Did You Miss Me? (43 page)

Cole didn’t want to know why Mitch kept a bunch of guns and thousands of dollars in that little room in the basement – the hidden room that Mitch didn’t want him to know about. Mitch had his hands in some serious shit and Cole did not want to follow in his brother’s footsteps. ‘Ex-con’ didn’t look good on your permanent record.

But this once, he needed the help. There had been fifteen normal guns plus some that looked like antiques. He’d left the antiques alone the first time. He wouldn’t touch them this time either. Just a normal pistol.
That’s all I need
.

He crept down the stairs, grateful that Mitch was gone, leaving Cole all alone in the house that had more nooks and crannies than an English muffin. Mitch thought he was too stupid to know about all the hidden corners and rooms.

Cole knew about them and more. He pushed the boxes away from the wall and frowned. Then his heart started pounding even harder. The door had a new padlock.

Oh no
.
Hell, no
.
Now what?

A clatter upstairs had him jumping away from the supposed-to-be-secret door.

‘Mitch! Where are you? Goddammit, you mother
fuck
ing sonofabitch, where the
fuck
ing hell are you?’

That couldn’t be Matthew. Matthew didn’t swear. But it was. Stowing his shock, Cole replaced the boxes and listened. Matthew charged up to the second floor, so Cole jogged up the basement stairs. If he hurried, he could slip out through the garage before Matthew came back down, because he didn’t want to listen to another one of Matthew’s rants about what a problem Mitch was becoming.

Cole had gotten through the kitchen when a hand clamped his shoulder. He turned and looked down into Matthew’s glaring face. Matthew was bigger than Mitch.
But I’m bigger than them both
.
Why do I have to be such a fucking loser?
‘What?’ he snarled.

‘Where’s Mitch?’ Matt demanded.

‘Not here. Said he had a job. He took the Jeep, left the van.’

Matthew looked away. ‘Damn him. Damn him to hell.’

Don’t ask what’s wrong
.
Don’t ask
. ‘What’s wrong?’
Dammit
.

Matthew was pale. ‘Mitch set Dad up with some dangerous men. Stole from them, made it look like Dad did it. Fucking nightmare.’

See, now this is where I’m smarter than Mitch
.
Mitch would be all sarcastic, but I will pretend to care, just so I can get the hell out of here before the cops haul me off to juvie
. ‘Why would he do that?’

Good tone, good concern.
Go, me
. But Cole was really grinning inside.
Go, Mitch
. Asshole stepfather made Mitch take the blame years ago. That’s why Mitch went to jail.
Paybacks are a bitch
.

‘I don’t know. Still holding a grudge, I guess.’

Well it
was
three years of his life in prison getting it up the ass every day
.
Which is why I’m having problems now
.
Thanks
, Dad.

Cole grimaced. ‘It wasn’t like that was Dad’s fault or anything.’
Man, even I can’t pull that one off with a straight face
. ‘But it
was
three years of his life, Matt.’

‘This is going to get Dad killed,’ Matthew said bitterly. ‘What’s wrong with you two?’

‘Look, I don’t want anything to happen to Dad. If Mitch did this, he was wrong.’

‘If?
If?
I don’t know why I
bother
with you people.’

Cole raised his hands. ‘Whoa. What did Mitch steal? Maybe we can give it back.’

Matthew gave him a look that said he was trying to decide if Cole was old enough to be trusted.

Cole shrugged. ‘I can’t help if I’m runnin’ blind.’

Matthew sighed. ‘Guns. Lots of guns.’

‘Guns? They’re downstairs in the basement.’

Matthew’s jaw dropped. ‘You knew?’

Cole shrugged uneasily. ‘Fifteen guns didn’t seem like that big a deal. Not anything to get Dad killed over.’

Matthew’s shoulders sagged. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. These are lots of guns. Crates of semi-automatic assault rifles. AK-47s.’

Cole went still. ‘Like the ones they found in that guy’s trunk at the courthouse yesterday?’

