The Collected Part 12

It wasn't until they were finally back in the air that he was able to relax a little. There were just too many ghosts in Phoenix, of things and events and the actual dead. Sitting there for the short layover had been more than enough to reconfirm that it was a place he needed to avoid as much as possible.

They met Kim Lakey on the west side of Tucson, in the parking lot of the Waffle House off Star Pa.s.s Boulevard.

"Good to see you guys," she said as she climbed into the back of their car, setting the gray canvas backpack she'd been carrying on the seat beside her.

They exchanged handshakes. Though Kim looked large compared to Orlando, she was only five foot three and a hundred and ten pounds. In their world, she was a jack-someone who was good at a whole range of things, and easy to slot into pretty much any support position that might be needed.

From the backpack, she pulled out the weapons they'd requested, handed them up front, then said, "Shall we go for a drive?"

Kim had been able to get to Tucson and do some hunting around before their flight had arrived in Phoenix. She confirmed that Burke had a townhome in the area, and that someone was inside.

The guy's place was located among a sea of tan, pueblo-style townhomes in a complex west of the city. If it weren't for the numbers next to the doors, it would have been nearly impossible to tell one unit from the next.

"Park there," Kim said, pointing at an open spot with the word VISITOR painted over the asphalt.

Once out of the car, she led them along a wide path through several of the buildings, slowing when they reached the point where the pathway ended at another road.

"On the right," she said. "Four down on the other side."

Quinn glanced over. Like all the other places, there was nothing remarkable about Burke's townhome. The only thing slightly different was that curtains had been pulled across all the windows.

"How did you establish someone was inside?" he asked.

"Saw them peeking around the curtains a couple times. Couldn't see the face, though."

They walked across the street to where the path continued, taking them out of sight of Burke's place, and stopped again.

"Well?" Orlando asked.

"He knows things didn't go as planned in Monterrey," Quinn said, "so he'll obviously be running scared. If it is him inside, I doubt he'll just open the door if we knock."

"How many ways in and out?" Orlando asked Kim.

"Two doors, the front and a sliding gla.s.s one in back. Since he's between two other places, he only has windows on the front and back on both floors. Unless he barricades himself inside, it'd be an easy flush."

Quinn thought about it for a moment, then nodded. The simplest plans were often the best. "You play instigator," he told Kim. "We'll play rear guard."

__________.

IT WOULD HAVE been better if Quinn and Orlando could have climbed over Burke's fence and hidden on his porch, but, with the sun still out and the person inside undoubtedly on edge-and potentially armed-they thought it best to play it safe.

What they did instead was position themselves on the pathway that ran along the back wall enclosing Burke's small patio area. Once they were set, Quinn called Kim. "We're ready. Give him something to think about."

There was a delay of several seconds, and then they heard the distant pounding as Kim knocked, hard and decisive, on the front door. She paused for five seconds before pounding again. When she knocked a third time, Quinn heard the sliding gla.s.s door on the other side of the wall ease open.

He tensed, ready to act.

A footstep on concrete, then a thud, like something had been b.u.mped into. And breathing, rapid, almost panting.

Whoever was on Burke's patio was scared out of their mind.

This time, instead of knocking, Kim rang the doorbell twice in a row.

Quinn heard a quick intake of breath, and then the person on the other side ran from the house to the fence. Hands wrapped around the top, and there was a whack against the other side as a foot or a knee slammed into it. A loud grunt of exertion, and the person's head and shoulders popped over the top.

Not Burke.

Not a man at all.

A young woman with long sandy blonde hair and a desert tan.

She worked her way up until she could bend over the edge at the waist. That was when she saw Orlando.

With a yell of surprise, she dropped back down onto the patio.

Orlando beat Quinn over the top by half a second, and grabbed the girl's arm just before she ran back into the house. The girl tried to break free, then started to yell.

"Leave me alone, you b.i.t.c.h! I know what you-"

"I think you need to relax," Quinn said, coming up fast on her other side, flashing his gun.

The sight of the weapon had the desired effect. The girl's jaw went slack as her eyes widened in fear.

"Anyone else here?" he whispered.

She continued to stare at the weapon.

"Hey," Quinn said. "Is anyone else inside?"

She blinked, and shook her head.

"Then why don't we go in where it's cooler?" he suggested.

