Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (39 page)

The cloth gag soaked up the tears streaming down Chloe’s face. “There’s no need to cry. This is a time to rejoice in God’s love. He has plans for us. Soon enough, you’ll be in his loving arms.” She crouched and pushed Chloe’s matted hair from her face. The girl flinched. “Ssh. I promise. You won’t be alone anymore. There will be no more suffering.” She damned the men who had hurt Chloe last night. The girl hadn’t said exactly what they’d done to her, but she suspected they’d raped her. No woman deserved to be abused in such a manner. Ever. If she hadn’t had her own plans for Chloe, she would have done everything in her power to give the girl justice. Since she couldn’t, she’d have to rely on God, and pray that He would mete out his own form of justice on those men.

“Yes,” she continued with a smile, “you’re going to be just fine.” She touched Chloe’s stomach. “And this baby…” She couldn’t wait to hold her little boy. “This baby will deliver you from your misery. How do I know this?” With both hands on Chloe’s stomach, she met the girl’s eyes. “The Lord’s angels have been guiding me on my quest. They led me to you. I’ll never forget the way the light surrounded you in that dark alley. And I knew then and there that we were fated to meet. That you were who I’ve been searching for. Don’t be sad. In a few short weeks God’s going to take care of both of us.”

She stood and walked toward the garage door. “I’ll come back in a few of hours to give you lunch. Get some sleep,” she said, then exited the unit. After closing and locking the door, she quickly moved out of the dark shadows of the storage facility. When she reached the entrance of her building, she raised her head to the sky and let the sun warm her face.

And thanked God for Chloe. The poor, broken and abused girl who would give her a son.

Chapter 15

“HERE’S THE LIST I’ve compiled so far,” Lola said, setting a sheet of paper on his desk. “There’re about three dozen storage units fitting the criteria we discussed. If you want, we can hit a few of these before lunch.”

Instead of working on their pawn shop investigation, Dante had been searching missing children cases dating back to before the first abduction was linked to the kidnappers. Not wanting Lola to see that, he closed his laptop and picked up the list.

“Good job,” he said, conscious of making an effort where Lola was concerned. Since he and Jessica were still waiting for Idaho’s DCI to give them the results from Missy Schneider’s crime scene, along with the Marshalltown ME’s autopsy report, he wanted to take the opportunity to make sure he continued with Lola’s training in a way that showed enthusiasm. Even if he held none for their case.

“If we leave now, we can get through a nice chunk of the list before lunch,” Lola said, and showed him her tablet. “I’ve got all the places mapped, so we can hit them in order. Plus, the names of the owners, the types of units they supply, along with a list of questions and information we might need from them.”

There went the rest of his morning. “Okay, sounds like a great plan,” he said, forcing himself to sound excited about gaining new leads. “If you’re ready, we can head out now.”

When she grinned, guilt kicked him in the ass. Lola was eager to tackle this case head on, and all he wanted to do was focus on his and Jessica’s investigation.

“Sure. Let’s go,” she said. “It’ll be great to get out from behind the desk.”

He grabbed his keys, then followed Lola out of his office. Rachel met them in the hallway. “I was just coming to see you,” she said to him. “It took way longer than expected, but we finally have the DNA comparison from the hair sample found on the boy from Lamoni to the one from New Brunswick.”

“Great,” he said, this time with real enthusiasm. “And?”

“Both samples match.” Rachel handed him the report. “Which confirms—at least with two of the abducted kids—that the same man dropped off the boys.”

“Excellent. Thanks,” he said.

“No problem. Let me know when you hear from DCI. I’m anxious for their results.”

“Will do,” he said, then motioned for Lola to continue down the hall.

He couldn’t wait to share the news with Jessica. Hell, after last night, he couldn’t wait to see her, period. Being with her—it was as if they were newlyweds again. Every kiss, every smile, every touch was familiar, yet strangely new. He swore he loved her more now than ever.

