The Predator (29 page)

“So was hers,” Alex pointed out.

“Yeah, it’s not like he was the only kid in the world to go through a divorce.”

“Superintendent Manahan?” One of the Hornsby detectives called out from across the room. Alex and Brandon came to attention.

“Boys, how did it go? Has Detective Munro got any pictures?” Patrick asked.

“You’re in luck. He’s going to email them right away.”

“That’s excellent news.” Patrick turned to Brandon. “Do you think you might know this Gibbons chap?”

“Yes, sir. Maybe. I’m not sure, but if I can see what Gibbons looks like, I’ll be able to tell you.”

“Good, well get on with it, then. Hopefully that brother of yours has sent them through by now. Let me know what you find out.”

Brandon looked at Alex, his face grim. She nodded and followed him as he strode back to his desk, her heart beginning a slow, steady thump inside her chest.

* * *

Brandon’s fingers weren’t quite steady when he tapped on the keyboard and accessed his email. His gut clenched when he spied the new message from Declan. It had been sent thirty seconds ago.

Alex stood near his shoulder. He heard the quick intake of her breath and knew she felt like he did. If Gibbons was Lily’s stepbrother, his sister-in-law’s world would never be the same—whether they brought Cassie home, or not. Tom had been going out of his mind during the hours since Cassie’s disappearance. If he discovered that the man who was suspected of taking her was his wife’s stepbrother… Brandon shuddered to think what his brother would do.

He could barely bring himself to open the message, but he had no choice. They had to know. One way or the other.

His fingers were leaden. His gut churned. With dread weighing him down, he clicked on the attachment.

It was him.

The images had been taken from a distance somewhere outside his apartment, but there was no doubt about it. James Gibbons was Lily’s stepbrother.

Over the pounding of his heart, he heard Alex’s sharp intake of breath. Tension came off her in waves. The normal buzz of the squad room diminished to a dull roar. He heard nothing but his harsh breathing.

Alex’s fingers squeezed hard around his arm. He turned to her. He was as shell-shocked as she looked. Her face was pale and the tension around her mouth had bleached the color from her lips.

He shook his head in disbelief. Leaning his elbows on the desk, he supported his head in his hands and scrubbed at his gritty eyes. Although he’d started to suspect as much, to have the harsh reality that Gibbons was related to him, if only by marriage, was beyond difficult to absorb.

But now wasn’t the time. They’d identified him. Now they had a chance of finding him. And Cassie.

Adrenaline surged through him. He pushed away from the desk and stood.

“I’ll tell Patrick. We need to call Lily and find out if she has any idea where her stepbrother might be. He’s not at his apartment, but maybe there’s some other place she knows about that we don’t.”

Alex nodded, still looking dazed. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. We need to call her.”

Brandon heard the reluctance in her voice and knew where it stemmed from.

“I wish as much as you do that we could do this in person, but time is of the essence. Driving over to the house would cost us at least an hour. Who knows what we could accomplish in that time?”

Alex bit her lip. “Yes, you’re right. Of course.”

Brandon hated to walk away from her when she was still so obviously in shock, but what he’d said was true. Every minute counted. With one last look in her direction, he turned away and strode toward Patrick’s office, his mind in turmoil.

* * *

It was one of the hardest things Alex had ever had to do. Although Brandon had offered, she’d insisted that he let her be the one to call Lily. She didn’t know why she’d insisted on being so heroic, but all she could remember was the friendship she’d had with Lily in the years before Sam and then later, after years of silence, the way she’d welcomed her with open arms and without a word of recrimination.

Lily was a friend in so many ways, far better than she deserved. She owed her this. Alex swallowed the lump in her throat and listened to the phone dial out. It rang only once before it was answered.

“Hello, this is Lily.”

* * *

Alex ended the call with a sigh that was tinged with excitement. Swiping at tears with the back of her hand, she jumped up, almost knocking her chair over in her haste to stand.

Lily had been shocked and overwrought, but after a tense silence and many open-ended questions that Alex had no answers for, Lily had eventually recalled an old fishing cabin owned by her stepbrother’s father along the banks of the Hawkesbury River. The cabin was about thirty-three miles north of the city, near Brooklyn.

