Something in his expression made Lara realize the man had killed his daughter. She knew she had to take him in for a videotaped interview. “Sir, please stand and put your hands on the table. I’m going to cuff you and take you in for questioning.”
The door to the attached garage bounced open and a young teenage boy walked in. He looked about thirteen and was clearly her suspect’s offspring. “What’s going on, Dad?” He looked at his father, then at Lara.
Where had the boy come from? Had he just arrived home? “Please go outside.” Lara raised her voice to be firm, but didn’t shout. Her nerves hummed and she wanted to get Chuck Sanders in cuffs.
Sanders stood as she had directed, but the boy kept moving toward his father. Suddenly, Sanders grabbed the boy and pulled him in. He had one arm around the boy’s neck and a knife in his other hand, pressed against his throat.
Lara pushed to her feet and drew her weapon in one frantic motion.
“Stay back!” Sanders stepped toward the garage door. “I’m getting out of here and I’m taking my son. If you try to stop me, the boy dies too.”
“Put down the knife and let go of the boy.” Lara calculated her options. None were good. Had Detective Quince heard the exchange? She hoped he would come running.
“You’re not taking me in.” Sanders inched toward the door.
The image of his daughter’s crushed skull flashed in Lara’s mind. She had no doubt he would harm his son, if not today, then soon. “Let go of the boy or I’ll shoot you!”
A cluster of events happened simultaneously. Sanders took another step. The boy struggled to get free. Lara fired at the suspect’s head. The sliding back door came open.
Sanders dropped like a rock and his son screamed. Behind Sanders, coming in the back door was a uniform officer, his neck bright with blood. He started to speak, then collapsed. Her bullet had passed through the suspect and killed a cop.
Chapter 35
Sat., May 13, 10:20 a.m.
Paul parked at the end of the block, not wanting his car to be spotted at Morton’s house. Grabbing his gun, he strode down the quiet suburban street, noticing not a single child was outside on a Saturday morning. If he’d had a neighborhood like this as a kid, he’d have been outside all the time. He didn’t blame them for staying inside though. The constant wind and extreme temperatures ruined most outdoor activities.
He reached the edge of Morton’s yard, trotted up the neighbor’s property line, and climbed over the hedge as he’d done before. The memory of finding Camille here that night played in his mind, but it didn’t devastate him like it had then.
He’d developed a new resilience, almost a numbness. He and Camille would be okay, but the commissioner still had to die. Paul was angry with himself for running off the job last time without finishing it. He was angry that he’d killed the wrong woman at the hotel too. Stupid! He didn’t know how to fix that, so he shoved the whole episode into the new numbness. The other woman, the paramedic witness, was still here in Washington D.C., and Paul hadn’t decided what to do about her.
He rounded the corner of the house, strode across the stone patio, and grabbed the handle of the French doors. They were unlocked, and Paul charged in. He barely noticed the spacious family room. All he saw was Morton rising from his desk. Paul aimed at his face and fired twice. He wasn’t making the same mistake this time.
Blood flew from Morton’s head and he fell to the soft beige carpet. Paul kneeled next to him, but didn’t bother to check for a pulse. The employment commissioner’s job was officially open. He stood to leave, but camera images from the NetCom caught his eye.
What the hell?
Lara spotted the white car she’d seen Blondie driving. It was parked on the corner of Frontier. Fuck! The shooter was probably in the house. She turned to the cameraman, still following her.
“Get video of that white Toyota.”
She drew her Kel-Tec and ran down the sidewalk, grateful no civilians were out and about. Sweat dripped from her face as she sprinted. She remembered Morton had a gate on his driveway and she expected it to be closed. If Blondie was on the property, she couldn’t waste a second. Lara sprinted across the neighbor’s lawn and vaulted over the short hedge separating the yards. She stumbled as she hit the ground, then caught herself. Lara raced across the grass to the front door and found it locked. She turned and sprinted toward the back and saw the cameraman coming through a break in the hedge.
“Stay back!” She hoped he would listen. She didn’t want another innocent getting killed.
Lara rounded the back corner of the house and only slowed when she reached the door. She had to be careful now. Blondie was inside somewhere. She turned the knob, kicked the door open, and barged in with her weapon extended. To her left was a massive kitchen; the right side opened into a soft, beige family room. The space was eerily quiet.
Lara spotted the body on the floor. Fuck! She moved sideways toward the victim, keeping her eyes and weapon on the rest of house. Where the hell was Blondie? Still watching for the shooter, she kneeled, glanced at the victim’s head. It was Morton, and his brains were leaking on the floor. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! She’d failed to get here in time. She stood, not sure what to do next. Where the hell were the police?
A noise in the backyard made her jump. She spun around and through the picture window saw Nick. The camera was still on his shoulder and he was talking to someone on his iCom while he filmed. She motioned him to stay out.
Movement on the desk monitor caught her eye. She stared at the images in the square frame, seeing live footage of a large room with no windows. A basement. A teenaged boy and a girl sat on a bed with only a stained white sheet covering it. They were naked and chained to the wall by thick metal ankle brackets. Blondie kneeled next to the boy, examining his ankle lock. Lara drew in a breath so sharp it hurt. What kind of sickness was going on here?
