She spotted a panel of switches and reached up to flick them on. Light poured through the place. It was lined with desks and phones and what she could only guess was computer equipment. She picked up each phone, whimpering, “Please help me, please help me,” into each one. But there wasn’t any dial tone. Something that looked like an old radio sat high on a shelf, out of reach.
She ran out of that room and through the doorway opposite. It was a large room, empty except for one broken bunk bed. Four large storage cabinets lined the wall, their doors hanging open to reveal empty shelving.
Got to get out of here!
Stasia was licking Olivia’s face. “Oh, Stasia, you’ve got to stop bringing me out. I’m okay, really. If only you could understand me. I know, sweetie. I love you, too.”
She made her way inside and dialed Max’s cell phone, feeling sharp disappointment when she got his voice mail. “Phaedra escaped from her cage! I’m thinking it’s some kind of jail or other facility. There’s a room with radio equipment and another large room with a broken bunk bed. The rest of the rooms are clean, too, as though they’ve never been used. All I can hope for is that she gets out. It’s so frustrating not being able to help her. Call me as soon as you can.”
She had to paint what she’d seen. At least try. She knew she should call Judy, but she needed to focus on the painting. Once she made some headway, she’d call her.
He heard Max’s cell phone ring four times, then stop. The detective’s area was empty. Most everyone was in the break room enjoying a Christmas luncheon one of the guy’s wives had delivered. He casually picked up the phone and walked to the window. While he pretended to look out at the gray day, he retrieved the message. He’d seen Max punch in the code the other day.
He tossed the phone back on the desk and headed outside. He took his time crossing the parking lot, nodding at those he met along the way. He didn’t look like a man who was anxious. No, he looked pleasant, casual, just another government employee enjoying a break.
A patch of park-like land separated the police station from the old courthouse. The records division was still located on the third floor, waiting for their offices in the new building to be finished, and there was one lone clerk still on the ground floor. All the rest of the divisions had moved over already. What they were going to do with the quasi-historic building was under consideration. The way the board of commissioners kept squabbling over its fate, it would be months before anything was decided. Plenty of time for the place to get flooded and destroy any evidence he might have left behind.
Olivia sank back into that strange place with the kitchen and clean floors and watched through Phaedra’s eyes as she dug her way into a hole in the large, concrete bricks. She’d dumped over a pile of the plastic buckets and had stacked up several so she could reach the square hole in the wall.
Wads of yellow insulation surrounded a cylindrical object.
A sound halted the girl and made her already pumping heart race even faster. She’d heard that sound enough, knew it meant disaster.
Fear shuddered through her and propelled her off the buckets. They fell over with a loud clatter, skidding across the floor. She ran through the doorway to a large room with several picnic tables.
“Rose!” His voice thundered through the empty rooms. “Get back here now!”
She turned around to an opening with steps leading up. She’d already investigated and knew there was a brick wall there. There had once been another steel door there; the heavy-duty hinges were still in place. She ran up the steps, stumbling on one, and then crouched in the darkness of the corner.
There was panic in his voice, too, scaring her even more. “Rose! Come here now!”
He was getting closer. She heard cabinet doors being thrust open. He’d find her there. It was hopeless.
But wait! She could try to race to the door he’d come in, and if he hadn’t closed it all the way...
As she readied herself to bolt, he stepped in front of the doorway. His breath was coming heavily, and his mouth tightened in a furious line. She pressed farther into the corner, even as her hope of escape spiraled downward. He’d only taken two steps into the alcove when he stopped and looked at her.
“Rose.” That horrid name was filled with disappointment, and with relief.
With sure steps, he climbed to the top platform. Dread and fear stopped her breathing altogether as he reached for her arm. She dodged around him and tripped down the steps, landing on her knees. Her legs were still stiff from crouching in the cage, but she forced herself up and ran toward the steel door. She didn’t know what was on the other side, but she had to take the chance.
She didn’t get that chance. He grabbed her ankle and jerked her to the floor. She yelped, but before she could think of trying to wriggle away, he had her pinned beneath him. He yanked her to her feet and hauled her into the bathroom. The tub was almost filled with water now. She didn’t struggle, didn’t want to make him any angrier.
He plunged her into the water face first, pressing her down so hard, her nose mashed against the bottom of the tub. She thrashed with her arms and feet, but he was too strong. Help me, help me! she thought. No one could help her. She’d never see her family again.
Just as suddenly, he pulled her out. She gasped for breath and watched rage color his neck and face. He was breathing almost as hard as she was.
“Not yet, Rose. You almost made me ruin everything. Marie died at midnight. I have to follow the plan or it won’t go away. But you won’t be alone. I’m going to bring back the Rose who got away. He tilted his head. “Olivia, are you listening? Thanks for letting me know Phaedra had gotten out. But she won’t get away—neither will you. And Max won’t save you this time.”
Max paced inside the doctor’s office. “Look, I’m fine. Tell Huntington you talked with me, I wasn’t displaying any irrational tendencies, and we can be done with this.”
