Under His Skin

by Rita Herron

  Today was the day she would die.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Parker spotted the blood smeared against the kitchen counter and a cold knot of fear gripped him. Grace could not be dead.

  Further scrutiny assured him that the blood loss wasn’t substantial, and he breathed a sigh of relief, although he knew good and damn well that she wasn’t out of the danger zone.

  The killer had her.

  Why hadn’t he finished her off here?

  The possibilities made his gut twist. Because he didn’t intend to kill her, only scare her?

  No, he’d already murdered. His violence would only escalate.

  The truth nipped at his conscience—the man didn’t want to leave her body behind. Doing so meant leaving evidence that might be traced back to him.

  Something sparkled in the dark interior of the room and he knelt, then realized it was Grace’s St. Christopher’s medal. She must have lost it in the struggle.

  He used a handkerchief to pick it up, then bagged it. “Get the crime scene team out here now,” he told Brewster. “And make sure they check this necklace for prints or trace. Grace always wore it. The killer might have touched it when he grabbed her.”

  Brewster nodded and phoned for a team while Parker called Bradford. His head spun with worry, panic jumbling his thoughts. He needed help.

  “They’ve got Grace,” he said without preamble. “Hell, Walsh, we have to do something. Figure out where he might take her.”

  “We will. We’ve still got the gang in custody, so it’s not them.”

  “No, this is bigger than they are.”

  “You just came from Yager’s when you received the call?”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll send an officer to his place to see what he knows.” A pause and voices echoed in the room, then Bradford cleared his throat. “Listen, Parker, come to the station. Roundtree is here and says he has to talk to you.”

  “Can it wait?”

  “I told him Grace is missing and he says it has to do with her and Bruno.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  He hung up and dashed toward his car at a dead run. Sweat rolled down his jaw as he wheeled from the driveway and sped toward Savannah. He honked at a moving truck and raced around the slower cars, siren blaring. It was the night before Halloween, a Friday night, and traffic was thick as locals left work and headed to happy hour.

  He met a fire truck roaring toward Skidaway and grimaced, but someone else would take that call. Tonight he had to save Grace.

  Precious minutes lapsed while he hit a snag maneuvering around a biker trio, but he finally made it to the precinct and hurried inside.

  “Where’s Walsh and Roundtree?” he asked as he entered the bullpen.

  An officer gestured toward the back. “In Captain Black’s office.”

  He raced toward the office and pounded on the door. A minute later his stomach clenched at the grim expression on Black’s face.

  “Sit down, Roundtree has something to show you,” the captain said.

  Parker crossed his arms. “I’m fine standing.”

  Roundtree was sweating profusely as he clutched an envelope between his hands. “I should have come forward sooner, but…they threatened my family, my wife, my baby girl….”

  Emotions made the man’s voice break and Parker didn’t doubt for a minute that Roundtree was telling the truth. Still, if he’d endangered Grace…

  “Just spill it,” Parker barked.

  Roundtree scrubbed his hand over his neck with a pained look. “Bruno sent this to me. It came after he died with a note that said I was to turn it over to the captain if something happened to him.”

  “But you waited?” Parker asked in a clipped tone.

  Roundtree dropped his head into his hands, his expression tortured. “I told you they threatened my family.”

  “Who threatened you?” the captain asked before Parker could grind out the question.

  “I don’t know.” Roundtree’s voice cracked. “It was anonymous, but I knew it was real. There were photos of my wife and baby inside—the photos were chopped in a dozen pieces.”

  “Damn,” Bradford muttered.

  Parker bit back a reply, but instead gestured toward the envelope. “What’s inside?”

  Roundtree shoved the envelope toward him. “Information that connects Frank Johnson, Bart Yager and another cop they worked with to the Gardeners’ murders.”

  Parker muttered a curse. “We have to bring in Johnson and Yager.”

  “I’ve sent a local to get Yager,” Captain Black said. “And I put a call in to Johnson, but he’s not at home. His housekeeper said his daughter took a turn for the worse and he’s at Savannah General with her now.”

