Nameless

by Debra Webb

  McBride reached out, leaning over her as best he could. “Take my hand, Worth.”

  When Worth moved even slightly the strain on her fingers increased. She cried out.

  McBride leaned farther away from the rung that he held on to with his other hand. “Come on, Worth. You gotta reach higher.”

  “I can’t,” he said, dropping his arm. The shift in his weight made Vivian’s body quake. Though her arm was numb, pain radiated from her shoulder across her back.

  “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on,” she warned McBride.

  His fingers went back around her wrist. “I’ve got you.”

  A moment of dead silence passed while McBride considered the situation. “Can you swing him toward the rungs?”

  “I can try.”

  “Worth,” McBride shouted past her. “When she swings you toward the wall, try and grab onto a rung.”

  “I’ll … try,” Worth mumbled.

  McBride locked his gaze with hers. “Easy does it, just a little swing”

  Vivian squeezed her eyes shut, gritted her teeth, and commanded her throbbing arm to react.

  Her fingers started to slip.

  Her eyes snapped open. She tried to tighten her grip.

  Couldn’t.

  “I can’t hang on!” Fear exploded inside her.

  “Concentrate on holding on,” McBride urged, his tone frantic.

  “Just let go, Grace,” Worth said softly. “Just let go.”

  “Grab on to my legs,” she screamed at him. “Do something!”

  “I … can’t. My arms won’t work … they’re … they’re numb.”

  “Dammit, McBride,” she shouted at him now. “Help him”

  “Let go, Agent Grace!” Worth ordered.

  She looked past her shoulder and downward, could just see his face. “I can’t do that, sir.”

  “Let me go,” he begged, “or we’ll both end up dead.”

  She tried to manipulate her fingers … tried to get a firmer grip.

  “Let go, Grace,” he repeated.

  “I … can’t.”

  Then her fingers failed her.

  The harness strap slipped out of her hold.

  Worth’s weight ripped from her grasp.

  She watched him fall into the darkness. Heard him hit bottom.

  He didn’t even scream.

  She hadn’t been strong enough … hadn’t been able to hang on.

  “Reach for me with your other hand, Grace!”

  She couldn’t. Couldn’t move.

  “Reach for me, dammit! How the hell are we going to catch the son of a bitch who did this if we’re both dead?”

  Somehow her trembling hand moved upward … she watched in morbid fascination as his fingers grabbed onto hers.

  He pulled her upward. Her feet found a perch on a rung beneath his.

  “Let’s just hold still a moment,” he whispered against her hair. He held her tight against him with one arm. “Catch our breath.”

  She started to tremble … couldn’t stop.

  Worth was dead.

  Oh God.

  She hadn’t been able to hang on to him.

  “Pull it together, Grace,” he urged. “This wasn’t your fault. Right now we have to concentrate on getting out of this shaft before that car starts moving.”

  Fury whipped through her. He was right. She couldn’t get Fincher if she didn’t get out of here alive. And she wanted to nail that sick scumbag.

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “No looking down,” McBride reminded as he helped her onto that narrow, narrow ledge.

  Slowly, she made her way back to the door. He stayed right next to her. Ready to go down trying to save her if she slipped.

  He had saved her life.

  But Worth was dead.

  She had failed.

  8:30 A.M.

  Worth’s body had been taken away.

  Vivian felt numb.

  SAC was dead.

  As soon as she and McBride had gotten out of that shaft, he had rushed down to the first floor and pulled Worth’s body out of the shaft in case the elevator moved before forensics arrived. Vivian couldn’t bear to look.

  How could this have happened?

  Why did some sick son of a bitch have to do this?

  For his dead son? His dead wife?

  Was Worth’s death going to bring either one of them back?

  No!!!

  Raised voices dragged her attention to the far side of the lobby. McBride and Pierce were going at each other like two slobbering dogs.

  McBride had done all he could.

  Even if they had risked calling in back-up there had been a problem with the rope that held Worth. Even before her weight had been added to his, the rope had given somehow. There was nothing else they could have done. It wasn’t like either of them had had a free hand to phone a friend.

  But, God, she wished there had been.

  McBride stormed out, a Marlboro landing between his lips as he hit the door.

  She should go after him. She could only imagine how he was feeling. He would see this as his failure.

  But it wasn’t … it was hers.

  “Grace, we need to talk.”

  She turned to Pierce. She was too exhausted physically and emotionally to deal with him right now. “Later,” she said wearily.

  “Now. We’ve put this off long enough.”

  Before she could put up a fuss, he ushered her to one of the offices on that floor. The light was already on from where she and McBride had searched the place. Pierce closed the door.

  “We have to get McBride off this case,” he warned. “We’re going to get this guy my way now. The line has been crossed. Randall Worth should not have had to die.”

  She shook her head, held up her hands in a back-off gesture. “McBride did everything he could. I’m the one who couldn’t hold on.” Frustration bolted through her. “Besides, why are we even having this conversation? You don’t think I have what it takes to do the job. What just happened only confirms what you already thought. Why would what I think matter to you?” He just wanted her to take his side against McBride. She got it.

