Scream For Me

Chapter Thirteen

Dutton, Wednesday, January 31, 2:30 a.m.

They were hideous. Obscene. But Alex forced herself to look at each one even when the sandwich Meredith had forced down her throat threatened to claw its way back up.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said for the seventh time, shaking her head at the picture of a girl being brutalized. I thought my dreams were bad before… “I don’t recognize her.”

Daniel put another on the table in front of her while Chase looked on in stony silence. Meredith sat on the other side of her while Daniel’s friend Luke sat on the sofa in the living room with his computer on his lap, watching in the same thoughtful way he’d watched her at the Underground.

It seems like it’s been years. But it had been less than twenty-four hours since she’d nearly been killed.

“Alex?” Daniel murmured and Alex forced herself to look at the eighth picture.

“I’m-” She frowned, the denial forgotten. She pulled the picture from the table and held it close to her eyes, which felt like they’d been rubbed with crushed glass. She studied the girl’s face. Her nose. “I know her. That’s Rita Danner.”

“How do you know?” Daniel asked.

“Her nose. It’s been broken. Rita hung with the popular crowd, but she had a mean streak, especially if she was jealous of you. She liked to pick on the nerds.”

“Did she pick on you?” Meredith asked.

“Only once. We were at a sleepover and I woke up to find Rita smearing peanut butter into my hair. I took a handful of the peanut butter and shoved it up her nose.”

Daniel blinked. “You broke her nose?”

“I shoved a little too hard.” Alex sighed. “I hated her. But this… My God.”

“Luke?” Daniel asked.

“I found a wedding announcement. Rita married a Josh Runyan of Columbia, Georgia.” He tapped a few more keys. “And here’s a divorce announcement dated two years ago. But it looks like Rita still lives in Columbia.”

“It’s not too far,” Daniel said. “We can visit her. See what she recalls. What about this one?” He slid another picture on the table. “Well?”

“I know her, too. Cindy… Bouse. She was a nice girl. I didn’t break her nose.”

“Then we should try to talk to her first,” Daniel said dryly. “Luke?”

Luke’s expression was stricken. “She committed suicide eight years ago.”

Alex sucked in a breath. “Oh God.”

Daniel stroked her back. “I’m sorry.”

Alex nodded unsteadily. “Let’s see the next one.” She couldn’t identify the girl in the tenth picture, or the eleventh. There had been fifteen victims and Daniel had told her from the outset that he would not show her Alicia’s picture. For that she’d been grateful. Daniel had already identified Sheila’s picture, so Alex had only two pictures to go.

He slid the twelfth picture onto the table.

“Gretchen French,” Alex said immediately. “We were friends in junior high.”

“I’m looking,” Luke said before Daniel could ask. “Here’s one. She lives on Peachtree Boulevard in Atlanta. She’s a nutritionist. Has her own website.” He brought the laptop over to the table. “Look at her current photo.”

Daniel compared them. “That’s her.”

“Then we start there,” Chase said. Those had been the first words he’d spoken since they began. “Go ahead and look at the last one.”

Alex focused. “Carla Solomon. She played in the school orchestra with Bailey.”

“I see a C. Solomon on Third Avenue, here in Dutton,” Luke said. “That’s all I got.”

“What about the nine you didn’t know?” Meredith said.

“They may have gone to a different school,” Alex replied. “Dutton’s high school was pretty small. Everybody knew everybody.”

“We’ll pull yearbooks from all the local high schools,” Chase said brusquely. “Daniel, you’ve got enough leads for now. Everybody go to sleep. I’ll see you in the office at eight sharp.” He looked at Alex. “Thank you. You’ve been a big help.”

Exhaustion was fuzzing the edges of her mind. “I wish it would help us find Bailey.”

Daniel squeezed her knee. “Don’t give up,” he murmured.

She lifted her chin. “I won’t.”

Wednesday, January 31, 2:30 a.m.

