Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series)

by Kristine Mason

  And prayed.

  *

  Dante stood by the hospital vending machine, holding a Diet Coke and waiting for Jessica to finish talking to the two detectives handling the Jane Doe investigation. When he’d started his day, he’d been prepared to visit at least a dozen storage companies with Lola, searching for any link to their pawn shop case. But he hadn’t planned on going into a storage unit where a pregnant woman had been held hostage.

  The crime scene at Missy Schneider’s house had been bad, but the one he viewed today was worse. According to the ME who’d performed Missy’s autopsy, when Missy had been struck on the head, she’d likely sustained irreversible brain damage before the killer had given her a C-section. Unfortunately, the Jane Doe found in the storage unit had to have been well aware of what was being done to her, and he couldn’t begin to imagine the young girl’s fear. He didn’t want to.

  His cell phone rang. After checking the caller ID, he answered Lola’s call.

  “How’d it go?” she asked.

  “Not good. We have an unconscious Jane Doe, who the doctor believes delivered a baby within the past twelve to eighteen hours, and no baby.”

  “Oh, my God. Is she going to be okay?”

  “The doctors think so. She’s badly dehydrated and has a severe infection. Her fever is high and they’re worried about septic shock.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  What had been done to the girl went beyond horrible. By the time Lola had dropped him off at the storage facility, the girl had already been removed and taken to the hospital. But he’d seen the crime scene photos. Their Jane Doe had been bound and gagged, and forced to lay in her blood and filth. She’d been stripped of her child and left for dead. When he’d arrived at the scene, the unit had been open for almost an hour. Even with fresh air moving through the room, the heat had been unbearable and he’d almost gagged on the fetid odor.

  “I know,” he said, keeping those details to himself. Later, if Lola wanted to know what they’d found in the unit, he’d tell her. For now, he’d rather not talk about it.

  “Who found her?”

  “A guy going to put some things into a unit he rents next to the one where Jane Doe was discovered. The smell coming out of the unit was so bad, he worried it would affect his things, so he got hold of the storage facility’s owner, who in turn cut the padlock, saw the girl, then contacted the police.”

  “Lucky break. With how hot it’s supposed to be today, that girl couldn’t have survived.”

  “Agreed,” he said, still watching Jessica and the detectives. “How’s it going with you?”

  “No new leads, but I do have another seven storage facilities to check.”

  “Okay. Call me when you’re finished.” His CALL WAITING beeped, and he checked the caller ID. “I have to run. I’ll talk with you later.” Anxious to speak with the DCI investigator, he quickly answered. As the investigator spoke, he moved to where Jessica stood with the two detectives, then motioned to her.

  She stopping talking and mouthed, “DCI?”

  He nodded, thanked the investigator and ended the call. “We have the composite sketch on the woman suspected of killing Missy Schneider,” he said, knowing Jessica had already given the two detectives the information they had on their case. “DCI emailed it to me and is sending the composite out to all law enforcement agencies nationwide.” He handed her the Diet Coke he’d bought, then opened the file from his cell phone. When the woman’s dimpled smile came onto the screen, his skin crawled. She didn’t look like a killer. With her kind eyes and curly hair framing an angelic face, she looked like the girl next door.

  He handed the phone over to Jessica, who showed the sketch to the two detectives. “We’ll forward this to you,” she said. “We need the owner of the storage facility to look at it.”

  Both men agreed and, after telling Jessica they’d keep them informed on any new information, they left. Once they’d walked away, she handed over his phone. “Notice any similarities to the drawing I made from Quinn Joyce’s description of his mommy?”

  He nodded. “Dimples and curly hair,” he said, and sent the sketch to one of the detective’s email. “Eerie.”

  “Scary.” She popped the tab on the soda. “If this woman did this to our Jane Doe…” Tears filled her eyes. She blinked several times and took a sip. “That poor girl had to—never mind. I can’t talk about it.” She took another swallow. “You told DCI what we have here?”

