For some reason her anxiety was reaching peak proportions. Her heart hammered in her throat and she reached for the doorknob. “Sure, Jamie, no problem, just take a look at this, and if you still want to wait for Connor and Dakota that’s no problem.”
The Hero knew he didn’t have much time. She’d entered the office, and the officer had taken his position by the door, arms crossed in front of him, eyes alert. And while the car in the parking lot currently had Dakota’s attention – just as he’d planned – he also knew it would throw a scare into the man and he’d be here within minutes to take Jamie into protective custody.
He fingered the syringe.
It was now or never.
Dakota bypassed the elevator headed to the stairs. The team still worked on the car, but he was anxious to get Jamie in his sights and keep her there. He knew Chet would protect her, plus she was with George, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to be able to see her, to touch her and know she was all right.
He made his way to the morgue and down the hallway. Checking each autopsy room, he saw no sign of Jamie. Same thing with her office.
His ringing phone distracted him for a moment. Checking the caller ID, he answered. “Talk to me, Jazz.”
“I got the picture from the post office. The person who delivered your box of bones was a woman. We’re working on her identity.”
“Can you send a picture of her to my phone?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. And let me know when you get a name.”
“You got it.”
He hung up.
Jamie must still be in George’s office.
Trekking his way back down the hall and around the corner, he saw George’s office door open. No sign of Chet. Entering the office, he called out, “George? Jamie? Chet?”
No answer.
A bad feeling formed in his gut. He crossed to the window and looked out into the parking lot. Jake still worked on the car. Connor talked to an employee. The parking lot had been blocked off.
Had the Hero come into George’s office to get Jamie and found her with George?
So where was Chet?
Dakota moved toward the bathroom.
Empty.
He rounded the desk and pulled up short.
“Chet, aw man. Hang on, buddy, help’s on the way.” Anger, frustration, and fear boiled inside him. Chet lay on his back, eyes blinking, desperately gasping, throat gushing.
Dakota ran to the door, down the hall a little bit. “Hey! Where’s Serena? I need some help in here!”
Two people stuck their heads out of offices. Serena came out of the break room, coffee cup in hand.
Dakota motioned her toward him. “I’ve got a man in here with a slashed throat. He needs help now!”
Serena tossed her coffee in the trash can near the door and raced toward him. “Call the ER, then hand me the phone, he’ll need immediate surgery.”
Snatching his cell phone from his pocket, Dakota got more help on the way, then while Serena did what she could for him, he focused his worry back on Jamie.
His phone buzzed and he pulled up the picture of the woman who’d delivered the box of bones to the post office. He didn’t recognize her – then again, she looked vaguely familiar.
Odd.
A glance back down at the pool of blood left by Chet.
Cold terror splashed through him. He knew without a doubt Jamie was back in the hands of her tormentor from years ago.
He also knew if he didn’t act smart and swift, Jamie would die.
A sound buzzed in her ears. Annoying, persistent, she wanted to tell it to stop. But something held her still. A sense of self-preservation? What was wrong?
A headache pounded her temples, nausea knocked at the back of her throat. And still she made no sound and refused to open her eyes. Was she sick? Maybe. No, that wasn’t it. She was moving. Bouncing in the back of something. A car? A truck?
Her eyes wouldn’t cooperate, wouldn’t open.
Familiar niggling jolted her. Clarity of thought came through for a brief moment. She’d done this before.
The memories hit her with the driving force of a jackhammer. Familiar odors. Her nose twitched. So tired. She tried to open her eyes. Couldn’t.
Something else registered.
Aching wrists clamped in steel.
Soon she would feel the soft mattress beneath her. Smell his putrid breath as he leaned over her …
Her breathing quickened.
Still, she didn’t move. Didn’t dare open her eyes. Didn’t think she could force them open if she had to. So she just stayed still.
“I know you’re awake, Jamie.”
That voice. His voice.
And the terror claimed her. Her mind swirled, turned to mush, and she knew no more.
31
Dakota pounded out Connor’s number on his phone. “Get in here. He’s got Jamie.”
Silence greeted him, then, “I’m on my way.”
Two minutes later, face ash white, Connor rounded the corner and stepped into George’s office. Medical personnel already had Chet on his way to surgery.
“There’s no sign of George or Jamie, Chet had his throat slashed. Serena said the guy was lucky. Our hero,” heavy on the sarcasm, “apparently didn’t think to use more force on Chet than he does on the girls.”
“Is he going to make it?”
“I don’t know. Serena seemed to think so.”
“Where’s Jamie?”
Sick guilt covered him. “I don’t know. There’s no sign of her.”
“He got her out of here somehow. I want to watch the video of all the parking lots around this building.”
“Already got them being pulled.”
“It should only take a few minutes, we know almost exactly when she was taken. You talked to her on her phone, what, fifteen minutes before you came up here to find Chet?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Connor studied the other door that led to the parking lot. “He went out this back entrance.”
“You would have seen him come into the parking lot if he used that entrance.”