Mack couldn’t stop the chuckle from bubbling out as he nodded at the computer screen. Things were going so well. Gemma was dead and ready for disposal and I’m a hundred thousand dollars richer. Then again, it really wasn’t about the money at this point. It was about making them pay the money. It meant they were afraid. The one who’d paid the hundred grand was so afraid, he was sitting outside his sister Kate’s house watching at this very moment, just in case.

He’d made his point. I’m here. You’re not safe. Your family is not safe.

And it had worked. Kate’s big brother had paid a hundred grand. Her big brother’s whiny friend hadn’t paid a penny, but he’d also been afraid.

He smiled. The one who hadn’t paid the money had paid in another, far more satisfying, way. He’d been successful with the two he’d chosen for his initial assault. They’d been the weakest. Low-hanging fruit, ripe for the picking. But the other two were also affected. They were getting nervous. Scared.

Things were starting to happen. Things he hadn’t had a direct hand in. Janet, Claudia, Gemma, all mine. All just pieces of kindling to get the fire going, but now it appeared the fire was going pretty good.

Bailey Crighton had been declared a missing person. Of course Mack now knew exactly where she was, and who had taken her. And why. He actually felt a little sorry for Bailey. She was an innocent bystander, and was now caught up in all this. He knew how that felt. When this was over, if she was still alive, he might go let her out.

He knew someone had tried to kill Alex Fallon. So clumsy. No finesse at all. Now she had a guard, two sharp-eyed GBI agents keeping watch over her little house. And one sharp-eyed agent keeping watch inside. He knew there’d been some kind of gathering at Fallon’s house tonight. Vartanian was getting close.

Took him long enough.

He knew there’d been a big brouhaha at the pizza parlor tonight. Three dead. Sheila among them. Yes, Vartanian was getting close.

And the remaining three were scared. One of the four was dead, a victim of his own guilt and fear. Of course getting run off the road and left to die in an amazing explosion had helped. Which had only gone to prove what he’d believed all along. The group of upstanding pillars of the community would kill one of their own without blinking an eye.

They’d done it tonight to Rhett Porter. From his desk drawer he pulled the last of his brother’s journals. It was half unfinished, because they’d done it five years ago to his brother Jared. Yes, he knew one of the four was dead. By sunrise, everyone in Dutton would know it, too.

Wednesday, January 31, 2:30 a.m.

“Bailey.”

Bailey had heard Beardsley’s last five whispers. I’m here. Please help me. The words were in her mind, but she couldn’t force them to her tongue. Every muscle in her body clenched and ached. More. She needed more. Dammit, he’d made her need it again. Damn him to hell.

“Bailey.”

She watched four fingers curve under the wall. Beardsley had torn a little more of the floor away. Hysterical laughter welled from somewhere deep inside her. They were trapped. They’d die here. But now Beardsley could wave good-bye.

The fingers disappeared. “Bailey. Sshh. He’ll come.”

He’ll come anyway. Her eyes closed and she prayed to die.

Wednesday, January 31, 3:15 a.m.

Mack crept up the stairs silently. Breaking into a cop’s house should have been harder to do. He’d passed the impressive gun cabinet on the first floor, wishing he could take what he wished. But tonight was about recon and stealth, not weapons. If he cleaned out the gun cabinet as he was so tempted, the fact that he’d been here would no longer be a secret. And he wanted it to be a secret.

He’d come prepared to knock the man out with a little chloroform on a handkerchief, but he was in luck. His prey was passed out drunk, still wearing his shoes. Carefully he patted the man’s pockets, smiling when he felt a cell phone. Quickly he noted the cell’s number and all numbers of incoming and outgoing calls.

Knowing how to reach out and touch this man in a way he’d trust was a very important component of Mack’s plan. He slipped the phone back down into the man’s pocket as carefully as he’d taken it out. He checked his watch. He’d need to hurry to be able to dump Gemma’s body and still start his morning deliveries on time.

Dutton, Wednesday, January 31, 5:05 a.m.

