by Karen Rose
‘You stopped?’
‘Hard. He kept going.’
‘That was smart, Faith. You’re safe now. Not shot. Not hurt. Now look at the van. It’s driving away, fast. But for a second you can see, straight ahead. What color is the sun?’
‘Red,’ she said and went deathly still. ‘My God,’ she whispered. ‘It was red with stripes, yellow stripes. A rising sun.’
‘You’re doing great, Faith,’ he said soothingly, choosing the rising sun designs from his search results. ‘Can you see any letters?’
She clenched her closed eyes. ‘No. I’m sorry.’
‘You’re doing great,’ he said again, but he could see that she was stressing herself, dragging herself out of that moment. ‘I want you to take a few deep breaths for me, Faith. Good. Now think about the van. You slam on your brakes and you can see it as it drives away. It’s dark outside and the van’s tail lights are red. Are they rectangles or squares?’
Her brow wrinkled. ‘Rectangles.’
‘Are there doors?’
‘Yes. Two. Side by side. No windows.’
‘Where is the van now?’
‘Slowing down.’ Her breath hitched. ‘He turned around.’
He could feel her fear, could visualize her terrified and alone. Focusing on his voice, he calmed her with it. Stroked her with it. ‘What are you doing now?’
‘Crying. My hands are shaking.’ Clenched in her lap, her hands trembled. Her whole body trembled. ‘He was coming back and I wanted to turn around, but it was too late.’ Her chin lifted along with her shoulders as she drew a deep breath. ‘So I charged him.’
Deacon was fiercely impressed with her courage even though his heart knocked in his chest. She’d played chicken with a killer. ‘And then?’
‘He swerved.’
‘Left or right?’
‘My left. I sped past him.’ She opened her eyes, met his. ‘I got away.’
‘Good for you,’ he said. ‘You didn’t tell the police that you saw the gun.’
She frowned. ‘I thought I did.’ Her eyes flickered as she considered it, and he could see the exact moment she realized the importance. She sucked in a breath. ‘He had a passenger.’
‘I think so, yes.’ He slid his tablet across the table so that she could see. ‘Which of these plate designs best matches your recollection?’
She scanned the screen, then pointed, her mouth firming with grim satisfaction. ‘This one.’
‘Good. Give me a minute.’ Dialing Dispatch, he amended his earlier BOLO. ‘White Ford cargo van, double doors. Tennessee plates. Tinted glass.’
‘But even if he is here,’ Faith said when he’d hung up, ‘and even if he is involved in your case, do you really think he kept the same license plates? He planned what he did on the bridge. He was careful. He’d be stupid to keep the plates.’
‘You might be right, but it’s worth a try. He keeps coming after you, which shows a growing level of desperation. Desperate people make stupid mistakes.’
‘Then if he is here, I hope he’s very stupid,’ she murmured. ‘For Corinne’s sake.’
Not for her own. In that moment, Deacon knew he was going to take care of Faith Corcoran. He was going to make damn sure she stayed safe.
The door to the interview room opened. ‘Novak, you were right,’ Isenberg said, a triumphant gleam in her eyes.
Faith looked at the mirror uncomfortably. ‘You were watching?’
‘Most of it. I’d heard tell of Novak’s interview skills and wanted to observe.’
Deacon had suspected she might be watching, but hated that Faith’s privacy had been invaded once again. ‘What do you have?’ he asked the lieutenant.
Isenberg’s grin was pure shark. ‘A ballistics match. You were right. The same gun that killed Gordon Shue in Miami was fired at Dr Corcoran’s house yesterday afternoon.’
Yes. Deacon grinned back. ‘It was a long shot.’
‘Well, it paid off,’ Isenberg said. ‘I’m liking your gut more every hour.’
‘Oh my God,’ Faith whispered, and Deacon’s grin abruptly disappeared. Her mouth had dropped open, her expression horrified. ‘You were right. I brought him here.’
Deacon realized that until that moment, she hadn’t truly believed it even possible that Combs was to blame for the abduction of Corinne and Arianna. Yet she’d told him everything he’d wanted to know, risking her license. Her livelihood. All for two young women she’d never met.