  Parker fisted his hands by his sides. “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “There are notes on financial records, proof that McKendrick, Yager and Johnson were on the take,” Roundtree said. “And information that leads the men to Juan Carlos. We checked the visitor’s log and Yager visited him twice in the past year.”

  Parker backed toward the door. “I’m going to talk to Frank, see if he knows where Juan Carlos would take Grace.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Bradford said.

  “Check back.” Captain Black waved them to go. “I’ll let you know if we hear from Yager.”

  Bradford and Parker hurried toward Parker’s car. Parker jumped in and they sped away.

  If Frank Johnson cared for Grace at all and had something to do with her disappearance, he’d have to talk now.

  Parker would beat the truth out of him if he had to.

  EVEN WITH the siren blaring, maneuvering around the Friday-night crowd in Savannah proved to be a bitch. Parker almost skidded into a telephone pole as he rounded a corner and sped through a red light, honking his horn to keep the pedestrians and cars who refused to give way to emergency vehicles ample warning that he was plowing through. Every second counted.

  He’d take them with him if he had to in order to save Grace.

  He careened into the parking lot, screeching to a stop near the emergency room entrance, then vaulted from the car. Bradford jogged on his heels, the two of them racing against time.

  He ran straight for the nurses’ station. “Detectives Kilpatrick and Walsh. We need to speak to Frank Johnson, he brought his daughter in.”

  The nurse wrinkled her nose then checked the computer screen. “Yes, she’s not doing well, is in ICU now. He’s probably in the waiting room—”

  Parker cut her off. “What floor?”

  “Third—”

  He didn’t wait for her to elaborate, or for the elevator. He ran for the stairs. Bradford rushed behind him.

  When they cleared the landing, he shoved open the door and glanced at the signs.

  “Waiting room’s to the left,” Bradford said, and Parker took off.

  He rushed down the corridor and around the turn, then spotted Johnson sitting in one of the waiting room chairs, leaning over with his elbows on his knees, his hands cradling his head. His body shook with emotions, indicating that his daughter’s condition wasn’t good. Bradford caught his arm and gave him an odd look, compassion for Johnson in his eyes. But a second later the realization of what they had to do registered.

  Anger drove Parker toward the man. Grace’s life hung in the balance the same as this man’s daughter’s might. When Parker stopped in front of him, Johnson heaved a deep breath, then slowly lifted his gaze.

  “She’s not going to make it,” Frank said in a tortured voice.

  For a brief second Parker’s breath halted in his chest. Was he talking about Grace?

  “Kelly…” Frank whispered. “She has pneumonia now. Doc says she may go any minute.”

  Parker’s chest squeezed. “I’m sorry, Frank.”

  Frank nodded, his breathing heavy as tears rolled down his ruddy cheeks. “I don’t know how I’ll go on.”

  Bradford cleared his throat and Par
ker claimed a seat beside Frank. “I know it’s hard and this is a terrible time, Frank,” Parker said, “but Grace is missing. Someone abducted her from my house.”

  Frank’s alarmed gaze shot to him. “Dear God, I tried to convince her to quit poking around.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Parker snapped. “Bruno’s partner, Roundtree, gave us a file. It has information he’d gathered about you and Yager and one of your fellow officers—”

  “McKendrick. He has Huntington’s now.”

  “What happened, Frank?” Bradford asked quietly.

  “It was a long damn time ago. We were all young, broke, eager…then my wife had Kelly and died…” A sound of remorse tore from his gut and Parker patted him on the back.

  “One of you hired Juan Carlos to kill Grace?” Parker asked.

  “Yager. Just wanted to scare her, not kill her.”

  “We think he may have her now. I questioned Yager earlier. He may have panicked,” Parker rasped. “If Carlos has Grace, where the hell would he take her?”

  Frank wiped at his eyes. “I don’t know.”

  Parker ground his fist into the chair edge. “Think, Johnson, think. Grace’s life depends on us finding her.”

