Kill for Me

Chapter Seven

Atlanta , Friday, February 2, 10:15 p.m.

That’s her, Rocky thought, relieved she’d come a little early. The shift didn’t change for a while. Nursey must have left early and her step was brisk as she walked toward her car. Not the step of a woman who’d just committed her first murder and not a good sign at all. Rocky was now responsible for making sure this nurse killed the girl. It was a test, she knew. If she succeeded, she’d earn her way back into Bobby’s good graces.

She pulled next to the nurse and slowed to match the woman’s pace. “Excuse me.”

“Not interested,” the nurse snapped.

“Yes, you are. Bobby sent me.”

The nurse stopped abruptly and turned, fear in her eyes. But no guilt. Rocky sighed. “You didn’t do it, did you?”

The nurse stiffened. “Not exactly.”

“What does that mean, not exactly?”

Desperate fury flared in the woman’s eyes. “It means I didn’t kill her,” she hissed.

“Get in.” Rocky drew the pistol from her pocket and pointed it. “Draw a breath to scream and it will be your last,” she said calmly, even though her heart was pounding. Please get in. Please don’t make me shoot. The nurse obeyed, shaking visibly, and Rocky let herself breathe.

“Are you going to kill me?” the woman whispered hoarsely.

“Well, that depends. Start by telling me exactly what ‘not exactly’ means.”

The nurse stared straight ahead. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill her. But I made sure she wouldn’t talk to anyone else.”

“Else? What do you mean, anyone else?” Shit.

“She had two visitors tonight. A man and a woman.”

Bailey and Beardsley. Damn that Granville. Rocky had had no idea he’d brought them to the bunker until Bobby’d confronted her with it-and her lie. You said they were dead. You said you were sure. You lied to me. This girl could ruin us all.

She’d thought fast, but her lie that she had checked but simply missed the girl’s thready pulse hadn’t been good enough. Rocky resisted the urge to waggle her jaw. Bobby had hit her hard. Her jaw wasn’t broken, but it throbbed like a bitch.

Still, she knew she’d hurt a lot more if the girl talked. The damage would be worse depending on which girl had escaped. Angel had been there the longest, but Monica was the boldest. Don’t let it have been Monica. “Who were the visitors?”

“He was GBI. Special Agent Papa-something. Papadopoulos. The woman was the one who found her, down at that bunker on the river. Her brother is also in ICU.”

Rocky blinked. “Susannah Vartanian found the girl on the side of the road?”

Wonderful. It was, actually. Rocky didn’t know why, but Bobby hated Susannah Vartanian. There was a photo of the judge’s daughter next to Bobby’s computer with a red X penned through her face. Dealing with Susannah might be a way to regain favor. At a minimum the guaranteed wrath that would be generated when Rocky shared this tidbit of news might take some of the heat off herself.

“Did the girl say anything to Susannah?”

“I heard that she only got a few words out when they first found her, that someone had ‘killed them all.’ I assumed this meant the girls they found in the bunker.” The nurse glanced nervously from the corner of her eye. “I heard it on the news.”

She’d seen Granville kill the others. This was very bad. “And later, in the hospital? What did she say then?”

“Nothing. She still has her breathing tube in. They used a letter board and found out her name started with M. But their time was up and they had to leave.”

Monica. This was going from bad to worse. I should have shoved her in the boat. I should have made room. I should never have left her behind. “What else?”

“The GBI agent asked her if she knew a girl named Ashley and she blinked ‘yes.’ ”

Ashley? How the hell had Papadopoulos known about Ashley? What more did he know? She kept her voice level. “So how did you keep her from saying any more?”

The nurse sighed out a breath. “I put a paralytic in her IV bag. When she wakes up, she won’t be able to open her eyes, blink, move, or say anything.”

“How long will it last?”

“About eight hours.”

“And what had you planned to do then?” Rocky asked sharply, then laughed bitterly. “You hadn’t planned to do anything, had you? You were going to run.”

