“Paradise County Computer Crimes Commission. Bentley, here.”
It took Bentley less than five minutes to call me back after I’d described what we were after. He confirmed that the stuffed animals did, indeed, have a radio frequency identification chip. But they weren’t the active kind that gave off faint signals every few seconds. They were passive and had to be activated by an incoming radio frequency which had a maximum range of thirty feet. However, the mobile app that integrated the toy might be able to help us do that. Since that type of toy was currently a huge trend, it was likely that many parents had the app installed on their cell phone so their child could play the online game. That app used the cell phone’s antenna to broadcast a signal regularly and kept a record of the GPS location where the phone had received answers from any nearby toy chips. The “Find my toy” function could use all those installed apps to search for any that had had contact with Samantha’s cow.
But we would need her toy’s ID number.
Could it be that simple? I whipped out my personal cell phone and scrolled through the apps to find the right one. “Okay, I’ve got the app open. How do I find the ID number of her toy, Bentley?”
“Well, it’s probably in the app settings. But if she used your phone to connect her toy, then you just have to activate the Find My Toy feature. Look in the main menu.”
It was right there, where he said it would be. I ended the call with him and tapped the button, and the screen changed to a whirling icon with the words “Please wait.” This had to work. It had to.
Each second was an eternity. But in less than a minute, the app opened a map program and placed a star on the screen. It was just south of Baraboo, in Devil’s Lake State Park. I gasped. I was just there. Did I pass his car in the parking lot with Georgi? Was my own phone the one that had received a signal from her toy cow as I walked by? No. Samantha was being taken at that time. Here in Illinois.
“I’ve ridden my horse over the park’s terrain many times. Isolated, with thick, matted pines growing every which way, it would provide the ideal cover, even in the dead of winter. It makes all the sense in the world. There are a few hunting cabins just outside the park boundaries. Including my own. That’s it. Sam is bait to get me, so I would have to know where to find her for his plan to work!”
Including my own cabin. A fiery brand stamped those words across my heart. Was that beast holding Samantha captive in my own home? Black rage shook through my veins, pounded through my temples, burned through my body. Find. Sam. Now.
We agreed to a hasty plan as Mitch contacted the canine teams and redeployed them to Wisconsin via State Trooper small aircraft. Gino ordered one of his secure transport trucks to meet us there. Stone jabbed numbers into his phone and a second later he barked orders for a helicopter.
We were going to make it. I could feel it. An electric buzz seemed to emanate from my inner being as we raced out the station doors. The bright moonlight was a shock, as was the unexpected blast of warm, moist air. With the odd weather we’d been having, the thick layers I’d piled on under my Kevlar vest could become a problem. But personal comfort was a luxury I didn’t have at the moment. Would we find her in time? We had to. Desperation fueled my need for speed as Mitch and I jumped into my squad car and squealed out behind Gino and Nick in Nick’s FBI SUV to follow them to the nearest helipad. Screw my fear of flying. We are going to get my baby back.
We crouched in the woods near my cabin, my lower abdomen pressed up against the unyielding leather of my gun belt, a small roll of fat leaking out of the bottom of the Kevlar vest encircling my upper body. It might not have been a bad idea to up my fifty-crunches-a-day regime now that I was staring down the double barrel of forty. Or maybe just start doing them. The polyester fibers of the uniform I had donned melted into the cover of the Kevlar vest, and I didn’t care what the care tag read; polyester did not breathe well. We’d been wearing this gear longer than I wanted, but it fueled my anger and gave me a sense of power.
Nick’s nudge snapped me back to full attention. Stone was on my left, and Nick and Gino squatted on my right. Each clasped an AR-15 aloft and in ready position. I held my trusty service pistol in my right hand.
A SWAT team crouched behind us, ready to storm the building. All in all, power was on our side. Firepower, manpower, enough power to take out this evil monster. The breaching team slipped into place, shouldering their battering ram as if it weighed no more than a fringed rug. The lead man gave me a thumbs-up and waited for my signal to charge. Thanks to Nick, the Feds had given up trying to wrestle command away from me for the take down. This was personal. My girl. My cabin. My case. Mine to win, lose, or die trying.
