Fear No Evil

SIXTEEN

“WHERE’S LUCY?”

Dillon walked into her room and Kate jumped, still uncomfortable having people around after so many years being alone.

He stared at the muted computer screen where Denise was being raped by two men. Kate had almost forgotten it was on. She’d been so intent on planning how to get off the mountain without alerting Dillon or his brother.

“I don’t know. The screen went blank, then Denise came on. I’m not worried about her. She’s doing this willingly.”

“Are you sure?” Dillon frowned at the sick perversion playing out on the screen.

“I’m sure,” Kate said. “She faked her own death and attacked Lucy. She helped set Paige up to be killed. You have any doubts?”

“I-”

“Trask Enterprises’ biggest moneymakers were their rape-fantasy scenarios. That’s where Denise got her start. Don’t feel sorry for her.”

Dillon couldn’t help but wonder how Denise had gotten to this point in her life. What had happened to make her feel that her only choice, her only option, was to be used in such a vile, sick manner? She had no self-esteem, no self-respect.

Someone had destroyed Denise’s ego years ago, and Dillon couldn’t help but feel compassion for the abused woman, regardless of the crimes she’d committed.

“Why?” Dillon said.

“Oh, she probably has some tragic story in her childhood.” Kate rolled her eyes as if she didn’t believe it. “But that doesn’t justify her actions.”

“No, what I mean is why did he take Lucy off air?” Dillon feared he wouldn’t have the next full twenty-four hours to find her. Though he didn’t want to see her on the Internet, there was some comfort in seeing her alive. Now he knew nothing of her fate.

“I don’t know,” Kate mumbled.

Dillon stared at her. She was lying. He knew it as surely as he knew his name.

“Has he done this before?”

“He intersperses his ‘best-of’ shows with his live action. Maybe he was losing ratings because Lucy wasn’t cooperating, so he pulled her off to lie to her, to convince her that if she played along he would let her go. How am I supposed to know?”

Dillon frowned. Something wasn’t right. He hadn’t met Trask, but he knew enough about his process to know that for him, it was about the end. The murder. Everything else-the money, pretending rape was consensual sex, even the legal online pornography he’d been associated with-was nothing compared to his need to control, rape, and kill women.

He wouldn’t let one go. Ever.

“What did you see before he took Lucy off air?” Dillon demanded.

Kate stared at him. “Go check it out yourself,” she snapped. “Go back to the twenty-four-hour mark.”

Dillon strode over to her backup terminal, where she had digitally recorded Lucy’s captivity. He found the time stamp and watched a man walk slowly into view of the camera. His hands clenched as the man fell on top of Lucy, touched her. Unzipped his pants.

For the first time Dillon wanted to kill someone. He’d been traveling from San Diego to Texas when Lucy had been raped the first time. He only knew about it because Quinn Peterson had called to tell him. He’d almost been relieved he hadn’t watched it.

Dark agony crawled around his mind, suffocating his heart, making him see red. He could all too easily picture himself with the gun Connor gave him, pulling the trigger over and over, hitting this bastard square in the chest. Killing him for touching Lucy. Dillon’s head pounded and all he could think of was murder without regret.

Then the man looked over his shoulder and the screen went black. Dillon fast-forwarded the recording. Five minutes of time passed before the screen went back up. Denise was there, fighting with two men as they tore off her clothes.

He shut off the monitor.

“He took Lucy somewhere.”

“You don’t know that. He’s giving her a break. For the finale. Denise is a great actress. Her show will do well, prep the perverts for the end.”

“Any more headway on his location?”

“No.”

“Dammit, Kate, what aren’t you telling me?”

Kate stared at him and Dillon ran a hand through his hair. He was grasping at straws, trying to find his sister in the proverbial haystack. Patrick was in a coma and Lucy was going to die.

And this woman-this renegade FBI agent-was holding back.

When she didn’t say anything, Dillon left the room. He needed to talk to Jack and figure out what they were going to do.

