by Karen Rose
There was a quick prick, the slide of the plunger, then… She was floating. Soaring. “Damn you,” she croaked. “Damn you to hell.”
“That’s what they all say. A few more hits and you’ll be begging to do anything I ask.”
Atlanta , Tuesday, January 30, 1:30 p.m.
Alex winced as Desmond swabbed her palm with disinfectant. She still sat on the edge of the planter and he knelt on the pavement beside her. Word traveled fast in the Underground Mall, and Desmond had come running. “That smarts.”
He looked up, his eyes unsmiling. “You should go to the hospital.”
She patted his shoulder with her fingertips, the only part of her hands that didn’t burn like fire. “I’m fine, truly. Just a poor patient.”
“First Bailey, now this,” Desmond muttered. He swabbed the other palm and again she winced, purposing to be a little more sympathetic the next time she did the same for a patient in the ER. It did really smart. But it could have been so much worse.
Desmond pulled an Ace bandage from his drugstore bag. “Hold your hands out, palm up.” He applied the gauze, then wrapped each hand with gentle care.
“You should be a nurse, Desmond.”
He gave her another unsmiling look. “This is a nightmare.” He rose from his knees to sit next to her. “You could have been dead like Bailey.”
“She’s not dead,” Alex said, just as quietly. “I won’t believe it.” He said no more, just sat quietly beside her until Daniel’s car pulled up to the curb.
He’s here. He came.
Daniel approached her as he had the night before, his face almost stern, his eyes piercing, his stride full of purpose. She stood, wanting to meet him on her own two feet, although the very sight of him made her almost dizzy with relief.
He checked her out from head to toe, his gaze lingering on her bandaged hands. Then he gently pulled her to him and threaded his hand through her hair, holding her head against his chest where his heart thundered hard and fast. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and let out a single shuddering breath, as if he’d held it all in.
“I’m all right,” she said and held up her hands, attempting a smile. “All taken care of.”
“Her knees are scraped up, too,” Desmond said from behind her.
Daniel moved his stare to Desmond’s face. “You are?”
“Desmond Warriner. Bailey Crighton’s boss.”
“He bandaged me up,” Alex said.
“Thank you,” Daniel said, his voice gone husky.
“Are you looking for Bailey?” Desmond asked tightly. “Please say someone is.”
“I am.” Daniel took her purse and satchel in one hand and slid the other to her waist, then turned her toward his car, against which a tall black-haired man now leaned, regarding her thoughtfully. “That’s my friend, Luke. He’s going to drive your car and you’re going to come with me.” Luke gave her a courteous nod.
Alex gave Desmond a quick hug. “Thanks again.”
“Take care of yourself,” Desmond said fiercely, then pulled a card from his pocket. “Sissy’s phone number. Bailey’s friend,” he added. “You ran off before I could give it to you. I was trying to catch you when I heard… Just call me when you hear anything.”
“I will.” She looked up at Daniel, who still looked very stern. “I’m ready to go.” She let him put her in his car, but stopped him when he started to buckle her in. “I can do that. Honestly, Daniel, I’m not hurt that badly.”
He dropped his head, staring at her hands. When he looked up his eyes were no longer stern, but stark. “When you called I was in the morgue with the second victim.”
Her heart clenched. “I’m sorry. You must have been scared.”
One side of his mouth lifted wryly. “That’s putting it mildly.” He put her satchel and purse at her feet. “Just stay here and try to rest. I’ll be back.”
Daniel stepped back from the car. His hands were shaking, so he shoved them into his pockets and turned away from her before he did something that might embarrass them both. Luke was coming toward him, a set of keys in his hand.
“I got her keys,” Luke said. “You need me to stick around?”
“No. Park her car in the visitors’ lot and leave the keys on my desk. Thanks, Luke.”
“Relax. She’s okay.” He studied Alex, who sat with her head back and her eyes closed. “She does look like Alicia. No wonder she gave you a jolt.” Luke lifted his brows. “It appears she’s continuing to give you jolts of a different nature. Mama will be happy to hear this, except that now she’ll turn all her attention back on me.”
