by Debra Webb
“I have nothing to do with Weller,” Nick said before he could quell the defensive reaction.
“Yet you visited him just yesterday,” Mason argued.
“I had a question for him.” Nick forced himself to relax. Mason was desperate, it was showing.
“I know your little secret, Mr. Shade,” Mason warned. “The bureau tolerates what you do, but mark my word, one wrong move and you’ll be in a cell next to your daddy before you can blink an eye.”
“Mason,” Peterson said, “give us a minute.”
The agent didn’t look happy about it but he obliged. When the door closed behind him Chief Peterson’s attention settled on Nick.
“Let me be clear,” he said. “I don’t give a damn who you are, where you came from or what you’ve done before today, but if you know anything about Gaylon Perry that will help us stop him I need you to share that information with me right now. If you do not and something happens to Bobbie, I will personally see to it that you regret that mistake for the rest of your life.”
“Bobbie sent a message to Perry.”
Peterson sighed. “You’re talking about her comment to the press this morning.”
“Yes.”
“We have her under surveillance at Gardendale. I don’t want her stepping out that door until we’ve taken Perry into custody. Her surveillance detail is watching her house and two roving patrols are monitoring the neighborhood. Bobbie and I spoke a short time ago. She understands my concerns and has agreed to stay put. In fact, she suggested I put eyes on the fountain since Perry will be watching for her to show up there based on the message she sent through those damned reporters.”
Damn. She had made sure the chief would be focused far away from where she intended to be. Nick hated to be the one to tell him how badly he’d been fooled. “I’m afraid—”
“She’s beside herself with grief,” the chief cut him off. “She was in the room with Newt when he had his heart attack.”
Shit. Nick needed to be out there. Now.
“Her surveillance detail let me know she wouldn’t talk to you, either. She may, however, let you in before she does me. It is imperative, Mr. Shade, that we keep her locked down. At this point, she might do anything to get the son of a bitch.”
They were wasting time. Nick stood. “You’re too late. She’s already gone.”
“What do you mean? Her vehicle is in the driveway. You were just there.”
“I was, and when she didn’t answer her door,” Shade explained, his patience at an end, “I drove around the block and went to her back door. It was unlocked and she was gone. I would be out there looking for her right now if Mason hadn’t detained me.”
Peterson rounded his desk. “I hope for your sake, Mr. Shade, you’re not holding anything back.”
“I want to find her as badly as you do.”
As surprising as the revelation was...it was true.
Thirty-Four
Ryan Ridge, 12:10 p.m.
Bobbie stared through the car window at the house that had once been her home. The place where so many happy memories were made. The place where she thought she would live the rest of her life.
The place where her life had ended. She took a big breath and reached for the door handle.
“You sure about this, mami?”
She turned to the man seated next to her in the Camaro. She appreciated his help, but she had to do the rest on her own.
“I expect you to stick by our deal, Javier. Do not tell anyone where you brought me and don’t hang around. I want you to get the hell out of here.”
He put a hand on his heart and the other in the air as if taking an oath. “On my honor, I will tell no one.” He nodded to the driver and the other thug in the front seat. “My eses will tell no one.”
Bobbie reached for the door once more.
“Hold on, mami.”
“What?” She was out of patience.
He reached for the chain around his neck. When he lifted it over his head Bobbie recognized the Saint Christopher medal. “You should wear this.” He placed the necklace over her head. “It was my mother’s. She gave it to me before she died. I was just a kid living in squalor in Mexico City, but I remember her telling me that St. Christopher protected travelers. She wanted him to keep me safe in my life’s journey. I think now you need it more than me.”
Bobbie nodded. She didn’t speak. If she dared, she might lose it and she couldn’t do that right now.
She watched until Javier’s car disappeared and then she turned back to her house. It was the middle of the day; most everyone in the neighborhood was at work. Bobbie unlocked the front door and walked inside, then locked it once more.
She went into the living room. The shelves on either side of the fireplace were the road maps of the life she had shared with her family. The books they had read. The movies they had watched, and the photo albums that held the images captured of those wonderful days. She crossed the room and picked up the small clay bowl Jamie had made at day camp last summer. It was lopsided and a little bumpy, but she had loved it when her son gave it to her for her birthday. It was supposed to be pink but it had turned out more of a faded rose. As much as Bobbie loved it, she couldn’t bear to look at it every day. She couldn’t bear to feel the incredible loss. A part of her was missing now and she would never, ever be whole again.
Placing it carefully back on the shelf, she wandered through the kitchen. The back door was still secure. He hadn’t been here yet. Good. She wanted some time first. Memories of her husband’s beautiful smile and the way he kissed her and made love to her flashed one after the other through her mind. He had been the cook. He always had dinner ready for her when she came home from a long day. It didn’t matter how stressful his own day at the university had been.
There wasn’t a place in this house he hadn’t touched and helped to make it their home. Her heart ached. She missed him so very badly.
