Hidden ( CSI Reilly Steel #3)

by Hill, Casey

  ‘Of course they do,’ said Jacobs. ‘But before you go, can I give you something?’

  McAllister hesitated. He was getting twitchy. ‘Give me something?’

  ‘So you can call us when you want to talk more.’

  ‘What? I don’t like phones. Nasty intrusive things.’

  ‘How about a walkie-talkie then, a radio?’ suggested Jacobs. ‘No one will call and bother you, but when you want to talk, you can contact us from inside the house.’

  He nodded, keen to be on his way. ‘Throw it here then.’

  Jacobs pulled the walkie-talkie from his coat pocket, and took a few steps forward.

  McAllister instinctively raised the barrel of the shotgun.

  ‘Can I show you how to work it?’ asked Jacobs.

  He nodded at Reilly. ‘She can show me.’

  Jacobs handed the radio to Reilly. She stepped forward slowly, and held it out towards the abductor. ‘You turn it on there, and press this green button to talk.’

  McAllister peered at it, glanced around one more time, then darted forward. Grabbing it out of her hand through the gap in the gate, he then scuttled back up the driveway to the old smelting house.

  Reilly and Jacobs walked slowly back towards the trailer to debrief O’Brien and the rest of the team.

  ‘Taking the radio was a big step,’ Jacobs said. ‘It will make him feel in control of the agenda.’ He looked at Reilly. ‘He seems to trust you more – that’s why he took it from you. Either it’s a female thing or you struck a chord with him with what you said before about caring for beautiful things.’ He smiled. ‘Either way, I suspect you may be key to getting us in there – I’m afraid you might have to stick around until this thing ends.’

  She smiled lopsidedly. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

  Her confidence faded somewhat as they approached the trailer – O’Brien was pacing around outside, looking like a caged animal. He hurried up to them as soon as he saw them. ‘Well, what did he say? Is he coming out?’

  Jacobs gave him the type of smile you would give to a child when you were explaining something difficult to them. ‘Sir, we’ve just made initial contact.’

  ‘But you gave him a deadline though? How long does he have?’ O’Brien’s eyes were full of impatience.

  ‘No,’ explained Jacobs. ‘I did not give him a deadline – I gave him a radio.’

  They had reached the trailer. Jacobs paused by the door. ‘He can call us when he wants to talk. And I didn’t give him a deadline because people like him get antsy and make rash decisions when they feel pressured. He’s in there with multiple kids and a shotgun – do you want him to make a rash decision?’

  O’Brien scowled. ‘No, of course not, it’s just that—’

  Jacobs opened the door of the trailer. ‘ We need to be in here, ready in case he calls us.’

  O’Brien looked crestfallen. ‘So how long will this take?’

  ‘As long as it needs to, to get those kids out safely…’

  ‘This looks cozy,’ Chris said, poking his head round the door of the trailer. Reilly was sitting at a small desk working on her laptop, and Jacobs was on one of the benches going through the case report.

  It looked like they were settling in for a long night.

  ‘So I hear you got to talk to McAllister,’ he said to Reilly. He looked at Jacobs. ‘I thought that was your job.’

  ‘Regardless, we spoke to him,’ Reilly replied. ‘Steve reckons he won’t call until later, when the kids are in bed or asleep. It’s more likely we can talk sense to him when he’s out of character and doesn’t have to maintain the fantasy.’

  ‘So what happens now?’ Kennedy asked, entering behind Chris.

  ‘We sit tight,’ Jacobs informed him. ‘McAllister has the radio. He’ll use it.’

  ‘You sound pretty sure,’ Chris challenged.

  ‘I’ve done this a couple of times before,’ he said, eyeing him levelly. ‘The crucial step was getting him to take the radio. Now he’s got it, he’ll use it, sooner or later.’

  ‘So he calls,’ says Kennedy. ‘Then what do you do?’

