Silent Scream

Chapter Twenty-six

Wednesday, September 22, 5:45 p.m.

Crawford looked at him in disgust. “Thank God I’m not your father. Are you alone?”

“Very. Come on in.” He aimed Crawford a seductive look, just for old times’ sake.

It was all an act, of course. It had always been an act, conceived at first to piss Crawford off. Then later he’d realized that the macho cops in his shop didn’t make eye contact when he flirted. It made him invisible. Just the way he liked it.

“Shut up. Look, all I want to know is, have you seen your sister?”

“No, but I saw the news. Naughty, naughty Mary. This is not gonna look good for you.” He tilted his head again, smiling. “Maybe that was her plan all along.”

Crawford’s jaw was clenched so tightly it was a wonder his teeth didn’t shatter. “Fine. That’s all I wanted to know. Now we don’t have to see each other, ever again.”

He shrugged lightly. “I’m surprised you knew where to find me, quite frankly.”

“I’ve always known. This is my town. You don’t sneeze without me knowing.”

He wanted to tell Crawford what he didn’t know. “Oh. Because you carry a badge.”

“You,” Crawford ground out, “will never amount to anything.”

His eyes narrowed, anger long denied now bubbling up. “You’re right. Good thing you have one perfect son. But wait. He doesn’t speak to you, either, and weren’t you kind of demoted? This isn’t your town anymore. Too bad you can’t find Mary. At least you’d have one decent arrest before they put you out to pasture. Fresh triple homicide’s gotta be worth more than a twelve-year-old single. See y’later. Buh-bye.”

Through his curtains he could see Crawford march to his car. But then the man stopped and looked up with a frown before getting in his car and driving away.

His gut clenched. He knew that look. Knew it was Crawford’s I-just-discovered-a-truth look. What did I say? He wasn’t sure.

And then he knew. “Oh, shit,” he breathed. “Oh, shit.” He grabbed a shirt, shoes, and his laptop. And his gun. Mary had only been linked to Albert and Eric in the news. Not Joel. I shouldn’t have known it was a triple homicide.

The police were watching for the white van, so he jumped into his car, going the direction Crawford had gone. Maybe Crawford would think he’d meant that Phoebe Hunter was the third of Mary’s homicides. Maybe. But he couldn’t take that chance.

He caught up with Crawford and slowed his pace, staying far enough back that he couldn’t be seen. He’d wait till Crawford stopped, then he’d take the bastard out.

He’d always wanted to, ever since his mother brought Crawford home. He’d been nine and had hated him then. His hate had grown considerably since. He hadn’t realized how much until he’d seen Crawford’s face again. He wondered what had set Mary off. She’d gone to a lot of trouble to leave the glass balls at each fire. She’d known what the discovery of the glass balls would mean. Exactly who it would bring.

Mary had always been a manipulative little bitch. She was improving with age.

Putting a bullet in Crawford’s head would be almost as good as putting one in Mary’s, which would be his next step. Because he had a pretty good idea of where she’d go.

Wednesday, September 22, 6:00 p.m.

“Pull over and let me out,” David said urgently, pointing to the police department. He’d been calling Olivia, Noah, and Abbott for twenty-five minutes with no success.

Tom pulled over. “I’ll find a place to park and come up.”

David had one foot on the pavement when his body went rigid. Crawford. “There he is.” Fury exploded and he ran at Crawford, who had only a second to register alarm before David had him off the ground by the lapels of his black suit. “Where is she?” He shoved Crawford up against the brick wall. “Where the fuck is Mary?”

“David!” Tom was behind him, pulling him away. “Let him go.”

Crawford’s face was crimson. “Get your hands off me. This is assault on a-”

David shook Crawford hard, his vision going red at the edges. “The next words out of your fucking mouth better be where we can find Mary. Because she has my mother.”

“David!” Olivia ran from the parking garage, Noah at her side. Dodging oncoming cars, she crossed the street and grabbed his arm. “Not like this. Let him go.”

David lowered Crawford to the ground, slowly releasing his lapels. His fists dropped to his sides, but he didn’t retreat an inch. “Tell them, Crawford. Tell them about Mary.”

“David. We know about Mary and her brother. Take a breath.” She took his fist in her hands, held it, calming him. “We’ll get what we want to know. Trust me.”