There were no windows in the heavy wooden door of the cabin. We probably hadn’t given ourselves away. The terrible pressure of knowing every second was life or death for my little girl bore down hard on me. And she would be my little girl; she was my little girl. Pending divorce or no, the paperwork would start tomorrow. The adoption was a done deal in my heart. I lifted my head, gave the nod to the breaching team, and unleashed hell on the demon inside.
Everything happened at once, like a well-choreographed dance. The moves went down exactly as we’d planned on the flight over. The door gave way after one swing. I was the first one into the room, with Stone and Nick and Gino on my six and dozens of cops and agents waiting outside. The entire operation unfolded in a smooth, free flow of room-clearing tactics. Men peeled off in all directions, securing the small dwelling in seconds. We located the perp in the back of the living room, up against the wall, bent over a toolbox of metal tools. A little heap rested on a dirty mat on the floor, at a ninety-degree angle from the killer. Please let her still be alive.
My team and every rifle bore down on Terry. I kept my pistol trained on him in a two handed stance, glancing up from the tiny figure on the mat on the floor next to Terry.
Nick ordered Terry to put his hands on his head and stand up. When the perp turned around, a strong, terrifying evil swirled around me as his eyes locked onto mine. I might’ve been okay if he hadn’t done the two things at once. He smiled. He smiled and then he lunged for my girl. Samantha screamed and her terror echoed through my heart, spurring me forward. The moment he bent his knee and sloped toward my Samantha lying helpless on the mat before him, I squeezed the trigger. Twice, in rapid succession.
The first shot was low, hitting him in the knee. He crumpled toward the concrete, mercifully falling away from my girl. The second shot caught him in the shoulder. I looked over at Samantha. Safe. Still in the classic two-handed shooter stance, I stood directly over the killer, writhing in agony before me. Then I pulled back my right leg and kicked him in the ribs with my steel toed boots.
Satisfied, I stepped over to Samantha. Her little chest moved with ragged breaths. Paramedics were ushered in and surrounded her. I stepped away from her to give them enough room. I looked down upon her shuddering frame and thanked the God I did not understand for keeping her alive.
And then I lifted my head.
From somewhere deep inside, I emitted the growl of a she-wolf.
I trained my gun on the evil man on the ground. His eyes were black orbs. He didn’t talk, but he smirked. I inched forward, finger hovering over the trigger, wanting nothing more than to pump him full of lead until he stopped smirking, but Nick gripped my shoulder to stop me. Gino flipped The Nomad over on his stomach and secured him in a prototype restraint he was beta testing.
I holstered my pistol, and sank to my knees at Samantha’s side. The medics opened their circle for me. Samantha’s fearful eyes locked on mine, and she whimpered as she reached for me.
I took her shaking hand and looked into her eyes. “It’s all right, sweetheart. You’re safe now. I’m here.” I kissed her head gently and smoothed her hair. “We’re all here for you, Sam. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
She clutched my hand to her chest and started to cry. The paramedics had started an IV and, as a sedative took effect, her
body relaxed into me, her grip loosening. I held her hand until the sedation pulled her under, and reluctantly allowed the medics to prep her to leave.
I rose and turned around. The Nomad had been removed to one of Gino’s custom criminal transportation trucks. Gino, also gone, might even be the one driving The Nomad to the hospital before heading back to my police station. Stone and Nick exchanged glances of relief. I’d be in trouble for kicking Nomad when he was already down. Possibly big trouble, given the size of the audience. But it was totally worth it. We had done our jobs and gotten it right.
While exploring the killer’s lair, my violated cabin that had once been a refuge, we made a sad discovery in a duffle bag—trophies from Terry’s victims. Compassion and sorrow shot through me at the sight of a locket, an earring, and other treasured items of women whose lives ended way too soon. I was grateful: the evidence techs would have a field day with the bag and its contents. My heart was with Samantha though. Maybe I should be with her when she woke up.
