“Wish someone else’s had been. Otherwise she wouldn’t be like this. Shame. Kids with this disease generally live a bit longer, especially since she was only diagnosed four years ago. Lack of medical care is my guess.”
“What disease?” Carrie asked.
“Sophie has pneumonia and is not responding to antibiotics. It’s common in the later stages of AIDS. She probably won’t ever leave this ward, or live until Labor Day.”
Sebastian wrapped an arm around his companion’s shoulders and pulled her closer before he thought it through. That she didn’t pull away told him volumes.
Carrie said little as they left the hospital without disturbing Sophie. What good would it do? She hadn’t been able to tell them anything about Ashleigh other than the fact that Ashleigh had given her the sweatshirt.
Waking the girl would just prove painful—for all involved. It was best, in Sebastian’s opinion, to just let the girl rest as pain free as possible.
A deep sigh from the woman beside had him stopping along the sidewalk. The trembling of her shoulders told its own story.
Sebastian wrapped his fingers around her elbow and pulled her to him. She stiffened against him for a moment, then rested her head against his chest. Was she crying? God, he hoped not. He rocked gently, brushing red hair softly. “She really got to you, didn’t she, baby?”
Her shoulders stiffened and she straightened, pulled away. She wasn’t crying, was just extremely pale. Sad. For the girl or for the girl she had once been? “The waste of it just doesn’t make sense. She was just thrown aside.”
“I know. But it happens, every damned day.” As a federal agent she should know that, shouldn’t have felt the girl’s plight as much as she did. It touched him that she had. One thing he’d learned about Carrie Sparks was that she cared for and hurt for those less fortunate than her. “You can’t let it get to you.”
“How can it not? Do you know how many girls like Sophie Paige and I saw in those three years I was on the streets? I counted. We spoke or knew at least one hundred thirty-six girls who died on the streets from one cause or another. Disease, drugs...murder. We were lucky we made it. The grandmother who threw her out in the streets is a murderer just as bad as anyone the FBI has ever caught.”
“Yes. But there is nothing you can do.”
“I know. And that is what makes it so much worse.”
She didn’t say another word the entire walk back to the parking garage to retrieve Sebastian’s SUV.
He drove in silence, giving her the time to think.
Chapter 19
*****
Dan Reynolds was tired. It had been a long, bad case. Cases involving kids always were. And they always hurt him, reminding him of his own three girls. Girls he hadn’t seen in fifteen years, thanks to his ex taking them and running. Hiding his family from him.
He’d never figured out why. But his missed those girls every damned day.
His bones hurt, from a mix of his old injury—he’d been shot three times fifteen years ago—and from the recent tackling he’d done of the UNSUB. He’d wanted to do more than tackle the kid for what he’d done to those girls. What had made a kid into such a sociopath?
He’d never understood that kind of sick mind. The boy hadn’t been much older than his three victims. Dan had been the one to find the last victim, and he could only thank God above that he’d been able to get the girl—a thirteen-year-old, green-eyed redhead—to medical help in time.
She’d live, but she’d always have the scars of what that maniac had done.
She’d reminded him of his oldest girl, the last time he’d seen her. Kelly had been only eight when her mother took her from him, but she’d been tall for her age. The girl he’d found tonight had been short. But the physical similarities were there.
His girls were heavy on his mind as he drove out of the PAVAD building’s parking garage. All three had had his red hair and green eyes, even six-month-old Gracie Marie. He wondered if they did still.
That was the worst part—the wondering. Were they happy? Were they healthy? Were they even alive?
It ate at him that he didn’t know. That he would probably never know.
Another redhead popped into his mind. One he cared about deeply. Carrie. His youngest teammate had been forced to take mandatory time off. She’d been on the clock for too many consecutive hours before their team leader Hellbrook had loaned her out to Agent Brockman’s team last week. Dan smiled as he remembered how the girl had balked at taking the time off. But he knew it was good for her. The kid would spend too much time at her precious computers. It wasn’t healthy.
Before he knew it, he’d turned his car in the opposite direction of the subdivision his twenty-acre tract was in. He’d swing by, knock on her door, check for himself that Carrie was alright. Reassure himself that at least one of the girls he loved was safe for the night.
***
Carrie’s street was older, but the apartment buildings were well-maintained for the most part. The majority were old warehouses or small factories that had been renovated. Carrie’s building sat dead-center of her block. Dan parked his Bureau vehicle in a fifteen minute parking zone directly in front. He’d only be a minute, would just check and make sure she was ok—he knew she didn’t like people invading her home.
But she’d also understand why he needed to check on her for himself. He buzzed the superintendent of her building, and when the man appeared at the door, Dan flashed his badge. “I’m just here for a quick word with Agent Sparks.”
“I’ll accompany you. Carrie’s real private.” The man wore suspicion easily. Dan recognized the type. Probably ex-military or ex-law enforcement. Dan approved. Carrie needed someone looking out for her. Every young woman Carrie’s age did, law enforcement agent or not.
Dan had seen too many women made into victims. “I understand. This won’t take long. Just a quick word.”
