Closer Than You Think (61 page)

‘So they escaped. Which means they’re out there somewhere, maybe waiting for me.’

‘Most likely. I need you to stay safe. I can’t be worried about you and do my job too. Understand?’

‘Yes. Go now. I’ll be fine here, surrounded by cops.’

Deacon nodded, then fixed his gaze on the far wall, lowering his voice to a murmur. ‘I’d kiss you goodbye, but there’s no privacy here.’

‘Later you can kiss me hello. Go. Bring Corinne home.’

He left with a hard nod. ‘Stay here. Be safe.’

Faith watched him go, his leather coat tails flapping behind him. Then she closed her eyes.

‘Are you all right?’ Isenberg asked quietly from behind her.

‘No,’ Faith whispered without opening her eyes. ‘How will I tell Arianna that Corinne is dead? And that my uncle did it? How can I tell Arianna that my uncle was the monster who tortured her and would’ve killed her too?’

‘And that your uncle is also trying to kill you?’

Faith nodded, tears burning her throat, stinging her eyes. ‘He’s killed all of these people, Lieutenant. There’s no way I can make amends.’ She angrily dashed away the tears that blurred her vision. ‘But at least I have this list. I can help identify the seven other women that were buried in that basement, whose names we don’t yet know.’

Isenberg squeezed her shoulder, the gesture unexpected but welcome. ‘Good girl. How had you planned to do that?’

‘By going through each name.’ Faith thumbed at the edge of the stack, riffling the pages. ‘There are over eighteen hundred names on this list.’

‘Wow. Your family has been very generous.’

‘I know.’ One side of her mouth lifted. ‘So we’re not all bad. Tobias established the Foundation thirty-eight years ago, the year after Joy died. The same year he stole my grandmother’s land and sold it. I figure we don’t have to go back more than ten years. That’s how long Sergeant Tanaka thought the basement windows and doors had been boarded up. Going back only ten years cuts the number to just under five hundred names. The board had decided to give out fewer small grants and more large ones, so that works in our favor. If we could separate out the blonde females, we could further reduce the list, but these are just names. I’m sure Henson kept files on the recipients. I can ask for them.’

‘And I’ll send over uniforms to bring them here. I started a warrant for the list this morning, just in case he didn’t give it to you. I can amend that to the boxes of files.’ Isenberg made a face. ‘And then it’s just old-fashioned tedious examination of each name to see if they’re still alive. Or have been reported missing. I’ll get a team of clerks up here to do the analysis.’

‘I’d like to help,’ Faith said. ‘I need to help. I need to do something.’

‘And we want your help,’ Isenberg said. She motioned to Kimble, who was sitting at his desk. ‘Detective Kimble is going to take you to the house to look for souvenirs.’

‘But Deacon said he wanted to be there,’ Faith said.

Isenberg shrugged. ‘That was before Bishop got the call about the cabin. Any of my clerks can crunch through the names on that list, but only you know about the house, and we do need those souvenirs, if they exist. We’ll clear the area of all non-essential CSU personnel and alert the uniforms on the scene to be alert for a sniper attack.’

‘You’re wearing Kevlar, aren’t you, Detective Kimble?’ Faith asked lightly.

‘Always,’ Kimble said. ‘And so will you.’

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Eastern Kentucky, Wednesday 5 November, 1.05
P.M.

‘Just a little further, Roza,’ Corinne coaxed. ‘Please. Just a little bit further.’

‘I can’t.’ Tears streamed down the child’s face. ‘I can’t, ’Rin. My feet are bleeding.’

‘I know. So are mine. But we should get to the main road soon.’

‘You said that already. Lots of times.’

‘I know, but—’ Corinne cut herself off. ‘Wait. Did you hear that?’ After what seemed like an eternity in the woods, she’d heard a car. ‘Come on, Roza! Hurry!’

