Exposure (11 page)

The horrific realization sank into her being.

But how did they know about the yellow floor in her dream? How were they doing this?

No. This couldn’t be. Maybe that desktop photo
was
all in her mind. With the dream still echoing in her head, she’d subconsciously conjured the picture with details to match.

But deep in her heart she knew she hadn’t. She’d
seen
that picture on her computer. It was real.

Exposure. We see you.

The skin on Kaycee’s back crawled. She twisted to look behind her.

Nothing. Just a silent house. It roared in her ears.

But someone
had
been here last night. They’d put that camera on this very table. And they’d hacked into her computer to flash a second picture on her desktop. They
were
watching.

Her worst fear come true.

Panic burst in Kaycee’s chest. She had to tell Chief Davis!

Kaycee threw down the ice bag and shoved back her chair. She jumped to her feet and made for the phone —

Wait
.

She jerked to a stop, hands hanging in the air. She couldn’t do this, not now. Call the chief and pull some officer from looking for Hannah so he could come here and look around? And what would he find anyway? The camera was gone. The photo on her computer had vanished into cyberspace. Mark had checked the whole house last night and found nothing.

No way could she take police attention away from Hannah for another dead-end search. Besides, they’d just think she was seeing things again.

A tremble started in Kaycee’s gut. She stumbled to the table and sat again, thinking of her mother. What would Monica Raye have done in a situation like this?

Gone stark raving mad, that’s what.

“God.” Kaycee tipped her face toward the heavens. “Please help me. And bring Hannah home safe.
Now.
” The minute Hannah was found, Kaycee would call Chief Davis about all this. He’d get to the bottom of it. Somehow. He’d make it stop. Maybe he’d call in a tech, and they’d take apart her computer, find out who’d hacked into it . . .

If
he believed her at all.

For now Kaycee had to fight her fear alone. Just for a little while. Hannah was more important. Surely she’d turn up soon.

Minutes ticked by. Kaycee couldn’t get up. She could only continue begging God to protect Hannah and herself, careening from one nightmare to the other.

Kaycee’s bleary focus happened to graze the microwave clock. Eight-thirty.

My column.

Imminent responsibility rushed in. Kaycee lowered her head in her hands. She had three and a half hours to finish her work. This was the newspaper business. Her deadline could not be missed.

A deadline that could only be met by sitting at her computer. What if the dead man’s picture jumped onto the screen again?

A new thought spun into her mind. Kaycee’s breath hitched. What if the camera and photos were the work of some sick readers of her column? People preying on her worst fear. She’d never said where she lived in any of her columns. But with the Internet, plus the fact that she’d initially started writing for the
Jessamine Journal
in nearby Nicholasville, anyone who really wanted to find her could do it.

The idea bloomed within her. This had to be it. Some crazy “Who’s There?” readers were sneaking in and out of her house, hacking into her computer. So smart, so obsessed —

Could they have taken Hannah?

Kaycee stilled. Her insides went utterly cold.

But why would they? What would they want with a nine-year-old?

“No,” Kaycee said aloud. That was another dead end. Nobody had taken Hannah. The police didn’t think so, even if they did have to pursue a “worst-case scenario.” Hannah’s note proved she’d run away.

In fact, she’d probably done it for attention from her dad. Her note practically said so.

The twelve o’clock deadline ticked in Kaycee’s head. Time was running out.

She forced herself to her feet. She had to write the column and get it out of the way. If Hannah hadn’t been found by the time she was done, she’d insist on going out to help look.

And if those crazy people were out there watching as she searched, if they were watching this very minute through some hidden lens Mark never found — so be it. She’d beat them and her fear. She
would.

Kaycee hadn’t gone two steps before terror nearly drove her to the floor.

Lorraine had just scooped Tammy from bed when she heard Martin running down the hall. He carved to a stop in Tammy’s doorway, breathing hard.

“He’s here.”

Lorraine froze.

Tammy blinked from her to Daddy. “Who’s here? Where’re we going?”

Multiple sensations hit Lorraine at once. The warmth of Tammy’s body in her arms, the little-girl smell of shampoo and sleepiness. The abject terror on Martin’s face. What was happening here?

A car door slammed outside.

Lorraine clutched Tammy to her chest. “What should I do?”

Martin’s gaze bounced around the room. He bounded toward the closet and yanked open the door. “Hide in here.” He swept clothes aside on the hanging rod.

Tammy wailed. Lorraine pressed fingers over her mouth. “Shh-shh. It’s a game; you have to be quiet.” Ducking down, she shoved herself and Tammy inside, all the way to the deep back. She crouched on shoes and toys, their edges biting into her bare feet, and held Tammy tight.

Martin pushed the clothes back in place to hide them. “Don’t move till I come get you.” He banged the door shut. The closet went black.

“Mommyyy!” Tammy twisted in her arms.

“Shh.” Lorraine’s heart rammed against her ribs. The darkness closed in on her. Her leg muscles already burned, Tammy’s weight dragging at her shoulders. “You have to be quiet.”

“I’m scared!”

“Hush!” Lorraine pressed the little girl’s face against her thudding chest. Tammy squirmed and fought, fear driving her limbs. Lorraine held on tighter as Martin’s words echoed in her mind:
He’ll kill us all.

Tammy bucked her head back and started to sob loudly. Lorraine did the only thing she could — what just minutes ago she’d have considered child abuse. She clapped a hand over her daughter’s mouth and dug her fingers into the tender cheeks.

Kaycee edged inside her office and saw two things at once — the “flying boxes” of her monitor’s screensaver and a pool of coffee on her hardwood floor. She approached her desk and reached for the mouse as if it were a cobra. With the barest brush of fingers, she pushed it. The flying boxes disappeared.

