Game of Fear (19 page)

Mainframe: Grid C shuts down that corridor and C2 exit. Set timer for 10:30 p.m. Security bypass lasts thirty min. Get out. Get help. Justin and Dave going, too. Tomorrow night. 10:45 p.m. Don’t fail.

The main bathroom door slammed open. “What’s taking you so long? Do I need to come in there?”

“Sorry, my time of the month. Takes a little longer,” she lied, praying they wouldn’t check. Oh God, what if they did?

“That’s disgusting.” The guard slammed the door.

Ashley memorized the note, tore it into pieces, did her business, then flushed the toilet. They would escape and bring back help.

Thanks, Mop Boy Floyd.
She soaped her hands and rinsed them.
You’ll have your justice for Fletcher. These bastards will pay for everything they’ve done.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

D
EB STARED OUT
the front of
the SUV while Gabe drove back to Denver. She couldn’t block the images of Britney’s body from her mind, couldn’t stop the ache low in her gut at the thought of what her sister could be going through. But Ashley was a fighter. Like everyone else in their family. She’d do whatever it took to survive. Deb had to believe that.

Her phone buzzed, and just the sound caused her heart to lurch. She glanced at the number, then pressed her hand against her stomach. “Hello, Father.”

“What the hell is this BS that Ashley is missing?” Her father’s voice boomed out of the phone, no speakerphone needed. “I left her in your care. How can she be missing from a military academy? They barely let cadets off the grounds.”

She was afraid. She wanted to see me.

The truth hurt, so Deb settled for the facts.

“She was on her way back to the Academy. The police found the car she borrowed abandoned at a bus station.”

“Well, they damn well better find her, too.” Her father sounded every inch the general. “Tell me what happened!”

Deb forced her voice to remain steady. She recognized his rage and didn’t want to push it. She might be called the Admiral, but, because of his volatile temper, he was often referred to as
The Bastard General
, among other, less polite things. The name fit.

She gave her father the facts, just the facts, including the discovery of Britney’s body.

“This girl played some stupid game with the same kids as Ashley and now she’s dead?” he barked. “What the hell is going on over there?”

Deb held the phone away from her ear. “Gabe suspects all four members of Ashley’s team are missing.”

“Who’s Gabe? He the Homicide detective?”

How did she explain Gabe? What he’d meant to her efforts. Without him, the police would still think Ashley had run away. She chanced a glance his way. His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. He met her gaze, offering with his eyes to step in. She shook her head and shifted away from him, staring out the passenger-side window.

“He’s someone . . . helping me with the investigation.”

“I caught that hesitation. You two shacking up or something?”

She wished. The thought whizzed through her head and she cleared her throat. “No.”

“Good. I don’t need you screwing around while your sister’s missing. You find her. You hear me?” Disdain laced every word.

“I’m doing the best I can, Father.”

“Yeah, well, we both know that your best isn’t always good enough.”

The pain came too swift, like a dagger buried deep. She didn’t need the reminder. Memories of the soldier crying out to her to bring the helicopter back peppered her mind. His name. Tate Tinsley. He’d had a mother, a father, two sisters, and a brother. A wife and three kids.

She couldn’t speak, just gripped the phone tighter.

Gabe reached across the seat and grabbed her free hand. He threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed. Half of her wanted to pull away and curl up in a tiny ball. The other half wanted to hand him the phone.

She resisted both.

“The Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office has a detective on the case.” She struggled with each word. “They’re working with the Colorado Springs Police Department. They’re doing everything they can.”

“They could always do more. I’m stuck in Afghanistan, Deborah. Can’t get leave.”

Code for something big was going on—more important than his family.

“You keep your mind on your business. Stay after them. Stay in their face. And don’t screw up again.”

Her father ended the call.

Deb lowered the phone from her ear, the cell slipping from her shaking hand.

She looked over at Gabe, then down at their entwined hands. He squeezed hers tight, and she let him. She just prayed he didn’t ask her to explain.

Even out the corner of his eye, Gabe could see her taking her father’s words inside. He would love to reach through the phone and pound some sense into the SOB. The guy seemed to relish cutting Deb down—and somehow Gabe knew it wasn’t because the General was worried about Ashley.

