BATON ROUGE

by Carla Cassidy - Scene of the Crime 09 - BATON ROUGE

  His voice sounded vaguely familiar, but her brain refused to recognize it as darkness began to creep into her head, a darkness that finally pulled her under and she knew no more.

  She dreamed that she was a child and once again her father had locked her in the closet because she was a bad girl. She wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong to receive the punishment. He’d just looked at her and gotten angry.

  She never knew how long she’d be locked up and hated the weekends when it was possible she’d spend all of Saturday and Sunday inside the small, dark enclosure. Her sisters knocked on the door and called her names and laughed, deepening the pain of the isolation.

  No good, piece of dirt, a waste of space and oxygen, over and over again their voices called to her, telling her just how bad she was and how they wished she’d never been born.

  Then she was a grown-up and Alex was by her side. Alex. Someplace in the blackness of her drug-induced sleep, her heart cried out to him.

  Was he dead or alive? It was a nebulous question that floated around in her head, but she couldn’t hang onto the thought as other visions and nightmares returned to visit her.

  She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious when she began to wake up. She was on a thin mattress, but for several minutes she didn’t open her eyes; rather, she listened to the sounds around her.

  Whispers.

  Was she still a little girl? Were the whispers those of her sisters making fun of her again? No, that wasn’t right. She wasn’t a child anymore, and as she remembered encountering the masked man in Alex’s living room, she knew what had happened.

  Bob had gotten her into his lair.

  She opened her eyes and found herself on a lower bunk bed in a jail-like cell. She didn’t move, but rather allowed her gaze to take in all the details of her surroundings.

  There was a sink, a toilet and a shower nozzle and a curtain hanging down that could be pulled around the toilet and shower to provide some modicum of privacy.

  She closed her eyes once again, her heart pounding with fear and her head aching with the residual effects of whatever drug Bob had shot her with.

  Why would Alex open the door to a man wearing a ski mask? And what had happened to Alex? Had he merely been drugged and left behind, or had Bob killed him?

  No, Alex couldn’t be dead. She absolutely, positively refused to believe that. He had to live and he had to find her. But how could he? How could the task force find her when they had no leads, no clues to follow?

  Blue eyes. That’s all she remembered. Did Jax White have blue eyes? Did Roger? God help her, she couldn’t remember.

  “Georgina, are you awake?”

  It was Jackson’s soft, drawling voice. She turned on her side and opened her eyes once again, now able to see that Jackson and a pretty strawberry-blonde woman were in the next cell. And beyond their cell she could see the others.

  “I’m awake, but I have the headache from hell,” she replied.

  “It’s whatever drug he used. It will go away pretty quickly,” he replied. “You might have a bit of amnesia, as well. Some of us suffered from a lack of memories concerning our kidnapping for a couple of days. Must be a side effect of the drug.”

  Georgina nodded, although she didn’t think she had any amnesia.

  “You must be Marjorie,” Georgina said to the woman. “Alex told me all about you.”

  “So Alexander is working the case?” Jackson asked eagerly.

  Georgina pulled herself to a sitting position, careful not to hit her aching head on the top bunk. “There’s a task force working on finding you all.” She realized everyone in the room was listening to her. “Do you know who your captor is?”

  “No, so far he’s always worn a ski mask when he comes in here,” Jackson replied. “The task force...do they have any clues? Are they getting close to finding us?”

  Georgina heard the hope in Jackson’s voice and she didn’t have the heart to completely crush it. “We had several people of interest we were looking at. I’m sure it won’t be too long now before they narrow it down. The police department is also helping to check out old buildings where we hoped to find that you all were being held.”

  “And yet he managed to get you.” Sam Connelly’s voice came from the distance, although his “cell” was too far away for her to see him.

  “Georgina, I talked to you on the phone. Remember me? I’m Macy.” The childish voice sliced through Georgina’s heart.

  “I remember, honey,” she replied. “And it won’t be long now before we’re all out of here.”

  Jackson moved closer to the bars that separated them. With effort, Georgina got up from the bed and joined him. He reached his fingers through and she covered them with her own.

  “How close are they really to finding us?” he asked, his voice once again a low whisper.

  She hesitated and realized he wanted the truth, not some fairy tale to keep everyone filled with false hope. “Not close at all. The task force is working every angle and hopefully they’ll figure it all out.”

  “How did he get to you?”

  “I was staying with Alex. There was a knock on the door. Alex answered, and when he didn’t come back to the kitchen, I walked into the living room and encountered the perp.”

  “And he got you with a dart,” Jackson said flatly. “That’s how he got us all. So exactly what’s being done?”

  For the next few minutes she filled him in on the task force investigation, the connection they all had with Michelle Davison’s book and the fact that Roger had been at all of the crime scenes.

  “We know he grew up in the swamp and according to him he killed his mother and father. We believe he has some level of higher education and that he’s obsessed with becoming the perfect, unstoppable serial killer.”

