by Karen Rose
Joseph handed Daphne over to Ford, stunned speechless to see him there. ‘Take her to my Escalade, okay?’ he murmured to her son.
‘What happened down there?’ Ford asked, anguished, as his mother clung to him sobbing as if her heart would break.
Deacon had joined them. ‘I might have known you’d bring him here,’ Joseph said.
‘He said he needed to be here for her,’ Deacon said. ‘He was obviously right.’
‘I asked you what happened, Agent Carter,’ Ford snapped. He was pale and shaking. How much of that was the cold, emotion, or the simple fact that he should still be in a damn hospital, Joseph didn’t know.
‘Heather was alive and coherent. That was her in the ambulance that just left. She asked me to thank you for carrying her purse and setting her free.’
Ford nodded, tight-lipped. ‘What else?’
Daphne had drawn a deep breath and was holding it, trying valiantly to regain control of herself. Her sobs were now silent, but her shoulders still shook from their force. Needing to comfort her, Joseph reached for her, but Ford held her tightly, unwilling to let her go. Respecting the boy’s feelings, Joseph cupped her head in his palm, applying a gentle pressure to let her know he was there. Slowly, she calmed.
Joseph met Ford’s turbulent gaze. ‘Beckett had amassed a collection of Polaroids of his victims. They’re mounted on the wall in chronological order. Your mother’s cousin was the first picture.’ Joseph watched her shoulders stiffen, massaged her head lightly to tell her that she had nothing to fear. He’d say nothing about the Polaroid of the frightened little girl she’d been. ‘Heather was the twenty-sixth. That was very hard to look at.’
Ford gasped. ‘Twenty . . . Twenty-six? Oh my God.’
‘Why don’t you take her to my SUV, Ford? She’s shaking.’ And so are you, son.
He handed Ford his keys so that the boy could do as he’d asked. When mother and son were in the backseat of the Escalade, Joseph turned to Deacon. ‘What the hell were you thinking, bringing him down here?’
‘That he needed to be here for her and she needed him.’ Deacon’s expression was like stone. ‘Haven’t you ever looked back and wished you could do something differently? Be there for someone you loved who needed you?’
Joseph immediately thought of Jo. ‘Yes.’
‘So have I. And that’s why I brought him down here.’ Deacon looked away, his jaw tight. ‘What didn’t you tell him that I need to know?’
‘That Daphne was the second picture.’
Deacon blanched. ‘God no.’
‘Yeah. It was something she couldn’t tell us all together because Ford was there. Beckett told her that she needed more time “to cook”. Yet he still put her picture on his wall like all of his other trophies. She’s wearing clothes, unlike the others. But she’s huddled in a little ball, terrified.’
Deacon’s eyes narrowed. ‘Beckett needs to die, Joseph.’
I know. ‘After CSU is done, we’ll have them take the photos down so that we can compare them against the missing children database. We should be able to ID at least some of the victims that way. As long as those photos are visible, the boy doesn’t set foot near the place. Got it?’
‘Got it. You see any sign of Kimberly or her sister?’
‘No. There could be more hidey holes, though. We should get the tracking dogs out here. And the cadaver dogs. Kelly’s body was found in Ohio and Daphne and Heather escaped. That leaves twenty-three victims. Assuming no one else escaped, he had to put them someplace. We might as well start with the land behind his cabin.’
‘Before we start digging, let’s map out the area with ground-penetrating radar. We’ll know what we’ve got and we can preserve the evidence.’
‘Makes sense,’ Joseph said. ‘Good thinking, Deacon.’
‘Can’t claim credit. Ciccotelli was telling me about it. He used GPR on a case up in Philly – a serial killer’s burial site. It’s how he met his wife. She was the archeologist who did the map. He had nine graves. We could have him beat by a long measure.’
‘Would Mrs Ciccotelli help us?’
‘She’s eight months pregnant, so I doubt it. But I’ll call him and see if she can recommend someone. Otherwise I’ll start calling universities.’
‘Good plan.’ Joseph looked back at the cabin. ‘I’m handing off this part of the investigation to you. Whoever the victims are, retrieve the remains and any belongings you can find hidden in the house or garage. Let’s get these girls back to their families.’
‘What about the notifications?’