“Arrest him,” Crawford sputtered. “That was assault on a fed-”

Olivia turned, eyes flashing. “If you say federal agent, I will walk away and let him take you apart, I swear to God. You sonofabitch. You had to have known what she did.”

Crawford’s eyes flickered. “I don’t know where she is. I talked to her brother and he doesn’t know either. Leave me alone.”

“She’s your daughter,” Tom cried, his voice shaking. “She has my grandmother.”

“She’s not my daughter,” Crawford said coldly. “I can’t help you with your relative.”

David heard popping inside his brain. “Your daughter has killed three men and has injured my friend. Her arsons killed five people, wiped out a neighborhood, and may have put my partner in a wheelchair. So you’d better find a way to help us.”

“You’d better consider your answer carefully, Agent Crawford,” Noah said, his face like stone. “Your family appears to mean little to you, but it means a lot to us.”

“She is not my daughter. I married her mother, got her two psycho brats,” he spat.

“Because their mother was murdered,” David said. “What case were you chasing the night an ex-con broke into your house and bludgeoned your wife to death?”

Crawford stepped back, hitting the brick wall. “Preston Moss.”

“Barlow said you were a man obsessed,” Olivia murmured.

“No, I was doing my job. I was chasing a man who’d set fires, who’d killed.”

“You are going to stop chasing Moss,” Olivia said quietly, “and start chasing Mary.”

“I don’t know where she is.” His eyes gleamed, slyly, David thought and felt a shiver of repulsion skitter across his skin. “But I can give you something else.”

“What?” Olivia demanded.

“My sources say that you’ve identified Mary and her three cohorts,” Crawford said, “but there’s someone else involved. Someone who knew she killed the Fischer kid. I’ll tell you if you give me Lincoln Jefferson.”

She looked up at Crawford in disbelief. “You want Moss that badly? You have no idea how much I want to turn away and let David kill you with his bare hands. I’m done with your games, your need-to-know, and your quid pro quo. You’re sick. You don’t deserve your badge.” She pulled out her cell, walked a few paces. “I’m calling my captain.”

“Wait.” Crawford followed, closing his hand over hers. “Don’t call him. I’ll tell-”

David flinched at the sound that cracked the air and threw himself forward, knocking Olivia and Crawford to the ground. People were screaming and from the corner of his eye he saw Tom throw himself over two women who’d crept close to overhear.

Noah sprinted across the street and David heard the squeal of tires and two more shots fired in rapid succession. He hunkered over Crawford and Olivia as the doors of the police department flew open and six officers ran into the street, guns drawn.

Shaking, David pushed to his knees. “Olivia. Olivia.” He pushed Crawford off her and his heart stopped. She was covered in blood and she wasn’t moving. “Olivia.” He pressed his fingertips to her throat. And breathed. “She’s got a strong pulse,” he told the officer who’d knelt beside him. “I can handle this. Go see to the others.”

The officer rushed off. David checked Crawford’s pulse, but the man was dead, his blood pooling on the sidewalk from the huge hole in his chest. The bullet had blasted straight through him. Straight into Olivia. Probably hit her shoulder.

David swiftly unbuttoned her blouse to check for the bullet’s entry, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of the Kevlar vest she wore.

“What the hell is going on here?” Abbott fell to his knees beside them.

“She’s unconscious. She hit her head on the concrete. I think all this blood is Crawford’s.” Gingerly David pulled the Kevlar away, exposing her shoulder and he calmed a little more. Already forming was what would be a nasty bruise, but there was no blood, no gaping hole. Just beautiful skin. “The bullet hit the vest.”

“Thank God.” Abbott looked paler than Olivia. “I couldn’t handle another one.”

She stirred, moaning a little, lifting her hand to her head. “Ow.”

David pulled her hand away gently, his hand shaking now that he could see she was all right. Her fedora was half off her head and he set it aside, checking her head. “You’ll have a goose egg, but there’s no open wound.”

“Good,” she murmured. “You have enough stitches for both of us.”

He’d forgotten. Tentatively he ran his fingers over his jaw, relieved none of the sutures had burst. “Can you sit up?”

She nodded and he helped her, giving in to the need to hold her for a moment. He pulled her close and felt her shudder. Or maybe it was his. “Crawford?” she asked.

“He’s dead,” David said, feeling only regret that they hadn’t made him talk first.

