EDGE OF SUSPENSE: Thrilling Tales of Mystery & Murder Page 3

  Always wary, she quickly went into self-defense mode and whipped out her pepper mace, preparing to coat the possible assailant's face.

  "Wait..." the voice said. "That won't be necessary."

  Lydia eyed a dark-haired man in a blue suit. She kept the mace in front of her, not sure if he was friend or foe.

  "Lydia Muldaur?"

  Lydia had the feeling he knew exactly who she was, which didn't make her feel any safer.

  "Yes."

  "Sorry if I scared you." He lifted his ID. "Devlin Carter, DEA Special Agent. Can we go somewhere private to talk? Your condo perhaps?"

  "Not till you tell me what this is all about," Lydia said.

  "It's about you and Javier Whitman."

  Lydia reacted. Javier? If the DEA knew about their association, did Escobero know too?

  Deny. Deny. Deny.

  "I'm sorry, but I don't—"

  "Whitman was murdered a few hours ago," Carter said. "And you might be next on someone's hit list!"

  * * *

  Lydia reluctantly invited him up to her condo. She assumed that if he was there to kill her, she would already be dead. So why did she still have an uneasy feeling about this?

  "Javier is dead?"

  "I'm afraid so," Carter said.

  They were standing in the living room in front of a large window that offered a great view of the city.

  Lydia held her cat, Muffin. "When? How? I just—"

  "He was gunned down in a parking garage."

  Lydia winced. Is that why she'd been set free? Had Judge Nishida somehow discovered that Javier Whitman was her source?

  She put Muffin down, watching as she scurried across the room; thankful that Suzanne had fed the cat while she was in jail.

  "I'm sorry to hear about Jav—Mr. Whitman," she told Carter. "But what does this have to do with me?"

  "Everything, I'm afraid. We know Whitman was feeding you information about the Antonio Escobero cartel."

  Lydia's eyes widened. "Did he tell you that?"

  "More or less. We found your card in his pocket and your number was on his speed dial. It was pretty easy to put two and two together."

  She sucked in a deep breath. "And you think he was killed because he was my source?"

  "Whitman was a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. Whoever killed him was sending a clear message that they knew he was a snitch." Carter paused before saying, "They're coming after anyone he confided in. And that means you, Ms. Muldaur—"

  Lydia shivered at the thought. With Javier Whitman dead, it freed her of any obligation to maintain his anonymity. But at what price? Her life?

  Apparently Escobero wanted her dead before she could write a book about him, irrespective of what she revealed about her source of information.

  She looked at Carter. "Is that why I was set free—to make it easier for him to take me out?"

  He shook his head. "You're free because the judge felt keeping you detained no longer served a purpose."

  "Are you going to offer me protection or what?"

  "Yes."

  "And in return...?"

  He looked her in the eye. "We'll need you to testify against Escobero."

  Lydia raised her brows. "Wouldn't that be tantamount to committing suicide?"

  "Just the opposite," Carter said. "With the evidence we already have on Escobero, and what you can provide, it might be the one way to ensure you live to a ripe old age."

  * * *

  The DSR-1 sniper rifle was aimed at the window, waiting to get the target in site for a clear shot.

  The shooter was perched on a rooftop across the street from the warehouse, fidgeting impatiently; wanting only to get the job done with little to no collateral damage.

  There were two figures in the room, neither standing still long enough to get a good fix. The woman glanced at the window for an instant before ducking out of view. The man kept his back to the window, but seemed acutely aware of his surroundings.

  The shooter wondered if the mission could be accomplished with one clean shot. Or would it take two to put down the target?

  Peering through the scope, finger on the trigger, the shooter tried to find the right angle, expecting the hit to go down at any moment.

  * * *

  Lydia considered her options. It was easier to write a book about a drug kingpin than testify against him in court. But now that the word was out concerning her association with Javier Whitman, her testimony carried more weight. Meaning that Antonio Escobero saw her as a threat, not only to his ability to beat the charges he faced but to his organization as well.