‘I’ll coordinate them. We’ll do them together, all of us on the team.’
Deacon’s eyes shot back to meet his and in them Joseph saw panic. ‘You’re better with the families than I am, Joseph. Any of the others are better than I am.’
‘None of us do it well.’ Twenty-three more victims. Twenty-three families waiting for girls who will never come home. Joseph had an overwhelming urge to run away as fast as he could. But he knew that wasn’t a possibility. ‘We have to prepare ourselves for a wave of grief that can sweep even a strong man away.’
‘Go take care of Daphne,’ Deacon said kindly. ‘I’ll take over from here.’
‘Thanks.’
Thursday, December 5, 2.30 P.M.
Holding his breath, Mitch clutched a fresh syringe of Fentanyl, hidden in his coat pocket. Agent Carter was coming toward the SUV in which Ford and his mother sat in the back, silent and numb. If Carter came any closer, it could spoil everything.
And everything had been going so well. He’d watched Ford help his mother into the back of Carter’s Escalade, then had stepped up to the vehicle before any of the real cops could do so. He was dressed as a state trooper and everyone assumed he’d been assigned to guard Daphne and her son.
To protect them from big, bad . . . me.
Now Carter was approaching and Mitch clenched his teeth, wondering how to distract him. But at the last moment Mitch was aided by the white-haired Fed who ran over and grabbed Carter’s arm. ‘Joseph!’
Mitch let the breath out. The white-haired Fed, who had gotten a phone call and pointed Carter back toward the cabin where the signal was clearest. Thank goodness for the limitations of technology, Mitch thought. It would take him about ten seconds to incapacitate her son, then about a minute more to walk her to his Jeep.
Carter’s back was still turned. It was time to move.
Thursday, December 5, 2.35 P.M.
‘Who is it?’ Joseph asked.
‘Ciccotelli,’ Deacon said. ‘I was about to call him to ask about finding a ground-penetrating radar specialist, but he called me. I’ll put him on speaker.’ He hit a button. ‘You still there, Lieutenant?’
‘I am. I understand you found Beckett’s center of operations.’
‘We did,’ Joseph said. ‘And photos of twenty-six victims. Only two survivors that we know of.’
‘Ah, hell. I’m so sorry, Joseph. I can’t change what you found, but I might be able to help you with Doug. Our sketch artist just finished with the little girl who witnessed her au pair’s murder. He sent me the scanned file about a minute ago. I forwarded it immediately, but it’s a big file.’
Deacon gave his phone to Joseph. ‘I’ll go get my laptop from my car,’ he said. ‘It’ll download faster than the phone. Be right back.’ He took off at a jog, his black trench coat trailing behind him like a cape.
‘Can you recommend someone to do the GPR scan of this property?’ Joseph asked Ciccotelli. ‘We’ve got about two feet of snow on the ground.’
‘Snow won’t matter so much, except for the mess,’ Ciccotelli said. ‘We found our grave site in February and we had a lot of snow too. I just texted my wife with your question. She says she wants to come down and do the scan herself.’
‘I hear she’s more than a little pregnant,’ Joseph said doubtfully.
‘She’s a lot pregnant, but she’s not foolish. If she thinks she can handle it, she can. She’ll arriv
e tonight and get her team out there to start mapping at first light tomorrow.’
‘I want to start as soon as possible,’ Joseph said, ‘but I want to be safe. I think Doug’s around here somewhere. I think he came to see Daphne’s reaction to Beckett’s little room. I don’t want your wife in harm’s way. How about we assess at the end of the day and I let you know?’
‘I appreciate that Joseph. So will Sophie.’
Joseph turned in a full circle, doing a scan of the trees around Beckett’s property. ‘Doug could be hiding behind any one of about a thousand trees. So could Beckett. We’ve got a BOLO on this area, but these are Beckett’s woods. I’m sure he can slip through unseen. It’s making me very nervous.’
‘Got it,’ Deacon called, jogging back to where Joseph stood. ‘We’ve got about a twenty by twenty area of cell phone coverage, so we have to stay put.’ He held out his computer for Joseph to see. ‘Meet Doug.’
‘Wow,’ Joseph said, studying a sketch so vivid that he half expected Doug to speak. He noted the signature in the corner. ‘T. Ciccotelli. Any relation?’
