Kill for Me

Chapter Two

Dutton , Georgia , Friday, February 2, 3:20 p.m.

Luke stole a look at Susannah before fixing his eyes on the curving road ahead. The first time he’d seen her she’d stood next to Daniel at their parents’ funeral wearing a conservative black suit, her face so pale he’d wondered if she’d remain standing. But she had, exhibiting a calm strength that impressed him and a delicate beauty that had him looking twice. But under her calm façade was a darkness that drew him like a lodestone. She’s like me, he’d thought, unable to rip his eyes away. She’d understand.

Today she sat in his passenger seat, dressed in another black suit, this one a bit trendier. Once again her face was pale and once again he sensed the darkness that vibrated within her. She was angry. She had every right to be.

I’m fine, she’d said, but of course she was not. How could she be? She’d just come face to face with her worst nightmare in a brutally graphic way. An hour ago she’d marched into Simon’s bedroom and pulled the box from the hidey-hole behind his closet, as calmly as if it had been filled with baseball cards instead of vile photos of rape. Her own rape. Luke had wanted to punch a wall, but he’d maintained his control. He’d done his job. And so had she, with a composure that would put any cop to shame.

Still, Susannah Vartanian was definitely not “fine.”

And neither am I. Then again, Luke had not been “fine” in a very long time. He could feel his own fury, way too close to the surface. It had been a very bad week. It had been a very bad year. Too many faces stared at him from the depths of his mind. All taunting him. Haunting him. You were our only hope, and you were too late.

They’d been too late once again, thirteen years too late this time. A shiver slithered down his back. Luke was by no means a superstitious man, but he’d been his mother’s son too long not to have a healthy respect for the number thirteen. Thirteen surviving rape victims, the crime perpetrated thirteen years before.

One of the thirteen survivors sat in his passenger seat, her eyes haunted.

She blamed herself. It was clear. If only she’d said something… the other victims would have been spared. There would have been no band of rapists on which a present-day murderer could seek revenge and five Dutton women might still be alive. If she’d said something back then, Simon Vartanian would have been arrested with the other rapists and never would have gone on to kill so many himself.

Of course she was wrong. Life just didn’t work that way. Luke wished it did.

He wished that her coming forward thirteen years ago would have erased the box of photos he carried in the trunk of his car. But he knew if she’d said anything, Arthur Vartanian would have bailed Simon out and brought his son home, as he had every other time. Simon would have killed her, of this Luke was certain. There had been no way out for Susannah then, and no way of knowing Simon had orchestrated the rape of others.

Now that she knew, she’d come forward in a way that inspired his profound respect. She’d been hurt and angry and scared. But she’d done the right thing.

“You know you’re not to blame,” he said quietly.

Her jaw tightened. “Thank you, Agent Papadopoulos, but I don’t need the pep talk.”

“You’re thinking I don’t understand,” he said mildly even though he wanted to snarl.

“I’m sure you think you do. You mean well, but-”

Dammit, he didn’t think he did. He did. The lid on his temper rattled. “Four days ago I found three kids dead,” he interrupted, the words out of his mouth before he knew he planned to say them. “Nine, ten, and twelve. I was less than a day too late.”

She drew a deep breath and let it out quietly. Her body seemed to settle. Her fury seemed to rise. “How did they die?” she asked, her voice ominously quiet.

“Shot in the head.” And he could still see their small faces every time he closed his eyes. “But before they were murdered, they’d been molested in front of a Webcam. For years,” he spat. “For money. For perverts all over the world to see.”

“Bastards.” Her voice trembled. “That must have been horrible for you.”

“More horrible for them,” he muttered and she made a small sound of agreement.

“I guess I’m supposed to say you’re not to blame. Obviously you think you are.”

His hands gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles ached. “Obviously.”

A few moments passed, then she said, “So you’re one of those.”

He could feel her studying him and it made him feel unsettled. “One of what?”

