He told them what he’d learned so far, which hadn’t been much beyond that, adding, “I had more to go on than Ty did—he didn’t even have the name John at first.” Dropping his eyes, he muttered, “Ty made sure we got the message. He also made it clear that the boy was killed by his biological father—who I’ve identified as John M. Traynor.”
Aidan looked away, one case haunting him, like always.
“I printed out his initial kidnapping case file, then had to leave before my lieutenant decided to have me escorted out.”
“Did he put you on official leave?” Julia asked, wondering if Gabe still had his shield and weapon. It wasn’t unheard of for partners to be sent home for an unarmed cooling-off period.
“No,” Gabe said, eyeing her from the other end of the table. Which meant he was armed.
“Now we need to go from here, figure out whatever else Ty might have, make the same moves he would have so we can find out who took him down.”
Julia nodded, reaching for the printout. “I’ll read every page of the initial report,” she said, knowing that, as a former cop, she had the best eye for it. “Interviews, background on the divorce, see if there were any psychologist reports on the boy. If the divorce was a bad one, there should have been something in there about it.” Given what had happened, it wasn’t hard to read between the lines and assume the mother had taken the child away from an abusive situation. She’d had reason to fear for her son.
“I’m good with computers,” Mick said. “How about letting me have a crack at finding out some more information about John M. Traynor.”
Gabe eyed him sharply, as if to ask whether this crack would be legal or not. Mick merely held his gaze, not saying a word, neither admitting nor denying.
“Be careful,” Gabe said with a nod.
“Why don’t I go use my laptop to run through all the crime databases, unemployment and driving records, see if I can get a bead on where the mother was while she was in hiding,” said Aidan. “The father had to have tracked her down somehow. It might help to know how.”
Derek opened his mouth, though what he was about to say, she didn’t know. Because suddenly a familiar voice called her name. She sat up straight in her chair, glancing over her shoulder out to the reception area. The new receptionist had just left for the day, mumbling about the strange, frantic goings-on here, and Julia wasn’t sure she’d be back tomorrow.
“Julia!”
“Excuse me,” she mumbled, rising to her feet, about to go find Morgan in her office. But before she had to, he materialized here, in the conference room.
“What is it?” she asked, seeing his nearly panicked expression. The other men in the room all turned to look at her, but she ignored them. “Morgan, what?”
“He took her. I tried to stop him, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do. Then I tried to follow but lost him. But I know who he is. I saw the name of his company on the van.”
“Wait. Who, what are you saying?”
“Olivia. He took Olivia.”
Julia staggered back against her chair, sending it spinning. Mick, who’d been closest, reached out and grabbed her arm so she wouldn’t fall to the floor. “What is it?”
Terror filling her, she caught Gabe’s eye from across the table. She told him.
And watched the man go from determined cop to utterly enraged lover.
Chapter 14
She hurt.
Olivia’s head throbbed. Every time her heart beat it felt as though someone had stuck a spike through her temple. She tried not to move, thinking before she opened her eyes, trying to understand what was wrong, what felt so different.
She realized immediately that she wasn’t in her bed. The ground was hard beneath her, rough, shaley dirt scratching at her bare skin. And it was hot, so very hot, like being inside the trunk of a car.
“No, oh, no,” she whispered, suddenly remembering waking up, feeling that hand on her face, seeing him above her.
History repeating.
Almost. It hadn’t been dark this time, and he hadn’t bothered to cover her eyes. So she’d recognized him immediately. The man who’d terrorized her and haunted her for years had worked right outside her back door, right under her nose, all this time. He’d been cutting the lawns of all her neighbors, circling her house, again and again, like a great white on the prowl.
She breathed deeply, not allowing fear to rise inside her. She wasn’t the same girl she’d been, wasn’t helpless and weak. In pain, yes, but not helpless.
Finally opening her eyes, she remained still, studying her surroundings. The small building in which she was imprisoned looked like a shed of some kind. Wood walls, dirt floors, corrugated metal roof. Only a hint of light shone through the seams, and she figured it had to be close to dusk, several hours since she’d fallen, exhausted, into her bed, needing to sleep away the horror of Ty’s death.
Gabe will be looking for me.
She’d given him the clues, Ty’s clues. He’d use them. He’d track this man down, and he’d find her.
In the meantime, though, she needed to prepare herself for her kidnapper’s return. She didn’t think of him as Lenny, the name he’d used in recent years. If her suspicions were correct, his name was John. Ty hadn’t been able to finish telling her whether the name John had belonged to father or to son, but she suspected she knew the answer: both.
Jack was a common nickname for John. A father named John might want to call his boy Jack rather than Junior.
Jackie-boy.
What a monster. She didn’t think she could feel any worse about what had happened to the boy who’d saved her life, but the thought that he’d died at the hands of his own father—because he’d helped her escape—was enough to drive her mad with regret.
Not now. You don’t have time for this. Besides, maybe he’s finally happy. He’s with his mother, away from the man who’d abused him.
Maybe. It was cold comfort, but maybe.
Suddenly hearing a noise outside, she slid closer to the wall, trying to see out the sliver of a crack at the base. She couldn’t make out a thing, but she could hear something that was getting louder.