Thunder and lightning. I hate you. I hate you. I wish you were dead.

Alex woke with a start, shaking and freezing cold. She sat up in bed, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. Hope slept soundly and Alex resisted the urge to touch her golden curls. Hope needed to sleep. I hope she doesn’t dream like I do.

Between them, Riley lifted his head, his sad basset eyes looking up at her. Alex ran a shaky hand over the dog’s long back. “Stay,” she whispered, and climbed out of bed. Pulling her robe over her nightshirt, she left the room, carefully closing the door behind her. She didn’t want to wake Daniel.

The man was sleeping on her sofa. He’d refused to leave, even with Agents Hatton and Koenig sitting outside. She stood for a moment, rubbing her arms for warmth, looking down at him, too many thoughts racing through her head.

He’s a beautiful man. And he was, with his blond hair and strong jaw and those blue eyes that could be kind, but also ruthless as they bore through her defenses.

He lied to me. No, not really. Intellectually she knew how difficult it must have been for him to know what had happened to Alicia and not to tell her. To know his own flesh and blood had in some way been responsible.

I’ll see you in hell, Simon. At least Wade hadn’t been her flesh and blood. She thought about how he’d forced his way between her thighs at that party so long ago. He’d thought she was Alicia. Alex remembered his genuine shock when she’d said no.

Did that mean at one point Alicia had said yes? It was a disturbing thought to mix in with all the others that bombarded her mind. Alex had known Alicia was sexually active and Alex had thought she’d known with whom… but Alicia and Wade? The mental picture made her skin crawl. What kind of girl had Alicia really been?

What kind of monster had Wade been? She thought of the pictures she’d seen, perverted and horrific. Wade had raped those girls. She’d lived under the same roof with him for years and never suspected he was capable of such… depravity. Cruelty.

Alicia. Sheila and Rita. Gretchen and Carla. And Cindy. They’d all been raped. And poor Cindy had killed herself. The depths of depression she must have experienced. Alex knew those depths well. Poor Cindy. Poor Sheila.

And the nine others she didn’t know…

Daniel had carried their faces in his mind for a week. Poor Daniel.

His handsome face was stern, even in sleep. He’d removed his suit coat, his only apparent concession to comfort. His muscled chest rose and fell under the shirt he’d unbuttoned only enough to loosen his collar. His tie was tugged away from his throat, knocked askew. He still wore his gun, holstered at his hip. His shoes were still on his feet. He was ready, even in sleep.

Again, the pictures assaulted her mind. After seeing thirteen of them, it didn’t take much imagination to conjure what Alicia’s must have looked like. She thought of the first time Daniel seen her in the GBI office. The utter shock on his face.

She thought about the way he’d looked at her, right before he’d kissed her, tonight and earlier today in his car after she’d nearly been killed. What do you want from me? she’d asked. Not anything you’re not willing and… anxious to give, he’d replied.

She’d believed him then. She wasn’t sure she believed him now.

He felt guilt. Deep, soul-searing guilt. Daniel Vartanian sought atonement.

Alex didn’t want to be any man’s atonement. She didn’t want to be any man’s charity project. She’d done that already, with Richard. And it had been the most abysmal of failures. She didn’t want to be a failure again.

She knew the moment Daniel woke. His eyes opened deliberately, as he did everything else. And when he focused that bright blue gaze on her face, she shivered. For a moment he stared, then rolled to one hip and held out his hand.

And she knew it didn’t matter what she did or didn’t want. It only mattered what she needed, and at that moment, she needed him. He sat up against the corner of the sofa and drew her into his lap. She went, greedily absorbing all his warmth.

“Your hands are like ice,” he murmured, carefully covering them with his own.

She burrowed her cheek against the hard wall of his chest. “Riley hogs the covers.”

“That’s why he doesn’t sleep with me at home.”

She lifted her face to look at him, needing to know. “Who does?”

