Chapter 15
"Over here!" Thomas Fallon called out to his longtime friend. Once Frank Donovan was seated opposite him in the booth of his favorite diner, he let loose. "Jesus, Frank, where the hell have you been?"
"Obviously you received my email, or you wouldn't be meeting me here." Frank grinned. "Thanks, just the same. It's nice to know you care."
"Shut up, Donovan." Tom grinned back. He had been worried as hell over his friend's disappearance; had almost given him up for dead when his email came through.
Donovan's gaze fell on his friend's thick fingers as they drummed the tabletop. Tom had put on some weight since they worked together, although he carried it easily enough on his 6'5" frame. He had some bad news to deliver to the big man, and it wasn't going to be easy to take.
"Tom, three of your men tried to kill me."
"You still shoot from the hip, don't you, Donovan?" Tom shook his head. "Who are they?"
"Gregg Jeffries, Able Gentry and Steve Vance."
"Dammit, no! How could I not see it?" He shook his head, as if the action would make the problem go away. Running a hand through his thick, wavy gray hair, he asked, "You're absolutely sure?"
Donovan nodded. "Yes. I interrupted a drug exchange and they graciously drove me to the ocean. They weren't taking me sightseeing." He pulled the collar of his shirt aside to show the ugly, puckered bullet wound.
Tom pulled out his cell phone and called the station to locate Jeffries. When he was finished he shoved the phone back into his jacket pocket. "Jeffries, Vance and Gentry were overheard in the parking garage talking about Calais. Do you think..." He never finished his question. Donovan flew out of the booth and headed for the door yelling Caitlin's name.
Bangor's Chief of Police stopped his friend as he opened the door to the Mercedes. "Don't be a fool, Donovan, you can't go alone." He motioned for Donovan to follow him to his vehicle.
"Here, put this on," Tom instructed, handing him a Kevlar vest from the trunk of his police car. "Best you don't go charging in where Angel's fear to tread."
Donovan pulled the mesh shirt over his head. "That's the problem," he commented under his breath as he strapped the bulletproof vest on his chest and covered it with his shirt.
"What's the problem?" Tom watched as his friend's eyes clouded over with pain, as if he'd just been struck in the gut.
"Angel. She's in danger if they're headed for Calais," he explained as he tucked his shirt back into his jeans, "because we were seen together in public, they'll be led right to her."
"Who's Angel? Here, you'll need this." He handed Donovan a Glock 32, .357-caliber semi-automatic handgun and several clips of ammunition.
"Caitlin Whitfield." Donovan gave the gun a once-over. "Good weapon...laser sight...perfect."
"So, Caity was the one you mentioned in the email that saved your sorry hide?" Tom shook his head miserably. "Dammit, Frank, her father was one of my best friends. He was a good man, and a better father."
"Tom, we don't have time to get into this. You obviously know where the Whitfield house is, so get your men together and meet me there...fast!" He slapped Tom on the shoulder then headed back to the Mercedes.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Randy, just tell me where she lives," Gregg demanded. He and his partners had sought Randy out as soon as they reached Calais.
"What did you find out about him?" Randy was just as insistent. He wasn't going to give up any information about Caitlin until he found out what he wanted to know.
"Look, from what you you've described of this Frank Donovan, he fits the description of a man wanted for the murder of a woman in New York." Gregg figured the more he alarmed Randy, the more likely he would give up the Agent's whereabouts.
"Murder!" What had Caitlin gotten herself into? He imagined by now, Donovan had made his way into her bed, but murder? By God, would he murder Caitlin after he had gotten his fill of her? He couldn't take that chance. Caitlin's best bet would be his friends, who were all police officers with the Bangor P.D.
"Do I have your word you'll take care of Caitlin?" Randy asked as he handed Gregg the directions he scribbled on a piece of paper.
"She'll be taken care of, I assure you," Gregg said ominously, taking the paper from Randy and stuffing it into his shirt pocket. "As will Donovan."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Donovan reached for the car phone on the dash of Caitlin's Mercedes and dialed her home. "Answer, angel. Come on, answer!"
"Hello?"
He exhaled, letting go of the breath he was holding. "Angel, you need to get out of the house."
"Frank, what's wrong, where are you?" His voice sounded frantic.
"I just left Bangor. Get out of the house, Caitlin." No response. "Caitlin?"
Her voice was barely a whisper. "Frank, a car just pulled up. Hang on..." Holding the phone against her breast, she crept to the front door to see who arrived.
"Caitlin, no!" Frank shouted into the phone. The lack of response told him she was investigating her visitor.
"I don't know who it is. Three men are getting out," she whispered. Her palms were sweating, her nerves were on edge, and fear was pounding loudly in her brain.
