Alone in the Dark

by Karen Rose

  Cincinnati, Ohio

  Wednesday 5 August, 11.20 P.M.

  Ken buttoned his shirt, listening for any stray noises downstairs. He’d heard nothing since the power had gone out. He’d jumped from the shower and done a check of the property from the upstairs windows but had seen no one, so he’d gone to his room and quickly picked out clothes in the dark. But he wasn’t dismissing the danger.

  That the power had gone off now was not coincidental, and he wondered if Sean had made it happen with a timer. Or if his son had a confederate. Except that at this point there wasn’t anyone left to be his accomplice.

  He let out a breath. Except for Decker and Trevino, the second of Burton’s two ‘green’ guys. Sean was supposed to have checked into Trevino. Ken cursed himself for having underestimated his son. Then he cursed himself for underestimating Reuben.

  His jaw tightened. Reuben had probably laughed at Ken, knowing the video he held was a real ace in the hole. Ken thought he might be more pissed off that he hadn’t thought to do the same to Reuben.

  He finished getting dressed, then checked his tracking program on his cell phone. Decker was at the downtown office, just as he said he’d be. Joel was at his home, as he always was. Looked like those two would be the last men standing after Ken left for his retirement. They could keep the company, or what was left of it. At least until Alice got out of jail.

  He didn’t have a tracker for Trevino’s phone. The guy had been too low on the totem pole to warrant his attention. Ken knew that if he ever got into business again, he wouldn’t make the same mistake. Nobody would fall below his radar.

  Still hearing nothing downstairs, he grabbed the suitcase he’d just finished packing when Sean had interrupted him earlier, drew his gun and crept down the stairs. He had barely enough time to go to Shawnee Lookout and get into position in the spot he’d chosen in advance. He’d have a perfect view of the park’s entrance and a clear line of fire to anyone standing there. He’d do the job, get in the van and drive straight to Toronto.

  He wouldn’t come back to the house to feed Sean through the woodchipper while he was still alive, although that would have been immensely satisfying. He also wouldn’t take the time – now or later – to put a bullet into poor Gayle. Instead he’d leave word for Decker to come by in a week or so. The woman would be dead by then – her heart wasn’t so good. Decker could return the body to the O’Bannions. After losingMarcus and most of the Ledger’s staff, having Gayle’s body dumped on their doorstep would be one more way to make them suffer.

  He slipped down the curved staircase for the last time. He made no sound, his gun at the ready, just in case. But he heard no one. Saw no one.

  He paused in the laundry room to ensure the silencer was fixed to his gun. He’d put a bullet through Sean’s skull before he drove away. It was far better than the little bastard deserved, but at this point, getting away was all that mattered.

  He stepped into the garage and froze.

  Sean was gone.

  Cincinnati, Ohio

  Wednesday 5 August, 11.20 P.M.

  ‘What’s in the big shed?’ Kate asked Agent Davenport after hauling him to his feet. He rose with a natural grace to brush the dirt and leaves away from his jeans, then his shirt. But some of the leaves stuck to his shirt and he had to peel them off. He dropped them to the ground, each one sticky with blood. ‘Shit. Are you hit?’

  ‘No. Not my blood. The shed is their body disposal unit,’ he said tersely, and started walking back to the house within the walls. ‘Complete with a woodchipper. They dig a big hole, aim the chipper at it, sludge the bodies, add a pinch of composting materials . . .’ He wore an expression of disgust. ‘Voilà. No more bodies. When the hole is filled, they take down the shed, dig another hole, move the chipper, and put the shed back up.’

  Oh my God. ‘Why were you in there?’

  ‘I was hiding someone. Do you have medical backup? Because there’s a guy in that shed who will need help.’

  ‘Two ambulances. They’ll be waiting at the main road. Where’s your handler?’

  The large blond stopped abruptly. ‘What do you mean? You haven’t talked to him?’

  ‘He hasn’t checked in for two days. He’s overdue.’

  ‘Shit. Then you don’t have Reuben Blackwell or Jason Jackson in custody?’

  ‘No,’ she said and his jaw went taut. ‘Who are those men?’

  Agent Davenport grabbed her arm. ‘Get someone to 5487 Wharton Court ASAP,’ he commanded. ‘Agent Symmes is my handler. If he doesn’t have ID for whatever reason, he’s got a zipper tattoo around his biceps. The other two guys will be Sweeney’s men. You don’t want them walking free, trust me. If Symmes hasn’t called in, something is very, very wrong.’

