by JB Lynn
“Are you saying you’re Anna’s father?” Bailey asked.
“Yes. Anna’s my daughter. Ask Kitty, once she sobers up, if you don’t believe me.”
“You’re the one who got Kitty Cartwright knocked up?”
Evan nodded.
“Put your hands behind your back,” Sebastian barked, moving closer to the suspect, but not before giving a sidelong glance to Bailey, a signal to cover him. “I’m going to cuff you. Then I’m going to search you for weapons. Am I going to find any on you?”
“Weapons? No.”
As Sebastian moved behind Swann to shackle him, Bailey asked, “Where’s your car?”
“I left it over at Jeb Wilk’s place. He owns the property. I’m sure he won’t press charges or anything. Wasn’t sure what kind of shape the driveway would be in. Didn’t want to tear up my undercarriage.” He winced as Sebastian tightened the cuffs. “Look, what do you think I did wrong?” he asked as he was patted down by the younger FBI agent.
“You tell us.”
“I trespassed on private property? I told you, I thought—C’mon, Bailey, you know me. You know I could never hurt anyone.”
“What I know, Evan, is that you disappeared for fifteen years and now you’ve come back to town, asking questions about Emily and claiming to be Anna’s father…a fact you conveniently neglected to mention when I questioned you earlier.”
“Kitty doesn’t want anyone to know. That’s why I didn’t tell you. You know how bitchy she can be when she’s pissed. I just thought that maybe, if I came out here, I could find Anna.”
Bailey lowered his gun. He couldn’t fault Evan Swann’s logic. Not when they were here because he’d followed the same train of thought.
“He’s clean,” Sebastian interrupted. “Stay right here. Don’t move.”
They moved off to the side so that they could confer in whispers.
“This is your call. What do you think, O’Neil?”
“I’m not sure. He seems pretty desperate to find his daughter and considering he was the one who rescued Emily, it makes sense he’d have the same idea as us to look for Anna here.”
“He could be a copycat,” Sebastian mused. “Suspicious that he didn’t just drive up to the front door like us. Either way, I don’t want to let him go until he’s answered a whole lot of questions.”
“We need to get a look in that house. Doesn’t make sense to drive all the way back into town to drop him off at the jail, just to turn around to come back here again.”
“Agreed, but I don’t think either of us should go in there alone.”
“What do you suggest then?” Bailey watched as Evan Swann nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“We could tie him to a cow,” Sebastian quipped.
“I’m not sure that’s in the handbook.”
Sebastian looked from the suspect to their car. “I guess you’re going to say that we can’t lock him in the trunk either.”
“But we could use a trunk.” Bailey jutted his chin in the direction of the two pine trees that flanked the house.
“You want me to cuff him to a tree?”
“I’ll do it.”
“Who does it, isn’t the point.”
“Let me ask him if it’s okay. If he’s got nothing to hide he’ll go for it. Don’t worry, we’ll record his agreement and your ass will be covered.”
Sebastian stared at him as though he’d lost his mind, but still whipped out his cell phone.
Bailey approached Evan Swann with what he hoped came across as a friendly smile. “I’m sorry about this, but with two girls’ lives hanging in the balance, we can’t be too careful. You understand, don’t you?”
“Of course, but I had nothing to do with that. I was just trying to find my daughter. That’s why I’m here. I’m just trying to find her.”
“And I appreciate your initiative, but you’ve thrown a bit of a monkey wrench into our plans. You see, we’d planned to search that house, but now we’ve got to question you.”
“Okay, question me. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“I’m sure you don’t, but procedures have to be followed. Red tape trips us up every time. You know how it is.”
Swann nodded, relaxing a little. Everyone could bond over how inconvenient bureaucratic bullshit could be.
“So I’ve got to ask a favor of you. A favor that could help us to find the missing girls.”
“Anything that will help you find my little girl!” There was no mistaking the desire to help.
“I need your permission to handcuff you to one of these trees.”
Evan Swann blinked, as though he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the unusual request.
“It wouldn’t be for long. Just enough time for us to search the house.”
Swann shrugged. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Which one?”
Bailey was so surprised that he’d agreed so easily to the outlandish request that he turned to Sebastian.
“Your choice,” Sebastian told the handcuffed man, turning off the recorder on his cell phone. He pocketed the device as the three of them moved quickly to one of the trees. It took only a moment to unlock Swann’s cuffs.
“You never would have gone for this thing when we were kids, Evan. You were Mr. Cool, Mr. Rebellion.”
“I’m not that person anymore. I haven’t been for a long time.” Without hesitation, Evan wrapped his arms around the trunk of the nearest tree so that the cuffs could be reattached. “Guess this makes me an official tree hugger.”
Bailey chuckled. “We’ll be out as soon as we can.”
“No rush. I’m not going anywhere. Do whatever is necessary to find Anna.”
Sebastian rummaged in the trunk of the car, finally pulling out an oversized flashlight.
“You’re going to need bolt cutters if you’re trying to get into the basement.”
“What?” Bailey asked.
