8 Scream for Me

by Karen Rose

  “You sonofabitch,” Mansfield muttered. “You had to come back. Had to stir everything up. At least Simon had the good sense to stay gone.”

  Alex fumbled for the gun at her back, mentally chanting the instructions Daniel had drilled into her head. She released the safety just as Mansfield pointed his gun at Daniel’s head. Mansfield whirled around at the sound, and stunned, he stared at the gun in her hand for a split second before lifting his eyes and his gun in the same motion. Without thinking she kept squeezing the trigger until, eyes wide, he fell to his knees, then onto his face. Now his white shirt was rapidly growing red.

  She kicked the gun from Mansfield’s hand and took Daniel’s gun from his back and put them on the floor next to Daniel’s head before pushing her own gun behind her waistband beneath her jacket. Then she knelt next to Daniel and pulled his shirt away from his chest, her hands briefly trembling when she saw how badly he was hurt.

  “I told you . . . to run,” he whispered. “Dammit . . . run.” The rise and fall of his chest was growing shallower and she could hear his breath sucking in and out of the wound.

  “You’ve already lost a lot of blood and probably punctured your lung. Where are the keys to your handcuffs?”

  “Pocket.”

  She found his keys and his cell phone and forced her hands to still as she found the key to the cuffs, freeing him. She shoved the chair away and gently rolled him to his side, pushing a lock of hair from his forehead, already beaded with sweat.

  “That was stupid,” she said hoarsely. “He would have killed you.”

  His eyes slid closed. He was fading fast. She needed to seal his wound and she needed to get him out of here. There was no way she could drag him to the car on her own. She needed help.

  She tried his cell phone, but there was no reception. Her heart racing, she looked around the room. It was a bare office, with only an old metal desk.

  She yanked open the desk drawers until she found office supplies. “Scissors and tape.” She breathed a sigh of relief. It was heavy packing tape and would do. She grabbed it and ran back to Daniel, this time not bothering to step over Mansfield. She walked across his leg, dropping to her knees. “I’m going to seal this wound. Hold still.”

  From her pocket she pulled the gloves he’d spilled over the floor of his car earlier, then stretched one of the gloves tight and quickly performed a three-sided seal over the hole in his chest. “I have to turn you. It’s going to hurt. I’m sorry.” As gently as she could she turned him to his side, cut his shirt away from his back and blew out a sigh of relief. It was a through-and-through. No bullets still rattling around in his body. Quickly she repeated the procedure. In a few seconds the sucking grew quieter and her pulse started evening out along with his.

  “Alex.”

  “Stop talking,” she said. “Save your breath.”

  “Alex.”

  “He’s trying to tell you to look at me.”

  Spinning on her knees, Alex’s gaze flew to the doorway. And then she knew.

  “Number seven,” she said quietly, and Toby Granville smiled. Blood trickled down his face from what across the room appeared to be a blunt trauma to his temple. In his hand he held a small revolver. In his eyes she saw the shadow of pain. She hoped he hurt a whole lot.

  “I was actually number one. I just let Simon think he was because he was an unbalanced scary bastard.” He looked at Mansfield with contempt. “And you were a fuck-up,” he muttered before turning his attention back to Alex. “Slide Mansfield’s gun over here, then Vartanian’s.”

  She did as she was told, biding her time.

  “Wasn’t . . . on the list,” Daniel whispered. “Too old. My age.”

  “No, I was Simon’s age,” Granville said. “I skipped a few grades and graduated from Bryson before he got kicked out. We used to joke about having a club, Simon and I, as far back as junior high. Everyone always thought it was his idea, because he was an unbalanced scary bastard. But it was mine. Simon was mine. He did what I said and thought it was his plan all along. Jared could have been mine, too, but he drank too much. None of the others had the nerve.” His movements ginger, Granville bent to pick up the two guns Alex had slid across the floor.

  The moment he dropped his eyes, she pulled her gun from her back and fired, hitting the wall the first time. Plaster flew even as her second bullet found its mark, as did her third, fourth, and fifth. Granville crumpled, but he still breathed and gripped his revolver.

  “Drop your gun,” she said. “Or I’ll kill you.”

