Torn

by Cynthia Eden

  What about the trade? Jekyll Island? The name was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it, not fully, and there was no time to stop and question anyone right then. Wade had her arm and he was hauling her with him down the hallway. Up ahead, Captain Vann was barking orders and uniformed cops were surging forward.

  Just as they reached the glass doors that would take them outside, Victoria staggered to a stop. Her hand turned and she was the one grabbing Wade. “It doesn’t work this way.” He knew that. She knew that. It was never this easy.

  “It can work this way if the perp is too damn cocky. Too sure of himself and he screws up with a small mistake.”

  Like a phone call that could be tracked. Maybe the guy hadn’t realized how quickly they’d be able to lock on to his location. Maybe.

  “Come on, Viki, we’re following those cops.”

  And then they did. She and Wade jumped into their SUV and gave a fast and frantic chase behind the cop cars. Only those cars weren’t rushing in with sirens blazing to the scene.

  The cops went in with a silent attack. Because they didn’t want the perp to know they’d found him? She figured they were trying to keep the element of surprise on their side. And a perp who wasn’t alarmed . . . she knew that would be a perp who was more likely not to hurt his hostage in a moment of panic.

  They stopped a block from their target. The cops quickly set up a perimeter at the scene, and then the captain marched toward her and Wade. “Appreciate all the help,” he said with a curt nod. “But I’m sure you understand . . . my team has this now. You’re civilians, so you have to stay back.” He motioned to a spot behind the patrol cars.

  Victoria had been wondering when that order would come in.

  Wade’s face tightened with anger but he didn’t argue.

  They stood behind the line of police cars as Dace led a team toward the house.

  “They didn’t get a warrant that fast,” she murmured.

  “Probable cause,” Wade said, not looking at her because his gaze was focused on the scene unraveling before them. “They think Melissa is in that house, so they are sure as hell running in with guns blazing.”

  And, sure enough, the cops barely paused at the front door. She heard Dace give a loud shout and then he kicked in the door. The cops swarmed then, going in the front of the house. The back of the house.

  She heard a woman scream.

  Victoria tensed.

  After that scream, the moments seemed to tick past in painful silence. Victoria realized she was actually holding her breath, and she forced herself to exhale and then suck in a deep gulp of oxygen.

  Then she saw—­

  Dace, coming out, leading a man in front of him. A tall man with dark hair and wide shoulders.

  “I didn’t do anything!”

  He was a familiar man.

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “Oh, shit,” Wade said.

  And then she saw the woman. A woman who was also in handcuffs. A woman with a tangle of long blond hair. A woman who was yelling, “You can’t do this to us! Why are you doing this to us?”

  More cops were running in and out of the house. The man and the woman were being led toward the patrol cars.

  Just then the man glanced up—­and his blue eyes locked on Wade and Victoria. There was fear in his gaze. Fear and desperation as he recognized them.

  “What’s happening?” Lucas Branson shouted at them. “Why are the cops doing this to me?”

  Dace had a tight grip on Lucas’s shoulder as he pushed the younger man forward. “We traced your call, Branson, though I sure as hell never expected to see you when I went into that house. I actually bought your act years ago. I thought you cared about Kennedy.”

  “I do care about Kennedy!” Lucas jerked against his cuffs while the blond woman with him started to cry.

  Do care. He’s using the present tense. For some reason those words pierced Victoria straight to her core.

  “Dr. Palmer! Wade!” Lucas yelled their names. “Look, shit, will you two just tell this detective that I hired you? That you’re working for me to find Kennedy?” Lucas demanded.

  They hadn’t even had a chance to tell him the news about her remains yet. Victoria had identified the body, they’d been going to the captain’s office and—­the killer called me. She had planned to deliver the news about Kennedy’s remains to Lucas in person.

  “Cut the act,” Dace snarled. “We traced the call you just made to Dr. Palmer. We know what you did.”

