Bone Cold

by Webb, Debra

  Sarah inhaled the scent of flavored tea. “That would be great.” She propped on the counter. “I’ve been trudging through backwoods all morning, any chance I could charge my phone while we visit?”

  “Sure. Plug in right here.” Mia cleared away a spot behind the counter. “I’ll get your tea.”

  Sarah plugged in her phone and looked around the shop. Her fingers trailed over a wool scarf that caught her attention. With no competition, she imagined Mia did a healthy business here. Sarah wandered back to the counter. Dozens of photos were taped to the wall behind it. Sarah moved closer. She spotted Mia in several. Family get-togethers, she decided.

  “Here you go.”

  Sarah looked up. “I love these old photos.” She accepted the tea and savored a sip. “Oh, this is wonderful.”

  “Chai tea,” Mia explained. “It helps me relax.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.” Sarah scanned more of the photos as she sipped her tea. She leaned closer and peered at one photo in particular. A woman, who looked very much like Mia, had her arms around a man who looked vaguely familiar to Sarah. Where had she seen him before?

  The photos were from different decades. In one, she was certain the building in the background was the sanatorium. Had someone in Mia’s family been hospitalized there? Was that how her grandmother had known so much?

  Another photo of the man who looked vaguely familiar was tucked between two larger ones. There were five men in the photo with the woman who resembled Mia. Three men were older. Judging by their clothes, Sarah dated the photo in the late 40’s or early 50’s.

  “Is this your grandmother?”

  “Sure is.” Mia tapped the man standing next to her grandmother. “That was her beau after my grandfather passed away.” Mia laughed. “He showered her with gifts from his Mother Country.”

  “Where was he from?” Sarah took another soothing drink of the warm tea.

  “Berlin, Germany.”

  Sarah swayed. The cup clattered back into its saucer. “Wow. That’s…”

  “Whoa there.” Mia took the cup and saucer from her. “Maybe you should sit down, Sarah.”

  What was wrong with her? Had she forgotten to eat this morning?

  The bell jangled and Sarah glanced toward the door. Her vision blurred. She squeezed her eyes shut and looked again. Two men walked into the shop. Big guys. Fortyish. Her vision blurred again.

  Oh hell.

  Where was her purse?

  Sarah reached for the counter, but she just kept falling forward into the darkness.

  3:00 p.m.

  Sarah should be back by now.

  Tom checked his phone again as he paced the tree line next to the road. Service was too sketchy for a call, but she could have sent a text. He’d sent her three asking where she was. No response.

  Something was wrong.

  The distant sound of a vehicle drew his attention to the road. Five seconds, then ten elapsed before he got a visual. The white van was coming back. He’d seen it leave before Sarah did.

  When the van stopped at the gate, a second vehicle rolled up behind it.

  For a moment, Tom only stared at the dark SUV that was… his.

  He burst from the tree line, but he was too late. Both vehicles had rolled forward and the gate had closed.

  Fear detonated inside him. Sarah was in there! Heart pounding, he pulled up the contacts on his phone and hit the number for Larson.

  The call wouldn’t go through. He tried three more times before giving up and resorting to text and then the screen of his cell went black.

  “Damn it!”

  His started to march up to that gate and demand to be let in, but he stopped himself. They had promised each other that if this happened whoever was left behind would go for help. As much as he wanted to rush after her, without backup it would be futile. He closed his eyes and ordered himself to think. Two or so miles back there were occupied homes on this road.

  Tom hit the pavement running. He pushed himself faster. He had to hurry. He couldn’t bear the idea of her being tortured or… worse.

  The first house came into view and Tom barreled toward it. No cars in the driveway. He didn’t care. If no one came to the door he was breaking in.

  He pounded hard on the door. “FBI!” he shouted in hope of setting whoever might be inside at ease.

  The door opened a crack. “What do you want?”

  Female. “Ma’am, I’m Special Agent Cuddahy.” He showed her his creds. “I need to use your phone. There’s no cell service out here.”

