by Karen Rose
“Jared,” she murmured. “I remember him. He thought he was God’s gift to women in high school. I had no idea he was one of the ones who…” She let the thought trail.
Who’d raped her. Luke shoved his anger aside. She was coping. So would he. “Jared went missing a few years ago. We think the others in the club got rid of him because they were afraid he’d talk, give them up. I was up all night gathering all the information I could find on Jared O’Brien and his family. This morning everything looked good. I found out his younger brother Mack was just released from prison. Mack had grudges against all the dead women. He’s our primary suspect. We were ready to roll. We had tails on the two rapists we’d ID’d and a BOLO out on Mack O’Brien.”
“Why didn’t you just pick up the mayor and the deputy?”
“Two reasons. One, we still don’t know the identity of the third man.”
“If you arrested the mayor and the deputy, they’d likely roll on the third man.”
“Maybe. And maybe he’d go under and we’d never find him. Mostly we didn’t bring them in because Mack O’Brien has been using his victims to draw out the surviving club members. They killed his brother. He wanted revenge.”
“And once you’d arrested them all, he’d figure he was finished and go away.”
“Basically. We’d planned a simultaneous sweep, once we’d located O’Brien, but Mansfield changed that. Sonofabitch.”
“He killed his tail. Agent Johnson. I am sorry.”
Me, too. “We’ll find Mansfield and we’ve got teams out searching for O’Brien. I just hope when we find Mansfield, he leads us to Bailey.” And if not, I’ll make the toad tell us where she is.
“You told Alex Fallon not to give up hope, but do you really think Bailey is still alive?”
He shrugged. “She’s been gone a week. Like you said before, it doesn’t look good.”
A cell phone trilled and Susannah leaned forward to get her purse.
“It’s my phone,” Luke said and frowned at the display. “It’s Daniel.” He listened, his frown deepening, then hung up, turning to Susannah. “You’ll have to take a later flight.”
She grabbed the armrest as he did a fast U-turn. “Why? Where are we going?”
“Back to Dutton. Daniel said he got a call from Sheriff Loomis.”
“And?” Susannah said, clearly irked.
“Loomis says he knows where Bailey Crighton is being held.”
“The same Sheriff Loomis who’s being investigated by your state attorney’s office for tampering with evidence in the murder of Alex Fallon’s sister thirteen years ago?” she asked sarcastically. “I saw it on the front page of the newspaper on your desk.”
Luke punched his accelerator. “The same Sheriff Loomis who’s blocked every attempt to find Bailey? Yes, that’s the sheriff I’m talking about.”
“For God’s sake. And you believe him?”
“No, but we can’t ignore this lead. Bailey’s life could very well depend on it. Daniel’s supposed to meet Loomis at the mill site. He said you’d know where that was.”
“The O’Brien mill? That would certainly be ironic.”
“Wouldn’t it? But we’ve had teams combing the current mill looking for Mack O’Brien all day. Daniel said out past the old mill. Do you know where that is?”
She bit at her lip. “Yes, but I haven’t been out there since I was in fourth grade and we went on a field trip. Nobody goes there anymore- it’s a pile of rubble and too dangerous. Plus, there’s a sulfur spring nearby and the whole area smells like rotten eggs. I don’t think even kids go there to smoke or make out anymore.”
“But can you find the road?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all I wanted to know. Hold on, it could get bumpy.”
Dutton, Friday, February 2, 3:30 p.m.
Too much time had passed. Rocky checked the restraints on each of the five girls, careful not to meet their eyes. They were looking at her. A few with defiance, but mostly with desperation and despair. But she didn’t look back. Instead she climbed to the deck and frowned at Jersey Jameson, the old man who owned this boat. He’d been fishing this river his whole life, quietly smuggling whatever contraband was in vogue at the time. The river patrol never gave Jersey a second glance, so he was good cover.
“Why are we still here?” she hissed.
Jersey pointed to the retreating form of Deputy Mansfield. “He said to wait for him to bring the doctor back. I told him he had five minutes, then I was moving this cargo.” He slanted her a disgusted look. “I’ve hauled a helluva lot of shit for you, Rocky, but nothin’ like this. Tell your boss I ain’t doin’ this again.”
