They had to be here. Because if they weren’t... No. There were no other options. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life wondering what’d happened to his son and the love of his life. Couldn’t live with the thought that he could’ve done more. The muscles in his jaw clenched hard. He’d seen what Ana had put herself through. Cutting herself off from her family, from the people who loved her, from feeling anything. He wouldn’t do that to Olivia. This ended now.
A shadow darted across the wall ahead.
Benning froze. He hadn’t been sleeping well, hadn’t been taking as much care of himself as he should have since the twins had been abducted, and he’d been hit not once but twice in the back of the head over the past few days, but he hadn’t imagined that. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Warning slithered through him, and he stretched his hand out toward a supply shelf bolted into the wall to his right as he passed. Cold steel warmed in his hand as he gripped a crowbar. The weight of metal tugged on the stitches on his shoulder, but the pain wouldn’t slow him down this time. There was too much at stake.
The shadowed outline of a man came into focus at the end of the corridor, but in the next second disappeared. A deep laugh echoed off the cinderblocks around him and settled in his gut, and Benning strengthened his hold on the crowbar. He wasn’t alone down here. “I brought your camera back, you bastard.”
Chapter Fourteen
Familiar dark eyes locked on hers, and she couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. All this time, it’d been him from the beginning? “You kidnapped Owen and Olivia. You attacked us at the safe house. You buried Harold Wood’s body in Claire’s basement. All of it. It was you. Not her.”
Her partner when she’d first been assigned the Samantha Perry case.
Agent Ericson York.
It’d been years since they’d worked together, but this didn’t make sense. He’d taken an oath to uphold the law and seen firsthand the kinds of monsters that were out there. Monsters like Harold Wood. Her fingers brushed against Owen’s arm behind her as she cornered the boy as far from Ericson as she could. The theory Claire Winston had somehow found Harold Wood and gotten the justice for Samantha fizzled right in front of her. Claire had the means and motive to exact revenge, but the FBI hadn’t been able to locate Wood for almost a decade. How would she have been so fortunate? The answer stood right in front of her. “Claire didn’t kill Harold Wood. You did.”
“That bastard deserved everything that came his way, Ramirez.” Dark clothing hid mountains of muscles and determination Ana had already gone up against once. And lost. A high widow’s peak reflected the light coming from the bare bulb above off Ericson’s shorn head. They’d worked side by side, taking down the monsters after witnessing exactly what they were capable of, for years. She’d trusted him to have her back, and she’d had his. But after the Samantha Perry case, he’d gone dark. Left the FBI, wouldn’t answer her calls, moved out of his apartment. Now she was the only thing standing between him and his determination to get away with murder. He tossed the mask to the floor near the drain, keeping his hands free for his next move. “You weren’t there. You didn’t have to see what he’d done to her. You were thirty miles away with that local contractor while I was left to clean up Harold Wood’s mess.” He took a single step forward, shortening the distance between them and the space she’d have to defend herself and Owen. Ericson’s voice dropped into dangerous territory. “So yeah, I did whatever it took to hunt him down. I kept tabs on his sister in case he reached out for help. I sat on his apartment for months at a time. I busted anyone he’d go to for a fake ID because I knew he wasn’t finished. You want to know how I finally found him, Ramirez? What he did to get himself caught?”
He took another step toward her, and her breath shuddered in her chest. The closet he’d held them in suddenly seemed so much smaller than it had a few minutes ago.
“The sick SOB had the nerve to go after Claire,” he said. “He couldn’t stop himself. Didn’t matter how many agents and law enforcement organizations were out there looking for him. Harold Wood saw something he wanted, and he tried to take it. Only this time I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.” The scent of new car smell filled her lungs in the small space, exactly as she remembered from the safe house. He’d shoved her through a window, tried to kill Benning and his family. Had taken Owen and left him for days at a time to freeze and starve to death. This wasn’t the agent she’d worked beside. The Ericson York she remembered wouldn’t have gone after innocent children to solve a case. “You promised the Perry family we would find their daughter. Do you remember that? You let them down. You let the entire Bureau down. As far as I’m concerned, that makes you as guilty as Harold Wood ever was.”
“We would’ve found him, Ericson. We were closing in, but instead you took the law into your own hands and murdered someone.” She shook her head. “If anyone is as guilty as Harold Wood, it’s not me. It’s you. We swore to protect the innocent, but what you’re doing—”
“That oath is nothing!” His exaggerated breath rose and collapsed his shoulders, and she turned to hug Owen closer. A crazed mania bled into the brown of his eyes for a few seconds before he seemed to get control over himself. “I spent over a decade with the FBI hunting the scum who get off on hurting people, only to watch them walk free on technicalities and plea deals.” He rolled back his shoulders. “They deserve better than that, Ramirez. Samantha Perry deserved better than that, and I’m finally doing something about it.”
