Touch of Red

by Laura Griffin

  Sean’s heart lurched.

  “A carjacking?” Jasper glanced at him. “What the hell?”

  Sean reached over and switched on the siren. “Floor it.”

  • • •

  Pain roared through Brooke’s skull, so loud it dominated all her senses. It had a sound, an odor, a taste. It had a definite feel, like someone thumping relentlessly against her brain with a hammer.

  Where am I?

  Her thoughts were murky, as if she were waking up from a dream or a nightmare to the world’s worst hangover.

  But it wasn’t a nightmare. No. With an icy blast of clarity, she realized this was real. She wasn’t asleep and she wasn’t hungover. She was awake and in agony and . . . moving. The surface under her vibrated, adding a steady hum to the bursts of pain already pulsing through her head.

  She tried to open her eyes. But she couldn’t. They wouldn’t move. Panic zinged through her until she realized they were open, and she was staring into darkness because she had something over her head. That realization brought another zing of fear.

  Breathe, she told herself. Don’t panic. And definitely don’t move.

  She wasn’t sure why or how, but she somehow knew that moving wouldn’t be good. Moving would draw attention, and she was better off staying still.

  Brooke’s body jolted, sending darts of pain everywhere. She realized she was in a car.

  Cameron.

  The silver car.

  The man with the ice.

  Flashes of memory emerged from the void, but she couldn’t get a clear picture.

  Where the hell am I?

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force her brain to remember. She pictured the bumper of the silver car as she approached it. She pictured tapping on the trunk, and she remembered the burst of hope at the answering thud.

  Cameron was in this car with her.

  He was in the trunk, and she . . . was in the backseat. Curled on the floor with something dark wrapped around her head. A blindfold? A T-shirt? She didn’t know. Slowly, carefully, she tried to move her hands, but they wouldn’t budge. Her wrists were bound together in front of her, bound so tightly she couldn’t feel her fingers as she tried to flex them.

  And there were voices. Low, male, close by. They’d notice if she moved or made the slightest sound.

  Cold sweat seeped from her pores as she tried to think of what to do. She was bound and blindfolded, being taken to an unknown place for an unknown purpose. The pain pulsing through her brain made it impossible to think, much less come up with a plan.

  Another jolt. Another stifled yelp.

  The voices stopped. She heard a squeak of leather as someone turned to look at her.

  “She awake?”

  A fresh spurt of panic went through her. Brooke bit down on her tongue and tried not to scream.

  • • •

  Sean felt like he was going to jump out of his skin.

  “Where’s the chopper?” he yelled above the noise around him.

  “We’re working on it,” Reynolds said over the phone. His department didn’t have a police helicopter, so they had to coordinate with the county, and multiple agencies meant multiple delays. The first 911 call had come in thirty-two minutes ago, and still no one had spotted the Audi. “Should be soon. And the Amber Alert should be up any minute.”

  Sean got off with his lieutenant and crossed the parking lot to the white pickup truck where a sheriff’s deputy was interviewing a man who had witnessed the “carjacking” that had actually been a kidnapping.

  Sean had already talked to the guy. The man had watched as a young woman was struck in the head and then shoved into the back of a car. While the witness was calling 911, the car sped away and turned west onto the frontage road that picked up the interstate.

  “And you’re sure it was west?” the deputy was asking him.

  “I’m sure.”

  Sean couldn’t listen to him anymore. The guy was easily six-two, 210 pounds. If he’d rushed to intervene, he might have saved Brooke, but instead he’d stood there with his thumb up his ass.

  Sean stalked back to the patrol car, where Jasper was on the radio.

  “Still no sign of them,” Jasper told Sean.

  State troopers and sheriff’s units had been combing the interstate in both directions for twenty minutes, but no one had seen the Audi, and Sean was beginning to think they were looking in the wrong place.

  “Gimme your keys,” he told Jasper.

  “Why?”

