Unfair Advantage

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE





Roarke tuned into a classic rock station, turned up the volume. He caught himself glancing in the rear view mirror like a lovesick fool.



Hell, if the shoe fit.



Memories of their three days together caused an ache low in his gut.Still, something else nagged there, too.



Deep instinct prompted Roarke to ponder where the killer had gotten. Yesterday Ferelli had left a message saying they’d recovered considerable data from the hard drive of the burned computer. They found plans arranged online for a small flight from a Mexican airstrip under an alias matching the name of a stillborn child.



Then they identified arranged travel legs by a variety of transport means, from Mexico to South Africa. Including a confirmation email from an online pay service company. It culminated with a chartered yacht, moored in a marina on the Cape. Cash payment covered six months. Interpol had already mobilized.



A small time charter pilot- with a considerable history of links to the criminal underworld - had come in under the promise of immunity and told the Feds he’d flown a guy from Jersey to that same airfield. A guy who looked a lot like the picture shown on television. Taken together, the Feds believed they had a strong case for following the trail.



Roarke didn’t feel so sure. However, with nothing more than a gut hunch to offer in evidence, he’d have to keep his mouth shut and wait.







Dani’s stomach growled at around two-thirty. What little remained from Roarke’s shopping excursion required cooking. So she changed from lounging clothes to her beloved soft hikers, jeans, heavy sport top and matching green ribbed tank. She loaded up Buddy, drove twenty minutes to a smokehouse barbeque place that offered the best chicken and ribs in three counties.



Halfway there, she realized she’d left her cell phone charging at the cabin. In the past days she’d fallen into the habit of not carrying it because Roarke always had his.



She ordered ribs for herself, chicken for Buddy. Their plates came with coleslaw and baked potatoes. Dani and her dog took a seat at one of the many picnic tables under the towering pines and dug in. She picked the meat off the bone for her friend, unwrapped his potato from the insulating foil.



The vet would croak. Yet, an occasional treat couldn’t hurt too much.



She drank a soda, Buddy lapped water from half a Styrofoam takeout container.



People came and went. Dani savored the roadside grill and picnic aura as much as the food. As her gaze swept along the tree line, it met Buddy’s. Intense intelligence blazed from behind his mismatched eyes.



A swift pang of affection speared her. Despite the short time she’d had him, it seemed she had known him forever. Cupping his wolfish face in her hands, Dani leaned close. “I’m so glad you crawled under my rhododendron.”







Brand had serveiled the cabin enough to know no one would see him go inside. He picked the knob lock with ease. Beyond the metal screen and wooden front door lay a living room with a fireplace. Wood floors and walls treated with a glossy finish, sparse, heavy furniture and a folksy woven rug under the seating area grouping looked very much the woodsy retreat. The rest of the place continued the spare, rustic charm theme.



Only in the guest bedroom did he uncover evidence of the old Danielle Richards. His practiced calculation amounted perhaps sixty or seventy large in designer clothing and shoes.



Intrigued, he went into her bedroom. Her cellular phone sat charging on a table. He walked into the bath. In the old-fashioned metal medicine cabinet he found a bottle of clear O.P.I polish, a metal file and an emery board, MAC powder and mascara, a flask of heliotrope lotion that smelled expensive, cleanser and a little tub of facial treatment bearing the same label as the scented cream.



He used the metal file to open her phone. He made quick work of disabling it, closed it back and returned it to its position.



On his way out, he cut the phone line. Later he’d return, finish business.







Dani drove back to the cabin. Buddy snored in the backseat. Obviously the safety travel bed lived up to its advertised claims of comfort. That, or he’d passed out from overindulgence. He woke when she turned off the Camry. She unfastened him, let him run while she went inside to pour herself a glass of wine.



Dani settled herself on the front porch, feet propped on the rail. A brewing storm clouded the sky, chased daylight to an early bedtime. Thunder rumbled. Electricity charged the air.



She missed Roarke already. Smiling, she decided to let him call first, though.







Roarke stopped in Havewick at The Hound and Horse. As he entered, walked to the famed Hunt Club restaurant, he thought about the day he’d agreed to meet Dani here. He’d known that day his attraction to her would cause trouble. Looking back, he had no idea how he’d kept his hands off her so long.