  Kate made the call, then looked up at him. ‘What’s going on here, Davenport? Who are Reuben Blackwell and Jason Jackson?’

  ‘Reuben Blackwell is Sweeney’s head of security and Jackson is one of Reuben’s men. If you don’t have them, how do you know about Sweeney?’

  ‘Figured it out the hard way, obviously,’ she said, starting to walk again. ‘If Sweeney’s in the house, we need to get there too. Two of my team are in there. Rescue operation. Sweeney took a hostage when he shot up the Ledger building.’

  ‘That’s why I came back. I heard Sweeney had taken a hostage and I thought I might be able to get her out.’

  ‘Thank you. Tell me about Sweeney’s operation.’

  ‘Sweeney’s the boss of the trafficking ring. He had three partners – Reuben Blackwell, Demetrius Russell and Joel Whipple.’

  ‘Demetrius we know about,’ she said. ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’

  Surprise flashed in Davenport’s blue eyes. ‘Yeah. How did you know?’

  ‘He was stabbed by the young man he tried to murder last night. Phillip Cauldwell.’

  ‘Oh, that’s not how he died,’ Davenport said darkly. ‘His body is hidden in the big shed along with Sean, Sweeney’s son. Sean tried a coup, but Daddy wasn’t having it. Sean is the IT guy and he’s not quite dead yet. If you can save him, he has access to data you need. He’s the guy who needs the ambulance and the medics need to make him a priority.’

  ‘Got it. Have you seen Gayle Ennis, Sweeney’s hostage?’

  ‘No, but if she’s in the house, he’s probably taken her to the basement.’

  ‘Which is where Bishop and O’Bannion were headed.’

  ‘The newspaper guy and the detective? They don’t know what they’re dealing with.’

  Kate shook her head. ‘They have a real good idea. Where is everyone else? This place is like a ghost town.’

  ‘Either dead or in jail. They all turned on each other at the end. The accountant, Joel, should be at his house. He’s got the books. All the books.’ He rattled off an address.

  Kate called it in. ‘Got it. We’ve got agents on their way. What’s in the little shed?’

  ‘It’s storage. But the power lines are there.’

  ‘Did you cut the power?’

  ‘Yes. I saw you on the security camera when you climbed the tree to check out the compound. I was hoping you were my backup. Did you find the two ankle trackers I left at the Anders place?’

  She nodded. ‘That was you too? Where are the three Anderses?’

  ‘Sweeney killed the parents.’ He drew a slashing line across his throat. ‘Made quite a mess. Did it in front of the daughter.’

  ‘Stephanie,’ Kate said. ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘She’s still alive. Sweeney told me to kill her too, but I hid her in the big shed, behind some packing crates. Stephanie Anders. Piece of work, that one. She’s tied and gagged. You can have her. Watch her fingernails,’ he added, disgruntled. ‘They’re lethal.’

  Kate bit back a smile. ‘Noted. We have her boyfriend in custody, by the way. Detroit Field Office found him. Drake Connor is his name. He had a flash drive on him with files he’d stolen from Stephanie’s dad – photos that Anders had taken as insurance agai
nst Sweeney. Those photos helped us tie Sweeney to Alice Newman.’

  Davenport’s smile was vicious. ‘Good. She was the heir apparent, you know. She’s Sweeney’s daughter.’

  ‘Makes sense. We found photos of them at her college graduation in the background of other people’s pictures.’

  ‘Facebook?’

  Kate nodded. ‘Gotta love it.’

  ‘When you take Stephanie in, you’ll find a guy named Dave Burton with her – he was Reuben’s second-in-command and was acting as Sweeney’s security head. His hands are dirty too. Sweeney told me to kill him, so I hid them together. Sweeney thinks they’re mush in the pit. As far as I know, he doesn’t suspect me. Yet.’

  ‘Got it,’ Kate said. ‘Let’s find Sweeney. I want to end this.’

  Cincinnati, Ohio

  Wednesday 5 August, 11.20 P.M.

  Marcus crept down the stairs, stowing his fear at leaving Scarlett alone at the top. She could take care of herself. The knowledge left him free to focus on listening and watching – for Gayle and for the trap he was sure waited somewhere.