“Right. And he knew that. So, since he couldn’t go that way, he had to take a chance and go into the hall.”
“I’ll get video on that too.”
His phone rang before he could dial the number. Jazz.
“What is it, Jazz? Make it fast, will you? Jamie’s missing.”
A swiftly indrawn breath. Then, “You’ll want this. I kept fishing for information on this Howard Wilkins.”
“Yeah? What’d you get?” Oh, Jamie, I’m coming, darling, just hang on, baby.
“Family situation was horrid apparently. He and his sister were taken from the home several times. They’d end up in foster care, then get placed back with Mom after she went through whatever therapy the courts assigned her. They dropped off the radar for a couple of years, then she died, was murdered when Howard was thirteen and his sister was ten. They were split up, placed in different homes. Nothing much after that on the sister. Howard was in and out of the court system until he was about sixteen, then became a model high school student, even graduated with honors. Went on to med school where his problems resurfaced. After he was kicked out of med school, I managed to track his movements. Found out he worked as an x-ray technician under the name of Howard Metcalffe.”
“Why didn’t we know this before?”
“He was very good at hiding. He acquired a fake ID and a new life. Besides, you were in a hurry before and this took some serious digging.”
He shut up, knowing she was right. “What else?”
“I also pulled information on the girl he raped and left for dead during medical school. Her name is Rachelle Jones. She committed suicide not too long after the attack. I talked to her father and he said that after he was done with Rachelle, he went after her boyfriend – George Horton.”
Dakota felt his stomach somersault. “Excuse me? Did you just say … ?”
“Yep. George. So, I pulled his records.”
He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what was coming.
Jazz proved him right. “George graduated at the top of his class as a psychiatrist. Brilliant guy, really. Anyway, two days after graduation, he seemed to disappear. Then he surfaced a few years later working for Eastside Psychiatric Therapists in Spartanburg.”
“Okay, that sounds about right. He now works here at the hospital.”
“Right, or so the information says. I’ve got his college yearbook picture. I’m emailing it to you now.”
“Thanks, Jazz, you’re awesome.”
“Of course.” She hung up and Dakota waited for the email to come in.
When it did, his bad feeling grew to epic proportions.
She had a floating sensation. For some reason she didn’t want to wake up. A bump, the squeal of brakes.
She was in a vehicle.
Moving again.
A turn.
Someone talking on a cell phone.
Nausea swirling. Terror returning. She should be afraid, but she couldn’t think why.
A sharp turn this time, then bumping over something. Gravel? Grass? A back road?
She felt foggy, sleepy, groggy. She knew she needed to wake up but couldn’t get her body to cooperate. Then she remembered.
And let the darkness close back over her.
Dakota, Connor, and Samantha stared at the video. When Connor had called her to tell her Jamie was in the hands of a madman, Samantha had left her bed and driven to the hospital. She now sat in a cushioned chair as the action went on around her.
Dakota could see Connor keeping a close eye on her. He hadn’t wanted to tell her about Jamie but knew it was no use hiding it from her. She’d have found out anyway when Connor called to say he wouldn’t be home.
No one would be sleeping until Jamie was found safe and in one piece.
“There,” Connor pointed to the figure. “He came out of the side door next to his office.”
Samantha leaned forward. “He put the mask on before leaving the office so we don’t have a picture of his face.” Connor pointed to the screen. “He shoved her into a red truck. I can’t see the license.”
Dakota stopped the tape and nodded to Samantha. “Can you do your magic on the computer?”
“Sure.” She scooted forward and took the mouse from him. A few clicks and a pop-up screen had a partial plate on the red Ford truck.
Dakota sent it to Jazz, although he had an idea who it was going to come back registered to.
Dakota’s cell phone rang. He raised a brow and shot a look at Sam and Connor. “It’s George.”
The rage that had been building in him crested and nearly burst from him. But he couldn’t release it. Jamie’s life depended on him keeping a cool head. Lord Jesus, give me the words to say and the composure to say them.
He cleared his throat. “Hello?”
“Dakota, hi, I’m looking for Jamie, have you seen her?”
“No, I’m looking for her myself. We’re pretty sure she’s fallen into the hands of the guy who calls himself the Hero.”
“What? You’re kidding!” Shock resonated. If Dakota hadn’t been suspicious of the man, he would have fallen for the act.
“I wish I was. We’re watching the video of it now. She said she was going to meet you in your office.”
“Yeah, she did, but then she said she wanted to wait until you and Connor could meet with us. She seemed nervous. So, I told her I had to take off and she said she and her bodyguard, um … Chet … would be in the autopsy room if anyone needed her.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. I left her in my office. Last I saw her, she was talking to Chet.”
Dakota frowned. “All right. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
They hung up and Dakota dialed Jazz. “You get it?”
“Yeah. He’s pinging off the cell towers between Arnett and Chowder Streets. Looks like he might be heading down 29 toward the Cowpens, Gaffney area.”
