by Karen Rose
Pete gave her a ghost of a smile as he lifted the lid. “Passport.” He lifted his brows. “Another passport.” He opened them both. “Both Granville’s face, but two different names. Michael Tewes and Toby Ellis.”
“Our boy was mobile,” Ed drawled.
“Looks like. Stock certificates and a key.” Pete held it up. It was small and silver. “Maybe to a safe deposit box.”
“Simon Vartanian had a box at the bank in Dutton,” Luke said. “Granville might, too. Hopefully it’s not as empty as Simon’s was.” There had been no incriminating photographs documenting the gang’s rapes in Simon’s box as they’d hoped. “I’m going to Dutton for Sheila Cunningham’s funeral later this morning. I’ll check while I’m down there. Does the warrant cover the safe deposit box, Chloe?”
“No, but it won’t take long to get a new warrant as the key is covered under the original. What else, Pete?”
“Marriage license. Helen’s maiden name is Eastman, by the way. In case you want to track her family. Birth certificates, and last, this.” He pulled out a flat amulet on a silver chain and Luke’s eyes narrowed. The amulet was engraved with the swastika. Susannah had been right, the edges did bend. Each side was topped with a heavy dot. It was not a Nazi design.
“Oh, hell,” Chase muttered. “Neo-Nazis.”
“I don’t think so,” Luke said. “I have a lot more to tell. That design matches a brand Felicity Berg found on the hip of each of our homicide victims.”
Everyone around the table perked up.
“This amulet is too flat to make a brand,” Pete said, studying the engraving.
“Felicity also found a ring on Granville’s finger. Same design, also probably not the branding tool.” Luke drew a breath. “The symbol has shown up once more. On Susannah Vartanian.”
This drew surprised glances from everyone.
“Perhaps you’d better explain,” Chase said quietly.
Ridgefield House, Saturday, February 3, 8:20 a.m.
Rocky pulled her car into the garage. She was so tired. An accident outside Atlanta had brought traffic to a standstill for over an hour, during which she’d been on tenterhooks, just waiting for someone to hear the thumping in her trunk. Luckily it had been cold and everyone stayed in their vehicles with their windows up.
She would undoubtedly have found it difficult explaining the bound and gagged teenaged girl in her trunk. And like on the old Mission Impossible show, she knew Bobby would have disavowed any knowledge of her had she been caught. But I wasn’t caught. Perhaps now Bobby would believe in her again.
Before she explained all to Bobby, she needed an update from the nurse. Rocky hoped the nurse hadn’t given Monica Cassidy another dose of the paralytic. The sooner they got Monica out of ICU and into a regular room, the sooner they could kill her without all the fuss. Then the gem in her trunk would be just another item on the inventory. She dialed, anticipating the approval in Bobby’s blue eyes.
She’d done quite a lot for that approval over the years. Luckily she’d always been able to avoid murder. The thought of murder left her sick.
“You bitch,” the nurse screamed before Rocky could say a word. “We had an agreement. You fucking bitch.”
Her stomach rolled over. “What? What happened?”
“My sister,” the nurse hissed. “As if you didn’t know. Bobby killed her.” The nurse began to sob. “Beat her to death. Oh God, this is all my fault.”
“How do you know it was Bobby?” Rocky asked, trying to stay calm.
“Because of the picture, you damn idiot. On my phone. Of my son. He’s eight.”
“Bobby sent a picture of your son to your phone?” Rocky repeated.
“With a note. ‘Obey or he’ll die, too.’ Too,” she spat. “I rushed over here and… I just found her. I found her in the alley like the garbage. They left her like garbage.”
“What are you going to do?”
The nurse laughed hysterically. “What do you think? Whatever Bobby wants.”
“Did you give the girl another dose of paralytic?”
“No.” Rocky heard the nurse take deep breaths, trying to calm herself. “There was too much security in ICU last night after they brought that army chaplain in.”
“What did you say?”
“The army chaplain. Somebody tried to kill him last night, but they failed.” Her chuckle was raw. “Didn’t know about that either? Your boss must trust you, Rocky.”
