by Tess Diamond
First, he called Cy.
“He’s taken my niece,” he said.
“I’m on my way,” Cy said, and hung up with a click.
The second call was to the director of the FBI.
“Edenhurst, it’s Harrison,” he said, his voice tense. “There’s a serial killer in Northern California. A journalist friend of mine stumbled onto his trail. She brought me in to help. And now he’s realized we’re onto him. He’s taken my niece. I need every resource in Northern California, Nevada, and Oregon at my disposal. Can you make that happen?”
He listened for a second. “Thank you. I’ll keep you updated.” He paused, listening again, his jaw working. “I’ll try, sir,” he said, and this time, his voice broke.
Abby reached over, squeezing his thigh reassuringly as he hung up, dialing another number.
As she drove, he made fifteen calls. From governors, to state reps, to the head of the highway patrol.
They were ten miles outside of Castella Rock by the time he finally put the phone down. He couldn’t seem to sit still, his fingers tapping against his knee, like they were itching for a trigger to pull and a man to aim a gun at.
She didn’t know what to say. It’s going to be okay? But what if it wasn’t? I’m sorry? Because she was.
Had her snooping tipped Cass’s killer off? Had he been watching her this whole time?
He must’ve chosen Robin for a reason—it was too much of a coincidence that he’d taken the niece of the man who was now hunting him.
God, she had done this. This was her fault. If anything happened to Robin . . .
She felt like pulling over and throwing up. She’d known Robin her entire life. She’d watched her wobble up the steps of the orchard house as a toddler, woven daisy wreaths for her hair when she was a flower girl in her aunt Faye’s wedding. At the barbecue this week, she’d just promised to help her on her college essays. The girl had the world at her fingertips.
She’d be damned if that bastard took her away like he did Cass.
“Nothing is going to happen to her,” she said, out loud, to make it real, for herself and for him.
“Something already has happened to her,” Paul said, and the resignation in his voice, the brokenness stole her breath for a moment.
She pulled off the highway, taking a left on Main Street, heading toward Georgia’s house. She parked across the street from it, and turned to him, all the resolve she felt in her face.
“We can do this. We’re going to get her back.”
“Abby, I can’t make those promises,” he said. “Not to my sister. Not when . . .” He stopped, staring down at his hands for a moment, and then finally, when he’d gathered himself, said, “I can’t make those promises, with who I am. With what I do. You know what happens, when you promise to bring a parent’s child home safe, and then you don’t?”
“It won’t be that way,” Abby said. “I won’t let it.”
He smiled, and it was a sad smile, a loving smile, a fond smile. He reached out, stroking a thumb over skin, following the constellation of freckles sweeping over the arc of her cheekbone. “You’ve always been so stubborn,” he said. “But we can’t promise them, Abby. All we can do is tell them what they already know.”
“What do you mean?”
“We tell them that Robin is a fighter,” he said. “In body, in mind, and in spirit. We tell them that she is smart and she is skilled. She will be looking to escape. She will take whatever out she has to. And we won’t tell them that this kind of spirit? This kind of strength? It’s likely going to get her killed unless I find her first.”
Abby felt like she’d been punched, and she knew the words were meant to knock the air out of her. He was telling it to her straight. Giving her a glimpse of what his world was like. God, how hard the last years must’ve been for him, alone, no one to share this with.
She lifted her chin. “Okay,” she said. “Then let’s go find her first.”
Georgia and Jason’s house was one of the nicer in town, but right now, it felt like a morgue as they walked inside. Tandy, Paul’s mother, opened the door when they knocked on it. When she met her only son’s eyes, the woman, who was built like steel with a heart to match, seemed to crumble.
“Paul,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “What do we do?”
“Where’s Georgia?” he asked.
“She collapsed,” said Faye, coming into the foyer. Her mouth was tense, but her eyes were clear, which made Abby feel slightly more assured. Faye was a tough cookie. She’d be the calming influence here. “She’s upstairs with Rose and Jason.”