‘He may have followed you here,’ Isenberg said, ‘but this is not your fault. Agent Novak, I have a few other points to cover with you. If you’ll excuse us, Dr Corcoran.’
Deacon rose, his heart cracking a little more at the sight of Faith’s expression. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can, and then I’ll drive you to your hotel.’ He hesitated, then lightly squeezed her shoulder. ‘You didn’t cause this, Faith. You tried everything you knew to avoid it.’
She nodded silently, her eyes bright with new tears as he left her alone at the table.
Chapter Twelve
Eastern Kentucky, Tuesday 4 November, 1.25 A.M.
Corinne had nearly given up. Her bare foot was like a block of ice and her arm was screaming in pain. And her head hurt. She hurt all over.
She’d used her shoe to prop the heavy door open so that she could snake her arm through to get to the lock. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. She just had to get the little toothpick tool in the lock. That was all. It shouldn’t be this hard.
Her eyes filled with tears as she sagged against the top step. She was going to die here.
No, you’re not. Arianna’s out there somewhere and so is that little girl. They need you.
Blindly she reached through the opening, bending her arm unnaturally to reach the rusted padlock. Don’t skitter away, she commanded the lock. Just . . . stay.
She held her breath when the pick didn’t skate off the padlock as it had a thousand times already. It went in. All the way in. Don’t you dare drop the knife now. She controlled her breathing, then jiggled the pick. And heard the click of the lock giving way. Tears burned her cold cheeks. The chain slid free of the handles. Slowly, carefully, she pushed the door open.
I did it! She wanted to shout it to the sky, bright with the most beautiful stars she’d ever seen. But she held it in. Be quiet. Just in case he’s still here. She shoved her foot back into her shoe and stepped on to the cold ground.
Her heart sank. Woods. They were surrounded by woods. No neighbors. They were miles away from civilization. Dammit.
She turned in a circle. And gasped. Blood was spattered all over the back of the house, by the gas tank. The shot she’d heard when they’d first arrived, she thought. Who had he shot?
Afraid to know the answer, she crept around the house, peeking in the side window.
There was a tall mound of dirt on the floor inside the cabin. A shovel had been propped against the wall. And the girl lay on a cot, her wrists and ankles bound. She wore a thin T-shirt and faded jeans. No shoes or socks. No coat. No blanket.
Corinne saw no sign of the monster who’d brought them here, and the front door was locked. The van was nowhere to be seen. He really was gone. For now.
Picking this lock was far easier than the last one. It was a simple lock, probably intended to keep bears out more than to keep people in, she thought.
She slipped into the house, stealing glances at the mound of dirt. He’d buried the two dead men from the van under there. And whoever he’d shot when they’d first arrived. Who was the third person? Whoever it had been, she couldn’t help them now.
But the girl was still alive, even though her skin was cold. Getting her warm and waking her up were the priorities. A second cot had a blanket. He could easily have covered her, Corinne thought as she ripped the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around the girl’s frozen body. She wondered why he hadn’t.
To show the girl who held the power, she answered herself. The child would wake up and see that the
re was a blanket and want it. She’d have to depend on him to give it to her.
He’s teaching them, the girl had said. What they should know.
On the stove was a pot of cold stew, fat congealed into a thick layer on top. Her stomach growled and she suddenly realized how hungry she was.
I need to eat before I fall over. She scraped off the layer of fat with trembling, dirty fingers, hygiene the last thing on her mind. She crammed handfuls of the stew into her mouth, but saved some for the girl. Hopefully they could both eat their fill before he returned.
They’d need their strength to escape.
The girl’s hair was dark, short. Choppy, as if she’d hacked it off herself. She was petite, her breasts just starting to form. How old was she?
Twelve maybe. Corinne shook her softly. ‘Wake up. Please.’ But the girl didn’t stir. ‘I can’t carry you. I can’t even carry myself. Please wake up.’
But the girl continued to take steady, deep breaths. Whatever he’d used to drug them, he’d given the girl way too much of it. Just watching her breathe was making Corinne sway with exhaustion. The girl wasn’t waking up any time soon.
‘You need to go for help,’ Corinne told herself firmly. ‘But not unarmed.’
