Trap 'N' Trace

by Tee O'Fallon

  “Be right there.” He gave Paulson a dismissive nod, waiting for him to return to his desk before continuing. “Tell Emily I want those guards on duty no later than four p.m.”

  The corners of her mouth twitched, and she raised her free hand to her forehead, giving him a sharp salute. “Yes, sir, officer, sir.”

  He lowered his brows, feigning annoyance. “The term you’re looking for is special agent. Not officer.”

  “Then, yes, sir, special agent, sir.” Her eyes twinkled with mirth, and he was glad to see her expression lighten, even if temporarily. Because she’d been right about one thing. Her freedom and her privacy were headed straight for the nonexistent zone.

  He winked. “You’re learning.”

  Paulson picked up a document. “We’re running every print the tech guys pulled from the Garman and Thorpe homicides.”

  “The DNA results will take a while,” Dayne said absently, noting the stiffness in Kat’s back as she spoke on her cell phone. “What lab has Becca’s cell?”

  “The Rockland County Sheriff’s Office.” Paulson glanced at a chain of custody form. “Their computer crime unit does forensic analysis for just about every department in the county.”

  Dayne hoped they were as capable as the FBI lab. He didn’t dare voice the thought and risk falling to the rock-bottom position on Paulson’s shit list. Still… “Make sure they download all the addresses in her GPS app. It might help us trace her movements right before she died.”

  He took a deep breath to steady himself. Getting wrapped up in the world of Katrina Vandenburg had kept him so busy, he hadn’t had time to fully process that Becca was really gone.

  “Will do.” Paulson made a note on a pad, and Dayne was gratified to see the words “To Do” at the top. The guy might not like him, but he seemed motivated, and that was all that mattered.

  He focused on the chains of custody and the list of evidence the department had collected at both crime scenes, including more than a dozen boxes of case files. “Did you get the subpoena for Becca’s phone?”

  The detective pursed his lips, arching a brow as he held up a piece of paper with the words Grand Jury Subpoena in large bold letters.

  “Yeah.” Dayne took the subpoena, giving it a quick once-over. “Sorry.” He really needed to stop second-guessing the guy. He handed the document back then reread the chains of custody. “You took a lot of case files. Need help looking through them?”

  “Actually, yeah.” Paulson nodded.

  Dayne cued up his ASAC’s number on his own cell phone. Seconds later, his boss answered.

  “So, Dayne…what’s it like guarding the richest woman in the state?” Lydia Barstow, the Assistant Special Agent-in-Charge of the FBI’s Newark office, asked.

  One of the detectives had given Kat a bottle of water and was now sporting a grin so broad the guy reminded Dayne of a kid talking to the prettiest girl in school. The other detective joined in and perched on the edge of the desk. Kat held out her hand and Dayne thought the guy was going to kiss it. She said something he couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, the guy blushed. It was like watching a queen hold court, and her minions were eating up every word.

  Teenage boy or grown man, if they had blood flowing through their veins, they’d be drawn to her like iron to a magnet.

  Goddammit. He could lie to himself until he was blue in the face. That flare of irritation in his gut was none other than good old-fashioned jealousy.

  “Dayne, you still there?” came Lydia’s voice.

  “Yeah. The Orangetown PD took all of Becca’s case files from her office. Can you assign some agents to review them at the PD?”

  “I’ll send two agents right over.”

  Dayne rattled off the address. “Anything on Becca’s arrestees?” Statistically, ex-cons seeking revenge did it within days of being released, and it was usually violent, fitting the MO of a stabbing.

  Becca had been a hard-hitting agent, racking up a fuck ton of arrests on the west coast before transferring to the Newark office. She’d put some violent people behind bars. There was always the possibility that one of them had been sitting in a jail cell, seething until the day he—or she, for that matter—could exact revenge.

  “One name popped up on the list. Kelso Donnelly. You know him?”

  “Yeah.” He frowned, remembering the case he’d worked on with Becca. Kelso Donnelly had thrown a conniption when he’d been sentenced to ten years in federal lockup.

