Chapter One Read online

  They were coming! They’d find her! Go, go, go,

  she urged herself. Propelled by a greater fear than she’d ever known, Kathryn raced down the hall, through the outer doors, down the stairs and into the parking garage. Gasping for breath, she nearly leaped into her car.

  Her hands were shaking so badly she needed both of them to get the key in the ignition. Heavy feet pounding down the stairs warned her to hurry. Finally she shoved hard, the key slid in, the engine started, she threw the car into reverse and backed out.

  As the door from the stairs to the parking area banged open and Peter and another man came barreling through, she put the car in drive and slammed her foot on the accelerator, speeding toward the street, tires screeching, rainwater splashing against the doors. In seconds she lost herself in the rat’s nest of traffic on Dale Mabry Highway, Tampa’s busiest major thoroughfare.

  Weaving back and forth in the lanes, her view distorted by the rain that had not let up all day, she prayed harder than she’d ever prayed in her life.

  Please don’t let them be able to follow me, find me.

  Target

  by

  Judith Rochelle

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Target

  COPYRIGHT Ó 2009 by Judith Rochelle

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Kim Mendoza

  The Wild Rose Press

  PO Box 706

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Crimson Rose Edition, 2009

  Print ISBN 1-60154-591-6

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To my wonderful editor, Ally Robertson,

  without whom most of this would never be possible.

  Ally, you rock.

  Chapter One

  “Relax, Miguel. It’s almost over. I’ll get rid of Kathryn this weekend and then we’ll be home free.”

  Kathryn Holt froze, her hand still on the keys in the lock. Beyond the double glass doors, the law offices of Holt, Fleming, and Associates stretched away into darkness. The voice drifting up from the end of the corridor—loud, confident, and unmistakable—belonged to Peter Fleming, the bright young man who’d appeared one day as the new partner in the firm. The man who’d been her rock since the terrible death of her parents.

  His words blindsided her, stealing her breath. What did he mean, get rid of her?

  Then another lower, unfamiliar voice, deep and edgy, with a Hispanic accent, joined Peter’s.

  “You’d better be right. Disposing of the girl is a priority.”

  She wanted to clap her hands over her ears and run like hell. She wasn’t a courageous person. Icy fingers of terror danced on her spine, urging her to back out into the corridor. Get away from here. Now. But like some evil magnet, the conversation pulled at her, dragging her through the doors, grasping at her with its insidious words.

  Pulse racing like a Formula One engine, her stomach trying to claw its way up into her throat, she slid quietly into the reception area. Slipping off her shoes with shaking hands and stuffing them into her purse, she tiptoed down the hall, her footsteps silenced by the thick carpet.

  She moved nervously past the cubicles where the firm’s young associates toiled under Peter’s direction, until she could peer around a corner into the large office. Once it had been her father’s. Now he was dead, her Uncle Roger gone also, and Peter ruled the law firm from behind the massive desk.

  His office was empty, dark, except for a tiny desk lamp casting a narrow pool of light. That meant they were meeting in the small adjacent conference room. The connecting door was open a few inches. Kathryn swallowed her fear and eased into position behind it. She flattened against the wall, her heart beating a tattoo so loud she was sure they could hear it.

  Maybe she’d misunderstood what they said. Of course. Her hearing must be playing tricks on her, or she’d imagined it. Two days ago, she’d finally stopped taking those nice little white pills Peter had gotten from the doctor and insisted she take.

  “Just something to help you settle down and deal with the tragedy,” he’d told her, pressing the bottle into her hand.

  And they’d been so good at blunting pain and emotions, but they also kept her in a state of permanent fog. Without saying a word, she’d dumped the rest of them in the garbage disposal. Two short days, and she was so raw and edgy she felt as if her skin had been stripped off. Her thinking must still be screwed up.

  The next words killed that notion and ratcheted up the shock factor.

  “I’m telling you, Miguel, I have it under control. Blink your eyes and she’ll be gone. Dead. It’s a done deal. Life will continue without a ripple on the surface.”

  Kathryn was afraid she’d pass out. She hadn’t been wrong. They were planning to kill her, Peter and this other man. Miguel. Who in God’s name was he? And why did they want to get rid of her?

  Her body was now in full panic mode, sweating, shaking. The pulsing of her blood boomed in her ears. Dead. The man she’d trusted—maybe even thought about marrying—was planning to murder her. In three days. She could hardly comprehend it. God, how much worse could her day get?

  The insurance adjuster that morning had started things off on a sour note. Literally shoving a check for five hundred thousand dollars into her hand along with a release form, he told her to go away and quit pestering him.

  “The investigation is over,” he announced, irritated and anxious to be done with her. “That’s it.” He turned back to the papers on his desk.

  “But—”

  He wasn’t interested in anything she was saying. “There are no ‘buts’, Miss Holt. I’m sorry your parents were killed in the fire, but it’s been ruled an accident. We’re finished with it.”

  “With so many questions unresolved?” she cried.

