Eleven (24 page)

I opened the laptop, logged onto Twitter and went to the private message section. I wished for some sort of message from him, something to taunt me or to let me know if Debbie was safe. I was disappointed by the fact there wasn’t.

“It’s a good sign if there’s nothing there, Kid.”

For some reason, I didn’t think it was. My gut, the one that had told me everything was okay, now told me something was seriously wrong. I clicked on The Redeemer’s profile page to see the recent tweets made by him, and there was nothing new since the one from Tuesday.

My cell chimed. I answered as I shut the laptop. “Hello.”

“Think that was your message alert.” Jack siphoned a strand of smoke out the window to the passing road.

My mind blanked for a second. He was right. I was just eager to hear Debbie’s voice. I pulled the phone down and looked at the message.

“What is it?”

I read the words in silence; my throat was stitched shut with dryness.

“Kid?”

Bile rose in my throat. Seconds passed. “The sins of the family fall upon generation after generation.” My breath grew shallow. “He’s going to hurt Deb.”

Jack flicked his cigarette out the window, turned on the lights, and floored the accelerator.

My heart beat so hard, I could barely hear anything. Adrenaline and anger blurred my vision of the road ahead of me and the vehicles around us. All I could think was if he hurt her, I would never forgive myself. She would have been targeted because of me, because of my sins.

We had to figure out how Bingham was communicating to the outside world, and it had to be more than solely through Twitter.

“What number did the text come from?”

I looked over at Jack, delaying, afraid of what I might see on the phone. A few seconds later, I looked. “It came from Debbie’s phone.” I was going to be sick. “How the hell? He’s got to have. Oh, shit!” My sentences only came out in fractured syllables.

Jack depressed the hands-free. “Nadia, I need you to triangulate which towers an incoming text came in on.”

“Course.”

I gave her my cell number, the time of the text, the sender.

A few seconds passed. “Your wife?”

“Where are we looking?” Jack pressed her.

“Just a sec.” More keys were tapped, clicking through the speakers of the car almost like a subdued machine gun. “Here. Oh.”

“Nadia speak to us.”

“Your wife’s phone, is it a BlackBerry?”

“Yeah, it is. Why?”

“I show two users for her SIM card.”

“The text Nadia. Where did it come from?” Jack tapped his pocket but didn’t take out the cigarette pack.

“Two users?” I turned to catch Jack’s profile. “How is that possible?”

Nadia answered, “It’s called cell phreaking.”

“English.”

“Phreaking? It combines the words phone and freak together. Basically computer hacking, but when it comes to phones.” She tapped more keys as she spoke. “As technology has advanced, most telephone networks are computerized. For example, people can buy spare SIM cards and duplicate them. There are also scanners which allow phreaks to simply brush by a person, and obtain all their information—their SIM info, their banking access, everything. Identities can be stolen.”

“The unsub came near my wife.” I couldn’t breathe.

Nadia remained silent for a few seconds. “It’s possible.”

“Shit!” I looked at the sign. We were still at least twenty minutes out from Louisville. “He has her. I know it. We waited and now she’s probably dead.”

“Remember the MO,” Jack said.

“Brandon, before you panic, it’s possible that the unsub is extremely technologically gifted,” Nadia offered.

Before I panic?
“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she paused. “I could duplicate a SIM card if I knew the person’s basic information, their full name, address, cell phone number. And I could do it online.”

“So the unsub didn’t need to be near my wife?”

“Not necessarily. But if that’s the case we’re dealing with a very intelligent unsub.”

“The text? Where did it come from?”

“Woodbridge.”

“He has her.” My pulse rushed while my breathing slowed. “Can you tell the exact location?”

“Unfortunately that’s the best I can narrow it—”

“Wait a minute,” Jack said. “Nadia, let’s say the unsub copied the SIM information from online, would this person also be capable of making it appear the text routed from anywhere they wanted to?”

“Not sure about anywhere, but they could duplicate the original SIM’s location.”

“Thanks, N.”

“Cour—”

Jack hung up on Nadia and turned to me. “We’ve got to keep calm. We don’t—”

“Keep calm? That seems to be your slogan. Keep calm. If it was your wife, how calm would you be?”

“You know I’m not married.”

“Fuck Jack—”

“Watch the language.”

