The Sabrina Vaughn series Set 2

by Maegan Beaumont

  The shared surname and the fact she was the one who took the picture led Sabrina to take the leap. “Any relation to Graciella Lopez?”

  “Yeah.” Santos nodded his head, the recognition bleeding away, leaving a vague sort of sadness in its place. “Magda was her little sister.”

  Was.

  Before Sabrina could ask what happened to her, Santos spoke again. “The techs are finishing up in the chapel. Dusting for prints proved to be a nightmare but they found a ball cap in the confessional. They’re pretty sure they can get DNA off of it.”

  “Have them send it to our lab.” Sabrina nodded like it was the first she’d heard of it. “We’ll run it against all databases—including department personnel.” It was the best she could do without coming right out and saying, hey, by the way, I’m pretty sure your partner is a serial killer.

  “What?” Like she knew they would, her words put the detective’s back up. “You think the guy doing this a cop?” he said, his voice raising on the last word. “An hour ago you were convinced Paul Vega was our guy.”

  “And now I’m not,” she said with a shrug. “You said it yourself—you’ve had a car sitting on Vega since he left the station and he hasn’t left his house since. We’ve got to consider the fact that he might not be our guy.”

  Santos scoffed at her. “And somehow that means our guy is one of us?”

  “Wade Bauer raped and murdered nearly two dozen women—at least one of them right here, in your backyard,” she said, doing her level best to ignore the shame that crossed Santos’ face. “And almost all of them while wearing the uniform.” She stood, placing the picture on top of the book it’d been hidden in, setting both on the dresser next to her mug of tea. “No one is exempt from scrutiny.”

  Holy shit, Darlin’. I think you made him cry.

  “Whatever you say, Agent Vance.” Santos nodded, rubbing a rough hand across his jaw, head angled away from her like she’d just popped him in it.

  “Wait,” she called out, stopping Santos in his tracks. “I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay,” he said to her, half-turning in the doorway. “You’re right. A badge doesn’t make you a good guy. Matter of fact, it’s a damn good place for a bad guy to hide. Doesn’t make it any easier to swallow though.” He jerked his chin at the steaming cup of tea next to her on the dresser. “Better drink that before it gets cold,” he told her before disappearing through the door. As soon as he was gone, she lifted the cup.

  I wouldn’t if I were you. You won’t find our boy on your own. Whether you want to admit it or not, you need me.

  She lowered it slowly, without taking a drink.

  I’ll help you. If you let me stay, I’ll help you.

  She stood, walking the tea to the sink to pour down the drain. Pulling the drawstring on the pouch she’d left on the counter, she pocketed the rest of it.

  You’re gonna want to take that picture with you too, Darlin’.

  Sabrina slipped the photograph she’d found into her pocket along with the tea before following Santos out the door.

  67

  Church was waiting for her when she exited Father Francisco’s private room, sitting quietly in the back pew. And she wasn’t alone. She and her companion were sitting close, knees touching, heads bent together as they spoke quietly. As intimate as the scene was, Sabrina got the distinct feeling that they were arguing.

  “On ne nasha sem'ya,” Church hissed at the man in Russian, leaning in even closer as her hand landing on the man’s knee. “My ne obyazany yemu nichego.”

  “You gonna introduce me to your friend?” she said, walking up the center aisle toward the pair. The church was deserted now that CSU was finished and it was still considered an active crime scene. “I mean, it’s only fair considering this douchebag had been following me all day.”

  The guy from the stairwell sat back, draping an arm over the back of the pew. “I was wondering if you saw me,” he said, mouth curved in the kind of smile that made Sabrina want to choke him.

  Let’s hate ‘im, Darlin’.

  “Shut up,” she growled before jabbing a finger in the man’s direction, “and you—who are you?” She shifted her glare to Church before he had a chance to answer. “Who is he?”