Gnawing on how to comfort her, Gabe turned the corner and headed the SUV back to his place. What could he say? “Your father—”

“Don’t,” Deb said quietly. “Don’t say anything.” She stared down at her hands and didn’t say a word. “He is what he is.”

“You know he’s wrong.”

“Is he?” Deb leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. “It’s my fault she’s out there. She’s my responsibility and no one else’s.”

“We’re going to find her.” Even to himself the words sounded too pat. They were far from locating Ashley.

They both knew it. And neither wanted to admit it.

She tilted her head to the side and opened bloodshot eyes. The bruise had worsened, but that wasn’t what worried Gabe. Fatigue and something more frightening marred her expression. She looked . . . defeated.

“I want to believe you, but sometimes things just don’t work out. Sometimes the good guys don’t win. Britney Saunders didn’t win. Those missing kids, none of them won.”

He couldn’t argue with her. He took the last turn onto his street.

He slammed on the brakes and let out a loud curse.

Deb jerked up. “What’s going on?”

Flashing lights and squad cars surrounded his house and the back of Sammy’s Bar. Cops milled around everywhere.

“It’s obviously not good.” Gabe pulled his vehicle into one of the few empty spots. He twisted in his seat to face Deb. “Look, I don’t know what happened here, but you don’t have to stay. Why don’t you take the SUV home?”

She unbuckled her seat belt. “Sure, you’ve stood beside me and you think I’m walking away now. Don’t even suggest it.”

“Whatever happened here isn’t about you or Ashley,” Gabe said, searching the crowd for some sign. Where were his brothers? God, if anything happened to Zach or Luke, he’d never forgive himself. Where was Hawk? His arm rested on the back of the seat. “This is about a job I need to finish. I must have been careless, and I don’t want to endanger you.”

She met his gaze head-on. “I took down a pervert cop today on my own. I think I can handle whatever comes my way. You can argue with me some more, or we can just get out of the car and see for ourselves.”

Certain they were making a mistake, but knowing Deb’s picture would likely be in the dictionary next to the word
stubborn
, he stepped out of his SUV. When his bum leg hit the asphalt, he landed wrong and fought against a groan. Most of the time, the thing held him up, but occasionally it would buckle. Three flights of stairs and hiking the hills today hadn’t helped.

With the audience, he let himself stumble to stay in character, but in reality he searched in desperation through the crowd for his brothers and Hawk. Face after face, and he couldn’t find them. A stone settled in the bit of his stomach.

Finally a tall, brown-haired head caught his attention. Luke.

Thank God.

Hawk followed behind him.

Luke raised a hand and raced over. “Where have you been? We’ve been trying to contact you.” He grabbed Gabe and hugged him tight and hard.

Confused at the intensity of his brother’s embrace, Gabe patted his brother’s back and met Jazz’s gaze over his brother’s shoulder. “Sorry. Detective Wexler put my cell phone into evidence. Long story. I picked up a new one. Same number. It’s charging. What’s wrong?”

Hawk raised an eyebrow as if the guy could read much more into the story than that. There was, but Gabe was used to Hawk’s skepticism. Hawk didn’t trust anything or anyone.

“Next time you get rid of your phone, tell someone,” Luke said, his voice a bit rough. “We couldn’t keep the news from Mom, she heard it on John’s police radio. She’s freaking, worried it’s your hand hanging from the porch.”

“What?” Deb gasped. “Is it—”

“Britney’s,” Gabe finished. “I hope not.”

Deb shifted her stance and a spotlight bathed her face in harsh light. Gabe winced at the discoloration.

“What the hell?” Luke said. “What happened?” He whipped around to Gabe. “What’s going on?”

“Some men don’t know how to stay down.” Deb pressed gently at the bruise. “I’m fine.”

She shrugged in that way Gabe had come to appreciate on the one hand and be irritated by on the other. She shoved aside what made her uncomfortable and moved on, never letting anything fester.

Except Ashley, of course.

“We have more important things to deal with than a little bruise. Can you take us to the . . . hand?”

“Sure,” Luke said, and led the four of them through the crowd to the front stoop of Gabe’s house.

A bloody hand dangled from a long string fastened to the underside of the porch roof. Someone had positioned it exactly right. Anyone walking past would see it.

