by J. E. Taylor
Officer Gagnon opened the door in his pajama bottoms. His skin flushed with fever and his eyes equally red. He blinked at Steve, his expression turning ashen and he checked his watch and closed his eyes, bringing his knuckles to his lips. “Sorry, man, I know they said we had no time off, but I’ve been sick all night,” he said and spun, vaulting around the corner.
Steve followed and when he rounded the corner, he heard the retching in the bathroom. Instead of leaving like his gut told him to do, he said, “We found another body.”
Gagnon wiped his lips with tissue and closed the toilet. “I’m not sure you really want to be in here Agent Williams. This flu is pretty damn nasty. All of us have it.”
“Do you have anyone who can vouch for your whereabouts last night?”
Gagnon’s face shed all color and he took a staggering step backward, his jaw dropping and his mouth forming an indignant ‘o’. “You think I’m responsible for these deaths?”
Steve shrugged. He was only getting sluggish thoughts from Gagnon, not enough to confirm his accusation or clear him. “You did know the first victim, and you did withhold information from the FBI.”
“Get out of my house!”
“Can you tell me where you were this morning at six-fifteen?”
“He was upstairs throwing up,” a scratchy female voice replied.
Steve turned to see an equally sick woman standing at the base of the stairs in a ratty bathrobe. Her blonde hair formed a nest of knots and she clutched the edges of the robe with one hand and the railing with the other.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, because I was down here alternating using this bathroom with my daughter. I know exactly where everyone was at six-fifteen because the only healthy one in this house left to catch the bus for school.”
Steve scanned her memories of this morning and they validated her words. Gagnon was sick. Hell, all of them were sick throughout the night and Steve wished he hadn’t stepped inside this house of germs.
Gagnon wasn’t responsible for Jessica’s murder or any other murder for that matter.
He turned back to Gagnon. “Your access code was used to open the gate to Grant Park this morning. Can you tell me who has access to those codes?”
Gagnon was slow putting two and two together, and a crease appeared between his eyes. “My access code?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m here. Someone’s doing a hell of a job pointing us in your direction.”
He blinked still unable to comprehend the idea of a fellow officer setting him up.
“Gagnon. Is there anyone who can retrieve those codes?”
“Besides Lieutenant Danforth?” He closed his mouth and inhaled. His thoughts swarmed through his exhale. “I don’t know. Maybe Danforth’s boss?”
“Tell me what happened to Danforth’s family.”
“He was too late to save them, and beyond losing his wife and kids, shooting his own brother messed him up good for a while.”
“His brother killed his family?”
“Yeah. His twin turned out to be the Savannah serial killer.”
Steve had seen a news story about that when he was in rehab but the names hadn’t clicked until now. The Savanna killer targeted entire families and no one ever figured out why because the cop leading the investigation shot him dead on the scene.
Jesus. Danforth shot his brother. Danforth.
Steve turned and sprinted to his car, tearing out of the parking lot and heading to the last address on the list.
Chapter 60
Steve pulled into the looping driveway and Danforth’s cruiser sat parked in front of the portico. Steve approached the glorious southern mansion, scanning with his mind. Just as he raised his hand to knock on the beautiful oak door, Lieutenant Danforth opened it.
“Agent Williams.” Danforth’s eyebrows rose, but his eyes belied his surprised expression.
Steve tilted his head, staring into the tired gaze of the Lieutenant. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the crime scene?”
Danforth nodded. “I just swung home to change and grab a bite. You’re welcome to join me.” He swung the door wide, gesturing for Steve to enter.
All he heard was static from the Lieutenant and alarms went off in his head, but he forced a smile. “Sure.” Steve stepped inside. The atrium was bathed in warm sunlight that sent prisms through the crystal chandelier, the tiny rainbows landing on the large staircase that split and elegantly wrapped to the second floor.
Steve whistled. “I didn’t know the force paid so well in Georgia.”
A bitter smile appeared on Danforth’s lips and he glanced around the foyer. “My wife. She inherited it from her family.”
