by Steven James
He’s the one who attended them.
No—Tobin would have recognized him. So would they have sent someone else? Would they—
I was conflicted. I couldn’t stall, because I needed to stop Billy, but I also needed to save Tobin and Naomi. I studied the distance between them. The ropes looked tight enough that if those men really did remove the chairs, Naomi and Tobin wouldn’t drop far, so their necks wouldn’t break, but they would choke to death. And it wouldn’t take long.
By the time I got to one of them, it would be too late to save the other.
You need to save them both!
How?
Chip studied Tobin’s face. “I have a friend in Internal Affairs. I know about the investigation. When you’re dead, Detective, this case will die with you. I’ll make sure of that—and I’m good at covering my tracks.”
Hurry! You need to stop Billy. He’s going to upload the files and kill the children.
“You know.” Chip tapped a finger against Tobin’s chest. “I remember taking Adrienne, standing there in your living room with my hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t cry out while you rushed past us to follow Higgs in his sedan. You should have seen the look in her eyes. Yeah, I took her, I watched over her, and I killed her—all while I was working on the task force. It was quite a feeling, my friend. Nothing else like it.”
Tobin’s eyes became steel.
One of the men nearby went over and punched him in the gut. Tobin crumpled a little, but the rope around his neck kept him from buckling over.
“Why’d you do that?” Chip asked him harshly.
He spoke just loud enough for me to hear. “You’ll have to forgive me. I get a little carried away sometimes.”
I stared at him.
That was precisely what I’d said to Blake when I was alone with him in his office.
Why would he give himself away like that?
His man left you with your knife . . .
“So, then,” I said to him, “we have that in common.”
He nodded.
“Alright, it’s time,” Chip called to the person beside Naomi’s chair. “Kick it out.” As the man did, Chip grabbed the chair that Tobin was standing on and slipped it out from under him.
Both Tobin and Naomi dropped, their feet dangling above the concrete floor.
Go!
Blake and his bouncer are closer to Tobin.
I whipped off the mask and bolted toward Naomi, flicking out my blade as I did.
The rope is weighted. It’s stretched tight. It’ll be easier to cut.
I heard gunshots behind me, but I kept running. Leaping over Naomi’s upended chair, I slashed the blade against the rope, which frayed partway, but held. I had to swipe at it two more times before the rope severed.
I caught Naomi as she dropped, then loosened the rope around her throat and lowered her to the floor. “You’re going to be alright.”
After removing her gag, I cut her hands free.
She gasped for breath, then stared past me and pointed across the warehouse. “Pat, hurry!”
Spinning around, I saw that one of the Final Territory men was lying unmoving on his back. The rest of the men had scattered. The big guy was holding on to Tobin, bear-hugging him, supporting his weight so he wouldn’t choke.
Blake had removed his mask and was crouched, aiming a gun at someone who was hiding behind a cluster of mannequins near the far wall. From his vantage point, I doubted Blake could see him, but I could. “Four from the left,” I shouted as I raced across the warehouse to try to save Tobin. “Aim low.”
Blake fired a volley of shots and there was a brief cry of pain, then a heavy thud.
Then silence.
He’d hit his mark.
When I arrived at Tobin’s side, I realized someone had shot the man holding him. A widening stain of blood seeped from his side and he was cringing from the effort of keeping Tobin in the air.
I snatched up the chair, stood on it, and sliced through the rope.
The guy eased Tobin to the ground, then collapsed beside him.
While Blake went to put pressure on his man’s gunshot wound, I leaned over Tobin. Quickly, I removed the rope from his neck, then took off the gag and freed his hands. “Relax,” I said. “Just relax. It’s over.”
His breathing was coarse and choppy, but he managed to say, “Where?”
“Where?”
“Where’d Chip go?”
“Out the back,” Blake told him. “By the waterfront. I shot him in the leg. He won’t be far.”
Tobin struggled to push himself to his feet.
“Just stay here,” I said, but it did no good. His mind was made up. Half staggering, half running, he took off after the man who’d killed his daughter.
“Why are you helping us?” I asked Blake. “Why are you doing this?”
“Let’s just say I’ve got my reasons.” He was still holding his hand against the guy’s bleeding side.
“Tell me where the children are.”
“I don’t know.”
“Billy said he was going to take care of them. Where did he go?” I demanded.
“Agent Bowers, I don’t know.”
I dug the limo keys out of the bouncer’s pocket, and as I did, it reminded me of the key he’d slipped into my own pocket yesterday. “Why’d you guys give me that key? What did you mean when you said it was the key to everything?”
“You’re gonna need it to find the kids. That’s all I know. That’s all they told me.”
The guy had taken my SIG when he frisked me. I retrieved it. “I’m going after Billy.”
“We won’t be here when you get back,” Blake told me.
