Hollywood Prisoner: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller Read online

  My sister looked at him. “I th...I thought you were...dead.”

  “Those reports were greatly exaggerated,” Joe said. He looked at Greer. “What’s the latest?”

  “The park is being evacuated as we speak, but it’s a slow process. Word’s already leaked out to the media and all the networks are covering what’s happening. There’s some panic going on. We’ve set up a no fly zone within a five-mile radius of the park. The military has been alerted. They’re scrambling F-16’s as we speak.”

  We watched as images of the theme park appeared on the large monitor. While some of the park’s patrons were moving in an orderly manner, there was a large group of people running toward the exit. I had the impression that total panic was about to take over as word about the terrorist attack began to spread.

  One of Greer’s assistants came rushing into the room, giving us an update on what was happening. “We’ve got reports of a drone closing quickly on the target location. It’s less than two miles out.”

  “Can the military intercept?” Greer asked.

  “We’re not sure. It’s going to be close.”

  A minute later, the cameras broadcasting the images panned up and we saw there were jets in the air near the park on course to try and intercept the drone. The F-16’s moved in as Greer’s assistant listened to reports on an earpiece and gave us another update. “The drone is less than a mile out now, closing fast. The military is locking on the target.”

  “How many people are still in the park?” Greer asked.

  “Thousands. We’re looking at mass casualties if...” He paused, getting another update on his earpiece. “The target has been engaged.”

  There was a streak of light on the monitor as the F-16’s fired on the drone. Seconds later there was a large explosion, scattering debris from the sky.

  “The target is down,” the assistant announced, as cheers rose up from the other agents. “It’s been destroyed.”

  “Thank God,” I said, releasing a pent-up breath. It appeared the drone had exploded over a parking area. If there were any casualties, they would likely be minimal.

  “We did it,” I said, turning to Lindsay. “We stopped the attack.”

  Lindsay looked exhausted, like she might collapse at any moment. She then said, “I think we can find him.”

  “Who? Are you talking about Jenson Moore?”

  She nodded. “This might help.” She removed a phone from her pocket as Joe and John Greer came over to us. “It belongs to a man who was with Mr. Moore.”

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  “We reviewed the call history and have been able to triangulate where they originated,” an FBI agent said, coming back into the room a few minutes later.

  Lindsay had provided the technical expert with the phone she’d secretly taken from one of Jenson Moore’s associates a couple hours before she’d been dropped off in Hollywood.

  The agent continued. “The calls came from a single family residence in the Hollywood Hills, on Mulholland Drive.”

  “Let’s move quickly on this,” Greer said a couple minutes later, after mapping the area. “I want the entire taskforce staged at the overlook near the house. Time is of the essence.”

  In 1924 William Mulholland, a Water Bureau Chief and engineer, envisioned a scenic highway that would run from the mountains to the beach. That winding road started near the freeway in Hollywood and ran west, where portions of the highway remained unpaved, ultimately ending at the ocean.

  A small park off the highway, called The Groves, was carved into the hillside overlooking Hollywood, where we all met. I’d questioned my sister about the residence where she’d been held captive, before leaving her at the FBI headquarters. While she’d never been allowed outside the small home and had no idea it was located in the hills above Hollywood, Lindsay was able to give me a good overview of the floorplan and who had occupied the dwelling.

  “The residence is about a mile down the hill,” Greer said to the agents gathered in the parking lot. “We’ve done some surveillance, and there are a couple of cars parked in the driveway, so we think it’s still occupied.” He looked at me. “Anything you want to add?”

  I stood next to Joe Dawson with Bernie as I addressed the gathering. “My sister told me it’s a three bedroom, two bath, single story home. The living area and kitchen are to the left as you enter; the bedrooms, on the opposite wing. There were four subjects, not including Moore, who she saw coming and going. There are weapons that fit the description of automatics, as well as handguns, throughout the residence, so we need to be prepared to meet resistance.”

  Ten minutes later, Bernie and I made our way down the highway in Joe’s car, following the other FBI agents. We stopped on the shoulder of the highway, about forty yards from the house, and waited for the initial entry teams to make the assault. When we heard automatic weapons fire, I secured Bernie in the car, since he wasn’t authorized to work with the FBI, and then moved down the driveway to the residence with Joe.

  “Let’s check the back,” Joe said, motioning to a side gate.

  The gate led us to the back of the residence, where a deck overlooked the city. The moment we moved onto the deck, a man I recognized as Jenson Moore came stumbling out of the residence. He turned, seeing us, and levelled his M-16 in our direction.

  There was a sudden explosion of gunfire from the agents inside the residence, blasting through a window before either Joe or I could get off a shot. Jenson Moore’s body jumped as dozens of bullets ripped into him, cutting him down before he could get off a shot.

  Joe and I went over to him. I bent down and checked for a pulse, finding none. The terrorist, one of the leaders of the Swarm, who had killed hundreds of people, was dead.

