“I’m prepared,” she said, remembering Becca’s tortured look as Van Gogh drove off. “Do whatever it takes, Jack. Whatever it takes.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
THE SUN PEEKED OVER the horizon and flooded the FBI breakroom with a warmth Connor didn’t feel. Mount Hood stood in the distance, reminding him of the mountain they were climbing to find Becca.
She’d been gone for eight hours now. Eight long hours, while he’d spent the time beating himself up over leaving her alone. He’d failed her, this woman he’d come to care for more than any woman in his life. She proved to him that women could be trusted. She’d simply had a horrific experience in her past that she couldn’t share . . . with anyone. She hadn’t cheated on him. Hadn’t bailed on him like his mother had. He’d run from that situation as soon as he was old enough to go, leaving his family behind. Now he realized he’d been wrong . . . and that he’d wasted too many years.
He wasn’t going to do the same thing with Becca. Life was too precious, too short not to go after his dreams. And that meant finding Becca.
He tossed his coffee cup in the trash and went back to Taylor’s cubicle. He wished he could say the coffee had refreshed him as Taylor had suggested it would, but it just left him feeling wired and jittery.
“Anything?” he asked Taylor, hoping she’d found even a hint of a lead on the computer Van Gogh left behind.
“I’m sorry, but no.” She sighed and sat back. “Looks like Zwicky only used this computer to control the car.”
“No email, web surfing? Nothing?”
“No.” She looked up at him. “He’s a computer professional, Connor. He knew what he was doing and carefully planned his moves not to leave a trail.”
“Okay, so what about the computer itself? Can we trace the serial number, maybe find out where he bought it?”
“We can try, but he’d have to have registered it for it to lead back to him. Even then, it’ll just give us his address, which we already know.”
Connor clamped a hand on the back of his neck to keep from punching something. “Maybe he has a second address.”
“Could be. I’ll tell our analysts to add this to their list.” She got up and trudged wearily down the hall.
He felt bad for her fatigue. He’d been pushing her hard. She was a rookie, and he should probably cut her some slack, but he couldn’t. Not until Becca was found. They all had to give one hundred and ten percent. He moved down the row to Kait’s cubicle. She and Nina had come in to personally review traffic cam footage in search of Van Gogh’s second vehicle.
“Tell me you have something, Kait,” he said.
She spun and looked up at him. “Nothing we can act on.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, there’s no camera near the alley where he ditched the car. We picked up a sedan a few miles away. The driver’s a white male who fits Van Gogh’s build. We ran the plates and they came back as a rental, so it could be him.” She tapped a map program on her screen. “This is the last sighting of the vehicle.” She clenched and released her hands. “I should get back to it.”
Connor nodded and backed away to let her work.
Taylor came rushing up to him. “I may have something. Remember I told you Becca had me take Danny’s DNA to a private lab where her friend has a weapons consultancy business?”
Connor nodded.
“When I reviewed the video footage at the abduction site,” Taylor continued. “I recognized the model of Van Gogh’s gun. It looks like an AK-47, but if you look closer, you can see it’s a Sturmgewehr 44. A fairly rare weapon.”
“And?” Connor asked, wishing she’d get to the point.
“I called Jack—the weapons expert—and asked him to try to track the gun. He discovered one was sold at a local gun show. The show was held at a nearby motel and was only open by invitation. Zwicky was on that list.”
“Okay, and that helps how?”
“We can go to the hotel and ask around. With his face, he’d be easily recognized. Maybe someone knows where he hangs out.”
Connor tried to tamp down his disappointment over the less than solid lead. “It’s better than nothing, I suppose.”
Taylor’s excitement evaporated.
“Sorry,” Connor said. “You found a lead, which is more than I’ve done. I shouldn’t have discounted it. Where’s this hotel located?”
She rattled off an address.
“That’s close to the car we’re tracking,” Kait called out, drawing Connor and Taylor over to her cubicle. She brought the address up on her map. “He’s about five miles away on our last sighting. But if he stays on the same road, he could be headed there.”
Connor looked at Taylor, making sure to transmit the enthusiasm he now felt about her lead. “Let’s you and I get over there and throw the jerk a nice welcoming party.”
“Thanks for inviting me.” She grinned. “I’ve always been fond of parties.”
Connor gave Kait his cell phone number so she could keep him updated on the vehicle’s movements, then took off for his car parked in the visitor lot out front. It didn’t take long to get to the motel. He parked a block away to keep from spooking Van Gogh.
“Ready?” he asked Taylor.
“Absolutely.” She tugged on the baseball cap she’d put on to keep Van Gogh from recognizing her and added a pair of mirrored sunglasses.
Connor looked around warily as they hoofed it to the office. He searched for the sedan Kait was tracking, but didn’t see it anywhere. He went straight to the lobby that hadn’t changed since the eighties. It was worn and as tired-looking as the clerk who seemed bored to death. The man looked up, his expression wary.
Connor slapped Zwicky’s picture down along with his shield and eyed the clerk to let him know he wasn’t fooling around. “You ever see this guy?”
“Yeah, a few times.”
“When was the last time?”
