by Debra Webb
As Ray walked toward her, Jo couldn’t move. She told herself to move, to meet him halfway, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. Told herself to say something but she couldn’t. Her brother walked all the way up to her and hugged her. So many emotions whirled inside her, spinning out of control. Somehow she managed to put her arms around his broad shoulders.
When he drew back, he said, “You look good.”
She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “You, too.”
“Why don’t we go inside?” LeDoux suggested.
Jo tried to pull herself together; it didn’t work as well as she’d hoped. She stepped away from Ray, wrapped her arms around her waist to prevent anyone from seeing how her hands were shaking. “Good idea.” She gestured to Tony. “This is Tony LeDoux. He’s—” Her gaze collided with his. “He’s a friend of mine with the FBI. We’re working together to find the people behind the abductions.”
Ray looked from one to the other and nodded, then thrust out his hand. “Ray Guthrie. Nice to meet you, LeDoux.”
LeDoux gave his hand a shake. “Same here.”
They all stood around and stared at each other for a moment before LeDoux gestured toward the cottage and Jo headed that way.
Once they were inside, she indicated the sofa. “Sit. How’s Mom?”
Should she have asked about his children first? God, she was so bad at this. What kind of aunt ignored her niece and nephew their whole lives? Jesus! She collapsed into a chair before her knees gave out completely and she embarrassed herself further.
Ray just kept looking at her. Maybe he didn’t know what to say either.
“How about I make some coffee,” LeDoux offered.
“I’d like coffee, thank you,” Ray said.
While LeDoux readied the coffee maker, Ray said, “She’s good. She officially retired last year. She’s involved in all these community activities.” He laughed wearily. “She takes the kids to Disney World every summer.”
“That’s nice. She always talked about grandkids.”
Ray nodded. “They’re good kids, too. David Colton—we named him after Dad—wants to play football. If he can keep his grades up, I’ll probably let him. Heather Frances is a straight-A student. She doesn’t care about anything except books.”
“Frances?” Jo managed to push a smile into place. Her middle name was Frances. Someone on his wife’s side of the family must be named Frances. Why would he name his child after the sister who had abandoned them?
He nodded. “We named her after you.”
Her lips started to tremble and holding her smile in place proved impossible. She blinked a couple of times to stem the burn of emotion. “Wow. That’s...that’s really nice.”
The conversation lulled with nothing more than the sound of cups landing on the counter and water bubbling from the coffee maker to fill the lull.
Ray broke the silence first. “Mom really misses you.”
LeDoux placed a cup of coffee on the table in front of Jo. To Ray he said, “Cream? Sugar?”
“Black is fine.”
Before going for the next cup of coffee, he sent Jo a reassuring smile. Her lips struggled to return the gesture. This visit from her brother was unexpected, to say the least. Unwanted, not so much. And yet she wasn’t sure how to feel or to proceed without dissolving into a blubbering mass of emotion.
Finally, she moistened her lips and spoke the truth. “I miss her, too. Miss both of you.”
“We talk about you every day,” he said, a tremor in his voice. “My kids think you’re some kind of secret agent hero. We tell them your work keeps you away.”
A new tremor started in her hands and worked its way through her whole body. “I’m glad.”
LeDoux placed a cup for Ray on the table next to the sofa. “I have some calls to make. I’ll be right outside.”
Jo nodded. Wishing like hell he’d stay but, on some level, glad he wasn’t.
When the door closed behind him, more of that heavy silence settled around the two of them. Jo and Ray. How long had it been since she’d sat alone with him? Almost eighteen years.
“Jo, I don’t know what’s happening here,” Ray began, “other than what I’ve seen on the news. I guess with you being here, it’s like before. The case of these two missing girls is like your case?”
“It is. We’re pretty sure the same people who took me took these girls, too. One of the missing girls is his niece.” She gestured to the door to indicate the man who’d stepped outside. “We’re working hard to find them.”
“You look really good,” he said. “Strong and healthy.”
He’d said that before. She smiled. “I’ve seen the kids on Facebook, your wife’s page. They’re beautiful, Ray, and so’s your wife. And you own the garage now. I’m really happy for you.”
“What do you do now?” he asked. He picked up his coffee and sipped. “Did you go back to school?”
She was the first one in the family to go to college. They’d all had high hopes. “I never went back to school. No. But I have a job I enjoy with an online newspaper. My boss is great and the environment suits me.” Code for she never had to leave the apartment.
“That’s good.” He smiled. “I remember you worked on the high school newspaper. You enjoyed trying to dig up interesting stories.”
More of that thick silence lapsed around them like a heavy fog. Ray focused on his coffee. Jo wished LeDoux would come back inside.
Finally, her brother stood. “I should head back home.”
Jo stood. The trembling still plaguing her limbs. “I’m glad you came.”
After nearly eighteen years was that the best she could do? She should say something more. Hug him again—something.