The nurse looked straight ahead, her throat working. “I can’t kill her. You have to understand. GBI posted a guard outside the ICU, 24/7. He checks every ID. The minute she stops breathing alarms will go off. They’ll catch me.” Her jaw cocked slightly. “And when they do, what should I tell them? Your description? What kind of car you drive? Your name, maybe? I don’t think you want that, either.”

Panic mixed with rage. “I should kill you right now.”

The nurse’s lips curved. “And in eight hours your Jane Doe’s paralytic will wear off and she’ll sing like a bird. What will she tell the cops? Nothing about me. She didn’t see me.” Her head turned slightly. “Did she see you?”

Maybe. Dammit, yes. In that last moment at the bunker. She’d stared at her face, memorizing every feature. The girl had to die, before she spoke to anyone. And Bobby can’t find out I was so damn careless. “How long before she’s out of ICU?”

Satisfaction and relief flickered in the nurse’s eyes. “She’ll stay in ICU until the breathing tube is removed and they won’t do that until they’re certain she can breathe on her own. Whoever beat her up did too good a job. She’s got four broken ribs on her right side. Her lung is collapsed. She’ll be in the hospital for several days, at least.”

Rocky ground her teeth. “How long before she’s out of ICU?” she repeated.

“I don’t know. If she weren’t paralyzed, maybe in twenty-four or forty-eight hours.”

“How long can you keep her paralyzed?”

“Not long, a day or two, max. The staff will start to suspect and someone will order an EEG. The paralytic will show up.” Her chin lifted. “And I’ll probably be caught-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rocky interrupted. “Then you’ll tell on me and we all go to jail.”

Heart racing, Rocky considered her options. The situation was rapidly snowballing from bad to worse to devastating. Bobby can’t find out about this. She’d made enough mistakes today. One more fuck-up and… her stomach rolled over. She’d seen the results of Bobby’s “employee separation.” She swallowed hard. The last guy who messed up this badly was separated from his head. There had been a lot of blood.

So much blood. She could run. But realistically she knew there was nowhere to hide. Bobby would find her and… She made herself focus, made herself remember everything she knew about Monica Cassidy. And a plan began to form. I can fix this. It would work. It would have to. Unless she was prepared to walk into the ICU and smother the girl herself, which she was not. “All right. This is what I want you to do.”

Atlanta , Friday, February 2, 11:15 p.m.

This statement is hereby given freely by Susannah A. Vartanian and is witnessed by Chloe M. Hathaway, Assistant State ’s Attorney. Sitting at the desk in her hotel room, Susannah’s hands paused on her laptop and she reread the statement she’d prepared. In it were all the details she recalled from that day thirteen years ago, from the most sordid to the most benign. She and Chloe Hathaway had traded voicemails, but they’d meet tomorrow morning to discuss Susannah’s statement and subsequent testimony.

Subsequent testimony. It sounded so brisk, so impersonal… so like somebody else’s life. But it’s not. It’s mine. Restless, Susannah pushed away from the desk. She would not change a word. Not this time. This time she’d do the right thing.

It was just a matter of time before her involvement in what the media had already dubbed “The Richie Rich Rapists” hit the news. She’d already spied someone with a camera taking pictures as she’d checked in to the hotel. They must have followed Luke Papadopoulos’s car when he’d driven her from the hospital.

Luke. She’d thought of him often this day, each time a little differently. He was big, strong enough to carry Jane Doe up a steep hill without breathing hard, but he’d been so gentle with the girl. Susannah knew there were gentle giants out there, but in her experience they were rare. She hoped the woman in Luke’s life appreciated his value.

That he’d have a woman in his life was a given. Coupled with his dark good looks, the man vibrated with an intensity most women would find sexually enticing. Susannah was honest enough to admit that she did, that her stomach had gone all tight when he’d stood so close in the ICU, and that she’d thought about pressing her mouth to his jaw.