Like any married couple, they’d had issues, even prior to Sophia’s disappearance. Looking back, he couldn’t even remember what those issues had been, which not only proved how unimportant they were, but that they shouldn’t allow the day-to-day problems to affect their relationship. Trivial things, like forgetting to pay a bill, or a stop at the post office or to water the garden, weren’t worth the argument. As for Jessica’s obsession with finding Sophia? He would never discourage her again. Since he started working on this case with her, he wanted to join in her search for their daughter. Especially after Phil had called and told them how the reunion between Quinn Joyce and his real parents had gone. He was happy, yet envied the Joyces. He wanted his own reunion. He wanted to hold his daughter again, wrap his arms around her and his wife and never let go.

“Not to be a Debbie Downer, but unless the DNA results you have match the results found in the Missy Schneider murder— It’s like you found a puzzle piece, only you don’t have a puzzle to match it to.”

“True,” he said, climbing into his Camaro. “But, it’s better than having no DNA at all.”

“True,” she repeated.

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“It’s not that. Again, you know I’m all about positive energy, but I don’t feel positive about your case. These people have done a great job of covering their tracks. I have a feeling the only way you’re going to catch them is if they slip up or with the use of technology. You know, like the video surveillance from Walmart.”

Video surveillance
. “Why didn’t I think of this sooner? Hang on a sec.” He picked up his cell phone and hit the speed dial. When Rachel answered, he asked, “Can you check the number of toll roads there are leading from Montour, Iowa?”

“Leading to where?”

“Any direction. We have the make, model and color of the pickup truck. We also know what day and a general time frame the killers were in Montour. Toll booths have security cameras—”

“So maybe we can get a hit off the license plate that way. Got it.” He heard Rachel tapping away at her keyboard. “Crap. Iowa doesn’t have any toll booths. But there are plenty of booths in Illinois, if they were traveling from Iowa into Chicago via I-88, a toll bridge if they crossed into Nebraska, looks like a few other toll bridges and that’s about it.”

“How much of a pain in the butt would it be?”

“Honestly, not too bad. I’ll make a few calls and see what I can come up with for you. Keep in mind, they could have taken rural roads into another state.”

Disappointed because he liked this lead, he let out a sigh. “I know.”

“No worries. I’ll see if I can work my magic.”

After thanking Rachel, he ended the call, then told Lola what she’d said. “You’re trying to find the puzzle to fit your piece into, I’m just not sure you should go that route.”

He glanced at her, and tried not to become irritated. “How is this any different from checking dozens of storage companies?” He shook his head, when he realized he was driving home instead of heading for the first storage unit on Lola’s list. After making a quick turn, he drove in the right direction. “It’s all part of the process. I believe these people will kidnap again and we need to go to any length to stop them. I can’t say for sure they murdered Missy Schneider, but my gut says so. There’re just too many coincidences. If I’m right, and they’ve murdered once, who’s to say they won’t do it again? And, if you wouldn’t take my route, which one would you take?”

When she didn’t answer, he glanced over at her. “Look, you’re still new at this. Like I said before, some sides of investigating are boring and filled with nothing but busy work. This isn’t Magnum PI, where—”

“Who?”

“You’ve seriously never heard of the TV show, Magnum PI? It ran during the 80s.”

“I was born in 1987.”

Holy shit, was he getting old.

“Wait, Tom Selleck, right? I remember now. Yeah, he could totally rock short shorts.”

This conversation just took a wrong turn. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I think you get my point.”

“Did you wear short shorts back in the day, too?”

He had. He’d also, at one time, let his mom give him a perm and had fantasized about having a mustache like Tom Selleck. Magnum always got the babes. “I’m going to ignore that question and call my wife.”

While Lola chuckled, he hit the speed dial for Jessica’s cell phone. Before the call went through, another call came in first. “Russo,” he answered, not recognizing the caller. Once the DCI investigator he’d met in Montour identified himself, he filled Dante in on their findings, along with what the Marshalltown ME had discovered during his autopsy. After thanking the man, and requesting that he send his reports to both his and Rachel’s email addresses, he ended the call, then dialed Jessica again.

“Have time for an early lunch?” he asked.

