When the Smoke Clears (Deadly Reunions) (39 page)

“We will.”

“Why do you think my sister—or I—had anything to do with this?”

“We have it on video. Along with a black Mercedes. She used your car.”

“My ca—what? Are you all crazy?”

Hunter’s phone rang. He snatched it. Dominic said, “She’s not here, but there’s a nonresponsive woman on the couch. Looks like she’s been drugged. We’ve called for an ambulance.”

Hope deflated like a punctured balloon. He wondered about the woman, but right now, his only concern was Alexia. “Where is she then?” Hunter whispered, more to himself than Dominic. He started to panic. “I don’t know where to look.”

Hunter pointed to Avery. “She’s not at your house. There’s a woman passed out cold on your couch, but no Lori and no children. We called an ambulance for the woman. Now where would she go?”

He paled. “My mother. Is she okay?”

“Alexia! Where would Lori take her!” Hunter was just about out of patience with the man.

Avery flinched. “I . . . I . . . don’t . . . Maybe her house.”

“Her house?” Hunter frowned. “I thought she lived with you.”

“No, she stays there most of the time because of my schedule, but she has a townhouse on the other side of town.”

“Give me the address,” Hunter snapped.

Avery complied and Hunter passed it on to Dominic. “Get over there. I’m right behind you.”

“On the way.”

Alexia tensed. She’d pushed the blindfold up a scant millimeter more, allowing more light in. The suffocating feeling dissolved a bit, the panic she felt ready to overtake her receded.

Think, Lex, think.

Pray, Lex, pray.

Please, God, I don’t even know what to pray. Just let me say the right thing and don’t let them kill me. Please.

“Hello, Alexia.”

She froze. Strained to recognize the voice, but she didn’t think she’d ever heard it before. But would she recognize her father’s voice after all this time?

Definitely.

“What do you want?” she asked.

A hard slap to the side of her face sent her spinning sideways. Shock and pain radiated through her as she landed on the floor facedown, no way to push herself up with her hands bound behind her back.

A hand in the crook of her elbow yanked her back into a sitting position.

“I’ll ask the questions, thank you very much.” The polite tone next to her ears was at definite odds with the man’s actions.

Her head spun and her ears rang.

She wanted to cry.

And refused.

Clamping her lips shut, she remembered that little place she used to go in her mind when her father started his punches. The area around her heart that Hunter had touched had begun to thaw. It now chilled back over.

“This could get really painful for you—but it doesn’t have to.”

Alexia didn’t answer.

She felt him move closer and breathed in, memorizing his scent. He smelled good, she noticed through the haze of pain. Rich. Like leather and cigars. She forced herself not to flinch. If another hit was coming, she’d take it.

“Now. Do we understand each other?” he almost whispered, the sound grating and terrifying all at once.

“Yes.”

He moved back a fraction. “Good.”

Alexia looked down through the bottom of the blindfold.

Expensive shoes.

She took a deep breath.
God, lead Hunter to me.

“I’ll get right to it. You’ve been a very troublesome girl to get ahold of. But I need to know where Jillian Carter is. I believe you know where she is.”

“And why do you believe that?”

Another crack to the side of her head sent her sprawling to the floor. Pain ricocheted through her. Tears sprang to her eyes without her permission, and she squeezed her lids tight until the sensation passed.

Somewhere in the distance, a cry sounded. A young child. Alexia wondered how Lori could seem so normal and yet be so sick.

“Pay attention to me, Alexia. Tell me what I want to know or people close to you are going to start dying. Like your sick mother lying in the hospital needing a bone marrow transplant.”

His words echoed in her head, freezing her blood in her veins.
What do I tell him, God?

She drew in a deep shuddering breath. “I would tell you where Jillian was if I knew. I haven’t talked to her since the night of the graduation party ten years ago.” She spat the words along with a stream of blood. He’d split her lip.

“Let’s talk about that night. Jillian was in a place she shouldn’t have been, saw something she shouldn’t have seen. Did she tell you about it?”

“No.” Alexia almost shook her head, then decided against it. “She just said she saw something, that her life was in danger, and if she told us, we would be in danger too. I haven’t seen her since.”

Silence greeted her words. Then more footsteps. Lori?

“She tell you what you wanted to know?” The voice came from her left.

“No. Kill her. But wait until I’m well away from here.”

Her head and lip throbbed.

