Edge of the Heat 7 (12 page)

"Don't let that door close!" Hawk shouted at Craig. Troy heard and put his weight into the door, slamming it towards home. Craig's eyes widened and he leaned backwards, trying to keep the door open, but Troy had momentum on his side. Less than a foot-wide gap was left.

Craig punched his left arm through the gap, taking the full weight of the slam of the door on that arm. Hawk heard bones crunch. Craig roared, but found purchase and heaved the door open.

Troy backed away from him, his chest billowing as he gasped for air, pure hate radiating from his eyes.

Craig cradled his left arm to his chest, his face set in a permanent snarl, and held the door open for Hawk and the two officers. Hawk rushed inside, his insides boiling in anger. "Why didn't you tell us you had a panic room in this house?" he shouted, not realizing for a moment the impact this would have on Craig. He still held his phone in his hand, not sure if he would need Knox again.

Troy backed away, cold calculation filling his eyes. "I never thought of it," he finally said. Craig growled and advanced on him. Troy held up his hands. "I never use it. It's empty I swear, I'll open it right now." He turned towards the bedroom and opened a closet, pushing on the back wall so it swiveled outward.

Hawk followed and watched his every move closely, the line on the phone in his hand still open. He held the phone to his ear and spoke softly. "Behind the hallway closet?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Thanks. He's opening it now." The heavy metal door swung open and Hawk could see at a glance that the tiny room was empty. "Empty," he breathed into the phone.

"Damn," Knox swore. "I'm on my way up there. I'll be there in an hour and a half."

Hawk was about to tell him don't bother, when he thought better of it. Knox was smart. Knox was a better computer hacker than he was. Knox had an investigative mind. They could use his help. "See you then," he signed off and stared at Troy, wondering if they were really wrong about this guy.

What if he wasn't involved at all and the real kidnapper was somewhere, laughing at them right now?

Hawk sat at Craig's kitchen table, the computer in front of him, his head nodding onto his chest occasionally. Staying up all night was starting to affect him. He didn't know how much longer he could keep going, but he couldn't sleep while Emma was still missing. JT and Dani dozed, sitting up, on the couch, while Vivian busied herself in the kitchen. He'd tried to get her to lie down several times, but she always refused. His mind swirled with worry for her and the baby and Emma and even Craig. Craig was going to crack if they didn't find Emma soon. Crack or kill someone.

Craig was on the front porch being examined by the medics they'd called. He'd refused to go to the hospital, just like Hawk knew he would. Hawk was positive his arm was broken, but knew Craig wouldn't even think about getting it set and casted until Emma was found.

Footsteps sounded on the porch. Hawk looked up, glad to see Craig was done and his arm was in a soft splint. That was better than nothing.

"What now?" he asked Hawk gruffly. "What do you have?"

"Nothing," Hawk admitted, studying Craig's reaction. Outside, he heard the ambulance drive away, and what sounded like another car turning into the driveway.

"Someone here?" he asked Craig, glad for the distraction.

Craig turned and looked out the front door. "Rosesson," he finally said, exhaustion laced through his voice.

Hawk raised his eyebrows. "You ever give him your address?"

Craig shook his head, but the look on his face made it clear he didn't care either.

Hawk looked at the time. Just after noon. He'd made it in less time than it should have taken him to drive from San Francisco, so if he'd had to research it, it hadn't taken long. But Hawk had never told him where they would be. He'd expected Knox to call and ask for directions when he got close. Hawk shook his thoughts off of the mystery of what Knox knew and didn't know. The man was resourceful, that was for sure.

Knox's face appeared at the door and he pushed it open without knocking. He surveyed the room. Craig walked to his easy chair and sat down without looking at him, no energy left in his soul for greetings or small talk.

Hawk lifted his chin to Knox. "That was quick."

"I broke a few speed limits," Knox said, sitting down at the table.

Vivian came out of the kitchen, a second cup of coffee in her hands for Hawk. Seeing Knox, she curved her lips in a sad parody of a smile. "Hi," she said softly.

Knox smiled broadly and stood up. "Hi yourself," he said, holding out his hand, his eyes devouring Vivian.