“Tell Bobby yourself.” Jersey ’s jaw tightened and she laughed. “I thought not.” Bobby didn’t take kindly to being told no by anyone. “Where are those guys? I’m about ready to go in after them. They’re supposed to be hauling out what we couldn’t pack.”
“I don’t want to know any more,” Jersey said.
They waited another two minutes and there was no sign of Mans-field. “I’m going after them.” She’d stepped onto the dock when a gunshot cracked the air.
“That came from the road out front,” Jersey said.
Rocky hopped back on the deck. “Let’s move. Now.”
Jersey was already pulling back the throttle. “What about the doc and the deputy?”
“They’re on their own.” Bobby wouldn’t be happy that she’d left bodies behind, and the thought of facing Bobby’s rage made Rocky nauseous. “I’ll be below.”
Dutton, Friday, February 2, 3:35 p.m.
Susannah watched as Luke’s speedometer climbed. This was likely a wild goose chase, she thought darkly as they hit a pothole and went momentarily airborne. Then she remembered the agonized fear in Alex Fallon’s eyes. The woman’s stepsister had been missing a week, her disappearance all wrapped up in this mess Daniel and his partner had been dragged into. They owed it to Bailey to check every lead.
I can catch a flight first thing in the morning. She’d just need to call the kennel and ask them to keep her dog a little longer. Nobody else was depending on her return. Nobody would be waiting for her. It was a dismal truth.
“Daniel called Sheriff Corchran in Arcadia,” Luke said tersely, his eyes focused on the road. “ Arcadia ’s only twenty miles from here, so Corchran should get there soon. Daniel trusts him, so you and Alex will go with him, to where it’s safe. Understood?”
Susannah nodded. “Understood.”
He lifted his brows. “You’re not going to argue?”
“Why would I?” she asked evenly. “I don’t have a gun and I’m not a cop. I’m quite content to let you guys do what you do and take the baton hand-off in court.”
“Fine. Do you drive?”
“Excuse me?”
“Can you drive?” he repeated, enunciating each word. “You live in New York. I know New Yorkers that never get a license.”
“I have a license. I don’t drive often, but I can.” In fact, she only drove once a year, always to the same place, north of the city. On those rare days she rented a car.
“Good. If something goes wrong, you get in the car with Alex and drive. Got it?”
“Got it. But what-?” Susannah blinked, her brain not initially accepting what her eyes saw on the road ahead. “Oh my God. Luke, watch-”
Her shout was lost in the squeal of tires as he threw on his brakes. The car fishtailed and swerved, coming to a stop inches from where a body lay in the road.
“Shit.” Luke was out of the car before she caught her breath and hopped out after him.
It was a woman, crumpled and bloody. Susannah thought she was young, but her face was too battered to be certain. “Did you hit her? My God, did we do this?”
“We didn’t hit her,” he said, hunkering down beside the woman. “She’s been beaten.” From his pocket he pulled two pairs of latex gloves. “Here, put these on.” He yanked on his, then ran his hands down the woman’s le
gs, his touch gentle. When he got to her ankle, he stopped. Susannah leaned forward to see a tattoo of a sheep, barely visible beneath the blood. He lifted the woman’s chin. “Are you Bailey?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice rough and raspy. “My baby, Hope. Is she alive?”
He smoothed Bailey’s tangled hair from her face. “Yes, she’s alive and she’s safe.” He handed Susannah his cell phone. “Call 911 for an ambulance, then call Chase. Tell him we found Bailey. Then call Daniel and tell him to come back.”
Luke ran to his trunk for a first aid kit and Susannah dialed 911, then Special Agent in Charge Chase Wharton, her hands fumbling the keypad in Luke’s oversized gloves.
Bailey grabbed Luke’s arm when he began to bandage the gash on her head that was still bleeding profusely. “Alex?” When Luke looked up the road the way Daniel had gone, Bailey’s eyes filled with new panic. “She was in that car that just went by?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“He’ll kill her. He has no reason not to. He killed them all. He killed them all.”