He didn’t try to misunderstand. “No one. Not in a very long time, anyway. Why?”

She thought of Richard’s new wife. “I need to know if I’d be first or second string.”

She thought she might see his one-sided smile, but his mouth remained completely serious. “First.” He swept his thumb across her lip, sending a tingle down her body. “You were married before.”

“And divorced.”

“Were you second string?” he asked, so very quietly.

“More like water boy,” she said with a half smile of her own.

Still he didn’t smile. “Did you love him?”

“I thought I did. But I think I just didn’t want to be alone in the night.”

“So he was there for you…” His eyes grew intense. “… in the night.”

“No. At the beginning he was a resident in the hospital where I worked. We dated a few times. My roommate had moved out and before I knew it, he’d moved in. I saw him at the hospital, but our off-hours didn’t seem to mesh well. He wasn’t home a lot.”

“But you married him.”

“Yes.” They’d kind of wandered their way into marriage, she and Richard. She honestly couldn’t remember the moment he’d proposed.

“Did you love him?”

It was the second time he’d asked the question. “No. I wanted to. But I didn’t.”

“Was he kind to you?”

She smiled then. “Yes. Richard is… he’s a nice man. He’s good to children and he likes dogs…” She stopped when she realized the direction her words were going. “But I think he viewed me as something of a challenge. His own little Eliza Doolittle.”

He frowned. “Why would he want to change you?”

For a moment she stared. His words were a sweet balm, easing the disappointment she’d felt at never being quite what Richard needed, or what she’d wanted to be for both of them. “Most of it was me, I think. I wanted to be… interesting. Dynamic. Unbridled.”

He lifted his brows. “Unbridled?”

She laughed self-consciously. “You know.” She waggled her brows and he nodded, but still didn’t smile.

“You wanted to make him come home to you.”

“I suppose so. But I couldn’t be what he wanted me to be. What I wanted me to be.”

“So he left?”

“No, I did. Hospitals are like small towns. Lots of secrets hidden below the surface. Richard had affairs. All very discreet.” She held his gaze. “He should have just left me, but he didn’t want to hurt me.”

Daniel winced. “Point made. So you left?”

“He met someone, luckily not one of the nurses. I couldn’t have stayed then.”

He was frowning. “I thought you left.”

“I left him. By this point we’d bought a house, and I let him have it. But I wouldn’t leave the hospital. I was there first.”

He blinked at her. “You gave him the house, but not the job.”

“Exactly.” She said it matter-of-factly, because to her, it was. “He’d finished his residency and had signed on as a full-time ER doc. Everyone expected me to leave, I think. To go to pedes or surgery or something. But I like the ER. So I didn’t leave.”

He looked nonplussed. “I guess that makes for some awkward moments.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I moved out of the house a year ago and the new wife moved right in behind me. They’re… good together.”

“That’s magnanimous of you,” he said warily, and she laughed ruefully.

“I guess I liked him enough not to want him to be unhappy. Meredith, now, she’d like to see him strung between two anthills and dipped in honey.”

Finally that one side of his mouth lifted, lifting her heart with it. “Note to self,” he murmured. “Don’t piss Meredith off.”

She nodded once, pleased to have been able to make him smile. “Exactly.”

But too quickly his smile faded. “Were you dreaming again tonight?”

Thinking about the dreams made her cold again. “Yes.” She rubbed her arms to get warm and he took over, pulling her against him, rubbing her back briskly. The man was like a furnace, warm and strong and male, and she snuggled closer, wanting more.

And finding it in the pulse of his hard arousal against her hip.

She sucked in a breath, suddenly much warmer. He wanted her. And she wanted him. But before she could decide what to say or do, he shifted, settling her away from his lap, and all that wonderful, sensual heat disappeared. His arms came hard around her and he tucked her head under his chin. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against her hair.

She pulled back to see his face. He was wearing a guilty look. “Why?”

He glanced at Meredith’s door. “Look, I promised you that nothing would happen that you didn’t want to happen.”

