Reckoning for the Dead (17 page)

“And miss a good ass kicking? Never,” he said as he walked up to them with his usual swagger. “But I did send the team home.”

“In case you haven't taken a head count lately, if there's an ass kicking, it's gonna be ours,” she said. “And Kinkaid has a jump on us in that department.”

“Everyone's a critic.” Jackson gave her a sideways glare that softened into a smile.

Alexa knew they were in plenty of trouble, with more on the way, but she couldn't help it. Having Garrett and Jackson with her, alive and well, made her feel damned lucky. And being on the right side of the dirt was always a good thing.

“Then we better get a head start. I've got a car and a GPS signal to follow.” Garrett's expression became more somber as he turned to leave. “Come on. We've got ground to cover.”

Chapter 16

La Pointe, Wisconsin

Morning

“Y
ou want me to do what?” Seth asked. His sleepy voice told her that he was still in bed. “Sorry, I'm not awake yet. Worked late last night.”

“Your assignment with Tanya?”

“Yeah.”

Jessie was already working on her third cup of motel-room coffee. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, she'd been up for hours looking through the local phone directory, trying to locate the witness names she'd remembered from Chief Cook's murder book.

She heard Seth yawn, but he didn't say anything more about what he was working on for his direct-report boss at the Sentinels. And she knew better than to press him for details. They both would have secrets when it came to their mutual employer.

“What's this about my dad's old case file?” he asked.

Jessie knew Seth had kept a copy of his father's biggest case with the Chicago Police Department. Harper's dad, Max, had rescued her and the other kids that Danny Ray Millstone had kidnapped and tortured at his sprawling old Chicago home.

“You still have it, right?”

“Well, yeah. Sure. What's this about, Jessie?”

Seth's father had killed Millstone. He shot the man dead in front of her when the bastard had come to kill her. She was only a kid at the time, but she never forgot what it felt like to be carried out of that hellhole—from the darkness into the light—by a man she always had remembered as a hero. But the price Max had paid, when he became obsessed with the serial pedophile, had been the estrangement of his son, Seth. And that case had cost Max his marriage, too.

“I need to know if there were any boys held at Millstone's house?” She cleared her throat, having a hard time talking about her ordeal again. “And I guess that would include the bodies the police found buried on his property.”

Harper had dealt with his rift from his dad by taking Max's casebook and had attempted to make contact with every survivor of Millstone's. Seth had needed to see with his own eyes that his father's obsession had been worth the sacrifice his family had made. At least, that was what Harper had thought when he first started his own fixation. Jessie had a suspicion that he saw things differently now, and that difference had brought him closer to his father, but if anyone knew about the victims of Danny Ray Millstone—then and now—it was Seth Harper.

“Wait a minute, Jess. Take pity on me. I haven't had my coffee yet. You better start from the beginning.”

Jessie told him about Chief Cook's misleading her with his lie of omission, that there had been two DNA samples found at the old DeSalvo crime scene. Cook had gotten a hit on her DNA and made contact through the Chicago PD, a call fielded by her friend, Sam Cooper. Once she'd gotten Harper up to speed, she got around to telling him what she'd been thinking and asking her favor.

“So you think Millstone was your . . . father? Oh, Jessie. I'm so sorry you're going through this alone. I can drive and be there in nine hours. Just let me find a place for Floyd.”

“No, Seth. Thanks for the offer, but I need you to help me another way. And no one can do this but you.”

“I'd do anything for you, Jess. What do you need?”

She heard sympathy and commiseration in his voice. The old Jessie would have heard only pity and resented him for it. She would have sabotaged any relationship they had and dealt with her pain by pushing him away, but it felt good to have someone to talk to about the worst days of her life. Harper was her sounding board, a guy she could trust with her worst suspicions.

“Look into Millstone's list of victims. I need every boy's name—alive or dead—and their ages when they were found. And it would be great to have photos of the boys. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah, will do. I only remember girls' names, but I could be wrong. And I haven't looked at the names of the dead kids in a while. I was more after the ones still breathing, but there could've been boys on that list. I'll let you know what I find out.”

“Thanks. That'll help.”