  “I did,” he said, resting a hand on her tensed shoulder. “Do you need to go back to work?”

  She shook her head. “Alex is covering our cases. I called him, and he knows I want to be here if our girl wakes up. You?”

  “Lola’s following up on our hunch. She’ll call if she needs something.”

  “So, I guess we just wait it out?”

  “What else can we do?”

  She let out a sigh and rubbed the back of her neck. “Pray that someone recognizes the woman with a big set of dimples.”

  *

  Hungry, Heather decided she needed to venture out of the bedroom to find something to eat. Except to use the bathroom, or to make a bottle for Elton, she hadn’t left the bedroom since arguing with Wayne.

  Since Elton had cried himself to sleep—again—she laid him on the center of the bed and left the room. Although it was half past seven, the summer sun still shined into the apartment. If not for the close proximity to the L, this place would have been ideal. They were near transit, plenty of stores, and had a somewhat great view of the city.

  But they’d be leaving soon. Wayne thought it would happen tonight, but he was dead wrong. She wasn’t comfortable traveling with Elton. Wayne had insisted that they leave, but had given her no destination, which meant they’d be forced to find a hotel. With how fussy the baby had been, she wasn’t comfortable with that, either. Plus, she still wanted to go back to the storage unit and take anything that had her fingerprints on it.

  When she left the bedroom, she looked to her left and saw Wayne dozing on the couch. The boxes he’d been filling earlier that day were now sealed and stacked. Maybe he’d thought about how horrible he’d been to her and had decided to hold off on leaving tonight. Not that she was going anywhere or even needed to. She’d already prepaid her landlord the first six months of rent. If Wayne wanted to go, she still had a place to live. Plus, there was the money in their safe. She could give Wayne half, and keep the rest for herself, which would be more than enough for her and Elton to survive on for a little while.

  But then what?

  She refused to put Elton in daycare and let someone else raise her baby, which made finding a job not an option. As she made a salami and cheese sandwich, she realized she had no choice. She needed Wayne. He had always been the breadwinner. Without him, she had no other source of income. She had no way of caring for Elton.

  After spending hours praying, she still had no answers to her problems. If anything, she had more questions.

  Why was God still testing her? Why was He continuously making her suffer? Hadn’t she shown Him enough faith? She simply didn’t know, but knew in her heart that the love she held for her baby was honest and true.

  Carrying her sandwich and a glass of iced tea out of the kitchen, she paused in the living room and stared at her husband. She loved him so much. They’d been together since they were kids. No one knew her better than Wayne, and no one knew him better than her. Life without him would be hard, and she prayed she wouldn’t have to sacrifice her marriage to be with her son. After all, divorce was a sin.

  Careful not to wake Wayne, she left the living room. When she opened the bedroom door, the plate and glass crashed to the hardwood floor. “Elton,” she cried.

  The baby was convulsing in the center of the bed. Terrified and uncertain what to do, she shouted for Wayne.

  Within seconds he was at her side, and holding her back. “Let him be,” he said, gripping her arms.

  She fought him. “No,” she shouted.
“He needs me.”

  He held her still. “There’s nothing you can do. Stay calm and let it pass.”

  Her heart pounded so hard, she thought it would burst from her chest. Every part of her ached with a helplessness she’d never known possible. She wept and prayed, and clung to Wayne for support. Seconds went by, and Elton finally went still.

  She rushed to the bed and quickly held her son. His heart beat rapidly against her ear. She checked his breathing, then sobbed and held him tight. He was alive. Thank the Lord. He was alive. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t bother to wipe them. She never wanted to let Elton go again. She never wanted to let him out of her sight. Seeing the way the seizure had gripped him—she hugged him tighter.

  “Careful, now,” Wayne said, his tone coaxing. “He’s okay. For now. Ease up a bit.”

  Fearful of crushing him, she did as Wayne suggested. But the image of her baby convulsing had her cradling Elton closer.

  “He needs a doctor,” Wayne said.

  Deep in her heart, she knew Wayne was right. “Not yet,” she insisted. “I’m not ready for him to be with God.”