But Susannah was smart enough not to get involved. Ever. Involvement led to questions, and questions ultimately would require answers. She wasn’t prepared to give answers to Luke Papadopoulos or anyone else. Ever.

Still, she remembered the devastation in his black eyes when he’d come out of the bunker. And even then he’d held her up when her own legs buckled. He felt things deeply, but seemed able to partition those feelings away to focus on what needed to be done. She respected that because she knew just how difficult it was to do.

Luke had dropped her off at the hotel without further argument, respecting her wishes, even though he disagreed. Then he’d gone on his way to meet with his team, focused and intense, which seemed to be his resting state.

She envied him. Luke Papadopoulos had things to do, important things, while she’d been sitting on her hands all day. In reality that was less than accurate. She’d had a very busy morning and afternoon. It was the evening that had been empty as she’d sat waiting, powerless, with too much time to think. Tomorrow, she’d do something. She’d sit with the girl with no name, because there was no one else to do so. Because she’s my responsibility. But first she’d give her statement to Chloe Hathaway.

She glanced at the newspaper she’d bought in the hotel lobby. The headlines screamed of a serial killer at large in Dutton. Old news. But below the fold was an article on the Dutton dead, as of the day before. One name caught her eye. Sheila Cunningham. They shared a bond, she and Sheila. Tomorrow Sheila would be laid to rest and Susannah knew she needed to be there. So tomorrow she’d stand in the Dutton cemetery once again.

Tomorrow would be a difficult day.

Her stomach growled, mercifully derailing her thoughts and reminding her of the time. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and room service was late. She’d picked up the phone to check its status when there was a knock at her door. Finally.

“Thank y-” Her mouth fell open. Her boss stood outside her door. “Al. What are you doing here? Come in.”

Al Landers closed the door behind him. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“How did you know to come here? I didn’t tell you my hotel.”

“You’re a creature of habit,” Al said. “Every time you travel you stay in this hotel chain. It was just a question of calling around until I found the right one.”

“But you came to my room. Did the front desk give that information?”

“No. I overheard a reporter trying to bribe the concierge for your room number.”

“I guess this was bound to happen. Vartanians are big news in Atlanta right now.” Simon had made sure of that. “So did the concierge tell him?”

“Yes, that’s how I knew your room number. So I reported him to the manager. You may want to consider a different hotel the next time you come to town.”

When this was over, there wouldn’t be a next time. “You said you wanted to talk.”

Al looked around. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“Scotch in the minibar.” She poured him a glass and sat on the arm of the sofa.

He went to her desk and glanced at her laptop screen. “I’m here because of that.”

“My statement? Why?”

He took his time answering, first sipping at the scotch, then downing it in a gulp. “Are you sure… very sure you want to do this, Susannah? Once you are cast in the role of a victim, your life, your career will never be the same.”

Susannah went to the window and stared out at the city. “Believe me, I know. But I have my reasons, Al. Thirteen years ago I was…” she swallowed hard, “… raped. A gang of boys drugged me, raped me, and poured whiskey all over me, just like they would do to fifteen other girls over the course of the next year. When I woke up, I was shoved in a little hidey-hole behind my bedroom wall. I thought it was my secret hiding place, but my brother Simon knew about it.”

Behind her she heard Al’s careful exhalation. “So Simon participated?”

Oh, yes. “Simon was the team captain.”

“Wasn’t there anyone you could tell?” he asked carefully.

“No. My father would have called me a liar. And Simon made sure I didn’t tell a soul. He showed me a picture of me being… you know.”

“Yeah,” Al said tightly. “I know.”

“He said they’d do it again. He said there was nowhere I could hide.” She drew a breath, the terror as fresh as if thirteen years had not passed. “He said I had to sleep sometime, that I should stay out of his affairs. So I did. I never said anything. And they went on to rape fifteen others. They took pictures of all of us. Kept them as trophies.”

“Do the police have these pictures now?”

“GBI does. I found them this afternoon, in Simon’s hidey-hole. A whole box full.”

