Behind the Lies (A Montgomery Justice Novel) Page 5

  With a flip of the floor and ceiling dead bolts, he unlocked the glass door. He slid it open. The strobe light flooded the pool and hot tub with light. Quickly, Zach shut it off. He didn’t need to advertise his presence.

  He looked longingly at the water. One switch and he’d be in heaven. He tugged at his shirt and stepped into the backyard.

  A loud buzzer sounded from the security panel.

  Zach tensed. The front gate. He could ignore the summons. He filtered through the possibilities. He needed to know how close his enemies were—whoever they were. And truthfully, anyone really wanting to kill him wouldn’t announce their presence, they’d simply attack.

  He reentered the house, crossed to the security panel, and glanced at the screen on the wall. A lone man stood at the gate, peering inside.

  Zach pressed the button. “Yes?”

  “This is your neighbor, Brad Walters. I need help. My wife and son are missing.”

  Zach stilled. He recognized the name. He’d requested a scan of his neighbors when he’d first moved in. Nothing out of the ordinary had appeared on the initial report. Damn it. He’d hoped to come and go completely stealth, but he couldn’t turn the guy down. His family was missing. Zach pressed the code. The gate swung open. “Come in. The gate will close behind you.”

  The man hesitated, then walked in. Alone. After he passed through, Zach entered the code to lock the gate.

  He set the bottle on the bar, stuffed his 1911 in the back waistband of his jeans, and strode to the front door.

  He peered through the peephole. The grainy view from his surveillance camera hadn’t lied. A nondescript man stood outside. Someone who would fade into the background. Not a typical look for this neighborhood with most faces either perfect from birth or sculpted to look that way.

  The guy could be anyone…including the man sent to kill him. Zach would know the truth before Walters left. Poised for an attack, Zach eased open the front door, his hand gripped on the weapon.

  “Thank you for answering,” the man rushed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Our backyards connect.”

  He was nervous. Really nervous. And relieved.

  Or a really great actor.

  Zach studied his so-called neighbor. Zach rarely socialized. A few parties to keep up the appearance of his actor identity, and not much else. The guy really was forgettable until you looked at his suit. The cut reeked of money. It would have to, living in this neighborhood.

  But there was more than worry in the guy’s eyes. Intelligence, awareness, and something a bit cold. Before Zach could even process the dichotomy, Brad flashed up a picture of a woman and child.

  Zach’s heart tripped like a faulty detonator. The woman’s dark hair was pulled back into a chignon, elegant and just asking to be mussed. Her emerald eyes peered out from the photo, a smile teasing their depths. She looked happy. Achingly beautiful and happy.

  A hint of mischief bubbled from the expression on the boy at her side. He looked to be a bit older than Zach’s precocious niece, Joy. Maybe four or five.

  The man’s expression narrowed. “You know them.”

  Zach examined the photo again. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to look away. “Your wife looks familiar, but I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “But you have seen her. Today? When?”

  Something wasn’t right here. A flash of caution ignited in Zach’s gut. First off, he didn’t like the coincidence. A neighbor showing up right after he arrived home. Second, he didn’t like the slight hitch of the man’s jacket on the right side.

  A holstered gun could do that.

  If nothing else, Zach trusted his instincts. They’d kept him alive for the last five years. The one time he ignored them…well he’d have to find another way to get Pendar and his family to safety. If they were still alive.

  For now, he wanted Brad Walters away from his house.

  Zach cleared his throat. “I just returned from a trip. I haven’t seen anyone today except the cabby.”

  Brad’s eyes flashed from worry to irritation. “We live behind your house. Do you mind if I check your backyard?”

  The request tightened the knots already tensing Zach’s shoulders. With a quick shift of his body to keep Brad at a disadvantage, Zach tilted his head, analyzing his neighbor’s expression closely. “You think your wife and son climbed into my yard? It’s a fifteen-foot wall embedded with glass at the top. It keeps the paparazzi out.”

  Brad looked away. When he turned back and met Zach’s gaze, the irritation had vanished, his eyes now dark with concern.

