In Safe Hands

by Victoria Sue

  “Deacon’s missing.”

  Jamie blanched. “And Molly?”

  “You tested positive for ketamine,” the doctor confirmed. “Intramuscularly, it would start to work in around three to five minutes. Molly was also given a dose, which is why she’s in ICU.”

  Jamie’s hands flew to her face. “Is she okay?”

  The doctor nodded. “We need to keep a closer eye on her. There is no antidote for ketamine, and she’s still very sleepy.”

  He needed to go see her, but Maverick was torn between that and going to find Deacon.

  “I am so sorry.” Jamie gulped.

  Mav rushed to her side. “It wasn’t your fault.” It was mine. He should never have left them. He’d spent three fucking hours congratulating himself on getting his life back when he was putting Deacon’s at risk. And Jamie’s. The thought of her ending up like Rachel made him want to throw up. And for a second, all he could see were blue eyes, and he fished in his pocket for his phone. There were a few more funny messages from Deacon relating Molly’s comments about his leg, but the last one killed him.

  “Don’t feel you have to rush. We’re safe. Charlie arrived.”

  It had been timed nearly three hours ago. “I got a text from Deacon at two forty this afternoon saying Chaplin had just gotten there.”

  Jamie glanced at Phan. “He said Samson got called away.”

  “Arson attack three streets away. Likely staged, but the house was empty.”

  Jamie breathed out a sigh of relief. “Small mercy.”

  “Can you tell us exactly what happened?”

  “He followed me upstairs. Said he wanted to check all the rooms, the windows. Said he didn’t dare leave anything to chance because of you,” she whispered, glancing at Mav.

  “He put his head into the bathroom, and I took my gun and holster off and turned to walk to the safe. Molly,” she added, and Maverick understood. She couldn’t run the risk of Molly being anywhere near it if she came upstairs while Jamie was still asleep. “He overpowered me as soon as my back was turned. Injected me in my neck. If I hadn’t had the cast on, I might have stood a chance.”

  “We also think Chaplin might have been trying to grab Molly yesterday at Target. It’s completely out of his way between his apartment, headquarters, or your house,” Phan said.

  “But there was another cop with him,” Maverick said in confusion.

  “No, that’s the thing. We contacted Officer Lee, who was actually on his way to start his shift. Apparently, Chaplin was just exiting Target and walking Molly to his patrol car when he saw the other cop pull in. Then a security guard ran over to him to tell him Molly’s family was inside. When he got inside, I understand he pretended like he’d seen her outside and carried her back in. According to Officer Lee, that’s not the case at all, but as he doesn’t work with Chaplin, Lee wouldn’t have thought there was anything wrong. We’re checking the cameras, but we think he scooped Molly up as she came out of the bathroom. It was likely he was following you.”

  Jamie dropped her hand and looked at the doctor. “I want to go sit with Molly.”

  Maverick silently thanked his wonderful sister.

  The doctor started to argue. “Ms. Stanton—”

  “When Molly wakes up, she will be terrified. I’m going to stay with her until you find Deacon.” She looked at Maverick. “Go bring him home.”

  Gladly. But where the fuck do I look?

  The doctor capitulated at Jamie’s insistence, and she was wheeled to the pediatric ICU.

  “So where do we look first?” Maverick asked and put a hand up when he knew Phan was opening his mouth to object. “Either I come with you, or I go looking on my own. Which would you prefer?”

  Phan sighed and muttered something that sounded like “stubborn bastard” but got on his cell phone as soon as they left the ER after explaining he was posting guards on the miniscule possibility Chaplin might try and snatch Molly again. “I’m not taking any chances,” he said as they walked to the car.

  “I’m assuming his apartment is empty?”

  “The cops have it secured, but I want to swing by and take a look myself.” Phan gazed at him sternly. “If I tell you anytime to stay in the car, you do it without question, or I will lock you up.”

  Maverick was making no promises. Ignoring his back, which now throbbed persistently, he did his best to keep up with the detective. The apartment was small, clean, functional. Not that Mav would have expected any less. Neatness was ingrained in basic training, and some never lost the habit.