  The basement was largely underground, but there must have been a couple of small windows somewhere, because a faint light filtered into the dark space below. Marcus put off using his flashlight, aware that it would make him a target if someone was waiting for him. It had been too easy to get into the property, too easy to get into the house.

  He made himself go as still as death, listening for inhales, exhales. He heard a sniffling. Not a sob, but more than a sigh. It was coming from the far corner of the basement, the location consistent with that of the cage in the video that Sweeney had sent.

  Gayle. She was alive. Relief had his heart racing and his knees going weak.

  He crept up to the cage, barely able to make out the outline of her body in the darkness. ‘Gayle,’ he whispered. ‘It’s me.’

  He heard a swiftly indrawn breath, then a muffled sob that broke his heart in two. Quickly he pulled the bolt cutters from the backpack and, going by touch, snapped the lock off the cage and carefully set it aside. He pulled the blanket from the pack and opened the cage door, wincing when it squeaked. But no bullets came flying and he heard no other sounds except Gayle’s sobs.

  Again using touch, he found the places where she’d been bound and quickly cut the ropes, wrapping her in the blanket and pulling her into his arms. ‘Sshh,’ he whispered, because her sobs had increased in volume. Gently he worked the duct tape from her face, allowing her to drag in a deep breath. ‘You have to hold on,’ he said in her ear, his words mostly exhaled air rather than spoken. ‘Don’t cry. We can’t let ourselves be heard.’

  He felt her body stiffen and shake as she valiantly controlled her tears. Shouldering the backpack, he rose with her in his arms and went for the stairs, making it to the top with barely a sound.

  He found Scarlett where he had left her, fiercely guarding his safety. Relief filled her eyes when she saw Gayle, but she didn’t say a word. She opened the kitchen door and signaled for him to bring Gayle out. Leading the way, she headed for the exit, pausing in the laundry room to fish the keys to Sweeney’s van from his pocket and give him a quick, bright smile.

  Marcus couldn’t smile back. The hairs on the back of his neck were still raised. This had been too damn easy. The other shoe was poised to fall.

  As Scarlett opened the door to the garage, the shoe fell. She had no sooner cleared the two short steps down when she was jerked from his view. A split second later, he heard her agonized cry, followed by the clatter of her gun as it fell to the concrete. The gun slid into view, evidently kicked away.

  His mind racing, Marcus took cover behind the open door, pressing his body to the laundry room wall and gathering Gayle closer to his chest.

  ‘Mr O’Bannion.’ The voice came from inside the garage, to the left of the open door. It was the man who’d called him, taunting him about Gayle. The man who’d shot his brother and killed Cal. Greasy and smug, the voice sent Marcus’s stomach roiling. ‘How lovely of you to visit me. If I’d known you were coming, I’d have planned more of a welcome.’

  ‘Go to fucking hell, Sweeney,’ Scarlett said, her breath coming in shallow pants. ‘He didn’t come with me.’

  Sweeney had hurt her. Marcus wasn’t sure what the bastard had done, but he could hear the pain in Scarlett’s voice.

  ‘Oh please, Detective,’ Sweeney said. ‘Of course he came with you. I’m surprised you’re here. I’ll give you that. But whether here or at the designated meeting place, the result will be the same. I won’t be leaving any of you alive.’

  ‘You stupid sonofabitch,’ Scarlett spat. ‘Do you really think I came alone? This place is surrounded by SWAT and Feds who can’t wait to get their hands on you. You shot up the Ledger office, kidnapped an innocent woman and killed her.’

  ‘I didn’t kill the woman,’ he said mildly.

  ‘Well she was dead when I found her. Why do think she’s not with me?’

  ‘Because O’Bannion has her.’

  But Sweeney sounded unsure.

  Scarlett laughed bitterly. ‘Right. Like he’s hiding behind the door. You idiot. I wouldn’t bring a damned civilian on a rescue op. Especially one who’s emotionally involved.’

  ‘Well if he’s not here, then your life means nothing. You hear that, O’Bannion?’ he called in a singsong tone. ‘I have no reason to keep your girlfriend alive.’

  Scarlett scoffed. ‘You’re not going to kill me. Your life is forfeit as soon as you show your face, no matter what door you leave out of. I’m your ticket out of here.’

