by L. A. Witt
Ben set his jaw in a look that was surprisingly familiar, and I raced to intervene before things could get worse. “Are you both okay?”
They turned their matching glares on me, and I swallowed.
“We’re fine,” Andreas said, his voice terse. “But Ben needs to get his ass on a plane—”
“I’m not going anywhere—”
“—and get back home—”
“—a witness, what if they need to interview me again?”
“—or so help me God, I will—”
“—not going anywhere before I know they’re safe!”
“You’re not safe, what don’t you understand about that? They recognized you on sight, Ben, and you’re the only one who got away. What makes you think they won’t come after you again?” Andreas demanded.
“I’ll stay at your place.”
“It’s not secure enough.”
“Then the hotel—”
“Are you deliberately misunderstanding me, or—”
“Then put me in police protection, but I’m not going anywhere!” Tears stood out in Ben’s eyes, but he held his ground. “Dad, I’m sorry, but I can’t. I just can’t, not until I know they’re back, not until I can see them. I can’t be the only one to not be a part of things, to not . . . know.” Know if they’re still alive, his body language screamed.
Andreas sighed. “Putting you into police protection isn’t so easy.”
Ben frowned. “You’re a cop. What’s hard about it?”
Aaand we were about to get into territory that Ben probably hadn’t heard a lot about yet. If Andreas hadn’t given him the details of our last few cases and why so many cops had blacklisted us, now wasn’t the time for that revelation. Fortunately, I had a temporary fix. “Let me call Vic. Ben can stay with my folks tonight.”
Ben looked puzzled, but Andreas got it immediately. I saw a little of the tension ease from his shoulders, and took the opportunity to jam the crutches he was holding back under his armpits where they belonged.
“Vic’s my stepdad, and the former police commissioner,” I explained to Ben. “He knows how to handle a situation like this, and he can keep you safe.”
“You think him and your mom have time for this right now, with . . .” Andreas’s voice trailed off, but I took his meaning.
“I think they could use the distraction, honestly.” I knew Mom could. The fact that Asher was deteriorating so fast was making her sick with worry. She needed someone to take care of, if only for a night. “Is that okay with you?” I asked Ben. “They live close, you can stay in the loop, and tomorrow is another day, right?”
“Mom might be here tomorrow,” he said glumly, and I winced inside. Of course Andreas’s ex-wife had to be informed that two of her kids had been kidnapped. Of course she was coming out. “But yeah, it’s okay with me.”
“Great. Let me call Vic.”
By the time I’d finished talking to my stepdad, Andreas and Ben had made up—at least enough for his son to lean his head against Andreas’s shoulder, crutches be damned. Andreas had one hand on the back of Ben’s head, just holding gently, and while I could see the lines of pain in his face, I wasn’t about to tell him to let go and take care of himself. Not yet, at least.
Vic arrived five minutes later, lights flashing on the top of his Honda.
“Way to abuse your privileges,” I called out to him as I waved him over. A cop tried to stop him, but Vic leveled his best “son, don’t fuck with me” look at him, flashed the badge he wasn’t still supposed to have, and was let through with an apology.
Vic was a few inches shorter than me, fifty pounds heavier, and way more badass than any guy his age had a right to be. I filled him in on the details, then finished up with, “I don’t think anyone’s going to come after him, not now that we know to be on our guard, but we’d rather not risk it. I really appreciate your help.”
“It’s the least your mom and I can do.”
I led Vic over to Andreas and Ben. Someone had grabbed Ben’s and Casey’s luggage out of their rental car, and it was stacked in a pile beside them. The suitcases were identical. I knew Andreas’s kids were all close, but I’d never heard anything about either of his boys without both of them being mentioned. Ben was doing his best not to stare at the bags, and—yeah. He needed a distraction tonight.