Instead, he moved to the door and opened it and she followed him outside. LeDoux sat on the steps at the back of the main house. Ray was halfway to his truck—she trailed two steps behind him—when he stopped and turned around to face her.
“I just want you to know that no matter how much time has passed not a day goes by without one of us mentioning you. Something always reminds us of you.” He laughed and blinked furiously as if holding back tears.
Jo tried to speak. Wanted to say that she thought of them every day, too, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak the words. She’d worked so hard to block the past, to cut all ties with the people she loved so she wouldn’t ruin their lives the way she had her own.
He started to turn away again, but hesitated. “We’ve never stopped loving you, Jo-Jo. And we never will. You’re part of our family and if you ever choose to come home for an hour or a day or forever, we’ll be there waiting for you.”
Tears flowed down her cheeks. Jo watched him walk to his truck. He’d reached for the door when she realized she could not just stand there and let him drive away.
“Ray!” She ran to him and hugged him hard. “I love you, too.” She drew back. “All of you. When this is done, I’m coming home.” She shrugged. “For an hour or a day... I don’t know, but I will be there. I promise.”
He hugged her again before climbing into his truck and driving away.
LeDoux walked up behind her, placed a hand at the small of her back. “You okay?”
She nodded. “I will be. As soon as I get these damned tears under control.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried before coming back here. She’d locked away her feelings and focused solely on survival.
“What I did wasn’t just for me,” she confessed. “I walked away from my family to protect them from what happened...from what I became because of what happened.” She hugged her arms around herself. “I wasn’t the daughter and sister they lost. I couldn’t be that person anymore and I didn’t want to hurt them even more than they’d already been hurt. I did what I thought was the right thing to do.”
&nbs
p; “That’s the only thing any of us can ever do.”
Jo inhaled a deep breath. She had to finish this. For her family. She still had a family and by God she wanted to be part of it again. “We have to find Blume or whoever is behind this. We have to stop him.”
“I called someone who might be able to help.” LeDoux guided her back toward the cottage. “Nick Shade and Bobbie Gentry are as good as you can get when it comes to finding monsters. They’ll be here tomorrow afternoon. They can help us.”
“Thank you.”
Maybe when this was over she could finally put the past behind her. Whether she could truly ever be a part of her family again, she couldn’t say. But for the first time in nearly two decades she wanted desperately to try.
Once her family knew the whole truth, they might change their minds about wanting her back in their lives.
She was no secret agent and she damned sure was no hero.
38
Day Eight
Eighteen years ago...
The images are gone.
Ellen is gone.
No-Name and I are in a different place. We woke up here.
My heart is pounding. I am so hungry. I need water. My lips are so dry and cracked. My throat feels like I swallowed sandpaper.
No-Name and I sit next to each other. Our bodies are bruised and scratched. Bones maybe fractured. I have a couple of cuts that feel infected.
I wish I knew where Ellen is.
I wish I could go home.
“Stand up.”
The voice. I take No-Name’s hand in mine. For once she doesn’t pull away.
“Stand up!”
Afraid not to obey, we get to our feet. Not so easy because we’re so tired and weak.
“Step away from each other.”
I hold tighter to her hand. He’s going to make us fight again. I know it.
“Step apart!”
Her fingers slip from my grasp and I back up a few steps.
The lights come on.
Bright, blinding light.
I put my arm up to shield my eyes.
“Choose your weapon!”
I look around. Spot the pole—kind of like a pool stick except the same size on each end. There’s also a whiplike leather thing.
“Choose your weapon!”
No-Name scrambles forward. I do the same.
I manage to take the pole away from her. She grabs the whip.
My eyes are burning like fire.
The lights go out.
I am at once grateful and terrified.
“You have ten minutes. Fail to fight and you lose by default.”
Ten minutes—how would we ever hold out ten minutes?
The whip cracks and leather stings the skin across my chest.
I charge forward with the stick held lengthways in front of me. I knock No-Name to the floor.
Now if I can just keep her down for the next nine or so minutes, we both might make it.
39
Lands Drive
Sunday, April 15, 10:00 a.m.
Professor Orson Blume was sixty-eight years old. Based on the rundown Tony had received from one of his few remaining friends in the Bureau, the man inherited well, which explained his million-dollar estate on Lake Sinclair. He had a wife who had recently retired, as well. No children. None of his former colleagues at the college knew what he’d been doing since he retired. Not a single one was aware of his involvement in any project connected to the old asylum. A neighbor they had questioned this morning said that Blume and his wife were out of the country on a tour of Europe for their anniversary.
If that was true, then Blume was another dead end. Joanna insisted the voice that had given the orders while they were in captivity was male. There was a remote possibility it was Conway, but Tony didn’t think so. Someone higher up the food chain would have been in control of the subjects, merchandise, whatever. Conway wasn’t nearly smart enough to hold together this complicated maze of abductions, much less conduct any sort of organized operation. His haphazardness had been evident in his home movies.
