The Shark (Forgotten Files Book 1)

by Mary Burton

  “Don’t go.” His voice was diamond hard.

  She rushed to the window and saw the black sedan pulling up in front of her house. It was the car she’d seen when she’d been running days ago. Getting into the car was akin to signing her death warrant. The Shark had come back to kill her. But she wasn’t ready to die and there had to be some way to save Hanna and herself. “I have to go. He’ll kill Hanna if I don’t. Don’t call the cops.”

  “Riley, do not get in that car. Wait for me. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

  “I don’t have twenty minutes. I don’t have one minute. I have to go now.”

  “Damn it, Riley! Do not go!”

  The anger and frustration in his voice nearly broke her heart. She didn’t want to do it this way. She didn’t. But there was no other play right now.

  She hung up the phone, tossed it aside, and squaring her shoulders, walked out the front door, pulling it closed behind her. The windows were tinted and the passenger-side rear door popped open just a crack. She opened it, sat down on the rich leather seats, and stared at the dark partition dividing her from the front seat.

  “Where’s Hanna?” she shouted.

  “Close the door.” The calm voice came over the speakers.

  “I’m not doing anything until you tell me who’s got my kid and where she is!” The more time she could delay, the more time Bowman had to find her.

  “Shut the door or get out now. You’ve got ten seconds and then Hanna dies.”

  Her options gone, she shut the door. “Where is she?”

  “You’ll see her soon.” The car began to drive.

  Bowman swung his legs over the side of his bed and clicked on a light. The echo of Riley’s voice, filled with fear and pain, ricocheted in his head. The sense of helplessness he’d felt when his wife was sick crept from the darkness as he reached for his jeans and a T-shirt and crossed the room to his computer. He wasn’t fighting a faceless disease this time but a psychopath whom he would find and destroy. And Riley was not a vulnerable runaway anymore. She was a smart woman and one of the best police officers he’d ever met. He was banking on the fact that she’d find a way to buy time.

  He hit the “Return” button to bring up the screen and opened the tracking program. Riley was on the move and headed west fast.

  He dialed Andrews, who answered on the second ring. “Check your monitor.”

  “I’m looking at it now. Did Riley say where she was going?” Andrews asked.

  “No. She called me and said the Shark has Hanna. She is now in a car sent by the Shark.”

  “Have you called the cops?”

  “I have a good idea what he’ll do if the cops roll up.”

  “Do you need my help? I can be ready in five.”

  Bowman rose and moved to the corner of his bedroom where he kept his gear. “Notify Shield and then suit up and follow the signal. I’m leaving now.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Though the windows in the car were tinted and Riley couldn’t see where they were driving, she’d been on the move thirty minutes, and judging by the feel of rolling land around them, she knew they’d headed west. At one point they’d slowed to cross what felt like train tracks.

  She didn’t know her specific location but knew this area of the state was home to some rich horse farms. The car slowed and turned to the right, moving unhurriedly down what sounded like a gravel drive. When the car stopped she tensed, fingers curled into fists. Her door unlocked.

  The driver said, “Ms. Tatum, he is waiting for you.”

  “Who is he?”

  “You need to exit the vehicle.”

  Riley got out of the car and stared at the driver’s-side tinted window, which did not open. She knocked on the door and shouted, “Where are we?”

  The window opened, but the stone-faced man did not look at her. “He is waiting for you. Go inside.” He gestured toward the house.

  Riley stood at the top of a circular drive that curved in front of a three-story brick house complete with a porch that wrapped around the front. Twin large planters filled with bright-yellow flowers and trailing ivy stood on either side of the wide front door.

  Wind whispered through the trees. Fine gravel crunched under her feet as she crossed to the front door. She was all alone. Exposed.

  She climbed the steps and stopped at the door. As she raised her hand to lift a brass lion-head knocker, footsteps echoed on the other side. The door snapped open.