  She had no choice other than to cooperate with the authorities. Or spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder.

  "Okay, I'll testify," she agreed, wondering how it would impact her book.

  "Good. It's the right thing to do." Carter grinned crookedly. "We need to compare what Whitman told you with the information we already have on Escobero's organization."

  "Gee, I can hardly wait," Lydia said. "So what comes next?"

  "First we'll have to keep you out of harm's way until Escobero goes to trial."

  "How long will that be?"

  "Three months minimum, probably more like six."

  She sighed. "But I can't just put my life on hold."

  "You won't have to," he said. "Just get used to having someone watch over you 24/7. Once Escobero's put away for good, he'll have a lot more things to worry about than a journalist—like trying to stay alive."

  Lydia watched Muffin jump up on the windowsill. She walked over to the window and stared out at the sky wondering if her relatively peaceful life was going to be forever changed.

  * * *

  The shooter took a good look at the face that seemed transfixed on the window for an instant before the woman abruptly picked up the cat and moved out of sight. The man took her place at the window. He seemed to study the outside as though looking for something.

  Or someone.

  The shooter felt confident the position on the roof was nearly impossible to see with the naked eye. Nonetheless it was slightly unnerving knowing everything would be ruined if caught.

  That couldn't happen.

  Focusing on the man, the shooter's trigger finger was itching to fire. The man abruptly stepped out of view, as if his attention had been diverted.

  The shooter repositioned and prepared to deal the fatal blow to the person who had to die.

  * * *

  There was a knock on the door.

  Carter quickly grabbed Lydia, fearful the assassin had tracked her down.

  He whipped out his Glock .40 and whispered, "Are you expecting anyone?"

  "Yes, my friend Suzanne is coming over to help celebrate my release."

  Carter looked out the peephole and saw a petite, blonde-haired woman holding a deli bag and bottle of wine. He described the visitor to Lydia. "That her?"

  Lydia nodded. "Yep, that's her."

  Carter wanted Lydia to maintain her normal routine as much as possible without putting anyone else in jeopardy. The fact that Lydia was cooperating made him willing to bend the rules a bit. At least for now.

  "Let her in."

  Lydia opened the door.

  "Hey," Suzanne said joyfully. "Hope I'm not too early."

  "You're not."

  "Good, because we have a lot to—" Suzanne's mouth hung open when Carter stepped out from behind the door, closing it while still brandishing his firearm. She looked at Lydia. "What's going on here?"

  "It's not what you think," Lydia said.

  He decided to speak for himself. "Special Agent Devlin Carter with the DEA. I'm here to help Ms. Muldaur."

  "Special Agent Carter, this is my good friend Suzanne Pratt," Lydia said looking from one to the other.

  Suzanne blinked, ignoring Carter. "Does this have anything to do with the reason you were in jail?"

  Lydia nodded. "Javier was murdered. They think Escobero's behind it and that I might have a targe
t on my back, too."

  "What?" Suzanne's eyes widened. "You're telling me that Escobero put out a hit on you?"

  Lydia colored and turned to Carter. "He seems to think so."

  "Better safe than sorry," he explained. "If Whitman gave you enough info to write a book about Escobero's empire, it stands to reason that he sees you as a threat to everything he stands for. Especially since you're the only living person who can attest to what Javier Whitman had to say before he was killed."

  "Look, if you want to leave, I'll understand," Lydia told her friend.

  Carter concurred. "I think you'd be wise to do just that."

  Suzanne frowned. "Are you kidding? Lydia's my friend and I won't abandon her when she needs me." She paused and glanced at Lydia. "Besides, we still have something to celebrate now that you're out of jail."

  Carter doubted there would be much celebrating if Lydia's future was cut short by an assassin's bullet. But who was he to deprive two friends of a little celebratory drink for one victory achieved?