‘Yes. Those were the guns Mitch stole. The number recovered in the raids yesterday was exactly what’s missing from our inventory. We didn’t know till we did the count today. This is a nightmare.’

‘Oh my God.’
This is way worse than what I did
.
Hey
.
Wait a minute
.
‘
How did Dad have them for Mitch to steal in the first place?’

Matthew rubbed his forehead. ‘Welcome to the real world, Cole. Dad has a shipping and distribution business.’

‘Yeah, antique furniture.’ Which had been Matt’s father’s story for years. ‘It’s how your father met our mother. She told me the story when I was little, right before . . . You know. Before. Mom said she owned this antique furniture store before she married him. She let him run it while she took care of us. That’s how he made his money.’

Which Cole knew was a lie. He wondered if his mother had known her husband distributed drugs through her furniture store. If she’d suspected. Or just didn’t care.

Something flickered in Matt’s eyes at the mention of their mother. Guilt or sorrow? Matt had chosen his side in the divorce. He stayed with Dad. Turned his back on Mom.

‘No,’ Matt said. ‘Not furniture. He distributes guns from Russia and . . . other things.’

Cole’s brows shot up. ‘Drugs?’

‘Sometimes.’

At least Matt was truthful about that. Cole frowned. ‘People?’

‘Not to my knowledge.’

Fucking hell
. That was not anything close to a no.
‘
What do you do?’

‘My MBA’s in accounting. I keep the books. And other things. I was the one who hired Mitch to make deliveries. I was trying to give the guy a break.’

I didn’t think he was doing HVAC work
.
‘
That actually explains a lot.’

‘Now Dad is terrified. You don’t screw with the Russians.’

Cole kept his voice sincere. ‘What are we going to do?’
I will be running like hell
.

‘I have to find Mitch. He has to make this right.’

It was, Cole supposed, a gorgeous piece of revenge. ‘Will they come after us?’

‘Probably not. I don’t think Antonov even knows about you, Cole.’

And don’t that make me feel special?
‘Look, I’d love to stay and help, but I’ve got a few problems of my own.’

Matthew grabbed his arm. ‘What’s more important than this?’

Two cars pulled up in front of the house and panic jacked him.
Sheriff’s department
.
Shit
. ‘Them.’ He looked around wildly. ‘Dammit. Now it’s too late.’

‘What have you done, Cole?’

‘Nothing.’
Have to hide
.
Hide
. Basement or garage? The garage was closer.

Matthew grabbed his arm again. ‘Goddammit,
stop
. What happened?’

‘I found the guns, okay? Not your dad’s guns, but some of Mitch’s. And I . . . took one to school.’

‘Holy shit, Cole. Why’d you do that?’

‘Guys giving me a hard time. About Mitch being in prison.’

‘So?’

‘About him getting . . . you know . . . there. And how it’s just the two of us pussies in this big house and does he do me here, too? They tried to do it to me. They grabbed me and yanked my pants.’ The words came bursting out and Cole felt his face flush with shame. ‘So I took a gun to school. But some punk stole it right out of my hand.’

‘Holy hell.’ Matthew looked around the garage, thinking. ‘Where can you hide?’

There was only one place and the thought of it made Cole’s skin go clammy. ‘In the bomb shelter.’ He swung the fake shelf back as he hadn’t done since the day he’d discovered his mother’s body. He hadn’t been down there since.
I hate this house
.

Thank God
. Mitch hadn’t padlocked this door, like the one in the basement.
I just hope the combination hasn’t changed
.

Matthew’s mouth fell open. ‘What the hell? I never knew about this.’

‘Because you didn’t have to live here with Aunt Betty. You got to live with your father.’ Cole glared at Matthew. ‘You weren’t here when Mom . . .’ He couldn’t make himself say the words. ‘When she ended it. I was. I found her. Down there, in the shelter. So, that you didn’t know about it is a fucking huge shame.’