  ‘This guy understands the game. He knows we are camped outside. There’s nowhere to run this time, and he hasn’t planned on staying here long, that’s for sure. Unlike Tir Na Nog, those outbuildings aren’t homely, so clearly this place was intended only as a temporary stopover for him – somewhere for him and the kids to lie low for a while.’ Jacobs looked determined. ‘There’s nowhere to run this time though. We are moving towards an end point. Now it’s about negotiating the terms of his surrender, letting him feel as though he can control the way his fantasy ends.’

  ‘Seems like you've got it all sewn up,’ Chris said, his scepticism obvious.

  Jacobs shook his head. ‘Not at all. There’s always a real danger with something like this – when a guy’s cornered like a rat – that he decides to end it on his own terms.’

  ‘Sounds ominous,’ said Kennedy. ‘What does it mean in plain English?’

  ‘Think about it, McAllister’s under pressure. He and the kids are all crammed into this tiny space and the net is closing in on him. The pressure gets too much and he decides to kill the kids, or turns the shotgun on himself,’ Jacobs said, his voice grim. ‘And they all live together happily ever after in whatever after-life he believes in.’

  Chapter 36

  Was I wrong? Did I love you too much? For so many years I have kept the world at bay, brought my lost ones in to protect them from the vicissitudes of a cruel world, but now the world has come knocking at my door, and I can keep it out no longer.

  What will become of you, my little swans? They will break you, shape you to be just like them, with their wickedness and their ways, and you will change and grow, and eventually forget that once there was a place where you were safe, happy, eternally young.

  When I look in the mirror I see that time has caught up with me. There are lines on my face I don’t remember; my hair is changing, receding, the bright color of youth replaced by the dull gray of age.

  My body, too, rebels; what was once easy, taken for granted, now requires thought, effort. I must rest when tending the horses, the cows, can no longer keep up with you when we play our games of chase in the woods.

  But you, you my loves, are unchanged. You are still fresh, young, unsullied by the world outside. Would that I could preserve you like this for ever, but there is only one way to do that.

  Every minute their cries grow louder, their voices more shrill, until finally they enter our nest whether we like it or not. They violate our garden with their heavy feet, invade our quiet spaces with their loud, hectoring voices.

  And so I will call you all to me one last time, hold you, love you, remember you this way for now and all eternity, my beautiful, beautiful swans…

  After Chris and Kennedy left the trailer, Jacobs and Reilly discussed the case so far over cups of coffee while they waited.

  ‘There was another attempted abduction I see?’ He nodded to the case file.

  ‘Just last week.’

  ‘You think it was McAllister?’

  Reilly looked thoughtful. ‘I’m not sure. We did at first, but with him so busy planning his escape around that time, it doesn’t feel right that he’d be looking to increase family members. Also the circumstances didn’t seem anything like the others. It could just be a nasty coincidence.’

  The sudden chirping of the radio stopped them. ‘Hello?’ McAllister’s voice cut through the static.

  Jacobs nodded to Reilly. ‘You should answer it.’

  She grabbed the handset and clicked a button to respond. ‘Mr McAllister, this is Reilly Steel.’

  ‘Hello, Miss Steel.’ There was something in his voice, something different. Reilly glanced at Jacobs – he’d heard it too. McAllister sounded exhausted, drunk or both. He gestured at her to keep talking.

  ‘I’m glad you called,’ she said.

  For a moment there was nothing but static. Reil
ly wondered if he had disconnected, but suddenly he was back. ‘They’re growing up so fast,’ he said suddenly. ‘My little swans…’

  ‘I’m sure they’re a credit to you.’

  Jacobs hurried over to sit beside Reilly, a notepad in his hand and pen at the ready.

  ‘They’re growing up so fast,’ McAllister repeated, sounding incoherent and uncertain. Reilly was almost certain he’d been drinking. ‘And then they’ll want to fly the safety of the nest I’ve provided. Like Sarah.’ He gave a little sob. ‘Lisa will be next. Her mind already wanders beyond our borders, I can tell.’

  ‘I went through something like that with my father. I wanted to fly the nest too. It’s natural.’

  Jacobs nodded furiously, mouthing, ‘Good.’

  ‘You seem to have turned out OK,’ McAllister slurred.

