When She Was Bad Read online

  Alarm bells rang in his head. “What’s your last name? Is it Queen Elsa?”

  She giggled. “I had the name before the movie. My name was Elsa Manfred, but the man in black changed it. Now I’m Elsa Wallingford.”

  Zane only remembered the story because of Grayson and his crazy theory. “Were you on television?”

  The girl skipped over to the huge fountain in the middle of the yard and came back with a sketchpad. She flipped through it and held it up.

  “I prayed for an angel to take my dad away so he wouldn’t hurt anybody no more like he hurt my mom. She’s in heaven. But not my daddy. The angel sent him to the bad place.”

  He looked at the crude drawing.

  “Is this the angel?”

  “Yep. She said she was a monster, but I knew she was an angel. She wasn’t scary and didn’t look like a monster. She made me feel safe.” Elsa leaned forward and whispered, “Angels can’t tell you they’re angels. It’s against the rules.”

  “What’s this?”

  “Her flaming sword. It comes out of her arm and turns into a sword on fire when she’s vanquishing the monsters.”

  She handed him a pink crayon. “Want to help me draw a unicorn? I’m making this picture to mail to heaven. To tell the angel thank you for giving me a new family. I like to write her letters.”

  “Maybe next time.”

  Zane racked his brain as he left the house. The father had a meth lab in the house and the hospital found traces of drugs in the child’s system, so no one took her account of the assailant seriously. No matter what she had been asked, Elsa stuck to her story, saying it was an angel with sparkly wings, a sword made of fire, and pretty blue eyes that saved her.

  Driving back to the office, he remembered a conversation with Grayson. They’d been having a drink after work. Talking about a case in Fayetteville where the next-door neighbor swore he’d seen a woman fleeing the scene.

  They all thought it was a drug hit. Zane had teased them about believing in Santa too. The bullets had been too fragmented to get a match, and there were no shell casings at the scene.

  Grayson was an animal control officer, and he’d sworn there was a connection. In several murders, there had been animal cruelty charges, but the people had gotten probation. There had been drugs involved in several of the cases. And most of the people had other criminal charges. There could have been a lot of explanations. And there had been three guns.

  He’d told Grayson, “You know animal cruelty doesn’t even really register. Animals are still considered property. Not gonna pop when we’re looking for a connection.”

  But nothing more came of it. The thought was the killer had been shot himself or moved on. Grayson had driven a vintage MG. It didn’t have airbags, so when another car ran a red light and nailed him in the driver’s-side door, he died instantly.

  Could Grayson have been right all along? Was a woman killing people? After meeting Elsa today, Zane owed it to his friend to make a few calls.

  CHAPTER 36

  I WOKE ABRUPTLY, PANTING, THE sheets tangled around my waist. It took a few moments of deep breathing before my heart rate returned to normal. The old nightmare was back, the one I only ever had when I was really stressed. I’d been dreaming about my teeth falling out.

  What was it trying to tell me? Sitting on the side of the bed, legs crossed, I stared out the sliding glass door at the ocean. I poked around inside, but the darkness was strangely silent. Ryder cursed as I carried my bags into the living room.

  “What’s wrong?”

  As much as I wanted to wear the dress and gold sandals, I’d packed them away and instead wore white denim capris, a silk blouse, and white sneakers. The scarf Ryder had given me was wrapped around my wrist, a bracelet. It looked pretty next to the charms.

  He picked up the remote and turned the sound up. I saw the explosion on the TV, horror filling me as I recognized the building.

  “Is that Maximillian’s place? Tell me he made it out.”

  “Max is fine. Blew the place himself, must have known they were onto him, rigged it years ago. Don’t worry; many have tried and failed to kill him over the years. He’s like your cat, with nine lives.”

  “What about our documents?”

  “We’re good, but we need to go.”

  I grabbed my bags. “Ready.” When we got to the car, I asked, “Are they close?”

  Tight-lipped, he nodded.

