by Karen Rose
“Glad you approve,” their lieutenant said dryly. Spinnelli had arrived a minute before they’d started the interrogation. To Spinnelli’s left stood the assistant state’s attorney that Abe Reagan had called to expedite any deal making they’d need to do.
Clay shot Spinnelli an even look. “I meant it.”
Spinnelli lifted a brow, not taking his eyes from the glass. “So did I, Mr. Maynard.”
“Clay,” Clay said.
“Clay. But I’m still Lieutenant Spinnelli to you,” Spinnelli said, his mustache twitching.
“Understood. Sir,” Clay added with an intentional hesitation. “Look, Ethan,” he said quietly. “Mitchell plops Marsden’s AZT on the table, he’s got AIDS, and he doesn’t want to die in prison, right? Reagan pounds him with the bookmaking charges, lots of years. He’s about to spill Sue on his own. They’re saving the picture in case he needs one last push.”
“I’d like to give him one last push,” Ethan growled. “Randi betrayed him as much as she did Sue. If he got that AIDS while he was in prison, he’s got even more of a grudge. He was breaking into that hotel room to pay Randi back.” And the very thought sickened him.
“Yeah, but why now?” Clay murmured. “Why does Marsden try to grab Randi this afternoon? If Sue had been orchestrating it, she would have had him wait until after five.”
“When the five million would have been deposited.” Ethan blew out a breath. “You’re right.”
“Yes, he is.” Spinnelli looked at Clay with critical eyes. “You quit DCPD. Why?”
Clay’s face hardened. “That’s my business. Sir.”
Spinnelli considered him another moment more, then nodded. “Fair enough.”
Marsden slumped in his chair sullenly, his lawyer whispering in his ear. Marsden nodded and the lawyer looked up. “What kind of deal are we talking?”
“That’s up to the state’s attorney’s office,” Mia replied smoothly. “We don’t make deals, we make recommendations.”
The lawyer frowned. “What kind of recommendation?”
Reagan leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. “Marsden, we know why you were going in that hotel room. You and Conway planned some kind of revenge. But you’re not charged with that. Yet. You go down with Conway and that’s going to be a conspiracy charge, because we know what she has in mind. We want Conway more than we want you. Right now. But if we find her first . . .” Reagan shrugged. “Recommendations are out the window. Tell us where she is and we recommend the SA stick with the bookmaking charges.”
Marsden shifted guiltily and said nothing.
Mitchell shoved a chair against the table making both Marsden and his attorney jump. “You know, I’ve had about enough from the two of you. If you don’t start talking in thirty seconds, I’ll recommend the SA add kidnapping charges and murder.”
Marsden jerked. “I didn’t do any kidnapping or murder. I never touched the lady.”
Mitchell leaned in close. “Because you didn’t get the chance. But we’re not talking about Mrs. Vaughn, we’re talking about the kid.”
Marsden jolted to his feet. “Whoa. I don’t know anything about any kid.”
Mitchell and Reagan shared a long look. Mitchell shrugged. “Okay, so you don’t.” And with great drama she looked at her watch. “Fifteen seconds, Mr. Marsden.”
“Dammit, I don’t know nothin’ about no kid!”
“Five seconds.” Mitchell shrugged again. “We’re done. Hope you find a prison doctor you like, Mr. Marsden. You’ll be spending a great deal of time together in the foreseeable future.” Her hand was on the door when Marsden threw himself back in the chair.
“It must be the Vaughns’ kid,” he snapped. “Sue said she was getting Miranda Cook back to Chicago because she had something Miranda wanted. I didn’t know she was Randi Vaughn until I checked the hotel register. But I haven’t seen any kid.”
Reagan leaned forward, perplexed. “Why do you continue to protect this woman?”
Marsden sighed. “Because she’s going to get it from somebody else besides you guys. And I’d rather see her dead than have to go back to prison.”
Reagan nodded. “Lorenzano?” Marsden’s eyes widened. Reagan chuckled. “We know lots of things, Donnie-boy. So Lorenzano got to you? How much was it worth?”
“Fifteen thousand,” Marsden mumbled.