Just a look would do. Then he’d go home and pour over the websites he searched nearly every night. His girls were of the age that would have grown up with computers. They would be on social media, be on websites and message boards. He would find them, somehow. He’d keep looking until the day he died.
Carrie lived on the top floor, her apartment spanning the entire level. Dan wondered at that. “She lived here long?”
“As long as any of us.” The man had a deep Cajun accent and dark black skin and was close to Dan’s age. “She offered me the spot as super ‘bout two years ago. Then she moved in six months later—once her place was fully renovated.”
Carrie had been with Dan’s team for two years so the timing was right. “She offered?”
“Yep. She owns the place. We met down at the runaway shelter. I…uh…used to live in the area. Squatted in the building, actually. Was there when she first saw the place. And when she bought it, she offered me this job. Complete with my own place in the basement. She’s a good girl, she is.”
Dan fought to keep his surprise off his face. Carrie owned this place? He hadn’t known. How had she managed that? “I wasn’t aware that she owned the building. Good for her.”
“Good for her, definitely. And I do my part to keep an eye on the girl. She’s too pretty to be so alone.”
Dan agreed just as the elevator pinged and paused its ascent. The super using a key on a large ring to open the door. “This is the girl’s floor. Four.”
Dan followed him out into the hallway. The light was dimmer than a normal halogen. Something that didn’t surprise him. Carrie usually wore tinted sunglasses when they were working, and Dan had long suspected harsh lights bothered her eyes.
He studied the hall, seeing bits and pieces of Carrie in the color choices and the sparse décor. It suited her, feminine yet sleek.
The super cursed and his speed increased. Dan jerked his attention back toward the man. “What is it?”
“Carrie!”
The super reached for the only door in the hallway. It had to be Carrie’s. Dan stepped clos
er and his own curses rang out. The door hung by only one hinge. “Carrie! Carrie!”
Chapter 20
*****
She fell asleep when they were only an hour outside the St. Louis city limits. She even tapped in her sleep, her right foot beating out that same steady rhythm against the side panel of her door that he’d grown accustomed to hours ago. He barely noticed it any more. Her hand rested casually on the armrest between them, palm up, her head against the passenger window. Her fingers would occasionally tap out an accompaniment for her foot. He wondered briefly what she dreamt about. It made him smile, seeing her relaxed for a change.
He hadn’t noticed it before, but an invisible wire of tension ran through her at most times—it was only clear when she wasn’t moving—and it twisted her body almost to the point of breaking. That—he suspected—was behind her incessant need to drum against any surface. Energy, and tension, needed somewhere to go. And she somehow kept all that tension within herself, appearing calm and almost apathetic the majority of the time. How had she managed that?
He dropped one hand and squeezed her smaller one. She didn’t stir, didn’t move—didn’t pull away, and he took the moment to enjoy the feel of her warm, soft skin beneath his.
He’d come to the realization in the last twenty-four hours that he a hard time not touching her. That had never happened to him before; he wasn’t too sure how he felt about that now. He wanted to touch her, so he did. There was no one there to stop him, or to care. And he’d continue to do it, as long as she didn’t mind.
He left his hand right where it was until his cell phone rang. He grabbed the phone quickly and identified himself before it could wake her.
“Dammit, Lorcan, where are you?” Hellbrook’s voice rang through the line.
“Driving.” Lorcan’s hackles immediately rose at the other unit chief’s tone. “What of it?”
“Do you have Carrie?” Hellbrook’s tone was slightly calmer.
Lorcan felt a surge of protectiveness—and possessiveness—swell. “Why?”
“Just tell me whether you have my agent.” There was now fear in the other man’s voice and it had Sebastian’s attention sharpening. He pulled the vehicle to the side of the road, ignoring the traffic whizzing by. Carrie never stirred.
“I have her,” Sebastian admitted after a short moment. “Why?”
“Thank God.” The relief in Hellbrook’s voice was almost palpable enough to reach through the cell line. Sebastian flipped the emergency lights on to prevent anyone from rear-ending their vehicle in the dark rain.
“What’s going down?”
“Carrie’s apartment was broken into; we didn’t know where she was, and all we had to go on was your phone call to the unit asking for information to be forwarded to Carrie’s email. We were worried she was home when it happened.” Cell service was strong wherever they were and Sebastian had no trouble hearing the censor—and curiosity—in the slightly older man’s voice.
“When did it happen? We left yesterday morning around seven. Everything was fine, then,” Sebastian said.
“Not sure, probably sometime last night.” Hellbrook paused for a moment. “Let me speak with her.”
“No. She’s sleeping, and I don’t want to just spring this on her. She’s had a tough day. Let me tell her. Give her time to get it together before we get there.”
“And when will you be bringing my field agent back?” Sebastian definitely didn’t miss the meaning behind Hellbrook’s words. He knew there would be a confrontation in the near future with Carrie’s supervisor.
He almost looked forward to the challenge—there were few men he’d met in St. Louis whom he’d consider worthy opponents for anything, and Michael Hellbrook was one of them. “Just why is she with you, and why is she sleeping? Is she ok?”
“She’s helping me find the daughter of a friend. And she’s asleep because she hates long car rides, especially at night, and she hates the rain. But she’s fine. I think she’s escaping the only way she can.”
