The bucket.
Bella burned with embarrassment, hiding her face in the ragged mountain range of her knees.
“Isabella?” he said again, quiet and sweet. “Honey, if you’re in here, I’m here to help you. Okay? I’m going to take you home. There’s a lot of people looking for you, sweetheart.”
Bella’s heart exploded in her chest like a firework. The man was scanning the darkness in the corners now. His face, as cranky as it seemed, had a softness in it that she hadn’t seen since her mother. It was kindness. Nice and slow, she unfurled herself from her ball. Her leg was the first thing to scrape across the dirty floor and into the light of the bulb above them.
She heard the man gasp. Was she frightening him? Would he run away? She considered drawing herself back into the darkness but stopped. That was kindness in his eyes, she was sure of it now. She knew that when she saw it at least.
By the time she unfolded her next leg, her dirty feet more like claws than anything else, he was up off the floor and hurrying for the corner.
When she felt him take her in his arms, when she smelled the solid, masculine smell of him, Bella began to panic. His body was too big, too hard, and he held her against him in a proprietary way that made her sick to her stomach. She fought. Too afraid to scream, she kicked and pushed against him with all of her strength, which wasn’t much. It did nothing.
The man cradled her. There was no grabbing, no penetration, and no pain. She felt his big hand on the back of her head, cradling her against his chest. He was on his knees, clutching her tiny body to him where they huddled in the shadows.
There was a litany of soothing coming from him. He was telling her that she was okay, that he wasn’t going to hurt her and that he was here to save her. He was telling her that he was going to look after her, that it was all over and that she’d never be hurt again, ever.
He was telling her his name was George Brooks, and he was a detective with the Portland Police.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Something was summoning her from delicious unconsciousness.
It was a dreamless, perfect place—a combination of exhaustion and denial that had swallowed her as soon as she’d put her head on the pillow the night before. Barely able to stand on her own shaking legs, she’d even skipped a shower and thrown herself into her bed as soon as she’d come home.
There had been a pause, however. Right before flinging her aching, emotionally spent body into her own bed, she’d halted at the sight of her sheets. Unmade, white, and crumpled, she was almost certain that if she moved them she’d see a pool of deep crimson leaking its copper stench across her mattress.
She’d shut her eyes against her vision and allowed herself to fall into the bed in an exhausted heap.
The buzzing that woke her up sent adrenaline through her system before her brain even registered that she was awake. So unlike Sandy’s apartment from last night, her system buzzed at her with an unpolished urgency, as if she were about to accept a delivery rather than answer the door.
She sat up and pushed her mass of sweat-roped hair from her face. Moving out of muscle memory more than conscious thought, she swung her legs off the bed and tried to stand up. Her hip had something to say about that. It squealed as soon as she put weight on it, and before she knew it she was back on the bed.
“I’m coming,” she called. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and winced as the pain reminded her of her temporary insanity the night before. How far had she run and for how long? It was all a blur.
Bella made her way down the stairs, cursing herself the entire time for thinking they were a good idea. By the time she made it to the door, she was wide-awake and sincerely regretting her late-night decision to push herself as hard as she had.
The warped fish eye in the peeper revealed Kyle, as pale as she’d ever seen him, his forehead more or less pressed against her door. She expected her outburst to bite her in the ass, but not this quickly. “Shit,” she mumbled.
She went through the multiple locks on the door. She’d managed to get down to being happy with only one dead bolt until this entire ordeal started. Now, she was right back to locking her apartment up like Fort Knox again.
When she swung open the door, she was immediately embarrassed by Kyle’s shocked look. Somewhere between appalled and fascinated, he looked down at his disheveled partner.
“You were sleeping,” he said rather than asked.
“I was, yes.” Bella sighed and stepped aside to invite her partner in. He walked past her in slow steps, a white envelope forgotten in his hand. Bella closed the door and faced him, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible while she straightened the mess her hair had become.
Kyle said nothing, his face screwed up with emotions that Bella couldn’t comprehend and didn’t have the energy to. He walked to her small kitchen island, dropped the envelope on the countertop, and then turned back to her.
“What’s going on?” Bella said, relieved to feel her sleepy mind clearing. “Anything new?”
“You could say that,” Kyle said.
“So?” Bella walked past him, more acutely aware of her bare legs poking out of her shorts than ever before. In fact, she’d been far too aware of many things around her partner lately. Something was changing between them, and as soon as she had the energy to devote to that kind of thing she’d figure it out.
Kyle seemed to be gathering his courage while Bella took a seat on her couch, her hip thanking her as she sank into the cushions.
“I don’t blame him for it,” Kyle said, avoiding her eyes where she examined him with dubious criticism. “I wouldn’t want to lose you either. I mean, if I were your father.”
“Right.”
“You’re a value to the force, Bella. We don’t want to see you become another on this animal’s list of victims. You’ve already been there. There has to be a way for you to catch him without using yourself for bait.”
Bella leaned forward, interested in what was becoming a very awkward conversation. “Is there a better way? You know as well as I do that this is how to do it. If we want to catch him inside of this century, that is.”
