Vigilant

by Sara Davison

  Sharleen lifted both hands. “Why would she think that, and how do you know it’s not?”

  “She hasn’t read Gage’s file. She mentioned to me when I was talking to her at the diner Wednesday night that Gage had killed his father. I’m not sure where she got that idea though, because according to the police report, it was Holden. And this transcript quotes the abductor as saying his brother killed his dad. I’ll bet she’s gone to confront Holden about this.”

  Sharleen folded her hands. “If we know it’s Gage, should we bring him in?”

  Daniel shook his head. “I don’t think we have enough to hold him yet. I’ve been going over those CAS files, and I have a hunch I know who they might be going for next.”

  “Who?”

  “Matthew Gibson.”

  Her features hardened. “That makes sense. I’ve often wanted to go in there and grab that kid myself, take him somewhere safe.”

  “Me too.”

  Her eyebrows rose.

  “What?” Daniel asked.

  “Whatever happened to, ‘there’s no room for vigilante justice in this country’?”

  “I still believe that.” Even in his own ears the words lacked conviction. “Okay, it’s been a little difficult to stay so hard-lined since I put a face to this guy. I mean, Gage Kelly isn’t my favorite person on the planet right now, but I am prepared to admit that might be more of a personal opinion than a professional one. I do know that what he’s doing isn’t right, but at least he has the courage to stand up for what he believes. And to put action behind it, even though he’s risking everything to do it. That’s a pretty rare thing these days. Do not quote me on this or I’ll deny ever saying it, but you kind of have to admire a person like that, don’t you?”

  She smirked. “So what you’re saying is that we can expect a little less black and white and a lot more gray from Grey now?”

  Daniel rolled his eyes. “Very clever. How many years have you been saving that one? Must have been driving you crazy.” He snapped his fingers. “Speaking of being driven crazy, I think I figured out who the redhead is who’s been visiting Holden. Do you have your list of social workers handy?”

  Sharleen pulled out her bottom desk drawer and grabbed a piece of paper. She held it out to Daniel. “You think she’s with CAS?”

  “Yes. The day I was there talking to Holden a redhead came in and reminded him they were going for coffee. It was pretty clear there was something going on between them. I should have thought of her when you first mentioned it.” He set the sheet on the desk and ran his finger down it. Two people named Chris were listed on the page. Daniel slid to the edge of his seat. “Can you look up a Chris Washington and a Chris Lang on LinkedIn or Facebook? See if there’s a picture?”

  Sharleen typed for a minute. “Chris Washington is a guy. Let’s try Lang.” She typed again then turned the screen toward him. Daniel nodded. “That’s her. Christina Lang. They must still be together. Find out what you can on her and maybe we can go see her tomorrow.”

  A soft buzzing sound caught his ear. “Is that your phone?”

  Sharleen, still focused on the screen, waved a finger at the silent device on her desk. “Not mine. Must be yours.”

  Daniel patted his jacket pockets but couldn’t feel the device. “Must have left it in my office. Hold on.” He jumped up and strode across the hallway to his cubicle. Scooping up the phone from beside his computer, he tapped the screen as he crossed over to Sharleen’s office. Four texts, the first from one of the female cops who’d been assigned to keep an eye on Gage, two from the guys who’d been sent over to stake out Holden’s place, and one from Steve Simons, the IT guy. Daniel’s heart rate picked up. Was this it? Was something finally happening? “Shar, I think something’s going on.”

  She swung around in her chair. “What?”

  Daniel stabbed at his phone, opening up the one from Steve. He scanned it. By the time he’d finished, his pulse was pounding. He looked up and met Sharleen’s eyes. “They got Stiller. Somewhere in Turkey. Sounds like he’s open to a plea bargain. Shar, this could be it. They’re already assembling a team to go in. By morning we could bring down this entire organization.” And stop them from saving all those kids who are still in danger. Daniel batted away the thought. Whatever their motivation, these people were still breaking the law. There had to be a better way.

