They followed the group of officers into the cubicle.
“One thing at a time, or my head might explode. Let’s take a look at the package contents, then we’ll talk.”
“Fair enough.” Leaning back against Royce in the tight confines of the elevator helped her to relax, and she pulled strength from his nearness. Wherever the clues ultimately took them, he’d be there beside her, watching over her, keeping her safe.
The doors opened on the second floor and the uniformed cops eased out into the corridor, including Officer Brooks, whom she hadn’t noticed until now.
“Miss Charboneau,” he said, nodding to her as he exited the elevator.
She owed Brooks an apology for her rude behavior this morning. She’d have to catch up with him later.
The doors slid closed.
“Brooks is a fan of yours, Adelaide. He’s up to speed on this case, and has been my acting intermediary between Hicks in the detective unit and myself. He’ll make detective within the year if he stays on track.”
“That’s nice.”
Caution all but roared in Royce’s brain. It fit. It fit tight, and sweet, and close. The leak within the department. The source that sent the media running to every scene. Could it be Brooks was bucking for a detective slot?
The elevator stopped on the third floor and they stepped out into the hallway, spotting the open package on the floor, sitting on a white evidence cloth.
“It’s a Songe mask, just like the one we found at Clay Franklin’s place.” He knelt next to it. Adelaide bent closer, staring at the long strands of dark hair clutched in a rubber band, with a slip of paper tucked under it.
Her knees buckled, but Danbury caught her before she went down.
She pulled in a breath and regained her composure, even though her insides were twisting in knots.
“This lock of hair belongs to your mother. You are next.” Royce read the words on the paper out loud.
“Do you think it’s true?” she asked.
He came to his feet next to her. “I don’t know. But if there’s a follicle on any one of the hairs, and it’s not degraded, Gina might be able to get a myocardial DNA match, using you as an absolute.”
“Do either one of you want to tell me what the hell’s going on?”
“It’s about that sit-down, Chief. The sooner the better.”
The elevator doors opened and Officer Brooks charged out like a bull out of the gate. “Chief Danbury. They need you downstairs immediately. A woman is in your office. She claims the woman in our sketch is her next-door neighbor.”
Danbury shook his finger in Royce’s face. “I’m not done with you, Beckett.”
He turned and followed Brooks back to the elevator.
Royce didn’t suck in a clear breath until the doors closed. “We’ll get Gina on this. Put a rush on it, and maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Adelaide stepped around the ugly mask and the strands of hair she wanted to finger in the worst way. She opened her office door and stepped inside. “Come on, we’ve got time to pull the sketch before we head out for our redress.”
“A glutton for punishment, aren’t you?” He followed her in.
She picked up a sketch pad and pencil from the table and sat down in her chair. “The man with the scar is a significant piece of the puzzle. If we find him, we could find the man behind the Songe mask that Officer Tansy saw.”
Looking irritated, Royce took the cell phone off his belt and punched Gina’s number. “Hey. I could use you on the third floor outside Adelaide’s office. We’ve got evidence that needs a rush job. Can you handle it? Thanks.” He closed his phone, pulled out a chair and sat down, staring across the table at her.
“I’m not tracking with you, Adelaide. I never even saw the guy who hit me. He came out of nowhere, and I was focused on the other two. The one with the scar in particular.”
“I got that part, so just describe his face to me, Royce, and I’ll help you understand.”
Amusement fired in his dark eyes, accentuated by a smirk that crossed his lips and vanished as he leaned forward. Her pencil started to move before he started to speak, a fact that unnerved him, but he kept talking, even closing his eyes to let the scene play out again and again in his mind’s eye. He listened to her flip the page in the sketch pad and draw some more, then stop.
“You can look now.”
His eyes flicked open, and he stared at her. “You’re amazing, Adelaide Charboneau. A keeper.”
She grinned and tore two sheets out of the sketch pad, put one down on the table, then pushed it over practically under his nose.