“Yesterday, in the car. I remember. And so? Nothing has happened.” She lifted her chin. “Not yet anyway. That could change.”

His chest expanded and his blue eyes grew dark. Still he resisted. “If Hatton hadn’t come knocking on that door last night… I was trying to…” He closed his eyes, his cheeks darkening. “I wanted you. If we hadn’t been interrupted I might have tried to push you into something you weren’t ready for.”

Alex considered the most appropriate response. He was trying to take care of her, and while she found it sweet, she was leaning toward being very annoyed. “Daniel.” She waited until he opened his eyes. “I’m not sixteen anymore and do not want to be any kind of a victim in your eyes or anybody else’s. I’ll be thirty on my next birthday. I have a good job. A good life. And the good sense to make my own decisions.”

He nodded, respect in his eyes. It was grim, but it was respect. “Understood.”

“But, Daniel.” She hooked her finger inside his loosened tie, trying for sultry, but sounding wistful instead. “I still want to be… unbridled.”

His eyes flared. Then he was kissing her and she could feel the heat and power of his mouth. Then he was rolling her beneath him and she could feel the heat and power of his body as he thrust against her, his movements hard and deliberate. His hands held the sides of her face, his fingers shoving into her hair and he moved her head, this way, then that, until he found the perfect fit.

And then he feasted, a low groan that sounded like her name rumbling from deep in his throat. Alex held on, determined to enjoy every minute of the wild ride for as long as it lasted. She met him thrust for thrust and when he nudged her mouth open she complied, learning the varied textures of his lips, his seeking tongue.

Too soon he lifted his head to drag in a lungful of air. He looked down, his eyes dark and hot and slightly dangerous. “That was…”

“Really good,” she whispered, startling a soft laugh from him.

“Really good? I expected more from a woman who comes up with ‘unbridled.’ ”

She arched her brows. “That’s because I wasn’t yet. Unbridled, that is.”

His lips twitched, but his eyes remained intense. “Next time you will be,” he murmured. “Now go back to bed.” He started to shift, to lift his body from hers and in a split second of certainty she knew what she wanted. With both hands she grabbed his belt and yanked him back, pressing her heels down into the sofa and her body up into his until she could feel him throbbing against her again, hot and hard. “I don’t want to.”

His eyes widened, then narrowed. “No. There’s no way. Not here.”

Feeling a power of her own, she held on to his belt when he tried to move again, realizing that if he’d really wanted to be gone, he would have been. He wanted this, too. She rolled her hips in what she hoped was a blatant invitation. “Why not?”

He was looking at her with an incredulity and a… carnal craving that made her own desire treble. “You want a freaking list?” he whispered.

“No, I want you to shut up and kiss me again.”

Relief had his shoulders slumping. “That I can do.” And he did with a kiss that started sweet, but quickly became hot and wet, dragging her back down into the swirling mass of needs and wants that she had no intention of escaping. She tugged at his shirt until she’d pulled the tails free and was free to explore the smooth skin she’d only glimpsed before. He groaned into her mouth. “Alex, stop.”

Her fingers stopped stroking and she pulled back far enough to see his face. “You really want me to?” she whispered and held her breath as want and responsibility warred in his eyes. After what seemed like an eternity he shook his head.

“No.”

The breath she held rushed out. “Good.” Nimbly she freed the buttons up the front of his shirt, then pulled the tie over his head and dropped it on the floor. Finally she had full access to his warm, hard chest, and she fanned her hands side, to side, feeling every flex and ripple. Golden hair covered him and she brushed at it with her fingertips, trailing lower until his abs twitched. “Daniel, look at you,” she whispered.

He kissed her again, softly this time. When he answered, his whisper was husky. Tender. “I’d rather look at you.” He pulled at the belt of her robe and caught her nightshirt in one hand. “Lift up.” She did and he pulled the nightshirt over her hips, continuing until she felt the cool air on her breasts. She shivered.