He killed them all. Susannah’s heart stumbled as she found Daniel’s number on Luke’s speed dial. Daniel’s phone rang as Luke tried to get Bailey to say more.
Luke squeezed Bailey’s chin. “Who? Bailey, listen to me. Who did this to you?” But the woman didn’t speak. She only rocked in a way that was terrifying to behold. “Bailey. Who did this to you?”
Daniel’s voicemail picked up and Susannah left a terse message. “Daniel, we found Bailey. Fall back and call us.” She turned back to Luke. “I called for an ambulance, and Chase says he’s sending Agent Haywood for backup, but Daniel doesn’t answer.”
Luke stood, a muscle twitching in his cheek. “I can’t leave you here. It’ll be another ten minutes before Corchran gets here. Stay here with her,” he commanded. “I’m going to have him send as much local backup as he can muster.”
Susannah knelt by Bailey and smoothed her gloved hand over the woman’s matted hair. “Bailey, my name is Susannah. Please tell us who did this to you.”
Bailey’s eyes fluttered open. “They have Alex.”
“Daniel’s with her,” Susannah soothed. “He won’t let them harm her.” Whatever her issue with Daniel, Susannah believed that. “Did Deputy Mansfield hurt you?”
Bailey’s nod was faint. “And Toby Granville.” Her lips twisted. “Dr. Granville.”
Toby Granville. The missing part of the surviving trio. Susannah started to rise, to get Luke’s attention, but Bailey grabbed her arm. “There’s a girl. Down there.” Weakly she pointed. “She’s hurt. Help her. Please.”
Susannah stood and peered down the embankment but saw nothing. Wait. She squinted at a light patch just inside the tree line. “Luke. There’s someone down there.”
Susannah heard him shout her name, but she was already scrambling down the embankment, stumbling in her high heels and narrow skirt. It was a person, she could see. She started running. A girl. Oh my God. Oh my God.
The girl lay still as death. Susannah dropped to her knees and pressed her fingers to the girl’s neck, feeling for a pulse, and drew a breath, relieved. She was still alive. Her pulse was thready, but there. She was a teenager, petite and so thin her arms were like sticks. She was so covered in blood it was hard to see where she was wounded.
Susannah started to stand so she could wave Luke down, when the girl’s bloody hand shot up and gripped her forearm. The girl’s eyes flew open and in them Susannah saw fear and intense pain.
“Who… are you?” the girl choked out.
“My name is Susannah Vartanian. I’m here to help you. Please don’t be afraid.”
The girl fell back, gasping. “Vartanian. You came.” Then Susannah’s heart stopped in her chest. The girl was staring up at her like… like she was God. “You finally came.”
Susannah gingerly pulled at the girl’s tattered T-shirt until she saw the bullet hole. Panicked, she let the shirt fall. Oh, God. She’d been shot in the side. Now what?
Think, Vartanian. You remember what to do. Pressure. She needed to put pressure on the wound. Quickly she stripped off her jacket, then her blouse, shivering when the cold air hit her skin. “What’s your name, honey?” she asked as she worked, but the girl said nothing, her eyes again closed.
Susannah lifted the girl’s eyelids. No response, but she still found a pulse. Rapidly she wound her blouse into a tight ball and gently pressed it to the wound. “Luke!”
She heard the footsteps behind her a second before his snarled curse. A look over her shoulder had her eyes widening at the gun in his hand.
“I told you to stay-Holy Mother of God.” His eyes flicked briefly to her lacy bra, then focused on the girl. “Do you know who she is?”
She dropped her eyes back to her hands, pressed to the girl’s side. “No. Bailey told me to help her while you were on the phone. She also said Granville and Mansfield were the ones holding her.”
“Granville.” He nodded. “The town doctor. I met him this week at one of the crime scenes. So he’s the third rapist.”
“I think so.”
“Did the girl say anything to you?”
Susannah frowned. “She said my last name, then ‘You came. You finally came.’ Like she was expecting me.” Then she looked at me like I was God. It made her uneasy. “She’s been shot and she’s lost a lot of blood. Give me your belt. I need to wrap it around her to put pressure on this wound.”
