Debra Webb - Striking Distance

Shaking off the confusion, she rushed to the keypad near the front door. She’d set the alarm before her bath. It was habit...she scarcely remembered the act. The display flashed a warning that a failure had occurred in area fifteen.

The den. Grabbing the closest object for protection, which turned out to be a long-handled umbrella from its stand, she moved quietly toward the den, the siren wailing in the background, drowning out Beethoven. She wasn’t really afraid. The community security guard would arrive almost immediately. As if to punctuate that thought the telephone rang. She ignored it. If she didn’t answer, the authorities would arrive post haste, as well. Any burglar worth his salt would know that and run like hell. She huffed under her breath, any burglar worth his salt wouldn’t have tripped the alarm in the first place.

The den stood in complete darkness. It was past midnight and any moonlight there might be was blocked by the trees shading this side of the house. She stood very still, listening, watching, but sensed no movement...no presence. Holding her breath, she reached for the wall switch by the door and flipped on the lights.

The problem wasn’t immediately evident. All looked as it should be. The sheer panel hanging between her drapes suddenly shifted. A new kind of tension climbed up Victoria’s spine. Moving cautiously, listening for any sound besides the insistent alarm and the rushing piano notes, she edged toward the window. Another slight shift of the sheer fabric. Every muscle tensed for battle, she jerked the panel back. The window was open only four or five inches. Just enough to allow a breeze to drift into the room. Just enough to break the connection of the security contact.

She exhaled the breath she’d been holding and peered down at the open sash. How had that happened? It had to have been closed when she set the alarm, otherwise she’d have gotten a default message. When she would have reached to push the sash down she saw a small black, mangled object, not much larger than a quarter on the sill. She leaned closer and visually inspected the object. Knowing better than to touch it and contaminate any evidence it might offer, she stood back and considered the possibilities.

She always kept the windows locked. Always. Unlocking it from the outside without breaking the glass would be impossible. Plus, this was a gated community, it wasn’t as if vandalism or burglaries were commonplace. Had someone intended to open her window earlier, before she came home, and somehow failed? That didn’t make sense. How would they have gotten in with the alarm set?

Pounding on the front door startled her from her thoughts. Surprised that security had arrived even more quickly than she’d anticipated, Victoria disarmed the security system as she passed the keypad on the way to her front door. Perhaps the police had arrived, as well.

“Mrs. Colby!”

She hurried to the door and peered through the peephole. Better to be safe than sorry. She drew back at what she saw. “Identify yourself, sir,” she demanded. This was no policeman. At least, not one in uniform. Nor was it the grounds security who donned clearly marked blue uniforms.

“Mrs. Colby, my name is John Logan. I work for Lucas. I need to know that you’re all right.”

He worked for Lucas? She remembered the name John Logan from that nightmare on St. Gabriel. She looked again. Her breath caught as she recognized the young man this time. What was he doing here?

She unlocked the door and jerked it open. “Is Lucas here? Has something happened?”

John Logan looked worried...or maybe upset. “No, ma’am, he’s not here, but he’s on his way.”

A frown furrowed across her brow. “Why are you here?”

“Ma’am, if you’ll let me come inside so I can ensure that the house is secure, Lucas will explain everything when he arrives.”

Irritation wiggled its way up her backbone as a scenario formed in her mind. Oh, he would explain all right. She’d known he’d been keeping something from her. She just hadn’t expected it to include John Logan.

“Come in, Mr. Logan,” she said with a welcoming, utterly fake smile pushed firmly into place. “Look around all you’d like. There’s an open window in my den. That’s what triggered the alarm.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded and walked right past her in the direction of her den.

Her mouth dropped open as she realized that he knew the layout of her home. But then, why was she surprised? Lucas always was thorough.

The golf cart security used to buzz around the small exclusive community came to a bone-jarring halt in her drive. Beyond that blue lights flickered, drawing her attention farther down the street. She knew without taking a second look that the SUV on the police cruiser’s tail was Lucas’s.

She left the door open and went in search of her robe. Dignity was required when exerting power over one’s own domain. Lucas was about to find out just how much indignation she could rally.

* * *

“Just how long were you going to wait before you told me?”

Lucas thought about that for a moment but one glance at Victoria told him he’d be better off just to tell her the truth rather than some concocted story. “Until we were safely away on our vacation.”

She blinked, fiddled with her robe a bit more, then looked up at him again. “So this man, this assassin, has been following me for two weeks.”

Lucas nodded. “At least. We’re trying to identify who he’s working for.”

She looked heavenward and made a disgusted sound. “Please, Lucas, spare me the supposition. You don’t need evidence. You know it’s him.”

He sighed. It was after 3:00 a.m. They were both tired. Pursuing this discussion was pointless, but she wasn’t finished punishing him just yet. “Yes, Victoria, I believe it’s him. But I have to be certain.”

“How are you planning to pinpoint his involvement?” Her expression boasted her considerable doubt. “You know how he is. He can stay underground for months—years even. He could be anywhere, posing as anyone, providing this assassin with his instructions over the Internet.”

That was all true. She knew it and so did he. “I’m moving someone into position to get close to this assassin as we speak,” he explained. “Once you and I have disappeared, he’ll have no choice but to report to Leberman, leading our source straight to him.” Lucas couldn’t help glancing around the room even though he knew his own man had swept the entire house for surveillance bugs. Still, it was habit.

Victoria stood, abruptly announcing she’d heard enough. She was furious and he couldn’t blame her.

Lucas supported his weight on his cane as he got to his feet. Damn, he was exhausted. “Logan has removed the device from your windowsill and locked the window. The house has been swept for bugs and any other sort of foreign gadget or substance. Are you sure you’ll feel comfortable here the rest of the night?”

He would like nothing better than to take her back to his hotel with him. But she would refuse. He knew her answer before he asked. He didn’t really like her being here after what happened tonight, but his men would be watching.

The intruder had obviously gotten in while Victoria was at the office today. He’d disarmed her security, since she said she always set it before leaving for work, and then planted the device that contained a small explosive charge—just enough to push the unlocked window up at a later time, breaking the security mechanism’s contact. Then he’d reset her alarm and left. Lucas assumed that the small explosive had been coated with a substance that deteriorated when subjected to air. The slow deterioration, likely calculated to the very minute, had allowed for the timing of the explosion and thus the security breach. Ingenious. Lucas knew before he looked there would be no prints. This intruder was a professional.