Matt was staring at him, all confused. ‘What? No. That’s not what happened.’

Cole balled up his fist, so tempted to knock Matt’s head off his shoulders. ‘It is so. I found her. Mitch said you were in Europe.’

‘I was. It was my senior year in high school. I was an exchange student that year. When I came home, she was gone. Dad said she killed herself in the garden.’

‘That would have been a lot less trouble for Mitch to clean up,’ Cole said bitterly. He could hear the muted echo of the doorbell. The cops are on my doorstep. ‘I don’t have time for this. Believe what you want to believe. Just tell the cops I’m not here.’

‘Cole, wait. I’m sorry. I never thought . . . I went away to college. I didn’t know . . .’

‘You didn’t know because you didn’t want to know. If you’d visited here just once. Just once. Then you would have seen. You would have known.’

‘Dad wouldn’t let me come out here. I should have made Dad bring you home.’

‘Yeah, you really should have. You can start making it up to me by telling those sheriffs that I’m not home.’

‘Is there water down there?’

‘I have no idea. I haven’t been down there since I was five.’

‘Hell. Stay there until I come for you. I will come back for you. I promise.’

‘Thanks,’ Cole grunted. ‘Bang on the door when it’s safe for me to come out.’

‘How will you know it’s me?’

‘Do it to . . . “The Star Spangled Banner”. Hell, I don’t know. Just don’t be long. Please.’ He pulled the shelf back into place and twisted the vault-style lock to secure the door from the inside. He then crept down the stairs into the darkness, his heart thundering to beat all hell.

He felt sick.
Oh God, please don’t let me throw up
.

‘I hate this goddamned house,’ he whispered. Then he drew a breath, sat on the hard cement floor, and went absolutely quiet. He couldn’t hear anything happening up in the house and could only pray that Matt had gotten rid of the sheriff.

He hated this house and he hated the dark. There had been lights down here before, when his mother came down here to drink herself unconscious.

Cole pulled out his cell phone and turned it on, shining the light at the walls until he saw the light switch. He flipped it on, his eyes widening as he turned to view the room. It was different. Smaller. Way neater than Aunt Betty had kept it.

Mitch must have come down here
. His brother hated clutter.

The two doors along the far wall were new. One was open. Behind it was a tiny room, big enough for a cot. The other door was closed. Locked. Cole yanked on the doorknob, jiggled it, but the door did not open.

And then he heard it. A girl’s voice. ‘Hello? Is someone there? Help me. Please.’

There aren’t any ghosts. No such thing as ghosts
. Cole swallowed hard. ‘Mom?’

‘What? Hell no, I’m not your mom or anyone else’s. Who are you?’

‘Cole. Who are you?’

‘Kim. My name is Kim. Please help me.’

Chapter Nineteen

Wheeling, West Virginia, Wednesday, December 4, 7.55
P.M.

‘
Y
ou needed more sleep,’ Joseph said, studying Daphne’s face in the harsh light of the hospital elevator. She looked fragile, her skin too translucent.

She lifted her brows at him. ‘I feel remarkably rested. I’m thinking that would be one of those “multi-layered benefits of sex” I was recently told not to dismiss.’

His body surged to life, instantly remembering, instantly wanting her again. ‘That it would.’ He cupped her cheek in his palm, brushed his thumb over her mouth. ‘Still, when this meeting is over, we’re going back to the room for sleep. For both of us.’

Her eyes laughed at him. ‘You’re going to keep your hands to yourself? Really?’

He shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘I’m capable.’

‘Hmm.’ She took a step closer, lifted on her toes so that her mouth was a breath away from his. ‘So when we get back to the room, you don’t intend to pick up where we left off when the phone rang? Because that would be a real shame.’

He was unable to control a shudder. She’d fallen asleep in his arms, but he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. ‘That was . . . stealth reconnaissance.’

