9 Kill for Me

by Karen Rose

  “She’s still got a breathing tube.”

  “Like I said on the phone, she can’t speak. The doctor said she has shock lung.”

  Luke winced. “Oh, shit.”

  “You know what that is?”

  “Yeah. My brother Leo was a Marine and he had it from a battle injury. More than three broken ribs on one side of the body and the lung collapses.” His dark brows furrowed. “Did I do that when I carried her?”

  His concern touched her heart. “I don’t think so. She had bruising all over her rib cage. A couple that the doctor said looked like the toe of a boot. He said she might be intubated for another few days.”

  “Well, I’ve interviewed witnesses with breathing tubes before. If she’s lucid we’ll use a letter board and she can blink. But I have to find out what she knows.”

  He took a step closer until he stood right behind her, the heat from his body warming her skin, making her shiver. He leaned over her shoulder to peer through the glass and if she turned her head there would be a scant inch between her nose and his stubbled cheek. This afternoon in his car, before everything had gone to hell, he’d smelled like cedar. Now, he smelled like stale smoke. She kept her eyes locked straight ahead.

  “She looks younger than she did this afternoon,” he murmured.

  “She was covered in blood this afternoon. She’s cleaner now. What burned down?”

  He turned his head and she could feel his stare. “Granville’s house.”

  Susannah closed her eyes. “Dammit.”

  “That’s what I said.” He stepped back and she shivered again, chilled without his heat. “I’m going to try to talk to her.” He held out a shopping bag. “This is for you.”

  There were clothes in the bag and Susannah took them, looking up at him with a puzzled frown. “How did you get these?”

  His mouth quirked slightly. “We had an informal family reunion in the lobby. My mother was leaving and my brother and niece had come to pick her up. Leo had picked Stacie up from her job at the mall where she bought your things. Leo’s going to drive Mama home and Stacie’s going to drive Mama’s car home because last time Mama drove at night she got stopped by a cop for doing thirty in a sixty-five zone.” He shrugged. “Cops are happy, Mama’s happy. So it’s all good.”

  Susannah felt rather sorry for any cop having to give Mrs. Papadopoulos a traffic ticket. “Um, thank you. I’ll write your niece a check.”

  He nodded once, then pushed past her into the small ICU room.

  The nurse stood on the other side of the girl’s bed. “Two minutes. That’s all.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Hey, honey,” Luke said, his voice smooth. “Are you awake?”

  Jane Doe’s eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t open her eyes. He pulled up a chair and sat. “Do you remember me? I’m Agent Papadopoulos. I was with Susannah Vartanian this afternoon when we found you.”

  Jane Doe stirred and the number on the blood pressure monitor began to rise.

  Susannah saw his gaze flick to the monitor before returning to the girl’s face. “I’m not going to hurt you, honey,” he said. “But I need your help.”

  The girl’s pulse jumped, sending another monitor beeping. She pitched her head, growing agitated, and Luke looked at Susannah with concern as the nurse looked as if she’d throw them out right then.

  “I’m here, too,” Susannah said softly. She set the shopping bag on the floor and brushed her knuckles softly over the girl’s cheek. “Don’t be afraid.”

  Jane Doe’s blood pressure began to decrease and Luke stood up. “You sit and I’ll wait on the other side of the glass. Talk to her. You know what I want to know. I’ll make you a letter chart.”

  “Okay.” Susannah leaned close, covering the girl’s hand with her own. “Hey, you’re all right. You’re safe. Nobody’s gonna hurt you anymore. But we need your help. The other girls, they weren’t as lucky as you. Some of them have been taken away and we need to find them. We need your help.”

  Her eyes opened, her expression one of helpless fear and dazed awareness.

  “I know,” Susannah soothed. “You’re afraid and feel powerless. I know what that feels like and it totally sucks. But you can help us win. You can get back at the bastards who did this to you. Help me. What’s your name?”

  She took the piece of paper Luke handed through the doorway. On it was the alphabet and she held it up in front of Jane Doe’s face, running her finger across each letter slowly. “Blink when I get there.”