I made the introductions, and Vic was as perfect as he always was with victims. He had a way of calming people down that was incredible—the only reason Asher had been able to live at home for as long as he had was the fact that Vic could usually talk him out of his rages. He shook Ben’s hand, then actually leaned in and gave Andreas a hug and a gruff, “Sit down before you fall down,” that would have gotten my head bitten off but just got him a nod, which was hardly fair. Vic hoisted both bags like they weighed nothing. “Come on, Ben.”
“You’ll call me again tonight,” Ben demanded of his father.
“I will.”
“And first thing tomorrow, and whenever you hear anything important. Right? Swear.”
“You’ll be first on my list,” Andreas said. “Remember to ice that rib, and if it’s still bad tomorrow, we’re going to the hospital whether you like it or not.”
Ben shook his head. “I’m fine.” He looked at me. “Thanks . . . for saving me.”
I wished I’d done so much more, but I was grateful that at least Ben was out of harm’s way for now. “Of course.”
He left with Vic, and as soon as they pulled away, I felt Andreas sag beside me. “Seriously, you need to sit,” I said, and tugged him back over to the bench. “And you need a pain pill.”
“I’m not taking any of those.”
“Andreas . . .”
He caught my eyes, and I couldn’t look away. It was like being mesmerized by a snake the second before it struck. Those eyes said, Don’t push me. His mouth said, “They fog me up, and I can’t afford that right now. Not until my kids are safe. You hear me?”
“Then ibuprofen,” I managed. “Something safe, something non-narcotic. Seriously, you need something to function if you’re going to be able to go at this hard.”
“Fine. Later.” He jerked his head toward the restaurant. “What’s happening in there?”
“Police are taking witness statements; I talked to the staff. We’re getting the surveillance video.”
“Who’s directing all this?”
“Mark Thibedeau.”
Andreas shut his eyes for a moment. “It figures.”
“Hey, it could be worse. At least we know he’s not going to try to stab us in the back.” He’d gotten rid of the chip he’d had on his shoulder back when Andreas and I were first partnered up. He’d been convinced Andreas was a dirty cop, and tried to use me to nail him. It hadn’t turned out exactly like he’d envisioned, but ever since Erin had come to town, we’d had a truce with the guy.
“I want to see the camera footage.”
“As soon as we get back to the station—”
“I don’t want to watch it for the first time surrounded by a bunch of fucking trauma junkies,” he snapped. “I’m not going to give them their fix, and if there’s something bad in there, I need to know it now.”
What was bad beyond getting kidnapped and . . . Oh. Right. I’d seen Casey forced into the car, but neither of us knew how the girls had been taken. If one of them had been hurt, or God forbid—
My stomach cramped, and I nodded. “Yeah. Okay. There are monitors in the manager’s office.” I stood up and tried to help him to his feet, but Andreas brushed me off and made his way, slow but steady on his crutches, back into the restaurant. I showed him to the manager’s office, where Thibedeau was already staring at a screen on the wall with a pensive expression.
When he saw us, he immediately shook his head. “This isn’t smart, Ruffner. You shouldn’t be a part of the investigation. Your participation could be used against us later in court as a conflict of interest.”
“You want to try and throw me out?” An
dreas sounded deceptively calm. “I don’t recommend it. You can’t keep me off this case, so work with me or get the hell out of my way.”
Thibedeau stared at him for a long moment before finally turning back to the monitors. He held up a remote and rewound. “This is the view from the front.” He started the silent video just as the back of Ben and Casey’s car was clipped by a black SUV—a Suburban, maybe, not the most common car ever but hardly unique. Whoever the driver was, he knew what he was doing—he hit the boys’ car just hard enough to knock it askew but not noticeably damage his own vehicle. Two men got out, carrying what looked like saps. One of them hit Casey in the stomach to double him over, put him into a fireman’s carry, and literally threw him into the car a few seconds later.