Once she narrowed down the kids' ages, she could show the photo of any boy who matched the description the witnesses in La Pointe had reported. From what she remembered of Cook's interview records, the witnesses were consistent in reporting a boy and a girl. And the descriptions had been similar enough to sound like the same kids had been seen by more than one witness.

“And what have you got Sam looking into?” he asked.

“Sam's checking out the evidence archives, trying to find any record of Millstone's DNA that might have been missed when they digitized the old cases. If we can connect that second DNA sample to Millstone as a direct match, then we can link him to the murder and ID who killed Angela DeSalvo.”

“Wait a minute,” Harper interrupted. “Didn't Chief Cook tell you he'd looked into the Millstone case? Millstone would've been a likely candidate for the La Pointe murder. Cook would've connected the dots to him if he could. And as a cop, he would've had access to the same information that Sam is looking for. Don't you think he would have noticed if Millstone's DNA matched anything he'd found at the DeSalvo crime scene? I mean, he'd say something to you, right?”

“Yeah, like I'd believe anything coming out of his mouth? He's already lied to me about finding more than one DNA sample at the scene.”

“Yeah, but why? That makes no sense.”

“I know. The more I look into this, the more questions I have.”

“Maybe this'll turn out to be a good thing.”

“Oh? Enlighten me.”

“Cook found you when that DNA sample scored a hit on you as a missing person. Well, barring any fat-finger data entry, if that second DNA sample didn't come up on the hit parade, I'd prefer to focus on the positive.”

“Yeah, what's that?” she said.

“That the DNA is from your brother. And that he's alive and had never been a missing kid. You've got a 95 percent probability match to family, Jessie. And if we can rule out Millstone as daddy dearest, then that could mean you have a brother who might've had a normal life, whatever that is.”

Harper was right. Thinking positively gave her a warm feeling when she thought about having a brother, especially one who had a better life. But her cynicism didn't let her enjoy that moment long.

“Even if we don't match that second sample to Millstone's DNA, that doesn't necessarily mean that bastard didn't kill Angela DeSalvo. It just means we'd be back to square one without any evidence for our theory,” she said. “And like you say, that DNA could belong to a brother I may never find. This could all turn out to be one big dead end. And I may never know how or why I ended up with Millstone in Chicago after being in Wisconsin.”

Pessimism was an acquaintance she'd grown up with. After barely surviving her encounter with Danny Ray Millstone, she'd learned to deal with her peculiar emotional balancing game. On the one hand, she'd been fortunate to have survived him, but she had a hard time reconciling her bad luck in crossing his path in the first place.

“I'll do some digging into the case,” Seth said. “You've given me plenty of food for thought. I'll let you know what I come up with . . . after I feed my java addiction, and Floyd gets his breakfast, and not in that order.”

“Thanks, Seth.” She smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Jessica Beckett. Don't ever forget that.”

Outside Guadalajara, Mexico

With Garrett driving a rented SUV, they had taken advantage of the vehicle and gone off road for the first hour. Once they got to a road, they took the long way around Leguna de Chapala and stayed off the main highways until they had ditched the local cops. Garrett kept driving northwest until he saw more traffic, a sign they were nearing Guadalajara.

“They've got to be heading for medical attention if Pérez is still alive,” Alexa speculated, when they were twenty miles out. “From what I saw of the blood trail we followed, Kinkaid got his licks in.”

“I'll check on that,” Garrett said as he locked his gaze on hers in the rearview mirror.

Alexa had sat in the backseat with Kinkaid, taking care of his shoulder. She'd managed to stop the bleeding, and the wound looked shallow. Despite the pain he was in, Kinkaid was nodding off from sheer exhaustion and blood loss. The steady rock of the vehicle and the drone of the engine had lulled him to sleep.

The days of torture had finally caught up to him. When he didn't have to play the tough guy, he'd let his guard down and dared to shut his eyes as long as he was with friends who had his back. Alexa felt tired, too, but she couldn't take her eyes off the road. She was too wired and hyped on adrenaline.

“I think we're clear of the local LEOs,” Garrett said into his cell phone after he'd called the handler for the mission. “If you still have that GPS signal, give me the coordinates when they stop. They're probably looking for a doctor.”

