Targeted For Murder. Elizabeth Goddard
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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Dear Reader
Portland, Oregon
9:30 a.m. Saturday, October
Hadley Mason rubbed Butterfinger’s soft fur, gently urging her neighbor’s cat back inside. She’d agreed to feed and love on the tabby Persian for Teresa. An easy enough task, except for—a sneeze tickled her nose. Thankfully, Teresa would be home tomorrow.
Stepping into the carpeted hallway between the artist loft apartments, she pulled Teresa’s door closed behind her and moved to her own.
Then froze in her steps.
Hers was ajar.
Frowning, she eased it all the way open and peeked inside, assessing the situation. She wasn’t normally fearful but sometimes a girl had to be cautious, especially since she lived in the newly refurbished building that served as an artist community in a run-down part of town. Should she call the police? No...not yet. Not if there was any chance she might have accidentally left the door open herself.
But she really didn’t think she had.
Stepping across the threshold, she glanced around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Her surreal paintings of animals in different environments covered the walls and would normally set her at ease.
But not now.
“Is someone here?”
“Hadley...” Coming from the dining room across the apartment, the voice sounded strained.
“Dad!” Hadley rushed through the foyer, past the kitchen and into the small dining alcove. With his business travel schedule, she wasn’t supposed to see him again until Christmas in a couple of months. What a nice surprise. And she would have said as much except when she saw him sitting in the shadowed corner chair, she hesitated.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Her father wore his typical polished business suit but it was crumpled. His posture was slumped and his usual bright eyes were bloodshot as they studied her.
“Hadley, please sit down.”
Fear slithered up her throat. Her father was all she had in the way of family. She never knew her mother, who’d died when she was born.
“What’s going on?” She asked the question in a daze. “Why are you here?”
“Please.” He gestured to the chair.
Hadley slowly obeyed, never taking her eyes from his pale features. The sweat beading his forehead. “Daddy,” she whispered. “Tell me what’s going on.”
He leveled his pained gaze at her, struggling, battling with his words. Then he gave a subtle shake of his head. “I never meant for any of this to happen. For you to be dragged into this.”
“Dragged into what? You’re scaring me.”
“There’s not much time. I need you to listen carefully.” He fought for breath. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m an agent...with the CIA.”
Hadley frowned. Snorted a laugh. But that was preposterous. Wait...was he serious? “You’re not a financial analyst?”
“No, that’s just my cover.”
She had to have misunderstood. “As in...wait...are you telling me that you’re a spy?”
Unbelievable.
“Yes. I just wanted to make the world a safer place for you, sweetheart...but instead I’ve brought danger to your door. I’m so sorry.” He slumped farther into the chair.
“Dad!” Hadley rushed to him and grabbed his hand. “Should I call a doctor? What should I do? Tell me and I’ll do it!”
“There isn’t time.”
“I don’t understand.”
She hated the tears blurring her vision. He wasn’t making sense, so she needed to be the strong one—to get them through this.
But then he lifted his suit jacket away from his body, revealing a blood-soaked towel pressed against his chest and what would have been a crisp white shirt. Only then did Hadley notice the blood dripping to the Persian rug, which hid the crimson color well.
Her heart plummeted.
“I’m calling 911! You need an ambulance.”
He grabbed her arm, held her tight, surprising her with his strength.
“You’re going to bleed to death if I don’t call for help.”
“I’ve been shot, and there’s nothing anyone can do for me now. I’m not going to make it.”
She could staunch the flow, adding to his efforts, but he’d already lost so much blood. Now she understood better his deathly appearance...except for one thing.
“Why, Dad? Why did someone shoot you?”
“Someone put a contract out on me. Probably because of a past operation. And that’s why I’m here. To warn you. You have to get out, Hadley. You have to hide.”
“Me? What does this have to do with me?”
“You’re my family. They have targeted you for elimination, too.”
“But...why?”
“I don’t have all the answers. My best guess? Revenge. I’ve done terrible things, Hadley, but sometimes the ends justifies the means, or at least I used to believe. But nothing is worth you getting hurt.” He pointed to a backpack on the table. “That’s for you.”
Hadley pulled away from him and glanced at the pack, then back at her father. She was losing him.
God, help him. Help me!
“I don’t care about the backpack, Dad. Let’s get you out of here and somewhere safe—like the hospital.”
Her mind was going in traitorous circles. She couldn’t think clearly or straight. She was going into shock, herself. All Hadley knew was she must do something to save her father. She eyed her cell on the counter and started for it but he held her in place with a death grip, his expression painfully desperate.
“Listen,” he hissed.
She didn’t recognize her father. Who was this man?
“Pay attention. Your life depends on it. The pack contains everything you’ll need to disappear. Cash and a passport. A new identity. Don’t use credit cards. Too easy to track. Grab your weapon. Take it with you...” Coughs spasmed from him, preventing him from saying more.
“What? I can’t leave now! What about the gallery? Friday is my national debut.” But as she said the words, she realized how shallow they sounded with what she was facing—her father’s death. And the chance that his killer might come after her next.
“I know it’s hard to take in all at once. I wanted to protect you. To keep you safe, but my world is...my world’s colliding with yours. Lose your identity. Disappear. Hide and...”
Now her childhood was all making so much more sense. The Krav Maga weekends. The firing ranges. Oh. My...
Her father’s head tilted forward. Hadley wanted to hug him, to keep him with her. “Daddy! Please, don’t leave me. I