Dr. Martin shook his head.
Max lowered himself into the chair. “Fine, let’s talk.”
“First, tell me about this case you’re working on. Maybe once I understand the background, I can see where you’re coming from.”
Olivia’s heart was beating frantically as she pulled herself off the floor. Someone else had Max’s phone. He had Max’s phone, and she had given Phaedra away. That’s all she could think about as she tried to make her weak legs work. She didn’t have time to soothe the pain pounding in her head or wipe away the sweat. Where was the phone, dammit? She always knew where it was, but her panicked thoughts were crowding in.
When she found it, she fumbled with the numbers. It took three tries to get her finger to work properly. Information gave her the police station’s regular number. She had to warn Max that his father was there. Whoever answered the phone was safe to trust. It would take Father time to get back to the station, even if he left right after he’d talked to her.
She was put through to Max’s desk. After four rings, a man answered in a tired voice. “Callahan’s desk, O’Reilly speaking.”
Not her favorite person, but obviously not the kidnapper. “It’s Olivia Howe. Is Max anywhere that you can get hold of him? It’s a matter of life and death—Phaedra’s life.”
“He’s not even in the building. What’s going on?”
“Can you please take a look around and tell me which detectives are not there right now? Someone who was there a little while ago.”
After a pause, he said, “Mathers is only on call, though I did see him this morning. Graham’s here somewhere, but I haven’t seen him in a while either. Several of the guys were in the break room, including Lemmings and Sharp. I just saw the lieutenant in—wait a minute. Why am I telling you anything? What’s going on?”
“Who has access to Max’s cell phone?”
“It’s right here on his desk. Why?”
“I left a message for him, and the man who took Phaedra intercepted it. I need to get to the station and wait for Max. Bobby Callahan threatened me.�
� She knew her fear was plain in her voice and didn’t try to disguise it. “He…might even be on his way here.” She would be safe there, surrounded by detectives and near Max.
“Bobby Callahan…Max’s father? His dead father?”
“Yes! No! He’s not dead. They never verified that the remains were Bobby’s. Please, you’ve got to help me.”
“All right, calm down. If you feel like you’re in danger, I’ll send someone to get you.”
“No, not someone! You. I trust you.”
He let out a sigh, clearly not buying most of her story. But he must have believed she felt threatened, because he said, “All right, I’ll come get you. I was just heading out.”
“Thank you.”
Sam shook his head as he dropped the phone in the cradle. This was crazy. “I’ll be back in about forty minutes or so,” he told John Holland, who had just walked in. He’d almost made it out of the room when he ran into Huntington and Graham coming in.
“Where are you going?” Huntington asked.
Sam paused, wondering how much to tell him.
Max knew how crazy the story sounded as he relayed it to the doctor. When he’d started, something had niggled at his subconscious, something he’d overlooked. He finished with, “Which leads me to sitting here in your office while that little girl waits for a rescue that’s not going to happen.”
The man who looked a bit like Albert Einstein tapped his pen against his chin. “Other than the so-called psychic connection, you don’t know that the girl is even alive.”
“All I have is the connection. If you had seen Olivia…if you knew how my father was, you’d believe it, too. We have nothing else. No other viable leads, no clues. It makes sense to explore the only avenue we have, no matter how it sounds.”
The Santa suit. That’s what kept bothering him. Why?
Dr. Martin set the pen down. “Tell me about your father. Growing up with a disciplinarian like that, and then learning that he had kidnapped a girl, that must have been traumatic for you.”
“The Santa suit!”
“Pardon?”
“Holy sh…it’s brilliant. The costume he wore into the store was ours.”
“What are you talking about, Detective Callahan?”
“I need to check the storage room at the station. This could be a piece of evidence, a real lead if he returned the suit. My escorts can take me over there and back.”
“All right. I’ll give you fifteen minutes. Then I want to talk about your mother. Her killing herself on Christmas night is quite significant.”
More than he realized. Max walked out. He understood Huntington’s position, but he wasn’t giving this much more time. And he was getting his cell phone. He hadn’t thought it would take this long, and he didn’t like being out of touch with Olivia.
The two uniforms said nothing as they shadowed him like bad tails all way to the station. He grabbed his phone on the way to the storage room. No missed calls or messages. He was glad to see that both Sam and Huntington were gone.
He looked down at his phone. Maybe he should call her.
He kept walking toward the storage room, dialing her number. “Olivia—”
Her voice rushed out at him. “He got the message I left on your cell number and he went and caught Phaedra. He thanked me for helping him.” Her voice cracked on that.
“What? Slow down, what message?”
“I left you a message.” She told him what she’d witnessed. “I gave her away. Then he said he was going to bring back the Rose that got away. And that this time you wouldn’t save me.”
“I’ll be right over.”
Max saw the uniforms stiffen at those words.
“Stasia and I will meet you there. Your partner’s coming. O’Reilly’s okay, Max. When I called on your regular phone, he answered. There’s no way that your father could get back to the station that fast, not unless where he’s keeping Phaedra is within a short walking distance of the station.”
