Shattered Trust (Shattered #2)

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Shattered Trust (Shattered #2) Page 19

by Magda Alexander


  “Where are you going?” Steele asks.

  “To Brad Holcomb’s home.”

  “I’m coming with you,” I say.

  “No,” Agent O’Connor says.

  I stuff the piece of paper Steele handed me into a pocket as a different scheme flits into my head. “You won’t get anything out of Brad. He’ll see you as a threat to his father. But I can get him to talk.”

  Agent O’Connor mulls that over for a couple of seconds.

  I grab Steele’s hand. “And he’s coming with me.” If Brad refuses to talk, I’ll set Steele loose on him.

  O’Connor’s gaze bounces between Steele and me. Hands clasped, we stand ramrod straight like soldiers.

  “Fine,” O’Connor says. “But you’ll need to stay out of the way and let me do the talking.”

  “Okay,” I say. Steele promises no such thing.

  On the way to Brad’s home, the police report in. They found Dr. Holcomb’s car abandoned, and there are tracks from another car nearby. They don’t know whose.

  “Could he have rented a car?” I ask.

  “No record of that,” O’Connor clips out. “He must have bought one. In cash. Or stolen it from somebody. Tell me about Brad Holcomb.”

  I give him a rundown. “I doubt his father would trust him with any details. Dr. Holcomb did not have a high opinion of Brad. He thought his son was weak.”

  “You never know. Holcomb owns several properties. We have teams headed to all of them. He’s bound to make a mistake. As soon as he does, we’ll grab him.”

  The memory of a conversation I overheard between Gramps and Holcomb pops into my mind. “He has a place that might not be on a list of his properties.”

  “Where?” O’Connor and Steele ask in unison.

  “In West Virginia, near Bear Rock Lakes.”

  Agent O’Connor checks something on his phone. “You’re right. It’s not there.”

  “It wouldn’t be. I heard him and my grandfather talking about it one day. It’s nothing but a trailer with a porch hanging off the side. They stayed there when they hunted.”

  “That doesn’t exactly narrow it down,” O’Connor says.

  “The son has to know where it is,” Steele jumps in.

  “Let me talk to Brad. I’ll get him to tell me.”

  When we arrive, I’m surprised to see Hunter Stone jump out from one of the FBI vehicles. How did he talk them into letting him come?

  Agent O’Connor pounds on the door. Brad looks shit-in-his-pants terrified, but he lets us in. Mrs. Holcomb looks like hell swaying back and forth in a rocking chair. Although I feel sorry for her, I don’t have time for sympathy, not when my sister’s life is on the line.

  “We have some questions,” Agent O’Connor says to Brad.

  “You mind if we use the study? My mother has Alzheimer’s. She’s confused over what my father did. I’d just as soon not cause her more upset.”

  “Lead the way.”

  Once we arrive at the study and Brad shuts the door, he turns to us. “I don’t know where he’s keeping Madison. He didn’t say.”

  “Ms. Berkeley mentioned he had a trailer at Bear Rock Lakes, West Virginia,” O’Connor says.

  “Yeah, he does. It’s the kind of place men go to drink beer, fart, and scratch their balls without anyone thinking anything of it. He never took me there.”

  “You don’t know the location?”

  “No.”

  “Gentlemen,” I say, addressing not only O’Connor but the other agents present. “If I could have the room, please. I’d like to talk to Brad alone.”

  O’Connor appears ready to balk, but something makes him change his mind. Maybe it’s the way Brad’s looking at me, like I’m his last hope of salvation.

  The FBI agents leave, but Steele remains with his arms crossed, legs spread wide. “I’m not going.”

  We haven’t discussed our approach, but he knows what I’d like from him. “Fine by me,” I say.

  Brad’s shaking in his boots. What a sniveling coward he is. I don’t know how I ever allowed this sorry excuse of a man to talk me into having sex with him. But right now, that’s not important. Madison is.

  “Brad, you know where this place is, don’t you?”

  “I knew about it, but my father never took me. I never enjoyed hunting. All that blood.” He shivers.

