by Robin Perini
Ashley covered her mouth with her hand, pretending to cough. “How can we escape? Do you know anything?”
Justin ducked his head. “No, but a guy named Dave might,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Just pay attention to the layout.”
Ashley memorized their route as they trailed the Warden and guards down a few more lettered corridors. Each room they passed had a designation of either its purpose or a generic letter and number combination. She figured they had to be in the center of the warehouse by now. Room numbers were hitting the double digits. There were a lot more security cameras here as well.
Finally, at L8 they passed into a huge air-conditioned computer lab. Rows of mini cubicles with monitors and related paraphernalia took up a majority of the space. Most of the kids in the group headed to what must be their assigned stations, including Justin.
Ashley stood uncertainly near the Warden and one of the guards. The other had moved to the farthest part of the room and taken up a position there.
The steel door locked behind them, and Ashley jumped. “What the—”
She frowned as she recognized Niko holding the key. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Silence.” The Warden turned around quickly. “I have not given you permission to speak. You are here to work. You are not to communicate with anyone except designated personnel—and, always, they are to address you first. If you have any questions, you will signal one of the attendants. You may receive answers only from them. Failure to comply carries dire consequences.”
Ashley stood nervously. She’d never been good at following rules and keeping quiet. The Academy had helped with that, but this psychopath seemed to be taking control to a whole new level.
The Warden clasped his hands behind him. “Before you are assigned a workstation, understand this. You will have access to a computer system, but every keystroke will be monitored. The attendants will be walking around, watching you. In addition, surveillance videos are reviewed each night to ensure that no one is attempting anything devious.”
Ashley nodded her head in compliance. Somehow she’d figure out a way around his system.
“Remember, Miss Lansing, your first job is to play the latest version of Point of Entry and win. Beat it, and you will be rewarded with more important work. Lose the game, however, and we will have no need of you.”
“Speaking of which . . .” The Warden turned to Niko. “Who is the least successful gamer in the room?”
Everyone gasped.
“Or . . . who has broken one of my rules lately? We need a station.”
Niko didn’t flinch, but Ashley noted a slight tightening of his mouth. “Floyd has been seen talking to Miss Lansing on two occasions, though he is aware that he is on his last warning. In addition, his brother, Fletcher, did not achieve Level 88 after two weeks of trying. He failed again this morning.”
Ashley’s gaze flew to the mop boy. Floyd. The resignation and fear in his eyes nearly crippled her. Oh God. He’d warned her. Twice. She hadn’t taken him seriously. What would they do?
“Ah, an interesting choice. Which brother?” the Warden purred. “Floyd or Fletcher.”
The guards dragged them both forward.
“How sad for you both. Rebellion must run in the family. Floyd, we may have to check over all your surveillance video to determine what you’ve been up to. For now, I will keep you alive. Fletcher, it seems you have volunteered to free up your computer station.” The Warden smiled. “Take him to the corner.”
The room went deadly silent.
Floyd started to run after his brother, but Niko and another guard held the teen back.
“Don’t hurt him! Take me instead.” Tears ran down Floyd’s face as Fletcher was walked to a padded corner with thick black walls and a grated floor. The corner contrasted starkly with the white walls and tile of the rest of the room.
The dark-haired guard left Fletcher there, walked a few feet, then turned and shot him through the heart.
No one said a word. A few choked sobs sounded as the boy slid lifelessly to the floor.
“Niko,” said the Warden calmly. “Please show Miss Lansing to her new station and identify her duties. Someone escort Floyd to lockdown. I will deal with him later.”
Niko came over and grabbed Ashley’s arm. She stood there in shock, unable to move, unable to process what she’d just seen. Fletcher’s death had been partly her fault. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “How could he do that?
Niko shook her. “Shut the hell up, you idiot. His bloodlust may not be sated yet. Everyone’s still at risk.”
Tears filled her eyes and she staggered behind him, with a last, horrified look at Justin.
Niko thrust her down on the chair, the seat still warm from Fletcher’s body heat. Ashley couldn’t stop her body from shaking. This couldn’t be real.
“Don’t do a thing,” Niko hissed. “You’re being watched.”
“Niko,” the Warden called again. “When you’re finished, have someone wash down the walls and remove the body. It’s proving distracting to some of our guests. I wouldn’t want anyone else to fall behind.”
* * *
CHAPTER EIGHT
* * *
GABE’S HANDS GRIPPED the steering wheel, his knuckles white with unchecked irritation. Tower was a piece of work.
His SUV sped through Denver, but the hair on Gabe’s neck stood. He could feel Deb’s focus on him.
“The sheriff doesn’t know you’re undercover, does he?” she asked.
What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t reveal the details of his investigation.
“You might as well admit it, because the only other explanation of what I overheard behind the bar is that you’ve gone bad, and I don’t believe that, Gabe. You’re all hero.”
The car pulled up to Luke’s house and Gabe turned to her. “I can’t talk about it. My operation has nothing to do with our investigation. And my family . . . well, I’m trying to protect them. Please, just leave it alone.”