“Oh,” Steve said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and sliding his hands into his pockets. “She came from money?”
Danforth nodded. “Doctors. Every single one of them. They were a little disappointed that Santana married a cop.” He shrugged and headed down the marble lined hallway toward the back of the house.
Steve followed. “What happened to her if you don’t mind me asking?”
Danforth stopped and sighed. “No offense, but I’d rather not talk about what happened to my family. Maybe after we catch this son-of-a-bitch, I’ll take you out for a drink and we can compare notes.” He waved Steve into the kitchen. His lips pressed together and he turned away from Steve, crossing to the refrigerator and pulling out a plate piled with fried chicken. “Hope you brought your appetite.”
Steve stared at Danforth, still receiving only static from the man’s mind. His gaze dropped to the plate of chicken and his mouth watered. “I didn’t think I was hungry until right this moment. Is that barbecue?”
“No, Cajun. My neighbor brings me food every so often and it’s enough to feed an army. She’s a damn fine cook, but she needs to learn a thing or two about portion control.”
Steve chuckled and took a seat at the table, turning over the case, the profile they distributed. Danforth fit the profile like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle. Steve glanced around the room again, looking for something very specific and when his gaze landed on the metal water bowl sitting on the floor by the door, he shot his glance back at the chicken on the table, praying his face showed no signs of his stepped up suspicion.
Danforth turned, pulling two plates from the cabinet. “Lemonade?”
“Sure.” He grabbed a chicken leg while the sound of metal clanking against glass filled the room. He sank his teeth into the chicken and was rewarded with the delectable taste of hot spices coating the crispy breading and the juicy dark meat below. His tongue tingled and he smiled at Danforth. “This is out of this world.” He held up the leg and got a nod in response.
“I told you she was an exceptional cook.” Danforth slid a glass of lemonade to Steve before digging into the chicken. “I’ve heard stories about you,” he said and grabbed the second drumstick.
Steve raised his eyebrows. “Really, like what?”
“That you’re a hell of an investigator and if anyone can find those kids, it’s you.”
Steve shrugged and took a sip of the lemonade. His lips pursed at the sourness filling his mouth. He blinked, looking at the yellow liquid, the bitter tinge mingling with the Cajun spices in his mouth creating an unpleasant taste.
“Not sweet enough?” Danforth asked.
“Nah, I’m just not a big lemonade fan,” he said and slid the glass away. He took another bite of the chicken to mask the taste.
Danforth took a sip of his and his lips curled in disgust. “Oh, man, this tastes like shit. I’m sorry about that. Looks like Dora forgot the sugar again.” He set the cup on the table and crossed to the pantry, pulling out the sugar jar and grabbing a spoon. “The lemonade is stellar once it’s sweetened.” He dumped four tablespoons of sugar in his glass and raised an eyebrow. “You want me to add some to yours or are you good?”
Steve debated; the sourness still pinching his throat despite the second bite of chicken, along with
Danforth’s reaction, drove his decision and he nodded. Four tablespoons of sugar and Danforth sat stirring his own lemonade. He offered Steve the spoon and Steve followed his lead, taking a sip after the sugar granules disappeared. Now it was sweet with just a hint of a sour lemon bite.
“So tell me something Agent Williams, what brings you out here today?” Danforth asked after they devoured the chicken.
“I thought you might be able to help us figure out who had access to the department pass codes.”
“Cleary said you were following up on the Gagnon angle.”
“Yes, but Gagnon was nowhere near Grant Park this morning.”
Danforth’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “You sure?”
“Yes, he’s got an airtight alibi. Any ideas who would have that kind of access?”
“Major Hammerstein, Deputy Chief Kendal and Chief Sexton all have access to our codes.”
“I assume you have access too?”
“Yes.” Danforth stood and cleared the empty plates and glasses, setting them in the sink.
“Are they secure?”
“As far as I know, yes, but you know as well as I do if someone has the mindset to hack in and they have the knowhow, there’s precious little you can do to stop it.”
