"Look, moron," she said, driving a finger toward him. "Stay out of my business!" She stomped off the elevator and down the hall to the left.
He had no idea what he had just stepped in, but clearly there was something going on with his neighbor and her daughter. Probably an ugly custody battle. That would explain what the little girl had said to him earlier. She knew her mother was giving her up, and she wanted him to let her know that she forgave her. Jake had clearly messed up the chances of that happening. There was no way that fiery redhead was going to let him get anywhere near her now.
The door slammed, but it sounded a mile away. Jake had already given up worrying about his neighbor’s plight and was in a full run down the hallway to his own apartment.
"Jenna!" he screamed as he entered. "Jenna!" He ran through the living room and brushed past the recliner. The door to the bathroom was open, he could see that it was empty. The bedroom was also empty—and some of Jenna's drawers had been left open. He cursed and flew back down the hallway. At the threshold of the living room, Jake came to an abrupt stop. In its center stood Aiyana, quietly gripping her sketch pad.
"She's not here," she said with a mouse of a voice.
"Can we catch her? Did she just leave?"
"We are in the car together. At the lights."
"Where?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry." The corners of her mouth squeezed down, and her chin tightened.
"No, don't cry. It's okay. We'll catch her." He snatched her up in his arms and started for the door. "You said you’re in the car with her?"
"Yes."
He pushed through the door without closing it behind him. "You can be with her and me at the same time?"
"Yes."
"Good. Can you see outside the car?" He ran to the elevator and pushed the button.
"There's a sign with flowers."
"Is there a big yellow flower?"
"Yes, and little purple ones."
"You're there right now?"
"Yes."
"That's good. That's just up the hill."
"We're moving again," she squeaked. "I'm scared."
He pounded the panel on the elevator. "Come on!"
Ding. The doors took forever to open.
Aiyana clutched his shirt with her tiny hand. "I don't want to leave. Please don't make me leave."
Was she talking to him—or Jenna?
"I've got you," he said reflexively. "Everything is going to be okay."
Jake pushed on the doors to force them open, then started running for the side exit. He slammed through the door and raced down the concrete steps that lead to the parking lot.
"Don't make me go!" she squealed.
Suddenly he passed through her as though she were mist. He skidded to a stop, alone on the stairs. He spun and looked for her as though she had been taken by physical means. The shock of losing her played tricks on his mind. There was no attacker. There was no escape route. It was him, alone on the stairs.
Get a grip, Jake! He thought.
She wasn't dead. She was still alive with her mother in the car! He just had to catch up with them. He vaulted over the railing, slid down the grass to the parking lot, and ran to his car. He ripped his phone out of his pocket and punched Holly's number into it. It was busy. He called Dan instead.
"Yellow?" said Dan.
"Oh, thank God, Dan. Are you with Holly?"
"She's kinda busy."
"I need her, Dan."
"She's on the phone, man."
Jake peeled out of the parking lot and headed up the hill toward the florist. "I know she's on the phone, that's why I called you!"
"One second." He heard him talking to her.
The phone rumbled, then Holly spoke. "This is a bad time, Jake."
"Holly I need your help."
"Like I've needed your help? Where've you been?"
"I'm caught up in something—I've been checking in. Ask Dan. If anything new came up with Gabe I would have been there. Something is going on with Jenna, and I need you!"
Holly was quiet, but he could hear her frustrated breathing. "What do you need?"
"I found out that I'm going to be a father, Holly. But Jenna's going to the clinic to abort her."
"What?"
"I don't know where it is, and I'm trying to catch her. I'm at the florist on Center Street. Do you know where that is?"
"Yeah. Across from the pizza place, right?"
"Yes. I'm there now. How do I get to the clinic from here?"
"Do you know how to get to Pine Street?"
"Yes."
"Follow that all the way to the intersection at Mall Road and keep on going about a hundred feet past the intersection. Their driveway is on the right across from the optometrist's office. There’s a sign as you drive in, it will have the number on it. Look for Doris Boardman."
"Okay. Doris Boardman."
"I'm sorry, Jake, but I have to go. God, I hope you catch her."
"Wait. If I don't catch her, how do I get into the clinic?"
"You can't. They have bullet proof glass and reenforced metal doors. If you don't catch her, it’s over."
Jake gripped the steering wheel and let his frustration channel into it. "Can I call them? Will they let me in if I explain the situation?"
"I don’t think they will. You know, patient confidentiality... They can't even tell you if she’s in there."
"You're kidding me!" He raced through a yellow light. "Then I'll just have to catch her."
"Wait a second! There is something you can do." Her voice lowered. "But you have to promise you won't tell anyone I told you this."
"I promise, Holly."
"I mean bring it to your grave."
"Holly. You know me. I won't tell anyone."
"There is an office on the side of the building.” She spoke low. "It has a large window. You can't immediately see it because it's on the side of the complex facing the forest. Follow the mulch down the side of the building to just past halfway. Inside, you'll see an L shaped chestnut desk. The window is unlocked."
"Got it."