  Frank blew out a breath. “The marina. Yager left his payment in a locker at the boathouse. Check there.”

  Parker nodded, and stood while Bradford remained seated. “Go ahead, Parker, I’ll wait here in case he thinks of anything else.”

  Frank gave him a somber look. “If you’re worried about me skipping out, don’t. I’ll be right here with Kelly until she’s gone.”

  “And then what?” Parker asked.

  “If you haven’t found Grace by then, I’ll be on the streets helping you find her.” He threaded his hands together. “Anyways, I’m not running out on my daughter or Grace. If they both die, there’s nothing for me to live for anyway.”

  Anguish darkened Frank’s tone and eyes, and Parker nodded, hearing the truth and despair in his words. For a moment he actually sympathized with the man.

  If Grace died, he didn’t know if he’d want to live, either.

  GRACE SQUIRMED and twisted her fingers and hands, struggling to loosen the ropes around her wrists, but the hemp cut into her skin and wouldn’t budge. The heavy pull of the bricks against her arms and feet made her ache and filled her with despair.

  “Please, don’t do this,” Grace pleaded.

  “Shut up. You had fair warning,” Carlos growled.

  “They’ll find you,” Grace shouted. “Parker will hunt you down and take you back to jail.”

  Carlos laughed in her face, his rancid breath beating at her cheeks. “I’ll never go back to jail. And, sweetheart, your boyfriend is going to die just like you are.”

  “No!” Grace screamed, hoping someone nearby might hear, but her voice died in the breeze off the ocean, and from what she could detect in the dark, the dock appeared to be deserted.

  Carlos secured her ropes again, then popped open a beer and drank greedily. She watched him, hatred suffusing her. He had killed Bruno and now he would kill her.

  But betrayal sank in, cutting deeper. He hadn’t killed her parents—Frank, the man she trusted with her life, the man who’d been family to her, had been responsible. All the times Frank had visited and taken Bruno fishing. The day he’d attended Doughnuts for Dads with her, proudly calling her his second daughter.

  The holidays he’d shared Thanksgiving dinner with her and Bruno flashed back. The Christmases they’d spent with him and Kelly. The bike he’d bought for her seventh birthday; the way he’d run along behind her holding it so she wouldn’t fall. His deep voice echoing that he would catch her if she did, that he wouldn’t let anything hurt her….

  Tears choked her throat and clogged her eyes, running down her face, but she was helpless to wipe them away with the weights tied to her arms. How could Frank have lived with himself? How could he have let her parents be murdered, knowing she and Bruno would be parentless?

  Did Frank know that Carlos had her now? Would he help her if he did, or would he let her die like he had her parents and brother?

  PARKER THREW THE CAR into park and jumped out at the marina, his gaze frantically searching the parking lot for cars. The place was virtually deserted tonight, except for an old battered truck parked at one end and a rusted green Chevy at the opposite.

  “I’ll check out the pickup, and inside the shack for lockers,” Bradford said in a whisper.

  “I’ll take the Chevy.”

  Bradford inched to the right and crouched down as he wove behind posts and an old fishing shack. Parker inched down the dock, his gun braced between his hands as he scoped out the distance of the dock and quickly scanned each slip he passed for signs of movement. He passed a couple of nice sailboats, then a houseboat, but both were dark and deserted. Further down, he spotted a motorized fishing boat, then a smaller wooden one. But as he neared, the engine sounded and suddenly the motorboat eased off across the inlet.

  It had to be Carlos. And he was getting away with Grace.

  Was she still alive? Would he dump her in the ocean?

  Hell, no…Parker had to stop him.

  He jumped into the other fishing boat. It took him precious seconds to hotwire the engine but finally it kicked into action and he shot into the inlet to give chase. Salt water sprayed his face as he sped up, bouncing over the waves created in the wake of the other boat. He accelerated, closing the distance, and saw Carlos standing at the wheel, racing ahead.

  His lungs tightened. Where was Grace?