Nick tapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
He took my field notebook, closed it, and pointed a gloved finger toward the door. I followed him out and let him lead me to the car. Exhaustion seeped out of every pore. He hugged me with tenderness. My arms folded around him, and the warmth of his body renewed my energy. He kissed me on the forehead and gently tucked me into the seat.
“She’s going to be okay Josie. And so are we.” He went to the driver’s side of the car and got in. He sat there, taking me in with those intelligent eyes.
He pulled off his gloves, reached out his hands for mine and waited. I pulled mine off and closed my eyes, peeling away the horrors we’d just seen. I opened my eyes, reached out to him, and took his hand in mine. “I know Nick. I feel it too. And all I can tell you is: not yet. I’m married. For now.”
I closed my eyes and gave my head a shake.
My jeans were encrusted with mud and filth; my gloves were smudged with who knows what, and I’d touched things and people I’d rather not think about.
Nick had pulled strings again, and Sam had been flown by our FBI helicopter from the tiny community hospital in Baraboo to the best hospital in northern Illinois. Nick drove us southward at about a thousand miles an hour while Mitch stood guard over Sam and texted us updates. When we finally arrived at the trauma center in Libertyville, we were ushered straight to the emergency room. I grabbed Nick’s hand and pulled him near me.
“Nick, I’m scared to death to see her. What if she blames me?” My voice broke. “What if she’d... what if…” Shudders worked their way up from my gut, and my shoulder blades trembled.
Nick pulled me into him. “Josie, no, no, no. You saved her life. She knows that. You saved her life. You love her. She loves you, and she needs you. Now, go to her.”
He gave me a gentle push in the direction of her room. Nick veered off to the nurse’s station to get an update on Sam’s condition while I made a beeline to her bedside, giving Mitch a quick hug on my way past her. Sam’s small frame was sheathed in blankets, and a bandage covered her right cheek. She slept peacefully. The softly beeping monitors around her indicated her tiny body was stable. I’d tried so hard to give her what she needed most—a loving mother figure—and I’d nearly gotten her killed.
I placed a trembling hand on her head. Her eyes remained closed. Her breathing didn’t change. Please, God. Please take care of my little Samantha. Please heal her. I didn’t know what to say, how to pray. I willed her to get better, to forgive me. What kind of mother could I possibly be to her? I kissed her on the forehead and smoothed back her hair.
Nick grasped my shoulder and came in close enough to whisper while looking down at Sam. “It’s all good, Josie. It’s all good.”
He punctuated the news with a quick shoulder squeeze.
I pulled away with a start. “What did they tell you?”
“She’s exhausted, dehydrated, she’s badly bruised, and she suffered a sprained wrist. While the SOB did rough her up pretty badly, he didn’t… he didn’t…” Nick turned his face away and gulped in air.
I turned and put my arms around him. “It’s all good, Nick. It’s all good.” I rested my chin on his shoulder as I held him. “My little girl is going to be just fine. And so are we. More than fine.”
I stepped away from him and turned to look at Samantha, my little miracle girl, still clutching the cow.
She would triumph over all that had been done to her. She had to. And we’d all be there for her as she faced whatever trauma the demon had inflicted on her spirit. My face relaxed, and I tipped my head up in silent thanks to a God I barely knew. I leaned down to brush Sam’s bangs up and gently kissed her forehead again.
A small man wearing a large PCFS badge pushed the curtain aside. The man’s eyes met mine, and we smiled at each other.
“Hey, William.”
Samantha’s Paradise County Family Services social worker shook my hand in his grizzly-like grip. He had a ferocious demeanor, but his heart beat for his kids. We stood over her bed, side by side. He linked his arm in mine. “You know I’ll watch over her, and I’ll call you the moment she starts to wake up. She won’t even know you’re gone.”
My eyes moistened. Steel rods bolting my feet to the floor loosened just a fraction. I wanted to be at the station, to make sure my face would be etched in The Nomad’s memory while he rotted away until his last day on earth. But how could I leave my baby? My heart sputtered. I gasped for breath.
