by J. E. Taylor
The doctor returned to Tommy’s side, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the unscathed belly. When he picked up the scalpel, he stared at the blood-coated blade for a minute and then his eyes switched to Tommy.
Tears pooled in Tommy’s ears, his body shook uncontrollably. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he said. He didn’t know when the last time he went was, but the doctor had threatened him that if he messed the diaper he wore, the doctor would cut off his penis. “P-p-please.” Even with the threat looming, Tommy wasn’t going to be able to hold it much longer, especially if the bastard starting carving him up again.
The doctor slowly put down the scalpel and unclasped the dry diaper Tommy wore. He pulled out a metal bedpan and slid it underneath him.
Tommy closed his eyes and willed his body to relax. It took a few seconds, but then relief flooded both his bladder and his bowels and they emptied into the metal container. “Thank you,” Tommy muttered when he was done.
The doctor’s eyebrows knit together and he walked out of the room with the bedpan. When he returned, he had a cup in one hand and the clean bedpan in the other. He placed the bedpan on the far side of the table and brought the cup over to Tommy.
Tommy stared at the straw poking out from the foul aromatic liquid. He shook his head and forced a smile. “I’m not thirsty.”
The doctor returned the smile. “I didn’t ask you if you were thirsty.”
Chapter 40
Steve sat behind a computer scanning applications of the police personnel for Atlanta and the surrounding areas looking for anyone who had medical training. The flutter of wings brought his attention away from the screen. Despite the empty room, he felt the malevolent presence.
“Where is he, Chris?”
I don’t know but its close. The angel’s voice hitched. The bastard’s hurting my son.
Steve closed his eyes and hung his head. “Why hasn’t he tried to contact CJ?”
Because he’s scared shitless and can’t concentrate on formulating a coherent thought—what do you think?
Steve saw the room in the vision. He saw the table full of surgical instruments. He saw what the man was doing to Tommy and he had to bridle the fury in his belly, because if it got loose, the ground would rumble under Atlanta until it broke open and swallowed everything and everyone in his path.
“Do you know who it is?” Steve asked.
No, but he’s there now.
Steve’s head snapped up and his fingers flew across the keyboard. The printer whirled into action as Steve stared at the list of current off duty police officers. “I got a list,” he said staring at the screen. He looked at the long list of names he scribbled in his search for those cops who had medical training or access to medical equipment and every single one of them was on the off duty list. “And I’m still looking through employment records.”
He could feel the angel’s impatience. “Go watch over him, will you?”
I’m your god damn guardian angel. Remember? I can only leave you if he calls me.
Steve shook his head at the freakiness of the conversation and focused on the computer. “I can’t concentrate with you tapping your foot or pacing or whatever you’re doing,” he said. “Just be quiet like you have for the last couple of days.”
Silence, broken only by the click of the mouse descended and Steve sighed. “I know it’s hard, Chris. I know, but I’ll find him.” He stopped short of promising anything because he wasn’t sure that was in the cards anymore.
He ripped through the records of the two thousand or so officers in the Atlanta Police Department, cross-referencing them with the list of off duty officers. The list of police staff with medical training in one vein or another and were off duty was still in the hundreds and Steve leaned back, rubbing his face. He looked out the tiny window at the sunrise. Tommy didn’t have the kind of time he needed to interrogate all of these men and this list didn’t include state police in the area. Even if he and Sarah and Cleary split up, they couldn’t cover the ground quickly enough.
Steve focused back on the computer as the day shift started to arrive. He took his spreadsheet and dumped it into the FBI database and ran a query looking for cops addresses that encompassed large or remote homes with facilities on the property. He turned when Cleary and Sarah came into the makeshift office.
“You look like shit,” Sarah said.
“You need to start thinking of something more original than that,” Steve snapped at her.
“Have you been here all night?” Cleary asked.
