“Yeah.”
For the next fifteen minutes, they communicated with those at the surface as they scoured the area for anything else that could be evidence. Finally, Brady decided they were finished. “What do you think? We done?” he asked Luis.
“I’d say so. Let’s get it hooked up and hauled to the top so forensics can have a go.”
23
Emily couldn’t pull her gaze from the water. Brady and Luis had gone down about fifteen minutes ago and all she could do was sit there and pray. And watch. Her phone buzzed and she picked it up without taking her eyes from the boat. “Hello?”
“Emily?”
She blinked. “Mr. Gilstrap?”
“Yes. I . . . uh . . . I’m here. My friend at the station called me to let me know what was going on.”
Emily looked back toward a gathering crowd, trying to find the Gilstraps. “I figured you would be here somewhere.”
“I have the SD card from Heather’s camera.”
“What?”
“When Heather came by on Wednesday, she was nervous, jumpy, and, now that I think about it, scared. She left her camera on her dresser in her old room. After you and Detective St. John left, I got Ellen calmed down, then went and got the SD card. I was going to call you and tell you to come back and get it when I got the call about Heather’s car being found.”
Emily opened the truck door and stepped outside. “Where are you now?”
“On the other side of the crime scene tape. They won’t let me past it.”
“The only reason I’m on this side is because I was with Brady. I’ll come get the card.”
“First, if it’s not too much trouble, can you tell me what’s happening?”
With her eyes glued to the action now playing out before her, she spoke softly. “It looks like they’re bringing the car up.” The cables pulled, moving in what she considered slow motion.
“Tell me when it’s out of the water, please.” His voice had roughened and she knew he was holding back tears.
She could relate.
The car finally appeared and within a few more minutes the cables pulled it toward the tow truck waiting at the edge of the stretch of beach next to the dock. “It’s out and they’re going to put it on the tow truck,” she said.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Do you want me to keep watching or come get the card?”
“Keep watching. I need to know. I’m assuming the forensics people will take over once the car is on the truck.”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I think that’s how it works.”
“But they’ll know soon if she’s in there, right?”
Why did he insist on asking her questions she didn’t have the answers to? “I’m not sure, but I would think they’d know something soon.”
Please, God, don’t let her be in there. Or if she is, don’t let her have drowned. She hated the water. But it would be better if she didn’t drown. Please.
Emily stood in the cold with the wind whipping her hair around her face and into her eyes. As soon as she knew one way or the other, she’d find Mr. and Mrs. Gilstrap and tell them herself. Mrs. Gilstrap may not want to hear it from her, but she felt she owed them.
Inch by agonizing inch, the cables continued to pull the vehicle back until it was resting on the back of the tow truck. The forensics team gathered around the truck.
“What do you see?”
She jumped at Mr. Gilstrap’s voice in her ear. “Nothing at the moment. It’s going to take them a few minutes, I think.”
“Stay on the phone with me?”
The heartbreak in his voice brought the hovering tears to the surface. “Sure.”
Brady and Luis surfaced and hauled themselves onto the dock. And while Brady was too far away for her to see his features clearly, she thought he looked her way. She wished he would somehow signal whether Heather was in there. But he didn’t.
Dressed in their hazmat suits and looking like they belonged in an alien movie, a forensics team approached. Once law enforcement had the car settled where they wanted it, one of the forensics team members climbed on the bed of the truck and pulled a tarp over most of the vehicle.
For the first time, Emily noted the helicopter hovering above and the news vans gathered behind the crime scene tape. And she noticed the medical examiner’s vehicle. Her stomach twisted. He shouldn’t be here. They hadn’t found a body yet.
After several long and agonizing minutes, the trunk popped open. For a moment, no one moved. They simply stared. Then someone waved to a man in the crowd.
When Francisco Zamora stepped from behind the yellow tape, she drew in a sharp gasp. “Francisco!”
He paused and detoured over to her. “Emily, right?”
Tears hovered on her lashes and she set the phone on mute. “You tell me if it’s her. If it’s Heather, okay?” she whispered. “All you have to do is meet my eyes and shake your head and I’ll know. If it’s not her, just give me a thumbs-up. Please?”
“Emily—” The compassion in the man’s voice stiffened her resolve.
“Here’s a picture of her.” She held her phone out to him. He studied it. “She also has a birthmark on her left thigh in the shape of a crescent moon.” She bit her lip on the sobs that wanted to break through. “I need to know. You know I do. It’s better now than to keep wondering, I promise.”
He gave a slight nod. “Okay.”
Brady was packing his gear by the time Francisco reached the vehicle. The ME climbed onto the bed of the truck and disappeared behind the makeshift privacy screen. It had gone up in record time and she could no longer see Francisco or anyone else on the forensics team. She waited. And waited. Just when her heart started to lift, Francisco appeared, his gaze met hers, and he shook his head.
Emily’s legs gave out and she dropped to the hard ground. Her phone landed beside her. “No!”
Brady unhooked three evidence bags from his belt and handed them to Luis. “Can you pass the evidence on to where it needs to go?”
“Sure, but what’s up?”
“I have a friend who needs me.”
“Gotcha.”