  It took us three times as long as it should’ve to get to the pier, to make sure no one was following us. A gull sounded overhead as we walked down the wooden planks to our getaway boat.

  “So you just left the car?”

  “With the door open and running.”

  “Somebody’s getting a nice car.” We were almost there when I heard it, a hissing noise like a tire losing air. I looked to my right, behind nets piled high, sure I would see a gator. But I didn’t see a thing.

  “Hope, we’re burning daylight.”

  The boat was luxury all the way—no ratty fishing trawler for us. We were getting ready to leave when he stopped in the middle of the plush living room. It was like watching a predator catch scent of its prey.

  Without a word, he took my arm, a finger to his lips, and pulled me up the steps and off the boat. It wasn’t until we’d left the pier that he spoke.

  “Someone’s been on board.”

  “Probably the guy you rented the boat from.”

  He shook his head, which made me nervous. I kept looking around, expecting bullets to start flying any second. “Are we okay?”

  “We’ll take a car into Mexico and get a boat there.”

  But we didn’t go back to the Mercedes. He’d left it unlocked for someone to steal, so instead we bought a ratty old Saab that had three hundred thousand miles on it and drove. It took us four hours to get to Tamaulipas, Mexico.

  We crossed the border without incident, so the Organization hadn’t found out about our new identity yet, though Ryder said they’d know by morning or the next day. This part of Mexico was controlled by the cartels, a dangerous area at best, but perfect for us to find another boat.

  The whole area had me on edge as Ryder led me to a building that looked like it might collapse at any moment. He opened the door to the room and I looked around. The walls were concrete, the paint faded, but there was a breeze and he assured me no one would bother us.

  “You actually paid money to stay here?”

  We’d ditched our cell phones and my tablet along the way and purchased new phones from a shady-looking storefront when we crossed into Mexico. I’d washed the dust off my face when a knock sounded. Ryder put a finger to his lips and went to the door, gun in hand. There was a murmur of voices, and he came back with bags.

  “I smell dinner.”

  I took the bags from him, setting out various containers of food. The last two bags were heavy, and clinked. Expecting beer, I set the two bottles on the table and looked to the balcony where he was looking outside, no doubt for more of his lovely coworkers.

  “St. Germain and bubbly. How did you know?”

  Ryder watched me from across the room.

  “Never mind, don’t answer that. When you look for a new job, you might want to apply for a job as a stalker.”

  “Funny.”

  I found plastic cups in a bag, and before I poured, I looked up at him.

  “Why not?”

  With a grin, I mixed the drinks for us, tasting mine, and then adding a bit more bubbly to both cups.

  “Here you go.”

  He took a drink. “It’s very you.”

  We were several blocks from our room when it happened.

  Move. The darkness roared as I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, felt something brush by my face. The sound of the gun was loud in my ears.

  Ryder yanked me behind him, firing and dropping a guy crouched behind a car. Another man left the cover of a darkened doorway. I pulled the gun from the holster at my back and fired twice a
s the thing within jumped up and down in glee.

  The first bullet caught Ryder in the shoulder, sending us crashing into the parked car. The second hit him center of mass, and yet he still shielded me with his body.

  The guy with blond hair fired at the same time I did. The darkness took over. I reached through the gap between Ryder’s body and arm and fired, hitting the man in the head, dropping him where he stood. But it was too late.

  “Hold on. I’ll get you to a hospital.”

  “Too late.” He touched my face. “Hope. The perfect name for you. All the shit you’ve been through, and deep down you still believe the world can change.”

  “Please don’t leave me, Ryder. I won’t make it on my own.”

  CHAPTER 37

  “WHY DID YOU PUT YOURSELF in front of me? It should be me that got shot, not you. Why, Ryder?”

  He was getting cold and didn’t have much time left, and there was so much to tell her, to see her safe.

  “Hope, stop talking and listen.” She looked down at him, a tear silently streaking down her cheek. Tears for him. With tremendous effort, he touched a finger to her cheek, looking at the perfect sphere shimmering on his finger before he touched it to his lips.