  Susannah kept her eyes fixed on the girl’s face, feeling a surge of satisfaction when the girl blinked. “M? Your name starts with M? Blink twice for yes.”

  The girl blinked twice, some of the fear in her eyes was replaced with determination.

  “Next letter then.”

  “I’m sorry, your two minutes are more than up,” the nurse said.

  “But—” Luke tried.

  The nurse shook her head. “This patient is critical. If you want any information, you need to let her rest.”

  Luke’s jaw tightened. “With all due respect, the lives of maybe five girls are at stake.”

  The nurse’s chin lifted. “With all due respect, the life of this girl is at stake. You can come back tomorrow.”

  Susannah could see the fury snapping in Luke’s eyes from where she sat, but he kept his cool. “One more yes/no question,” he said. “Please?”

  The nurse blew out a breath. “One.”

  “Thank you. Susannah, ask if she knows an Ashley.”

  Susannah leaned in close again. “Do you know a girl named Ashley? Blink twice if you do.” The girl blinked twice, very deliberately. “Yeah. She does.”

  He nodded once. “Then we’re on the right track.”

  Susannah caressed the girl’s face, swearing the brown eyes that stared up at her snapped in frustration. “I know. I’ll be back tomorrow. Don’t be afraid. There’s a guard right outside and he won’t let anyone in that’s not supposed to be here. Sleep now. You’re safe.”

  Luke retrieved her shopping bag from the floor. “I’ll take you to Daniel’s house,” he said when they were outside of ICU.

  Susannah shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I have a hotel. Please,” she said when he opened his mouth to protest. “I appreciate your concern, but . . . this isn’t your concern.” She smiled as she said it, trying to soften her words.

  He looked as if he wanted to argue, but he nodded. “Fine. Do you want to change?”

  “I’ll wait. I’m . . . I want to clean up a little first.”

  “Fine,” he said again and she knew it was anything but. “I’ll take you to your hotel, but first I want to check on Daniel.”

  She followed him across the ICU floor because she knew she’d feel ashamed if she did not. He entered the room while she stood at the doorway, watching Daniel’s big chest rise and fall, still shallowly. He’d nearly died today. And I would have been alone.

  Which was ridiculous, because she’d been alone for the past eleven years, ever since he’d walked out of their house, her life, never looking back. But deep down, she’d always known she was never truly alone. Today, she almost had been.

  “How is he?” Luke murmured to Alex, who’d been keeping vigil by Daniel’s side.

  “Better,” Alex said. “They had to sedate him. He started thrashing, trying to get out of bed. He nearly pulled out all his tubes. But he’s only here for observation now that the breathing tube’s been removed. They’ll let him go to the floor tomorrow.” She turned, looked over her shoulder with a tired smile. “Susannah. How are you?”

  “I’m fine.” And if her words were abrupt, Alex Fallon didn’t seem to notice.

  “Good. I wouldn’t care to live through another day like today. I have the keys to Daniel’s house. I know he’d want you to be comfortable there.”

  “I’m going to a hotel.” She forced her lips to curve. “But thank you.”

  Alex’s brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded. “Get some rest. I’ll
watch over him.”

  You do that, Susannah thought, unwilling to deal with the tightness in her throat. “And the girl,” she murmured.

  “And the girl. Don’t worry. Susannah, tomorrow will be better.”

  But Susannah knew differently. She knew what lay ahead, what needed to be done. Tomorrow would be, to borrow Luke’s word, difficult. Very difficult. “Yes. Better,” she said quietly, because it was the socially appropriate response.

  Luke touched her arm, the briefest of contact, and when she looked up, it was understanding she saw in his dark eyes and not the criticism she’d expected. “Let’s go,” he said. “I’ll drop you off at your hotel on my way back to the office.”

  Ridgefield House, Georgia, Friday, February 2, 9:45 p.m.

  Bobby hung up the phone, satisfied. It was wise to have one’s eggs in multiple baskets. Luckily there were several hospital employees on the potential personnel list. One of them had been dispatched to take care of Captain Ryan Beardsley and Bailey Crighton. Bailey’s demise would please Bobby on a number of levels.