Daniel smiled, as Luke had intended. “No less than you deserve. Where’s Jones?”
“He’s the one talking to the valet. His partner is Harvey. He’s over there talking to the man with the blue shirt, who, from what I overheard, was the one who pushed Alex out of the way. He might have seen the driver’s face. I’m going now. See you later.”
From Officers Harvey and Jones, Daniel learned the car had been a late model, dark sedan, probably a Ford Taurus, with South Carolina plates. The driver had been young, African-American, thin, with a beard. He’d come from around the corner where he’d been waiting for an hour, according to witnesses who remembered seeing the vehicle. From that vantage point the driver could have easily seen Alex exit the Underground.
That last piece of information made Daniel the angriest. The scum had waited for her, then pounced. Had it not been for a stranger with quick reflexes, Alex might be dead. Daniel thought of the two victims, of the missing Bailey. Alex would not be next. That he promised himself. He would take care of her.
Why? she’d asked last night. Last night he had no answer. He had one now. Because she’s mine. It was a primal response and probably exceedingly premature, but… it didn’t matter. For now, she’s mine. Later… we’ll see how it goes.
He thanked the officers and the man who’d pushed her out of the way, then drove five blocks before pulling to the curb, leaning over, and kissing her with all the emotion that he’d kept in check. When he lifted his head, she sighed.
“You do that well,” she murmured.
“So do you.” And he kissed her again, longer and deeper. When he pulled away, she rolled her head to look at him, want and fear warring in her eyes.
“What do you want from me, Daniel?”
Everything, he wanted to say, but because she’d suspected his motives the night before, he didn’t. Instead he ran his thumb over her lips, felt her tremble. “I don’t know. But it won’t be anything you’re not willing and… anxious to give.”
Her smile was sad. “I see,” was all she said.
“I’m going to take you back to my office. I’ve got a press conference at two-thirty, but after that I can break away and drive you back to the bungalow.”
“I hate for you to have to do that.”
“Be quiet, Alex.” He said it mildly to take away some of the sting of his words. “I’m not sure how you connect to all this, but every instinct I have is screaming that you are.”
She flinched, a minute motion. “What?” he asked. “Alex?”
She sighed. “When I dream, I hear screams. When I get tense, like back there, I also hear them.” She glanced at him warily. “Now you think I’m crazy.”
“Hush. You’re not crazy. Besides, at least some of the screams back there were real. I heard them, too, right before I lost your call.”
“Thanks.” Her smile was self-deprecating. “I really needed to hear that.”
Last night she’d been dreaming, she’d said. Then you were there. “When you hear the screams, what do you do?”
She lifted a shoulder, looking away. “I concentrate and make them stop.”
He remembered what she’d said to the girl in the shelter. “Push them in the closet?”
“Yes.” It was an embarrassed admission.
He cupped her face and brushed his thumb across her flushed cheek. “It must take a lot of mental energ
y to do that. I’d be exhausted.”
“You have no idea.” Her voice grew cool. “We should go now. You have a job and I have too much to do to be sitting here feeling sorry for myself.” She lifted her chin, away from his hand. “Please.”
She was terrified. She had a right to be. Someone had tried to kill her. The knowledge left his gut tied in a knot. She wasn’t driving around on her own, not while he had breath. But he’d argue the point later. Now she looked fragile, even as her chin jutted out like that of a prizefighter looking for a fight.
Saying no more, Daniel put his car back into gear and drove.
Chapter Nine
Atlanta , Tuesday, January 30, 2:15 p.m.
He’d locked her satchel in the trunk of his car and taken her keys. Alex shifted in the chair in the GBI waiting room, trying not to be annoyed at Daniel’s heavy-handed attempts to protect her, but conscious of the minutes ticking away.
Meredith was leaving in a few hours and Alex still hadn’t visited Hope’s preschool or Bailey’s friend Sissy. Tomorrow she’d have no opportunity to search for Bailey. Not that she was getting anywhere. All she’d found was that Atlanta people loved Bailey. Dutton people hated her. And the last person to see her was Hope, who wasn’t talking.