“The door to the basement from the kitchen has a padlock on it. I’d totally forgotten that Sheriff O’Neil had locked it up so long ago until I found it again today. Then I remembered how he’d told me that it was to keep people like me from messing around down there.”
“People like you?”
“Juvenile delinquents. The lock’s still there. It’s old and rusty, but you’re not going to be able to open that door until it’s been removed.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” Bailey turned to ask Sebastian if he had a pair of bolt cutters only to find his partner waving the tool at him.
“Mind if I use your flashlight?” Bailey asked Swann.
“Help yourself.”
Armed with flashlights and implements of destruction they once again entered the abandoned building.
Bailey didn’t know what they’d find and he sure as hell didn’t know why his father had thought it necessary to lock the door. Nothing about this case, either in the present or the past, made an ounce of sense.
The basement where Emily had been held captive was actually a small series of rooms, connected by a surprisingly complex labyrinth of tunnels. Except for the layers of dirt and grime that had accumulated, Bailey imagined the rooms looked the same as they had fifteen years earlier. Empty, barren, hellish.
Just the thought of what she must have endured here, turned his stomach. She’d been so alone, so afraid.
Crouching down beside a rocking chair, Sebastian used his pen to pick something up off the floor. He held it up for Bailey to see. A clown mask.
Bailey swallowed hard. A clown. “Evan…Evan kept saying the clown was after them.”
“You mean Emily, don’t you?”
“No. Evan. Emily didn’t say anything, not a word. Evan said the clown…oh God, he said the clown was chasing them. I always thought…I thought he meant guy.”
Bailey closed his eyes trying to remember exactly what it was Evan had said all those years ago. “We were driving along—I don’t even remember where we’d been headed�
��when all of a sudden there they were, Emily and Evan, running into the road. Almost gave me a heart attack. They were both covered with dirt and blood…God, I was so scared.”
He opened his eyes waiting for Sebastian to make a crack. The other man stayed silent, waiting for him to finish the story.
“They climbed into the backseat and Evan kept saying, ‘There’s a clown after us. The clown’s chasing us.’ I never realized he meant it literally. My dad told me to take Emily home and then he ran into the woods to catch the guy who’d hurt her.”
“You took her home? Not to the hospital?”
Bailey shrugged. “I didn’t have a driver’s license. Hell, I’d only ever had one driving lesson. It made sense to go to her house. I knew how to get there. I might have gotten lost going to the hospital.”
“And then what happened?”
“I drove to the Wrights’ house and they took her inside.”
“And what did you do?”
“Mr. Castle convinced me that I’d done enough driving. He got behind the wheel and took me home.”
“Mark Castle?” Sebastian asked.
“Yeah.”
“And what happened to Swann? Where did he go?”
Bailey tried to remember, but couldn’t. “Don’t know. It wasn’t like we were friends or anything. To be honest, all I cared about was what had happened to Emily.”
“Did your father ever say if he saw the clown?”
Bailey shook his head. “I guess the closest he got was finding this place.”
Sebastian put the mask back down where he’d found it. “Strange that the guy would have left this here. He’s gone all these years without getting caught, but he didn’t clean up after himself the first time?”
“Maybe my dad locked the place up before he got a chance.”
“Why wouldn’t he log it as evidence? At least dust it for prints?”
“He—” Bailey’s knee-jerk reaction was to defend his father, but even he could see that Sebastian was right. What had he been thinking? Sure forensics hadn’t been as advanced fifteen years ago, but the mask still should have been bagged and tagged. “I don’t know.”
“Do you have a collection kit in your car?”
Bailey nodded.
“Okay, go get it, then bring Swann in. I’ll stay here and do the collecting.” The edge in Black’s voice indicated that he was probably afraid Bailey was going to screw up the case as badly as his dad had.
“Thanks, Sebastian.”
“For what?”
“For refraining from pointing out what a monumental fuck-up this is. For not saying that if he’d just done his damn job all those other girls might still be alive.”
“No one should be held responsible for what their parent does,” he muttered, turning away to search for more evidence.
They were going to make beautiful music together, him and Mandy. The acoustics in the room were perfect for it. Her sobs and screams would echo off the walls magnificently.
She was silent for now. He’d dosed her with too much of the drug, and she was still sleeping it off. That was okay. He was in no rush. They had plenty of time. He was sticking to the plan. His patience was paying off.
He fingered the strings of Mandy Pinsky’s violin. She’d left it in her locker at school, but he’d retrieved it for the occasion.
They were strung so taut. He plucked at one and was rewarded with a twangy note that echoed off the room’s walls just the way the girl’s cries for help soon would.
He liked the feel of the violin strings against his fingers. Maybe he’d use them to kill the girl once he was done with her. Maybe he’d snap one off the musical instrument and wrap it around her neck, pulling it tight. She’d gasp for air and he’d ease up, letting her catch her breath, giving her that false hope that maybe she wasn’t going to die after all.
But she would. Eventually he’d tire of his little game of choking the life from her and then letting her lungs gulp in oxygen. And when he tired of the game, he’d yank that string so tight, she’d finally die.