  He hit the button to read the most recent text. “Morales says a blonde woman pulled up in front of Holden’s a few minutes ago.” He nodded. “Must be Nicole.” She’d be devastated when Holden told her the truth. Should he go over there? At least now maybe she’d be more willing to talk to him. Although, if she did know something, she couldn’t be forced to testify against Gage, since he was now her husband.

  That thought brought another stab of pain, but Daniel ignored it as he scrolled to the next message. “And a redhead left Holden’s as Nicole was arriving. That would be Christina Lang.”

  Daniel hit the last text and noted the time. The one from Gage’s tail had come in fifteen minutes ago. Had he been talking to Sharleen that long? Daniel quickly scanned the message. “Jackson saw Gage coming out of his apartment and followed him for ten blocks, then lost him when he drove through a red light and they had to stop for a truck that didn’t stop when they put their lights on. By the time they got through the intersection, Gage had disappeared into the side streets.” Daniel flung a hand in the air. “How could they lose him? Do they have any idea what’s at stake here?”

  “It happens. Especially if the person figures out they’re being followed.”

  Daniel looked up. “And if he did, and purposely ditched them, that could only mean one thing—he was going somewhere he didn’t want to be followed.” Frustration was twisting his stomach into knots, but Daniel forced a deep breath. Getting worked up wasn’t going to help him think clearly. He sent a quick message back asking if anything had changed in the last fifteen minutes then shoved the phone into his pocket. “I’ll lose my mind if we stay here another minute. Let’s—” His cell phone vibrated, a phone call this time, and he yanked it out of his pocket and pressed it to his ear. “Grey.”

  “Daniel?”

  “Nicole?” His chest clenched at the distress in her voice. “What is it?”

  “It’s Gage. He’s ...”

  “What?”

  “I think he’s going after another child.”

  Daniel glanced over at Sharleen and jerked his head toward the door. She followed him down the hall. “When?”

  Nicole didn’t answer. Still holding the phone to his ear, Daniel passed his cubicle and broke into a jog. The silence stretched out for several seconds. She was in a car. Tires squealed as the vehicle rounded a corner. He and Sharleen reached the elevators and Daniel stabbed the down button with his thumb a few times.

  “When, Nicole?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “Now. Holden is with me. He thinks Gage is going after someone named Matthew Gibson.”

  The heavy beige doors slid open and they hurried inside. “Nicole, listen to me.” Daniel spoke urgently, willing her to hear him and do what he asked. “We’re called to that place all the time.” The doors opened and they raced for his car. “The guy who lives there is extremely dangerous and likely armed. Do not go there. Do you hear me?” He yanked his car keys out of his jacket pocket and unlocked the door with the remote. Sharleen jumped into the passenger seat as he slid behind the wheel and slammed the door. His chest constricting, Daniel started the car and squealed out of his parking spot.

  Nicole didn’t answer.

  “Nicole!”

  The line went dead.

  Daniel slammed the phone against the steering wheel before tossing the device to Sharleen. “Text Jackson again and tell them to meet us at the Gibson place. We’ll need back-up.” He shoved his foot down on the accelerator, breathing a prayer with every breath that they would get to Matthew Gibson’s house in time.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Gage crept aroun
d the corner of a wooden house covered in peeling yellow paint, then stopped, his back against the wall. For several seconds he held his breath, waiting to make sure that the information he’d been given about this mission was correct and no dogs or sensor lights existed on the property. Nothing moved in the backyard. A sliver of moon cast a pale glimmer of light over the trees and bushes, reflecting off the drops of moisture in the thin mist that draped like gauze over the tips of the thick grass.

  Releasing a long, slow breath, Gage stepped away from the wall and looked up at the second-floor window that was his target. A small crack appeared between the window pane and the sill in the dim light. He mentally ran through the list of possible tools. They had supplied him with numerous high-tech gadgets, several of which he’d used on other missions. He studied the window again and nodded. This time he was going old school. With a grimace, he slipped a black backpack from his shoulder and set it on the ground. He crouched in front of it and rummaged in the front pocket for a moment before pulling out a screwdriver.

