by Debra Webb
“What the hell have you done, Bobbie?” He left the stuffed animal on the bed where it belonged and moved back to the staircase. He didn’t need additional evidence to tell him what was abundantly clear. Bobbie had sent Perry a message and they’d rendezvoused. Here.
“We found something in the garage.”
Nick paused halfway down the staircase and listened as the evidence tech spoke to the chief of police in the living room below.
“We found a smear of blood on the wall behind the door, on the garage side, that exits from the kitchen.”
“Show me,” Peterson ordered.
Nick descended the stairs. Renewed worry inched its way up his spine. They had to move quickly and still he doubted they would be in time. Her partner’s death had obliterated any reason she had left. Bobbie had thrown caution to the wind and taken an enormous risk to accomplish the only thing that mattered to her anymore—killing Perry.
All Nick needed was a way to communicate with Perry. He hoped Bobbie would think to use what Nick had shown her. The bastard’s mother was the one potential piece of leverage they had.
When the chief and the tech had moved back into the kitchen, Nick stepped forward. “I’d like to have a look in the garage.”
The chief turned to the tech. “Have you wrapped up in there?”
“Yes, sir.”
Peterson gave Nick a nod. As he took the single step down to the garage, the sensation of emptiness assaulted him. He considered where the blood had been found. Newton had insisted that he’d shot Perry so the blood could be his. Perry had a nurse at his disposal. She may have done her best to patch him up but the bleeding may have started again.
Nick stood in the empty spot next to Bobbie’s forgotten Subaru. How had Perry gotten into her house with no signs of forced entry? Had the keys to the vehicle that had been sitting in the spot where Nick now stood been hanging on a hook somewhere?
Peterson joined him. “We’ve issued a BOLO on the BMW that belonged to James. If you have thoughts that will help us find her...”
“He was here.” Nick gestured to the door leading into the kitchen. It stood open. “He hid behind the door as she came into the garage. The blood was either on his clothes or had seeped through whatever dressing he had over the wound.”
Relief filled the chief of police’s face. Mason’s expression remained skeptical. He argued, “You can’t be sure.”
Nick ignored the pompous ass. He walked slowly around the space where James Gentry’s car would have been parked. There was no blood or anything else that looked out of place. He paused at the shelving unit that stood against the wall. Cans of paint that matched the interior colors in the home lined the shelves. The tip of something shiny, like metal, stuck out from under the lowest shelf. He got down on his knees and had a look. It was scarcely more than three inches off the floor but...
His gaze stalled on several objects. The first was Bobbie’s cell. Nick covertly pocketed it. “We need that evidence tech back out here.”
Peterson issued the command and the tech came running.
Nick moved out of his way. “There’s a small handgun and what looks like a knife under there.”
A few sweeps under the shelf and Nick’s worst fears were confirmed. The backup piece Bobbie kept strapped to her ankle and the sheathed knife she carried lay on the floor. When a second knife—a general purpose kitchen knife—slid out, the scenario cleared in his mind.
“He was here.” Nick gestured to the wall by the door. “Waiting for her. That kitchen knife was his weapon. Now he has her Glock.”
“Chief!” Another cop stuck his head through the door. “Dispatch got a call from a lady in the next subdivision whose blond-haired three-year-old is missing. It’s a little girl this time.”
When the chief and Mason had rushed away to follow the new lead, Nick approached one of the uniforms outside. “You can take me back to CID now.”
The officer looked at Nick, and then in the direction Peterson had disappeared. “Is that what the chief said?”
Nick nodded. “There’s nothing else I can do here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nick didn’t breathe easy until he and the officer were well away from the neighborhood. If he was lucky he’d be in his car and long gone before the chief or Mason remembered they’d left him behind.
Help me find you, Bobbie.
Thirty-Six
Though it was still hours before dark, the interior of the abandoned house was dim. Bobbie’s skin started to crawl the instant she stepped inside. The final stretch of country road they had traveled was wooded. Incredibly the location was only a few miles from the city limit. This was one of the areas on Shade’s list of most likely places, but he would never find them in time.
Bobbie steeled herself. As long as she killed Perry that was all that mattered.
What about the little girl? And Gwen and LeDoux?
Bobbie closed her eyes against the complication.
She couldn’t allow Perry to take any more lives.
Stop overanalyzing. Focus.
The little girl had roused and was curled in a ball in the corner. Her soft sobbing tore at Bobbie’s heart. LeDoux was unconscious, but his torso rose and fell rhythmically. He wasn’t dead; just drugged, she suspected. He was secured, facedown, to the floor. His body didn’t bare the same marks that Gwen’s did, but the toes of one foot had been smashed.
The bastard hadn’t gotten Gwen out of the trunk yet.
Hopefully Bobbie could get close enough to Gwen for a handoff of the stun gun. Perry was wounded. Bobbie smiled to herself. Newt had gotten the son of a bitch good. He’d bled through the bandage on his side. Even his shirt was bloody. The idea that it likely hurt like hell made Bobbie very happy.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Perry gestured to her with the Glock. “Take off your clothes.”
Bobbie stilled, her heart pounding.