“How did you do this?” He stared at the depiction of what had taken place in the street, noting the details he’d missed. A street vendor at the head of the alley selling masks. A man wearing one, standing next to the cart with a piece of pipe in his hand. The man with the scar at the right-hand corner of his mouth, turning to look back over his shoulder. His partner’s retreating back.
“Do you see him?”
“Yeah. He was standing right there. Wearing the same mask as Officer Tansy saw the night he was assaulted.”
“Now do a comparison between these two sketches.” She slid the drawing of the man who’d abducted his sister across the table.
Royce’s breath hung up in his lungs. “They’re one and the same.”
“So let’s find out who he is. There has to be a link to the man wearing the mask, otherwise, why would he risk being caught by trying to kill you with a pipe? They have to be in this together. Catch one, and we catch the others.”
“I love the way your mind works.” He reached across the table and cupped her cheek for an instant.
“Hmm.” Gina’s voice from the doorway brought his head around, and he pulled back. Caught like a kid with his hand in the candy jar.
“Is this the urgent evidence that needs examination?” She raised her eyebrows, then lowered them, smiled and turned back out into the hallway.
“I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you it’d be a boon for me if you took that girl off the market, Detective Beckett. She’s cramping my style.”
Royce was already out of his chair and standing in the doorway when the comments left Gina’s mouth and he hoped like hell Adelaide hadn’t heard them.
Gina pulled on a pair of latex gloves and let the band snap against her wrist. Reaching down, she picked up the strands of hair.
“Are there any follicles? Anything you might be able to extract myocardial DNA from?”
“Yeah. I can see a couple. By rush do you mean this afternoon?”
“If possible.”
“Who’s the absolute?”
“I am.” Adelaide stepped past Royce and came face-to-face with Gina. “The hair may belong to my birth mother.”
Gina eyed her. “Okay. I need to take a DNA sample.” She reached into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a wrapped swab. She peeled back the casing, exposing the wooden handle. “Take this and rub it on the inside of your cheek with enough pressure to pick up some cells.”
Adelaide pulled the swab out and raked it over the inside of her cheek, took it out and pushed it back into its casing.
“I’ll let you know ASAP. What about the mask?”
“Collect it, print it, swab around the mouth. I’m just not sure what its significance is. Fingerprint the box.”
“You’ve got it.”
Royce’s cell phone rang, and he stepped away to answer it. “Beckett.” The chief’s voice came across the line.
“Yeah.”
“I want you and Miss Charboneau down here immediately.”
“We’re on our way.” He closed his phone and felt his pulse rate climb. An interesting day was about to turn even more interesting. Especially once he told the chief their case was somehow linked to his little sister’s abduction twenty-nine years ago.
Danbury was going to come unglued, and he’d be writing parking tickets over at Jackson Square by week’s end.
“We’ve got to go. Danbury wants us downstairs right now.”
Gina cast him a sympathetic glance and returned to evidence collecting.
“Better bring the sketches.” He watched Adelaide reenter her office, fold the two drawings, shove them inside the back cover of her pad and grab a pencil.
“Is he still upset?” she asked as they walked toward the elevator.
“We’ll find out soon enough.” He pointed to the stairwell door, pushed it open, followed her onto the landing and let it snap shut behind him.
“Whatever happens, I’m going to protect you. Badge or no badge, I’ll always be there.”
She stared up into his face and smiled. “You think Danbury is going to yank your badge?”
“I’ve withheld information.”
“But none of it impeded the investigation.”
“That remains to be seen. We don’t have all the facts.”
Somewhere in the building, a stairwell door popped shut and the sound of footsteps echoed against the concrete.
“Come on, let’s go.” He took a step away, but she reached out and grabbed his arm.
He stopped and turned toward her, feeling heat rise inside him, burning through his resolve with every passing second.
She rocked up onto her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. He pulled her against him, feeling the insatiable drive of desire ricochet through his senses.
