Already Gone (A Laura Frost FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1)

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Already Gone (A Laura Frost FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1) Page 20

by Blake Pierce

Why would Ed Bronston target someone using the name of her father, when he wasn’t even around to be threatened? Because that was what this was, wasn’t it? Telling her that he knew the names of her family—that was a threat. Something to scare her. And she wasn’t particularly scared by someone implying that her dead father might somehow end up more dead.

  But then, if it wasn’t her father, who was Ed targeting? Whose name would he use?

  And, as if a strike of lightning, it hit her. Of course. It had to be. She had no idea why she hadn’t thought of it before.

  She knew what Thomas’s last name was, and with that, she would be able to find him. She just hoped she hadn’t made the connection too late.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  Laura pulled over on the side of the road, not caring about whether she was making a legal move or not at that time. She could always use the excuse of being right in the middle of a case, trying to save someone’s life. That was the benefit of being an FBI agent. She flicked on her hazard lights and grabbed her phone out of the center console, immediately opening her browser.

  She accessed the online phone book quickly, inputting the search details that she knew would find him. Thomas Lacey. Of course—the one person left whom she would care about a threat to. Her own daughter.

  The results loaded too slowly, making her bite clean through the top of her fingernail in frustration. When they finally did, her initial surge of adrenaline tapered down quickly.

  There were two.

  Two Thomas Laceys.

  Right now, she had no idea what their connection was. Whether they were related, perhaps, two men in the same family given a traditional family name. Whether they were the same person, updated to a new address but not removed from the old one. It didn’t matter. What did matter was that there were two possible locations she could need to go to, and no way she could be in two places at once. They were on opposite sides of the city.

  Because, of course they were.

  Laura copied and pasted the telephone number attached to the first one, then called it. She knew that the real Thomas Lacey, the one she wanted, wouldn’t answer. He was still on his way home. He would only just be getting in when the phone rang to tell him that Ed Bronston was outside, and then it would be too late. But the second man listed might answer, and then she would know—she could go to the other…

  “Come on, come on,” Laura muttered under her breath, listening to the line ring and ring. She saw a flash behind her eyes of Lacey’s face, the way she had looked the last time they were together. Ed knew her daughter’s name. She closed her eyes briefly, swallowing down nausea. It didn’t matter. Lacey wasn’t in danger.

  She was going to track Ed down and stop him, and she was going to do it tonight, before he ever got the chance to put his hands on her daughter.

  Laura swore under her breath as she ended the call, realizing it was going nowhere. No one was picking up. She navigated back to the record and chose the other number, calling it with a rising sense of desperation. Pick up, she silently begged. Pick up. Tell me I can go to the other one.

  A car screeched by her, honking its horn to show the driver’s displeasure at her choice of parking spot. Laura shook her head wordlessly. No one was answering.

  She ended the call, feeling doubt like a ball of acid in her throat. She wasn’t going to be able to cover both of them.

  If she chose the wrong one, the man was going to die.

  She had nothing else to go on. No glimpse of an address on the envelope. No idea what the outside of the property looked like. She didn’t even know if it was an apartment or a house.

  She couldn’t cover both of them alone.

  Laura made a snap decision, inputting the first address into her GPS and swinging the car back out into traffic. There was another angry blow of a horn, but she ignored it and started to drive. While the GPS routed her, she dialed another number, letting it connect through the car’s Bluetooth.

  “Laura? Where are you?” Nate asked, not bothering with a hello as the call connected. “I thought you were just stepping out for some air, but the car’s gone!”

  “I found him,” she said, her voice too loud and sharp, the moment too urgent to moderate it. “I know who the victim is. But there’s two people with the same name. I can’t cover them both, Nate. I need you to go.”

  “What?” Nate’s voice was a shout, but he hushed himself before he spoke again. Laura heard movement in the background, like he was walking out of the bullpen and into privacy. “How did you find her? Where have you been?”

  “Him. It’s a male. Thomas Lacey.”

