The Steve Williams Series Boxed Set

by J. E. Taylor

  “We need a list of cops that were off duty,” Steve said.

  “You were off duty.”

  Steve snapped his gaze to Cleary’s, the accusation clear in his tone and in the set of his jaw. Cleary’s mind still whirled with the kidnapping angle, despite the course of the conversation.

  “What exactly are you accusing me of?”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything. If you’re right about an inside job, then we need to be smart about this and not give our UNSUB a heads up.”

  “I agree. In the meantime, I’ll take Mrs. Ryan and her son back to the hotel.”

  Cleary shot a glance at the pavilion and gave a nod. “Once they’re settled in, let me know. I should have the list of off duty officers by then.”

  “Will do,” Steve said and headed toward Jessica and CJ. He handed Sarah his keys. “Can you bring my car back to the station?”

  “Sure,” Sarah said and took the keys, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of driving the sporty coupe.

  “Mrs. Ryan, I’ll take you and CJ back to the hotel.” Steve took the keys to Jessica’s rental and walked them to the car in silence. There was nothing, nothing he could say to calm their panic and the underlying fear encompassing their hearts, and he would not make a promise he couldn’t keep.

  When they entered the hotel room, Jennifer stood from her position on the couch and he shook his head. We didn’t find him. His silent admission stroked her features, turning them from the mask of concern to a portrait of sorrow and she turned her attention to Jessica, crossing and hugging her without words.

  CJ slumped on the couch and the television turned on. Channels buzzed by at his will until the selector stopped on some violent movie from the nineties.

  “Turn that off, CJ,” Jessica said, her tone harsh and the look he shot her made her hand fly to her mouth.

  Steve caught the Fuck You attitude and turned his attention, along with his aggravation toward the television and the liquid crystal display flared; going white and sending sparks from the components in the back of the box.

  “What’d you do that for?” CJ jumped to his feet, glaring at Steve.

  “You do not, under any circumstances, treat your mother like that, ever again.” He crossed the distance and towered over the boy. “Do you understand?”

  CJ faltered and swallowed and stepped back from Steve’s invasion of his personal space. “She shouldn’t have come and she shouldn’t have brought Tommy,” he said, the spark of anger in his eyes rekindling to a razor sharp flame.

  Steve stepped forward, narrowing his eyes. “Are you blaming your mother for Tommy’s disappearance?”

  “Steve,” Jennifer said, pulling his attention away from CJ for a moment, but it was enough for CJ’s mental shove to catch him off balance and he stumbled backwards.

  Christopher James! Chris’s angry voice echoed in Steve’s head broadcasting loud enough for CJ to hear it without snooping in Steve’s thoughts.

  “I got this,” Steve said over his shoulder in the direction the voice came from.

  Bull. I’m going to throttle him if he continues to pull this shit on his mother.

  “I’d like to see you try,” CJ said to the disembodied voice.

  Before the hostilities between the invisible angel and CJ could escalate, Steve’s phone rang, breaking the tension. Steve stepped away and flipped the phone open. “Williams here.”

  “We got word that another possible abduction occurred about an hour before Tom Ryan was taken,” Cleary said.

  “Where?”

  “Buena Vista Lake. A kid snatched on a field trip. The teacher’s devastated, especially since she can’t pinpoint the timing. They didn’t discover her missing until lunch break when the groups came together and a head count was done. Each chaperone assumed the child was in the other group but we got lucky. One of the kids said she wandered off to help—a dog-a Golden Retriever.”

  “Did the kid see anyone with the dog?”

  “No. He said the dog was alone at the edge of the woods and seemed to be limping.”

  “Any evidence?”

  “Forensics is working the scene right now. They found a torn scrap matching the shirt her parents said she wore and there’s a set of footprints and paw prints that we’ll compare to those found at Grant Park.”

  “Do you want me to head out there?”

  “No. Stay with Mrs. Ryan and see if you can get her or her son to remember anything.”

