Baltimore 03 - Did You Miss Me?

by Karen Rose

Mitch turned the scanner up. The locals were rousing the troops. EMTs, uniforms, even a helicopter. Good to know. Dispatch was putting all personnel on alert. The location was the wildlife management area. Exact coordinates would follow.

  Sounded like they’d finally found the cabin. Took them long enough. He wondered if they’d followed Beckett back to it or if the dogs had finally picked up Ford’s scent and tracked him backward. I have to see this for myself.

  He checked the phone he used with Cole and cursed. He’d missed a call from the school attendance office. The voicemail confirmed his fear that Cole was absent. Again. Mitch called the house, but no one answered. Big shock.

  I am going to kill that kid. Then he forced himself to chill. Annoyed people made mistakes and this was too damn important a day. He’d deal with Cole tomorrow.

  The phone he used with Mutt was loaded with messages. All from Mutt’s daddy’s phone. Mitch smiled. Fifteen messages. Running scared, old man? Good. Remembering his desperate phone calls from prison that went unanswered by the old man, Mitch hit delete. Delete. Delete. Fifteen calls, all deleted.

  Now you know how it feels. His good mood restored, Mitch went to his closet and pulled out the uniform he’d stolen especially for this occasion. Minutes later he was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, straightening his tie.

  The previous owner of the uniform was a West Virginia state trooper. Mitch had gotten some good stuff out of that heist. The trooper had excellent taste in baseball cards, guns, vintage Playboy editions, but most importantly, the guy was exactly his size so the uniform fit like a glove.

  He placed the hat on his head. ‘This will make all of this worthwhile.’

  A banging on his door had him wheeling around, startled. Checking his Glock, he went to the door, his heart banging in his chest. Who knew he’d be here? Chill. Nobody knew he had this place. Must be a salesman or a Girl Scout selling cookies.

  He looked through the peephole in the door and his heart crashed to a halt. On his doorstep, his shirt bloody, his face haggard, swollen, and stained with tears, was his stepfather.

  Thursday, December 5, 12:15 P.M.

  ‘What the hell are you doing, kid?’

  Ford looked up from tying his shoes. Deacon was standing in the doorway of his hospital room, fists on his hips, glaring. Ford glared right back.

  ‘I heard you on the phone, talking to Carter. I’m going to that cabin, even if I have to hitchhike to get there.’

  ‘You’re staying right here, so sit your ass back down.’

  Ford ignored him, pulling on the sweatshirt Gran and Maggie had brought him when they’d visited. He walked carefully across the tiled floor, every step painful, like there were millions of needles in his feet.

  Deacon blocked his way. Face to face, Ford was startled to find he had to look up to meet the Fed’s eyes. Because Ford had been sitting or lying down every time they’d talked, he hadn’t realized Deacon was so tall. The guy had to be six-three. The stark contrast of his white goatee and bronze skin combined with those weird bi-colored eyes and the whole leather getup made him look like one bad motherfucker.

  But Ford wasn’t scared, because he was feeling like one, too. ‘Get out of my way, Deacon. I mean it.’

  ‘I could take you down with one pinkie, kid. You’re weavin’ on your feet.’

  Ford stowed his rage for a moment. ‘I know. I also know that getting help for that girl was what kept me walking, even when it hurt like hell.’ He thought of his mother’s face as she’d told her story. ‘My mom’s with Carter, isn’t she? She’ll go to that little room where Beckett held her cousin, even if Heather’s not there to save. She needs the closure. When she comes up, she’s going to be so . . . upset. I need to be there for her. So if you won’t drive me there, please, just don’t stand in my way.’

  There was a long pause. ‘Okay,’ Deacon finally said, his voice gruff. ‘On the condition that you remain in my vehicle until I tell you it’s safe to come out. Agreed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Deacon pinned him with a hard gaze. ‘If you break your word, I will use a helluva lot more than my pinkie to take you down. Got me?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ford said. ‘Thank you.’

  Deacon rolled his eyes. ‘Carter’s gonna have my ass for this.’

  ‘No, he won’t. I’ll tell him I snuck after you and hid in your car. He already knows I’m willing to play dirty to get what I want.’

