by Mary Burton
They arrived at the football game to a dozen cop cars with lights flashing in the parking lot. Palmer was already on the scene, and she’d spoken to the principal, who had located Carrie and her mother, Kelly Scott. The girl and her mother were pale.
When they approached, Palmer introduced them.
Mazur extended his hand to Mrs. Scott. “I’m Alyssa’s father.”
Mrs. Scott’s frown deepened. “I just saw Alyssa with Carrie a half hour ago. Detective Palmer tells me she might have been kidnapped.”
Carrie’s red-rimmed eyes filled with fresh tears. “Mr. Mazur, I’m so sorry.” Understanding her through the sobs was a challenge. “I thought she was just going to the car to get her sweater.”
“Carrie, it’s okay.” Mazur laid his hand on the girl’s shoulder, and she quickly hugged him. He looked up at Mrs. Scott. “This is connected to a case that I’m working.”
The woman leaned toward him. “I told the girls to stay with the crowds.”
Mazur pulled the girl away from him. “Carrie, I need you to focus. Did you see anyone lingering around?”
“No. No one that looked weird,” she said.
Mrs. Scott drew in a breath. “There was a man by the concession stand.”
“Who?” Mazur asked.
“Midthirties, dark hair. I noticed him because he wasn’t old enough to be a parent and too old to be a student. He just didn’t fit here. And then he tossed out a perfectly good hot dog.” A sigh shuddered through her. “God, do you think it was him?”
Kate moved in front of Mazur, introduced herself, and showed Mrs. Scott a picture of Bauldry. “Is this him?”
The woman leaned in and studied the picture. “I can’t say for certain, but it does look like him.”
“Did he say anything?” Kate asked.
“No. He was extremely polite and put a twenty-dollar bill in the band-fund jar.”
Kate turned to the girl. “Carrie, you need to stop crying. I need to talk to you.”
The girl stopped sobbing and turned toward Kate. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve pulled down over her hand.
“You’re really FBI?”
“I am.” She looked at the girl’s mother and nodded.
“You come when there’s been a kidnapping or murder.”
“That’s right. You need to listen closely, because we don’t have a lot of time. Can you focus for me?”
The girl sniffed. “I-I’m so rattled.”
“I don’t care how rattled or upset you are,” Mrs. Scott said. “You need to focus and help the police.”
Carrie nibbled her lip. “Yes. Yes. I can do that.”
“Good. Did you see anyone lurking around you tonight?”
“No. We were just enjoying the game.”
Mazur’s phone rang. “Detective Mazur.” He cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear, pulled out a notebook, and scribbled down notes. “Great. Thank you.” He looked at Kate. “They’ve located the Scotts’ car.”
“Go,” Kate said. She held out little hope that whoever had taken Alyssa left some kind of evidence. “I want to talk to some of the people here. See if they know anything.”
“Right.”
Mazur and Palmer left, leaving Kate alone to talk to Carrie and her mother. She watched as his car drove off, so sorry she’d ever met him or Alyssa.
“How long have you known Alyssa?” Kate asked.
Carrie sniffed. “A couple of months. She’s new, and it’s hard to make new friends in this school. Most of us have been going here since kindergarten.”
“But you’re her friend.”
“She’s cool. And she’s nice. We have fun together.”
“Is Alyssa dating anyone? Would she have left with anyone?” Sometimes a missing child had not been taken but had left with a friend. Kate had experience with girls like Carrie. They wanted to protect their friend and at this stage feared the parents more than the police. In their naïveté, they didn’t believe monsters were real.
Carrie leaned in a little. “She does like a guy. His name is James. They’ve kissed a few times.”
“Where is James?”
“He’s one of the football players.” She pointed to a tall, dark-haired kid whose football uniform was covered in dirt and grass. “He’s really nice. And he couldn’t have left with her during the game.”
“Okay, honey.”