  “I suggest you speak to Mr. Fleming if you’re unhappy with the resolution.”

  “Peter?” She frowned. She’d left the handling of this to him, just as she had with everything else. Surely he couldn’t be satisfied with this result.

  “He’s much more reasonable than you, Miss Holt. He understands when an investigation is over. In fact, he insisted we close this once and for all. He indicated he’s concerned about your mental health. Just take the check and sign the release. Please.”

  She signed the paper and took the money but it gave her a bad feeling. Peter insisted? Without talking to her? But who did she have to blame except herself? How easy it had been to let him do all of those things over the past few months.

  She’d been shaking when she got to her car, wondering if she should have quit the pills cold turkey. But nearly passing out driving home one day had been her wakeup call.

  Leaning back in her seat, she’d taken deep breaths to calm herself. She’d felt completely hyper and exposed, like a hornet on adrenaline. But at least she was thinking clearly for a change.

  She was sure Peter would be angry about the pills.

  “You need them,” he kept insisting in his reasonable tone. “You still aren’t dealing with your grief very well.”

  Of course not. She and her parents had been unusually close. Shyly reticent like her mother, her social life was sa
dly lacking in activity. Her parents had been her whole world. Now they were gone and she still couldn’t get her mind around their deaths, or the horrific fire that had caused it. It had been easier to medicate herself and let Peter manage her life. Swallow her up. A comfortable trap to fall into.

  He’d be unhappy when she brought up the arson investigation, too. Too bad. Something was driving her today, maybe the absence of tranquilized oblivion, but she was itching suddenly to speak up for herself. Tonight she would insist Peter take her to dinner and they could hash everything out. He wouldn’t expect it. He was so accustomed to her docile, agreeable personality that never rippled the waters. What a surprise he was in for.

  When she’d called him on her cell phone, however, he’d been distracted, brushing her off with an edge of irritation.

  “I want us to have dinner,” she’d insisted. “There are things we need to talk about.”

  “Kathryn.” Was that exasperation in his voice? She’d begun to notice it creeping in more and more. “I’d like nothing better, but I have clients coming for a meeting tonight. It’s liable to run pretty late.”

  “Please, Peter.” She hated the begging sound of her voice. “If you’re busy, I’ll come meet you after work.”

  “I’m sorry.” His tone softened slightly. “I really am. Listen, it’s pouring rain, anyway, and it’s supposed to get worse. You don’t want to run around at night in a storm. Go home. Curl up with a book. Have a glass of wine.” Now a cajoling note had crept into his voice. “Take your medication like a good girl and you’ll feel better. I’ll call you later.”

  Home again, headachy and annoyed, she finally trashed the unappetizing frozen dinner she’d nuked, dressed in her favorite pants suit and headed for Peter’s office. She didn’t care how long the client took, she’d wait.

  Only instead of a business meeting, she stumbled into plans for her murder. No wonder Peter hadn’t wanted her here tonight.

  “I can’t tell you enough that we can’t afford any mistakes with this.” Miguel’s voice again. “You’ve dragged this out long enough. If she decides to snoop around and ask questions, we’re all in trouble. Get rid of her. Now.”

  “I have it under control.” Peter’s tone was defensive. Almost hostile.

  “She shouldn’t be allowed near the office,” Miguel repeated. “As long as she’s still alive, the possibility exists she’ll see or hear something.”

  Not allowed near the office? Why not? It had been her father’s firm, after all. Something was very wrong here, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.

  Miguel’s voice was menacing. “We’re out of time. I have orders from the top. Get rid of her at once or we’ll do it for you.”

  “I understand. Believe me, no one will be happier to see her dead than me.”

  “And your arrangements won’t trigger anything?” Miguel’s skepticism was obvious.

  “No. I’m taking her away this weekend for a change of scenery. Ostensibly to help her get over her depression. They know she’s been living on those pills. When she takes a few too many, who will think twice about it?”

  Takes a few too many?

  Surely no one would buy that. Did anyone who knew her really think she’d kill herself? She tried to swallow but her mouth was drier than Arizona. A hysterical laugh threatened to explode and she forced it back.

  None of this made sense. Why was it so important to get rid of her? What was it about the firm she wasn’t supposed to know? She felt like Alice Through the Looking Glass, needing only the White Rabbit and the Mad Hatter to complete the crazy picture. Peter wanted to kill her! How insane was that?

  God. Peter. She closed her eyes and his image swam before her. Tall, muscular, handsome with his sun-bleached blond hair and laser blue eyes, moving so easily and smoothly into her personal life. Except now the face that had seemed so caring was stamped with evil. What an act he’d put on, and she’d been dumb enough to fall for it.

  A wave of lightheadedness swept over her. She realized she’d been holding her breath and she forced herself to breathe, exhaling slowly. She was pushing her luck staying there and she knew it. Any minute they could discover her. She started to move away from her hiding place, but the next words she heard chilled her blood.