“I doubt that. Most of the buildings in this area are government buildings and are in use. The rest of the area has been checked out already.” He was glad Sam was in the clear. He’d hated suspecting him.
“I asked your partner who was there. Your lieutenant and someone named Lemmings were. Graham and Mathers weren’t there, he said. Maybe you can pin down more names.”
Graham and Mathers were possibilities. “What about where Phaedra is being held? Could you see anything else that might help? You said it looked like a jail or some kind of barracks.”
“It has a large area with tables and a doorway at the other end. A doorway, yet there wasn’t a door. It’s blocked by a brick wall. That’s where she was hiding when he found her, in an alcove.”
“It can’t be a jail, not locally. We’ve had the same one for twenty years. The new government building is occupied. The cafeteria is already in operation. The old courthouse is mostly empty, but there isn’t a kitchen or anything like you’ve described over there, just a bunch of offices. The teams checked out the building as part of their grid search. Let me think about what it could be.”
Her voice broke when she said, “Max, you’re right. I am afraid.”
His chest caved at those words. “It’s okay, Livvy.”
“No, it’s not okay.” Another sob. “I’m afraid of the world and life changing in a heartbeat. I’m afraid of the way I feel every time you say my childhood name, because I’m that little girl again who wants to feel safe and protected, and that girl wants you to be the person who protects her. I’m afraid of falling in love with you, and I’m afraid of you walking out of my life forever. You were right about the buried in the sand thing. I don’t want to be paralyzed by it anymore.”
“Me either,” he caught himself saying. He felt his chest open like a butterfly spreading its wings for the first time.
“What do you mean?”
That was why he’d pressed her so hard to admit her fear—it was his fear, too, his weakness. “I’ve been afraid to put someone I care about in a vulnerable position. It paralyzed me to think that I couldn’t protect them.”
“You can’t protect everyone.”
“I know. I know that now.” He swallowed hard. “Keep me on the line until Sam gets there.”
“I’ve got to keep painting. Sam will be here any minute, and I want to get down what I can.”
“All right,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll see you soon.”
“My hero,” she said with a smile in her voice.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the ache in his chest and disconnected. When he opened them, he found the two uniforms pretending they hadn’t been listening and looking a little embarrassed about it.
“I’m going down to the storage room,” he said and left them to follow.
Max found the Santa suit stuffed in the box, one of the sleeves dripping over the edge. He didn’t dare touch it, and he wasn’t sure who he could trust to process it for DNA. Then he realized that it wouldn’t help Phaedra in time. All it might prove was that one of the men who had worn the suit had been with the girl. He glanced at his watch. Time was running out. Maybe Olivia’s latest painting would help, though he wasn’t holding out much hope for that. She just couldn’t capture the necessary details.
When he returned to the detective’s area, one of the uniforms said, “We’d better get back to the doctor’s office.” They were visibly nervous, afraid Max would try something.
Max was too busy looking for Sam and Olivia to reply. He called Sam’s cell number—no answer. Where was he? He called Olivia and got her answering machine. Okay, Sam had picked her up. They were probably on their way.
“I’m not leaving until Olivia and O’Reilly return.” Max leaned against the edge of his desk, crossed his arms, and made sure he looked as though he were there for the long haul.
“You tried to kill me.” She stared at him with accusing eyes.
“No, I didn’t.” But he had. His fingers had gone round her throat a
nd he’d had a devil of a time loosening their grip. “I got carried away, that’s all. It’s your fault. You made me so damned angry. I apologized. What else do you want from me?”
Helene let out a tortured sigh. “You know what I want. Leave Annie. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Sam. You know we belong together.”
Even now, his hands flexed at his sides. He had wanted to kill her. She was trying to destroy his life. He’d thought of several ways to accomplish it, none of which included strangling her with his bare hands. But he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t because he was a cop or that he was multiplying sins he would already pay for in the hereafter. It wasn’t even thoughts of Annie that had stopped his machinations. It was his son. How could he face that boy knowing he was a murderer?
“This was all a game, wasn’t it? The scratches on your face, the flat tires, the threatening messages from your so-called boyfriend…you did all that, didn’t you?”
She came to her feet, pain in her expression. “No.”
“There never was an ex-boyfriend stalking you, was there?” She’d come to his house once, when Annie was at work, crying about her ex. She was afraid to go to the police and file a report, because he’d threatened to kill her if she did. She’d pleaded with him to keep an eye on her, to teach her to defend herself. She had seduced him along the way. Oh, he took full responsibility for allowing it to happen. It had never occurred to him that he was the cheating kind. Or the killing kind.
“It was the only way to get you to pay attention to me.” She grabbed at his arm. “I waved at you, tried to strike up a conversation. You’d hardly give me the time of day. So I figured if I played the woman in danger, you’d care. You did care—do care. I know you do.”
Blindsight [Now You See Me] (Romantic Suspense) Page 30