The Steve Williams Series Boxed Set

by J. E. Taylor

  “I don’t know. Did he happen to tell you where he was heading after he stopped here?”

  Gagnon shook his head. “I thought he was heading back to the station. I’m sorry about not making it to the scene today. I know you said we had to be at work until this case is wrapped up, but I’ve got a nasty case of the flu and I didn’t think you’d want the entire Atlanta PD vomiting for the next twenty four hours.” He put the back of his hand to his mouth and spun, fleeing around the corner and down the hallway, leaving the door open, retching sounds drifted from the far hallway.

  Cleary reached in and closed the door. Halfway to his car, the door opened. “Agent Williams might be talking to Lieutenant Danforth about who had access to all our codes.”

  “Thanks, I’ll check in at the station.” Cleary waved and slid behind the wheel. Instead of heading into the heart of Atlanta, he turned east, heading to the last stop on Steve’s list.

  Chapter 65

  A guttural roar jerked Tommy awake. Darkness shrouded him but he knew that voice, he knew that roar, he had heard it in a warehouse a lifetime ago. “Aeee?” Daddy?

  Nothing.

  “Aeee?” Louder this time.

  Chris Ryan stepped into the room, bathing Tommy in a soft glow. His white wings shivering as he crossed the floor, his eyes glued to the severed head sitting at the end of the metal table between Tommy’s feet. Tears of sorrow and fury coursed down his cheeks and he met Tommy’s stare.

  “Aeee, eh me ou a hee,” he pleaded, his mouth unable to form the words without his tongue, so he repeated them in his mind. Daddy, get me out of here! Hot, choking tears burned the corners of his eyes and throat.

  Chris stopped at the side of the table. “What did he do to you?”

  Tommy opened his mouth like he had done with his mother and the horror reflected in Chris’s face.

  The angel tilted his head, bellowing with rage, his wings spreading, fluttering and lifting him off the ground. “Williams!”

  Metal shook at the volume and velocity of the roar, the surgical instruments rattling like brass chimes and then the lights went on. Fear shook his ragged form, squeezing hot drops of piss out of him and Tommy started blubbering.

  Chapter 66

  His eyes opened and it was dark, pitch black, no light permeated the room at all. Steve blinked, confused at the cool metal meeting his back and he shifted; his movements stopped by shackles around his wrists and ankles. He turned his head and the world tilted, spinning. His stomach rolled. He clamped his mouth shut against the sudden stream of bile that lined his throat, swallowing. Closing his eyes and counting to ten before he opened them again.

  The fucker drugged me.

  The coherent thought brought his senses alive and the stench hit him. The combination of urine, shit, and a bitter undertone made his mouth taste as if he chewed a wad of tin foil. It was a smell he recognized. Blood. The cabin had smelled like this after the explosion.

  Shit.

  He concentrated on the restraints holding him in place. Open! The metal creaked and shattered, freeing him and he felt around, finding the edge of the table and hopped to the cool ground.

  A low growl permeated the darkness and his head snapped to his right. He froze in place.

  “Williams!” Chris’s voice nearly split his head in half and Steve’s hands flew to his ears, trying to block out the ringing pain accompanying the volume.

  He had no clue where the light switches were and he’d bet a year’s salary that the owner of the growl was a big-ass Golden Retriever. “Lights.” The command was simple along with the force of will accompanying it and the entire maze of rooms lit up. Steve blinked, focusing on the beautiful dog bristling in the corner. “Sit.” He pointed and the dog sat, his growl cut off in his throat, forgotten in surprise.

  A tacky liquid covered his back and legs and when he turned and glanced at the table, his gag reflex kicked in. He had been lying in blood and gore. Frantic, he grabbed the clothing on the chair and wiped his skin with his shirt, dropping it to the floor and sliding on his underwear and jeans before bringing his gaze back to the dog.

  A few things registered, a partially eaten leg on the ground. The dog’s blood streaked fur surrounding his mouth. Steve shivered, his gaze falling back on the leg. The finely painted toenails triggered another thought. Jessica, holy shit, that’s Jessica’s leg. This time his stomach catapulted the partially digested chicken out of his mouth. He coughed and spit and then straightened to a new noise.

