by Karen Rose
Her captor had capped the man’s knees, probably to keep him from running away. How brave, she thought with a spurt of fury. She grabbed on to the fury, fanned it higher, used it as fuel. She’d need every ounce of energy she could get.
She twisted at the waist to see what was on her right and let out a quiet sigh. An old man. He was dead too, his throat slit. Her captor used both guns and knives. Good to know.
She’d figured it was just the three of them in the back until her eyes spied something pale. Skin. She stretched her body until she could see over the old man, and her heart skipped a beat. It was a girl. It had to be the girl who’d washed her. The one who’d refused to help her. The one who’d called that hellhole home. She was tiny, inches shorter than Corinne. She appeared to be about ten or eleven years old and didn’t look like she’d ever had a full meal, her hair matted and dirty. But she didn’t look dead, at least.
But where was Arianna? Corinne twisted one way, then another, scanning the corners of the van. But there was no Arianna. A wail filled her throat and mercilessly she forced it back.
He killed her. He killed her and left her behind. But . . . why bring the men? Why not leave them behind too? Corinne felt the first tendril of hope. Maybe Arianna had escaped.
I need to escape too. I need to find her. She had to find something to cut the rope around her wrists. The old man was closest, so she searched him first, hoping to find something sharp. Twisting so that she could reach him with her hands tied behind her back, she fumbled for his pocket, nearly weeping with relief when her fingers closed awkwardly over a penknife.
God, give me enough time and strength to cut through this rope. I’ll do anything you say for the rest of my life. Which, if her prayers went unanswered, wasn’t going to be all that long.
Cincinnati, Ohio, Monday 3 November, 9.55 P.M.
Faith woke with a start, smelling cedar and hearing the sound of a man’s deep voice.
Her eyes flew open and she felt a moment of disoriented panic. She lunged forward, only to bounce back against her seat, held firmly in place by her belt. The subsequent twinge of pain shooting down her lower back cleared the fog. Oh yeah. I hit a tree.
And she’d found the girl. Arianna. A chill of dread chased the pain. She knows me.
She turned her head to find Novak on his cell phone, the glare of oncoming traffic making his white hair look even whiter against his tanned skin. Making her wonder if that was his natural coloring or if he worshiped the sun. Which wasn’t relevant.
He was a cop. A dangerous kind of cop, she thought. One who made her want to trust him.
And she had trusted him, far more than she’d expected. Or she must have been more tired than she’d thought, because she’d fallen asleep on the way to the ER. They were back in the city already, and the last thing she remembered was being on the interstate.
‘Thanks for getting back to me so quickly,’ he was saying quietly to the caller. ‘Are you on tonight?’ The answer must have not been the one he wanted because his mouth firmed in frustration. ‘I forgot,’ he murmured. ‘I’m sorry. Can you be on tonight?’ His frown faded into relief. ‘Thanks, I’ll owe you one . . . Okay, whatever. More than one. I need you to check out a witness. She got banged up in a car wreck tonight . . . Sutures. Maybe a concussion.’
I do not have a concussion, Faith wanted to snap, but she didn’t because his expression suddenly tensed as he listened.
‘Tell him I’ll talk to him in the morning before he goes to school. And tell him to leave his homework on the kitchen table, and to make sure he shows his work. Thanks, Dani.’
Faith frowned. School? Did he have a son? A wife? Or maybe a girlfriend? And who was Danny? A babysitter? No, because whoever he was, he was coming to the hospital to suture her head, so he must be a medical doctor. Novak’s lover? Was Novak gay?
And? So what if he is? It didn’t matter, of course. Nor was it any of her business.
Novak had been listening to Danny and now sighed wearily. ‘No, it’s okay. I’ll go. You’ve gone all the other times, so it’s my turn . . . No, don’t tell him. Let him think you’ll show up. We have to keep him off balance or we’re done for before we even get started.’ The corners of his mouth turned up wryly at something Danny said, making Faith stare.
Novak was a handsome man, but when he smiled, he was devastating.