"And if you find anything buried in the dirt outside the window...”
"What?”
"Never mind, forget I said anything.”
"O-kay..." Jake looked in his rear-view mirror. "No! No! You've got to be kidding me!"
"What? What is it?"
He clenched his jaw. "I'm being pulled over."
Chapter 44
Holly sat across from Agent Perez at the kitchen table. He was an intimidating hulk of a man, six feet tall and mostly muscle—except for his gut—with a face that looked like the sheer side of a mountain. But when he spoke, his deep raspy voice had a calming effect on her. "We're on your side, Holly. If the perpetrator is communicating with you, we can help, but you gotta let us in."
Did she dare let them in? She believed he wanted to help, but he was just like the rest. His hands were bound in red tape, his every course of action guided by some rule or regulation. She couldn't afford to be betrayed by a force beyond his control. "I've already told you, I acted on my own."
"You found blocks in your son's room and decided to call the news instead of the authorities who are working to rescue your child?"
His reasoning shut her down.
"I know you're scared Holly, but this doesn't have to go down this way. You don't have to play his game."
"I told..."
He slammed the table with his hand.
She flinched.
"You told us lies, and lies won't save your son!"
Dan spoke up from the corner of the kitchen. "Hey, ease up, man."
Perez turned on him. "If you interrupt again, I'll have you removed from the premises."
Dan started pacing like a wild horse.
"There's something you're not telling us, Holly, and we're going to find out what it is."
Her neck tightened. "You're wasting your time grilling me when you should be searching that bridge."
&nb
sp; "We have a unit dispatched.” He studied her a moment. "What I can’t figure out is, why aren’t you upset?"
"About what?"
"Something big is going to happen at 2:00 on the overpass? Have you even thought about this? Your son has been taken by a known killer, Holly. Have you thought about what this might mean?"
He was right. Why wasn't she upset? In Perez’ mind, the killer had left the location of her son's dead body, and she wasn't upset. She wasn't acting like a worried mother, she was acting like an accomplice. He had every reason to think she had been contacted by the killer—and she had no way to convince him otherwise.
"I don't know what it means."
His eyes disengaged. "You know what it means. You're not that naïve."
"If you're implying that my son is dead, you don't know that."
"That's how this guy operates. He takes a child. He kills the child. Then he leaves his calling card."
His words had a ring of truth to them, and a part of her was able to respond with the correct emotion. There was a very real possibility that the killer was merely toying with her. Her son could be dead on the overpass, the promise of letting him live could be a lie.
Tears filled her eyes. "My son is alive. He has to be. As soon as I stop believing that, I have nothing."
His eyes narrowed. "Why are you protecting this guy?"
She turned her head from his judgmental stare.
Agent Perez creaked in his chair and leaned forward. "He told you your son would live, didn't he?"
She willed herself to not respond to the jolt of shock. He was right. It was obvious. There was no other reason for her to deny the meaning of the blocks. There was no other reason for her to call news agencies and have them circle around her dead son like buzzards.
"What is he planning, Holly?"
She looked through the sweaty curls hanging like vines across her face.
"Take me to the bridge and I'll show you."
Chapter 45
Angela Grant pulled her gun from its socket. She could smell the cologne of the agent in front of her and hear the footsteps of the agents behind her crunching leaves under foot as they moved into a line. The water on Phillips Lake was still and barren of boating activity. It would have been a nice day to go for a swim or go fishing in the cool breeze and warm sunshine—with the piney mountain and blue sky painted in the distance.
Instead she was heading into the den of a cornered animal. The earbud in her left ear buzzed.
"Alpha Team in position."
"Copy. Bravo Team has eyes."
"Charlie in position."
"Go, go, go!"
She placed a hand on the kevlar vest of the agent in front of her, and the line began to move. There was a pop, and the front door splinted, leaving a hole where the handle had been. The first three agents disappeared inside.
The earbud said, "Rear and kitchen clear."
She followed her choreographed path through the living room to the left of the basement door. "Living room clear."
The basement door was locked. An agent slapped a charge on it. "Basement door has the charge."
She and the other six agents moved back. There was a flash and a bang. The agents pushed down into the basement.
The earbud went crazy. "We have contact! We have contact!"
She heard shouting as she descended the steep stairs.
"Get down! Hands where we can see them! Down! Down on the floor!"
The basement was filled with shelves of food, a cot in the corner, a table, and a television next to it. In the center of the room, a thin man in jeans and dress shirt lay on the floor with a shotgun next to him. Agents were working to handcuff him and read him his rights.
Angela said, "Basement secure. Suspect is in custody."
"This is Bravo, perimeter is secure. There is no activity."
"This is Charlie. Attic is secure."
She pulled the earbud out of her ear, coiled the cord, and shoved it in her pocket. The middle-aged man with neatly trimmed beard and mustache was lifted and put into an old rusted kitchen chair.
Angela cocked her head. "Dr. Carter?"
He looked up with fierce eyes.
"You're a hard man to reach. Are you on vacation?" She kept her tone light and indifferent.