  Standing before her was a smartly dressed older man with sharp green eyes and pale skin. Leaning on a cane, he was thin in a brittle kind of way but possessed a dynamic energy that made it impossible to ignore him. His suit was cut from a charcoal-gray cloth—handmade, judging by the quality—and his shirt was sewn from fine linen. The tie was Hermès.

  “Welcome, Riley. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  The sharp angles of the man’s face struck a familiar chord in her memory. “Mr. Duncan. I saw you on the news talking about your music festival.”

  He smiled. “I wasn’t sure if you’d caught the interview. We met formally that one time years ago. I know you don’t remember me, but I’ve been tracking your career for years.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He held out his hand, indicating she should enter. “This isn’t a conversation to be had on the front porch. You’re my guest, and I’d like to offer you a drink.”

  “I don’t need a drink. In fact the last time I had one of your drinks, I didn’t wake up for seven days. Where’s Hanna?”

  “She’s fine. Safely tucked away upstairs. But if you want to know more, you’ll have to come inside.”

  Tension tightened Riley’s chest. She always identified her exits no matter where she was, but this house was so large she had no way of knowing how to escape. She stepped inside, and he slowly closed the door behind her with a click that echoed off a two-story-high foyer crowned with a massive crystal chandelier. A large staircase carpeted in red wound to a second-floor hallway that vanished somewhere in the mansion.

  The foyer was carpeted with a handmade Indian rug and furnished with a round mahogany table, which displayed a crystal vase filled with red roses that perfumed the space with a soft scent.

  She thought about the tracker in her arm and knew Bowman was paying attention. “No one notices street girls vanishing from multiple cities. And concerts draw girls, don’t they?”

  “They do. And moving around has been helpful. As much as I would like to have stayed in New Orleans, I was a little too greedy twelve years ago and it almost ruined me.”

  “I remember the concerts that summer. There must have been a half dozen.”

  “It was a good gig. Kept me in town six weeks. But handling all those venues is stressful and I found I couldn’t resist setting up games.”

  “How many games have you set up over the years?”

  “I’ve lost count.”

  “And none of the other players turned on you.”

  “A man like me develops a knack for spotting people who enjoy killing. In all the years, I’ve had two issues, if that’s what you want to call them. The first was losing you and the second was Kevin. I thought I had the guy figured out, but it turns out he had no stomach or spine for mercy killing. He became too much of a liability.”

  “Did he kill Vicky or did you?” She knew the answer but needed to keep him talking to give Bowman time. She needed any time she could squeeze from this madman.

  “He killed her.” Duncan flexed his fingers and stared at them as if they’d betrayed him. “I wanted to kill her. I really did. My hands used to be so strong, and I could steal life with the twist of a cord. But my hands don’t work like they used to. See, I’m sick. I have heart disease. The simplest movements exhaust me. It won’t be long before I won’t have the breath to talk.”

  His death wouldn’t be painful enough as far as she was concerned. And as much as she wanted to take joy in his suffering, her goal now was to get Hanna and
survive.

  “You’ve won so much in your life,” she said. “Money, prestige, and I don’t know how many poker games. And now you’re losing to your own body.”

  “Not having control is frustrating.” He smiled. “As you must know by now, I’m not a good loser. When I fell sick, it became a bit of an obsession.”

  “Who did you lose to?” She wanted to know the name of the bastard who had risked her life on the turn of cards. “That’s bothered me most since all this began.”

  “Someone you know.”

  She’d crossed paths with so many over the years. “Who?”

  Instead of answering, the Shark deflected. “Did you know the man who beat me won half a million dollars and you were allowed to go free? I was blown away. I’d never lost before.”

  “It must have been a frustrating blow.”

  “You can’t imagine.” He smiled as if he were talking to a kindred spirit. “I lost track of you right after the game, but never him. I followed his exploits over the last dozen years and was amused by his efforts to appear legitimate.”

  “Appear?”