Lily had only been there a couple of times, the last time when she was a teenager, but she was able to give Alex an address and it was this that fluttered in her fingers as she made a beeline for Patrick’s office.

Brandon saw her coming and his gaze searched hers, the warmth and understanding in his eyes almost bringing her to tears again.

“I’m okay,” she mouthed and then focused her attention on Patrick. “I think I have something.”

After explaining how she’d come about it, she gave Patrick the piece of paper on which she’d scrawled the address in Brooklyn and then stood back and waited. Patrick scrutinized the details. A few moments later, he looked at her and then his gaze shifted to Brandon.

“All right, let’s see if this pans out. Now that we know Gibbons doesn’t own that dump in Hornsby, it makes sense he might have gone here, particularly if it’s isolated.” He lifted a questioning eyebrow in Alex’s direction.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure, sir. Lily didn’t say, but she did tell me Jim—James—used to love to go there and hang out although she doesn’t know how long it’s been since he was last there.”

Patrick nodded brusquely. “I’ll call Declan and give him the address. We’ll need the extra manpower. He can have his men meet us there.” He eyed Brandon solemnly. “Given your connection to our victim and her abductor, I’d like to take you off this altogether, but we’re short staffed and you’ve had more field experience than anyone here. Do you think you’re up for this?”

Brandon’s jaw clenched. Alex knew there was no way in the world he would sit in the office while a manhunt involving his niece was underway. He stared at Patrick unflinchingly.

“Yes, sir.”

Patrick compressed his lips and nodded. “Very well. I assume your brother will feel the same way. Fortunately, he answers to someone else. I’ll give you fifteen minutes to get ready. Go and tell the others.”

Brandon made to leave. Patrick called out to his back. “Weapons, Kevlars, the lot. I’m not going to take any chances and we don’t know how well armed this character is. If he does have your niece, he’s going to be feeling pretty desperate when he realizes he’s surrounded by law enforcement.”

Brandon half turned and his lips tightened. Alex longed to take his hand and squeeze it, but she didn’t know if he’d welcome her show of support. So, she hung back and remained silent and wished things were different.

As if sensing her desolation, Brandon shifted his gaze to hers. She tensed.

“How did Lily take the news?” he murmured.

“About as well as we expected.”

Brandon’s gaze intensified. “You did a very difficult thing, Alex. I’m proud of you.”

Love swelled up inside her and she had to pin her arms to her sides to prevent them from reaching out for him. His eyes darkened and he closed the tiny gap between them by pulling her hard against him and giving her a brief, fierce hug.

“We can do this,” he whispered against her hair seconds before he released her.

Slightly disorientated by his nearness and the spicy scent of his cologne that filled her nostrils, Alex blinked at his abrupt departure. On her way out of Patrick’s office, she couldn’t help but wonder whether it was Cassie he was talking about or them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Cassie stared at the stained, fibro walls of the fishing cabin and tried to stifle a sob. She’d been unconscious for most of the journey and had only stirred when her uncle had lifted her out of the car. She had no idea where they were, but he’d had to wade through a thick jungle of undergrowth and scrubby bushes to get there.

The occasional sound of a motorboat told her the river was not far away, but which river, she couldn’t even begin to guess. She didn’t even know which direction they’d traveled. The last thing she’d seen were the signs to Brooklyn before a jabbing pain in her thigh had stolen her attention. It was only when he’d withdrawn his hand that she’d caught sight of the needle and then she had only enough time to process the knowledge that he’d used it on her before reality had faded and darkness set in.

If he’d taken her to Brooklyn, then they were a long way from home. She didn’t know what time it was, but judging from the shadows that fell in weird, dark shapes across the dusty floorboards, the day was nearly done.

Another sob tightened her throat and she choked on a breath of moldy, rank mattress that lay rough and scratchy on an old wire bedframe beneath her cheek. Her head hurt. Her mouth was parched. Everything looked fuzzy.

Tears welled up in her eyes and ran in slow rivulets down her cheeks. She wanted her mom. She wanted her dad. She’d even be happy to see her bothersome brother, Joe. She’d been missing for hours. Surely they’d noticed by now?