  “You’re wrong.”

  What the hell did that mean? She searched his eyes, tried to read that pained look on his face.

  “I didn’t ask you to be assigned here because I didn’t think you could hack the pressure. That was an excuse,” he confessed. “I did it …”!—he exhaled a mighty breath—“because I needed you off the East Coast. Away from me.”

  That couldn’t be right. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He nodded, closed his eyes for a beat. “I know you don’t. To you, I was your mentor, your friend.”

  She started to inform him that that was before he had butted into her assignment, but he went on before she could string the words together with the necessary oomph.

  “That wasn’t the case for me. I wanted more. I was wrong to feel that way. Not only was I your teacher, but I was married. Still am.”

  He couldn’t be saying … impossible. Surely she would have noticed. “You wanted me away from you … because you were attracted to me?”

  “I’m sorry, Grace. I didn’t want you to ever know the truth but I couldn’t let you keep believing that this was about your ability to be a damned good agent. I’m proud of the agent you are.”

  She couldn’t deal with this right now.

  “I have to go.”

  McBride would need her.

  She would need him.

  It was going to take the very best of both of them to get this son of a bitch Martin Fincher.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  9:15 A.M.

  McBride had failed.

  Martin sat in the generic Chevy belonging to one of his neighbors who never bothered locking the old heap.

  He couldn’t go home.

  The police were there.

  Deirdre.

  His heart squeezed with agon
y.

  If they touched her …

  It was McBride’s fault.

  Fury pounded in Martin’s temples.

  How could McBride have let him down like this?

  Martin’s attention was drawn to his home where a gurney was being maneuvered out his front door.

  A long bag was strapped to the gurney.

  A body bag.

  Deirdre!

  Dear God, they were taking her away.

  No!

  He reached for the door handle but hesitated.

  If he showed himself now they would take him away as well.

  Martin drew his hand away from the door.

  He would wait.

  Deirdre would need him and he could not help her if he was in custody.

  Special Agent-in-Charge Worth was dead.

  His death made Martin a murderer.

  A murderer.

  The realization twisted inside him like the blade of a knife. He could not allow this.

  His hero had let him down. Had let Deirdre down. And Daniel.

  How could that happen?

  McBride never made a mistake. Never.

  Or had he?

  Had Kevin Braden’s death been his fault? Martin had always believed McBride’s side of the story, just as Deirdre had. Always. That story Nadine Goodman had done seemed to indicate so as well … but she was a bad person. How could he believe anything she said?

  Could he have been so wrong?

  It was true that McBride had risen to meet the first three challenges, but they had been simple. Martin had given plenty of time. And then, the first halfway difficult challenge he issues and McBride fails.

  Worth is dead.

  All those years Martin had hated the man. Had wished him ill so many times for refusing to bring McBride in on the case when Daniel went missing.

  Now he was dead. He had paid for his sins. Found that atonement he needed.

  But now Martin was the sinner … a man’s blood was on his hands.

  And it was all McBride’s fault. If he had been good enough, he would not have failed.

  The drinking and smoking and sex. McBride had given himself over to the sins of the flesh and now he was nothing.

  He wasn’t a hero.

  Deirdre would be so disappointed. Peace would never be hers.

  They had all let Daniel down.

  If Katherine Jones had been monitoring her department properly, Daniel would never have been taken by that devil. If Allen Byrne hadn’t hired all those illegal aliens who failed to keep the construction sites properly secured, Daniel would never have been taken there and been so brutally murdered. If only Worth had listened when Martin begged him to call in McBride to find his boy, Daniel might have been found in time. Martin and Deirdre had known all about Agent McBride.

  But that was before he had succumbed to the evils of alcohol and such. He had been the very best. They had followed his every case. When their boy had gone missing, they had known he was the man to call … but Worth had played off their request and then it was too late.

  Daniel was dead.

  And if Dr. Kurt Trenton had not been so arrogant, putting his wealthy, powerful patients ahead of the ordinary ones, the first night home from the hospital after surgery, Deirdre would never have passed in her sleep.

  Martin watched the ambulance carrying his wife drive away.

  Now he was all alone. He would never be her hero.

  Because of Ryan McBride.

  Martin removed his glasses, pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and carefully cleaned each lens.

  There was only one thing to do.

  Now McBride had to pay, just as the others had.

  Martin would ensure that he was properly humbled. Oh, and he most certainly had to be left completely alone. Just as he had left Martin alone.

  A knowing smile touched Martin’s lips. He knew what to do. McBride had no family to speak of … none that truly mattered. But he had grown rather fond of Agent Grace. Making sure she was taken away from him was the only way to ensure he learned his lesson.

  Yes.

  That was what he would do.

  Proper preparation was essential. He would need to plan carefully and then lie in wait. Agent Grace would not be so easy to lure in. Martin would need means and opportunity.

