He pulled out of her grasp. “It’s over, Helene. I’m sorry if I somehow led you to believe there would be more to this than…”
Her pitiful expression hardened. “Sex?” The word sounded more like an expletive. “You thought you’d use me up and toss me away, is that it?” When she saw that anger wasn’t getting her anywhere, she reverted to the pitiful tact. “That’s all men ever think of me for. I was so sure you were different.”
He had no excuse for going to her place that afternoon and having sex with her. None at all. All the rationalizations evaporated as soon as their bodies had cooled down. He’d tried to leave without any commitments.
She hadn’t let him. Instead, she’d threatened to tell his wife and his son. His son! She’d even threatened to claim he’d raped her. He’d buckled under her threats, but everything was falling apart anyway. He couldn’t live like this anymore. He headed to the door.
“You can’t just walk away from me,” she said.
“Yes, I can. Annie already knows about us. She kicked me out last night. And I’m going to talk to my boss. He’ll know exactly what’s going on if you make any claims that I assaulted you. Helene, get some help. You’re a beautiful woman. I don’t understand why you so desperately need a man in your life that you’re willing to blackmail him—”
She launched herself at him, her nails braced and teeth bared. He deflected her, but carefully so that he didn’t leave any marks. She’d left marks on him when he’d nearly strangled her. She managed a few new scratches on his arms, but he shoved her down on her couch.
“Enough! It’s over. Let it go.”
She continued to struggle, but finally her movements stilled. “I hate you.”
He let her go. “I hate me, too.” Defeat permeated his voice.
“It’s not over,” she said.
He didn’t look at her as he left, didn’t want to see that determination he’d seen every time she threatened him. Whatever she did, he’d handle it. And he hoped Annie would forgive him. He’d make her love him again. He needed someone to talk to. A friend. He remembered Max’s offer to listen.
What would happen to Max now? he wondered as he drove back to the station. Their friendship was down the crapper, and that bothered him. This case had gone horribly wrong from the beginning—from when the Howe woman became involved. Max was as obsessed with her as Helene had been with Sam. Women weren’t worth it. He was even mad at Annie for suspecting an affair that was real. Maybe they were right. Men were pigs. No, he was a pig. He’d let his feelings color everything—including, he had to admit, how he’d viewed Olivia.
When he walked into the station, Max rushed over. “Where’s Olivia?”
The two uniforms tensed. They thought Max was on the edge. Sam was afraid they were right. “Calm down. I didn’t get her.”
“What?”
“Just as I was heading out, Huntington and Graham were coming in. Huntington asked where I was going, so I told him what was going on. He said he’d get her, and since I had someplace else to go, I let him. One of the guys came up to Huntington and asked him something before he left, but that only delayed him for a few minutes.”
“Huntington got her,” Max repeated, rubbing his hand over his mouth.
“Well, actually, he didn’t. I got a message from him on my cell phone, right after yours. He said she wasn’t at the apartment.”
“Is he back yet?”
“No, he said he’d look around for her.”
“Where’s Graham?”
“He left at the same time, said he was checking out something relating to the Burns case and he’d be back in an hour.”
Before anyone could anticipate it, Max had torn out of the room.
Olivia didn’t let herself think about what she’d spilled to Max. She’d deal with all that later. Right now, she had to focus on Phaedra. Her hands trembled as she tried to recreate the scenes she’d seen through Phaedra’s eyes. She concentrated on the doorway where Phaedra had hid from the kidnapper. The bricks were in an odd pattern. She dipped her finger in the paint and tried to recreate it on the canvas.
A knock sounded on the door a few minutes later. “Who is it?” she called.
“Lt. Huntington.”
Sam had called to tell her that Huntington was coming in his place. He’d said that Huntington had something new on the case and wanted to ask her some questions on the way. She opened the door.
“I need to bring my painting and get my dog ready.”
“We don’t have time. Let’s go.”
Her heart jumped. “What’s happened?”