“So the GBI has incontrovertible proof. There’s only one of those bastards left, Susannah. Why put yourself through this now?”

Anger bubbled and she whirled to face the man who’d taught her so much about the law, the man who’d been a shining example. The man who’d been everything Judge Arthur Vartanian had not. “Why are you trying to talk me out of doing what’s right?”

“Because I’m not so sure that it is right,” he said calmly. “Susannah, you have been through hell. Nothing will change if you come forward. The facts will be the same. They have pictures of this man… what’s his name? The only one left?”

“Garth Davis,” she spat.

His eyes flashed dangerously, but his voice remained level. “They have pictures of this Davis raping you, raping others. If you come forward, you will be known as the victim who turned prosecutor. Every defense attorney you go up against will question your zeal. ‘Is it the guilt of my client Ms. Vartanian is trying to prove, or is she trying to get revenge for her own assault?’ ”

“That’s not fair,” she said, tears close to the edge.

“Life isn’t fair,” he said, still calmly. But his eyes were tormented and she could keep the tears at bay no longer.

“He was my brother.” She glared at him, blinking away the tears in frustration. “Don’t you get it? He was my brother and I let him do that to me. I let him do it to others. Because I said nothing, fifteen other girls got raped and seventeen other people are dead in Philadelphia. How do I ever make that right?”

Al gripped her upper arms. “You can’t. You. Can’t. And if that’s why you’re testifying, it’s the wrong reason. I won’t let you ruin your career for the wrong reason.”

“I’m testifying because it’s the right thing to do.”

He looked her square in the eye. “Are you sure you’re not doing this because of Darcy Williams?”

Everything inside her froze. Her heart stopped. Dropped to her stomach. Her mouth moved, but no words would come out. In a blink, she saw the scene. All the blood. Darcy’s body. All that blood. And Al knew. He knows. He knows. He knows.

“I’ve always known, Susannah. You didn’t think a smart cop like Detective Reiser would take an anonymous tip on something so important, did you? Not on a homicide.”

Somehow she found her voice. “I didn’t think he ever knew who’d called him.”

“He knew. He set up a second call, saying he wanted to verify your initial information. He’d traced your first tip to a public phone booth and when you called a second time, he was waiting down the block, watching.”

“I’m a creature of habit,” she said dully. “I went back to the same phone booth.”

“Most people do. You know that.”

“So why didn’t he ever say anything?” She closed her eyes, mortification mixing with the shock. “We’ve worked on a dozen cases since then. He never let on he knew.”

“He followed you home that night. You were working for me then and Reiser and I go way back, so he came to me first. You were only an intern, but I already could see the promise in you.” He sighed. “And the rage. You were always polite, always in control, but behind your eyes was rage. When Reiser told me what you’d witnessed, I knew you had to be into something very dark. I asked him if he believed you’d done anything illegal yourself and he didn’t have anything to say you had.”

“So you asked him to keep my name out of it,” she said stiffly.

“Only if he found no evidence of your having done anything wrong. He was able to use your tips to get a warrant and found the murder weapon in the killer’s closet along with shoes with Darcy’s blood in the laces. He made his case without you.”

“But if he hadn’t been able to, you would have let him call me to the stand.”

Al’s smile was grim. “It would have been the right thing to do. Susannah, you visit Darcy’s grave every year on the day of her death. You still grieve for her. But you turned your life around. You’ve prosecuted offenders with a passion we rarely see. There was nothing to be gained from your coming forward on Darcy Williams’s death.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said. “I have to look at myself, every day, and know I did a passable copy of the right thing. This time, I want to be able to live with what I’ve done. I have to do this, Al. I’ve lived with the shame of the wrong thing for almost half my life. I want to live the rest of my life able to hold my head up to anyone I meet. If I have to sacrifice my career to do that, then I will. I can’t believe you, of all people, are trying to talk me out of this. You’re an officer of the court, for God’s sake.”

“I took off my DA hat the moment I walked in this door. I’m here as your friend.”

