by Robin Perini
“Nothing would have stopped them, Jan,” Thayne said, his words certain.
She nodded and took in a few shuddering breaths. Thayne put his arm around her while she sobbed against his chest.
Riley eased away from them, but Thayne took in every movement. She scanned the room inch by inch, snapped on her gloves, and knelt beside the body before lifting the sheet.
Thayne watched that odd focus appear in her eyes. “Clear the room,” he said softly.
“Now?” Pendergrass asked. “Don’t you want to interview Jan?”
“She needs a break,” Thayne said, gently handing her off to Pendergrass. “And Special Agent Lambert needs quiet to do her job.”
Everyone but Thayne left the room, and he backed into the corner, taking his own inventory of the crime scene. Would he see what she did?
The place wasn’t ransacked, not like Cheyenne’s office, so they’d known exactly where to go and what they were looking for. Thayne knew that much.
Riley pulled the sheet lower, revealing the mottled bruises on her arms. “Someone grabbed her wrists, squeezed tight. You can see the bruising.”
“Cowards,” Thayne muttered. Nurse Crawly had been no threat to them.
Riley rounded a chest-high glass counter in front of the pharmaceuticals, then went up one aisle and down the next before stopping. “They took whatever was on this shelf, but nothing else.”
“Just like before,” Thayne said. “They knew what they wanted. But why more drugs? They didn’t even clean out Cheyenne’s clinic.”
“Maybe they needed more?” Riley mused for a moment before retrieving her blue notebook from her satchel and flipping back a few pages. “Thayne, can you call Jan back in?”
Within a few minutes, Jan, red-eyed from crying, stood in front of Riley.
“Can you tell me which drugs were stolen?” Riley asked.
“Oh, that’s easy, ma’am. I already made a list. Three different kinds of antibiotics, but they left penicillin,” Jan said. “And they took all the oxycodone we had.”
“Thank you,” Riley said. “You’ve been a big help.”
“Please, Agent Lambert. Find out who did this. Nurse Crawly . . . Well, she was like a grandmother to a lot of us. She didn’t deserve this.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Jan and Pendergrass left the room again.
Thayne joined Riley in the aisle, staring at the empty shelf. “Why come here? Why murder someone else?”
“They needed medication.” Riley rubbed her eyes. “None of this makes any sense. It’s as if I’m dealing with two different profiles.”
She scanned the room once again. A glint off the glass counter caught her eye. She walked over and bent her knees so she was at eye level. “Thayne,” she said, the pitch of her voice rising.
He hunkered down next to her. “What? The glass looks like it’s been cleaned recently. So?”
“Look again,” Riley said. “Most of the glass is smudgy, with fingerprints from the entire day. Except right down the center. There are two clean swipes. The surface was cleaned deliberately.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Look at the center of the cleaned area. Do you see it?”
Thayne’s eyes focused. Then he saw what Riley had noticed from across the room. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. “It can’t be . . .”
In the center of the glass, pristine, perfect, and purposeful, was a single thumbprint.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cheyenne moistened a cloth in the small sink and filled another basin. The room had begun to close in on her. She was becoming weaker by the hour, but at least the sharp pains in her belly hadn’t returned, proof that her suspicions had been correct. They were being poisoned.
The trouble was, the unnecessary surgery Cheyenne had performed—not the poison—would be the cause of her patient’s death if she didn’t get the antibiotics. And soon.
“Shh,” she said softly, sitting in the chair beside the bed. She wrung out the rag and ran the damp cloth over Bethany’s face and neck, then down her arms, torso, and legs. The fever was spiking again.
Cheyenne couldn’t be sure if the antibiotics would help at this point. A post-op infection was raging inside Bethany’s body.
She mumbled in her sleep. Cheyenne couldn’t make out the words. The cloth had warmed, so she redipped it, squeezing out the excess, and started the process again. There was nothing else she could do for her patient.