The sarcasm fell flat because Rocky knew her boss didn’t trust her at all. Rocky was smart enough to know where she stood. That cop Paul was higher on the totem pole than she was. A lot higher. A fact Bobby had made abundantly clear on many occasions. Rocky’s temper began to boil. “So have you spoken to her? To Monica?”
“I told her what you said to tell her.”
Rocky popped the trunk, snapped a picture of Genie Cassidy. “I’m sending a picture to your phone. Show it to Monica. It’ll keep her quiet until you can kill her.”
“If I go down, I’m taking you down with me.”
“Tell the police. You can’t prove anything and the cops will just think you’re insane.”
“I hate you. And I hate Bobby, too.” The phone clicked as the nurse hung up.
Rocky sighed. I was handling this. That nurse’s sister didn’t need to die. It would just bring more attention to them and that they didn’t need. She found Tanner in the kitchen, preparing Bobby’s tea. “I’ve got a new guest in the trunk of my car,” she said. “Can you get her warm and clean? Where’s Bobby?”
“In the study.” Tanner raised a bushy gray brow. “And none too happy with you.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” Rocky muttered. She knocked on Bobby’s door and entered before being given permission.
Bobby looked up, eyes ice blue. “You’re a little late. I sent you on a simple errand last night and you return eight hours later.”
“You had that nurse’s sister killed.”
Bobby’s brows lifted. “Of course. The girl’s still alive.”
“Yeah, she is. And so is Beardsley.”
Bobby shot up, furious. “What?”
Rocky laughed. “So the swami doesn’t know everything.” Then her head was knocked sharply to the left as Bobby’s hand connected with her cheek.
“You little bitch. How dare you?”
Rocky’s cheek stung. “Because I’m angry. I guess I just got angry enough.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t know the meaning of the word. I gave you a job. You failed.”
“I reconvened. There was no way the nurse was going to be able to kill Monica Cassidy in ICU.”
“So she told you. And you believed her,” Bobby said with contempt.
“And I found another way to achieve the goal, which is more than I can say for whichever flunky failed to kill the army chaplain.”
Bobby sat slowly, features like granite. “Beardsley flatlined.”
“Obviously they brought him back,” Rocky said coldly. “Now ICU is locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”
“Tell me what you did.”
“I drove to Charlotte and snatched Monica’s little sister. She’s in the trunk of my car.”
Bobby actually paled, sending Rocky’s pulse skyrocketing. “You did what?”
“I took her sister. I’ve been chatting her up for two months now. Monica sold so well, I thought her sister would sell well, too.”
“Did you stop to think about the repercussions? One child running away with a guy she met on the Internet is believable. Two… Now the cops will be all over this. You’ll have a grieving mother on the TV sobbing for her child’s safe return. We might as well kill the sister now. Nobody’s going to want her with her face on every damn milk carton.”
Rocky sank into a chair. “I hadn’t thought about that. But it’s okay. I went to the bus station wearing her hoodie and bought a ticket to Raleigh, where her father lives. If the cops do investigate, it’ll look like she went to live with him.”
“I see,” Bobby said coolly. “I see that I gave you a simple task-to ensure the nurse’s compliance. I see you failed to do so. And I see you’ve taken a failure and compounded it with this unauthorized procurement. I will deal with the new girl and the nurse myself. You are dismissed.”
Rocky stood, willed her body not to tremble. “The new girl is here. You might as well use her. She’s even prettier than her sister. You can ship her out of the country where they don’t have milk cartons. She’ll bring a good price.”
Bobby tapped the desk, thinking. “Perhaps. Now go.”
Rocky stood her ground. “What will you do to the nurse?”
“What I promised.”
“No. You promised to kill her son next. He’s only eight. Just like your-”
“Enough.” Bobby rose, eyes ice blue with fury, and Rocky could no longer control her trembling. “I will have obedience, from the nurse and from you. You are dismissed.”
Bobby waited until Rocky was gone, then redialed Paul.
