Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series)

by Kristine Mason

  “And leave her memories behind?”

  He quickly rolled her beneath him. “Sophia is here,” he said, and touched between her breasts. “And here.” He kissed her forehead. “If you’re talking about the things in our house, that’s all they are. Things.” When more tears trickled from her eyes and into her hair and the pillow, he tensed and fought to keep his emotions in check, to be strong for her. “I miss her. I want her back in our lives, but I have no control over that. Do you have any idea how powerless I’ve felt? I couldn’t be the man you needed. I wasn’t the father Sophia deserved. I—I didn’t protect my family the way I should have. If I had, then—”

  She grasped his shoulders. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. If you think that I hold you responsible, think again. We both agreed to use the daycare. We both made sure the place was secure and that the employees had background checks. We did everything we were supposed to, to make sure she was safe.”

  Had they? Jessica had been determined to continue with her career. If she had stayed home with Sophia, their daughter wouldn’t have been taken by the daycare employee who, as it had turned out, had a history of mental illness, and would be with them now. He would never tell Jessica that there had been times—when the grief had been unbearable—that he’d blamed her. Those were moments where he’d been searching for answers and needing to hold someone responsible. Jessica had been a great mother and had loved their daughter unconditionally. Playing the blame game would never bring Sophia back and would only drive Jessica further away from him. And now that he had her close to him, beneath him, her heart beating against his, he wanted to let go of the past and work at moving forward.

  She gave his shoulders a shake. “And you’re the only man I’ve ever needed. I was the one who walked out on you.” She drew in a ragged breath. “I’ve been living with that regret from the moment I left. If anyone should be worrying about where we’re heading, it’s me. After everything I’ve said and done, I don’t know how you could still love me.”

  “I’ve loved you for so long, I don’t know how to stop.” He kissed her tear-soaked cheek. “I don’t want to ever stop.”

  She slid her hands from his shoulders and hugged him around his back. “Good,” she whispered against his ear. “Because I’m counting on it.”

  “Always.” He captured her lips. Now that he finally had his wife back in his arms, he never wanted to let her go.

  *

  “Wow.” Jessica rolled off of Dante and tried to catch her breath. “I’m not going to be able to walk.”

  Dante chuckled and rolled to his side. “Then maybe I should keep you in bed for the rest of the day.”

  She could easily be tempted to stay another night at the hotel, but they both had to work Monday morning. Being with Dante again, making love to him throughout the night and then just now, she didn’t want it to end.

  Doesn’t have to.

  No, it doesn’t. They’d hashed out a lot of their relationship issues last night after they’d made love, then had continued to talk about it over the steaks Dante had ordered from the hotel restaurant. She had no insecurities where Dante was concerned, but she still worried the self-destructive path she’d been traveling since their daughter was abducted six years ago might sabotage their future. Even just considering moving from the safety of her apartment had anxiety crashing into her. She hated the apartment, but the place had become her refuge, her sanctuary, the one corner of the world where she could hide from Dante and everyone else, and do what she’d been fated to do—find her daughter.

  If she moved back in with Dante, either to their home or a new one, would he harp on her again once he discovered the extent of her search? He had no idea the amount of hours a day she spent combing not only Rachel’s program, but also other databases. One of the reasons she’d left him in the first place had been because he’d hated the amount of time she’d devoted to her obsession. She loved him and wanted to be with him, but she would not stop looking for their child and hoped that her search wouldn’t become a continuous argument between them.

  Not wanting to think about how she could, once again, possibly destroy their marriage, she rolled toward him and gave his lips a lingering kiss. “Lying in bed all day sounds heavenly, but what excuses would we give our bosses tomorrow?”

  He grinned. “I suppose the truth wouldn’t be good.”

  “Right. I doubt Ian would be pleased that you blew off work to have sex with your wife.”

  “My wife,” he repeated, sifting a hand through her hair. “I’ve missed my wife.”