He picked up the violin’s bow and scraped it along his palm. It had a strange tacky texture. He liked it. He liked the friction. He rubbed it along the length of zipper that kept his pants closed. It felt good. He spread his legs farther apart and stroked himself faster and faster with the bow. The chafing burned.
He moved over to where he’d laid Mandy on the table. Still drugged, she slept soundly and didn’t protest as he began massaging her body with the bow.
Anna groaned, coming around earlier than her friend. He glanced over to where he’d dumped her in a heap on the floor. The pierced and tattooed girl was not his type.
She was already marred. Ruined.
She wasn’t worth the trouble. The little bitch had fought back like the little hellion she was. Knowing her mother wasn’t home, he’d walked up to the front door and asked, nicely, he’d asked nicely, her to go with him. She’d refused.
Her refusal had angered him. Taking other girls had never been a problem. They’d always been agreeable, downright docile. Anna’s smart-ass sass had struck a chord in him and he’d come so close to losing control.
He’d wanted to kill her then and there. He’d wanted to snap her scrawny neck and leave her defiled body where it fell.
But he’d taken Anna anyway, because he wanted to make sure that Emily knew he was coming for her. That he was close, so close, that he could reach out for her any time he wanted.
Chapter 25
Not only had Sam Castle brought up her mother’s collection of dolls from the basement of The Garden Gate, but he and Laurie had unpacked them all. Each was housed in a custom-made case. Imprisoned behind glass, they stared out at her. Emily found it unsettling to be sitting amongst the treasures, and desperately wanted to escape their painted eyes. She felt like her head was going to explode as she thought about Anna, and then the fact that Mark was Laurie’s dad, and then Bailey. Each issue was more complicated than the last and her thoughts swirled around faster and faster like a tornado, threatening to rip her apart.
Unable to relieve her stress by going out for a run—both Laurie and Mark had freaked out when she’d just mentioned the possibility—she needed to do something to pass the time so she booted up her computer and did her best to work on the Armstrong account. A task further complicated by her lack of concentration and Laurie watching television, apparently transfixed by whatever crappy reality show was on.
It had been dark for hours and Laurie had gone to bed long before Emily gave up on getting any more work done. Pulling her cell phone out of her pocket, she checked the time. 11:32 p.m.
She’d been wondering if Bailey would stop by again. He’d said he would, but he hadn’t yet, and there were only twenty-eight minutes left in this interminable day.
She didn’t know whether she was disappointed or relieved that he hadn’t shown up. On the one hand, she would have liked to see him, to be held by him, but on the other, she didn’t want to have to address the feelings she had for him.
Sighing, she packed up her laptop. Although she was exhausted, she doubted she’d get much sleep tonight. There was too much to worry about. Too many unanswered questions swirling around.
Her cell phone buzzed, startling her. She shook her head at the way she’d jumped because of the familiar sound. “Paranoid much?”
The sound indicated she’d received a text message. Maybe Bailey hadn’t wanted to disturb her by calling so late. His consideration warmed her, and she smiled as she reached for the phone.
A chill spread through her as she read the message. WELCOME HOME EMILY. Time to play. Just us, no FBI. Tell your daddy I’m doing just what I said I would.
Dropping the phone on the table, she backed away from it. He had her cell phone number. The thought turned her stomach, and she swayed unsteadily on her feet.
It buzzed again, the vibration sending it dancing across the table’s surface. She eyed it like it was a rattler poised to strike. She d
idn’t dare check the message. But she couldn’t ignore it. Snatching up the phone, she registered that instead of a text, he’d sent a photograph. Her breathing stopped. She stared at the tiny photograph displayed on the screen, her mind trying to make sense of what her gut already knew. What she’d always known. From the moment she’d first heard about Jackie Willet’s disappearance, she’d known it was him, but she’d pretended she hadn’t. It had been so much easier to blame it all on her over-active imagination, to berate herself for her paranoia, than to face the truth. He was here.
It wasn’t over. It had never been over. Her ordeal had started fifteen years ago, and for all this time she’d been playing this game with herself, pretending it was over, a thing of the past.
She’d gone through the motions. Built the semblance of a life, put on a show to prove that everything was okay, she was fine. Hell, she was better than fine. She’d put it all behind her.
But now, in this moment, when she’d lost what mattered most to her in the world, she knew these fifteen years had been a lie. The truth was, he was here. The only way she could ever hope to be free of him, would be to face him and to end his game.
“Em?”
She jerked her head up. Bailey stood in the doorway watching her. She hadn’t heard him come in. He must have used the key Mark kept “hidden” for guests.
“Are you okay?”
She couldn’t speak. She tried, but the terror choked her.
“What’s wrong?”
Wordlessly she turned the phone in Bailey’s direction. He was too far away to see the picture clearly, so he snatched it from her hand. The horror on his face matched that which she was feeling.
“Oh my God. He’s got Laurie.”
They stood there for a prolonged moment, trying to absorb the awfulness of this latest reality.
Emily dashed down the hall toward the room Laurie was staying in. He couldn’t have her. Mark had assured her that the place was locked up tight and the two FBI agents had been here since before Laurie had gone to bed. Besides, Emily had been awake this whole time. She would have heard something.