Needing to cover all her bases, Kate cut through the crowd and made her way up to the young football player who was headed to the locker room for halftime. He stood at least a foot taller than her. She held up her badge. “James, I need to talk to you.”
The boy’s face paled, and as the two cut away from the crowd, he asked, “What’s going on?”
She studied his face, suspecting almost immediately he had no relevant information. “You and Alyssa are dating?”
“Not exactly dating. But I want to. I like her.”
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
“In school yesterday. She decorated my locker.”
“You’ve not seen her since?”
“No.” He ran an unsteady hand over his short hair. “What’s going on?”
She didn’t have the heart to tell him Alyssa had been taken or that her chances grew slimmer by the moment. The truth was, girls who had been abducted were often dead within the first few hours. “I can’t say right now.” William was already several moves ahead of her, and time was running out. Drexler wouldn’t kill right away, but that was little solace for what she knew was in store for Alyssa.
She dialed Nevada.
He picked up on the third ring. “No sign of Drexler yet.”
“I think we have a bigger problem now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
All I want for Christmas is . . . revenge.
San Antonio, Texas
Friday, December 1, 8:00 p.m.
Mazur and Palmer arrived at the dimly lit box store parking lot ten minutes after William’s call. The car he’d stolen was parked in the darkest part of the lot nosed in at an angle toward a stand of small trees.
Both detectives were silent as they drew their weapons and approached the white Lexus. No one was in the front seat, and the trunk was ajar.
Mazur moved directly to the trunk while Palmer walked around the front to make sure it was secure. Normally Mazur would have waited, but he needed to see the inside of the trunk. He’d once bargained with God to bring back his son as he held the boy’s still body in his arms. But those pleas had gone unheeded. Still, he hoped, and struck a new bargain. I’ll do anything.
He lifted the trunk lid. It was empty. No Alyssa. He stepped back; the swell of fear and relief nearly made his knees buckle. “She’s not here!”
Palmer stepped forward and inventoried the trunk’s contents.
There was a spare tire, a trunk organizer with flares, and an open first-aid kit. But shoved in the very back was Alyssa’s blue sweater.
“What’s it doing crammed up there?” Palmer asked.
“She did it. She wants us to know she was here.”
With trembling hands he holstered his weapon and pulled on latex gloves. He picked up the sweater. Under the sweater lay her bracelet. She’d left it for him so he’d know she’d been here, just as Kate advised. His daughter believed he could save her.
When Caleb died, he thought he had shouldered all the anger and sorrow a man could. Now he realized there was so much more of both that could be waiting for him.
Palmer searched the front and back seats. “There’s nothing here.”
“Get Calhoun here now. I want this entire car dusted for prints. There’s a chance the kidnapper didn’t use gloves.”
“I’m on it.”
Kate had a uniformed officer drive her to her rental car, which had been checked and judged clear of tracking devices, and then she drove straight to Bauldry’s house, where three squad cars were now in position, lights flashing. The front door was open, and the housekeeper was talking to a
police officer.
Pulling her badge, she hurried up to the front door. “Where’s William?”
The housekeeper looked panicked and afraid. But a quick glance over her shoulder said she was more afraid of her employer. “He’s not here.”
“We’re not here to arrest him,” Kate lied. “We need to talk to him.”
“Please,” she whispered. “I can’t help you, Miss.”
Kate could play by the book until moments like this when doing it by the book stood between her and saving a life. She pushed past the housekeeper and screamed, “Bauldry!”
“Miss. Miss,” the woman said, hurrying after her. “You can’t come in the house. Mr. Bauldry doesn’t see people.”
“You said he wasn’t here.” Kate searched deeper into the house and scanned a dimly lit sitting room. It was clean, pristine, but there was no sign of William.
The housekeeper shook her head. “You have to leave.”
Kate bounded up the staircase, shouting, “Where are you, Bauldry?”
She opened the first door in the hallway as she heard the housekeeper on her phone calling someone. As the woman spoke in rapid-fire Spanish, Kate ran to the second room. Nothing.