  “I’ll see what I can do here and then I’ll head down to the station. You’re still going to get that list, right?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Thanks.” Steve shut the phone and took a breath before returning his gaze to CJ. “Are you done with your little shit fit?”

  “Steve!”

  “What?” He turned to catch Jennifer’s incredulous expression.

  “He’s just a kid.”

  “I don’t have time for his poorly timed temper tantrum. Another child was snatched today and the description of the dog matches.” He crossed to Jessica. “Tell me every last detail you can recall.”

  “I already told you…”

  “I know, you said it was a cop car. Describe the car.”

  “Black and white with lights on top.”

  “Was there wording on the car?”

  Jessica blinked and her eyebrows scrunched together. “I don’t know,” she said.

  “What about the lights? Were they white, blue, red, a combination?”

  “The lights were white… I think.”

  “What about the cop?”

  “He had dark sunglasses and was wearing a grey shirt.”

  “Not blue?”

  “No, it wasn’t blue, it was grey, and it had short sleeves.”

  “What else?”

  Jessica sighed. “He had the air cranked in the car and the window was only open half way, enough for me to see his face and shoulder. I was more concerned about the boys running off so I didn’t pay close attention to the officer.”

  Steve nodded and ran his hand down his face. Even though the details she relayed were sparse, Jessica picked up more than most would have in the same circumstances. The grey shirt was the curve ball. They had been so focused on the UNSUB being a part of the local force—no one had broadened the potential list to include the Georgia State Police.

  Chapter 37

  Tommy woke, confused and confined. His arms and legs restrained and his back pressed against cool metal. He turned his head, his eyes adjusting to the darkness surrounding him. Twelve spirits congregated in the corner, whispering to each other, their eyes sad and their whispers hushed as they snuck glances at him.

  “Where am I?” Tommy addressed the ghosts and they froze in place, exchanging glances before looking back toward Tommy.

  “You can see us?”

  Tommy nodded, scanning each of the ghosts, and then he closed his eyes. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where he was and who these kids were. He was still a little weary and when he opened his eyes again, he was alone. The ghosts had fled.

  “CJ, where are you?” His weak voice broke the silence.

  Tommy closed his eyes, concentrating on sending the silent message when a small clicking noise caught his attention. His eyes snapped open again. Shuffling and the sound of chains reached his ears; he tilted his head straining to hear.

  Click, click, click, then soft panting.

  Lights bloomed, blinding him. His hand stopped halfway to his face as he attempted to cover his eyes. Shuffling feet and panting got closer. Tommy squinted and made out the dog padding into the room.

  The dog took a seat in the center, his soft brown eyes staring at Tommy and his tongue lapped his drooling chops.

  Somehow the sight of the dog didn’t ease Tommy’s mind; when the whistling came closer with each shuffling step Tommy fidgeted in the chains, yanking his arms as hard as he could, his bare biceps showing, more defined than most kids his age. He swung his gaze toward the door
and a man in full surgical garb stepped in the room.

  “You’re in a shit load of trouble.” The words escaped before Tommy had the sense to bite them back.

  The man’s laugh filled the room. “I think you’ve got that a bit backwards.” He stepped to the table next to Tommy and pulled back the sheet, revealing all manner of surgical instruments.

  Tommy’s heart went from fast to racing the Indy 500, knocking on the walls of his ribs. He swallowed, trying to keep his fear at bay, but one look in the man’s eyes told him he was right to be afraid, more afraid than when that woman held the knife to his throat when he was four.

  He watched television. All those crime shows he wasn’t supposed to see, but CJ taped them and snuck him downstairs after their parents went to bed. Every last one of them said if the victim can make the criminal see them as people; the bad guy had a harder time hurting them. “My name’s Tommy,” his voice cracked. “What’s yours?”

  “I’m your new doctor,” he said, looking at Tommy curiously from behind the surgical mask.

  Tommy tried to smile, his eyes dropping to the dog and returning to the doctor. “Your dog is pretty.” He wanted his mother in the worse way, but he refused to cry and he couldn’t pool his concentration to call CJ, not when he had to concentrate on making sure this man didn’t touch him.