A vehicle. But whose—John’s or someone else’s, her attacker’s or her rescuer’s?
There were no sirens. Nor did she imagine any rescuer was just going to come driving up.
It was probably him.
Glad he hadn’t tied her up, Olivia reached down into the pocket of her pants, hoping he hadn’t searched her while she was out. “Yes!” she whispered when she felt her key ring. She’d pocketed it this morning when she and Julia had left the office to head to Ty’s house.
Digging it out, she felt everything on it, fingering a round tube—a mini flashlight. And then a thin, flat metal object—a tiny folding knife.
Her father had bought her the key ring years ago, after the kidnapping, telling her she should always have something to use in case of an emergency. She didn’t imagine he’d ever thought she might try to defend her life with a two-inch knife, dulled to near uselessness. But it was better than nothing. If the killer got close enough to her—maybe thinking she was still unconscious—she might be able to stab him in the eye. Not kill him, probably, but hurt him enough to run.
You’re not running.
No. She wasn’t running this time. Not if there was a chance there was a boy here who needed her.
So she probably ought to try really hard to kill the bastard.
The car drew closer, until it passed right by, making the tiny shed rattle. A little farther, then it stopped. Olivia stayed very still. She wanted him to think she was still out cold—defenseless. Or else scared out of her wits.
Suddenly, to her shock, she heard a woman’s voice call, “Johnny? Where are you? Damn it, get out here!”
Olivia gasped. Did he have an accomplice? Was some demented woman helping him with his crimes?
A door creaked open nearby. “Well, fancy you coming all the way out here for a visit,” a m
an’s voice said, sounding like he was no more than twenty feet away. Heavy footsteps landed on what sounded like metal, then on crunching gravel.
He’d walked down a few steps onto the road.
She knew this scenario, had been through it before. He was living in a trailer or motor home, probably out in the woods somewhere. But was he living alone, or was there a boy inside, staying quiet as a mouse, ordered to by the man who’d gone outside to see who’d come to call?
“Did you kill that man?” The woman’s voice rose with every word, and she was almost screaming as she repeated, “Did you kill that man?!”
Ty. Was she talking about Ty?
“Answer me, damn you!”
Olivia’s stomach clenched, her heart tripping a little in her chest. There was something about that voice . . . something . . .
“Now what the hell didja expect me ta do?”
“You said you’d leave,” the woman said, sounding on the verge of tears. “You swore you’d just go and never come back.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’tcha, little cousin?”
A cousin? The monster had a female cousin? Did she know what he was, what he’d done?
“I never would have told you he’d called if I knew you were going to do that. Damn it, Johnny, why couldn’t you just leave?”
He laughed, a low, evil chuckle. “Aww, I’d miss ya too much. I like our talks.”
“You like tormenting me,” the woman cried. “There’s something wrong with you.”
“And you like that when it suits your purpose, don’t you? Fuckin’ whore, usin’ me to get what you want, then throwin’ me aside once ya got it.”
“I never wanted you to kill anyone. Not ever.”
“Well, aren’t your hands lily white, then? Go on, get back in your fancy car and get outta here.”
No. Please. Don’t leave. Olivia didn’t know what to do. If she screamed for help, would she just be putting the woman’s life in danger, too? The man had killed his son; what on earth would prevent him from killing another relative?
“Fine,” the woman snapped, walking away, “but I’m through lying for you. The next time my phone rings and a police officer asks me if I know where you are, I’m giving him directions.”
“Well, then, won’t we have fun sharin’ a jail cell?”
Her footsteps stopped. “You wouldn’t.”
“O’course I would.”
“All this time, all the help I’ve given you, the money . . .”
“You paid me to do your filthy work. Don’t go actin’ like it was charity.”
“You’re a bastard.”
His heavier footsteps pounded across the gravel, and the woman shrieked.
“Don’t touch me! I left a note sayin’ where I was going. If I’m not home in an hour, somebody will come out here lookin’ for me.”
Olivia listened for the sound of fists or a slap, but didn’t hear it. The woman’s threat had worked. That meant he might be forced to let his cousin go, even if she saw or heard something she wasn’t supposed to.
Olivia weighed her options, knowing they were few. She could lie here and wait, hoping to surprise him with her tiny knife, or she could try to grab at the one lifeline that had been thrown to her.
Praying she was doing the right thing, she slowly rose to her feet, moving to the wall of the shed. Then she drew in a deep breath and screamed as loud as she could.
As soon as she stopped she heard the woman’s horrified voice. “No, tell me you didn’t. Tell me it’s not . . .”
“Well, sure it is, darlin’.” His tone vicious, he added, “Why don’t we say hello.”
Olivia hadn’t been sure what to expect. That the other woman would get in the car and drive away in a hurry, going for help? That she’d question her cousin? But not this. Not that he’d bring her here and open the door. God, what would she do if he threw the woman in here with her? Stab him before he can slam the door.
She tightened her grip around the knife. Standing by the door, she waited, every fiber in her body on alert, knowing she had one chance at this.
She heard the clink of chains, then the sound of rattling keys.
