She came around a corner and found Dino Zagrafis with John Paules. “All clear,” Zagrafis said, a little pale. She wondered if he was remembering something from the war. But, before she could ask, he shook it off and kept moving.
She and Kessler cleared a final cabin and made their way back to the stairs with a close eye out for motion. Kessler leaned down the stairs and called out below. “Clear?”
Suddenly, there were harsh shouts and the pop of a single gunshot.
Kessler darted for the stairs. Cameron was right behind.
“It’s a setup,” someone else yelled. “They’re all dead.”
Cameron kept her gun drawn as a sick feeling rose in her gut. Below was dark with a steely smell that brought to mind a shark waiting to attack. Cameron moved slowly, following Kessler, covering, then moving again, covering, then moving. Finally, she saw Ambley from the back. His shoulders were hunched. His gun dropped to the floor.
Lau took him by the shoulders and leaned him against the wall, out of the line of fire. Cameron stepped inside the doorway, pressing herself against the wall as she surveyed the room.
At first, it looked like a pile of dirty clothes were strewn across the room. Quickly, the shapes took hold in her mind. There were bodies in the clothes—women. The dark stains were blood. The bodies were cast around the room as though slaughtered in some devastating fury. Knife wounds on necks and faces, a bullet on another until she had to turn away. She pictured Diego’s dark eyes, his gaze holding hers in Mrs. Yee’s store, and had to hold down the vomit.
The team was streaming into the room. Blood and some sort of mud surrounded their feet. The men were in shock. In their faces, she saw wives and daughters. Ballestrini’s daughter would be going to college. She was this age. She scanned the room for him but was interrupted by Ahrens.
“Report your status ASAP,” Ahrens called over someone’s radio.
Cameron pressed the radio button on her shoulder. “Team is secure, Captain. There are no suspects. I repeat no suspects.”
“The boat’s empty?” her voice came back.
“No, ma’am.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. She scanned the room again. “We’ve got twelve to fifteen bodies, Captain. All dead.”
Ahrens cursed. “We heard gunfire,” Lavick shouted.
Ambley raised his head. “I shot at her.” He pointed to a woman lying closest to the door. “I thought they were suspects. I thought I saw a gun.”
Beside the woman was a metal pipe, maybe the weapon she’d used to try to defend herself. Cameron watched the pool of blood growing beneath the bodies. “It’s recent. They haven’t been dead long.”
How had this happened? Did someone know that she’d broken into the drive? She hadn’t told anyone. Or maybe someone had spotted her and Ballestrini staking out the boat.
“Double check the premises for any suspects,” Lavick directed. “Then, hold it down. We’ve got the Coast Guard bringing in a crime team.”
“Yes, sir,” Lau responded.
Pushing herself off the wall, Cameron headed back into the hallway to help secure the boat. As Lau gave orders, she tried to drown out the voice in her head that told her this was her fault.
She forced herself onward, knowing she had to own up to Ahrens. About Diego, about the DVD with Lavick. All of it.
Chapter 35
Ivana had never hurt so much in her life. The visits from Rosa and Wanda had done a lot to lift her spirits. The rest of the time she slept between the visits from the nurses and the two policewomen. The smaller, curly-haired policewoman came with a picture of Diego that Ivana would have liked to keep, but instead, she told the officer that he was the man who had helped her. When they asked if he was her boyfriend, she blushed terribly and said no.
On another visit, Inspector Wyatt took her back through the strip club, her rape. An older woman with long gray braids sat at a computer and drew the men as Ivana described them in her broken English. It didn’t seem possible, but when she was done, the drawing was almost as real as a photograph. At the end of that visit, Inspector Wyatt also brought her a piece of fabric. Ivana recognized it as Anna’s. She fingered the small square of pink cotton. Anna was dead, Inspector Wyatt told her. Ivana clutched the fabric and cried.
