Say You're Sorry

by Karen Rose

  Gideon saw Tom Hunter walking to his SUV and realized the three of them had been talking. “What were you talking to Hunter about?”

  “Comparing notes,” Rafe replied. “Seems like SacPD knows stuff and the FBI knows different stuff. They may be sharing info up at Molina’s level, but a lot isn’t trickling down.”

  “Like?” Daisy asked.

  “The FBI knows the victims’ names. Both FBI and SacPD know where Carson works, but SacPD knows who he works with. SacPD surrounded the office where his father operates a charter airline. Erin and I went straight there when we got in from Portland. We got the flight manifests and employee records. Carson’s main copilot is Hank Bain.”

  “Is he a suspect?” Gideon asked.

  Rafe shrugged. “It’s possible. All the abductions happened when they shared a shift. We searched his house and questioned him, but he swears he knew nothing of Carson Garvey’s actions. According to Bain, they weren’t friends and didn’t hang out together. He didn’t object when we did the search and we found nothing indicating he’d brought any victims to his home. Nothing like what was found at Carson’s house.”

  Daisy frowned. “How does he explain the fact that Garvey transported victims—live women—on their flights?”

  “He says that Garvey had a cooler in the plane, that he took it home after every flight to clean it. Claimed Garvey said he hunted and would bring home a quartered deer or elk.”

  “And he never looked in the cooler?” Frederick asked, incredulous.

  Rafe shrugged. “He says he’s a vegetarian, that red meat makes him sick. And that had he known there were live victims in the cooler, he would have looked. He said that they went their separate ways between legs. He had an alibi for the time that Zandra was taken from the bar. He was having sex with the airport shuttle driver. She confirmed it. He gave us a list of women to call, in fact. He’s got a woman in every port. Apparently, this got him into trouble with Mrs. Bain. He was in New York City on Sunday night when one of his women called the very pregnant Mrs. Bain, tearfully told her the truth, and Mrs. Bain left him and took the other kids with her. He was on his way to getting very drunk when we got there, but finding out his copilot was a serial killer sobered him up fast.”

  “Did he know about Sydney?” Daisy asked.

  “He said she’d come by the office from time to time. She’d call Carson ‘Sonny,’ which he hated, and she’d be all touchy-feely with him—but only when her husband wasn’t in the office. When she’d leave, Carson was, and I quote, ‘more of an asshole bastard than all the other times.’ Bain figured something was going on between them, but he figured Carson didn’t say anything about Bain’s dalliances, so he wouldn’t say anything, either. He didn’t seem to know how long it had been going on.”

  Frederick’s brows knit. “What does Bain look like?”

  “Six four, blond hair—all his, Erin checked—and no scratches on his chest.”

  “So not the man who attacked Daisy in the alley,” Frederick said. “Is it possible that he’s a silent partner?”

  Rafe shrugged again. “Anything is possible, but he was eager to distance himself from Carson. Bain showed us his bank account. Let us search every room, even those not covered on the warrant. He had a shed out back and we searched that, too. Everything looked normal. It’s possible he’s hiding something. But he seemed cooperative.”

  Gideon’s heart sank. “So Garvey won’t be hiding Mercy in Bain’s house.”

  Rafe shook his head. “We’ve had cops all over his place, Gid. Erin stayed to watch Bain to make sure he isn’t either a target or an accomplice, but right now? Mercy isn’t there.” He started the engine. “Let’s go home.”

  PLACERVILLE, CALIFORNIA

  TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 2:45 A.M.

  He brought the stolen van to a stop, then exhaled slowly. No one had followed him from the city and this property was accessed by a private road, so he wouldn’t be noticed by any passersby.

  “Where are we?”

  He turned to see Gideon Reynolds’s sister calmly sitting in the passenger seat, her bound hands resting in her lap.

  “You’re back,” he said.

  She just watched him with level regard. It was almost as creepy as the empty-eye thing she’d had going on before. It set him on edge and he didn’t like that.

  “Why did you go all blank at the hospital?” he asked.