Her throat closed and she resolutely cleared it. “There are lots of other prosecutors out there with pasts like mine. They make it work.”

Again his smile was grim. “Their last name wasn’t Vartanian.”

She winced. “Point made. But my decision is the same. The SA and I have an appointment tomorrow morning at nine. She’ll come here. I’ll give her my statement.”

“Do you want me to be here?”

“No.” Uttering the word was reflex. But it wasn’t true. “Yes,” she said.

He nodded steadily. “All right.”

She hesitated. “Then I’m going to a funeral. In Dutton.”

“Whose funeral?”

“Sheila Cunningham. She was one of Simon’s gang’s fifteen rape victims. This past Tuesday night she was going to give my brother Daniel some information about the assaults thirteen years ago, but she was killed before she could talk to him. One of the gang members was our hometown deputy. He arranged for Sheila to be killed, then killed the hit man to keep him quiet. Today the deputy shot my brother.”

Al’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell me your brother had been shot when you called.”

“No, I didn’t.” And she was too mixed up in her mind about Daniel to understand why she had not. “Daniel will be all right, thanks to his girlfriend, Alex.”

“Is the deputy in custody?”

“Of a fashion. After he shot Daniel, he turned his gun on Alex. She shot him dead.”

Al blinked. “I need another drink.” Susannah pulled another little bottle of scotch from the minibar, along with a bottle of water for herself.

Al tapped his glass to her bottle. “To the right thing.”

She nodded. “Even when it’s the hard thing.”

“I’d like to meet your brother Daniel. I’ve read a lot about him.”

Even when it’s the hard thing. Like it or not, ready or not, Daniel would be part of her life for the foreseeable future. “He can have visitors starting tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to go to this woman’s funeral with you?”

“You don’t have to,” she said and he gave her a look, as if he were counting to ten.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Susannah. You never did. Let me help you.”

Relief had her shoulders slumping. “It’s at eleven. We need to leave right after I talk with Ms. Hathaway.”

“Then I’ll let you sleep. Try not to worry.”

“I’ll try. You…” Her throat tightened. “You made me believe in the law, Al. I know it works. It didn’t work for me before, because I never gave it the chance.”

“Tomorrow at nine. We’ll give it a chance this time.”

She saw him to the door. “I’ll be here. Thank you.”

Atlanta , Friday, February 2, 11:30 p.m.

Luke stepped into the elevator in Susannah’s hotel, the aroma of food smacking him hard. A white-coated waiter stood behind a room service tray set for two. Luke glanced down at the room service tray longingly. It had been a long time since he’d eaten and all he’d get tonight was a burger from whatever drive-thru was still open.

You could be eating that burger right now. You could have just called her to ask about the cabin. Of course he could have, and should have. Yet here he was.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. “After you, sir,” the waiter said.

Luke nodded and headed for Susannah’s room. She’s probably asleep. You should just have called. But if he’d called, he definitely would have woken her. Now, he could listen at the door. If he didn’t hear anything, he’d leave. You go right on thinking that, Papa. You just want to see her again, make sure she’s all right.

Just to make sure she was all right. Yeah, that was it. Uh-huh.

A door opened at the end of the hall and an older man emerged, someone in the room closing the door behind him. The man was about fifty-five, dressed impeccably in a suit and tie. He scrutinized Luke, directly meeting his eyes as they passed.

Frowning, Luke turned to watch the man and almost collided with the waiter pushing the room service cart-who stopped at the door from which the man had emerged.

Luke frowned again when Susannah answered the waiter’s knock. She’d started to sign the bill when she realized Luke was there. “Agent Papadopoulos,” she said.

Luke nudged the waiter out of the way. “I’ll get this for you. Good night.”

Susannah watched as he pushed the cart into the room and closed the door. “What are you doing here?” she asked, though not unkindly.

“I needed to ask you something.” But then he got a look at her clothes and a sudden pulse of heat burned his skin. A tight skirt hit her legs midthigh and a clingy sweater dipped low. She looked utterly young and almost carefree. And I want her. Now.