Where was the room? It had to be somewhere in the house. She ran for the hall, looking for stairs going down. Dear god, Thaddeus Morton was a sexual predator! Was that why Blondie was after him? Lara felt ill. She’d given up the Gauntlet trying to save a piece of scum. The kids could still be in danger though. Blondie was a killer.
Lara charged into a bedroom, looking for a doorway and finding only a luxurious master bath. She ran into the second bedroom and found only exercise equipment. Rushing back into the main open area, she scanned the two living spaces. Nothing that looked like it could be a secret door.
Nick stood near the French doors, filming her and the house.
“Get out! The shooter is still here!”
She charged past him into the kitchen and spotted a swinging pantry entrance. At the back of the ten-foot room was a shelf the width of a door. The shelf had swung out, revealing stairs behind it. An overhead light illuminated the carpeted steps leading into the basement. Lara paused. Blondie was down there with a gun and two kids. She had to be careful. She stepped through the opening and started down the stairs. She turned at the landing and pressed her back to the inside wall. From there, she could see into the first half of the sparse room.
Moving slowly, Lara descended into the basement. The cement walls had been painted white and the light over the bed was stunningly bright. Better for the cameras, she realized. The scenario sickened her. Was the setup just for the commissioner’s sick pleasure or were perverts around the world watching this depravity?
Lara stepped into the room and aimed her weapon at the killer. With his back to her, he stood in front of the dark-haired boy. The girl—bone-thin with tiny breasts and long sandy hair—was on the other side of the mattress. Blondie’s gun lay on the bed next to the boy.
Lara took a step closer. She had no way to drop Blondie without hitting the boy. Oh fuck. How could she be in this situation again?
“Put your hands in the air and move away from the bed.”
Blondie snatched his gun from the mattress and whirled around, aiming it at Lara. “You again,” he said, giving her a cree
py smile. “I’m kind of glad you’re here.”
Lara took that to mean he planned to kill her and she’d made it easy. She either had to pull the trigger now and take him down or talk him into surrendering. But she couldn’t risk killing the boy, which left only once choice. “What’s your name?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Blondie’s expression softened. “Can you help me get these kids free? I can’t leave them like this.”
Lara eased closer. “Why don’t you surrender? Morton deserved to die, so you’re not in much trouble there. But if you kill me, the whole world will know. There’s a cameraman upstairs who’ll soon be on his way down. The police are coming too.” Lara was certain of the former but not the latter.
Blondie’s eyes darted around the room, as if looking for an escape.
Lara willed him to move two feet in either direction, but he stood his ground, confused and shaky.
“I’ll let you go,” she promised. “Just get away from the kids, go up the stairs, and run for the front door. The camera guy is in the back and won’t see you.” She would keep her promise, not wanting to ever shoot anyone again. The police were coming and they would catch the guy.
When he first saw the captive children on the monitor, Paul had gone a little insane and had rushed frantically around the house trying to find them. Seeing them in the flesh from the bottom of the stairs, a strange sense of calm came over him. In killing Morton, he’d freed these innocents from a life of living hell. Paul hadn’t realized he needed forgiveness, but now that he’d bestowed it on himself, he could see a way forward.
Too shocked to speak, he knelt in front of the boy and examined the locked bracket around his red swollen ankle. Paul had no idea how to remove it. He would have to leave the house and summon the police anonymously. Then he heard the woman behind him. It was the first time he’d heard her voice in person, but he knew who she was. Lara, the paramedic contestant from Oregon.
He grabbed his gun and turned. “You again. I’m kind of glad you’re here.”
She asked his name, but he wouldn’t tell her. Lara wouldn’t help him with the locks either. She did her best to convince him that killing her was a bad idea. Paul gave her a lot of credit for sounding calm and rational while they had weapons pointed at each other. Now Lara said he could walk away and she’d let him go. Could he believe her?
His thoughts raced from one possibility to another. More than anything he wanted to salvage his life with Camille. Yet that hope grew dimmer with each moment. Could he simply shoot this woman and escape? Her eyes were locked into his in such an intense way. Lara looked like she was quick with her hands and, truthfully, she scared him. He knew she wouldn’t go down without firing at him. From the way she held her gun, he accepted that she had more skill and would likely strike a fatal blow. Paul decided to take a chance on her offer of escape. If she shot him in the back, so be it, he would die knowing that he’d at least tried to make something of his life. If he went to jail, so be it, at least he would never be alone.
Lara made a decision. She lifted her arm in one quick motion and shot out the overhead light. The room went completely dark, the teenage girl cried out, and Blondie swore. Lara dropped to her knees and crawled eight feet at a slight angle. She guessed at her location, leapt forward, and tackled Blondie. They both fell sideways to the floor. Lying on top of him, she shoved her gun into the soft of his throat, then groped blindly with her left hand, searching for his weapon.
Flashlights shone across the room. Someone shouted, “Drop your weapons and freeze!”
Footsteps bounded across the carpet and someone picked up the shooter’s weapon from the floor. A hand touched her shoulder. “Lara, you can let him go. We’ve got this.”