The last place Bailey was seen was the old house. You have to go in there, Alex, she told herself. No matter what it takes. You’ve been foolish not to go before now.
Still, someone had tried to kill her today and Daniel’s warnings not to go to the Crighton place alone would not go unheeded. I’m a neurotic coward, but I’m not stupid.
But she was late. “Excuse me,” she called to Leigh, their office clerk. “Do you know how much longer Agent Vartanian will be? He has the keys to my rental car.”
“I don’t know. He had three people waiting for him when he got back and we have a press conference scheduled in a few minutes. Can I get you some water or something?”
Alex’s stomach growled at the woman’s mention of food and she remembered she’d had nothing since that morning. “Actually I’m starving. Is there a cafeteria nearby?”
“It’s closed now. Lunch was over an hour ago. But I have some cheese crackers and a few bottles of water in my desk. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”
Alex nearly said no, but the growling in her stomach overruled her. “Thank you.”
Leigh slid the water and crackers over the counter with a smile. “Now, don’t you go telling people we only gave you bread and water, okay?”
Alex smiled back. “I promise.”
The door behind her opened and a tall, lean man wearing wire-frame glasses headed straight back to the offices without stopping. “Is Daniel back?”
“Yeah, but… Ed, wait.” Leigh stopped him. “He’s in with Chase and”-she looked over her shoulder at Alex-“a few other people. You should wait.”
“This can’t wait. I…” His words trailed. “You’re Alex Fallon,” he said, his voice odd.
Feeling like the newest addition to the zoo, Alex nodded. “Yes.”
“I’m Ed Randall. I’m with the Crime Scene Unit.” He reached over the counter to shake her hand, then noticed her bandages. “Looks like you had an accident.”
“Miss Fallon was nearly hit by a car this afternoon,” Leigh said softly, and Ed Randall’s expression abruptly changed.
“My God.” His jaw tightened. “But you’re uninjured, besides your hands, that is?”
“Yes. A fast-thinking stranger pushed me out of the way.”
Leigh twisted the top off the water bottle for Alex. “Ed, they have to be done soon. They have a press conference in less than twenty minutes. I’d really wait if I were you.”
Alex took her crackers and water back to her chair and left the two to whisper. She hadn’t recognized the man who was waiting when they came in. He was pacing when they arrived and had nearly launched himself at Daniel, demanding “answers.”
A door opened behind the counter and Daniel and his boss emerged with the pacing man and two others. The pacing man was ashen. His news had not been good then.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Daniel said. “We’ll call you the moment we know anything new. I know it doesn’t help right now, but we’re doing everything we can.”
“Thank you. When can I have…” His voice broke and for the first time that day tears welled in Alex’s eyes. She pursed her lips and fought the sudden wave of compassion.
“We’ll have her body released as soon as we possibly can,” Daniel’s boss said gently. “We’re so sorry for your loss, Mr. Barnes.”
Mr. Barnes was walking to the door when he stopped cold and stared at her and what little color remained in his face drained away. “You.” It was barely a murmur.
Alex looked at Daniel from the corner of her eye. She had no idea of what to say.
“Mr. Barnes.” Daniel stepped forward. “What is it?”
“Her picture was on the news yesterday. My Claudia saw it.”
Alicia. The news had quickly picked up on the Arcadia story, and its link to Alicia’s murder. This man had seen Alicia’s picture, not mine. Alex stood on wobbly knees and opened her mouth but still had no idea of what to say.
“What did your wife say about the picture?” Daniel’s boss asked.
“She knew the girl… remembered the case. Claudia was just a little girl, but she remembered. It upset her. She almost stayed home last night, but she had to go to that damn party. I should have gone with her. I should have been with her.” Barnes glared at Alex, horrified disbelief in his eyes. “You’re supposed to be dead. Who are you?”
Alex lifted her chin. “The picture you saw was my sister, Alicia.” Her lips were trembling and she firmed them. “Your wife knew my sister? Was she from Dutton?”