‘My brother, Tino. He did his first police sketches on the victims of the burial site we found. Now he’s in demand all up and down the east coast. When he showed the little girl who witnessed the murder this sketch, she balled up in a fetal position again. So, sadly, we’re reasonably sure it’s close to how he looked – that night anyway.’
‘How’s your brother?’ Deacon asked. ‘Sending a little girl back into shock can’t be easy on a guy.’
‘He’s okay,’ Ciccotelli said, but he didn’t sound so sure about it. ‘It’s hard on him. Especially when they’re kids. Call me when it’s safe for Sophie to come down. She’ll have her team waiting.’
Joseph ended the call and Deacon raised his brows in question. ‘His wife’s coming down to map it out for us, but I won’t allow it until we clear these woods of threats. Take your laptop around and show everyone the picture. I want every Fed, cop, EMT, and state trooper on the premises to know who we’re looking for. Thanks, Deacon.’
Joseph looked around him again, feeling edgy. He’s here. I know he’s—
His cell phone rang. Brodie. Joseph’s pulse kicked up as he answered. ‘Carter.’
‘It’s Brodie. I’m here with JD.’
Something’s happened, Joseph thought. He could hear it in her voice despite the crappy connection. I’m ready for some good news. ‘What do you have?’
‘A name,’ she said with satisfaction. ‘Mitchell Douglas Roberts. I’ve emailed you a photo. He’s five-nine and utterly average.’
Joseph couldn’t stop the grin from taking over his face. Sketches were great, but photos trumped any day. ‘Yes. Email it to Deacon, he’s got better reception out here. How did you find him?’
Brodie sounded like she was grinning too. ‘The third person on the drugstore’s list of people they’d carded for superglue hadn’t opened it yet and we got lucky. It was the one Doug tried to buy and we lifted prints off the cardboard package. Mitchell Douglas Roberts, AKA Doug, was arrested for possession of heroin with intent to distribute six years ago and did three years at North Branch. Last known address was in Miami.’
‘We checked him against the database,’ JD said. ‘Father is deceased, mother is Jane Lynch, also deceased. Jane was later remarried – to Hal Lynch. You were right about Hal, Joseph.’
It didn’t make him happy, though. ‘Daphne and I figured Hal was the connection. Jane accused her of having an affair with Hal. Daphne tried to tell her it wasn’t true, but she wouldn’t listen. She died the next day. Suicide according to the check Paige ran. So Hal is Doug’s stepfather.’
‘Which explains a lot. A son would hate the “other woman” who caused his mother’s suicide,’ Brodie said. ‘Hal was Daphne’s bodyguard. A wife could build all kinds of scenarios about a relationship like that.’
‘Seems like Hal has two other sons,’ Joseph said. ‘Paige found one son listed – Matthew, age twenty-five. But Daphne remembers Jane having a five-year-old with her the night she accused her. The boy would be thirteen now.’
‘I’ve got the report from Jane’s suicide,’ JD told him. ‘She was found by her five-year-old son, Cole Lynch. God. Poor kid.’
‘Hell,’ Joseph said, rubbing his forehead. ‘That ratchets up the emotion even more. The superglue Mitch was buying was for his kid brother’s science project. With the mother dead, Mitch must be the boy’s caregiver. Knowing his brother had found the mother’s body?’ He sighed. ‘JD, were you able to match Mitchell Roberts to any of the properties you’ve been investigating? Now that we know who he is, we need to find where he lives. He could have Kimberly and his sister there.’
‘Not yet,’ JD said. ‘We’ll keep looking.’
‘If the boy had a science project for school, he has to be registered somewhere. Check with the schools. Get his records. They should have an address.’
‘I will. What’s happening there?’
Joseph told them and could feel their energy level drop.
‘Twenty-six?’ JD whispered. ‘Oh God, Joseph.’
‘I know. I really, really want this bastard.’
‘How’s Daphne taking it?’ Brodie asked.
‘Right now she’s numb. I’ve got to go. She’s—’
Joseph was cut off by the sudden shriek of a car alarm. He spun around, his heart dropping out of his chest. Oh my God. No.
It was him. The face from the sketch signed T. Ciccotelli. In the flesh, as if he’d walked off the screen. Doug. And in his grasp, a gun to her temple – Daphne.