  ‘Thank you. But my father didn’t want to let me go, didn’t think I would survive.’ She paused, waiting, but McAllister said nothing, so she continued. ‘I’ve always thought that the true test of how well we are raised is not through hiding from the evils of this world, but in facing them and emerging victorious.’

  ‘Miss Steel, I almost feel like I know you from another place or time. I felt it right from the start. You have wisdom for one that lives amongst today’s self-obsessed world. Your family must have been good people.’

  If only you knew, she thought.

  ‘But my swans are too innocent for this world,’ he said, his words garbled. ‘I fear their pain in a future without my sanctuary.’

  Jacobs scribbled frantically on the pad. Reilly read his words. He’s tired. Maybe on the verge of giving up? She nodded.

  ‘Let us work together then,’ Reilly suggested. ‘I will help you bring your swans to a place they can thrive and learn. Learn to become strong, to face the world and be triumphant.’

  There was no reply and for a moment she worried that she’d pushed him too quickly.

  ‘I don’t know…’ he said eventually and Jacobs gave a nod of satisfaction.

  ‘Are the children asleep now?’ Reilly asked.

  ‘They always slept like little angels back home, all the fresh air and hard work, but they’ve been restless here. Where else could they live a life like the one I gave them? Where else will they be surrounded by fields and trees and animals and sky every day?’ His voice had a distinctive catch in it; he was close to sobbing.

  ‘It’s been a wonderful experience for them, something that will stand them in good stead for the rest of their lives.’

  ‘But it’s time to move on – is that what you’re thinking?’

  ‘What do you think will happen?’

  ‘One way or another it’s finished,’ McAllister said sadly, and Jacob’s eyes widened. He scribbled again on the pad and held it up to Reilly.

  ‘So how can we ensure that the children’s experience remains positive?’ she said. ‘That their memories of their time with you are happy, without a shadow over the ending?’

  Jacobs wrote some more.

  ‘You have created a beautiful life for them, a beautiful story – can we give it a happy ending?’ Reilly pressed.

  McAllister sniffed. ‘I can’t see their faces any more.’

  ‘Their faces?’

  ‘My wife and every one of our children. I thought I’d never forget any of them, that they were imprinted on my heart forever, but now, when I try and picture them, I can’t see their faces.’

  Reilly sat forward. ‘My mother died when I was young. For years, when I tried to picture her, the only image I could see was the last one I had of her, an image of her dead. I thought I was a terrible person, I couldn’t even remember my own mother's face when she was alive.’

  Jacobs was staring at her, a curious expression on his face.

  ‘You sound as though you've come to terms with it …’ McAllister said.

  ‘It took a very long time, then one day I realized that it didn’t matter. Her face was just a tiny part of the memory. What mattered was the way I felt when I remembered her, and by focusing on not seeing her face I was robbing myself of everything else. My real memory of her was her laughter, the fun things we did, the way she made me feel.’

  ‘And how did she make you feel?’

  ‘Loved. Happy.’

  McAllister seemed to ponder her words. ‘Will you work with me?’ he asked eventually. ‘Will you work with me to ensure that my swans are treated right?’

  Jacobs was on tenterhooks, perched on the edge of his seat. He nodded furiously.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Do you have that power?’

  She looked at Jacobs. ‘Yes.’

  For the first time, she could hear warmth in McAllister’s voice. ‘Your name suits you. I hope you can give some of that steel to my children. Help prepare them for the challenges out there.’

  ‘Mr McAllister,’ Reilly continued. ‘Could we talk in person? I can come to you now if you’d like?’

  Jacobs’ eyes widened. That last bit hadn’t been his suggestion.

  There was a long silence. Finally McAllister’s radio crackled back to life. ‘No commitments, no promises. Just talk – and come alone this time.’

  She nodded. ‘I promise. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just give me time to get my coat.’

  ‘I’ll be looking out for you.’ With that, McAllister disconnected.

  Reilly looked at Steve. ‘OK?’

  He shook his head reluctantly. ‘I don’t know. You’re sort of doing my job for me, but … his defenses are definitely down at the moment, so it might be best to roll with what he wants, at least for the moment.’