Noah crouched beside them, breathing hard. “Bullet came from a brown late-model Explorer. I chased, but he got away. I got the plate and called it in.”

“What the hell happened?” Abbott demanded.

“Crawford was Mary’s stepfather,” Olivia said. “I called to tell you, but you were in a meeting with the commander, closed door. Crawford said he didn’t know where she was, but was about to tell us who else was involved when somebody shot him.”

Abbott frowned. “He knew who the blackmailer is and didn’t tell us right away?”

“Tried to bargain for custody of Lincoln,” Noah said.

“Sonofabitch,” Abbott said, looking down at Crawford’s body with disgust.

David’s mind was spinning. “He said he’d talked to Mary’s brother, who didn’t know where she was. But what if the brother was lying? What if Jonathan’s involved?”

Olivia looked at Noah, then back up at David, confused. “Who’s Jonathan?”

“Mary’s brother,” David said.

Olivia struggled to her feet. “No, Mary’s brother is a doctor. Andy Crawford.”

David frowned. “She’s got two brothers then. One is named Jonathan.” He told them what he and Tom had learned.

“Jonathan’s who Crawford meant,” Olivia said. “He couldn’t have talked to Andy, because I was talking to him on my way back here. Andy’s coming from Wisconsin, to try to help us find Mary.”

“Then let’s find Jonathan,” David said grimly.

Wednesday, September 22, 6:20 p.m.

He would have preferred to have shot Crawford in the head, but he’d been forced to choose a wider target as he’d shot from a moving car. He thought Crawford would never duck around those tall men. He’d been arguing with Sutherland. If he’d told them about me, they would have run for their cars. So he thought he was safe, for now.

He pulled over, taking his gun and laptop. Webster had made out his plate, which didn’t matter as the plate was stolen. Still, it was too dangerous to keep driving this car around with a million cops searching for him. He’d steal one, then go find Mary.

Then it was time to go. He’d had a good run here, developed some skills. He’d get the fake ID he kept stashed in his safe-deposit box and start over somewhere cool. As long as he had his offshore bank numbers, the world was his damn oyster.

Wednesday, September 22, 6:30 p.m.

Olivia looked up when the conference room door opened and immediately wished she hadn’t. The room careened around her, taking her stomach with it. David closed the door behind him, in his eyes the abject terror that had been there since Mary drove off with his mother.

“You need to get x-rayed.” He dropped the handful of items he carried on the table. “Tylenol, ice packs, a clean T-shirt from Micki, and a clean vest from Abbott.”

She shrugged out of the shirt, happy not to be wearing Crawford’s blood and guts anymore. But she couldn’t manage the button at her wrist, and David took up the task.

His gaze fixed on the hole in the fabric. He stared a few seconds, his face stark.

Her mind replayed the moment, as she knew his was. The shot, the impact of the bullet, the sudden warmth of blood, the three of them, falling. “I’m sorry, David. I should have gotten what Crawford knew. If I hadn’t been so angry…” She closed her eyes, miserable. “We’d know who the blackmailer is. We might know where Mary is.”

He was quiet as he peeled the bloody vest away and taped an ice pack to her shoulder. “You need to keep that ice pack on for at least twenty minutes, then you can put the vest back on. You’re going to have some loss of rotation in your shoulder.”

He hadn’t responded to her apology and it stung. But what did she expect him to say? That it was all right? It wasn’t. She’d been outraged, acted impulsively, and now Crawford was dead, taking his knowledge with him. If they didn’t get to Phoebe in time… David won’t forgive me. I won’t forgive myself.

“It’s my left arm. I can still shoot.” She popped a Tylenol and pressed the second ice pack to her head. “I need to get back. Thanks for the first aid.”

He helped her to her feet, holding her when she would have bolted. “Olivia, wait. Look at me.” She did and saw no accusation in his eyes. Just raw fear. “You didn’t know Crawford would be killed. Do I wish we knew what he knew? Hell, yes. But in your place, I would have done the same thing. Lincoln did a terrible thing twelve years ago and he should pay for his crime, but Crawford… he was somehow worse.”

She shuddered out a breath and leaned into him. “We’ll find Mary a different way.”

His arms came around her and they clung, taking comfort and strength. “Don’t leave without the new vest,” he whispered fiercely. “Promise me.”

She kissed him softly. “I won’t take chances. I have to get back now.”