“I’ll be coming for you.”
“I’ll be ready.”
I rushed toward the door, still not sure how I was going to find McReynolds.
If he was telling the truth when he said he was going to upload the files in twelve minutes, I didn’t have much time.
+++
Billy McReynolds parked the van, used his key, swung open the door, and descended the steps to where they kept the children.
96
I grabbed Maria’s cell phone from under the seat in the back of the limo, and as I slipped behind the wheel, I called dispatch and told them to get units en route. They relayed that Jodie was already on her way.
I peeled out of the parking lot toward the city.
Where would the children be?
In his interview with Dr. Perrior, D’Nesh had said there were pillows on the walls of the place where they kept him, pillows that weren’t pillows.
And he’d said they watched them through the windows.
Why did they bring you here to the warehouse?
They’re moving the kids. Time is tight. They must be close.
I called DeYoung and he picked up almost immediately. “Pat, what is—?”
“The Hearre Construction records. Pull them up. Did they ever remodel BranchWide Studios?”
“Let me check.”
It only took him a minute. “Yes. Four years ago. It looks like they put in four additional recording rooms.”
“They’re soundproof,” I muttered. “They would be perfect.”
Pillows that weren’t pillows: sound baffles on the walls.
“It’s the studio. Send backup.”
I hit the brakes, screeched to a stop, spun around, and took off for the BranchWide Studios, which if I was right, would be close by, less than a mile away.
+++
Tobin Cavanaugh followed the spotty blood trail along the dock.
He was still having a hard time drawing in his breath and felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen while he’d been hanging from the rope, but he wasn’t about to turn back now. He’d been waiting for this momen
t ever since the night his daughter was taken.
The months had come and gone. The years had come and gone. And he had not found justice, had not found relief, had not found peace.
Tonight he would find all three.
The blood trail ended in a thick wash of shadows behind a loading container near the edge of a pier that dropped off twenty feet to the black water of the bay. “I know you’re in there, Chip.”
Chip Hinchcliffe stepped out of the darkness holding a two-foot-long lead pipe that he must have found along the docks. “Hello, Tobin.”
“Lay down the pipe, get on the ground, and put your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest.”
A slight headshake. “I’m afraid that’s not the ending I had in mind here.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Chip tightened his grip on the pipe. “I’m actually glad it turned out like this. Neither of us with our guns. Now I get to kill you like I did your daughter, up close and personal.”
“Up close and personal works for me.”
Tobin went at him, but Chip swung the pipe with blinding speed. Tobin swiveled sideways, but immediately Chip recovered, cocked the pipe back, and brought a crushing blow to the side of Tobin’s leg that sent him crumpling to one knee.
As he was trying to rise to his feet again, Chip slammed the pipe against his back, knocking him to his hands and knees, and then again, flattening him to the ground.
Chip kicked him severely in the ribs and Tobin heard the sharp crack as at least one of his ribs snapped.
He drew in a tight, strangled breath and rolled over to face his attacker.
Chip stared down at him. “Adrienne used to cry in her room, asking for you and her mother. She never gave up hoping that you’d find her, until the very end when she realized no one was coming for her, no one was going to save her. But don’t worry, I comforted her. Told her all the things a loving father would. Even as I squeezed the life breath out of her.”
He raised the pipe high.
Tobin eyed the bloodstain on Chip’s leg where Blake had shot him. Scooting closer, he kicked at it, connecting solidly. Chip staggered backward, losing his footing for a moment.
That was all Tobin needed.
Ignoring the pain, he sprang to his feet and rushed Chip, throwing his arms around him and driving him back off the pier toward the water.
He tightened his grip as they fell through the air.
Though the impact was jarring, Tobin held on.
The river swallowed them.
With the broken rib, Tobin wasn’t able to get much of a breath before they went under.
Chip let go of the pipe and writhed desperately against his grip. After a moment, he managed to free himself and kicked toward the surface, but Tobin grabbed his leg, dragging him back down.
This man killed Adrienne.
Chip kicked at Tobin’s face with his free leg, but Tobin held on, working his hands up Chip’s body to get to his neck.
He drove Misty to suicide.
Bubbles rose from his mouth as he ran out of air.
He took everything from you.
He got to Chip’s neck and wrapped his arm around it, locking it in place with his other hand.
Chip struggled fiercely against him, but together they sank.
Tobin held on.
Even when Chip began to convulse.
Even when the last few dribbles of breath escaped from Tobin’s mouth and his lungs were screaming for air.
Still, he held on.
Only when the convulsions stopped.
Only when Chip went limp did Tobin let go.
Up close and personal.
Yeah, that worked for him.
He strained for the surface and made it just long enough to snatch in one breath before the current grabbed him and his weakness overwhelmed him.
