by Debra Webb
“Get them on over to her momma’s. They’ve been through enough tonight.”
“I knew this was coming.” Pryor’s voice preceded him into the room.
He and his fellow agent strolled right up to Lincoln and Billy.
Every muscle in Billy’s body tensed with the need to kick the shit out of the guy. Instead, he ignored him and asked Lincoln, “Have you spoken to the neighbors to see if anyone saw anything?”
Neighbors were few and far between out here, but there was always the chance someone looked out a window at just the right time.
“We’re working on that now,” Lincoln said. “Nothing to report yet and I’m doubtful we’ll find anyone who’ll say anything.”
Billy figured as much. Somehow they had to find Rowan. Fast. “Charlotte didn’t see the color or the make of the vehicle he was driving?”
Lincoln shook his head. “We’ve got nothing, Billy. Not one damned thing.”
“This is what she wanted,” Pryor said, daring to break into the conversation again.
“Get Charlotte and the kids out of here,” Billy said to Lincoln, then he turned around, glowered at the special agent in charge. “What the hell does that mean, Pryor?”
“I’m saying,” he dared to gloat, “that Rowan intended to find a way to disappear with Addington. She has her own agenda. I’ve suspected it all along. She and Dressler have been plotting this together. We’ve traced at least one call from him to her in the past week.”
The man had obviously lost his damned mind. Just when Billy would have told him as much, his phone vibrated. He snatched it from his pocket. Didn’t recognize the number.
“Excuse me.” He turned his back on Pryor and walked away. “Brannigan.”
He prayed the voice on the other end of the line would be Rowan’s or Addington’s. At this point he would love to hear from the son of a bitch.
“It’s Dressler.”
Billy’s hopes flattened. “I’m listening.”
“I was following Rowan when she drove your truck to her assistant’s house.”
Renewed hope gushed through Billy. “Are they going to run more tests?”
Dressler hesitated before saying, “Pryor is there?”
“Yeah. That sounds good.”
“Got it. I saw Addington put her in the trunk of a car. I followed him when he left.”
Billy held his breath.
“We’ve ended up at this house in the middle of nowhere just across the state line in Alabama. The GPS says it’s a place called Lick Fork, near Princeton.”
Billy fought to keep his tone even. “I’m familiar with that one.”
“I think you need to come now.”
“Okay. Glad you called. Keep me posted.”
Billy put his phone away and turned back to the two agents loitering nearby, no doubt to eavesdrop. “My father’s in the hospital. Heart attack.”
Pryor nodded, though his expression remained indifferent. “I heard.”
Lincoln walked in and Billy was grateful. He had to get out of here without Pryor having him followed.
“Charlotte and her kids are on the way to her mother’s,” Lincoln confirmed.
“Good.” Now all Billy needed was a legitimate excuse to get the hell out of here himself.
“Detective Lincoln,” Pryor interrupted, “what are your people doing to get this situation under control? Have you issued an APB for DuPont? If you don’t consider her a suspect in this mess, you’d better reconsider your profession.”
Billy gave the man a shove and got in his face. “I don’t know who you think you are, you little son of a—”
“Did you see that?” Pryor demanded of Lincoln. “He assaulted me!”
Lincoln grabbed Billy and pulled him away. “Listen to me, man.” He ushered Billy across the room, out of earshot from the two agents.
“Get me out of here,” Billy murmured to his old friend. “I’ve got a heads-up from Dressler. I’ll text you the details.”
Lincoln searched his eyes for a moment. “Just don’t do anything we’ll all regret.”
“If you don’t get this guy out of here,” Billy shouted, sending a glance at Pryor over his shoulder, “I’m going to—”
“Go back to the hospital, Chief. Stay close to your Dad. We’ve got this under control,” Lincoln urged calmly. “We’ll keep you up to speed.”
“Arrest him!” Pryor insisted. “I want him charged.”
“Get out of here, Brannigan,” Lincoln ordered.
Billy headed for the door.
Behind him, Lincoln said, “Back off, Pryor. You pushed him first. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Both agents protested the accusation.
Billy didn’t look back and didn’t hesitate. He was out the door and rushing across the yard before the two federal agents stopped complaining.
He slid behind the wheel of Rowan’s SUV and drove away. He was a good hour away from the house where Addington had taken her.
Getting there before it was too late was all that mattered.
Twenty-Two
“It’s time I showed you something.”
For an hour or close to it Rowan had listened as Julian told her story after story about his family’s exploits. He had no accurate count of how many people had been slaughtered on this farm. He had named off several known serial killers from past decades. None as prolific as him, or his family apparently. But Rowan had recognized several of the names.
Her mind felt numb with the notion that these people were her grandparents. Her mother had grown up in this hellhole.
Julian motioned for her to stand, using the weapon he’d not once laid aside. “Come.”
She stood. He guided her into the kitchen. Opening a drawer in the cabinet nearest the back door, he reached inside and withdrew a flashlight. Clearly he’d been here and made certain preparations. Her throat constricted at the possibilities that might await anyone who attempted to rescue her.