  “I’ve missed my husband.” God, how she’d missed him. More than his touch, more than making love, she’d missed her best friend, her partner, the one person who understood her—sometimes better than she understood herself.

  “What do you say we shower and head on out?” he asked. “If we leave within the hour, we can be back in Chicago by one and find another bed.”

  “Just a random bed?”

  He chuckled. “I was thinking ours. If you’d prefer another hotel, I’ll make the arrangements.”

  “I love you,” she said, touching his cheek. After everything she’d put them through, she sometimes didn’t think she deserved him. He’d listened to her worries about staying at their house and had taken her anxieties into consideration. But she would need to eventually go home. Even if they ended up selling the place she’d have to be there to help with the move. Either way, she needed to face her fears and memories. “Thank you, but I think I can manage our bed.”

  He gave her another kiss. “I’d suggest a shower together, but hypothermia isn’t on my agenda this morning.”

  Remembering how they’d attempted shower sex, only to lose hot water at the most climatic point, she laughed and rolled onto her back. “No kidding. You go first. Just don’t use up all the hot water.”

  The mattress moved as he climbed out of the bed. “Give me five.”

  When the shower started, she snuggled into the comforter and closed her eyes, only to open them when Dante’s cell phone rang. She reached across the bed and grabbed the phone off the nightstand and checked the caller ID: Phil Walters.

  “Good morning, Phil,” she answered, figuring Dante wouldn’t care. With the way the detective kept trying to feed them, he was probably calling to invite them over for Sunday breakfast before they left.

  “Morning, Jessica,” he replied, his tone anxious.

  She sat up and crossed her legs. “Is everything okay?”

  “No.”

  “Elton?”

  “He’s fine, eating pancakes with Maddy. I’m calling about something else. I don’t know if it’s related to Elton or not, but I thought you two might want to check it out on your way to Chicago.”

  “I guess that depends. What is it?”

  “A dead woman.”

  She stilled. “And how might she be related to Elton?”

  “Someone cut her baby from her stomach.”

  Her skin crawled with revulsion, and she looked toward the bathroom door just as Dante walked out with a towel around his waist. “Hang on, let me put you on speaker so Dante can hear.” She motioned for Dante to sit on the bed. “Okay, Phil, we’re ready.”

  “Hey, Dante,” the detective began, “I was just telling Jessica I might have something related to the investigation. There’s a little town called Montour, it’s about four or so hours from here, that got hit by yesterday’s storm. An EF-2 touched down and did some damage to a couple of houses and barns, but since it’s mostly farmland out there, the damage was minimal. Last night, after the storm had passed through, a farmer went and checked on his neighbor to make sure she was okay. The woman was pregnant—due any day—and since her husband had left her, she’d been living alone. The farmer found her on her kitchen floor, dead. Someone had cut the baby from her—a boy—and left him on her chest.”

  Dante met her gaze. “And the baby?”

  “He had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.”

/>   “You said the husband left her. Anyone find him?” she asked.

  “The local sheriff had him in their jail cell. He’d been picked up on a DUI the night before and, with it being the weekend, wasn’t meeting with the judge until Monday morning.”

  “There’s an airtight alibi. But how do you think this could be related to Elton?” she asked. “The kidnappers we’re looking for abduct babies ranging from four to six months old.”

  “I know, and when I first learned about the murder from a buddy who works for the Marshalltown PD, I didn’t make a connection, until I heard a few interesting details. Look, maybe I’m overthinking this, but the dead woman…she’s a dog breeder. Black Labs.”

  She ran her hand along the base of her neck to ward off the unease. Elton had mention black puppies yesterday.

  “Remember how Elton was talking about being at the park with his mom and wanting the little black puppy?” Phil asked.

  “Yeah,” Dante said. “He’d mentioned seeing it on the computer, too. I’m still not seeing a real connection, though.”

