Facing Evil

by Kylie Brant

  He looked at the patrolman. “Good catch on that, Recker. I’ll make sure your superior hears about it.”

  The twenty-something officer flushed a little. “Looks like a twofer. BOLO plate and a warrant to boot.”

  “It might keep us in the game at least.” But he was all too aware that Baxter had succeeded well enough. Wherever the hell she’d gone, she’d traveled there undetected.

  Frustration and temper warred, but it was directed inward. This was taking too long, and Sophie’s welfare depended on quick action. He could well imagine what Baxter had in store for Sophie, but the plan would require time.

  Cam needed to make damn sure she didn’t get the time she needed.

  His cell rang when he and Franks were walking back to the car. When he answered, Jenna’s voice was as excited as he’d ever heard it. “I was following that vet lead, right? And lo and behold, I discovered a Greg Davis in Story county was found dead in his office recently. Considered a suspicious death, no suspects. And guess what was up on the perv’s computer screen when the body was discovered? Davis liked little boys.”

  Cam’s gut tightened. There were looking for connections, and they’d hit the jackpot. Sonny Baxter had been abused by men for years before being placed in foster care. Davis was on the short list of possible sources for the paralytic Vance had used on his kidnap victims.

  “Got a trifecta, here, Cam.” He could hear the faint sound of a siren in the background of the call. “Because I did a property search on Davis. Ran him through all the counties and besides his house in Story County he showed up with a property in Mills County on the Missouri River.”

  There was a single brief moment when the wave of hope that crashed over him was almost debilitating in its strength. He drew in a breath and expelled it slowly. Too soon to be certain but…damn. It fit. It all fit. “You did good, Jenna. Go ahead and call the locals over there and send them to the river property. Give them my number. I want an immediate update when they get there.” She hung up, jubilant.

  There was a jitter in his chest as he relayed the information to Franks as they walked back to the car. It would be difficult not to be on location when a break like this appeared in the case, but this was no time for ego.

  Sophie. Her name scored across his mind like a prayer. He’d know in minutes if they were on the right track.

  He wasn’t going to let himself consider the alternative.

  * * * *

  The hinges on the well house door screeched as it opened. Sophia ducked her head and turned her face. The slant of sunshine was a sensory shock after the total darkness they’d been enclosed in. Baxter’s figure blocked out most of it. Henry shuddered beside her and shifted closer. The small movement was heartbreaking. Sophia couldn’t protect him. She couldn’t even protect herself.

  “Don’t worry, bitch, I’m not quite ready for you.” The glee was easy to discern in Baxter’s voice when she strode into the space. “You’ve got a while yet before us two get some quality time.” She stopped next to Sophie and gripped her hair, yanked her head back. “Bet you think you got me all figured out. Most of them shrinks did. None of them knew dick. But you’re gonna be special. You’re going to get a firsthand look at just what makes Vickie Baxter tick.”

  She released Sophia then with a shove, reached down to haul up the boy. Dragged him after her. “You might as well help. We’ve got lots of arrangements to make so your bitch friend gets everything she’s got coming to her.”

  The door creaked again and shut. The sound of it being secured again had an anguished whimper escaping her. She slumped against the wall, a tidal wave of hopelessness washing over her.

  The time she’d spent as Mason Vance’s captive had been the most terrifying experience of her life. Escaping him had taken every shred of courage she possessed.

  Sophia wasn’t certain that she had the fortitude or luck to accomplish it again.

  * * * *

  “I’m afraid we found the place empty, Agent Prescott.”

  Cam hadn’t even been aware of the level of rising optimism inside him until the Sheriff’s words shattered it. The Mills County veteran continued, “Property isn’t really much more than a fishing cabin, and we have a clear visual through the windows. We had a helluva downpour here last night. There are no tire tracks anywhere close to it.”

  It took a moment to speak around the hot knot of disappointment in his throat. “I appreciate you checking it out.”

  “We’ll go drive around the whole area, though, and take a close look at all the places there. I’ll let you know if anything shows up.”

  Thanking the man, Cam disconnected. Jenna, Franks, and the other team members in his DCI office were silent.

  And it was his imagination that their stillness reverberated with accusation. That feeling, he knew, came from within.

  “Fuck.”

  He blew out a breath in agreement with Jenna’s succinct summary of the call. “Yeah.” He propped his hands on his desk, took a moment to will away the tendrils of panic. “It was a great lead.”

  “A great lead would have found Sophie.” Jaw visibly clenched, the female agent looked away, pretended rapt attention on her computer screen.