  “Defense mechanism. It’s how I cope with stress.” She didn’t blink. Didn’t look the least bit terrified. “I guess we all know how you cope with stress.”

  He wasn’t sure if he’d been complimented or insulted. “This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to sit here. If you try to run or scream or do anything to get in my way, I will shoot you in the head and toss your body where no one will ever find it.”

  She swallowed, the only indication that she was affected at all.

  “Are we clear, Mercy?” he asked.

  She nodded once.

  “Good.” Shaking his head, he got out of the van and inspected the old road that ran along the rear of the property, which had been in Sydney’s family for generations. They’d never built on it. It was a little too far out from both Sacramento and Lake Tahoe to be convenient to either. That was what Sydney had told him, anyway.

  It was every boy’s dream—there were three abandoned gold mine shafts on the land. He’d explored them all, which in hindsight had been very stupid. Mine shafts were no place for children. It was also a good place to look at the stars, far enough away from the city that there was not so much light interference.

  Sydney used to bring him here when he was young. She’d been in her early twenties then, the trophy wife his old man had brought home to replace his mother. He hadn’t liked her at first, but she’d won him over with treats and fun outings. Like here.

  He’d explore the mines and, when the sun went down, he’d set up his telescope and look at the stars and map them. He’d wanted to fly in space back then. But then Sydney had shown him what she expected. The first time had been right here.

  He’d been twelve. When he’d gotten home that night, he put the telescope in the closet and never used it again. He had no idea where it was now.

  He shook off the memory. Enough of that. He’d taken this place back long ago, using it for his own purposes. To his knowledge, Sydney hadn’t been here in years.

  Too bad I didn’t have more time. She could have made a final visit.

  He walked the length of the old road where Sydney had first ruined him, hearing her voice. I’ll make you feel good. Our secret. Nobody else will make you feel like I do.

  And it was true. Nobody could. She’d trained him well.

  And now she was finally dead.

  I can finally breathe.

  Although taking too deep a breath here wasn’t advisable. Eileen Danton was still on the fresh side. She’d been dumped down the shaft two months ago. Her body was still decomposing. The door that closed off the mine was heavy, but no door was that heavy.

  He’d always fantasized about killing Sydney, then dumping her here. Now her body was burning to ash, which didn’t seem quite fair.

  The road was still usable. It had a few potholes, but nothing too bad. He’d landed on worse before. Hank Bain was a decent pilot. He’d be able to land a plane here with no problem. Hank would need to be convinced to deliver it, but he had that covered, too.

  Unfortunately, he’ll be joining Eileen and the others, but I’ll make it quick.

  He’d brought the relevant photos on his phone. Hank with Sweetie, the shuttle driver in Dallas. Hank with Debbie, the owner of the coffee shop in Tulsa. Hank with Laura, the baggage porter in Minneapolis. He tilted his head. That was actually a very interesting pose. He’d never realized Hank was so flexible.

  He’d taken the pictures over the years, just in case Hank got curiou
s and looked in the cooler at the wrong time.

  He brought up Hank’s number and hit CALL.

  GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

  TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 3:05 A.M.

  Rafe pulled his Subaru into the Sokolovs’ driveway and Daisy was releasing Gideon’s seat belt, because he couldn’t reach it with his arm in a sling, when Rafe’s cell phone rang.

  Rafe glanced over his shoulder, frowning. “It’s Erin. Wait a minute.”

  So she, Gideon, and her father sat in tense silence as they listened to Rafe’s side of the conversation. Frederick was looking kind of gray and Daisy had been worrying about him when she wasn’t worrying about Gideon. Or Mercy. Her father felt guilty for his role in Mercy’s abduction, although Gideon didn’t seem to be blaming him.

  At least there was that.

  “You’re kidding,” Rafe said. “When?” He listened for more than a minute, then looked at Gideon, his eyes going wider. “Okay. We’ll be there in less than ten.”

  He ended the call, put the car in reverse, and backed out of the driveway.

  “Well?” Gideon exploded when Rafe said nothing.