As he stepped toward her, she moved backward into the house. Once inside, Orlando closed the gla.s.s door and repositioned the curtain so no one could see in. "I'll do a check." She headed for the stairs.

The doorbell rang again.

"Have a seat," Quinn told the girl.

Not taking her eyes off him, she backed all the way to a black leather couch, and sat down.

"Stay right there, and everything will be fine. Okay?"

She nodded.

Quinn went over and opened the front door.

"Success, I see," Kim said.

"Appreciate the help." He glanced back to make sure the girl hadn't moved.

"You need me for anything else?"

"Nope. We've got it now. Thank you. If you want to wait, we can give you a ride back to your car."

"Don't worry about it. Just do what you have to do. I can get back on my own. And Quinn, keep in touch. It's been a while since we've worked together."

After they shook hands, Quinn closed the door and headed back to the living room.

"Second floor's clear," Orlando said, descending the stairs.

When she reached the bottom, she headed off to check the rest of the ground floor, but Quinn knew she wouldn't find anyone. The girl had been too scared to lie about being alone. Wherever Burke was, it wasn't here.

"What's your name?" Quinn asked, lowering himself into the matching leather chair next to the couch.

Her jaw moved a few times as a few incoherent syllables stumbled out of her mouth.

"Take a breath. It's okay. You're going to be fine. Come on, like this. In," he said, breathing in deeply. "And out." He pushed the air back out again. "Your turn. In." Her intake was not quite as smooth as his. "And out." The air moved out of her lungs in a mad rush. "Again, slower this time." She tried again, her breathing better. After the third time, she was almost back in control. "Better?"

A hesitant nod.

"Good. What's your name?"

"Ellie," she said, a tremor in her voice.

"All right, Ellie. I just want to ask you a few questions. Nothing's going to happen to you. I promise."

Her gaze flicked to his gun, then back to his face.

"Here," he said. He tucked the gun between his leg and the arm of the chair, where it was out of sight, but retrievable in a hurry if the need arose. "Better?"

She chewed on her lower lip, and nodded once.

"All clear," Orlando said, walking back into the room.

Ellie jumped at the sound.

"Don't worry," Quinn said. "My friend's not going to hurt you, either."

"How about some water?" Orlando suggested as she headed toward the kitchen. "I'm going to have some."

"Um, yeah. Okay," Ellie said. "There are, um, cold bottles in the refrigerator. In the door."

"I'll take one, too," Quinn said.

Quinn waited until Orlando returned. Once they had all taken drinks, he said, "Ellie, do you live here?"

"Uh-huh," the girl said. "Well, I mean, I have my own place, but I'm here a lot. When Doug's home, anyway."

"Doug Burke?"

"Yes."

"He owns this place?"

"Uh-huh."

"So where's Doug now?"

She looked frightened again. "I'm not sure. He said he was going to the store, but that was like two hours ago. I thought he'd be back by now."

Quinn tried hard to keep the disappointment from showing on his face. He had a bad feeling the man wouldn't be coming back at all.

"Was Doug upset about anything?" he asked.

"He's been a little keyed up since he got back, if that's what you mean."

"And when was that?"

"Yesterday. Hey, if you're looking for him, I'm sure he'll be back any minute. But whatever you think he's done, you're wrong. Doug's not like that."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Like someone you'd have to point a gun at." She glanced at where he'd hidden the pistol. "He works for the United Nations. UNI-something. You know. The group that works with kids? He travels around all the time, doing what he can to help them. He's a good guy."

Everyone in Quinn's world had his or her own cover story. His was international banking. It seemed, though, that Burke had chosen something that would not only explain his absences, but also make him look like a hero at home. Quinn knew Orlando must be seething inside. Unlike Burke, she actually did a lot of work for those in need on her own time.

"I have a question," Orlando said, her voice remarkably calm.

Ellie looked over.

"I noticed the suitcases upstairs. Are you going on a trip?"

The girl's demeanor turned noticeably icy as she answered. "In the morning. We're flying to Australia for two weeks."

"That sounds like fun. Sydney?"

She nodded.

Quinn picked up a picture from the end table. It was Ellie and a man he a.s.sumed was Burke on a deep-sea fishing boat. Both were smiling. "Another trip?"

"Cabo," she said. "A few months ago."

He set the photo back down. "What kind of car does Doug drive?"

"Mustang. One of those new ones."

"Color?"