by Mary Behre
NIALL HELPED HER move from the bathroom to the office. Hannah settled into the chair and watched with some dismay as he took up his post in the doorway. Ryan, Ian, and Dev squeezed into the room with her.
Carefully, she explained everything she’d seen. She told them about Paulie, the drugs, even the whistled tune. Everything she could remember.
“Nothing at the morgue,” Ryan reported.
“I have two John Does at Tidewater General,” Ian said, scratching the side of his chin. “Hannah, can you remember anything else about the apartment complex. You said she lived on the first floor. How many doors did she pass on the first floor before she opened hers?”
“One,” Hannah answered after a moment. “Well, from the street. From the alley side, she was right there.”
“Do you remember the name of the street? Did you see a sign, a business, anything that could tell us where to locate her?” Dev asked, tugging out his phone. He frowned at it. “Ian, go to the back door, Shelley’s pulling up.”
Ian obeyed.
“I told you everything I remember.” Frustration made Hannah’s eyes burn. “They walked two blocks from O’Reilly’s Pub to get to the apartment. Mercy was looking at Ross most of the time, not where she was going. Her apartment was behind a store, that’s why she didn’t go in the first door. And she left Paulie’s body beneath some boxes.”
“You don’t remember what was on those boxes?” Dev asked again.
“No! I told you, they all said different things. Some were marked eggs, candy, wait!” Hannah shut her eyes and tried to remember the label on the egg carton. “Arctic Avenue. The address was number 55 Arctic Circle.”
“Avenue or Circle?” Niall’s voice was tense.
“Uh, let me think again.” Hannah searched the fading vision for the label again. “Circle. Definitely Arctic Circle.
“Holy shit!” Niall strode into the office, all but pushing Ryan away from the filing cabinet. He yanked open a drawer, thumbed quickly through files, then pulled out a manila folder. “Paulie lives on Arctic Circle. Next to . . .”
His face blanched.
Hannah didn’t think, just rushed to his side. “Who, Niall?”
“Hannah,” he said, his voice as hollow as his eyes. “You said something was wrong with Mercy’s hands, remember?”
“Yes.” A pit opened in her belly.
“Michael lives next door to Paulie.”
“The busboy?” Hannah nearly laughed until she remembered his hands. The way his fingers curled around the gray tub were identical to the way Mercy’s fingers curled around the bat. With the pinky permanently facing the wrong direction. “Oh God. Mercy is Michael.”
* * *
EVERYTHING HAPPENED SO fast. Hannah could do little more than watch as the men sprang into action around her. She wanted to go with them to Mercy’s apartment but she was still shaky. And she didn’t relish the idea of touching anything else that might send her into more of Mercy/Michael’s horrible memories.
“You’ve done everything you can to help them,” Shelley said, putting her arm around Hannah’s shoulders. “Now you need to let them do their jobs.”
“But Niall’s not a cop,” Hannah argued, watching the men pull out of the parking lot in a caravan of speeding cars. “He owns a restaurant.”
“It’s okay, Han. He’s with Dev.” Shelley squeezed her shoulder. “Didn’t you say when you met Niall he was in the Marines?”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t the Marines tough?”
Hannah shrugged in defeat. “Yes. Okay, he wasn’t just in the Marines. He was military police. But that was before. He doesn’t carry a gun now.”
“Are you sure?”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m sure. I’ve seen him naked.”
“No one carries a gun naked.” Shelley paused, then added with an arched eyebrow, “Well, not the kind that fires bullets anyway.”
“You are so wrong. Aren’t you a mom now? Isn’t there some rule about moms not making sexual innuendos or something?” Hannah closed the back door and locked it.
“Most moms get that way through sex. I’m the exception. Though we’re definitely trying the traditional route. A lot.”
Hannah covered her ears. “Eww. Stop. I don’t want to know about you and Dev.”
Shelley laughed, then cocked her head as if listening to the wind. “Someone’s coming in the back door.”