After eating, he stopped at the front desk, reserved their lauded Queen Victoria suite for a weekend the following month. To get it so soon, he’d shamelessly laid his shield on the counter as he withdrew his wallet. As he stood there waiting for the attendant to finesse the reservation, Roarke realized he’d left his cell phone in the truck.



An eerie sensation snaked through his gut. He had her swipe his American Express, signed in a flash, asked her to please email confirmation to RLarkinNY@netcom.net and jogged out into the parking lot. With his key turning in the truck door he could see the face of his phone lit up displaying a missed call and a message.



Roarke got in, started the engine and checked.



“Larkin, Captain Ferelli. We checked up on that pilot. Turns out he flew some Italian businessmen to Reno during the time he claimed he was en

route to Mexico. He’s trying to hedge. Looks like he might have taken

payment to come in and lead us on a wild fucking goose chase. Feds are headed to New Jersey because - you won’t believe this - that Mayan Laroux showed up at the 15th telling everything she knew. You were lead detective on this from the get-go. We could use you at the house.”



Roarke drove another thirty miles against his instincts.



Then, he swung the truck around in a Hollywood-worthy one-eighty.



That murdering bastard was a cold-blooded psychopath. Not stupid. He’d want rid of the person who could find him while the rest of them blundered around relying on police work and investigation.



He dialed Dani’s landline. It rang and rang without going to machine.

He glanced at the clock. Driving hell for leather he might make it in an hour.

After she did not answer her cell, he called Ferelli.



“Captain, it’s Larkin.”



“Missed you earlier.”



“Yeah, got your message. I think our man plans a final kill.”



“No shit?”



“Call the New South Essex sheriff or maybe the state boys. Interpol. ISA. This thing’s so multi-jurisdictional, I have no fuckin’ clue. Get them to Eleven Lake Road. Now.”



“Miss Richards?”



“Afraid so. I’ve called both her phones, no answer. Now we get this intel.” Roarke’s heart lurched. Cold sweat broke upon his skin. He couldn’t afford to let it interfere. He needed a cool head. “Make the call, captain. Tell the Feds if they’ll listen. Tell anyone who’ll listen.”







Dani couldn’t finish her wine. Two active nights and the big meal had done her in, so she called Buddy and they went inside. She brushed her teeth, started to change into pj shorts and a cami when something made the hair of her nape stand up. Instinct screamed danger. Rather than question, she kept on her tank, jeans and soft hikers.



Buddy’s crate remained in the living room. In the interest of time

conservation she shut him in her bathroom.



Adrenaline singing in her blood, she left everything else as it was and

stepped into the dark hall. Slowly, she moved toward the front of the cabin. From the window she could see the lakeshore stretching along the forest’s edge. Lightning streaked down from the black sky. It illuminated the figure of a small boy standing on the beach.



“Michael.” Dan’s belly knotted. “No!” She hadn’t called him. Then,

she’d received a warning that spirits wouldn’t wait.



Dani ran through the house. She left the door open, raced down the steps

and gazed along the lake shore. Rain had begun to blow on the gusty wind. A flash of lightning cast sudden incandescent brilliance. She saw Michael walking far up the shore. Dani broke like a Thoroughbred into a sprint. As she closed the distance, he stopped, turned. She could see the frightened expression on his face as he pointed back at the cabin.



Horrible certainty gripped her. Slowly, she turned. A masculine shape

passed by one of the living room windows.



“Omigod.” Her heart leapt behind her ribs. Adrenaline spurted through her body like cold flame. She flinched and gasped as Michael took her hand in his much smaller one. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”



“I know you’re not afraid of me,” he said. “You’re scared of that man.”



Her first instinct screamed to get Michael as far away as possible.

Recognizing irrational thinking, she forced herself to focus. “Listen to me. I want you go back to your grandparents. You helped me, and I really appreciate it. But now, I want you to go and be at peace.”



“’Kay.” He hugged her leg and it broke her heart. “Bye.”



He faded. His touch lingered a moment after she could no longer see him.

Then she stood alone in the increasingly heavy rain. Dani moved to the tree line, watched the cabin.



She could wait him out. He’d have no way of knowing she hadn’t gone for

the night. Feeling cooler-headed, she resolved to make the most of her advantage.



A keening cry of animal pain echoed across the lake.



“Buddy!”



Dani broke from cover and dashed back toward the cabin.