He made a move for her, and over the bullhorn came, “FBI! Put down your weapon and put your hands on the back of your head.”
The man looked around, then made a move to grab Lucy. She sidestepped him. He crumpled to the sidewalk at the same time Lucy heard the report of a high-powered rifle.
She went over and kicked his gun away, then ran into the courtyard. “Fire in the church!” she shouted.
Smoke was billowing out from cracks in the windows and doors. She ran to the main entrance and pulled; the doors were locked. She ran through the security gate and tried the side door; locked. She pounded on it. “Open the door!”
Noah was at her side a moment later. “The fire department is already on their way.”
“There are kids in there!” she shouted.
Matt Slater came up with a battering ram. He and Noah rammed into the side door, splintering the wood. Smoke poured out; now Lucy could hear the flames.
“Stay low!” Noah ordered.
There was no fire in the church proper, just a lot of smoke. Noah motioned that the school was in the back.
Slater grabbed a fire extinguisher from one of his men and entered the building. Three more of the SWAT team entered, all with guns. They didn’t know if the second man was in the building or not, but assumed there was still a hostage situation.
Lucy followed Noah into the smoke-filled room and stifled a cry.
Six children and two adults had been duct-taped to their chairs.
Noah picked up two kids, with their chairs strapped to them, and carried them out as quickly as he could. Lucy followed his lead, grabbed the closest child, and followed Noah out.
Visibility was nonexistent. Her eyes burned, her throat was raw, she couldn’t stop coughing.
The little boy in her arms was unconscious.
She made it outside, collapsed in the playground, and pulled at the tape.
Each SWAT member ran in and brought out the remaining children and adults, one by one.
Lucy began to give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to the little boy.
“Come on,” she willed him, listening for breathing, but the sound of the fire drowned it out.
Not these kids. God, please, haven’t enough people died?
She repeated the cycle and waited a beat.
He began to cough.
She cried tearlessly.
Matt Slater ran out the back carrying a teenage girl. “She’s alive, but she’s been shot in the back. We can’t find anyone else in the building. We’re pulling out.” He said into his headset, “Ambulance?”
“Three minutes,” one of his men said. He shook his head and carried her to the street just as the fire trucks pulled up.
“We need a medic STAT!” Slater called. “Female victim, shot twice in the back. Difficulty breathing. In and out of consciousness.”
The scene was organized chaos. Lucy watched as everyone did their job quickly and efficiently. Kate escorted Ivy to see Mina. A SWAT medic was applying pressure to her wounds. Ivy cried and held her hand. Kate stood there, stoic, watching the scene around her, both participant and observer.
Lucy sat with the little boy, who clung to her like a life vest. She hugged him back.
“God saved us,” the four-year-old said.
“Yes He did,” Lucy said. “With a little help from SWAT.”
He looked up at her with his dark face and darker eyes. “I want to be a SWAT.”
She smiled through her tears. “You will be.”
She saw Noah through the crowd. He came to her, knelt in front of her. He was coughing, filthy, and his hands had first-degree burns. He hugged her spontaneously, the child cradled between them.
“You okay?” He inspected her for injury, though Lucy assured him she was fine.
“How did you know where he was? No one had the visual until he approached you,” Noah asked.
“I felt him watching me.”
He hugged her again. “Good job, Lucy.”
A tall black woman was sitting nearby and consoling the children. “Where is he? Did you find him?”
Noah said, “He didn’t survive.”
“What about his partner?”
Noah tensed. “There were two?”
“One inside and one outside.”
Noah got Slater on the phone. “We have another suspect, and he’s on foot.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Devon Sullivan didn’t leave until after eight that morning. As soon as her Mercedes drove out of sight, Sean pulled out of the parking lot and turned down the private street.
He monitored the end of every driveway without slowing below twenty-five miles per hour, to avoid drawing attention from residents or any household staff. Not every owner had security along their fence, but the Jager/Sullivan house did. A quick assessment told Sean there were cameras at the end of the driveway and each corner of the property. He recognized the manufacturer and smiled.
“They’re all digital. But the system has a glitch,” Sean explained to Sergio. “It won’t take me more than a minute to freeze all the cameras. If someone is monitoring them, they’ll see a picture, but unless they’re looking carefully—or if someone gets captured on the film and is shown motionless—no one should notice anything different.”
He parked his Mustang in the camera’s blind spot and took out his backup laptop. He opened it up and found the signal from the security feed. “This is even better. I can get into the main system and access every camera in the house to see if there is staff. Once we’re inside we’ll be blind, though—the cameras will be frozen.”
“Won’t they know someone was here?”
“They will if we find the locket. But the security system is designed to photograph as well as provide a video feed. It’s full of problems. What I’m forcing it to do is take a picture throughout the system and freeze—even the security company that installed it will say it’s just a glitch.”
“Why would they put in an inferior system?”
“Ninety percent of security systems can be neutralized in less than three minutes.” Sean grabbed the main feed and scrolled through each camera. “Three here in the front, over each entrance, inside the pool house, seven in the back—they think they’re vulnerable from the rear. Or they don’t trust their neighbors,” Sean joked.
