by Karen Rose
“She obviously got out early,” Ethan said, still unable to believe it all.
“Obviously,” Randi agreed dully. She looked from Ethan to Clay, plaintive. “Now that we know who has Alec, what are our chances of finding him?”
Ethan exchanged a glance with Clay. His friend was thinking the same thing. Their chances sucked. “I don’t know, Randi,” Ethan said. “We do have to tell the police.”
Abruptly Randi’s eyes filled. “Oh, God, Ethan, she has my son.”
Grimly Ethan pulled out his cell phone and handed it to Dana. “Would you call Detective Mitchell, Dana? You know her number.”
Dana took the phone and stepped toward the window to make the call. Ethan squeezed Randi’s knee. “Where do you think Sue will take them?” he asked.
Randi shook her head, her tears still rolling. “I don’t know.”
They were all quiet then, the only sound the murmur of Dana’s voice.
A brisk knock at the door made them all jump. Clay went to get the door and there was more murmuring. Then Clay reappeared, a look of resignation on his face and a woman at his side. Her dark hair barely brushed her shoulders and she appeared to be in her early thirties. Her face was probably pretty when she wasn’t glaring, as she was at the moment. She wore a well-tailored jacket that almost hid the bulge of her shoulder holster.
Clay sighed. “Ethan, this is Sheriff Louisa Moore. Sheriff Moore, Ethan Buchanan.”
Ethan automatically stood up. “Sheriff Moore.”
She nodded. “Mr. Buchanan.” She took curious note of Dana on the phone by the window, then narrowed her eyes at Stan. “Mr. Vaughn.” She turned to Clay. “I got the package. Leaving it with me may be the only thing that keeps your asses out of jail.”
“I was kind of counting on that.” Clay’s voice was dry, very dry.
Ethan lifted his brows. “What’s going on?”
Sheriff Moore sucked in one cheek. “Not pleasant to be kept out of the loop, is it, Mr. Buchanan?” Then back to Clay. “Now you’ll tell me what the hell is going on here?”
Clay nodded. “If you’ll tell me who it belonged to.”
Moore considered it, then nodded. “Deal.”
“Ethan, I left the severed finger with Sheriff Moore’s deputy before I got on the plane. The finger was still fresh enough to get a print.”
It was a detail Ethan had nearly forgotten. “It was the right thing to do.”
“So glad you approve, Mr. Buchanan,” Moore said archly.
Ethan just sighed. “And the victim, Sheriff Moore?”
“Fred Oscola. He was a prison guard at Hillsboro Women’s Penitentiary.”
Ethan looked down at Randi. “Is that where Sue was sentenced?”
Randi nodded. “It was.”
“Well, that gives us some connection.” Ethan saw Dana snap his phone closed.
She slipped the phone into his hand. “Mia said to give them thirty minutes to get here.”
Ethan gestured to an empty chair. “Sheriff, have a seat. If you can be patient for just a little longer, we have detectives from CPD on their way. It would be better to share the whole story at once.”
“If I can get some dinner up here, I can be patient another thirty minutes.”
“I’ll order some,” Clay said.
“I’ll pay for my own,” Sheriff Moore inserted and Clay nodded, still grim.
“I understand,” he said and Ethan knew they still weren’t out of the woods yet in terms of their personal culpability, but he’d worry about that later. Now, all he could see was Dana growing paler by the moment. It was as if she’d used all her reserves supporting Randi through her story.
Dana’s eyes slid shut. “None for me. I don’t think I could choke down a bite.”
Ethan slipped his arm around her shoulders, gently pulled her away from the others, toward the window where Chicago lay at their feet. He listened with half an ear as Clay’s deep voice called in the room service order. Pressing his lips against her temple, he felt her sag in his arms. “You were wonderful with Randi.” Another kiss to her temple brought a shudder that wracked her whole body. “I know how worried you are about Evie, but you did what needed to be done. Now you have to eat,” he murmured. “Evie needs you sharp.”
At her friend’s name Dana’s back went stiff. “This woman is desperate and . . . evil, Ethan. We may never see either Evie or Alec again.” The last was barely audible, yet loud enough to send a shudder of dread down his own spine.
