But then she thought of Sean, and knew what she would do if he were the one coming up the stairs. Officer Diaz had a wife and children and grandchildren, whose pictures he showed at the least excuse. She couldn’t just stand by while he was murdered. Frantically she thought back to Aidan’s brief self-defense instructions, and his advice on how to handle someone who grabbed her from behind.
The footsteps reached the top of the stairs. Claire met Olivia’s wide-eyed gaze to let her know that now was their chance.
Without warning Claire yelled and raked backward with her hand, gouging at the killer’s eyes. “He has a gun!”
Surprise loosened the killer’s hold on her. She felt the sting of the knife on her neck as she jerked away from him.
Instead of running, Olivia hurled herself at the killer, knocking him off balance and breaking his hold on Claire. Only when Claire was free did Olivia turn and race toward the bathroom.
“Run!” Claire shouted as she threw herself toward the hall.
Claire heard the bathroom door slam behind Olivia just as she reached the hallway. She ran smack into Officer Diaz, who was advancing cautiously down the hall with his weapon drawn.
“Go back!” she yelled at Diaz.
He reached to pull her behind him when the sound of a gunshot rang out. Claire screamed as the officer crumpled at her feet, blood pouring from his head. Knowing there was nothing she could do for him now, she ran past his body, desperate to draw the killer away from Olivia.
A hand grabbed Claire from behind, yanking her to a stop. She stood there panting as she felt the killer slide his arm around her neck and lay the knife along the cut already bleeding sluggishly there.
“I really am going to enjoy hurting you, Marie Claire.” Wilkes dragged her past the fallen officer and down the hall. “Now, where’s that little friend of yours? We’ll take care of her, then you can see what I have in store for you once we get to the special place I’ve chosen.” His voice was rough with adrenaline and almost dreamy at the same time.
Knowing the bathroom was a dead end—literally—Olivia hadn’t stayed there. As soon as the killer followed Claire into the hallway, Olivia had tiptoed across the attached bedroom to the open hall door. She could hear the man talking to Claire. They were coming back down the hall toward her, cutting off any escape. Olivia knew if the man found her, she would die—there would be no witnesses to Claire’s kidnapping.
I’ve got to get out of here! I’ve got to call the police and help Claire, and I can’t do that if I’m dead. And dead is what I’ll be if I stay glued to the middle of the room like an idiot!
But she couldn’t get out—the hallway was the only escape, and the killer was already there. With shaking hands, she closed and locked the bedroom door and thought frantically. The lock wouldn’t keep the killer out for long. She had to hide somewhere in the room. That way she could follow the killer when he left with Claire, and somehow find a way to give her friend another chance to escape.
Briefly Olivia considered the window, but she already knew it was warped by age and wouldn’t open easily. It was the old-fashioned type with multiple tiny panes that would take too long to break.
The killer began pounding on the locked door. “I’ll kill Marie Claire if you don’t open this door.”
“He’ll kill me anyway, Livvie! Don’t open the door!”
Olivia knew her friend was right. She looked around the room one more time, then slowly looked up. There was a small trapdoor leading to the attic. She grabbed the chair from a nearby desk, stood on it, and slid back the bolt that held the trapdoor in place. She pulled on the release cord as hard as she could, then jumped back when she was almost knocked over by the folding ladder that tumbled down in response to her tugs. It came partway down and stopped.
She scrambled up the first few rungs to the attic, kicked the chair into a corner, and pulled herself up the rest of the way. Keeping a grip on the cord so that it wouldn’t dangle from the ceiling, she strained to pull the staircase closed behind her. Just as she managed it, the bedroom door below crashed open.
“Come out right now or I’ll kill your friend.”
“Don’t do it!” Claire called.
“Shut up!”
Olivia held her breath and didn’t move. She prayed the man wouldn’t look up. For a few seconds she thought she’d pulled it off. Then she heard him laugh.
“Come out of the attic, you stupid bitch.”
“Don’t listen, Livvie!” Claire cried out, then choked as the killer jerked his arm even tighter around her neck.
Bitches, Wilkes thought, fighting the panic that came whenever he wasn’t in control of women. Stupid bitches can’t even follow simple orders. Too much time had passed since he’d fired the gun. Some neighbor would have called the police by now. And even if he got lucky and no one called, the police were overdue for their radio check.
I have to get Marie Claire out of here now.
He didn’t have time to chase her redheaded friend through the rafters—if that was where she had gone. She could have escaped through the window, and even now might be calling 911.
Swearing loudly, he pushed Marie Claire toward the chair lying on its side and pointed the gun at her head.
“Pull the chair over here, then get on it and throw the bolt. Quickly!”
Claire climbed up on the chair and slid the bolt closed. Anyone up there was now trapped. She fervently hoped that Olivia was long gone by now, yet she had a sick feeling her friend was on the other side of the trapdoor, waiting for a chance to make another break for help.
Wilkes yanked Claire off the chair, dragged her backward, and fired four shots around the outline of the trapdoor.
“Livvie!”