“How do you know that?” Hannah asked, hurrying to the door.
“The birds outside . . . Hannah, wait, don’t open the door!”
Hannah had already flipped the lock. She froze when Michael eased it open.
CHAPTER 27
“WAIT IN THE car,” Dev said to Niall.
“Fuck that.”
“What’s with the salty verbiage?” Dev asked with a shake of his head. “Is it a Marine thing?”
“It’s a some-psycho-has-my-brother-chained-up-like-an-animal thing.” Niall reached for the sidearm he no longer carried. Crap. “I can’t sit out here. It’s my brother in there.”
Dev pulled into a spot on the street, blocking the alley. He called Detective Reynolds. Again. “Reynolds, where are you and O’Dell? I’m outside the suspect’s apartment.”
Niall could make out the angry male voice on the other end of the line, but not the words. The meaning was clear. Stay put.
“Understood. I’ll await your arrival,” he said into the cell, then clicked off. “Fuckers.”
Niall might have smiled at Dev’s response had the situation been any less dire. “So we’re going to what? Just sit with our thumbs up our asses and wait for the Dudley Do-Wrong Detectives to show up?”
“Yes, we wait. I follow protocol. Until I have a reason to go inside, we don’t move.” Dev turned his gray eyes on Niall, his expression serene. He sent a text that read, “Plan B.”
“Who are you texting and what’s Plan B?”
Dev’s placid smile didn’t waiver. “That was to TSS. And Plan B is—”
“Help!” The scream was loud and male and sounded like Ian. It also appeared to be coming from inside the building. “Help! Police!”
“Now we have a reason.” Dev was out of the car and at the door in seconds.
* * *
“WHAT ARE YOU doing here?” Michael asked, frowning at Hannah. He glanced around as if searching for other people, but Shelley had been smart enough to duck into the Master dining room. “Alone?”
“I could ask you the same,” Hannah retorted. Okay, not the brightest thing to say to a psycho killer, but it was all she had.
“I, uh, forgot something.” He turned and locked the back door.
With his back to her, Hannah turned to Shelley who appeared in the diamond-shaped window of the swinging door. Waving at her sister to stay hidden in the front room, she mouthed, “Tell Dev Mercy’s here.”
Shelley didn’t wait.
Hannah spun back in time to catch Michael staring quizzically at the corkboard.
In two fast strides, Michael grabbed her by the arm and hauled her over to the board. “Where is it?” he demanded.
“Where’s what?” Hannah asked, tugging free of his hold.
Michael glanced from his misshapen pinky to her arm, then whispered, “Here.”
He lifted the picture from the counter. The same one Niall had shown her earlier. Michael tucked it into his pocket and headed toward the back door. He had his hand on the lock when he turned back and asked, “Why are you here?”
“Waiting for Niall.” She kept the table between them this time. Michael took a slow circuit of the room. When he pressed his nose to the window of the swinging door, Hannah’s heart beat so loud, she worried he’d hear it.
Michael stared at her. His eyes remained mostly hidden but the weight of his stare was choking. She coughed, raised her voice hoping
her sister could hear her.
“Michael, how-how’d you even know someone would still be here?” She inched her way toward the back door, keeping the prep table between them.
“I didn’t.” He matched her step for step. Each time she lifted a foot to move to her right, he did too. Only the table kept her out of arm’s reach, but it wouldn’t last much longer. “Ross keeps a Hide-A-Key in a rock by the back door.”
At the mention of Ross’s name, Hannah jerked to a halt.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
His lips curled into a slow, sinister smile. The kind that had her knees turning to rubber and her heart trying to leap into her throat.
“I know all about you, you know. Ross told me.” Michael took one of Virgil’s skillets from the hook on the wall over the stove. He twirled it like a baton.
“Nope, I don’t know what you mean.” She nodded toward the back door, keeping her eyes on Michael. “You got your picture, don’t you want to head out?”