Mitchell sat on the edge of the table. “Fifteen Gs’ll buy a lot of AZT. I might have done the same. So you sell Sue to Lorenzano. I take it he knows where she is right now.”
“He knows where she’ll be at ten tonight.”
“And what happens at ten tonight, Donnie-boy?” Reagan asked.
Marsden stared up at the ceiling. “Me and the guys Miranda sent up get thirty minutes apiece to do whatever we want.”
Ethan covered his mouth with his hand, and managed to muffle the gagging he couldn’t stop. “She won’t have Randi,” Ethan whispered, horrified. “She has Dana.”
Mitchell’s face was a stony mask. “Well, that’s about as disgusting as I’ve heard in a while. What was in it for Sue?”
“She got to finish her off.”
Reagan raised a brow. “And you took that to mean?”
“Kill her.”
Marsden’s lawyer held up his hand. “I want an SA in here now.”
“That’s my cue.” The prosecutor nodded to Ethan and Clay. “Gentlemen.” A half minute later the interview room door opened and the prosecutor walked in. “You rang?”
Marsden’s lawyer gave him a dirty look. “Fancy meeting you here.”
The prosecutor slapped his briefcase on the table. “If he tells us where she is and agrees to swear to everything we just heard, we stick to the bookmaking charges.”
“You’re offering what?” the lawyer sneered.
“Seven to ten. He does three inside. If he’s still alive at the end of three years, the remaining will be in a work program. It’s a damn good deal.”
Marsden scowled. “It’s a fucking death sentence. Three years. Fuck.”
Mitchell pulled her chair close to his. “You think she’s better off dead than with us? Maybe you wouldn’t be so charitable if you knew the one other thing we know.”
Marsden hesitated. “What other thing do you know?”
Reagan pulled the picture of Alec from his pocket. “The child you used to run drugs all those years ago wasn’t Miranda Cook’s son. He was Sue’s son.”
Marsden’s face bent in disbelief. “No fucking way. Even Suze wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh, she did that,” Mitchell purred. “And a hell of a lot more.”
Marsden went very still. “What did she do?”
“Well, she kidnapped the boy in the last week and murdered eleven people. And she left the child for dead in a Gary, Indiana, motel with half a bottle of Phenobarbital in his gut. But that’s not the worst of it, Mr. Marsden, at least not from your point of view.” She leaned over and plucked the photo from Reagan’s fingers, placed it in front of Marsden.
“Recognize him, Donnie-boy?” Reagan asked acidly.
“You should, Mr. Marsden.” Mitchell leaned close to Marsden’s shaking body. He’d seen it right away, Ethan could tell. “He’s yours. She used your son to smuggle drugs. She left him to die today. She’s planning on getting a five-million-dollar ransom from the Vaughns. Do you still think she’s better off dead than with us?”
Marsden drew a breath. “Abandoned apartment building on Central.” He looked up at Mitchell who was already running for the door. “Is he alive? My son?”
“No thanks to Sue Conway,” Mitchell snapped.
“I want to see him.”
“Work it through the lawyers, Donnie-boy,” Reagan said. “Mia, let’s go.”
Ethan burst out of the back room, Clay at his heels. “I’m going.”
“You’re staying,” Reagan gritted. “Full body armor, Mia.” Then Mitchell and Reagan were gone, leaving Ethan standing there shaking, holding on to Clay.
“Don�
�t even think it, Ethan,” Clay warned.
“I’m going. You can stay or come with me.”
Clay rolled his eyes. “Damn. Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Chicago, Friday, August 6, 5:40 P.M.
Dana jerked awake when the outer door to the basement slammed. Someone was coming. She blinked, trying to see something, anything, but the blackness was absolute. The mice, she’d discovered, sounded a whole lot bigger in the dark.
She had no idea what time it was, but thought it must be getting later in the day because the heat wasn’t nearly as oppressive as it had been. Her muscles ached from lack of movement, the plastic cuffs holding her wrists and ankles immobile. She was tired and hot and incredibly thirsty. And as the day waned, she became increasingly terrified. She tried to compartmentalize her fear, but it was quickly becoming way too big for the box in her mind.
