“Not so far,” the other cop called back.
“Looks like you’re the lucky one,” the cop said, turning back toward Sully. “Let’s take a look.”
The cop approached the car and peered inside. The other cop, the one with the flashlight, circled to the back. Sully’s throat constricted.
“Want to open her up to see if there’s anything missing?”
“Nah, it’s okay,” Sully said again. His pulse rate spiked.
“Chulito, you spent a fortune on that stereo. Why don’t you do what the officer said and take a look?”
A streak of white-hot fury shot through Sully, and he just barely stopped himself from lashing out at her. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. He could handle this if she just . . .
“Mr. Sully?”
The cop was eyeing him now with that look that cops get. Suspicious. Accusatory. He’d seen it before. He had no choice. He fingered the car keys in his pocket and thought about the gun.
With a slight shake of his head, Sully wrenched the keys from his pocket. He opened the car door and slid the key into the ignition. The alarm died. He glanced around. The stereo was still there. Nothing had been touched, as far as he could see.
“It’s good,” he said, easing his torso out of the car.
“Dave,” the cop behind the car said, and nodded toward the trunk. The tone of the man’s voice signaled a warning.
Sully straightened. The cop was eyeing him harder now. One hand near his hip. Inches away from the holstered Glock at his side. Beads of sweat trickled down Sully’s forehead.
“Could you open the trunk, Mr. Sully?”
“You got a warrant?” Sully asked.
The cop’s eyes darted to his partner, then back to Sully’s sweating face. His dark eyes were cold and hard as marbles. Sully’s heart throbbed. This was it. They knew. Somehow. They knew. He was fucked. His kid was fucked. He’d spend the rest of his life trapped behind bars like his father.
No.
Sully grabbed a fistful of Lara’s sleep-mussed hair. He jerked her hard toward him. She stumbled a few steps, let out a yowl, and crumpled to her knees on the rain-soaked asphalt.
With the other hand, he pulled the gun from the waistband of his jeans. He jammed the muzzle hard against her temple.
Chapter 36
Seth’s heart boomed in his chest. He thrashed in the sweat-soaked sheets. Underneath his splayed hand, the green door was hot to the touch. In the far-off distance, he heard the wail of sirens, the bleat of horns. Help was on the way. But they were too late. Orange flames lapped at the windows, and Seth knew they wouldn’t get here in time. He’d stood right here staring at the door more times than he could count, and they never made it in time.
She was in there.
Tendrils of smoke streamed through the cracks around the door. Sheer panic took hold, and with one vicious blow, Seth drove his shoulder into the green door. A white-hot flare of pain shot through him as the door splintered. He stepped through. Sharp spikes of wood clawed his skin, and he stumbled inside the burning house.
The roar of the fire was deafening. He swung his head wildly from side to side, desperate to find her. Smoke filled his lungs and he coughed. Burying his nose and mouth in the crook of his elbow, he dove deeper into the flames.
“Holly!” he yelled.
No answer. All he could hear was the sounds of the house dying around him. Light bulbs popped. Picture frames fell. Glass shattered. Bright-orange flames slithered up the walls. The heat was unbearable, like the fires of hell. He screamed her name.
Racing through the living room, he spotted a figure slumped on the floor. Holly lay wedged between the sofa and the coffee table. He sprinted toward her. Seth fell to his knees and turned her over.
He stared into her upturned face.
And his heart stopped. His hands jerked away. Marissa’s dead blue eyes stared up at him like the sightless eyes of a broken doll.
Seth started awake. A jarring buzz sounded close to his ear. It was still pitch-dark in his bedroom, and he was woefully short on sleep. He heard the buzz again, and his cell phone shimmied an inch or two across the wooden nightstand. He fumbled for it. In the dark his outstretched fingers sent the alarm clock clattering to the hardwood floor.
“Shit,” he muttered, rolling over, his fingers finally grasping the phone. “Crawford.”
“You’re going to want to hear this.”