“When he checked in last night.”
“He’s here?”
The guy shrugged. “Not sure if he’s actually here right now, but yeah . . . he’s registered in room 141.”
Connor was surprised that the clerk gave him the room number without any hassle, but he didn’t question it. “You got a map of the rooms?”
Without a comment, he set a map on the counter and pointed at the third to the last room on the side facing the road.
Connor nodded his thanks, then bolted outside to get eyes on the unit. The drapes were pulled. The door closed. The parking space in front empty. Connor’s anger flared that Becca might be held behind those curtains in this seedy, rundown motel.
Taylor joined him. “I can’t tell if he’s here or not.”
“Only way to find out is to get inside.” Connor jerked his phone from the clip, dialed Sam, and gave him the lowdown.
“I’ll get a SWAT team dispatched,” Sam replied. “You want me to come out there, too?”
“Honestly, I think it’s better to have you back at the office managing things. Unless, of course, you’re jonesing to take this creep down.”
“He’s all yours, man.”
“There’s a grocery store a block south of here. I’ll meet SWAT there to coordinate the assault.”
“Roger that,” Sam said, and they disconnected.
Connor turned to Taylor. “I need you to stay here and keep an eye on the room. If you see any movement, even a swish of a curtain, you call me.”
Her gaze already fixed on the unit, she nodded and held up her phone.
“Also, I need you to email all of the license plates in the lot to Jae and have her run them. Got it?”
“Got it,” she replied without looking at him.
Connor took off running and made the short drive to the grocery store.
Early
-morning shoppers were already milling around, so he parked in an out-of-the-way spot to keep from drawing attention. He retrieved his vest from the trunk, grabbed his rifle, and then checked the ammo, before putting extra clips in his pouches.
Armed and ready, he tapped his foot until SWAT arrived. Together, they formed a strategy and charged the hotel room.
Connor didn’t care if he was risking his life. He was the first one through the door. He hurried past the empty bed with the stained bedspread. Past the scarred dresser to the bathroom, his heart beating so hard he thought it might erupt from his chest. He held his breath. Pushed the door open. It was empty.
He was at once relieved and disappointed at the same time. Relieved not to find Becca’s body. Disappointed she wasn’t there at all.
“Clear,” he called out then returned to the team. “Fan out. Go door to door. Search every room. Every car.”
He set his rifle on the dresser and dialed Taylor to update her and warn her to remain in place, and keep an eye out for a fleeing car. Then he phoned Dane to process this room. Next, he started checking the area as he pulled out latex gloves from his pocket. He found a few zip ties that had been cut. One dangled from the headboard, telling him Van Gogh had tied her up here. He searched for blood. Found none.
“Thank God,” he mumbled and moved on to the table with water rings marring the surface. A water bottle sat half empty. He lifted it to his nose and smelled it. Nothing odd. On the dresser, he found a large white box with tissue paper inside. It was the size and shape for a gift of clothing. Had he brought something along to dress Becca in? Maybe a nightgown?
Connor forced away the thought of what happened to females when they wore the nightgown and went back to the bathroom with cracked tiles and moldy grout. The tub was wet, the shower curtain dry, and one towel damp. So someone had bathed. A bar of strong-smelling soap sat on the edge of the tub. Hopefully, Dane could ID this as the same brand of soap found in the sink in Zwicky’s basement.
Connor turned to leave when the toilet paper roll caught his attention. The roll seemed bulkier in one spot. He pulled on the tissue and a slip of paper fell out. Just a fragment of the paper used to wrap a roll of tissue that likely got caught in the roll at the factory.
His hope plummeted, but he picked it up anyway.
He unfolded it and saw handwriting on the back.
I’m FBI agent Rebecca Lange. I’ve been abducted. Call Detective Connor Warren at the PPB. It was followed with a license plate number.
He dropped the paper on the counter and ran for his car where he entered the license plate into his computer. The record came up. It was a rental, but not the vehicle Kait had been tracking.
He dialed Sam and updated him. “Need an APB out on the car. We also need to check ALPR to see if the car’s been picked up anywhere in the city.”
PPB had sixteen cars that were equipped with Automatic License Plate Recognition cameras. The cars patrolled the streets of Portland, scanning plates to find stolen vehicles. In a rare emergency like this one, detectives could check the ALPR database to see if the camera had captured the plate number. If it had, they’d also receive the time and location the vehicle had been spotted.
“I’ll wait here for Dane to arrive. Then Taylor and I’ll go from there. You keep me up to date on the plate scan.”
For the first time, Connor had real hope that they might find Becca. He just prayed they weren’t already too late.
REGINALD CARRIED BECCA to the altar. He gently laid her on the wood where the last few girls had found their peace. He stared at her. Her freshly washed hair flowed over her shoulders, caressing the lace of her gown. Her face was pale and her eyes were restful from the last roofie he’d given to her. She was so beautiful, he could hardly keep from stroking her face, but Mother wouldn’t approve.
Especially since Becca had tried that stupid stunt with a pen. Trying to stab him. Mother didn’t like that at all. Now he needed to hurry up and find out if Becca was chaste before Mother got angrier. It was something he could only determine by questioning her. It might get ugly, like with Molly, but he was doing it for Becca’s own good.