The footsteps were coming closer. It wasn’t joint-smoking kids this time. Her heart started to beat hard and fast in her chest. Don’t let it be Sue and her friends. Because Randi Vaughn wasn’t here. Only I am. Pictures of what lay ahead had been running through her mind all day, because it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what Sue had planned for Randi. Sue equated sex with power, punishment.
Whatever followed would be worse than Dana’s worst nightmares. They’d hurt her. Then they’d kill her. She’d never see her family or friends again. Evie, Caroline, Mia.
Ethan. She’d never feel him hold her again. Never have him soothe her fears. Never have him make her feel . . . whole. He made her feel whole, she’d realized. Physically and emotionally. Last night he’d been so right. He’d gotten too close and she’d pushed him away. She deeply regretted that. She would make that right, if she lived to see him again.
The overhead light came on and she blinked. Then a few seconds later she was looking up at Sue Conway looming over her, her light eyes narrowed and furious. No lenses, Dana thought. She’s back to blue eyes. But there was no time to wonder why, no time to be afraid as Sue delivered a quick, vicious kick to Dana’s ribs, sending her sliding face first across the dirty floor, her cuffed hands unable to break her fall. Another kick sent pain radiating up her spine, a third, her thighbone. Then Sue was crouching down. She caught handfuls of Dana’s shirt and threw her against the concrete wall.
Something’s gone wrong, was all Dana could think through the haze of pain. This was not the self-possessed Sue who was adopting, adapting, and improving. This woman was one step up from a snarling cornered animal. Joy speared through the pain. They must have found Alec. Without him, Sue’s plan fell miserably flat.
The joy was short-lived, replaced by another wave of pain as Sue’s fist plowed into Dana’s cheek. Tears stung her eyes and she flinched away, unable to shield herself from the next blow. Or the next. She hadn’t been beaten like this since Charlie. Or her stepfather. She wasn’t able to control the cry of pain when Sue ripped the tape from her mouth, yanking a layer of skin from her lips.
“You will pray to die,” Sue said harshly. “You will beg me to kill you before I’m done.”
Dana drew a deep breath, the first she’d been able to draw since Sue taped her mouth shut hours before. How many hours? What time is it?
“You must have lost Alec,” Dana said and experienced the pleasure of watching Sue’s mouth drop open in momentary shock. But once again, the pleasure was short-lived. Another hard blow to her jaw had Dana testing to see if her jaw was broken. Still, something drove her to push this woman. “You really should be more careful with your son, Sue. This is the second time you’ve lost him. It’s becoming a habit.”
Sue’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know?” she asked in a terrible voice.
Dana shoved back her fear and met Sue’s gaze unflinchingly. “I know quite a bit about you, Sue Conway. In fact, I know a great deal more about you than you know about me.”
“So tell me,” said a male voice and Dana’s eyes jerked up over Sue’s shoulder, just as Sue shoved her against the wall, wheeling to face him.
A man in his late forties, perhaps his early fifties, approached, a nasty-looking pistol in his hand. He had the appearance of a distinguished thug, his silver temples lending him an air of dignity. In a flash of cognition, Dana realized who he was, and why he was here.
“You’re Lorenzano,” Dana said and watched his mouth quirk up.
“So you know about me as well.” He advanced a few steps, his weapon steadily trained on Sue. “I’ve been waiting all day for you to arrive Sue. You can’t hide from me.”
“I did hide from you, James,” Sue said, “until somebody sold me out. Who was it?”
“Donnie Marsden.”
Sue flinched. “Little fucker,” she muttered. “Did he hold out for more than fifteen?”
“No,” James said cheerfully. “He was cheap, but I won’t be. Bryce told me what you’re up to, Sue—kidnapping a child, demanding a ransom. How much did you ask?”
“Go to hell,” Sue snarled.
“Five million,” Dana answered and Lorenzano looked impressed. Sue shot her a glare.
“You still owe me for tracking down Randi Vaughn’s mother,” Lorenzano mused. “And you owe me for a rather large hospital bill. I want seventy-five percent of the five million.”
Sue’s eyes dropped to the gun in his hand. “Fifty percent,” she countered.
Lorenzano looked surprised. Suspicious. “I’m surprised you’d agree to anything.”