Her phone rang. The number was blocked. She ran down the steps. “This is Kate Hayden.”
“You always sound so frantic,” William said.
She looked toward the housekeeper, who slid her phone back in her pocket. “William.”
“Katie.” He drew out the word as if she were a naughty child. “How are you today?”
“I’ll let you know when it’s over. Where’s Alyssa?”
“You have exactly twenty-six minutes to make it to the address I’m about to text you. Then I’m going to introduce sweet Alyssa to Drexler and see how they hit it off. He’s quite the ladies’ man, but he’s distraught you took his other toy away. But, thankfully, Alyssa has graciously agreed to help Mr. Drexler forget about his lost toy.”
She gripped her phone. “You want me, not her, William. She’s not a part of this. I’m coming to you.”
“Remember, no cops, Kate.” His voice had a singsong, happy quality.
His type loved moments like this. They savored the attention, fear, and domination.
“I won’t be nice to you if you hurt her.”
Ignoring her threat, he said, “I’ll know if you call anyone, Katie. I always do.”
Her gaze met the housekeeper’s, who stared at her with a mixture of fear and longing. “Understood.”
“Ready or not, here comes the address.”
The line went dead, and two seconds later her phone dinged with a text. She read the address and plugged it into the map on her phone. According to the directions, if she drove full speed she might make it. She ran past the stunned woman. Kate desperately wanted to call Mazur, but knew somehow that William did know what she was doing.
Kate crossed back to the housekeeper and barely whispered, “He’s watching?”
Brown eyes widened with fear.
The woman’s body language screamed what she suspected. William was watching. “Do you have pencil and paper? There is an address I have to remember.”
The housekeeper handed her a pen and paper. Kate scribbled down the address she’d just been given, plus Mazur’s phone number and the word Emergency! She ripped off a blank page from the notepad’s bottom and handed it back to the woman.
The woman accepted the pad and glanced quickly at it. “Yes, Miss.”
If William witnessed her mutiny, she was betting he’d not kill the girl. She was a bargaining chip. And logic dictated if Kate didn’t reach out for help, there was a good chance she and the girl wouldn’t get out alive.
Kate ran back to her car. Her tires squealed as she backed out of the driveway. She wove in and out of traffic, punching the accelerator. On the interstate she clocked over one hundred miles per hour until she saw her exit, which led into the countryside.
Her phone rang. BLOCKED appeared on her display.
“You’re behind schedule,” William said. “Ticktock.”
“I hit traffic. I’m driving as fast as I can.” The countryside sped past her.
“Drexler said the box is a little small this time. He measured wrong. You know what that means. Snap. Crackle. Pop.”
The line went dead.
She pressed harder on the accelerator. She was driving so fast that when the GPS told her to turn she nearly missed the hard right. Brakes screeched, gravel kicked as she skidded and turned down the rural route to the gates at the entrance. They were swung wide open in silent invitation.
She barreled down the driveway, hoping she didn’t blow a tire.
Restless energy and raw fear burned in Mazur as he paced by the abandoned car. His phone rang. It was Santos. He cursed. “Tell me you have good news.”
“I looked over the list of properties associated with William Bauldry. I have two locations with large enough water sources for fishing.”
As Mazur scribbled down the addresses, his phone rang with a second call. Without a word, he took the other call. “Detective Mazur.”
“Police, police!” the frantic woman yelled.
“Who is this?”
“Police. This police?”
“Yes. Who is this?” In the distance he could hear traffic and a horn honking.
“Miss Kate said to call. Said to give you this address.” She read off an unfamiliar address.
“Give me that again.”
She repeated it as he scribbled onto a notepad. “Who is this?”
“I work for Mr. Bauldry.”
He snapped his fingers to get Palmer’s attention. She turned and moved toward him. “You’re his housekeeper, Mrs. Lopez?”
