Violets Are Blue - James Patterson [80]
I was aware of someone nearby, standing right over me. I opened my eyes.
It was Kyle. “Time to go in,” he said. “Time to get some answers.”
Chapter 87
THE RANCH was four to five hundred yards away. The terrain between the house and us was too open for us to sneak up on the complex. Was this where Jamilla had been murdered?
Kyle whispered, “She might still be alive.” It was as if he were reading my thoughts. What else did he know? What was he hiding from me?
“I’ve been thinking about the brothers,” I said. “They never had to be careful before, so they weren’t. The magicians were the careful ones. They committed murders for a dozen years. Never got caught. There’s no record that they were even suspected of any of the murders.”
“You think the new Sire set up Daniel and Charles?”
“That’s part of it, I’ll bet. The brothers committed murders in towns where the magicians toured. The Sire wanted us to catch up with Daniel and Charles. It was a trap.”
“Why kill them in New Orleans?”
“Maybe because the brothers are psychopaths. Maybe they had orders to do what they did. We’ll have to ask the Sire.”
“They don’t think anyone can stop them. Well, they’re wrong about that,” Kyle said. “They’re going to be stopped.”
Which was when we got a surprise. The front door of the ranch house opened. Several men in dark clothes emerged. The two brothers weren’t among them. The men hurried to a grassy area where pickup trucks and vans were parked in a ragged line. They started the vehicles, then drove them toward the front of the house.
Kyle was on his Handie-Talkie. He alerted the snipers waiting in the trees and rocks behind us. “Stand ready.”
“Kyle, don’t forget Jamilla.”
He didn’t answer me.
The front door opened again. Shadowy figures began to move out of the house. They were clothed in hooded black gowns and they came in pairs.
One person in each pair held a handgun to the head of the other.
“Oh shit,” I whispered. “They know we’re here.”
There was no way to tell who anybody was, or if any of the robed figures were actually hostages. I tried to pick out Jamilla’s shape, her walk. Was she among them? Was she alive? My heart felt heavy in my chest. I couldn’t spot her from way up here.
“Everybody move. Now,” Kyle spoke into his radio. “Go. Go!”
The black-robed figures continued to move toward the waiting trucks and vans.
One of the hostages suddenly dropped to the ground — only one.
“That’s her,” I called out.
“Take out the one over her!” Kyle ordered.
A shot rang out from one of the snipers. A hooded figure slumped over in a heap.
We charged forward, running down the steep hill toward the ranch. Some of the hooded figures fired shots at us. No one was hit. The FBI agents didn’t return fire yet.
Then gunfire rang out from the hills. Some of the robed figures dropped to the ground, dead or wounded. A few put their hands above their heads in surrender.
I kept my eyes fixed on the robed figure I thought was Jamilla. She had stood up again but was stumbling, almost falling. Then the hood was pulled back, and I could tell it was Jamilla. She looked up into the hills. She put her hands up high.
I started to sprint. I was looking for the brothers. And the Sire.
I moved toward Jamilla. She was massaging her wrist. She was also shivering, and I gave her my jacket. “You okay?”
“Not sure. They hung me from a beam, Alex. What an unbelievable scene. You can’t imagine. I thought I was dead.” There were tears in her eyes.
“Where’s the Sire?” I asked.
“Maybe still inside. I think there’s another way out of there.”
“Stay right here. I’ll take a look.”
She shook her head. “No, not on your life. This is payback. I’m coming with you.”
Chapter 88
JAMILLA AND I searched the main ranch house, then we checked a large unattached bunkhouse. We didn’t find anyone there, not a straggler, not William or Michael Alexander. And not the mysterious Sire. Jamilla was still shivering