Cold Revenge

by Mary Stone

  “You okay?” Clay hovered, his brown eyes worried beneath the brim of his cowboy hat.

  “No, clearly not. God, that poor girl.” Ellie buried her face in her hands.

  Patient as always, Clay waited her out. When she felt more in control, she lifted her head. “I’m okay now. Spill.”

  Clay examined her expression before nodding. They both knew Ellie was lying about being okay, but Clay understood. What Ellie meant was that she was ready to get back to work.

  “Jillian and I were able to link some of the girls from those wallets with Kingsley’s trafficking ring. Several of them have already turned up dead.”

  The news crashed over Ellie, pushing her back into the door. Her eyes stung. Kingsley. Always Kingsley.

  She swayed on her feet. “What are the chances that this entire case was a Kingsley setup to hurt me?”

  Clay grimaced. “Jillian and I were thinking more along the lines of a distraction technique.”

  Great. That was so much better. Ellie frowned. “A distraction? From what?”

  Before he could say anything, the answer slammed her over the head. She gasped. “Gabe. What if Kingsley sent me after Dani to distract me from whatever he’s planning with Gabe?” Ellie started pacing the hall, barely noticing his grim nod as she ran through the facts. “That has to be it. The timeline fits too perfectly. Gabe got the letter on the same day that first call came in.” She whirled toward Clay, her heart racing. “Which means Kingsley could be planning his next attack today! That call came in this morning. Can you contact Gabe’s marshal and make sure he’s okay?”

  “Yup, hang tight.”

  Clay disappeared down the hall, his boots clicking with his hurried pace. Ellie waited for what felt like hours but was only minutes before he returned.

  “Spoke with Frank, he says everything is fine. He’s on high alert now. He’ll let us know if he spots anything out of the ordinary.”

  Relief washed over Ellie. “Okay. Thank you.” At least Gabe was safe.

  Now came the hard part. Ellie had to find the right words to tell Dani’s parents what happened to their daughter. Only no such words existed. Ellie would explain, and once they recovered from their shock, her parents would ask why. Victim’s families always asked why, pleading to the police to offer an explanation that made sense.

  How could Ellie explain, though? A tragedy she couldn’t make sense of herself? What rationale possibly existed that could make Dani’s grieving parents comprehend why a man slowly submerged their only child in acid until she died?

  None. Not a single reason in the universe worked.

  Ellie pictured their horror when she told them the news. Then her brain conjured up an image of Dani, screaming as acid ate away at her skin. Her stomach revolted.

  With the images lingering behind her eyes, Ellie raced to the nearest bathroom and made it to the toilet just in time.

  When she was finished, she splashed water onto her face and rinsed her mouth. While the cool water ran over her wrists, she looked into the mirror. Cold revenge hardened her features.

  “I’ll find him.”

  It was a promise to Dani and all the victims Kingsley ever hurt.

  It was a promise to herself.

  18

  At the dinner table that night, Clay Lockwood groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. Man, what a day. Those last few hours spent listening in on Ellie’s interrogation of Garrett had been intense, and the fact that all roads led back to Kingsley? That knowledge set Clay’s nerves on edge.

  Jillian laughed, capturing his attention before he shifted his gaze to the table’s other two occupants, studying them as they scooped Caesar salad onto their plates. Kingsley’s involvement in this case signaled danger to everyone in this room, but Ellie most of all.

  Clay accepted the bowl that Ellie passed him and forked some greens onto his plate before unwrapping his hot turkey, bacon, and Swiss sub. The sweet aroma made his mouth water. He picked up a foil-wrapped half and prepared to dig in when a hot, stinky odor intruded on his meal.

  Clay wrinkled his nose and peered over his shoulder. Two furry heads faced him: one brown, one black. Both dogs eyed his sandwich hopefully with their pink tongues dangling. “You guys are too much. Can you at least wait to beg until after I try the damn thing?”

  “Hey, Sam, no begging at the table!” The lab mix acted like she didn’t hear Jillian’s scolding, only licked her lips and whined.

  Jacob snickered. “I think you can mark dog trainer off your list of alternative career possibilities.”