‘You know that I know the place,’ he said, amusement lacing his tone. Then his white brows shot up. ‘She’s still there? No way in hell. I thought she’d be dead by now. I guess only the good do die young.’ He glanced at Faith, his face stiffening when he saw that she was awake. ‘I need to go, Dani. See you soon.’ He slipped his phone in his pocket. ‘Sorry about that.’
Faith knew she should keep her mouth shut, but there was something about the way he’d smiled that made her a fool. She wanted to know if he had a son. And a wife. Because I’m curious, nothing more. ‘Whose homework will you check?’
He hesitated, then shrugged. ‘My brother’s. He’s a freshman in high school.’
Not his son. Her eyes widened as she did the math. ‘Wow. Your mother must have been surprised. There are quite a few years between you.’ His brother would only be fourteen or fifteen and Novak appeared to be in his early to mid thirties.
Another smile bent his lips, this one rueful but equally devastating. ‘She was.’
‘I take it that your brother is in trouble?’
Novak sighed. ‘For fighting and being a rebellious pain in the ass.’
‘Most teenagers are rebellious,’ she said mildly.
A growl rumbled deep in his throat. ‘Most don’t get suspended from school twice in as many months.’
His side of the conversation started to make sense. ‘You’re going to the principal’s office?’
‘Yeah. And not looking forward to it.’
She bit back a smile. ‘Spent a lot of time there, huh?’
He slid her a wary glance. ‘Quantify “a lot.”’
She chuckled, charmed in spite of her best intentions. ‘If I have to quantify it, that answers my question.’ But then something he’d said to Danny sank in. ‘Did you go to the same school as your brother?’ she asked sharply.
He’d smiled at her chuckle, but his expression now smoothed to one of bland curiosity. ‘Why would you think that?’
Again he’d avoided her question, giving her the answer. Disappointment rose to clog her throat. She’d really hoped he’d be different. You, Faith, are an idiot. ‘Maybe because the same principal is still there? You know, if you didn’t want to give me the name of a defense attorney, you could have just said so. You didn’t have to tell me you were new and didn’t know any. God. I keep hoping I’m wrong, but you guys really are all the same. You lie about the small things and then wonder why people don’t trust you with their lives.’
He was quiet for a long moment, then finally blew out a breath. ‘I didn’t lie to you. I did grow up in Cincinnati – in Norwood, actually, then later we lived in Clifton. Google me if you need verification. I went all-state in track my senior year of high school and there was a write-up in the paper. You should find it in the archive. But then I went away to college and I didn’t come back except for holidays and birthdays. I joined the Bureau after graduation and worked all over the country before getting transferred back here a month ago. I said I was new in my job. From a professional networking standpoint, I’m new to the area. I meant no deception.’
‘I see.’ More than she’d expected to. There was a roughness in his voice when he’d answered, making her wonder why a young man would leave home never to return except for holidays and birthdays. And there was a desperate relief, deep in her gut. She hadn’t merely hoped he’d be different. She’d wanted him to be different. And she wasn’t sure what to do with that realization. ‘I apologize, Agent Novak.’
‘It’s all right.’ One white brow lifted as he stopped at a red light and looked over at her. ‘I can understand your assumption based on my
background.’
Well, hell. Her cheeks heated, and from the twitch of his lips, he’d noticed. ‘Touché,’ she said. ‘For the record, I was wrong. I’m sorry.’
His demeanor changed, his odd eyes growing intense, and Faith didn’t think she could look away if she tried. ‘Thank you. And for the record, I have not lied to you once all evening.’
She met his gaze with a challenge. ‘But you have withheld truths. Like what you really found in my grandmother’s basement. Which I would still very much like to know.’
‘I know you would,’ he said quietly. ‘And I’ll tell you what I can, when I can. You’ve withheld truths as well. I suspect it was to guard your personal safety.’