After another stroke of Bethany’s forehead, her eyes opened, glazed with fever. “I’m not going to make it, am I?” she whispered, her voice weak and hoarse. A tear squeezed from the corner of her eye. “I promised them. I promised I wouldn’t leave. That I would protect them.” She gripped Cheyenne’s arm. “Please. You have to help the children. No one else can. No one else . . .” She coughed. “No one else knows.”
“What’s going on here, Bethany? Who are the children? What is this place?”
Bethany squinted at her. “Father. He . . . he took his children. Twisted.”
“I got that. He’s definitely a fry or two short of a Happy Meal.”
The corners of Bethany’s mouth tilted up. She breathed in, and a fit of coughing took over. Cheyenne raised her to a sitting position to help her breathe. A spattering of blood darkened the tissues Cheyenne had used.
“Dangerous,” Bethany whispered, and her eyes closed.
“Bethany?” Cheyenne checked her pulse. A slow, regular thud throbbed against her fingertips. “Keep fighting. For the children.”
Metal rattled metal. A key turned. The door pushed open. Ian walked in carrying a small duffel.
His movements stiff, he handed her the bag. “Is this what you needed?” He refused to meet her gaze.
Cheyenne rose and retrieved the satchel. She opened it and peered inside.
“Yes.” She nodded. “Thank you.”
“Good.” Unlike all the other times he’d visited, he turned away from Cheyenne and Bethany.
“Ian? What’s wrong?”
He hesitated and opened his jacket. Blood splattered his shirt.
“Are you hurt?”
“Not me. I couldn’t . . . couldn’t stop it.” He blinked, but the rapid movement didn’t stop tears from leaking out. He swiped at them. “I can’t let anyone see. We don’t cry.”
He hurried to the door. She couldn’t imagine what the poor boy had been forced to do. Whatever hold Father had on everyone here was strong. Her only hope was convincing Ian and Adelaide to help her. Bethany had run out of time. Cheyenne had to take a chance.
“Don’t leave,” she said. “I need your help.”
“I can’t. They suspect . . .”
“I’ll be quick.” Cheyenne grabbed a pouch containing cephalosporin and motioned for him to come with her. While she hung the IV, she sent him a sidelong glance. “I heard Father talking to Adelaide. He thinks I influence you.”
Ian nodded.
“Have I?”
“I forgot about my life before I came here,” he said, biting his lip. “You reminded me.”
“You don’t have to stay,” she said, taking a deep breath. He had a conscience. She had to trust someone. “Ian, Bethany didn’t have appendicitis.”
“What? But you cut her open. I saw her appendix.”
“I thought she needed the surgery, but her organ was healthy.”
He shook his head in denial. “She was sick. I saw her.”
Cheyenne touched his shoulder. “Someone’s been poisoning her. And me.”
Ian’s knees buckled.
“Sit down, put your head between your knees, and take deep breaths.”
He sat on the foot of Bethany’s bed and sucked in air. Soon he raised his head, tears gleaming in his eyes. “How?”
“Either food or water or both. I haven’t eaten anything since then. I’m feeling better, but whoever’s doing this will figure it out soon and finish the job. They want Bethany dead.”
“No. Ever
yone here loves her. We need her.” His desperate voice rose.
“Shh.”
He slapped his hand over his mouth, and she grabbed his hands. “I need you to do something very difficult, Ian. Call my father and my brother. They can help us all. They could even find your parents.”
Ian snorted. “My folks wouldn’t care. They were never home. They probably never realized I disappeared.” He looked up at her, and for the first time, the sixteen-year-old rock morphed into a frightened kid. “It’s impossible. No one leaves here.”
The door slammed open. A man with red hair, sprinkled with silver, walked into the room, cane in one hand, a frown on his face. His suit appeared to be Armani, perfectly pressed. His shoes gleamed with a recent shoe shine. She’d never seen someone who oozed with perfection to quite this degree.
He really gave her the creeps.
“Ian, I was afraid I’d find you here. Micah needs your guidance. He refuses to obey, and I do not wish to be forced to punish him. Or you, since he is your charge. Go to him. Now.”