She stepped out of the conference room and blinked. Louise Tomlinson was coming out of the elevator. “Mrs. Tomlinson?”

Louise hesitated, then squared her shoulders. “Detective Sutherland. I need to talk to you. It’s important. I heard about Detective Kane on the news. I’m sorry.”

Olivia forced herself to meet the woman’s gaze, rather than looking at Kane’s empty desk. “Thank you. I’m working with Detective Webster on your husband’s murder. Please come with me.”

She led Louise into Abbott’s office where Noah sat at the round table with Barlow and Micki. “Abbott’s with the Feds, dealing with Crawford’s shooting,” he said without looking up. He was studying a printout with narrowed eyes. “I got cell LUDs on both Blunt and Tomlinson. Barlow and Micki have their credit card statements.”

Olivia cleared her throat. “This is Mrs. Tomlinson. This is Detective Webster and Sergeants Barlow and Ridgewell.”

The three of them abruptly lifted their eyes, then Noah stood. “Mrs. Tomlinson, please sit down. We’re all very sorry for your loss.”

Louise took the chair he held out for her. “Thank you. I had a visitor at my house this morning. He said he was a reporter, asked me a lot of questions about my husband, his finances. He started asking very personal questions about the nature of my divorce and I asked him to leave. Thankfully my son was with me. The young man was large and intimidating. The visit upset me and my son insisted I take one of the sleeping pills my doctor prescribed. When I woke up hours later, I watched the news and saw the young man who’d come to my house.”

“What did he look like?” Olivia asked, trying to keep her excitement contained.

“Like this.” Louise drew a folded paper from her purse. “I got it from the Internet. I had to look it up to be sure it was the same man.”

Olivia unfolded it and swallowed her sigh. “Albert.”

Louise nodded. “I didn’t know he was dead until an hour ago. I didn’t know Detective Kane was dead either. My son’s been trying to keep me from becoming too upset. When I realized what had happened, I knew I needed to talk to you. From the questions he asked, I think this Albert person knew my husband had been blackmailed.”

She said it as though the blackmail came as no surprise to her. The sex pictures, Olivia thought. Tomlinson’s blackmail. “How did you know your husband was having an affair, ma’am?”

“He was getting undressed one night and his underwear were on inside out. I’ve folded and put them in his drawer for thirty years. I knew they were right when he put them on. I kept watching, found more signs. Finally I had lunch with a friend and got the name of her PI. A week later the PI brought me pictures. The next day, I got another envelope of pictures in the mail. I was in shock, seeing Barney with that whore…” She swallowed hard. “The pictures that came in the mail weren’t labeled. I guess I assumed they’d come from the PI, too. Now, after that young man visited… I’m not sure.”

“They were taken at different times,” Micki said. “The PI’s photos and the others.”

Louise frowned. “I didn’t notice. I didn’t look at them too closely. I couldn’t.”

“You combined all the pictures and gave them to your attorney?” Olivia asked.

“Yes. If I’d thought about it two nights ago, I would have told you.” Louise’s eyes filled. “I heard about last night’s fire, the firefighter, your partner. I’m so sorry.”

Olivia squeezed her hand. “You didn’t know. You’re here now. You told your friend and the PI about your suspicions about your husband. Did anyone else know?”

“No. I knew Barney would put up a fight if he knew I knew. Maybe even take our money. I had to think of our son, his future. I kept my mouth shut until my lawyer filed the divorce papers.”

“Where did you meet your friend?” Noah asked.

“This sandwich place near the hospital, where I volunteer. It’s called the Deli.”

Barlow’s eyes lit up and Olivia’s pulse picked up pace. “That’s the connection? The Deli?” she asked excitedly and Barlow nodded.

“It’s gotta be. I have Deli charges on both Tomlinson’s and Blunt’s credit cards.”

“And we found a cup from the Deli in the trash at Eric’s,” Micki said. “Somebody could have been sitting next to all of them and intercepted their data. Let’s get the store video, match these dates with the day Mrs. Tomlinson and her friend met and see who pops.” She started to get up, but Noah shook his head.

“The Deli only has a camera on the cash register. Remember, we asked for that seven months ago, when we were looking for Pit-Guy’s victims.”

Micki slumped back in her chair. “You’re right. Well, dammit.”

“I don’t think I noticed who was sitting around me,” Louise said. “I’m sorry. If you want to hypnotize me or something, I’d be good with that.”

