by Lee Taylor
Well, that would mean she’d have to see him again, but she was pretty sure she didn’t have any choice about that. He’d be coming back, and she’d better be ready to face him.
Face.
She couldn’t hold back a mirthless laugh. She couldn’t see his damn face because he was wearing a black hood over his head, with small circles cut for his eyes and mouth.
But maybe it was better that she couldn’t see his features. If she couldn’t tell anyone who he was, maybe he wouldn’t have to kill her.
She made a moaning sound and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, rocking back and forth. Several minutes passed before she was sure she wasn’t going to start crying. Would he see her cry?
Once again she scanned the room. As far as she could tell, there were no cameras watching, but she was no expert on video surveillance.
The last thing she remembered before waking up here was finishing her shift at the Crab Shack. She’d gone outside and started walking toward her bike, and somebody had come up behind her and clamped a wet rag over her nose and mouth.
She’d dropped like a stone. The next thing she knew, she was here.
She touched her hair. It should be light brown, but she’d seen in the mirror over the dresser that he’d dyed it blond. And dressed her in a frilly little girl’s dress that matched the room.
Again she fought tears. At least he hadn’t raped her. She prayed it wasn’t sex that he wanted. Unless he was into having sex with children.
Another thought circled in her mind. Was he hiding his identity because she knew him? Like could he possibly be her father? He’d kidnapped her a long time ago, and Mom had gotten her back. Had he decided to do it again? She hadn’t seen him in eight years. Would she even know him if she fell over him?
oOo
As they approached Gary Baker’s house, Ben heard Sage drag in a breath and let it out before saying, “Can I ask you a question?”
Wondering what was coming, he kept his eyes fixed on the road. “Okay.”
“You said you got impressions from dead people.”
“And you think that’s a bunch of crap?”
“No,” she answered, and he thought the denial was probably reflexive.
The inquiry came in a rush. “What I want to know is—did Frank Decorah send you because he thinks Laurel is dead?”
He heard the fear in her voice and made his answer gentle.
“No. He sent me because he thinks the same thing might have happened to another girl—or girls. And if I find their bodies, I might be able to see the murderer.”
“Oh.” She took a moment to digest that, then hit him with another question. “You said you died. How?”
He clamped his hands on the steering wheel, then forced himself to relax his grip. He didn’t want to talk about himself, but it was a question he’d ask if the shoe were on the other foot.
“I was a police detective in Baltimore. Working narcotics. We raided a warehouse, and I got shot in the chest. I was dead before they got me to Union Memorial.”
“Did you see that bright light they talk about?”
“I didn’t get that far. It was like I was hovering above my body, looking down at the doctor and nurses working on me.”
She nodded. “And when you recovered, you went from the police force to Decorah?”
He turned his head toward her briefly before returning his attention to the road. “I spent four months in rehab. I was ready to go back to the Baltimore PD when my sister disappeared.”
“Like Laurel?”
“No. It was work related. She ended up dead, and I ended up hunting down the man who was responsible for her death.”
“I’m sorry.”
He answered with a little nod, wishing she’d get off the subject.
Instead she asked, “You were close to her?”
“We saw each other when we could. . .” He felt his throat tighten. “But she wouldn’t listen to me when I told her that career choice was a dumb idea.”
“Maybe if you’d put it differently.”
“Maybe.”
He hoped the flat tone of his voice made it clear he didn’t want to discuss it further.
She pressed her lips together. Probably she had other questions, but she was smart enough to keep them to herself now. They had reached Gary Baker’s neighborhood, a community of red-brick ranchers built in the fifties, where most of the properties were reasonably well taken care of.
As they turned onto Baker’s street, he started scanning for the house. It was the place with the out-of-control shrubbery. The wood trim was in need of painting, the garden was weedy and the grass looked like it hadn’t seen a lawnmower in months. The neighbors must love this guy.
“You just passed it,” she said, pointing across the street as Ben drove down the block.
“I know. I’m taking the lay of the land before we get out.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
He glanced at her again, watching her twist her hands together in her lap. Obviously she wasn’t looking forward to seeing Baker again.
“He works in a warehouse, right?” Ben asked.
“Last I knew.”
“That’s what his dossier says.”
“You already investigated him?”
“Ted—that’s the IT guy—started on him first.”
Ben turned the car around so that the house was now on the right. “When’s the last time you were here?”
“I visited with Laurel a few times when I was a kid. I remember a standard layout. Living room-dining room combination right off the front door. Kitchen looking over the backyard.” She made a snorting sound. “If you think the front looks bad, the back is a junk heap. Or it was. Inside there are three bedrooms, a powder room and a full bath.”
“And a basement?”
“Yes. The door’s in the kitchen.”
“Walk out?”
She hesitated. “I don’t think so.”
He pulled to the curb. “You think seeing you will make him angry?”