He ushered her out the back door and into the night. The flashlight came on, its beam bobbing with their movements. He seemed to know the path, though it was long overgrown. As Rowan’s eyes adjusted to the night, she decided their destination was the dilapidated barn.
When they reached the entrance, he paused. “I’ve waited a long time to share this with you, Rowan.”
She stared at him; the faint glow from the flashlight illuminated his face. “Why does it matter? You’re going to kill me anyway.”
His smile was at once sinister and indulgent. “Because I want you to know your heritage before you take your last breath.”
They moved through the interior of the barn. There were places where the loft had already fallen in, creating a maze of timbers. Julian pointed out the dust-covered chains in each stall that had been used for holding cells. The rough-hewn wood enclosures were stained with the same dark red as were parts of the wooden walls.
The image of people, naked and terrified, chained in those stalls flashed through her mind. In the middle of nowhere surrounded by the woods and fields, no one would hear their screams.
All this time she had yearned to know the whole truth, now she wasn’t so sure she wanted to learn more than she already had.
Julian stopped at a stack of old hay bales. “I’ll need you to move these aside.”
While he watched, his weapon trained on her, she moved the heavy bales aside. The odor of mold, decay and dust filled her nostrils. Years of absorbing the humidity had made the bales heavier. She struggled with the weight, the twine holding the bales together cutting into her palms. Sweat beaded on her skin. Oddly it didn’t bother her. Instead, it reminded her that, for now, she was still alive.
When she had moved the ten bales, she dusted off her hands and turned back to the man in charge of this macabre quest.
“Feel ar
ound on the ground, push the loose hay aside. You’ll find a handle and a lock.” He turned the beam of the light more directly on the area where the bales had been stacked.
She dropped to her knees and pushed aside the dust and hay until her hand bumped into something metal. An old iron handle with a padlock.
He tossed a key onto the ground next to her. She used it to release the padlock. When she had removed it from the handle, she handed both the lock and the key to him. He tossed them aside as if they no longer mattered. Then he grabbed Charlotte’s gun and tossed it across the barn.
His gaze collided with hers. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you looking at it. Now, open the door.”
Hatred expanding inside her, Rowan wrapped her fingers around the handle and pulled. The trapdoor was wood, old heavy wood. The patina of the wood matched the dusty ground and the hay that had sat atop it. When she pulled the door away from the opening, she propped it against the barn wall.
The beam of the flashlight poured into the opening, revealing a ladder. She couldn’t see much beyond the ladder itself. It appeared to go down at least eight or ten feet.
“You go down first,” he instructed. “When you reach the bottom, sit down on the ground with your back against the wall opposite the ladder. I’ll be right behind you.”
Rowan did as he asked. The beam of light remained aimed downward, providing enough illumination for her to see each rung as she descended downward. When she reached the bottom, she took the few steps to the far wall and sat down. Didn’t feel like dirt beneath her, more like brick. She really hoped there were no rats or spiders.
He descended the ladder and turned to face her. With the flashlight between them, she could see that the floor was brick. The walls, too. Overhead was more timbers like the ones inside the barn. The space wasn’t exactly a basement; it was only seven or eight feet wide but continued on for a distance she couldn’t estimate since pitch-black lay beyond the beam of the flashlight.
“This way.” He gestured with the light for her to move on into the tunnel.
She got to her feet and moved in the direction he had indicated. The corridor-like tunnel went on for a dozen or so yards, then it opened into a larger room.
Rowan’s breath fled her lungs as her gaze moved over the walls, following the beam of light as if she had no choice in the matter. She had to look.
“Oh my God.” The words seeped out of her.
She could have been standing in the catacombs beneath Paris. Skulls and bones lined the walls, reaching the ceiling.
“This,” Julian said, “is your birthright. Death is who you are, Rowan.”
* * *
Billy pulled over on the main road, right behind the car that Dressler had parked there. The agent emerged from his car and Billy did the same. He had called Lincoln and given him the location. Backup was maybe thirty minutes out.
There was time for Billy to find Addington and do what he needed to do before backup arrived.
“They went to the barn and they haven’t come out unless they have since I came out here to meet you.”
Dressler looked like hell. His clothes were rumpled. Just jeans and a sweatshirt. Not the usual suit and perfectly polished shoes. This case had taken him down. Billy thought of all the homicides attributed to Addington and it was no wonder.
No one involved had escaped being touched by the evil that was Julian Addington.
“Lead the way,” Billy offered.
Dressler headed up the long drive with no light. Billy had tucked his flashlight into his back pocket. He had his service weapon in his waistband at the small of his back and a backup piece Lincoln had given him in his jacket pocket.
“How much do you know about this place?” Dressler asked, keeping his voice low.
“More than I want to,” Billy admitted. “Evidently the Mulligan family held killing celebrations.”
“You know Rowan’s mother was his sister.”