As he was sinking again, he heard someone calling his name.
There was a splash nearby.
Then, as the world grew dim, he felt an arm curl around his chest as somebody tugged him toward shore.
97
All the lights were off when I skidded to a stop outside the BranchWide Studios building.
No cars nearby.
Nothing.
I tried the front door, but it was locked and the key that Blake had told me was the key to everything didn’t open it.
I gave the door a few swift kicks, but it was reinforced and the lock refused to give way.
Around the south side of the building I found a back door, but that one wouldn’t open either.
Again the key didn’t fit.
You were wrong. This isn’t it!
They transported children back and forth from Romanoff’s place in New Jersey. So they would’ve needed to load and unload the children, somewhere that wouldn’t draw attention.
The recording studio is too conspicuous.
But then what about the remodeling work?
Billy said he was going to upload those files in twelve minutes.
You need to find him!
Where could they transfer the children without being seen?
Based on the floor plan of the building, I anticipated that any additional studio rooms would need to be located on a lower level.
If so, there might be another way in.
The garage next door, Lizzie’s Auto Repair, was close.
Wait.
Skylar mentioned she’d “seen the garage.”
D’Nesh had said he heard the people who took him mention the name Lizzie.
Billy McReynolds claimed Beth was the one who’d accused his brother of abusing her.
Beth could be short for Elizabeth.
So could Lizzie.
Lizzie’s Auto Repair.
He was mocking us right from the start!
I ran to the door of the body shop.
Slid the key into the lock.
It clicked.
Gun ready, I eased the door open.
Three auto bays stretched back into the darkness.
A van stood in the middle of the garage.
I checked the driver’s seat first.
Empty.
When I threw open the van’s back doors, I found two children, both terrified, handcuffed to a chain that ran along the floor.
I recognized them from the case files: LeAnne Cordett and Andre Martin. She would have turned five by now. He was ten.
Maggie Rivers, who was eleven, was still missing.
“It’s alright,” I assured them. “I’m going to help you. Where’s Maggie?”
Andre pointed across the garage. “Downstairs.”
After tugging on the chain to try to free them, but finding it secure, I put a finger to my lips. “Shh. Stay quiet now. I’ll be right back.”
I cleared the garage, then crossed the auto bay to a steel door beside the fuse box.
The door was ajar. When I pressed it open, I saw that it led to a staircase.
A dim lightbulb halfway down the steps was on.
SIG in a tactical position, I started down the stairs.
The paneling and carpeting were the same as in the video of Aurora’s birthday.
The steps ended in the rec room where the two children had been. There were also toys and a side room with a bed and a shelf of knives.
A hallway led back underground, stretching westward and under the studio building. A stairwell at the far end would have led up into it.
Soundproof rooms on each side.
Each was reinforced with thick glass and had sound-absorbing baffles on the walls. It was chilling to think that they kept the children captive right under the recording studio where Billy hosted his daily radio program listened to by five million people.
In the dim
light, I could make out mats on the floor of the rooms, as well as pillows and blankets. A scattering of books and dirty stuffed animals lay beside them. There was a drain in the corner of each room, perhaps for the children to use as a toilet. Near each mat, a thick chain was attached to the wall with an empty manacle where I imagined the children’s ankles had been shackled.
Maggie Rivers was in the last room, unchained and crouching in the corner.
I opened her door. “It’s okay, Maggie. I’m—”
But then I heard the van doors slam and the rough rattle of the garage door opening.
He’s leaving. He’s taking the other two children!
“Stay here,” I told Maggie, then I sprinted through the hallway and back up the stairs.
Burst into the garage.
There was no one in the driver’s seat.
He’s here.
In the garage.
Scanning the auto bays, I saw no one, but there were plenty of shadows. “Billy?” I called. “It’s over. Come on out.”
Through the now-open garage door, I saw a car that hadn’t been there earlier in front of the recording studio. A woman appeared in the darkening day and called to me in a concerned voice, “Agent Bowers?” It was Elle Lachman. “What’s going on?”
I raised my gun at her. “Hands up.”
She cried out in fear and put her hands up. “Don’t shoot me! Please!”
“What are you doing here?”
“Billy called me, told me that he needed me. But I—”
“Stay right there.”
I turned to inspect the garage, but movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. By the time I spun around to face Elle again, Billy had stepped out of the darkness. He was aiming a Glock directly at his wife’s head. “Drop your gun, Agent Bowers.”
Elle gasped. “Billy, what are you doing?”
“Shut up.” Then, as he led her into the garage, he called to me again, “Drop it or there’s gonna be an awfully big mess to clean up in here.”
I had my gun leveled at him. With Elle in the way, it reminded me of being in Romanoff’s house last week when Higgs had the knife against Lily Keating’s neck.