“I said,” he repeated, “take off your clothes.”
Just do it. She had known this part was coming.
She took her time removing the T-shirt, then dropped it to the floor. Gritting her teeth, she reached behind her back and released the clasp of her bra. The feel of his eyes on her as she tossed it on top of the tee made her sick to her stomach.
Don’t think about it.
She toed off her sneakers.
“The socks, too.”
Lifting one foot and then the other, she peeled off the socks and dropped them onto the shoes. With resignation, she shucked her jeans. They landed on the pile. Drawing in a deep breath she reached for her panties and removed them.
She stood straight and steady. So what if he saw her scarred body? It was the last thing he would see if she had her way.
“Turn around.”
His voice was low, husky. He was enjoying this. Sadistic bastard.
Wishing she were the one with the gun, she did as he commanded, turning until her back was to him.
He gasped.
After what felt like an eternity, he tossed two pairs of metal handcuffs on the floor near her. She’d already spotted the chains secured to eyebolts in the floor.
“Do your ankles first.”
He didn’t have to draw her a diagram of what he wanted. The distance between the eyebolts ensured her legs would be spread. She would be secured in the same position as she had been all those months ago.
Inside, where he couldn’t see, she trembled.
A few feet away were the chains and eyebolts and a stained mattress where Gwen had been secured. The bloodstains on the mattress spoke of what he’d put the poor woman through already. What he intended to put Bobbie through...again.
Once both she and Gwen were locked in place, there would be little hope for any of them. The worst travesty
would be the little girl.
You cannot fail, Bobbie!
Mommy keeps the monsters away.
“Now secure your left hand,” Perry ordered, pitching another set of cuffs on the floor.
Bobbie fumbled with the handcuffs. She had to twist her torso and reach as far as she could. On her third failed attempt Perry stamped over to the child. He jammed the muzzle into her head, making her cry harder. “Do not try my patience, Detective.”
Bobbie tightened the handcuff around her left wrist and snapped it into place.
It’s pretty cool being married to a superhero.
The words her husband had said to her so many times whispered through her mind. Only I wasn’t a superhero then, and I’m damned sure not now.
Perry hurried over to her and, careful to place the gun on the floor well out of her reach, he secured her right hand.
The click reverberated in her brain as if he’d put a bullet there.
He moved away. A few seconds later she heard him go out the door. For Gwen, she supposed. He would likely force her to attend to his wound again before securing her. Bobbie had noticed the first-aid supplies. If he released Gwen to change his bandage she would have a chance to act.
If Gwen wasn’t too defeated.
No. Gwen had warned Bobbie where Perry was in the garage. Her fingers had clutched at the stun gun. She was not defeated yet.
The door opened and Perry came back inside leading Gwen like a dog on a short leash. Her raw wounds made Bobbie cringe. She deeply regretted that Gwen had been forced to endure such horrendous torture. No human should have to suffer like that at the hands of another.
Perry released her. “I’m going to remove your handcuffs so you can check my wound. You may need to redo the stitches. Catching that little bitch—” he gestured to the child “—may have damaged your previous work.” He pressed the barrel of the Glock to Gwen’s head. “If you make a mistake, I will kill you. Do not overestimate your value. Beyond your nursing skills, you are of little use to me now. You’ve only lived this long so Bobbie could watch you die.”
Bobbie hoped Gwen remembered to keep the small stun gun hidden from view by holding it in her closed palm where he couldn’t see.
The snap that signaled the release of handcuffs had Bobbie holding her breath. If he’d spotted the stun gun he hadn’t reacted.
Bobbie dared to twist her head so she could see. Perry gestured to the first-aid supplies. “Hurry.”
Gwen clambered to the pile of items. Her ankles remained chained so any fast movements were out of the question. She crouched down and picked up a wad of gauze. Bobbie’s heart thudded so hard she could hardly breathe as Gwen pushed upward and returned to Perry.
Since the wound was on his right side, he held his arm away from his body, but the Glock was still fairly close to Gwen’s head. Bobbie held her breath as Gwen lifted his shirt with her left hand. Her right was fisted around the gauze. Where was the stun gun?
A sizzle and pop sounded an instant before Perry screamed.
The Glock discharged, and then hit the floor.
Perry staggered backward and collapsed like a deflated air puppet.
“Where’s the gun?” Bobbie cried.
Sobbing, Gwen scrambled across the floor and tore at Perry’s pockets. “I have to get the key.”
Bobbie craned her neck, trying to see where the Glock had landed. “You need the gun, Gwen.”
Gwen cried out in relief when she held up the key. She clambered over to Bobbie. Her hands shook so hard she could hardly get the key in the tiny hole.
Bobbie smiled up at her, hoping to calm her. “Get the gun first, okay?”
Gwen stalled, her entire body shaking.
“You’re doing great,” Bobbie assured her. “Just get the gun and—”
The blast of the weapon exploded in the room and the top of Gwen’s head flew off.
Blood and brain matter splattered Bobbie’s face.
Screams filled the air.
Gwen collapsed beside Bobbie, her eyes wide with surprise or disbelief.