“You enjoy this.”
“I like my job.” He glanced at Sergio. “I don’t like who I’m working for.”
“Jonathon saved my life.”
“Save it. I know the story. And I am sorry about your daughter. Truly. But Paxton thinks he’s God, and he’s playing with the lives of people I care about. And he’s lying to me, I just haven’t figured out what, or why.”
Sergio didn’t say anything, which was good because Sean was growing irritated remembering his conversation with Paxton the night before. Remembering that Paxton had a copy of Lucy’s confidential FBI file. Who had given it to him?
“No internal cameras. I’m searching the grounds and I don’t see vehicles that aren’t registered to the house. Okay, I’m going to freeze the cameras, then I’m going in. Alone. Take my car and go back to where we parked before. I want to know if anyone turns down this street—make and model of their car. If they are feds. Anything. Text me. When I’m ready,” he pulled out the satellite map of the property, “go down this parallel street. These horse lovers that the Jagers don’t trust have no security cameras. Park at the end of their driveway.”
He handed Sergio his keys. “And be careful with my car.”
* * *
When the ambulance arrived, Lucy handed the little boy off to one of the DC cops who’d arrived on scene. She joined Kate and Ivy, who were with Mina as she was being strapped onto the gurney. Only seven minutes had passed since Slater carried her from the church.
Ivy wiped away her tears. Soot covered her face from the smoke, though the fire was under control.
“You’re going to be okay, Mina,” Ivy said. “I promise. I need you, Mina. I n
eed you just like I need Sara.”
Mina lifted her hand off the gurney and Ivy grabbed it. “Mina! It’s me, Ivy. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you.”
Mina squeezed her hand, then dropped it.
“Blood pressure’s falling,” one of the medics said and finished putting her in the ambulance. They closed the doors and drove off.
Lucy watched the scene with Kate. As soon as Mina was gone, Kate walked over to Marti North, who was keeping the kids settled while they were checked out by the medics. Lucy and Ivy followed. “What happened?”
“He came in through the back. I should have canceled school, but I didn’t think we were in danger. He had a gun and forced me to tie up the children. I tried to make a game out of it, but they knew I was scared. Dammit, I spent three years in the Army and that bastard terrified me!”
“And then?”
“He used my phone to call Ivy, and of course she picked up.” Ivy clasped Marti’s hand.
Kate said, “You knew that the FBI was looking for Ivy, yet you kept her location a secret?”
“I didn’t trust the system. She doesn’t know who’s after her.”
“But she knows why,” Lucy said. She looked at Ivy.
“I didn’t know any of this would happen. All I wanted was to save my sister.”
“And you did,” Lucy said. “You made a decision and you’re willing to stand by it. I respect that. But you have to live with it and make it right. We need all the information you have.” She glanced at Marti. “And anything you can remember about the suspect.”
“He was shorter than me, not quite six feet tall, brown hair, blue eyes. He was wearing a blue polo shirt and his back was bleeding. He was really angry about it, I could tell he was in pain. He kept saying he wasn’t going to kill the kids, he just wanted Ivy. Like he was explaining and justifying his actions.
“He was getting antsy, worried about being caught,” Marti continued. “I had no idea there were two of them, until he started talking on his phone to another guy he called Ned. Mina wasn’t tied up—he wanted to be able to move her around, I think. As a hostage. He told Ned to shoot Ivy as soon as she approached the front. When Mina heard that, she screamed and tried to get his gun. He pushed her down—she practically flew across the room. She couldn’t get up, but he just shot her. Twice.”
“Why didn’t the stakeout team hear it?” Lucy said.
“We were in the back. It was a twenty-two. The kids started crying, and he seemed almost stunned that he’d done it. I thought she was dead. That’s when he set the fire. I think he was trying to make a smoke screen to escape, but it was too hot and the artwork caught on fire. He waited until the smoke was thick and went out the back and along the north side. It’s narrow, but the fence is wooden and easier to climb. He has to be cut up, though, from the barbed wire.”
“We’re looking for him. We need a full description, have you look at some mug sheets,” Kate said.
“I can do you one better.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “I took his picture right after he shot Mina. It’s crooked because my hands were bound.”
Lucy and Kate looked at it. It only showed his profile, but it was certainly clear enough to distribute widely.
“Marti, you’re brilliant.” Kate sent the picture to everyone on the internal FBI distribution list, and a copy to her assistant at Quantico to resize, sharpen, and run through facial recognition.
Noah came up to the group. “The suspect out front is Theodore Abernathy. He has a record, served time. His known associates include his brother, Brian.” He pulled up a DMV photo. “Is this the man who shot Mina?”
Marti nodded. “That’s him.”
“Thanks. I’m getting this photo out to all hospitals and transportation hubs. How much time did he have?”
“He left about two minutes before you came in.”
Noah looked at his watch. “That gives him a twenty-minute head start.” He stepped away to call in the information.
Kate turned to Ivy. “Where’s your sister?”
Ivy hedged.
Kate snapped, “He could be going after her. Where is she?”
