Pitch Black

by Parrish, Leslie

  “Damn it,” she muttered, flipping through screen after screen to see if she’d missed anything.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing about a date. No mention of an in-person meeting.”

  Feeling hot moisture begin to flood her eyes, Sam willed herself to remain strong and not give in to her rising panic. Just because her mother hadn’t left an easy trail to follow didn’t mean there wasn’t one. It was entirely possible the communication had gone to private e-mail.

  Five minutes later, though, after she’d gone through every Outlook message for the past several weeks, she’d still found absolutely nothing.

  “I don’t know whether this is good news or not,” she said, hearing her own voice shake. “Maybe they moved on to phone communication. Maybe they did it all with IMs.”

  “We can trace those.”

  “Not fast enough,” she snapped.

  Desperate to do something, she quickly surfed over to her own site, wondering if the psychopath had left another taunting message. But there was nothing beyond those ugly words that informed her he had robbed her of someone she loved.

  “Does she have other e-mail addresses? Most people would create a new one to deal with Internet-dating correspondence. Would she really give out her personal one, the one you use?”

  Sam snapped her fingers and went back to work. And judging by how close to the top of the cache the mailbox site was, her mother did, indeed, have a backup address.

  But it wasn’t saved to the computer. Neither was the password.

  She ran through a number of variations, anything she could see her mother using, to no avail. Within ten minutes, she was ready to scream in frustration.

  Alec realized it. He put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing. “It’s okay. Let’s think of other options. Who else might know what she’s up to? Any close friends?”

  “She has lots of casual friends, but probably the only one she talks to every day is Uncle Nate.” Would her mother really have confided in him, though, considering he was every bit as disapproving as Sam?

  “He’s her brother?”

  She shook her head, already digging her cell phone out of her purse. “He’s not really my uncle. He was my father’s partner many years ago.”

  Alec’s head tilted in confusion.

  “Dad was a Maryland state trooper. After he died, Nate quit, went to law school, ended up a judge about seven or eight years ago.”

  “And he’s still close to your mom?”

  “Very.” She found the home number and dialed it. Getting no answer, she immediately dialed his cell.

  “Hello? Samantha?” he asked, answering on the second ring. He sounded distracted, a little out of breath.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Listen,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm, not wanting to upset the older man, “I’m at Mom’s. I’m trying to find her.”

  “Why?”

  Not sure how much to say, she kept it simple. “There’s some trouble, and I really need to talk to her, to make sure she’s okay.”

  “Well, of course she is, dear.”

  Her heart leaping, she asked, “You mean you know where she is?”

  He hesitated, then finally murmured, “Yes, I do. She’s right here with me.”

  Something was wrong; Lily felt it. He hadn’t showed. It was nine thirty; Lovesprettyboys should have been here by now, and he hadn’t made an appearance.

  “Damn it, why isn’t he here yet?” Lily muttered.

  The agent handling the electronic surveillance of the scene, a guy named Vince Kowalski, whom Lily had met for the first time a few hours ago, shrugged, obviously not concerned. “These things are always a gamble. You think for sure the creep’s gonna show; then he gets spooked or he gets sidetracked or he even gets a conscience.”

  “Not this guy,” she whispered, talking more to herself than to the other agent.

  The two of them sat in an unmarked, nondescript van, parked about ten houses up from the Williamsburg home where Tiger Lily was supposedly babysitting her bratty but-cute little brother. They’d been sitting in here for hours, having arrived well before dark in case their suspect decided to scope out the neighborhood in advance.

  Yet nothing had happened.

  Lily honestly didn’t know what she would do if he didn’t show. Having thought about this night, pictured it, almost willed it to happen since that August day when she’d first seen that awful cartoon avatar doing unimaginable things to a cartoon boy, she needed this to happen. For him to be caught, justice to be served.

  For him not to come, to have built this up until she wanted to scream with the pressure . . . She just wasn’t sure she could stand for it to come to absolutely nothing.

  Maybe it’s for the best.

  She tried to ignore that little voice in her mind, which often sounded remarkably like her mother’s, who had, along with Lily’s father, died in an accident when she was a child. Then, thinking about it, she realized that just as her mother had always seemed so wise in life, she still sounded that way in Lily’s mind.

  Maybe it was for the best. Not that they didn’t catch the man from Satan’s Playground. He had to be stopped, had to be locked away where he could never destroy the innocence of any child he happened to get his hands on. But maybe, just maybe, Lily wouldn’t be the one to stop him. Because if she didn’t let it go, get her mind back where it needed to be, she was going to lose a job she’d come to love. Leave a team she worked so well with and thoroughly admired, and a boss who not only had the most integrity of any man she’d ever known, but was also one of the most exciting ones.

  Don’t even think that way. Having any kind of crush on Wyatt Blackstone was not only immature and stupid; it was probably career suicide.

  Just like sticking to this case would be.

  But could she let it go? Could she really?

  “Wait! I see something.”

  Lily leaped from the seat, crouching beside Kowalski.

  He pointed to the computer screen, which displayed views from the three discreet cameras a crew disguised as phone repairmen had set up in the neighborhood early this afternoon. “See him?”