“Yes, Father.” Ian gave a slight bow of his head.
Cheyenne stared at her cot. She had a makeshift knife under her pillow, but she couldn’t get to it. Ian walked past them, touching Bethany’s cheek once before leaving the room.
The man she knew only as Father faced her.
“Doctor Blackwood, how is my Bethany?”
“If you’d taken her to the hospital when she first became ill, she would be well by now,” Cheyenne snapped.
“Your family taught you no manners, I see,” he said with a strange calmness in his voice. “Good breeding always tells.”
The dead cold of his eyes sent a shiver through Cheyenne. He took a step toward her patient. Every survival instinct inside of her urged her to keep away from him, but she forced herself to stand firm and meet his gaze, unwavering.
“You have your medicine. When will Bethany awaken?”
Until now she’d assumed Father had poisoned them, but if so, why ask about Bethany? Some elaborate ruse? The children loved Bethany, if Ian’s words were any indication. And she loved them. Was he jealous?
The room’s silence prickled at Cheyenne’s nerves. He didn’t blink, didn’t look away. He simply stood, watching her, taunting her with his stare, waiting for her response.
She refused to submit to him.
The corner of his mouth lifted just a tad. “Well done,” he said. “You have courage. Unfortunately, it’s misplaced. I shall ask you again. When will my daughter awaken?”
Cheyenne wasn’t going to win against this man. To get away, she’d have to bide her time. Adelaide was her only hope now. Ian didn’t have the strength. Until she could speak with Adelaide again, she’d have to play along with Father. In this case, honesty might actually work.
“I don’t know. She may not make it.”
Father’s brow furrowed. He crossed the room and laid his hand on Bethany’s forehead. “You can fight this, Daughter. I know you can.”
For the first time Cheyenne saw emotion flicker across his face. He cared for Bethany. Everyone seemed to.
A loud bell rang, and Father knocked on the steel door. It opened.
Adelaide stood in the doorway. She refused to meet Cheyenne’s gaze but stared down at her feet in a submissive stance.
Father paused at the prison cell’s door. “I suggest you see to it that Bethany recovers, Doctor. If I am forced to return for a second visit, you’ll wish I hadn’t.”
The door closed and latched shut. Cheyenne sank to the chair, her knees shaking. He’d shown her his face, and she knew what that meant.
If she’d doubted her fate before, she was certain now. She’d never leave this place alive.
The small pharmaceutical dispensary had become quite crowded. Riley stood in the corner while the forensic team pulled the fingerprint from the glass. Whoever had taken the risk to place that print could very well end up saving Cheyenne’s life. If they could use the information to find her.
“The damn thing is pristine,” Pendergrass muttered as he completed the task.
“Run it against all the databases you can,” Riley ordered. “Put a rush on the job.”
Thayne stroked his chin. “While you’re at it, run another check on the surrounding towns for any more medical supply thefts with a similar crime scene signature.”
“You got it.” Pendergrass grabbed his gear and raced out of the room.
Riley’s heart skipped a beat, a small flicker of hope rekindling.
“A break,” Thayne said, his words laced with astonishment.
“More importantly, an insider who’s willing to take risks,” Riley said. “They might be unable to contact us directly, but they left us the only message they could.”
“They couldn’t just write us a note?” Thayne mused.
“You caught that detail.” Riley had been hoping to keep the little bit of information from him. She should have known better. He had a good instinct for the criminal mind.
“Anyone who has to resort to this subtle of an attempt at communication is living in fear for their life.”
Riley couldn’t argue with his logic. She simply nodded in agreement. “Hopefully we get a fast match. IAFIS has one hundred million fingerprints on file, though. The search could take as long as twenty-four hours.” She sank down the wall, studying the room from another angle. “Whoever left the print is taking a big risk. The clock just started ticking even louder.”
Deputy Ironcloud shot through the door and raced over to Thayne. He whispered to him.