  “There’s nothing,” Officer Deene confirmed while Phan walked around. Maverick had been ordered to stay at the door, and Phan had put on gloves before he walked in.

  Maverick didn’t especially mind, because apart from the bedroom, it was one room, so he could pretty much see everything. Phan picked up a photo and showed it to Maverick.

  It was the same one Jamie had. The one of the three of them in their flight suits. Maverick was glad Phan didn’t expect him to comment. Officer Deene came out of the bedroom, holding a box of gloves. The type you found at the dentist. “I don’t know if these are significant. Cops sometimes have them.”

  “Charlie was allergic to latex,” Maverick offered.

  Phan nodded. “Which may or may not explain the nitrile gloves found in the Emmanuel Jones crime scene. They weren’t burned properly. Nitrile is latex-free, but it could easily be a coincidence.”

  Phan agreed there was nothing to see—not even a laptop—and they left to go to the station. Once there, Phan allowed him to come into the small conference room. Maverick ignored everyone’s surprised looks, but he recognized Keith, who immediately asked how Jamie was, and the younger detective—Wright—who had accompanied Phan the first time he had come to Jamie’s house. There were two other people, who Phan introduced as Detectives Malwecki and Smith. They had worked the Rachel Mackenzie murder in case it was decided it wasn’t linked to the other two.

  “I don’t need to spell out that Delgardo is known to the suspect and intimately involved with the kidnap victim, Daniels, and therefore in a compromised position. However, he is also the closest thing we have to an authority on Hunter Chaplin, and we may need his input.” The other detectives gave Maverick a skeptical look but held their tongues. Phan noticed. “It was Maverick who put together the connection with the dating sites and ultimately may have saved a two-year-old from also being kidnapped.”

  He’d been thinking about that. The dating sites and trying to remember every teasing conversation between Charlie and Cass about them, which he’d always ignored.

  Malwecki spoke. “We have CCTV sightings of the Charger crossing the I-75 just past a Walmart Supercenter, then also passing Woodland Square Mall on Johnson Ferry Road heading toward East Cobb, but nothing from the Target that overlooks Roswell Road. There is one camera that’s faulty, so we can’t absolutely say he didn’t arrive at East Cobb and turn east, but the camera a mile farther on shows nothing. He could also have stopped anywhere after Woodland Mall. It gives us, at best, an area of five square miles and a dozen places he could have hidden the car.”

  Phan sighed. “Then I want patrols searching the area.” He stared at the map on the computer screen Malwecki had. Keith tapped an area. “There’s a big self-storage area. We’ve contacted the manager, and he’s meeting officers there. There’s no records of Chaplin taking one out.”

  “Check his friend’s name and any name you have come across in our investigation,” Phan added. “Especially the girlfriend.”

  “And Enzio Castille,” Maverick suggested. It would be beyond sick to use Cass’s name, but then he guessed Charlie was beyond sick.

  “There’s a unit registered to a Mirabelle Castille,” Detective Wright reported from where he was sitting in front of a laptop. Maverick closed his eyes in disgust.

  “That is Cass’s twin sister. Charlie had a thing for her at one time too, but Cass told him if he hurt her, he would break his legs. None of us
thought Charlie was serious, because just after that, he started dating someone else. It may have been on the Date a Hero site.”

  Everyone left except Phan and his partner, and Maverick of course. “Anything else you can think of?” Phan asked.

  “The dating site,” Maverick said. “I’m sure Charlie mentioned a few other names, but I didn’t take much notice.”

  Detective Wright pulled the laptop toward him, and his fingers flew faster than Maverick had seen in a while.

  “He’s not just a pretty face,” Phan said wryly. “He should be in cybercrimes, but he gets bored.”

  And he must clearly be older than he looked, Maverick thought.

  “Okay, I’m on as Hunter Chaplin, but his search list is huge, spanning at least four years.”

  Wright rattled off various names, but Mav shook his head in frustration.

  Wright’s fingers were quick. “I’m checking the women who listed Atlanta as their home city.” Wright clicked some more keys. “Amanda Robertson?”

  “I have no idea. We used to ignore him half the time.”