  Church sighed, “Simmer down, Kitten, I—”

  “I swear to God, if you call me kitten again, I’m going to shove my foot so far up your ass, my toes are gonna tickle your tonsils.” Sabrina took a cleansing breath and let it out slowly. “Now—who the fuck is he?”

  “This is Jared,” Church said, holding out a hand between them like she was making a formal introduction. “Jared, this is the woman you’ve been so ineptly stalking—FBI agent, Claire Vance,” she said carefully, gaze sharp and angled upward, silently telling her two things. Whoever he was, this man hadn’t been invited and he was not someone Church trusted with the truth.

  “My pleasure, Agent Vance.” The man held out his hand for her to shake, his tone telling her he didn’t believe for one second she was in the FBI. “You’ll forgive my earlier curiosity. Korkiva has told me almost nothing about you.”

  “Almost nothing? Well then, you’re ahead of the game because I have no idea who you are.” Etiquette forced Sabrina to give his hand a few pumps with her own before immediately taking a step back. “Whenever you’re finished here, I need to speak with you. Privately,” she said, flicking a look in the man’s direction.

  “We are finished.” Church stood. “Goodbye, Jared.”

  The man about to be left behind seemed to disagree. “You still haven’t answered my question, mladshaya sestra,” he said, reaching out to grab her hand.

  Church gently pulled herself free, shaking her head. “The answer is no, Jared,” she told him, her tone sad but firm. “It will always be no.”

  “I’m sure nasha sem'ya will be sorry to hear that,” The man smiled up at them both. “If you change your mind… you know where we are.”

  Sem’ya was a word Sabrina recognized. It meant family.

  “I’ll never change my mind,” Church said, taking her by the arm to pull her toward the atrium. “My answer will always be no.”

  Sabrina threw a last glance over her shoulder as she and Church stepped through the door. The man was out of his seat, standing in the aisle they’d just vacated, watching them leave, that same easy smile on his face but the light of it never reached his eyes.

  “Did you find Alvarez?” Sabrina said as soon as they made it past the door. The uniform posted next to it was on his phone, probably trying to find out who his replacement would be.

  “I found his phone.” Church said, her attention divided between their conversation and the man still inside the chapel. “It pinged at the station when I ran the search. He probably dumped it in his desk drawer before he left.”

  There was only one reason he’d do that. Alvarez didn’t want to be found. “Okay…” she said, trying to keep calm. “How about Elena Hernandez? Did you find her?”

  “I had even less luck with her.” Church shook her head. “Phone’s shut off completely—there’s nothing to ping.”

  “But you can triangulate the last call.” Sabrina swiped a hand over her face, wiping away the thin film of sweat and grime that’d collected on her skin in the handful of seconds they’d been outside. It was past seven o’clock in the evening. They had another hour’s worth of daylight before the sun set. “The phone doesn’t have to be on to do that. You can access her phone records and find out where she was when she made or received her last call, right?”

  “What is going on, Sabrina,” Church said, reaching out to grip her arm. “What haven’t you told me?”

  The main door to the sanctuary swung open and the man Church introduced her to as Jared walked through it, breezing past the uniform on guard like he owned the place. In response, the cop glanced at him, brow slightly furrowed. “Agent Vance? Aimes?” he called across the lot to them, gesturing toward the man who’d just exited the building.

/>   “It’s okay,” she answered, giving the uniform a reassuring smile. Jared waved goodbye to her in response. “It is okay, isn’t it?” she said, addressing Church under her breath. “I don’t need to worry about that guy being left alone in the middle of a crime scene, do I?”

  “No.” Church shook her head. “Jared doesn’t care enough about you or your investigation to make trouble,” she said, watching him climb into a non-script sedan and drive away.

  “Really?” she said, voice raised slightly in disbelief. “Because he cared enough about me to follow me all morning.”

  “He wasn’t following you to follow you. He was following you to be a dick,” Church said, waving a dismissive hand between them. “A nosey, annoying dick.”

  “Oh…” Sabrina said, suddenly understanding. “He’s your brother.”