The muscles down her spine hardened. She’d seen this side to her former partner before, the caged obsession he hadn’t been able to keep locked away during interrogations and investigations, equal to the all-consuming fixation to destroy the criminals they brought to justice. Only, back then, she’d taken advantage of all that intensity, used it to break suspects, to get the confessions they needed, and do their jobs to protect the victims of the cases they took on. She’d never been the target, and now, she and the six-year-old boy behind her would be the ones standing in his way. But there was still a chance they could all get out of here alive.
“You’re right. I wasn’t there. I wasn’t focused on the investigation and an innocent girl paid the price because of it, and I’m going to have to live with that the rest of my life.” The hollowness in her chest throbbed. Ana shifted her weight between both feet but nothing could relieve the pressure. Because the truth was she and Ericson weren’t so different. That case had changed them both for the worse, taken away any semblance of good in their lives, but she’d found her way back. To Benning. If he hadn’t requested her to work this case, would she be the one standing on that side of the room in a few years? Less? Would she be the one hunting down the murderers who hadn’t answered for their sins? “I’ve spent the past seven years punishing myself day in and day out by cutting myself off from the things and the people who made me happy because of that case. I overcommitted myself to the job thinking I could make up for my mistake, but there’s nothing that will ever bring Samantha Perry back. No matter how many lives we save, Ericson, it’s never going to be enough.” Her mouth dried as her own words released the vise she’d carried all this time from around her heart. “Believe me, ignoring the grief and the anger only makes it worse. The only way we’re going to get past this is if we take responsibility, find a way to move on and make the most of the life we have left.”
“And leave behind all the innocent victims that killers like Harold Wood got their hands on?” he asked.
“What about Owen here? And Olivia? What about Jo West and Benning Reeves? Claire has been falsely suspected in helping you cover up Harold Wood’s murder. What about those innocent lives?” she asked. “None of them deserve what you’ve done. Are you going to be able to live with that for the rest of your life?”
“I never meant for any of them to get tied up in this.” He cast his gaze to Owen behind her, his expression stoic, and a hint of the agent she’
d known returned. The thick beard growth along his jaw and around his mouth aged him another ten years in an instant, and for a moment hope blossomed behind her sternum. He was telling the truth. He hadn’t wanted any of this, but that didn’t excuse him from what he’d done. “I knew the moment Benning Reeves called you, we’d be here. With you on one side and me on the other. Even after realizing you played your own part in what happened to Samantha Perry, this isn’t what I wanted. I meant what I said before I pushed you through that window. You were always one of the good ones.”
That small sense of hope shattered as tension flooded his shoulders and arms, and she leveled her chin with the floor. “So were you, but we both know I can’t let you walk away from this, Ericson.”
“I know. That’s why this is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you.” He arced his right arm back, and Ana reached for the first thing she could get her hands on along the shelves behind her and Owen.
Threading her fingers through the handle of a heavy gallon jug of bleach, she swung it into Ericson’s head as hard as she could. Her former partner stumbled back into the door he’d come through a few minutes ago and it slammed open against the wall behind it. He didn’t take long to recover. Rushing toward her, Owen’s scream loud in her ears, Ericson swung his fist aimed at her face. She thrust his wrist out of alignment, barely missing the knuckles to her jaw, but the pain from the explosion slowed her down. She wasn’t fast enough to block the second swing. Lightning struck behind her eyes as momentum threw her around into the shelves and pinned Owen between her and the metal. A kick to the back of her injured leg brought her down. She clutched onto the shelves for support but couldn’t get to her feet in time.
“I’m sorry, Ramirez. I really am, but I can’t let you take me in.” Ericson closed in again, his massive outline blocking the light from the bulb hanging from the ceiling. “I’m not finished with what needs to be done.”
“Leave her alone!” Owen rushed forward, beating his small fists against their kidnapper’s leg, but it wouldn’t be enough. Ana struggled to regain her balance as the boy did everything he could to protect her. “I’m going to tell my dad on you!”
With a single swipe of his hand, Ericson shoved Owen out of his way and into a collection of brooms and mops in the corner.
She pressed her weight into palms on one of the shelves and cringed as pain flared from the bullet wound in her chest. This was it. Her chance to get him back to Benning. Ana latched on to her former partner to keep his focus on her. “Owen, get out of here! Run!”
The six-year-old ran into the darkness on the other side of the door just as Ericson’s right hook slammed her into the floor. She bounced off the cement as his boot landed in her side, knocking the air from her lungs. Searing pain spread across her scalp as he fisted a handful of her hair and dragged her back into his chest. “It’s just the two of us now, partner, and only one of us is getting out of here alive.”
“You’re right.” She hauled her elbow back into his solar plexus. “And it’s going to be me.”
* * *
BENNING PUMPED HIS legs as fast as he could. He hadn’t mistaken that scream. Ana had yelled for Owen to run. His son was here. He was alive. He turned another corner where he thought the bastard in the mask had disappeared but collided with a pint-size child instead. He hit the ground, the surprised scream coming from the boy barely registering over the crowbar pinging off cement. Owen. Locking his hands on his son before he could dart away, he pulled the boy to his chest. “Owen! Buddy, it’s me. Daddy. I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
He threaded one hand through his son’s hair, holding on to him as hard as he could without crushing him.