Her sunset desktop filled the screen.

Kaycee let out a breath and turned back to the kitchen for a wet dish towel, carrying the coffee mug. She cleaned up the spilled liquid, laid the dirty towel and mug in one side of the sink, and washed her hands.

As she reentered her office a realization hit. When she got home she’d never checked upstairs.

She stopped in her tracks. They could be up there. Right now. All this time she’d been in the house,
all this time
, and they could be lurking up there.

Slowly Kaycee’s head turned in the direction of the stairs. She swallowed hard, trying to convince herself to just settle down and write.

We see you.

They were upstairs. She knew it.

No. This was just more paranoia. She wouldn’t give in.

Kaycee walked to her desk chair and placed a hand on its back, willing herself to sit. But her body wouldn’t obey. The upper level hovered in her mind like a preying monster.

She looked back toward the stairs.

Maybe she should call the police after all.

No
,
Kaycee.
They were all out looking for Hannah.

Kaycee licked her lips, aware of her own breathing, the feel of her feet against the floor. She lifted her hand from the chair. All she had to do was check, prove to herself no one was up there.

Fight the fear.

Weighted with dread, Kaycee turned and forced herself toward the staircase.

Nico turned off Huff Street into AC Storage. He swung left and drove up to the office and Giordano’s apartment on his left. His gaze raked to the right — across the concrete and to the two long storage buildings. No one in sight.

He cut the engine on the old Chevy.

Nico kept this car hidden in his garage for jobs like this. It wasn’t registered with the DMV, and the plates were stolen long ago.

Where was Giordano’s car?

Nico gazed straight ahead, past the apartment. Must be in a parking space around the corner.

He pulled his Beretta 92 semi-automatic from the glove compartment.

The plan was simple. Nico had done it a dozen times. Get his hit into the car with some story — in this case the promise of handing over the money. Nico would tell Giordano to lie down in the backseat, since it wouldn’t do for the two of them to be seen together. Then he’d drive him to a back room of one of the family’s businesses and put a bullet in his head. The body would be boated some distance out into the ocean, weighted, and dumped.

Nico got out of his car. He stuck the Beretta in the waistband of his pants and strode toward Giordano’s apartment. He’d just check around the corner first, make sure he saw only one car there.

As he passed the door it opened. “Nico.” Giordano stepped back and waved him to come in.

Nico hesitated, then followed him inside. He shut the door.

Giordano stood frozen in his cluttered living room, looking shell-shocked. Everything about him — his expression, the way he stood, his heavy breathing — told Nico the guy had to go. If the cops got suspicious and came down on him, he’d cave.

“Get in the car. We’re goin’ for a ride.”

Giordano’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“You want your money, don’t you?”

“But you were supposed to bring it.”

“You think I’m gonna drive around with a hundred grand in my pocket?”

Giordano’s fingers curled toward his palms. “How am I getting back here?”

“I’ll bring you.”

“Then you’ll still be driving around with the money.”

Nico stomped over and thrust his face in Giordano’s. “What are you, some smart guy? Get in the car!”

Giordano shrank back. “Okay, just . . . okay.” His nervous gaze flitted around the apartment.

“What’re you lookin’ for?”

“Nothing.”

Nico stood aside and stuck out an arm —
go
. He didn’t want to have to get ugly and draw his gun. Not here. Giordano eyed him, then started toward the door.

From down the hall came a squeak and muted thump. Giordano hesitated midstep, his back muscles tensing. Then he jerked forward.

Nico slapped him in the shoulder. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Let’s go.” Giordano kept moving.

Nico raked his gaze down the hall. The first door on the right was closed. And he’d never checked around the corner for the second car. “Your wife and kid still here?”

“No!” Giordano whirled around, face flushed.

“I think they are.” If they’d looked out a window and seen him . . .

“No, it’s just a mouse. We get ’em all the time. I pulled one out of the toilet yesterday.”

“Pretty big mouse.”

Giordano swallowed hard. “Let’s just go, okay? Do what you said, no problem with me.”

“We got real problems if you didn’t do what I told you.”

“I did!” Giordano’s arms thrust outward and hung there. Sweat popped out on his forehead. “I told my wife to leave — she left.”

Nico turned toward the hall. “Let’s check.”

“No!” Like a madman Giordano rushed forward. He grabbed one of Nico’s arms and pulled. Nico cursed and pushed him back. Giordano stumbled into a coffee table and flailed his arms for balance.

Nico kept walking.

Behind him Giordano roared. Nico heard running feet. He swiveled around as Giordano rammed a head-butt off-center in his chest. Nico flew backward and crashed into a wall. Giordano leapt for him, but he scrambled to his feet and out of the way.

“Ungh.” Giordano landed hard on the floor. In an instant he shoved up and twisted around.

Rage shot through Nico. He whipped the Beretta from his waistband. “Stop!”

Giordano stilled.

“Get your hands up.”

The man’s arms floated upward. Giordano blinked as if in a daze. “Don’t kill me. Please.”

Nico’s eyes narrowed. When he gave this guy cement shoes, he’d be
laughing
. “Back up out of the hall. Now.”

Giordano moved backward, his arms shaking. Nico pressed him on until they both stood in the living room.

“When I tell you to, you’re gonna turn and walk out that door. You’re gonna get in the backseat of my car and lie down. Got it?” Nico’s voice was cold steel. Everything in him wanted to beat Giordano senseless right now. Forget driving the idiot to a family business. Nico was putting a bullet between his eyes the minute he lay down in the car. Then Nico would come back inside and finish off the wife and kid, and whoever else was in that room. Four old grandparents and the puppy too.