Olivia frowned, a thought forming in her mind. No, it couldn’t be. But what if it was?

“Mrs. Tomlinson, thank you for coming in. I need to ask you to wait outside, please.” She motioned to Abbott’s clerk, who quickly hurried over. “Faye, can you get Mrs. Tomlinson a coffee? Thanks.”

When Louise was gone, Olivia grabbed the sketch of the man Austin had seen. It could be. She held it up. “‘Thanks for coming. Buh-bye,’” she said and Micki’s eyes widened.

“No freaking way,” Micki said. “Kirby?”

“No.” Noah shook his head. “Not possible. He helped Eve last year.” Then his eyes closed. “Because of a conversation he overheard. Hell.”

Micki sat back, stunned. “He has free Wi-Fi. I’ve even used it. Oh my God.”

“That could have been him in the brown Explorer,” Noah said. “Right body type.”

“We need units to the Deli,” Olivia said. “If he goes back, we need to be ready.”

Barlow grabbed the phone on Abbott’s desk. “I’ll do it.”

Olivia stared at the sketch. “Austin. We never announced that we picked him up.”

“He may think Austin’s still missing,” Micki said.

“And he wanted him enough to kill Kane.” Olivia closed her eyes, trying to focus but the back of her head throbbed like a bitch. “What if we sent a message from Austin’s phone, asking to meet ‘Kenny’?”

“We could be waiting, catch him,” Noah said.

“Or let him get away again,” Olivia countered evenly. “He might go to Mary.”

“He might go to France,” Micki said flatly. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“You think I do?” Olivia snapped. “He murdered Kane. I want to gut him and watch him bleed and beg for mercy. But Phoebe’s still out there. If you have a better idea, let’s have it.”

“He’s killed five people,” Noah said. “I don’t want Phoebe to be number six. Let’s run it by Abbott. He has to approve it.”

Barlow hung up Abbott’s phone. “No Kirby at the Deli and no brown Explorer. But there is a white van parked around the back.”

Micki’s smile was sharp. “I’ll get a warrant for the van and property. You set the Austin trap. We’ll find a way to track him.”

Olivia pushed herself to her feet. She could see David and Tom standing near her desk, David bandaging Tom’s hand. She could feel his fear from here. Would feel his heartache if she failed. “We can’t lose him. We have to find Mary.”

“Are you going to tell them?” Noah asked, pointing to the two men.

“About Kirby, but not about trying to lure him. I don’t want to get their hopes up.”

Noah patted the shoulder that wasn’t iced down. “I’m going to find Abbott, get this moving. Sit down and rest for a few minutes. I’ll be back.”

“No, we’ll need a positive ID from Austin to get a warrant. I’ll get a six-pack photo array together and get Kirby’s license photo to drop in. I’ll meet you back here.”

Wednesday, September 22, 6:30 p.m.

Mary pointed to a side road. “Stop the car and get out.”

Her bones creaking, Phoebe obeyed. She let out a quiet groan as she tried to straighten her back, then grimaced as she drew a breath. The air was heavy with the stale odor of burned wood. Phoebe couldn’t see the burned condo, but she knew it couldn’t be far. They’d taken so many turns, she had no idea where she was exactly. They were on a lake, but they’d passed a lot of those. Minnesota, she thought, land of ten thousand lakes. She’d thought the brochures had been exaggerating.

“Why are we here?” I’ll never find my way out of here, even if I get away.

Mary shoved the barrel of the gun into her back. “Move.”

They’d parked the car on a side road that appeared not to have been used for some time. The trees were so thick that they hadn’t walked fifty feet before the car was completely hidden. Phoebe’s feet were numb from sitting so long in the car and she had rather pressing needs elsewhere. “Is it far?”

“No,” Mary said tightly. Her hands were shaking. The woman had become increasingly tense as the hours had passed.

“Mary, I need to know. They said you killed those men. Is it true?”

Mary’s chin lifted as she walked. “Yes.”

Phoebe’s blood chilled. “Okay. Why?”

“Eric was going to run away. He was going to leave me and Albert holding the bag. He used me to save his own hide. He thought he knew everything, but in the end he was just a damn coward. Running away to France. Nobody uses me.”

“How did you know?”

“I went to his place because we were supposed to go to Joel’s funeral together. He wasn’t home, but Joel had a key, so I went in.”