  A rickety metal ladder hung on the outside wall of the shed in the backyard. Gage crossed the yard toward it, moving silently from bush to bush. When he reached the shed, he lifted the ladder carefully from its rusty hooks and made his way slowly across the lawn to the house. After propping the ladder against the wall, he stood on the bottom rung and bounced lightly, hoping the decrepit thing would hold both his weight and, on the way back down, the child’s. Clutching the flat-head screwdriver in one hand, he gripped the sides of the ladder and started up.

  When he was at eye level with the window, he balanced himself carefully against the rungs and reached around the side of the ladder. The thin edge of the screwdriver slid easily beneath the window pane and he pushed down hard on the handle. Bits of rotted wood gave way beneath the metal. He raised the glass a couple of inches, then set the screwdriver down on the sill and slid the palms of his hands beneath the window. The wood creaked but moved up a foot. Gage held his breath. Nothing moved inside the house, and after several seconds he gave the window another shove. It opened enough for him to swing a leg over the pane.

  He ducked under the window frame and pulled himself inside, dropping lightly to the floor. For thirty seconds he stayed in a crouched position, waiting for the pounding in his chest to subside. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the shape of the child beneath the blankets.

  Slowly, he stood and took a tentative step toward him, feeling carefully for any loose floor boards that might creak beneath his weight. At the bed, he stood for a moment, watching Matthew Gibson’s thin shoulders rise and fall beneath the sheet. His heart squeezed. Taking a deep breath, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a needle. With a quick, practiced movement, he released the air from the syringe and slid the sharp tip into the boy’s arm. Matthew moaned a little in his sleep and turned over onto his side. Gage held his breath, afraid to move. After a few seconds, the child’s breathing deepened and evened out, and Gage leaned down and scooped him up. Matthew’s eyes didn’t open, but he murmured under his breath, and Gage pressed the little face to his black sweater and turned toward the window.

  He had almost reached it when the child, his eyes still closed, muttered something and flung out an arm. The small fist landed squarely on Gage’s jaw. Startled, he stumbled forward a step, bracing himself with a shoulder against the window frame.

  The screwdriver he’d set on the sill rolled toward the opening. Gage grasped Matthew tightly with one arm and grabbed for the tool with his free hand. His fingers closed around empty air. The screwdriver dropped from the sill and disappeared from sight, clattering against three of the metal rungs before hitting the ground below with a soft thud.

  Gage froze.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “Hurry, Holden.”

  “I’m going as fast as I can. Getting us both killed won’t help Gage.” He gripped the steering wheel tightly as streetlights whipped past the car windows in a stream of white.

  Nicole’s heart beat frantically, the blood pounding in her ears, and she forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply. It wouldn’t help Gage if she passed out before they got there either. “Who is Matthew Gibson?” She shifted in her seat to face Holden.

  A shadow crossed his face. “Horrible case. He’s a sweet little kid whose mother died a couple of years ago and whose dad cannot seem to keep from taking out his pain and frustration on him. We get called there all the time, and we’ve removed Matthew from the house a few times, but somehow he keeps getting released into his dad’s care.” His laugh was bitter. “Cases like those are the reason I think about quitting this job every other week. It’s unbelievably frustrating to see something like that happening and not be able to do anything about it.”

  Nicole nodded slowly. “Maybe that’s how they were able to talk Gage into working with them, by offering him the chance to finally do something about all the kids he sees and didn’t think he could help.”

  “Yeah, I guess I kind of get it. I might have done the same thing, given the opportunity.” He looked sideways at her. “Did you say the guy who came to see you was named Grey?”

  “Yes. Daniel Grey.” His name shot a pang of sadness through her. “Why?”

  “He came to see me once at Children’s Aid, looking for information on a guy they suspected of abducting those kids. Not Gage though, someone else. Obviously the investigation took a different turn after that.” He slammed a hand down on the steering wheel. “I really hope nothing I did or said got them thinking about Gage.” He stared out the window for a few seconds, forehead wrinkled, as though trying to remember everything he’d mentioned to Daniel. “Anyway, he looked a bit familiar, and the name rang a bell, but I wasn’t sure why. Nothing recent though. Like I heard it a long time ago.”

  “He told me his dad was a cop too. Could it have been him?”