“I thought I told you not to call me again today,” Paul snapped.
Insolent man. I’d kill you, but I need you. “I need you to go up to Raleigh.”
“I’m on duty tonight.”
“Call in sick. I pay you triple what Atlanta PD does, anyway.”
“Dammit, Bobby.” Paul’s sigh was frustrated. “What do you want me to do?”
“I need you to clean up Rocky’s mess.”
“Rocky’s made quite a few messes lately.”
“Yes, I know. When you’ve cleaned up this one, we’ll discuss disposition of Rocky.”
Atlanta , Saturday, February 3, 8:40 a.m.
Luke told the team Susannah’s story about the black sedan, Darcy Williams, and the day six years ago in Hell’s Kitchen. Hardly anyone breathed until he was finished.
Chase sat back, stunned. “You mean to tell me that Susannah was assaulted twice on the same freaking day, seven years apart? And nobody thought this was strange?”
Luke hesitated. “She never reported either assault.”
“For God’s sake, why not?” Chase thundered.
“She was a victim, Chase,” Mary McCrady said in her psychologist voice.
“None of this is easy for her,” Luke said, “and now she’s got some creep in a black sedan following her around. She’s planning to go to Sheila Cunningham’s funeral today and I’m concerned for her safety until we find out who this guy is.”
“So you’re going to the funeral to see if black sedan man shows up,” Ed said. “You’ll want video surveillance. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks,” Luke said. It wasn’t the only reason he’d decided to go to Sheila Cunningham’s funeral, but it was the main one. “Susannah also said this swastika with its bent edges is a common symbol in Eastern religions. Like Buddhism.”
“The thích we were searching for,” Pete murmured. “It all falls together somehow.”
“Let’s figure out how,” Chase said. “Hank, get down to Savannah and find Helen Granville. We need to know the truth about her husband. Pete, I want you to take over the search at Mansfield ’s house, and Nancy, you track down this Chili Pepper. I want to know who hired him.” Pete opened his mouth to protest and Chase shot him a warning look. “Don’t try it, Pete. You’re not getting within a mile of this guy.”
“I can handle myself,” Pete said tightly.
“I know,” Chase said, gently. “But I’m still not putting you in the situation.”
“I’m still tracking the medical supplies we found in the bunker,” Ed said. “We’re also running PCRs on the hair samples we found when we swept the bunker’s office area. Maybe something will match with the DNA patterns we have on file. We’ll search the area outside the bunker for more victims. And we’ll dust that road atlas for prints.”
“Good,” Chase said. “What else?”
“I want to talk to Susannah Vartanian,” Mary said.
“I’m meeting her at her hotel in a little while,” Chloe said. “I’ll tell her to call you.”
“She’s not at her hotel,” Luke said. “She’s in my office. She drove here when the black sedan was following her. She’s researching the swastika symbol.”
Chase waved at the door. “Now go, and good luck. We meet again at five. Luke, stay.” When the door was closed and they were alone, Chase met his eyes with a troubled frown. “Why didn’t Susannah report either of those rapes?”
“The first time, she was terrified of Simon, who told her she had to sleep sometime.”
Chase’s jaw hardened. “Sonofabitch. So what about the second time?”
I didn’t deserve justice either. “She was scared, and being Daniel’s sister, has felt guilty all these years that her friend died and she didn’t.”
“They are alike, aren’t they?”
“Two peas in a fucking pod.”
“Is her story documented?”
“Documentable, I imagine. Her boss has known for years and he’s an ADA.”
“Why are you going to that funeral, really?”
Luke frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I don’t have resources to waste babysitting Susannah Vartanian. And from what I can see, she’s the last person who’d expect me to.”
“You think I’d do that?” Luke felt his blood pressure rise. “Waste resources?”
