by Izzy Gomez
“Only you, with all that’s going down, would give a rat’s ass about your knife.”
Hell of a lot easier to think about her knife than anything else. “It’s a good knife.”
“I’m sure it is.” Al straightened, still smiling. So rare, but he was actually handsome when he did. Not that she'd ever tell him. “And I’ll be happy to let you use it to make me dinner when it’s done being used as evidence.”
"Fuck. You."
Now she had to buy a new knife. Damn Todd, he’d known that when he chose to use her favorite knife. Shouldn’t he be doing things to convince her to help him, not piss her off more?
“Hey, there’s something in this bag.” Jordan bent close to the coffee table, peering into the mess. “Looks like a phone.”
Smythe picked up the indicated bag and poured the contents onto the table. Four cell phones spilled out, all cheap-looking flip phones.
“All his calls trace back to prepaid cells. So there’s our answer on that one,” Al said.
Smythe slipped them back in the bag and set it on the table. “I’m gonna go call for CSU.” He handed his flashlights to Jordan and stepped into the hall.
“Call Capt. Brown too. Give her an update,” Al said.
Al was volunteering info to Brown? Now wasn’t the time to needle him about it, but Amanda would definitely revisit this in the future.
"Did you guys ever figure out his alibi?" She needed to fill the silence. And, although it was clear Todd was their man, that detail had been bugging her.
Al thumbed through the magazine rack. "He put in an appearance at the conference. Sneaky fucker drove back and forth. Even stayed overnight at the hotel in Bloomington.”
Which spoke to the amount of planning Todd put into this scheme. At this point, it didn't surprise her anymore.
"Cole talked to some people who were at the conference." Al wandered to the desk in the corner and leafed through a pile of books. "People remember seeing him at breakfast and dinner, and in the bar in the evenings. But no one remembered him going to any talks during the day. And a purchase at a gas station in Martinsville showed up on his financials."
"Wow." She should probably have more reaction. But she'd become numb to Todd's psychopathy.
“Hey, what's that?” Jordan shone his light on a strip of brown wood between two of the fast food bags. Damn, Todd was a slob.
Al slid out a small picture frame. Amanda recognized it immediately. Apparently she wasn't completely numb; her already unsettled stomach wavered. At the same time, pain stabbed her chest.
“Some bottle blond and a couple kids.” Al turned it to Amanda but she didn’t have to look.
“My mom. I was seven, Todd was eight.” Sheri had shown up unannounced with three plane tickets to Orlando. She’d pulled them out of school and taken them to Disney World. Even at seven, Amanda had been skeptical of her mother’s motives and sudden affection. Todd, on the other hand, delighted in the time with Sheri.
On the fourth day, she promised she’d take them to Disney as soon as she ran an errand. Five hours later, Todd nearly catatonic with grief, Amanda called Charlie. He’d flown down to get them. It was seven months before they heard from Sheri.
Good times.
“She took us to Disney, then ditched us at the hotel. Told my dad she’d told me when our return flight was and left cab fare on the dresser. She figured we’d get ourselves to the airport.” Todd hadn’t spoken a word for over a month after they returned home. Once he resumed talking, he bought the frame and kept that picture with him no matter where he went. He carried another copy in his wallet.
Al watched her for a minute, long enough to make her skin itch. “You were cute,” he finally said. “What happened?”
Nice of him to try to lighten the mood. “And again I say, ‘fuck you.’ But that seals the deal. It can’t be someone else staying here."
She pushed to her feet. She had to move. Otherwise, her legs would start dancing on their own.
Needing a minute alone, she snatched her flashlight from Jordan and headed into the hall. Dolan and Smythe conversed at the top of the stairs. She nodded to them and went into another room. Also on the back of the house, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the sprawling backyard. There was enough moonlight she could see exercise equipment without turning on the flashlight.