  The doctor stepped toward the utility table reaching for a scalpel.

  Swallowing, he forced the lump of fear down to his stomach. “May I ask why?” He brought his gaze from the shiny scalpel to the doctor’s brown eyes, eyes devoid of passion, devoid of mercy, eyes that scared the crap out of Tommy. CJ, please, please help me. Please God, please.

  “Because I need to know and because my dog is hungry.”

  The blade pierced the skin of his abdomen, digging through flesh and muscle. Tommy tilted his head back and clamped his mouth shut. He didn’t scream nor did he pass out, but a steady stream of tears flowed from the corner of his eyes. Pain like he never experienced before stole his voice and his ability to pull air into his lungs.

  He prayed for darkness, prayed for anything to stop the sharp fire in his lower belly, but neither came. When the doctor pulled out his spleen, waving it in front of Tommy’s eyes with a full explanation of what the particular organ does within the human body, Tommy knew he was in hell. With a flick of his wrist, the doctor tossed the spleen to the dog.

  Tommy broke down, sobbing, his body shaking under the callous hands of the-would-be-surgeon until finally, mercifully, the darkness pulled him under.

  Chapter 38

  Steve walked into the hotel room at the Ritz at a little past midnight. Jennifer and Jessica turned from their positions on the couch; both their eyes and mouths open in surprise.

  “I figured I’d stop in before I went to my hotel,” he said, trailing off and looking at his feet.

  He dropped onto the couch next to Jennifer and wiped his face, leaning back in the plush fabric. “We’re sure the other child was taken by the same man who took Tommy. Her name is Annalee.” He forced himself to meet Jessica’s gaze.

  “At least he’s not alone.” Her eyes were swollen and puffy and they asked the question her mouth didn’t.

  “I don’t have any more information for you,” he said. The weight in the pit of his stomach grew. They had combed through the list of off-duty cops and nothing stood out. None of them fit the profile, and the sheer number of officers not on the clock or just starting or ending their shifts was disturbing. There wasn’t enough manpower to check into each one without tipping their hand, and the list still didn’t include the State police. Cleary was running down that avenue, but he was getting a wall of resistance.

  Jessica lowered her eyes to her hands.

  “How’s CJ?” Steve asked.

  Jessica shook her head. “He’s inconsolable.”

  Steve hung his head. “I should never have brought him down here.” He leaned over with his elbows on his knees, his hands covering his face. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Ryan.”

  “Just find my son before it’s too late.” Jessica stood and crossed to the bedroom she shared with CJ.

  Steve closed his eyes and Jennifer’s hand landed on his forearm. Her hand gripped him, nails digging into his flesh, pain searing his arm and he swung his gaze in her direction. The waxy pale face and film-covered eyes caught him off guard and he shot to his feet. The vision of the hotel room superimposed over the gruesome scene Jennifer was witness to.

  “Jenny!” Steve yelled, attempting to peel her hand off his arm and break the connection because he knew he wasn’t the only one privy to the warped nightmare.

  CJ screamed in the bedroom and Jennifer’s eyes cleared.

  In the thirty seconds of the vision, Steve saw enough to understand what was happening to the kidnapped children and it was enough to cramp his stomach and boil his blood. Concrete and steel and a table full of surgical instruments. The fucker was pretending to be a doctor.

  He turned to the window, looking out over the city, silently reviewing the vision. “When is this going to happen?”

  “I don’t know. The last time it happened instantaneously.”

  He spun and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Jennifer asked when he reached for the doorknob.

  “I’ve got to follow up on something.”

  “He was…”

  Steve’s head snapped toward her and then the bedroom entrance where CJ and Jessica now stood. He shook his head, silencing her. “He’s alive and I need to follow up on something you saw.” He stepped into the hall, closing the door tight and willing the hotel locks in place.

  Chapter 39

  Tommy woke to a dark room and screams coming from somewhere down the hall. High, shrill screams choked off by sobs. He let his eyes adjust to the dark and glanced around again. His wrists and ankles were still chained to the table and he closed his eyes. “Daddy, I need you.” The barest of whispers fell from his lips and the air in the room shifted. He opened his eyes.