  Yeah…an actor. This guy was playing a part. The question was why.

  He shuffled. “My wife is a bit…high-strung. She had a rough childhood. I don’t want my son hurt.”

  In short, my wife is crazy and has taken my son. The woman in the photo didn’t look insane, but then again, Zach had seen some expert actresses over the years, and not all in the movie industry.

  Something didn’t quite jibe with this guy, but Zach couldn’t come up with any factual reason to refuse a look in the backyard. To complicate matters, if the guy was telling the truth, Zach didn’t need the cops at his door questioning him. He had to stay off the radar.

  Weighing the alternatives, Zach tightened his grip on his 1911 and moved aside. “Of course.” He led Brad through the house, studying his every move. One misplaced step and the guy would be on the floor with a .45 caliber at his head, except he didn’t make one false move…which in itself increased Zach’s suspicions. Brad was sure-footed, confident. He scanned the layout of the house but didn’t attempt to touch anything.

  He didn’t plant bugs, or listening devices, or explosives. Could the guy just be worried about this wife?

  Either way, Zach wanted him out. Fast.

  His entire body at the ready, he cursed the situation. If he hadn’t been forced to come back for the truck, he’d never have returned home, never would have had to deal with anyone.

  He opened the sliding glass door, escorted Brad into the yard, and flipped on the light.

  “I saw it come on earlier,” Brad commented. “Maybe—”

  “I was having a beer after a long trip and contemplating the hot tub,” Zach countered just as he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He shifted and drew Brad’s attention.

  His neighbor sighed in frustration. “Jenna and I had a misunderstanding. I don’t want her to do anything rash. You have kids?”

  “No. Too busy traveling,” Zach muttered, aching to get rid of the nosy guy. “I wish I could help, but I’m off again tonight. I won’t be back for a while.” He wanted anyone who asked to get the word he was gone. He didn’t need more unexpected visitors.

  For the next few minutes Brad searched every inch of the backyard. Finally, he strode to the pool house and tugged at the door. To Zach’s surprise it didn’t open, and the blinds had been closed. Interesting.

  Zach never locked it.

  Brad’s jaw tightened and he extended a stiff hand. “Thanks for the help.”

  Reluctantly Zach shook it, still not certain of the man’s motives. He trusted his gut, and instinct said Brad Walters had something to hide. “I hope your wife and son are safe.”

  “Me too,” Brad commented. “Can’t be too careful. So many crazies out there these days.”

  Still on guard, Zach escorted his neighbor out and through the front gate. He reengaged the locks and strode back to the bar. He snagged his beer, took a long, last swallow, and grabbed a prepaid cell phone out of the bottom drawer. Four other phones lay scattered there. He pocketed another. He couldn’t be too careful.

  Zach headed to the pool house, where he’d seen the flash of movement. Anyone climbing over that wall had to be extremely determined. He tested the door. Unlocked now. A bottle of water lay on its side and a towel was crumpled in the corner. He raised the terry cloth. Droplets of red. The glass had done its job.

  A five-year-old alone hadn’t been this quiet.
>
  “I hope you’re OK, lady,” Zach muttered. “And not crazy.”

  He tapped on his phone to access the Internet. Soon he had confirmation. Brad and Jenna Walters lived behind him. They had a five-year-old son. Brad worked for a computer corporation as a salesman and troubleshooter.

  He traveled a lot. Sometimes to sensitive countries. Strange, that hadn’t shown up in the preliminary investigation. Zach didn’t like the gaps in the Company report.

  The entire visit could have been a surveillance activity.

  Except anyone in the business would be too smart to bring their work this close to home. Unless the money was that good.

  Zach tapped a few more buttons.

  Still nothing unusual being reported out of Montgomery Field. Theresa would have planted a Zach Montgomery story if he’d been safe, which meant he had a target on his back.

  It made getting out of La Jolla and to the cabin more imperative than ever.

  He didn’t know if Brad was a player. For all Zach knew, Walters’s gorgeous wife was helping him. This entire situation could be an elaborate setup.