She took a seat on the weight bench and dialed Greg again. Again she got voicemail. At the sound of his recorded voice, her stomach lurched with dread. It wasn’t like him to ignore his phone; it wasn’t like any cop. Missing one call she could explain away. But missing three and not returning messages was a bad sign. She leaned her elbows on her knees and ground the heels of her hands into her eyes until she saw bright lights.
Returning to the hall, she almost ran into Capt. Brown.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Brown said by way of greeting.
“Nice to see you too, ma’am.” Amanda breezed past her boss and into the family room.
“Don’t give me lip, Schreiber.” Brown followed her. “I’ve told you numerous times to stay away from this case.”
“Schreiber’s the reason we found his hideout.” Al’s hostility was clear in his tone of voice and rigid posture. “She’s the one who knows the homeowner and got us the security code.”
“She’s also the one who will get any evidence we find thrown out in a heartbeat.” Brown put her hands on her narrow hips and matched Al’s stance.
“And she’s the one who hasn’t touched a damn thing and has been an invaluable consultant on this case.” Al’s voice was menacing, similar to what he used to interview particularly vile suspects.
“She’s also the one standing right here who doesn’t appreciate being talked about like she’s an idiot.” Amanda stepped between them. “Let’s leaving the pissing contest for later. Is CSU on its way?”
Brown nodded sharply. “Where’s Cole?”
Al turned his gaze to Amanda. The panic she’d reined in started building again. “Not answering his phone.” Somehow it was worse when spoken aloud. She couldn't catch her next breath.
“Why the hell not? Someone give him the night off without my knowledge?" She glared at Al.
Jesus, someday the two of them had to get over the bugs up their respective asses. “He was going home to watch mindless TV." Even if he'd fallen asleep, his phone would wake him.
Shit.
“By all means, that’s a wonderful reason not to answer.” Brown turned toward the hall. “Smythe!”
Whatever Brown's train of thought, Amanda needed to derail it. “I almost forgot. Todd called me tonight.”
“And you’re just getting around to reporting it?” Brown snapped.
“What do I need to report it for? It’s not my case.”
They stared at each other for a full minute. Behind her, Amanda could hear Jordan fidgeting. Poor kid. He had no idea the dynamics at play. Then again, Amanda barely did either. One of these days she was going to have to strong arm Al into spilling details.
“He say anything useful?” Al finally broke in.
“Asked for my final answer.” Amanda walked to the windows and stared out at the lake. She needed to be farther away from the Captain.
“Your final answer? What does he want from you?” Al asked.
“Me to help him.”
“And why does he think you’d do that?” Brown asked.
Because I did it for Hank. She needed to come clean about what she’d done–or rather, what she hadn’t done–years ago, but now was not the time. She and Al could go quid pro quo on sharing secrets. “Because we’re family?"
Al snorted. “Clearly he doesn’t know you as well as he thinks.”
Or Al didn’t know her as well as he thought. Of all the people she had to tell, Al was the one she dreaded most. Even more so than Greg.
Dammit, Greg. She had to say it out loud. “What if Todd decided to give me more incentive to help him?”
“What do you mean?” B
rown asked.
“We’ve been so focused on him coming after me again.” It hurt to think, let alone give voice to the thought. “What if he went after Greg?”
Al spewed a creative string of curses.
“How, exactly, does going after another cop strengthen his case?” Brown asked. “And why would he target Cole? If he wanted to get to you, he’d go after your partner.”
“I’m not the one she's sleeping with,” Al said.
Amanda shot him a glare. He couldn’t have been a little more subtle?
Brown threw up her hands and let out a loud huff. “That’s just perfect. Exactly what we need. Could you do anything else to fuck up this case, Detective Schreiber?”
“Now would not be the time for this. Let’s focus on Greg.”
“You really think he got the jump on Cole?” Al said. “No way.”
“He got to me.” And she would never let herself live it down.
“Yeah, but you're...” Al glanced between the two women and shut his mouth.
For once, Amanda and Brown were on the same side of the conversation.
