The Missing Page 0,78
for the shed. The Gator was in there. Head out on one of the trails to the main road, then find a car and hotwire it – no, the Gator would be too noisy. He’d have to follow one of the trails on foot.
Banville brought other cops with him, Daniel. They have the house surrounded. You won’t get far.
Boyle looked around the dark woods, wondering how many SWAT officers were hiding out there.
It’s over, Danny. You can’t escape.
‘No.’
They’re going to lock you up on death row, in a place darker than the cellar.
‘Shut up.’
They’ll probably extradite you to a place where they have the death penalty. They’ll strap you down to a table and give you the needle and the last voice you’ll ever hear before you suffocate to death will be mine, Danny. You’re going to die alone, just like I did.
He wouldn’t let them take him in. He wasn’t going to die alone in some goddamn cage. He had to get to his car or the surveillance van. He knew a spot where he could dump it, run and then hide out for awhile until he could figure out a plan to disappear again.
The driver stepped out of the van. Banville had drawn his sidearm.
Boyle threaded four Super Magnum shells into the shotgun. He dumped the rest of the shells in his pocket and headed for the stairs.
Chapter 61
Darby watched the front of the house through the periscope.
On the way here, she had imagined finding a rundown house, some brooding structure with a sunken-in porch and broken windows. The house she was looking at resembled the ones she saw in upscale Weston, Massachusetts – a sprawling antique Colonial of massive rooms full of expensive furniture and the latest in electronic trinkets. Landscape lights lit up a nice brick walkway, the shrubs surrounding it neatly manicured.
An Aston Martin Lagonda, the front hood and sides marred with pockets of rust, was parked in the garage. Banville had radioed the news over her earpiece. Darby was rigged with the same surveillance kit used by the Secret Service – an earpiece and lapel mike attached to a small black box clipped to her belt.
Darby wanted to call for backup, but Banville didn’t want to wait. Boxes were stacked next to the car; Boyle was about to move. Mobilizing the New Hampshire SWAT unit would take too long, and he had to consider the possibility that Carol and the other women might be somewhere in the house, alive. They needed to take Boyle down now.
Someone was home. A single light was on downstairs, coming from the foyer, and Darby was sure she had spotted movement in the upstairs bedroom before the light turned off.
Glen Washington, the detective dressed in the brown coat and pants, rang the doorbell.
A phone was ringing. Not one of the wall phones. It was Coop’s cell. She answered it.
‘We’ve found Traveler,’ Evan Manning said. ‘He was living in New Hampshire. Hostage Rescue had to take him down. That’s all I can tell you.’
‘You’re sure it’s him?’
‘I’m positive. The man HRT took down is the man who attacked me at the garage. He’s got the same tattoo on his forearm as John Smith. Do you remember what I told you about the mailer? The one with Carol Cranmore’s clothes?’
Darby went back to watching the house. ‘You said they didn’t make those mailers anymore. The company went bankrupt.’
‘I’m looking at a whole shelf-full of those mailers right now. They’re a match. This person also has an old IBM electric typewriter, a computer, a photo printer and paper. I won’t know for sure about the paper and the printer until I get them back to the lab. We also found several different types of listening devices.’
‘Where’s Carol?’
Washington rang the doorbell again.
‘We’re searching for her right now,’ Evan said. ‘I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I didn’t want it to go down that way, but it wasn’t my decision.’
The door to the front house opened.
Washington’s voice came over her earpiece: ‘Good evening, sir. I’m with the telephone –’
A shotgun blast blew him off the front steps.
Chapter 62
Darby dropped the phone and watched as Banville brought up his handgun and fired two shots inside the doorway – BOOM and the shotgun blast splintered apart the door frame, chunks of wood raining down on Banville’s back.
Darby scooped the cell phone from the floor. Evan was saying ‘Darby? What’s going on? You there?’ She hung up and dialed 911 to request medical assistance and backup.
Looking back