Steve’s thoughts flew to Chris and he nodded. “True.”
“What kind of dog do you have?” Steve asked waving toward the water bowl.
Danforth turned, staring at the bowl. He blinked and sighed. “I haven’t had the heart to get rid of that yet. Not only did my family die, but so did my dog.”
Steve glanced between the clean water and the Lieutenant. The sorrow in his eyes cut to the center of his being and he let it go. “You’ve got a pretty big piece of property here,” Steve said and glanced out the window at the large building that sat to the right side of the house. “What’s that?”
Danforth glanced at his watch and a subtle change occurred, one Steve couldn’t put his finger on, but when Danforth lifted his gaze, it nearly pierced through him. “I think you’d have a fine appreciation for what I’ve got over there.” A grin appeared. “Especially considering the sporty coupe you’ve got parked outside.”
Curiosity scratched the surface and Steve followed Danforth out of the house and across the lawn. When he walked into the oversized garage, he whistled in appreciation and shot a glance at Danforth. He crossed the floor, studying each vehicle. Jaguar XKSS, Aston Martin, McLaren F1, a Miura Lamborghini, Testarossa Ferrari, Maserati Birdcage and a vintage Corvette Stingray. He raised his gaze to Danforth. “How did you get these?”
Danforth grinned, his eyes shining with accomplishment. “It took me a few years to find each of these babies.” He ran his fingers along the sides, like a lover returning home to his long lost girl. “They’re my pride and joy.” He looked at Steve.
Steve glanced across the showroom floor, finding a break in the floor before he raised his eyes to Danforth. “You ever drive them?”
“Yes. There’s a local antique chapter that has a show every couple of months. I bring one of these out each time.”
Steve stepped toward the indent in the floor and stumbled. The world tilted, spinning like an out of control top and he reached for the nearest car, missing the metal by inches. He landed on his knees and his last thought before all went black was shit, I’m such a fucking idiot.
Chapter 61
I stared at Special Agent Williams and spit the sickly sweet taste of lemonade on the floor, but it still clung to my mouth. The bastard fell for it, he bought the act. He thinks I’m my brother, the good lieutenant.
Fool.
I squatted and yanked the keys out of his pocket and slipped them into mine. Once I got him prepped for surgery, I’d have to move the car. I stopped. His car. I felt the smile form and a low chuckle emitted from my chest. The perfect fall guy lay at my feet.
I grabbed a pair of surgical gloves out of my office and walked outside, popping his trunk and then my own. I opened the hidden compartment in my trunk and pulled the folded plastic out. I needed his fingerprints. Bringing the plastic inside, I pressed his hands and fingers over the plastic until I was sure there were at least three sets of valid prints before I stowed it in Special Agent Williams’ trunk. With the evidence planted, I dragged Steve down the concrete stairs into the darkness, depositing him in the first room at the bottom of the stairs before flipping on the lights.
Neither of my wards woke to the bright splash and I stripped and chained Agent Williams to the same table Mrs. Ryan had occupied in the wee hours of the morning.
Alex lay in the corner still working on the remains of Mrs. Ryan’s leg and I turned, trotting upstairs and into the darkening day.
Chapter 62
Cleary stood before the hotel door with his head bowed, gathering his emotions into a tight ball, and shoving them into the pit of his stomach. He wrapped his knuckles on the wood panel and waited. Steve’s wife opened the door, her eyes bloodshot and puffy from crying. CJ Ryan stood beside her.
“Mrs. Williams, may I come in?” He shot his gaze down to the child and back to her as she swung the door open.
Cleary hesitated in the doorway, his eyes scanning the destruction before him. It looked like a hurricane had ripped through the hotel room, including the spider web of cracks in the great picture window and his head snapped toward CJ. Holy shit. Did you do this?
“Yes, sir.” The child stared at the floor, his cheeks blooming red.
“You already know why I’m here?” His glance traversed between CJ and Jennifer.
“Yes. I had a vision this morning,” Jennifer said. “And CJ got a message from his brother.”