"That's my wife," Hawk growled and Knox's smile slipped for just a second then reappeared.

Knox threw Hawk an apologetic glance, then turned back to Vivian. "I'm Knox, nice to meet you."

Vivian nodded and shook his hand, then retreated into the kitchen for another cup of coffee for Knox.

"Fill me in," he shot at Hawk.

"You first. How did you know Troy had a panic room?"

"My dad's company installed it a few months ago. Dad asked me to audit one of his contractors so I did. Followed him for a month. That was one of the jobs he did."

Hawk took a sip of his coffee and stared at Knox over the rim of his cup. Vivian brought Knox a cup, then sat down next to Hawk.

"I thought you hated your dad."

Knox shrugged. "Business is business. And I don't hate him. Most days."

Hawk considered that. Felix Rosesson was hard, but charming. Knox had the same qualities. "There's not much to fill you in on. His name is Preston Troy. He's an interim senator—filled Carruthers seat a couple of months ago. We connected him loosely to Craig's wife's disappearance and we went in. His house was empty. We're trying to figure out where else he could have taken her now.
If
he was the one who took her," he said, his eyes on Craig for a reaction to the last sentence. There was none. Craig stared at the corner of the room, his eyes set and dangerous, but far away.

Knox sipped his drink. "Who's watching him?"

"We've got two patrol cars on the house."

Knox's gaze fell on the picture of a young Frank Oberlin on the table. "Who's this guy?" he said. "His brother?"

Hawk watched Knox curiously. "You don't think that's Troy?"

"Nah, the face is too thin and long, and the nose isn't crooked."

Hawk picked up the piece of paper. He was right. "This is Frank Oberlin," he said, dropping the printed picture.

Knox's eyes came alive, burning holes in him. "Your case?"

"Yeah."

"They related?"

"We don't know. He says no. This picture says maybe."

Hawk looked around the room, then decided to come clean with Knox. He could trust Knox. "There's something you may not know about Oberlin. He's the father of my wife, and of Craig's wife, and of JT over there on the couch. They're triplets."

"Isn't that interesting," Knox said, drawing every word out and looking around the room, his eyes bouncing from JT to Vivian and back to Hawk.

"Why? He had a panic room too?"

Knox leaned forward and shook his head slowly. "No, his mansion had a whole underground, reinforced cave, like he was freaking batman."

Craig shot out of his chair. "What? We searched that house a dozen times, we went through it brick by brick almost, and we never found anything like that."

Knox shrugged. "And you wouldn't. I did the concealment myself."

Craig crossed the room and stood over Knox menacingly. "What the fuck, man! You put those things in without blueprints and nobody even knows they exist?"

Knox appeared unconcerned with Craig's anger. "That's the whole point."

"Why didn't you ever tell us?" Hawk asked softly.

Knox shrugged again. "I only found out you guys were investigating him recently. We put that room in years ago. Maybe a decade ago. And when I did discover you two were on this case it seemed like you had it locked. If I thought you were missing any evidence I would have called you, but it didn't seem like you were."

Craig locked eyes with Hawk. "Let's go."

Hawk stood up. It was the best chance they had right now. He leaned over to give Vivian a kiss and tell her that he loved her. She grabbed him forcefully by his shirt. "Bring my sister back," she whispered, her face deadly pale. Hawk nodded and prayed he would.

As Hawk, Craig, and Knox tromped down the porch steps Craig spoke, his voice a thin wire. "No search warrant this time."

"Nope," Hawk agreed, knowing their jobs were probably toast no matter what. He couldn't find it inside himself to care. All he wanted was to find Emma and take a nice long vacation somewhere with his wife.

"All right boys, we're going rogue," Knox said, and let out a laugh. Hawk wished he could join him, but he knew Emma's life and Craig's sanity were resting on what happened in the next hour.

Not good times.

Jerry sat in his car, in the parking lot of Sara's therapist's office, thinking about what had just happened. Something was off and he just needed to figure out what. He had driven Sara to her appointment, planning on going inside with her to sit in the waiting room and talk to Dr. Velasco when they were done with the appointment. It was Saturday, and that meant Jerry's car was the only one in the parking lot. The Saturday appointment wasn't unusual though, Sara's appointments had been on Saturday for several weeks now. Sara had said she requested the doctor to see her on Saturdays in order to work around her schedule better. Jerry hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but now it seemed strange to him, especially since Sara had full control over her schedule and also because she hadn't gone to work in over a week.

