by Karen Rose
‘My mother liked Grayson’s mother’s hat, so when it was her birthday Paige took me to your mother’s shop.’ He said it like he was reading from a police report. Stiff and formal. Flat. Too polite. ‘Your mother was helpful and my mother was pleased.’
‘I see. Well, that’s nice. Let me call Ford. I’m sure he’s worried too.’
The finger that tapped the steering wheel froze and the breath backed up in her lungs. Ford. Something was wrong with Ford.
Wait. Joseph said he’d tried to call Grayson when they were in court. Why? And then she knew what had been bothering her. Suddenly terrified, she forced herself to ask, ‘Joseph, why were you at the courthouse today? And with Clay? Why?’
‘We’re here.’ He pulled into the ER, but didn’t drive up to the door. Instead, he pulled into a parking place reserved for law enforcement, underscoring the fact that he wasn’t just Grayson’s brother. He was FBI.
Oh my God. The fear rose in her throat, choking her. He’s FBI. ‘Tell me,’ she demanded, fighting the wave of hysteria. ‘Dammit, Joseph, why were you there?’
He turned to meet her eyes. And she knew. Her breath was coming too fast. Can’t be. Won’t let it be. She shrank away from him, her hands over her ears. ‘No.’
Joseph leaned across the seat and pulled her hands away, his dark eyes intense. ‘Daphne, listen to me. Ford’s bodyguard was found dead this morning. Murdered.’
‘No. It’s a mistake. Whoever found him made a mistake.’
‘I found him. It’s no mistake.’
‘Isaac is a cop. He wouldn’t let that happen. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Isaac.’
‘Clay was there. He identified him.’
Clay was there. They’d come together. To tell me. It made sense. No, it didn’t.
‘I can’t hear this.’ Ford was gone. Gone. Taken. Just like me. I can’t do this again.
The years rushed back and she was there. That cabin with its shed . . . and the steps going down into the earth. It was dark. I was so cold. This can’t be happening again.
‘I can’t hear this,’ she repeated in a harsh whisper.
‘You have to. Daphne, Isaac Zacharias was murdered near the theater that Ford and Kimberly went to last night. Ford and Kim’s cars were still at the scene. They didn’t show up where they were supposed to be today.’
‘So?’ Can’t breathe. Gone. Taken. He’s wrong. ‘Doesn’t mean they’re missing.’
He closed his eyes for three hard beats of her heart. When he opened them . . . She saw regret. ‘We found blood on the ground near Isaac’s body. And blond hair. Ford’s color. And . . . blood on the handle of Kimberly’s car. We’re treating it as an abduction. I’d come to tell you, when . . . When all hell broke loose.’
A sob built up inside her and broke free. ‘Joseph.’
‘I know,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Then Daphne saw Cindy Millhouse in her mind, face twisted with hate. ‘“You’ll know how this feels.” That’s what Cindy said. She’s got Ford. She’s got my son.’
‘We’ll find him,’ he promised fiercely.
‘I’ve got a folder. All my trial notes, profiles, research. Everything I gathered for the Reggie’s trial. It’s in my desk. Take me there. I’ll get it.’
‘Grayson went to get it. I need you to go to the ER and let them look at your head.’
‘No, I can’t. I have to find him.’ She grabbed the door handle and wrenched it open, but he was out of the car and around to her side before she could slide to the ground.
He grasped her shoulders and held her fast. ‘Daphne, you can’t help your son if you’re in pain. I need you to be alert. I need you to be able to think.’
‘Let me go. You don’t understand. I need to go. I have to find him.’ Furiously she jerked away, stumbling backward. ‘Let me go. You can’t make me stay. You don’t understand.’ I was there in that dark little room. I was there. ‘You don’t understand.’
Joseph pulled her to him and held her there, one hand cradling her head, the other stroking her back. ‘I’m sorry,’ he kept saying. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Joseph.’ The agonized cry was ripped from her chest. ‘They’ve got my son.’ The sobs broke free and she sagged against him, her knees folding. He caught her before she hit the pavement, lifting her into his arms like she was a child.
‘I know, honey,’ he whispered. ‘And I do understand. Better than you think.’