  “It was a great lead,” he repeated, shoving away from the desk. “I’ve got everyone pulling at the same type of thread, and sooner or later it’s going to pan out.” Sooner, an inner voice sounded. Let it be sooner. “Baxter was out of moves. There was no safe house, that’s the reason for the motel rooms. I think wherever she took Sophie to, it was on the fly. Like grabbing a ride with Albert Kohler at the convenience store.” That had taken no planning, just sheer luck. And an ability to think on her feet. Baxter seemed blessed with both qualities in abundance.

  He strode around the desk to pace to the closed door. Back again. “She’s not going to go too far. Traveling too great a distance means stopping for breaks. Food. Gas. Every hour she was on the road with two hostages Baxter increased her exposure. She had a place in mind, and Sophie would say that place played a part in the woman’s past.”

  “There’s a big hole in her past that we have no information on,” Jenna reminded him morosely.

  “So we focus on what we do know.” His words sounded far more upbeat than he felt. He glanced at Tommy, seated at a table next to Turner, his laptop opened before him. “What was perfect about the lead Jenna found was the location. We need to think of places that would suit Baxter’s needs. Remote. Isolated.”

  “Could be rural,” the man said. “Given the years she spent at the Coates house. And the time she spent living in Gladys Stewart’s farmhouse, pretending to be her niece, while she collected the woman’s Social Security and rent checks.”

  “Stewart.” He stopped. “We need to get something on that. Baxter was there nearly two years. Who did she meet during her time there? What areas might be around that farmhouse that might perfectly suit her needs?”

  “I’m on it.” The older agent grabbed his suit coat and shrugged into it as he went to the door.

  To Jenna, Cam continued, “Rivers. Sonny Baxter found a place isolated enough on the bank of the Raccoon River to bury several of the victims. Dump more into the water. I don’t see Vickie staying out in the open, though. She doesn’t like exposure. She’s a behind the scenes multi-tasker.”

  He turned his attention to the timeline still tacked to his wall. Willed it to talk to him. “So rivers, lakes, woods…” He broke off as a snippet of memory flashed through his mind. Found it too nebulous to pin down.

  “You don’t think urban? Like the warehouse they rented to hide the ambulance in?”

  “Good thought. I don’t think it fits.” He tried to channel Sophie, forging an entry into the killer’s thought process. “But again, exposure.” Half turning, he propped a hip against the desk, folded his arms. “So we’re back to our first thought. Who does she have a tie to with access to a property like that?”

  Again, a thought niggled. He frowned, concentrating on brin
ging it to the forefront. Then Jenna spoke, disrupting his focus. “You’re going to want to come look at this. Albert Kohler just showed up on the inner agency crime link.”

  She was on the phone even as he sprang over to join her at her computer and read the line she was pointing to. A few minutes later she disconnected and looked at him. “They found the old man tied and half in a drainage ditch. No external injuries, but he requires medical treatment. Possible heart attack. He was conscious when he was discovered, though.”

  “Head to the hospital. See if you can get a word with him. Maybe he got an indication of where she was headed.” The woman was too clever to mention her plans, but she’d also been traveling with the boy. Henry. There was no telling what he might have overheard when she was talking to Vance. The kid could have let something slip.

  Wordlessly, Jenna pushed away from the computer, collected her phone and purse and headed toward the door. With her hand on the doorknob, she turned and looked at him over her shoulder. “Sophia’s smart. She’s resourceful. And she’s studied Baxter. She knows how the woman thinks. That gives her an edge.”

  Cam stared at the door long after Jenna had closed it behind him. He knew as well as the other agent did that Sophie was going to need a helluva lot more than an edge to get away from Baxter. The woman manipulated. Exploited vulnerabilities. It was how she had gotten cooperation from Hansen and Adams. She’d honed the skill for years, having done the same with Denholt over a decade earlier.

  And he was pretty sure it was how she’d gotten to Sophie, too. He went to his desk, intending to start through her notes again. Sophie wouldn’t have been able to turn her back if Baxter had threatened the boy. The woman would have known that. Used the knowledge.

  Denholt. His mind reversed course. The impalpable thought he couldn’t quite grasp earlier solidified. Something about Sophie’s visit with Denholt when Cam had sat across the hall…

  Comprehension made a belated appearance and it suddenly clicked. He went to his case files, found the chiropractor’s number again. Dialed it.

  “Agent Prescott.” When the receptionist finally got the man to the phone, his voice vacillated between annoyed and fearful. “I’m been thinking about calling you. All this talk with Captain Zirbel this morning about Vickie Baxter…should I be fearful for my mother’s safety? Maybe I should bring her to my home for a while.”

  Cam ignored the question. A persistent notion had taken hold, and his instincts were quivering. “The pictures on your desk in your office. The one taken of the water. Where was it taken?”