“One of those guys who works Internet sex crimes against kids. I’ve worked with a few, through the DA’s office. I don’t know how you guys do it.”

His jaw tightened. “Some days, I don’t do it.”

“But most days, you do what you have to do. And a little more of you dies each day.”

She’d articulated the state of his life very well. “Yeah.” His voice was rough, unsteady. “Something like that.”

“Then you’re one of the good guys. And you’re not to blame.”

He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

From the corner of his eye he saw she still watched him. Some of the color had returned to her face and he knew he’d given her something else to think about. He didn’t want to talk about this, wished he hadn’t mentioned it, but it was distracting her from her shock and to accomplish that, he’d talk about anything she wanted.

“I’m confused,” she said. “I thought you and Daniel were Homicide, not Internet.”

“Daniel’s Homicide. I’m not. I’ve been on the Internet task force for over a year.”

“That’s a long time to have to live with such filth. I know guys who’ve worked Vice for ten years that didn’t last a month on the child porn task forces.”

“Like you said, we do what we have to do. I’m not normally Daniel’s partner. This is a special assignment. After Tuesday, when I found the kids, I asked for a temporary reassignment. Daniel was chasing this guy that’s been killing Dutton women and everywhere he turned he kept running into Simon. Simon was everywhere in this case. This killer wanted us to find Simon’s club. Simon’s pictures. Simon’s key.”

“The key to the empty safe-deposit box where you thought you’d find the pictures.”

He’d told her that much on the way out to the Vartanian house. “Yeah. This killer ties keys to the toes of his victims, so we knew the key was important. The Philly detective found a safe-deposit box key among Simon’s things, but when Daniel took it to the bank today, the box was empty. If the pictures had ever been stored there, somebody took them.” He looked over at her. “But you knew where to find Simon’s stash.”

“I didn’t know about the box. I only knew Simon had a hiding place.”

Because she’d had a similar hidey-hole behind her own bedroom closet, he thought bitterly. Simon had left her there, drugged unconscious, after his friends had assaulted her. He couldn’t even imagine waking up in that dark little space, afraid, in pain. That she hated the house had been apparent. That she hated this town was also apparent, which was why he wasn’t sure if he had the right to ask her to stay, even for Daniel.

“The bastard is really dead this time,” he said bitterly, “but he won’t stay buried.”

“Even dead, Simon’s a pain in the ass.”

His lips curved, her wry observation venting some of his steam. She’d approached her fear with humor, and he respected that. “Well put. Anyway, Daniel was tracking this killer and needed a data analyst. That’s what I do, so I joined the team. Yesterday we got a tip, leading us to the O’Brien family. Their oldest son was part of Simon’s club.”

“Jared,” she murmured. “I remember him. He thought he was God’s gift to women in high school. I had no idea he was one of the ones who…” She let the thought trail.

Who’d raped her. Luke shoved his anger aside. She was coping. So would he. “Jared went missing a few years ago. We think the others in the club got rid of him because they were afraid he’d talk, give them up. I was up all night gathering all the information I could find on Jared O’Brien and his family. This morning everything looked good. I found out his younger brother Mack was just released from prison. Mack had grudges against all the dead women. He’s our primary suspect. We were ready to roll. We had tails on the two rapists we’d ID’d and a BOLO out on Mack O’Brien.”

“Why didn’t you just pick up the mayor and the deputy?”

“Two reasons. One, we still don’t know the identity of the third man.”

“If you arrested the mayor and the deputy, they’d likely roll on the third man.”

“Maybe. And maybe he’d go under and we’d never find him. Mostly we didn’t bring them in because Mack O’Brien has been using his victims to draw out the surviving club members. They killed his brother. He wanted revenge.”

“And once you’d arrested them all, he’d figure he was finished and go away.”

“Basically. We’d planned a simultaneous sweep, once we’d located O’Brien, but Mansfield changed that. Sonofabitch.”

“He killed his tail. Agent Johnson. I am sorry.”