“Don’t. Please, don’t. No, stop,” the woman was saying, sounding on the verge of hysterics. “You can’t, you mustn’t let her see . . .”
The words stabbed at her, their meaning both cloudy and terrifyingly clear. Olivia focused, listening to the voice, not to the words, realizing it was familiar somehow.
The door began to swing open. Olivia forced all other thoughts out of her mind, knowing she had to leap and stab first, then deal with whoever this mystery woman was.
But she didn’t get the chance. Because the woman was suddenly pushed into the open doorway, blocking Olivia’s path out, preventing her from getting at the man.
It took a second for her eyes to adjust; the lights from the motor home shone brightly in her face, blinding her. She blinked, trying to make out the figure in front of her, seeing a slim body and an arm, which was clenched in a beefy male hand.
She lifted her eyes until she was finally able to see the face.
Recognition exploded through her like a cannon shot.
“Sunni?” she whispered, not understanding. “What are you doing here? What . . . how . . .”
“She came to visit her family,” the man said.
It was impossible. Olivia’s father’s live-in girlfriend was related to the man who’d kidnapped and tried to kill her? There was no way it could be a coincidence. No way at all.
“Ya got it, don’tcha, sweetie? She took that job baby-sitting you precious little angels so’s she could get close and help me plan the kidnapping. We was supposed to get rich.”
Olivia gripped a beam on the wall, shocked, betrayed. Utterly enraged. This woman, this awful woman, had worked her way into Olivia’s childhood home, destroyed her entire life and her family, for ransom money? And then, to add insult to injury, Sunni had stolen her way into her mother’s place in her dad’s life?
“I didn’t want him to hurt you. He wasn’t supposed to hurt you,” Sunni said.
Olivia reacted from the gut. “You traitorous bitch,” she snapped, then, unable to stop herself, spat right in the woman’s face.
“Liv, I . . .”
Whatever Sunni had been about to say was cut off when the man yanked her away.
“I’ll be back for you later,” Johnny said.
Then he slammed the door shut before she even had a chance to raise the tiny knife, much less use it.
Gabe was like a man possessed.
When Julia told him what Morgan had seen, his first impulse had been to go straight to Olivia’s house to find out for himself.
But he didn’t. Because, as he’d already acknowledged, Gabe was a believer. He had no doubt Julia had interacted with a ghost, nor did he doubt that the ghost had seen Olivia get spirited away by some guy driving a lawn care van.
What a perfect way to stay close, to keep an eye on her. Just another anonymous worker in the neighborhood. Her gaze had probably skimmed over him hundreds of times, never seeing the danger he presented.
One thing was sure: His name wasn’t Lenny. It was John Traynor.
“Damn it, Mick, have you got anything yet?” he asked, urging the other man to go further into a secure county property database. “There has to be something.”
All of them were working as hard and fast as they could, trying everything they could think of to find Traynor. They’d searched records under his real name as well as his false one and had found out just about everything there was to know about the man. And every one of them sure down to his or her bones that he’d killed his ex-wife and kidnapped his son back when Zachary had been eight.
They’d found his last known address—he was long gone. Had tried reaching his only known living relative, a female cousin—all but one of the contact numbers had been disconnected, and there had been no answer at that one.
Aidan, feeling useless, had insis
ted on going over to Olivia’s house to see if he could get any kind of psychic vibe about where she might be. And it was Aidan, whom Gabe didn’t even know, who put them on the track that might actually help them find her.
He’d called from the driveway. He’d knelt there, touching the dirty tracks left by the most recent vehicle, and had had some kind of psychic vision.
A big stand of tangled woods. A trailer. A shed. A chain looped across a gravel driveway with a Private! No Trespassing sign hanging from it.
The most critical detail: The chain and sign had looked new.
Which led Gabe to the only possible conclusion: Traynor couldn’t be squatting on some random public land like he had before. If he’d blocked the road, put up signs, he had to feel confident that they’d be obeyed, meaning he had the right to post them.
He’d bought land somewhere.
“He’s got to be there,” he said, watching as Mick keyed through page after page of records, looking for any transfers of wooded, undeveloped property of ten acres or more, going back a decade.
There were a lot. Too many. This would never work.
“Wait,” Mick suddenly said, snapping his fingers. “I’ve been looking for individual buyers; this is the fourth or fifth property I’ve seen that was bought by some kind of holding or development company.”
Which wouldn’t be hard to set up, not if you had a little bit of money to hire a lawyer. And if he’d had money to buy the property, obviously he could afford it.
“Can you cross-reference the names of these companies with his name or alias?”
Mick clicked the keys, his gloved hands flying over them without a single misspelling. He’d obviously become very adept to life with gloves.
“Oh, my God, here he is!” he said, raising his voice so loud that all the others, who’d been working in the conference room, came racing into Mick’s office. Every one of them looked hopeful, all of them having spent the past several hours worrying about their friend.
Gabe had been prepared to not like these friends of Olivia’s—and he still didn’t like that they hadn’t even thought about how her gift was affecting her. But right now, he couldn’t think of four other people he’d rather have on his side when he went to find her.
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