  We got the all clear signal a few minutes later and went inside the residence. We found four men in a back room, huddled beneath an overturned desk, where they’d attempted to hold off the assault. I cursed the fact that no one had survived, knowing they would have been our best chance to get more details about Moore and the Swarm.

  Joe and I were headed down the hallway toward the living room when John Greer called us over to a table adjacent to the kitchen. We saw there was a map spread out in front of him.

  “They’ve got a dozen cities marked as targets,” Greer said, pointing to the map of the United States. “I think we’ve just won a battle in a much bigger war.”

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  “Jenson Moore was taking directions from someone else, maybe more than one person,” Lindsay told us the following day at FBI headquarters.

  My sister had spent the night with me, after being medically cleared. The doctors said her cuts and abrasions were minor, but she had received a mild concussion during an earlier skirmish with one of Moore’s associates. They expected her to make a full recovery—at least physically. Her emotional well-being was another matter. There had always been a fragile quality to my sister, maybe because she’d been molested as a girl by her father. I knew that she would need months, maybe years, of therapy.

  Lindsay had spent the day with the FBI agents, debriefing her weeks with the Swarm, before ending the day with Joe and me. As Bernie snoozed in a corner, she went on. “I don’t think the Swarm is going to stop until all their leaders are dead or in prison.”

  “That’s exactly what I have in mind for them,” Joe said. “What about those at the top? Any idea who we’re dealing with?”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea. They make sure they’re never together in the same place and they only communicate by phone. I don’t even think they know the real identities of one another.”

  “You’re not going to be safe until they’re all caught,” I said.

  Lindsay looked at Joe. “Did you tell her?”

  Joe shook his head. “I thought it would be better coming from you.”

  I looked at Joe, then at Lindsay, “What’s going on?”

  My sister rose. “Can we go for a walk?”

  I looked at Joe, whose fea
tures had softened as he said, “I don’t think that’s a bad idea. There’s a rooftop terrace if you two want to get some air.”

  We took an elevator and rode in silence to the top of the building. The terrace was remarkably well appointed, with lots of greenery, comfortable chairs, and even a small pond. I took a walk over to the railing with Lindsay, where we had a view from the city to the ocean. The sun was low on the horizon, a veil of fog drifting in from the coast.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” I said, looking at her.

  Lindsay met my eyes, looked away, and released a long breath. “I’m going away.”

  “Going away where? What are you talking about?”

  “I talked to Joe and Mr. Greer earlier today while you were doing some paperwork. I’m entering their witness protection program.”

  What she’d said left me momentarily speechless. I tried to find the words to tell her what I was feeling, but ended up rambling. “Are you...I mean...I don’t want...maybe we can work things out...find a way for you to live with me.”

  She shook her head. “You know that’s not possible, Kate. I have to go away for both my own safety and yours.”

  Tears filled my eyes. I reached over and took her hand. “But...but it’s taken us a lifetime to...to find one another.”

  Lindsay hugged me. “I understand, but we both know it’s the only way. The Swarm is still out there and until they’re dealt with, neither of us is safe. This is also a chance for me to start over, to create a new life with a new identity.”

  Tears streamed from my eyes as my head began to accept what my heart desperately wanted to deny. My sister, the woman who had saved my life and tried to stop a terrorist organization, was going away forever.

  After holding one another for a long moment, I said, “Maybe after everything is over we can find one another again—reconnect.”

  A half smile found her lips. “Maybe.” She turned away, looking at the skyline. After a moment, she looked back at me. “I’ve changed, Kate. I’m not the same person that I was.”

  “Because of the Swarm?”

  “That, and...” She sighed. “Also because of trying to come to terms with what my father did to me as a child. I’ve accepted what happened, but I know I’ll never be the same because of it.”

  I hugged her again. “I’m so sorry.”

  When we parted, she smiled and said, “Sorry for what?”

  “For everything. For the past, for what happened between your father and my adoptive dad, for never being able to be there for you when it counted.”

  She squeezed my hand. “We both know that wasn’t possible. The main thing is, you’ve been there for me over the past several months. You also tried to help me deal with what my father did.” She chuckled. “This might sound strange, but, in many ways, you saved my life.”

  I held onto my sister, never wanting to let her go, as a flood of tears sprang from my eyes again. The realization hit me that I might never see her again. “You saved my life, Lindsay. I’ll never forget that...or you.”

  Our tears flowed freely for several minutes until we finally, reluctantly released one another. I then asked the question I’d been dreading. “When? When are you going to be leaving?”

  My sister, the sibling I’d spent a lifetime finding and I was now losing forever, held my hands in hers. “I’m sorry, Kate, but I have to leave now.”

  FIFTY-NINE

  I took the next day off, needing some time to rest and try to process everything. Lindsay was gone, and the reality that I would probably never see her again consumed my thoughts. It was another loss in what seemed like a pattern of loss in my life that forever repeated itself. Everyone I ever loved and cared about went away, it was just a matter of time. I’d been cut off from the power I’d felt a few days earlier and didn’t know if I would ever get it back.