Slowly she climbed the stairs and went to the room they had shared. She curled up on their bed for a moment. She smoothed her hand over the inviting comforter. She thought of all the times she had fallen asleep in her husband’s arms. All the times they had made love. All the precious moments they had shared.
This day...this step was for him. Loving her had cost him his life and now she intended to avenge that horrible, horrible wrong.
Finally, she went to her son’s room. The moment she walked inside, her senses were overwhelmed with the memories of her sweet boy. His toys...his blanket...
“I should’ve taken better care of you, baby. I am so sorry. Mommy couldn’t keep this monster away.”
Bobbie picked up his favorite teddy bear and hugged it, inhaling the lingering scent of her little boy.
A shift in the air or maybe the softest sound set her senses on alert. The bear fell from her hands and she moved to the door.
The sound of the back door opening echoed like a giant mallet slamming against steel.
He was here.
Bobbie reached for her Glock with her right hand. With her left, she palmed her stun gun, wrapping her fingers around it, hiding the small but effective weapon from sight. She moved soundlessly along the upstairs hall and then carefully down the staircase.
If it was Shade or someone from the department they would have called her name.
It was Perry.
She could feel him.
The entry hall and living room were empty. He was in the kitchen.
She moved swiftly through the dining room to approach from the opposite side of the kitchen. She paused at the refrigerator since it allowed for some amount of cover. No sign of him. Had he gone into the garage? The back door was closed. Braced for the unexpected, she stepped to the back door and surveyed the yard. Nothing. He had to be in the garage.
> She stepped soundlessly to the door that led into the garage. It was ajar. The lights were on beyond it. Adrenaline burned through her veins.
Adopting a firing position, she elbowed the door open and stepped into the garage.
Naked save for the duct tape across her mouth and the yellow noose around her neck, Gwen stood next to James’s car. Her hands were bound behind her back. A chain linked her ankles. Her body was marked and bloody from the torture Perry had already inflicted. Bobbie’s soul ached for her.
When she would have taken a step toward Gwen, her eyes widened and she shook her head. A quick scan of the garage and no sign of Perry told Bobbie he was hiding. The hair on the back of Bobbie’s neck prickled. She leaned her head toward the door behind her, and Gwen nodded.
Bobbie leaped away from the door and swiveled, leveling her weapon. The position put her between Perry and Gwen.
Perry pushed the door closed, revealing himself. “Hello, Detective.”
Long blond hair, pink dress... The little girl hanging limp in his arms sent Bobbie’s heart plummeting. The child’s eyes were closed. Bobbie tried to assess if she was breathing. “Put the little girl down.” She steadied her aim on the bastard.
“I searched three neighborhoods for a little boy.” Perry sighed dramatically. He held a knife pressed against the child’s throat. “Alas, there was only this little girl. Her mother is probably running up and down the street screaming her name now.”
“Put her down now or I will shoot.” Bobbie zeroed in on his head. She could make the shot.
“If you pull that trigger, I will slice her carotid artery. Do you think you and Gwen can save her?”
“This is between you and me,” Bobbie snarled. “Let them go.”
“The key fob is in your dead husband’s car. Put Gwen in the trunk and get behind the wheel. Little Darla and I will get into the backseat. You’ll drive. Agent LeDoux is counting on you as well, Detective. I’m certain you don’t want him to die, either.”
Heart pounding, Bobbie considered her options and made the only choice. She went to the driver’s side and got the key. When she’d popped the trunk, she helped Gwen inside. Tears flowed down the nurse’s cheeks and her body trembled. Before closing the lid, Bobbie put the stun gun in her hand and closed her shaking fingers around it. A knowing gaze passed between them.
She shut the lid and stared at the sadistic bastard across the room. “What’re you waiting for?”
“Place your Glock, the backup piece you carry and your cell phone at your feet before you get behind the wheel.”
Bobbie did as he asked.
“And the knife,” he ordered.
When she’d done the same with the knife, he said, “Get in the car.”
By the time she’d settled behind the wheel he was getting into the backseat with the little girl. He held her Glock now rather than the knife.
“Where to?”
“Drive. I’ll give you the directions as we go. Any wrong moves and the girl dies.”
“How do I know she’s not dead already?” Hand shaking in spite of her best efforts, she hit the remote for the overhead door.
“I guess you’ll have to take my word for it.”
Bobbie held her breath as she hit the start button. She prayed the engine wouldn’t start. Maybe the battery had died. It had been eight months since it had been driven. The engine roared to life and her heart sank.
Perry’s gaze collided with hers in the rearview mirror. “I never leave anything to chance, Detective.”
Tamping back a blast of rage, Bobbie reached for the gearshift and her attention stumbled on a wallet-sized photo of her and Jamie. Her heart squeezed painfully. Before James even drove the car, he tucked that picture on the console. Can’t go anywhere without my babies. His voice reverberated through her soul.
“I’d hate to soil your husband’s nice car by slitting her throat right here.”
Bobbie’s gaze shot to the rearview mirror once more.