  “Go stand by the door,” Steele says to me.

  “What are you going to do?” I whisper.

  “What do you think?” One-handed, he picks Brad up by his shirt. “You’re going to tell me where that camp is, you little prick, or I’m going to beat you so hard your eyes will swell up. You won’t be able to see. You’ll be eating soup through what remains of your teeth. Have you ever had your kidneys punched? I have. You’ll pee blood for a week.”

  “Don’t hit me!” Brad screams. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”

  Somebody pounds on the door. “What’s going on in there?”

  I open the door a crack. O’Connor is standing on the other side. “Nothing. We haven’t laid a finger on him.”

  “We don’t condone violence,” O’Connor says, but I can tell by the look in his eyes he’s hoping Steele beats the shit out of the little bastard.

  “I understand.” I calmly shut the door and just as calmly say, “Hit him, Steele, hit him as hard as you can.”

  Steele pulls back his arm. When he does, Brad pees his pants. The stain spreads down his khakis. The stench is disgusting.

  “Wait. Wait,” Brad begs, holding up his hands. He’s crying; snot streams from his nose. Ugh. “I can tell you how to find him. My father’s watch.”

  “What about it?” Steele asks.

  “He uses it when he goes hiking and hunting. He linked it to his desktop computer so he could keep track of his stats. It has a GPS tracker.”

  “So we can find out where he is,” Steele says. “Do you know the computer password?”

  “Yes. He changes it weekly, but he writes it down in his little black notebook.”

  “Where is the notebook?” I ask.

  Brad pries his shirt from Steele’s hand and stumbles toward his father’s desk. He searches underneath the center drawer and comes up with a small notebook. “He thinks he’s so smart, but he’s not. He jots down all his accounts and passwords in this one little book where anybody could find it.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell this to the FBI?” Steele asks.

  “Because if I’d told them, they would have gone after him and killed him, that’s why. He may have done bad things, but he’s still my father, and I don’t want him to die.” Stepping away from the computer, he walks in my direction. Under the eagle eye of Steele, he stops in front of me and clasps my hands. “I want him brought back alive. It would kill my mother to find out he’s dead.”

  God. I actually feel sorry for the worm. “I can’t control what the FBI will do, Brad. Surely you see that. At the very least they’ll capture him, and he’ll go to jail. How’s your mom going to handle that?”

  “I’ll take care of her. If God’s merciful, in a couple of years, she’ll forget all about him.”

  There’s some humanity in the worm after all.

  I pry my hands from his sweaty grasp. “I’ll do my best to see him brought back alive. But if it comes to a choice between him and Madison, all bets are off.”

  Chapter 32

  Trenton

  Madrigal hands over the watch details to O’Connor and relates what Bradley revealed.

  The agent barks out a name, and a guy who appears to be about seventeen walks up to him. “Find the GPS location off this.” In less than a minute, the tech returns with a piece of paper that has the location on it.

  “Where is that?” O’Connor asks staring at the numbers on the note.

  “Bear Rock Lakes in West Virginia.”

  So what Bradley said was true. His father is holed up there with Madison as his hostage. Son of a bitch.

  Within seconds, O’C
onnor starts issuing orders. “We need a helicopter and a team in the air in less than fifteen minutes.”

  “I’m going,” Madrigal says.

  “Ma’am. The mission’s bound to be dangerous. You would just get in the way.”

  “I was Dr. Holcomb’s patient for over a year. I know how he thinks, his tells. I can talk him into turning over Madison without spilling blood.”

  O’Connor shakes his head. “Sorry, ma’am. Not this time.”

  She raises her voice. “I will not be left behind, not when my sister’s life is on the line. If you leave without us, I’ll figure out a way to get there. Leesburg has an airport. I’m sure I can find a helicopter to fly us to those coordinates.”

  “You’d screw up the mission to save your sister?”

  “I won’t if you let me come along.”

  “I’m going as well,” I say. No way is she getting on that helicopter without me.

  “God help me,” O’Connor exclaims.