  “I think it’s a good sign for us that he hasn’t shown us his identity,” Jackson said. “Once we see his face, once we all know what he looks like, there’s no way he’ll allow us to walk out of here free and clear. He carries a gun and eventually he’ll use it to kill us. To be honest, I think that time is growing near. Over the last couple of days he seems to have lost interest in whatever he thinks he can learn from us. He feeds us but then leaves, and there’s a new restlessness in him that feels dangerous.”

  Jackson moved away from the bars and placed an arm around Marjorie and they both sat in the bottom bunk as Georgina returned to her own bunk.

  Once again she lay down on her back and stared up at the bottom of the upper bunk. Was Alex alive? She could only assume that he’d been hit with a dart. Was he conscious? Were he and the team now hunting, frantic to find them before time ran out? Or had the dart that had pierced him held enough of the drug to be lethal?

  One thing was certain. Nobody was going to die until Bob got a chance to talk to her, to crow about the fact that he’d once again managed to kidnap an FBI agent and get her into this hellhole. He’d want to brag about taking her from right under the protection of Alex.

  She closed her eyes again, aware of the other couples talking quietly among themselves. A vision of Alex filled her head as she replayed the conversation they’d been having before being interrupted.

  She couldn’t think about it. She couldn’t deal with it right now. She just had to pray that Alex was still alive and the task force was tearing up every street and building in the entire city.

  He feeds us but then leaves. Jackson’s words reverberated around in her head, along with a horrifying thought. Bob wouldn’t have to use his gun or his darts to kill any of them. All he would have to do is stop coming, stop feeding them and they would all die a slow and painful death.

  * * *

  ALEX WOKE UP to the scent of grass and a headache that made his stomach roll with nausea. He remained immobile for several minutes, his brain too fogged to thi
nk.

  He finally turned over and realized he was outside of his house on the lawn, his front door wide open as if to invite in any nefarious creatures. Snakes could slither in, a wandering gator could go inside, or Bob could make an unexpected appearance.

  Bob!

  A rush of thoughts frantically worked through his mind as he struggled to get to his feet. Georgina! Her name scalded his brain as he forced his legs into action. Even as he flew through the front door, he knew she wasn’t here.

  Still, he raced through every room of the house, frantically calling her name, praying that she’d somehow managed to hide from danger. But he knew in his gut, he knew in his soul, she was gone.

  Bob had taken her from him, and now Alexander had no idea where she was or what was happening to her. Thick emotion made it nearly impossible for him to breathe as he raced back to the front door and stared out into the night.

  A glance at his watch let him know he had been unconscious for well over an hour. Bob could have taken Georgina anywhere in that length of time.

  A sob of despair rose up in his throat, but he swallowed hard against it. Now wasn’t the time. He needed to get the team together. They had to figure out where Bob was keeping his captives now more than ever, because now Alexander’s Georgina was among the victims.

  He had to shove his emotions aside. It was time to get to work, time to figure out what they had missed and find Georgina and all the others.

  It took him only minutes to make the calls that would bring the men back to the war room. As Alexander got into his car to head toward headquarters, he saw the file folder that Director Miller had given him, the folder that held Nicholas’s personal information.

  He took a moment with the car running to turn on the interior light and peruse the information contained in the file. As he read, a burning fire lit in the pit of his stomach.

  He slammed the file down into the passenger seat and roared out of his driveway. He schooled his mind to blankness, focusing only on getting to headquarters.

  He couldn’t think about Georgina or what she might be suffering at this very moment. If he did that, then he’d lose his mind and be no good to anyone and she needed him to be at the top of his game.

  The drive to the FBI building normally took about twenty minutes. Tonight Alexander made it in ten. He was the first one in the war room. Although his instincts all screamed for him to get outside, to rip down buildings and yell Georgina’s name, he knew that kind of frantic exercise would accomplish nothing.

  He made a pot of coffee and then sank down in a chair, trying to remember what exactly had happened before he’d hit the dirt in his yard.

  He and Georgina had been having a talk. She’d been crying and he’d held her. He’d been telling her how he’d never stopped loving her and then there had been a knock at the door.

  Frowning, he rubbed the center of his forehead. Who had been at the door? It couldn’t have been any of their persons of interest, for he would have greeted them with his gun in his hand.

  The dart had struck him in the back, meaning Bob had been behind him. So who had been on his doorstep? It had to have been somebody who caused him no alarm, but he couldn’t remember.

  He pressed the center of his forehead, trying to retrieve a vision of who had been on his doorstep when he’d peeked outside. Who had been Bob’s partner in crime?

  The clue to everything was locked in his brain, and the harder he tried to remember, the more nebulous the whole event at his front door seemed.

  Drugs. Maybe his missing memory was a residual effect of whatever drug Bob had used on the dart that had knocked him out cold. He looked up as Frank and Matt flew into the room.

  “I need one of you to find out where Roger Cambridge has been this evening and I want the other to check on Michelle and Jax.” Was it possible he’d looked outside and seen Michelle on the front porch and Jax had been lying in wait for him?

  “Done,” they both said in unison.