"Damn." He knew whom the men were, the same three who left him for dead just a few short days ago. Now Caitlin was in mortal danger from these men, and he was too far away to save her.
"Angel, you've got to sneak out of the house. Hide until I can get..." the line went dead. She hung up or they cut her phone line. He suspected the latter.
He pushed the accelerator to the floorboard; he still had over sixty miles before he reached Calais. If he floored it all the way, he could make it there in thirty minutes. He just prayed Caitlin could hide long enough for him to get to her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Frank? Frank?" No answer; the line was dead.
Hide. Hide. Hide. The advice Frank had given reverberated in her brain. She crouched low and made her way to the back porch and quietly grabbed the keys to the gate from the small hook beside the screen door.
If she could get across the road, she could hide in her secret place in the woods. Darkness had fallen and it would be difficult for them to track her and she could watch for Frank's return from the woods.
As silently as possible, she inserted the key into the padlock on the gate's door and inwardly groaned when the gate creaked as she opened it just far enough to squeeze through.
Making her way around the front of the house wasn't too difficult. The windows on the sides of the house weren't low to the ground and she was able to get past them without being seen. She could see shadows passing from room to room as the intruders searched her home. They were headed upstairs and if they happened to look out of the windows to check the front of the house...
Caitlin pulled the blanket of vines and branches back into place. She moved away from the road a few yards. She would be able to see Frank's return and also be able to spot any of the intruders if they came looking for her. Leaning up against a tree in the darkness, she began her vigil.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"No one's here, Gregg," came a call from the upstairs.
"What the hell?" Jeffries was at a loss. The lights were on, a warm cup of tea was on the kitchen counter and next to it laid a cordless telephone. Someone was here, if not Donovan, that woman.
The man upstairs, Steve Vance, soon joined him. The garage door opened and Able Gentry entered the kitchen. They had been partners for six years before Jeffries had joined their precinct. They stumbled upon him during a shakedown of a local drug dealer and threatened to expose him if he didn't let them in on the action.
One would never have thought his two partners would go in for anything illegal. Steve had the boy-next-door look. Tall, clean-cut, handsome, wavy brown hair, blue eyes and perfect manners when the occasion called for it. Jeffries had seen many a woman loose herself to the devilish twinkle in his blue eyes.
As for Able, he was the fatherly type. At least, that was the personality he allowed the public see. His darker personality matched the ugliness of his outward appearance. His balding gray hair sat atop an oversized head, with a large bulbous nose, sunken hazel eyes and deep pox scars that marred his entire face. To his further discredit, he stood only 5'2" and carried too much weight.
"So, what now? That friend of yours could have been wrong," Gentry stated. "Donovan could be long gone, even if he was hot for your friend's girl."
"We'll stake the place out for a while and see who shows up," Jeffries declared. At this point, they had no alternative. They had to get to Donovan and the girl before Donovan had the chance to spill his guts to the Chief.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Donovan approached the bend in the road that indicated he was near the turnoff to Caitlin's house and switched off the lights on the Mercedes and eased it to a stop along the shoulder of the road. On foot now, he treaded lightly, proceeding at a fast pace with the Glock held firmly in his grip. He removed the safety latch and cocked the gun, now he was ready for them.
"Don't let me be too late," he whispered as he approached the trees that lined the driveway. He used them to shield his presence and made his way to the side of the house. He was about to head to the back by way of the gate, but was stopped by the sound of voices coming from the front door.
"They're here somewhere," Able declared. "Why else would the lights be on?"
"I know that, Able. That's why we're not leaving."
Donovan breathed a silent sigh of relief. Caitlin had made it out of the house, but the danger wasn't over as long as these three were remaining to watch the house. It was time to end this.
"Justice Department! Hands in the air!" Donovan commanded, stepping from the shadow of the house.
Three stunned men turned to face their enemy. "No way, Donovan. You're not taking us in," Jeffries assured, raising his gun.
"Don't do it. I don't want to kill you, but I will."
"Better dead than in prison. You know what they do to cops in prison," Able added.
Donovan sensed movement on the driveway from the corner of his eye. He shouted a warning, "Stay back!"
"The hell I will! What have you done to Caitlin?"
Randy. Could this get any worse? "You're going to get yourself killed." Donovan turned his full attention back to the corrupt cops, not realizing Randy thought he was the criminal.
"No," Randy said dryly, "You're the one who will be dead."
Donovan barely had a chance to detect the pistol Randy raised in his direction. Or hear the scream of dread and terror from the trees along the driveway as Caitlin emerged at a full run, heading in his direction. In the blink of an eye, Randy discharged three shots into the darkness just as Caitlin threw herself into the line of fire and Donovan watched helplessly as she jerked with the impact of the bullets and crumpled to the ground.
* dun...dun...dun... * To be continued...