She didn’t know how far she’d have to walk to find help and they were in the woods. She searched the cabin for a weapon. There was a rifle rack over the fireplace, but it was empty. The kitchen drawer had a few sharp knives and she took those. The only other thing that showed any promise at all was the shovel. She pulled it from the dirt and dragged it to the front door, each step a struggle. She’d reached for the doorknob when her legs gave out.
Shit was all she had time to think before everything went dark.
Cincinnati, Ohio, Tuesday 4 November, 1.50 A.M.
Deacon followed Isenberg into the adjoining observation room, then stopped abruptly. Both Bishop and Adam stood at the glass watching Faith, who’d turned her face away from the mirror.
She’s entitled to some privacy, he thought, wishing he could take her away right now. Because even though he couldn’t see her face, her slim shoulders were shaking. She was crying again and it tore him up inside. She’s been through enough.
With an effort he turned away from the glass. Adam’s expression was unreadable, but Bishop’s had softened in sympathy. Isenberg watched them all, assessing.
‘What do you have?’ Deacon asked again.
Adam spoke first. ‘We got tire prints from the dirt road across from the house where the victims were held. Treads are consistent with a van. I’ve got uniforms canvassing Route 52, trying to find any security camera footage available.’
Deacon knew that Adam was sharing important information, but at first all he could hear was his cousin saying walking freak of nature. Pushing Adam’s cruel words aside, Deacon focused. For Corinne and Arianna. And for Faith.
He nodded. ‘Hopefully he is stupid and it’s the same van. He had an accomplice on the bridge. I’ll ask Vega to haul the girlfriend’s ass in for questioning again.’
‘Corcoran had a good point,’ Bishop said, ‘logistically speaking. Combs would have been hard pressed to drive back and forth to Miami and still have time to screw with her old car, kidnap Arianna and Corinne and be able to inflict all Arianna’s wounds. The surgeon said that some of the wounds were days old. Some were from yesterday. Some are only hours old.’
‘So he was in the house at least part of the time every day,’ Deacon said.
Bishop nodded. ‘He had to have flown. Nothing else makes sense. We should check passenger manifests at the airports around Miami and Cincinnati.’
Deacon finally felt some control over the case. ‘We can use facial recognition software to check around the airport gates before and after the flights. I want a timeline for his movements for the past four days. If Combs flew anywhere last weekend, we need to know.’
‘Crandall can take point,’ Isenberg said. ‘I’ll call him back in.’
‘It’s a lot of data for one man to sift through,’ Deacon said doubtfully. ‘Hours of airport video. I should get a few Bureau resources on it as well.’
She nodded, but not happily. ‘Make the calls.’
‘Will do,’ he said, relieved that she’d been reasonable. He had no desire to get stuck in a turf war. ‘I’m going back out to the house as soon as I’ve taken Dr Corcoran to her hotel. I’ll put uniforms in the parking lot.’
Adam studied Faith through the glass. ‘He could have killed her yesterday. He had the perfect opportunity when she was standing at the cemetery fence, alone and unaware of his presence. Why didn’t he kill her then?’
‘Maybe she surprised him,’ Deacon said. ‘Especially since she’d switched vehicles. He might have thought she was still in Miami. He may even have heard about the accident and thought he’d finally succeeded in killing her.’
Bishop’s dark eyes narrowed. ‘True, unless he put a tracker under the Jeep too.’
Deacon swore. ‘I’ll have CSU check. But I don’t think he knew what she was driving or that she’d left Florida. She drove for thirty-two hours and he didn’t try anything.’
‘Maybe he didn’t kill her because he never saw her,’ Adam said curtly. ‘He was busy abducting and torturing Arianna and Corinne.’
‘Good point,’ Isenberg said. ‘What’s up with Arianna and Corinne? Why take them?’
‘It doesn’t make sense,’ Adam said, ‘unless Faith knows them. If she’s not lying, and she doesn’t know them, then they weren’t being used to lure her here.’
Deacon considered Adam’s words and had to admit he agreed. ‘But I don’t believe he lured Faith here. He doesn’t want her here – he’d tried to kill her before she could leave Florida.’