  “I’m just telling you, Peter, this better be handled right. We were fortunate with the other deaths. We can’t push our luck.”

  Other deaths? Had they killed someone else? Who?

  “I’m taking care of business,” Peter protested. “I got rid of the parents without any problems, didn’t I? And despite all Kathryn’s weeping and wailing, I convinced the investigators to rule it an accident and close the case.”

  Oh, my God. My parents. The fire. I knew something was wrong.

  Her stomach cramped as that evening slammed her in the face. She’d been tired after a particularly draining day at work. After dinner she’d made her excuses and gone home early. If not, she’d already be dead, a casualty of an apparent ‘accident’ along with her parents. Was that the plan? But why? What was it that made her family targets for murder? She’d been right to be suspicious when the authorities ruled it an accident.

  “John Holt brought it on himself,” Peter went on, his voice strident. “He was about to do something foolish. I dealt with him and I’ll deal with Kathryn.”

  “Too bad John developed a conscience. Just like his brother. Otherwise, they could both be living the good life.”

  Her father? Her uncle? Her mind couldn’t process the implications.

  “Yeah, too bad.” But there was no remorse in his voice.

  “Just call me when it’s over, so I can make my report,” Miguel told him.

  Alarm bells were screaming in Kathryn’s brain now. Get out! Get out! Get away! Her heart was pounding so furiously it threatened to leap out of her body. Her panic meter shot to a new high, the darkened room around her reduced to a swirling fog.

  Feeling dislodged from reality, she squeezed her eyes shut, hard, then opened them again and tried to focus. She had to get a grip here. Slow breaths, she told herself. Stay calm. Don’t do anything to give yourself away.

  “Just deal properly with the officials.”

  “I’m not concerned. We’ve spread enough money around, have enough people we’ve paid off wherever we do business to cover ourselves and assure they’ll look the other way no matter what might come up. Ever. Cops, prosecutors, government agents, whatever, everyone has a price. It’s all a matter of finding it. I can make anything go away, no matter how high up I have to go.”

  God. Peter had actually bribed people in law enforcement? In government? How high up did the bribery go? If she got away, where could she go that she’d be safe? Nowhere.

  “And our records?” Miguel asked. “Are they up to date?”

  “I’m going to enter the latest transfers tonight,” Peter went on. “Everything’s saved on the flash drive so there’s nothing on my hard drive. It’s plugged into my computer, ready to go as soon as we’re finished here. Then I’ll lock it up in its usual place.”

  Flash drive? Kathryn knew what that was. They used them at her office all the time. Tiny external hard drives that could hold up to four gigabytes of information. Little things not bigger than a package of chewing gum, made for efficient data storage and transfer. Plug it in, copy files, pull it out and carry it to another machine. Or lock it away until you needed it.

  And easy to hide, she thought.

  “You leave it lying around like that?” Miguel’s voice was sharp with irritation. “So carelessly? Don’t you think that’s irresponsible? Everything about us is on there.”

  “For God’s sake.” Peter sounded exasperated. “I told you. There’s nobody here but us. I locked the outer doors. And no one else is coming here tonight. Not even the cleaning crew.”

  “If that drive fell into the wrong hands, we would be out of business.”

  “Relax. No one’s going to get their hands on it.”

  “Y
ou’d better be right.”

  Kathryn’s eyes skittered wildly around the office. Could she make it across to Peter’s desk without being spotted? Quietly, scrunching down, she moved behind the desk and eased open the door where the tower was. There, just as he’d said, plugged into the USB port on the front of the tower. A desperate voice said take it. Something this important could be her best insurance. If, God forbid, they found her, maybe she could bargain for her life with it.

  Just let me get it and be out of here, she prayed. With hands that were far from steady, she reached for the tiny object and shoved it into her pocket. She turned to move away from the desk. Her arm caught a stack of folders on the corner, knocking them to the floor with a thud. She froze.

  “What was that?” Miguel’s voice. Sharp. “Did you hear something?”

  “I’ll look,” Peter said, “although I can assure you there’s no one here but us.”

  They were coming! They’d find her! Go, go, go, she urged herself. Propelled by a greater fear than she’d ever known, Kathryn raced down the hall, through the outer doors, down the stairs and into the parking garage. Gasping for breath, she nearly leaped into her car.

  Her hands were shaking so badly she needed both of them to get the key in the ignition. Heavy feet pounding down the stairs warned her to hurry. Finally she shoved hard, the key slid in, the engine started, she threw the car into reverse and backed out.

  As the door from the stairs to the parking area banged open and Peter and another man came barreling through, she put the car in drive and slammed her foot on the accelerator, speeding toward the street, tires screeching, rainwater splashing against the doors. In seconds she lost herself in the rat’s nest of traffic on Dale Mabry Highway, Tampa’s busiest major thoroughfare.

  Weaving back and forth in the lanes, her view distorted by the rain that had not let up all day, she prayed harder than she’d ever prayed in her life.