“Hard to tell with Gary. When he’s provoked, he’s got a temper, that’s for sure.”
He turned to her. “And you want to take a chance on sneaking around his house?”
Her voice took on a tone of steel. “I have to.”
oOo
Sage prepared herself as they both climbed out of the car into the afternoon sunshine and walked up three cracked steps to the front door. The closer they got to the house, the faster her heart pounded.
She hadn’t seen Gary Baker in years, and she’d hoped never to see him again. Now here she was—because she was willing to brave any situation if it might help her find Laurel.
When Ben rang the bell, her tension jolted up a notch. After half a minute had ticked by and nothing happened, he rang again.
Finally, she heard noises inside and braced herself. What was Gary doing in there? Locking up Laurel?
The door opened, and the man she hadn’t seen since her childhood appeared, looking at least twenty years older than when they’d last met. His dark hair was shot with gray and thinning, and the lines on his face had carved themselves deeply into his skin. She wouldn’t have taken him for the vain type, but he’d combed long strands across his balding dome.
His eyes were the pale blue she remembered. His nose looked larger and redder, making her wonder if he’d been drinking a lot over the years. Probably he was in his mid-fifties. And although his face showed his age, his body seemed fit and muscular. Sage remembered that he’d had a gym membership. It looked like he’d kept it up.
His main focus was on Ben. Then his gaze shifted to her, and he did a double take as he realized who she was.
“Sage?”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing here?”
“We’ve come to ask for your help,” Ben said, surprising her with the way he’d put it.
“With what?”
“Laurel is missing, and we’re wondering if you have any idea where she went
.”
“Laurel? Missing?” he repeated. If he’d been aware of it before, he was doing an excellent job of sounding shocked.
“Can we come in?” Ben asked.
Gary hesitated, then stepped back. They followed him into a living room that hadn’t changed much since Sage had been there in her teens. Well, the clunky old television set had been replaced by a big new flat screen that dominated the wall across from the sofa. Unlike the exterior, the interior was relatively neat. No dirty dishes or papers lying around.
Gary didn’t ask them to sit down on the lumpy brown couch. Instead he stood in the middle of the living room with his beefy arms folded across his chest. A defensive posture.
“What happened to Laurel?” he asked.
“We don’t know,” Sage said. “She left work a couple of nights ago at the restaurant where she’s a waitress in Doncaster and never came home.”
“You have any idea where she might have gone?” Ben asked.
“No.”
“She didn’t call or anything?”
“No.” Gary swung his gaze to Sage. “What’s your involvement?”
“I’m worried about my sister.”
“When’s the last time you saw her?” Ben asked.
“Eight years ago,” he answered as though he’d been keeping track. He gave a mirthless laugh. “Her mom’s name is Angel, but she’s a bitch on wheels. She never let me near my own kid. For spite, because she sure didn’t love hanging out with her daughters.”
The remark cut. Sage could think of a couple of snappy comebacks, but she bit them back.
As Ben asked another question, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”
He gave her a considering look. “Okay.”
Ben walked over to the fireplace where there were some framed photographs. “This is Laurel?” he asked, as he pointed to a picture of a little girl with Gary.
“Yeah. She’s the angel. Not her mom.”
Sage headed down the hall. Walking past the bathroom, she started opening doors and looking into rooms. She stopped short, her breath catching when she came across an eerie sight—a room with a pink bedspread and curtains that looked like it belonged to a little girl. It was the room she remembered from when she’d visited years ago. And it was still here, as if Laurel had walked out of it only a few moments ago.
It seemed to be empty, but she stepped inside, checked the closet, looked under the bed. The spread was neatly in place, and when she pulled it back, she found that the sheets were crisp.
The room appeared to be a shrine to Laurel, not a place where she’d been living recently.
Sage stepped into the hall again and opened another door. The room beyond looked to be Gary’s, with a queen-sized bed, heavy wood furniture, and a carpet in tones of brown and gray.
The third bedroom had been converted into an office.
Down the hall she heard Ben talking to Gary, explaining that Decorah Security had been hired to look for Laurel. He was going into the background of the agency, explaining that Frank Decorah had several offices around the country, but the headquarters was in Beltsville.
Sage paused in the doorway to the living room, noting that Ben had turned so that Gary’s back was to her. Slipping past, she headed for the kitchen. The basement door was where she’d remembered it. She opened it quickly, eased inside and felt for a light switch.
After flipping it on, she tiptoed down the stairs, feeling the temperature drop as she descended.
The stairs opened into an old-fashioned pine-paneled rec room that smelled vaguely musty. At the far end was another door. She opened it and saw the furnace room. As she crossed the tile floor again, from above her she heard Gary shout, “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Ben answered.
“Where is Sage?”
Footsteps pounded down the hall, then came back. Gary had obviously discovered that she wasn’t where she’d said she’d be.
She was on her way back up when he charged into the kitchen, spotted her on the stairs and yanked her up into the room, where she stood wavering on her feet.