Surprise mingled with disbelief, tickling the base of his spine. “What kind of message?”
“A telepathic message,” Jennifer said.
Cleary inhaled and squatted, taking CJ’s hands. “I’m so sorry about your mother.”
CJ raised his tear-filled blue eyes, biting the side of his lower lip. “Where’s Steve?”
“He’s checking out a lead.” Cleary looked up at Jennifer and back, wondering what would happen now that both his parents were dead. CJ’s eyes hardened and Cleary mentally scolded himself for allowing that thought in his head while within range of this child.
“I’ll be fine.” CJ yanked his hands away and retreated to the couch, throwing himself on the cushions and grabbing his computer. Before he completely dismissed Cleary, he sent a glare and said, “My mother’s head is on the end of the table that my brother’s tied to. He’s the one you should worry about.”
Biting shock filled Cleary’s skin, slithering over him and causing his arms to break out in bumps and a shiver to ripple down his spine, pulling his balls into his body for protection. The toneless voice coming from the boy sounded more like a cynical old man rather than a nine-year-old boy and he looked at Jennifer.
“He’s had a tough day.” Jennifer studied the spackled covered carpet and let her gaze drift toward CJ before turning her attention to Cleary. “I tried to call Steve a little while ago and he didn’t pick up.” She brought her index finger to her mouth, chewing on the already ragged nail. “Have you heard from him?”
Cleary stared at Jennifer and shook his head. He flipped open his phone and dialed the familiar number. After four rings it dumped to voicemail. “Check in when you get this,” he said and closed the phone. A quick glance at his watch told him Steve should have checked in by now. The last place he was headed was the same officer that hadn’t shown up today at Grant Park. Their prime suspect-Gagnon. Shit.
A shadow passed Jennifer’s face, her tired eyes transitioning to worry.
Cleary lifted his hands. “Don’t worry about your husband. He can take care of himself.”
Jennifer shook her head. “Not if he can’t hear who’s coming after him. You know where he is?”
“I know where he went. Just sit tight and keep an eye on the kid,” Cleary said and left the apartment. When all this case was wrapped up,
he had a laundry list of things to talk to Agent Williams about and none more important than Ty Aris’s son, CJ Ryan.
Chapter 63
Wake UP God Damnit!
Wings fluttered, and the breeze Chris created shifted the blanket covering the surgical instruments.
Alex cowered in the corner, shaking, the bone he had been gnawing on forgotten in the wake of the angry angel filling the room. He whined, pulling Chris’s attention away from Steve for a fraction of a second.
“Wake up, Williams!” He reached out, attempting to shake Steve, but his fingers passed straight through his skin. The only time he seemed solid was when he stood in Paradise Cove. Frustration filled him and he bellowed a guttural roar, swinging his open palm.
This time he connected and Steve’s head lolled away from the slap, his cheek reddening, showing the shape of a hand where Chris slapped him.
Steve stirred, letting out a small groan.
“Aeee?”
Tommy’s voice filled the darkness and Chris turned away from Steve, torn. He looked at the door biting his lip, his troubled gaze returning to Steve.
Steve had to wake up. Right now.
Another roar filled the room and he balled his fist. “Wake your ass up, Williams!”
Steve’s head turned toward the sound of his voice and another groan escaped his lips. His hand started toward his face, stopping short because of the chains.
Chris gave him one last look before turning and answering his son’s plea.
Chapter 64
Cleary pulled into the condo complex and parked in front of Officer Gagnon’s apartment, staring at the building with the same uncertainty Steve had earlier. It didn’t fit the profile and his casual scan of the lot didn’t find Steve’s car among the parked vehicles.
Still, he had to follow up. He had some questions for Officer Gagnon.
Gagnon opened the door wearing only a ratty robe and underwear. His eyes bloodshot and his face pale with a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and upper lip. His breath carried the stench of vomit and he glanced at Cleary blinking his eyes in confusion. “Did Agent Williams find out who used my code?”