The voice was unmistakable. It was Lieutenant Alvarez. Seth ran a hand across his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of the horrific nightmare. His thoughts snapped to Brooke Parker, and a half-dozen scenarios flashed through his head. All bad. All ending in a trip to the morgue.
“What is it?”
“Charles Sully is holding his girlfriend hostage. SWAT’s been deployed.”
The words hit Seth like a shock wave, bringing everything into sudden, painful focus, and he remembered Dr. Jain’s warning. Sully was like a volcano ready to explode.
“What happened?”
“You’d better get down here. Now.”
“Text me the address. I’m on my way.”
Seth groaned. The heavy rain clattered against the roof. Oh-dark-thirty, and there was no hint of light in the sky. He flicked on the bedside lamp. If there was any consolation for spending his nights alone, it was times like this, when he was the only one jolted awake by a shrieking phone call.
He glanced over at what should have been Holly’s side of the bed. The sheets lay cold and empty and untouched while his were a damp, tangled mess. He remembered Holly—the way the room held her scent, soft and rich and floral. He remembered the sound of her deep, steady breathing as she slept beside him and how he used to tell her she purred. A pang of loss and longing filled him. His fingers grazed the ropy scars along his cheek.
The phone chirped, pulling him back into the moment. A text message flashed on the screen. This was his reality. He’d earned this, Seth thought bitterly. Resigned to his fate, he reached down to the floor and pulled on the clothes he had shed just a few short hours ago.
#
The predawn air smelled like car exhaust and bacon grease. A line of squad cars set the perimeter. Blue and red lights flashed in the muddy gray dawn. News trucks parked hastily on the far side of the street. Held back behind a series of folding white gates, neighbors gathered to watch the spectacle.
A quick flash of his badge and a cop waved Seth through the barricade. He caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd. Officer Pete Morris, recently assigned to SWAT, was approaching the scene on foot. Seth jogged to catch up to him.
“What’s going on?”
“Crazy fucker snapped. He’s holding a pregnant woman hostage.”
“Aw, shit.”
Seth cringed. Cold rain pelted his hair and ran down his neck like an icy torrent of tears. From across the parking lot, he could hear Sully yelling. Although the words were indistinct, he recognized the tone. Panic. Rage.
“That him?”
“Yeah.”
“Who’s the negotiator?”
“Phelps. He’s getting nowhere though. We’re going tactical.”
“Fucking shit,” Seth muttered.
“You said it. Happy Friday,” Morris grumbled, and strode off toward the command center.
Alvarez spotted him and broke away from the tight knot of high-ranking officers huddled around the SWAT commander.
“What happened?”
“Officers were leaving the scene of a dumpster fire and responded to a car alarm. It’s a high-crime area. Extra patrols every night just trying to get on top of things. Anyway, they heard a car alarm, figured it was a prowler. It was Sully’s car. When they brought him outside to check out the vehicle, he freaked.”
“Do we know why?”
Even before he asked the question, Seth feared he knew the answer.
“We think there’s something in the trunk.”
“Do we know what it is?”
Alvarez shook his head. Rain
droplets were flung off the ends of his spiky black hair. “He grabbed his girlfriend, Lara Menendez.”
“Shit.” Seth groaned and wiped the rain from his face. “SWAT’s going in?”
Tendrils of dread slithered loose in Seth’s gut, like a writhing nest of pit vipers. He glanced at the Dodge Super Bee’s unopened trunk. Whatever Sully had hidden inside was worth trading off not only his girlfriend’s life but the life of their unborn child. His thoughts flashed to Brooke Parker. Was he going to have to tell Marissa her daughter was dead?
Alvarez shrugged.
“He’s highly agitated. There’s no telling what he’ll do.”
“We’ve got to keep him alive. If he’s got Brooke, he’s our only link to finding her.”
“I know.”
“Can I talk to Sully?”
Alvarez paused, weighing the request.
“This isn’t our dance,” he said, his expression grave.
“I know him. Maybe I can get through to him.”
“We can’t afford for this to go south.”
“It won’t,” Seth said with more confidence than he felt.
Alvarez sighed. “Let me see what I can do.”