Dillon was ready to sell his soul to the Devil for Lucy’s whereabouts. But he had a feeling the Devil himself was behind Trask’s evil mind, and wouldn’t tell him a thing.

Roger walked into the room Trask had converted into an office. “Sixty e-mails wanting to see Lucy. They’re not happy.”

“Sixty out of eighteen hundred seventeen paid viewers?”

“Sixty in fifteen minutes.”

Trask waved his hand. “They’ll get off watching Denise. Why aren’t you in there with her?”

Roger scratched his crotch. “I gave them a show. I’ll be back. How long do you want us to go at her?”

“At least an hour. That’ll keep these”-he tapped the stack of e-mails-“perverts jerking off.”

“Why’d you pull Lucy?”

“I have my reasons.” Not that he planned on sharing them with Roger. Roger had always told him Kate Donovan was a threat. Give it up, pal. If you know where she is, go in and kill her. But don’t play games. She’s a wily bitch.

Kate Donovan was no threat. She was as weak and vulnerable as any woman on the face of the earth. Just more driven than most.

Trask would take care of her and enjoy every second. He’d imagined too often her neck in his hands and his cock in her cunt. She would know the moment before she died that she was nothing but a source of pleasure for him and him alone.

And then he’d crush her windpipe and watch those blue eyes freeze in death.

“Watch Mallory.”

“I always watch the new guys.”

“There’s something about him. He’s…off.”

“He checked out.”

“Are you questioning me? Again?”

“No,” Roger said slowly. “Why are you cutting me out? You messing around with Donovan again? Wait until after tomorrow night. We’re still getting new viewers, we’ll top two thousand by the last hour. I say we let everyone have a turn with her and then-”

“I’m the director,” Trask said, his voice low. “Is she locked up?”

“Tight.”

“Go back and fuck Denise. I have something to do.”

Roger left and Trask opened the drawer and stared at the photograph of his father in his judge’s robes. His face burned, remembering the humiliation this man had forced him to suffer.

Then he cut him off completely. His twenty-first birthday, cut off without one fucking dime.

His father was unforgiving. If only he’d had the courage to kill him before being disowned, everything would have gone to him when the bastard croaked.

“Look at me now, Father,” Trask said. “You rode on Mother’s bank account. You were nothing before you married that stupid woman. Just pathetic. I have money, millions. You cut me off, but I came back even stronger. If you were alive, you’d be paying me to watch my shows.”

His father was dead, and good riddance, but for once Trask wished he were alive. Just so Trask could turn the tables and do to him what he’d done to Trask.

Degrade and humiliate him. Hurt and abuse him.

But the bastard even stole that small pleasure from him.

Dillon couldn’t find Jack. Where had he gone? They didn’t have time for games, they needed to force Kate to talk. Dillon had a feeling Jack would be good at that.

If only Patrick were here. He could decipher her damn computer codes. She’d been working on something. Her demeanor, her tone, her body language said it all.

She’d lied to him. Dillon tolerated a lot, but he drew the line at lies.

He called Connor to find out how Patrick was doing.

“He’s still in a coma,” Connor said, his voice sounding surprisingly close. “We’re in San Diego and they’re prepping him for surgery.”

“Surgery?”

“Pressure on his brain. They need to relieve it or there’s no chance he’ll survive.”

Dillon paled. “Peterson didn’t tell me that.”

Connor sounded both angry and helpless. “Tell me you and that Donovan woman know where Lucy is. Tell me where. I’ll be there.”

“We’re working on it.”

“That’s not good enough!”

Dillon let Connor yell at him. Dillon wanted to scream himself. “I know,” he said quietly.

“Is Lucy…is she okay?”

“Yes.”

“Peterson just left to go back to headquarters. He said you had a list of names that this Trevor/Trask character may be.”

“It’s a theory.” Dillon filled Connor in, knowing that the process would comfort him.

“Call me when you find Lucy. Peterson has a plane fueled and ready at Miramar. It’s all ours. I can be flying anywhere in less than thirty minutes.”

“Call me when Patrick is out of surgery. How’re Mom and Dad holding up?”