They had also talked about her most recent assault. With that, she was almost no help. She had been singing when she walked in the door of the building. Her attacker was average height and build. He spoke to her, or she thought he did, but she couldn’t remember anything he’d said. The doctors said that was normal, but Ivana really wanted to help the police. She was lucky to be alive. If not for the woman who had come into the building after her, she’d probably be dead. As much as Ivana tried, none of it came back.
Once, when Michal was first in school, some older boys had beaten him up. He’d only remembered one of their faces, saying the others had come from behind. He’d been unable to remember what happened after the first few punches. Ivana had always doubted the story, thinking he was too scared to identify all three boys. Now, it made sense to her. Alone in the hospital, the hardest thing was not to let her thoughts drift to Mama and Michal.
Rosa and Cameron both told her that she ought to call home to tell her mother that she was all right. The more she thought about it, the more she knew they were right. She didn’t know if she’d go home or not, but it wasn’t fair to make her mother worry. Plus, she desperately wanted to know that Michal was okay.
She was due to get out of the hospital in a few days. She would stay with Rosa for a bit and decide what to do. Despite all that had happened in her stay, Rosa’s kindness had done a lot to help Ivana consider staying in America. Things weren’t much better at home. Working for Rosa in the salon would certainly be better than any job she could get in Šluknov, especially at her age.
The door opened. “You awake?”
“Yes, Mr. Rusty,” she answered, recognizing the voice of the guard the police had put outside her door.
He was a nice man named Rusty. “Rusty Felton,” he’d said, tipping his head like he was wearing a hat. It made her laugh, which hurt. He’d only stayed a few minutes that first time, but he came back a few times a day before he went to lunch or for coffee. He offered to bring her something. Even though she had said she was fine, he came with a chocolate chip cookie on her third day. “I checked with the doctor,” Rusty told her. “He said it was okay.”
Mr. Rusty appeared from behind her privacy curtain. “I am going to get a little coffee. You want anything?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Okay. Won’t take me but fifteen minutes.”
“When you come back, Mr. Rusty, maybe you can tell me a story?”
While she ate her cookie, Mr. Rusty had told her about a time that he was stuck in a canoe for fourteen hours because there was a grizzly bear and her cubs on the shore where he was going to take his boat.
“You bet,” he said. “I’ll think of a good one. Be right back.”
Mr. Rusty left and the nurse came in to give her something to help her rest. She could hear them at the nurse’s station, talking, chuckling or sometimes singing. The sounds had become familiar and she was close to sleep when the door opened.
She squinted at the curtain that surrounded her bed and waited for it to open, but it was quiet. She blinked hard, trying to stay awake.
“Hello,” she said, listening for a response. “Mr. Rusty?”
No one answered.
She closed her eyes, ready for sleep. A shadow crossed the room. She sat up, but before she could speak, a heavy hand covered her mouth.
The face she saw startled her.
“Shh. Don’t scream, please,” the man said.
He was not one of the attackers from the bar. She began to feel more relaxed. Still, his presence made her uneasy, and she wished he would leave. Where had she seen him? She thought he was one of the men she’d seen on the street near the salon, maybe inside once or twice. He wore a police uniform now. She couldn’t r
emember if he’d been in one before.
“You haven’t told your friends or that other cop anything yet?”
She shook her head.
He slowly removed his hand.
“I no remember. I try, but I don’t know,” she said.
“That’s good. You don’t remember anything because if you do, I’ll kill your friends before I come after you.”
Ivana tried to sit up in bed, but he pressed her back down, his hands like vises on her arms. She opened her mouth, but he clamped a hand down on her. She studied his uniform. “You are police.”
“That’s right. There are lots of us. And if you don’t do exactly what I say, we will hurt Rosa and her sister, too. Do you understand?”
She nodded quickly, her heart pounding. Why was he doing this? Why would the police hurt her? She felt herself starting to cry, wishing someone would come in and save her. But no one did. She would never be saved. She longed for her mother. She had been right. Ivana should never have dreamed of coming to America.
The man shook her. “Listen to me.”
She fought back tears.