  This would not be a problem. Martin knew lots of ways to trap victims. Lots and lots of ways to execute an abduction. He probably knew far more than Agent McBride.

  Perhaps he would show him so.

  He would present McBride with one more challenge.

  Only this time there would be no way for him to win.

  Agent Grace would die … screaming McBride’s name.

  And Martin’s former hero would never forgive himself.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  5:30 P.M.

  1000 Eighteenth Street

  “Go home,” Pierce announced.

  Every agent in the conference room absorbed the order. No one wanted to go home. They wanted to find Martin Fincher and see that he paid for causing the death of then SAC.

  It didn’t seem possible that Agent Worth was gone.

  ASAC Talley had given over complete control to Pierce. He felt too close to this to be objective.

  Vivian settled her attention on McBride. He had drawn that “don’t give a shit” shield around himself. His expression was blank, his posture indifferent. If he got the chance, he would drink the last twelve hours right out of his head. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.

  But they needed to be doing something to find Fincher.

  When she would have said as much, Pierce added, “There’s an APB out on Fincher. Birmingham PD has roadblocks on all the main thoroughfares leaving the city … at the airport … bus terminals. There’s nothing else we can do this evening. We need sleep, so we’ll all be fresh in the morning. Be back here at eight sharp. You’ll get a call if anything comes up before then.”

  Vivian pushed up from the conference table, grabbed her purse and holster, and headed for the door. Pratt, Aldridge, and Arnold filed out ahead of her. Schaffer had returned and was assisting Talley with the updating of the timeline board. Her lime-green cowboy boots were about the only thing Vivian had seen this crappy day that made her want to smile … reminded her in spite of the worst man could do to man life went on.

  “Hold up, McBride,” Pierce said.

  Vivian turned back to see what Pierce wanted with McBride. If he planned to rake him over the coals again, she was going to call Pierce on it. If her statement of the way things had gone down in that elevator shaft wasn’t clarification enough, then he would just have to do what he would. But he wasn’t going to beat McBride down about it.

  McBride hadn’t asked for this.

  He wasn’t the one to let Worth go.

  She was.

  “What do you want, Pierce?”

  The silent standoff lasted long enough for her to visually weigh the differences between the two. It went way beyond the physical. There was a kind of movement about Pierce even when he was perfectly still … as if he were constantly analyzing or roving around whatever subject his attention latched onto. His words were chosen carefully. McBride, on the other hand, said exactly what he thought when he bothered to interact verbally. Unlike Pierce, McBride gave off a sense of utter stillness that even now scared her to death and attracted her like a potent magnet.

  She pushed away Pierce’s confession. How could she have missed that? Maybe she had been so focused on her training that she just hadn’t noticed.

  Or maybe because of what had happened to her, she had been in denial.

  “Talley has requested added security for your room as well as Grace’s town house just in case Fincher tries to have his revenge.”

  “Anything else?” McBride wanted out of there. The tension was evident in those wide shoulders and the set of his square jaw.

  Pierce didn’t answer right away, he glanced at Grace as if he wanted to be sure she heard t
his. “I realize your options were limited today. Both you and Agent Grace did all you could to save Worth. That’s all anyone could ask.”

  McBride didn’t say thank you but he didn’t tell Pierce where to get off either. He just walked away.

  Vivian strode past Pierce without a word, then hastened her step to catch up with McBride in the corridor. “Just so you know, I’m taking you home with me. You’re not staying in that hotel alone tonight.”

  McBride glanced at the others waiting for the elevator and made a turn for the stairwell. Vivian was with him—she wasn’t sure she would ever take another elevator. Maybe in a decade or two.

  “I don’t need a babysitter.” McBride shot her a look before starting down the stairs.

  She had to hustle to keep up with him. “Good. Because I wasn’t planning on babysitting.”

  Another of those suspicious glances cut her way as he rounded the landing for the next flight down.

  What was she planning?

  She hadn’t exactly gotten that far. She had just a minute ago made the decision about not allowing him to be alone.

  Or maybe she didn’t want to be alone. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see Worth slipping from her fingers … falling.

  Being alone wouldn’t be good.

  The instant she and McBride hit the asphalt he lit up, walked to the far side of her SUV, the side the press couldn’t see, and then leaned against it.

  She took a spot next to him. “We should eat,” she said, though she wasn’t hungry. But eating was necessary to survival. Going through the motions would keep her from ruminating about those moments in that elevator shaft. “Maybe have some wine to … help us relax” Yeah, that would work. Wine usually helped her to relax.

  His interest locked on her but it was more suspicious than curious. “What’re you angling for, Grace?”

  Time to confess. Today was, apparently, the day for confessions. Pierce had confessed to her, had even complimented McBride—in an offhand way.

  “I don’t want to be alone tonight, McBride.” She couldn’t bear the idea of going home by herself. Dammit. She just couldn’t be alone.

  Since he was the last one to drive her SUV, he pulled her keys from his pocket and hit the remote to unlock the doors then pitched the keys to her. “I guess I’m going home with you then.”