His eyes brushed the floor and probed the dark corners of the room.
"Do you care to tell us why you are hiding in the basement of your sister's camp?"
"I'm not hiding," he said.
She surveyed the room. "It looks like you planned on staying here a while." She indicated the evidence. "Shelves of food, cot, television. Does your sister know?”
His chest heaved up and he blew a breath through his nose.
"We have evidence connecting you to the murder of four children..."
Shock flashed across his face. "What?! What evidence?!"
"We found hair samples in your file drawer at work. That and photographic evidence showing you at two of the four crime scenes, gives us enough to put you away for a very long time."
Sudden rapid-eye-movement, just as Angela expected. This was not the behavior of a serial killer. Carter was processing what he had just learned, searching for a way out of the trap that had been set for him.
"You're not the killer, are you?" she said, watching for the appropriate response. At first there was surprise. Then a hint of relief, followed by introspection. What was he thinking about? Had he been coerced? Threatened?
"Did the killer threaten you or your family?"
His eyes darted up and locked onto hers. He looked scared.
"Okay. I get it. You're worried about your family. You don't want to tell me anything because you're afraid of what the killer will do to them."
"I didn't say..." He looked around at all the agents in the room, and shut down.
She looked at Agent Blake from the SBI standing beside her. "Clear the room."
He turned his back to Carter. "You know we can't leave you alone with the suspect."
"I'm aware of the policy," she snapped. "Leave a man at the bottom of the stairs to observe, but otherwise, clear the room."
He nodded silent agreement. The agents made one last sweep of the basement and filed out until it was just Angela, Agent Blake, and Carter.
"Does this work for you, Dr. Carter?"
He assessed the distance between him and Agent Blake at the foot of the stairs, and dropped his voice. "I'm being framed. I didn't do this. I couldn't possibly..."
"That’s what we suspected. But you need to tell us who is doing this."
He hung his head and stared at the floor. "Promise me.” His voice faltered. "Promise me you won't hurt her."
The hair rose on the back of Angela's neck. She hadn't even considered the possibility of the killer being a woman.
"She doesn't know what she's doing. It- it's like there are two of her."
"How long have you known the identity of this killer?"
"Only five months for sure, but I suspected it for over a year."
"Why didn't you go to the authorities? You do realize this makes you an accomplice?"
The light from the lantern flickered in the whites of his eyes as he looked up. The shadows danced across his hard features. "Because I love her. That's why."
Chapter 46
Agent Perez and the agent with him in the front seat of the car hadn't spoken a word since they left Holly's apartment. Dan was also surprisingly quiet. The tension in the car was a living creature, watching for movement, waiting to devour the first to speak—and none of the occupants were willing to be its first victim.
Traffic was backed up long before they reached the overpass to 395. Random horns could be heard in the distance, and the car periodically jolted to a stop.
Holly looked in the rear-view mirror at Agent Perez whose eyes were fixed on the traffic in front of them. She leaned toward her door and casually pressed in on the earbud seated in her left ear, fearful that it would slide from its place an
d expose her secret companion.
The earbud buzzed. "When you come to a stop, go to the right edge behind the channel 8 news van and wait for instructions."
She looked at the agent's eyes in the mirror reflexively, half expecting him to be looking back with suspicion. He was not. His eyes were still on the car in front of them.
Holly digested the instructions and meekly turned her eyes toward Dan. He was so quiet; it felt wrong somehow. She would not have been adverse to one of his ill-timed jokes, and it might have brought her some semblance of comfort to have him banter mercilessly with the agents in the front seat. Anything to not feel smothered in silence. But Dan had taken Agent Perez seriously when he threatened to have him removed; he hadn't said a word since. Holly wouldn’t have believed that Dan had the self-control to not blabber on and on, but once again, he’d surprised her. There was more to Dan Clark than she had ever expected.
What might have happened if she had responded to that note in eighth grade? What would her life have been like with someone safe like Dan by her side? But—then there would have been no Gabe. That much she did not regret about the road she had taken. She would gladly face all the pain again if it meant having him. She’d made so many bad choices out of weakness, but he was her one victory. Her precious baby was the prize for not taking the easy road—for once in her life.
She had used so many men for the drugs that would kill her sorrow, and they had used her. But looking at Dan sitting next to her, so brave and quiet, she had a glimmer of hope that things could be different. With him she might actually be happy. She slid her hand on top of his and was grateful that he didn't move it away. His skin was warm to the touch; she soaked it in.
He pulled his eyes from the window and looked down at her hand on top of his, then spread his fingers to allow her to grip them. They didn't smile, they didn't speak. It was enough to simply be connected.
On the 395 overpass was the most organized media circus Holly had ever seen. News trucks, news cars, and miscellaneous vehicles lined the breakdown lane from where the bridge started, all the way to the peak where a small group spoke with police officers. The right lane was blocked off by squad cars with lights flashing. An officer was directing traffic to move past. Agent Perez flashed his badge, and the officer waved him straight ahead behind the orange cones running up the center of the bridge.
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