  ‘I somehow doubt that,’ Deacon said dryly, but Ford knew differently.

  Carter had taken him aside earlier that morning when his mother was getting an update from the doctor. The FBI agent had asked him what he’d held over his grandmother’s head to get his own way. When he’d told him, Carter looked torn between laughter, respect, and dismay – the last because Ford had seen what he’d seen and been forced into trading secrets for his mother’s welfare at an early age.

  ‘Agent Carter knows what I’m willing to do to keep my mother safe. He won’t blame you. Trust me. Let’s go. We’re wasting time.’

  Thursday, December 5, 12.20 P.M.

  ‘I know you’re in there, Mitch!’ More banging. ‘Let me in!’

  Mitch made himself breathe. His stepfather was making such a scene, people would come out to see. I need to get him out of here. Fast.

  From his backpack Mitch grabbed one of the syringes of ketamine he’d prepared before leaving Baltimore. A small dose would make the old man look drunk. A guy in a trooper’s uniform could explain away a lot of bad behavior from a drunk.

  He opened the door and pulled his stepfather in, but didn’t need to work too hard. The old man staggered. He must be drunk already.

  ‘What the fucking hell is wrong with you?’ Mitch hissed, then flew backward when his stepfather’s fist connected with his jaw.

  The old man straightened to his full height. ‘You worthless piece of shit.’

  Okay. Not drunk after all.

  Mitch came to his feet, his back protesting the movement. He said nothing, watching warily, waiting for the old man to speak again.

  Mutt’s daddy didn’t say another word though, instead reaching into his pocket, putting Mitch on full alert. But he didn’t bring out a gun. He brought out a bundle the size of a child’s fist, wrapped in a hankie. Soaked red with blood.

  Deliberately his stepfather took one corner of the hankie and flung its contents in Mitch’s face. He was pelted with small, hard objects, wet with blood. With horror Mitch stared at the floor where they fell, the syringe he held behind his back nearly forgotten. Fingers. And toes.

  Fingers and toes. Bile rose in Mitch’s throat as his gaze zeroed in on one of the fingers. It bore Mutt’s ring. The one he’d gotten for being the true son. Mitch swallowed hard and looked up at his stepfather. His old man still stared at the floor. At Mutt’s fingers and toes.

  ‘I found them this morning when I went out for the paper,’ his stepfather whispered hoarsely. ‘I followed the trail, picking them up. Until I found him. In the garbage.’

  Antonov. Cutting off his victims’ digits was one of his signatures. Matthew. I didn’t care if you got caught in your father’s crossfire, but I didn’t want anything like this.

  ‘It was supposed to be you,’ Mitch heard himself say. ‘Not Mutt. You.’

  His stepfather lifted his chin, fury in his eyes. ‘You filthy son of a whore.’

  ‘Then so is Mutt. We share a mother. Or have you forgotten?’

  His stepfather roared. ‘His name is Matthew!’ He charged and Mitch stepped to the side, plunging the needle in his shoulder smoothly.

  Like a fucking dance. Thirty seconds later his stepfather really was drunk.

  ‘How did you find me?’ Mitch asked.

  ‘Tracker,’ the old man slurred. ‘I knew it was you yesterday. Matthew thought you were too stupid. I told him to put a tracker under your vehicles. Never expected to find you here. What’s here, anyway?’

  ‘Daphne.’

  The old man’s eyes bulged out an
d he tried to fight but the ket was acting fast. His punch went wild and he ended up on the floor. ‘Daphne. Don’t touch her.’

  ‘I’ll do more than touch her. I’m going to kill her.’

  ‘Why?’ It was an agonized cry and music to Mitch’s ears.

  ‘For my mother. My mother killed herself because Daphne stole the man she loved. I hate that she gave up her life for a worthless piece of shit like you.’

  ‘Noooo,’ the old man wailed as he wound down.

  Mitch slung his stepfather’s arm over his shoulder and hurried him down the elevator to his Jeep. His stepfather was dead weight by the time he got him in the back seat. This was unexpected, having both his stepfather and Daphne under his control at the same time. He’d take them both to Aunt Betty’s bomb shelter where he’d have more time to play. His stepfather had just lost his only true son. Now he was about to lose his obsession. Mitch covered him with an old blanket.