  Jillian swatted her boyfriend on the arm. “Oh, hush you.” She gestured at Duke. “Like yours is behaving any better. Sorry, Clay, do you want me to put her away?”

  Clay almost said yes, but a peek at the twin sets of limpid brown eyes suckered him into reversing his decision. “No, they’re fine. As long as they don’t try to swipe my sandwich right out of my hand.” He shot the two beggars a warning look. “You hear that? You steal food, you’re going to pay the price.” He deepened his voice to show them that he meant business. Sam’s bushy tail thumped the floor harder in response.

  “I can tell that Sam is very concerned.”

  After she made the teasing comment, Ellie laughed, a musical sound that eased some of the residual tension in Clay’s neck. Ever since they’d left the station, she’d acted a little deflated. Pensive and quiet, which wasn’t like her.

  He smiled in return. “Well, I tried.” He bit into the sub and sighed as the delicious flavors melded on his tongue. “At least now I can understand why they’re so keen. This sandwich is delicious.”

  “It’s my favorite sub shop in Charleston.”

  Clay frowned at Ellie’s plate. Could have fooled him. She kept stabbing the salad greens, only to shake them off the fork and start the process all over again. She had yet to try a single bite of it or the sandwich sitting neglected on the plate.

  Clay chewed more of his sub. This time, worry dimmed some of his pleasure. “How are you holding up, given what all happened today?”

  Ellie dropped her fork, sparing the piece of Romaine speared on the plastic tines from further torture. “Not great, to be honest. Calling up Dani’s parents and telling them how their daughter died is an experience I hope to never repeat again.” She pushed her plate away before slumping into her seat.

  Jillian made a soft, sympathetic noise. “Sorry, Ellie. That had to be incredibly tough.”

  “Yeah. It was hard enough telling them their daughter was dead, but after all this time, at least they were both expecting that news. But the way she died? What’s a good way to tell someone, ‘I’m sorry, sir, but as it turns out, your daughter’s last hours on earth were spent screaming in agony while a man slowly submerged her in acid, all to entertain a bunch of monsters on the dark web?’” Ellie wrapped her arms around her waist and rolled her head on her neck, grimacing as if the movement caused her pain.

  Clay’s heart ached for Dani’s parents as well as for Ellie. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend how traumatized he’d be if an officer showed up at his door and explained that Caraleigh had suffered horrific torture before having her young life snuffed out. The possibility alone turned his blood to ice.

  He reached out and covered Ellie’s warm hand with his, desperate to ease her guilt. “There’s no good way to tell someone that kind of news. What’s important in these situations is that the family sees that you care, and I know you made sure that came across.”

  Ellie’s hand twitched beneath his as she inhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you. I do care, so hopefully, you’re right.” She sighed. “They said they want to attend Garrett’s trial.”

  Jacob set down his beer and wiped a hand over his mouth. “Do we know what the charges are yet?”

  Ellie lifted her shoulders, using the motion to pull her hand away from Clay’s. “Not yet. Attempted kidnapping and possibly involuntary manslaughter at most for Roxanne’s death because of the deal. Kidnapping and who knows what el
se for Dani. Then we have the other women, and that will take weeks or months to figure out. Right now, the D.A.’s waiting to see if Garrett will give them more information on the trafficking ring before they formalize anything.”

  Jillian’s jaw dropped. “That’s it? Kidnapping and maybe involuntary manslaughter? For the role he played in destroying Dani and Roxanne’s lives?”

  “Right? It’s bullshit!” In her anger, Ellie waved her hands and struck her beer bottle. Clay steadied the container before the amber liquid spilled everywhere. “Our justice system sucks sometimes. First Katarina gets off scot-free in WITSEC, now Garrett.”

  Jillian stabbed a bite of food with her fork. “It’s not fair.”

  Clay admired the fire shining in her green eyes as Ellie warmed to her topic. “Do you know how many cases actually go to trial these days?” She only waited a second before jumping in with the answer. “Three percent. That’s it. The rest of the cases are pled out. Can you believe it? That’s not how our system was intended to work.”

  After he finished chewing, Clay nodded. “No argument here. In my opinion, the fact that plea bargaining has become the rule rather than the exception is one of our biggest judicial fails.”