William put his arm around my shoulders. “I got this, Chief.”
I nodded, wiping a tear away. “Take good care of her, William. Mitch will stay here too, to keep me in the loop.”
“Go take care of business, Chief.” His voice was raspy, and the look in his eyes was fierce.
Samantha would be in good hands in my absence. I left the hospital, walking beside Nick with a much lighter heart and an iron resolve. “Let’s get to the station. Pronto.”
I zipped up my coat as we left the hospital. The wind had shifted out of the north, and the temperature had dropped.
Nick kept his hands in his pockets. “Babe, at least go home and catch a quick nap. I know you want to be there to tie up loose ends, but you need to take a shower and a half-hour nap.”
He ended his mini-lecture with a yawn.
A shower and a nap might just be the ticket to calming my nerves and steeling myself for the work ahead. The dark streets streamed by as he drove.
“Guys like him could be out there by the dozen, Nick. How do you live, knowing that? What keeps you so, so, I don’t know, so you?”
He smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You, babe—you.” He dropped me off at home, and I caught an hour’s nap before showering, changing, and returning to my police station. Nick was already there.
Later on that morning, I tried to review crime-scene photos, but it was too much. I had to leave the folder behind and run to the bathroom in a hurry. I kept seeing myself, or worse yet, Samantha, in place of Terry’s other victims. The brutality was unimaginable—a depth of wickedness I couldn’t fathom.
Evil had entered my territory, and there’d been nothing I could do to prevent it. I was doing my best to be present in the aftermath, taking back control of my station, my village, my world, and standing up for my officers in the midst of the horror. It was the hardest work I’d ever done.
“Josie, you’re gonna want to be in on this.” Nick’s eyes narrowed as they met mine when I left the bathroom. I followed the slight nod of his head toward the interview room. He’s in there. The cold metal doorknob awoke the cop in me.
Cal Terry, a.k.a. The Nomad, looked up and tried to rise from his chair, but as soon as he moved, two guards emerged from the shadows and pushed him back into his seat. His hands were cuffed at the wrist, and he was chained to the floor by an ankle cuff. A receding hairline littered with wisps of what may have once been blondish hair rendered him unassuming. Where was the gravitational pull toward him coming from? He wa
s like a vortex of evil.
His head was bandaged, and one cornflower-blue eye was swollen nearly shut. The arm attached to the shoulder I had shot was in a sling. The knee I had shot was wrapped in a mess of compression bandages. I sat down at the table next to Nick.
Terry stared past me as he spoke. “In the South, we rise for women, ma’am. Especially beautiful women.”
“So, Nomad, why don’t we pick up where we left off?” Nick snapped his notebook open and shut a few times, to get the perp’s attention, but Terry seemed to have set sail for his own world. Was he on painkillers for the gunshot wounds? Or was he out of his mind in pain? His eyes hadn’t left the wall over my shoulder.
I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair. Why hadn’t he asked for a lawyer yet? “What, you think this is a bad first date? Why don’t you tell me all about yourself? Let’s start with the lady in blue. And don’t leave anything out.”
“I already told your associates my story, ma’am. And I think you know. You were there. You came to me, after all. I knew you would. He said you would.” His voice was high and soft, and he whispered half of what he said as though he wasn’t sure if it should be said. “But I’ll tell you again, if you like. Fact is, I’ll tell you anything you want.”
His Adam’s apple moved up and down as he spoke. His slight southern accent added a sense of menace to his words.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning? With the shower.” Nick’s voice was impatient.
Terry’s face turned bright red, and his arms developed a tremor. A strong odor wafted our way. Was it fear, or death? Nick and I exchanged glances.
I nodded at the perp. “Please. Tell me your story, Mr. Terry.”
He jerked his head, tearing his eyes away from the wall and staring straight down at the table in front of him.
“It happened in the shower,” he said.
“What happened?”
“He told me. He told me everything.”
Cleansed by Death Page 14