  “I’ll do exactly what you tell me to do,” Madrigal says. “But I have to be there. She’s my baby sister, my only living relative. I can’t lose her.”

  “Very well. You’ll need dark clothes, hiking boots, all of you.”

  “Where are we leaving from?”

  “Right out there.” Agent O’Connor points to the terrain behind Brad’s house. There’s enough clearance back there for a helicopter to land.

  Madrigal calls Hartley. After she tells him what we both need, she asks him to drive it over to the Holcomb estate. “You need to be here in fifteen minutes.”

  Hartley must have broken every speed record, because he arrives just as the helicopter lands outside.

  “Take off all your jewelry,” O’Connor says. “Don’t bring anything, and I mean anything, that reflects light. And whoever is coming along better keep his or her mouth shut.”

  Madrigal and I step into a side room to change. We walk out to find O’Connor and Stone headed for the helicopter.

  “How did you snag a ride?” I ask Stone.

  “I’m a trained sniper. Ex–Navy SEAL.” The weapon he’s carrying looks awfully comfortable in his hand.

  The four of us—O’Connor, Hunter, Madrigal, and I—jump in the back. We’re each given headphones to protect our hearing from the noise of the rotor blades.

  After we’re strapped in, the helicopter pilot yells back, “The Special Forces team’s already taken off from Quantico. We should be landing in about fifteen minutes about a mile from the GPS location. It will be lights out all the way.”

  Madrigal hangs tough through the helicopter ride. Not by a bat of an eyelash does she betray any emotion. But she’s wound up so tight she may snap.

  O’Connor hands blankets all around. I tuck one around her without saying a word.

  Hunter brought a thermos filled with coffee. He pours some into the cap and hands it to her. “It’s got a bit of a kick to it.”

  She takes a sip and makes a face. “What’s in here?”

  “Bourbon.”

  “Thanks.” She takes another sip. Maybe it’s the liquor, or the blanket, or my body warmth, but after a few minutes, she relaxes. Thank the fuck.

  We barely breathe, much less talk, during the fifteen minutes to the site. We land in an open spot next to the helicopter that arrived ahead of us.

  “You’ll have to stay here,” O’Connor says.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Madrigal protests.

  “The trailer is a mile away. You’re not going to move as fast as these men. They’re trained for this.”

  “I used to run track in high school and college. I can do this.”

  “Did you really?” I ask when O’Connor’s back is turned.

  “No. But he doesn’t know, does he?”

  Once he’s done conferring with his compadres, O’Connor turns back to us. “I will not be held responsible if something happens to you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Everybody moves out. The swish of the men in uniform leading the way. The terrain is rough to say the least. A hill lies in front of us, but Madrigal attacks it with fervor and a will I’ve never seen in her before. The other side is worse. Rocks, bushes. She stumbles once, and I catch her, but she manages the rest on her own.

  The soldiers beat us to the bottom. They’re communicating via hand gestures. The leader signals to Hunter, who nods in acknowledgment.

  I know better than to speak or move as the soldiers head out single file. They’re wearing night goggles so they can see the terrain. On Hunter’s wordless command, we follow. Our boots are sturdy but cumbersome. Hopefully, we won’t trip over something.

  There’s a full moon tonight, which works both against and for us. The light helps us see the land ahead, but then it makes us more visible as well. When the soldiers reach a rock formation, the team leader signals again. Again Hunter acknowledges his command. Apparently, we’re to crouch behind the rocks while they move forward toward the trailer that sits about fifty yards away.

  Suddenly an alarm goes off, and the lights around the trailer snap on.

  “Son of a bitch,” Hunter exclaims. “He must have set a trip wire.”

  Dr. Holcomb steps out of the trailer. He has Madison in a choke hold while his other hand presses a gun to her head. “Don’t come any closer or she’s dead.”

  Her blonde hair shines in the light. Because she’s tall and he’s of average height, her body’s very effective as a shield. Her head’s slumped; she appears to be out of it. The bastard must have drugged her.

  There are only three soldiers in front of us where before there were six. Where did the other three go?

  “I only want my money,” Holcomb yells. “Give it to me, and I’ll let her go.”