  “I have to get out of here. I have to look.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “Fine, but I’m driving.”

  Jasper tossed him the keys, and they jumped into the car. Sean peeled out of the lot, hooking a right onto Highway 46.

  “I thought the witnesses said they got on the interstate?”

  “I think they got off.”

  “Why?”

  “We’ve got half a dozen units looking, and no sign of them. I’m headed south.”

  Sean hit the gas as he checked his phone. Still no Amber Alert. He looked up at the sky. And still no sign of the police chopper.

  He glanced at Jasper. “What?”

  “Isn’t that a gamble? Going south when all the witnesses said they went west?”

  Sean didn’t answer. Instead he stomped the gas.

  • • •

  The sharp pain had morphed into a sickening lump in Brooke’s stomach, and she fought the urge to throw up. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself on the floor of the car as they bumped along the road.

  The noisy highway had given way to uneven asphalt many minutes ago. Then that, too, had disappeared, and now they were bumping along on a severely rutted road that was making Brooke dizzier by the minute.

  She thought of Cameron in the trunk with his nervous stomach. She prayed he was alive and hadn’t succumbed to suffocation or anything else. Had he been injured when they put him in there? Had they come up behind him with a blow to the head? Or maybe they’d threatened him with a gun.

  Then again, he was little for his eleven years, and maybe they’d simply grabbed him and tossed him in the trunk.

  You’re not alone, Cam. I’m here.

  CHAPTER 26

  Callie was about to leave the Delphi Center when she got a call from Sean.

  “Where are you?” he demanded.

  “Hey, nice greeting.”

  “Brooke and Cameron have been kidnapped!”

  “Are you serious?” she asked. But she could tell he was by the panic in his voice.

  “She got grabbed at a truck stop. Where are you now?”

  “At Delphi. I talked to Alex Lovell, and she ran down some info for us.”

  No answer.

  Callie glanced around the lobby, which was busy with geeky-looking people hurrying to and fro. Some wore lab coats, others were in jeans and pocket protectors. Many carried cups from the coffee shop, which was where Callie had met with Alex just a few minutes ago.

  “Sean? Did I lose you?”

  “I’m here. What’d she say?”

  “Alex traced the location of that Gmail user to an internet-café-slash-barbecue-joint in Latham, Texas. That’s in Marshall County.”

  “Internet and barbecue?”

  “Weird combo, I know. It’s a small town.”

  “What’s there? Any address listing for a Mahoney?”

  “I tried that. I tried the name Hurd, too, but no luck.” Callie stepped away from the traffic flow to stand beside the lobby windows. She put her phone on speaker so she could manipulate the maps app on her phone.

  “So, what the hell’s in Latham? Why would Mahoney go there? I need a destination, and I need it ASAP.”

  “I’m working on it.” She zoomed in on the map, scanning the various streets and highways. The town was so small, almost no businesses were labeled. There was a post office, a grocery store, a meat processor. On the outskirts of town was a taxidermy shop.

  “There�
��s not much here,” she told Sean.

  “I need a lead. Have you talked to Mahoney’s wife? She’s bound to know why he goes down there.”

  “I haven’t talked to her. Last I heard, she wasn’t home, but Christine was trying to get her whereabouts from the maid who answered the door.”

  “Shit.”

  “I know you’re worried, Sean.”

  He didn’t respond, but she could feel his anxiety coming straight through the airwaves.

  “We’ll locate them, okay? Sit tight.” Callie glanced up at all the people bustling through the lobby.

  Travis Cullen stood out. Broad shouldered, athletic. He stepped onto an elevator and turned around. His gaze settled on Callie as the doors slid shut.

  “Sean? I need to check on something. I’ll call you right back.”

  Callie stuffed her phone into her pocket and darted for the elevators, grabbing one just as the doors were closing. But it was headed up, of course, and she waited impatiently for everyone to get off on their various floors before she jabbed the button for the basement level where Travis worked.