“I think you may be on to something.” He gently took her arm. “I’ll guide you. We’ve got to go now.”
She locked her door and let him lead her down the stairwell. Her mind went back to what he’d said about her being the key. “You believe me? My visions? Just like that?”
“It might seem sudden, yes. I may have judged Max a little too harshly. It did sound crazy, after all. He was so adamant, though, that I decided to read through his notes while he was talking to the doctor. Given all the facts, it’s pretty convincing. I’ve been talking to Max on the cell phone during the drive here, trying to put everything together. You’re the key, Olivia.”
“Do you know who the kidnapper is?” she asked as he guided her to a car.
“We have an idea. You told O’Reilly he threatened you. Can you identify his voice?” He closed the door and got in on the driver’s side.
“Kind of deep, no accent. But he can fake a southern accent very well. If you believe me, why isn’t Max here?”
“He’s keeping an eye on our suspect. We’re going to set him up. We’ll have you tell Max that the girl has escaped again. Hopefully that’ll prompt him to check on her. We’ll be on his tail, and”—he smacked his hands—”we’ll have him and the girl.”
Her heart raced at the prospect of this being over soon. Phaedra home, safe and sound. She mentally recited the Lord’s Prayer again, just as she had when her father was in danger. She turned toward him when she was done. “Who do you think it is?”
“I don’t want to say, not just yet. You have to understand that it’s hard enough to suspect one of my own men in a crime like this. Before I name him, I want to see if he falls for the trap.”
The police radio crackled periodically as they made their way to the station. He said, “I’m taking you to the courthouse so he doesn’t see you. Don’t worry, you’ll be perfectly safe.”
“I’m more worried about Phaedra.”
She kneaded the material of her pants, eager to see Max, eager to get on with the plan. A police siren pierced the air and faded into the distance a few seconds later. They must be near the station. They slowed and turned into what was probably the parking lot. He helped her out of the car and linked his arm through hers. They took the steps up to an entrance, and he opened a door. It was quiet inside and smelled dusty and old. He guided her down what sounded like a long hallway. She could tell by the echo of their footsteps that they had entered a smaller room, and then he unlocked yet another door. It creaked as he pushed it open.
She’d heard that sound before.
“In you go,” he said before she could collect her thoughts. He shoved her inside, and she tumbled down the short flight of steps. “Welcome back, Rose.”
CHAPTER 25
Max wasn’t about to give those two uniformed goons a chance to curtail him. He took the shortcut out to the parking lot, jumped in his car, and headed to Olivia’s apartment. “Don’t panic,” he told himself as he pulled onto the highway. “Maybe she was in the bathroom.”
His chest felt as though it was compressed into a half-inch cube by the time he pulled up to her building. He double-parked and ran into the building. When he knocked on her door, Stasia barked. Okay, she was there. She’d just somehow missed the lieutenant.
No answer. He pounded on the door. “Olivia, it’s Max! Open up.” Only Stasia’s answering bark. He tried the door, j
ust in case. It was locked. That meant if she left, it was of her own volition. A good sign.
And a bad sign, because he was going to have to break in the door again. He kicked it this time; his shoulder was still sore from his last breaking-down-the-door heroics. It took a few kicks, but he finally broke the frame.
Stasia was cowering behind the easel, though she came forward when she saw him. He scratched her head as he scanned the apartment. No sign of Olivia. He called Sam. “Has the lieutenant returned?”
“Max, are you crazy? You’re going to lose your job, and I’m half-afraid you’ve already lost your mind.”
He heard the concern in his friend’s voice. “I’m not crazy, Sam. Has Huntington returned?”
“No.”
“What about Graham?”
“Not yet.”
“When Olivia called, you told her the lieutenant was at the station.”
“He was. Or I’d seen him just a few minutes before that, anyway.”
“What about Graham?”
“He was here, but I hadn’t seen him recently.”
“Call me the second either of them walk through the door.” He hung up.