“Joel is dead, too?”

Her face twisted. “Yes. It was a car accident.”

Phoebe frowned, trying to remember. “Oh. Joel. I heard about that on the news.” And now pieces she’d overheard David and Glenn muttering about became clearer. “You cared for Joel?”

“Yes. Joel had a thing for causes,” she said bitterly. She was running her free hand up and down her arm in jagged little movements as she walked, a twitch in each step.

“Causes are usually good things.”

“I was his cause. And now he’s dead.”

Her tone made Phoebe’s blood chill a little more. “Did you kill him, too?” Mary said nothing and Phoebe had her answer. “I see. What about the other one?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Albert. That sonofabitch. Said he’d break my neck if I didn’t do what he said. Nobody says that to me. Nobody. Uses. Me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Phoebe said dryly. “What about Lincoln? Did he use you?”

“No.” Her voice abruptly softened. “Lincoln loved me.”

Phoebe thought of the man her son had described as pathetic and tortured. “Did you love him?”

“Not like that. But he thought I did, when he was on his meds.”

“My son said Lincoln is mentally ill.”

“Yes.”

“David said the FBI was interested in Lincoln for an old arson.”

“They couldn’t find him with all their guns and bugs and spycams, but I did,” she boasted. “Yes, I used him. But I won’t let him kill him,” she added.

“What? Him, who?”

Mary blinked, as if surprised she’d said the last thing. “Just… shut up and walk. That’s where we’re going, that cabin.”

Wednesday, September 22, 6:50 p.m.

“It’s just a scrape,” Tom said between clenched teeth. He’d shaved a layer of skin diving to protect two bystanders when the shot that killed Crawford was fired. “Don’t fuss.”

“I have to. It’s keeping me sane.” David finished bandaging Tom’s hand and looked to the window where Olivia stood, watching them. A new shaft of fear pierced him.

“It’s like when there’s turbulence and the flight attendants are scared,” Tom murmured, his eyes on Olivia as well.

David sank into Olivia’s chair, closing his eyes to focus. “Being terrified won’t bring Mom home. What do we know about Mary?”

“She was pissed at her stepfather,” Tom said.

“Because she holds him responsible for her mother’s death. She loved her mother.”

“So she might not hurt Grandma.” Tom’s voice took a hopeful note.

“Right.” It might not be true, but, like tending others, the notion helped him stay sane. “What else?”

“We know Mary and Joel met in an environmental ethics class,” Olivia said behind him. He started to get up, but she perched on her desk. “And that killing Joel upset her.”

“She believed,” Tom murmured. “She believed in Preston Moss.”

“Or she knew re-creating Moss’s fires were the best way to get back at Crawford,” David said. “Somehow she sought out Lincoln through that Web site, earned his confidence. He told her information that nobody else had. I wonder who first brought up the idea of the condo arson. Mary or Joel?”

“I’m betting Mary,” Olivia said, “and that Joel thought it was his idea.” She hesitated. “We also think we know who Jonathan is. Or at least who the blackmailer is.”

Both David and Tom stared. “Who?” David demanded.

“I know it sounds crazy, but Kirby. From the Deli. All the blackmail victims went there. He has access to their e-mail. And he resembles the man Austin saw.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed. “I told you about that free Wi-Fi. You said I was paranoid.”

David’s mind was reeling. “You are, but that’s okay.”

“Why aren’t we going to the Deli to get him?” Tom demanded.

“He’s not there,” Olivia said patiently. “We’re going for a warrant and I’ve got some work to do to help with that. You guys should go get some food or coffee or something. Just not at the Deli. Promise me. I don’t want him scared off.”

She met David’s eyes, hers a little too intense. “Don’t lose faith.”

His eyes narrowed. “Something’s about to happen.”

“We may have another trick up our sleeve.” She laid her finger across his lips. “Don’t ask. I wasn’t going to tell you that much. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

If it doesn’t work. “Why did you tell me then?” he murmured against her finger.

Pain filled her eyes. “I need you to know I’m doing everything I can.”

Covering her hand with his, he pressed it hard to his lips. “I know you are.”

“Go get something to eat,” she whispered. “Let us do our jobs.”

He watched her walk away, then hauled his body out of the chair, feeling a million years old. “We haven’t checked on Glenn.”

