by Mark Stone
As sleep took (change to overtook) me in, I heard the sounds of sirens in the distance. The ambulance was almost here, and it wasn’t a moment too soon.
25
Once again, I woke up, sore and without a real idea of where I was or how I got there. The florescent lights overhead buzzed, a steady thing that gave me the feeling that I had been going on for hours as I lay unconscious in this bed. In addition, a steady beeping spoke to the fact that I was hooked up to a monitor.
I was back in the hospital. Of course, I was back in the hospital. I remembered it all now, the fire, the girl stuck in the fire who absolutely wasn’t Charlotte (regardless of how much she might have looked like her), and Jack Lacey.
Oh God. Jack Lacey. The last I had seen the man he was lying in front of me, as close to death’s door as I had ever seen anyone. My heart sped up, a feat that was well documented on the monitor as the beeps grew fast and unsteady. My fists balled together and a jolt of panic sent me flying upright, flashes of the former Coast Guard officer going through my head at a breakneck pace.
“Jack!” I yelled, finding my voice to be grainy and weak. My eyes flew open, and I saw Boomer in front of me, his arms grappling at my shoulders and holding me steady.
“Calm down, Dil,” he said, and I could feel his breath on my face. More than that, I could feel how worried he had been, how worried he still was. “Just calm down, okay?”
“Jack,” I repeated, surprised at how lost and confused I sounded. Though I might not have been able to voice it right now, I knew where I was. I knew what was happening, and I was more than capable of dealing with it. Or, at least trying to deal with it.
“Jack is in surgery, Dil,” Boomer said, his voice shaky and his hands still firmly placed on my shoulders. He pulled away, and I saw how tired the man looked, with dark rims encircling his eyes and a sallow look to his cheeks. “The ambulance got to him in time. They got to the girl too.”
“Ellen,” I said, swallowing to soothe my dry throat and looking at my friend. “Is she-”
“Resting a couple of rooms down from this one,” Boomer finished. “She’s actually in better shape than either of you two, which is just a testament to how quick you were in that house.”
“Or how stupid he was,” a familiar voice sounded from behind Boomer.
Looking past my friend, I saw Rebecca standing behind him, her arms folded over her chest and a stern and concerned look in her eyes.
“Are you okay?” I asked, blinking moisture out of my eyes. I could tell from the look of her that she was a mess. Her hair was in a messy bun on her head and her face was a pale thing, free of almost anything aside from sheer exhaustion.
“I’ve been better, Dillon,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s like you’re trying to set the record for the most times anyone has ever lost consciousness.”
I took a deep breath, finding a catch in my lungs, probably from smoke inhalation. “I thought it was Charlotte,” I said weakly, as though that was some sort of excuse.
“I know,” Rebecca said. “The woman, Ellen, told us what you said.”
“She told us more than that, actually,” Boomer said. “She had been in that house for a very long time, the trophy to some madman.”
“Not just any madman,” I answered, pushing myself up in the bed. “I’d bet money that the madman holding her captive is Dustin Reynolds.”
“That would be a profitable bet for you,” Boomer said. “Ellen said that’s who held her captive. She said she met him on a dating app. He’s apparently from Jacksonville, but he drove down to meet her. She was supposed to go out to dinner with him, but she got grabbed before she ever made it to the restaurant.”
“And he just held her captive?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“No,” Rebecca said, stepping forward, her arms still folded over her chest and her eyes still stern and unforgiving. “He tortured her for a bit. Then, he let her go, and told her that she had to come back to him. She had to sign away her parental rights and come back to him willingly. Otherwise, he was going to murder her son.”
“What?” I asked, my muscles tensing as I took in what Rebecca was saying. “That’s sick.”
“Well, we’re talking about a sick person,” Rebecca said. “Ellen told us that this Dustin person had some kind of fetish about women walking away from their lives to pick him. It didn’t matter that they had to be tortured and threatened in order to get it done. He wanted the theatrics. He wanted to know that they were coming to him of their own free will.”