Me, too. “We’ll find Mansfield and we’ve got teams out searching for O’Brien. I just hope when we find Mansfield, he leads us to Bailey.” And if not, I’ll make the toad tell us where she is.

“You told Alex Fallon not to give up hope, but do you really think Bailey is still alive?”

He shrugged. “She’s been gone a week. Like you said before, it doesn’t look good.”

A cell phone trilled and Susannah leaned forward to get her purse.

“It’s my phone,” Luke said and frowned at the display. “It’s Daniel.” He listened, his frown deepening, then hung up, turning to Susannah. “You’ll have to take a later flight.”

She grabbed the armrest as he did a fast U-turn. “Why? Where are we going?”

“Back to Dutton. Daniel said he got a call from Sheriff Loomis.”

“And?” Susannah said, clearly irked.

“Loomis says he knows where Bailey Crighton is being held.”

“The same Sheriff Loomis who’s being investigated by your state attorney’s office for tampering with evidence in the murder of Alex Fallon’s sister thirteen years ago?” she asked sarcastically. “I saw it on the front page of the newspaper on your desk.”

Luke punched his accelerator. “The same Sheriff Loomis who’s blocked every attempt to find Bailey? Yes, that’s the sheriff I’m talking about.”

“For God’s sake. And you believe him?”

“No, but we can’t ignore this lead. Bailey’s life could very well depend on it. Daniel’s supposed to meet Loomis at the mill site. He said you’d know where that was.”

“The O’Brien mill? That would certainly be ironic.”

“Wouldn’t it? But we’ve had teams combing the current mill looking for Mack O’Brien all day. Daniel said out past the old mill. Do you know where that is?”

She bit at her lip. “Yes, but I haven’t been out there since I was in fourth grade and we went on a field trip. Nobody goes there anymore- it’s a pile of rubble and too dangerous. Plus, there’s a sulfur spring nearby and the whole area smells like rotten eggs. I don’t think even kids go there to smoke or make out anymore.”

“But can you find the road?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all I wanted to know. Hold on, it could get bumpy.”

Dutton, Friday, February 2, 3:30 p.m.

Too much time had passed. Rocky checked the restraints on each of the five girls, careful not to meet their eyes. They were looking at her. A few with defiance, but mostly with desperation and despair. But she didn’t look back. Instead she climbed to the deck and frowned at Jersey Jameson, the old man who owned this boat. He’d been fishing this river his whole life, quietly smuggling whatever contraband was in vogue at the time. The river patrol never gave Jersey a second glance, so he was good cover.

“Why are we still here?” she hissed.

Jersey pointed to the retreating form of Deputy Mansfield. “He said to wait for him to bring the doctor back. I told him he had five minutes, then I was moving this cargo.” He slanted her a disgusted look. “I’ve hauled a helluva lot of shit for you, Rocky, but nothin’ like this. Tell your boss I ain’t doin’ this again.”

“Tell Bobby yourself.” Jersey ’s jaw tightened and she laughed. “I thought not.” Bobby didn’t take kindly to being told no by anyone. “Where are those guys? I’m about ready to go in after them. They’re supposed to be hauling out what we couldn’t pack.”

“I don’t want to know any more,” Jersey said.

They waited another two minutes and there was no sign of Mans-field. “I’m going after them.” She’d stepped onto the dock when a gunshot cracked the air.

“That came from the road out front,” Jersey said.

Rocky hopped back on the deck. “Let’s move. Now.”

Jersey was already pulling back the throttle. “What about the doc and the deputy?”

“They’re on their own.” Bobby wouldn’t be happy that she’d left bodies behind, and the thought of facing Bobby’s rage made Rocky nauseous. “I’ll be below.”

Dutton, Friday, February 2, 3:35 p.m.

