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Final Target(54)

By:Iris Johansen


“Do you want me to tell you kidnapping her is good therapy?” she asked dryly. “I won’t do it, Travis.”

“ Well, it hasn’t hurt her.”

“Yet.” Melissa came into the room, deposited a suitcase and Jessica’s medical bag by the radiator under the window. Then she went into the adjoining bathroom and slammed the door.

Jessica made a face. “She’s right, you know. I don’t know what long-term effect this will all have on Cassie.”

“I can’t help that.” He tried to keep the edge from his voice. “I’m doing the best I can.” He went out into the living room to see Galen heading for the front door. “Where’s Stuart Thomas?”

“In the apartment across the hall. He likes his privacy. Believe me, you don’t want him too close. When he gets involved in a project, he thinks things like showering and brushing his teeth are a waste of time.”

“And is he involved in this project?”

“On a small scale. If you’d asked him to break into top-secret Pentagon records, it would have been more interesting for him.” He opened the door. “I’ll go check on him.”

“ I’ll go with you.”

“No, you won’t. You’re too tense and I won’t have Stuart upset. Besides, it’s after midnight. Get some sleep. You can see him in the morning.”

“I don’t need—” He stopped as he met Galen’s steady gaze. It would do no good. Galen had made up his mind and wouldn’t budge. “Wake me if Thomas has a breakthrough.”

“In the morning.” The door shut behind him.

Damn Galen.

And thank God for Galen.

“When are you going to take Cassie to the Wind Dancer?” Melissa stood across the room.

“Two nights from now, after the museum closes. If all goes well.”

“It won’t go well.” She walked to the window and stared out. “But you won’t listen to me, will you?”

“I can’t listen to you.”

“You’re hurt. Why don’t you wait until you’re better?”

“As you pointed out, this is hardly a scratch. Not worth the time it took you to bandage it. Isn’t that right?”

She was silent a moment. “Yes. I wish he’d killed you instead of your friend.”

“Well, you’re out of luck.”

“We may all be out of luck.” She paused. “I want you to get me a gun.”

He stiffened. “ Why?”

“I want to be able to defend myself. I’m not going to depend on you.” She smiled sardonically. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on shooting you, though it’s tempting.”

“Do you even know how to use a gun?”

“There were some rapes and assaults on campus a while back and my roommates and I got a little nervous. We took self-defense classes and I bought a Smith and Wesson .38 for the apartment. We all took lessons.”

“Okay, I’ll have Galen get you one tomorrow morning.”

“Good.” She started to go back to the bedroom but stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. He was surprised at the desperation in her expression. “I don’t want you dead. I don’t want anyone dead. Life is such a precious gift. Every minute should be treasured and—”

“Do you think Cassie is enjoying her life? Jessica is doing whatever she can to make it better.” He wearily shook his head. “And I guess I am too.”

“Jessica doesn’t understand. You don’t understand.” Her voice was filled with despair. “I can’t let you do it.”

Travis stared thoughtfully at the door after she’d shut it behind her. The intensity of Melissa’s feelings was growing, and that could be dangerous.

Jesus, he didn’t need this. All he wanted was to come through on his promise to Jessica and get on with finding Jan’s killer.

Think about the man in the park. Go over every minute from the time he’d first seen him. He’d told Jan there was something familiar about him. What was familiar? Green eyes . . . But he hadn’t been close enough to see those eyes when he’d made that remark to Jan.

He sat down on the couch. Think. Go over it. Make a connection.

Washington, D.C.

“Danley thinks he’s located Travis, Mr. President,” Keller said. “Well, not exactly located, but there was an incident in a park in Amsterdam yesterday. Jan van der Beck was murdered.”

“By Travis?”

“No, the assailant fled with Travis in pursuit. We believe Travis was wounded in the attack.”

“Good,” Andreas said. “I wish the bastard had been skewered on a spit.”