Deb touched his cheek. “I understand loving your family and wanting to protect them. They won’t hear what you’re doing from me.”
He kissed her softly. “Thank you.”
Gabe pulled his father’s files from the backseat and together they walked up the pathway.
Jazz, his sister-in-law, answered their knock. “Gabe!” Her long, blonde braid swung at her hips.
She studied each step he took. She took his injury personally, since she’d been covering him when the gangbanger had knifed him. Gabe understood that, but someone else’s sabotage wasn’t her fault. Nor was the fact he’d lost his place on the SWAT team.
She still hadn’t forgiven herself, though.
He kissed her cheek. “I hope you’re keeping my brother in line.”
A little blonde dynamo with crazy bouncing curls erupted from the house and grabbed him around the legs. “Uncle Gabe! I missed you last night.”
“Missed you, too, short stuff.” He passed the box to Jazz, then swung his niece into his arms. “How are you doing?”
“We went to the planet . . . the plant aquarium this morning.” She scrunched up her face and sighed. “We saw a bunch of stars on the ceiling.”
He laughed. “You mean the planetarium?”
Her face brightened. “Yeah. The planetquarium. It was so fun.” She kissed his cheek with a loud, wet smack. “Did you come to play with me today?”
He kissed her back. Twice. “Sorry, kid. I have to talk to your daddy.”
“Daddy? Why?” Joy stuck out her lower lip. “He doesn’t play good as me. You’re a doodoo head, Uncle Gabe.”
“Joy! That’s not nice,” Jazz said, merriment dancing in her eyes.
Who couldn’t just love Joy?
“A doodoo head!” Gabe gasped dramatically. “I thought I was your favorite uncle?”
Luke joined his wife at the door. “I guess she told you, little brother.”
Gabe smiled. “She sounds eerily like Mom when she says stuff like that.”
Deb shifted slightly, drawing Gabe’s attention. “Oh, Deb. I’m sorry. I forgot to make introductions.” Gabe hitched Joy onto one hip and drew Deb in closer. “Jazz, Joy. This is Deb Lansing.”
Jazz’s welcoming smile froze in shock. “Deb Lansing? Oh my God. You’re the helicopter pilot who flew Gabe . . .”
Luke pulled Jazz toward him, his entire stance comforting and protective. She looked over at Deb and smiled. “You saved Gabe’s life. Thank you.”
Deb reddened. “I just flew the chopper. Your husband, Gabe, and the man upstairs did all the heavy lifting that night.”
Gabe placed his hand on Deb’s back. She glanced up at him, but he just gave her a wink and they followed Luke and Jazz inside.
His brother took the box from Jazz and peeked inside. “What’s going on, Gabe? Is this more evidence? I haven’t had much time to look into what we discussed last night.”
“There have been a few new developments. Can we talk in your office?” Gabe said, giving Joy a meaningful look.
“Grown-up talk.” Joy sighed. “I don’t want to play in my room.”
Jazz lifted the little girl in her arms and nuzzled Joy’s neck till she squealed. “You lead such a rough life, kiddo. Your room looks like a toy store exploded in there. Whatever shall we find to do?”
“No, please.” Joy pouted, her words turning into a sudden wail. “I don’t want to go to my room! I want Uncle Gabe. It’s not fair.”
Jazz held tight onto the squirming little girl. “With that ungodly howl, the Prisoner of Zenda and I are off for a desperately needed nap.” They disappeared down the hall, though it was obvious from their longing looks, both wanted to stay.
Luke chuckled. “God help me when she’s a teenager.” He nodded his head toward a hallway. “Come on back to my office.”
He unlocked double mahogany doors. “To keep curious hands off the equipment,” Luke said. He took a seat. Behind him four large computer monitors sat on a huge desk.
“More power to you, bro. That many LEDs would fry my brain.” Gabe hated working on the laptop he had. He was more of a storm-the-castle guy. He’d leave the mousing to Luke.
Of course, his brother hadn’t always spent quite so much time in front of a keyboard. Gabe studied a photo of Luke’s Army Ranger squadron. The picture sat near his desk. All the men in that photo were dead, Luke being the only one to survive the massacre. Barely.
Physically, his injuries had mostly healed after he was discharged. Mentally? It had taken Jazz and Joy to patch the crater-sized hole in Luke’s heart and soul.
Deb had obviously followed Gabe’s gaze. She bent over and studied the picture. “Special Forces to investigative reporter. That’s quite a jump.”
“Not really,” Luke said. “I just battle injustice with a keyboard nowadays, instead of an M-16.”
“I’ve read some of your work,” Deb said. “Impressive. You traveled all over the world for your stories.”
“Not anymore. With my family, it’s better to keep my investigations stateside.”
“Probably a lot less dangerous, too.”
“Not so you’d notice,” Gabe interjected, giving his brother a pointed glare.
Deb looked at Luke in surprise.
“I have trouble ignoring tough issues and topics,” Luke said. “I’ve learned the hard way that can mean that neither I, nor my family, are ever completely out of harm’s way. I’m working on rectifying that.”
“How?”
