by Mara McBain
Hunter flinched, his hand going toward his weapon as Ginny appeared at his shoulder. She stared at him, some sort of understanding seeming to pass between them before he reached out and accepted the steaming coffee. Crux wondered if it was a cop thing. He’d never really stopped to think about some of the horrors they must see in their job and probably brought home. He shrugged. Either way, it didn’t excuse the ones that turned into abusive fucks.
“Can I get you anything?” Ginny asked him, but her worried gaze was on the woman huddled in his lap.
“More coffee,” Crux said with a tired smile of thanks.
Ginny nodded and stood wringing her hands for a moment before turning back to the kitchen. Kissing the top of Kat’s head, Crux rocked her. Her body shook with constant trembles.
“It’s a lead, babe. Now they’ll believe us and focus on the piece of shit,” he whispered.
“Please get my baby back,” she sobbed.
Crux turned his eyes heavenward trying to stem the wash of tears that filled his eyes at her heartrending plea. He took a deep breath and squeezed her tighter.
“I will, babe. Whatever it takes.”
Ginny sat down next to them on the couch and handed Crux his coffee before brushing Kat’s hair out of her face.
“Sit up, little sister. Take this for me,” she whispered.
Crux looked askance at the small pill in Ginny’s palm.
“It’s just a low dose Xanax,” their queen said with a small smile. “They gave them to me after the…attack. It won’t make her a zombie, just take the edge off.”
“Thank you,” Crux said, reaching over to touch her arm. He hadn’t missed the hesitation in her voice. She didn’t like to think about the rape. With everything she and the family had been through in the last year, Gin was still a rock.
Twenty-Three
“I’ve been cleaning up your messes for sixty years, little brother, and I’m beginning to find it tiresome,” Connor said with a sigh.
The hair on John’s nape stood up at the soft, conversational tone of his brother’s voice. His eyes narrowed as he watched the politician pace the spacious den. Sliding his hand under the desk he found the grip on the revolver hidden there. He stroked it with his fingertips, its presence soothing his tattered nerves.
“I didn’t ask for your help, Connor.”
“You didn’t have to. Unlike you, I’m quite capable of looking at the big picture and realizing that you’re in over your head.”
“I have everything under control. The FBI searched the house and grounds and found nothing. I’ve been completely cooperative. I’ve even offered to fund a reward for my grandson’s safe return,” John said, waving a dismissive hand at his brother’s high-handed assertions.
Connor nodded, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out the window. The second hand on the mantle clock ticked loud in the silence. John fought to keep his composure, waiting for his brother’s next move. Connor turned, his pale eyes zeroing in on him like a great white.
“If you have it all under control then I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how many FBI agents are swarming Oakwood as we speak. Undoubtedly you’re also aware that they have video footage of you entering and exiting the old ambulance bay and that they’ve found one of your grandson’s socks at the scene.”
His heart skipped a beat. He searched Connor’s face for any sign of deception, but the condescending sneer there just drove the words home.
“How?” He barely managed to choke out the single word.
“It seems you underestimated Katrina, or perhaps the resourcefulness of her new friends. Did you think she’d forgotten about Oakwood? I first got wind that Cleveland detectives were sniffing around. So either something they found, or perhaps that Katrina said, focused the FBI’s attention on Oakwood,” Connor said, pouring a drink. He tilted the decanter toward John in question and he nodded numbly. Connor set a glass on the desk and took a long drink of his before continuing.
“Besides the video of you, they have tape from the main lobby of a man carrying in a duffle bag. That man later leaves empty handed. The FBI hasn’t found the bag, but they’re speculating it could’ve carried an infant. Either way, your presence there so soon after the abduction is extremely damning. That’s very sloppy on your part.” Connor took another drink. “So far they haven’t been able to find any sign of young Camden leaving the hospital. Please tell me that you did a better job disposing of the body than you’ve done covering your own ass.”
“There aren’t any cameras on the old ambulance entrance. Only Beck parks back there,” John said shaking his head in disbelief.
How in the hell had this happened? He’d planned so carefully and yet nothing had gone to plan. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Katrina had gone to the police. His trusted maid, Etta, who he’d planned to have care for the boy until things blew over had just not shown up. Obviously, past mental health records and assault charges meant nothing to the FBI. They’d taken Katrina and her lowlife husband’s accusations seriously. Now there was a camera where there hadn’t been one. What were the odds that many things could go wrong? He froze, the question deserving serious reflection. Wasn’t it interesting that Connor had all the answers?
A cold knot of rage roiled in his stomach and he looked up, but Connor wasn’t looking at him. His unflappable brother was pale and his eyes were wide in disbelief as he stared at the doorway.
“Aren’t you going to say hello, John?”
The husky voice wrapped around him igniting a surge of lust and rage. He turned slowly. His eyes ran over Kassandra, drinking in her effortless beauty. Other than faint lines at the corners of her eyes, she’d changed very little. The gun in her hand was a new twist.
“How did you get in here?” Connor asked.
John grimaced. Leave it to his brother to ask the mundane after twenty-two years.