  “You won’t,” he said. “You don’t . . . have it in you. Murder . . . in cold blood.”

  “That’s what Mansfield thought,” Alex said coldly. She lifted the gun. “Drop your gun or I’ll shoot.”

  “Walk me out the door . . . and I’ll drop the gun.”

  Alex gave him a look of incredulity. “You’re insane. I’m not helping you.”

  “Then you’ll never know . . . where I put Bailey.”

  Her chin came up and her eyes narrowed. “Where is she?”

  “Get me out . . . and I tell you.”

  “He . . . probably has . . . a boat,” Daniel said, grimacing. “Don’t.”

  “Bailey,” Granville taunted.

  Behind her Daniel’s breathing was labored. She needed to get him to a hospital.

  “I don’t have time for this.” Alex aimed for Granville’s heart, but hesitated. Granville was right. Killing a man in self-defense was one thing, but killing a wounded man in cold blood . . . Shooting him, though, she could handle.

  Aiming, Alex squeezed the trigger and Granville screamed. Blood now gushed from his wrist, but his hand was open and the gun was on the floor. Alex put it in her pocket and knelt next to Daniel, searching for his handcuffs with one hand and feeling for his pulse with the other. It was weak. Terrifyingly so.

  His color was still bad and he still struggled for each breath, but the spread of blood had stopped, at least. “I have to get help for you and I don’t trust him not to hurt you while I’m gone. But I can’t kill him. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Might need him later. Cuff him . . . behind his back.” Daniel grabbed her jacket with one bloody hand when she started to get up. “Alex.”

  “Hush. If I don’t get you to a hospital, you’ll die.” But he didn’t let go.

  “Alex,” he whispered and she leaned close. “Love you . . . when you’re ruthless.”

  Her throat closed and she pressed a kiss to his forehead, then straightened, her expression stern. “Love you,” she whispered back, “when you’re not a dead hero. Stop talking, Daniel.”

  She went back to cuff Granville. It was harder than it looked and she was breathing hard and covered in his blood when she turned him on his back. “I hope you rot in prison for a long time.”

  “You think you know . . . everything.” He dragged in a breath. “You know nothing. There are . . . others.”

  Her head came up and she grabbed her gun. “Others where?” she asked, alarmed.

  Granville’s eyes had gone unfocused. He’d lost a lot of blood. “Simon was mine,” he muttered. “But I was another’s.” Then, dazed, he looked up, his eyes flaring wide in fear.

  She started to look over her shoulder but stopped when she felt cold steel shoved against her temple.

  “Thank you, Miss Fallon,” a voice whispered in her ear. “I’ll take that gun.” He squeezed her wrist until her fingers opened and the gun dropped to the concrete floor. “Things wrapped themselves up well. Davis is arrested, Mansfield is dead and . . .” He fired and her stomach wrenched as Granville’s head exploded all over the floor. “Now, so is Granville. The seven are now none.”

  “Who are you?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

  “You already know,” he said quietly, and she knew she’d never known true fear until that moment. He forced her to her feet. “Now you’ll come with me.”

  “No.” She struggled and he dug his gun back into her h
ead. “I just need to get help for Daniel. I won’t tell them you’re here. You can go. I won’t stop you.”

  “No, you won’t. Nobody will stop me. But I won’t let you go. I have plans for you.”

  The way he said it made her knees buckle. “Why? I never even knew you like Gemma or the others.”

  “No, you didn’t. But you’ll die, just the same.”

  The sob was building again, but this time it was mixed with terror. “Why?”

  “Because of your face. It all started with Alicia. It’ll end with you.”

  Alex went cold and still. “You’d kill me for a grand finale?”

  He chuckled. “That and to make Vartanian suffer.”

  “Why? He never hurt you.”

  “But Simon did. I can’t hurt Simon, so Daniel will have take to take his punishment.”

  “Like you were punished for what Jared did,” she murmured.

  “I see you understand. It’s only fair.”

  “But killing me isn’t fair,” she said, trying to stay calm. “I never hurt anyone.”

  “That’s true. But meaningless at this point. You’ll die, like the others, and you’ll scream, loud and long.” He pulled her backward and she fought wildly.