Tuesday, December 3, 12.40 P.M.
Joseph paced in front of the ER bay in which they’d placed her. He’d carried her himself, snarling at the orderly who approached with a wheelchair. He’d had to force himself to calm, to allow the man to wheel her through the double doors.
His cell rang and it was Bo. Joseph had called his CO asking for a bigger team – for security and investigation. They had to find Ford and Kim. They had to protect Daphne. And her family. Family. Oh no.
Daphne was the original target, but Grayson had worked right beside her. Now Grayson’s family – my family – is at risk. His parents, sisters, nieces, nephews.
His sister Lisa had four kids under twelve. And then there was his sister, Holly, who was vulnerable in a different way. A high-functioning adult with Down syndrome, Holly had a lot of independence which made her accessible. Joseph’s protective instincts flared. There’s no way the Millhouses are touching my family. If VCET personnel were stretched too thinly to cover his family, he’d hire his own security. Just like Daphne did.
‘This is Carter. Status?’ Joseph asked.
‘I’ve assigned Hector and Kate to provide security for Miss Montgomery. They’ll be there in twenty. I’ve got two agents en route to her house. They’ll secure the perimeter and set up the phone systems in case the abductors call. Her mother and aunt are being taken to the house as well. We can cover them more efficiently that way.’
Joseph’s tension lessened considerably. Both Detective Hector Rivera and Special Agent Kate Coppola were VCET, hand-picked by Bo Lamar to serve on his joint task force. Hector had come from Baltimore PD, most recently working Vice. Kate had served on an FBI SWAT team. They’d been Joseph’s first choices.
‘Good. We’ll also need to cover Grayson’s family. By keeping Cindy Millhouse from attacking Daphne, he damaged their plan to divert deputies away from Reggie.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that. Especially your sister. She had a rough time last spring.’
Last spring, when Holly had become a killer’s pawn, used to hurt Grayson. Maybe law enforcement shouldn’t have family at all. We’re lousy prospects.
‘Holly’s better now, but I’ll be damned before I put her in the crosshairs again.’ At least Holly had a protection dog. Peppermint Patty never strayed more than a few feet from Holly’s side and a ninety-pound Rottweiler was a hell of a deterrent. It made the family feel safer and— Oh, hell, I forgot about the dog. ‘Daphne’s got a protection dog. If it came from where I think, it’s going to be well trained, but deadly.’
‘Very good to know. I’ll have the agents at her house wait for her mother before they go in. Hopefully the mother can control the dog.’
‘Again, if it came from where I think, it’ll be family friendly. Where are we on the warrant to check the Millhouse properties?’
‘Signed. BPD’s got two of their homicide guys at the Millhouse residence. I’ve got two of ours on their way to the business.’
‘That’s good. You’ll call me as soon as you know anything?’
‘Of course. Now, I have a question for you, Joseph, and I need you to be honest. Are you capable of leading this investigation? You went looking for the boy because of his connection to your father. Anyone who saw the video of the attack saw you protect Ms. Montgomery. Do the two of you have a personal connection you’d like to disclose?’
‘It’s true that I went looking for the boy because my father asked me to.’ Although he would have done the same had the request come from his worst enemy. Ford was Daphne’s heart. �
�But I would have protected anyone in Miss Montgomery’s situation.’
‘I know, Joseph, because I know you. But you have to admit it was a little extreme.’
‘I saw the shooter pointing a gun in Ms Montgomery’s face and I reacted. And no, there’s nothing I have to disclose.’ Not now anyway.
‘All right. What’s your next step?’
‘I’m going back to the scene at the alley. The priority is finding Ford and Kimberly. I doubt the Millhouses have stashed them in their basement. And I doubt they’re going to simply tell us. We need all the data we can get to encourage their compliance.’
‘I agree. Keep in contact. And tell Miss Montgomery that we have every available resource working to bring her son home.’
‘Thanks. I will.’ Joseph hung up and listened. Daphne had grown very quiet behind the curtain. He wanted to give her space, but he was going out of his mind worrying, imagining the worst. And that she wore a wig was now back in the front of his mind, tying knots in his brain. Why? What was wrong with her? Was she sick? Dying? Did she have cancer? Something worse? What would this stress do to her?