Martin/Houser? Maybe. She’d appeared far smarter than Conway, but her lifestyle had been too risky. The person behind these abductions, and whatever the hell he or she accomplished with the results, was smart. Tony was sticking with the scenario that the abductions were related to some sort of research or were episodes to be sold on the internet. His money was on the former. Those taken for making snuff flicks or fight-to-the-death gladiator-type videos didn’t typically survive. But none of the victims in question had ever popped up in known cases involving those types of abominable behavior.
It was as if the college girls were taken, used, and then released. No harm, no foul. Except for the other girls. The ones no one knew about who didn’t survive.
Tony pressed the doorbell again. The chime echoed through the house. No barking dog. No television. Like last night, there was no one home. But at least it was daylight and they could have a look around.
As if she’d read his mind, Joanna said, “I’m taking a walk around the property.” She headed down the front steps.
“Hold on. We’ll do it together.”
With the front windows blocked by plantation shutters there was no way to see inside. Maybe they’d have better luck around back. If they were caught it would be easy enough to say they’d thought the property was on the market. The one next door was for sale. So far he hadn’t seen any nosy neighbors out and about other than the ones with whom they’d spoken. Tony had flashed his invalid credentials so the neighbors shouldn’t give them any trouble.
He caught up with Joanna in the backyard. The view over the lake was peaceful, serene. He wondered how often the couple had sat on the back deck with a beer or a glass of wine and contemplated their life’s work. When he reached that age would he have a body of good work on which to reflect? Or someone with whom to celebrate and travel? Not at this rate, pal.
A dock and boat garage along with a small private beach were among the amenities that went along with the lakefront property.
If Blume was involved with this—how many young women had suffered while the bastard sat in this elegant home?
Anger roared through Tony. His niece was out there, enduring God only knew what. Shake it off. Stay on track.
There was no time to waste. What they needed to determine as quickly as possible was if Blume’s work included abducting and using young women for his own sick self-interests? Did his wife know? Was she involved, too? She was some sort of scientist. She apparently had retired from a reasonably prestigious career in the field of Cognitive Science at the University of Georgia in Athens, some seventy-five miles north of Milledgeville. With the husband’s specialization in psychology, it almost made sense that the two were in this together—if they were involved at all.
Grasping at slim leads, Tony.
Maybe he was, but it was the only lead they had left.
Joanna walked up onto the deck and peered through the towering windows that allowed the lake view into the back of the home. No shutters or drapes obstructed the key feature of the home. Since the rear of the house faced east, sunlight poured into the hearth and breakfast rooms as well as the kitchen.
She said, “The neighbor might be right about the Blumes being out of the country. It looks like they haven’t been here for a while.”
Tony picked up on the same details. The sun highlighted the fine layer of dust on the black granite counters and rich wood table. He ran his hand over the thickly cushioned back of one of the deck chairs. Dust or pollen coated, as well.
“Feels like no one’s been around for a couple of weeks.” Had they taken the girls, and then disappeared? Were they with the girls? Conducting their bizarre studies or orchestrating movieworthy scenes?
“I guess that rules out fi
nding the victims in the basement,” Joanna offered. “I was really hoping it was almost over.”
Tony shrugged. “Maybe the victims aren’t here but, if the Blumes are involved, there could be useful information in the house.”
“The problem is, as Phelps will see it,” she offered, “there’s no true probable cause to go after a warrant.”
He nodded wearily. “That’s right.”
Joanna stared at him for a long moment. The sun highlighted the weariness in her eyes and on her face. No matter how tired she was, she still looked far younger than her thirty-six years. Especially with the T-shirt and skinny jeans she’d grabbed at Walmart. She could be one of the college seniors visiting her professor. Looking at her made Tony feel old, though he was only a year older. And exhausted.
“I’m desperate,” she said. “Am I in this alone, Agent LeDoux?”
“Former agent,” he reminded her. “And no, you’re not alone.”
She lifted her chin in challenge. “Does that mean you’re willing to break the law?”
They’d already bent it considerably. To be clear, he said, “Willing, ready and able.”
She smiled. “Let’s do this then.”
He checked the rear door. Locked. Then he checked each of the windows. The third one from the door that looked into the hearth room moved.
“There could be a security system,” she reminded him.
“Give me a minute.”
He hustled down the steps and back to the end of the house where he’d noted the electrical meter as well as other typical utilities. The power had been turned off to the house. No power, no security system. Strange though. If the Blumes were on a vacation in Europe surely they intended to return. Why turn the power off? Wouldn’t that present an issue with the insurance company?
He hustled back to the deck where Joanna waited. “Oddly enough, the power is off.”
“That’s weird, right?” She frowned. “People don’t turn the power off to go on vacation.”
“They don’t,” he agreed.