“If you care about your friends, you’ll stay silent. I’ll send instructions for you. As soon as you are released from the hospital, you follow those instructions and everyone will be fine.”
“I will. I promise.”
“But, if you talk about this to anyone, I’ll come for your friends and you.” His smile made her shudder.
Sobs choked her. She let them out in a shaky burst.
“Do you understand?”
Trembling, she nodded again.
“Good girl. I’ll leave you instructions.”
“Wh-where?”
“You’ll get them when it’s time. Tell anyone, and you’ll all be dead.”
He gripped her neck and she clawed at his hands. He was strong, much stronger than she. She begged for someone to come in, to see him, but no one did. “You won’t forget?”
She shook her head.
“Good.” He removed his hand from her neck.
Her eyes felt heavy and yet her heart was galloping, the drugs and the adrenaline fighting one another.
“Watch yourself.” He disappeared behind the curtain. The door opened and closed again.
She waited, shaking, listening. A TV played in a room nearby. Ivana concentrated to try to hear it, listening intently for any sounds. Exhausted, she rolled on her side and cried. Eventually, the drugs took over, and she fell into a dead sleep.
Chapter 36
The weight of the dead women settled in to Cameron. She smelled them in her clothes and hair, saw their distraught faces, bloody and beaten when she blinked. She felt their horror as they watched each other die. It was obvious others felt the same. There were no jokes in the equipment room, none of the banter that usually accompanied this time of day. There were a few murmured exchanges about grabbing a drink, but most passed.
All of them needed someone to talk to about what had happened. None would actually discuss it. That’s what this life was like—you absorbed it all, let it go in tiny ways here and there, hoping the emotion dissipated enough that you didn’t explode. One of them would. One always did. Jamie Vail had, as well as Michael Lindberg of IA, who opened an investigation on any cop who looked sideways at him. Cracked. Some repaired, some didn’t. Cameron could feel them in herself—the tiny fractures like a hot desert ground in the sun. That’s what they were. Eventually, without enough irrigation, they would all crack.
Cameron spoke to no one. The usual camaraderie was noticeably absent. Even Kessler, who usually made it a point to say good night, avoided her. No one had cast blame, but she felt it anyway.
She wrestled her bag into its spot, shaking off Lau’s attempt to help her. The weight of it dug into her shoulder and back as she pushed it up, but the pain was welcome—something to distract her from the grief, the isolation.
As she was gathering her things, Ballestrini came in to the locker room.
“Where the hell were you?” Ambley shouted at him.
Cameron was startled. She’d never seen Darren Ambley angry. The team medic, he often played the role of mediator and counselor for the group as well.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ballestrini barked back.
“You weren’t behind me. On the boat.”
“Like hell I wasn’t, prick.”
“You were supposed to have my back,” Ambley said.
“I did have your back,” Ballestrini snapped. “You’re pissed because you shot the only one who was still breathing.”
Ambley charged toward him. Kessler stepped between them. “Take it easy, guys. Ballestrini got on the boat. We were all there.”
Ambley pointed his finger in Ballestrini’s face. “Well, if he got on, he disappeared after that. I got down to that room and he wasn’t with me.”
“I saw him behind you,” Daley said. “Ballestrini’s right. You’re just pissed you blew your load on a half-dead chick,” he added as he left the room.
“Fuck you, Daley,” Ambley yelled after him.
Lau turned his back on them. Cameron acted busy.
Kessler pushed Ambley back toward his locker. “Everyone, cool off.”
Ballestrini walked to his locker, mumbling under his breath.
Ambley moved toward Lau. “Check out his shoes,” he whispered. “We’re all covered in muck and blood from the boat and look at his.”
Cameron glanced over at Ballestrini’s shoes, then at her own. He’d definitely been on the boat with them, but his shoes were clean.
Lau, too, checked Ballestrini’s shoes. He nodded to Ambley, and Cameron caught his eye. He clearly thought something was off. Ballestrini puffed his chest out like a peacock. “What? You guys believe this guy? It’s a load of crap. I was there, same as the rest of you.” He slammed his locker and left.