  “We were driving when I got this call,” Rafe answered, which made no sense at all. Then he put the blue flasher on his roof and took off down the street. “Because I know you’ll want Daisy with you and Frederick won’t let her go anywhere without him.”

  Gideon was shaking. “Dammit, Rafe, what’s happened? Did they find her?”

  “No,” Rafe said. “But Erin was sitting next to Bain at his kitchen table when he got a call from Carson. Carson’s demanding that Hank bring him one of their planes.”

  “To where?” Gideon demanded.

  “He wouldn’t tell him. Bain told him that he was crazy, that there was no way he’d be able to get a plane out of the hangar with the police swarming the place. And that even if he did, no airport would let him land. Carson told Bain not to worry, that he had leverage.”

  “Mercy,” Gideon breathed.

  “Why did he think Bain would help him?” Frederick asked.

  “Carson had photographic proof of Bain’s affairs. He’s threatening to tell his wife. But Bain’s wife already knows. He figures at this point he has nothing to lose. And maybe by helping to catch this guy, he’ll be a hero and Mrs. Bain will forgive him.”

  Daisy rolled her eyes. “I wonder if he’s naive or just optimistic.”

  “I don’t know,” Rafe said. “Bain asked Carson if he’d actually killed the women he’s being accused of. Carson told him no, that he was being framed, falsely accused. That if Bain didn’t believe him, he’d send the pictures to his wife right now and get help from elsewhere.”

  “Does Detective Rhee know about Mercy?” Frederick asked.

  Rafe nodded. “I called her before I got into the car.”

  “Has Erin reported this call to SacPD or the FBI?” Daisy asked, gripping Gideon’s right hand when he crossed it over his chest.

  “She called me first,” Rafe said. “She’s probably on the phone with our boss now.”

  Daisy looked up at the rearview, where Rafe was periodically glancing up to watch them. “You said you were already driving so that Gideon could be there and your excuse would be that you didn’t want to take the time to drop him off?”

  Rafe nodded. “Exactly.”

  Gideon’s eyes closed. “Thank you.”

  “I won’t regret it, will I?”

  Gideon shook his head. “No. I promise.”

  THIRTY

  FOLSOM, CALIFORNIA

  TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 3:13 A.M.

  Seven minutes later they pulled into the driveway of a nice home in Folsom. Gideon’s heart was racing in his chest. Please. Please let us get to her in time. Please don’t let him hurt her. Please.

  He wasn’t sure Mercy would survive another assault. The four of them piled out of Rafe’s Subaru and hurried to Bain’s front door. Erin met them there with a scowl. “You brought them with you? What the actual fuck, Sokolov?”

  “Carson Garvey has abducted his sister,” Rafe said quietly.

  Erin’s face fell. “I know that. You told me. But, Rafe, Gideon shouldn’t be here. You know this.”

  Yes, I should be here. If anyone’s making plans that involve my sister, hell yes I should be here. Erin Rhee could not make him leave.

  She just couldn’t.

  He took a step closer. “Erin, please.” He’d get on his knees and beg if he had to. “You saw what he’ll do. Please.”

  Erin’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I know, Gideon. But—”

  “I didn’t save her the first time,” Gideon blurted out. “Please, let me help her now.”

  Erin looked confused, but Rafe sighed. “What he didn’t tell you Thursday night was that his sister was also in the cult. Gideon didn’t escape as much as he was smuggled out by his mother because he’d been beaten nearly to death. His sister was also smuggled out by their mother four years later and Mercy . . . well, she was in bad shape. Gideon searched for that compound the entire time his sister and mother were still in there.”

  Erin’s eyes had widened, but she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Gideon, I really am. You have to wait outside. I’m not going to jeopardize this case because you got close to a witness and tried to force him to talk.”

  Gideon’s mouth opened to beg, but Rafe stayed him with a gentle hand. “Wait,” Rafe murmured. “Erin, I want to call in my marker.”

  Erin stared at him. “Seriously?”

  Rafe’s normally smiling face was uncharacteristically sober. “Yes. Seriously.”