  “Because I was curious, I pulled up several pictures of black dogs on my computer and showed them to Elton. He pointed right at the Lab pups. There’s also one more thing that I thought was interesting. Yesterday afternoon, about an hour or so before the storm started, another farmer was brush hogging the field opposite the woman’s property. He was far back on his land, but saw a pickup truck pulling out of her driveway. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought it was dark grey or maybe even taupe.”

  “And Elton’s daddy drove a grey pickup truck,” she said and, keeping her eyes on Dante’s, shrugged. “I’m intrigued. Dante?”

  “Definitely. This buddy of yours—”

  “Mark Tanner. He’s also a detective. We served in the Marines together. He’s a good cop, but like me, he doesn’t get too many murder cases. He’s got Iowa DCI helping him.”

  “They’ve already worked the crime scene?” she asked, hopeful. She’d love to have DCI’s forensics investigators be able to give them their thoughts.

  “Since it was late when the body was found, they cordoned off the house and waited until dawn to begin working. They’re at it as we speak.”

  “Will anyone have a problem letting us look at the crime scene?” Dante asked. “I don’t believe anyone from CORE has worked with Iowa’s DCI.”

  “I know Mark doesn’t. When I told him about our investigation, he said he’d make sure you two would be able to go through the house.”

  “Let’s worry about that when we get there,” Jessica said. “If we have a four hour drive, we better get moving.” She scooted off the bed and headed into the bathroom. After taking a record fast shower, she quickly dressed in the clothes she’d worn yesterday and decided to let her hair air dry.

  By the time she was ready, Dante was, as well, and had their things packed in his car. “Are you prepared for this detour?” he asked, pulling out of the Super 8 parking lot. “This is going to be a messy crime scene.”

  “I know.” She shuddered. “I’m also not sure if it’s related to our investigation or not. The kidnappers haven’t—as far as we know—hurt anyone. The boys were all been returned healthy. When the infants were abducted, the parents or babysitters who were the last ones to see the babies didn’t even encounter the kidnappers. For them to completely change their MO—either they’ve escalated, or they had nothing to do with this.”

  “Escalated,” he echoed. “That’s a scary thought. And, if that’s the case, why? I mean, we haven’t been able to figure out why they’re taking babies, returning them two years later, only to do it all over again.”

  People love babies.

  “Do you remember what Phil’s wife said yesterday before we left?”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed his beard stubbled jaw. “People love babies.”

  “Is it possible that the kidnappers don’t just want a baby, but a newborn?”

  When he glanced at her, she caught the disgust in his eyes. “Enough to kill a pregnant woman for her unborn child? That’s sick and, if that’s the case, I’m worried they’re going to do it again.”

  “They didn’t get their baby,” she said, dread settling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Right. And now that they know they can do it—”

  “They could already be hunting their next victim.”

  THE SECOND TRIMESTER

  Hush-a-by baby

  On the tree top,

  When the wind blows

  The cradle will rock.

  When the bough breaks,

  The cradle will fall,

  And down will fall baby

  Cradle and all.

  —Mother Goose

  Chapter 10

  “PLEASE, JUST GIVE me a few more days,” Chloe Young begged the man who had been her pimp for the past three years.

  “Gemini, I warned you this would happen.”

  God, she hated the stupid street name he’d given her. Gemini wasn’t even her sign, but Cancer hadn’t exactly screamed sexy. “I’ll come up with the money.”

  “How?” Roman, the fifty-something, balding, fat, disgusting pig looked at her rounded stomach, which peeked out from beneath the skintight tank top she wore. “Unless you start finding guys with a fetish, no man is going to want to pay to fuck a pregnant whore. Shit, even I wouldn’t fuck you right now and you’re probably one of the best pieces of ass I’ve had.”

  “But I don’t have anywhere to go,” she whined, wishing the baby inside her didn’t exist. If only she’d known in time to have an abortion, she wouldn’t have to beg the pig for the shitty roof over her head. She’d have cash in her pocket, enough for her heroin and to keep her in Roman’s bungalow. Food was nice, too. But her need for a fix outweighed her hunger. She needed the high, the euphoria, the rainbows and sunshine to brighten the blackness that surrounded her.