She caught the girl’s hand, yanked her to her feet and dragged her toward the sound – then yelped when she slipped on the dew-covered grass and encountered only air. She was falling, rolling, sliding down a huge hill, hitting rocks and brush all the way down.

When she finally came to a stop, she rolled to her back with a groan. She’d hurt before. She was in agony now. ‘Roza?’ she called, gritting her teeth.

‘Over here.’ Roza’s voice was thin. Weak. ‘I think . . . My head’s bleeding.’

Corinne’s pounding heart skipped a beat. ‘
No
. I didn’t drag you all this way to lose you to a damn hill.’ She shoved herself to her hands and knees, lifting her head to squint around, looking for Roza’s dark head. She dragged herself to Roza’s side.

The girl was bleeding profusely from a cut over her eye. ‘It’s not good, but it could be worse,’ Corinne said matter-of-factly. ‘Head wounds bleed like a bitch. Trouble is, every inch of me is filthy. I need to find something clean to put over your wound. Wait here.’

‘Okay,’ Roza said sleepily.

‘And don’t go to sleep,’ Corinne ordered. ‘You might have a concussion.’

‘I don’t know what that means.’

‘It means don’t go to sleep.’ Corinne staggered to her feet and took a moment to let her dizziness fade. When it didn’t, she squinted and did a three-sixty, taking in the landscape.

It really was a road. At the base of the hill was a small parking lot, big enough for four or five vehicles. Eventually someone would come by here, but how long would that take?

He could still come
. He could still find them.
I should have killed him. I should have stabbed him in the back
.
Or hit him with the shovel again and again until he was dead
.

She’d allowed her fear to overwhelm her reason. She looked up the hill, half expecting him to be standing there, then heard the low rumble of another vehicle. Frantically she searched for cover, but there was none. The road ran through a vale, hills sloping up on both sides.

Be friendly strangers, please
. Drawing a breath, Corinne stood her ground and waited, prepared to throw herself into the road to stop them if need be.

A Subaru came around the bend, looking like it had spent most of its time in the forest off-road. It slowed when it saw her. Slowed and pulled over. A man got out, walking toward her carefully, his face in the shadow of the far hill.

‘Are you all right, miss?’ he asked, his deep voice a smooth rumble over her ears.

‘No. I need help. My . . . my sister is hurt and needs medical attention.’

He came a step closer, hands up, palms out. ‘I’ve got first-aid training. Maybe I can help.’

Corinne took a step back. He wasn’t the man she’d stabbed. This one was just as tall, and was still a big guy, but not nearly as massive as the man who’d tried to grab her at the deer blind. He wore a weathered brown leather jacket where the other guy had worn a black windbreaker over a black hoodie. But their hair looked the same – same color, same style. Her heart began to pound in fear.

He stepped into the light and her instincts screamed for her to run. His body wasn’t the same, but his face was.
Run! Run!
But Roza couldn’t run.
I can’t carry her
.

She’d used one of the knives on the big guy and had lost the others when she fell. She slipped her hand in her pocket, felt the Swiss army knife she’d taken from the dead man in the van, but she knew she’d never be able to pry the blade out. Her fingers were too stiff and swollen. It was useless, except to maybe throw at him.

She didn’t even have the shovel anymore. She’d dropped it long ago.

She took another step back. ‘Maybe you could just call 911.’

‘Fine. I can do that. Just . . . relax.’

Relax? I don’t think so
. Fighting the hysteria she could feel rising, Corinne edged back toward Roza. His hand slid into his coat pocket and an instant later white-hot pain exploded in her thigh. She heard the gunshot as her knee buckled, taking her down.

Face down in the dirt she screamed, the pain consuming. ‘
You sonofabitch!
’

Roza
. She pushed up on her elbows, tears streaming down her face. And then she couldn’t breathe, all the air shoved from her lungs when she was tackled from behind. She fought hard, thrashing, bucking, trying to throw him off.

‘Stay down!’ The man rolled sideways, barely giving her room to draw a breath.

