Alafair Burke - Dead Connection

“But if I spare your little friend, who’s going to take the blame for shooting you?” Upton said. “He’s the easiest target, especially since you sent him an e-mail about fifteen minutes ago telling him you didn’t want to see him again. He sent you one back saying he was going to kill himself if you didn’t come here right away.”

Ellie opened and closed her mouth like a marionette.

“You hadn’t figured that part out yet? You really shouldn’t mooch off your neighbors’ wireless Internet connections. It makes it very easy for people like me to spy on you.”

“That’s why you called Peter to plant the letter. You knew we’d met on FirstDate.”

“I can get whatever I want off of FirstDate at any time. I built my own personal gateway into the server before I left the company. But I know all sorts of things about you,” Upton taunted. “The Web sites you visit. Your passwords.”

“And that’s why you wrote that stupid letter about the Book of Enoch. You knew that I was researching that angle. I was visiting Web sites about the book.”

“I’m tired of this,” Upton said abruptly. “Shoot her.”

Ellie closed her eyes and found herself praying to a god she hadn’t thought of for years. She prayed that Rostov would miss, or that he’d aim for someplace other than her head. She prayed that if she had to leave this world, that Jess and her mother would be all right. She prayed for another world that followed, a place where she might even be with her father. But to her surprise, the bullet didn’t come.

She opened her eyes at the sound of Rostov’s voice. “Jason wrote the letter in the library?”

“Will you fucking shoot her already? We need to do her, do the reporter, and get the fuck out of here.” All pretenses were gone now. Jason Upton sounded like he should be pumping gas and snacking on dirty rice and boudin.

With Rostov’s question, Ellie realized that Upton and Rostov were not the full partners she’d imagined. Four victims. Two patterns. Two separate killers. “You didn’t know, did you, Vitya? Jason let you think there really was another killer out there who got to Amy Davis and Megan Quinn. He probably told you the only way to keep us from finding out you killed Tatiana and Caroline Hunter was to dump all four of the murders on Becker. He didn’t tell you that the other women were his own personal projects?”

“She’s full of shit!” Upton yelled. “I wrote the letter so we’d have a way to set up Becker. That’s why we left that retarded book on his boat. Give me the gun. I’ll shoot her myself.”

Upton moved toward Rostov to take the gun, but Rostov did not turn over the weapon. Instead, he jerked his firing hand toward Upton – only slightly, and only for a second. It was not enough to create an opportunity for Ellie, but it gave her hope, and it put Jason Upton back into his seat and out of reach of her Glock, still resting on the table near Rostov.

“Think about it, Vitya,” Ellie said. “If someone else out there killed Amy Davis and Maggie Quinn, then Jason’s plan to frame Becker doesn’t add up. What happens when the killer plucks off another woman from FirstDate? There’s only one way he could know that wouldn’t happen.” Upton was still encouraging Rostov to fire off a shot, but Ellie could tell she had Rostov’s ear. “And here’s the interesting thing about that name – Enoch. It has two meanings. Enoch was the son of Cain, the one who betrayed his brother in the Bible.”

“I know the story of Cain and Abel.” Rostov spoke quietly, eyeing his friend Upton. “I know it because you told it to me, Jason. You said you felt like Abel, slain by your own brother.”

“So you knew how much Jason hated Mark Stern. Jason did all this – he jeopardized everything, including you – just to get back at Stern. You think killing me and Peter is going to make this go away? It’s too late, at least for you, Vitya. You haven’t spoken to Zoya?”

“Why are you talking about Zoya?”

“I saw her again today. She tried to protect you, but I know you saw Tatiana with that FBI agent. Tatiana wasn’t just an informant, Vitya. That agent was in love with her. He’s not going to drop this. And he knows where Becker got his boat. He’s probably talking to Luke Steiner right now to find out how his boat wound up in Becker’s name shortly after Caroline Hunter’s murder.”

Rostov threw Upton a nervous look that confirmed Ellie’s suspicion that the previous owner of Becker’s boat was somehow connected to Rostov’s network.

“The FBI is getting an arrest warrant for you. You’re going down, and killing me won’t change any of that.”

Ellie could see the veins in Upton’s neck as he screamed at Rostov to put her down. Only Ellie was alert enough to see the knob turn on the apartment’s front door. She gauged the distance to the Glock.

“Zoya will take the kids. You’ll never see them again.” She raised her voice, hoping to cover any sounds of the door she willed to open. “She’ll probably tell them you’re dead rather than take them to see their father in prison. That’s all on Jason. Everything the FBI has points to you, not him. If you’re going to take me out, you at least should send him with me.”

Ellie could feel the momentum changing. She was the aggressor now. In her mind’s eye, she saw Rostov turning the gun on Upton. She pictured the bullet firing into Upton’s body. She imagined herself diving for her weapon in the time it would take Rostov to fire another round. She visualized Peter’s front door opening. And as she pictured it all, she kept on talking.

The problem was, Rostov’s first shot wasn’t intended for Upton. It was meant for Ellie.

The force of the bullet felt like a battering ram against Ellie’s torso. She fell to the floor, landing hard against bare wood. Rostov got off a fast second shot, nailing Jason Upton squarely in the left cheek. Upton pressed both hands against the wound and swayed backward. Then like a pendulum, he swung forward again, collapsing onto the dining room table.

Just as Upton crashed headfirst into his mug of tea, Charlie Dixon pushed his way through the apartment door.

“Drop it, drop it. Drop your weapons. FBI.”

Rostov swung away from Ellie to face Dixon. Dixon reacted immediately. Pop. Pop. Two quick blasts from Dixon’s semiautomatic. Rostov stumbled backward and tumbled to the floor, coming to rest beside Ellie.

Dixon ran toward Ellie and kicked the Derringer from Rostov’s reach. Ellie strained to lift her head. As Dixon pressed two fingers to her carotid artery, she asked him for one more thing. “Make sure the guy in the bathroom’s all right.” Then she closed her eyes and everything turned black.

ELLIE WAS KNEELING BESIDE FLANN MCILROY, PRESSING HERcoat against his belly, while she waited for an ambulance that might save him. She heard the high-pitched squeals of a siren in the distance and pushed harder against Flann’s abdomen but could still see the blood spreading beneath her parka. Her mouth was dry, her tongue was swollen, and she smelled the antiseptic odors of Jess’s hospital room. She imagined her father’s body slumped over his steering wheel. Pictured the damage done by the bullet fired into his mouth. Greeted by an intense beam of bright white light in front of her, she tried walking toward it. When her legs wouldn’t move, she tried to run, but got no closer. She was paralyzed.

Her eyes shot open. Four round lights were mounted in metal on a vibrating wall in front of her. Then she realized that the bulbs were above her. She was horizontal, and the room was shaking. She was in an ambulance.

“You fainted,” an EMT explained. “Your vest caught the bullet, but you’re going to have a nasty bruise on your gut for about a week.”