It wasn’t like her to go anywhere after a game without telling them first. Surely, they knew that?
Please, please God, please let them notice and wonder and worry.
She didn’t think she’d ever find herself praying for her parents to worry about her, but right now, as she swallowed down her panic, she prayed with all her might for just that.

Tied spread-eagled to the bed, she bit down on the pain and tugged once again on the ties that bound her wrists and ankles. Her arms and legs ached from being stretched out so wide. She couldn’t see if she was making any progress, but the bindings remained stubbornly tight. She blinked back more tears.

She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been. She’d lost count of the number of times her parents had lectured her on cyber safety—even Aunty Alex had weighed in on it when she’d come over—and yet, Cassie had ignored all of it and had become a victim of something she had never imagined.

Since she’d discovered Justin was her uncle, she hadn’t been able to look at him. He’d come into the cabin from outside a short while ago with an armful of sticks and had set about making a fire. The cool, night air had settled in and she was grateful for the warmth. It had helped still her trembling limbs, but still she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

At least she was still clothed. Her singlet top and sports skirt weren’t much, but they were better than nothing. Now that she knew what he was, fear that she’d refused to acknowledge nearly overwhelmed her. She wasn’t exactly sure what pedophiles did, but from the way her parents had always spoken about them, she knew it wasn’t good.

Caught up in her tumultuous thoughts, it was a moment before she realized he’d moved closer. The bed she lay on gave way under his weight. He sat down beside her, a menacing knife in his hand.

She froze. Despite the heat from the fire, she shook violently. Her teeth chattered. Her body turned leaden. Forcing her limbs to move, she pulled hard against her bindings. They didn’t budge.

He leaned forward and she whimpered.

“Cassie, Cassie, Cassie,” he crooned. “Don’t be scared. You and I have become such good friends.”

He reached out and pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. She bit back a scream. He smiled in amusement and tenderly ran a finger down her cheek. Icy tentacles of terror clutched at her belly. She stared at him in horror, unable to look away. He slid the knife under her netball shirt and sliced at the fabric, working slowly, methodically, from her belly up.

“Sweet, little Cassie. How beautiful you’ve become. Like a beautiful, beautiful swan.” He frowned. “Not that you were ever an ugly duckling, but so far puberty has been kind to you. So, so kind.” He peeled the shredded shirt open and exposed her tiny, pink buds to his heated gaze.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her head away from him. His fingers gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. “You were always so special. I remember years ago your mom would parade you around the house in those cute little dresses with the matching frilly panties and I’d watch you and want you. For so, so long, I’ve wanted you, but you were just a baby. I had to wait for you to grow up.” He trailed his fingers across her chest. She moaned in terror. Tears ran freely down her cheeks.

He shook his head and chuckled. “Who would have thought you’d drop into my lap like a ripe, red cherry just waiting to be plucked?”

Nausea churned in her stomach. “Wh-what are you doing?”

He stroked her hair with a gentle hand and smiled. “We’re going to have so much fun. I’ve never let my little girls watch me play, but now that you know who I am, everything’s different. There’s no need for secrecy between us. It’s going to be so much fun.” He smiled widely.

Cassie stared at him uncomprehendingly and shuddered. Instinct warned her that whatever he had in mind would be terrifying. She struggled again with the ties that bound her hands and feet. It didn’t feel like rope, more like plastic or tape. Whatever it was, it might as well have been welded on for all the give in it. Fear rose to the surface again. She swallowed a sob of desperation.

Her uncle leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek and then stood. “I need to find the old kerosene lamp. It’s going to be dark soon and it’s so much more fun playing games with the light on.”

He walked away and Cassie sucked in some air. She had to get a grip on herself. If there was any chance of surviving this nightmare, she had to keep him talking, keep him busy, keep him thinking of other things and not the things he wanted to do to her…

“Ah, here it is.” His voice came to her from the other side of the room. From what she could tell, the cabin was made up of a single room about three times the size of her bedroom. An old wood stove sat against one wall and inside it, the fire her uncle had lit earlier still blazed. An old wooden table, scarred and dusty, took up half the floor space between the stove and the bed. A couple of rickety chairs stood close by.