“Sometimes, I feel like your child. Don’t do this, don’t do that. Don’t take this call, take this one. It’s a joke. I mean if it weren't for you at least I would have taken the time to talk to Deb when she called last. I would have asked about her day, listened when she told me. And fuck, Jack, I would have told her I loved her before hanging up.”

CHAPTER 23

The front drapes were pulled back as the officer had advised they were last night. I studied the porch, the potted ferns to the side of the front door. Nothing stood out as unusual. Both looked to be in need of water, but that was normal for Debbie to leave her plants begging for a drink. She said God would take care of the outdoor ones but when they died it was still His fault. What she didn’t realize is sometimes even God appreciates a little help.

I looked inside the front window. Everything seemed mostly the same as it had when I left three days ago. Debbie’s magazines were spread on the square glass coffee table and the television remote sat on top of them. Debbie had watched TV at some point since I had left.

A car door slammed behind me. I jumped and pivoted around.

“Sorry agent I never meant to scare you.” An officer, who I guessed to be in his mid-forties, came around from the driver side of a cruiser. His hair was crop-cut which told me he was trying to hold onto his youth.

Another officer, who came from the passenger side stood beside him. He was younger than the driver by at least twenty years, and likely a rookie.

“It’s Officer Spalding.” The older officer splayed a hand over his chest. “I believe we spoke on the phone last night. And this is Officer Hamilton.”

“Special Agent Brandon Fisher.”

Jack came around from the side of my house.

“And that is Supervisory Special Agent Jack Harper.”

“Oh, Supervisory Special Agent. We need to get ourselves some fancier titles.” Spalding glanced to the younger officer before speaking to me, “Have you been able to reach your wife yet?”

I shook my head and looked back at the house. Somehow even though external evidence didn’t make it appear that strangers had violated my home, it felt as if they had.

“It’s hard to control a woman sometimes. They get a mind of their own and off they go.”

I came down the few stairs of the deck to within a foot of Spalding. I would have pressed my nose against his if it weren’t for Jack’s extended arm. “You have no idea what we’re dealing with here. You take a quick look around. No sign of this, no sign of that, and assume what you want. You have no idea.”

Spalding’s eyes went to Jack as if seeking some sort of explanation for my attitude.

“Let’s get inside,” Jack said. He applied muscle behind his arm and gestured me back toward the house.

“Just so ya know we did a few drive-bys to see if the missus had come back.” Officer Spalding spoke to my back now. “Maybe she was too comfortable in her boyfriend’s bed to venture home.”

My fist balled, and I turned around ready to match it with his jaw, but Jack had aligned himself in front of the officer. “It’s time for you boys to go.”

Spalding looked around Jack. “You wonder why we guys don’t like you feds? You think you’re all that. But you’re no better than we are.”

“Nobody said we were. Go.” Jack seconded his directive with an extended arm and a pointed finger to the cruiser.

“Fine, we’ll leave.” Spalding and his partner reached their doors about the same time. “But we’re not coming back.”

The cruiser’s engine rumbled as Spalding gunned the accelerator.

“Guess we have some enemies on the PD now.” I said the words although I didn’t really care about the consequence.

Jack waved a hand. “What do we need them for anyway?” A smile cracked his lips.

Inside the house, the air was cool from the air conditioner yet stale. No smells of food or perfume. It was almost as if she hadn’t been here for the last few days.

“Is your house always this neat?” Jack wiped his shoes on the carpet at the front door.

“It’s all Deb.” I wanted to smile as I praised her, but bile churned in my stomach.

The answering machine was flashing notification of a few messages. I figured some would be the click of my hanging up with at least two of them being me begging for her to answer. I pressed the play button. Four of the messages were from me, and one was from Debbie’s mother. “Guess that rules out Deb being there.” I looked at the missed calls; all were identified numbers.

“See anything unusual Kid?”

I shook my head as I put the phone down.

I kept moving through the house, meticulously working through every room. Upstairs, I went to our bedroom. Clothes were strewn on the floor, some clean, others worn and dropped where they came off. The bed was unmade, and the comforter dangled precariously over the edge of the mattress. There was a definite contrast to the rest of the house and our room, but that was normal.

Nothing in the room indicated Deb had been taken. I turned back to the hallway, went downstairs, and made my way to the kitchen. Jack followed behind.

In the kitchen, a few clean dishes sat in the drip tray. The rest of the counters and stovetop were empty.

“This isn’t making any sense.”

“What?”