“I’m what?”
Al looked anywhere but at them. Jordan snorted a laugh.
“A girl?”
Al held up his hands. “No way. I didn’t say that. Hell, you’ve given me a run for my money. But I thought he was a bookworm who’d never seen the inside of a gym.”
So had she. “He’s definitely been working out. He was stronger than I’ve ever seen him.”
Al cracked his knuckles, as if preparing to be Todd's next target. “It fits. He had to lug around all those deadweight bodies.”
A throat clearing reminded them Jordan was sitting on the couch, listening to the whole conversation. “Captain? Would you like me to call in a BOLO on Detective Cole?”
Brown stared hard at the rookie for a moment. Amanda half expected him to tug at his collar. “That would be helpful, Officer Jordan.”
Jordan almost leapt from the couch and ran out of the room.
In her pocket, Amanda's phone vibrated.
"That better fucking be Cole," Al said.
The display read Unknown Number. The disappointment and fear were dizzying. She locked her knees to keep from swaying. "You hurt one cell on his body, I will hunt you down and kill you myself, you motherfucker."
"Detective Schreiber, is that any way to talk to your big brother?" Todd's voice was mocking. The overly reasonable tone of the unreasonable.
"Where is he?"
"You're the detective. Shouldn't you detect that?"
Anger burned in her throat. A thousand vile names struggled to escape her lips but she held back. He didn't deserve the satisfaction of hearing her lose her shit. "You better believe we're going to find you."
The phone jerked from her hand. She whirled, swinging at Al, but he caught her arm and held her away.
"Doctor Schreiber." Amanda had never heard a word infused with as much hatred as Al put into the word doctor. "This is Al Voegler. I want to make something clear to you."
Amanda gave up struggling against Al's grip. They didn't have time to fight each other. They needed to find Greg.
"You've already killed three people. You raped a woman. More importantly, you hurt someone I care about. You've already got the entire police department taking this personally. There is a special place in hell for cretins like you. But if you so much as breathe wrong on Detective Cole, you will find out what true pain is. We will bring that hell to you, right here on earth. You won't make it to trial. I'll make sure of it."
"Detective Voegler, hang up right now." The Captain's quiet order held more menace than any yelling could.
"We'll find you, motherfucker. Count on it." Al jabbed his thumb across the phone's screen and handed it back to Amanda.
"Both of you, when this is done? Your asses are in some serious shit." Giving them both looks of disgust, Brown left the room. "Smythe! Jordan!"
With Brown’s retreat, Al’s sneer finally disappeared. "Where do we look?"
"White River Trail. By the zoo.” There was no other possibility.
"Isn't that too obvious?" Al started for the door.
Amanda followed. "He wants me to find them. That's why he got to Greg. He wants me to bargain with him."
And she would. If it was the only way to save Greg's life, she would help Todd get away. He'd found the one way to make her do what he wanted.
Because, goddammit, she was in love with Greg.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and ignored the swelling behind her eyes that felt suspiciously like tears. What a great time to realize it. Other women got to fall in love via chocolates and flowers and fancy dinners. She got a fucking psychopath brother.
Downstairs, Brown and Smythe were turning the dining room table into a command center. Since it appeared Todd wasn't returning anytime soon, there was no need to keep the lights off.
Smythe rolled out a county map and was scribbling on it. Dolan helped him identify key locations. They'd already circled this house, the diner, Todd's apartment and the zoo.
Amanda dropped her finger on her dad's house. "We should send a unit here, just in case. I don't think he'll go after my dad, but who knows." She moved around the table pointing to other hot spots. "Hank's. And my sister's. Gabby's apartment. Gabby's parents' house, where she's staying. There's a unit assigned to her. We need to alert them."
"Already done," Dolan said.
Amanda's chest tightened as she dropped her index finger on a location not far from her house. "Detective Cole's."
"Southall and Long are on their way, along with a patrol unit," Brown said.