  “What he is, is irrelevant,” Church said coldly, closing the subject. “You sent Croft to find Graciella Lopez. Probably not the smartest thing you’ve ever done.”

  “What else was I supposed to do?” Sabrina said, throwing up her hands. “I need answers and I need them now. He’s got Ellie and if I don’t find her—”

  Church’s hand reached out, her hand wrapping around Sabrina’s bicep. “Ellie?” she said sharply. “Awfully familiar for someone you just met yesterday.”

  Tell her, Darlin’. Maybe if she knew who her big sister is, she’d understand how serious this whole thing is.

  “Elena Hernandez.” Sabrina sighed. “She’s Valerie’s little sister,” she said in a rush, answering the obvious question. “And no, she doesn’t know who I am. She hasn’t seen me in nearly twenty years, aside from those fuzzy newspaper pictures.”

  Church narrowed her eyes at her anyway. “I think you’ve got some explaining to do, Kitten. Start talking.”

  68

  She recognized him.

  It’d been different with Rachel. She’d been terrified, just like the rest of them. And like the rest of them, she looked him right in the eye and seen a stranger. Even when he told her who he was, that she’d known him her whole life, all she did was cry and scream and beg him not to kill her.

  But Elena didn’t need to be told. She’d known who he was. After all these years, she’d recognized him. It should’ve brought him some measure of satisfaction, knowing she finally remembered him. It should’ve but it didn’t. What it did was make him angry.

  Years of being all but invisible to her and her snotty clique of friends. Being ignored so completely there were times he’d begun to doubt his own existence. He’d been no one to them—less than no one. A shameful secret none of them knew. An unfortunate fact no one could deny. That she recognized him now, after all this time, told him the truth. She’d seen him. Even when she’d pretended not to—she’d seen him. She’d just been too much of a coward to admit it.

  She was a coward then and she was a coward now—pretending to be unconscious while he stood over her. Or at least trying to. The slight, uneven hitch in her breathing gave her away and it made him smile.

  She’d fought hard, not that it mattered. In the end she ended up bound and tossed into the trunk of his car, just like the rest of them. Tasers really were one of the better inventions of the twentieth century.

  Says you.

  He crouched down beside her, setting the bolt gun on the floor, within easy reach. “Elena,” he said her name softly, pleased to see the sound of his voice so close frightened her. “I know you’re awake and that you can hear me.” He reached out to touch her, gently moving the dark length of hair that fell across her cheek. The brush of his fingers against her skin made her flinch. “I’d like you to answer my question.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered in response, moisture gathering at the rim of them, but she kept them closed. Lifting the bolt gun he’d set down, he pulled on the knob at its top until he heard a loud click. She flinched again, tears slipping past the seal of her closed lids to collect against the bridge of her nose.

  “You were supposed to be with her that night. Wayne and I had plans for both of you. I wanted Rachel. She was a bitch and needed to be taught a lesson but Wayne… he wanted you,” he said, confiding in her. “He almost took your big sister once—” He pressed the bolt gun against her temple, digging until the tip of it all but disappeared. “But she slipped through his fingers. Just like you did,” he said and her eyes popped open—whether it was from the pressure against the side of her head or his mention of her sister, he didn’t know. “There she is,” he said, on a soft sigh. “I need you to stop being stubborn and answer my question, please.”

  “I haven’t heard a question yet,” Elena said, her voice rough from hours of silence. “All I’ve heard, so far, is you postulating like a lunatic.”

  “Careful,” he said quietly. “It’s not nice to call names.”

  “Fuck you.” Her eyes rolled in her head so she could give him a sidelong glance. “You’re going to kill me anyway so how about you just get it over with.”

  He pushed even harder against her temple, so hard her eyelids fluttered in response.

  You’re the one who needs to be careful, boy. You’re letting this little cooze get the best of you.

  “You’re right,” he said, easing up. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” He sat back on his heels with a nod, dragging the bolt gun with him as he went.