He turned away from Seth and returned to the command squad. The SWAT leader shot Seth a dubious glance. Alvarez’s large hands flew out in exasperation. The SWAT commander fisted his hands on his narrow hips. Twitchy as a spider, Seth pulled out his cell phone and called Dr. Jain.
“Crawford. This better be good,” Rahul Jain growled into the phone.
“Sully’s on television.”
“Sweet Jesus.”
“SWAT’s going to take him out if we can’t talk him down. I need your help.”
“Okay. Tell me.”
Seth briefed Jain with what little information he had. Jain didn’t interrupt. When Seth was finished, he swore again.
“Sully’s a powder keg and they’ve lit the fuse.”
“How do we stop it?”
“The baby. Focus on the baby. Tell Sully he doesn’t want his child to grow up without a father like he did. His child can have a better life, but only if he makes the right choice. You’ve got to clear the scene, Seth. SWAT steps in and you give Sully no choice.”
“I know.”
“Do you want me to come down there?”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
“Okay. Where?”
“Turn on the news. You’ll find us.”
Just as Seth hung up, Alvarez broke away from the command squad and marched back toward him. Alvarez shook his head. Seth’s stomach dropped.
“I just got off the phone with Dr. Jain, and he said . . .”
“They’re going tactical.”
“No. Listen, I have an idea. Just let me talk to him . . .”
“Are you fucking deaf?” Alvarez snapped.
Seth’s hands clenched into fists, and he fought to control the anger that bubbled up inside him.
“If we push him, he’s going to go off.”
“It’s out of our hands.”
“Fuck.”
He wanted to drive his fist into the lieutenant’s face and keep hitting him until he didn’t get up. He was so fucking sick of the bureaucratic bullshit. Of the politics. Of all of it. Half of him wanted to disobey orders, stride into the scene, and talk Sully down. The other part of him wanted to shove his badge down Alvarez’s throat and walk away.
As frustrated as he had sometimes been over his many years with the force, he had never once even considered walking away. Sully’s yelling snapped him back into the moment.
Seth stepped closer to the perimeter. Alvarez’s hand grabbed his arm. Seth shook him off. He pushed as close to the perimeter as he dared. His eyes fixed on the horrific scene unfolding.
Floodlights illuminated the far corner of the parking lot. Sully stood feet away from the bright-green Super Bee. His girlfriend, Lara, was slumped on the ground at Sully’s feet. Seth’s gut twisted. She was quite far along in her pregnancy, about seven months.
All he could think about was the baby in Lara’s belly. Ten fingers and toes. A little boy or girl who didn’t even have a name yet.
Sully was a man unhinged. His broad chest heaved beneath the soaked T-shirt. A combination of sweat and rain beaded on his wide forehead. His red face contorted with rage. Sully yanked Lara’s hair. Her head snapped back. Seth heard her cry out. Pain. Fear. Tears streamed down her face.
Seth’s eyes fixed on the muzzle of the gun pressed tightly against Lara’s head. All the tension he felt was reflected on the thin, taut features of Phelps, the police negotiator.
“If you do this, Charles,” Phelps called, his voice echoing across the parking lot, “there’s no going back. I can help you, but only if you put down the gun.”
“Help me?” Sully scoffed. “How many red dots do I have on my fucking chest? How many? Ten? Twenty? I lower my gun and you blow my fucking brains out.”
“We don’t want to shoot you, Charles. We want everyone to come out of this safely—you, Lara and the baby.”
Sully wasn’t stupid. He knew what was at stake. Seth wished Dr. Jain were here. He wished he had a chance to talk Sully down. Phelps extended a hand toward Sully in a slow-down gesture.
“Just lower your gun, Charles, and let Lara go. Let your son live.”
Seth’s breath caught. He leaned toward Alvarez.
“The baby. Yes. Phelps has to focus in on the baby. Dr. Jain thinks it’s the only way to get to him.”
Alvarez muttered into his radio. Phelps touched a finger to his ear.
“Your son, Charles. Think about him,” Phelps said.