Amanda nodded. "I'm sure they're not at his place, but still good to know what they find." Thank God she knew how to compartmentalize when her job required it. If she had to deal with the panic tickling around the edges, she might end up joining Todd in LaLa Land.
"What about your place?" Al tapped the map.
"He knows I'm not staying there."
"So wouldn't it be a good place to take Detective Cole?" Jordan asked.
He did know where she kept the spare key. But she also had a neighbor who defined the word busybody. Mrs. Hargarten knew Todd and she followed Indianapolis crime news. She would call 911. And Todd knew it.
"No. Too easy to be seen. Maybe have a unit drive by, but I doubt it."
"Since you're the psychological profiler of this case," Brown didn't bother hiding her sarcasm, "now that you've told us all the places he won't be, perhaps you can enlighten us as to where he will."
“The trail by the zoo.”
"Lowlifes do like to return to the scene of the original crime." Smythe drew several circles around the park.
"For Todd, that’s where it all started. He'll want to finish it there."
"I thought it started in your parents' attic," Brown said, skeptical. "Or the airport, when he snatched your stepmom."
"Those places aren't private enough," Al argued.
"I'm not talking about two weeks ago." Was it really only two weeks since the world fell apart? "For him, this started years ago. It started with Karen. I don't know exactly why, but the zoo is significant. It's why he dumped her there."
"You're sure?" Brown’s tone and serious expression said she might actually believe Amanda this time.
"You want a family history lesson? Or you want to take my word for it?"
"What are we waiting for?" Brown started for the door.
Amanda followed. When Brown sent Amanda a reprimanding glare over her shoulder, Amanda set her face and shoulders in a hard line.
"I'm the only thing standing between Greg and death." The words tasted sour. "Do what you want to me later. But I'm not sitting this one out."
Chapter 30
Greg's head throbbed like a sonofabitch. He couldn’t wrap his mind around where he was or what was happening. All he knew was the pain in his head, a matching pain in his gut, and a steady vibration around him.
He opened his eyes
but saw darkness. When he tried to lift his right arm, he met resistance. He only succeeded in tugging on his left foot. When he moved his left arm, he pulled his right foot.
After experimenting with his limbs there was only one possible conclusion. He'd been hog-tied.
Memory dribbled in, piecing together into a semi-coherent whole. His kitchen. The cat. Todd. A needle.
Fuck. This was not good.
On some level, he recognized his lack of panic as part of the dulling effect of whatever drug Todd gave him. Which was probably for the best. Panic would get him killed. He needed to stay calm if he was going to get out of this.
He also needed to think straight, which wasn't happening.
As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could just make out the shapes around him. He was in the trunk of a car. Which explained the vibrations. Todd was driving him somewhere.
Also not good.
He couldn't assume anyone knew where he was or that he was missing. Amanda had planned to stay late at Gabby's, watching girly movies. If Todd had used Propofol like he used on Amanda, Greg wouldn't have been out long without repeated doses. Probably just long enough for Todd to get him in the trunk and tie him up.
Cell phone.
The words flashed through his groggy mind like a neon sign. Maybe he could reach his phone.
He squirmed and wriggled, trying to feel if it was in his pocket. He only succeeded in banging his chin on the floor of the trunk, sending a jolt through his jaw and down his spine. Which did wonders for his mental clarity.
Nausea rolled over him and he put his energy into not throwing up. Tape covered his mouth, and if he was going to die tonight, it would not be from choking on his own vomit.
He lay still until the nausea passed. Unfortunately, his mind wasn't any sharper. How the fuck was he going to get out of this?
The car jerked and he slammed into the top of the trunk, then crashed against the floor. As he continued bouncing, he closed his eyes and might even have lost consciousness again. When he was next aware, he was blessedly still.
The motor died.
Silence enveloped him. Heavy, eerie silence. He thought he’d known fear before. When Phil was shot in front of him. When he watched a child get gunned down and was helpless to stop it since he was shot too.