“Drive,” the bastard ordered.
Jaw locked with fury, Bobbie backed from the garage and automatically hit the remote to close the door once more. When she’d driven out of the neighborhood, she stopped at the intersection for further directions. She had not been inside this car since before James died. His scent lingered... He’d been so thrilled when she handed him the key fob.
“Take a right.”
Shaking off the memories, she made the turn onto Pike Road.
“No speeding or erratic driving,” he reminded her. “We wouldn’t want this sweet little girl to go home with her head missing.”
Bobbie would not allow him to hurt that little girl and she would help Gwen and LeDoux escape. No matter the cost.
“People are so very predictable,” Perry announced. “Even those married to a cop. I’m guessing your husband was the one who hid the spare key to your house.”
Bobbie’s heart banged her sternum, but she said nothing. She refused to interact with the bastard. The sound of his voice made her want to stab an ice pick into her eardrums.
“You needn’t answer, Detective. I’m confident that was the case. You see—when I saw you for the first time I knew I had to have you. I came to your home when you were both at work. The spare key was under the concrete turtle on the patio.”
Hurt coiled in her chest. Make sure you put it where no one will think to look. She’d teased James about the extra key. They’d never had one until he locked himself and Jamie out of the house. She, as usual, was working late. She and Newt had driven by to let them in. Perry was right. James had hidden the key, and she didn’t even remember where. Her husband had told her, but she’d been too busy to listen.
“I’ve been in your home many, many times, Bobbie. You really should have taken better care of your family.”
His words were like stakes driven into her heart. The bastard’s scent had started to permeate the car and she wanted to vomit.
“Was this sporty car a way of making up for your absence, Detective?”
Bobbie clenched her teeth until she expected them to crack. She refused to be goaded by the son of a bitch.
“I knew it was,” he taunted. “That’s why I chose this one rather than your more practical car. I wanted you to remember how you failed your sweet little family.”
He was right. She hadn’t taken care of her family. They were dead, and she was responsible.
Her fingers trembled with the knowledge that no one had driven this car since the last time James had. She hadn’t even driven her own...not since her family was taken from her. She hadn’t been able to live in their home. She hadn’t been able to live at all. She merely existed.
For one purpose: to kill this monster.
“I’ve waited too long for you, Bobbie.” His voice was low, thick with desire. “All good things come to those who wait,” he singsonged. “The ending to your story is going to be amazing.”
She said nothing. Just drove.
He was right, though, it was going to be amazing.
Thirty-Five
Gardendale Drive, 2:00 p.m.
Forensic techs were still combing through Bobbie’s house. Reporters were being held at bay at the end of the block. And the people in charge stood in the driveway having a conference about what they weren’t finding.
Nick refused to waste more time.
“You’re won’t find any answers here.”
Chief Peterson turned from his conversation with Agent Mason and Lieutenant Owens. “What do you propose we do, Mr. Shade? We have units at the Ryan Ridge house. She isn’t there. We’ve issued a BOLO and every cop within fifty miles is searching for Bobbie.”
His frank statement would have pissed Nick off, except he heard the desperation in his words and read the fear in his eyes a
nd in his posture. Unfortunately, desperation and fear weren’t going to get the job done.
“What will you do six hours from now when it’s dark?” Nick asked with equal candor.
The chief opened his mouth to respond but hesitated and then reached for his cell phone. He stepped away from the huddle.
Nick held his temper and dug for more patience. He had no desire to stand around here and play this waiting game. If Bobbie wasn’t with Perry already, she would be soon. She obviously left her house on foot and picked up a taxi. Every minute they wasted here was one more Perry would have to torture her—assuming he didn’t go straight for the kill.
“The whole city is looking for Detective Gentry,” Mason reminded Nick as if he didn’t know. “What else would you suggest we do?”
“You mean besides checking the house where she lived with her family for any evidence she or Perry has been there?”
“This was Detective Gentry’s last known location,” Mason argued. “Starting here was proper protocol. The officers on the scene at Ryan Ridge checked the perimeter as well as the windows. The home is secure with no indication Detective Gentry has been there.”
Peterson returned, ending the pointless conversation. The fear in his expression had evolved into something more like defeat. Nick’s pulse reacted.
“Perry’s gray Prius was found three streets away from Bobbie’s Ryan Ridge home.”
“We should move our efforts there,” Mason announced.
Grinding his teeth to hold back a sarcastic, You think?, Nick followed Peterson and Mason.
Ryan Ridge, 2:50 p.m.
Nick walked through the first floor of the house. Nothing appeared to be disturbed. He climbed the stairs slowly, his senses absorbing the resignation he felt in this sad home. Rather than comb through the rooms, he went straight to the child’s room. If she came upstairs, she would go there for sure.
He surveyed the toys on the floor. The bed. His gaze went back to the floor near the bed. He crossed the room and picked up the teddy bear. The last time he’d walked through this house the teddy bear had been on the bed.