  “Right? And all to save money.” Ellie’s upper lip curled in disgust. “Apparently, trials cost too much, so what do we do instead? Plea deal.”

  “Money plus plea deals make legislators look good. We have mandatory minimum sentencing laws from back in the seventies to thank for that.” At the sight of Jillian’s wrinkled brow, Clay leaned forward. “Back then, drug users faced long sentences for minor crimes. So instead of going to trial, which with mandatory minimums meant running the risk of serving out decades in jail, defendants started pleading guilty to a lesser charge. On the surface, it doesn’t sound too terrible, right?”

  Jillian shook her head. “No, it doesn’t. What’s the catch?”

  “The catch is, innocent people end up taking plea bargains out of fear. You plead guilty, you almost always get a lighter sentence than if you’re found guilty by a jury. Some estimates say as many as fifteen percent of the people who plead out are innocent.”

  Jillian choked on a crouton. “Hold up, fifteen percent? Wow. I had no idea. That’s terrible.”

  “On one end of the spectrum, we have fifteen percent of people who end up in jail when they shouldn’t be there, and on the other end, we have our John Garretts of the world. Bastards who traffic in human lives and end up with a slap on the wrist. The whole system is maddening.” Ellie smacked her plate to emphasize her point, rattling the table and sending a tomato squirting out of her sandwich.

  Clay unleashed his own frustration by wadding his empty foil wrapper into a tight ball. Ellie put her heart and soul into her work and genuinely cared about doing the right thing. In his experience, there was nothing more demoralizing to a good cop than when the system failed to work properly.

  A loud ring made Clay grimace. He tossed the foil ball onto his plate and stood up. “Sorry.”

  Jacob waved his apology off. “Please. With three LEOs at the table, it’s a miracle when one of our phones doesn’t ring during dinner.”

  Clay was still smiling over Jacob’s sad but true comment when he answered the call. “This is Special Agent Lockwood.” Cradling the phone to his ear, he crossed into the kitchen.

  “Agent Lockwood? We have a problem, a big one. Gabe’s gone MIA.”

  Like he’d flipped a switch, Clay’s amusement snapped off. He leaned his hands on the counter, bracing himself. “Okay, Frank, tell me everything you know.”

  Everything Frank knew didn’t turn out to be very much. Within minutes, Clay hung up and muttered a curse. Gabe, what the hell were you thinking?

  “What’s going on? Did something happen?” Ellie was twisted in her chair, alarm pinching her pretty face.

  Clay stalked back over to the table, wishing he had better news for her. “That was Frank. Gabe left the safe house.”

  Ellie’s eyebrows knitted together. “Left as in, he went on a coffee run without telling Frank?”

  “I wish.” Clay’s jaw tightened. “Left as in he wrote Frank a note saying Kingsley found him again and that he didn’t feel safe. He’s in the wind.”

  “Oh my god.” Ellie reared back like she’d been struck.

  “What was he thinking?” Jacob echoed Clay’s earlier sentiment.

  “I don’t know, but hopefully we can find him and ask.” Clay wished Ellie would say something else, but she only sat there staring at him, her green eyes wide with a fear he didn’t like to witness.

  “How did Kingsley find him again?”

  Jillian asked the question that haunted them all, and Clay’s jaw clenched even tighter at the possible explanations. None of them were good. Kingsley locating Gabe not once but twice sure seemed to indicate they had a leak in the WITSEC program, and if that were the case?

  The hair on Clay’s forearms lifted. A breach in the federal witness protection program meant they were in a shit load of trouble. Clay was still reeling when Ellie’s phone chimed.

  She tilted her screen so he could read the display—unidentified caller.

  Clay sat up straighter. Could be nothing. Only one way to know for sure.

  “Hey, quiet down.” He tossed the command down the table before motioning Ellie to answer. Jacob and Jillian quit their hushed conversation, watching as Ellie placed her phone on the table and accepted the call in speaker mode.

  “Hello, Detective Kline speaking. May I ask who’s calling?”

  A high-pitched wheeze, like the sound a person made when they struggled to draw air into their lungs, was the only response.