“I think you wouldn’t see it that way. Look, I feel sorry for Susannah, too, but-”
Luke struggled for patience. He was tired and irritable. Chase was, too, and neither one of them wore that combination well. “I’m not babysitting her. Am I concerned? Yes. Think about this. She’s raped at age sixteen. The only people who know are either dead or Garth Davis. She leaves home, goes to college. Then at age twenty-three, she’s raped again, on the same fucking date. She’s branded, her friend beaten to death. She’s ashamed and scared and says nothing. Six years later, that same brand turns up on Granville’s amulet and on the hips of five girls Granville murdered.”
Chase’s eyes sharpened. “So?”
Luke’s fist clenched under the table. “So there’s a connection, dammit. The man who killed her friend was convicted. The man who raped her the second time hasn’t been caught. What if that man was Rocky? What if Rocky or Granville orchestrated it? What if the man sitting in prison for killing her friend knows Rocky? What if the driver of the black sedan was Rocky? Do I have to draw you a goddamn map?”
Chase leaned back. “No. I’d already drawn it myself. I just needed to make sure you had, too. Go to the funeral. It’ll be a media zoo, coming on the heels of yesterday.”
Luke stood, vibrating with temper and annoyed Chase had treated him like a junior G-man. “I’ll be sure to pack my chair and whip.”
He was ready to slam out, when Chase stopped him. “Good job, Luke.”
Luke shuddered out a breath. “Thank you.”
Ridgefield House, Saturday, February 3, 9:00 a.m.
Ashley Csorka lifted her head, listening in the dark of the “hole.” It was a root cellar, underneath the house, not even big enough to stand up in. Dank and cold. I’m so cold.
Her stomach was growling. It was breakfast time. She could smell food cooking upstairs. I’m so hungry. She forced her mind to do the math. She’d been huddling in this corner for almost twelve hours.
The woman said they’d keep her here for a few days. I’ll be crazy in a few days. Plus there were rats. Ashley had heard them scurry behind the walls during the night.
Ashley hated rats. Panic welled, huge and terrifying. I have to get out of here.
“Well, sure,” she murmured aloud, her voice lessening some of the panic. “How?”
They were near a river. If she could only get to the river, she was certain she could swim across. Her swim team trained in the ocean sometimes, where the currents ran stronger than the river’s. And even if she drowned, it would be preferable to what was in store for her when they decided to let her out of the hole.
How do I ge
t out of here? There was only one door at the top of the short staircase and it was locked. She’d tried it already. And even if she did manage to open the door, there was that skinny creepy butler, Tanner, who carried a gun.
Outside there was a guard. She’d seen him when they’d brought them in yesterday. He carried a bigger gun. It was no use. I’ll die here. I’ll never go home.
Stop. You will not die. She got on her hands and knees and began to feel her way around. Her jaw clenched against the pain in her hand where she’d caught an exposed nail when she’d been shoved down the stairs. Just ignore it and look for a way out.
The first wall was cinderblock, as was the second and third.
But the fourth wall… Ashley’s fingers brushed against something rough. Brick. Someone had bricked in this wall. That meant there was something on the other side. A door? A window?
So what? It’s brick. Solid brick. Discouraged, Ashley slid down, her back against the wall. She wrapped her arms around her knees. She couldn’t claw her way through brick.
She’d need a sledgehammer to bust through or a file to chip at the mortar. She had neither. Slowly she lifted her hand. But there was an exposed nail on the stairs.
But they might hear me chipping at the mortar.
So what? If they hear you, they’ll just drag you out sooner. Her future would be the same unless she got away. So you might as well try.
Never say try. She conjured the voice of her coach. Set your goal. Then do it.
“So do it, Ashley,” she whispered. “Do it now.”
Chapter Eleven
Atlanta , Saturday, February 3, 9:20 a.m.
Is it complete?” Chloe asked as Susannah reviewed the stenographer’s transcript. Al Landers sat at her side, silent. His hand gripped hers, supportive.
“Yes,” Susannah said. “Give me a pen before I change my mind.”
“It’s not too late, Susannah,” Al murmured, and she smiled at him.
“I know, but this is bigger than just me, Al. This is all tied up in what happened in that bunker. Five girls are still missing. I have to do this.”
“Thank you,” Chloe said. “I can only imagine how difficult this has been.”