  Sobbing.

  Sobbing coming from the hallway and Steve sprinted, following the noise past two additional rooms, one empty and the other stopping him. A girl lay unconscious under the bright lights. Her abdomen lined with ugly black stitches and Steve stepped in the room, crossing to her and placing his fingers on her throat. A strong pulse throbbed against his fingertips, stronger than he expected and he sighed with relief.

  He glanced at the cuffs and with a quick tilt of his head and a whispered command, the metal fell open, freeing her wrists and ankles before he headed toward the sobbing.

  Steve entered the last room, his heartbeat drowning out his ragged breath as his gaze shot from the severed head propped at the foot of the table to Tommy. “Jesus,” he whispered and Tommy’s bright blue eyes found his.

  “Hep eee!” He thrashed on the table and Steve sent a small allowance of power out, shattering the binds that held Tommy.

  He was halfway across the room when Tommy screamed, raising his finger toward the door.

  Steve spun to a flurry of fur and teeth, the Golden Retriever hit him chest high and he stumbled backwards, falling into the surgical supply table, knocking scalpels and retractors onto the floor. The dog’s jaw snapped inches away from his face and Steve clasped his hand around the furry throat, pushing the sharp canines away. “I really don’t want to hurt you,” he said but the dog kept coming and Steve let a burst of power escape, sending the dog across the room into the concrete wall with such force the breaking bones echoed through the room, louder than the dog’s yelp.

  Alex crashed to the ground and lay still.

  Steve turned back to Tommy, helping him to his feet. “Can you stand?”

  Tommy took a step and faltered, his eyes rolling back in his head and he collapsed. Steve caught his tilting frame and laid him gently back on the table.

  He stared at Jessica’s dead eyes, the calico colors muted and the thread holding her eyelids open straining, giving her eyes a double row of lashes. He shivered and focused back on Tommy and saw the same ragged stitching traversing his belly like Annalee’s in the next room.

  When Tommy’s eyes blinked open, Steve offered his best smile under the circumstances. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you faster, Tom.” He reached out and helped the boy to his feet.

  “Issh oa.” Tommy stared at his mother’s head and sucked in a shaky breath, clinging to the table for support, feeling the raw pain flaring inside from each brutal cut.

  “No, Tommy, none of this is okay,” Steve said and looked around the room for clothing beyond the hideous soiled diaper draped around the boy’s waist. He ripped the cloth covering the surgical supplies and found a box of wipes in addition to the less than shiny utensils. “Think you can clean up by yourself?”

  Tommy nodded, stripping the dirty diaper off and tossing it away in disgust. He cleaned himself with the wipes, wincing but determined. When he finished, he balled up the soiled wipes, throwing them in the same direction as the diaper. He dropped the box when he was done and Steve handed him a poncho he made from the fabric.

  “That’s the best I can do right now.”

  Tommy slid his head through the hole in the center and tied the gauze around his waist in a make shift belt, covering his naked form. “Aaaee,” he said, pointing toward the hall and meeting Steve’s gaze, swallowing repeatedly.

  Steve nodded and led him out of the room and into Annalee’s.

  Chapter 67

  Cleary scanned the mansion and surrounding
yard as he stepped out of the car. “I’m at Danforth’s and Steve’s not here. He still isn’t answering his cell phone, so I have no clue where he is.”

  “His cell phone could have died,” Sarah said. “I’ll check the station and then I’ll head out to Grant Park. He may be walking the grid.”

  He passed Danforth’s cruiser and climbed the steps, rapping on the door with his knuckles. No answer. He rang the doorbell and waited. Still no answer and he turned, scanning the lay of the land. His gaze landed on the large building occupying the side yard. A curving driveway disappeared around to the side he couldn’t see, but he imagined it was some sort of garage.

  Just as he took a step in the direction of the building, the front door opened. Lieutenant Danforth stood wrapped in a ratty terrycloth bathrobe, with his hair dripping wet.

  “I thought I heard the doorbell.”