The man nodded. “Yes. Her maiden name was Silva.”
Alex brought a bandaged hand to her mouth. “Claudia Silva?”
“You knew her, Alex?” Daniel asked gently.
“I babysat Claudia and her little sister.” She closed her eyes and focused on quieting the screams that tore through her mind. I’m losing my mind. She opened her eyes and pushed past the noise, focusing on the man and his grief. “I’m so very sorry.”
Roughly he nodded, then turned to Daniel’s boss. “I want every man you can spare on this case, Wharton. I know people…”
“Rafe,” one of the other men murmured. “Let them do their jobs.” They ushered Barnes from the room, leaving a hush behind them.
Alex met Daniel’s eyes. “Two women from Dutton are dead and Bailey’s still missing,” she said harshly. “What the hell is happening here?”
“I don’t know,” Daniel said, his face stern. “But we’re sure as hell going to find out.”
Ed Randall cleared his throat. “Daniel, we need to talk. Now.”
Daniel nodded. “Okay. Just a little longer, Alex, and I can take you home.”
The men went to the back offices, leaving Alex and Leigh alone in the front. Alex lowered herself into her chair. “I feel… responsible somehow.”
“Involved,” Leigh corrected. “Not responsible. You’re a victim in this, too, Miss Fallon. You may want to consider requesting protection.”
Alex thought of Hope. “I will.” Then she thought of Meredith. She hadn’t called her cousin in some time. When she found out about the near miss, Alex imagined some level of hell would break loose. “I need to make a call. I’ll be out in the hall.”
Ed leaned against the corner of Daniel’s desk. “We may have tracked the blankets.”
Daniel rummaged in his desk drawer for a bottle of aspirin. “And?”
“They were bought at a sporting goods store three blocks away.”
“Right under our noses,” Daniel said. “Intentional?”
“We can’t discount it,” Chase said. “Did they have security tapes?”
Ed nodded. “Yep. Purchase was made by a kid, maybe eighteen. White, five-ten, one-fifty. Looked right up into the camera, so we got
his face. Kid paid cash. The store clerk remembered, because it was a lot of cash.”
Daniel dry-swallowed two aspirin. “Of course he paid cash.” He tossed the bottle back into the drawer. “I’m afraid to ask. How many blankets did he buy, Ed?”
“Ten.”
Chase hissed. “Ten?”
Bile rose in Daniel’s throat. “We need to get his photo posted to all units.”
“Already done,” Ed said. “But the kid didn’t look like he had anything to hide. I bet he’s a stooge, probably hired to buy the blankets. It’s not illegal to buy blankets.”
“He can still tell us who hired him,” Chase said tightly. “Is that it? We’ve got a press conference in five.”
“No. There’s more.” Ed put the small plastic bag containing the single hair on Daniel’s desk. “This is the hair you got off of this morning’s vic.”
“Claudia Barnes,” Chase said.
“It’s not hers.”
“We knew that,” Daniel said. “Claudia was a blonde. This hair is brown.”
“I ran it through the colorimeter.” From a paper bag, Ed took a fake ponytail, looped in a teardrop shape. “I pulled the closest match from our hair samples.”
Daniel picked up the sample with a frown, immediately seeing the significance. It was caramel colored. Just like Alex’s. “Fuck.”
“I swear to God, Danny, I took one look at Alex Fallon out there and did a double-take. He’s left a hair, if not her color, then damn close.”
Daniel passed the sample to Chase, keeping his fury tamped down. “This guy’s playing with us.” And with Alex.
Chase held the single hair up to the light. “Is it possible this is a fake hair, like from your ponytail sample? I’ve seen them in the drugstore where they sell hair color.”
“No, it’s definitely real and definitely human,” Ed said. “And it’s old.”
Dread settled in the pit of Daniel’s stomach. “How old?”
“One of guys in the lab is a hair expert. He thinks at least five years. Maybe ten.”
“Or thirteen?” Daniel asked and Ed shrugged.
“Maybe. I can test it, but once I run the test there won’t be a lot left for DNA.”
