Another thought occurred to her then. “Agent Dawson.” Her voice sounded stark in the car after the long minutes of silence. When his gaze collided with hers in the mirror she went on, “How can you be sure they won’t harm your family anyway?”
He didn’t answer, except the look in his eyes gave her his answer. He couldn’t be sure, but he had to try. His work had brought danger to his family. He had to take what ever risks were necessary in an at tempt to keep them safe. He wasn’t a field operative. He was reacting the only way he knew how.
Elizabeth didn’t readily recognize the neighborhood. It wasn’t the sort of area any one would willingly frequent. Dilapidated houses and crumbling apartment buildings. Trash lay scattered in parking lots and along the broken sidewalks. Junked cars as well as newer models, some considerably more expensive than the houses they fronted, lined the street. At this hour of the morning no one appeared to be stirring about. But she didn’t have to see any of the residents to guess at the community profile. Poverty-stricken. Desperate.
Every city had its forgotten corners. Areas where the government failed to do enough. Where people survived on instinct and sheer determination.
No one here would care what happened down the street or on the next block. Survival depended upon looking the other way and keeping your mouth shut.
Elizabeth had never known this sort of hopelessness. No one should. She hoped this sad part of life wouldn’t be the last thing she ever saw.
The car stopped and Elizabeth jerked to attention. Her gaze immediately roved the three-story building that sat on a corner lot. The windows were boarded up and the roof looked to be missing most of its shingles.
Dawson got out of the car and walked around to her side. He opened the car door and waited for her to get out. Vaguely she wondered what he would do if she refused. Would he shoot her? She didn’t think so.
The energy would be wasted. She had no choice any more than he did. Making matters more difficult would serve no purpose. Agent Dawson wasn’t her enemy. It was the people in side this ramshackle building who represented the true threat.
She got out of the car and he took her by the arm. She didn’t resist, didn’t see the point.
He led her to the front entrance and ushered her inside where the condition of the structure was no better than the out side had been.
Though it was daylight outside, the interior was barely lit and only by virtue of the sunlight slipping between the boards on the windows. She wondered if there was any electricity supplying power to the building. Not likely.
Up two flights of stairs and at the end of the hall Dawson hesitated. Elizabeth met his gaze, saw the regret and pain churning there.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Cameron.”
The door behind him swung open and a man carrying a large, ugly gun stepped into the hall. He quickly patted down Agent Dawson and removed the weapon he carried in his shoulder holster. Then he did the same to Elizabeth. He ignored the keys and pen.
“This way,” he growled.
Dawson held on tightly to her elbow as they moved into the room the man had indicated. She wished she had told Dawson that she knew he was sorry and that she understood, but there hadn’t been time. “Well, well.”
Elizabeth’s attention darted in the direction of the female voice. Blond hair cut in a short, spiky style, analyzing gray eyes. She looked tough dressed in her skintight jeans and T-shirt. Her arms were muscular as if she worked out with weights. She wore a shoulder holster which held a handgun while she carried a larger, rifle-type weapon similar to that of her comrade.
“I finally get to meet sweet Elizabeth,” the woman said hatefully.
Elizabeth felt her muscles stiffen. This was the woman. She didn’t have to be told. The woman referred to her in a way that David had regularly, sweet Elizabeth.
Un flinching, she lifted her chin and stared at the other woman who seemed to tower over her. “Who are you?”
The witch with the guns laughed, boldly, harshly. “I think you know who I am.”
Elizabeth ignored Dawson’s fingers squeezing her elbow. His concern for her was needless. She doubted either one of them would make it out of here alive.
“You must be the woman David left every time he came home to me,” Elizabeth said succinctly. The transformation on the other woman’s face let her know her words had prompted the desired result.
Looking ready to kill, the woman strode up to Elizabeth and shoved the barrel of the rifle she carried into Elizabeth’s chest. “You think you know something about me, Miss Goody Two-Shoes?”
Elizabeth held her ground de spite the terror sending tremor after tremor through her. “I know David never once mentioned you.”
The woman’s face contorted with anger. Elizabeth braced her self for the fallout. To her surprise the woman’s attention shifted to Dawson.
“Get his wife on the line,” she said to her accomplice.
Dawson tensed. “I did everything you asked. You said you’d let them go.”