“Hello to you too, Connor,” Kassandra said with a sarcastic smile. “Etta was happy to loan me her vehicle and uniform as well as provide me with the pass codes I needed. It seems she missed me.”
“Why, Kassandra?”
Her head tilted ever so slightly at the question and then she shook it gently. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a little clearer, John. There are a lot of whys left between us.”
John laughed, it sounding harsh and humorless even to his ears. He relaxed in his chair, fingers caressing the hidden revolver’s grip.
“How about we start with why did you leave us?”
“I think we all know the answer to that, John. Do you think that is the best use of our time after twenty-two years?” she asked, her tone chiding.
“Maybe you and I had our differences, but your disappearance destroyed Katrina.”
“I regretted leaving her, but I didn’t even know how I was going to care for myself.”
“Do you know that she still thinks I killed you and hid the body?”
“Didn’t you? You drove me to run and forced me to hide from you, John. I knew you would never let me go,” she hissed, eyes flashing in ire.
“Do you have any idea how messed up a little girl has to be to think that her father is capable of murdering her mother? She spent time at Oakwood trying to deal with what you did to her.”
“What I did to her or the fact that her sick father decided she should step up and fill her mother’s shoes and her father’s bed?”
John gritted his teeth. He could feel the vein throbbing in his forehead. His fingers closed around the revolver.
“You actually seem surprised,” Connor sneered. “What exactly did you think was going to happen when you left, Kassandra?”
“I – I – I didn’t—” Her faced crumpled and she brought one hand up to cover her mouth, nodding. It was obvious a small part of her had known.
Connor leapt forward and the gun in Kassandra’s hand exploded in the quiet room. Pulling the revolver, John came around the desk. His hand shook as he held the gun on Kassandra. Connor knocked over
one of the chairs in front of John’s desk as he staggered before slowly slumping into the other. His mouth opened and closed without words. John blinked at the stain that was already bleeding through his brother’s suit jacket.
“That was stupid, Connor.”
John’s head whipped around at the cool voice. All emotion had fled Kassandra’s face and the 9 millimeter in her hand was trained steadily on him.
“Just so you don’t try anything as stupid as your brother, you might want to know that I took the bullets out of the .38,” she said with a smile. “You really are a creature of habit aren’t you? Same maid, same hiding place for your gun, even the combination for the safe is the same.”
Shaking his head against the ringing in his ears, John’s gaze flickered down at his gun. He couldn’t tell in this lighting. Was she bluffing? “Why now?” he asked, his voice coming out in a croak.
“You have something that I want.”
“How much?”
“Think about it. If I just wanted money I’ve been in the safe already. Why would I still be here?”
“If it’s not money you want, then what?” John asked, a bubbling gasp from Connor drawing his attention for a moment.
“I want my grandson.”
Head whipping up again, John frowned. “You walked out on Katrina when she was twelve. Did you develop some maternal instincts since then, or do you think this is your second chance?” he sneered.
“Not for me, for Katrina,” she snapped. “We’ve put her through enough hell. She has found happiness and she deserves a chance at a family without us ripping it apart again.”
“What do you know about it?”
“You’re not the only one that has kept an eye on her, John.”
“So why not contact her? Your daughter thinks you’re a saint. She’d welcome you back with open arms and you could compare notes about what a monster I am. Oh, wait, there is that whole walking out and leaving her thing. It might be a different story when she doesn’t have me to blame for your disappearance.”
“You’re awfully smug for someone on the wrong end of a gun,” Kassandra said with a strained smiled.
Connor coughed and reached for John’s arm.
“Your brother seems to see a bit more urgency in this situation than you do. Why don’t you tell me where my grandson is and we can wait another twenty-two years for a reunion.”
“He’s not here.”
The gun roared again sending fire through his shoulder. The .38 fell from his numb hand. He clutched at the wound, blood pumping through his fingers.
“Are you fucking crazy?” he asked incredulously.
“Do you really have to ask that?”
“You shot me!”
“You’re a genius. Now where is my grandson, and I suggest you don’t repeat the obvious that he’s not here.”
“He’s somewhere safe,” John said, mind racing. How the hell was he going to get out of this? Taking his chances with the FBI sounded good compared to dealing with his crazy wife. “Jesus!” he screamed as she calmly put another bullet in Connor. He stared at her in disbelief. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I have very little patience left, John. I’m not messing around. Do you have any idea what Katrina is going through right now? I know what it’s like to sit helpless and wonder if my child is safe,” she said and then shook her head. “It’s even worse when you know your baby is in the hands of a monster.”
The semi-automatic pistol shook in her hand and he held his breath. Her fingers were white around the grip. The hatred in her eyes burned into him and he thought at that moment that he was a dead man.
“Where is he, John?” she asked, her voice a silky whisper but a manic gleam shone from her beautiful jade eyes.
“I knew they would search the house so I left him with a doctor friend. Our grandson is safe, Kassandra. You know how badly I wanted a son,” he said turning his free palm up in supplication. “I have the money to give Camden a life that the pauper Katrina married can’t even imagine. We can give him the world, Kassandra.”