“And he obviously has a type,” Boomer said.
“Single mothers with red hair?” I asked, my stomach turning. “Have you checked the surrounding counties? Are there any other disappearances that coincide with that M.O.?”
“Two, actually,” Boomer said. “One in St. Petersburg, and one in Jacksonville. Though, in both cases, the women were later found dead.”
My blood ran cold. The idea that Charlotte could very soon join those poor women sent shockwaves through me. “Were they both burned as well?” I asked, thinking about the fire and how Ellen would have been found if I had been even a few minutes later.
“No,” Boomer said. “Both were strangled. It wasn’t pretty.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said, shaking my head. “People like this, serial offenders, they usually stick to the same thing. Why would Dustin change things up now?”
“I’m not sure,” Boomer admitted. “Unless he wasn’t the person responsible for the two previous deaths.”
“We both know that’s not the case,” I answered. “The coincidence would just be too strong.”
“I agree,” Boomer said.
“Me too,” Rebecca said. “This is from the same guy. We need to get into those poor girls’ online lives and see if there’s a connection to Dustin Reynolds.
I blanched just a little. It was still strange, the idea that my wife would have an opinion about something like this and not just an opinion, but an official opinion. Still, she worked for the department same as me, and her opinion was every bit as valid. Besides, it wasn’t a bad idea.
“Not bad,” I muttered.
“You seem surprised,” Rebecca asked, though there wasn’t a hint of humor in her voice. I guess I was still in the doghouse, more or less.
“Not unpleasantly,” I said. “I’m glad you’re here and not just because I’m always glad to see you. I think you can really add something to this investigation.”
“She does,” Boomer said, shuffling uncomfortably. “She’ll have more to add in the future than you, actually. At least, when it comes to this particular case.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, looking from one of them to the next.
“Dillon,” Rebecca said. “You’ve been hospitalized twice in just a few days dealing with this. Now, you’re a good cop, probably the best I’ve ever seen, but this is getting under your skin. Charlotte is getting under your skin.”
I blinked hard, my mind spinning as it tried to catch up. “That’s not true,” I said quickly. “Charlotte is just my friend.”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes as though she was confused. “I know that,” she answered flatly. “Of course, I know that. That’s not what this is about.”
“Then what is it about?” I asked, sitting up even straighter in the bed.
Rebecca looked to Boomer, deferring to my friend.
“It’s about the case,” Boomer said. “You’re not able to continue it, Dillon.”
“That ridiculous,” I shot back. “Of course, I am.”
“No, you’re not,” Boomer said. “And you’re not going to. I’m taking it away from you.” Boomer looked over at Rebecca. “And I’m giving it to her.”
26
“What are you talking about?” I asked, looking from Boomer to Rebecca and back again. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard, so much so, that I was pretty sure I had misheard it.
“I’m giving your wife the case, Dil,” Boomer sai
d with a sigh.
Okay. So, I hadn’t misheard. Still, that didn’t make any sense.
“She’s not a detective, Boom,” I said quickly. Then, turning to my wife, I threw in a quick amendment. “I don’t mean that as a slight. What you do is amazing. It’s absolutely vital, but it’s not the same thing as what I do.”
“I know what my job consists of, Dillon,” she muttered, looking at the floor and shaking her head.
“Really?” I asked, a wave of anger rushing through me. “I find that surprising, given what I’m hearing right now. You’re a medical examiner, Rebecca.”
“And Jack Lacey was absolutely nothing,” Boomer said, his voice loud. “He had absolutely no credentials, and he still worked with you on this.”
Guilt mixed in with the anger, but I did my best to push it aside for the time being. Jack was in bad shape. I knew that much for a fact. I couldn’t let the same thing, or something similar, happen to my wife.
“Except Jack was just a consult. He wasn’t taking lead on this thing,” I reminded my friend and boss.