  “There is only an Amanda or Mandy Robertson who lists Atlanta as her home city. Let me get the IP address, then….”

  “Don’t do anything to make the search illegal,” Phan cautioned.

  “No need.” Wright angled the screen to show the profile picture of a pretty brunette standing in front of a bar. “Mandy’s.” The bar’s name was clearly visible, and he went on another screen.

  He wrote down an address. “There’s a bar in East Cobb owned by a Joshua Robertson, fifty-five years. Anyone want to bet me he named the bar after his daughter?”

  Phan snatched the note. Obviously, there were no takers.

  A WHIMPER. Deacon was conscious before he realized the sound had come from his own throat, which was cracked, dry. He couldn’t swallow because something was in his mouth, and it was cold. Silent and very cold. With more courage than he ever thought possible, he opened his eyes, but the dark was so complete, it was as if they were still closed. Nausea swamped him right on the heels of panic, and his nostrils flared as he tried to take deep breaths. If he vomited, he might choke, and he had no intention of dying today.

  He had Molly, and she needed him.

  He hoped he had Maverick.

  Deacon shivered and couldn’t help the moan as his bands tightened. It felt like his shoulders were being pulled out of their sockets, and the stone floor was so cold. Maybe if he tried to sit up? He was lying on his side, and he did his best to shuffle, but with nothing for purchase, it was impossible. He couldn’t even straighten his legs. It was like he was hogtied.

  The light that flooded the space made him jerk in surprise, and he watched, desperately trying to bank down his fear as first black boots, then the rest of Chaplin came into view as Chaplin jogged down some stone steps. Deacon was in a cellar of sorts, but he didn’t dare look around and belatedly wondered if he should have tried to pretend he was still unconscious.

  It was far too late anyway, because Chaplin’s green eyes had fixed on his own as soon as Deacon had seen him, and Deacon didn’t dare look away.

  “Good, you’re awake,” Chaplin said, like this wasn’t some sick version of normal and he was just shooting the breeze.

  Chaplin—he refused to think of him as Charlie—bent down and tugged at Deacon’s ties. Deacon tried to swallow the gasp of pain, but as he couldn’t close his lips, a small grunt escaped them. Chaplin’s gaze rested on his again, about the same time as Deacon heard a noise, and hope flared for a giddy second until he saw the needle Chaplin pulled from his pocket. He tried to move, tried to struggle, but it was impossible. It took Chaplin barely five seconds until he jabbed it straight into Deacon’s neck.

  “Struggle all you like. You can’t be heard in here, but I will be missed until we close, so I need you quiet for another hour, that’s all. Ket doesn’t last long, unless I gave you too much.” He smiled, but the cold still in his eyes made Deacon shiver. “Or unless your body mass is too small to metabolize the dose safely.”

  It took Deacon a second because his vision was already blurring. Molly? He knew that was what Chaplin meant when he watched the horror wash over Deacon.

  “It would be fitting payback. You took my child. He died in agony.”

  But Deacon couldn’t reply. He could barely see. He tried to dredge up coherence and keep his eyes open.

  But it was no use.

  THE NEXT time Deacon woke, he wasn’t gagged, and he tried to lick his dry lips. The sound of breathing made him wrench his eyes open. Chaplin was so close, leaning over him, holding the rag he had just removed. Deacon recoiled, but Chaplin’s sharp backhand nearly put him out again. He bit back the pain as his arms were yanked forward, and he was cuffed. He was also sitting up, but still on the hard concrete floor and shivering.

  Molly. The last thing Chaplin said slammed into Deacon’s brain. “Molly?” He croaked the name as a question.

  “She’s awake, so I understand. Not that it’s of any further concern of yours.”

  He tried to think. Deacon glanced around. He’d been right about the cellar, and there was a strange sweet smell in the air he wasn’t sure about. Where the hell was he? He had no idea how long he had been unconscious. Chaplin sat back on an upturned crate, the kind bottles…. He was in a bar. He was sure he was. He couldn’t see any evidence of it, but Noah’s uncle from college had a really old bar, and Noah had shown him around. That’s what the smell reminded him of.