Kyle paused. He nodded at the envelope, too chicken to meet Bella’s eyes where they shone at him like spotlights from the couch. “I do,” he said. “I know that. I know it just like everyone else in the department knows it. But you can’t ask your father to—”
“My father?” Bella burst out. “He’s not the one willing to do what it takes to bring this guy in. I am. Tell me you understand, Kyle. It’s about the case, not about—”
“Not about you, right?” Kyle picked up the envelope. What had seemed like such an innocuous thing to begin with suddenly took on huge import. He held the envelope up like a trophy, moving it back and forth as if to highlight its attributes.
“What is that damn thing?”
Kyle shrugged and threw it into her lap. “It was on your doorstep.”
“So you brought it in. Aren’t you the Boy Scout?” Bella scooped it off her lap and held it in front of her. “There’s no address on it.”
“No, but there’s a name. Your name.” In a few steps Kyle was across the loft and beside her on the couch. “I don’t mean to intrude or anything, but if it’s… you know.”
She held it, trembling, looking at the neat handwriting that spelled out her name like it was one of many on a mailing list. “You think it’s from him?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Keener than she liked to admit, Bella ripped open the envelope and pulled out an equally limp piece of paper. Breathless, she unfolded it:
QUACK!
Hello, my little duckling. Why don’t you come and meet me at the duckpond? If you don’t, maybe I’ll plow my car through a thick crowd or maybe blow up Little Flower Academy. You don’t want to test me, do you?
You have twenty-four hours.
Bella’s hands shook harder, hate and anger blending together to fill a hot flush through her face. It wasn’t
enough that this man had ruined her life, now he was putting a time stamp on her submission? The thought of it made her shudder, but did she really have a choice? “Let me guess, you’re here to stop me from going.”
Kyle smiled, and for a moment Bella was breathless. Not from fear or from disgust, but from the pure beauty of the grin that shot right through her.
“No. I’m here to tell you to be careful.”
Chapter Thirty
The dusty blinds that shielded Brooks’s office from view clanked as the door slammed. They wavered for a few seconds before sitting, which was more than could be said for the captain. Aware he’d been a little too enthusiastic closing his door but too annoyed to care, Bella glared across the desk.
Kyle was sheepish as usual, that wasn’t hard to determine. His shoulders were slouched where he sat, and he was looking nervously from his captain to his partner. Bella, however, was without remorse. She faced him with the same stupid determination in her eye, leaning back in her chair like she was about to be kicked out of high school for the umpteenth time.
“Little Flower Academy?” Brooks said, exhaling louder than usual. “That’s a private school, isn’t it?”
“It’s right downtown. It’s an all-girls private school that goes from kindergarten to sixth grade, I believe,” Kyle said, clearing his throat. “We’re talking Portland’s elite here, sir. The mayor’s daughter, half of City Hall’s kids, musicians and celebrities.”
Bella grabbed the letter from the desk where she’d dropped it.
Brooks winced.
“You didn’t think it might’ve been a good idea to get that thing dusted for fingerprints before you two manhandled it?” His voice was dry with irritability. “You forgot everything you learned in first year already?”
Kyle blushed. He looked down at his lap and fiddled with his phone. “I was just thinking of getting it to Bella as soon as I could.”
“Right.” Brooks walked around his desk and dropped into his seat. “Because all of a sudden Bella isn’t just a detective that’s been specifically put on leave, but she’s in charge of forensics and everything else around here?” He motioned to the letter. “You both might have single-handedly destroyed important evidence. Maybe evidence that might have actually caught this bastard.”
Bella made a small groan. “The only way we’re catching him—” she began.
Brooks interrupted her, leaning forward on his desk, his hands clasped in front of him. “Is if I send you in like bait. I’ve got it, Bella. You made your whole plan abundantly clear last night. It’s still not happening. I don’t care how overprotective you think I am. I’m not going to put my best detective in the line of fire. That’s not how we work.”
Kyle recoiled beside her, as if expecting Brooks to smack the letter from her hand. She felt for him—he’d been dragged into the middle of a family drama and he was stuck in the well-meaning younger child role.
“This is a direct threat to school children,” Bella said. “I don’t think he could make it clearer.”
“How do we know it’s from him? It could be a copycat, it could be anyone. There’s been enough media coverage of this entire case. Here’s an idea…” Brooks snatched the letter from Bella’s hands and slipped it into the envelope. “Why don’t we follow procedure and send it to the lab like we should’ve done in the first place?”
Kyle blushed again and mumbled an apology.
Bella rolled her eyes at him, undaunted by Brooks’s crippling sarcasm. “We only have twenty-four hours. Kyle found the letter early this morning, which only gives me twelve hours to get down there. The farmhouse is at least a two-hour drive from here.”
“That’s the duckpond?” Kyle asked.
“There’s nothing there anymore,” Brooks said, “Gray has been down to the farmhouse, remember? It’s half-destroyed, and the other half is rotting away. There’s no way anyone could still be living there.”