“Yeah.” That part sickened Billy just a little. But Norah couldn’t help being born into the family. What set her apart was what she did as soon as she was old enough to comprehend what they were.
“I imagine Rowan is upset considering what she’s learned?”
“Who wouldn’t be?” Billy felt sick for her.
“How’d you manage to give Pryor the slip?”
Billy glanced at him, couldn’t really make out his expression in the scant moonlight. “I started a fight with him. Got kicked out of the crime scene.”
“I wish you’d kicked his ass.”
“Trust me,” Billy said, “I wanted to.”
They fell silent as they approached the house. Billy drew his weapon, his instincts going on point. Dressler drew his weapon as well. Slowly, soundlessly, they moved into the house, and then from room to room. The place was empty.
“They’re still in the barn,” Dressler said.
“The barn is ready to fall in on itself,” Billy pointed out. “Seems unlikely they would hang around out there for long.”
Something wasn’t right. Billy’s instincts were screaming at him.
“We should go on out there and check it out,” Billy suggested when Dressler seemed to stay lost in his own thoughts.
Still the man said nothing, so Billy turned away and started for the back door.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Chief.”
Billy turned around to face the man. Dressler had a bead on him, center chest.
“What’s going on, Dressler?” Not that the question was actually necessary.
“He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” Dressler said with a shrug. “I keep the Bureau off his trail and he would give me what I needed to close the tough cases.” Dressler laughed. “He made me a legend. I owe him everything. Rowan is his coup de grâce. Everything about this moment has to be perfect.”
“Is Pryor in on this, too?” Billy decided to keep him talking as long as possible.
Dressler laughed. “That tight ass? You must be joking. He was just a way to throw you and Rowan off my scent. She trusts me, you know. I think she had a thing for me there for a while.”
Billy nodded. “Yeah, I know. She mentioned that she had hoped the two of you would get together one day.” The lie tasted as bitter as the red sumac berries he’d eaten as a kid. “Too bad you screwed that up, Dressler.”
The agent laughed so hard he lost his breath. “Now that’s rich, Brannigan.” He waved his weapon cavalierly. “You, of all people should—”
Billy snaked out his right hand and grabbed the other man’s weapon by the barrel, turning it away from him. Dressler tried to get an aim back on him, but Billy twisted hard and yanked the weapon free of his grasp.
Dressler went for his throat with both hands.
They hit the floor. The wind whooshed out of Billy’s lungs.
Billy gored the muzzle of his service revolver into the guy’s skull. “Get off me,” he growled, his voice squeaking out despite the pressure on his throat.
Dressler stilled. He stared Billy in the eyes. “I can’t let you screw this up.”
His fingers locked hard around Billy’s throat once more.
Billy pulled the trigger.
The bullet plowed through Dressler’s skull, sending blood spraying across Billy’s face. He shoved the bastard off him and scrambled up, wiping his face with his forearm.
If Addington was anywhere near the house or barn, he was bound to have heard the shot. Billy clicked off the living room light, pitching the house back into total darkness. He moved back to the front door and slipped out. Stepping carefully to cut down on the noise, he moved around the end of the house and started for the barn he and Rowan had seen when they were here before.
He found his way to the barn without breaking his neck. His heart was thundering. That he hadn’t heard a sound, or encountered anyo
ne, worried him. Where was Rowan? Where the hell was Addington?
Inside the barn was dark as hell. He squinted, peering into the darkness. On the far side was a glimmer of light. His weapon leading the way, he eased in that direction, careful to check the path with one boot before moving.
The light was coming from a hole in the floor. No, he decided, not a hole.
An access door that led down to a basement or cellar. He peeked down into the hole. There was a ladder and at the bottom a flashlight lay on the ground. The flashlight was in the on position as if someone had accidentally dropped it there.
He readied to start down the ladder.
“No! Billy!”
Rowan.
He whirled around. Addington rushed at him, a knife raised high above his head.
Billy pulled the trigger.
The knife sliced across his arm.
His weapon hit the ground.
Billy grabbed for Addington with his left arm, pulled him into a bear hug and twisted.
Addington growled like an animal and raised the knife again. Billy shoved him away.
The knife swished through the air, glancing off Billy’s shoulder.
He winced at the burn of the blade slicing through his jacket and the skin beneath.
Addington screamed and scrambled for purchase.
His body had slipped into the hole in the floor. Billy moved closer. The bastard’s fingers were bracketed on the edge of the opening, his legs dangling beneath him searching for the ladder. The flashlight backlit his struggle. His eyes were wide with terror.
In the background Rowan was asking if he was okay.
Billy got down on his hands and knees and put his face close to the bastard’s. “Backup will be here any minute. Your source in the FBI is dead. It’s over, Addington. You’re going away for the rest of your life.”
More than anything else in this world he wanted this bastard to die. He wanted to be the one to end his life. But he had sworn long ago to uphold the law and that duty included him, not just the people under his watch.
Billy extended his hand. “Take my hand and I’ll pull you up.”