“Looks like my niece Stacie bought what she wanted for herself,” he said, forcing his voice to be amused. “My sister Demi won’t let her dress like that.”

Her smile was rueful. “I thought as much, but I had to get rid of those scrubs.” She gestured at the cart. “Would you like to join me?”

“I’m starving,” he confessed. “But I don’t want to take your dinner.”

“I’ll never eat all this,” she said and pointed at the small table in the corner. “Sit.”

He maneuvered around the cart, hitting the desk with his hip. Her laptop cleared of its screensaver and he stopped when he saw what filled the screen. “Your statement.”

She put the tray on the table. “I’m meeting ASA Hathaway tomorrow morning.”

“She said you’d called.” He narrowed his eyes at the two sets of silverware on the tray, thinking of the man who’d come from her room. “You ordered dinner for two.”

“I always do. I don’t want anyone to think I’m here alone.” She shrugged, slightly embarrassed. “It’s the irrational fears that get you at three a.m. Eat before it gets cold.”

Three a.m. fears he understood. Three a.m. rarely found him asleep. They ate in silence, until Luke’s need to know overwhelmed. “Who was the man who left here?”

She blinked. “My boss. Al Landers, from New York. I’d called him earlier, told him about the box, and my statement. He came to make sure I was okay.” Her eyes widened. “You thought-? Oh, no. Al’s married.” Her jaw set. “He’s a good man.”

Luke’s gut settled. “That was nice of him to come all this way,” he said quietly.

She seemed to settle as well. “And it was nice of your niece to go shopping for me.” She got up and got her purse. “Here’s a check. Will you give it to her?”

He slid the check into his shirt pocket. “That’s not what you would have bought.”

“No, but that doesn’t make it any less kind. When I go back to New York, she can have this outfit if her mom will let her. I’m sure it would look better on her. I’m too old to dress like this.” She sat down and met his eyes. “What did you want to ask me?”

For a moment he couldn’t remember, then his good sense kicked in. “Did you ever visit a cabin up in the mountains?”

She frowned. “A cabin? No. Why?”

“I talked to Garth Davis tonight and he mentioned that they normally used one another’s houses for the… assaults, but that one night they used a cabin in the mountains. Granville made the arrangements and drove them there in secret.”

Her eyes had flickered at his hesitation. “Does Davis know who owned it?”

“I think so, but he’s not saying until we find his kids. His wife took off with them yesterday when she found out Mack O’Brien had targeted their family.”

“Garth’s cousin was murdered. I read about it in the paper.” She sat back, thinking. “My father didn’t have a cabin that I knew of. He bought a ski chalet in Vale, but to my knowledge he never used it.”

“Why did he buy it then?”

“I think to torment us, especially my mother. She wanted to go out West, but he wouldn’t take the time. He bought the chalet so they owned it, but she couldn’t use it.”

“But no cabin in the mountains here?”

“No. But I do remember him going fishing with Randy Mansfield’s father.”

“He and Mansfield ’s father were friends?”

She shrugged. “When it suited either of them. Mansfield ’s father was the county prosecutor and would come around when he had a case that wasn’t going well. They’d whisper in my father’s office and suddenly the tide would turn the prosecution’s way.”

“So Mansfield ’s father bribed your father.”

“Sure. Lots of people bribed my father. My father bribed lots of people. Blackmailed others.” Her eyes flashed. “I wanted to tell, but nobody would have believed me.”

“Who could you have told? You had no idea who wasn’t in your dad’s pocket.”

The rage in her eyes subsided. “I know. They were all in it together.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to dredge all this up.”

“It’s okay. You were asking about the cabin. When my father and Richard Mansfield went fishing, they did go to a cabin.” She looked down, thinking, then abruptly looked up, meeting his eyes. “Judge Borenson. It was his cabin.”

“I know that name. I’ve heard it recently. Can I use your laptop?”