  “Go away.”

  Tom forced the door inward as he drew his Glock. The woman screamed. “All I need is to use your phone. Now, just sit down and I’ll be out of here before you know it.”

  She stumbled to her chair. Somewhere down the hall a child started to cry. Hell.

  “You have my word,” he assured the woman more calmly, “all I want is to make a call.”

  She gestured to the phone.

  Tom shoved his weapon back into his waistband and made the call. Larson was the only person he trusted. In Tom’s opinion, the man thought of Sarah as a daughter. He would do whatever Tom asked if for no other reason than to protect Sarah.

  When Larson’s voice mail echoed in Tom’s ear, he swore. He left a message and then considered whether he should call the local police.

  Too risky.

  There was one other person he could call. He made the call to Paul Phillips. He was the only person on the planet who understood just how dire the situation was.

  When Paul’s voice sounded in his ear, Tom chose his words carefully. “My location is Willow Creek, fifteen or so minutes outside Williamsport, PA.”

  “Whose number are you calling from?”

  “A stranger’s a mile or so from the location. He has Sarah.” The words stabbed like daggers deep into his soul. “I have no backup at this time.” He swallowed hard to keep the emotion out of his voice. “I’m going in after her.”

  Paul didn’t bother trying to talk him out of going in. Instead, he took Larson’s number and assured Tom he would be en route within the hour. No matter that Phillips was some five hundred miles away, Tom felt some sense of relief at having spoken to him. Paul would keep trying to contact Larson.

  Tom was grateful for any backup. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

  He placed the phone back in its cradle. “Thank you.”

  The woman nodded. Her little boy had climbed into her lap and was staring at Tom as if he were the boogeyman. Tom walked out, closing the door behind him. He’d have to find a way to make it up to the lady for scaring her half to death.

  He jogged out to the road and broke into a run. He couldn’t wait for Larson to get here. That would take hours. Hopefully, Larson could get local support.

  Still, that would take time Tom didn’t have.

  Waiting wasn’t an option. Finding a way in was the problem.

  As if fate had decided to lend him a hand, Tom heard the distinct creak of the gate opening even before he rounded the bend and saw it moving.

  If he ducked into the woods here he could go back to the house and wait for Larson.

  The gate opened wide and no vehicle rolled through. There certainly wasn’t anything on the road behind Tom.

  They knew he was here. Had likely seen his text messages on Sarah’s phone.

  Now they were inviting him to join them.

  Tom walked toward the gate, his arms up in surrender.

  I’m coming, Sarah.

  Chapter 24

  503 Ivy Circle, Alexandria, Virginia, 3:55 p.m.

  Chief Reginald Larson parked in front of the senator’s front steps and shut off his engine. He wasn’t sure what Adams wanted to hear. Reggie had nothing except two more missing kids to report. The case was at a dead end, and he hadn’t heard from Sarah in more than forty-eight hours. He wasn’t sure which terrified him more, the wall they’d hit with the investigation or the idea that she was out there trying to
find those kids on her own?

  He could pretend she’d taken some time off as she had said, but he knew better.

  His cell phone vibrated again to remind him he’d missed a call. The number wasn’t one he’d recognized so he’d let it go to voicemail. Frankly, he had no desire to sit out here and return the call, keeping Adams waiting. When a senator called, a mere cop jumped. Reggie had people to answer to. The chief of police had made it clear that whatever Adams wanted or needed, Larson was to make it happen.

  He got out of his car and closed the door. There was sure as hell something off about this whole situation. He trusted Sarah too much to believe Tom was as wrong as Swinwood insisted. Swinwood and the other FBI agents who’d been buzzing around Reggie’s office insisted Tom was unstable. Whether he was or not, one thing was certain, he was in deep trouble.

  As he climbed the steps, Reggie braced for more complaints from the senator. He had a feeling that whatever the hell was going on, the senator was eyeball deep in it. With his little girl missing, one would think he’d be all too ready to cooperate with the investigation. Instead, Adams had bucked up, done nothing but give Larson trouble, and refused to talk to Riggs. Then suddenly about half an hour ago, he called and insisted Reggie was to come see him ASAP.

