had to know. Katie was depending on him. He thought Teal knew he was in trouble; he could sense her trying to push him back, let him go, but he fought to hang on now. To stay with her.

Look out the window, he tried to send his thoughts to her, but he knew she wasn't getting the messages. She couldn't, just as he couldn't access her thoughts or hear her words. Dammit, I know this town! I just need one look, just one...

Without warning, Teal yanked her head forward, pulling the surfer off balance, and then slammed him back into the side of the truck with her body weight. The second he let go she lunged toward the doors, and fetched up against them with a bruising impact.

She pressed her cheek to the gla.s.s, and Stefan got his look. Just one.

Thank you. He didn't know if she could feel his weary grat.i.tude, but he knew that she felt his withdrawal from her. He felt the pulse of fear.

They were going to hurt her again, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He had to believe that Teal and Lena were important to their captors-critically important. They wouldn't damage them permanently....

But it was a h.e.l.l of a risk to take with a child's life. He felt sick with the weight of it.

He drifted back into his body and was instantly crushed by weariness, an aching hot fire in his muscles as if his body had been put on the rack while he was away. He felt weak, horribly weak, and when he moved to take away the cloth smothering him he saw that it was soaked with blood.

"Stefan?" Katie's voice. It sounded as if it was coming from a long, long way. Even the touch-the back of her hand gently laid on his cheek-seemed more like a dream than reality. "G.o.d, don't do that again. Please. I'm begging you, don't."

He swallowed and tasted blood, sniffed and wiped the worst of the mess from his face. His shirt wouldn't show the blood that much, thankfully, and he didn't think he'd bled all over Angelo's vintage seats. He found a plastic trash bag in the glove compartment-Angelo was always careful about such things-and crammed the b.l.o.o.d.y chamois inside.

"They're at the port," he said.

"The airport?"

"No, the harbor. Port of Los Angeles. They're heading for Terminal Island." Stefan forced his eyes to stay open, even though he desperately wanted-needed-to sleep. "Stay on the 110, then merge onto 47. They're somewhere right off the freeway, heading south on North Harbor. They're close, Katie. We're close."

The world was unraveling at the edges, his vision closing slowly off. "Katie," he said, and felt her hand on his face again. "Katie, I can't-"

He skidded away, into the dark, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he didn't feel any pain.

Katie, alarmed, pressed her fingers to Stefan's neck and tried to concentrate on detecting a pulse while she kept most of her attention on combat driving down the L.A. freeway. That was getting easier-apparently, traffic had either loosened up its stranglehold or she was just getting better at it, but there was free airs.p.a.ce between cars now, things were moving at nearly half posted speed, and she was taking full advantage of it.

She felt a faint, fast throb against the pad of her fingertips, and let out a slow, relieved sigh. She'd thought, when he'd relaxed like that, that he'd slid back over to Teal, out of body, but then she'd realized that this didn't look like his other trances.

This was unconsciousness. His mind and body had finally rebelled against the abuse.

Katie slid her hand down his arm in a silent caress, then put it back on the Jaguar's gearshift as she downshifted to Third and powered around a slow-lumbering semi. Her brain was working faster than ever, examining and cataloging every panel truck she spotted. None of them-and all of them-matched so far. She wasn't going to find them this way.

Stefan said that the truck had been on North Harbor, at the Port of Los Angeles. It was too big, too nonspecific, and too hot a crisis for her to continue to Lone Ranger her way through this.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, girls. She'd wanted to do this for them-for Kayla-for the school. She'd wanted to be there and protect them, but in the end, it was all about getting them back, not whose hands were on the job.

Katie slowed the Jaguar, drifted through lanes of traffic, and pulled off the 110 to a side street, found a parking lot and put the lovely automobile in Park.

Then she reached across and retrieved the cell phone from the floor where Stefan had dropped it.

Her first call was to Allison Gracelyn. Her second was to Alex Forsythe. Her third was to the FBI Los Angeles field office, and that one took a while because she had to establish her bona fides and convince the agents there to put her in touch with the task force. It seemed to take forever, but she knew that was subjective; they moved as fast as they could, given the circ.u.mstances. The task force had a lot to process right now.