Faith swallowed hard, thinking of her old boss, of his blood on her hands, both literally and figuratively. Of her father, whose heart could not withstand the stress of knowing the danger that had stalked her. Of all the people in her old apartment building who’d been lucky to escape the fire with their lives. ‘And that of others.’
He frowned at that, but then the light turned green and he returned his attention to traffic. ‘You’ve discovered other young women near death recently?’
‘No. But I do seem to be a magnet for violence.’
‘You will tell me about this violence,’ he said sternly.
It was not a request, but she wasn’t offended. Lives were at stake, just as they’d been in Miami. ‘Of course.’ They turned a corner and the bright lights of the hospital came into view, reminding her of the phone conversation she’d overheard. ‘Who is Danny, and why did you ask him to come in to stitch me up when it’s his night off?’
‘Her night off. Danika is an attending at Cincinnati General.’
Her. Danika was a woman. Which wasn’t a big deal. Except he’d only been here a month and had no professional network.
‘How long have you known her?’ she asked carefully.
The hint of a smile played over his lips. ‘Oh, we go way back, to when I lived here before. Don’t worry. She’s a very good doctor.’
Faith was horrified to feel a spurt of jealousy and squashed it before it could gain any appreciable ground. ‘I never meant to imply otherwise. But I am surprised to be getting such preferential treatment. I figured I’d be triaged and sit and wait for two or three hours.’
Novak’s lips firmed to a hard line. ‘We don’t have two or three hours. We need to find Corinne Longstreet before she ends up like Arianna. Or worse.’
Assuming she hadn’t already, Faith thought sadly. ‘Or worse,’ she murmured.
‘Dani’s not sure how much faster she can get you through, but she’ll do her best. She can’t treat you if there are any life-threatening cases ahead of you, but she’s not on staff tonight so she can see you sooner than the other doctors.’ He guided the SUV into the ER’s parking lot. ‘Let’s get you into a private exam room, then we’ll talk.’
‘A private exam room? Not the waiting room?’
‘That’s the plan. I don’t know how long this will take, but I didn’t think it was prudent to have you sitting in the waiting room for hours. Arianna is at the same hospital and I know there will be reporters around. It won’t take them long to get wind of what’s going on out at your house. We’ve got it lit up like the surface of the damn sun. One of them sees you with me, puts two and two together, then all of a sudden, you’re front-page news. I don’t think having your picture online is the best way to stay under your stalker’s radar.’
The air rushed from her lungs at the thought of Peter Combs knowing where she was. ‘No, it’s not.’ She gave Novak a long, considering stare. ‘Thank you. I didn’t expect this.’
‘Expect what?’
She shrugged uncomfortably. ‘Thoughtfulness from a cop. You’re being very kind.’
‘I get something out of it too. A private area also ensures that we can talk without being overheard.’ He switched off the ignition, then sat back in his seat to give her a probing, troubled look. ‘Miami’s a big city. You must have known some decent cops.’
He’d shared a few personal details about himself. It wouldn’t hurt her to do the same. ‘I thought the one I married was.’
Novak went still, his eyes growing hard, his jaw tight. ‘Did he hurt you?’
‘Not the way you’re thinking,’ she said quickly. ‘He wasn’t a violent man. But our divorce was less than civil, and trash-talking me to his friends on the force must’ve made him feel a lot better, because he did it often.’
Novak studied her in the way he had at the beginning of the evening, like she was on display in a specimen jar. She now suspected it was a way for him to put the subject of his questions on edge. ‘Is that why you don’t trust cops?’
‘It’s one reason.’
‘I can’t wait to hear the others,’ he said dryly. He got out of the SUV and came around to her side, opening her door and extending a hand. ‘You’ve got to be feeling sore from the impact with the tree,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to fall again. Let me help you.’
Gingerly she took his hand, not expecting the gentleness of his grip. It was something about Novak that surprised her every time, that he could be so gentle. He let her go as soon as her feet were solidly on the ground, but stayed close enough to steady her if she stumbled. Though not so close that he sent her into a panic.
He was a quick study.