“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted at her.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t tell me nothing. You were spying on me.”
“I wanted to make sure Laurel wasn’t here.”
Ben was right behind him. “Get off of her.”
Gary whirled around and slammed a beefy fist toward Ben. He dodged aside and tried to defend himself without fighting back. Probably he figured that the guy had a right to be pissed off that they’d lied their way into his house.
“Meet me outside,” he shouted to Sage, but his attention had swung away from Gary for a split second too long. The man grabbed a frying pan off the stove and brought it down on Ben’s head.
He staggered back, then slid down the wall, landing on his butt on the kitchen floor, looking dazed.
“Ben!” she shouted, but he didn’t answer.
With his opponent out of the way, Gary turned toward her.
“Are you lying about Laurel? Did you use that excuse to get in here?”
“Why would I do that?”
“You tell me, honey.”
“We’re only looking for my sister. You have to admit that if you kidnapped her once, you might do it again.”
He made a dismissive sound as he advanced on her. “I see you inherited your values from your mom. Well, I’m going to teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”
Sage was already sure she wasn’t going to forget this incident, but right now she had to get out of here and dial 911. She feinted to the left, then right when he grabbed for her. Ducking around him, she charged into the living room and made it halfway across. Before she could reach the door, he caught up with her, grabbing her by the hair and yanking hard enough to snap her head back.
As she gasped from the sharp pain, he spun her around and flattened her against the wall, his face inches from hers. The murderous look in his eyes made her throat close.
She tried to raise her knee and slam him in the groin, but he was ready for the move.
“No, you don’t.”
He swept her legs out from under her with his foot so that he was the only thing holding her up.
As she dangled in his clutches, he pulled her toward him, getting ready to slam her head against the wall. Before he could do it, Ben staggered out of the kitchen, blood running down his face. He was holding the same pan that Gary had hit him with. Coming up behind the man, he slammed it onto his head.
Gary let go of Sage and went down. Pressing her shoulders against the wall, she struggled to stay on her feet, wondering how everything had turned deadly so quickly.
“Come on,” Ben said, grabbing her hand and pulling her across the living room. As they charged outside, he slammed the front door behind them.
Blinking in the sunlight, Sage thought they were going to make a clean getaway. Well, as clean as you could expect with blood dripping down Ben’s forehead.
They were almost to his Honda when the door behind them opened again, and Gary’s voice rang out.
“Stop right there, or I’ll shoot.”
They both whirled around to see Baker standing on the porch, holding a gun. And Sage knew he was fool enough to use it.
Chapter Three
“Get in the car,” Ben said as he pulled an automatic from the back waistband of his slacks.
There was no way Sage was going to obey that order. She was rooted to the spot where she stood, as she watched the two armed men facing each other in the hot sun like a scene out of a western.
One of them had a volatile streak as wide as the Chesapeake Bay. She wasn’t sure about the other one yet.
“It’s against the law to fire a weapon in a residential area,” Ben said.
“Then why do you have a gun in your hand?” Baker challenged.
“To keep you from doing something stupid.”
As they con
fronted each other, a couple of doors along the street opened.
Gary stood his ground for another moment, then with a curse, he turned and stalked back into his house, slamming the door behind him.
Ben waited until the other man had disappeared, then headed for the car.
“Wait,” Sage called to him.
“Why?”
“Your head’s bleeding.”
“Head wounds do that. We’ll take care of it after we get out of here.”
Sage followed and got into the passenger seat as he slid behind the wheel and started the engine with a jerky motion, then lurched away from the curb.
“This is a bad idea,” she said. “Pull over. I’ll drive.”
“Not yet.”
He kept going, and she wondered if the blow to the head really had addled his brain. Could he even see with blood dripping in his eyes?
But after a few blocks, he came to a gas station and pulled in, driving around back to the men’s room.
“I’ll be right back,” he said as he got out. At least he seemed steady on his feet as he went inside. When he came back several minutes later, he’d cleaned up his face, and he was holding a wad of wet paper towels to the top of his head.
“Let me see.”
He sat down in the seat, with his legs dangling out of the car, leaning forward slightly. She came around to his side of the vehicle and lifted the paper towels away.
“Well?” he asked.
“It’s pretty deep.”
He grunted.
She gently dabbed at the wound. It felt intimate, touching him like this, as intimate as when he’d held her in the parking lot. Then she hadn’t known who he was. Now she was getting a much better picture of Ben Walker.
Well, sort of. They’d been together a few hours, and he had revealed only a little about his background, with her working to get at the information. She knew he’d cared about his sister and lost her. That made her feel closer to him.
And she knew more, from their interaction and from observing him. He wasn’t afraid of a fight, or a gun battle, or of taking chances. She didn’t know what would have happened if Gary hadn’t backed down, but she was glad she hadn’t had to find out.