In the dim eerie glow of flashlights, she saw Detective Harper and two uniform officers. Her part was over. She scrambled to her feet but held on to her 9-millimeter.
“Give me the gun, Lara. It’s procedure.”
She reluctantly handed it over. Her body slumped with relief. “He killed Morton,” she said.
“I know.”
“Who is he?”
“I think his name is Paul Madsen, but that’s all I can say for now.”
Her cameraman stepped from the stairs into the room, still filming and talking on his iCom at the same time. “Lara,” he called out, “Minda says to get your ass back on the street and finish this marathon.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You’re still in the Gauntlet. The viewers are going crazy. They can’t vote for you if you don’t finish.”
At first she didn’t trust what he was saying. Then her heart exploded with joy, and a surge of adrenaline pulsed in her veins. She looked at Caden.
He gave her a gentle push. “Go. I’ll see you at the finish line.”
Lara glanced back at the captive teenagers, their faces filled with fear and confusion. She hated to just leave them. She looked at the shooter, still not knowing who he was or why he’d come here.
She started to ask for her gun.
“Go! We’ve got this.”
Nick stepped aside and filmed as Lara bolted for the stairs.
Chapter 36
Two and a half hours later, she stumbled through the gates of the Gauntlet property and crossed the finish line. A small crowd of staffers and journalists were waiting, along with Caden and the other two contestants, Jason and Makil. Online, millions of viewers witnessed her completion.
Exhausted and thirsty, she accepted another sports drink from Nick and gave him a high five. “Thanks, Nick. You did good.”
Her legs felt like collapsing and her stomach churned with hunger, but she suffered through her last interview with Minda. Out of respect for Caden and the D.C. officers, she didn’t offer any new details about what had happened in the commissioner’s basement. Nick had filmed most of it anyway, so the viewers knew the basics. They would get her personal story after Caden got a confession. Lara also refused to speculate on how the viewers would vote, even though Minda had asked her to.
“We’ll know soon enough. I’m just proud that I made it through every phase.” There was also a thousand-dollar cash prize for placing second, but it had never been about the money for her. She wanted the thousands of jobs for her state.
Rain burst from the dark sky in big ugly splotches, so the crowd hustled into the arena and stood by the scoreboard in the lobby. Minda chatted up the viewers, while Lara went in search of a restroom. After she heard the final score, she would have to go with Caden to make a formal statement for the police. Hopefully, they would drop the charges against her and release her from the ankle monitor. If so, tomorrow she would fly home and put it all behind her.
When she came back to the lobby, the crowd clapped and cheered. Lara looked at the board. Her name was on top with 329 points! She’d earned 25 points for finishing and another 25 for taking ninety-six percent of the final viewer vote. Her throat closed and she fought back tears. She’d won the damn thing! It didn’t change the past or bring Officer Parker back to life, but she felt a little redemption…and the first step toward forgiveness.
After another glorious night with Caden, Lara got up early to pack while he went into the department for a meeting. She had mixed feelings about going home. She couldn’t wait to be back in her own cozy apartment in Eugene, but leaving Caden was harder than she’d imagined. He planned to return and drive her to the airport, but she considered taking a taxi and avoiding the emotional goodbye. That way, neither of them had to promise to stay in touch when they both knew money and distance would keep them apart.
Caden showed up before she sent for a taxi. He handed over both her weapons, hugged her tightly, and asked her to sit. “I thought you might want to know the few details I’ve uncovered.”
“I’d like that. You know I won’t share them.”
“Paul Madsen is a software guy in the federal employee management office. We think he arranged for people to be hired and fired in exchange for cash. Someone,
most likely his girlfriend, wanted the commissioner’s job and he tried to arrange that. We don’t know for sure, because he’s not talking much yet.”
“Kirsten died over a job?” Lara shook her head. “Is Madsen a sociopath?”
“We’re not sure, but he might try to plead insanity.” Caden nodded. “There’s more. The kids in Morton’s basement were foster children. He had access to them through his charity work at Transitions.”
The words foster children triggered a memory. “Excuse me,” she said. “I have to contact someone.”
She grabbed her iCom and spoke her message to Jackson out loud: “It’s Lara. The missing foster kids you’re looking for? Check the basement of Thaddeus Morton’s home. The commissioner’s dead and not coming back, so you won’t need a subpoena. Let me know how it goes.” She pushed Send.
“You’re still a cop at heart.” Caden smiled softly.
“I’m a damn good paramedic too, and I’ll be glad to get back to my job.”
“Can I come down and see you when I visit my daughter in Portland?”
“You’d better.”
Lara looked around to see if she’d forgotten to pack anything. A small wrapped chocolate lay on the nightstand from the maid service the day before. She slipped it into her pocket. Later on the plane, she would put it into her mouth and let it melt. It was a start.
About the Author
L.J. Sellers is an award-winning journalist and the author of the bestselling Detective Jackson mystery/suspense series:
Secrets to Die For
Thrilled to Death
Passions of the Dead
Dying for Justice
Liars, Cheaters & Thieves
She also has four standalone thrillers:
The Sex Club
The Baby Thief
The Arranger
The Suicide Effect
The Arranger Page 22