“Your timing is perfect. Alex and I just finished an interview. Mind if he joins us?”

“Not at all. Lola’s with me. Do you have your laptop?”

“Yes, why?”

“I just heard from DCI, and the investigator is sending me their reports.”

“Well?” Jessica asked, excitement in her voice. “Please tell me he’s giving us good news.”

“Not quite.” He glanced to Lola. “Just more puzzle pieces.”

*

The roar of the L thundered from above. Chloe kept her body still. If she didn’t move, if she kept her breathing shallow then maybe the heat wouldn’t be as oppressive. Suffocating. As she lay on the blankets that smelled like sweat and mildew, she took herself back to another time and place.

Closing her eyes, she remembered the eighth birthday party for her then best friend, Ashley. Ashley’s parents had rented a gigantic bounce house. She’d loved jumping inside, laughing, bouncing into her girlfriends, falling on her butt—until Ashley’s older brothers and their friends crashed the party. When Ashley’s parents hadn’t been looking, the boys had taken over, tossing dodge balls at one another while they dove into the bounce house.

What the twelve and ten-year-old-boys hadn’t realized was that Chloe had bounced out of the house through a tear in the protective mesh screening. What they also hadn’t realized was that, since Ashley’s parents hadn’t properly secured the bounce house to the ground, one side of the base of it had lifted when all of the boys had fallen to one side, then had promptly fallen, when they all dove to the other side, wrestling and laughing. While they were having a blast, Chloe was pinned beneath the inflated rubber. For all of thirty seconds, she’d been trapped, immobilized, the air filled rubber jammed against her body, smashing her face. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest had ached from trying, from the weight holding her down.

The stifling heat, heavy as a bounce house filled with eight ten and twelve-year-old-boys, restrained her almost as much as the harness and handcuffs. Weak, sluggish, soaked with her own sweat, she needed fresh air. The one small fan the crazy bitch had planted at the foot of the mattress was useless and only blew air at the soles of her sneakers. The other, at the head of the mattress also did little to keep her cool. She needed air conditioning and a couple of giant industrial fans. More than that, she needed water. Ice cold water. She wanted to dive into a cool pool of it, and remembered the summers she spent at the community pool. Plugging her nose and jumping off the high dive. Playing water tag with her friends. Swim lessons. Her heart ached as her memories turned to running through sprinklers and water balloon fights. What had happened? How had she gone from that fun, carefree little girl to this? Was the crazy-ass Bible-thumper right? Was this her destiny? When God had given her to her parents, had He already decided her fate? That made zero sense to her. How could a loving God breathe life into an infant, when all along He planned to make the child suffer?

Bitterness welled inside as she pictured God sitting down with her parents to discuss her destiny. “Hey there, Mary Ann and Sam, I’m going to give you a daughter you’ll name Chloe,” God would say. “But I just want to warn you, she’s going to run away when she’s fifteen, become a whore and a heroin addict. Oh, and by the by, while she’s whoring, she’s going to become pregnant, gang raped and then held hostage by a woman claiming to be one of my minions. So, Mary Ann and Sam, what do you say? Do you still want this child?”

If her hands weren’t cuffed behind her back, and her limbs didn’t feel weighed down by air as heavy as concrete, she would love to touch her stomach. The baby hadn’t moved much since Heather had left and she wanted to press on her belly and coerce a kick or a wiggle, anything to let her know he was still okay.

She hadn’t wanted this baby and had prayed for a miscarriage, had regretted waiting too long and not being able to abort the pregnancy. She’d abused her body so damned badly. The heroin, the weed, cigarettes… Heather was right, she wouldn’t swear at or around her baby, she also wouldn’t inject heroin into her baby boy’s veins, or blow pot or cigarette smoke into his lungs. Yet, she selfishly did all of that. What she’d put into her body, she’d given to her baby. What would the drugs do to him? Could a doctor help? If she escaped the storage unit and immediately went to the hospital for treatment, would the baby have a chance? She wanted him to. She might not deserve him, but
he
deserved a shot at life.