  It would have been more pleasing to kill Bailey myself. But it was best to keep personal feelings out of such things. Passion led to mistakes and enough mistakes had been made for one day.

  In a matter of hours all the loose threads would be snipped and business could return to normal. A car door slammed outside. Speaking of which . . .

  Haynes was here. It was time to make some money.

  Atlanta, Friday, February 2, 9:50 p.m.

  “Luke, these are for you.” Leigh Smithson, Chase’s clerk, put a stack of folders on the conference room table. “Dr. Berg sent these over. And Latent identified your dead guard. I pulled his priors for you.”

  “So who’s our mystery man?” Chase asked, putting two cups of coffee on the table.

  “Jesse Hogan,” Luke read. “Assault, B&E. Beardsley did the world a favor.”

  “He’s awake,” Leigh said. “Captain Beardsley, that is. His father called a few minutes ago. Beardsley says you can come interview him any time. I gave him your cell.”

  “I’ll go back over to the hospital when we’re done. Anything from Missing Children?”

  Leigh shook her head. “No. They’re supposed to call you or Chase directly if they find any matches to the prints of the victims. But they said it might take a while. Most of the prints were taken at schools and shopping malls when the kids were smaller and if they were younger than four or five . . .”

  “Their prints can change,” Luke said. “We’re crossing our fingers. What about missing girls named Ashley O-s-something?” He’d phoned her with the partial name from the cot frame as he’d driven to the fire scene.

  “They’re searching. I also sent requests to missing persons departments in the surrounding states.”

  “Thanks, Leigh.”

  She turned for the door. “I’ll stay until your meeting is over, then I’m going to call it a night. I’ll be back tomorrow and three stenos just came on shift, answering calls. The phone’s been ringing off the hook since the press conference.”

  “We expected that,” Chase said. “I’ve assigned more admin coverage for tomorrow. We’ll need to evaluate every call that comes in.”

  Leigh tilted her head, the argument between two people growing steadily louder—one deep booming voice and one quieter, more melodious. “Pete and Nancy are back.”

  She left as the two came in, Pete giving Nancy an exaggerated “after you” gesture. “He’s a stubborn fool,” Nancy declared. “The man has nine stitches in that cueball of his and he won’t go home.”

  Pete rolled his eyes. “I got worse playin’ football. Chase, tell this woman to hush.”

  Chase sighed. Pete and Nancy bickered like old married people. “What did the doctor say, Pete?”

  “That I’m cleared for duty,” Pete said, disgruntled. “I even got a goddamned note.”

  Chase shrugged. “Sorry, Nancy. Doctor trumps.”

  Pete sat down, satisfied, and Luke leaned sideways to mumble, “Did you really get worse playing football?”

  “Hell no,” Pete mumbled back. “And this hurts like a bitch. But I’m not telling her.”

  “Smart.” Luke was saved from Nancy’s ire by the appearance of Ed, Nate Dyer, and ASA Chloe Hathaway.

  Chase seemed surprised. “Chloe. Didn’t expect you.”

  Chloe sat, crossing her long legs. Luke thought the move was habit on her part, but he was certain she knew the stir it created. “My boss says I’m part of the team now. He wants to be sure every piece of evidence we bring in will stand up in court.”

  “We want that, too,” Luke said, thinking of the five dead, the five missing, and the girl in the hospital bed across town. “Does everyone know Nate?”

  Nate was already studying the autopsy photos and had pulled Angel’s photo aside. He looked up and nodded at the group. “Nate Dyer, ICAC.”

  Chloe frowned. “ICAC? Why is Internet Crimes Against Children involved?”

  Luke tapped the photo of Angel that Nate had set aside. “This one is one we’ve seen before. Hold on to the question, Chloe. We’ll get there. We’re all here now. Let’s get started.”

  “I’ll start,” Chase said. “The brass has been informed, all the way up through the governor. I don’t need to tell you all that they will be following every move we make. I’ll handle the administrative floor and the press. Tonight I informed the media that Mack O’Brien had been killed and broke the news of the thirteen-year-old rapes. As of seven p.m. tonight, all the victims had been informed of the status of the investigation. Whether any or all choose to testify will be between the victims and the DA’s office.”