Kinkaid opened an eye to listen, but that didn't last long. Sleeping was as good as any weapon, and Jackson took advantage of the downtime. Estella was sitting in the front seat next to Garrett. The girl looked carsick. She probably hadn't eaten either. None of them had.

“Here.” Alexa nudged Estella's shoulder with one of the bottles of water she had found stashed in the seat pocket behind Garrett. The girl savored each sip before she tried to give the bottle back.

“No, you keep it. That's yours.” She waved her off, whispering in a low voice while Garrett talked on his cell, “And here's an energy bar. Even if you don't feel like it now, eat it.”

The girl did as she was told. Garrett's backseat gear was a treasure trove. Alexa forced herself to eat and sipped on another bottle of water that she'd found. And she'd saved some for Kinkaid when he woke up and for Garrett once he got off the phone. They all needed to refuel.

Once they got to Guadalajara, they'd drop off Estella wherever she wanted to go before they would start their hunt for Pérez. They'd have to play it smart. The Mexican police would be on the alert, looking for them. And when they found Guerrero and his boss, they'd have to hit them fast and hard.

With her mind on the fight to come, she was surprised when Kinkaid laid his head on her shoulder to sleep. She held her breath, not wanting to wake him and spoil the moment, but eventually she cupped her hand to his cheek and nuzzled her chin against him. She was about to close her eyes, when something stopped her.

She saw Garrett staring at her from the rearview mirror. He didn't say anything, and neither of them looked away. It was as if he was telling her it was okay or that he'd moved on, and so should she. And maybe his basic respect for Kinkaid had something to do with it.

Alexa had had a hard time reading Garrett lately, but she didn't look away. That wasn't her style. Of all people, Garrett understood what it meant to live on the edge, not knowing if there would ever be a tomorrow. So Alexa held Kinkaid as he slept, and she shut her eyes, sending Garrett a clear message of her own.

She wasn't ashamed for having feelings for Kinkaid even if Jackson didn't feel the same.

Downtown Chicago

Two hours later

Seth spent time digging through his father's old murder book and case notes, with Floyd's chin on his thigh. His new roommate didn't say much, but his company was appreciated, especially today.

When Seth's father had retired, he'd made copies of the case he would never forget. The pages had yellowed and smelled stale, but there was a familiarity to them that comforted Seth as he looked at his dad's notes and recognized Max's handwriting. It was as if he got a glimpse into how his dad's mind worked. And on more than one occasion, he had imagined Max writing in the margins of the investigative journal.

He thought he'd practically memorized the contents of the files, but each time he looked at them, he saw something new or read his father's notes differently. Jessie wasn't the only one who had mixed feelings about rehashing a past they both would have preferred to forget.

His part of that equation wasn't nearly as bad as what Jessie had been through—and was still going through. But he'd learned long ago that if a wound didn't heal, ignoring it wasn't an answer. Jessie's instincts were solid to deal with the darkness that haunted her, head-on. He admired her strength and courage, respected her tenacity, but he loved her for the vulnerability she had trusted him enough to show.

When he got to the list of Millstone's victims, the missing and the dead, he scanned every name three times. He didn't want to make a mistake. Boys' names didn't stand out. Only a few had first names that could go either way. After he made a note of them, he compared the gender-neutral names to the photos taken of the children who had survived and the ones who hadn't.

“Sick bastard.”

Millstone had ruined so many lives. Even beyond the immediate names, Seth knew that being a victim of violence radiated out to affect the families, friends, and the community, which had suffered, too.

By the end of his search, he had trouble confirming the gender of two names—Jamie Littlefield and Cameron Harte. Both kids were dead, and their decomposed bodies had been discovered in shallow graves behind the old Millstone family home. He'd have to dig for photos or autopsy reports to confirm the gender or find any photos of those kids before they had died. But since the rest of Millstone's victims had been little girls, the odds were that the bastard wasn't into boys, too.

“This is good news, isn't it, Jess?” he muttered as he looked over the list one more time.

Seth wanted to give Jessie a lead to follow, but he had mixed feelings about that lead coming from the Millstone case. Would Jessie be better off not finding her brother at all if it meant the kid hadn't been taken by that sick pervert? He had a strong feeling Jessie would agree. Ruling out Millstone had its own merits, even if it didn't give Jessie something more to go on.