  Then he took off for Beckett’s little cabin in the woods.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Marston, West Virginia, Thursday, December 5, 1.00 P.M.

  She’d said little since the argument they’d had in hissed whispers outside the bus station. Joseph had planned to take her back to the hotel but she’d refused to go, refused to get into the SUV until he promised to take her to wherever O’Hurley would lead them. She’d be in danger, he told her. Doug would be there, waiting for her.

  Which was why she needed to be there, she’d fired back. He’d constructed this scheme for a reason. If she didn’t go where he wanted her to go, he’d just postpone the inevitable until she did. Plus, she’d argued that she knew where the underground bunker was. If Heather was still alive, she could save them valuable time in rescuing her. Then she’d begged Joseph to let her help rescue the girl, not to deny her what he did every day – save missing people to make up for not being able to save Jo.

  It was the final point that silenced his opposition. If Beckett had taken more girls between Kelly and Heather, Daphne would internalize their loss, even though her mind logically knew it wasn’t her fault. He knew firsthand that the heart sometimes didn’t care what the mind knew. Bringing home other people’s missing loved ones hadn’t brought back Jo, but it did help him deal with the lingering guilt.

  So he’d agreed, reluctantly. ‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked quietly.

  She didn’t move her gaze away from O’Hurley’s car in front of them. ‘That I could have stopped Beckett. That all I had to do was tell his name. And I keep thinking, would that really have been so hard to do?’

  ‘I’d have to say yes,’ Joseph said. ‘Or you would have done it.’

  Her swallow was audible. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  ‘Daphne,’ he said gently. ‘How many times have you worked with a victim who had opportunities to tell, but didn’t? Women assaulted by a stranger or by someone they thought they knew. Children abused by someone they trusted – a priest, a coach, a relative. Their lives become insular. They’re alone, even when surrounded by people.’

  ‘Sometimes even when they’re surrounded by the people who love them.’

  ‘Exactly. If they let on that they’re afraid or hurt, what little control they have over the situation is also gone. It’s victim psychology that you’ve seen hundreds of times in your work.’ He took her hand, squeezed it lightly. ‘Is it so hard to accept that you’re not so different from the people you fight so hard to protect?’

  There was shocked silence on her side of the SUV. Long seconds later she shuddered out a breath. ‘I never saw myself that way. But I was. I am. Exactly like they are. Why was that so hard for me to see before?’

  Joseph was quiet for a moment. ‘You feel their pain, see the world through their eyes, but you never see your own face. Now you hold a mirror in your hands. And now you can see yourself, too.’

  Again she was silent for long seconds. But this time she was considering, not shocked. ‘How did you come to understand this?’ she finally asked.

  ‘Because I finally saw myself. Every time I worked an abduction case it ripped open old wounds. I felt the family’s terror, their despair. I felt their panic, the ticking of the clock. The hope every time there was a lead.’

  ‘And the devastation when the lead didn’t pan out?’

  ‘That too. The last abduction case, before I moved to Homeland, I got too involved. And I finally snapped. I spied the kidnapper collecting the ransom but he sniffed me out, wouldn’t lead me back to the child. I lost it. Used my fists on him to get him to tell me. I could have killed him. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but . . .’ He shrugged. ‘We got the little girl back untouched, physically at least, and I earned the devotion of her family forever.’ One corner of his mouth lifted. ‘And all the pasta carbonara I can eat for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Giuseppe? The guy who owns the Italian place you and Grayson like so much?’

  ‘He’s the girl’s uncle. He was very grateful. But I couldn’t do that kind of work anymore. It got to the point where every victim was Jo. It was tearing me apart. It was just a matter of time before I exploded. Almost killing that kidnapper . . . that was my mirror. I saw myself and was terrified. So I got out for a while.’

  ‘This case . . . Joseph,’ she said, dismayed. ‘It’s everything you wanted to escape. You said you transferred into VCET for me. I don’t want you to—’

  ‘Sshh. It’s been okay. I’m worried more for you. This case hasn’t been about me finding the abductee because I didn’t save Jo. This case has been about finding your son. For you. And finding the lost girls. For . . . themselves.’