Anxious to get to Emily, he slipped off his heavy gear and grabbed it. He looked toward his truck to see Emily crumple, and his heart pounded a painful rhythm. He could only conclude they’d found Heather in the trunk. Or someone she thought was Heather. And someone had beaten him to telling her.
“Was that Francisco?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Luis said. “Someone must have had him on standby just in case.”
“Oh man. She’s met Francisco and knows exactly who he is and what he does. He sure is making the rounds lately.” Brady shut his eyes and wished he could pray for her. But what was the point in wishing? He needed to just do it. God? I don’t know why you’d listen to me after I’ve shut you out for the past eight months, but Emily needs you and since I can’t be with her right this minute, could you hold her? Let her know she’s not alone? Please?
He didn’t know if the prayer was heard or not, he just knew he felt better for trying on behalf of Emily. He hurried down the dock toward his truck, stopping near the recovered car only long enough to speak to Francisco. “Is it Heather?”
The man looked up, his jovial eyes sad, laced with a weary heaviness that always came with a dead body. “Female, late twenties, single gunshot to the head. Wearing the clothes you identified her as having on the night she disappeared.” He shrugged, but it wasn’t a nonchalant, dismissive lifting of his shoulders. It was just his way of expressing his sorrow. “According to Emily’s picture, it’s her. The water is frigid, so even after being under for several days, she’s discolored, but recognizable. And she has a birthmark on her left thigh in the shape of a moon.” He sighed, his eyes even more hooded. “It’s her.”
Grief crashed over Brady. He hadn’t known Heather, but he knew Emily and the woman’s parents would be devastated. “Thanks, Francisco. You told her, didn’t you?”
“She asked me to let her know by shaking my head or sending a thumbs-up.”
“Great.”
“I’m sorry. Should I have refused to tell her?”
“No, no.” Yes. “I’ll take care of her.” He cleared his throat as he hurried to his truck.
Only to reach it and find Emily gone.
He frowned and stowed his gear while looking around for her. He spotted Linc talking to Sheriff Kirk Johnson and hurried over to them. “When did you get here?” he asked his brother.
“Just now.”
“Did you see Emily?”
“No, why?”
“Just need to find her. She was by the truck just a few minutes ago.” He spotted a group of officers not too far away and jogged toward them. “Hey, any of you guys see the woman who was waiting in the truck?”
“Yeah, saw her duck under the crime scene tape just a couple of minutes ago.”
“Duck under—” What did she think she was doing? “Thanks.” He took off in the direction the officer pointed.
It was Heather in that trunk. It had really been her. Emily hated that she’d been hoping it would be someone else, but she had. Of course, she wouldn’t wish the grief of losing a loved one on another family, but . . . she just hadn’t wanted it to be Heather. The grief clamped hard. No, now wasn’t the time to break down. Now was the time to find that boat and stop the people who’d killed Heather. It might be the last thing she ever did, but if it brought the killers to justice, she was willing to risk it.
She shoved through the crowd of people who’d gathered to gawk and she wanted to yell at them to go away and mind their own business. Instead, she focused on reaching Mr. Gilstrap, who’d demanded to know what was going on. It had taken her several minutes to gather her composure after realizing that Heather was dead. She’d picked up her phone and held it to her ear to hear him yelling at her. “Tell me!”
Emily nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Finally, she’d gasped. “It was her, Mr. Gilstrap. It was Heather. I’m so sorry.”
His hoarse cry still echoed through her mind as she made her way to his car. Just behind the crowd that had gathered, he and Mrs. Gilstrap clutched one another and tears freely flowed.
Emily had forced herself to go numb—something she’d learned while battling to survive on the streets. She couldn’t do what she needed to do if she had to wrestle with emotions. So she stuffed them. Deep down inside where nothing and no one could touch them. She stood frozen, unwilling to interrupt the grief, knowing she wasn’t welcome to share in it. Not with Mrs. Gilstrap anyway. Finally, Heather’s father lifted his head and his gaze snagged on hers. He turned his wife so her back was to Emily, then reached into his pocket and held out his hand.
Emily approached, tears threatening to burst through the numb—and fragile—façade she’d managed to pull around herself. With his wife’s face still buried in his shoulder, Mr. Gilstrap opened his hand, palm up. Emily took the card from him and slid it into her pocket. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
He nodded and she spun to return to the truck only to have something hard jam into her rib cage. “Ouch! What—”
“Shut up and keep walking,” the voice commanded in her ear. Emily wanted to freeze, but he wouldn’t let her. With a hard shove, he spun her away from the crowd and propelled her toward a dark blue cargo van. The side doors stood open. “Get in.”
She knew that voice. Snake Man. Terror-induced adrenaline pumped hard through her veins. If she got in that van, she was dead. Emily screamed and jerked on her captor’s hand. “No! Let me go!”
People turned to look and point. Emily yanked violently and let out another piercing scream.
“Hey! What are you doing? Let her go!” a man from the crowd hollered.
The weapon fell away from her back long enough to fire a shot into the crowd. Then it was back and Emily’s knees weakened to the point she wondered if they would hold her. And still she struggled.