“Yes. The FBI lady came by the house and couldn’t find him. But he could see. And then he called.”
Adrenaline cut through his body. “Where are you now?”
“In the city, at my brother’s bar. This is his phone. I’m not going back to Mr. Bauldry’s. Miss Kate is going to that place I told you about. She wrote emergency.”
His heart tightened. “She said emergency?”
“Yes, sir.”
Jesus. “Are you sure about these details?”
“Yes, I think so.” Her voice trembled, and she paused to mutter a prayer. “Yes, I’m certain. That is what she gave me.”
He didn’t dare hope. “How long has Kate been gone?”
“About fifteen minutes. She’s very brave, I think.”
And she was just crazy enough to go after Bauldry alone.
“Where’s your brother’s bar?”
“Don’t tell Mr. Bauldry.”
“I won’t.”
She rattled off the address.
“Stay at your brother’s bar, okay? I’m sending Detective Palmer. She’ll take care of you.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hung up and looked at the addresses he’d scribbled down. One was a match. He had a target.
“Palmer, I need for you to go to this address and find a Mrs. Lopez. She works for Bauldry.”
“What’s going on?” Palmer asked.
“While Kate was at Bauldry’s house, she received a call from him. He has Alyssa. I’m going to follow this lead, but call Santos and have him check out the other location.”
“Consider it done.”
“Good.” Mazur got in his car, backing out so quickly he nearly hit another cruiser. Pressing his foot on the gas, he flipped on his lights.
William lifted the groggy girl out of the back of the 1971 Buick that he’d swapped for the Lexus. The old cars were some of the best. Granted the gas mileage was terrible and their safety records questionable, but there was no GPS. He yearned for the simpler days.
She moaned, and her smooth brow wrinkled as she tried to open her eyes. “My dad will come.”
“Ah, you’re awake.” He held the girl close, enjoying the way she felt in his arms. “No, no, he won’t. But Agent Kate is riding to the rescue.”
“My Katie is headed our way right now.”
She tried to wriggle free, but she was still too groggy. She slumped back in his arms. If only she knew that tomorrow she would awake inside a box.
The door to the barn opened, and light silhouetted Drexler’s tall frame. “Is that my girl?”
“It will be soon.”
Drexler hurried over to him. Sawdust peppered his freshly shaved scalp and his plaid shirt. “Where’s the other one? You said to build two boxes.”
“She’ll be here shortly.”
Drexler studied the girl’s body, running his hand along her thigh to her ankle. “The dimensions you gave me were too small.”
“You’ve worked around that problem before.”
Drexler smiled. “Yes, I have. Can I have her now?”
He held back. “Not just yet. It can’t be a party until Katie arrives.”
Kate killed her headlights, using starlight to maneuver slowly down the dirt road. Dust kicked up around the car; gravel crunched under her tires. In the distance were the lights of a ranch-style house.
Her tire hit a rut, jarring her and forcing her to grip and turn the wheel to keep the car on the road.
She looked in her rearview mirror at the endless stretch of darkness behind her. This house was a needle in a haystack, and without an address, impossible to find quickly. She could only hope that Mazur had received her address and her message.
And as much as she wanted to wait for him, the image of Sara Fletcher’s face flashed in her head. Waiting gave the monsters more time with Alyssa.
Kate simply couldn’t live knowing that child had suffered because of her. She was ready for this to be a one-way trip if it meant nailing these two beasts before they got to Alyssa.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Revenge is a dish best served cold.
—Gloria’s proverb
San Antonio, Texas
Friday, December 1, 10:00 p.m.
Kate shut off the engine, drew her weapon, and got out of the car. She stood in the cool night air as the gentle breeze reminded her of a calm before a storm. She stared at the lights glowing from the windows of the simple outbuilding constructed of weathered gray wood and a tin roof. A male figure passed in front of a large window, and then the door opened. William Bauldry stood in the doorway. He flashed her a wide grin when he saw her.