The other guy went after Ben, but there I was, gun drawn, apparently shouting—I couldn’t even remember shouting. We exchanged shots, and the windshield on the car right next to me shattered. Shit, that had been closer than I’d thought. They retreated, a third guy ran into the car from the side—it had to be the person who’d tripped Andreas; he wasn’t in the frame for most of it—while I got an arm around Ben, and then they drove off. No license plate.
“I’ve got people going after cameras that might get a glimpse of them farther down the road,” Thibedeau said. “Now, the view from the back.” He cued it up and pressed Play without another word.
Compared to the scene out front, this was almost tame. A dark-colored sedan idled in the alley behind the restaurant. Erin suddenly appeared in the picture, moving quickly, her arms wrapped tight around Emily, who looked like she was holding on to her big sister with all her might. The masked man behind them opened the door and motioned them in with a subtle wave of his hand—what was he holding? A gun, a taser? I couldn’t quite make it out. They got in, and just before the door shut—
It had to be an accident, there was no way Emily would have done it deliberately, but as the door was about to shut, Emily stared right into the camera. Half of her face was hidden against her sister’s shoulder, but her eyes were visible, wide and filled with panicky tears. Even without sound, it was clear she was crying, shaking with the force of her sobs. She was a terrified little girl in the arms of a terrified young woman, and I didn’t even realize my own eyes were wet until Thibedeau stopped the video.
“I’ll meet you two back at the precinct,” he said quietly, and shut the door behind himself as he left.
Andreas was still staring at the screen, where the car that had taken his daughters away was frozen half on, half off the monitor. He looked exhausted, in pain, and absolutely, utterly murderous.
Maybe Thibedeau was right. Maybe Andreas shouldn’t be working this case. It wasn’t going to be good for him. But then, at this point, what was? The only thing that could fix the damage that had been done was bringing his kids home safe and sound, and I was determined we’d do it. “You ready to get back to work?” I asked.
“Let’s go.”
Everything between the restaurant and the precinct was hazy. Darren suggested—once—that I take it easy while he and Thibedeau spearheaded the investigation. He offered to stop for coffee, but both Lisa and I declined. Otherwise, the ride was silent.
It didn’t seem that way, though. My ears were still ringing with my son’s anger, my ex-girlfriend’s panic, and my other kids’ absence. They were gone. I couldn’t make sense of it.
And while I was relieved beyond words that at least Ben was safe, his shaken presence made this whole thing too real. If not for him and Lisa, everything at the restaurant might’ve felt like a normal crime scene, if there was such a thing. A normal night where I didn’t see any of my kids because I rarely saw them. Ben standing there, holding his side protectively, eyes wide and face pale, made the disappearance of his siblings too real and too raw. I wanted to take him home, lock down my apartment, and keep him safe under 24/7 surveillance until I was absolutely sure nothing would take him away from me, but I couldn’t. Because I had to find Casey, Erin, and Emily. And I wasn’t even sure if I could have kept Ben safe because his brother and sisters had been taken right in front of me.
Thank God for Darren. He had an impossibly cool head, and he’d thought quickly, coming up with a place for Ben. As soon as he’d suggested his mom and stepdad’s place, it had seemed so obvious, though I felt terrible for putting more on their shoulders than they already had. Somehow, I’d had the presence of mind to discreetly brief Ben on the situation with Asher. Enough that he wouldn’t be blindsided if Vic and Jessica suddenly had to rush off to the home where their older son was living. The last thing Ben needed tonight was another surprise.
Watching him get into the car with Vic, I’d been relieved that he had someplace safe to go, but I’d also been hit with the most profoundly powerless feeling. He was out of my sight now. Out of my hands. Safe and accounted for, but what kind of father let his son go at a time like this?
One who needed to find his other three kids.
Who were gone.
Who might not even still be—
No. Not going down that mental road. They were alive and well until proven otherwise.