“Making sure the appropriate parties’ collective asses are thrown in jail for a long, long time.” He leaned back in his computer chair. “So, Gabe, what’s going on that has you back here so soon? What’s in the box?”
Gabe hesitated. “I need some research, Luke. Sensitive research, and I may need details that are not exactly legal to get. Are you okay with working around the system a little?”
Luke raised a brow. “This from a former cop?”
Gabe glanced at Deb. Her face didn’t flinch. She gave nothing away. He shoved the box at Luke. “These are Dad’s unofficial records of the Denver bus station rampage. We think Ashley’s disappearance might be connected to what happened eight years ago.”
Luke opened the box and sifted through it. “There’s a lot more in here than just the bus station. Some of these dated files are later. What’s with that?”
How much should Gabe tell his brother? He knew the answer. Enough for his brother to be on guard, not enough to give the biggest secret of all away. Their sister.
“Dad investigated well beyond the mediocre job then-Captain Tower did. Dad just couldn’t let it go.”
“That’s not unusual. Lots of cops investigate cases for years, even after they retire.” Luke tapped his fingers on his boot. “There’s got to be more to this. How did you get this box?” Luke asked Gabe pointedly.
“Mom. After you discovered he hadn’t told us the whole truth about his time in the military, I started looking into his past. And his death.
“Mom figured out what I was doing. I was still on the force so she gave me this huge accordion folder full of files that she’d found hidden. She recognized Dad’s handwriting and saw the reference to Shannon Devlin. She said I should have them, that the night of the murder had changed me. That maybe someday I would be able to see things with fresh eyes. Whatever that means.”
No new look would change the facts. His father had betrayed the woman who’d loved him her whole life. Still did. The kid inside Gabe would never get over it. The man found betrayal inevitable.
Deb laid a soft hand on his arm, cutting off his thoughts. She’d shown nothing but loyalty—to her sister, to her family. A small spark of hope flickered inside of him.
Luke pulled out a file and thumbed through it. “But Shannon Devlin was murdered eight years ago. Dad died five years ago. How could any of this be connected to your sister?” His questioning gaze focused on Deb.
“The game,” she said, her tone certain. “Too many kids are missing, and they all played Point of Entry.”
The Warden looked through the windows lining his office at the flurry of work. The faces of his charges held terror.
Good.
His newest acquisition, Ashley Lansing, had shown herself to be a troublemaker. But he couldn’t deny her brilliance.
He had uses for her once he quashed her spirit. She was one of the few he might take with him once they completed the job here. He pulled out the plans of the bunker. The demolition would be total. There would be no trace of what had happened here.
The bodies would never be identified.
A knock came on the door.
“Enter.” He folded the plans.
Niko entered, his face carefully masking any emotions. His protégé had been acting stranger than usual. That never sat well with the Warden. He tapped his fingers on the destruction plans, but didn’t open them. Normally he would have given the task to Niko.
Not this time. A shame, really.
Niko approached the desk. “I finished the last job. The new recruit is here . . . in the infirmary. He put up a fight. Is there something further I can do for you?”
The Warden chewed on the offer for a moment, then smiled. Niko had been with him from the beginning. He understood more than most—which made him a risk he couldn’t ignore. “Yes, I believe there is. We have a security issue, and I need your help.”
Gabe and Luke pulled the remainder of their father’s files out of the box and spread out
the first half dozen. Luke looked at the headers of all the files, let out a low whistle, and rubbed his temple.
“Crap.” Gabe flopped back in his chair. “It’s as bad as I thought.”
Deb turned to him in surprise.
“When my brother gets that tingle in his temple, it either means he’s onto a big story or that something is terribly wrong. My mother passed some of her Irish intuition on to all of us. Not enough to divine the winning lottery numbers, but it’s kept us all alive at one time or another.”
Luke flipped open the most worn file and scanned the notes, reading the brief summary. “Shannon Devlin. The first victim Patrick knew of to investigate. Straight-A student. Math and physics whiz. Murdered at age sixteen. She escaped an attempted kidnapping and traveled on a bus to Denver, where she was killed. Case never solved.”
Gabe gritted his teeth and Deb moved closer beside him, slipping her hand into his. He held her tighter than he should. Her fingers squeezed back. His racing heart slowed. Who knew a woman could drive him crazy with want, and at the same time, center him?
“Diego Morales,” Luke read next. “Computer-science whiz. Straight-A student. Went missing the same year from Utah. Never found.”
Another file. “Brandon Taylor. Regional Science Bowl champion. Missing in 2008 from West Virginia. Unsolved.”
When Luke selected the file for Shannon’s three friends, Gabe sighed. “We need to change missing to murdered. They were all shot.”
Luke paused, then scratched the note beside each name.
A half hour later, even Luke was convinced the disappearances were no coincidence. “There is definitely a pattern here. Dad was on to something bad and it’s not just a local phenomenon. These happen all over the country,” Luke said grimly scanning the printouts and opened one of the files again. “Over two dozen kids over a few years. Just gone. Not troublemakers. Smart, good grades, mostly. All listed as runaways. Why?”