  She got off and jogged down the dimly lit corridor, accompanied by the pop-pop of gunfire coming from the firearms lab.

  The door to the tool-marks lab was closed and locked, but Callie pounded on it anyway. He had to be here. She’d just seen him.

  “Looking for someone?”

  She turned around. Travis stood in the doorway of the firearms lab down the hall. He wore eye protectors and held a black pistol at his side.

  “I need help.”

  His brows arched.

  “It’s urgent,” she added because she was obviously interrupting something.

  He disappeared from the doorway, then reappeared a moment later without the gun or the eye protectors. In a few strides he was beside her, using his badge to swipe into the office.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “We’ve got a missing person. Two.” Callie didn’t have time to go into the whole story, so she jumped ahead. “That hunting knife you tested for us. You found human and animal blood on it, correct?”

  He switched on a light and led her into the office. “The four-inch serrated blade, full tang.”

  “That’s right. Any chance you know what kind of animal blood that was?”

  He walked to a laptop sitting open on a counter and tapped a few keys. She hurried over to watch as he pulled up the report.

  “Odocoileus virginianus,” he recited. “Whitetail deer.”

  “Yes!”

  “That’s good news for you?” He gave her a puzzled smile.

  “Maybe.” Callie whipped out her phone and called Christine. “Hey, it’s Callie. You get hold of the wife yet?”

  “She just showed up,” Christine said in a low voice. “I’m standing in her living room while she talks to the maid in the kitchen.”

  “Does she know what’s going on?”

  “Only that police are looking for her husband. The lieutenant didn’t want to freak her out, so I’m here by myself, but she seems pretty alarmed to see me. She’s got card tables set up here, and I get the impression she’s having friends over this afternoon.”

  “Whatever. Listen, I need you to get her alone right now. Don’t give her time to call her attorney or anyone, you got that? Get her alone and ask her the location of her husband’s ranch property in Marshall County. It might be a deer lease.”

  Pause. “Mahoney has a deer lease?”

  “We have reason to believe so, but we don’t know where it is. Only that it’s most likely in Marshall County. Ask her. Now.”

  “Hold on a sec.”

  Callie glanced at Travis, who was sitting there watching her with those nice forearms folded over his chest. She couldn’t read the look in his eyes. “Sorry to interrupt you. You work in the ballistics lab, too?”

  “Only when they’re backlogged. Which is pretty much always.”

  “You like guns?”

  He nodded. “You shoot?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  He gave her a funny look, and Christine was back on the phone.

  “Okay, she’s hedging, I can tell. Not exactly what you would call a cooperative witness.”

  “What’d she say?” Callie gripped her phone, hoping for something usable.

  “She claims she knows nothing about a ranch in Marshall County. Her husband used to have a deer lease there that he shared with his brother, but she said his brother died, and her husband hasn’t gone there in years.”

  “Bullshit he hasn’t.” Callie huffed out a sigh. “I need an address.”

  “I asked her that, but she swears that’s all she knows.”

  “She’s lying. Talk to her again. Tell her if she doesn’t give you a location, you’re going to haul her ass to jail and charge her with obstruction of justice, child trafficking, and conspiracy to commit murder.”

  “You seriously want me to say that to a judge’s wife? I mean, she’s got ladies in pearls showing up here for bridge right now.”

  “You say it or I will! Put her on the phone. We need this information, and we don’t have time to dick around being polite!”

  “Okay, just . . . hold on.”

  Callie closed her eyes and waited, trying not to grind her teeth to nubs. Her phone beeped. It was an incoming call from Sean, but she ignored it.

  “Callie?” Christine sounded breathless as she got back on. “Okay, she spilled.”

  “Tell me you got an address.”

  “I’m texting it now.”

  “Yes! You’re my hero.”

  She hung up with Christine and glanced at Travis, who was watching her with an amused look on his face.

  “Thanks for your help,” she said as she rushed for the door. “I owe you.”