  “Doesn’t have to be that way.” Wayne looked down at the baby in her arms. “He doesn’t have to die. A baby like this could easily be adopted by another family.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she lied. No other family could love and care for Elton the way she could. He was her gift. God had given him to her.

  If she couldn’t have him, no one but God would.

  Chapter 19

  JESSICA FOLLOWED DANTE into the foyer of their home. “I’ve never been so glad to be home,” she said, taking off her suit coat. “Are you sure you’re okay with Lola keeping your car for the night?” Since Lola had dropped him off at the crime scene, she’d kept Dante’s Camaro so she could continue with the investigation Dante was supposed to be working on with her. “I told you I don’t mind taking you to her place to get it.”

  “I haven’t been able to reach her.” He toed off his shoes. “She’s probably at the gym or something. It’ll be fine. And I don’t feel like going out again. I’m with you. It’s good to be home.”

  She unclipped her body band gun holster. “I know how much you love that car. I just don’t want anything to happen to it.”

  “Lola lives in a nice place and has a secure parking garage.” He shrugged. “And if something does happen to it—it’s just a car.”

  She half-smiled. “Since when?” she asked, tugging at her shirt where the holster had left the material stuck to her sweaty skin.

  “Since today.” He blew out a breath. “Seeing the crime scene, seeing the photos of Jane Doe—it rocked my perception on things.”

  “How so?” she asked, anxious to hear his thoughts. She also had an awakening today. Unlike Dante, she’d arrived at the scene just as they were taking Jane Doe from the storage unit. She didn’t think she could ever shake the memory from her mind. As a homicide detective, she’d seen plenty of haunting crime scenes, but this one ranked as the most inhumane and atrocious.

  “Jess.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Maybe we should save this conversation for another day. I think this investigation hits a little too close to home for both of us.”

  She laid her palm over the back of his hand. “I can separate this case from Sophia’s.” His eyes said he didn’t believe her. “Seriously. Say what’s on your mind.”

  He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I can’t stop thinking about Jane Doe’s missing baby. A car, a house, the things in a house, a job—that’s all replaceable. But what happened to that girl—you and I both know what she’s lost.”

  Tightening her grip on the gun holster she held, she blinked back the tears. “We need to find her baby.”

  “We will.” He touched her cheek and searched her eyes. “I couldn’t convince myself of anything else. You shouldn’t, either. We have the owner of the storage facility confirming our composite sketch matches the woman who rented the unit. The composite is going to be aired on the nine o’clock news. Plus we have fingerprints and, after Forensics is finished, I bet we’ll have DNA, too.”

  Fingerprints had been found on the fans, lanterns and the cooler left in the unit, along with the harness used to restrain Jane Doe. As for DNA, with the amount of blood and fecal matter, along with all of the boxes and furniture in the unit, it might take weeks before Forensics finished their investigation. Weeks they didn’t have. Now that the baby was likely with the woman from the composite, she could run again. Like the bitch who had abducted Sophia, she could also vanish without a trace.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” she said, needing time to herself. She’d lied when she said she could separate this case from Sophia’s. Like Dante, she couldn’t stop thinking about the baby, or the hell the mother had been put through. She couldn’t stop thinking about her own hell.

  “Can I fix you something to eat while you shower?”

  Her stomach had been a mess all day. She couldn’t even consider eating anything. “I’m not hungry, thanks.”

  His eyes filled with understanding. “A glass of wine?”

  “A vodka tonic would be better.”

  “I’ll bring it up in a few.”

  She gave him a quick kiss, then turned and walked up a couple steps. “Actually,” she said over her shoulder. “Can you make it a double?” She didn’t plan to drink herself into a drunken stupor, but she knew she’d have trouble sleeping tonight. A couple of vodkas would hopefully deaden the disturbing images that had been seared to her brain.

  When she reached the second floor landing, she stared at her daughter’s closed bedroom door. Memories of the hot, putrid-smelling storage unit, of the bloodied and soiled blankets and mattress where Jane Doe had obviously given birth were suddenly replaced.

