Scream for Me (48 page)

She said it so matter-of-factly, while Daniel’s temper boiled. “Sonofabitch,” he said through clenched teeth, and she rubbed his hand. “Safe-deposit box?”

“If Rob Davis knows, he’s not saying. Garth has lawyered up. Eventually they may give some answers, but it’ll be in exchange for favor with the SA’s office.”

“Hatton?”

She smiled. “He’s going to be okay. He might not come back as a field agent any time soon, but he’ll live. He said he was close enough to retirement anyway.”

“Crighton?” he asked, and her smile faded.

“They found his bloody prints in Sister Anne’s room, in her blood, so they have enough to arrest him for her murder. Chase has told me that if Craig doesn’t confess, we can’t get him for killing my mother or for conspiring to hide a crime with Wade.”

“The pills you took?”

“I may never know. I don’t plan to beg him for an answer.”

“Have you seen him?”

She tensed. “No.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said. She relaxed, and he knew she’d been afraid to go alone.

“Bailey thinks he and Wade forced me to take the pills, based on some things Wade said back then, but we have nothing definitive.”

“Bailey’s awake?”

She nodded. “I’ve been hospital-room-hopping,” she said with a little smile. “You and Bailey and Beardsley and Hatton and the girl Bailey saved. Bailey said that the one thing she did remember about the night Alicia died is that Alicia put something in my soup at lunch to make me sick. She knew she was going to a party that night and she didn’t want me tagging along. She was still mad at me about the tattoo and telling the teachers about our switching for tests. Her being pissed probably saved my life.”

He tightened his hold on her hand. “Hope?”

“She knows Bailey is alive, but hasn’t seen her yet. Bailey still looks bad. Daniel, Granville injected Bailey with heroin to get her to talk.” Alex’s voice trembled. “She’d been clean for five years. Now she has to go through all that again. He was a doctor.”

“He was a cruel bastard.” Daniel forced out the words.

She sighed. “That, too. Bailey was having an affair with Garth, but it’s not clear if he knew Manfield and Granville had kidnapped her or not. Like I said, Garth has lawyered up. Luke’s been trying to question him, but so far Garth’s not talking. That’s pretty much it.”

“Suze?”

“She’s still here. She’s been sitting with you and Jane Doe.” When he lifted a brow, she added, “The girl Bailey helped. We don’t know her name. Daniel, I’ve been thinking.”

A wave of dread filled him. Then he brushed it away. She might leave eventually, but she wouldn’t leave him now. Of that he was confident. “About?”

“You. Me. Bailey and Hope. You’re going to be fine when you get out, but Bailey . . . she’s got a long road to walk. She’ll need help with Hope.”

“Where?” he asked.

“Here. Her friends are here. I’m not going to take her away from all that. I’m going to stay here. I’ll need to find a house for me and Bailey and Hope, but—”

“No,” he rasped. “You stay with me.”

“But I’ll need to watch Hope while Bailey goes into rehab.”

“You stay with me,” he repeated. “Hope stays with us. Bailey can live with us as long as she needs to.” He started to cough and she put a cup of water to his lips.

“Slow,” she ordered when he would have gulped. “Just a little sip.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He lay back and met her eyes. “You stay with me.”

She smiled. “Yes, sir.”

He didn’t drop his gaze. “I meant what I said, back there.”

She didn’t falter. “So did I.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good.”

She pressed her lips to his forehead. “Now you know everything you need to know. Stop talking and go to sleep. I’ll be back later.”

Atlanta, Saturday, February 3, 12:30 p.m.

“Bailey.”

Her eyelids fluttered at the familiar voice and her heart sank. She was back
there
. Getting away had been just a dream. Then she felt the softness of the bed beneath her back and knew the nightmare was over. One of them anyway. Her addiction nightmare had started up all over again.

“Bailey.”

She forced her eyes open and her heart stuttered. “Beardsley.” He sat in a wheelchair next to her bed. He was clean now. Bruised, with a big gash on the side of his face, but clean. His hair was sandy brown, cut army-short. He had strong cheekbones and a sturdy jaw. His eyes were brown and warm, like she remembered. His lips were cracked, but firm and proportioned. Everything about him was firm and proportioned. “I thought you died,” she whispered.

He smiled. “No. I’m a little tougher than that.”

She could believe that. He was truly wider than three of her. “I saw Alex.”

“Me, too. She’s been making the rounds, checking on us. You have a very strong stepsister, Bailey. And she has a strong stepsister, too.”

His compliment warmed her. “You saved my life. How can I thank you?”

He lifted his sandy brows. “We’ll come back to that later. How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been held prisoner for a week.”

Again he smiled. “You did good, Bailey. You should be proud of yourself.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“I know what I’ve seen you do.”

She swallowed. “I’ve done terrible things.”

“You mean the drugs?”

“And other things.” Her lips curved sadly. “I am not a girl you’d take home to Mother.”

“You mean because you were a prostitute and had affairs?”

She opened her eyes, stunned. “You knew?”

“Yes. Wade told me about you before he died. He was so proud that you’d turned your life around.”

“Thank you.”

“Bailey, you aren’t understanding me. I know. I just don’t care.”

She met his warm eyes, nervous again. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know yet. But I want to find out. We weren’t thrown together for no reason and I want you to know that I’m not going to walk away now that that phase is done.”

She didn’t know what to say. “I have to go back into rehab.”

His brown eyes flashed anger. “And for that I’d gladly kill him again.”

“Beardsley, he . . .” The word stuck in her throat.