“Of course.”

He sat down at the desk and she stood behind him, watching him type.

“Oh my God,” she murmured, reaching over his shoulder to point at the screen at the same time the words jumped out at him. “Borenson presided over Gary Fulmore’s trial.”

“The man falsely convicted for killing Alex Fallon’s twin sister thirteen years ago,” Luke muttered, focusing on the computer screen and not on her clingy sweater that brushed his shoulder or her scent that filled his head. “Coincidence?”

“No,” she murmured. “It can’t be a coincidence.” She stepped back, lowering herself to the edge of the bed. “Gary Fulmore served thirteen years for a murder he didn’t do.”

“Mack O’Brien’s older brother Jared killed Alex’s sister,” Luke told her, both relieved and disappointed at the distance she’d put between them. “But nobody else knew that back then. All the boys in the gang thought the other had killed Alicia Tremaine, because she was alive when they left her after raping her. Jared O’Brien went back, raped her again, and killed her when she tried to scream for help.”

“Frank Loomis was the sheriff then. He tampered with evidence. Framed Gary Fulmore for the murder. Why?”

“I know Daniel wants to know.”

“Frank treated Daniel like his own son, gave him his first job at the police station. Finding out Frank had done such a terrible thing must have killed him.”

Luke looked over his shoulder abruptly. “Frank treated Daniel like his own son. Could he have treated Granville the same way?”

“Frank Loomis as Granville’s thích?” she asked doubtfully. “I guess it’s possible.”

“Were Sheriff Loomis and Judge Borenson friends?”

“I don’t know. They could have been. Dutton politics forged strange bedfellows.”

Luke searched through the rest of the Borenson search hits. “He’s pushing seventy, but I don’t see a death notice, so he’s probably still alive. We need to talk to him.”

“If Borenson’s cabin was known to Granville, it could be known to whoever is his partner now.” She drew a breath. “And…”

“The girls could be there. It’s a long shot, but it is a possibility, and right now, it’s all we have.” He looked over his shoulder. “Do you know where Borenson’s cabin was?”

“Somewhere up in North Georgia. I’m sorry. I wish I knew more.”

“No, you’ve been a big help. I can find the cabin if it was in his name.” He typed in another search and sat back. “The cabin’s up past Ellijay on Trout Stream Drive.”

“That area is remote. It’ll be hard to find, especially in the dark. You’ll need a guide.”

“I’ve fished at cabins up in Ellijay. I should be able to find my own way.” Luke paused at the door, then gave in, turning for a last look. “You’re wrong, you know.”

“About what?”

His mouth was suddenly dry. “You’re not too old for that outfit. Stacie chose well.”

One side of her mouth lifted. “Good night, Agent Papadopoulos. Good hunting.”

Ridgefield , Georgia , Saturday, February 3, 12:30 a.m.

Bobby smiled at Haynes. “It’s always a pleasure doing business with you, Darryl.”

Haynes slipped his money clip back in his pants pocket. “Likewise. I have to say I’m disappointed the blonde took sick, though. I kind of had my hopes up, there.”

“Next time. I promise.”

Haynes’s lips curved into a politician’s smile. “I’ll hold you to it,” Haynes said.

Bobby walked the rich man to the door and watched as he drove away, his new purchase stowed safely on a fluffy blanket in the trunk of his Cadillac Seville.

Tanner appeared. “I dislike that man.”

Bobby smiled. “You just dislike politicians and so do I. Haynes is a good customer, and once he’s elected, we’ll have one more powerfully placed… personnel.”

Tanner sighed. “I suppose. Mr. Paul is on your business line.”

“Thanks, Tanner. You can go to bed now. I’ll ring if I need you again.”

Tanner nodded. “I’ll check on our guests before I retire.”