But what was bothering him right now was what had happened when he went in with Sara, expecting to meet a kindly therapist who would have no problem with his presence. The reality was far different. Dr. Velasco, an older gentleman with dark skin, salt and pepper hair and tiny, round spectacles, had narrowed his eyes immediately when he saw Jerry. He hadn't shaken Jerry's hand and had insisted that Jerry not wait inside the building. Jerry could understand the doctor not wanting him in the room during the session, but inside the building? Dr. Velasco had said the cleaners would be arriving any minute and would need the waiting room to be empty.

Then, when Jerry thought of Sara's demeanor during this exchange, he really felt his anxiety meter trip over to high. He knew she was wearing her gun and her knives, knew it just because of the long-sleeved outfit she had chosen on this hot day. She'd been quiet all morning, barely speaking to him, but not protesting when he said he had wanted to go. Then, when she pushed through the door of the clinic she had seemed to turn into a different person. His strong, solid girlfriend had seemed to shrink, to pull in on herself. She hadn't looked at him or said goodbye when Dr. Velasco asked him to leave, only stood there, her nervous gaze on the door to Dr. Velasco's office. Jerry had complied with Dr. Velasco's request to leave the building, knowing something was wrong, but unable to figure out just what. He'd taken one final look over his shoulder and saw the therapist pulling Sara into his office by the sleeve.

Jerry played that moment over in his mind. He didn't understand it. He'd never seen Sara afraid of anything, even with guns and knives shoved in her face, but she had seemed scared of Dr. Velasco. Scared in a psychological way, like a small child might be scared of an abusive parent.

The thought sent Jerry scrambling. He pushed open his door and ran to the building. The front door was now locked, the waiting room completely empty.

Sudden conviction that Sara was in trouble flooded through Jerry. He ran around to the side of the one-story, red-brick clinic, peeking in the first window he came to, staying as low as possible. An empty office. Jerry ran on the grass surrounding the building to the next window. Empty again. The blinds were drawn and the window closed, but he could still see enough of the room to know it wasn't the right one.

Distress inundated Jerry, telling him something was very, very wrong with Sara and he had to hurry. He ran to the next window and peeked in. Jackpot. Sara sat in a chair, her head dropped forward on her chest. Dr. Velasco stood only two feet from her, his hands on his hips, his back mostly to Jerry, his stance tense and angry. Jerry held his breath and watched, acidic outrage filling his gut. What was going on? Sara looked asleep almost, or hypnotized. Dr. Velasco looked as if he were lecturing her, or chewing her out. Jerry heard the tone of the man's voice and strained to hear the words through the glass.

Monster ... butcher of ... worse ... person ... you deserve .. die ... take your ... life .. tonight ... care how ...

Jerry straightened to his tiptoes and laid against the window, wanting to hear one complete sentence before he reacted. His heart thudded dully in his chest as he realized this man who was supposed to be helping Sara was poisoning her instead.

The words came more clearly now.

I don't care how you kill yourself, but make sure it's painful. However you killed my brother, that is how you should die.

Jerry pushed himself off from the window, looking around wildly for something, anything to break it with. All he could think of was stopping this horrible person from destroying his Sara anymore.

The lawn stretched green and empty, without even a stick to pick up. Jerry cocked back his fist, preparing to punch his way in, even as his mind screamed to him not to do it. He would be cut to ribbons if he broke the window and tried to enter that way.

Jerry said a prayer that Sara had a few short seconds and ran to the front of the building where a small, cement planter sat, filled with purple flowers. He snatched the planter up and heaved it through the floor-to-ceiling window at the front of the building. Glass sprayed everywhere as the noise shattered the quiet morning.

Jerry kicked out the remaining glass from the bottom of the window and rushed into the waiting room as Dr. Velasco peeked out the door of his office, his face alarmed. Jerry ran for him, bellowing out his hate and rage.