  Donnelly was a beast of a man. At six-two and weighing in at about three-fifty, he was intimidating as hell. Added to that was the twisted mind of a pedophile. If they hadn’t caught up with him before he’d left the country with eight-year-old Melinda White… Dayne’s stomach roiled at the thought of what would have been that little girl’s fate.

  “Where is he?” Dayne asked.

  “That’s the problem,” Lydia continued. “He was released two weeks ago, but no one’s seen him. Not his family, his ex-wife, or anyone who knew him. He’s from Pennsylvania, and I have two teams out there now trying to find him.”

  Donnelly definitely fit the profile, and now he was on the loose. But the guy looked nothing like the digital sketch Kat and Jim had come up with. Then again, a decade in prison could change a man. Inside and out.

  “Can you email me his rap sheet and a recent photo? I want to share them with the PD.”

  “Already did.”

  On cue, his cell phone pinged. “Thanks, Lydia.” He ended the call and forwarded Donnelly’s criminal history and color photo to Paulson’s email. “Two agents are on their way to read through Becca’s case files. I just sent you a rap sheet. Becca and I arrested this guy ten years ago. She was the case agent, and he swore he’d come after her the second he got released.”

  “Maybe he did.” Paulson pulled up the email on his desktop and opened the attachment. As expected, Donnelly’s arrest photo looked nothing like Kat’s sketch. But Lydia had included another photo, one dated less than a year ago and taken in prison. Compared to the way the guy had looked the day he and Becca had arrested him, the face staring back at him was gaunt. Donnelly must have lost two hundred pounds. Now that his chin and cheekbones were visible, his face looked average.

  Like the man in Kat’s sketch.

  “Kat.” The conversation she’d been having with the young detectives immediately ceased. “Can you come over here?”

  Kat rose regally, smoothing her hands down her slacks before gliding over to Paulson’s desk.

  “Take a look at this photo.” He indicated Paulson’s monitor. “Is this the man who attacked you?”

  Slowly, she shook her head. “I can’t be sure. It all happened so fast.” She leaned in closer. “Are his eyes blue?”

  Paulson scrolled back to the rap sheet, but Dayne already knew the answer because he’d never forget the bastard’s eyes or the disgusting way he’d watched as they’d carried Melinda out of the tiny bedroom he’d kept her in. “Yes. They’re blue,” he answered before Paulson had even gotten to the man’s physical description.

  “Whatever color they are, this asshole’s now a suspect.” Paulson printed out several copies of Donnelly’s photo. “I’ll put out a BOLO and make sure every department in the area sees it.”

  While the detective logged into NYSPIN, Dayne urged Kat to the nearest chair then retrieved the photos from the printer and grabbed a black pen from the desk. He set the photo on the desk then scribbled on Donnelly’s chin, doing his best to draw a beard and mustache similar to the one in Kat’s sketch. He put the photo and Kat’s sketch side by side.

  The images were similar in terms of overall features, but the features in both were so average, even he could see it would be difficult for anyone to say with a reasonable degree of certainty that these were the same men.

  After staring alternately from one image to the other, she looked up at h
im, her eyes filled with regret. “I’m sorry. I just can’t tell.”

  “That’s okay.” Although he was disappointed. Not with her. She was doing far better than he could have expected.

  “No.” She grabbed his hand, and when her fingers tightened around his, he felt the contact clear down to his toes. “It’s not okay. I saw him, but I can’t identify him. How is that possible? Why can’t I be sure? It’s as if the image is becoming more and more fuzzy over time.”

  He clasped her hands in his. “What you’re experiencing is normal. Lots of witnesses go through the same thing, thinking that because they got a quick look at someone, they should instantly be able to pick them out of a lineup. It’s never that simple. There are emotions involved and stress. The more time that goes by, the harder it is to recall detail.”

  Her head lowered. He expected her to release his hand. She didn’t. When she looked up, shadows flickered in her eyes. Dark shadows, as if she were suddenly bone-tired.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Get me out of here.”

  So he did. He would have done anything to ease her pain.