“You do, do you?”
“Listen, we’re not even an hour outside the city. I’m going to get her awake and break the news. It’ll be tough for her. You know that—she told me herself that no one enters her space. We should be there in about an hour.” Sebastian disconnected before the other man could respond. He’d deal with Hellbrook later. Right now he had to tell her.
He looked at the sleeping woman beside him, hating what he was about to do. She’d told him that no one entered her space, not even those she was closest to. He’d thought nothing of violating that space that first night he’d showed up at her door, but now the thought that some nameless, faceless bastard had dared the same thing infuriated him.
“Carrie.” He shook her shoulder once, then a second time. She hummed, but didn’t wake. He shook her again. She jerked, those whiskey eyes of hers opening wide.
“Carrie, I need you to wake up. There’s something we need to talk about.”
Her body trembled slightly, in what he recognized as an instinctive reaction to waking so abruptly. He waited until he could sense she was calmer before releasing her shoulder.
“What is it?” She rubbed one hand over her eyes.
“Hellbrook called.”
“Does he need me?” Her face took on an expression of extreme concern that at any other time he would have considered cute. But not now.
“He was glad you were with me. He was worried.” How in the hell was he supposed to tell her that her home, her sanctuary, had been violated again?
“Why?” Carrie asked.
“Carrie, listen to me, ok?” Fast and sharp or slow and soft?
“Has something happened to the team? Georgia? K.D.? Or the baby?” He could hear the rising panic in her voice. And that made the decision for him. It was better to just get it over with.
“No, your team is ok.” Sebastian hated to do it, his mind kept replaying how upset she’d been when he’d entered her loft without her permission. Remembered her telling him of someone breaking in and stealing her computer code years ago. The pain and fear that had been in her eyes then. This was going to be so much worse. “Someone broke into your apartment. Hellbrook said they’ve done quite a bit of damage. I guess he is there right now.”
“My home?” Her voice was small and he flinched instinctively. He twisted in the seat a bit more, so that he could better see her face in the dim light. “Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why would somebody hurt my stuff? Other than the building itself, there’s not much of value there. I hide everything that they could pawn. Oh God, my computers! Did Hell say anything about my computer room? I don’t understand. I don’t. Don’t.”
He could hear the tears backing up in her throat and he acted instinctively. He flipped the armrest up, out of his way, and moved toward her. He didn’t think of how she’d react to him touching her, he just pulled her against his chest. He buried one hand in the warm, vanilla-scented red hair and cradled her head gently.
He just knew that she hurt and he instinctively wanted to make that hurt go away any way that he could. “I don’t know, baby. Probably just some dumbass kids, wanting a thrill or something they could easily fence for drug money.”
She stayed so still that for a moment he thought she was going to pull away. But she didn’t. Her arms crept awkwardly around his neck and she held on. Tight. Then she started crying silently, violently. The trembling was what bothered him the most, and he flipped on the heater, hoping that it would help alleviate the tremors some.
It took her ten minutes to stop crying, and another five to let go of the hold she had around his neck. She didn’t look at him, just wiped at her eyes as she pulled back into her seat.
“You ok, now?” He asked softly. She wouldn’t look at him. He understood.
“I think so. I want to go home.”
Chapter 21
*****
Kevin still smelled like damned vanilla. He let out a long sigh then
shook his head at himself. He couldn’t really blame the animal—the cat had been frightened and had his territory violated. The animal hadn’t known that Kevin only wanted to help him.
And he had.
Kevin had heard the cat slip through the back of the bathroom cabinet into a room behind the wall. A closet, perhaps. Hopefully the cat would be safe there until his mistress returned.
There had been several photos of the cat and a skinny dark-haired girl in Caroline’s apartment. They had been the only photos he’d seen. There may have been more, but it was hard to tell with all of Caroline’s belongings strewn about. He pushed the fury aside for a moment.
He’d been a cop long enough to recognize when a place had been ransacked for a reason. Was it Rush? Someone else targeting his daughter?
He’d find the person responsible. One way or another.
First, he needed to wash his hands. He was still covered in vanilla shampoo from where he’d tried to use it to lube the cat’s fur. The animal had gotten caught beneath the bathroom sink, and was yowling when Kevin had found Caroline’s front door swinging wide open.
He’d rushed in, thinking the sounds were of a woman in pain. He’d found the cat, instead. Kevin had used the bottle of shampoo to slide the cat free, being careful not to touch the raw spots on the animal’s ear and leg, where someone had obviously yanked the cat around.
All he’d received in return was a nasty scratch up his forearm and a filthy look before the cat had disappeared.
Still, all that mattered was that his daughter wouldn’t return to find her beloved pet stuck or hurt.
Chapter 22
*****
She grew even quieter the closer they got to her building. Sebastian didn’t force her to speak, realized almost immediately that she needed the silence to return to her point of equilibrium.
He pulled the SUV to a stop just outside her building, ignoring the no parking signs once again. This time, there were other department vehicles parked near her entrance. He recognized them as being PAVAD-issued.
Wanting (PAVAD) Page 6