That’s how he’d started anyway. He’d wanted to know which areas of her breasts were sensitive and which were not. He’d read that women who’d had mastectomies were more likely to have the sensitivity on the edges of their breasts with feeling decreasing the closer one came to the center. The next time they made love he wanted to include her breasts, but he didn’t want to touch her anywhere there was no feeling. It would make her self-conscious, take her out of the moment. Rob her of pleasure.

And he wasn’t going to let that happen. She deserved pleasure.

Areas of her breasts were very sensitive, he’d found. A single touch had her legs opening to him and the next thing he knew he was between them, tasting her again.

‘Since it woke me up, it wasn’t so stealthy, was it?’ she murmured.

‘Did you mind?’

‘Did I look Iike I minded?’

That would be a no
. He’d known the moment she’d awoken by the slight tensing of her thighs followed by a throaty hum of satisfaction and the tilting of her hips as she tried to get closer. He’d glanced up – and nearly come right then and there. She’d pushed herself to her elbows and was watching him tonguing her, her eyes hooded and hot. She’d said nothing and neither had he, the two of them suspended in a darkly erotic moment that seemed to stretch on and on until she came on a low, quiet moan, throat arched, her head lolling back like a flower too heavy for its stem.

He swallowed hard, aware the elevator would open any moment. ‘You watching me was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.’

She kissed his chin, then licked it. ‘Does this mean we take up where we left off? Or are you really going to make me sleep?’

‘I think you win.’

She grinned at him. ‘Thank you.’

The doors opened and her grin disappeared as she managed one of those quicksilver changes he’d come to appreciate. She was professional, cool. Collected. This was Prosecutor Daphne, ready to work.

‘Where did Agent Novak say we should go?’

Deacon had called Joseph’s cell phone as he’d been slowly building Daphne to a second orgasm. Leaving the warmth of her body had nearly killed him, turning his brain back on nearly impossible.

He hoped she still wanted him to take up where they’d left off after his next statement. ‘Room 602 is where
I’m
going. I need you to go to Ford’s room.’ Which was 636, at the other end of the hall.

Her chin lifted. ‘Why?’

He held up a hand to stave off her argument. ‘It’s not about you not having a right to be there or about you not being able to handle it. Because you do and you can.’

‘Then what is it about?’

‘Unfettered communication. The locals aren’t going to feel comfortable being candid with you in the room because you’re his mother. Think about poor Quartermaine last night. He felt terrible about making you upset. Do you think he’ll be straightforward again? We need answers and we need them fast. I don’t have time for the investigators to tiptoe around the facts.’

She frowned for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. ‘Okay. You’re right. We’ve still got Kimberly and Pamela out there. You’ll tell me everything later?’

‘Everything. You have my word.’

‘Then I’ll be down the hall with Ford. Hopefully I can get him to wake up so we can get out of this town.’ She glanced down, then back up at him, her brows lifted. ‘You might want to make a stop in the men’s room before you join the other boys.’

Because he had a tent in his pants again. He folded his coat over his arm and held it in front of him. ‘You’re enjoying this.’

‘I am indeed. I hope to enjoy it more later.’

He laughed. ‘Go. Call if you need me.’

Baltimore, Maryland, Wednesday, December 4, 8.00
P.M.

Clay shook his head at the list of stolen merchandise. ‘Doug and Kim were busy.’

‘Guns, cash, and jewelry,’ Alec agreed. ‘But at least now we can give the info to the cops and not get put in jail ourselves.’

Getting the list of items stolen by Doug and Kim as they posed as HVAC techs had taken Alec less than an hour by hacking into the insurance companies’ databases. It took him and Clay hours more to find the same information legally, now that they knew where to look. But it was solid and Alec was in no danger of repercussions.

‘Not going to jail is always good.’ Clay checked his cell phone. No new messages or texts. ‘I called Carter an hour ago, but I haven’t heard back. If he doesn’t call me by ten, I’ll send the list to JD and Grayson and let them run with it. Now I’ve got to go. They’re having Tuzak’s wake at his house tonight.’