Where was Hunter?

The team surrounded the house. Hunter kept pushing the earpiece tighter into his ear. The minutes were ticking.

But they were in there. In Lori’s house. A two-story townhouse in a cute little neighborhood.

Hard to believe it held such evil.

SWAT moved in, placed microphones and video surveillance in the windows.

Dominic shifted beside Hunter. “You ready?”

“Almost.”

Alexia had to figure out a way to get free. The man’s cell phone had rung and he’d walked away from her, Lori’s footsteps trailing behind. Up steps? Sounded like it.

And all was quiet once again.

Every bone and muscle in her body ached. Her head throbbed and her teeth had shredded her lower lip.

But she was alive. And determined to stay that way.

An idea formed.

Her forehead back on her knees, she shoved the blindfold up a little further and examined her prison.

Definitely a basement. Lori’s house. Several windows lined the top of the walls, but it was dark outside so there was no help there.

Shifting, she saw what she was looking for.

The candles.

Worried she’d run out of time, and either Lori or her partner would return, Alexia scooted as best she could across the floor in her now ruined fancy black dress. Somewhere she’d lost her shoes.

Finally, she slid in front of the candles, her head pounding, mouth aching. With a grunt, she heaved up on her knees, backed up, and held her hands over the open flame. To her right were paint cans, a gasoline can.

And paint thinner.

Fury stirred in her gut as the flame worked on her bonds. Thank God, he’d used rope. If they’d been cuffs, it would be hopeless.

The flame singed her wrist and she jumped, her knee knocking into the gas can. Another idea formed as she listened for footsteps.

And then her hands were free.

She gasped as she pulled them around to her front to clasp and massage her arms. Her wrists had blisters, but she didn’t care.

Footsteps sounded above, then began their descent.

It was time. The children were occupied. Another pill. She needed another pill. Killing Alexia would be the final act needed to ensure that the children were safe and would be with Lori forever.

No one was going to take them away. No one. Their own mother never loved them like Lori.

She stepped to the bottom of the basement and looked around. The concrete walls would muffle the shot.

Or maybe she’d use the wire.

She’d used it a lot in the army. They’d trained her well.

43

Saturday, 8:32 p.m.

Alexia watched the woman from the corner of her eye. She’d ditched the blindfold. Now she held her hands behind her back. She wasn’t sure where the man had gone, just knew that he’d left. Which was fine by her.

She also knew that Lori was stronger than she and there was no way Alexia could win a physical fight with the woman.

So she had a plan. A one-time effort plan.

If she failed, she died.

Her only concern was the children. And Lori’s mother.

“So,” she said as Lori reached the bottom of the steps, “he left you to do the dirty work, huh?”

“You think you can take my children away? Oh no. No. No. No.”

Alexia didn’t bother arguing with the woman. She was loony tunes. She just needed her to come a little closer.

Lori took two more steps toward Alexia.

“You don’t have to do this, Lori, we’ll get you some help.”

Alexia held her breath. Lori lifted the gun and stared at her with cold, emotionless eyes. “I don’t want or need help. I just need for you to be dead.”

And Alexia knew she had no choice.

She brought the old-fashioned gas can from behind her and threw the contents at Lori.

The woman yelled and gasped as the gas hit her in the face and down her front. Her finger twitched on the trigger and the bullet slammed into the wall behind. The candle on the table behind her rocked.

Lori thrashed, frantically wiping the gas from her eyes. She hit the table again and the candle landed against her.

The small flame lit the gas with a whoosh and Lori screamed as her skirt caught fire. Shrieking, she turned the gun on Alexia, who had darted for the steps.

Another bullet hit just above Alexia. Looking back, she saw the small rug catch fire, then a paint tarp. Horror hit her as the woman screamed in pain. Alexia paused, wondering if she should somehow help her. But those crazed eyes glared at her even as Lori frantically beat at the flames with an old rag. The gun cracked again and Alexia felt the bullet whiz by her head.

She didn’t have much time before the entire room would be engulfed. She had no way to help Lori without getting herself killed. And she needed to find the children. She raced upstairs and looked for the children, first one room, then the other.

Finally, she found little Mary Ellen asleep in her bed. She shook the little girl. “Come on, we have to go. The house is on fire.”

“I’m going to kill you!”

Alexia froze. The words came from the basement, but she could hear them even up on the next floor.