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time Dayne pulled up to the wrought iron gate on Kat’s property, it was nearly five o’clock.

  They’d detoured to his house to pick up some clothes for him and more food for Remy. After that, they’d stopped at the Canine Haven where he’d introduced himself to one of the newly hired security guards, John Benton. They’d exchanged cell phone numbers so each could be reached in an emergency, and he’d given John several of his business cards to share with whoever took over the next shift. He’d do the same with the two guards on duty outside the castle. Last, he instructed Benton to notify him and the other guards anytime someone approached the gate.

  When he lowered the window to punch in the new code Kade had texted him earlier, a cool breeze hit him in the face. Remy stuck her head through the kennel opening to sniff the fresh air.

  “I’ll need to give the new gate code to my staff,” Kat said.

  “Fine, but don’t give it to anyone else.”

  During the drive from his house, Kat had busied herself reading emails and talking on the phone with Emily about some big charity fund-raiser she’d be attending in the city. From the number of times he’d caught her grimacing during that conversation, he’d gotten the distinct impression that she was more than willing to donate money to a cause she believed in but didn’t particularly want to be there in person, hogging the spotlight.

  Interesting. And unexpected.

  No more so than him talking about his birth mother.

  The guys all knew he and his sister Lily were adopted, but his birth mother was a topic he’d always tucked away in a private box. Only Lily knew the details of what he’d gone through as a kid.

  He drove through the gate, checking his rearview mirror to assure himself it was closing behind them. Who knew how many nights he’d be spending in her house? Hopefully, not many. Because there was no denying the spark of attraction between them. He needed to focus on protecting her, not getting into her pants.

  As they approached the castle, he was gratified to see the other two guards on duty heading around to the rear of the property. Kade, Jaime, and Markus came around the other side of the castle, carrying toolboxes.

  When he parked the SUV, Kat reached for the door handle but stopped before opening the door.

  “Can I get out?”

  He expected to find an expression of sarcasm on her face. What he saw was genuine question. He trusted that his friends or the guards would have notified him of any threats. “Yeah. I’ll meet you inside. I want to talk to the guys about the new system.” And give his cell number to the security guards. Communication was everything.

  She stopped briefly to exchange greetings with Kade, Jaime, and Markus, who all grinned like idiots. Seeing Markus grin was a sight to behold. These days, the man rarely smiled. At anything.

  “You gonna let her out?” Kade’s lips quirked as he and the others walked over.

  Dayne narrowed his eyes. “Let who out?”

  “Remy.” Jaime indicated the SUV, inside of which his dog whined. “The other female in your life.”

  “Very funny.” He glared at his friends a moment before opening Remy’s door. She leaped out, wagging her tail.

  “She’s quite a woman.” Kade canted his head to the castle as he leaned down to scratch Remy’s ears.

  In response to his ministrations, Remy leaned her head against the side of Kade’s leg, demanding he not stop.

  “Beautiful, too,” Jaime added.

  “Yeah, so?” Dayne had a feeling he wouldn’t like where this was going. His friends didn’t disappoint.

  “Is she married?” Kade asked. “Boyfriend? With a bank account like hers, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were dozens of men prowling around after her.”

  Dayne’s scowl deepened. It was none of his business how many men drooled after Katrina Vandenburg. “There’s more to her than just her bankroll.”

  “I stand corrected.” Kade gave a little bow.

  “Cut the crap,” Dayne said, although this time there was intended humor in his voice. “Tell me about the upgrades.”

  “Thought you’d never ask.” Kade grinned so broadly it brought out both his dimples, features Dayne had seen dozens of women swoon over. “We installed plenty of new cameras at the Haven and outside the castle. They can all be accessed via cell phone and computer. In addition to the new keypad at the gate, we installed a keypad outside the main entrance to the Haven and here, inside.” He jerked his thumb to the castle. “She’ll have to set a new code because this one uses five digits, not the four she’s used to. If someone drives up to the gate, you can buzz them in if you want to. We also installed glass-break sensors on all the first-story windows, along with window and door sensors. No one’s getting in without you knowing it.”