Thursday, December 5, 2.35 P.M.
Daphne had been numb. Blessedly numb, sitting in the back of Joseph’s SUV, her son at her side. Ford’s arm had been around her protectively, his other hand closed tight around Joseph’s car keys. Her son had been shaking. She’d realized it on some subconscious level.
He was cold. He should be in the hospital. Those had been her thoughts when a state trooper had tapped on her window. She tried to roll the window down, but nothing happened when she pushed the button. With a grimace she realized that they hadn’t thought to start the engine. No wonder Ford’s cold. She opened the door a crack.
‘Yes, Officer?’
‘We have to move this vehicle to make room for the flatbed truck. We’re going to start moving Beckett’s belongings to the crime scene lab.’ He opened the door wider, holding out his arm for support.
She forced her legs to move. ‘Of course,’ she murmured. The trooper helped her to stand and then he turned around to help Ford. Too late she saw the flash of a steel needle as it punctured her son’s neck. ‘Fo—’ His name froze in her throat as the trooper pressed a gun to her back.
Not a trooper, she thought. Doug. Shit. Eyes wide, she watched Ford fight the effects of whatever he’d been given. He was losing. She looked around frantically. Where was Joseph? Over there. He’s on the phone, his back turned. Look over here.
But her mental telepathy went nowhere and Joseph didn’t shift stance. Ford was asleep, his arm stretched flat on the back seat as he’d reached for her. His tight fist was starting to open as his muscles went slack. She could see the tip of the black plastic key fob in his hand.
The man behind her leaned close, his breath tickling her neck. ‘I’m back,’ he said in her ear, his tone mocking. ‘Did you miss me?’
Clenching her jaw she pushed the panic aside. ‘Hello, Doug,’ she said calmly.
She felt his start of surprise. ‘You know me?’
‘Yeah. You’re Hal’s kid,’ she said, throwing out her best guess.
He chuckled. ‘You had me there for a minute. Hal never calls me “Doug”. Now that Ford is in beddie-bye-land we’re going to take a walk.’
If he got her in a car, he’d kill her. He might kill me anyway. Get him and the gun away from Ford. She didn’t want him able to take a direct shot at her son.
‘Don’t hurt my son,’ she said grimly. ‘And I’ll do what you want.’
She turned, stretching her fingers as she passed Ford’s hand. She looped her pinkie through the wire ring of the key fob, happy that Joseph didn’t keep multiple keys on the ring with his SUV fob. That could have been noisy. And heavy. Moving with him, she curled her pinkie, palming the key fob herself.
‘How did you know about Beckett?’ she demanded. ‘I need to know.’
‘My daddy told me,’ Doug said. ‘Keep moving.’
Hal. How could you? ‘Why are you doing this?’ She grunted when he shoved the gun even harder. He was walking her toward the main road. Away from Joseph and everyone else.
‘Just smile,’ Doug whispered. ‘Don’t look scared or I will gut you where you stand.’
‘I guess you’re handy with a knife,’ she said. ‘Like cutting Officer Zacharias or stabbing the au pair. You killed a cop, Doug. They’ll give you the death penalty for that.’
‘They have to catch me first,’ he said, amused.
They were twenty feet from the rear of Joseph’s Escalade and Ford was out of the line of fire. Keeping her hand as still as possible, she blindly depressed the fob buttons until she hit the panic button.
The alarm screeched, the Escalade’s lights flashed and every cop at the scene came running. Yes.
She was yanked up against him, the gun leaving her back and reappearing at her temple. ‘Stop!’ Doug yelled. ‘Or I’ll blow her fucking brains out.’
Everyone froze. Daphne searched the faces before her for the only one that mattered. Joseph stood stock still, having covered most of the ground between them in the few seconds before Doug got over his initial shock.
His eyes were dark. Hard. Focused. Not meeting hers. That was okay. She needed him to stay calm, because now that her heroics were over, her heart was pounding and it was becoming harder to breathe.
No panic attacks. No panic attacks. Stay calm and stay alive.
‘I want all guns on the ground,’ Doug barked. ‘All of them.’
Everyone looked to Joseph, who nodded. The cops laid their guns on the snow.
‘Good. Anyone who tries to stop me will have her blood on his hands.’