  “Lacey…?” She heard his intake of breath. “You’re sure? You were convinced it would be Alex, and—”

  “It’s Lacey,” Laura asserted, cutting him off. “Please, Nate. I’ll send you the address. Go and get a car right now. We don’t have any time for this. Just trust me.”

  “I…” Nate hesitated, and for an awful moment she thought that he would refuse. That he would say she was out of her mind, and she had no proof. That she was going to have to somehow do this alone. “All right. Send it to me. I’ll see if I can take a deputy’s car.”

  “Thank you,” Laura replied, ending the call quickly as she fumbled for her phone. It was dangerous, but she had no choice. There was a red light just ahead, and she pulled up to it quickly enough to still have the time to send the address as a message to Nate before she could drive forward again.

  She felt a sick spike of fear hitting her stomach. Nate. Was she sending him to his death? Was this how he died? Killed by a random choice of which address to go to?

  She fought for breath as the lights changed, swallowing down bile and putting her foot on the accelerator. No. She couldn’t think of it. She couldn’t let the fear rule her. If she found out that her address was wrong, all she had to do was go in the other direction as fast as possible. She might get there in time to save him. She wouldn’t let Nate die tonight.

  She set her hands firmly on the steering wheel, looking ahead with determination. She was feeling good now. Clearer. Even the headache was starting to feel like it was ebbing away. She was…

  She was on the wrong track.

  The realization washed over her like spilled ink over a white page. The headache was ebbing away because the chance of a vision was. She was moving in the wrong direction.

  Laura pulled over sharply to input the other address, her hands shaking as she typed it in. She had to turn around, get back over to the other side of the city. To the same address that she’d sent Nate to.

  She just hoped that she’d realized in enough time.

  ***

  Tommy pulled up in his parking spot, turning off the engine and resting for a moment. It was late; another shift that went on past his normal start time. There were getting to be too many of these lately.

  He got out of the car, slamming the door shut as he walked past the side of the building and around toward the front door. He passed his mailbox on the way, opening it up and grabbing whatever the mailman had left inside for him. He leafed through it with minimal attention as he moved to unlock the door, realizing quickly that he could toss it all aside. Mostly just bills that he couldn’t pay. What was the point in opening them?

  He tossed his keys on top of the pile of mail that was growing on the table by the door, shrugged off his jacket and hung it up, and left his shoes on the rack. A good cold beer, that was what he needed right now. Something to take away the stress of the day. He headed for the refrigerator, opening it and barely even glancing inside before he took out the one thing he wanted. Food could come later, when he had gained back enough energy to cook.

  The landline phone rang as he was about to go and sit down in front of the television. Huh, that’s odd, he thought, before reaching to pick up the receiver.

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  Laura brought the car screaming to a stop outside the address, looking up as she did so for any sign that she was in the right place. Her he
ad was back to pounding again, and she felt like she was on the verge of triggering another vision. That had to mean she was in the right place.

  As she leapt out of the car and ran for the door, she caught a glimpse through a window set into it. A hallway. A table set in the hall. A pile of mail on top of it, crowned with a set of keys.

  This was the place.

  She was here, and the victim was already home.

  There was no time to call for backup, no time to hope that Nate was on the way. She had to go in, and she had to do it now. She didn’t even have time to be afraid for herself as she charged for the door, landing a kick squarely underneath the lock, waiting for it to splinter. It took one more try, and she barreled forward with her shoulder braced to hit the frame, relying on the damage that she had already done to yield to her momentum. The old, poorly maintained, and half-rotted door exploded into splinters as she staggered into the house, taking a course straight through to the living room, following in the footsteps of Thomas Lacey as she had seen them in her vision.

  And there he was.

  Thomas Lacey, his head tilted back against the chair as he kicked and fought for purchase on his neck, the blue striped tie firmly around it, his face reddening with the pressure. Above the neck, with his gloved hands grasping the tie from the other side, was a tall, lanky man wearing a dark mask over his face.

  But not dark enough.