Susannah watched as Luke’s speedometer climbed. This was likely a wild goose chase, she thought darkly as they hit a pothole and went momentarily airborne. Then she remembered the agonized fear in Alex Fallon’s eyes. The woman’s stepsister had been missing a week, her disappearance all wrapped up in this mess Daniel and his partner had been dragged into. They owed it to Bailey to check every lead.

I can catch a flight first thing in the morning. She’d just need to call the kennel and ask them to keep her dog a little longer. Nobody else was depending on her return. Nobody would be waiting for her. It was a dismal truth.

“Daniel called Sheriff Corchran in Arcadia,” Luke said tersely, his eyes focused on the road. “ Arcadia ’s only twenty miles from here, so Corchran should get there soon. Daniel trusts him, so you and Alex will go with him, to where it’s safe. Understood?”

Susannah nodded. “Understood.”

He lifted his brows. “You’re not going to argue?”

“Why would I?” she asked evenly. “I don’t have a gun and I’m not a cop. I’m quite content to let you guys do what you do and take the baton hand-off in court.”

“Fine. Do you drive?”

“Excuse me?”

“Can you drive?” he repeated, enunciating each word. “You live in New York. I know New Yorkers that never get a license.”

“I have a license. I don’t drive often, but I can.” In fact, she only drove once a year, always to the same place, north of the city. On those rare days she rented a car.

“Good. If something goes wrong, you get in the car with Alex and drive. Got it?”

“Got it. But what-?” Susannah blinked, her brain not initially accepting what her eyes saw on the road ahead. “Oh my God. Luke, watch-”

Her shout was lost in the squeal of tires as he threw on his brakes. The car fishtailed and swerved, coming to a stop inches from where a body lay in the road.

“Shit.” Luke was out of the car before she caught her breath and hopped out after him.

It was a woman, crumpled and bloody. Susannah thought she was young, but her face was too battered to be certain. “Did you hit her? My God, did we do this?”

“We didn’t hit her,” he said, hunkering down beside the woman. “She’s been beaten.” From his pocket he pulled two pairs of latex gloves. “Here, put these on.” He yanked on his, then ran his hands down the woman’s legs, his touch gentle. When he got to her ankle, he stopped. Susannah leaned forward to see a tattoo of a sheep, barely visible beneath the blood. He lifted the woman’s chin. “Are you Bailey?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice rough and raspy. “My baby, Hope. Is she alive?”

He smoothed Bailey’s tangled hair from her face. “Yes, she’s alive and she’s safe.” He handed Susannah his cell phone. “Call 911 for an ambulance, then call Chase. Tell him we found Bailey. Then call Daniel and tell him to come back.”

Luke ran to his trunk for a first aid kit and Susannah dialed 911, then Special Agent in Charge Chase Wharton, her hands fumbling the keypad in Luke’s oversized gloves.

Bailey grabbed Luke’s arm when he began to bandage the gash on her head that was still bleeding profusely. “Alex?” When Luke looked up the road the way Daniel had gone, Bailey’s eyes filled with new panic. “She was in that car that just went by?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“He’ll kill her. He has no reason not to. He killed them all. He killed them all.”

He killed them all. Susannah’s heart stumbled as she found Daniel’s number on Luke’s speed dial. Daniel’s phone rang as Luke tried to get Bailey to say more.

Luke squeezed Bailey’s chin. “Who? Bailey, listen to me. Who did this to you?” But the woman didn’t speak. She only rocked in a way that was terrifying to behold. “Bailey. Who did this to you?”

Daniel’s voicemail picked up and Susannah left a terse message. “Daniel, we found Bailey. Fall back and call us.” She turned back to Luke. “I called for an ambulance, and Chase says he’s sending Agent Haywood for backup, but Daniel doesn’t answer.”

Luke stood, a muscle twitching in his cheek. “I can’t leave you here. It’ll be another ten minutes before Corchran gets here. Stay here with her,” he commanded. “I’m going to have him send as much local backup as he can muster.”