The blunt side of the killer’s knife choked off Claire’s scream. When she was silent, he turned the sharp side to her neck again.
“Come away with me, my sweet prey. I have something very special for you.”
Chapter 69
Fairfax County, Virginia
Wednesday night
Olivia waited in a dark corner of the attic until she heard footsteps leaving the bedroom below her. The attic was hot, dusty, and she was trapped in it. A shaft of light came through a small window on the far side. Carefully she made her way over to it. She heard the killer on the stairs and knew she’d only have one chance to open the window.
It probably wouldn’t go quietly.
Taking a breath, Olivia undid the latch on the window and pushed on it as hard as she could. She was astonished when it opened outward. The yard was about thirty feet below.
Feet first, Livvie, she told herself. Dangle from your fingertips and then let go.
Turning around, she wiggled out the small window frame. Once she was past her hips, she pushed the rest of her body through the narrow opening, then held herself for a moment by her fingers.
Claire’s voice came from below and to the left, asking the killer what he’d done with the other police officer. He didn’t answer. Olivia held her breath and waited for them to pass. Once they were out of earshot, she closed her eyes, pushed herself back as far as she could, and let go. She tried to roll as she landed, but ended up taking the force of the fall on her left ankle. Biting her lip against the pain shooting through it, she lurched to her feet and headed after Claire.
When Olivia peeked around the large shrub at the end of the drive, she saw brake lights come on a block down the street. She had no chance of chasing after a car in her condition, but she might get close enough to see the license plate. Awkwardly she went down the shadowed side of the street as fast as she could, ignoring the pain, running her heart out and following the car for several blocks before it turned onto a main street.
The killer gunned the engine. A few seconds later, even the car’s brake lights vanished.
Olivia stood in the middle of the street and screamed Claire’s name.
Then she turned and ran unevenly back toward the house, repeating, “Maryland seven two
three. Maryland seven two three.”
Chapter 70
Fairfax County, Virginia
Wednesday night
Aidan drove recklessly down the narrow suburban streets—dispatch hadn’t been able to raise either of the officers assigned to guard Claire for over five minutes. Backup units were on the way, but he would arrive before they did.
Without a pause he rolled through a stop sign and turned right onto Crepe Myrtle Lane. About half a block from the house he saw someone running awkwardly down the middle of the street. Ice congealed in his gut when he recognized the red hair and petite frame.
He stopped the car with a screech of the brakes, then bailed out and grabbed Olivia’s arms. Her white face had dark smudges on it, and her pupils were so dilated that he could see no color in her eyes, even in the bright glare of the headlights.
“What happened? Where’s Claire?”
“He took her in his car. Maryland seven two three.”
“Easy, Livvie.” Aidan slid an arm around her. “Slow down and tell me what happened.”
“The killer got into the house,” Olivia said in a flat voice. “Claire and I split up, and we almost got away. Then he shot Officer Diaz and took Claire. I managed to hide. I went out the window and tried to follow, but they were in a car and it was going too fast. Maryland seven two three.”
“What does that mean?” Aidan asked over the sound of her shuddering breathing. “Livvie, look at me. You’re okay. Slow down and breathe deeply. You’re safe.”
“But Claire isn’t!” Olivia panted. “His license plate began seven two three—I didn’t see the rest, but they looked like Maryland plates. Red car, American, like a rental. He took her, Aidan. He took her and I couldn’t do anything.”
Aidan reached through the open window to grab his radio and report the kidnapping of a witness from protective custody. He described Claire and the vehicle, including the partial plates. He paused to ask Olivia for a description of the suspect, then relayed that information as well. He finished by calling for multiple paramedic units and backup to the safe house.
As soon as the dispatcher put out the all points bulletin, Aidan threw the radio back in the car. “Lock yourself in my car,” he said to Olivia. “I have to check on Diaz and Brown.”
Olivia took a step, cried out, and then collapsed against Aidan.
“Your leg?” Aidan asked, supporting her.
Olivia nodded and breathed through her teeth against the nauseating pain. “I think I broke something.”
Aidan lifted her off her feet and headed for the house, where med-techs would soon be arriving with lights and sirens. “How the hell did you do that?”
“I jumped out the attic window.”
“Christ, woman. That’s got to be a thirty-foot drop,” Aidan said, eyeing the tiny window on the right side of the house.
“Tell me about it.”
Aidan strode up the steps, put Olivia in a rocker on the porch, and unlocked the front door. Sirens screamed, coming closer to the house with every second.
“You’ll be safe here while I check on Diaz,” Aidan said. “Okay?”
Olivia nodded and wrapped her arms around herself for warmth while official vehicles pulled up from all directions and armed men leaped out. Very quickly Aidan was back. She looked up at him, afraid to ask how Diaz was.
“He’s alive,” Aidan said. “Looks like a bad furrow on the side of his head, but his pulse is good.”
Olivia listened numbly while Aidan gave orders to the others to help Diaz and look for the missing officer. Then he sat next to Olivia and pulled out his cell phone. He took hold of her hand and squeezed it as he prepared to make the most difficult call of his life.