  “I’ve already received calls from six of the victims on your list, Chase.” She lifted a brow. “And a voicemail tonight from a victim who wasn’t on your list.”

  Susannah. Luke opened his mouth and closed it. That was between Susannah and Chloe now. But she’d kept her promise. A stirring of pride eased a little of the tightness in his chest. Good for you, Susannah.

  Chase gave Luke a short nod, acknowledging he, too, understood and would keep Susannah’s name out of it until she chose to put it in. “Of course when we described the scene at the bunker, there was a furor of questions. We answered what we could, but it was pretty clear we didn’t have a lot of information to give them. Pandora’s box is officially open, people. Be watchful for the press. We’ll control what is communicated from my office. Do not talk to any reporters.”

  “Aw, man,” Ed whined. “And that’s my favorite thing.”

  Chase smiled briefly, as Ed had intended. “Your turn, Ed. What have you found?”

  Ed’s forced levity disappeared. “Hell on earth, Chase. The filth, the stench . . . It’s indescribable. We’ve gathered samples of blood and other body fluids from every cell. From the state of the cots and waste left behind in the cells, we think there were five more girls taken. The waste in the twelfth cell was not as recent—we don’t think it was occupied, but we took samples just in case. We also found IV bags and syringes—some of them still have legible production lot codes. We’re tracing those back to the manufacturer. The manufacturer will know where their products were initially shipped. After that, we’re going to have to dig to trace how they ended up in that bunker.”

  “Good,” Chase said. “What about the victims?”

  “This one we’ve seen before,” Nate Dyer said, holding up Angel’s picture. “On a Web site Luke and I shut down eight months ago. We’ll send the photo to our partners worldwide. Maybe they’ve seen either Angel or the other two girls who were with her on the Web site.” He looked at Luke. “We need to go back over our records, see if there is anything we missed the first time.”

  Luke nodded heavily. “I know. And that was my case. I know it better than anyone. I’ll be in tomorrow to look through the old files.”

  “I’ll work on it some tonight,” Nate said, then sighed. “Either way, it’ll be a bitch.”

  Luke knew
what he meant, because the same thoughts had been flying around his own mind. What if he found something he had missed the second time around? That meant he might have helped Angel and the others then. What if he didn’t find anything new? They’d be stuck at square one. A man could drive himself crazy.

  Luke straightened his spine. “So far we have two leads on the female victims in the bunker. Angel and the scratched name, Ashley O-s-something.”

  “I’ve got my team looking at that cot frame more closely,” Ed said. “Under better lighting, we may be able to see more. I did find what she used to scratch her name, though.” He held out a plastic bag. “A chip of broken tooth.”

  Luke’s brows lifted. “Resourceful girl.”

  “Let’s hope she stays that way,” Chase said. “Do we have anything on the girl who got away? What’s her name? Where is she from?”

  “Her first name starts with M,” Luke said. “That’s all we were able to get. She’d just woken up from surgery and has a breathing tube, so she can’t talk. We submitted her prints and photo to NCMEC. So far, no hits, but it’s only been a few hours. Worst case, we wait until tomorrow to get the rest of her name.”

  “Good,” Chase said. “Pete, what did the fire investigator say?”

  “He’s still sifting through the wreckage, but he found traces of accelerant. He hadn’t found the detonator as of about twenty minutes ago. When he does, he’ll call me.”

  “How’s Zach Granger?” Luke asked, and was relieved when Pete smiled.

  “They saved his eye. He may still have some vision loss. We won’t know for a few days. The rest of the team has some cuts and bruises, but we’re all cleared for duty.”

  “At least we got some good news,” Chase said. “Nancy?”

  “The bomb squad had just arrived at Mansfield’s when I got here,” Nancy said. “If they rigged both houses to blow, we’ll have the device to study. Hopefully our arsonist left some kind of signature. If we find the arsonist, we just follow the money.”

  Chase held up his crossed fingers and turned to Chloe. “And you?”