“Mom’s in shock. Dad’s being steadfast.” Connor’s voice broke. “He cried when he saw Patrick. I haven’t seen him cry since Justin’s funeral.”

“I’m going to find her,” Dillon said.

Connor didn’t say anything.

“I will,” Dillon repeated.

“We have twenty-three hours. Time is running out.”

“Have faith.” Have faith in me.

“When you get the coordinates send them to me. Don’t go after him yourself.”

Dillon tensed, rubbed his eyes. “I’ll send them to you, but I’m going.”

“You were right on the money about Kate Donovan and your profile of the bastard who took Lucy, but he’ll kill you. Fuck, Dil! I don’t know if Patrick is going to survive this surgery, but if they don’t go in he’ll definitely die. We can’t lose Patrick and Lucy and you.”

“I’ll call you. Tell Mom and Dad I love them.”

“Dil, you’re not-”

Dillon hung up. Connor was right. He had no business going after Trask and trying to save Lucy. He could end up dead, and Lucy would still die.

But sometimes brains beat out brawn. Sometimes knowing how the hunter thought, knowing what he felt, meant more than knowing how to kill him.

The more Dillon read of his file, the closer he got to understanding exactly who Trask was.

The man who had Lucy had been unusually bright and industrious from early childhood, quiet, focused, and studious. But because of his above-average intelligence, school bored him-even private school. He turned to challenging himself, probably by hacking into computers. Working with his hands. His parents were not involved with his day-to-day life, and he was an only child. If he had a sibling, that sibling was much older. That fit. Especially if the sibling had achieved a lot, been perfect in his parents’ eyes. He had big shoes to fill, and because he tended toward darkness even as a child, he messed up. He made mistakes and was punished for them. He was curious about his surroundings, so curious that he definitely got into trouble. Not with the law, but with his parents. Strict rules. Image. Wealth.

He thought back to his recent case where privileged teenagers killed for the thrill. Their parents were wealthy, focused on image and not the rules. In fact, the parents of the killing team had been emotionally distant and unconcerned about what their kids did-as long as they didn’t tarnish the family name.

Had Trask tarnished his family name? Had he made an unforgivable mistake in his parents’ eyes? Been disowned, like his friend Roger Morton?

Money was important to him. Hugely important. He thrived on moving money around, laundering it. He got a thrill out of making his fortune through the sex trade. Something that would embarrass his parents.

But he hadn’t used his real name.

Or had he?

Dillon needed to look back at those original files from Trask Enterprises. There was something there, and since Kate had interviewed virtually every employee, the answer was probably trapped in her brain.

As soon as he entered Kate’s room, he knew she was gone. Her essence had disappeared.

Along with her laptop, her backpack, and her PDA.

“Dammit, Kate!”

He picked up a piece of paper with his name on it.

Dillon-

I know you won’t understand, but please try. I can save Lucy, but only alone. You have no reason to trust me, but please, on this, you have to.

I won’t let you bury Lucy. If you have a chance to put flowers on my grave, I’ll know. If you curse me, I’ll understand.

Tell Lucy when she comes home that she’s the bravest woman I’ve ever seen and I wish I could have known her.

– Kate

She knew where Lucy was and was going after her alone. Damn her! Renegade? Maybe idiot was a better word.

Dillon ran from the room. “Jack!” he called, not knowing where his brother had gone, but figuring he’d be invaluable in tracking Kate in the middle of the night on this mountain. “Jack!”

“Over here.”

Jack was in a grove of short, stubby trees, doing what Dillon didn’t know, and at this point didn’t care. “Kate went after Trask. Dammit, I knew she was lying to me. Have you seen her? You’ve been all over this observatory. She has to have some sort of vehicle.”

“Vehicle? You could say that. She’s probably headed for the plane.”

“Plane?” Dillon panicked. “We’ll never catch up to her in time.”

Jack pulled a large square device from his backpack. “She’s not going anywhere without this.”

“It looks like a car battery.”

“It goes to that fine little Stationair she has hidden about a mile away. The plane won’t fly without it.”