“We’ll find them,” he whispered fiercely. “We have to. You have to believe that.”
He simply held her for a long moment, felt her body slowly gain back its strength. Felt his own reserves fill as hers did. “Thank you, Ethan. I needed that.” She stepped back and gently patted his cheek, her eyes now calm again. “You go eat. I have some phone calls to make before Mia and Abe get here. If you’ll give me the key to your room, I’ll go make them down there and you can stay with your friends.”
Ethan caught her gently and brought her back into the circle of his arms. “Not so fast, Dana. If you leave this room, I’m going with you. I don’t want to let you out of my sight.”
Her eyes widened. “She wouldn’t come so close to us, Ethan,” Dana protested. Then her eyes narrowed. “And if she does, I’ll kill her.”
Ethan didn’t doubt she meant every word. “There is the danger factor,” he said evenly, “but more than that I need you here with me.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I need you to help me through this and you can’t do it if you’re passed out from hunger. Please. I need you.”
“You need me?”
Ethan nodded soberly. “Desperately. You’re Glenn Close to my Robert Redford.”
Her lips curved sadly. “The Natural? All right, I’ll eat. But I refuse to wear all white.”
As Glenn Close did just before Redford hit the ball out of the park. “Why not?”
“My tattoo shows through.”
“Born2Kill.” He brushed a light kiss against her lips. “Dana, what were you thinking?”
She rested her head against his shoulder and sighed. “Don’t tell Mia, but a few times I did inhale. Born2Kill was one of those times.”
Ethan smiled against her hair, amazed that he could do so. Amazed that just holding her made his outlook brighter. Wrong place, wrong time, she’d said Sunday morning as she’d lain on the bus station floor. He’d thought her mistaken then. He knew it now. “Dana, I’m so glad you tried to stop that mugger on Sunday.”
She pressed a weary kiss to his jaw. “So am I.”
Chicago, Wednesday, August 4, 7:30 P.M.
David answered his cell phone on the first ring. “Where the hell are you?” he growled. “I’ve been worried out of my mind.”
“I’m at Ethan’s hotel. I’ve just met with Alec’s parents. I spent the afternoon at the police department, working with sketch artists and Mia.” Her voice broke. “She’s gone, David. Evie’s gone. And Jane . . . Jane’s killed . . .” She pressed her fingers to her lips, trying to remember them all. “Six people, David. Maybe more.”
“My God.” There was a moment of stunned silence. “Why?”
Dana tried to think of a way to succinctly tell the tale. There was none, so she blurted it out the best she could.
“We have to find Evie, Dana,” David whispered harshly. “This will break her.”
Dana’s eyes filled. “I know that. Dammit, David, don’t you think I know that? You were right. I took risks and now Evie is in danger.”
“Dana, I’m not blaming you.”
“No, I’m doing that myself.”
“Well, stop it. Look, I wanted you to know, I cleaned out your desk drawer before I called Detective Mitchell. All your tools and driver’s license and passport paper stock are in a box under the seat of my truck.”
Gratitude hit her like a brick. “David, you didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, Dana, I did. The only records they’ll find on your hard drive are
digital photos.”
“I hadn’t even thought about that,” she whispered.
“I know you didn’t. So I thought of it for you. I told Caroline you got a new family in tonight that was taking all your attention. Max is making sure she doesn’t see TV. I haven’t heard it on the news, anyway. She says for you to get some rest. Bye.”
And he was gone. Carefully she hung up the hotel phone and sat, numb until Ethan sat on the bed and pulled her into his arms. He settled her on his lap, cradling her against him.
“I messed up, Ethan. I trusted her, brought her into my house. And now Evie is gone.”
“Dana, what could you have done differently? Asked for references? What would happen if you asked all your clients for proof they’d been beaten and battered?”
“They wouldn’t come,” Dana murmured.
“No, they wouldn’t. How many women have you helped have happy lives?”
Dana sighed. “More than a hundred. Maybe.”
“More than a hundred women with their children. Think of the lives you’ve changed. Dana, you took a risk. I can’t say I’m happy that you put yourself in danger from men like this Goodman character, but you risked yourself for something you believe. That makes you pretty damn special in my book.”