“He is.” Bella was restless in her chair. “He’s waiting for me there. Down in that disgusting cellar. What else could be the duckpond?” Her mention of the cellar caused her throat to constrict. At the change in her tone, the men fell silent. There was no way they could know what she’d gone through down there. They knew the facts, but not that she had the scars—emotional scars that were deep enough to still be raw two decades later. “I’m sorry. I get that I sound like a broken record, but I can’t put those kids in harm’s way. Even if it’s a copycat, I can’t take the risk.”
The quiet allowed the noises of the outside office to make their way into the room. The three stared at anything but each other, a mellow soundtrack of office noises in stark contrast to their intensity. Finally, Brooks leaned back in his chair, the metal creaking under his weight. He wrapped his hands behind his head and regarded Bella. Would he ever see her as anything but a child?
“I’m not going to be able to stop you, am I?” he asked.
Bella’s breath caught in her throat. She gazed up at the captain, his gray eyes studying her as he resembled a stern headteacher. “No, you’re not.”
“You’re going down there whether I approve or not?”
The partners exchanged a glance, almost smiling.
“Damn it. All right.” Brooks slapped his desk with a deafening bang that ricocheted through the office. His decision was made. “But you’re not going down there without a wire.”
“Great,” Bella said, then frowned. “No, I mean. No. I’m not wearing a wire. If Ross finds it on me, he’ll kill those girls without a second thought. No wire. I’ve got to go in there on my own, or this won’t work.”
Brooks shook his head. He rubbed his cheek again, deep in thought. “We got confirmation this morning, Bella,” he said. “Now that you’re officially on the case, there’s something you need to know. All those packages Ross was collecting back at the squatter house on Harrison?”
She nodded.
“He’s building something. We now know that all those parts we seized were the leftovers of some kind of weapon. They’re certain it’s a bomb.”
“To take out Little Flower Academy?” Kyle asked.
“To take out something. Who knows?” Brooks locked his daughter in eye contact. “I’m sending you into something that could be the end of you. You know that, right? We’ve got a serial killer and a bomb on the table here, Bella. I need assurance that you can handle this. That you won’t mess it up.”
Bella stood up, all the weakness and pain in her overused legs forgotten. She opened her anorak, exposing the sidearm nestled against her ribs. “I’m bringing him back, sir.”
“Alive, preferably,” Captain Brooks said, still locked into his daughter’s burning eyes. “I’ve got a few choice words for Ross as well.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The hours were running out. Salem hadn’t noticed the day ending, he’d been so busy with his preparations. He stood in the driveway, amazed to see the daylight turning gray around him. The temperature was changing, too. His arms felt chilly and damp as the night was preparing to creep around the house, the cold seeming to come up out of the earth beneath him rather than from the rainy sky above. Had he really been working that long?
He looked down at the remote in his hand, feeling the weight of it in the wrinkled expanse of his palm. If he’d done this right, and he knew he had, it would take the touch of a single button to blow a crater the size of Mount Tabor out of the ground around him. Salem frowned a little, surveying the long driveway that led away from the farmhouse toward the main road. He’d have to wait for them all to gather in the driveway before setting off the explosives. He’d hidden cameras carefully on the gate and the areas of the house that were still sturdy enough to act as supports. Those cameras were easily connected to his burner phone and would sound an alert in his pocket should anyone enter his property.
He always knew there was a reason he’d chosen a house with only one viable entrance road. Initially he’d believed it was because there was a fortress appeal to t
he place, but now he understood that it’d all been funneling down to this moment. His grand finale. His little duckling was coming home to the pond, and he’d be ready for anyone that tried to stop her.
The rain began to fall harder. Salem’s lids were hot when he closed his eyes, and he allowed himself a few moments of quiet. His stomach churned from the lack of food, and he became aware of how sore his muscles were. He’d been working steadily since dropping off the letter at Bella’s. He smiled a little, his eyes still closed, remembering how easy it had been to just walk into her building. A cap pulled down over his head and a jacket the right color to be easily mistaken for a local courier company was all it had taken. He’d even grinned at the receptionist as he passed her the letter.
“Nothing for me to sign?” she’d asked, smiling at him in the friendly way those in the lower rung of the workforce used with each other. He’d been tempted to stay and play a while with her assumptions, but he’d restrained himself.
“Oh, I left the book back in the truck. It’s no big deal.” He’d enjoyed winking at her. “They won’t notice just this once.”
She’d laughed in a tinkling, phony sort of way and winked back. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
That girl would be out of a job once they got their asses in gear long enough to see him walk past the security camera. She’d probably never work in reception again. Not that it was such a tragedy. They hadn’t even seen the tragedy he was capable of.
His eyes still closed, he heard the distant sound of a car approaching. His heart skipped in his chest and his eyes opened, predator sharp as he scanned the thick trees that blocked the view of the house from the road. Headlights rounded the corner. Was she here already? He knew she was on her way; of course she was. His duckling was determined. He hadn’t planned on her arriving so early, however.
He held his breath, the controller for his homemade bomb hanging limply by his side. He didn’t breathe out until the car passed, its wheels ripping along the wet gravel. He needed to get himself together if this was going to go as planned. The last thing he wanted was to spoil her homecoming by being too eager.
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