‘They don’t have the body, like,
there
, do they? In the house?’ Alec asked.

‘No. This is for Tuzak’s friends and family. We’ll just tell stories and remember him the way that he was.’ He stood up and tightened the knot of his tie. ‘I wanted to talk to Alyssa before I left, but she’s not back from talking to Kimberly MacGregor’s roommate at the dorm and I can’t wait any longer. Tell her to call me when she gets here, okay?’

He was in his car when Alyssa pulled up beside him in hers, her driver window next to his. ‘I’m sorry, Clay. I hit traffic.’

‘It’s okay. Did you find anything?’

Alyssa lifted her brows. ‘Doug likes it rough. Really, really rough.’

Clay grimaced. ‘Could you not say those words again?’

‘Hey, you asked me to find out why Kim’s roommate didn’t like Doug. The first few times they went out, Kim came back to the dorm bruised and barely able to walk.’

‘That is rough.’

Alyssa nodded. ‘The roommate said Kim told her that Doug really liked to be in charge. And he liked to hurt her. Roomie told Kim to run away, fast. Kim just laughed and said they were both getting something out of it.’

‘Sexually or revenge?’ Clay asked.

‘Good question. Roomie said that Kim liked to “punish herself”. Usually denial of food or an activity. But sometimes she hooked up with angry boys. That’s why her roommate was surprised when she took up with Ford. He was too nice for her. Too respectful. She said that in the last few weeks Kim had blossomed, that after one of their dates last week, Kim said she’d never had any guy be as good to her as Ford was. And that seemed to make her sad.’

‘Because she was planning on betraying him,’ Clay said acidly.

Alyssa grimaced. ‘I hate to say this, but I hope Ford practiced safe sex. That Kim is a skank. He’s going to be devastated when he finds out, but I’d rather have him be alive and devastated than dead with his pride intact.’

‘Well said. I have to go. Call me from your home phone when you get in.’

‘Home phone, yeah, yeah, yeah,’ Alyssa grumbled. ‘I will. See you tomorrow.’

Wheeling, West Virginia, Wednesday, December 4, 8.10
P.M.

Room 602 was an empty patient room that the charge nurse was allowing Joseph, Deacon, and the locals to use as a meeting room. Joseph wasn’t sure why the others had come back here and not gone straight to the precinct with whatever they’d found. He guessed he was about to find out.

Deacon was sitting on the bed, computer on his lap, legs stretched out, his feet bare. His wet socks were draped over the bed rail to dry. He was typing at fever speed, frowning at the screen.

Wheeling PD Detective McManus stood at the window, reviewing a stack of papers, and Agent Kerr from the Pittsburgh field office was gone.

Joseph knocked on the doorframe. ‘You rang?’

Deacon looked up, his eyes more intense than usual. ‘We found something. Come in and shut the door.’

‘Where is Agent Kerr?’

‘Setting up a search,’ Deacon said, ‘after he took what we found to the lab.’

McManus handed Joseph an envelope that had been sealed, but no longer was. ‘I stopped by the precinct on my way back here. Junie Bramble found the report you asked about in the archives.’

‘We read it already,’ Deacon said. ‘Where do we start?’

‘What did you find, Deacon?’ Joseph asked calmly and Deacon drew a breath.

‘The kid’s backpack, or at least the one he was carrying. McManus had figured all the roads that would lead to that WMA.’

Joseph wished he’d stopped for a cup of coffee. ‘WMA?’

‘Wildlife management area,’ Deacon said. ‘We got two teams of dogs to search, using the coat Ford was wearing when he was found.’

‘Which wasn’t his coat,’ McManus said. ‘It was a size too small and smelled like skunk. The scent led us to the backpack. It was off the road in a snowdrift.’

‘It held some beef jerky, three knives, a dead flashlight, and this.’ Deacon swung his legs over the edge of the bed and angled his laptop so that Joseph could see.