“That’s because she knows that there is nothing,” Dana supplied. “Fifty, seventy, or hundred percent of zero is still a big fat zero. Which is what she’ll get from the Vaughns.”
Sue turned and leveled an icy look that sent a shiver down Dana’s spine. “Shut up.”
“No, tell me more,” Lorenzano said. “Who are you, by the way?”
“Sue’s worst nightmare,” Dana answered evenly. “I’m a meddling social worker.”
Lorenzano lifted his heavy brows. “A social worker. Did you give her a place to hide?”
“Unknowingly, yes.”
“So how do you know there’s no ransom?” Lorenzano asked.
“Because the police found her online off-shore account and took every penny.”
“How do you know all this? Are you a social worker”—his eyes narrowed—“or a cop?”
“A social worker. My boyfriend is a P.I.” Dana gave Sue a cool look. “And the godfather of Alec Vaughn.” And once again she had the pleasure of seeing Sue’s face flatten in shock.
Lorenzano’s grin flashed white in his tanned face. “Well, well. How interesting that our paths cross so. Now, Miss Social Worker, it’s time for you to go. There’s the little matter of unfinished business between Sue and me.” He fingered his throat. “I need to instruct Sue in the proper art of throat slitting. She didn’t get it right the first time.”
Dana’s eyes widened as he pointed his gun at her chest. Then she sucked in a breath as a revolver fired and with a gurgle Lorenzano dropped to his knees, looking down at his chest in shock. A red stain was already spreading across his white shirt. A few seconds later, he was on his back. Sue stood, Dana’s gun in her hand, eyeing him with disdain.
“Sonofabitch,” she said. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting him kill you. You’re all I have left.” She grabbed a handful of Dana’s shirt and hauled her to her feet. “I’ve got one evening with you, social worker, and when it’s over, you’ll be in hell.”
“And you’ll be in France?” Dana spat. “Carla Fenton?”
Sue blinked, then smiled. “Thanks to you, yes. Too bad you used your talent for charity. You could have made a decent living as a forger.”
The thunder of footsteps on the outer steps startled them both. “Fuck,” Sue snarled and turned Dana’s gun toward the ceiling. A second shot took out the overhead light and plunged them into darkness. The .38 was shoved against Dana’s temple and Sue’s muscled forearm came across her neck, pressing until her windpipe was closed. �
��Say a word and you’re dead.” Then she dragged Dana backward, deeper into the basement.
Dana’s heart quickened. The cavalry was here at last.
Chicago, Friday, August 6, 6:00 P.M.
Ethan waited until the car stopped. Barely. He was out of the passenger side and moving toward the back end of the line of squad cars that lined the street outside the abandoned apartment building.
Ethan stopped at the last squad car, breathing heavily. He looked at the building, watching as a dozen men and women in full battle gear surrounded the perimeter. He didn’t dare go closer. Clay was watching with a critical eye, nodding his approval. That meant a great deal, Ethan thought. Chicago PD knew what they were doing. They had the situation under control. Ethan started to get his pulse under control, too.
“They’ll get her out,” Ethan murmured.
“Of course they will,” Clay said.
“They have to get her out.” Ethan heard himself saying the same thing and wondered how many times he had. But Clay kept saying back what he needed to hear.
“You’ll get her back,” Clay said firmly. “She’s a strong woman. She’ll last.”
She’ll last. She would. Dana Dupinsky was not a woman to quail at a little danger. Hell, Ethan wished she’d quail a little more. She wasn’t a woman who would leave at the first sign of trouble. Until that moment, he hadn’t been aware that that was what he’d been waiting for. A woman who would last. One made just for him. She would. She was.
Clay tensed and Ethan jerked his attention back to the black-clad SWAT team. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t they going in?”
Clay moved his shoulders restlessly. “I don’t know.”
Then a shot was fired and Ethan’s heart simply stopped beating. It came from inside the building. Where Dana was. “Oh, God. Clay.” He grabbed Clay’s arm as the SWAT team moved, running down the steps into the building’s basement.
A second shot was fired. Inside the building. And they waited, he and Clay. Waited for action. For information. For anything. But they heard nothing at all.
Wight’s Landing, Friday, August 6, 7:00 P.M. Eastern (6:00 P.M. Central)