  If it wasn’t…Zach unfolded a thousand dollars out of his wallet and placed it in the pool room. He didn’t like Brad, had a bad feeling about him. If Jenna Walters wasn’t involved, and she came back, the money would give her a choice.

  Knowing he’d done all he could to help—if the woman was innocent—Zach locked down the backyard.

  He had one chance to survive. Get to Colorado. Find the traitor, and pray to God he could save his life without anyone else sacrificing theirs.

  Jenna mentally thanked Brad for distracting her neighbor.

  One thing in the last eighteen months she could thank him for.

  She held on to Sam as she pulled him into a pantry off Zach Montgomery’s kitchen. The place was spotless. All canned items aligned. In alphabetic order for goodness’ sake. Dry items together. Everything in perfect order. Did he even live here? Ever?

  She’d heard the actor say he planned to leave town for a while. Maybe they could stay here now that they were inside. Once Brad left she could sneak back into their house and grab their money and clothes.

  Except for the security system…how could she get around that? She rubbed her temple, fighting off the dejection. There had to be a way.

  Sam tugged on her lightweight sweater. “Can we say hi to the Dark Avenger? He looks nice.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” she said softly.

  “What’s ‘d’ceeving’?”

  What your father turned out to be. The perfect gentleman. A man who would love her forever.

  A killer.

  She shivered slightly.

  “A liar.”

  Sam stuck out his lower lip. “The Dark Avenger never lies!”

  “Shhh,” she said, kneeling down. “I’m sure you’re right, Junior Avenger. Just like you never lie, right? Say…when I ask you to clean your room?”

  Sam scuffed the toe of his tennis shoe against the floor. “But I’m not the Dark Avenger yet. I’m just a little boy.”

  He refused to meet her gaze. Jenna ruffled his hair, then put her finger against her lips. “Stay here, Junior Avenger. Don’t move. I’ll be right back. Promise you’ll be very quiet? Truth?”

  He nodded and sat in the corner, arms wrapped around his legs, and placed his small finger against his lips.

  Her heart swelled with love for him. She prayed she could protect him. “Good boy.”

  Shoving down the tension pulsing through every muscle in her body, Jenna cracked open the door and peered into the darkened kitchen. A slice of light cut across the floor.

  A door slammed, followed by a muttered curse.

  Zach Montgomery wasn’t happy about something.

  Footsteps came her way. She ducked behind the island in the center of the large room and held her breath. A loud thud sounded in the hallway. The steps came closer and closer. He headed toward the closet where her son hid. Fool. Why had she left Sam alone?

  Please don’t come out, Sam. Please.

  Her son wanted so much to meet the Dark Avenger, and she didn’t want to ruin his childhood fantasy. Too much of his innocence would be stolen over the next few weeks.

  Zach veered right and headed through another door. She caught sight of a truck’s hood as the door closed behind him. The garage.

  Was he leaving?

  She held her breath, then crawled from behind the corner of the island.

  The door squeaked open.

  She dove back behind the butcher block.

  Zach muttered to himself and raced up the stairs, two at a time.

  She had no time left. As soon as he disappeared off the landing, she ducked into the pantry, a desperate plan formulating in her mind. They had to find a way to get out of the state unnoticed. She couldn’t walk away from the chance.

  Sam sat there, still as can be. “I was quiet, Mommy. Can we meet the Dark Avenger, now?” he begged. “Please.”

  This time, she took stock of the shelves more carefully. Canned Vienna sausages, juice boxes. A kid’s dream. Odd. She filled a grocery sack with some of Sam’s favorites and set them beside him.

  “Wait here.”

  She didn’t have much time. Zach could come down the stairs any minute. She darted into the living room and snagged an afghan and pillow off the sofa, then headed back to her son.

  “What are you doing, Mommy?”

  “We’re taking a little trip, Sam.”

  She grabbed the supplies and blanket and opened the door to the garage. The room was huge. Her stomach dropped. Four vehicles. A Range Rover, a Corvette, a small Jeep and a pickup.