Thayne turned to Riley. “Dad wants us at the sheriff’s office. He’s already started the daily press conference.”
“We should keep the fingerprint quiet, Thayne. For our insider’s sake.”
“They’ll push hard.”
“Your father should imply we don’t have any solid leads,” she said. “If the kidnappers believe we’re onto them, it could put not only the insider’s life, but also Cheyenne’s, in danger.”
Thayne nodded. As they pulled up to the sheriff’s office, Riley couldn’t count the number of news vans blocking the street. Cheyenne’s disappearance had made all of the major national news networks.
Sheriff Blackwood already stood at a podium in front of the building with a dozen microphones propped in front of him, making an opening statement.
Thayne tugged on her jacket. “Dad needs us.”
Riley pulled back, shaking her head. “I can’t be seen. I’m not here officially. You know that.”
Before Thayne could join his father on stage, the introductions had been completed, so Thayne hung back with her. The sheriff could hold his own, and he gave away very little, thank goodness. She should have known he’d be discreet.
“Sheriff Blackwood, there have been three murders uncovered in the last forty hours in Singing River. How do you feel about not having any leads on your daughter yet? Do you think your daughter is still alive?” a reporter shouted out.
Riley sucked in a breath. “What a jerk,” she muttered.
The color in Carson’s cheeks rose, and Thayne started forward. Carson caught his son’s eye and held up a hand. “I have confidence in my deputies, in the Wyoming State Department of Criminal Investigations, and in the FBI personnel on site to do everything they can to find her.”
“We’ve been told DCI and the Denver field office only sent minimal support,” another reporter shouted. “Do you believe the government has provided enough assistance to find your daughter?”
Brutal questions. Riley didn’t know how Carson could stand there and take it. One sidelong glance at Thayne and she could tell he was seconds from either decking a couple of the reporters or launching himself onto the stage.
“Your dad’s doing fine,” she said under her breath.
Thayne gave her a curt nod, but his jaw throbbed and those fingers on his right hand had begun their infinitesimal but revealing movements.
“We’re lucky enough to have FBI Special
Agent Riley Lambert reviewing all the evidence. Special Agent Lambert was instrumental recently in tracking down Vincent Wayne O’Neal, the East Coast Serial Killer.”
The sheriff looked over the sea of reporters directly at Riley. They all whirled around.
Riley groaned. When Tom got word, she was sunk.
“Sheriff, we have information you received a threat if you continued the investigation. Why would you put her life at risk by holding this press conference?”
The question came from a single reporter standing to the side. The group gasped and spun back toward the sheriff, shouting more and more questions.
His spine straightened, and he held up his hand. “I’m not free to discuss all the specific details of an ongoing investigation. Once we find my daughter, I’ll provide more information.”
“Impressive,” Riley whispered to Thayne. “He’s unflappable.”
“Not on the inside. See his right hand twitching? That’s his tell when nerves are getting to him.”
Riley leaned closer. “Similar to his son’s.”
Thayne stared at her in surprise and glanced down at his right hand, stilling the involuntary movements.
“What about the fingerprint your department recently discovered at the latest murder location, Sheriff? Is that your best lead?”
“Son of a bitch,” Thayne bit out. “We’ve got a leak.”
The sheriff cleared his throat. “No comment for now.”
The flurry of questioning escalated.
“One at a time. I’ll get to all your questions.”
Thayne and Riley backed away from the crowd. “We’ve got a big problem,” she said. “Whoever left us the print is in imminent danger.”
“We can’t get them to hold the information; it’s live coverage.”
Riley’s phone sounded off. She glanced at the screen. Damn.
“I have to take this,” she whispered to Thayne, holding her head high and pushing her way past the reporters and camera flashes into the sheriff’s station.
She didn’t stop until she’d entered Sheriff Blackwood’s personal office and slumped in his chair.
Thayne followed her in and closed the door behind them. She looked at him and sighed. He might as well witness the carnage. She tapped her phone. “Lambert.”