  “Go to one of those women’s shelters, or run back to Ohio. I don’t give a shit. All I know is if you ain’t pulling your weight, you ain’t living here. I’m not running a fucking charity.”

  No. He was running a prostitution ring. He kept her and three other girls just like her in his house, used them, abused them and fed them drugs. At night, he would have them go into his van and then he’d drive to different locations throughout the Chicago area and sell them. She should be glad he was kicking her out of his house. There would be no more beatings, he could no longer force himself on her, or let his friends, or whoever he might owe money to, screw her. But Roman had what she needed. Heroin, and lots of it.

  “I can’t go back home. Please. If you won’t let me stay, at least give me some H, just to keep me going until I can get some more.”

  He snorted like the pig he was and shook his bald head. “Why would I waste my stuff on you? That’s for the bitches that men will actually want.”

  Desperation clawed at her stomach and had the baby inside her squirming. She ignored the movement and sank to her knees. “Please.” She stared at the way his belly hung over the waistband of his jeans. “I’ll suck you off. For old times’ sake.” She looked up at him and gave him the practiced, seductive smile she knew lured most men to her, then ran her hand along his crotch. “Maybe you can even drive me to the Blue Line,” she suggested, hoping she wasn’t pushing her luck. She had enough money on her to take the L downtown and even buy her a dollar burger from McDonald’s. She could afford the bus, but that would leave her with about twenty-eight dollars. Even though she could probably find a drug dealer on her own and buy twenty dollars’ worth of H to help her through the rest of the day and most of tomorrow, she’d be screwed after that. Eight dollars wouldn’t buy her shit—maybe a pack of smokes and a Mountain Dew.

  Roman pulled in a breath and lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing his hairy, doughy stomach. “Yeah, for old times’ sake I’ll let you suck my dick and give you a ride,” he said, unbuckling his belt. “If you do a good job, I’ll even give you a quick fix.”

  Knowing she�
�d have heroin and a ride made taking him into her mouth a little easier. But once she boarded the L, she’d be on her own. Again. As she serviced Roman, she racked her brain and tried to think of who she could turn to next. Her ex-boyfriend, Jason, was not an option. The dickhead had been the one to talk her into running away with him to Chicago, and then had kicked her out on her ass a few months later after meeting some blonde slut. Since she hadn’t turned sixteen yet, she’d had no job. Without a job, she had no money. Carrying only a backpack filled with a couple of pairs of jeans and t-shirts, she’d wandered the streets for a couple of days, scared, alone, vulnerable.

  Looking back, she should have swallowed her pride and called her parents. Stubbornness had prevented her. At the time, she’d thought she was in love with Jason. Her parents hadn’t approved of their fifteen-year-old daughter dating a twenty-year-old man, though. They’d threatened her and him. Had told Jason they’d go to the police and file charges of statutory rape against him. Jason, in turn, suggested they leave Worthington, Ohio, and make a life in Chicago. Instead of being sensible, instead of considering her future—finishing high school, attending college—she’d allowed herself to be seduced by Jason, by the ridiculousness of love, and the freedom he’d offered.

  She’d given up so much for an idiot man. Her body, her soul, her future. When she’d met Roman that second night after Jason had kicked her out of the small apartment he’d shared with two other guys, she’d been prepared to run in the other direction. Until he’d offered her one hundred dollars for a blow job. She’d almost thrown up in her mouth and had turned him down. With the young girls he’d had hanging around him, she’d suspected what he was about, and had wanted no part in whoring herself. Until Jason, she’d been a virgin. The thought of letting strange men touch her for money had made her sick inside.

  Roman hadn’t pushed her and hadn’t acted offended, but he had kept approaching her. Every night he sought her out, tried to lure her with food, a bed and money. He’d promised she would be safe with him, and had even introduced her to his girls. After six nights of living on the streets, cold, hungry and desperate, she’d swallowed her pride—and Roman’s dick.