  ‘That’s good,’ she said softly. ‘I’d hate for you to be reliving Paris every day.’

  ‘I hate that you have to relive your past every time you stand for a victim by prosecuting all the murderers and rapists and general scum of the earth. But knowing what it costs you to do your job . . . It humbles me even as it comforts me. I know there will be times when this job gets to me again. But at least now I have someone to talk to at night. Someone who can keep me centered and won’t let me bring anyone else into the bed with us. I want to be that someone for you.’

  ‘I want that too. But right now, truthfully . . . I just want this to be over.’

  ‘It will be soon.’ I hope. ‘He’s turning into the wildlife management area now.’ Joseph followed O’Hurley’s car as it left the main road. ‘I don’t know what we’ll find at this cabin but I do know that Doug wants you here. When I try to analyze all the reasons why he could have orchestrated all this, something Scott said yesterday keeps nagging at me.’

  ‘Scott Cooper?’ she said, surprised.

  ‘Yes. We were talking about the message on your barn. Scott said it was just graffiti and that he bet that Doug was out there somewhere, watching your reaction. Turns out he was right. They found evidence that someone was watching you.’

  ‘Oh my God, Joseph.’

  ‘I’m betting that Doug will be somewhere near this cabin, too, watching. I’m worried that I’m taking you into an ambush. Doug wants you to suffer and we don’t know why.’

  ‘But Doug isn’t leading me here now. He couldn’t have known about the gas man.’

  ‘True. But I think he thought Ford would lead us.’

  ‘Which is why he dumped him on that lady’s front lawn. So he’d be found.’

  ‘I need to understand why Doug hates you so much. I know you don’t want to believe anyone you care about could be involved, but will you at least entertain the notion? Because the only way Doug knew about Beckett is if Beckett told him or if that fake FBI agent told him. Because you and Beckett are the only ones who know.’

  ‘Unless another girl Beckett terrorized escaped too.’

  ‘But Doug’s not fixated on another girl. He’s fixated on you. I’m beginning to believe that Beckett is no more than a tool. Doug’s vendetta is personal. He might want you dead, but he wants you to suffer first. I talked to my sister Zoe this morning wh
ile you were visiting Ford.’ He’d brought her up to speed on everything they’d learned about Doug the day before. Once again his sister had helped. A lot.

  ‘The psychologist. What did she think?’

  ‘That this kind of intensity, this focus on Doug’s part, says that he blames you for something that hurt him on the deepest level. Usually family – mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters – are all wrapped up in that. That he used Ford makes her think that it has something to do with a parent-child bond, or the breaking of it.’

  ‘I guess that makes sense,’ she said, her tone guarded.

  ‘That he knows about Beckett means he intersects with whoever manipulated you into talking to a fake FBI agent. Whoever did that knows everything about you that he needed to know. We need that intersection. I don’t even have a photo of Doug yet, so I have to start with Claudia Baker and work my way forward. Who hired her?’

  ‘Are you asking me?’

  ‘You should be doing the asking. Somebody betrayed you, made you think Beckett was dead. Set you up for danger and allowed a murderer to go free. The only people who had access to you then were Nadine, Travis, Scott, and Hal. Doug intersects with one of them. And he blames you for something you did to him, real or imagined.’

  ‘Who are you liking for this intersection?’ she asked coolly.

  Joseph didn’t let himself be deterred. ‘Jury’s still out. Scott lost his business and his marriage because of his relationship with you. One of his three sons is the right age to be Doug and might see you as the cause of their family’s troubles.’

  ‘The background check Grayson mentioned during the morning meeting.’

  ‘Yes. I don’t apologize for doing it, but I do wish for your sake that I hadn’t needed to. Scott’s wife divorced him after your husband accused the two of you of having an affair. She got the kids. Could have poisoned them against you.’

  ‘It’s possible. But I trust Scott.’

  ‘Did you know his wife is dead?’

  ‘Of course. She died soon after she divorced him and took what little he had left. She’d started drinking heavily during the time of their declaring bankruptcy. She had a car accident.’