He cut the twist ties and shackled her hands above her head, her gown drawing up and revealing trim ankles leading to smooth calves. He had to touch her, just once.
He stroked his hand over her narrow foot. Over the ankle. Up her calf. Soft, delicate skin.
He waited for his mother to speak. She didn’t. He slid his hand up to Becca’s knee. He felt his mother’s fingers pinching the top of his ear and jerking him away, her sharp fingernails biting in. Branding him. The pain racing along his nerve endings.
Ears. He hated ears. Hated the way she’d used his to control him. Even as an adult, she’d dragged him around by the ear. That’s why he’d chosen pearl earrings instead of a necklace to cleanse the girls. He’d enjoyed removing their ears as souvenirs of his hard work, but he actually kept them as a reminder of what his mother might do if he failed her.
Like now. Touching Becca. He jerked his hand away. Then he grabbed the last bag of zip ties, sliced it open, and fastened them around her ankles.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He looked at the indicator. He had a new email from Genetics Inc. Perfect. Lauren’s DNA. He clicked it open and scanned the message. One word stood out. Match. The two samples matched. His dear sweet Lauren lay in front of him.
“You see that, Mother? It is Lauren. It’s her.” He touched the side of Lauren’s face.
“But is she pure, my son?” Mother asked. “Is she the woman you need her to be?”
Becca stirred, moving slowly as if rising from a sweet dream. Her eyes fluttered open, her look confused, a small smile playing on her face.
He stepped back, in awe, basking in her smile. He’d never seen her smile.
Her eyes closed again. She was at peace.
Oh, please let her be chaste. Let her be the woman I have searched so long for.
She stirred again. Their eyes met. Hers changed. Tightened. The joy vanished.
“Hello, Lauren.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, that’s not my name?”
“Ah, but my DNA test says otherwise.” He held out his phone for her to read.
She jerked her arms. Her feet. She looked around, fear darkening her eyes. “Where are we?”
“Oh, this place.” He waved a hand over the room. “It’s an old gun shop. My father once ran it and Mother held on to the place for a nest egg. But she died before she could sell it. Now it’s mine.”
“What happens next?”
“Next?” he asked. “Next, we have that talk. Then Mother and I decide your destiny.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
CONNOR SAT BESIDE Taylor in the FBI war room that had been set up as an emergency command center. The day had passed without a lead on Becca, the knot in his gut tightening more and more with each moment that passed. Had Van Gogh taken her life?
Jae poked her head in the room, her laptop in her arms. “You know those pictures that were found in the time capsule?”
“Yes,” Taylor said.
“Something about them kept bugging me, so I enhanced them.”
Taylor stepped closer. “Okay.”
“Let me show you.” Jae attached her computer to the projector and an image of Zwicky came onto the screen.
“What are we looking for?” Connor’s gut churned as he studied the giant-sized face smiling at him.
“His eyes,” Jae said. “There’s a reflection in them.”
Jae hopped up and went to the screen. “See right here. A building.”
“Okay, so we have a building. Big deal,” Connor said. “If this is important, cut to the chase.”
“Geez. Way to ruin my big build-up that’s going to save the day.” Jae crossed her arm
s and scowled at Connor.
“C’mon, Jae,” Taylor said. “Just spill.”
She went back to her computer and zoomed in, then broke that section from the photo with an editing program and enlarged the reflection even more.
“Ace in the Hole Gun Shop,” Taylor read. “And this is related to our case, how?”
“The shop was owned by Zwicky’s parents. From what my research says, Dad and Mom split in 1987. Dad took over and it went out of business in the early nineties, but he never sold the building. So guess who it belongs to now?”
“Reginald Zwicky,” Taylor said.
“Exactly.” Jae clicked on another file. “Here’re the blueprints on file at the city. It has a basement like Zwicky seems to prefer, and, wait for it . . .” She grinned. “It’s only a few miles from the motel.”
Connor grabbed Jae in a hug and swung her around. She actually looked embarrassed, but he didn’t care. She might have just saved Becca’s life.
He put her down. “Print a good set of recon maps of the area.”
She sat behind the computer, her face still red, and pulled up aerial maps and street views for the front of the building and the rear. Paper started spitting from the printer in the corner, and she went to get it.
“Thanks, Jae, you’re amazing.” He took the pages from her, quickly reviewed the printouts and maps, and then shoved them at Taylor. “Let’s go.”
“Me?” she asked. “Don’t you want to call SWAT?”
He shook his head. “I won’t risk a standoff situation. If he’s got Becca in a basement, there’s no way she can win if a SWAT team forces their way in.” Connor raced for the door.
Taylor charged after him. “So it’s just you and me?”
“Yes. We’ll go in low and hard and take Van Gogh down before he knows what hit him.” He kept moving. “You have a vest and rifle?”
“In my car.”
“Then we’ll stop to get it.”
At the elevator, she waved the pages at him. “I’m like all over this, you know that, right? But are you sure I’m the right person for this job?”
Web of Secrets Page 28