“And neither will Rebecca,” Boomer said. “She’ll be working with a detective to help get to the bottom of this.” He nodded firmly at me. “You said it yourself, Dillon. Rebecca has a good mind for detail, and she can be an asset to this case.”
“I know what I said, and I’m sure she can, Boom,” I said through quickly clenching teeth. “But, if you insist on doing this, then at least let me work with her. That way, I can make sure she’s safe.”
“You mean you can hold my hand through everything, right?” Rebecca asked sharply, glaring at me as her head jerked back up in my direction.
“Rebecca, I-”
“You told me you understood, Dillon,” my wife said, cutting me off. “You told me that you were okay with my job and what I would be doing for it. We talked about this.”
“And I am,” I replied. “I’m more than okay with it. Hell, I’m proud of it, but this isn’t your job. This is detective work, and if you’re going to do detective work, I think the least that Boomer can do is let me help you with it.”
“I’m not the clerk behind the front desk at a hotel, Dil,” Boomer said. “My job isn’t to make you happy and comfortable. I need to do what’s best for this case, and I honestly don’t think that’s you anymore.”
A jab of hurt stuck into my heart like a hot poker. “I can’t believe you would say that,” I said, looking over at him.
“I’m not sure why,” he answered, his voice dripping with unapologetic honesty. “This whole thing is a mess, Dil.”
“The hell it is,” I shot back. “I just saved a woman’s life. Ellen would have died in that fire if not for me.”
“It’s possible,” Boomer conceded. “It’s also possible that Jack Lacey will never walk again, if he makes it out of surgery at all, that is.”
“My God,” I murmured, my eyes widening and my hands moving toward my hair in a nervous motion.
“That’s not his fault,” Rebecca said quickly. “Dillon was following the trail of evidence. No one could have foreseen what was going to happen at that house.” She looked over at me, sympathy coloring her eyes for the first time since I woke up. “And it’s way too soon to know the extent of Jack’s injuries. He lost a lot of blood, and judging from what some of my friends in the OR told me, there’s a lot of swelling. We have to- They have to see what they’re working with after all of it goes down.”
I sighed loudly, still piecing all of this together. All I could think, and all I could do was move to the next part of this unimaginable tragedy. “And Isaac?” I asked, swallowing hard again. “Is he alright? Peter hasn’t-”
“Peter hasn’t come anywhere near him,” Rebecca said. “He’s with your grandfather on the boat. Meredith is keeping him company. He’s oblivious to most of this, thank God.”
“Which is another reason you need to lay low for the time being,” Boomer said. “If you’re serious about going for custody of Isaac in the event that our hunt for Charlotte doesn’t go the way we’re hoping, then this isn’t helping.”
“What isn’t helping?” I asked, glaring at the man.
“You heard Rebecca,” he said. “You’ve been admitted to the hospital more times than you’ve had a home cooked meal this week. I know you’re doing your job, and I know that your work is important. Trust me, I know that better than anyone. But a judge will look at what you do, look at what your wife does now, and see a less than stable home for a young boy.”
“That’s not fair,” I said instantly, jerking as his words had cut me to the quick. “We’re doing good work here. Besides, we have my grandfather.”
“Your grandfather is old. Even if he wasn’t sick, he’s not exactly what a court looks for in a long term guardian, especially when a birth father is expressing an interest in finally joining a kid’s life.”
“Birth father,” I scoffed, shaking my head hard. “He’s a son of a bitch, is what he is.”
“I know what Peter Storm is, Dil,” Boomer said. “I was there when he was making your life a living hell back in school. I was also there when Charlotte found out she was pregnant. I remember the horrible things he said to her, the horrible options he asked her to consider. I know how important taking care of your nephew is. That’s a big part of why I’m asking you to sit this one out.” He took a deep breath. “Look, you’re hurt. You’ve got a broken nose and a jacked up shoulder.”