‘Thank . . .’ The words died on her lips. He was staring at her throat, his jaw even tighter than it had been before. She knew what he was looking at. The cowled collar of her sweater had shifted when she’d exited his vehicle, exposing the scar Peter Combs had left behind. Suddenly self-conscious, and annoyed to be so, she pulled a lock of her hair forward to cover the scar.
‘No,’ he said, regret thickening his voice. Carefully he hooked his finger through the lock of hair and pulled it back over her shoulder. ‘Don’t hide it. I’m sorry, Faith. I hate it when people stare at me, and I just did the same to you.’
‘It’s all right,’ she said, and meant it. ‘I’m used to it by now.’
‘So am I, but it doesn’t mean I like it. Peter Combs did that to you?’
She pulled the lock of hair back to cover the scar, nodding. ‘He did. And more.’
‘I need to know about that, too.’ He pulled a woolen scarf from the pocket of his leather coat and wound it around her face, hiding her nose and mouth. And her throat. ‘This way, if one of them does get a picture, no one will be able to identify you.’
Once again, she was touched by his thoughtfulness. ‘Thank you.’
He lifted his brows mockingly. ‘All part of the good-cop service. I see one of the ER nurses up there at the side door waving us over. Let’s go.’
Chapter Eight
Eastern Kentucky, Monday 3 November, 9.55 P.M.
Where the hell is the damn road? He hadn’t been here for a while, and last time it had been in the daylight in the summertime. The road looked different with many of the surrounding trees now leafless skeletons.
He’d passed his turnoff, not realizing he’d gone too far until he’d seen the lights of Morehead. He’d had to double back, and now drove extra slow with his high beams on. What should have taken him two hours had taken nearly three.
Ah. There it is. He turned from the main road on to an unmarked, rutted dirt one, ignoring the painted symbols on the trees indicating that he’d crossed on to private land. Gritting his teeth as the van bounced unmercifully, he rounded the final curve and relaxed.
There it was. The little cabin in the very big woods. He’d wondered why its owner had picked this particular location, but had never asked.
He’d already decided that he’d bury the two dead bodies he carried under the cabin’s rustic wood floor. The other two . . . He hadn’t yet made his mind up. He’d figured on killing them quickly when he arrived and dumping all four bodies in a mass grave. But that seemed like such a waste.
He’d worked hard to obtain Longstreet, having chosen her carefully. He’d alr
eady lost his home because of the Escobar bitch. He didn’t want to lose his prize, too. He had plans for the blonde. Fun plans.
And the child? When his temper had cooled, he knew that she was worth more to him alive. She was leverage, pure and simple. She always had been. But she’d need to be reconditioned. Somehow she’d grown up a little faster than he’d expected, finding a spine somewhere.
But spines could be broken. He’d get a lot of pleasure teaching the child everything he knew, and in so doing increase her value. Truly good leverage was damn hard to come by.
The little cabin was isolated, so no one would hear their screams. He could stash the Longstreet woman and the child here and come back for them later. Over and over again.
And when he was finished, he’d bury Corinne Longstreet under the floorboards with the power guy and the locksmith. As for the child . . . he’d find a place for her when he was confident that she no longer had a spine.
The more he considered the idea, the more he liked it. He wouldn’t have to rush with the females, and it allowed him to get back to the city with all haste. Because he had one more loose end to snip. As long as Faith Frye still breathed, she was a danger.
He slowed the van to a stop in front of the little cabin. Hopefully the owner had left some food in the pantry, because he was starving, and there was still significant physical labor to be done before he could leave.
He had to pull up the floor and dig a hole big enough for the power guy. The locksmith was a skinny, bony old man who wouldn’t take up much room at all. The power guy was the challenge. He got out of the van, slamming the door in annoyance. Of course the power company couldn’t have sent a skinny tech to his house. That would have been too easy.
He’d walked toward the cabin, and was a foot from the door when he realized that something was off. He drew a breath through his nose, his stomach growling at the enticing aroma.