  “I didn’t just make any call!” Lucas was nearly screaming. The blond woman was still crying. “I just got here a few minutes ago. This is my fiancée’s house. We were out, meeting with the caterer. I brought her back—­and then you guys burst in the house with your freaking guns blazing!”

  The woman looked over at them, her dark gaze tear-­filled. “We didn’t do anything,” she cried. “I swear. We just got home. We just—­”

  “Found the phone!” one of the uniformed officers yelled as he ran from the house. He had an evidence bag in his hand. “It was on the kitchen counter, just waiting for us.”

  Dace shoved Lucas toward a patrol car. His lips twisted in disgust. “You sick sonofabitch. You used Melissa’s own phone to make the call.”

  “Who is Melissa?” Lucas yelled.

  Dace glared at Lucas. “The doc over there—­she identified Kennedy’s remains.”

  Lucas’s eyes widened.

  “Uh, detective . . .” Wade began, voice tense.

  “K-­Kennedy?” Lucas whispered.

  “We know what you did to her. We know you kept her alive for years. You got off on torturing her, right? You stabbed her. You broke her bones. You made her life hell—­”

  “Detective Black,” Wade barked. He rushed toward the detective and his prisoner. And Victoria ran right after him.

  “Then you bashed in her head and you buried her body. That wasn’t enough, though, was it? ’Cause on the anniversary of her abduction, you had to bring her back. You dug her up and you dumped—­”

  Lucas vomited. Again and again.

  “Fuck.” Dace jumped back.

  Wade grabbed his arm. “Lucas hired us to find her. This setup—­it’s not right.”

  The blond woman was staring at them all with dazed, horrified eyes. “Kennedy? Kennedy Lane? You . . . found her?”

  Victoria stepped closer to the blonde. “Are you Connie?” Because she remembered that name. Lucas had told them that Connie didn’t know he’d hired LOST. He was going to move on, with Connie.

  The woman blinked. “Y-­Yes, I’m Connie. Connie Sutherland.” Then she very slowly turned her attention to the evidence bag that the uniformed officer had brought over to Dace. “That’s not mine.” Her voice was wooden. Too flat. Is she in shock? “We—­We both have the newest models, the big screens, the—­” She broke off, her lips clamping together. Her body rocked back and forth. “What is going on? You—­You all think Lucas killed Kennedy?”

  No, Victoria didn’t think that. She also didn’t think that Wade believed that, either.

  Lucas had stopped vomiting. Now he was hunched on the ground, covered in filth, and he was—­crying.

  “Kennedy . . . he tortured Kennedy . . .” Lucas mumbled again and again.

  Her chest ached as she listened to him.

  No, she didn’t have Sarah’s expertise with killers, but every instinct she did have told her one thing. Lucas Branson wasn’t the killer they were after.

  “I think the cops know that isn’t your phone,” Victoria quietly told Connie. It’s Melissa. And I hope the cops can realize that Lucas isn’t the man they’re after. But before Victoria could say anything else, a cop led the crying blonde away. But at least the guy’s touch was more careful now, as if they’d all realized Connie and Lucas weren’t the terrible criminals they
’d suspected.

  While Connie was secured in the back of a patrol car, Dace stared down at Lucas, and Victoria could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

  “Branson.” Dace’s voice was softer now. “Can anyone verify that you just arrived at this house?”

  Lucas nodded. “N-­Neighbor. Over there . . .” He pointed to one of the neighbors who’d come out to gawk at the scene. “Mr. Morris saw me and Connie pull up. Stopped to talk to us . . . said he’d—­” His head snapped back as he stared first at Wade, then Dace, with wide eyes. “Said he’d seen some guy in Connie’s backyard.”

  Victoria’s gaze shot to the neighbor even as Dace ordered a uniformed cop to bring Mr. Morris over for questioning.

  “Lucas needs to get cleaned up,” Victoria said, her heart still aching for him.

  At her words, Lucas turned to focus on her. “You found Kennedy.” He’d risen to his full height, but his shoulders were hunched, his body wavering a bit unsteadily.