Lisa’s silence was unnerving. In the rearview, I surreptitiously watched her staring out the window, face blank and eyes distant. She was tough. Always had been. Like the day we’d found out she was HIV-positive, and that there was a chance our unborn child might be as well, she’d collapsed in panic at first, but then pulled herself together. Same thing tonight. It was almost jarring when she did that. The palpable fear. The hysterical tears. And then . . . this. Stoic, rigid silence. That day half a decade ago, I’d thought she was shutting down and going almost catatonic, but when she’d spoken again, I’d realized she was regrouping. The shock hadn’t worn off, but it was like a switch inside her flipped from “this is catastrophic” to “it’s going to stay that way unless I get myself together and figure things out.”
“The doctor says there are medications to keep this under control,” she’d said with eerie, almost monotone calm. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow about options. And about the baby.” She’d paused and looked me right in the eye. “We’ll need to get you tested too.”
At the precinct, Darren pulled up to the elevator to let us out, and we waited there while he went to park.
Lisa took a breath. “Do you think Ben will be all right?” The question was flat and robotic.
I nodded. “He’s in good hands.”
“Good.” She exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over her face, and the slight tremor betrayed her cool exterior. “So what now?”
“Now we figure out who might have a motive.”
She blinked. “What the hell kind of motive would make someone—”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t need to figure it out,” I snapped.
Lisa jumped.
I sighed, slumping over my crutches. “I’m sorry. I . . . I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. I think we’re both going to be wound tight for a while.”
Our eyes locked, and once again, I went back to that crisis when she was pregnant. We hadn’t been in a good place at the time. Having a baby had promised to be the kiss of death to our already floundering relationship. But when the news came—when she was diagnosed and, shortly after that, so was I—we’d needed each other too much. We’d agreed to put aside everything, to rally around each other, and get through it. Had we not done that, I had no idea how either of us would have stayed sane.
If ever we needed to pull ourselves together again, this was it.
I touched her arm. “We’ll find her.”
Lisa put her hand over mine. Her jaw was tight, and she didn’t speak, but she gave a subtle nod.
Darren’s sharp footsteps turned my head. He came toward us, hands in his jacket pockets. We all exchanged looks, but said nothing, and got into the elevator.
As soon as we stepped out of the elevator, it was clear that word about what had happened had made it back to the precinct. People stopped what they were
doing. Froze. Stared. And it wasn’t the usual hostility that Darren and I enjoyed most of the time thanks to our reputations as snitches who worked with Internal Affairs.
We didn’t say anything to anyone, and continued toward our desks.
“Hey, Detectives.” Officer Blaine—one of those fresh-faced, perfectly-squared-away types who’d driven me insane even back in my academy days—approached. His eyes were wide. “I heard what happened. Listen, uh, if there’s anything any of us can do, we—”
“We’ll let you know.”
“I mean it.” The earnestness in his tone was . . . well, it annoyed me on most days, but he was talking about helping find my kids. “Everyone here adores Erin. Whatever we can do.”
Ah, that explained it. The whole building loved my daughter. Ironic, considering she was working for Detective Thibedeau. The fact that she could charm the ranks despite working for IA said a lot about her personality.
But at this point, I’d take all the help I could get. “Thank you, Officer.”
“Do you have any leads? Anything?”
I gritted my teeth, and lucky for him, I didn’t have the energy to snap back that if I had a lead, I wouldn’t be here.
Darren spoke up first. “We’re doing what we can.”
That seemed to satisfy Blaine, and he didn’t push the issue.
We kept walking.
“Think we should grab a conference room?” Darren asked.
“Don’t know what good it’ll do us until—” I glanced at Lisa. “Until we have something to work with.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
I carefully took a seat at my desk, propped my crutches against the wall, and rested my fucked-up foot on a chair I’d brought over when I’d come back to work between surgeries. My ankle was throbbing like mad now, but I didn’t dare complain or so much as grimace, or Darren would get on my case about taking a pain pill. He meant well. I understood. But I needed to be clearheaded so I could find my kids.
Lisa leaned against another desk and folded her arms loosely across her chest. “So, we start by figuring out the motive?”