  A quick scan of the cars revealed a layer of dust on all of them. Then she noticed the swipe near the truck’s door handle.

  An itch to reach under the steering wheel, tug a few wires, hotwire the car, and make a run for it tingled in her palms. It would be too easy. Those years of hell after her father had died might actually be worth something now, except she couldn’t risk it. Not with Sam by her side. Her chances of getting through Zach’s security system, off the property, and out of the city before the cops tracked the stolen car were slim. Especially with GPS. Zach’s car would have been outfitted with all the bells and whistles. He didn’t skimp on the luxuries—that was for sure.

  She couldn’t go back. She’d burned her last bridge with Brad. She had to be smart. Get as far away from her husband as possible. Then she’d figure out what to do next.

  The vehicle had a black cover over the bed. She wrestled with the latch and peered inside. A toolbox, a tarp, and not much else.

  No time to debate. She had to take a chance. Pray Zach didn’t look in the back before he left. Pray he’d leave California far behind and she could sneak out before he ever knew they were there.

  Jenna grabbed Sam’s hand and helped him into the truck. She tucked the blanket around her son then climbed in after him. She poked a straw into a juice box, handed it to him, and slid the cover back into place before throwing the tarp over them both.

  The world went dark.

  “Mommy. I don’t like this game.” Sam squirmed against her.

  She settled him in the crook of her arm. He snuggled in. “I know, honey. But we’re going to be fine.”

  “Hasn’t Daddy been in time-out long enough? I wanna go home. I want my house, and my baseball mitt and my Dark Avenger movie.”

  The door to the garage slammed open. The truck shifted under Zach’s weight as he got in.

  She’d guessed right.

  And he hadn’t looked in the back. Was her luck finally holding?

  “Shhh,” she said, kissing Sam’s cheek. “See how quiet you can be, Junior Avenger.”

  She couldn’t make out his expression, but her son sighed and cuddled against her. The fear around her heart didn’t ease. Her heartbeat raced as she focused on the sounds around them. Relieved Sam couldn’t see the apprehension on her face, she held him tight.

  The garage
door opened. The truck roared to life and started forward.

  Almost there. Almost on the road.

  The truck drove down the driveway and paused. They must have reached the gate.

  She held her breath.

  The purr of the engine accelerated, then stopped.

  “Wait!”

  The shout punched Jenna in the belly. Her stomach roiled.

  “Daddy?” Sam whispered.

  * * *

  Chapter Four

  * * *

  ZACH’S HEADLIGHTS SLICED across the shouting figure. He slammed on his brakes and curled his finger around the trigger of the 1911 before pressing the window control.

  The smell of burned rubber filtered over the glass. The gate behind him whirred closed, clicked, and locked into place.

  The streetlight illuminated Brad Walters. He crossed his arms, his intense gaze sweeping the interior of Zach’s truck.

  “Are you crazy? What do you think you’re doing?” Zach snapped.

  “Someone climbed over our fence into your yard. I saw blood.”

  Zach schooled his features into a skeptical expression that was a lie, of course. He didn’t have much doubt Jenna Walters had sneaked into his house. A pillow and afghan had vanished from the sofa. Some canned goods were missing from the pantry. His jaw tightened in irritation. Brad Walters and his missing wife were a distraction he couldn’t afford.

  He gunned the gas on the truck.

  “Look, I’m sorry about your wife and son, but I can’t help. You looked yourself. As to the blood, it happens. Paparazzi, fans seem to think they have the right to snoop. File a missing persons report.”

  Mostly truth. Jenna Walters was probably long gone, along with the guy’s son. Zach’s final scan of the security system hadn’t detected any heat signatures inside the place.

  “You know something. I feel it,” Brad snarled. He slammed his fist against Zach’s window. “I want to look again.”

  He didn’t need this. “Then climb over the backyard and knock yourself out. But I have somewhere to be.”

  He shoved the truck into gear and swerved onto the street. He wasn’t staying in the open for a second longer.