  Before I can stop her, Madrigal circles the rock formation to stand in front of it. “Dr. Holcomb, it’s Madrigal.”

  “Mad!” Madison’s cry is slurred, as if her mouth can’t quite form the word.

  I start to go after Madrigal, but Hunter tackles me to the ground. “Don’t be an idiot. You don’t want that crazy old man to get an itchy finger and pull the trigger.”

  “What if he shoots Madrigal?”

  “He’d have to aim the gun at her instead of Madison. He’s got seven weapons trained on him. The soldiers won’t miss.”

  “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be home, getting my money!” Holcomb yells.

  “I came to get my sister back.”

  “You shouldn’t have brought them.” He nods toward the agents.

  “I didn’t have a choice. They overheard the conversation I had with your son.”

  “That little weasel,” Holcomb mutters. “He couldn’t have told you about this place. I never brought him here. He’s nothing but a weakling who hates the sight of blood. A doctor’s son who gets queasy from a blood kill. Can you imagine?”

  “Please let Madison go. She’s only sixteen.”

  “You were younger than that when I treated you. You remember, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You were in my clinic for an entire year. Your grandfather asked me to hold you there.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you knew too much, and so did she.”

  “She knew nothing. She was just a baby.”

  “You knew more when you came to me. A lot more, but I made you forget. Made her forget too.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She saw things that night. Things she shouldn’t have seen. We had to drug her to get her to calm down. Kept her that way for twelve years, and then you had to go and take her to a new doctor. She started asking questions. She questioned the drugs I put your sister on. I couldn’t have that come out. If it did, they would investigate me, the clinic, and then everyone would know.”

  “Know what?”

  “What I did there. You think you were the only patients I was paid to handle? Think again. There are plenty of people who want to get rid of a troublesome r
elative. I took care of that for them. And everything worked fine until you had to go and stir it up. That’s why I need the money, to get away and start fresh somewhere else.”

  The missing agents are sneaking up behind him. He’s so into his mad rant he doesn’t hear them.

  “Maddy! Drop!” Madrigal yells.

  Her sister falls to the ground. Unprepared for the dead weight, Holcomb loses his hold on her, which gives the sharpshooters the opportunity they need. The rat-a-tat of guns going off fills the glade, and Holcomb falls. Probably dead before he hits the ground.

  One of the agents kicks away his gun while Madrigal runs toward Madison, with Hunter and me close behind. Madrigal tries to lift her, but Madison’s dead weight is too much for her.

  “Here.” I gather her sister in my arms and lift her.

  “Mad?” Madison whispers weakly. “You came.”

  “Of course I came, sweetheart. You’re my sister. I’d walk to the ends of the earth for you.”

  A weak smile is all she gets in return before Madison’s head lolls to the side.

  Hunter steps forward to feel her pulse. “She’s fainted, that’s all. He probably drugged her to keep her quiet. We’ll need to get her to a hospital and have her checked out.”

  “You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re fine,” Madrigal says, brushing Madison’s hair away from her forehead.

  “Dr. Holcomb?” Madison mumbles, coming back to life.

  “He’s dead, sweetheart. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  Within less than a minute, the helicopter lands in the clearing, and we’re bundled into it.

  “Leesburg Hospital’s the closest one with a landing pad. Should be there in fifteen minutes,” Riley O’Connor says.

  And then we’re flying east over Pennsylvania before turning south to Virginia and home.

  Chapter 33

  Madrigal

  As soon as the helicopter lands at Leesburg Hospital, Madison’s rushed to the emergency care unit. O’Connor and Hunter accompany us while the second helicopter returns to Quantico.

  “Coffee?” Hunter pours more of the bourbon-laden coffee into my cup. Without a single protest, I slug it back. I’m beginning to get a taste for it. While we wait for the doctors to examine Maddy, interminable minutes pass. Finally, a nurse asks us to accompany her to a private room that contains a serviceable couch, a couple of chairs, and a coffee table. This is the room they use to give people the bad news. I clutch Steele while he wraps his arms around me.

 

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