  Ellie lowered her voice. “Gabe? Is that you?”

  A pause. “Y-yes.”

  The stuttered reply cracked the tension in the room like an ice pick. Gabe was still alive.

  For now.

  Ellie wiped her palms on her pants before replying. “Are you okay? Where are you? What were you thinking?”

  Sobs erupted into the dining room. “I’m s-sorry,” Gabe gasped, “I d-didn’t know what else to d-do.”

  Clay bit back an angry retort, reminding himself to let Ellie talk first. Watching her chest rise and fall in an obvious sign of distress wasn’t doing much to keep his temper in check, though.

  “Shh, it’s okay. I’m the one who’s sorry for snapping like that. I’m just worried about you. Can you take a few breaths and let me know what happened?” Ellie’s voice was soft and soothing.

  Gabe hiccupped. “Y-yeah.”

  Clay squeezed the wooden back of his chair, preparing for Gabe’s explanation. Whatever had spooked the man into running probably wasn’t pretty.

  Duke’s whine from his dog bed broke the silence first. After giving up on begging, the shepherd had curled into a ball to nap, but the tension radiating from the dinner table must have roused him. While Jacob shushed him, Gabe sniffled and cleared his throat.

  “Kingsley found me again. I don’t know how. When Frank was away, he had a smartphone delivered to the new safe house, and later that same day, I got an alert prompting me to accept a video call. It was him. Kingsley. He wore a mask, but I’d recognize his voice anywhere.”

  Clay exchanged a grim look with Ellie. This was bad. Real bad.

  On the other end, Gabe drew in a shaky breath, as if he needed extra strength to get the next part out. “He…he wasn’t alone. There was a man tied to a chair. Kingsley, he…he tortured him in front of me. Said I had to play his game.” Another sniffle. “Kingsley cut off the man’s finger, then his ear. That poor man, he was screaming so loud…I had to say the words. I couldn’t let him suffer like that. I—”

  While Gabe broke off and struggled to compose himself, Clay performed a sweep of the table. Jillian’s face had turned pale. Jacob was glowering at his plate. Ellie was still, her green eyes glazed. Like she was trapped in an internal nightmare.

  “Then he sent me a photo of a woman. He, oh god, he chopped her hea
d off and carved ha ha into her belly.” Gabe was speaking so softly now, Clay had to strain to hear. “The caption was, your time is up. After that, I wasn’t about to stick around until he made good on that promise, so I bolted.”

  Clay’s concern for Ellie grew when Gabe’s announcement appeared to have no effect on her. She didn’t react. Didn’t move. She stared at that same spot on the table while a fine layer of perspiration glistened on her cheeks.

  Clay tapped her shoulder to get her attention, breaking the spell.

  “Bolted. Right.” Ellie blinked a few times, and he could practically see her giving herself a mental shake. “Where are you headed? Do you have anywhere to go?”

  “Portland, for now. My plan is to find somewhere to lay low and then leave the state.”

  Ellie lifted her chin, and Clay’s locked muscles eased a little. For a moment there, he’d been worried that Gabe’s story was triggering her own Kingsley PTSD and causing her brain to shut down. He should have known better. The woman sitting by his side was one of the strongest people he’d ever met. “Okay, when you get to Portland, sit tight. I’m booking myself on a flight out to Portland first thing tomorrow morning.” Ellie tugged at a stray curl. “For now, though, you should head to the nearest police station.”

  “No. No police station. I won’t chance it. Not when we don’t know how Kingsley keeps finding my safe houses.”

  Ellie bit her lip before glancing up at Clay for his reaction. He nodded, unable to fault the other man’s logic. With two safe houses blown, chances were that someone in law enforcement was leaking information on Gabe’s whereabouts. She sighed, still fidgeting with that same curl. “Understandable. Do you have cab fare to get to Portland?”

  “Not that much, no.”

  Clay’s shoulders tensed again. Wandering the streets without money upped Gabe’s risk even more.

  “Okay, what if I wired you some money?” Ellie asked.

  Gabe hesitated. “I’d be too afraid that someone might trace it.”

  “Okay.” Ellie clasped her hands on the table and exhaled. “You know you can trust me, right?”