  He smiled. “Definitely my pleasure.”

  • • •

  With every bump and lurch, pain rocketed through Brooke’s body. It seemed like hours now that she’d been knocking around on the floor of this car. With every minute that passed, she knew the chances of Sean or anyone else finding her were growing more and more remote.

  Tears burned her eyes, but she squeezed them back, even though no one could see her crying beneath the hood or the T-shirt or whatever they’d wrapped around her head.

  Breathe. Be calm. Think!

  She had to come up with a plan. For Cameron. Whatever faint chance they had to get out of this depended on her, and she refused to lose hope. Refused. Even though logic told her it would be next to impossible for someone to find them in time. If someone had witnessed them leaving the gas station, that would be one thing. But there had been no sirens or even evasive maneuvers to indicate the driver was trying to outrun somebody.

  No, they were off the grid. Defenseless. Just Brooke and an eleven-year-old boy and at least two armed men who were taking them somewhere extremely remote to do God only knew what.

  Bile rose up in the back of Brooke’s throat.

  She couldn’t let this happen. She had to do something. She pictured her body being dumped into a shallow grave. Then she pictured that grave being excavated. She pictured Sean standing nearby as people in white Tyvek suits dug her remains from the earth. He’d never get over it. He’d feel responsible, as though somehow this were his fault, even though he’d warned her over and over to stay away from his case.

  She thought of sweet young Cameron, and her eyes filled again. She had to get it together and do something. He wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for her. She’d felt connected to him ever since she’d crouched inside that pantry, staring at those cookie crumbs and imagining how events had unfolded.

  Why had she been so clever? So tenacious? So intent on proving to Sean and everyone else that she could glean every last speck of evidence from every crime scene? Deep down, she knew. She’d wanted to show off, to earn their respect. And by doing so she’d endangered the life of an innocent boy.

  Think.

  She sucked a breath through her nos
e, trying to get oxygen to her brain without making a move.

  An idea flickered in her mind. She drew in more air, fueling the idea as it started to grow.

  Brooke sank her teeth into her tongue until the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She swished it with saliva and then quietly spit into the cloth wrapped around her head. She dug her fingers into her palms until the nails bit into her skin and she felt the welcome wetness of blood. Whatever happened here or anywhere else, she would leave her DNA behind for investigators.

  A sharp dip, and her head smacked against the floor. She sucked in a gasp as the car rattled over something. A bridge? Too small. It had to be a cattle guard.

  Brooke’s pulse raced. Her palms were damp now, from a combination of blood and sweat and the pure fear seeping out of her with every passing second.

  The ride grew bumpier and more painful and seemed to go on and on until she wanted to scream.

  They jerked to a stop. Brooke held her breath. She listened. Doors opened, weight shifted, doors slammed shut.

  She stayed perfectly still and listened. She heard nothing but the frantic pounding of her heart. Minutes ticked by. Had they been abandoned?

  The door opened. Big, sharp hands dug under her armpits and dragged her out, then released her to smack her head against the ground.

  The air was cold. Damp. It whipped through her shirt and chilled her sweat-soaked skin.

  A low grunt near her ear as someone dragged her backward and leaned her against the car.

  “Don’t move.” The voice was harsh and commanding, but it didn’t belong to the judge. His bailiff, maybe?

  A metallic pop.

  Brooke went rigid with fear as she listened to something being pulled from the trunk.

  Then a squirming, sniveling body was lowered to the ground beside her, and Brooke’s heart squeezed because, thank God, he was alive.

  Their shoulders didn’t touch, but Cameron’s warmth penetrated her skin, along with his terror. His breath came in short, choppy gasps, and she hoped he wasn’t having an asthma attack.

  Calm down, Cam. It’s okay. I’ve got you, she tried to tell him with her mind, although it was utterly absurd, and she didn’t have anything, not a damn thing, that would get them out of this situation. But he had to calm down. She shifted her leg and pressed her knee against him.