  “We called for backup,” she sputtered. “You can’t get away.”

  “Yes we can. I hope you don’t get too sick in a boat.”

  The river. He was going to take her away by the river. “No. I won’t go like a lamb to slaughter. If you want me, you’re going to have to drag me by my hair.” He was going to kill Daniel. But when he did he’d have to move the gun from her temple. It would be the only chance she had. The second she felt the pressure against her temple decrease, she twisted, trying to claw his face. Abruptly he loosened his grip and for a moment she was too surprised to do anything.

  Then she blinked as a final shot rang out. She had only a moment to look up into the face of . . . the paperboy . . . before he dropped. Stunned, she watched as he went down, focusing on the neat hole in his forehead.

  “This is the paperboy.” She shuddered when she realized how closely O’Brien had been watching her, then looked up and sucked in a silent scream. A man with a dirty, bloody face stood holding O’Brien’s gun in his hand. He was weaving on his feet.

  Alex peered closer. “Reverend Beardsley?”

  He nodded grimly. “Yeah.” He leaned up against the door and slid to the floor, carefully placing O’Brien’s gun on the floor beside him.

  She looked at the hole in O’Brien’s forehead, then back at Beardsley. “You shot him? How could you shoot him? You were . . . behind him.” She spun around to see Daniel slowly lower his head to the floor. In his hand he held his backup revolver.

  “You shot him?” Daniel nodded once and said nothing. Alex stuck her head out the doorway and looked both ways. “Anybody else here with guns?”

  “Don’t think so,” Beardsley said, and grabbed her leg. “Bailey?”

  “Granville said she was still alive.”

  “She was alive an hour ago,” Beardsley said.

  “I’ll find out. I have to get help now.”

  Clutching Daniel’s cell phone in her hand, Alex ran until she saw light streaming in through the small window in the outer door. She stopped for a moment, almost blinded by its brightness. Then she opened the door and walked out and dragged in the deepest breath she’d ever breathed.

  “Alex.” Luke came running. “She’s hit,” he yelled. “Get the medics.”

  She blinked as men came running with a gurney. “Not me,” she snapped. “Daniel’s been hit. He’s critical. He needs to be airlifted to a level one trauma center. I’ll show you where he is.” She ran, adrenaline fueling her muscles. “Bailey escaped.”

  “I know,” Luke replied as he ran beside her. Behind them the gurney squeaked. “I found her. She’s alive. In pretty bad shape, but she’s alive.”

  Alex knew the relief would hit her once Daniel was on the gurney. “Beardsley’s in here, too. He’s alive. He may be able to walk out on his own, but he’s bad, too.”

  They got to the room at the end of the hall and Luke stopped dead at the three bodies that littered the floor. “Holy Mother of God,” he breathed. “Did you do this?”

  A bubble of hysterical laugher tickled where minutes before a sob had burned. The medics were lifting Daniel to the gurney and she could breathe again. “Most of it. I killed Mansfield and wounded Granville, but O’Brien killed Granville.”

  Luke nodded. “Okay.” He nudged O’Brien with his shoe. “And this one?”

  “Beardsley took his gun and Daniel made the head shot.” A grin nearly broke her face in two. “I think we did good.”

  Luke grinned back. “I think you did good, too.”

  But Beardsley didn’t smile. He shook his head. “You were too late,” he said wearily.

  Alex and Luke instantly sobered. “What are you talking about?” Alex said.

  Beardsley pushed himself against the wall until he stood. “Come with me.”

  Throwing a backward glance at Daniel, Alex followed, Luke’s hand on her back.

  Beardsley pulled on the first door to their left. It was unlocked, but not empty. Alex stared in horror. And what she saw would be indelibly etched in her mind forever.

  A young girl lay on a thin cot, her arm chained to the wall. She was gaunt, her bones clearly visible. Her eyes were wide open and there was a small round hole in her forehead. She looked about fifteen.

  Alex rushed forward, dropping to her knees, pressing her fingers to a thin neck for a pulse. The girl was still warm. She looked up at Luke, overcome. “She’s dead. Maybe an hour ago.”