  “He is an addict like me, and no matter how much he swears he’s gone legit, I know he hasn’t. I’ve heard about some of his private games. He’s always been one of the best, being most careful not to lose too much when the cards turn on him.”

  “Are you talking about my stepfather, William Charles?”

  His eyes sparked with amusement. “Good guess, but wrong.”

  Her temper burned in her gut, but she refused to give it free rein. This bullshit guessing game would keep him talking.

  “I even thought it might be Shield,” she said.

  He chuckled. “He’s a true gambler at heart. The way he rolled the dice and left the FBI to start that company. And he was in New Orleans during the killings, wasn’t he?”

  She’d thought her guess had been too wild to consider. “Is it Shield?”

  “No.”

  The only other gambler she knew in her life was Duke. But he didn’t even play lotto scratch cards. He even frowned on the coin game heads or tails.

  The Shark tugged at his shirt cuff, adjusting the square gold cuff link. “When I became sick, I searched him out. He didn’t see me, but I saw him. And who should I see talking to him? You. I almost wept. It was as if it were all meant to be.”

  Who had he seen her talking to? Dread surrounded her, teasing her and prodding her to surrender to her inevitable loss. “Who is it?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. Ask me who killed Cassie.”

  She checked her frustration and fear. Keep playing his game. Buy time. “Who?”

  “Lenny Vincent, a Vegas gambler. Lenny was willing to make one final bet for me so that I’d leave his family alone. I thought he did well for a man who had never been in the woods before.”

  “When I saw the playing card, I knew it was you.”

  “You’re the final round. I want to end the games as a winner.”

  “You’re talking about betting my life—a stake you don’t own, but stole.”

  He laughed. “Those kind of details bore me.”

  “What if I choose not to play?”

  “You have a choice now, Riley. You can participate in the game as you did twelve years ago, or I can play the game with Hanna as the stake. Not my first choice, but there must be a stake in the last game.”

  “Aren’t you worried that I’m wearing a wire?” she said.

  “There are so many signal jammers within a two-mile radius of this house that no signal will travel beyond these walls.”

  Whatever hope she had for Bowman’s help was dashed. She was truly alone. “And you’ll kill Hanna if the player loses.”

  “That’s the risk. Her champion, if you want to call him that, beat me twelve years ago. Maybe he’ll get lucky again. Maybe not. Either way, there must be a stake in the game. You or Hanna. Choose.”

  She stared at him, angry and frustrated, knowing she had no real choice. “What if my champion loses? What about Hanna?”

  “After the game, I’ll take her back to your house. She’ll live.”

  “How can I trust you?”

  He cocked his head. “I never break my word, Riley. You’re living proof of it. I’m disappointed you even need to ask.”

  “And if my champion wins? We both walk free.”

  “Absolutely.”

  She smoothed her hands over her jeans, not having the faintest clue how she was going to save Hanna and maybe herself. To buy time and ensure Hanna’s survival, Riley knew she had to play. “All right. I’ll play.”

  A smile curved the edges of his lips. “I’m glad. You don’t know how much this all means to me.” He held out a hand, indicating she should move toward a set of pocket doors. “The game is waiting. Are you sure I can’t get you a drink? I promise it won’t put you to sleep this time because I want you awake for the final round.”

  “Pass.”

  The doors opened to a lush sitting room. The furnishings were a mix of modern and old, eclectic, but very expensive. A man she assumed had been her driver stood in the corner.

  “I want to see Hanna,” she said.

  “That wasn’t part of the deal,” the Shark said. “And I gave you my word she is fine.”

  “You don’t rank very trustworthy in my book.” She shook her head as she reached for her ankle holster and drew her gun. She pointed it at him. “So consider this a renegotiation. I’m not playing if I don’t see her.”