Chapter 71
Washington, D.C.
Wednesday night
Sean held the cell phone in his hands, trying not to worry as time passed and he still didn’t hear anything about Claire. When the phone finally rang, he checked the caller ID—Aidan.
“Is she all right?” Sean demanded.
“God, Sean. I’m sorry. She was taken about five minutes ago. Diaz was shot, and Brown is missing. Olivia managed to get away, then followed the suspect as he dragged Claire to his car. The description sounds like Richard Wilkes.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Sean breathed. He literally felt his heart stop beating.
“I was just a few minutes too late. But Olivia got a partial plate, and we’ve got an APB out already. He’s only a few minutes ahead of us. Olivia said he seemed to have some kind of destination in mind.”
“We’ve got to find her before they get there,” Sean said flatly, his mind racing through possibilities. “Send units to all of his known home addresses, as well as Afton’s house, Claire’s house, and Olivia’s apartment.”
“What do you think he’s going to do?” Aidan asked.
“He had a plan, but things didn’t go well when he tried to take Claire. He’s probably flustered. He’ll want to go back to something familiar, something comfortable.”
“Right. I’ll send someone to Wilkes Brothers Software, too. Can you think of anywhere else he’d go?” Aidan asked.
“I’m working on it.”
“I’ll try to get some information out of Diaz, and I’ll have someone call the precinct. Maybe the tech guys there have dug something else up.”
“Keep this line open so I know what’s going on,” Sean said.
“Okay. Right now I’m going to hand Olivia over to the paramedics.”
Aidan stuck the cell phone in his front pocket, lifted Olivia, and started toward one of the ambulances that was pulling up on the street.
“No, I want to go with you,” she said.
“You can’t go anywhere on that ankle. We’ll send an officer with you and give you regular updates, okay?”
“But maybe I can help,” she protested.
“You’ve been an incredible help already. Without you, we’d have nothing to go on and no hope of finding Claire. Now let us do our job. We’ll get her back.”
“Promise?” Olivia asked. She grabbed at his hand as he set her on the stretcher.
“I promise you we’ll bring her home safe,” Aidan said.
Olivia wanted to ask how he could be sure, but the grim set of Aidan’s features told her that was a question he didn’t want to answer. She released his hand, letting the paramedics begin to work on her.
Aidan headed for his car and wondered how in hell he’d keep his word.
Chapter 72
Washington, D.C.
Wednesday night
Claire sat in the passenger seat of the killer’s car with a gun pressing hard into her ribs. If she hadn’t been so frightened, she would have laughed—she’d been working with police to identify the killer out of Camelot’s catalogue, and she hadn’t even recognized the man when he’d stood in front of her.
He looked so horribly normal. If she’d seen him walking by her on the street, she wouldn’t have given him a second thought.
And he was going to kill her.
How is that for irony, Dr. Morton? Take your hysterical amnesia and shove it right up your ass.
Biting her lip, she told herself she wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t fly apart.
The killer saw her betraying gesture and smiled. “Nervous, Marie Claire? Don’t be. It will be over before you know it. Just a case of tidying up loose ends, really, and that shouldn’t take long at all.”
She bit the inside of her lips to keep them from visibly trembling. She’d be damned if she’d give this bastard any satisfaction.
“I just need to make sure we’re not being followed, first,” he continued in a normal tone of voice, as though he was talking about the weather. He checked the mirrors as he drove in seemingly random patterns, but never once did he reduce the pressure of the gun against Claire’s ribs.
I’m going to have bruises there for sure, she thought, then had to force back a nervous laugh. It was stupid to worry about bruises when she was
going to die.
She eased further into the corner of the seat, praying that Olivia was all right, that she’d somehow escaped. Other than involving Livvie in this mess, Claire had no regrets about the last month—except that she hadn’t had the guts to tell Sean she loved him.
She wondered now if she’d ever have another chance.
Claire stopped herself in mid-thought. She wasn’t going to die right now. The killer said he had a plan, and he needed her alive so he could implement it.
Think—what do you know about this man?
Claire stared out the window, keeping her features passive as her mind raced through the discussions the team had had on the personality of the killer.
He’s a control freak. He gets off when he’s planning things and will draw them out to continue getting off. He’s cocky—he took you from under the noses of the police.
She strained to remember anything else she’d heard Aidan or Sean talk about when discussing the killer.
Like most control freaks, he’s got his routine. He gets very upset when it’s disturbed. Look at what happened to me the last time I got between him and his precious plan.
She could use that, all of it, against the killer. He was a control-oriented, overconfident, and routine-obsessed person. If she acted unpredictably, took bigger risks than he did, and was able to upset his plans for the evening, she might keep him off guard long enough to get away.
And she would definitely tell Sean she loved him the next time she saw him.
Chapter 73
Washington, D.C.
Wednesday night
“Where is Diaz? Is he able to answer any questions?” Sean asked Aidan when his partner picked up the cell phone again.
“They’re bringing him out right now. After I talk to him, do you want me to pick you up or do you want to meet at the precinct?”
When the Storm Breaks Page 33