“Get someone on him and keep tracking that phone. I don’t know who he is, but he’s definitely not George Horton … and he could be the Hero.”
Shackled to the bed, Jamie heard him move across the room and waited for the pain to hit her. She wondered where he’d strike first. A leg? An arm? A shoulder? A toe? In preparation for the pain, she clenched her teeth, vowing not a sound would cross her lips.
When nothing happened, she cracked her eyes. He had his back to her. The familiar black mask covered his head.
Surprisingly, her fear had faded somewhat. Most shocking of all, she hadn’t succumbed to a panic attack. Oh, she didn’t look forward to what was coming, but because she knew what to expect, it was almost like his power over her had diminished.
A surge of triumph swelled.
Then he turned. And held up the knife.
Fear surged back full force. She pushed it aside.
Green eyes met hers. She refused to speak, narrowed her gaze, and lifted her chin.
She thought she saw the mask move right above his left eye. Had he raised an eyebrow? Surprised at her defiance? Or amused?
He flicked the blade of the knife with a black gloved thumb. “You know, your sister was a quick little thing. She moved too fast for me.” The same raspy voice.
She remained silent, heart thumping. While she had the panic attack under control, she couldn’t help the kernel of fear curling in her midsection.
Fear was all right. It was natural. Terror even. But this time, she’d start thinking faster.
“Oh come now, don’t tell me you’re going to give me the silent treatment.”
“No.” She hated the quiver in her voice, hated more the smile that curved his lips.
“Ah, good.”
She recalled everything George had talked about and took a shot in the dark. “Who abused you when you were a child?”
He froze.
“Your father? Your mother? A relative?”
“Shut up.” His voice was low. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Ah, your mother.” Her breath came in short, soft pants. Keep the fear away, Lord, keep it away.
The cuffs felt tight around her wrists. She had to get him to undo them.
“Why?” she demanded softly.
He adjusted the mask. She wanted to tear it from his face, wanted to see him. Gaze upon the features she’d only imagined in her nightmares.
“Why what?” he asked, his words precise, bitten off as though he didn’t want to say them but couldn’t help himself. The knife dipped toward her throat and she sucked in a silent breath. Then it moved to the edge of her blouse.
And did away with the top button. She heard it ping on the floor. The hardwood floors she’d shuffled across so many times.
Jamie swallowed hard. No fear, no fear, no fear. The chant calmed her racing heart a fraction. “Why did you kill her?”
He stood. “I said don’t ask me about her.”
The voice lost its raspy edge and she froze. She knew that voice. A name tickled the back of her mind. She needed to hear him talk again.
“Who was she?”
He shoved his face near hers and trailed the knife down her cheek. She felt a sting, then a warm wetness trickle from the cut. “Shut up or I’ll start with your tongue,” he hissed.
Fury drove her over. She lunged forward, opened her mouth, and bit down hard.
He screamed and yanked away from her. The mask came off along with a chunk of his cheek. The metallic taste of blood seeped through the mask and she spit everything out, her eyes flying wide as she registered her attacker’s identity.
Blood gushed from the wound on his face, and her last thought before his fist connected with her chin was that at least she’d have some of his DNA on her when they found her body.
32
Pain ricocheted in her head. Left, right, back, front. Everywhere. She wanted to moan. She didn’t.
/> Jamie wondered if he’d hit her again after she’d blacked out. After the first punch, she’d known no more.
Surprise that she was actually alive shot through her. He’d moved her hands. They were now cuffed in front of her and linked to the chain that led to the bathroom.
Good move on his part. Nature called … urgently.
She cracked her eyes. They worked. She moved her jaw back and forth. It worked too … barely.
She winced at the shooting pain.
But at least it wasn’t broken.
Scanning the room, she found it empty.
Thank you, God.
And she still had her lab coat on. Another thank-you winged heavenward.
Sliding to the edge of the bed, she gradually made her way into a sitting position. When she moved, she gasped as shards of glass bounced inside her jaw to her head and back.
The mask lay on the floor to her right. Drops of dried blood trailed an intermittent pattern to the door that was now shut.
She had to get out of here. Her mind played scenes from twelve years ago. Oh, God, please get me out of here. Please! A sob escaped her, she couldn’t help it. Stumbling to the bathroom, she made her way to the sink and stared in the mirror.
That was a mistake. Black and blue stared back. She averted her eyes and took care of her business. Her mind hummed, desperate to come up with a plan. She didn’t bother to check and see if she could escape through the bathroom. If there’d been a way, she’d have discovered it twelve years ago. A window opposite the tub offered a little light, but no escape route.
The cuffs clanked against the sink as she splashed water on her face. Wincing at the sting, she ignored it and closed her eyes again. Memories flooded her, bringing terror and choking dread.
Think, Jamie, think.
Dakota and Connor would figure it out. They’d do some research and eventually track her captor down.
The question was, would she still be alive when they found him? She had to be. She’d survived once against all odds, she’d survive again.
Don't Look Back Page 24
