Heartwood (31 page)

I came across several police reports marked as deleted. I got up to ask the techs about that. The three of them exchanged a glance and then snickered.

“Once it’s on the system it is never really deleted, sir,” Crypt told me. “Well in rare occasions the truly paranoid, and the military, actually overwrite the information. But with the right software you can get almost anything.”

The deleted files were from multiple police departments all from the area where Draven grew up. Amongst his infractions were assaults against two high school girlfriends, attacks on total strangers, and two cases of arson he was a suspect in. It was mind boggling how much shit the prick had gotten away with. No wonder he had an over developed sense of entitlement.

When I was done with the police reports, I found some emails between Draven and his brother. His brother told Draven that his divorce was bad for business and an embarrassment to the family. He went on to say that Draven should ‘man up’ and take care of that backwater bitch before it got any worse. Draven had down played the split with Molly and said that she was out of town and no longer an issue. But the wording in his brother’s email was ominous, like he’d been expecting a more permanent solution. Maybe this sort of evil shit ran in the family.

“How the fuck did this bastard get out of prison without us knowing? Shouldn’t we have been notified?” I sounded haughty, and in that instance I was struck at how much I sounded like my father.

“According to the file, they tried to reach your wife, but her number was no longer in service. When he skipped his first parole hearing the records show they tried calling again to advise her.” Zip explained, and I sighed dragging a hand through my hair. Molly had already changed her number after Draven used her old one to stalk her. Then Elaine started calling about the custody battle and I’d pushed her to do it again.

“Basically, it was the typical lack of follow through you can expect from a civil servant. There’s a reason people say ‘close enough for government work’.” Crypt interjected. Zip snorted and paused long enough in his assault on the keyboard to fist bump Crypt. I glared at them both for their flippant attitude.

“You think any of this is funny? This is my fucking wife we’re talking about here.” I snapped, and they paused in their typing with fading smiles. My father put his arm around me and led me away.

“They’re idiot savants,” he soothed me. “Their total lack of social skills is part of the reason they’re the best at what they do.”

My anger drained away, taking most of my energy with it. What was left of my resolve was crumbling and I wanted to fall to pieces. I tried hard to get back into the files, but my head was killing me and I needed to see Eva.

I told Dad I was leaving and he had one of his men give me a ride home. Walking in the door, I saw Mac sitting on the couch. He was watching the news, but switched it off the minute he noticed me. I knew what he’d been up to...heck, I’d been guilty of it myself. I’d spent several hours over the last few days watching the constant news coverage, but seeing the looping slideshow of Molly and Logan’s photographs became more than I could stomach.

Mac looked like complete and utter shit. We simply nodded at one another without a word. I was about to leave the room when he spoke in a hoarse voice.

“A package came yesterday.”

“Where is it?” I asked, thinking maybe it was some sort of ‘fuck you’ taunt from Draven.

“Right there. Leaning against the wall.” He replied. I picked up the large slender square and looked at the address that had shipped it.

San Jose del Cabo, Mexico.

I knew immediately that it was Molly’s painting.

I sat it down without opening it. For a full minute, I fought back a tidal wave of nausea. I choked it back and went to Eva’s room.

Tamryn was asleep in the corner rocker when I came in. Eva was asleep in the crib sucking her thumb. Placing my hand gently on her belly, I simply watched her sleep. Her free hand came up and wrapped around my thumb. I stood there for almost an hour, unable to take my eyes off of her. I would have stayed longer, but the pain of standing in one place for so long became too much to take.

I took a hot shower and tried to get some sleep. It was pointless; every time my eyes closed, horrors swam up out of my mind. I rolled onto Molly’s side of the bed and pulled her pillow to my face. I breathed in the scent of oranges that still lingered on it. The familiar scent was overwhelming and I was glad I had the pillow over my face so that no one could hear me break down.

When I wandered out into the living room around 1 a.m., Mac was changing the locks. I opened my mouth, but stopped and waved to him. He nodded, his cigarette gripped between his teeth. I turned, grabbed the painting, and went back into our bedroom. I ripped it open and the sight of the colorful dessert scene stung like rubbing alcohol in an open gash. I pulled down the picture that hung on Molly’s side of the bed and put her painting in its place.

Once again, I climbed into bed. If Dad did find them, I’d be useless without some kind of rest. As I drifted off surrounded by the scent of her shampoo, I focused tiredly on the picture.

“I hung it where you wanted it, Molly.” I croaked. “Now please come home.”

I must have passed out for a few short hours, but by the time light peeked up over the horizon, I had gone in search of coffee. Eva woke up so I fed and changed her. She seemed glad to see me, though the complex look on her tiny face made me wonder if she knew something was wrong. I tried to put her down for some tummy time, but she protested. I tried the swing, but she didn’t want to be put down. So I kept her close and she cuddled up with me on the couch until Tamryn came in from the kitchen with a cup of coffee. Then she reached out for her Aunt.

“You going back out with Dad today?” Tamryn’s bloodshot eyes and wild hair made her look far older than she was. I was sure I looked like shit, too.

“Yeah. I was just about to head that way. Tamz...thanks for—.” She nodded and put her hand on top of mine.

“Go do what you need to do, JoJo.”

I jumped in my truck and drove down to Dad’s HQ. When I walked in, the techs were all huddled around one computer jabbering excitedly. Dad was standing next to them and waved me over.

“Okay, play the sequence again,” he said to Zip.