He’d pulled the curtain back an inch to peek in when a young blonde wearing a white coat approached. She looked familiar. Her nametag said ‘Dr Charlotte Burke’.
‘Just a minute please,’ he said softly, stepping in front of the curtain’s edge.
Burke looked up, studying his face. ‘I’m the doctor Daphne requested.’
‘You know her then?’
‘Yes, from the women’s center. I’m on the board.’
Now he remembered where he’d seen her. It had been at a fundraiser and the doctor had been standing next to Daphne who’d worn a gown of the deepest blue he’d ever seen. The same color as the suit she wore today, actually. Maybe it’s her favorite color. It’s certainly mine. Daphne had looked like a goddess that night. Burke he barely recalled. ‘You look different here,’ he said.
Burke smiled up at him. ‘I get that a lot. Are you okay, Agent Carter?’
‘I’m fine.’ He drew a breath. ‘She hit her head. Didn’t feel too deep a wound, but she might have some broken ribs, from the impact of the bullets. She was wearing Kevlar . . .’ He could see that she already knew all of this. ‘I’m rambling. I’m sorry.’
‘I’ll take good care of Daphne. Don’t you worry.’
He swallowed hard. ‘You need to know . . . She might be sick. She’s wearing . . .’ He leaned down to whisper. ‘A wig. I don’t want her embarrassed, but I’m not sure why she’s wearing it. If she’s on meds, chemo . . . I thought you should know to check.’
Burke nodded, her gray eyes remaining calm. ‘Thank you. If you’ll excuse me . . .’
‘Wait. Her son has been abducted. I’d love to tell you to give her something to sleep, but I need her sharp.’
‘Got it. Now, let me pass, Agent Carter. I need to tend to her.’ She pushed past him and standing there, feeling helpless, he listened, shamelessly.
‘Hey, girl,’ Burke said quietly. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Get me out of here. Please. I have to get out of here. I have to find my son.’
‘That agent lurking outside said you hit your head. Let me see if you need stitches. And then I’ll get you out of here.’
‘Agent Carter.’ The male voice had come from behind him and Joseph turned to see an orderly standing next to the elevator with Stevie Mazzetti, who lay on a stretcher. One leg of her pants had been cut away, her thigh heavily bandaged.
‘Stevie.’ Joseph rushed to her side, grabbing her hand. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Just pissed off.’ Her eyes fought to stay open. She was so pale. ‘Need surgery.’
‘Shit. What did the bullet hit?’ She’d been gushing like a damn geyser at the scene.
‘Artery. Dammit. Am not happy ’bout this.’
‘Neither was Maynard,’ Joseph said, remembering the PI’s face.
Her jaw tightened. ‘Damn that man.’
‘You mean you don’t . . . You and Maynard aren’t . . .’
She forced her eyes open and stared at his face. ‘Don’t go there, Carter. Don’t.’
‘Okay.’ He wanted to take a step back. Her eyes were wild, whether from the pain or something she’d been given for it, he couldn’t say. ‘You just sleep now.’
‘Wait. Don’t go yet. I have a message. From Clay. He said to tell you that he was going to . . . somebody’s house. Two-something. Notification.’
‘I understand.’ The elevator opened, the orderly giving him a move-your-ass look.
‘Joseph.’ She grabbed onto his sleeve. ‘If I die—’
He was surprised to hear her fear. ‘You’re not going to die, Stevie.’
‘Everybody does sometime. And surgery and me . . . we don’t mix so good. So if I do . . . you tell Cordy that I love her. Promise me.’
Joseph’s throat closed at the thought of having to say those words to Stevie’s little girl. ‘Stop this, right now. You are not going to die.’
‘And JD . . . You tell him if he names that baby of his “Stevie” then I’ll haunt him.’
‘She needs to go to surgery,’ the orderly said. ‘You have to go.’
‘Wait,’ Stevie growled. ‘Not done. Tell Clay . . . I wish I’d been ready. That I . . . wanted . . . you know.’ Her eyes fluttered closed. ‘If I don’t die, you tell nobody nothin’.’