He had a gun, but he was aiming up the hill, not at her. He fired, the recoil jerking down his arm and into his body. No, not the recoil, she thought a split second later when he collapsed on top of her. He’d been shot.

Shot protecting me. What the fuck?
She lay there trembling. Everything was quiet. Then another shot cracked the air. The man’s body jerked again and she felt a burning in her side.

Shot again. Both of us
. The bullet had first hit the man who shielded her.
Then me
. She heard footsteps, then someone sliding down the hill.
He’s coming. He’ll kill Roza
.

She looked to the side, saw the gun loosely clutched in her rescuer’s hand. She didn’t know who he was or why he’d shielded her, but she did know that if those footsteps got any closer, she and her mystery rescuer would both be dead.

The bastard who’d shot them had a rifle. He’d been up on the hill when he fired the first shot. She had to move fast or he’d shoot her again.

He’d shoot her again anyway.

Sucking in a breath, she shoved at the man on top of her until she could roll out from beneath him. She grabbed his pistol and swung up her arms, aiming straight up.
Fingers, work. Work, dammit.
She curled one finger over the trigger and squeezed. All she saw was the look of surprise in eyes peeking out from a ski mask before she started firing.

He was less than ten feet away, his rifle up against his shoulder, aimed straight at her. Corinne’s first shot hit him squarely in the chest and she felt sick as the recoil sent new pain up her arm. He staggered back but didn’t fall, so she shot him again.

What. The. Fuck?
He was wearing body armor.

He lifted the rifle and she fired once more, hitting his arm this time. A wave of curses flowed out of him but he backed up to aim again.

I’m dead. That’s it.
And then an engine roared behind her. The Subaru rushed past her, going straight for the masked gunman. The gunman sprayed bullets into the windshield and the tires, then turned and ran. The Subaru did a crazy turn, coming to a stop in a spray of dirt and leaves about fifty feet away.

Corinne stared at the vehicle, air sawing in and out of her lungs. Who was driving? She couldn’t see anyone in the front seat.

And then she saw the gunman again. He was running away from her, around the bend and out of sight, something small and dark draped over his shoulder.

‘
Roza! No!
’ Corinne tried to stand, but her leg wouldn’t support her. She sank to the ground, her side burning like liquid fire, watching as the man climbed up the hill and disappeared.
He has Roza
. Utterly spent, she sat on the ground and sobbed. ‘He took her.’

‘Girl.’ The deep voice was gravelly. Broken. ‘You there.’

Corinne looked at the man who’d taken a bullet for her. Two, actually. ‘What?’

‘My phone. In my pocket.’ His breathing was labored. ‘Call 911.’

Still sobbing, she pulled his phone from his pocket just as the ground trembled. The Subaru’s driver’s door had opened and a man tumbled from its front seat. A huge man.

Corinne gasped. It was the man she’d hit with the shovel near the deer blind. He’d been driving the Subaru, hunkered down. He’d scared the gunman away. Now he stretched out his arm. ‘Don’t hurt him,’ he begged. ‘Please. My brother was trying to help you.’

‘I won’t hurt him,’ she promised. Hands shaking, she dialed 911 and nearly cried when she heard the operator’s voice.

‘What is the nature of your emergency?’

‘Three of us, hurt. Two of us shot. One got stabbed, but that was an accident, I swear.’

‘Where are you?’

‘I don’t know.’ She looked at her protector. ‘Where are we?’

‘Daniel Boone National Forest. Route 60. Just out of Morehead. Tell them to hurry.’

‘I heard him,’ the operator said. ‘What is your name?’

‘Corinne. Corinne Longstreet. Please, the man who did this to us . . . he took my . . . the little girl who was with me. Her name is Roza. We were kidnapped and held in a house, then a cabin. He shot me and he took her. Please. He’ll kill her.’

‘Can you describe him?’