  Just ask her again so we can move on to the fun stuff.

  “Don’t rush me,” he said quietly. “She needs to understand why she was chosen. Why I’m going to go what I’m about to do.”

  It’s time to take the training wheels off, boy. You chose her for the same reason you chose the rest of them. Because you’re—

  “I understand why,” Elena said from where he’d tossed her on the floor. “It’s because you’re a psychopathic whackjob—”

  “Shut up,” he screamed at her, lunging forward to wrap both hands around her neck. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” He squeezed, slamming her head into the cement floor, punctuating each word. Her eyes bulged, bound hands flailing uselessly as she brought them up to pound against his back. “Say you’re sorry,” he hissed in her face. “Say I’m a rude little bitch and I’m sorry for interrupting your conversation.”

  Silence.

  “Elena…” he eased off, his hands softening around her throat. Red, angry welts glared up at him, already turning purple around their edges. “Elena?” he said again, pushing her chin with the tips of his fingers, he watched as her head flopped listlessly to the side. Something thick and dark glistened in her hair. Blood.

  You’re one dumb sonofabitch, you know that? This little girl just beat you at your own game. Course, she had to go and die to do it.

  69

  She told Church everything.

  She didn’t want to. Trusting Church went against everything she knew about Livingston Shaw’s former number one operative but she didn’t see where she had much choice.

  You’ve got a choice. You’ve got me, Darlin’.

  “Let me get this straight—” Church said, turning away from the passenger side window she’d been staring through while Sabrina explained everything on their way to the station. “Elena, the crime scene tech, is Valerie’s little sister? Who happened to be the childhood bestie of Rachel Meeks, victim number 5?”

  “Yes,” she said, cutting a quick glance toward the woman next to her.

  Church nodded. “Who, in 2000, was kidnapped and raped by your brother and Nulo—his little pet nutjob.”

  “Yes,” she said through clenched teeth. “And he’s my half-brother.”

  If Church realized she’d hit a nerve, she didn’t seem to care. “And Stephanie Adams, victim number four, had your DNA under her nails? Elena found it but no one believed her, so they scrubbed the report. Which is why we’re both here? Because Ben got ahold of the scrubbed report and decided you needed to get involved.”

  She sighed. “Yes.”

  “And you think Nulo, the guy who’s running around killing women now, is Mark Alva
rez. A cop… who has now, according to you, kidnapped Elena Hernandez.” Church swiped a hand over her face. “Jesus H. Christ, Kitten, I’m dizzy.”

  That makes two of us.

  Church dropped her hand and looked at her. “And what, exactly, does this have to do with the priest and his pregnant girlfriend?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” she admitted, pulling into the station parking garage. “As soon as Croft locates Graciella Lopez, that’s the first thing he’s going to ask her.”

  Cut her loose, Darlin’. We don’t need her.

  “Look,” Sabrina said, slamming the car into park. “You don’t have to get involved any further. I don’t need you here.”

  Church laughed in her face. “You’re not stupid enough to really believe that, are you?” she said, shaking her head. “If the killer is Alvarez then you’re definitely going to need me here. Because he’s a cop. You don’t have the resources to find him. I do.”

  I’m all the resource you need. No one knows our boy like I do.

  “Yeah, you’ve also got orders to kill anyone who might recognize me, so if it’s all the same to you—”

  “He’s not my brother,” Church said. “At least not biologically.” She looked away, aiming her gaze through the windshield to stare at the concrete wall in front of their car. “My mother and father were trained by the Russian government during the Cold War. They were paired together in The Program and she was impregnated with me before being embedded in America.”

  “Impregnated? You mean she was forced.” The thought made her sick. She knew what it was like to not have control of her your own body. “They made her get pregnant?”

  “We were necessary to their cover. No one suspects a family.” Church shrugged but she could tell that her apparent disgust stung her. “Jared was an orphan when he was taken into The Program. He was five years old and already understood his purpose. Why they’d been sent there.”