  She nodded.

  “He . . . hurt her?”

  He already knew that truth, and she found she couldn’t say it again. “She’s not hurting anymore.”

  His eyes closed and tears tracked down his cheeks. Dace swore. She thought the detective had fully realized what she knew—­that the killer had just played them all.

  He planted that phone here. One last bit of torture for Lucas Branson. One big screw-­you to the cops. The killer didn’t make some overconfident mistake.

  He played us like a pro.

  “THE NEIGHBOR BACKED up the story,” Dace said, his voice gruff. “He said Branson and his girl arrived just moments before we did. But the trace we got identified the call as coming from this location. It wasn’t on the move, it was stationary.”

  Wade watched as uniformed cops continued to sweep the scene—­Connie’s house. “Did the neighbor get a good look at the man he saw in the backyard?”

  “No, just said he was some guy wearing a black hoodie. He called out to him but the guy ran.”

  “He ran because he was done with his job.” Planting the phone. Throwing us off the trail. And that worried Wade. He crossed his arms over his chest as he faced Dace. “The perp kept tabs on Branson over the years. He knew the guy had a fiancée, he knew where she lived, and he also knew when they’d both be gone.” The creep knew when they had an appointment with a caterer that would keep them out of the house—­his perfect drop time. And that created a whole new problem. Wade wanted Sarah brought in on this case, ASAP. Because the guy they were after here—­he was one twisted sonofabitch. “He wanted the cops to think that Branson had hurt Kennedy. He wanted this whole scene to go down exactly as it did.”

  But . . . something was nagging at him. The killer could have just called Dace directly. He could have just called the police station with his fucking taunts.

  He hadn’t. He’d called Victoria instead.

  His gaze slid toward her. She was talking softly with Branson’s fiancée. Victoria always said she wasn’t good with the living, but she sure seemed to be doing a fine job of comforting Connie. She didn’t give herself enough credit.

  “Why the hell would the guy do this?” Dace wanted to know.

  Wade didn’t get into the minds of killers, not the way Sarah did, but he had his suspicions. “Torture. Pain. That’s his thing.” He nodded toward the patrol car. “He made sure that even at the end, when Kennedy finally was back, that her lover suffered more.”

  Dace swore. “I made him suffer. I did exactly what the asshole out there wanted.”

  “But it’s not happening again. You’re going to get him. We’re going to get him.”

  Dace stepped closer. “You know my captain is going to fight having you on this case. Kennedy—­yeah, that one he could let LOST cover. But Melissa? He’s going to see her case as his domain from here on out.”

  “Let him.” Wade shrugged. He wanted the cops involved. That didn’t mean he was going to stop searching. “We were already hired by Jim Porter. He wanted us to find Melissa, and that’s exactly what Victoria and I are going to do.” He knew Gabe would back him up on this one. There was no way that his best friend would pull him off this case, especially not with the chance Melissa was still alive.

  Oh, hell, no, there would be no backing down. And the more manpower they had on the search, the better.

  He intended to see Jim Porter ASAP. The guy needed to be brought up to speed on all the tangled shit that was happening with this case. But first . . . “You aren’t going to charge Branson with anything.”

  “What the hell can I charge him with? My captain wants an arrest, but I’m not taking in an innocent man.” Dace jerked a hand through his already disheveled hair. “We’re going to interview him. We’re going to collect any evidence that the killer might have left in the house, but no, I’m not about to put Lucas Branson under arrest.”

  Wade’s focus shifted back to the house. “Lucas and Connie need to be put up in a safe house, just for the next few days.”

  Dace’s laugh was bitter. “No way will the captain go for that. Our budget is stretched enough as it is.”

  “LOST will foot the bill.” Again, he had no doubt that Gabe would back him up. “But if the killer has been watching them,” and Wade was sure he had, “they need a safe place. They need to get off his radar while we figure out what the SOB’s next move is.”