“I did, when you were bandaging up Olivia,” Tom said. “He’s physically fine. They’ll let him go tomorrow. He told me to tell you to keep looking for Grandma, not to visit him.”

“Then let’s go.”

“To do which? Look for Grandma or get something to eat?”

“Both,” David said grimly.

They went down the elevator and out the door, and David couldn’t hold back the shudder at the bloodstains on the sidewalk. The area was barricaded off with yellow tape and passersby stared. Olivia’s okay, he told himself. She wasn’t shot. But she could have been. If not today, then next week. Next month. Any time in the future.

“Part of me wants to keep her out of the path of bullets.” He blinked, unaware he’d said it out loud until he heard it.

“She probably wants to keep you out of the path of fiery, falling beams,” Tom replied soberly. “And I’d agree with her. But she won’t ask and neither will I.”

“It’s who I am. It’s who she is, too.”

“She’s careful,” Tom said. “Dana never was.”

That’s how Olivia’s different. She had the same need to protect without the drama Dana had always had swirling around her. Olivia got the job done. Efficiently and quietly. She’d do what needed to be done, the right way. A ringing phone startled him from his thoughts and David realized it was coming from his own pocket. He pulled out the prepaid cell he’d forgotten he still had. “Hello?”

“David? This is Truman Jefferson. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Not at all. What’s wrong?”

“After you left, the police shut me down for the afternoon, to process the scene. I went home, tried to get some work done, and I found some pictures that Lincoln took. One of his jobs was taking photos of new listings to put on our Web site, but these pictures show a property that isn’t one of my listings. I don’t recognize the location, but it’s a cabin near some kind of a park. Some of the pictures show a lake, which I know isn’t helpful. But I wanted to tell you because some of the pictures have Mary in them. I guess they went there together. I thought you needed to know.”

David’s mind started racing and then his feet were, too. Tom pulled ahead, leading him to where he’d parked the car. “Can you describe the park?” David asked urgently.

“It’s old. Just an old-fashioned park, like when I was a kid. A sandbox, a metal swing set, a merry-go-round-you know, the ones that look like a flat spaceship.”

“Yeah, I know.” He did. He’d seen that little park, Monday morning when he’d taken Olivia up in the bucket. She’d taken pictures. She’d have the layout. “Any specific features on this cabin?” He got in the passenger side of the car, and Tom was pulling into traffic before he’d shut his door. “The condo,” he told Tom.

“It has a green awning on the back,” Truman said, “but no house number. I’m sorry.”

“No, this is amazing. This is good.”

“Mary may not be there, but it’s a place she and Lincoln must have liked.”

“Have you seen Lincoln?”

“They let me visit him this afternoon, but he was too doped up to talk. The psychiatrist told me you were kind to him. I wanted to thank you.”

“It’s okay. If you find anything else out, please call me.”

“Wait,” Tom said. “Ask if he can scan those pictures in and send them to my e-mail.”

“Yes,” Truman said after David gave him Tom’s e-mail address. “I’ll do that right now. Good luck. God bless.”

“Thank you.” David closed his phone and closed his eyes, visualizing the scene. “It’s one of those cabins at the lake near the condo. I took Olivia up in the bucket to see the layout and I saw the park. From the bucket, it was at eleven o’clock. We won’t be able to see the awning from the road. We’ll have to come in from the back.”

“Do you have any weapons?” Tom asked.

“No. Hopefully Mary hasn’t improved her marksmanship in the last five hours.” He dialed Olivia and swore softly when he got her voice mail, again. “It’s David. I may know where they are. Check the photos you took from the bucket at the condo. It’s a cabin with a green awning. Call me.” He called the police department’s main number and gave them the same information, then he buckled his seat belt. “Drive faster, kid.”

Wednesday, September 22, 7:10 p.m.

The sun was setting and for the first time Phoebe wondered if David would be too late. Mary was growing more agitated, hugging herself as she paced the floor. Phoebe had seen the track marks on her arms and knew she was starting to withdraw. Mary had been unpredictable. She still held the gun, but carelessly by the barrel, not by the handle.

Mary had made her stop the car about a half mile from the cabin in which they now hid. She’d obviously been here before, going straight to an unlocked window and forcing Phoebe through. She’d then tied her to a chair with, ironically, the pull cords from the window blinds. If I ever get out of here, David and Glenn will laugh at that.