  Gideon wanted to know what this marker entailed, but he was holding his breath, waiting for Erin’s agreement. She looked undecided, her gaze bouncing everywhere but them. Finally, she nodded and he could breathe again.

  “Okay,” she said, resigned. “Don’t blame me if this blows up in your face.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Just bring them in,” an irritated voice called from inside the house. “You’re letting the cold in and giving my neighbors their third show of the night.”

  Erin held the door open and the four of them filed in.

  A disheveled man sat at the kitchen table, staring dolefully at an empty bottle of beer. He looked up at them when they took seats around the table, his expression sad and weary as Erin introduced them.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing,” Bain said. “I’m sorry about your sister.”

  Gideon nodded. “I need to bring her home.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Bain promised. “Within reason. I don’t want to take him a plane. He told me to come alone and I’d like to see my kids grow up.”

  “He’s not getting a plane,” Erin said. “There’s no way anyone is letting him fly out, especially considering he has Mercy.”

  “Do you know where he’d go?” Gideon asked the man, hearing his own desperation and not caring.

  Bain shook his head. “I already told the detectives—Carson and I weren’t friends. We didn’t confide things. The only personal things I know about him is that he’s the boss’s son, he was banging the boss’s wife, he was expecting to get the company when the old man retired, he loved his roses, and he really got off on listening to Barry Manilow. When he’d get stressed, he’d sometimes listen to the guy’s music on his phone.”

  That fit at least. Gideon remembered Molina telling him that one of his victims was a woman who’d just been to a Barry Manilow concert. The friend she’d gone with said that a man had approached after the concert, angry that she’d stood up and danced. They’d argued and the women laughed it off. Then the friend was never seen again.

  He’d also provoked arguments with both Trish and Eileen. He chooses women who’ve angered him. Even if he has to provoke them into making him angry.

  Daisy had propped her elbows on the table, her f
orehead furrowing. “What if you could put him off? Tell him that you can’t get him a plane now, but you will when the cops leave the airport. Until then, maybe offer him a car. One that he hasn’t had to steal, so the police won’t be looking for it.”

  “And a place to stay until the heat dies down,” Frederick added. “Then you’ll bring him a plane in a day or two.”

  “But we’ll provide the car,” Rafe said, nodding his approval.

  Gideon shook his head. “He’ll kill her when he sees you.”

  Rafe looked at Erin. “Not if I can make myself look like Mr. Bain long enough for you to come up from behind and get the shot.”

  “We need to have backup in place,” Erin said with a frown. “Confronting him alone is suicide.”

  No! Gideon wanted to scream. No cops. He’ll kill her. But he forced himself to think about it more rationally. Like a professional. “I’d trust a trained SWAT team,” he said. “But not a group of local cops or even FBI agents who are untrained in hostage situations.”

  Erin nodded. “All right. So what car do we offer if he accepts Mr. Bain’s counterproposal? Mr. Bain’s? No,” she answered her own question. “Seeing as how they work together, he might worry that the police would connect the car to him.”

  “He’s been to my house,” Rafe said. “So he may have seen mine. It’ll need to be yours.”

  “Okay,” Erin said. “And the place? It needs to be a real place, a real address so he can check it online if he decides to.”

  “I’ve got a cabin in Lake Tahoe,” Frederick offered.

  Daisy blinked at him. “You do? Since when?”

  “Since you moved to Sacramento and I finally sold the ranch,” he answered. “Needed an investment. Can I use your paper and pen, Detective?” Erin slid them to him and he jotted the address and the name “Cadajulor, Inc.” “I bought it under the corporate name I used when I bought the ranch.” He shrugged. “I don’t like to be found. Old habits die hard.”

  Cadajulor, Gideon thought. For Carrie, Daisy, Julie, and Taylor. The man loved his daughters. The pang of sympathy that Gideon felt for Frederick and his rocky relationships with his daughters gave him respite from the overwhelming, oppressive fear that was pressing on his chest. For just a minute, but the respite was welcome.