  “Sorry to bother you at home…”

  Danforth waved off the comment. “I just swung in for a quick shower. What brings you out this way?”

  “I’m looking for Agent Williams. Have you seen him today?”

  “I saw him at Grant Park earlier. You want to come in for a minute?”

  Sweat saturated Cleary’s back, the oppressive Georgian heat squeezing every last drop from his skin and the cool air filtering out from the house felt like heaven. “Sure.”

  “Can I get you some lemonade while you wait?”

  Cleary considered the offer. He was thirsty and the idea of lemonade set his saliva glands on overdrive. “That would be mighty kind of you.” He followed Danforth into the kitchen, waiting while he poured a cup from the glass carafe and spooned a healthy amount of sugar in, stirring and handing the glass to him.

  “I’ll be right down. Make yourself comfortable,” Danforth said and left the room.

  The minute Danforth was out of sight, Cleary did a quick pass at the downstairs level of the house, finding nothing out of the ordinary except the dog bowl in the corner of the kitchen and a complete absence of dog hair on the carpets and wood floors.

  Cleary gulped half of the lemonade and sat down at the table facing the door to the living room. Moments later Danforth stepped into the room in jeans and a polo shirt, his badge hanging out of his front pocket and his revolver strapped to his shoulder. A white blazer hung over his arm and when he slid it on, he reminded Cleary of Sunny Crocket from “Miami Vice”, with one exception, the jet-black hair.

  “So, you’re missing an Agent,” he said.

  “Yep,” Cleary answered, taking a sip of the drink. “He’s probably walking the grid over at Grant Park or expanding our search profile. Sometimes when he’s digging into something, he tends to block out the rest of the world.”

  “If one of my men didn’t answer my call, I’d have his ass on a platter.”

  Cleary chuckled. “I hear you, but Agent Williams is special in his own way.” He thought about his earlier display. Cleary wasn’t sure what he was going to do with Steve when all this was over. He clearly broke the law where Chris Ryan was concerned, but so had Jessica Ryan and he wasn’t sure he wanted to drag her memory through the mud now that she was dead and her kids orphaned. Pressing formal charges against Steve would do just that.

  “Special how?” Danforth asked, pulling Cleary out of his thought process.

  “He’s the best damn investigator I’ve got, even though he is a bit unconventional.”

  “He thinks a cop is doing this, right?”

  Cleary inhaled and nodded, his gaze falling on the dog dish before traveling back to the Lieutenant. “What kind of dog do you have?” He pointed his chin toward the bowl.

  A shadow passed over Danforth’s face and he sighed. “I had a shepherd-husky mix.”

  “Had?”

  “Yes. My brother killed my dog the day he attacked my family.”

  Cleary had read about the case prior to coming to Georgia and he read the psychiatric reports that released Danforth for duty. On paper, Danforth seemed much more prepared to step into the job than Steve had been after Kyle Winslow blew up Steve’s daughter. However, looking at the clean water in the dog dish, Cleary had his doubts.

  “I need to get to the station,” Cleary said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder.

  “Sure, sorry to hold you up.” Danforth finished the refreshing lemonade and stood.

  Halfway across the living room, Cleary’s arms started to tingle and he lifted his hand. The heavy limb came in and out of focus and his gaze traveled to Danforth. The smile on the Lieutenant’s face caused his heart to throb and he fumbled for his sidearm but his hands no longer worked.

  The last thing that registered in Cleary’s brain was the floor coming quick and then all went black.

  * * * *

  I stepped out of the house with another stupid Fed over my shoulder. This was going to be a royal pain in the ass. One missing FBI agent was easy to cover up, but two, two was more of a middle finger to all law enforcement arms. I saw the possibilities of making this a much more public display of what I thought about the FBI than that boy at Centennial Park.

  Halfway across the lawn, the red light over the doorway to the garage started blinking and the low siren wailed.

  I stopped short. My heart tripped to double time and I dropped the unconscious Assistant Director on the ground, charging toward the building and the security breach within.

  Chapter 68

  Steve stepped next to Annalee with Tommy behind right behind him. He gently patted her cheek. “Annalee?”