  * * *

  The shooter watched and waited. There were now three people in the room. A woman had joined them. All three were holding drinks, with the new woman talking, holding the attention of the others.

  The shooter focused the rifle on each person, moving back and forth, before settling on one.

  It was time to finish the assignment once and for all.

  * * *

  "So what happens with your book now?" Suzanne asked.

  Lydia sighed. "As far as I know, nothing's changed. The publisher already has three-quarters of the manuscript. The rest is due by the end of the month, assuming this situation with my dead source doesn't complicate matters."

  "I think that's the least of your concerns," Carter said. "Staying alive should be your top priority."

  Lydia sipped wine and took a bite of her turkey sandwich. "It is."

  "And that's what makes this so difficult," Suzanne said. She put her drink on the windowsill and pulled a gun from her pocket, swiveling in one motion toward Carter. She shot him once in the chest as he went for his own gun.

  Carter fell to the floor before he was shot again.

  Lydia's eyes widened with shock and horror. "What the hell have you done?"

  Suzanne scowled. "I've gotten rid of the DEA agent who would've tried to stop me from completing my mission."

  Lydia had to wrap her mind around what she didn't want to believe. "Are you saying—?"

  Suzanne nodded. "I was hired by Antonio Escobero to take out the snitch Javier Whitman, and the journalist he confided in."

  Lydia suddenly found herself staring at the barrel of a gun. Carter wasn't moving and she feared he was dead. She would be next. Everything she'd worked for in life would be wasted.

  "You don't have to do this, Suzanne," she pleaded. "We're friends."

  "It was my job to get close to you and see what Whitman had divulged about the cartel." Suzanne gazed at Lydia. "For what it's worth, this isn't personal. Maybe in another life we could have really been friends. Goodbye, Lydia."

  At that moment, Muffin streaked across the floor, momentarily distracting Suzanne. Lydia took the opportunity to lunge at her and wrestle for control of the gun.

  Lydia smashed her fist into Suzanne's jaw, causing her to see stars and loosen her grip on the gun. Yanking it away, Suzanne pointed the gun at Lydia's face.

  Closing her eyes, Lydia waited for the end to come. Suddenly she heard glass shattering.

  Lydia opened her eyes and saw Suzanne crumple to the floor, her face half blown away. Turning to the window, or what was left of it, Lydia realized the shot had come from outside.

  Could there be two assassins?

  Expecting another shot directed at her, Lydia went down to the floor. She heard Carter moan.

  He was still alive.

  She crawled over to him, wondering if she would have another death on her hands.

  Carter winced. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes."

  "And your friend?"

  "Suzanne's dead." Lydia glanced at the hit woman whose head was surrounded by a pool of blood. She turned back to Carter. "You're hurt. I have to call 911."

  "Don't bother." He moaned and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a bulletproof vest. "She just knocked the wind out of me. I'll be okay."

  Lydia gave a sigh of relief. When Muffin cautiously walked up to them, she could see how frightened the cat was, reminding Lydia that they weren't out of danger yet. Escobero still wanted her dead and someone out there may have already taken Suzanne's place as the killer.

  * * *

  The shooter hit the mark with precision, watching through the scope as the woman calling herself Suzanne Pratt took a bullet to the head and went down instantly. He had no doubt she was dead, giving him extreme satisfaction.

  The bitch would never again use her skills to take away other lives for pay. He had seen to that. It was only fitting that she got what she dished out before adding yet another victim to her list.

  He put the gun back in its case and made his way off the rooftop.

  There was still one piece of unfinished business to take care of.

  * * *

  "Tina Martin was her real name," Carter told Lydia a week later in the hotel room that was her temporary residence.

  "You mean Suzanne?"

  "Yeah, and she had at least half a dozen other aliases. She was a real piece of work and very lethal. She's been connected to ten known assassinations over the past three years. No telling how many others we don't know about."

  Lydia shook her head. "I just can't believe I trusted her as a friend."