Steve nodded. “Up all night and when this list comes back I want you to get every last one of them into a room.” He pointed at the screen. “Our killer is one of these guys.” He handed the list to Cleary.
Cleary flipped through the list and raised his eyebrows. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not.” The computer beeped and Steve hit the print button. He handed the list to his boss. “Get these guys in a room, and then come get me.” He stood and headed out of the room.
“Where are you going?”
“To find a couch,” Steve shot over his shoulder.
Chapter 41
CJ sat in the living room, his arms wrapped around his legs, slowly rocking with his head on his knees. He could see Jennifer’s visions as clearly as Steve and while the first one was bad, the second was much worse. The bastard had taken out one of his brother’s kidneys and fed it to his dog, Tommy’s punishment for vomiting on the good doctor.
If they found him alive, Tommy would never be the same.
“CJ, you need to eat.” Jessica moved the plate of pancakes in front of CJ.
CJ tilted his head and the plate flew across the room. “No.”
“Damn it, CJ!”
He turned to his mother. “I saw, Mom, you didn’t.” His eyes bore into his mother. “And she can’t fix him.” He pointed at Jennifer sitting across the room, trying to bury herself in a book.
Jennifer raised her eyes from the book. “Steve will find him.”
CJ’s jaw tightened and his lips pressed together. “How do you know?”
Jennifer kept eye contact. “Because that’s what he does and he is the very best the FBI has.”
Her words stoked the fear in the pit of his stomach and he clenched his teeth together. Despite his resolve not to cry, he could feel the quiver in his chin and his vision wavered against the sheen of tears. One escaped, tracing a hot path down his cheek. “But can he find Tommy in time?” his voice cracked when he said his brother’s name.
Jennifer took a deep breath and even though the conviction wasn’t there, she nodded. If anyone could do it, it was Steve.
Chapter 42
Tommy woke in the dark, alone. He blinked a few times, letting his eyes get used to the blackness. No noise emanated from down the hall, no screams, no sobbing, no evil clicks of the dog’s toenails and relief flooded through him. Hot tears formed, coating the back of his throat but he clamped his lips together refusing to let out the building moan of pain.
Silence was better.
Silence meant the whistling wouldn’t start.
Silence meant the scalpel wouldn’t cut.
Silence was better.
He closed his eyes.
CJ?
No answer; and Tommy didn’t have enough energy to scream in his head. He shifted to find a comfortable position but that evaded him. His abdomen felt like someone dumped hot coals on his skin, burning pain gripped him at the slight shift and he felt the darkness beckoning.
He had to get a message to his brother. He had to!
Tears choked and he blinked them away. The air shifted and he tilted his head toward the corner. There they stood, staring at him, waiting for him to join the ranks of the dead.
“Can you help me?”
The boy in the front pointed at his chest, his eyes a little wider.
“Yes, you.” Tommy closed his eyes for a moment, the effort to speak almost too great. When he opened his eyes, the g
host stood at his side. “What’s your name?”
“André.” The ghost looked around at the room. “I died in here.”
Tommy guessed that much. “I need you to find someone for me.” His voice was frail and shaky. “Can you do that?”
André brought his gaze back to Tommy and shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Can you try?”
André glanced over his shoulder at the posse behind him then back at Tommy. “Who?”
“Steve Williams. He’s with the FBI. You have to lead him here.”
André’s eyebrows creased. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
Tommy inhaled sharply, the word barreled from his chest. “Ty!”
The ghost’s head snapped toward the sound of fluttering wings. His eyes widening at the sight of the angry angel transformed from thin air.
Chris Ryan stared at his son, his anger banished, replaced by pain, pain more excruciating than a knife to flesh. He stepped close, running his fingers along Tommy’s cheek. He turned his glance to the phantom next to him and then beyond at the crowd of curious spirits.
“Dad, take André to Steve.” Tommy nodded toward the ghost at his side. “He’s gonna try to help.”