  The Shark studied her with a mixture of annoyance and respect. “I bet myself you wouldn’t come here defenseless. You are too smart for that. And I know you can shoot me. But remember if you do, Hanna is dead before you clear this room.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s fine. And I’ll really enjoy winning this game.” He looked at the driver. “If Riley hands you her gun, then you can bring Hanna here.”

  Riley’s grip on the weapon tightened. This was her only defense. But she’d seen the bodies of the girls he’d killed. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill her child. Going against all her training and instinct, she handed it over.

  The Shark seemed even more pleased by her distress. He nodded and the driver vanished behind a door.

  “Who is the man who bet me in the game?”

  “You’ll see him in a moment.”

  The door opened and Hanna stumbled into the room. She was drugged, but she was functioning enough to walk. Her vacant gaze rose to Riley and she started to cry, moving toward her in fast but awkward steps. “Riley.”

  Riley wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. The girl trembled in her arms. “It’s okay, baby. No matter what, you’re going to be fine.”

  Hanna’s tears dripped onto Riley’s shoulder. “Riley, I’m scared.”

  “I know.” It took all her strength to cling to her composure and sound calm. “But you’ll be fine.”

  Hanna buried her face in Riley’s shoulder. “What about you?”

  Riley pulled Hanna back so that she could see her eyes. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”

  “But he’s got us both here.”

  She brushed a stray strand of hair from the girl’s eyes. “Put your money on me, because I plan on winning.”

  The Shark checked his watch and snapped his fingers. “Take Hanna away.”

  Riley nearly broke as the girl clung to her and begged to stay. “Where are you taking her?”

  “There’s a nice soft bed for her to lie upon while we play the game.”

  Hanna gripped Riley’s shirt. “I don’t want to go.”

  “It’ll be fine.” The lie barely stumbled off her tongue; it sickened her to say it. But until she figured out who all the players were in this game, she had no choice. “I’ll come find you soon.”

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “You have to,” she whispered into the girl’s ear. “You have to. I promise to come for you.”

  “You swear?” she gasped.

/>   “Yes,” she said with a conviction that surprised her.

  “Lock her in her room and then stand guard outside the house.”

  The driver nodded and took Hanna by the arm, pulling her toward the door. The girl cried louder while Riley’s stomach knotted.

  When it was the two of them, she faced the Shark. “Who’s the other player?”

  He smiled. “You are about to find out.”

  Bowman drove the backcountry roads in his black SUV at speeds bumping eighty miles an hour as he monitored Riley’s signal on his phone. The signal was growing stronger, so he knew he was getting closer. She was less than three miles from him. Just a little more time . . .

  And then in a blink the beep went dead.

  “Shit.” He tapped the console on the dash. He grabbed his cell and dialed Andrews. On the first ring he heard, “Andrews.”

  “I lost the signal,” Bowman said.

  “I see you on my map. When did you lose the signal?”

  “Moments ago.”

  “How far ahead of you do you estimate she is?”

  “I don’t know. Fifteen minutes. Twenty. The scanner says she’s about three miles from me.”

  “Give me a second to check the area homes.”

  Bowman eased off on the gas pedal, knowing he should stop and wait for Andrews, but too worried to sit still. “Hurry up.”

  “I’m calculating.”

  “Need it yesterday.”

  Silence followed and then Andrews said, “There’s a large estate twenty clicks due west on Route 602. It’s called the Sheffield Estate. It was built five years ago by . . . shit. It was built by Byline Entertainment.”

  Bowman cursed. “Vicky’s body was found in the field rented by Byline for the concert. The Shark is a brazen bastard.”

  “What do you need?” Andrews asked.

  “Feed directions into my GPS. And tell Shield. I want all the troops in on this op.”

  “Consider it done. Bowman, I’ve been watching Riley’s video over and over trying to dig every detail out of it. I’ve isolated a sound. I think I know who’s playing for Riley’s life.”

  Riley sat in a large red straight-backed chair with thick walnut armrests. Like everything in the house, it was the finest of its kind. The Shark felt as if he deserved the best.