She heard the whistle of his belt being drawn through his belt loops. “Put on your jacket,” he said, “and go wait with Bailey.”
“But-”
He dropped to one knee, briefly met her eyes. “I’ll take care of her. Whoever did this might still be around. I don’t want Bailey alone.” He hesitated. “Can you handle a gun?”
“Yes,” Susannah answered without hesitation.
“Good.” He drew a pistol from an ankle holster. “Now run. I’ll carry her.”
Susannah grabbed her jacket and shoved her arms in the sleeves. “Luke, she’s just a kid. She’s going to die if we don’t get her help soon.”
“I know,” he said grimly, slipping his belt around the girl’s body. “Now go. I’ll follow.”
Chapter Three
Dutton, Friday, February 2, 3:45 p.m.
Luke was tightening the straps on his Kevlar vest when two Arcadia squad cars pulled up. A man got out, taking in the scene. “I’m Corchran. Where’s Vartanian?”
“Right here.” Susannah looked up from where she knelt between Bailey and the girl. The jacket she’d buttoned up to her throat was covered in blood, as was her skirt. The pair of plastic gloves Luke had given her dwarfed her small hands, which continued to put pressure on the hole in the girl’s side. “Where’s the damn ambulance?”
Corchran frowned. “En route. Who are you?”
“This is Susannah Vartanian, Daniel’s sister,” Luke said. “I’m Papadopoulos.”
“So where is Daniel Vartanian?” Corchran asked.
Luke pointed. “He went that way and he’s not answering his cell or his radio.”
Corchran’s brows bunched in obvious concern. “Who are these two?”
“The woman is Bailey Crighton,” Luke said. “The girl’s a Jane Doe. Both are unconscious. I have a chopper coming to airlift them to Atlanta. It’s possible whoever did this is still holed up wherever these two women escaped from.” He drew an uneasy breath. “And I think Daniel’s in trouble. Now that you’re here, I’m going after him.”
Corchran pointed to the two officers from the second squad car. “Officers Larkin and DeWitt. I have six more officers plus another ambulance on the way and reinforcements standing by. Larkin and DeWitt can stay and direct the incoming vehicles. I’m with you.”
“Agent Pete Haywood will be here soon. When he gets here, send him after us.” He nodded to Corchran. “Let’s do this.”
“Agent Papadopoulos, wait.” Susannah handed him his backup pistol. “I don’t need it anymore and y
ou might.” She went back to putting pressure on the girl’s wound.
She’d been calm and courageous and level-headed. When he had a chance to breathe, Luke knew he’d be impressed as hell, once again. And he knew he’d be mentally replaying how she looked kneeling in the forest in her bra. But now he needed to focus. Daniel’s life could depend on it.
“If Bailey comes to, get her to tell any details she can. Number of men inside, doors, weapons she saw. Have Larkin radio us with anything, no matter how small.”
She didn’t look up. “All right.”
“Then let’s roll.”
They approached silently, Luke in his own car and Corchran following behind. He rounded a bend, and Luke’s heart simply froze. “Oh my God,” he whispered. Ambush. Frank Loomis had set Daniel up.
Luke was looking at a concrete bunker, at least a hundred feet long. Behind the bunker he could see the river. In front of the bunker were parked three cars. Two were Dutton squad cars. The third was Daniel’s sedan, its rear crashed up against one of the Dutton squad cars, which was parked across the road, blocking Daniel’s escape.
Both front doors of Daniel’s car stood open and Luke could see Daniel’s driver side window was streaked with blood. Quietly Luke approached, gun drawn, his heart thundering in his ears. He silently motioned Corchran to the passenger side.
Luke silently exhaled the breath he’d held. Daniel’s car was empty. Corchran leaned in the passenger side. “Blood,” he murmured, pointing to the dash. “Not a lot. And hair.” He picked up a few strands from the floorboard. It was long and brown.
“It’s Alex’s,” Luke said quietly, then saw the male body on the ground, about forty feet away. Running, he dropped to one knee next to the body. “It’s Frank Loomis.”
“Dutton’s sheriff.” Corchran looked pained. “He’s involved in all this, too?”