Then closed her eyes when his body slid down hers and his mouth closed over her. She shivered again, but this time from the heat. He sucked and fondled until she was thrusting against him, her hands in his hair, pulling him closer. He switched to the other breast, and she twisted, knowing she could get no closer, but trying nonetheless.

His hand flattened on her stomach and she sucked in a breath and held it, waiting. But he didn’t move it up or down, just kept it lightly resting, and she realized he was waiting for permission. Encouragement, even. Instead she begged. “Please.”

The single syllable launched him back into motion and his fingers slipped under the cotton that still covered her and she knew she’d been right about how good that thumb of his would feel. He made her shiver and shudder, but when she whimpered for more he shifted his mouth back to hers, swallowing her little moans.

She was so close. Digging her heels into the sofa cushions she surged against his hand until her blood was pounding and every nerve on every last inch of skin was firing. Until finally, light exploded behind her eyelids and she fell back against the cushions, panting and feeling better than she’d felt… possibly ever.

He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, his body rigid, his breathing labored. “Okay.” His murmur was ragged. “Now go to bed. Please.”

But his hand was still touching her intimately and she knew there was no way she could sleep now. Her pulse still thrummed and she still… needed. Judging from the way his body was still pulsing against her thigh, Daniel felt the same way.

She slid her hands to his belt and he lunged up, his brows crunched in a mighty frown. The hand that had worked such magic caught her wrist, but Alex had nimble fingers and she’d already worked the belt loose.

“What are you doing?” he hissed and she blinked at him.

“What do you think I’m doing?” she countered.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I thought I said go to bed.”

She feathered her fingers along the skin at his waist and his abs convulsed, his body going taut. “You really want me to?” she whispered once again. She watched his face, his struggle obvious. Then he strained up to look at Meredith’s door over the back of the sofa and Alex swallowed her smile even as she grabbed the edges of his shirt and pulled him down on her. He fell with a hard thump and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him as he’d kissed her before. With a growl he took over, his mouth hungry, almost savage. The thrusts of his hips were hard and equally savage.

He ripped his mouth away. “This is crazy,” he whispered against her lips. “We’re not teenagers having sex on this sofa.”

“No, I’m almost thirty and I want to have sex on this sofa.” She met his eyes with challenge. “With you. So do you want me to stop?”

“No,” he said, his answer strangled and hoarse. “But are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. I’m very sure.” She eased down his zipper. Her first touch was tentative, but his body jerked and he hissed out a curse. Quickly she pulled her hand away. “But if you’re not… I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable-”

He silenced her with a hard kiss, then flipped the snap on his holster and carefully put his gun on the floor. He wrestled his wallet from his back pocket, pulled out a condom and tossed his wallet next to his gun. He looked down into her face, his blue eyes brighter than the core of a flame and twice as hot. “Be sure, Alex.”

Keeping her gaze on his, she slid the cotton panties down her legs and kicked them away. “Please, Daniel.” His eyes jerked down to the skin she bared. She watched his throat work as he tried to swallow and suddenly understood this moment was more than a mating between two consenting and extremely attracted adults. It would be the moment she ceased to be a victim in his eyes.

And perhaps in her own. “Please, Daniel,” she whispered again.

For three hard beats of her heart he stared down at her, then with unsteady hands he ripped the packet and covered himself. Slipping his arms beneath her back, he cradled her head between his palms and settled himself between her thighs. He took her mouth with a quiet authority that was more intense than his most reckless kisses had been. Then he entered her with a slow reverence that stole her breath.

Every roll of his hips was deliberate, and he watched her, gauging her response. Then he shifted and she gasped as unexpected pleasure rippled through her body.

He brushed his lips over her ear, making her shiver. “Right there?” he whispered.

“Right there is really good.” Her hands covered his buttocks, thrilling in the play of his muscles as they tensed and flexed. He was a well-formed man, hard and honed.