  Holden thought for a moment then drew in a sharp breath. “That’s what it is. His dad came to the house that night. He was the one who found Gage and me.”

  “You’re kidding.” Nicole shook her head at the way her life and Daniel’s continued to interweave.

  Holden reached over and grabbed her hand. “We’re two minutes away. Are you ready?”

  “No.”

  He offered her a grim smile. “Me neither.”

  The sickening lurch in her stomach had nothing to do with the speed they were traveling, but Nicole reached for the door handle anyway, and held on tightly as Holden pressed his foot down on the accelerator.

  Gage glanced toward the open window. The thud of feet hitting the floor in a bedroom down the hall told him what he already knew—he didn’t have time to get out that way. Holding the child in his arms tightly against his chest, he leaped for the door. He was halfway down the stairs when footsteps thundered down the hall behind him and a man’s voice yelled at him to stop.

  Gage jumped the last three steps and sprinted across the main floor. He shifted the boy to his left arm so he could flick the lock on the front door and fling it open. As soon as he stepped outside, he waved wildly toward the vehicle parked halfway down the block. Headlights flickered on, and a dark-colored car sped toward him. In the distance, the eerie wail of a police siren broke the silence of the mist-shrouded neighborhood. The car slowed to a crawl in front of the house. The loud creak of the screen door being flung open behind him sent adrenaline coursing through Gage. The back door of the vehicle flew open. He tossed the boy into the arms that reached out for him and pounded on the roof. The door slammed shut and the car accelerated away from the curb.

  Down the street, an unmarked police car, red and blue lights flashing through the windshield, flew over a crest in the road and squealed to a stop. A second vehicle pulled up right behind it. Gage started to turn toward them, and then he heard it, the unmistakable metal sliding against metal clang clang of a 12-gauge shotgun being pumped. He grabbed for the Glock pistol he had jammed in the back of his jeans and spun around, but before he could li
ft the weapon to fire, a deafening crack split the night air. A weight slammed into his chest. Gage stumbled off of the curb behind him and fell onto his back on the cold, hard cement.

  Nicole. He didn’t feel any pain, except for the sharp stab of grief that impaled his heart at the thought of the life they would never have together.

  “Gage!”

  From somewhere far away, he heard her scream. Fog swirled around him. Strength ebbed from his body with the blood seeping through his sweater, thick and warm. Gage lifted his head slightly off the pavement and turned toward the sound.

  In the dim light of a street lamp, Daniel grabbed Nicole around the waist and pulled her to the ground. Relief flowed through Gage. She’s safe. Holden skirted Daniel and Nicole and bolted toward him. The clang clang of the racking shotgun slashed through the night air again. No. Stay back. Gage tried to call to his brother, but he couldn’t force sound up past the heavy weight in his chest.

  Now we’re not just brothers, we’re blood brothers. That’s even better, stronger. It means we’ll always be together, and we’ll always keep each other safe.

  Gritting his teeth, Gage summoned the dying embers of strength left inside him. He gripped his gun in both hands, raised it, and fired at the irate father who had swung his weapon toward Holden.

  The man staggered backwards on the porch and fell against a chair, sending it crashing onto its side. The shotgun flew end over end down the porch stairs and clattered on the sidewalk below.

  Gage collapsed back onto the street.

  “Grey! Call it in. I’ll contain the shooter.” Sharleen sprinted toward the house, both hands on the gun she held up beside her head.

  Daniel went back to their vehicle and flung open the door. Gripping the top of the door with one hand, he reached inside the vehicle and grabbed the radio receiver.

  “Control.”

  “This is 42. We’re on the scene of a child abduction. Two civilians down. Request ambulances and back-up.” He gave the address. “Another vehicle has left the scene with the child, a four-year-old male. Black sedan, license beginning with H2N. Last seen heading ...” Daniel glanced down the street where the vehicle had disappeared over a hill, heading east against a backdrop of dark sky penetrated only by hazy stars and the orange glow of city lights. In a few short hours, the sun, in a blatant affront to every person at this scene, would begin its relentless rise, parting that same stretch of sky with fingers of red and gold.