  Before they could leave the room, Nicholas walked in, and before he could say a word, Alexander rushed toward him and grabbed him by the front of the shirt.

  “Where have you been tonight, swamp rat?” Alexander snarled. “Why didn’t you mention that you grew up in Sampson’s Swamp? Why have you never been around when Bob calls Georgina?”

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Matt asked as he tried to get between the two men, but Alexander wasn’t letting go of Nicholas until he got some answers. “Where is she, Nicholas? Where is Georgina?”

  “Do you really think I have anything to do with this?” Nicholas looked at Alexander in stunned surprise. “I’ve been busting my ass to solve this case and the reason I didn’t mention my swamp background was because it was nothing to brag about.”

  Nicholas’s cheeks fired a dusty red. “Let go of me. It’s not a damn crime to be ashamed of where you came from. I’m not the enemy here. I’m here to help you get her back from whoever has her.”

  Alexander saw the truth in Nicholas’s eyes and he released the man’s shirt and backed away. “I read your file and saw that you were from the swamp and my head started whirling with all kinds of possibilities,” he said.

  Nicholas straightened his shirt and continued to look at Alexander. “I’ll admit I haven’t exactly been a team player, but I swear I have nothing to do with these crimes and I had nothing to do with Georgina being taken. What we need to do is figure out how to find her and the rest of them now.”

  Alexander stared at Nicholas hollowly. “I don’t know what we need to do in order to achieve that. I’m lost.”

  “We aren’t,” Matt said and jostled Frank’s shoulder. “We’re going to check out where Roger, Michelle and Jax are right now and where they have been for the last couple of hours. We’ll get back to you as soon as we have some answers.” With that the two men left the room, passing Tim and Terry as they entered.

  Alexander slumped down into a chair once again and buried his face in his hands. He was vaguely aware of Tim firing up his computer as Terry and Nicholas sat on either side of him.

  “Tell us exactly what happened,” Nicholas said. “How did he get to her?”

  The question created a sharp pain that sliced through Alexander. “He got to her by going through me.” He raced a hand through his hair in frustration. “Somebody knocked on the door. I looked out and opened the door without my weapon drawn, but I can’t remember who was on the front stoop. I stepped out and Bob blew a dart into my back.”

  “So we know Bob is working with an accomplice,” Nicholas said. “Was it possible you’d open your door and feel no danger if you saw Michelle Davison standing there?”

  “I don’t know...maybe.” Alexander looked at the men on either side of him and then stared at the bulletin board where Georgina’s picture would soon be added.

  Dammit, he felt as if the key was in his head. If he could only remember who had knocked on his door, he would know who was responsible for not just the seven victims’ disappearances, but Georgina’s as well.

  “All I know for sure is that the end is coming fast,” he continued. “He wanted Georgina and now he has her. She completes what he wanted and it won’t be long before he’ll be finished with all of them.”

  He hoped the overwhelming hopelessness he felt didn’t show on his face, didn’t radiate from his eyes. He had to think positive. They would find Bob before he could hurt any of his victims, before he could hurt Georgina.

  He just needed to think and remember. Otherwise he had a feeling there would be no rescue, there would be no more Georgina.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Good morning, my dear friends. And a special good morning to my newest guest, sweet Georgina.”

  Bob’s voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard, interrupting the happy dream she’d been having about Alex. She sat
up and heard the sound of the others awakening.

  Morning? Where had the night gone? The last thing she remembered was staring up at the underside of the top bunk. She’d obviously fallen asleep and the night had passed, without rescue, without hope.

  She stood and moved to the front of her cell as a masked Bob pushed a tray containing a breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee through an opening at the bottom of the bars.

  He straightened and his blue eyes gleamed with glee. “I’m so happy to have you here, Georgina. We have so much to talk about and it’s much nicer talking in person rather than over the phone.”

  “I can’t imagine anything we have to discuss,” she replied. She grabbed the tray and took it to her bunk where she sat down with her back to him.

  He laughed, obviously amused by her little show of defiance. “Unfortunately, I have a busy day today and don’t have time to visit with you this morning, but I’ll be back later and we’re going to have a nice chat together.”

  He delivered trays to each of the others, and then came back to stand in front of Georgina’s cell. “I’ve wanted you here since the moment I first saw you and I always get what I want. You will talk to me later, otherwise I’ll start killing the others one by one, and I’ll start with the smallest.”

  He’d kept his voice soft, little more than a whisper, but his words shot chills up Georgina’s spine until he finally left the big room.

  “Bastard,” Jackson hissed.

  Georgina turned on her bed, careful not to upend her tray, and looked at him. Jackson had always been an incredibly handsome man, but at the moment he looked haggard, with deep stress lines cutting across his forehead and down the sides of his mouth.

  “They’ll find us,” she said, recognizing that she was trying to reassure herself as much as him. “Alex and his team won’t stop until they find us.”

  “Yeah, but will we all be dead by then?” Jackson asked softly. “I got the feeling from talking to you last night that the task force didn’t have many clues.”