  “They’re all dead,” Beardsley said harshly. “Every one that was left behind.”

  “How many were there?” Luke asked, his voice hard with fury.

  “I counted seven shots. Bailey . . .”

  “She’s alive,” Luke said. “And she got one girl out with her.”

  Beardsley’s shoulders sagged. “Thank God.”

  “What is this place?” Alex whispered.

  “Human trafficking,” Luke said succinctly, and Alex just stared at him, openmouthed.

  “You mean all these girls . . . ? But why kill them? Why?”

  “They didn’t have time to get them all out,” Beardsley said tonelessly. “They didn’t want the ones left behind to talk.”

  “Who’s responsible for this?” Alex hissed.

  “The man you called Granville.” Beardsley leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, and it was then that Alex noticed the dark stain on his shirt. It was spreading.

  “You got shot,” she said, reaching out to help him.

  He put out one hand. “Your cop is in worse shape.”

  “How many did they get out?” Luke asked, and on his face Alex saw the same feral rage that she’d seen the night at the target range.

  “Five or six,” Beardsley said. “They took them down to the river.”

  “I’ll notify the local police and the water patrol,” Luke said. “And the Coast Guard.”

  Behind them, Daniel was being wheeled out on the gurney.

  “Go with him,” Beardsley said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Another gurney entered the way they’d come. “These medics are here for you.” She took Beardsley’s hand. “Thank you. You saved my life.”

  He nodded, his eyes flat and cold. “You’re welcome. Tell Bailey I’ll visit her.”

  “I will.” Then Alex and Luke followed Daniel’s gurney out the door, looking at each door as they passed. Five more victims. She wanted to scream, but in the end she moved up to Daniel’s side, took his hand, and went out with him into the sunshine.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Atlanta, Friday, February 2, 5:45 p.m.

  Alex.” Meredith came to her feet as Alex rushed through the emergency room doors. “Oh my God, Alex.” She threw her arms around Alex and Alex held on tight.

  “It’s over,” she murmured. “They’r
e all dead.”

  Meredith pulled back, visibly shaking. “You’re hurt. Where are you hurt?”

  “It’s not my blood. It’s Daniel’s and Granville’s mostly. Did they bring Daniel in?”

  “The helicopter got here about twenty minutes ago.”

  Alex went to the nurses’ station, Meredith at her side. “I’m Alex Fallon. Can you—”

  “This way,” the nurse interrupted as a crowd of reporters surged around her. She led them back to a small waiting room. “Agent Chase Wharton told us you’d be coming. He wants to talk to you.”

  “I want to talk to Daniel Vartanian’s doctor,” Alex insisted. “Bailey Crighton’s, too.”

  “The doctor’s in with Mr. Vartanian now,” the nurse said kindly, then looked at Alex more closely. “You were here a few days ago, visiting the nun who died.”

  “I was.” Alex was pacing the small room, her nerves jangling.

  “You’re an ER nurse.” The nurse’s brows lifted. “Now it makes sense. That was one hell of a field job you did on Vartanian.”

  Alex stopped pacing and looked the woman in the eye. “Was it good enough?”

  The nurse nodded. “Looks that way.”

  Alex let out a sigh of relief. “Can I see Bailey?”

  “Come with me.”

  Alex held Meredith’s hand hard as they followed. “Where is Hope?”

  “With Agent Shannon and Riley, still at the safe house. We thought it best not to bring her to see Bailey until she’s cleaned up. Alex, I saw Bailey when they brought her in. She’s in really bad shape.”

  “But alive,” the nurse said. She gestured to the exam room. “Just a few minutes.”

  Despite the preparation, Alex winced when she saw Bailey. “Bailey, it’s me, Alex.”

  Bailey’s eyelids fluttered as she struggled to open her eyes.

  “It’s okay,” Alex soothed. “You need to rest. You’re safe. Hope’s safe.”

  Tears seeped from Bailey’s swollen eyes. “You came. You saved my baby.”

  Alex gently took her hand, noting the bruises and the nails broken well past the quick. “She’s a beautiful little girl. Meredith’s been taking care of her.”

  Bailey forced her eyes open, looking from Alex to Meredith. “Thank you.”