Dana felt a swell of pride such as she hadn’t felt in a long time. He understood. This man who had given up so much himself understood. “You did, too. Risked yourself for something you believed in.”
“Yes, I did. I believed in the defense of our country.”
“And in saving Alec. You risked your livelihood.”
His nod was sober. “A by-the-book cop could press charges. But what good would my livelihood be if Alec isn’t safe? How could I have looked in the mirror, Dana? How could you, knowing you’d denied someone the hope of a better life? Sue is a bottom feeder. You said it yourself to Randi—she’s a manipulator. That you brought her into your shelter isn’t your failing. And from what you’ve told me about Evie—she’s a survivor. She’ll hang on until we get there. Wherever she is.”
And sitting there on his lap, looking into his steady green eyes, she felt some of the pain ease. Not all. Not even most. But enough to get her through the next five minutes and perhaps the next five minutes after that. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
His thumb swept across her lips in a gentle caress. “Let’s go eat and sort out this mess with the cops.” He stood up, still holding her in his arms, and gently lowered her legs until her toes touched the carpet. Until she stood in the circle of his arms, his lips a breath away from hers, his eyes asking for what his voice did not. She answered, closing the distance herself, raising on her toes, covering his mouth with hers. Offering him the same comfort he’d given her. His hands came up to bracket her jaws, so gently. This kiss was chaste, but warm. He ended it with a nudge and a second kiss placed on her forehead.
“I needed that,” he confessed. “More than I realized.”
“So did I.” She let out a breath, squared her shoulders. “I’m ready now. Let’s go.”
Chicago, Wednesday, August 4, 7:15 P.M.
James looked up from his meal when the man sat down. Nervously the man drummed his fingers against the table. “So,” James said, “you work for Donnie Marsden.” Donnie Marsden had been arrested with Sue all those years ago. They’d been partners.
“For a year,” the man confirmed. His eyes were twitchy, looking every direction at once.
“Your boss says he hasn’t seen Sue Conway. Is he lying?”
“I don’t know if he’s seen her. But he’s talked to her, a couple of times. I listened in on the extension, just like you said to do.”
James wanted to smile. Everybody had a price. Marsden couldn’t be bought for fifteen thousand. His runner was spilling his guts for five hundred. “So what have they said?”
Sweat was beading on the man’s upper lip. “He’s meeting her tonight. Something’s going down because Donnie’s been callin’ all the boys. It’ll be Friday night.”
James smiled. “I’ll double your pay if you can tell me exactly where and when.”
The man stood up. “I’ll do it. Thanks.”
James watched him slouch from the restaurant. “No, thank you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Chicago, Wednesday, August 4, 8:30 P.M.
Dana made an attempt to eat, managing to down a few bites of a sandwich before rising to pace in front of the big picture window. Randi sat on the sofa, rocking herself. Stan just sat, his expression one of dull disbelief. For all his brave words, Ethan couldn’t choke down a bite. Fortunately the oppressive silence was short-lived. A sharp knock came from the door and Ethan opened it to find Mitchell and Reagan standing there, grim-faced.
“Let us in,” Reagan said, “and we’ll talk.”
Randi came to her feet, a heartbreaking mix of bald hope and sheer terror on her face. “What’s happened? Have you found Alec?”
Mia shook her head. “No, ma’am. I take it you’re Alec’s mother? Or the woman who’s been acting as his mother for the last ten years.”
“I told them that much,” Dana said. “I didn’t know if it would make a difference in involving the FBI.” She shrugged uneasily. “Because it’s not really a kidnapping.”
Randi lifted her chin. “I’m Alec’s mother.” Her tone dared them to disagree.
Reagan stepped forward. “For now, that’s what matters. Let’s find Alec first and sort through the rest later. I’m Detective Reagan and this is my partner, Detective Mitchell. Please have a seat, Mrs. Vaughn, and tell us what you know.”
Randi’s courage seemed to melt away as she looked from Reagan to Mitchell to Moore. “She said she’d kill Alec if we went to the police or the FBI,” she said, her voice uneven.