  “Stay off the grid. Dump your identity and use one of the other two. Don’t go back to the car. Buy old cars without computers. Prepaid phones.” Ryder struggled to speak. “Get his phone. Do it now.”

  She scrambled over to Mitch. Who would have guessed he’d be the one to take him out? Ryder would have thought if anyone took credit, it would have been Hunter. There had to be a leak for them to have been found so quickly. For all she’d done, Hope was still an innocent. How would she survive?

  “I’ve got his phone.”

  He smeared his blood on her face. “Hold me.” The look on her face made him chuckle. “Get as much of my blood on you as possible. Hurry.”

  The street was eerily silent, yet he felt eyes on them. It was a gamble, but he’d give her any chance he could. She smelled like sunshine and the perfume he’d found for her, the one her grandmother loved.

  “Now what?”

  “Give me the phone and play dead.”

  He snapped the picture and texted it to the Organization along with a message saying he wanted back in.

  “If this convinces them you’re dead, you’ll have a chance. Otherwise you’ll be running forever. You have to run, far enough away they won’t find you.” He was running out of the one thing he couldn’t buy, time.

  “You have no bloody idea how incredibly lucky you’ve been so far. It wasn’t difficult for me to find you. Others at the Organization will find you and kill you.”

  Her charm bracelets shimmered in the sun. He touched them and the scarf she had wrapped around her wrist, the one that had reminded him of her eyes. “One for me.”

  Ryder coughed, turning his head to spit out blood.

  Hope stroked his cheek, his head resting in her lap, and her tears falling like rain on his face, but was it enough?

  “Please don’t die. I’m so sorry. Everyone I care for dies.”

  Ryder willed his body to fight. “It was my choice. For the first time in my life, I’ve done something worthwhile.” His life blood flowed into the street. Ryder had been shot enough times to know when it was fatal.

  “You’re right, there is something much bigger going on. They know you’re onto them. You’ve put yourself into a dangerous situation, and there’s too much money at stake. Remember what I told you. Where to go, the name I gave you. Trust no one else but him. He’s the only one who can help you, and he owes me for saving his life, a long time ago.”

  She sobbed, holding his hands in hers. He was so cold. No matter how much he willed it, his lips would no longer form the words. Ryder’s heart slowed down, the beats coming further and further apart. So this was what it was like to die?

  Would this one good thing he’d done make a difference when he faced judgment? Stacked up against the bad, he didn’t think so, but Ryder had to believe perhaps saving her might earn him the smallest bit of mercy.

  Hope kissed him on the lips. “For a time I thought I could find my way back to the light. But there is no light. Only darkness and death. I swear, Ryder, I won’t forget.”

  I wiped the tears from my face, gently easing Ryder off my lap, onto the ground. I didn’t want to leave him in the street, but I had to. Any call would alert those looking for me; it would make him angry, and he deserved better.

  “Goodbye, Ryder.” I kissed him once more, the warmth gone from this lips, tasting copper and salt as I licked my lips and swallowed, taking part of him inside, to keep him with me always.

  I ducked into an alley and stripped, yanking a dress out of my bag and tugging it over my head. It wasn’t like I could walk the streets covered in Ryder’s blood. Why did he sacrifice himself for me? It was something I needed time to think about, but right now, I had to push everything out of my mind except getting away. We both knew the photo would only buy me an hour or two. As soon as someone saw the hit man named Mitch was dead and not me, they’d be after me again.

  I tossed the bloody clothes into a pile of debris in the alley and jogged, taking random turns until I came out into a crowded marketplace. Immediately, I slowed down, meandering along with the crowd, trying to blend in. There were stalls everywhere, selling everything from tourist junk to food. At one vendor, I paid for a long, flowing dress and stood between the racks, pulling it over my head as the woman gaped at me. I pulled my clothes off under the dress, not caring who might be watching. The woman took it from me, smiling, and handed me a big straw hat in return.