  "You and many others. She used it to her advantage by getting to know everything about her targets until it was time to eliminate them." Carter sat down on the edge of the bed. "But her luck finally ran out at the same time yours picked up steam."

  Lydia counted her blessings, which included Devlin Carter, whom she'd become involved with following the close call that had brought them closer.

  "Any word on the shooter?" she asked.

  "Still on the loose," Carter said. "We've got a description of a man seen running from the building where we believe the shot came from. The general feeling is that he was hired to kill Martin because she either failed to complete a job in a timely manner or as payback because she had earned her pay."

  Lydia met his eyes. "Could he be on Escobero's payroll?"

  Carter shook his head. "Not likely. If he'd wanted you dead, you would be. He could have taken a shot at you through that window any time he'd wanted. Obviously he had one thing in mind and, fortunately for us, he succeeded."

  Lydia took a breath. She was safe for now. But there was still the matter of testifying against Antonio Escobero, who would rather see her dead before she took the stand.

  Other than Carter, who could she trust? After Suzanne's monumental betrayal, Lydia was afraid to let her guard down for fear of being stung again. She would need time to come to grips with what had happened. Only then could she move forward.

  In the meantime, she was happy that Carter was there to help protect her and give her the confidence she would need to get through this.

  But knowing that Escobero would not stop his vendetta simply because his hired assassin was dead continued to gnaw at Lydia. Even in custody, he still yielded power, and would likely come after her again.

  Lydia felt helpless to do anything about it.

  * * *

  The shooter positioned himself in the window of an apartment across from the courthouse. He had a bird's eye view of the entrance. There were people milling about as if this was a spectator sport. He panned the gathering through the scope, honing in on Lydia Muldaur and the DEA agent at her side.

  After studying them for a moment, he turned his attention to the Mercedes that pulled up. A woman exited, accompanied by bodyguards. She was in her early thirties, attractive, and well dressed. She dodged questions and headed to the courthouse.

  The shoo
ter refocused on the witness, Lydia Muldaur, who began to climb the steps alongside DEA Agent Carter.

  It was time to finish what he'd started.

  The shooter turned the rifle back on the other woman. Though flanked by burly bodyguards, he still had an easy view of her.

  He took aim at the back of her head, steadied himself, took a breath, and fired once, hitting the target squarely.

  She went down and the chaos began.

  * * *

  Quentin Fleishman turned himself in, confessing to the murders of Suzanne Pratt and Maria Escobero, the wife of Antonio Escobero. The former Special Ops marksman avenged the death of his beloved wife, Katherine, who had spurned Escobero's advances and paid for it with her life after he'd ordered a hit on her.

  It had taken Quentin half a year to track down the assassin, firmly believing in an eye for an eye.

  Or a bullet for a bullet.

  Taking the life of Maria Escobero was meant to hit Escobero where it really hurt, so he could also know the pain of what it was like to lose the love of his life. Quentin would gladly take his lumps, knowing that Antonio Escobero would never have a day's rest while he rotted in prison before making his way to hell.

  * * *

  Six months later, Lydia entered the courtroom for her third and final day of testimony. She'd grown stronger with each appearance, disregarding the glower of Antonio Escobero that was meant to intimidate her.

  Instead she focused on the encouraging smile of her boyfriend, Devlin Carter, who accompanied her to the trial each day.

  After telling the truth and nothing but the truth, Lydia left the courtroom with her head held high. She had done her part to help put Escobero away and hoped that Javier Whitman's death would not be in vain.

  "You did great," Carter told her.

  "Let's hope the jury agreed," she said.

  "I have complete confidence that they won't let Escobero get away with his crimes."

  Lydia looked at Carter, her face etched with concern. "Will I be free of Escobero even if he's convicted?"

  "Not if, but when," he said. "And, yes, you will be free of him. He's being squeezed out of his organization even as we speak. With Feds all over him, Escobero's got more than enough to deal with and won't have time to think about coming after you. Besides, I won't let him or anyone else hurt the woman I love."