  No matter what door you leave out of. She was telling Marcus to leave her there and exit through another door. In his arms, Gayle had begun to tremble violently. She bit down on the blanket so that her chattering teeth would make no noise.

  He had to get Gayle out of here. To an ambulance. She was going into shock.

  ‘Oh,’ Scarlett added to Sweeney, her voice cocky despite the obvious pain she was in, ‘I hope you have comfortable shoes, because we’ll be walking the whole way.’ She grunted a little, then crowed. ‘Bye-bye, keys. Hello, SWAT. Through the garage door and into plain sight.’

  Marcus grinned, despite his bone-chilling fear. Scarlett had just thrown the keys to the minivan onto the driveway. Hopefully Kate was in a tree, waiting. This was her chance.

  ‘Go on now,’ Scarlett taunted. ‘Go get the keys. I dare you.’

  Sweeney just laughed. ‘Good try, dear. Throwing your own keys? Clever. Let’s go. You can drive. I’ll be out of sight, making sure you don’t stop.’ There were sounds of scuffling as Sweeney dragged her across the concrete floor. Then Sweeney’s roar of fury when he realized she really had thrown his keys away.

  Marcus knew that this was his chance. Trusting Scarlett to take care of herself, he eased away from his hiding place behind the door and slipped out of the laundry room back into the foyer. He took off for the front door, wrestling it open and hurling himself and Gayle into the night.

  The moon was just starting to rise in the sky, giving the property a silvery look. It wasn’t as bright as spotlights, but if he weren’t careful he could be seen. Sticking close to the house, he ran around to the side opposite the garage and through the hole in the chain-link fence in the back wall. A look over his shoulder made his blood grow cold.

  Kate Coppola was inching toward the open garage door, a large blond man behind her. He had a gun. Marcus’s heart sank. There were no snipers in the trees.

  There was no way he was leaving Scarlett to their mercy. Get Gayle out, then go back. He ducked through the hole in the gate and sprinted for the hole he’d cut in the fence. He ran through, making a sharp left turn toward the main road.

  ‘Marcus!’

  The familiar voice had him stopping in his tracks, turning to see Deacon and Diesel running toward him. Without a second thought, he thrust Gayle into Diesel’s arms. ‘Get her out of here. Sweeney has Scarlett and one of his goons has Kate.’

  ‘F
ucking hell,’ Deacon muttered. Phone in one hand, he grabbed Marcus’s arm with his other to keep him from running back. ‘Just wait a second.’

  Marcus pulled free. ‘Scarlett doesn’t have a second.’

  Cincinnati, Ohio

  Wednesday 5 August, 11.30 P.M.

  Marcus set off at a fast run. He could hear Deacon behind him, calling in for backup. It was about time. He paused at the back chain-link gate, letting Deacon catch up. Together they looked through the fence and Marcus hissed out a furious breath. ‘Fuck.’

  ‘Fuck,’ Deacon hissed at the same time.

  Scarlett was standing in the driveway, dimly visible in the growing moonlight, her hands on the back of her head while Sweeney disarmed her. So far he’d pulled three guns and two knives from her vest and pockets, all while holding his own gun – enhanced with a silencer – at the base of her skull. One of Scarlett’s hands was covered in blood. Sweeney had shot her.

  Kate Coppola stood in the same position, hands behind her head. The huge blond guy held a pistol to her back, patting her down. He’d slung Kate’s rifle on his own back.

  Marcus wanted to run through the gate to save Scarlett, but there was no cover. Any fast moves at this point would get her killed. Instead he had to stand there and listen helplessly.

  ‘Thank you, Decker,’ Sweeney said. ‘I wasn’t expecting you, but I’m glad you’re here.’

  ‘I would have called, but I forgot my phone. It’s still on my desk at the office. I came back because I left my laptop charger on the kitchen counter.’

  Marcus frowned, thinking of the spotless kitchen. There hadn’t been any charging cords anywhere.

  ‘Well, as I said, I’m glad you’re here. You know what to do now.’

  ‘What does he know to do?’ Scarlett asked belligerently.

  ‘Kill and dispose,’ the big blond said succinctly.

  ‘It’s what we do with uninvited guests.’ Sweeney gave Kate an appraising look. ‘Is this broad your SWAT team and Feds? One redhead with a rifle? Who is she?’