“I’ll tell you, but I have to come. She won’t trust anyone. She’s terrified, and last night she said if our father takes her, she’s going to kill herself. She’s still jittery from the drugs he was feeding her to keep her compliant. I’ll tell her it’s okay. She has to hear it from me.”
Matt Slater was listening to Ivy’s explanation. Before he said anything, Noah stepped back into the group. “Theodore and Brian Abernathy are the sons of Devon Sullivan from her first marriage.”
“Wendy James’s boss?”
“Josh Stein just got the search warrant for DSA based on the information we obtained about Park Way apartments and Betty Dare. Stein’s already on his way to her office, wants me to lead the team to search her house.” He looked at Slater. “Okay, boss?”
Slater nodded. “Go. Donovan, you’re point on this situation.”
Noah motioned for Lucy to talk to him in private. “Lucy, I’m sorry for being hard on you. It’s been a difficult week and I didn’t handle the pressure well. I have no excuse.”
“Noah, you stood up for me time and time again, knowing that if I screwed up you would be taking the heat. This case taught me more about FBI bureaucracy and personalities and conflicts that I could ever have learned in the Academy. And I did overstep my bounds, and it wasn’t the first time. It was just the first time you called me on it.”
Noah took both her hands and squeezed. “Good job. Go get Ivy’s sister and get her statement so we can keep her father away from her. Without it, legally he can take her back to his home.” He looked at his watch. “Our Baltimore agent said she was meeting him at headquarters at eight, but he was late.”
“I’ll call her and fill her in.” It was nearly nine.
Noah left and Lucy turned to Ivy. “Let’s get your sister.”
Kate said, “Matt, we need a pair of agents—can you spare two?”
“I’ll join you and pull Spencer with me. My guys have this contained. Ms. North, we’ll need you to make an official statement, if you’ll talk to that agent over there who’s with your custodian. We’ve also contacted the parents; you’ll probably have your hands full.”
* * *
Sara sat in the small room above the rectory, reading. Reading was her escape. At home, she read a book a day. She loved historical fiction, rich with beautiful words and dashing knights and fair maidens. She particularly loved Merlin and King Arthur and had read every variation of the stories she could find. She’d read The Crystal Cave by Mary Stewart a dozen times and never grew tired of it. Father Harris didn’t have a copy, and all the books Ivy had bought for her had burned with the house. But Father Harris had given her four books by J.R.R. Tolkien, and she was already done with The Hobbit and halfway finished with Lord of the Rings.
Books had enabled her to survive during these dark months. She realized that reading while her sister was meeting with the man who wanted to kill her was not a sane thing to do. But if she didn’t read, she’d panic out of fear for the one person who had done everything to save her. So she read more, faster, drowning out the doubts and anxiety that crept in.
She jumped when she heard sirens. Lots of sirens. They weren’t coming here, but His Grace Church was only a few blocks away.
She ran down the stairs, searching for Father Paul. He wasn’t in the rectory. She ran across the courtyard, stumbling over a bench. She fell hard on her knees, the book skittering from her hand.
Sara jumped up and retrieved the book, brushing dirt from its pages.
“Hello, Sara.”
She froze.
Slowly, she turned her gaze until she met the cold blue eyes of the monster himself.
“Daddy.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
For people who were security conscious, the Jagers were very predictable.
Sean didn�
�t think they were very good criminals. He disabled the security cameras and used a standard lock-pick on the back door since the front was bolted and getting in that way would have required visible force. He didn’t want them to know anyone had been here until they checked on the locket.
Sean quickly assessed that the house was empty. There were two dogs—small Pomeranians who yapped up a storm when they saw him, but they were locked behind a child safety gate in the family room, where a dog door led to a small dog run. As soon as Sean disappeared from sight, they forgot about him and the house became silent again.
The Jagers had adjoining libraries, both bigger than most New York apartments. They, and the master suite, filled the east wing of the sprawling ranch-style home.
Devon’s library had pictures of her with, it seemed, everyone she’d ever met. In fact, there were more photos than books on the shelves. They filled the walls and all the surfaces. Her desk was glass and had no storage. She had a locked file cabinet built into the wall.
Sean pulled out his pocket computer and ran a program to detect hidden wires or trips in the room. There were none.
The file cabinet opened easily enough with the right tool, and Sean searched the contents. He smiled.
Devon Sullivan had files on every person she’d blackmailed. What she knew, how she knew it, how she used it or if she had plans to use the intel. There were hundreds of files in alphabetical order by last name. This was an FBI wet dream.
He immediately went to P for Paxton. There was a file.
Could it be this easy?
He pulled it out and opened it.
It was empty.
But judging from the permanent bulge in the folder, there had been a thick stack of paper in here at one point. Why had Sullivan removed it? Had the locket been in here?
Shit.
He skimmed the other names. He recognized a few—judges, politicians, law enforcement, business owners, union leaders, nonprofits—Devon Sullivan was one busy, busy lady. Sean would have loved to have photographed every file, but he needed to find the locket, so he only looked for specific names. Like his.
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