  Victoria was heading toward them.

  “His next move,” Dace told him, voice only carrying to Wade’s ears, “could be her.”

  “The hell it will be.” His instant response. But . . . Wade was afraid the detective might be right, though it made no sense for the killer to contact Victoria. She should have barely been on his radar. They’d just arrived in town, but something had made the perp connect with her.

  It was a connection Wade wanted to end.

  Someone called out for Dace and the detective gave Wade a curt nod. “Look, I’ll keep you updated and you do the same for me, got it? After all, we both have the same end goal here.”

  Bringing in the missing girl alive.

  Stopping the killer.

  “Will do,” Wade said, and he watched as Dace hurried away.

  Victoria eased closer to him. Her shoulder brushed against his arm. “I think the killer is playing with us.”

  He did, too.

  “The killer—­he wanted the cops to come storming up here. Calling me, staying on the line long enough for the cops to follow the signal from his phone . . . that wasn’t a mistake.”

  “No.” Wade agreed with her on that.

  Her head tilted back as she studied him. “Why me?”

  His back teeth ground together as he thought about just why the killer wanted her. Then he forced himself to say, “You were probably just convenient.” Don’t scare her. “You won’t hear from him again.”

  She looked down at the ground. “I would have thought . . .” Her voice came slowly. “. . . that after everything else, all that I’d been through with LOST, you wouldn’t try to hide the truth from me.”

  Dammit.

  “I don’t think there are any coincidences or any conveniences with this guy,” she added.

  Wade swallowed. “Then you tell me, baby. Why did he call you?”

  Her lips parted. She was still looking at the ground, not him, and it took her a moment to say, “He told me that he knew things about me. Secrets.”

  Wade wanted to know her secrets.

  “I think we should get to Jekyll Island,” she said suddenly, as her gaze lifted. “He mentioned that place for a reason.”

  “Or he mentioned it to throw us off track. To send us running in the wrong direction.” Just the mention of Jekyll Island made him tense. Shit, he knew that place—­and he didn’t exactly have fond memories of the island. He’d grown up in Atlanta, but a few times he’d come with his mo
ther and his brother to Jekyll on holiday.

  An image of his brother Adam flashed in his mind, and the pain hit him hard—­just like the stab of a knife. He hadn’t been back to Jekyll, not since that fucking day. What a cruel bitch fate was, to send this shit his way now.

  Victoria gestured to the house. “This is the wrong direction. He said he wanted to trade. He said to go to Jekyll Island.” She straightened her spine. “That’s what I’m doing.”

  Then she turned away from him and started walking toward their SUV.

  For a moment he just stared after her. No, no, she couldn’t be serious.

  But . . .

  She was almost at the SUV.

  I hate Jekyll. I’d be happy if I never saw that island again.

  But he couldn’t let Victoria go alone. Shit. Shit.

  He rushed after her. He had the keys, dammit, so she couldn’t just leave without him. Knowing Victoria and her secrets, the woman probably knew how to hot-­wire a car. He caught her just before she reached for the door handle. His hand closed around her shoulder and he turned her back to face him. “No.” That one word was all he could manage right then. Fury choked him too hard.

  “Uh, no?” She blinked. “No, what?”

  He took a deep breath. Another. He smelled lavender. He could feel her delicate shoulder beneath his touch. But in his mind . . . he saw a knife. Could almost hear a woman’s screams.

  Not Kennedy’s screams. Not Melissa’s.

  Victoria’s.

  “There is no trade.” It couldn’t, wouldn’t happen. The killer was focusing on Victoria, and Wade would figure out why the hell that was happening, but he wasn’t just going to stand there while she offered ­herself up to him.

  “If it saves Melissa . . .”

  His hold tightened on her as he leaned in close, his body pressing to hers. “You don’t risk your life, got it?” And he knew he sounded like a dick, but he couldn’t help it. Too rough. Too angry. Too scared . . . scared that something would happen to her.