  Carlos glanced over his shoulder, spotted Parker and fired over his shoulder, but Parker spun the boat sideways to dodge the shot and the bullet was lost in the wind. Rage fueled Parker’s determination, and he accelerated another notch, tasting salt as the waves sprayed his face. Above, thunder boomed. A rain cloud opened up and rain pelted down.

  He hit another wave and bounced, but closed the distance to Carlos’s boat, then Carlos veered a sharp right and raced toward the open sea.

  Parker battled panic. If he made it too far out and lost him, he’d never save Grace.

  The sound of another boat cut through the noise and he angled his head to see Bradford approaching. Relief at having backup bolstered his courage and he veered toward the right to chase Carlos. A minute later he zoomed up on his tail.

  Carlos fired at him, then slowed, and Parker watched in horror as the man lifted Grace from the boat. She fought him, but he’d tied bricks to her hands and feet, then he tossed her into the ocean.

  Her scream echoed in the wind as she sank under.

  Parker slammed his boat to a halt. He could go after Carlos or Grace.

  There was no question. He dove into the churning waters.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Parker fought the current as he ducked below the surface, desperately searching for Grace. He spotted her and his heart spasmed.

  Though she was fighting the undertow, the bricks weighed her down and she sank deeper and deeper into the water. He swam toward her, battling his way through the current trying to sweep him out to sea. His lungs begged for air, and his eyes stung, his leg muscles protesting the waves, but he finally made it to Grace.

  Her eyes widened in a plea, and thankfully she was still holding her breath, but time meant everything. He grabbed her around the shoulders and dragged her upward. The weights made her so heavy that with the current he barely climbed to the surface. They both came up gasping, but caught a breath before the waves sucked them back down.

  Fortified by that breath, he ducked deeper to untie her feet. The ropes were tight around her ankles, swollen from the water, and he jerked a knife from his pocket and cut through them, letting the bricks sink. The ropes at her wrists came next, but her face looked panic-stricken, and she needed air. A second later he finally freed her from the weights, then grabbed her and swam upward, breaking the surface again. She cried out raggedly and inhaled a breath, while he caught one, too, then he swam
toward the shore, carrying her with him.

  The beach seemed miles away, but the sound of an engine broke through the noise of the crashing waves, and he squinted through the rain and saw the boat approaching. Was Carlos coming back?

  He treaded water as the boat approached, and shouted in relief when he saw Bradford at the wheel. His partner swung the boat to the right, then coasted toward them. Parker swam to the edge, taking Grace with him and guiding her in front of him so Bradford could help her inside the boat.

  “Where’s Carlos?” Parker shouted.

  “Dead,” Bradford muttered as he offered a hand to Parker. “He crashed into an embankment trying to escape. I’ve already called it in.”

  Parker glanced back and saw flames bursting toward the sky. Thank God the man was gone. Then he dropped down beside Grace, panting from exertion.

  “Parker…” She gulped for air, spitting out water, crying and shaking from the trauma. Five minutes later and he would have been too late.

  His muscles ached from the strain and his leg immediately stiffened, but he forgot the pain as he dragged her into his arms and held her.

  GRACE TREMBLED all over, the past hour crashing back like snippets from a nightmare. Carlos kidnapping her, weighing her down with those bricks, trying to drown her….

  But Parker had saved her. She had to hang on to that reality.

  She clung to him, grateful to be alive, sobbing as he rocked her in his arms.

  “It’s okay now, Grace. Shh.” He cradled her against his chest, stroking her back, her hair, his voice a mere whisper in her ear as he consoled her. Wind and rain pummeled them, but he shielded her with his body as his partner steered the boat toward the inlet and into the dock.

  “Frank…” she said brokenly. “He and Yager and another man…they had my parents killed.”

  He stroked her hair. “I know, baby, we’ve talked to Frank, and the cops are picking up Yager. The third guy is in the hospital with Huntington’s disease. I’m so sorry.”

  “I can’t believe it,” she said, then broke into more gut-wrenching cries.