The hacker clicked a few buttons and the main screen started showing video. The first video clip was only a few seconds. It showed Molly driving and Draven in the passenger seat holding Logan in his arms. Then there were traffic cameras, side views, long views, short views. Some camera shots were blurry and others were intensely crisp. Zip gave a running commentary as the images unspooled.

“Okay, we start off with the traffic camera at the intersection near the house. This next camera is a red light camera three streets over. Then we have a weather camera on the interstate. Here they exit the interstate and we have footage from an ATM, then a security camera from a grocery store, next a home security camera. The last camera is near the outskirts of Webberville. They are on a road heading roughly north. Based on the time limits we are working under and the cameras on all available roads beyond this point they will be somewhere in a two to four mile radius.”

“That is still of a hell of a lot of countryside to search,” my father said gruffly.

“Yes, it is sir,” Phantom piped up. “And that is making the assumption that they didn’t switch vehicles. Luckily, we have some additional data. This morning we managed to break through a few foreign firewalls. My Trojan program gave us what we needed. According to the files, we have three shell companies that have been used to buy property in this area.”

“Any tied to Cirone,” my father asked.

“Not as yet, sir,” Zip said. He had returned to his keyboard and was typing furiously. “The shell companies are leading to other companies but I have to back track a bit. Whoever set these up did an impressive job. If Phantom’s program hadn’t punched a hole in the bank’s security, we would have hit a dead end. Now, I’m running the raw data though a cypher program. The bank uses a unique code system to further protect their customers. It will take me some time.”

“Good work. I’m going to go talk options with Alpha team. Let me know when you have something more.”

He walked away but I couldn’t take my eyes off the video of Molly on the screen. Part of me worried that it might be the last time I would see her alive. I wanted to smash the monitor, to break everything in the room...everyone in the room. Turning on my heel, I walked back toward the door and stood by myself. I felt like I was going to lose my grip soon. I was honestly surprised I had managed to hold it together this long.

A hand tapped my shoulder and I whirled ready to rip someone a new ass. The wary face of Dr. Greene was standing a noticeable few feet away. He had tapped me and stepped back. Fault the doc on some things, but he was no fool.

“Hey, Joe.”

“Doc...what are you doing here?” The tone set his eyebrows skyward. It was a bit harsh but I was clinging tenaciously to my calm and surprises were not helpful.

“I told you I wanted to help and you told me to go home. I respect your feelings on that. But your father contacted me and asked if the offer was still open. He said he had need of my expertise.”

I glared across the room at my father. It was typical bullshit for him to do something invasive like taking liberties with my psychologist. Striding over to him with Dr. Greene in my wake, I leaned on the conference table, which gave a noticeable creak. The air of menace I had hanging around me set the other security men on edge. Only Seth and my father seemed at ease.

“Do you want to explain to me why you called Dr. Greene here?” I growled the words out with barely contained rage.

“Absolutely. Doctor, thank you for coming. I have some files I needed you to look over.” Grabbing two big red binders off the table he slid them in front of the doc and motioned him to sit.

Dr. Greene sat and opened the first folder, a look of curiosity on his face. A moment later he looked up in abject horror.

“Where did you get these?” My father gestured at the techs on the other side of the room. “You hacked them? I can’t look at these! It’s unethical.” Dr. Greene looked like he was turning...well...green.

“Doctor, the ethics of this situation are a bit murky. Those files contain valuable insight into a very disturbed individual.” My dad paused, letting those words sink in. “The life of a wonderful young woman and a baby boy hang in the balance. Are those lives less important than one patient’s confidentiality?”

Dr. Greene looked back and forth between my father and I. Looking down at the folder he shook his head.

“I’ll do it. What are you hoping to find?”

“Anything that will help us find him doctor. And when we do find him we need to know how to deal with him.” I turned and stalked to the far side of the room, fighting to keep my anger from boiling over. I had nowhere appropriate to direct it, and I was afraid I’d offend someone who was trying to help me.

It was all just too fucking much. The footage of that motherfucker holding my son would haunt my dreams. And Molly...I’d never seen her look so stricken. The one thing that kept ringing through my head over and over was what the FBI agent had said about the first 48 hours and their chances.

Three hours later, I was watching the footage of Molly again. Zip had cleaned it up for me. Her face looked wounded, and I was fantasizing about what I’d do to Draven if he’d injured her in any way. I was getting pretty Guantanamo Bay in my head when Dr. Greene gave a hysterical high pitched laugh.

“Do you all know how illegal it is for me to have this file?” He whipped off his glasses and shook his head.

My father walked over and sat next to him.

“What can you tell us doctor?” Dad asked, his tone all business.

Dr. Greene gestured to pages he had spread out on the table in front of him.

“Well, Draven Cirone is one messed up individual: Narcissistic tendencies, self- esteem issues stemming from abuse from his mother and siblings after his father died. Youngest child syndrome combined with what sounds like a personality disorder. It’s obvious from the notes of his sessions that he was attempting recovery before he met Molly and he was devastated by her loss. He seemed ambivalent about his second divorce; however, losing his son took him down a dangerous path. His obsession to get his child back, no matter the cost, left him on fragile mental ground.”

“Poor fucking baby,” I growled. The doc ignored me and went on.

“There are files here from three different doctors. One when he was young, another when he was in college and the prison appointed doctor. From his notes, I doubt the last doctor even read the patient file. He probably was more than happy to let Mr. Cirone tell him what he needed to hear to clear him. When you see the entire picture, it’s chilling: severe Narcissistic Personality Disorder, massive abandonment issues, propensity to violence, highly intelligent but very unstable. If I had been treating him, I would have recommended that he be institutionalized for a long, long time.”