“I need to talk to her,” Paul said.
“Why don’t we go and fix something to eat?” Abby asked Tandy and Faye, taking Paul’s hint. “We all need to keep our strength up. Where are the rest of the kids?”
“My kids are with their dad,” Faye said. “I haven’t told them. I haven’t even called Mara. You know how reception is over there even when she isn’t operating. I . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Tandy assured her daughter.
The older woman looked over at the kitchen, her gray eyebrows knitting together like she’d never been in one before.
“Let’s sit down first,” Abby suggested, and Tandy seemed grateful for the guidance.
“I don’t understand how this happened,” she said. “There are people all over those meets. How did no one see her?”
“Have you talked to people who were there?” Abby asked. “What about the boys on her wrestling team?”
“The deputies are questioning everyone,” Tandy said. “But the sheriff said we couldn’t issue a missing person report!”
“Don’t worry, Paul will take care of that,” Abby assured her. “He was on the phone all the way here. He must have called at least a dozen different people. Everyone is looking for Robin. They’ll find her.”
“I don’t . . . I don’t understand why anyone would want to do this,” Tandy said, baffled. “Things like this don’t happen here.”
Faye looked over her mother’s head at Abby and she knew they were thinking the same thing. That Castella Rock was a lot of things, but sweet, safe small town it wasn’t.
Things like this happened here, because things like this happened everywhere.
There were footsteps on the stairs. Abby got up, hurrying out of the living room to meet Paul at the stairs.
“Is Georgia okay?”
Paul shook his head.
“Paul, what do we do?” she asked.
“We need to go,” he said.
“Where?” she asked, but then he looked at her, a grim sort of foreboding in his eyes, and she knew.
It was time to go back to the Doctor.
Chapter 28
“Where the hell is he?”
Paul burst through the doors of the prison like a tornado, Abby chasing behind him. The intake guard’s eyes widened when he took in Paul’s wild look.
“Special Agent Harrison,” Paul ground out, clearly barely keeping his voice under control. “Director Edenhurst called ahead. Take us to see Howard Wells. Immediately.”
“Right away, sir,” the guard stuttered, hitting the button that opened the armed door.
“You need to stay calm,” Abby said under her breath as they walked through the metal detectors and got patted down. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he yanked his hand through his hair, slicking it off his forehead with an impatient movement. “He’ll use it against you if you’re this visibly upset,” she said. “I know him better than you. I’ve studied him.”
“I have this under control, Abby,” he said, as she watched him out of the corner of her eye worriedly.
“Ms. Winthrop, you’re back,” said a voice.
Abby turned to see Stan, the guard from her last visit, standing there.
“Hi, Stan,” she said. “Yes, I’m back. Can you please take us to see Wells?”
“Now,” Paul ground out.
Stan’s e
yes widened slightly as he took in Paul’s tense shoulders and the anger radiating off him. “Will do,” he said.
“Stay close to me,” Paul said, as Stan began to lead them through the block. Even this early in the morning, the hooting and hollering rose to a din. With each step, Paul grew tenser and tenser, a gleam she’d never seen in his eyes as he stared down the bolder inmates.
By the time Stan got them across the prison and into the wing that held the solitary confinement cells, Paul was practically vibrating. Abby reached out, settling a palm between his shoulders, trying to soothe him somehow, but it was no use.
He was operating on pure feral instinct. Protect his family. At any cost.
Stan led them down the long hall, toward the door at the end, where Wells’s lonely cell lay. As he reached the last door, Abby turned to Paul and said, “Remember what I said.”
He nodded curtly as Stan unlocked the last door, ushering them inside.
The lights flicked on, and Paul stalked over to the Plexiglas wall that separated them from the serial killer.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise.” Wells unfolded himself from his bed. “And look at me, so underdressed.” He grinned at Abby, wiggling his fingers at her, clearly enjoying his range of movement.