“We?” she asked with an incredulous laugh. “John, there hasn’t been a we in a very long time,” she held her hand up when he opened his mouth to plead his case. “I’m not here to reconcile or rehash the past. If I’d been half as strong as our daughter is I would’ve ended this twenty-two years ago, but I’m not. I couldn’t do it for me and I hate myself that I didn’t do it for Katrina. That child that you’re holding has nothing to do with us, John. He is innocent. Let him grow up in an environment of love and real family. Don’t drag him into the Merrick’s world of lies, hate, secrets and pain.”
“Camden is a Merrick. He deserves the kind of life that we can give him. He’ll want for nothing. You want to talk about innocent? Katrina made her choice to walk away and live in squalor. Our grandson didn’t choose that.”
“What you call squalor is a warm and loving blue collar home, John, and I would rather live under a bridge than come back to your golden cage. I’ve no doubt that Katrina feels the same way. Now, I’m done discussing this. You’re going to take me to my grandson.”
“Connor needs medical help.”
“Your sadistic brother needs more help than a doctor can give him. I hope he enjoys hell,” Kassandra said dispassionately. “Move.”
“We can’t just leave him. At least call an ambulance after we get out of here,” John said, looking at his brother. There was so much blood and yet Connor still looked so calm. Did the fucker not realize he was dying? “NO!” John yelled, jumping forward as Kassandra calmly put two bullets in Connor’s head. He staggered back as she swung the gun back to him.
“There. No more hold up. In case you’re counting, that’s five now. I have ten remaining. Keep pissing with me,” she said dryly.
At a prompting wave of the semi-automatic, he stumbled to the door, glancing back at Connor and then Kassandra. Steely determination etched her beautiful face. He wet his lips nervously as he led her through the house to the garage. This wasn’t the woman that he’d married or even the one that had fled twenty-two years ago. What had happened in those years to turn his submissive wife into a killer?
“You’re going to drive. Unless you want to end up like your brother, don’t do anything stupid,” she said as they got into the car.
He took a deep breath as the garage door opened behind them. His brain raced, trying to figure a way out of this mess. He almost laughed out loud. Connor was dead. There was no way to cover that up. Rolling down the drive he considered his immediate options. It was risky, but he could drive straight into the huge trees across the road and hope to overpower her for the gun. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and decided to bide his time. There was still hope Kassandra would make a mistake. That meek woman he had known was in there somewhere.
Twenty-Four
Kat burrowed her nose into the soft folds of fleece and breathed deep. A hint of Cam’s baby sweet scent still clung to the blanket and kept her clinging to hope. She jumped as the front door flew open, banging against the wall.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” Reaper snarled, shoving one of their FBI friends. “I’m his brother you badge toting cocksucker!”
“Whoa, whoa!” Crux yelled, leaping up to referee the scuffle on the porch. “He’s okay,” he said, putting a stilling hand on the Fed’s chest and shoving Reaper into the house. “He’s a brother. Back off.”
Grabbing Crux’s shoulder, Reaper yanked him into the house and slammed the door, but not before offering the glowering agent a one-fingered salute.
“You guys aren’t going to fucking believe this,” he said, dragging Crux into the living room.
He looked around and then motioned them both into the kitchen. Ginny looked up from washing coffee cups and he waved her over.
“You guys are not going to fucking believe this shit,” he repeated in a hushed tone, his eyes wild. His hands shook as he hastily lit a cigarette. “The fucker and his brother, t
he governor, were in his office there at home. I found a good spot where I thought I could take the shot. I’m looking at them through the scope and this woman walks in on them with a fucking gun.”
Kat hit him in the chest with both hands, knocking him back a step. “He might be the only person who knows where Cam is! What is wrong with you!” she screamed.
Crux wrapped her up, pinning her arms to her sides as Reaper spread his hands wide in innocence.
“Stop! He knows that,” Crux snapped. “He was just doing surveillance for now.” Kat slumped in his arms and he looked back at Reaper. “What the fuck is wrong with you? They didn’t need to know about this.”
“You’re going to want to hear this. The bitch shot both of them.”
“Jesus,” Ginny breathed.
“They’re dead?” Kat asked, fear and hope warring in her.
“She shot the governor at least once in the chest and twice in the fucking head. We’re not going to have to worry about an incumbent this election. There was another shot but I don’t know where that one went. Your father took one in the shoulder and then they both disappeared from view. A car pulled out of the garage and left. I’m pretty sure there were two people in it, but I couldn’t see who. By the time I got out of the woods it was too late to follow them.”
“Who was this bitch?” Crux demanded.
“I didn’t recognize her. It’s a damn big window that looks over the backyard, but she stayed off to the side most of the time, out of my sightline. I caught glimpses of her in a mirror on the opposite wall.”
“How the hell do we tell the Feds what you saw without telling them you were there, in a tree, with a gun?” Ginny demanded.
Kat closed her eyes and thumped her head against Crux’s chest. “What the hell is my family involved in now? On any other day I’d be celebrating the monster’s death, but right now I have to ask myself if it has anything to do with Cam.”
“We’ll find him,” Crux promised, his hands sliding up to massage her neck and shoulders.