  The figure of his father stepped close.

  Tommy’s brow creased. “You’re not my father.”

  The ghost of Tom Whitman nodded solemnly. “Yes, I am.” His hand reached out and touched Tommy’s arm.

  Tommy shied away from the ghost. “I want my dad.” his voice wavered.

  The ghost pulled his hand away. “You have to call him by name.” A bitter smile appeared and he tilted his head. “I will be here any time you want to talk.” With that, the apparition disappeared.

  Tommy stared into the dark, digesting the small encounter. “Chris?” he whispered. Nothing. Hot tears slid down his throat. He closed his eyes and gathered all his mental strength. Chris Ryan! He opened his eyes, exhausted. The room was still empty and now very quiet. The screaming down the hall stopped.

  Tommy held his breath, straining to hear anything. The soft click, click, click of toenails against concrete caused his stomach to bend into a knot of fear. The dog jumped up, his front paws sliding on the smooth metal until they dug into Tommy’s side.

  “Down,” Tommy said with authority. He was used to having a dog around, although Sam was much smarter than this dog.

  Instead of obeying, Alex swathed Tommy’s face with his tongue.

  “Get down,” Tommy said again, turning his head away from the lapping dog.

  The lights went on, blinding Tommy.

  “You don’t like Alex?” the doctor said from the doorway.

  “I hate dog breath,” Tommy shot back. He clenched his jaw, determined not to let this man see just how afraid he was. “But puppy breath is worse.”

  The doctor burst out laughing. “I’ll give you that.” He strolled into the room and looked thoughtfully at Tommy. “How old are you?”

  “Nine. Why?”

  He shook his head. “Too bad you won’t see ten.”

  Tommy inhaled. “And why’s that?” he asked, more to stall the inevitable, but also to steel himself for the next onslaught of pain.
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br />   The doctor picked up the scalpel. “Because none of my patients live.”

  Tommy met his gaze and swallowed. “But that doesn’t have to be the case with me.” His voice cracked, belying his fear before the uncontrollable shaking took over. His mind screamed in protest, screamed for his mother, his father, CJ, anything to keep the sharp blade from piercing his skin, but the conditioning he learned in Karate remained stubbornly rooted in the fiber of his being, keeping him from sobbing as effectively as the chains kept him from curling into a tight ball.

  As the scalpel sliced into his flesh, the name his mother called his father when she thought no one could hear came barreling into his mind and hissed from his lips. “Ty.”

  The scalpel paused and the doctor’s brows creased together. “What did you say?”

  Tommy’s eyes widened. “N-n-nothing,” he said keeping eye contact with the angel now standing beyond the man.

  Alex let out a yelp, pissed on the floor and bolted from the room with his tail between his legs. The doctor turned his head, looking from the puddle to the door, his brow knit in puzzlement. He tossed the scalpel onto the utility table and took off, leaving an oozing gash in Tommy’s stomach.

  Tears tracked down his father’s cheeks and he stepped forward, his wings ruffling with rage. He reached out and placed his hand over the cut in Tommy’s abdomen, binding it together with a flash of light that filled the room.

  “Daddy,” Tommy whispered before his vision warbled with tears. “Help me.”

  Chris yanked the bindings that held Tommy in place but couldn’t break them; instead, he leaned over and kissed his youngest son’s forehead. “Help is on the way.” His wings fluttered and he ascended fading into the backdrop of the concrete ceiling.

  “Don’t leave me!” Tommy screamed. His chest constricted with the sob he held in place. “Don’t leave me.” His chest rose and fell, air hissing into the clamped recesses of his lungs.

  The doctor came back in view, dragging the dog with him. Alex whined as he dragged him across the threshold, his eyes darting from corner to corner. “Stay!” The doctor ordered and when he let go of his collar, he backed into the far concrete wall, his ears back and his tail between his legs, his eyes still frantically scanning the room.