  There was no point asking why he was here. He knew that. “I didn’t know.”

  Chaplin’s eyes glittered. “It doesn’t matter. You were still the reason he died.”

  Which was true. Chaplin was only saying what Deacon had told himself for weeks. “Yes,” he acknowledged. “But that isn’t Molly’s fault.”

  “You can’t stop me.” Chaplin ignored him. “I was originally going for a new life. I have money, identity, but you hooking up with Maverick makes it impossible.”

  Deacon swallowed. He’d watched as many cop shows as the next person. Wasn’t it worse if they thought they had nothing to lose? “Why?” Maybe he should try and get him talking. Give them a chance to find him. If they even knew where to look. He had no idea where he was. “There are a ton of countries in the world you could go to.”

  Chaplin moved fast, and Deacon instantly realized it had been the wrong thing to say before he was yanked forward by his hair. Tears stung his eyes.

  “This is my fucking country,” Chaplin snarled. “I fought for this country. I was prepared to die for it. You don’t get to sit there like the leech you are and tell me I have to go somewhere else.” He shoved Deacon away from him in disgust, and Deacon fell back, crying out at the sharp pain as the back of his head connected with the stone wall he had been leaning against. Deacon closed his eyes against the burn in them but opened them as he heard Chaplin moving something.

  He lifted two jerry cans from the corner and set them next to him. Deacon didn’t so much as take a breath. Chaplin was going to torch the place, torch him. He was helpless to meet Chaplin’s eyes when he saw him looking, and his lips parted as if he was going to scream at what he saw in them, but he didn’t seem able to make a sound.

  All he could think of was what Chaplin had done to Manny and Sara Jeffries. And Sara Jeffries had still been alive while she burned.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “EVERYTHING’S CLOSED up,” Keith confirmed as he ran back to Phan’s car.

  Maverick had gotten out, unable to keep still. He’d thought for a second Phan would never let him come, but the fact remained that unless they had luck with Charlie’s ex-girlfriend Mandy, he was still the only one who had a chance of talking to him. He had no idea what to say, but he’d been quick to point out they might need that advantage.

  Phan hadn’t bothered with another warning for him to do as he was told. Mav thought he knew by now if Deacon’s life was on the line, Maverick would do whatever it took. They’d even tried
getting Maverick to call Chaplin’s phone a few times. It was turned off, presumably so he couldn’t be found.

  Maverick looked as APD officers hurried over with a middle-aged man and the young woman—Mandy—from the photograph. He assumed the man was Joshua Robertson, Amanda’s father, and the owner of the bar.

  Phan shook hands and was wary with the details, just saying there was a chance he was holding someone hostage in the cellar. Amanda looked horrified. “Hunter helped me close up. He used to come by for a drink last thing, and he’d help. I thought at first he wanted to date again, but he never made any move on me.” Tears filled her eyes. “I felt sorry for him. I thought he was lonely.”

  Joshua put an arm around his daughter. “Makes me feel sick of the thought of going home early and leaving them here, but Mandy’s mom has got MS, and she’s going through a flare-up. Her sister stays with her, but it always helps if I can get home sooner.”

  “And did you speak to Hunter before you went home?” Phan asked.

  Amanda nodded. “I’d lost my keys, so Ricky, our other barman, locked up, and Hunter drove me home.”

  “You lost your keys?” Maverick asked sharply.

  Amanda and her father looked at him as if just noticing he was here. “I called Dad to let him know, but the takings were already in the safe, and he said they’d probably turn up in the trash where I’d dropped them by mistake in the morning.”

  “But you assume Hunter has them?” Joshua Robertson asked Maverick.

  “I would say that’s likely,” Phan acknowledged.

  “How did he get someone in there without anyone noticing?” Phan asked Robertson.

  Amanda put her hand to her mouth. “The old cellar. The outside trap was damaged, and he said it was a security risk. He brought a toolbox from home and was going to repair it. He backed his car around to where it is, and that’s at the opposite end of the parking lot.”

  “We don’t use the cellar anymore for storage,” Robertson added, “but he’s right, if someone got in there, technically they could have access to the place.”