  The moment she saw his eyes, Laura knew it was him: Ed Bronston. She’d been right. But that was no consolation now.

  For a moment they simply stared at one another, both of them in shock. Laura, because she had finally tracked him down, and now she was almost too late, but there he was, and he was just looking at her. He, probably because he had never believed he would be interrupted in the middle of carrying out another kill.

  “How—?”

  Laura didn’t need to let him finish the sentence, didn’t need to answer. She hadn’t been able to draw her weapon before, while she was hurling herself into the door, but she could now. She reached for the gun in her holster and pulled it out quick, holding it right to the level of Ed’s head and freezing still again.

  In the time that it had taken her to pull a gun, Ed had gone for his own backup plan. He had pulled a knife from his belt and was now holding it against Thomas Lacey’s throat.

  He said nothing, but the intention was clear. Lacey had stopped struggling, his body going limp. His eyes were closed, and the motion of going for the knife had loosened Ed’s grip on the tie. Most people didn’t die immediately after they fell unconscious from strangulation. It was a survival method. Playing dead, quite literally. The body went into shutdown mode to preserve what little oxygen it had left; leave the airways clear, and they could come to. Laura had heard of it happening before. Serial killers getting caught out because their “dead” victim woke up and escaped.

  Thomas Lacey still had a chance. Just not if Ed Bronston cut his throat for him before he could wake.

  Laura’s hand tightened on the trigger. She had a good line of sight. She was staring Bronston right in the eye, and he her. There was nothing between her and his head. One shot—that was all it would take. If she could land the bullet quicker than he could move the knife, it would all be over.

  She had to take the chance.

  She moved her finger, preparing to squeeze—

  The pain came out of nowhere, almost knocking her sideways, so instantaneous she had no time to prepare—

  Laura pulled the trigger, and the bullet flew from the gun toward its target. Like in slow motion, she watched it happen. It moved through the air like it was water, slow, leaving ripples of movement behind. As it moved closer to Ed, he moved, too. He pulled his hand forward and across. It wasn’t a precise move, but it was vicious. Even as the bullet struck home in his forehead, the knife slid away from Thomas Lacey’s flesh, leaving a fountain of blood pouring out in its wake. Red splashed down Lacey’s chest, soaking the upholstery of the chair, spilling down onto the floor…

  Laura drew in a breath, her eyes wide open. Her head felt like it was splitting open. It took everything she had not to drop the gun and clutch her head. She couldn’t shoot. That much was clear to her now.

  So then what?

  “You’ve got me, Agent Frost,” Ed Bronston said. His voice was a dry croak, like he hadn’t had a drop of water in the whole time since she’d seen him last. It was sepulchral, eerie, like he wasn’t of this earth any longer. “But I’ve got him. What are you going to do?”

  Laura clenched her jaw for a moment, trying to think. She couldn’t shoot.

  “Drop the knife,” she said. It was worth a try.

  “You drop the gun,” he replied.

  As she had expected.

  The easy route wasn’t going to be an option here.

  She couldn’t shoot. She couldn’t just stand here without breaking the status quo; Thomas Lacey needed medical attention.

  There was only one thing she could do.

  Laura slowly lowered her gun until it was pointing at the floor.

  “What are you doing?” Bronston asked, a moment of panic in his voice. It was almost funny. The fact that he wasn’t about to get shot was worrying him.

  “Ed, you don’t need to keep the mask on. I know who you are.” Laura’s tone was weary. She wanted to try to capture some kind of rapport with him, build it up like they had a special relationship. He clearly thought they did.

  There was a moment of silence. Then, keeping the knife where it was, Ed reached up and pulled the mask off his face in one smooth movement. His skin was red, imprinted with patterns from the inside of the mask all the way from his high forehead to his square chin. His dark eyes didn’t move from her.

  “So, you figured it out.”

  “I knew it was you as soon as I saw you’d been released.” Laura gave him a wry, lopsided smile. “Listen, Ed, it’s over, you know? I’m not the only one who figured it out. Even if you get away from here, the FBI is going to be after you. It’s time to stop.”