“Wouldn’t be right to leave you here alone.” Michael shook his head. “Nah, I can wait for Niall with you. Want me to fix you something to eat?”
The pan arced through the air with a swish.
She swallowed hard. “No, I’m not hungry, thanks.”
Like she’d eat anything he offered.
“Huh.” He set down the wooden-handled skillet on the table between them and put his hands on either side of it. “Why do you look scared?”
“No reason. Psh-pah. I’m not scared.” She tried her brightest this-is-just-a-drunk-customer smile. “Why do you ask?”
“Because when I said Ross, you jumped.” He pointed at her. “Just like you did that time. You know, don’t you?”
“Know what?” She feigned ignorance and gauged how long it would take to get to the back door and unlock it before Michael caught up to her. Too long.
Michael leaned his face forward and gave her a sinister smile. “Mercy,” he whispered.
Hannah grabbed for the skillet and swung at his head. And missed. She did clip his shoulder. Michael slammed into Virgil’s stove and crashed to the floor.
Thank you, Buffy reruns!
“Run, Shelley!” she yelled, bolting for the back door, only to swing around at a thunderous crack behind her.
Michael was on his feet again, slamming the swinging door against Shelley’s unmoving body. She must have been waiting on the other side of the door and rushed into the kitchen, only to have Michael catch her with the door.
Rage flowed through Hannah like a landslide. The skillet still clutched in her hands, she charged around the table and swung at his head before he’d looked up.
Hannah swung twice, knocking him away from her sister’s unmoving body. He fell against the wall and the lights went out.
* * *
SEVERAL ALARMS BLARED at once. People rushed out of the surrounding apartment buildings from all directions. Niall raced past the confused citizens stumbling into the street, staying on Dev’s six.
Like in combat, he catalogued the outside noises—a baby crying, questions being volleyed, sirens in the distance moving closer, and silence coming from inside Michael’s apartment. Catalogued and ignored all but the most important.
Glock in hand, Dev used his free fist to pound on the door. “Tidewater Police, open up!”
Nothing. Not a sound. Not a movement. Utter silence.
He did it again.
This time, Dev asked, “Did you hear that? Sounds like someone calling for help.”
Dev didn’t wait for a response but kicked in the door. It took two vicious attempts, but he broke open the door. The cracked frame went with it in a crunch. Despite the glow of the sunset outside, the inside of the apartment was dark, cavernous. Cramped.
A sickly sweet stench of roses hung in the air, like someone had plugged in one too many air fresheners. The smell was overpowering. Blackout curtains hung over the windows in the living room; only a red night-light in the hallway offered a glimmer of relief from the oppressive dark.
Dev turned his head and mouthed, “Stay here.”
Niall wanted to fight that command and search for his brother, but Ian and Ryan had arrived behind him. Like Dev, they had weapons at the ready. Each member of the three-man team began to clear the apartment.
Now this Niall understood. He’d been in combat zones long enough to know how to clear a room. Unarmed as he was, he couldn’t do much more than get shot if he opened the wrong door. As much as it chafed, he remained on guard by the closed front door.
“Clear.”
“Clear.”
“Got something,” Ian called from the back of the apartment. “We’ve got a live one.”
Niall didn’t think, didn’t wonder, simply bolted to the room. His brother lay exactly as Hannah had described, facedown, naked, and chained to the wall. Ian was at his side, checking his vitals.
Niall reached for the hook, holding Ross’s chains, but Ian stopped him by placing a hand on his wrist. “Don’t touch him yet. He’s alive but unconscious. He’s okay for now. We don’t want to disturb the scene. You’re not supposed to be here, remember. Neither are we.”
Staring at the blond hair plastered to the side of his little brother’s face, Niall’s insides twisted. He wanted to set him free. Not wait and leave him chained like an animal. But that bastard, Michael, needed to pay for what he’d done to Ross. At least his baby brother slept through this part. Perhaps he’d sleep until he reached the hospital.