It was a photo of a purse, the kind with a wrist strap. The hairs on Joseph’s neck lifted. ‘And inside the purse?’

‘ID.’ Deacon clicked to the next photo.

It was a girl, seventeen years old, dark brown hair. Her address was Wheeling, West Virginia. ‘Heather Lipton. Ford said “Heather” when he first woke up.’

‘When did he wake up?’ McManus asked.

Joseph told them about the second dose of ketamine and the violence with which Ford had woken thirty minutes after being brought into the ER. ‘The doctor said he screamed Kim’s name and Heather’s. I assumed they’d heard him wrong and that he was saying MacGregor.’

‘Heather Lipton disappeared last summer,’ McManus said. ‘She’d been on her way to a concert with her friends. Their car broke down and Heather decided the concert was too big to miss. She set off hitchhiking, even though the other girls begged her not to. She never showed up at the concert. We had search crews out every day for a month. Cops, Feds, community volunteers. It was like she vanished into thin air. This is the first lead we’ve had.’

Dread building in his gut, Joseph slid the contents of the envelope to the bed. There were copies of newspaper articles and a series of police reports, typed on an old fashioned typewriter. Grace Kelly Montgomery had been abducted in November of her senior year of high school. She was seventeen. Also missing was Daphne Sinclair, age eight. The report included photos, taken on school picture day. Daphne had blonde pigtails and an engaging grin. Kelly’s photo was her senior portrait.

‘Seventeen,’ he murmured.
Like Heather Lipton
.
What the hell was this about?

He leafed through the pages that documented the search and subsequent discovery of little Daphne hiding in a bathroom stall at a rest stop off the interstate near Dayton, Ohio. She’d been dirty and half frozen. And unable to tell them where she’d been or how she’d escaped. Or even if her cousin still lived.
‘
“One week later Kelly’s body was found,
”
’ he read quietly. ‘In a state park north of Dayton, Ohio.’

‘I remember this now that I’ve read the report,’ McManus said. ‘I was only five and my mother and all the neighbors were scared to let us walk to and from school alone.’

‘What the hell is all this about? Where’s the connection to Doug?’ Joseph whispered, staring at the grainy copies of the old photos.

‘We need to talk to Ms Montgomery,’ McManus said. ‘And we need that kid to wake up and tell us where the hell he found that purse.’

‘You said Agent Kerr was setting up a search,’ Joseph said. ‘Over what area, and what kind of support?’

‘Canine units and foot teams for now. We’ve got a helicopter coming from Charleston. We’re starting from where we found the backpack.’

Joseph rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, thinking. And as he breathed, he could smell Daphne’s scent on his hands. ‘Let’s go talk to Miss—’

A shrill scream cut him off, quickly followed by another scream.

‘
Joseph!
’

Daphne
.

Baltimore, Maryland, Wednesday, December 4, 8.10
P.M.

It took Cole a few minutes to find something to pry the door open. Luckily it was a regular door, not a super-secure steel model like his great-grandfather had used when he built the place. Or so Aunt Betty had told him.

All the good tools were up in the garage, but he’d found a fire axe in the storage closets. It looked super-old. Cole hoped he didn’t break it. He slipped the axe blade in between the door and the frame and yanked.

The door flew open like it was butter, revealing the girl who’d begged him for help. She was small and still, lying in a cot like the one he’d seen in the other room. Cole leaned over her, studying her. She was college aged, Asian. He touched her forehead. She was also burning up.
Hopefully she doesn’t have a contagious disease
.

He sat on the floor next to her, his back to the wall. ‘Great,’ he muttered. ‘I’m stuck in a bomb shelter with Typhoid Mary.’

‘Kim.’

Startled, he flashed the cell phone light in her face again. ‘Excuse me?’

‘My name is Kim,’ she said in a voice that sounded like sandpaper. ‘And I don’t have typhoid. Your brother stabbed me and my leg is on fire.’