“For luck,” she whispered as she pulled back.
He took her hand and led them down the stairs and out into the bustle on the main floor.
Danbury spotted them and waved through the glass of his office. There was no escape, and Royce found his nerves were shot by the time he and Adelaide entered the door.
“Mrs. Colby, this is Detective Beckett, and our sketch artist, Adelaide Charboneau.”
The middle-aged woman reached out and shook both of their hands. “Nice to meet you. Please, call me Jane.”
“Jane is the next-door neighbor of Beth Wendell, the woman we believe is in the sketch.”
“We live in the same duplex.” She looked away, then back up at them. “She’s a very nice woman. Lives alone. Doesn’t go out much. That’s why it was so strange when a man in a dark-colored car pulled into the driveway, and she left with him.”
“I took the liberty of pulling Beth Wendell’s driver’s licence information and confirmed it.”
Royce relaxed slightly and grabbed a couple of chairs for Adelaide and himself. “Jane, is there any chance you can remember what the car looked like?”
“It was so dark. We don’t have a streetlight. I don’t know what kind of car it was. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. Call if you remember any detail, no matter how small. It will help us.” Royce sat back in his chair.
“Jane got a good look at the man Beth Wendell left with last night. I was hoping she could describe him to you, Miss Charboneau, and we could get a composite.”
“Certainly.” Adelaide got comfortable in the chair and opened her pad. “Go ahead and describe him to me in as much detail as you can remember.”
Jane Colby closed her eyes and started to talk. Adelaide put her pencil to the paper and started to draw.
Her heart rate pumped up. Breathe…just breathe, she reminded herself as she completed the sketch and began to scribble in the background so Jane Colby wouldn’t freak out because she was already finished. She knew the face in the drawing. Knew the telltale scar at the right corner of the man’s mouth.
“That’s all I remember.” Jane paused.
“Is this the man you saw?” Adelaide flipped the sketch pad around and watched Jane’s eyes widen.
“That’s him. It’s incredible, it looks exactly like him. How did you do that?”
“I’m a good listener.” She tore the sketch out of the pad and handed it to Royce.
“I’ll put this out on an APB right now, Chief.”
Adelaide clasped her sketch pad to her chest and stood up, thankful she’d just been able to provide Royce with one more piece of evidence.
The one that proved conclusively the cases were linked.
Chapter Thirteen
“His name’s Vincent Getty. He has an extensive criminal history, including robbery, assault, eluding officers…and kidnapping. He’s one bad guy.”
Royce stared out at the uniformed cops in the briefing room, his gaze eventually settling on Adelaide, who sat in the back of the room next to Chief Danbury.
“If you come in contact with him, use extreme caution—odds are he’s armed and dangerous. We want to catch him, but we also want Beth Wendell, safe and alive. He could be our only lead to accomplish that.”
He reached down and turned off the oversize projection of Vincent Getty’s face displayed on the screen behind him. “You all have his mug shot on the briefing flyer, so keep your eyes open out there. You’re dismissed.”
Royce scooped up his files and made his way to the back of the room. “Are we ready to search Beth Wendell’s house?”
“Detective Hicks is on his way with a limited warrant.” Danbury cleared his throat. “It’s a visible-evidence-only warrant. We need to have all our ducks in a row on this one in case it ends badly.”
“We’ll meet you in the parking lot.” Royce followed the chief and Adelaide out of the briefing room, where he and Adelaide broke company with Danbury and headed for the detective division.
“Have you called your parents to let them know about Vincent Getty?”
He glanced over at her as he pressed the elevator button. “No. It’ll tear my mother up, and make my father angry again. His health isn’t so great. He did a lot of grieving for what could have been.”
The doors opened and they stepped inside.
“What about your sister, Kimberly?”