  Her eyes fluttered open and she shuffled back on the table, fear etched into her wide dark rimmed eyes.

  “Iss oa,” Tommy said, gaining her attention while Steve grabbed the sheet and made another poncho for her.

  Annalee stared at Tommy, her eyes filling with tears. “I heard you scream and, and, and I cried because he wasn’t cutting me.”

  Tommy nodded, tears forming and sliding down his cheeks. He looked at the floor.

  The admission set off coils of fire in his stomach and Steve clamped his teeth together at the fury riding up his back. The bastard was going to pay dearly for this, but in the meantime, he had to get them out of there, now, before Danforth came back. “Annalee, I need to get you and Tommy to safety pretty damn quick.” Because I can’t hear the bastard coming. Steve handed her the cloth and helped her off the table once she slid it over her head.

  “Stay behind me,” Steve ordered and the two children fell in line, Tommy took a protective stance, grasping Annalee around her waist and helping her out of the room despite the pain etched on his face. Having someone else to protect gave Tommy strength and Steve was thankful.

  They entered the hallway, inching down the narrow path toward the closed door at the end of the hall. Steve stepped beyond the entrance to the room he was in and into the path of a red laser light. He paused, tilting his head listening; he glanced back at the kids. “Stay here.”

  Tommy laughed. “Uh-uh. o ay.” No way.

  Steve sent a glare in his direction. “I’m serious, Tommy. Stay here.” He reached for the knob and waved for them to get on the wall behind the door. “I’ll come get you when it’s safe. I promise.”

  Tommy’s lips pressed together and he pulled Annalee next to him against the wall, faking bravery.

  But Steve knew, he felt the fear radiating from both kids and he stopped, meeting Tommy’s gaze. “I promise,” he said. “And I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

  Tommy nodded, still shaking but he understood, and Steve turned back toward the door, bracing himself for what lay on the other side. The heavy metal swung aside and he stared up a dark stairwell. He gave a quick glance over his shoulder at Tommy and gave a reassuring nod. The siren was louder now that the door was open and Steve closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, swallowing the fear that rode along his spine, he took the first step and the second, climbing until he reached the top door.

  Steve leaned his head against the wood, counting to three and then swung the door
open. The blast tore through his shoulder and he spun, slamming back first against the door, staring at Lieutenant Danforth. The pain from the bullet eclipsed the anger and Steve staggered, catching the handle to remain standing.

  “Oo!” Tommy yelled from the bottom of the stairs and started to climb but Steve raised his hand, stopping him.

  “I don’t know how you got loose, but that little stunt is going to end up being a very painful lesson,” Danforth said.

  Laughter born of anger leapt from Steve as Danforth aimed the gun, pulling the trigger. Steve erected an iron wall between the bullet and where he stood, and the deadly projectile stopped inches away from Steve’s skin, dropping to the floor with a crisp ‘tink’, like the jackets expelled from the gun. Steve tilted his head, studying Danforth’s wide eyes. Fury pounded against his skin, begging to let loose, but Steve kept it in check.

  “Of all the people on the force, I would have never guessed you were the bastard killing these kids. You’re a cop for god’s sake. What the hell happened to serve and protect?” Steve stepped forward and Danforth raised the gun, pulling the trigger. This time, nothing happened.

  Danforth looked up from the defunct gun, glaring at Steve. “My brother was such a pussy. He cried and begged me not to kill Santana, but I had to know. I had to see if they found peace when the screaming stopped. And then the bastard shot me.”

  Steve stared at the man in the cheap ‘Miami Vice’ get up and his brow creased. “Lieutenant Danforth?”

  “Hell, no! Although I can feel him screaming in my head, scratching at the bonds like he always does when I’m doing my research.”

  Steve’s anger diffused a notch. “I want to talk to Lieutenant Danforth,” Steve said, his voice calm and controlled, wondering if this was just an elaborate ploy to get an insanity plea. He still couldn’t hear anything from Danforth’s mind and a split personality or psychotic break would jumble thoughts beyond his mind reading capabilities.