Mary was pacing, tapping the gun against her palm. Calm her down, if you can. “If you’ll untie me, I’ll make you some hot tea,” Phoebe said. “I see a kettle on the stove.”

Mary threw her a glare. “You’re crazy. I tie you up and you want to be nice to me?”

“Frankly, if I had that gun I would shoot you. I wouldn’t kill you, but I’d make it so you couldn’t chase me. But I don’t have the gun and you look like you need some tea.”

“You’re a strange woman, Phoebe.” Her mouth trembled. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want you to hurt me either. Mary, what are you planning to do with me? You haven’t made any calls, made any demands.”

Her laugh was brittle. “In the movies, they ask for passage to Mexico.”

“But you’d always be looking over your shoulder. No way to live.”

“Prison is no way to live either.”

“Then you’ve got a hard choice to make. But you need to make it, because I don’t like being forced around at gunpoint. You can’t hide here forever.”

Mary looked around the room longingly. “I wanted to. Live here forever, I mean.”

“When was this?” Phoebe asked gently.

“When I was little. My mom and dad-my real dad-would come up here and we’d have a normal family vacation.”

“How old were you?”

“Four. I was five when he died.” Her jaw tightened. “And then she married him.”

“Who, honey?”

“Crawford. He had a kid already. Andy was nice, but Crawford… We had to be perfect. Make the beds. Up at sunrise. Straight As. I hated Crawford the day I met him.”

“Your mother must have loved him.”

“My mother had no family and no job. When my real dad died, we were so poor. Food stamps. Government cheese. My mother couldn’t feed us. She needed a man.”

“My husband died when my youngest was still in school. It was hard.”

Mary was pacing again, gun in her hand. “How did he die?”

“Car accident. One of my sons was with him. He was paralyzed for a while.”

Mary’s face shadowed. “Like the firefighter will be. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t want to set the other two fires. Eric and Albert made me.”

She sounded like a wounded child, and Phoebe suspected that, deep down, she was. But the wounded child had killed so many and right now held a gun. The wounded child needed to be stopped, however possible. Phoebe had spoken the truth. If she had to, she would use the gun to stop Mary. If I have to, I’ll kill her.

For now, all Phoebe had was her quiet voice and her instinct that was screaming that this girl craved a mother. “I know, honey. But you did. There are consequences to your actions. The condo fire you set killed two people.”

Mary shook her head. “No. No. We didn’t know the girl was there. And somebody else killed the guard. That wasn’t me.”

“My son almost died that night. He almost fell four stories. David would have died.”

“He caught the ball,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean for him to get hurt.”

“What did you think would happen when you set the fire, Mary? Did you think it would burn nicely and stop all by itself? You set fires, firefighters come. It’s what they do. You lit a match and put a dozen men and women in mortal danger.”

“Nothing happened to them.”

“Not Sunday night. What about last night? David almost died again, and his partner may never walk again. And don’t tell me you didn’t mean for that to happen, Mary,” she ordered sharply and saw the girl flinch. Satisfied she’d delivered her point, she softened her tone. “You have to run or turn yourself in. Those are the only choices I see here.”

“Eric was going to France. I should have kept him alive so he could take me, too.”

Phoebe didn’t think her blood could go much colder, but she was wrong. There was no remorse for the murder, only Mary’s regret that she hadn’t been more forward-thinking.

“Well, you didn’t. So, coming full circle, what do you plan to do with me?”

Mary tensed, then slapped the gun on the counter. “I’m going to shut you up.”

Phoebe watched, breath held, as Mary rummaged in the kitchen drawers. She came out of the kitchen with a pair of scissors and a large roll of duct tape. “Lincoln brought this with him the last time we came. He fixed the swing outside for me.” She slapped a piece of tape over Phoebe’s mouth, dragged the chair around the back of the sofa, and shoved it over on its side. “Now I don’t have to look at you or listen to you.”

Phoebe tried to ignore the pain jolting through her stiff joints. She’d pushed the girl as far as she dared. It was clear Mary didn’t want to hurt her now, but if the girl became more desperate, that could change.

There was a chill at her back. The sliding glass door was a few feet away. If Mary went to sleep, and if she could scoot close enough, and if she could manage to get the door open… It was damn frustrating to have an escape so close and so far away.

Okay, David, I’m ready for you to come get me now.