Cameron waited a minute, then headed out herself. As she made her way toward the bay, she caught sight of Ahrens coming out of the ladies’ room.
She picked up the pace to a jog. “Captain Ahrens,” she called out as the captain turned toward her office.
“Yes, Cruz?”
Cameron reached her and checked over her shoulder. No one was around. “Do you have a minute?”
“Of course—” Ahrens motioned to her office.
Ahrens watched her with an inquisitive gaze. She didn’t act suspicious. Was it possible that all this was happening in a vacuum around the captain? Cameron didn’t know how much to share, but she had to say something.
When Ahrens walked into her office, someone stood up from a chair.
Cameron saw Daley.
He held up a file. “I’ve got that report.” When he saw Cameron, his expression seemed to harden.
Ahrens motioned to Cameron. “I am going to sit down with Cruz for a few minutes.”
Daley didn’t budge, his lips drawn and thin. “This won’t take more than five minutes.”
Ahrens watched him and blinked. Cameron stared. Was this his way of telling her off for being the one to call them to that boat? When Ahrens looked back at her, so did Daley. He raised his eyebrows in an expression that told her to back down.
“No problem,” Cameron said, feeling more flustered than she hoped showed. “We can talk when you’re done.”
“You can wait around. It’ll only be five minutes.”
Daley nodded, smugly. “Maybe ten.”
Ahrens glared at him, and he quickly sat down.
“I’ll be in the bay.” Cameron looked down at Daley’s frumpy navy blazer. The first button hung by a thread. “You’re going to lose a button,” she said, the best comeback she could come up with. Pathetic.
As she made her way to the bay, she thought about the exchange. Daley was a pig and played hardball occasionally, especially if Cameron had outdone him in some way. But as long as you didn’t cross him, he was a team player, certainly not nasty or vindictive the way some guys on the sharpshooter squad were. And yet, he was clearly an
gry with her. She wanted to dismiss him as an asshole, but he had a right to be angry for today.
Cameron disassembled her rifle and cleaned and oiled each component before reassembling it. The barrel slid smoothly into place and Cameron returned the gun to its case. Ahrens hadn’t appeared so Cameron shined her shoes, too. When she was done, the smells of gun oil and shoe polish were pungent on her skin. She washed her hands twice to try to lose the smell and headed back into the main building with her equipment bag. Ahrens’ office was dark, the door locked. She smacked the wall beside it. “Damn it.” The locker room was empty as she put away her bag and headed for the parking lot.
It was after seven when Cameron revved up the Blazer and pulled onto the pitted Naval Station road. Her anger was directed at Daley. “Bastard,” she said out loud, and tore up the road, driving too fast. Her phone slid onto the floor on the passenger side and landed with a thunk.
She needed a release. An hour at the gun range, which she wouldn’t get for another week. Maybe a long hard run. Or one of those boot camp classes she used to take at the gym. Something to wring out all the anger. Maybe some music. She leaned across to grab her phone off the floor but the seat belt froze. She unlatched the belt. She checked the phone’s screen, grateful it wasn’t broken.
As she was pulling her seatbelt back across her chest, she was kicked forward. Metal crunched around her. She was stunned. What had she hit? There was nothing in front of her. In the rearview mirror, she saw a car, lights off. She pulled to the side when it rammed her again. The force of the blow threw her forward, her cheek smacking into the knuckles that gripped the wheel.
The car’s headlights went on and Cameron sped up, reaching for her belt again. The car moved up on the passenger side and swung into her again. The belt stuck. She tried to pull it across her body, but there wasn’t enough slack to fasten it. She let it go again, using both hands to swerve away from the car. With the headlights bright in her mirror, she couldn’t make out anything about the car, other than it was a sedan. Her pulse a drumroll in her ear, she tried to calm herself enough to make a plan. She eased the belt out again but then jerked on it too fast. Again, it stopped.
The Rookie Club Thriller series Box Set Page 76