  “I don’t think so,” Ed said, a sneer breaking across his face. “Not when I have you right where I want you.”

  Laura felt a bead of sweat drip down her spine, even as she tried to stay outwardly calm. It was one thing to know that he was targeting her. But hearing him admit it made it all the more real.

  There was a gasp; Ed and Laura both looked down to see Thomas Lacey’s eyes flying open. He was breathing, taking ragged and rapid inhales through a rough throat.

  “Don’t move,” Ed snapped immediately, pressing the blade against Thomas’s throat until the man stiffened and stopped moving. He continued to gasp for breath, his wide eyes fixed right on Ed.

  “Let him go,” Laura said. “You’ll still get what you want. We’ll make a deal.”

  Ed’s narrowed eyes shot back toward her. “What deal?”

  “If you cut his throat, I’ll shoot to kill. You’ve been watching me. You know I’m a good shot.” Laura paused, letting that sink in. “If you let him go, I’ll put the gun down. It’ll just be you and me. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Revenge? This isn’t about him at all.”

  “Pl-please,” Thomas wheezed, his voice barely understandable, but Ed hissed and pressed the knife against his throat hard enough that a drop of scarlet ran from the tip of the blade.

  “I’m not stupid,” Ed snapped. “If I let him go, you’ll shoot me anyway. You put the gun down first.”

  Laura opened her mouth to tell him that she couldn’t, that it wasn’t smart, but a stab of pain ricocheted through her head and—

  Ed’s face changed before she had a chance to react. He sliced through Thomas’s throat and ducked at the same time, and when Laura fired, she missed. He sprang up again before she had a chance to recover from the recoil, whirling around, pointing it at him—but it was too late—he was close enough to knock her hand upward and bury the shot in the ceiling—the knife was at her chest—

  Laura blinked, sweat running freely d
own her back now and beading on her forehead. The visions were coming so fast she barely had time to prepare. If she didn’t get this right, she was going to die anyway. She and Thomas both.

  “All right,” she said, cautiously, moving slow. She didn’t want to startle Ed, and she didn’t want to miss the warning of another vision. But as she slowly crouched to the floor and let go of her gun, nothing happened.

  When she stood again, her hands raised by her sides to show that she wasn’t holding anything else, Ed’s grip on Thomas loosened. He moved the knife away slowly, leaving Thomas free, whimpering in his chair.

  “Now kick the gun over to me,” Ed said.

  Laura didn’t need a vision to tell her that Ed was still close enough to stab Thomas if she didn’t comply. She drew back her foot, making eye contact with the young man. “Run,” she told him, as she gently scooted the gun across the ground toward Ed.

  He planted one boot on top of it, watching with the knife outstretched as Thomas struggled to his feet and then darted past Laura, down the hall. Though he was still fighting to get enough breath, it must have been adrenaline powering him. He was gone in a moment, leaving them alone together.

  “Well, well,” Ed said, grinning. He leaned down to pick up the gun with his spare hand. “Isn’t this—”

  Laura didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. The second his eyes were off her, she sprang, leaping toward him with her arms outstretched. She tackled him to the floor, rolling with the momentum and ending up under him, then on top again. Ed grunted with the impact, then growled low in his throat, his gritted teeth bared as he tried to throw Laura off him to the side.

  She kept hold of his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his waist, using his momentum to keep the roll going. They both hit the side of a coffee table, crying out with the impact, and rolled back. Laura’s back connected with the floor and stayed there.

  Laura had to get the upper hand to survive this. She reached lower down his arm to try to restrict him, pulling her legs under her to try and flip him over so that she could keep him down, but his other hand whipped around, the knife still in his grasp. She felt it slash over her left arm, slashing through both her jacket and shirt and then the skin, and drew back her right arm to punch him in the face. He took the blow full on the nose, forcing a sound of pain and surprise out of him as the impact pushed him back.

 

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