  Lily did. A man had moved into the top frame, rounding the closest corner, slowly shuffling up the sidewalk. Walking with his head down, he was further disguised by the raised hood of his jacket. His hands were shoved in the pockets, his shoulders hunched.

  Both his appearance and his movements seemed out of place in this residential neighborhood. The hooded jacket such an obvious attempt to conceal his face, the trepidation of his walk—he was most definitely up to something.

  She held her breath, watching him draw closer, step by step. When he got within two fenced yards of the target, he paused, glancing behind him, then in front, then back again. Their van was parked several houses away, and the windows were tinted to conceal the inside from the out, but Lily still almost held her breath, as though afraid he could see them.

  Apparently feeling the same way, Kowalski released a low breath of his own once the man turned and began walking again. He spoke into his headset, his voice a whisper: “Tommy, we’ve got a live one out here.”

  Anspaugh immediately came on the line, loud, sounding excited. “I see him. Don’t move; don’t do a thing.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Lil’s okay?”

  She gritted her back teeth. Kowalski appeared to notice the grimace and chuckled. “She’s fine.” When he cut the connection, he cocked a brow. “Aren’t ya, Lil?”

  “Don’t even go there.”

  He chuckled again; then they both got back to business, focusing on the screen. The man in the jacket had finally reached the front walkway of the target house. Lily knew what he was seeing—the outside lights on, every window illuminated. She had made the suggestion, though Anspaugh hadn’t liked it, thinking the guy would be scared off by the possibility of being spotted. Lily had argued it. An eleven-year-old babysitting for the first time would do exact
ly that, have the place blazing with light.

  Her gut told her the choice had been the correct one.

  “Go; what are you waiting for?” Kowalski said as the man lingered, his gaze scurrying constantly, like a rat trying to decide whether to go for the cheese in a trap.

  God, did she hope this rat went for it.

  Finally, his suspicions apparently assuaged, the suspect took a single step toward the house.

  “He’s on the move again!”

  The man continued walking, now appearing in the second camera, which was positioned directly above the front door. He reached the porch and walked right up onto it.

  “Ballsy,” Vince said.

  “Very.” Lily hadn’t expected this. She’d figured the guy would skulk around to the side, slip into the backyard, where he could find some privacy to break a window.

  Not that he’d rung the bell; he wasn’t that brave. Again, he just stood there, glancing back at the street, then edging closer to the front window. Close enough to peer in, cupping one hand around his face.

  “He’s trying to see if there really are kids inside.”

  Anspaugh’s voice crackled. “What the hell’s he doing? Why hasn’t he made his move?”

  “He’s still checking things out,” Vince said.

  “Ask him if he put the toys all over the living room, in full view from the windows, and has cartoons jacked up loud on the TV,” Lily murmured. Another of her suggestions: Mom and Dad were out; kids would go a little wild.

  Anspaugh confirmed as much.

  “Keep holding tight,” Vince advised. “The worm’s trying to grow a big enough set of balls to go through with it.”

  That wasn’t difficult to believe. If this guy was Lovesprettyboys, he had already shown himself as someone ready to pay others to do his nasty work for him. Not that she truly believed that meant he hadn’t molested any children yet; something deep inside her already knew better. But his innate cowardice—the cowardice of anyone who raped small children—would leave him suspicious of any new situation, always on the lookout for a setup.

  The man moved. Staying low, beneath the bottom ledge of the window, he scurried across the porch to the side of the garage. Where there was a door.

  “He’s going for it,” she whispered.

  Their suspect opened the door and stepped inside. They lost him from view. Then, suddenly, voices shouting, Anspaugh barking orders, screaming at someone to “Get the fuck down!”

  More shouts. “No, dude, you got it all wrong!”

  “Tell it to the judge, slimeball,” Vince said with a wide grin. He gave Lily a not-very-surreptitious thumbs-up.

  She smiled back, liking the man a lot more than she liked his supervisor. “It’s over,” she said. “We got him.”

  At least, they got someone. Lily truly hoped the man they had caught in that house was Lovesprettyboys. But something inside her had begun to suspect she wouldn’t fall apart if he turned out not to be. Because, no matter what, she’d been part of bringing down some sick bastard who’d had very dark intentions toward two young children.

  She’d acted instead of reacted. Had done something strong and powerful instead of just being a victim.

  “It’s enough,” she whispered. It didn’t bring Zach or Laura back, but she’d actually made a difference. She could return to Washington and tell Wyatt she was ready to get back to her real job. Back to her real life. Maybe even get back to actually enjoying living it. Though it had been so long, she wasn’t sure she remembered how.

  “Let’s go enjoy the show,” Vince said, reaching for the handle on the back door.

  “Let me get my jacket.”

  Grabbing it from the passenger seat, she turned around to see Kowalski hop down onto the street. He appeared to be waiting for her; then suddenly his attention was drawn somewhere out of her range of vision. “Who the hell are you?” he asked.

  Lily didn’t know whom the other agent was talking to. She didn’t even know if he was concerned or merely curious in the final seconds of his life.