‘Tall, not big, not skinny. Wearing a ski mask. I’m sorry. Please hurry, she’s only eleven.’

‘I’m informing the police right now. Did you see what he was driving?’

‘No, he came here on foot. He shot us from up on the hill, then came down and took Roza. I shot his arm. I shot his chest, too, but he didn’t go down. He was wearing body armor. And he had a rifle. With a scope. Looked like an M24. But then he ran away on the shoulder of the road, around the curve. He drove a van once, then a car once, but I didn’t see which one he had this time.’

‘Who is with you?’

‘I don’t know. Who are you?’ she asked the man beside her.

‘Marcus O’Bannion,’ he wheezed. ‘That big guy is my brother Stone.’

Stone?
Corinne wanted to laugh, knowing it was hysteria.
His head was like one
. She told the operator their names. ‘The girl’s name is Firoza, but she goes by Roza.’

‘All right, honey. Help is on the way. Sit tight.’

Like I have a choice?
She couldn’t do anything but sit. Except that the man who’d saved her life looked in even worse shape than she was. ‘How badly are you hit?’ she asked him.

‘Pretty bad.’

She could hear the wheezing sound of his lungs. She’d heard that sound once before. One of the bullets had punctured his lung. ‘Do you have any first-aid supplies in your vehicle?’

‘In the back,’ Marcus whispered. ‘A kit.’

‘He says to look in the back,’ she ordered Stone, who still lay next to the Subaru. ‘Can you throw the kit? I can’t walk to get it. Hurry or he’ll die.’

She was watching Stone crawl over with the first-aid kit when their last name clicked. ‘O’Bannion? The people who gave me a scholarship?’

Marcus’s eyes glinted with interest, despite his obvious pain. ‘You’re a Joy kid? No shit?’

‘Not a kid,’ she snapped as she opened the first-aid kit. ‘Are you one of those O’Bannions?’

‘Other side of the family,’ he wheezed. ‘Small world, huh?’

‘Yeah,’ Corinne said flatly. ‘Small as hell.’

Mt Carmel, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 1.05
P.M.

‘It’s just a house,’ Faith murmured as she walked into her grandmother’s living room. CSU had been busy. All the sheets that had covered the furniture had been removed, revealing the massive mahogany pieces she remembered from her childhood. Black fingerprint powder covered the walls and almost every other surface.

All of this is mine
, she thought, but there was no joy in it. Only the rapidly growing sense of suffocating, impending doom.
At least this stuff should bring some money at auction
. Her father could definitely use the funds. But so could Gordon Shue’s wife and kids. And Agent Pope’s.
So many lives irrevocably changed
.

‘Dr Corcoran?’ Kimble said quietly, and Faith’s eyes jerked to his.

‘I’m sorry. I was thinking about the victims’ families. There aren’t enough assets in this house to compensate them all, even if I sold everything.’

His eyes flickered in surprise. ‘That you’d even think about it is something. Most people wouldn’t.’

‘I hope I’m not most people.’
I’m going to have to be stronger than most people
.

This nightmare was only beginning. Her life, her family, the link to the Joy Foundation . . . everything was about to become front-page news. The press knew bodies had been found here, but they didn’t know how many. They knew about Roza, but not about the girl’s mother.

Who might still be buried downstairs
. Faith gritted her teeth against the overwhelming need to run away as fast as she could. ‘Let’s do this before I chicken out.’

She marched herself through the kitchen, coming to a stop at the door to the basement. The steps grew wavy as she stared. She stifled a yelp when a hand grabbed her shoulder.

‘Breathe,’ Kimble said from behind her. ‘You have to breathe or you’ll pass out.’

‘Right.’ She’d done this before.
I can do it again
. But her feet would not move. Deacon had been here last time. He’d made it easier. Suddenly she wished she’d waited until he could have come with her. But there was work to be done. She closed her eyes, imagined Deacon stood behind her, his soothing voice in her ear, and took the first step.
One. That was one!