  ‘So what do I say?’ Reilly asked, already regretting her impulsiveness.

  ‘Like McAllister said, no commitments, no promises, just talk.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘He’s starting to move forwards,’ replied Jacobs, ‘thinking about leaving. You have to help him to find a way to voluntarily walk out of there.’

  She nodded. ‘That’s what I’m hoping.’

  ‘Just remember he sounded vulnerable, and that combined with liquor and firearms is a toxic mix.’

  She gave a watery smile. ‘Jeez, thanks for putting my mind at ease…’

  Steve grabbed a mobile phone off the counter top. ‘Trust me. You’ll be fine, he’s already opened up to you. Take this and try and keep us updated as much as you can. We’ll have a team in place to act quickly if things get sticky.’

  Reilly slipped the phone into her pocket. She knew what she needed to do, her FBI hostage training had taught her a few things about situations like this.

  She knew the golden rules: keep him talking and observe. Then she went through a checklist of what she needed to do once inside: establish the children’s whereabouts, draw a mental picture of the layout of the room, and assess the weaponary and threat level posed by McAllister. And most importantly, keep all communication lines open.

  She sighed. If McAllister didn’t kill her, O’Brien surely would.

  It had been a long time since she’d had to draw on this part of her training, and even then it was more geared towards hostage-takers with specific demands. McAllister seemed different, his only demand was a simple ‘leave us alone’.

  She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s after seven thirty. I’ll try and call in by eight, whatever happens.’

  ‘OK, I’ll be waiting. Be safe – and remember, Reilly, you don’t have to resolve this now, tonight,’ Jacobs told her. ‘It’s enough to just get McAllister thinking about it, and talking about how to end it. Drawing him out of his fantasy is a major first step. Keeping him there is another.’

  She gave a grimace. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  Chapter 37

  Lucy looked around the empty house. Given that McAllister was holed up in a completely different hideaway, it seemed clear that the attempted abduction of Jade Carney was not carried out by him, but by somebody else entirely. Someone who had been using the identity of a man that had di
ed many years ago and had been spooked enough to take flight.

  The GFU had been called back to the house after the discovery of a burned-out van that had nearly caused a major fire at a local industrial estate.

  Whoever had been living here was not coming back. The question now was, how could they identify him?

  ‘Where do we even begin?’ Gary looked over Lucy’s shoulder into the living room. ‘It’s like a timewarp in here. My gran used to have those ducks flying over the mantelpiece.’

  ‘Everyone’s gran used to have those,’ Lucy replied drolly. ‘That still doesn’t help us figure out where to start. A fresh scene we can handle; there are usually some obvious things to start with.’

  He grinned. ‘You mean like a body or a big pool of blood?’

  She shook her head indulgently. ‘Be serious for once.’ She picked up her tool kit, and headed towards the stairs. ‘I’ll get the upstairs.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’ Gary stepped into the living room. ‘Welcome to the nineteen seventies…’

  All was quiet in the house as the forensic techs continued working in their own little bubbles, methodically examining each room, identifying trace and collecting evidence, hoping that something they found would help them to unlock the true identity of the person who’d lived there.

  Gary had started with the couch. He liked couches, they collected the detritus of people's lives – not just loose change and missing remote controls, crumbs and old tissues, but hair, skin follicles, useful things with DNA attached.

  He pulled out the cushions and stared at the couch in disbelief. He had never seen anything like it. ‘Who the hell keeps their couch this clean?’ he muttered to himself in wonder. Either the guy never sat on the couch, or he vacuumed it every bloody day of the week.

  Dropping down on the floor, he peered under the couch – his other favorite place for finding the debris most people left as part of the residue of everyday living. Nothing. No old pens, no lost keys, coins or odd socks. This guy had the cleanest, most unlived-in home he had ever seen.

  Which begged an interesting question – did he actually live there, or was it just a useful address, somewhere to get his mail, to visit from time to time to keep up the appearance of living there? Or maybe he knew to expect a visit and had had time to wipe it down?