Staying within cover of the rhododendron, Juliet crept closer to the driveway. She knew Ethan would keep Kelleher talking this nonsense as long as possible.
“I heard you were operating in Colombia.” Ethan went on, his tone and stance casual, as if he had nothing more serious on his mind than a hike in the woods. “I encouraged Ham to go there. I made an opportunity for you.”
“O’Farrell—were you on to her?”
“Not for a long time.”
“Me, neither.” Kelleher sighed, deeply disappointed. “I provided her with solid intel. A White House adviser. A smart woman with the president’s ear. And she turns out to be a traitor. I was worried you were in on her scheme.”
“No. I missed it. Carhill’s in on it?”
“Definitely. People in my business sometimes have to work with unsavory characters, do unsavory things. I was involved in a complicated moneymaking operation.”
“Emerald smuggling.”
He nodded. “Carhill was on to me. I was that close to getting tossed in a Colombian or U.S. prison. He knew he was in over his head and went to find you—”
“In New York. I’m sorry I missed him. I could have helped you unravel this thing sooner.”
Kelleher gave a sad laugh. “Instead, I had to work with the likes of Bobby Tatro.”
“You paid him to kidnap Carhill and hold him?”
“Then I told O’Farrell the truth, that you were one of the few who’d recognize Carhill on sight.” Kelleher, alert, scanned left, then right. But he seemed to relish talking about his accomplishments. “I gave her the tip that would lead her to Tatro—not his name. I didn’t want to raise her suspicions by giving her too much.”
“You manipulated Tatro with the promise of his blond marshal. The picture—”
“He loved it. I got it to him, and he did his little drawings. He knew the doorman—Vincente—was my guy, but the stupid bastard killed him, anyway. He was out of control, breaking into Longstreet’s apartment. He was convinced you’d given her the emeralds. Vincente had already been through the place and searched the niece’s bags, but Tatro had to see for himself.” Kelleher gave a hiss of pure contempt. “There was no need to terrorize that girl.”
This from a man, Juliet thought, who had just tied Mia O’Farrell to a bomb.
“You called the Carhills with a ransom demand. Five million. The money’s supposed to fund—”
“A training facility. I’m working with good people, Major. You’d be impressed. But we’re all scattered right now.” He nodded down toward the road. “We need to get this done.”
“What’s your plan?”
Kelleher didn’t answer, and Juliet saw his expression—and so did Ethan. Kelleher didn’t believe his camaraderie pretense. With lightning speed, Ethan dove behind the truck, and she fired at the same time he did.
Kelleher fell, his weapon clattering onto the driveway.
Juliet launched herself out from under the rhododendron and charged over to Kelleher, her gun on him as she picked up his MP5.
Ethan, right behind her, dropped down and checked Kelleher for a pulse. “Names, Kelleher. Who are you working with? Who broke Tatro out of jail? Who—” He stopped, looking up at Juliet. “He’s gone.”
“Damn. You’re quick with a gun.”
“An MP5’s better than that thing you have.”
She didn’t want to admit that her knees were soft, and that she hadn’t been at all sure her revolver had the accuracy at that range. She didn’t know if her shot had struck him. She cleared her throat. “You had the drop on him, didn’t you? When you got here—”
“I wanted information.”
“You should leave that sort of thing to civilian law enforcement.”
“I knew you’d end up under a rhodie. Monster, isn’t it? You Longstreets are like the cleaning lady who doesn’t clean her own house.”
“Ethan—”
He brushed the back of his hand on her cheek. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, letting the breath go out of her. “You?”
“Just keep your brothers from arresting me.”
But his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Twenty-One
Wendy used her grandmother’s old hand-cranked can opener to open three cans of organic red kidney beans, one after another, aware of Ham Carhill pacing behind her. She’d kicked everyone else out of the kitchen. The Longstreets had descended. Uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents. And town cops, state troopers. Juliet and Ethan were at the hospital with Mia O’Farrell. Ham had been taken by ambulance to the emergency room, but he refused to stay—he had little round bandages over some of his cuts, and he was in obvious pain when he moved. Wendy couldn’t kick him out of the kitchen, because that would be rude. But she just wanted to make chili.
She dumped the cans of beans into a colander in the sink and rinsed them. He looked over her shoulder and made a face. “I don’t think I can do beans. I had enough of them in Colombia to last me.”
“Was it awful?”
“Pretty bad. I knew I was worth more alive than dead. That helped.”