  A few stalls down, I bought huge black sunglasses and a straw tote bag. My stuff from the backpack and messenger bag fit in the bright yellow tote. The two bags I dropped on the ground when no one was looking. Now I just had the tote and the tube containing my painting. How I hadn’t lost it when the shooting started astounded me, but it had rolled into the gutter, waiting for me to retrieve it.

  At the corner, I saw a cab and flagged him down.

  “Do you speak English?”

  The man turned in the seat, smiling. “Yes, where would you like to go?”

  “A nice hotel, somewhere safe but not too expensive.”

  He thought for a moment. “The Hotel Alameda in Matamoros.” It was slow going. Music played from his radio and he smelled like Old Spice.

  “You shouldn’t be wandering around the market alone. Americans are a target. They get kidnapped, robbed, carjacked, even killed. Lock your things in the safe in your room, including your passport, and don’t carry much money if you do go out.”

  The guy caught my eye in the mirror as I put on my most innocent look.

  “I didn’t even think about that. Thank you.”

  The hotel looked nice. They had rooms available and were happy to take cash. Before I went up, I ordered room service, not wanting to go out alone.

  The food and bottle of wine came quickly. I was sitting at the small table, the curtains drawn, drinking straight from the bottle, when I caught the first report. I guessed the Organization figured out I was alive and Ryder and their guys were dead. The report briefly mentioned a man who lost his life in a carjacking gone wrong. There was no picture, but I knew it was them.

  It was late, the sun setting hours ago. In the shower, hot water slid over my skin, and I slid down the tile, hugging my knees, huge, racking sobs shaking my body. The water washed away the tears as fast as they fell. I cried for Ryder, for all those I’d failed, for the ones I couldn’t help, and for myself, knowing I’d be alone the rest of my life. Because if anyone got close to me they ended up dead.

  The darkness slept, content that I’d killed two more men. When I woke, it felt like I hadn’t slept at all. Tossing and turning, I kept seeing his face, replaying what had happened. The look on his face as the first bullet struck him. Ryder purposely threw himself in front of me, gave his life for mine. And now I had his blood on my hands. I knew he
wasn’t innocent, he was a paid assassin, but what he did for me…I’d never forget. It seemed even hit men had feelings.

  After I checked out of the hotel, I walked down the street to the bus stop. People were waiting to go to work. It was early and everyone looked sleepy, involved in their own private world. No one paid any attention to me.

  I dumped the Hope Stevenson papers in a garbage can in the lobby of the hotel. Ryder had thought ahead in purchasing us three identities. Though he should have changed my first name…now I knew why he hadn’t. His belief in me was the only reason I hadn’t fully embraced the darkness after watching him die in front of my eyes.

  Now I was Hope Brown. The third identity was for Hope Smith, both generic and perfect for fading away in the world.

  Sitting on the bus, I looked at my charm bracelet. Oceanic Starfish, for Ryder was as deep and mysterious as the deep blue ocean. I loved them both. The charm caught the light, making me smile.

  So much for happy endings.

  CHAPTER 38

  SPECIAL AGENT RICK REEVES HUNG up the phone, shaking his head. An officer from Raleigh, North Carolina had called him, told him some long, convoluted story about a girl named Hope Jones. Zane swore she was the one who had killed thirteen people across the state and was the one who was wanted in conjunction with the terrorist notice that had been sent out across the news.

  Rick went through the files, skeptical the killer could be a woman. More likely it was the guy with her. He had a long line of hits, some kind of hired assassin disavowed by some agency that didn’t exist, and that was where he was putting his money. The girl was probably one of those women who fell in love with the wrong guy, like the women who married mass murderers in prison, not realizing they’d be the next one to end up dead. But he’d at least take a look at the case. Though at the daily briefing, he’d focus on the man, not the girl, otherwise they’d laugh him out of the bureau. There was no way these terrorists were getting away. Rick would bring the full might of the FBI down on them.