Slowly he began to bring her up again, rocking harder against her until her heart was racing faster than before, rocking faster up into her until his control began to slip. She wanted to see his control slip. She wanted to be the one to break that deliberate restraint, make him forget who he was, where he was, and… take her.

She brought her hand around his hip, trailing her fingertips over the sensitive skin of his groin, and his body jolted. With a low groan he froze, trembling against her.

“Daniel, please.” She whispered it in his ear. “Do it. Now.”

He shuddered as his control shattered. His hips plunged at a frantic pace, as if he couldn’t get deep enough fast enough. This, this was what she’d wanted. Him, holding nothing back. She met him at each peak, clutching his shoulders, digging her nails into his back to get closer, to bring him deeper until once again she teetered at the edge. With one last hard twist up into her body he pushed her over. She started to cry out, but his hand clamped across her mouth, muffling her moan.

When the bucking of her body had subsided to quivers, his body went rigid, his back arching as if he’d bay at the moon, but no sound broke free. His jaw clenched as his hips jerked, pressing hard and deep. For a long moment he held himself motionless above her, magnificently male. Then his breath left him in a rush and he collapsed, burying his face in the curve of her neck. He was panting and shudders racked him. Alex smoothed her hands across his back, up under the shirt he still wore.

When his shudders stilled, he lifted his head again, this time leaning up on his elbow so that he looked down into her face. His cheeks were flushed and his mouth was wet and his breathing was still strident. But his eyes… She always came back to his eyes.

He looked awed. And Alex felt as if she’d conquered Everest. He drew a deep breath. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, loving looking up at him. “No. It was perfect.”

Another shudder shook him, an aftershock, smaller this time. “You were so tight. I should have done this better, in a bed. I should-”

“Daniel.” She pressed her fingertips to his lips. “It was perfect. Perfect,” she repeated on a whisper and watched his mouth smile.

“Now that sounds like a definite challenge. Next time I’ll-”

“Police! Stop right there!”

The shout came from outside and Daniel was instantly on alert, on his knees. He zipped his pants and rolled to his feet, scooping up his gun. “Stay down,” he told her. He stood at the side of the window, peeking between the lace curtains.

Alex stayed down until she saw his shoulders relax. “What?” she asked.

“What?” Meredith echoed, opening her bedroom door a crack.

“It’s the paperboy,” Daniel said. “Hatton took the paper and he’s coming up the walk. But he doesn’t look happy,” he added, sounding unhappy himself. “Now what?”

Alex grabbed her underwear from the floor and shoved it into her robe pocket before pulling her belt tight around her waist. Ignoring Meredith’s raised brow, she fled to the kitchen, busying herself making coffee while Daniel opened the door for Agent Hatton.

“Sorry, Daniel,” Hatton said. “Miss Fallon.” He nodded at Alex, then Meredith, apparently not a man to waste words repeating a name when it worked for both women. He turned back to Daniel. “He drove up in a van. We didn’t know he was the paperboy at first. But take a look at the front page. Your friend Woolf has been a busy boy.”

Daniel grabbed the paper, then looked up, his expression grim.

Alex forgot the coffee, hurrying to take the paper from his hands. At first she frowned. Then her eyes widened. “Rhett Porter’s dead?”

“Who is Rhett Porter?” Meredith asked, reading the front page over Alex’s shoulder.

“Rhett was one of Wade’s friends,” Alex said. “Rhett’s father owned all the car dealerships around here. Wade worked for them, detailing cars.”

“Rhett was also the brother of the boys that discovered Alicia’s body,” Daniel said.

Hatton’s brows were lifted. “Coincidence?”

Daniel shook his head. “Nothing’s a coincidence in this town.”

“I wonder how Woolf got this scoop?” Meredith asked. “It wasn’t on the news or on the Internet. I was just online, checking my mail.”

She said it with a pointed look, and Alex knew Meredith had not only been awake but had heard the entire scene on the sofa.

His cheeks darkening, Daniel buttoned his shirt. “I’ll go have a chat with Mr. Woolf.”