“That’s tricky. She’s fragile. She was always a special needs kid. That’s why she wasn’t adopted until my parents came along when she was four. The abduction made her problems worse. Digging into it again, putting her face-to-face with the man who terrorized her, could cause her to snap.”
He stared at the doors. “I’ll cross that bridge when we catch the creep.”
The doors opened and they walked down the corridor and into the detective division. The place hummed with an excitement he could feel in his bones. His stare locked on Officer Brooks chatting with Detective Lawton. Why didn’t that surprise him? He was gunning for a promotion in the worst possible way. Climbing over the top of a good detective’s head.
Royce put the files down on his desk and looked up at Adelaide, watching a slow, sweet smile spread across her perfect lips. His insides went to mush. He wanted to kiss her, to tell her that he’d only pushed her away by insulting her after making love to her for her own protection…and his.
Hicks hurried into the division and came to a stop in the center of the room.
“We’ve got our limited warrant. Pair up and head to the Wendell residence. The landlord will meet us there to provide access. The address is 4818 Walter Avenue. See you there.”
ADELAIDE STOOD IN THE ENTRYWAY of Beth Wendell’s duplex, staring at the aftermath of the struggle that had gone on between her and the man with the scar.
A shiver quaked over her body and put her back in the terrifying moments before she’d been dragged from her closet, blindfolded and fighting for her life.
She stared at Royce, and her heart rate slowed. If it weren’t for him…
“Beckett, what do you make of this?” Hicks held up an ID badge dangling from a hot-pink lanyard.
“Says she’s a student at Tulane. So was victim number one. Could be our guy is picking them up on campus. What about Wendy Davis?”
“Graduated last year from Loyola.”
“Damn.” Frustration beat a heated path through his body. “There’s nothing here. The guy was careful, other than tipping over a few things in the struggle. We’d be better off staking out the dump site on the east. Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch them there.”
<
br /> Hicks nodded. “Listen up, people. We’re leaving this scene to Gina for a print dust, and we’re headed for the GPS dump site out in Algiers. We’ll use the car-to-car scrambled frequency on channel forty-two, in case our unsub has a police scanner on board and is listening to our ten-twenty location codes.”
Royce followed Adelaide through the doorway and out into the late-afternoon heat. The day was coming to an end, and they weren’t any closer to finding Beth Wendell, or the thug with the scar, even though his face was everywhere, including on WGNO-TV’s six o’clock news report as a person of interest.
They passed Gina coming up the walk with her fingerprint kit in hand. “Hey.” She pulled up short. “Adelaide, I’ve got some news on the myocardial sample from this morning.”
Adelaide’s heart nearly pounded out of her chest as she turned around to face Gina, who sported dark circles under her eyes and a thin smile. “You look overworked, Gina, so thank you in advance.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a rush-rush world, but whoever wrote that creepy note on the ponytail got it right. Your DNA is a match to the myocardial DNA in the follicles. It belonged to your mother. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re both wearing the same shade on your head.” She turned around and disappeared through the doorway into the house.
Adelaide buried her face in her hands as tears squeezed from her eyes, and her throat constricted so tightly she could hardly breathe.
Royce gathered her in his arms, stroking the back of her head in comfort.
“It’s hers, Royce. I can’t believe it, after all these years. But where did it come from?” Fear dammed up her emotions, and she uncovered her face, then looked up into his eyes.
“If she’s out there, we’ll find her, Adelaide. That’s the one thing about the past, it’s finite, you can’t change it, but it leaves you a lot of clues if you’re willing to follow them. Come on, let’s head for Algiers and grab a burger on the way. I’m starving.”
BLADES OF SHADOW KNIFED through the trees on the perimeter of the small park in Algiers. Somewhere in the neighborhood a dog barked incessantly, spooked by some unknown factor in the dark.
Royce glanced down at the glowing hands on his watch—a quarter past midnight. Then over at Adelaide, who sat facing him in his car, her arm resting on the back of the seat and her head on her arm.
Keeping Watch Page 16