“Well, let’s adhere to your slogan
stay calm.
Let’s assume he doesn’t have her.”

“Okay.”

“The unsub seeks control and power. They like to have the upper hand. How would they know I wouldn’t be able to reach her unless they had at least been here?”

“Maybe it’s a series of bizarre coincidences.”

I shook my head. “I don’t believe that. How would he know I wouldn’t be able to reach her?”

“He routed any calls you made to her cell phone to his copy of the SIM card and then didn’t answer.”

I bobbed my head. “Okay, possible. But what about her not being at home? And don’t say coincidence.”

“He was here. You like that answer better?” Jack pulled out his cigarettes.

“Don’t smoke in here.”

I expected him to go out the back door and light up outside. Instead, he pushed the pack back into his pocket. “What would get her to leave?”

“No stranger I can tell you that. I mean, I think about ruses the unsub could have used. Maybe coming to the door telling her the house was infested by something dangerous to her health but she’s not gullible.”

“What about a friend having problems or a family member that might need—”

The lock on the front door turned. Jack and I pulled our guns, flattened against the walls, and readied to fire if need be. Light footsteps tapped on the hardwood. They stopped in the living room and the radio turned on.
Alan Jackson
sang the chorus of
Pop a Top
.

More footsteps and they were coming toward us, the steps now landing on the ceramic tile of the hallway to the kitchen.

Jack held an index finger to his lips. He gestured with the other hand for me to wind around to the dining room side.

“Stop there!” Jack’s voice sounded like a roar as it bounced off the plastered walls.

Glass shattered on the ceramic. “Who—”

I knew the voice. “Deb?” I lowered my gun.

“Brandon?” There was fear in her register.

“Deb.” I came around the corner to find Jack holding his gun on her. I put a hand on his wrist for him to lower the weapon. Pasta sauce oozed out of a grocery bag on the floor like a blood pool.

“What are you…who is he?”

“You’re okay.” I hurried to reach her without caring where I stepped. I needed to hold her. As I pulled her tight, I kissed her lips then her forehead. I put a hand behind her head coaxing her to rest it on my shoulder. It only stayed there briefly.

“What’s going on?” Deb pulled back, arms crossed. She looked to Jack, to the gun that was now secured in his holster, to the mess on the floor. “You’re cleaning that up.”

“No problem.” I couldn’t pull my eyes from her. She was okay. She was fine. “I love you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Where were you last night?”

“Last night or for the last couple? You don’t listen to me when I talk do you? Of course, you’re too busy with this new job of yours.” She passed a condemning glance to Jack.

“Hon, this is Supervisory Special Agent Jack Harper.”

Jack extended a hand for her to shake. She tightened her crossed arms. “You still haven’t answered my question about what you’re doing here.”

“This is my home.”

“I’m not stupid Brandon. I know something else is going on here. Why the guns?” She glared at Jack. “He was ready to shoot me.”

“You didn’t answer your calls.”

“Did you call my cell? I had it with me.” She flung her purse around to the front of her, reached in, and pulled it out. She rocked it right to left. “No missed calls. Thought you just didn’t care. Too busy.”

“You’re okay?”

“Don’t I look it? Why are you acting strange?” Her arms loosened, and she bent over to pick up the spilled contents of the bag.

I put a hand on her elbow and directed her to regain full height. “The case I’m working on—”

“You think I’m in danger.” Debbie laughed. “It’s like in the movies.”

“This is serious Deb.” The stark soberness of my expression killed any amusement that had graced hers. “I’m going to ask you again and I need you to answer. Where have you been?”

“Chantilly at Karen’s. I told you that two nights ago when you called me.”

How could I have forgotten the conversation?
For a second, I berated myself for not listening to her when she had told me that. I excused it based on what I had witnessed with this case. “Your sister’s laid up.”

“Right. The doctor told her she needs to stay off her feet for the rest of her pregnancy. Ken’s working night shift and can’t be there to help out with the kids.”

Her sister Karen living nearby was part of the reason Deb agreed to move from Florida.

“I need you to do me a favor.” I rubbed my hands on her forearms and peered into her eyes. “I need you to promise me that you will.”

“What?”

“I want you to go back. Stay with her until I’m finished this case.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t answer that. I just need to know you’re safe.”

“I’m not running from my home because some psycho is fixated on you. I’m not afraid.”

“If you knew what he was capable of you would be.”