  She didn’t hear the gun, didn’t anticipate any danger. She just knew, as she watched Vince Kowalski’s brains and half his head erupt against the inside of the open door, that he’d been shot in the face.

  Lily grabbed for her weapon. Her fingers brushed the grip. But before she had even pulled it from its holster, she felt the first bullet strike. The force flung her back.

  Then another shot. Such pain.

  And her world went dark.

  Chapter 15

  Christine Harrington’s life had been saved because of a determined man who had apparently been in love with her for a long time.

  At least, that was the gist of what they had gotten during Sam’s brief phone conversation with her mother. So far, they hadn’t had a chance to confirm it. When the woman arrived home, safe and sound, in the company of the man Sam called Uncle Nate, mother and daughter had fallen into each other’s arms and cried together, not saying more than a few loving words.

  Alec’s heart twisted, hearing her, watching Sam’s terror give way to relief. But she was with the right people to deal with it. Family. Friends.

  He stayed in the background, hovering with Wyatt and the other members of the team, who had shown up within minutes of Sam’s conversation with Judge Nathan Price. All of them stood outside in the cold, because Sam had flown out the front door and down the steps the very moment Price’s car had pulled up.

  Finally, Sam pulled away, rubbing her tears onto her own sleeves. Her gaze shifted, quickly scanning the faces of those nearby, until it lit upon his face, as if, now that she knew her mother was okay, she needed to see him. And only him.

  Her smile took his breath away. The softness in her eyes stopped his heart midbeat.

  She had feelings for him. It was crazy, given the brief time they’d known each other, but it was also true.

  More bizarre? He felt the same way. That liking he’d been feeling for her had somehow built to the point where he’d do bodily harm to anyone who tried to hurt her. He wanted to commit violence on their unsub just for putting those tears in that woman’s eyes.

  Love? He had no idea, never having experienced it before.

  But it was more than liking, and damn sure more than lust.

  “Mrs. Harrington, do you mind answering a few questions now?” Wyatt asked.

  “Of course not, and I hope somebody else will, too,” the woman said. “I’d like to know why on earth my daughter believed I had been murdered.”

  “Oh, God, Mom, you have no idea. I thought you were going out on a date with somebody you met online tonight.”

  “I was supposed to. It was all set up, and I backed out at the very last minute.”

  Which was probably why Darwin had jumped the gun, posting his vicious message on Sam’s blog. How infuriated he must have been when she’d canceled.

  Then again, knowing how he liked to torment his victims, he could very well have done it intentionally, just to hurt Sam and laugh at the FBI.

  “Nate showed up here and, well, talked me out of it. So I canceled my other plans.”

  She was obviously trying to be tactful, but the way she and this Uncle Nate looked at each other, it was pretty clear they were involved.

  Sam was a little less tactful. A fist on her hip, she said, “Well, it’s about time.”

  The older gentleman, who had hovered in the background, not intruding on the reunion, smiled sheepishly. “You don’t mind?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for you to make your move.”

  “I’d given up on him ever making it,” said Mrs. Harrington.

  “Hence the desperate online-dating idea?” the man asked, one brow quirked.

  “I wasn’t desperate. Just curious.”

  Sam squeezed her mother’s hand. “Don’t forget what curiosity did to the cat, okay? Now, we need to go inside so you can talk to these people and tell them everything you know about the man you were supposed to go out
with.”

  “Randolph?”

  “That’s his name, ma’am?” Alec asked.

  She nodded. “Yes. Randolph Gertz. He’s a widower and seems very lonely. I felt bad about breaking our date tonight.” Nate Price’s hand landed on her shoulder and she smiled up at him. “Though not too bad.”

  “Is there any particular reason you weren’t answering your cell phone?” Sam asked.

  “Why, yes, dear. Because I turned it off. This date was a long time coming, and I didn’t want to be disturbed.” Her smile said a lot about that date, and Sam looked either ready to hug her fondly or strangle her.

  Gathered inside, Wyatt related what was going on. He didn’t tell them everything, just enough to let them know how serious the situation was. When Sam’s mother realized she might have broken a date with a psychopath, she paled, but seemed much more concerned that said psychopath had any interest in her daughter.

  Though the local PD left, the rest of them remained in the house for a few hours, going through the computer history, getting every bit of information they could on this Gertz character. By the time they’d covered every base, Sam looked ready to drop, and so did the older couple.

  “Mrs. Harrington, I think it best that you stay somewhere else for a little while, rather than remaining here at home,” Wyatt said as they all decided to call it a night.

  The judge laid a hand on her shoulder. “She’ll stay with me. So can Samantha.”

  “No way,” said Alec.

  “Believe me, son, I am quite used to needing protection and have an alarm system as well as a permit to carry a weapon at all times. You needn’t fear for either of these women.” His tone vulnerable, he murmured, “They’re my family.”

  “You’re in a very good position to help keep Mrs. Harrington safe and out of sight, sir, but I’m afraid the obstacle Sam is up against is a little more serious.”

  The judge met his stare evenly, and Alec made no attempt to lighten his grim expression. He asked no questions; he didn’t need to. He got the message loud and clear. “Very well.”

  “Thank you.”