  He raised his hand to knock. The door was ajar. His instincts went on point as he withdrew his weapon. What the hell was going on here? He eased the door open.

  The first thing he saw was Mrs. Adams hanging from a rope tied to the bannister on the second floor. Judging by the discoloration of her face she had been dead for a good while. “Mother of God,” he murmured.

  Reggie started forward, but stopped when he saw the senator sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Blood had pooled on the marble floor around him. His cell phone, crushed into several pieces, lay nearby.

  At first, Reggie figured the senator was dead, too, then Adams turned his head and looked at him. His eyes were glassy.

  Damn.

  “Thank you for coming, Chief.”

  “Is there anyone else in the house, Senator?” Reggie turned all the way around, his weapon at the ready, scanning the entry hall and the doorways of the rooms that funneled from it.

  “He’s gone…”

  Reggie put his weapon away and reached for his cell. “I’m calling for help.”

  Adams dragged in a rattling breath. “It’s too late.”

  Reggie ignored him long enough to give dispatch his location and to order an ambulance. He shoved his phone into his pocket and knelt next to Adams. “Let’s have a look.”

  Adams pushed his hand away. “It’s too late. I’m dying. You have to listen to me.”

  His voice was weak and thready. He had at least two gunshots to the gut. There was a hell of a lot of blood.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you needed an ambulance?” Reggie felt sick to his stomach. He could have had help here by now. Hell, he’d made a stop at a drive-thru for coffee on the way. “I should try some pressure on those wounds.”

  Adams held up a hand, then dropped it just as quickly. “One of Meltzer’s thugs came after I spoke to you.” He looked up at his wife, anguish twisting his face. “He did that to her. I tried to help her before he shot me.” He gasped for air. “I… didn’t know he was still in the house.”

  “Who did this, Senator?”

  “Doesn’t matter. You need to listen, Chief. I’m going to tell you how to find the children.”

  Reggie stilled. “I don’t understand.” Was the man delusional?

  “I want your word that you’ll protect my daughter, no matter what happens.” Adams made a choking sound.

  “I will. I swear.” If he knew where those kids were, Reggie needed him to talk fast… before it was too late. “Where are the children, Senator?”

  “They’re with a monster, Chief. The kind of monster you’ve only known in your worst nightmares.”

  Chapter 25

  “Mommy?”

  Sarah tried to make her eyes open, but her lids were too heavy. Warm, moist breath fanned her face just before something wet and rough slid across her cheek.

  “Are you awake?”

  Sarah’s eyes opened. Her heart bumped into a faster rhythm. Sophie? A face came slowly into focus.

  “Sophie?” Sarah wet her dry lips. Her throat was so dry she couldn’t swallow. She was dreaming, she realized. Sophie always came to her in her dreams.

  The little face smiled at her. “You’ve been asleep for a long time.”

  The big black Lab Sarah had seen at the fence, nudged her as if he wanted her to wake up now, too. Sarah tried to smile, but her lips wouldn’t work right. She reached out a shaky hand, her fingers landed in the child’s hair—in Sophie’s hair.

  Sarah smiled. “I love dreaming of you. It’s the only time I can see you now.”

  “You’re not dreaming, silly,” the little girl said.

  “Ah, she’s awake.”

  Sarah jerked at the booming voice. Male. Her gaze sought and found the man who’d spoken.

  Detlef Meltzer.

  Part of her crumpled. She had been dreaming. She looked back to where the little girl had been standing expecting to confirm the precious image had been nothing but a hallucination.

  But she was. The exact image of Sophie stood right there smiling at Sarah.

  She jolted up into a sitting position, swayed a bit. “What is this?” she demanded of Meltzer. What had he done to her child? Was this her child? Her heart stumbled.

  Meltzer smiled. “I’m quite certain you can come to the proper conclusions, Detective.” He placed a hand on Sophie’s shoulder.