She didn't mention Stefan, or psychic visions, but she did tell them she had impeccable information that the van they were preparing for takedown was a decoy, and she described, as best she could, what they should be looking for. In the end, she wasn't sure that the agent in charge, Salazar-she'd worked with him once before on a missing persons case-was completely convinced, but her reputation alone was enough to make him commit resources. They'd pursue both courses, she was sure...the decoy van, and the truck heading for the port.

Nothing else useful she could do. She risked Stefan's health, and maybe his life, if she continued to push him for information. It's out of your hands, she told herself. It's being handled. It's all right to let it go.

She never let anything go. It was a character flaw, but there wasn't anything she could do about it; even when she'd had to walk away from cases, she always kept copies, boxes of files for reference, and she would periodically go back and review them, start to finish, to be sure she hadn't missed any leads. Cold cases got hot, that was a definitive fact.

But this...This ached in ways that other cases hadn't. It was family. It was personal. And she was so close!

Katie Rush folded up the phone, stared out into the blinding Los Angeles morning, and thought about failure. She'd failed before.... Failed to find people in time, and seen the bitter aftermath. Failed to close cases at all. Even failed herself, once or twice, with bad relationships and worse habits.

But she'd never failed her sisters from Athena Academy. Never.

And you won't, she promised herself. You never will.

It wouldn't hurt to just go to the Port. All she had was a vague description and North Harbor Road, after all. The chances of her actually finding anything were small to infinitesimal.

Stefan needs a doctor.

Stefan would agree with her about going to the port, too.

The voice in her head had no real answer for that.

Katie leaned across, checked Stefan and cleaned his face as best she could. He still looked pale and felt chilly despite the warm L.A. sun. His pulse continued to beat steadily, and his eyes moved rapidly behind his lids...dreaming, maybe.

"Sleep," she whispered and pressed another kiss to his forehead. "You've earned it."

She started the Jaguar and eased it back into gear, heading for the entrance to the freeway and the port.

Stefan didn't want to wake up because it hurt. All over. First, his head: Post-vision hangover didn't cover it. It felt like a real hangover, one induced by several bottles of Everclear and a punch from a world champion boxer. He tried to open his eyes, but the light was searing, and the swirl of color made him instantly sick.

"s.h.i.t," he whispered, and leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees, face in his hands. "Katie?"

Her hand, gentle and warm on the back of his neck. "Right here," she said. "I'm right here."

He felt road vibration, and his brain slowly put the pieces together. They were still in the car, then, still on the trail...and it wasn't over. Some part of him screamed in pain at the thought, but he ignored it. He'd do what he had to do, and deal with the consequences later.

"I told you, right?" His voice sounded hoa.r.s.e and unsteady, and he worked to make it normal again. "About the truck? About the port?"

"North Harbor Road," she a.s.sured him. "We're three minutes from the exit. I called the task force-I'm hoping they'll be there ahead of us, or at least get the Port Police mobilized."

"But they don't have a description. Not of the truck."

She was quiet for a few seconds, but her hand stayed on him, steadying him. Rea.s.suring him, without words, that he was still here and still wanted.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "If we have to stop and search every truck, we will. They're not getting away, Stefan. Not this time."

Whistling past the graveyard, he thought. He sat back and forced his eyes to open and stay open, and braced himself as his mind came to terms with the world beyond his skin again. There. Not so bad. Bright and blinding, yes, but he could deal with it. It was no worse than the champagne hangover after the last development deal with Paramount, right?

"If you're so sure," he asked, "why are we still going that way?"

"Because when they get Lena and Teal back, I think we should be there. I think you should be there." Katie turned and glanced at him, and he was struck by the emotion in her lovely eyes. She looked tired, stressed, but there was a glow in her that even the current circ.u.mstances couldn't dim. "You're a hero, Stefan."

He wanted to deny that because he knew deep down it wasn't true.... He'd gone out to Arizona in the first place partly for altruistic reasons, sure, but also because he'd just been interested. And then there had been Katie...and Katie was a powerful inducement all on her own. Heroes didn't need bribes.

But, shamefully, he wanted her to keep on thinking it, even if it wasn't true. The feeling it gave him was indescribable.