The muscles in Sully’s jaw bulged, and the crowd held its collective breath. The sound of the rain driving into the asphalt filled the supercharged silence. Seth watched Sully’s face for some signal, some sign of hope. Sully stood still as a statue. Seth counted the seconds ticking by.
Finally Sully’s shoulders slumped. His chin dropped toward his chest, and the muzzle of Sully’s gun lowered, easing away from Lara’s temple. Relief flooded Phelps’s face. Seth could almost feel tension drain from the crowd. It was going to be all right. Lara and her baby would live.
Then Sully’s stance changed. Seth’s gut heaved in a sickening twist and he reached for his gun.
Too late.
“My son’s not going to jail. Fuck you, cop,” Sully screamed.
The sound of the single shot was deafening. A fine mist of blood and brains sprayed across the wet asphalt. Lara’s lifeless body crashed to the ground. Behind Seth the crowd screamed. Sully pointed the gun at Phelps. In the next instant, a half-dozen rounds were fired, and Charles Sully landed in a heap.
Screaming. The EMTs rushed in to check on Lara Menendez and Charles Sully. It was a waste of time, Seth knew. They were already dead. What a mess. What a goddamned mess.
“The baby,” one of the EMTs yelled.
All medical personnel loaded Lara’s prone form onto a gurney and rushed her to an ambulance.
Seth pushed through the crowd, heading toward the Dodge Super Bee.
“We need a crowbar,” the uniformed officer closest to the car yelled.
Seth stared at the closed trunk lid. Whatever Sully had stashed inside, he’d been willing to die for it. Chilled by the cold rain, he wiped his face and willed them to hurry the fuck up. He needed to see what was inside. Was it Brooke in there? He’d promised to find her. He’d promised Marissa he’d find her. But not like this. God, not like this.
A uniformed officer wedged the end of the crowbar under the lip of the trunk and heaved. The lock gave way with a pop, and the trunk lid yawned open. Numb, Seth looked inside. A large duffel bag filled the trunk. The rancid smell of rotten meat was unmistakable, and he knew.
A young officer turned and rushed away from the scene. Dimly Seth heard the sound of retching. Seth could tell by the bulging biceps and clenched jaw of the officer heaving the bag from the trunk that it was heavy.
“Good Christ,” Alvarez
said.
Seth didn’t respond. He didn’t look over at the lieutenant. His eyes were fixed on the duffel bag. The zipper of the bag purred open.
“Jesus. Fuck,” the officer said, and stepped away. Horror and revulsion contorted his face.
Seth looked inside. Was it Brooke? He turned away as he caught sight of the body. The realization struck him like a sucker punch to the gut. There would be no quick identification of the victim. The bitter taste of bile filled Seth’s mouth.
“There’s something else,” said the cop leaning over the trunk.
Seth looked up. Surely this day couldn’t get any worse. He turned to look at the object the officer held in his hand, and he realized he’d been wrong.
Things got worse all right. They got a whole lot fucking worse.
Chapter 37
Drew eased Alicia’s apartment door open. She sat at the table with a cup of coffee in one hand and his cell phone in the other.
“Where have you been?”
She fixed him with a prison guard’s stare, and he knew he was in for a blast of shit. What was she doing up so early? She should have been sleeping. Her alarm wasn’t set to go off for another hour. But here she was, wide-awake and spitting mad.
“I woke up early and thought I’d get us some croissants for breakfast,” he said.
“I don’t see a bag. Did you eat them already?”
“The line was out the door, so I thought fuck it.”
Alicia arched an eyebrow like she didn’t believe him.
Anger rolled like thunder in the pit of his stomach. His hands clenched into fists. Picking a fight with him now was a bad idea. If Alicia knew what was good for her, she’d keep her stupid mouth shut.
“Do you know how odd it feels to wake up and find you gone? I didn’t know what to think.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
He didn’t need to explain himself to her. If she was smart, she’d leave it alone. But she didn’t. She just kept pushing.
“You’re usually such a sound sleeper. What woke you?”
“You snore like a fucking chain saw.”
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