  She was at the hospital, giving birth to Sophia. Dante’s dark eyes were filled with terror and excitement as she gripped his hand and pushed. The doctor and nurses were encouraging her, telling her just a few more pushes. Although the door to the hospital room had been closed, she knew her parents and Dante’s were waiting impatiently in the hallway to meet their granddaughter. She couldn’t wait to meet Sophia, too. Despite the pain and exhaustion, she pushed with all of her might, then cried out when Sophia slipped into the world.

  The doctor had quickly wiped her baby’s face clean, while a nurse moved her hospital gown aside, exposing her chest. Within seconds, Sophia’s warm, naked little body was against hers, and a soft blanket was draped over them.

  Tears streamed down her cheek and she couldn’t help smiling at the memory. The way Sophia’s heartbeat had drummed against her chest. How her baby girl had gazed at her with dark, knowing eyes. The love that had poured through her—for Dante and the child they’d created.

  Jane Doe’s bound body suddenly tarnished the memory. The poor girl, who couldn’t be more than twenty, was ripped of the beauty of childbirth. With only a killer as company, she’d given birth in a filthy environment, then had been left to die. Since she’d been found with her hands cuffed behind her back, Jessica doubted the girl was given the opportunity to hold her baby.

  But she had. Every chance possible, she’d held Sophia. Even though she couldn’t now, considering what had happened to Jane Doe, she knew in her heart she had been truly blessed. Sophia wasn’t with her now, but she’d had the privilege of knowing and loving her baby. Would Jane Doe? Would she have the chance to give her baby a bath, change her dirty diapers, dress her in adorable little outfits, kiss her goodnight, then gently place her in the crib?

  She swiped the tears from her cheeks. Jane Doe, no matter her background, no matter what had brought her to the storage unit or how she’d handled what had been done to her, was a courageous woman. Against the odds, she’d given birth and had managed to hang onto life.

  She stared at her daughter’s closed door, and tapped into her own strength and courage. Dante had said the items around the house and in Sophia’s room were just things, that the
memories were what mattered. Thinking about Jane Doe and about the day she’d had, made her want to see those things. She wanted—needed to be closer to those beautiful memories and erase all of the bad she’d encountered today.

  In several quick strides, she stood in front of the door with her hand wrapped around the door knob. She closed her eyes and pictured the room. Soft pink paint on the walls, the espresso colored crib and matching dressers. The stuffed animals, the glider she would sit on to nurse Sophia or read her one of her baby books. The scent of baby lotion and diaper cream.

  Her stomach tightened with anxiety, but she quickly turned the knob, and gasped. The dying, evening sun didn’t kiss the pink walls or the crib or the glider and stuffed animals.

  It revealed betrayal.

  She rushed into the room, a sob tearing from her throat.

  How could he? Her chest burned with outrage. How could he have changed her daughter’s room without telling her?

  “I wasn’t sure when I should tell you.”

  She spun around. “I—” Her breath caught and she covered her mouth with her hands and glanced at the twin bed, covered in a lilac and apple green comforter set. She dropped her hands. “Where’s the crib?”

  “In the basement.”

  She moved to the dresser that had matched Sophia’s crib and opened a drawer. Empty. Panicking, she frantically yanked on each drawer handle. Where were Sophia’s clothes? Where were her blankets, the crib sheets? She wanted to see them, touch them, smell them. She rushed to the closet and opened it. “Where are her things?” she demanded.

  He set the glass he’d been holding on top of the dresser and began closing the drawers. “I didn’t get rid of anything.”

  “Then what do you call this?” she shouted, and waved to the empty closet.

  “It’s all boxed and in the basement. I can bring everything back up stairs. If you want, I’ll make the room look like it used to.”

  “Don’t bother.” She slammed the closet door shut. “It won’t be the same.”

  “Sure it will,” he said, his eyes full of apology. “All I have to do is—”