He placed the faded memory of his father’s face over Huntington’s face. Different. Huntington had a gap between his teeth that his father didn’t have. If someone could get a gap fixed, they could probably have one created. The color of his eyes wasn’t the same, though contacts could take care of that. Huntington had always seemed a few years older than his father, but Max couldn’t be sure. His receding hairline would make him look older.
Graham, on the other hand, dyed his hair black to look younger. He liked working on motorcycles, and Bobby had worked on trucks. He was a bit of an outsider.
“Oh, no, not again.” Judy was staring at the broken doorframe.
“Judy, did you see Olivia leave?”
“Isn’t she back? I wanted to say sorry for not telling her about Terry owning the apartment across the way. I don’t want her mad at me anymore. She—”
“Terry Carlton owns that apartment?”
Judy nodded. “Under a company name. He told me not to tell her. He only wanted to keep an eye on her, make sure she was safe.”
Could Olivia be there? He walked over and knocked, but there wasn’t any answer. He tried the door. Locked. “Ah, hell. Judy, go into Olivia’s apartment and close the door. Or try to, anyway. Stay there until I tell you to come out.” After she’d done what he asked, he reared back and broke the frame around Terry’s door.
The smell hit him first. Not Olivia, he told himself, reaching for his gun before realizing he didn’t have one. He inched in. He found the body behind the couch, wrapped in white garbage bags. The nest of black curls confirmed his suspicion: Terry Carlton. He searched the rest of the place—empty. He backed out and closed the door as best he could. Judy was standing just inside Olivia’s doorway, humming a Christmas song.
Before she could ask what was going on, he asked, “Did you see anyone come into the building you didn’t recognize?”
“One man. He was wearing a coat and hat. The one Olivia left with.”
“What?” He wanted to shake her but held his hands at his sides.
“I saw him walk into the building. He was singing a Christmas song, and that made me think of Olivia, so I went to my apartment and got her present. When I walked out, she was leaving with him. I came over to see if she was back yet.”
He tried to keep sheer panic from his voice. “Did you see what he looked like? How old he was?”
She shook her head. “I think he was my dad’s age. He was wearing a hat, so I couldn’t see his face. What’s wrong? You look kinda funny, Detective Max Callahan. All white like a ghost.”
“I’m—” Something registered in his brain. “Judy, sing the song again. The one you were humming just now.”
She frowned. “It was just ‘Jingle Bells’.”
“Why were you singing it in slow motion?”
She shrugged. “Dunno.”
“The man Olivia left with. You said he was singing.”
She lifted her finger. “Oh, yeah, that’s where I heard it. Guess it was catchy ‘cause he was singing it kind of sad-like, and I was in a sad mood with Olivia being mad at me and all.”
“Jingle Bells” in slow motion. Lethargic. His blood slowed. “Oh, hell. Oh, hell!” He grabbed at his phone and called Sam again. He could barely squeeze out the words, “It’s Huntington.”
“What?”
“The man who abducted Phaedra is Huntington. And now he has Olivia.” His whole body felt rubbery with fear.
“Okay, Max, you’re really starting to scare me. Are you actually accusing our superior of being a kidnapper?”
Max heard someone else get on the other line. “Listen to me, dammit! He has them. I got a witness here who says Olivia left with Huntington. He lied about not finding her at home.” He had to lean against the wall for a moment. “The witness heard him singing ‘Jingle Bells’ that same slow, eerie way Huntington does.” He looked at Judy. They’d never believe her. “He’s got both of them. He’s going to drown them at midnight. In a tub. In a facility with a kitchen.” He could hardly breathe.
“You’re talking about our boss here, not to mention a respected cop.”
“I know. But he’s not really Basil Huntington. His name is Bobby Callahan.” The blood rushed to his head, sending wriggling worms across his field of vision. “My father.”
“Are you at Olivia’s apartment now?”
“Yes.” He was sinking this time, his words sounding as though he were saying them from a distant place.
“Stay right there.”