It wasn’t until her lungs started to burn that Bobbie realized she was the one screaming. She shifted her gaze to the monster struggling to his feet, her Glock in his right hand. “I will kill you,” she promised.
He towered over Bobbie, the weapon hanging at his side. “Look what you made me do, Detective.”
He got down on all fours, his hands and knees on either side of her. “Now I’m going to have to hurry, just in case someone heard that shot. You’ll have to help me, Bobbie.” He leaned down and licked blood from her face. “Who’s going to die next? The child or the agent? You pick.”
She tried to pull free of her restraints, fury screaming from her throat. She couldn’t stop it.
He laughed, leaned close again. “Is that all you can do, Bobbie?”
With every ounce of strength and anger she possessed, she head-butted him.
Perry drew away and howled in pain.
“Let me loose and I’ll show you what I can do, motherfucker.”
He glared at her, blood dripping from his nose. He reached for his fly and made a ravenous sound. “You know just what to do to make me want you, Bobbie. I can’t wait to be inside you again.”
Fear exploded in her chest.
“No!”
Bobbie swiveled her head to look at the man chained facedown to the floor a few feet away. She’d thought LeDoux was unconscious.
“Always picking on women, aren’t you, Perry?” LeDoux taunted. “Not man enough to take on someone your own size, is that it?”
Bobbie shook her head, but it was too late. Perry was already moving away from her and toward LeDoux. He straddled him and ripped his jeans open. Bobbie looked away and tugged harder at her restraints.
“I haven’t mixed things up like this in decades,” Perry mocked, “but I’m quite certain it’s like riding a bicycle.”
Perry groaned in satisfaction and LeDoux made a sound...not a scream, more a whimper of defeat. Bobbie squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lips together to hold back her own screams.
“Mmm,” Perry crowed, “you are so tight, Agent LeDoux. And so hot.”
LeDoux moaned in agony. The sound of the bastard thrusting had Bobbie squeezing her eyes shut more tightly. Memories of all those weeks he had tortured her...raped her...swam in her head. The smell of him, the sound of his breathing and the smack, smack of skin as he pounded into her...
“Later, when I’ve finished my work with the lovely detective,” Perry said, “I’m going to sever your balls and cock from your body, Agent LeDoux, and shove them down your throat. It’ll be interesting to see what comes first—choking to death or bleeding out.”
Bobbie had to do something. Determination burned through the fear and uncertainty. The photo Nick had shown her bloomed into vivid focus in her mind.
She forced her eyes open and turned just in time to see the sick piece of shit fastening his trousers. His side was bleeding worse now. Die, you son of a bitch.
“Now.” He straddled Gwen’s body and removed the noose from her neck, allowing her head to drop back to the floor like a loose, fractured bowling ball. “Since time is of the essence, we should begin, Detective.”
Squashing the agony and fear rising inside her, Bobbie produced a smile. “Poor Gaylon, you have no idea what’s happened.” She shook her head. “He took her, and now she’s going to be very upset with you.”
“You should be well aware, Detective, that mind games don’t work with me.” Perry crouched next to her and traced the fingertips of his left hand from her throat to her navel, pausing a moment at her breasts.
As hard as she tried not to react, her body trembled.
Perry smiled. “Let’s not waste any more time.” He yanked t
he Saint Christopher charm from her neck and dragged the bloodstained noose over her head.
Bobbie’s heart thundered. “You don’t care that he took her? He told me he’s going to cut her into little pieces and mail her to you in prison.”
Gaylon tightened the noose around her neck to the point she could scarcely breathe. “Very well, Bobbie. I’ll play your little game. Who did he take?”
“Your mother, of course. Loved the red dress you picked for her to be buried in. It covered all those hideous scars so well.”
Thirty-Seven
Gardendale Drive, 4:15 p.m.
Nick slowed as he passed Bobbie’s house. The crime scene tape on her door made his gut clench.
She’d left from here and somehow gone to the Ryan Ridge house. Perry had taken her from there. Her cell phone vibrated with another incoming call. He dragged it from his pocket and checked the screen. She had dozens of missed calls from the members of her team and the chief.
“Why didn’t you wait for me, Bobbie?”
Before coming here Nick had questioned the clerk at the convenience store down the road from the Ryan Ridge house. Cops were crawling all over the subdivisions in the neighborhood, questioning residents and looking for anything at all that would point them in the right direction.
They weren’t going to find what they needed.
Nick’s gaze shifted to the far end of the street. Quintero lorded over this neighborhood; nothing happened here without his knowledge. He had no doubt seen Bobbie leave.
Nick eased off the brake and headed in that direction. Anticipation had his pulse racing. He parked at the house he and Bobbie had visited after LeDoux’s shirt and badge had been discovered at her door. He emerged and walked across the yard. The usual crew lounged on the porch.
The biggest of the five said, “He’s waiting for you.”
Not entirely surprised, Nick walked to the door and went inside without the formality of a pat down. Then again, since he wasn’t wearing a jacket it was fairly obvious that he wasn’t armed.
Quintero sat on the sofa, one of his men seated on either side of him. What looked like a porn flick played on a wall-mounted television. Quintero raised the remote and muted the sound.