‘I promise.’ He stepped back, watched the elevator take her away. Stevie was a good cop. A single mother, having lost her husband and five-year-old son to a random shooting while still pregnant with Cordelia. She wasn’t ready to risk her heart again.
Joseph knew the feeling. He hoped for both Stevie and Maynard’s sake that she’d work through her grief faster than he had. His heart had broken ten years ago and it had only started beating again nine months ago. When he’d seen Daphne for the first time.
‘Agent Carter?’ Dr Burke leaned around the curtain. ‘Can you come here, please?’
He was at the curtain before she finished the question. ‘Is she all right?’
‘No stitches were needed. She can go home or wherever you can keep her safest.’
‘And she’s not . . . sick? Nothing I need to do?’
Burke checked her clipboard. ‘I have to see to other injuries. She can go home.’
Guess that means it’s not my business. Joseph pulled the curtain, finding Daphne standing by the bed, coiffed but fragile. Her head was bowed, her shoulders heavy.
‘Daphne?’ When she met his eyes, his heart clenched. He’d seen too many parents of abducted children with that look in their eyes. The agony, the envisioning of what could be happening to their child at that very moment. The fear that they’d never get them back. The fear of what their lives would be like if they did get them back. He saw the parents’ eyes in his nightmares.
The adults whose spouse or a lover had been abducted wore a different look, just as agonized. It was the look that said they knew that a vital part of themselves had been ripped away, never to be regained. That look he’d seen in the mirror.
‘Go,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘Don’t you stay here another second.’
‘I’m not leaving you unprotected.’
‘There are a dozen cops in the waiting room, here for the cops who are hurt. All of them have guns. I am protected. My son . . .’ Her voice broke. ‘My son is out there somewhere, Joseph. So don’t you dare waste another second babysitting me.’
‘All right. My boss is Special Agent Bo Lamar. He’s got federal agents on their way to your house. They’ll trace any call that comes in. A security team will escort you home. We have Bill Millhouse in custody. I’ll personally question him and his wife.’
‘There’s another son in custody. George. He came in late to court today. He’d been rushing. He was out of breath. Seemed more wired than usual. And then Cindy somehow had a knife in the courtroom. There has to be a connection.’
‘I’ll check it out.’
‘You sai
d Kimberly was missing. She’s the girlfriend that Ford hadn’t brought home.’
He frowned, surprised. ‘You didn’t know about her?’
‘No, I knew about her. Ford told me. He said she was nervous about meeting me. Something about bad prior experiences with the mother of an old boyfriend. Ford’s been giving her space. But he’s told me bits and pieces about her.’
‘Is that why he didn’t want a bodyguard? Because he wanted to give her space?’
‘I think so. Have you notified her family?’
‘An agent from the Philly office should be there now. I’ll be by your house to update you as soon as I can.’ He hated to leave her, but knew he had to go. ‘Be careful.’
She nodded numbly. ‘You too.’
Marston, West Virginia, Tuesday, December 3, 1.00 P.M.
Frustrated, Ford smacked the steering wheel of the piece-of-shit truck he’d stolen from the old man. ‘Out of gas.’ Of course it is.
He’d driven miles, not passing a single house or another vehicle. He had passed a rusty West Virginia highway marker, so at least he knew where he was. At the same time, he had no idea where he was. The nearest city could be fifty miles away.
He could stay or he could start walking. He had a few hours of daylight left. Once the sun went down it would become dangerously cold. Like frostbite and losing-my-fingers cold. Not good. So start walking.
He shouldered the pack he’d taken from the cabin, then stopped and looked back at the truck. If he could find a scrap of paper and a pen, he could leave a note in case somebody came by. At least someone would know where to look for him.
He opened the glove box, found it empty. There was no registration. Nothing to ID the SOB. I should memorize the license plate. At least the cops will have a place to start. He felt under the passenger seat and pulled out a small gold purse, the kind with a loop a girl wore around her wrist. Kim had a couple, but this didn’t look like hers.
Ford unzipped it and dumped the contents on the seat. And the hairs on the back of his neck lifted. He picked up the ID first. The girl was young and pretty with long, dark hair. Heather Lipton. It was an ID card from a high school in Wheeling, in northern West Virginia. Heather was a senior, due to graduate in six months.