  The FBI had identified the subjects killed in yesterday’s shootout with Jenson Moore. None of them had a prior criminal record, and there was nothing in their pasts that we knew about that tied them to the terrorist organization. It was further evidence that the Swarm was well organized, invasive, and highly secretive. We knew it was a matter of time until they struck again.

  At noon, while Bernie and I went for a walk in the hills above Hollywood, my phone rang. It was Joe Dawson.

  “Just wanted to see if you’re up for getting a bite to eat, Buttercup. I’m in your neck of the woods before heading to the airport.”

  I pushed the hair out of my eyes and took a breath. “I’m on a trail overlooking the Hollywood Sign, but I could meet you someplace in about an hour.”

  “Why don’t we try that Mexican joint you mentioned the other day?”

  It took me a moment before I remembered telling him about a place that I liked near Sunset Boulevard that had great food. “You mean the Pink Taco?”

  “Yeah. As long as they’ve got beer and burritos, I don’t care what color their food is.”

  “See you there.”

  It took me longer than expected to get back to my car and make the drive to the restaurant. I was ten minutes late as I took a seat at an outdoor table, across from Joe, and Bernie settled in at my feet. I saw that Joe was already working on his second beer.

  He hoisted the bottle. “Got a head start.”

  “So I see.”

  A waiter came over, and I ordered sangria. As we looked at menus, we chatted about our day. Joe then told me about his upcoming plans. “I’ve just been wrapping up some paperwork before heading home to Phoenix for a few days.”

  I smiled. “A little time on the home front before chasing killers again? I hope you survive.”

  “They’ll still be out there, waiting for me. What about you?”

  “Back to work tomorrow. I’ve got a couple irons in the fire that still need some work.”

  “Campbell Turner?”

  “One of them. We’re looking at an ex-boyfriend who’s possibly involved.”

  He took a sip of beer. “I used to watch her old man’s TV show. The guy was a bulldog.”

  I smiled. “His TV character reminds me of someone I know, but I’m not sure Castello’s the same way in real life.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Some people who knew Campbell said she had issues with her father. One of the detectives working with me thinks he might have molested her.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s life went off track because of that.”

  What he said made me think about Lindsay, as the waiter came over. After we placed our orders, I asked about her.

  “I heard through the grapevine that she’s already been settled in another state, starting her new life.”

  I didn’t respond, because my emotions were surfacing.

  “You okay?” Joe asked.

  “It’s just...” I took a moment, something catching in my throat. “I’m going to miss her—a lot.”

  He nodded, but was quiet for a long moment. He finally said, “It’s understandable. You two have a lot in common.”

  I looked at him, raised my brows.

  He swirled the last of the beer in his glass. “Your family circumstances and what happened between her dad and yours. It’s a lot for you both to deal with.”

  “I don’t know how I’m going to deal...” I blotted a tear with my napkin. “...with maybe never seeing her again.”

  He reached over and took my hand. “Just remember, you’ve always got me if you ever need anything.”

  I was almost sure now that he had feelings for me that he was trying to express. “I appreciate your friendship more than you’ll ever know.”

  We spent the next hour talking about the past cases we’d worked, as we ate. Joe then walked Bernie and me to our car. After I settled my furry partner into the back seat, I turned and found Joe standing close to me. He surprised me by reaching out and taking me in his arms.

  “You ever thought about...” He paused and took a breath, apparently trying to choose his words carefully. “W
hat I’m trying to say is, have you ever thought about taking a break from everything? I’ve got a big place in the desert, plenty of room to wander around and forget your troubles.”

  Was he asking me to move in with him? I wasn’t sure. “Thanks, Joe, but for now I’ve got some work to do here, and...” I took a breath and looked into his beautiful pale eyes. “You know the rest.”

  “Your father?”

  I nodded and kissed him on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, Joe. I’m going to miss you.”

  SIXTY

  I got home mid-afternoon, then took a shower and a nap. I woke up when I heard someone knocking on my door. When I answered it, I found Natalie standing there.

  “You ready?”

  I brushed the hair out of my eyes. “For what?”

  “We got us that appointment with me relationship therapist, Carla Manson.”

  I exhaled, thinking the last thing I wanted to do was go to a therapist with her. “I’m sorry, but I’ve had a long...”

  “I’ll give you a minute to spruce yourself up.” She looked at my hair. “You might wanna get a brush, make yourself presentable.”

  I knew it was useless to argue with her. After doing what I could with my hair and changing clothes, we dropped Bernie off with Mo and headed to Century City, where Natalie told me Carla Manson had an office.

  After we parked and began walking to her office, I asked Natalie about her therapist.

  “I’ve only seen her once. She came highly recommended. Your mum said she’s the bomb.”

  “My mother?” I chuckled. “This should be interesting.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Natalie and I were shown into the therapist’s office, and I realized that I knew Carla Manson. She was the psychic my mother had introduced to me as Francesca.

  “Dr. Manson is my professional working name,” Francesca explained, after we took seats in her office. “I’ve got to pay the rent, and my alter-ego only goes so far. If it makes you feel more comfortable, please call me Francesca.”