“Not to mention more bruises than you can count and what I can only assume is a semi-permanent concussion at this point,” Rebecca added.
“I’m going to put you on desk duty for the foreseeable future,” Boomer said.
“You want me to push papers around?” I asked with a start.
“I want you to do what you have to for your nephew, and if that means you’re off the beat for a while, then so be it,” Boomer answered. “You need to show a court that you can be reliable. You need to show them that you can make it home for dinner every night. That’s the only chance you’re going to have at actually getting custody of this kid, Dil. Can you do that? Can you give this up, just for a little while, if it means a shot at taking care of Isaac?”
I looked over at my badge, sitting on a table beside me. I had worked so long for it. I had given up so much. That badge wasn’t family, though. It wasn’t blood. I had often said I would do anything for Isaac, to ensure that kid had a bright and good future. Hell, it was the entire reason I moved back to Naples in the first place. It was time for me to put my money where my mouth was. It was time for me to make good on my promises.
“Okay,” I said, nodding and looking back over at my boss. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
27
“Isaac, why is your crap all over the floor?” I asked, yelling to my nephew from the bottom of the stairs in the house I shared with Rebecca. It had been two days since I left the hospital and nearly a full week since Charlotte went missing. While the wheels were turning when it came to Peter’s attempts at getting custody of his son, the wheels of justice moved mercifully slow. Usually, that was a truth that sort of pissed me off. Of course, that was because that-more often than not- I was trying to get scumbags off the streets.
As it stood, I was blissfully happy that the courts had yet to be assess Peter’s fitness as a parent. I was even happier that Charlotte had made it very clear (in writing, no less) that she wanted me to take care of Isaac in case of a horrific event like the one we all found ourselves in right now.
Of course, just because I was happy that he was here didn’t mean I was going to let him get away with this kind of stuff.
My nephew appeared at the top of the stairs, his dark hair a mess on his head and his eyes filled with sleep.
“I was going to pick it up. I swear,” he said groggily. When I got here, all those years ago, Isaac was a little boy. Now, the person who looked down at me from the top of the stairs was nothing short of a guy on the cusp of adolescence. This realization broke my heart. He was about to be
a teenager. He was about to go through a whole host of new adventures, and a whole set of new issues. What if his mother missed all of that? What if I couldn’t bring her back to him? What if no one could? I shook my head hard, pushing those thoughts away. They were useless. No. They were worse than that. They were destructive.
“Yeah. I’m sure,” I murmured, leaning over and picking the clothes up with my good arm.
“Don’t do that, Uncle Dillon,” Isaac said, rushing down the stairs and grabbing the clothes out of my hands. “You’re all hurt and stuff. You don’t need to be lifting on my dirty underwear.”
“I’m perfectly fine, Isaac,” I answered, nodding at him, but allowing him to take his own things. “Though, I will say that if you’d put your dirty underwear in the hamper where they belong, you wouldn’t have to worry about who does or doesn’t pick them up.”
“I guess so,” Isaac stammered, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just glad Rebecca isn’t here to see this.”
“She was a surgeon. She’s seen what’s inside someone’s intestines. I doubt she’d shudder at a pair of boy’s boxer shorts,” I told him. Patting him on the back with my good hand.
“I’m sure you’re right, Uncle Dillon,” Isaac said. “But it’s not that. I just wouldn’t want to her to think I was in the way or anything.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t want her to think I was more trouble than I was worth.”
My heart cracked in two as I heard the boy’s words and realized the underlying meaning behind them. Taking a deep breath, I said, “Come and sit down with me, Isaac.”
The kid marched into the living room, taking a seat on the long white couch that had been a part of this house much longer than I had.
“What’s up?” my nephew asked as I plopped down next to him, grunting as my arm shuffled a little.
“I have something to ask you, Isaac, and I want you to be honest with me,” I said. “Even if you think I won’t like the answer, I need you to promise to be truthful. Can you do that?”