“Who would have done something like this?” Deb asked. “It’s barbaric.”

Gasmerati was getting desperate. Gabe glanced over at Deb. Menken’s attack. His connection to Tower. He had to get Deb away from this place.

Just as he opened his mouth to suggest she leave, the medical examiner’s vehicle pulled into the lot. A woman dressed in black pants and a black jacket exited the van, her entire body stiff as she glanced around at the bunch of looky-loos. She dismissed them and pulled out a large case. She opened it, snapped on latex gloves, and grabbed a camera.

“Leah Hanson,” Luke said quietly. “The new coroner. A bit of controversy when she won the election out of nowhere. Now she’s in charge of a bunch of guys who’ve been at the ME’s office a couple of decades. Went over real well.”

Gabe noticed that Hawk’s interest had certainly piqued with the new arrival. He checked her out a little more thoroughly as she contorted to take several photos of the porch.

“Stop gawking,” Gabe snapped. “She’s examining a severed hand. No lusting allowed. That’s just sick.”

Hawk just shrugged. “Different strokes. You’ve got this covered. I’ll be in the bar. Zach can’t handle it on his own much longer.” He sent Deb a pointed look. “You be careful. And let me know if you need me to send a less-than-subtle message to the guy who did that to your face.”

He crossed the parking lot and vanished into the back of the bar.

“I’m afraid to ask,” Deb said.

“He wasn’t kidding,” Gabe said. “Hawk’s got a thing about women and children getting hit.”

“Just like I have a thing for people cutting off heads . . . and hands?” Deb took a step toward the gruesome scene, but a deputy stopped her. She scowled at him and the guy blanched at her expression. Gabe had to admit she really could be fierce when she wanted to.

After Dr. Hanson finally grabbed an evidence bag and moved over to cut down the hand, a small growl sounded from Deb.

Her gaze had narrowed in fury. “Is it Britney’s?”

“I can’t tell. It’s not very big, though.”

Luke’s cell rang. He glanced at the screen and grimaced. “I should let you take this.” He scowled at Gabe. With a deep breath, Luke answered the call. “He’s okay, Mom. Promise.” He placed his hand over the mouthpiece and glared at Gabe. “You didn’t make any friends by disappearing for several hours,” he whispered and handed Gabe the phone.

“Gabriel Francis, where have you been?” His mother’s voice choked around the question.

“I’m okay, Mom. Promise.”

He fielded her questions as best he could. The last thing he’d wanted to do was to hurt her, but he’d known Luke and Jazz would be at risk. He’d had to do something.

He finally got off the phone. “She’s upset.”

“You think?” Luke taunted. “Who wouldn’t be? By the way, Ernie called me earlier. Also upset you weren’t around. I was his last resort. He said he needed help. He also said something weird. He told me to tell you to look in Idaho.”

“What the hell is in Idaho?”

“I don’t know. He sounded pretty out of it, babbling a bit. He just kept asking where you were. He sounded frantic, but he wouldn’t stay on the line. That’s all I got.”

Gabe looked at the forensics techs taking samples on the porch. A chill pierced his nerves.
Ernie had called. He needed help.

Which meant he wasn’t in hiding.

Please don’t let that hand be his.

“You got a minute, Gabe?” Neil Wexler walked over, his notebook in his hand.

“Yeah. You get around, Detective.”

“And you’re at the center of too much chaos . . . not to mention severed limbs. Any ideas on this? It may not be a homicide yet, but I get nervous when body parts show up.”

“The girl?”

Deb and Luke leaned in to listen.

Neil shook his head. “It’s not Britney’s hand. Definitely a male, but a small guy. According to Dr. Hanson, it’s pretty bruised. Some of the fingers look like they may have been broken and not reset correctly.”

Gabe swore under his breath. “I think I know. Check AFIS for fingerprints for Ernest Rattori, aka Ernie the Rat. He’s from around here, and he definitely has a file.”

“You know him, don’t you?” Neil asked. “I’ve seen him lurking around outside the bar a time or two.”

Gabe scanned his surroundings, then lowered his voice. Ernie had gotten careless if Neil had noticed him. “He’s a snitch.”