  “What about the rest of the property?” He indicated with his arm. “There must be over twenty acres.”

  “And a pool, a vintage carriage house, and a concrete storage bunker in the middle of the woods,” Markus added. “Did you know about that?”

  Dayne shook his head. “What’s in it?”

  “Not much.” Markus shook his head. “A desk and some old filing cabinets. Looked like there’d been a fire in there a while back.”

  “Wiring up the whole place is impossible,” Kade continued. “The property’s like a small-scale nature preserve. There’s so much wildlife in all these woods there’s no way to install motion sensors without some animal setting it off every minute.”

  “We installed cameras at every door,” Markus said. “We set a monitor up in your, uh”—Markus coughed—“bedroom. There’s a remote control that allows you to shift from one camera’s view to the others.”

  The front door to the castle opened. Kat held Angus in her arms. When the puppy caught sight of Remy, he wriggled furiously and let loose with a series of high-pitched yips.

  Unable to hold the struggling puppy, she set him on the stoop. Before Angus got halfway down the stairs, Remy bolted to the puppy’s side, nipping him playfully on his flanks then dancing away with the easy grace of an athletic shepherd.

  Kat shrugged, calling out, “He was making such a fuss I had to let him out.”

  “She’s a lot more down to earth than I expected.” Kade smiled.

  “That’s the truth,” Dayne muttered.

  “What did you expect?” Markus asked.

  “Dunno.” Liar. He’d assumed she’d be stuck up and condescending. Especially to cops.

  “I like her,” Jaime added. “If I were you, I’d be all over that like a dog on a two-inch thick ribeye.”

  “Yeah, well you’re not me, so forget it.” Dayne glared at his friend, not liking the insinuation. “I’m only here to keep her safe.”

&
nbsp; “Okay, man.” Jaime threw up his hands in defeat.

  “Why don’t we go inside and help the lady key in her new code?” Markus suggested.

  “Good idea.” Dayne followed Markus to the castle then veered off to meet one of the guards. “Be there in a minute.”

  Remy and Angus followed his friends inside while Dayne exchanged cell numbers with the guards. His phone buzzed with a text. A delivery van—Hudson Valley Floral—was approaching the gate.

  Less than a minute later, a white van ambled up the road and pulled into the driveway. Dayne set down the bags as a man in his late thirties or early forties, with brown hair, a mustache, and beard, got out carrying a long box. Ignoring Dayne, he rounded the van and made for the stairs. The embroidered tag on the guy’s jacket said Manny. And he had a passing resemblance to Kat’s police sketch.

  Dayne stepped into Manny’s path. “I’ll take those.” The fewer people who went inside, the better.

  Ignoring his order, Manny tried brushing past, and again, Dayne blocked him. “I said, I’ll take those.”

  Manny’s eyes rounded, and his jaw clamped shut as he stared at Dayne. “But I always take them in,” he insisted.

  When Manny started past Dayne again, he planted a firm hand on the guy’s chest and gave a not-too-subtle shake of his head. “Not today, you don’t.” Not ever, if Dayne had his way. There was something off about him, and it wasn’t just because he looked somewhat like the sketch. Dayne widened his stance, preparing to flatten the guy if he didn’t back off.

  Manny’s face flushed angry red and his lower lip trembled. “Who the fuck are you?” The guy’s words might be tough, but his delivery lacked punch.

  “I’m the fucker that says you’re not going inside.” Manny’s eyes glossed over, and Dayne thought the guy was about to cry. Ah, hell. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and tugged out a $5 bill. “Take it and go.”

  Manny’s eyes flicked briefly to the front door, as if assessing his chances.

  Don’t be stupid, pal.

  Manny’s nostrils flared like a bull ready to charge headfirst at a matador. Then he hung his head and let out a dejected breath, his brief moment of bravado deflating like a popped balloon. He thrust the box at Dayne’s chest and snatched the bill, shoving it in his pants pocket as he spun and got back in the van. White stone spit from beneath the van’s rear tires as it sped down the drive.