  Sarah struggled to her feet. Staggered.

  “Slowly, Detective. You’re still groggy from the drugs.”

  Drugs. The tea. Mia had drugged her… Mia knew this man. He was her grandmother’s beau. The one in the photos.

  Sarah reached toward the little girl. She looked from Sarah to the man whose hand rested on her shoulder.

  “Go to your mother, Sophie.”

  A hurricane of emotions swam through Sarah as the little girl walked over and held out her hand. Trembling, Sarah closed her hand around the little girl’s. She pointed a lethal glare at Meltzer. “What’ve you done?”

  Meltzer smiled. “Sophie, take Sam to Josh. The two of you may take him outside to play while your mother and I talk.”

  He’d called the dog Sam… how was this possible? Were the side effects of whatever drug they had given her messing with her head?

  “Can the other children go?” the little girl asked hopefully.

  “Not tonight.”

  Sarah forced her brain to focus on the details. It was nighttime. She’d been out of commission for several hours. Where was Tom? Had he called for help?

  The little girl hesitated as she reached the door. “I’ll be back soon, Mommy.”

  “Okay, sweetie.” Sarah’s entire body shuddered. What had he done to her child—to… to this child?

  When the door was closed and it was only the two of them, Sarah shoved aside those softer emotions. “What’ve you done to her? Is she…?” Sarah swallowed hard. “Is she a clone of Sophie?”

  Meltzer laughed. “We have cloned many children, Detective. Most were created to give parents back the child they had lost. To clone a child is quite simple, really. For my uncles and my father the process was a major scientific milestone. For me, it was about financing my other pursuits. Like Sophie.”

  “So, she’s not a clone?”

  “She is not. She’s your daughter. Just as she was when your negligence made her available to me as so many others were.”

  At first Sarah couldn’t move. Someone had finally put blame where it belonged and the magnitude of the words spoken aloud shook her to the very core of her being. The feeling of desolation lasted only a second and then she charged up to the sick son of a bitch. “That’s impossible. Five years have passed.”

  “Not for Sophie.”

  Sarah
swayed again, tried to brace herself. “I don’t understand.” What she needed was to buy as much time as possible for her head to clear. The man didn’t appear to be armed. She needed a plan. Whatever else happened, she had to escape and get these children—her child—to safety.

  “I’m sure you’re familiar with Cryonics.”

  Sarah frowned. “Are you talking about cryogenics?” She’d read a science fiction novel based on the technology years ago or maybe it was a movie. Was he insane?

  “It’s hardly as simple as that,” he countered. “I’ve refined the process in hopes of preventing any significant loss of the memories and personal identity encoded in the brain. You see, the cellular damage caused by deep freezing has been the key issue all along. For decades, failure after failure has haunted science, but I have finally achieved a ninety-eight percent success rate with my two latest specimens. Sophie and Josh awoke from their Cryogenic sleep as if only a few hours had passed, not five years. Sam as well. Of course, he wasn’t the first dog to be successfully brought back with little or no permanent damage.”

  Sarah couldn’t breathe. “What you’re suggesting is scientifically impossible.” That much she understood.

  “Until very recently that was true. It was simple enough to preserve a human in cryosleep. The trouble was in bringing them back. The result was always far too much damage on the cellular level. Irreversible damage. Many hope success will come when nanotechnology has been developed further, but I chose not to wait. The only deterrence was in having the necessary test specimens.”

  “Test specimens? You’re talking about people—children!” Fury roared through her.

  “Don’t you see, Sarah? It’s always been this way. In order to advance science sacrifices have to be made. None of what I have accomplished would have been possible without the children. Since picking up children on the black market often meant they had been abused or otherwise neglected, I was forced to make other choices.”

  “You stole my daughter.” Sarah wanted to tear him apart. She wanted to watch him die screaming. Suddenly, every part of her quieted as the realization of what he was saying sank deep inside her. “You chose children for refining your technique.” The words were scarcely a whisper.