He could hear a slight difference in Sam’s voice. He was looking at someone else, making plans. Get crazy Max and hold him in a cell until he comes to his senses. “Sam, one more thing: Terry Carlton’s in the apartment across from Olivia’s. He’s dead.”
“Sure he is, Max. I suppose the lieutenant killed him, too.”
“Probably. If you run the blood found in Olivia’s apartment against Terry’s, you’ll find a match.”
He hung up the phone and looked at Stasia, who was watching him from the doorway. She reminded him so sharply of Olivia, he felt that rush of blood to his head again. She’d admitted her fear, and now he couldn’t protect her. He walked into the apartment to find Stasia’s harness. The painting Olivia had been working on caught his eye.
She’d done several sections, trying to capture different aspects of this place, this damned place they’d been trying to find. He could barely make out the kitchen area, didn’t know what she was trying to show in the upper right portion. The lower portion looked like a doorway. She had said something about the girl hiding in a doorway. Not the one Bobby entered, but another one. She’d painted steps leading up to an alcove, and the lower portion of a brick wall at the end.
He stared at the wall. There was something familiar about the pattern of bricks. Instead of being staggered, they were lined up in straight rows: an amateur job. What was it a doorway to?
Stasia whined from her place at his feet. “It’s all right. We’re going to find her. Come on, girl.” He grabbed the painting and headed down the stairs, making sure the dog was with him. Sam would be there soon, and he didn’t have time to find the harness.
As soon as he exited the building, he could hear sirens. Traffic was jammed up around his car, horns were honking, fists and fingers were shaking. Obviously, the yellow tag identifying it as a police vehicle didn’t matter.
Max helped Stasia into the car before he jumped in and nosed his way into the crowd of cars. The sirens were drawing closer. He slammed on his horn, and the car next to his stopped his attempt to butt in front of Max. Max put his light on the dash and wailed on the horn again. The jam finally moved out of his way, and he eased out as flashing lights glanced off the rear view mirror. He killed his light and took the first left.
Olivia’s words echoed in his head: He’s got her. Oh, God
, he’s got her.
Locked in.
Locked away.
It was every nightmare she’d ever had, and it was every terrifying minute she’d spent in Phaedra’s mind.
Only it was real.
The bars felt as solid as they had years ago. Phaedra was crouched nearby, her breath coming in short puffs. When Olivia had tried to touch her, to comfort her in some way, the girl had become more frightened.
Bobby Callahan knelt down in front of them. She could hear his knees crack. “Rose, you were a naughty girl, getting away last time. Maybe if both of you die, the rage will finally go away. I need it to go away.”
Phaedra whined at those words. Olivia took a deep breath and pushed out the words, “Maybe if you accept responsibility for Rose’s death, the rage would go away.”
“Rose is a bad girl.” Olivia could tell Bobby was looking at Phaedra, ignoring her words altogether. “If only she was a good girl. If only she loved me the way she loves her mother.”
“Who died when you rammed your truck into your house?” she asked, hoping to bring him back to present time. “Who was in the truck?”
It took him a moment to answer. “Hitchhiker. I spotted him on the way to the house and knew what I had to do: start over.”
“As a cop.”
“The opportunity was handed to me, really. I got a job at a hunting camp in Canada and met up with a cop who had recently retired from the Midwest. We became friends, a man on the run and a former cop. Ironic, isn’t it? He only had distant relations; his ex-wife was living out in California and his child had died in a car accident two years earlier. I couldn’t pass up that kind of gift. I killed him and became Basil Huntington. I used his bank account to change my face to match his and rejoined the force in St. Petersburg. When Max became a cop in Palomera, I put in a transfer. It took a while, but it eventually came through.”
“What about fingerprints? Yours don’t match Huntington’s.”
“And if they’d checked, they’d have found that out. But there was no reason to. Except now they might, because of this psychic connection you have with the girl here.”
Blindsight [Now You See Me] (Romantic Suspense) Page 31