André shied away from Chris, his form starting to fade.
“Please,” Tommy whispered before the apparition disintegrated.
André turned, meeting his pleading stare. He glanced back at the winged angel, solidifying again and he nodded.
Chris brought his gaze back to Tommy, his hands sliding down to the rough stitches in his abdomen. Tears glistened, sending prisms through the room as they rolled down the angel’s face. “I’m sorry, son.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on Tommy’s forehead. Hot tears fell on the boy’s face, drizzling light with them. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him.”
“Daddy, it’s not your fault.”
“If I was here...”
Tommy squeezed his eyes; tears fought their way out of the corners. “I’d still be that bastard’s carving toy.” When he opened his eyes, his father was gone and so was André.
“Daddy!” The wail filled the room and the air shifted, the ghosts in the corner faded and the man from earlier appeared, slipping his hand in Tommy’s.
He squeezed the spirits hand, keeping eye contact.
“If anyone can save you, it’s your father.” The ghost conceded, looking up at the ceiling and bringing his gaze back to Tommy with a wisp of a smile. “But I’ll keep you company as long as I can.”
Tommy’s chin quivered. The darkness surrounded him, blanketed him, pulled him down farther into the abyss.
Chapter 43
“Steve!”
Steve sat upright, blinking, disoriented, the office unfamiliar and the voice in his head leaving a twang of an echo. He looked around and nearly stumbled off the couch, his back finding a wall to press against. His breath stopped, his heart clanged in his chest and he stared at the bloodied spirit of the last victim. Recognition fired in his mind. “André?” Even his voice sounded like sandpaper, brittle and rough.
“Tommy sent me.”
Steve wondered if he was dreaming. The only place he ever saw a ghost was in Paradise Cove.
“You’re awake.”
Chris’s voice gave him a start and he looked at the ceiling and back at André. “You brought him here.” The statement didn’t need an answer. “Why?”
André offered a smile. His teeth grotesquely covered with a sheen of blood, but thankfully his eyes were whole. Steve shivered, his teeth chattering at more than the frigid air conditioning. White plumes puffed from his mouth, the temperature plummeting as André stepped closer.
“I’m supposed to bring you to Tommy.”
A knock interrupted and Steve turned toward the door. When he brought his gaze back, André was no longer in the room. “Fuck!” He crossed and swung the door open, his gaze sharp and angry, enough so that Sarah took a step back.
“What?”
“Everyone’s here just like you asked,” she said.
Steve scanned the room again. Empty, damn. He rubbed his eyes, locking the start of a yawn in his throat. He ran his hands through his hair and rolled his neck, shaking his head to clear out the last remaining cobwebs. “Did anyone come in particularly late?”
Sarah shook her head. “No, they all arrived around the same time, give or take five minutes.”
Steve sighed and followed her down the hall into the small packed auditorium. He walked to the front and scanned the crowd, opening his mind and letting the thoughts assault him. Nothing leapt out, nothing useful in this case anyway. “As you know, we have two more missing kids.” Heads nodded.
Anyone with a police scanner knew. Anyone with a radio knew. Anyone with a television knew. The media had latched onto this one like a mad dog, vicious and unrelenting, sensationalizing the snatching of Tommy Ryan, turning the entire case upside down. A billionaire’s son at the hands of a killer was just too juicy.
Speculation that a ransom call would come hit the airways, but Steve knew better, he knew it was someone in this room. Someone in attendance had Tommy and was doing unimaginable things to the boy. He knew in the hot pit of his stomach that if they didn’t find him in the next forty-eight hours, Tommy was dead.
He ran his sharp glare over the crowd, looking for anything, any twitch, any shift that would play out. Nothing. Shit. Do I play my hand or not? Shit. Chris, is André still with you?
No. He couldn’t hold the connection.
God damn it! He could identify the son of a bitch!
Somehow I doubt that. I can’t even identify him. Bastard was wearing hospital scrubs.