  “What? Oh, that was snapped years ago. Sundown Lake, near Centerville. My family has a cabin there.”

  The vise that gripped Cam’s chest squeezed so tightly he had to take a breath. Release it. “All day. All day you’ve been telling us you don’t have any other properties.”

  “I don’t. My sisters and I inherited it from our grandparents, but frankly it’s much too rustic for my taste. I sold out to them to help finance my business when I…”

  “Would Vickie Baxter know about it? Would she ever have been there?”

  “I…” He sounded uncertain. “I’m not sure. She was never there when I was, but my parents did take the Coates with them on occasion. It’s possible.”

  “Where is it? Exactly.”

  He quoted an address, then added, “But like I say, it’s rustic. The house--and it’s not much more than a two-bedroom cabin—sits on eight and a half timbered acres. From the road you wouldn’t even know it’s there. But back to my mother…do you think I should…”

  “No. She’s fine.” Cam hung up abruptly and raced out of his office down to Maria’s, already using his phone’s web browser to find the number for the Appanoose County sheriff. This was it. It had to be. They couldn’t afford to chase down any more dead ends.

  Because he had a feeling Sophie’s time was running out.

  * * * *

  The next time the door opened Sophia wasn’t taken unaware. She’d heard Baxter approach this time. She’d spent the time alone moving at a tortuous pace across the entire interior in search of anything that could be used as a weapon. Found it completely empty.

  “Show time, doc.” Baxter strode inside, lighting her way with a cellphone. She crouched down, and there was the flash of a blade. In moments Sophia’s ankles were free. The other woman rose. “Get up.”

  Sophia’s feet had gone numb. She tried to rise, almost fell when her legs wouldn’t hold her. She felt the back of her suit jacket being grabbed as she was hauled upright again. “Don’t have to worry about you making a run for it, huh? Move it.” The shove she was given almost sent her sprawling. Regaining her balance, Sophia stumbled out the door of the small stone building and blinked.

  With the dense trees hemming them in on three sides, it was difficult to tell how late it was. Dusk, certainly. Or nearly so. “Where’s the boy?”

  “Taking a rest. He’s been a little helper, that kid has.” When Sophia tripped over a branch the woman grabbed her again to steady her. “Just think how bad it’d be if I hadn’t taken those fucking shoes off you while you were unconscious. You’d be flat on your face.”

  The heels on the sandals she’d put on this morning would have made effective weapons, Sophia thought grimly, trying to pick her way through the shadows. She could see water in the distance. A river, perhaps, or maybe a lake. And the low rise of a building several hundred yards in front of it.

  It was impossible to tell where they were. And she knew it would be even more difficult for Cam and his team to figure it out.

  Desolation mingled with a newfound determination. If Henry and she were to get out of here, it was going to be up to her.

  As they walked the short distance to the structure, Sophia scanned the area, looking for possible escape routes. If there were neighbors around, their homes were hidden by the dense trees. A rutted drive sat beside the cabin they were headed for, but it was empty. Where had Baxter put the vehicle? She turned to look for it over her shoulder. There was nothing but woods behind her. Was the SUV hidden in them?

  “What the fuck are you looking for? There’s not going to be a white knight riding to your rescue, bitch. No one knows we’re here. Had a helluva time finding the fucking place again myself. It’s just you and me. And we’ve about to become much better acquainted.”

  There was a note of glee in the woman’s voice that sent dread snaking down her spine. She’d heard it before, with Vance. And knew that if something didn’t occur to her soon, she was going to die in this place.

  Desolation swept through her as she climbed the two steps to the long porch fronting the cabin. There had to be something inside the place she could turn into a weapon. Some way to fashion an escape. She repeated the assurance like a mantra, to avoid the panic that was scrambling her nerves.

  But when Baxter’s hand at her back had her staggering through the doorway, off balance, her first glance around the space had dismay clutching at her throat.

  Fresh plywood was nailed over all of the windows, including the one in the front door. A few heavy pieces of furniture, upholstered pine. There was a table of similar weight, no matching chairs. No lamps. No overhead light. Two portable spotlights, one on each side of the room provided the only illumination. There were no tools near the fireplace.

  Henry sat under the table, looking small and scared. The sight shot Sophia’s spine with steel. The little boy had already experienced more in his short years than most endured in a lifetime. For that reason alone, Vickie Baxter couldn’t be allowed to win.

  The door slammed behind Sophia. Turning, she watched the woman lock it. “Bet you’re wondering if I overlooked anything when I dumped everything from those kitchen drawers and cupboards into the bedroom. Surely there’s a knife I left behind. Maybe a heavy skillet to brain her with. Did I leave anything like that, kid?”