Screams echoed around her and he slammed his weapon against her head. Pain shafted through her and she stumbled. His grip kept her from going to the ground. “Keep fighting and next time the bullet hits someone. Get in the van and I don’t shoot at anyone else.”
“Emily!”
Brady’s yell gave her hope.
“Why are you doing this?” she cried.
“Get in!”
“Brady!”
Her captor fired into the crowd once more and Emily clamped her lips together as more screams answered his shot. Oh please, don’t let anyone be hurt. Emily gave one more desperate pull, but her strength was no match for his. He shoved her into the van. She hit the floor hard, and lightning quick, he was in the back beside her. “Drive!”
The van screeched away. Emily scooted toward the double doors in the back and eyed her captor, who still sat on the floor. Definitely Snake Man. Then her gaze turned to the man in the driver’s seat and she blinked. “Paul?” But no, it couldn’t be him. This man had a long scar going down the side of his face.
“Afraid not. This time Paul loses.” He yanked the van to the right and Emily braced herself to keep upright. “Get up here and drive,” Todd said to Snake Man. Snake Man moved to stand beside Todd and held the wheel while Todd slid out of the seat and Snake Man took over. The two men made the exchange so smoothly that Emily gaped. Todd slipped into the captain’s chair behind the passenger seat and motioned for Emily to take the one next to him.
She did. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?”
“I’m Todd Cavendish. Paul Bailey is my brother. Twin brother actually. As to why I’m doing this? Let’s just say it’s a personal vendetta.” His eyes narrowed. Emily gaped. She couldn’t help it. Todd ran a finger down his scar. “If it wasn’t for this, you wouldn’t be able to tell us apart.”
She clasped her hands to control the trembling. “How do I fit in all of this?”
The van lumbered up a hill and she fought to hang on to her breakfast.
“You’re going to get me a flash drive that’s going to make me rich.”
“Flash drive? I thought everyone was looking for the boat that sank.”
“They are. The flash drive is in the safe on the boat that’s resting on the bottom of a lake. Although which lake is the big question. But I understand you’ve recently come into the possession of the SD card that has that location on it.”
He knew about the SD card in her pocket. “You’ve been watching me.”
“I’ve been watching a lot of people.”
“Including Heather’s parents?”
“Nice people. Pretty boring, but listening in to their conversations finally paid off.”
“You bugged their house?”
“Of course. And now that you have the SD card with the pictures, it’s going to tell me the location of the boat.”
“Pretty clever. Why would I help you?”
“Because the minute you’re no longer useful to me, you die.”
“Of course,” she whispered. And as long as she was alive, the opportunity for escape might happen. “Why did you kill Heather?”
“I didn’t.”
“Okay, maybe not you, but Martin Burnett did.”
“I don’t know who Burnett is.”
She frowned. “He killed Heather. His face was caught on a security camera, and then Paul’s card was found in his house.”
“Who found it?”
“The police. They believe he’s somehow involved in Heather’s murder. I thought you might be working with him, but I guess not.”
“No, I’m definitely not working with Paul.” He rubbed his chin for a moment. “Heather knew where the boat sank and he doesn’t want me to find it. He doesn’t want anyone to find it, is my guess.”
“Why not?”
“Because of the pictures on the flash drive.”
“Of . . . ?”
“Pictures that will send him to prison and probably death by lethal injection. The prison part sounds good. L
ethal injection is too fast and easy for what I’d like.”
“Why do you hate him so much?” she whispered.
He frowned. Hesitated. Then shrugged. “Because I was taught to.”
24
Brady sagged against the passenger seat of Linc’s blue truck even while his mind raced. “Who took her? Did anyone get the plate? Someone tell the news chopper to follow that van! Patch me in to the chopper!”
Was anyone listening? Linc had handed him COMMS just before jumping in the driver’s seat, and Brady had shoved the piece into his ear.
“This is Chopper Ten. Who’s this?”
“I’m Detective St. John. I need you to follow that van!”
“We got the kidnapping on video. My camera guy zoomed right in to the plate on the van.” He gave it to Brady, who shot it to David with “911” after the text.
David texted back immediately.
On it.
Brady caught a glimpse of the van as it careened around the next corner. “Go, go, go.”
“I’m going, I’m going. Where’s the news chopper?”
“Still there.”
“Backup?”
“Coming fast from behind and in front.”
The text from David pinged. Brady opened it and read,
Van was reported stolen early this morning. Plates were stolen, too, as they match up to a similar van, but not the one you’re chasing.
The van spun around the next curve and headed for the trees lining the road. It bounced and landed with a jarring thud, but kept going. Around the next curve and then . . .
“Where’d he go?” Brady yelled.
“He cut off,” Linc muttered as he slammed on the brakes. “That side road back there. He shot around the curve and immediately took the left.” Linc shoved the gear into reverse. The tires spun for a moment on the dirt road before catching traction and shooting the truck backward.
When Linc was on the back road, Brady kept in touch with the chopper. “We lost them,” the pilot reported. “They’re off the main road and into the trees, we can’t see them.”
“They did that on purpose,” Brady growled. “Stay up there and see if they surface.” Please surface.
Code of Valor Page 23