He clenched his jaw, but when he spoke, his voice was gentle. “I know that, too. Bailey, you walked through that door today on your own two feet. Don’t look back.”

She closed her eyes and felt the tears seep down her face. “I don’t even know your first name.”

He covered her hand with his. “Ryan. Captain Ryan Beardsley, U.S. Army. Ma’am.”

Her lips quivered up into a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Ryan. Is this where we say it’s the start of a beautiful friendship?”

He smiled back. “Isn’t that the best place to start?” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Now sleep. And don’t worry. As soon as you’re ready, they’re going to bring Hope to see you. I’d like to meet her, too, when you’re comfortable letting me.”

Atlanta, Saturday, February 3, 2:45 p.m.

“How is the girl?”

Susannah didn’t need to look to know Luke Papadopoulos was standing behind her. “She woke up for a little while, but slipped back under. I suppose it’s her way of dodging the pain for a while.”

Luke came into the little ICU room and pulled up the other chair. “Did she say anything when she woke up?”

“No. She just looked at me like I was God or something.”

“You brought her out of the woods.”

“I didn’t do anything.” She swallowed. Truer words had never been spoken.

“Susannah. You did not cause this.”

“I don’t happen to agree.”

“Talk to me.”

She turned to look at him. He had the darkest eyes she’d ever seen, blacker than night. And right now they seethed with turbulent emotion. But the rest of his face was composed. He could have been a statue for all the emotion she saw on his face. “Why?”

“Because . . .” He lifted a shoulder. “Because I want to know.”

One side of her mouth lifted in what she knew had been labeled a sneer by many. “You want to know what, Agent Papadopoulos?”

“Why you think this is your fault.”

“Because I knew,” she said flatly. “I knew and I said nothing.”

“What did you know?” he asked rationally.

She looked away, fixing her gaze on the girl with no name. Who’d looked at her like she was God. “I knew Simon was a rapist.”

“I thought Simon didn’t do any of the rapes, that he only took the pictures.”

She remembered the picture Simon showed her. “He did at least one.”

She heard Luke’s indrawn breath. “Did you tell Daniel?”

She whipped around to glare at him. “No. And neither will you.”

There was a fury within her. It boiled and bubbled and threatened to escape every day of her life. She knew what she had done, and what she had not. Daniel had seen only a glimpse of pictures in which no rapists were identifiable. She could not say the same. “I only know that if I’d said something, this might have been avoided.” She ran her hand lightly over the rail on the hospital bed. “She might not be here right now in this hospital.”

Luke was quiet for a very long time, and together they sat watching the girl breathe, thinking their own thoughts. Susannah could respect a man who knew when to respect the quiet. Finally he spoke. “I recognized one of the bodies back there.”

She turned to look at him again, stunned. “How?”

“From a case I was working eight months ago.” A muscle twitched in his cheek. “I failed to protect that girl. I failed to bring a sexual sadist that preyed on children to justice. I want another bite at the apple.”

She studied his face, the set of his mouth. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a more serious man. “Granville’s dead.”

“But there’s another. Someone who was pulling the strings. Someone who taught Granville how to be very good at his job. I want him.” He turned to meet her eyes and she nearly backed away from the power that emanated from him. “I want to throw him into hell and throw away the key.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I think you want the same thing.”

She turned back to Jane Doe, the rage inside her bubbling higher. Rage at Simon, at Granville, at this mysterious whoever . . . and at herself. Then, she’d done nothing. As of today, that changed. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll call you when I do.” He got up. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not telling Daniel about Simon.”

She looked up at him. “Thank you for respecting my decision.”

They held each other’s eyes for a long moment. Then Luke Papadopoulos gave her a nod and walked away. Susannah turned back to the girl with no name.

And saw herself.

Atlanta, Monday, February 5, 10:45 a.m.

It had been three days since Mansfield had shot Daniel, sending the dominoes toppling. It had been three days since Alex had killed a man and watched two more die before her eyes, and it still hadn’t sunk in. Or maybe she just wasn’t sorry.

Alex was leaning toward the second one.

She pushed Daniel’s wheelchair through the doorway at the justice center into the small room where their meeting was to take place. “This is a waste of time, Daniel.”

Daniel pushed himself from the chair and walked to the table on his own two feet. He was thinner and still pale, but recovering well. He pulled her chair out, then sat next to her. “Humor me. You might not think you need closure, but I do.”

She stared at the wall. “I don’t want to see him.”

“Why?”

She moved her shoulders, uneasy. “I’ve got things to do, productive things. Like getting Bailey into rehab and getting Hope to preschool every day and finding a job.”

“All very important things,” he agreed affably. “So what’s the real reason?”

She turned to glare at him, but the tenderness in his eyes made her swallow hard. “I killed a man,” she murmured.

“You’re not feeling guilty about Mansfield.” It was more statement than question.

“No. The opposite, actually. I’m glad I killed him. I felt . . .”

“Powerful?” he supplied, and she nodded.

“Yeah, I guess that’s it. Like for that moment I was in charge and fixing something that had gone horribly wrong with the universe.”

“You did. But that scares you.”

“Yes, it scares me. I can’t go around shooting people, Daniel. Craig won’t talk to me and I’m going to feel helpless. I’ll wish I could shoot him, too, and I can’t.”

“Welcome to my world,” Daniel said with a wry smile. “But avoiding him isn’t the answer, honey. All avoiding the truth got you was screams and bad dreams.”

She wanted to argue, but knew he was right. Then forgot about arguing when the door opened and a guard led Craig Crighton into the room, his arms and legs shackled. The guard pushed Craig into a chair, chains jangling.