They hadn’t had time to put him in a straitjacket. She bit the inside of her lip, telling herself that the way her heart picked up was stupid. He couldn’t get to her in there.
“Who’s your friend, Abigail?” Wells asked, his eyes glittering as he took Paul in. Abby didn’t say anything. There was no way in hell Wells didn’t know who Paul was, after all these years.
“He’s quite the specimen, isn’t he?” Wells asked. “He looks positively . . . all-American.”
Only Wells could make that sound like an insult. Like something base and disgusting.
“Where is he?” Paul demanded.
Wells smirked. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
Paul’s eyes narrowed, his shoulders tensing.
“Okay, you want to play that game?” he asked. “Then I’m gonna tell you a story, Wells.” He sat down on the bench in front of his cell, leaning forward on his elbows, eyes glittering in a way Abby had never seen. “It’s the story of two men who somehow found a commonality in each other. A sick, twisted, violent commonality, but still, finding someone like you? That’s a powerful thing. You couldn’t resist, when you found him, could you? He was like murderous clay you could mold. Your perfect creation. Except . . . he wasn’t content with that, was he? He wanted something more. He wanted something different.”
Abby shivered as Paul leaned forward and Wells’s smirk twitched, just a bit.
“Your student outgrew you,” Paul said, each word a deadly barb that made Wells’s eyes flare. “He evolved beyond his teacher. He wasn’t content to just take the girls and kill them. No, he wanted more. He wanted to keep them. To draw it out. And you didn’t like that. You, you’re about that moment, Howard, when your hands slip around their throats, and the light starts to fade from their eyes. That’s what gets you off. And desecrating their bodies after. But you never cut them when they were alive. You weren’t into pain. You’re into the power. And your boy? Your student? He’s into it for the challenge. It’s about the competition. First, it was a game between you and him. But he won that. And now? It’s him versus the girl. How long can he keep her alive? How long can he keep her captive? How many girls can he take before someone catches on? It’s the ultimate competition. It’s not even really him versus the girl. It’s him versus the world.”
A sharklike smile spread across Wells’s face. “I see you’re not just a pretty face,” he drawled. “But neither am I. Are you familiar with the tale of Hercules and Antaeus, Agent Harrison?” Wells asked. “It’s much like the Achilles myth. A little lesser known, I suppose. I won’t bore you with the details. Just the lesson. I do so love a lesson.”
Abby’s face was like stone as Wells’s eyes flicked to her, then back to Paul.
“Antaeus was thought to be invincible,” Wells said. “But he had one weakness. Hercules found it. And he used it. You can guess who was left standing.”
“Are you casting yourself as Antaeus in this scenario?” Paul asked. “And your protégé as Hercules? That’s quite the pedestal to put him on.”
Wells laughed. “Oh, my dear boy. I’m not either.” He spread his arms wide. “If I’m anyone, I’m Zeus himself. You are Antaeus here, Agent Harrison.”
Wells’s eyes flicked back to Abby. “I found your weakness. I can hardly blame you. She’s a sly, fiery thing. Like a fox. She wanted to run, and I lured her right into my trap.” His smile curled around his lips and Abby was unable to stop the shudder that overtook her body.
Paul didn’t react. He merely raised an eyebrow, waiting for Wells to continue.
“I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time,” Wells said. “But I knew you wouldn’t come,” Wells said. “Not unless I finally gave Abby what she wanted.”
“And why did you want to see me?” Paul asked.
“Because I’ve made a lot of things in my life,” Wells said. “I’ve created some damn good surgeons. Even a few decent coroners. I am the kind of teacher who truly transforms lives. I thought my crowning achievement was my protégé. But then . . .” His grin widened, terrifying, a shark in the water, smelling blood for the first time. “Then I created an FBI agent,” he said, a delighted chuckle wrapping around Abby like a snake. “And not just any FBI Agent. Special Supervisory Agent Paul Harrison.” He lowered his voice as he rattled Paul’s title off. “The agency’s golden boy. There’s talk that you’re on track for assistant director before you’re forty. There’s even rumblings of a congressional campaign, if you don’t set your sights on director. And the choices I made set you on that path. Isn’t life grand, sometimes?”