“Daddy!” The six-year-old seemed so much smaller than he remembered then. More frail. His son shook in his arms. His skin was clammy with a thin sheen of sweat and cold as sobs racked through his tiny frame. The overwhelming relief Benning felt in that moment was all consuming. But in an instant Owen pulled away, latching on to Benning’s hand to try to get him to his feet. “Daddy, she’s hurt. The man is hurting her. We have to help!”
Ana.
Dread clenched in his stomach. Unfiltered terror at the idea of leading Owen back toward his kidnapper flared hot under his skin. After everything they’d been through, the last thing he wanted right then was to let his son out of his sight, but Ana needed his help. She’d sacrificed herself before, to save him and Olivia at the safe house, and nearly died for it. He couldn’t let her go through that again. “Owen, listen to me. I need you to find a spot to hide and stay there until I come get you.”
“Don’t leave me.” Owen’s voice slid into a notch above fear, and everything inside Benning urged him to get his son the hell out of there. But he couldn’t leave Ana without backup. Not again. “I want to stay with you.”
“I know you do, but I can’t lose you again.” He smoothed his hand over Owen’s hair, the sickening scent of neglect heavy in his lungs. He had no idea what his son had gone through the past four days. How horribly he’d been treated, how many times he’d begged to go home without getting an answer from the darkness that’d surrounded him in that tractor shed. This wasn’t a choice between his kids or the woman who’d risked her life for them. There was no choice. He’d left Ana behind once and she’d nearly died for it. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. “I have to help Ana, but I can’t do that if I’m worrying about you at the same time. So I need you to hide.”
Owen nodded. “Okay.”
“Good.” Benning led his son back toward the same supply shelf he’d taken the crowbar from and hefted the boy onto the top. “Stay low. Don’t make any noises. If you see someone coming, don’t move, understand?”
“Yes.” Owen slid onto his stomach and laid his head down.
“Good boy.” Ruffling his son’s hair, he took a step back to ensure he wouldn’t be spotted the moment someone came around the corner into the corridor. “I love you, buddy. I’m coming back for you. I promise.”
“Love you, too,” Owen said. “Don’t die, okay?”
“Okay.” He couldn’t fight the tug at one corner of his mouth. Collecting the crowbar from the floor where he’d dropped it after slamming into Owen, Benning retraced the boy’s steps through a maze of corridors and open spaces containing old desks, a set of lockers and tables. His fingers ached as tension locked his hand around the only weapon he had against a trained professional determined to rip apart his entire life. His shallow breaths cut through the silence, mouth dry. He turned another corner.
And slowed as light spilled into the hallway from a single door up ahead. A body fell back onto the cement in the frame of light, a full head of long brown hair hiding her face, but instant recognition flooded through him. Ana. She wasn’t moving, didn’t even seem to breathe, and the world stopped. He wasn’t too late. Couldn’t be. Benning pressed his back into the wall behind him as he heel-toed closer. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth, sliding along the column of her throat. Get up. She had to get up.
“You’re only dragging out the inevitable, Ramirez.” The man stepping out of the room and standing above her had the same voice of the one who’d interrogated him against that tree, but the mask was gone. Shorn hair, thick eyebrows arching over narrow eyes. Heavy facial hair had aged the man’s face over the years, but Benning still recognized the agent Ana had been partnered with during the Samantha Perry case. Agent Ericson York. Benning had watched the man’s press conferences, listened to his pleas for any witnesses to come forward. He’d been the face of the investigation. Now he seemed to be behind two kidnappings, attempted murder of a federal agent and the murder of Jo West.
“As long as you’re...stuck here with me, you’re not going...after Owen.” Her laugh lifted her chest off the cement, followed by a deep, wet cough. Rolling onto her side, she pegged him with those hazel-green eyes, but kept moving to stand. “I’ll dra
g...this out as long...as I have to.”
Her attacker pulled a weapon from under his leather jacket at his low back and took aim at Ana. “Let’s see how long you last with a bullet between your eyes.”
Benning raced to intercept. Gaining the agent’s attention, he slid into the bastard’s feet as Ericson turned the gun on him. The crowbar hit the floor. In his next breath, he hauled his boot up and kicked the weapon free from Ericson’s hand. The gun vanished into the corner of the room, out of sight. The SOB who’d taken his son slammed a fist into the side of his head. Pain exploded through the left side of his face, and he stumbled back. Before the white lights behind his eyes cleared, a feminine growl filled his ears.
Ana launched herself at Ericson from behind, locking her forearm around his throat and pulling the agent away from Benning with a hard thrust. Ericson’s hands went to her underarms a split second before he hauled her over his head and slammed her down onto her back. Her gasp of pain tunneled through the haze of both hits to his face, and Benning lunged for the crowbar. He swung as hard as he could, but Ana’s former partner shot back on his heels and dodged the swipe and landed another shot to Benning’s kidneys. He dropped to one knee as the pain shot through his side and down one leg, but Ana refused to go down.
Midnight Abduction Page 17