“We need all hands on this one. As you know, one of the victim’s family is pretty powerful and has some serious connections.” Nods. Was there a logo on the scrubs?
Silence met the question.
Chris, was there a fucking logo?
I don’t know. I was concentrating on getting the fucker to move the scalpel away from Tommy.
Steve exhaled and nodded. “After speaking with the families of past victims it has come to light that our UNSUB is pretending to be one of you. A cop with a police dog in training. A Golden Retriever. Each and every parent mentioned this and one of the kids saw a Golden Retriever when the girl was snatched.” He let that sink in, doing another mind scan, but only fuzz and static met him this time, the exhaustion taking a toll to the point where he couldn’t even get a read on Cleary.
“You’re not telling us anything we don’t already know.” Officer Gagnon said.
“I know. I just wanted to reiterate what we are looking for and tell you that until this case is solved, there will be no days off.” He knew he couldn’t do that but he wanted to see the reactions. Grumbles cascaded through the room and he traded a glance with Cleary getting a slight shake of his head in return. His eyes scanned the crowd, seeing quite a few lips pressing together in thin flat lines. If glares were daggers, he’d be bleeding plenty.
Lieutenant Danforth stood and crossed the distance. “Can I speak with you?”
Steve nodded and allowed Danforth to lead him out of the room.
“What the fuck was that?” Danforth asked, pointing toward the room.
Steve tilted his head. “We need all the available assets on this case Lieutenant.”
Danforth sent some silent blades of his own. “You don’t have the authority.”
Steve smiled and raised his eyebrows. “I beg to differ.”
Cleary stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him. “We do have the authority.” He didn’t exactly like what Steve did, but some of the reactions were more visceral than necessary and he took down names, narrowing the field to some twenty officers, including the good Lieutenant standing before them.
“These men have families!”
“So do we,” Cleary said. “You don’t see me bitching about being here or bitching about the chance to nail this bastard to the wall.” He stepped in to crowd the Lieutenant.
Danforth stepped back. “I don’t want my men burning out. I need them sharp and time off keeps them clear and focused.”
Steve rubbed his temple, studying Danforth. Too much static. Unnatural static. His eyes narrowed. Dark hair, right height, right build. “Do you own a dog, Lieutenant?”
Danforth’s head snapped in Steve’s direction, his jaw unhinged at the veiled accusation. “No, I don’t.”
Indignant, the Lieutenant barely held it together. A red hue spread over his face and neck, his nostrils flared and his lips thinned to nothing.
“Can you tell us your whereabouts yesterday afternoon?” Agent Cleary asked.
“I was at home.”
“Can anyone confirm that?”
He shook his head. “I was alone.” As usual.
Steve heard the thought, narrowing his eyes.
Cleary honed in on the Lieutenant’s left hand and the gold band glinting in the light. Before Steve could stop him, Cleary asked, “Your wife wasn’t home?”
The crimson tone vanished from his cheeks, his skin going very pale all of a sudden and he turned his gaze to Steve before swinging it back in Cleary’s direction. “My wife died last year.” With that, the Lieutenant turned and stormed down the hall out of sight.
Cleary turned to Steve pointing toward the room full of officers. “You pull another stunt like that and you’re off the case. Go get some sleep, you look like shit.” Cleary didn’t wait for a rebuff; he walked back into the room and shut the door.
Steve was too tired to argue, he was too tired to drive. He found Sarah and handed her the keys. “I need to swing by and see Jennifer before we head back to the hotel. Do you mind driving?”
“Sure.” She swiped the keys from his outstretched hand.
Chapter 44
The Ritz Carlton parking lot was a zoo and it didn’t get any better when Steve stepped out of the car. The media swarmed like a flock of pigeons going after a single crumb of bread, pecking and clacking, yelling questions and sticking microphones and cameras in his face, capturing his mumbling “No comment” over and over and over.