‘True,’ Adam allowed grudgingly. ‘He would have killed her if he could have, so we have to assume she surprised him or he didn’t see her there.’
‘And if he didn’t know she was there,’ Bishop said, ‘he couldn’t have anticipated that she’d call Earl Power. We know Ken Beatty surprised him. They obviously fought.’
‘We know that he dragged Beatty away,’ Deacon said. ‘We found the tracks. At some point the locksmith shows up and Arianna escapes.’ He grimaced. ‘Scene missing here.’
‘Pretty damn big scene,’ Adam grumbled.
Deacon nodded. ‘I know. Hopefully Arianna can fill in the blanks when she wakes up. In the meantime, I want to know why Combs is even here. Why take Faith’s house to begin with?’
‘The better to see you with, my dear,’ Bishop said, then looked embarrassed when he and Adam stared at her. She shrugged self-consciously. ‘Her hair made me think of it.’
‘I thought of it too,’ Isenberg confessed with a wry smile. ‘Faith was headed to Grandmother’s house. Combs beat her there and took up residence.’
‘The wolf ate Grandma because he was hungry and she was available,’ Bishop mused. ‘Combs might have grabbed Arianna and Corinne for the same reason. They were walking along the path from the library to the dorms. According to the student blogger who’s been challenging the college administration about safety concerns, it was also in the security cam’s blind spot. The path was deserted. It was Halloween night and there were parties in all of the frat houses. Maybe he got bored waiting for Corcoran or became desperate to feed his perversion. Maybe Corinne and Arianna were simply convenient.’
Isenberg shook her head. ‘That might explain the abductions, but it still doesn’t address why he took the house to begin with. He didn’t try to grab Faith so that he could torture her. He tried to outright kill her. Why go to the trouble to set up in her house if he didn’t want her here?’
‘Because he tried to kill her multiple times,’ Deacon said, the pieces falling into place. ‘He kept missing or she thwarted him somehow, but he could see her calendar. He knew she’d come here for the reading of her grandmother’s will.’
‘Most people would visit a house they’d just inherited,’ Bishop said, giving him a nod. �
��He didn’t know that she hates the house. He expected her to come much sooner.’
But there was something wrong with that, too, a hole in their logic that Deacon couldn’t put his finger on. He reviewed everything Faith had told him until he realized what he’d missed. ‘The timeline doesn’t work. He wouldn’t have known that she’d inherited the house until two weeks ago when the new deed was filed.’
‘He’s been in that basement more than two weeks,’ Adam said grimly. ‘My guess is that it’s been months at least. Long before her grandmother died.’
‘Exactly,’ Deacon said. ‘The timeline only works if he knew the contents of the will. He attempted murder after her grandmother’s death. So either it’s not Combs or he had inside info about the will. That opens the suspect list up to the grandmother’s lawyer, his staff and the other heirs.’
‘And the disinherited,’ Adam said. ‘They’d know somebody got the house, just not them.’
‘Her uncle Jeremy,’ Deacon said.
‘He’s the uncle her father didn’t trust when she was a little girl,’ Adam told Isenberg and Bishop. ‘He made her uncomfortable enough as a child that she had him checked out when she grew up.’
‘Where is this uncle?’ Isenberg asked, frowning.
‘In his “estate” in Indian Hill,’ Adam said, a subtle sneer in his tone. ‘Probably surrounded by a gaggle of lawyers.’
‘We know his address,’ Deacon said. ‘We don’t know that he’s there. I’ve contacted both of her uncles, but haven’t heard back from either of them. We’ll pay both of them and the attorney visits first thing in the morning.’
‘He still has a captive,’ Adam said. ‘First thing in the morning is too long to wait. We should be on their doorsteps right now.’
‘To say what?’ Deacon shook his head. ‘“Do you have Corinne Longstreet shackled in your basement? No? Oh, sorry to have bothered you.”’
‘No, we ask them where they were at eleven P.M. on Friday,’ Adam said, through clenched teeth.
‘We don’t have enough to bring them in for questioning. If one of them does have her, all we’ll be doing is tipping them off. If Corinne is still alive, he could kill her.’