Reagan gently pushed her to the sofa and took the chair next to her. “This has gone way beyond Alec now, Mrs. Vaughn. This woman has ruthlessly murdered at least six people. Innocent people that had families that loved them. One woman was a mother of three small girls. She’s never coming home to her children, Mrs. Vaughn. This is bigger than any fears you have of the police. We decided not to go to the FBI yet, but you need to tell us what you know. We might be your only hope of seeing your son alive again.”
Randi’s eyes filled, tears spilled down her cheeks. “You can’t possibly understand.”
“Of course we can’t,” Reagan said, still gently. “But I can tell you that I’m a father, too.”
“Then you’d do anything to protect your child,” Randi whispered fiercely.
“If, God forbid, anything like this happened to my baby girl, I’d want Detective Mitchell handling my case. She’s good at her job. So am I. You have to trust us. Please.”
Ethan crouched at her side, took her icy hands in his. “You know it’s the right thing to do. We took this as far as we could, but Detective Reagan is right. Tell him everything.”
Randi visibly wavered. “Just one little girl, Detective?”
He pulled out his wallet and opened it to a chubby little angel with bright red curls.
“She’s pretty,” Randi whispered.
“Like her mother. Mrs. Vaughn, please talk to me. I can get the facts from Ethan or Dana, but you have memories they don’t. They could be critical to finding Alec in time.” He dipped his head, looked directly at her. “And time is something we’re running out of.”
“All right.” Randi sat back, and clutching Ethan’s hands, told the same story she’d told earlier. “I never expected her to do something like this,” she finished on a whisper. “I thought she’d be in prison for another five years. I’m not even sure how she found me.”
Clay caught Ethan’s eye and lifted his brows. Ethan nodded and Clay cleared his throat. “Randi, do you know anything about a woman named Leeds living in Florida?”
What little bit of color that remained in Randi’s face drained. “Sun City, Florida?”
Clay and Ethan looked at each other. “Yeah,” Ethan said. “W
ho was she?”
Randi closed her eyes. “My mother. She was murdered six weeks ago when she woke up and surprised a robber. It was no robber, was it?”
“Did you go to the funeral, Mrs. Vaughn?” Reagan asked her.
“I . . . Yes, I had to. I hadn’t seen my mother in over eleven years. I told my parents about Alec, about what Sue had done, that she’d been arrested. I begged them to disappear and they did. But she must have found them. My father died three years ago and I never got to see him again. I couldn’t miss Mom’s funeral. I went to the graveside and stood far away. Nobody even saw me,” she said, a little desperately, then she sagged. “It was a setup, wasn’t it? My mother was killed to draw me out.”
Ethan patted her knee. “It would seem so,” he murmured.
“Maynard, how do you know about this woman?” Moore asked quietly.
“Will the disk cover this?” Clay asked.
“What disk?” Ethan asked.
“The one that was accompanied by several spreadsheets showing just how Mr. Vaughn made his fortune,” Moore replied, not taking her eyes from Clay’s face. “Came in the box with the finger. Most likely yes, but it will depend on what you’ve done.”
“You sonofabitch,” Stan snarled, jumping to his feet. “You turned me in.”
“Sit down, Mr. Vaughn,” Sheriff Moore commanded in a voice that seemed to echo off the walls of the hotel suite. “Or I’ll cuff you here and now.”
Randi’s face dulled with shock as Stan sank down into his chair. “You turned him in?”
Clay lifted a brow. “Yes. Stan broke the law. I was legally bound to turn him in.”
“But he’ll go to jail,” she whispered.
Clay’s face hardened. “Better him than Ethan and me. We’ve helped you at personal risk. I may lose my license over this. Ethan might, too, if these officers choose to press charges against us. We’ll lose our business. We’re not going to jail for Stan, too.”
Detective Mitchell stepped into the middle of the room, her hands raised like a traffic cop. “We’ll sort out personal culpability later,” she said in a level voice. “For now, Mr. Maynard, assume whatever information you gave Sheriff Moore will protect you, because every minute you spend negotiating is time Conway is free.”