Ian pushed to his feet and moved to the doorway. “It was a cursory check but his vitals seem stable.”
“I take it you two are Plan B?” Niall asked, switching places with Ian. He couldn’t set his brother free so settled for kneeling next to the bed.
“That’s us,” Ian said, but his tone lacked its normal humor.
“Time.” Ryan appeared in the doorway. His monosyllabic word had Ian hustling to his side.
“Got this, Dev?” Ian asked.
“Go,” he said to his cousins, then picked up his cell and placed a call. “This is Detective Devon Jones, Tidewater PD. I need an ambulance for an unconscious white male, early twenties. He’s been kidnapped and appears to have been drugged. We’re located at . . .”
While Dev spoke with EMS, Niall turned to the doorway saying, “Thank you—”
Ian and Ryan were gone. They’d left the same way they’d arrived, silent as wraiths.
CHAPTER 28
COPS SWARMED INTO the apartment around Niall. The group included the two homicide detectives who had given Hannah such a hard time. One glare from them and Niall realized she’d probably like to know all of her visions hadn’t been for nothing. He stepped out of the bedroom as the paramedics hurried in.
“I need to call Hannah,” Niall said, pulling Dev aside. “Where’s Michael?”
“We’ve got a BOLO for him. Right now, let’s focus on the positive. We’ve found your brother and he’s alive.”
“Right, good point.” Niall scrubbed a hand down his face as the detective headed toward the homicide cops. “Dev, I’m going to ride to the hospital with Ross.”
“Good idea.”
Leaving Dev to deal with the cops and medics, Niall stepped out into the warm evening air. He took his first deep breath since Hannah’s visions had started earlier that night. He needed to call his parents, not that they could go to the hospital, but they’d need to know. In a few minutes. Right now . . .
He dialed Hannah’s number. It went to voice mail. She was probably talking to her sister. Or in the bathroom. Or . . .
Ryan’s blue Ford Ranger screeched to a stop at the curb. Ian opened the passenger side and jumped out. He raced past Niall, into the apartment. Niall turned to follow but Ryan called out, “Niall, get in the truck. Hannah’s in trouble.”
He moved as ordered. Jumped in. Closed the do
or. Fastened his seat belt. All without feeling a damned thing. His mind had spiraled down to one thought, Hannah’s in trouble.
Fuck.
That.
Not one to mince words, Ryan said, “Hang on,” and peeled out, tires squealing.
* * *
IN THE DARK, Hannah nearly tripped over Shelley’s hand. Her arm was bent at an unnatural angle around the swinging door. With the skillet still in one hand, Hannah pushed on the door until she squeezed through. Then as gently as she could, she tugged Shelley fully into the Master Room.
The last rays of sunshine filtered through the room’s giant windows, casting the bruise on Shelley’s head in stark relief. Hannah kept her back against the door. Using her foot, she pulled a chair across the floor.
It squeaked on the hardwood, but she had to do something. Out in the open they were in danger. The chair wouldn’t keep him out, but it would slow him down.
She needed time to get her unconscious sister to safety. Carefully, Hannah inched her way toward the front door, dragging Shelley with her.
Michael must have awoken because there was the distinct sound of things crashing in the kitchen. For a heart-stopping minute, she thought he’d left. The back door closed and the silence that came after had Hannah holding her breath.
She held her sister’s limp body close in the shadows and started to inch toward the front door again, when the back door banged a second time. Something else crashed, this time against the door separating the kitchen from the Master Room.
Certain Michael was going to burst from the kitchen at any moment, Hannah moved as quickly as possible, trying not to jostle Shelley too much. She’d just managed to get her sister outside when Michael started cursing at her.
“This is all your fault! He needs me to set him free. But am I with him? No! I’m wasting my time with you!” Michael grabbed Hannah by the hair.
Her scalp burned as he wrenched her backward, off her feet, and dragged her back into the restaurant. Hannah twisted and dug her fingernails into his right wrist.
Michael shouted in pain and dropped her.