Abby wanted to reach forward and tear that pleased look on his face off. He had nothing to do with Paul’s successes. How dare he. Anger sparked, hot and low in her body, and she could feel it spreading to her cheeks.
But Paul’s face didn’t even ripple at Wells’s outrageous claims. “You had nothing to do with why I became an FBI agent,” he said.
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Paul,” Wells tutted. “You were headed for a baseball career before Cass’s murder. And then all of a sudden you were done with baseball and applying for colleges and aiming your sights on Quantico. I did that. I suppose my protégé did have a hand in it, since he did the actual killing. But you didn’t know that, did you? You thought it was me. I was the one you saw when you closed your eyes at night. When you were at Quantico, it was my face you imagined when you fired your gun at those paper targets. I formed you into the kind of man who could be a hero.”
“You don’t get to take credit for what I built from the ashes,” Paul said, the resolve in his face making her stomach twist. “You think that you and your boy, whoever the hell he is, are the most horrible thing that’s ever happened to me, Wells?” He let out a short bark of a laugh that hurt Abby to hear. “Sorry to disappoint, but you two barely make it to the top five. You want to talk about transforming life experiences? Let’s talk about the man who strapped enough C4 to me to blow me, himself, the little girl and the cabin we were in to kingdom come. Let’s talk about my father dying forty years too early because even though he got sober, it wasn’t soon enough and his liver failed. Let’s talk about what it’s like, to have a six-year-old girl die in your arms because her father shot her entire family and then himself. You want to talk horror with me, Wells? You want to talk evil? You’re a sick fuck deluded by his own phony murderous grandeur. You’re not even the most interesting serial killer I’ve come up against.”
Abby had never wanted to reach for him so much in her life. She knew she couldn’t, that Wells would just delight in this show of affection and worry, but it was hard to stop herself, when Paul was laying out his truths so fiercely, lobbing them like grenades at Wells to show he had no power over him.
>
“You wanna really see what kind of man I am?” Paul asked, rising to his feet. “Abby, you should leave.”
Abby’s eyes widened. What the hell was he going to do? “No way.”
“Fine.” Paul looked over at Stan. “Let him out,” he demanded.
Stan gaped at him. “What?” he sputtered.
“You heard me,” Paul said. “Open the Goddamn door.”
Stan backed away. “No,” he said.
“Paul—” Abby started to stay, but then faded off in shock as Paul strode over and without a hint of hesitation, snatched the keys off the chain on Stan’s belt.
“You can’t do that!” Stan shouted as Paul slotted the key into the lock. He hurried across the room, slamming down on the emergency button, and then ran out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.
“Paul,” Abby said again.
“Leave,” he said.
“I am not leaving you alone to kill him!” she snapped and Wells shrieked with laughter as Paul turned the key in the lock and jerked the door open.
Abby’s fingers curled into fists, her entire body screamed at her to run as Paul grabbed Wells by the neck and shoved him against the Plexiglas wall of his cell. But instead of beginning to pummel him, he grabbed a chunk of Wells’s hair and tore it out. Keeping one elbow on his neck and holding him pinned, he dug in his other pocket for a small plastic evidence bag, depositing the hair into it.
“This is what kind of man I am,” he hissed in Wells’s ear, shoving the bag in his face like a taunt. “The kind of man who trusts in science. In the law and justice. And in my people’s ability to outsmart you and your protégé. Just you wait, Wells. Your boy’s gonna be in the cell across from yours any day now.”
He jerked away from him, and the man panted against the glass, dazed and red-faced, as Paul stepped out of the cell and locked the door.
Abby stared at him, wide-eyed and breathless. “I thought you were going to kill him,” she said.
“He doesn’t have the guts!” Wells shouted.
Paul shot him a disgusted look. “You’re not worth the energy or the bullet.”