“Thank you, Tanner.” Bobby smiled as the old man made his way up the old stairs. Tanner had a mile-wide streak of southern gentility, despite his rather checkered past. Tanner had been Bobby’s first “personnel acquisition,” at the ripe old age of twelve. Tanner had been old even then, but still young enough not to want to spend the rest of his life behind bars. They’d forged a relationship that had lasted more than half of Bobby’s life. There wasn’t anyone Bobby trusted more. Not even Charles.

Especially not Charles. Charles was a cobra, slithering around in the underbrush, hanging from trees, waiting for the optimal moment to strike.

Shrugging back a shiver, Bobby picked up the phone. “Paul. You’re late.”

“But I got your information, plus a few extras. Take down these names. Luke Papadopoulos is lead agent on the Granville case. He’s reporting to Chase Wharton.”

“That I knew. Who’s the support staff?” Bobby frowned as Paul recited all the names. “I don’t know any of them.”

“Oh, I do,” Paul said smugly. “One of them will fit your needs nicely because one of them has a secret worth hiding. It should have been a major arrest for me, but I figured I’d just bide my time.”

“Smart. This one is more useful to us on the job than in prison.” Bobby recorded the name and the secret. “Now I’ll have a well-placed mole on the GBI team. Fantastic.”

“And if you play your cards right, not just for this case, but for years to come.”

“You did well, Paul. What about the other matter?”

“That you’re going to be less happy about. Rocky met the nurse in the hospital parking lot and they chatted in her car.”

“And you were where?”

“Two rows over. I had to get that close for my mike to pick them up. Turns out your nurse hasn’t done the deed. She had your assistant pretty rattled.”

Bobby’s jaw tightened. “I thought as much. Where is Rocky now?”

“Driving north on I-85. I’m trailing about a half mile behind.”

“Why?”

“That I don’t know because she didn’t say.”

“Did Rocky at least get a description of the girl?”

“All the nurse knew was that her name started with M.”

Fuck. Monica. “I see. So the girl is awake and talking?”

“No. The nurse made it so the girl is paralyzed, gave her something in her IV. She can’t open her eyes, move, or speak.”

Bobby breathed an easier breath. “So at least the nurse isn’t a total failure.”

“Rocky told the nurse to give the girl one more dose, which would keep her paralyzed until about two this afternoon. She said she’d be back with more instructions, then let the nurse out. Rocky waited, then followed a car to one of the local hotels. A woman went into the hotel, the car kept going. Rocky started driving north.”

“What did the woman look like?”

“A doctor. She got out of the car wearing scrubs and carrying a computer bag in one hand and a shopping bag in the other. I can keep following Rocky. Your call.”

“I’ve got her car wired. Just use the GPS. I have other things for you to do tonight.”

“Can’t. Rocky must’ve ditched the transmitter because I’m not picking her up.”

Bobby sighed. “I’ve always known she was bright. I’ll just have to have Tanner hide the transmitter better next time. Follow her. I want to know every move she makes.”

“It’s your dime. Oh, one more thing. Rocky was very interested when the nurse said the woman who found the girl was Susannah Vartanian. She saved the girl’s life.”

Bobby tensed. “What did the doctor look like, the one that went into the hotel?”

“Thirty. Dark hair in a ponytail. Maybe five-three. Real pretty,” he added slyly.

Susannah. “How nice. Call me when Rocky gets to where she’s going.”

Bobby hung up and stared at the photo of Susannah that Charles had left, wondering if he’d known about Susannah finding the girl, then rejected the notion. Charles would have been here, playing chess when the girl escaped. Charles knew a lot, but even he didn’t know everything. Damn the old man, playing with my mind. Susannah Vartanian. The woman had been a festering thorn for years, simply by breathing. Today she’d done a hell of a lot more than breathe. Because of Susannah, the girl had survived. The girl could bring them all down.

For now the girl was neutralized. The nurse would need to be brought into line, that was a given. But Susannah had crossed the line. It was way past time to pull out the thorn. Way past time for Susannah to stop breathing.

But first, Bobby would deal with Rocky. It would not be pretty. Father always told me it was a mistake to go into business with family. I really should have listened.