“I’ll stay inside the house with the Miss Fallons,” Hatton said.

“And I’ll make coffee,” Alex said. “I know I need it.”

Meredith followed her to the kitchen, smirking. “I need a cigarette,” she murmured.

Alex glared at her. Neither of them smoked. “You just shut up.”

Meredith chuckled. “When you decide to get a wild hair, you really do it right.”

Dutton, Wednesday, January 31, 5:55 a.m.

Daniel was turning onto Main Street when he saw a light come on in the window of the office of the Dutton Review. Instinct told him to hold tight, so he pulled his car behind a boxwood hedge, turned off his headlights, and waited. A few minutes later Jim Woolf appeared from behind the building, gliding past Daniel with his headlights darkened as well.

Daniel pulled out his cell phone and called Chase.

“What now?” Chase asked, grumpy.

“Woolf got another big scoop last night. One of the town men was killed when his car went off the road. I came to ask him about it and it looks like our boy is going for another early morning romp.”

“Fuck,” Chase muttered. “Where’s he going?”

“East. I’m going to tail him, but I need backup. I don’t want him noticing me.”

“Tell Hatton to stay with the ladies and have Koenig tail him with you. I’ll start driving your way. Call me before you confront him.”

“Yes, sir, partner sir.”

Wednesday, January 31, 6:00 a.m.

No, no, no, no, no… Bailey rocked herself, the pain from banging her head against the wall a welcome relief from the loathing and disgust that made her want to die.

“Bailey. Stop it.”

Beardsley hissed the command, but Bailey didn’t listen to him.

Bang, bang, bang. Her head throbbed and she deserved it. She deserved to be hurt. She deserved to die.

“Bailey.” Beardsley’s full hand shot under the wall and grabbed her wrist. He squeezed hard. “I said stop it.”

Bailey dropped her head, dug her chin into her knees. “Go away.”

“Bailey.” He wouldn’t go away. “What happened?”

She stared down at the dirty hand that had her wrist in an iron hold. “I told,” she spat. “All right? I told him.”

“You can’t blame yourself. You held out longer than most soldiers would have.”

It was the smack, she thought heavily, her thoughts a nauseated whirl. He’d held the syringe just out of reach and she’d wanted… needed. Craved to the point nothing else mattered. “What have I done?” she whispered.

“What did you tell him, Bailey?”

“I tried to lie, but he knew. He knew it wasn’t in my house.” And he’d kicked and hit and spat on her every time she’d lied. Still she’d been strong. Until the needle.

Now it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered.

“So where did you hide it?”

She was so tired. “I gave it to Alex.” She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. She tried to cry, but she had no more water in her. “Now he’s going after Alex, and Alex has Hope. And he’ll kill me, and probably you, too. He doesn’t need us anymore.”

“He won’t kill me. He thinks I wrote down Wade’s confession and hid it.”

“Did you?”

“No, but it’s buying me time. He’ll keep you alive until he checks out your story.”

“It doesn’t matter. I wish he’d just killed me.”

“Don’t say that. We’re going to get out of here.”

She let her head drop back against the wall. “No, we won’t.”

“Yes, we will. But you have to help me. Bailey.” He dug his fingers into her wrist. “Help me. For your daughter and for all those other girls you hear crying in the night.”

Bailey faltered. “You heard them, too? I thought I was losing my mind.”

“You aren’t. I saw one of the girls when he was taking me to his room.”

His room, where he’d tortured her for days. “Who is she, the girl?”

“I don’t know, but she was young, maybe fifteen.”

“Why does he have them?”

“Why do you think, Bailey?” he countered gravely.

“Oh my God. How many does he have?”

“I counted twelve doors on that hall. Now help me. For those girls and for Hope.”

Bailey drew a breath that hurt inside and out. “What do you want me to do?”

Releasing her wrist, Beardsley threaded his fingers through hers. “Good girl.”