Susannah knelt by Bailey and smoothed her gloved hand over the woman’s matted hair. “Bailey, my name is Susannah. Please tell us who did this to you.”

Bailey’s eyes fluttered open. “They have Alex.”

“Daniel’s with her,” Susannah soothed. “He won’t let them harm her.” Whatever her issue with Daniel, Susannah believed that. “Did Deputy Mansfield hurt you?”

Bailey’s nod was faint. “And Toby Granville.” Her lips twisted. “Dr. Granville.”

Toby Granville. The missing part of the surviving trio. Susannah started to rise, to get Luke’s attention, but Bailey grabbed her arm. “There’s a girl. Down there.” Weakly she pointed. “She’s hurt. Help her. Please.”

Susannah stood and peered down the embankment but saw nothing. Wait. She squinted at a light patch just inside the tree line. “Luke. There’s someone down there.”

Susannah heard him shout her name, but she was already scrambling down the embankment, stumbling in her high heels and narrow skirt. It was a person, she could see. She started running. A girl. Oh my God. Oh my God.

The girl lay still as death. Susannah dropped to her knees and pressed her fingers to the girl’s neck, feeling for a pulse, and drew a breath, relieved. She was still alive. Her pulse was thready, but there. She was a teenager, petite and so thin her arms were like sticks. She was so covered in blood it was hard to see where she was wounded.

Susannah started to stand so she could wave Luke down, when the girl’s bloody hand shot up and gripped her forearm. The girl’s eyes flew open and in them Susannah saw fear and intense pain.

“Who… are you?” the girl choked out.

“My name is Susannah Vartanian. I’m here to help you. Please don’t be afraid.”

The girl fell back, gasping. “Vartanian. You came.” Then Susannah’s heart stopped in her chest. The girl was staring up at her like… like she was God. “You finally came.”

Susannah gingerly pulled at the girl’s tattered T-shirt until she saw the bullet hole. Panicked, she let the shirt fall. Oh, God. She’d been shot in the side. Now what?

Think, Vartanian. You remember what to do. Pressure. She needed to put pressure on the wound. Quickly she stripped off her jacket, then her blouse, shivering when the cold air hit her skin. “What’s your name, honey?” she asked as she worked, but the girl said nothing, her eyes again closed.

Susannah lifted the girl’s eyelids. No response, but she still found a pulse. Rapidly she wound her blouse into a tight ball and gently pressed it to the wound. “Luke!”

She heard the footsteps behind her a second before his snarled curse. A look over her shoulder had her eyes widening at the gun in his hand.

“I told you to stay-Holy Mother of God.” His eyes flicked briefly to her lacy bra, then focused on the girl. “Do you know who she is?”

She dropped her eyes back to her hands, pressed to the girl’s side. “No. Bailey told me to help her while you were on the phone. She also said Granville and Mansfield were the ones holding her.”

“Granville.” He nodded. “The town doctor. I met him this week at one of the crime scenes. So he’s the third rapist.”

“I think so.”

“Did the girl say anything to you?”

Susannah frowned. “She said my last name, then ‘You came. You finally came.’ Like she was expecting me.” Then she looked at me like I was God. It made her uneasy. “She’s been shot and she’s lost a lot of blood. Give me your belt. I need to wrap it around her to put pressure on this wound.”

She heard the whistle of his belt being drawn through his belt loops. “Put on your jacket,” he said, “and go wait with Bailey.”

“But-”

He dropped to one knee, briefly met her eyes. “I’ll take care of her. Whoever did this might still be around. I don’t want Bailey alone.” He hesitated. “Can you handle a gun?”

“Yes,” Susannah answered without hesitation.

“Good.” He drew a pistol from an ankle holster. “Now run. I’ll carry her.”

Susannah grabbed her jacket and shoved her arms in the sleeves. “Luke, she’s just a kid. She’s going to die if we don’t get her help soon.”

“I know,” he said grimly, slipping his belt around the girl’s body. “Now go. I’ll follow.”