Torn (12 page)

Right, she'd said that Kennedy had been in the ground for two years and . . .
fucking sonofabitch.
“He tortured her for three years before killing her?” Wade demanded. “Three years?”

“I believe so.” Her voice was barely a whisper now. “He kept her alive and he kept hurting her, until two years ago.”

“Christ.” Dace closed his eyes. “We gave up on her. We just
gave up on her.
And she was out there. All that time.” He spun on his heel and walked away. He'd tucked the file under his arm as he took angry fast steps, and then he slammed his fist into the nearest wall.

Wade knew just how the guy felt. When he and Gabe had finally found Amy, when they realized that she'd been alive.
If we'd only fucking got to her sooner . . .
The guilt had nearly consumed him.

He saw Victoria blink quickly and look away from the detective. “There is more.”

“I don't think I want to hear any
more
right now.” Dace slapped his hand against the wall and leaned forward. “Alive. For three years. And we were barely searching for her. No one was looking while that sick prick took his time with her and he just—­”

“He has another victim.” Victoria's words were low but they seemed to echo like a scream in that hallway.

From the corner of his eye Wade saw Dace's head whip up. “Say again?”

But it was Eleanor who spoke. “I told you, her hunches are dead on.”

Wrong choice of words there, Doc.

“The hair shouldn't have been there. Not after the body had been in the ground and exposed so much that—­” Victoria sucked in a sharp breath. “The condition was too good. And the color was
wrong.
Kennedy's hair wasn't blond like that, it was much darker. Blond hair that shade—­” Her gaze darted to Wade's.

Fuck me.
“Melissa Hastings.”

She nodded. “Eleanor pulled a lot of strings and got a rush comparison for us. It's still tentative, because there are more tests that have to be done and those tests take one hell of a lot of time. But the markers are there so far. They're matching. I think . . . I think that hair belongs to Melissa. I think the man who took her also took Kennedy, and . . . he wanted us to know.
That's
why he left the hair there. He wanted us to know exactly what he'd done.”

He took another woman.

“If he kept Kennedy alive,” Wade said, his muscles tightening, “then he'll keep Melissa alive, too.” They just had to find her in time.

“Let's see if my captain stops us from putting out that full-­scale search now,” Dace said, then he ran down the hallway.

Victoria didn't move.

Neither did Wade, not yet.

“I'll, um, fax our results to his captain. That should help things along,” Eleanor said as she backed into her office.

Then they were alone. Dace's pounding footsteps had faded away. Wade closed in on Victoria. He had the odd feeling that if he moved too fast, he'd spook her. “Are you okay?”

She blinked, three times, too fast. “Of course. I—­I was just doing my job. An exam on remains, nothing more.” A faint and ever-­so-­vacant smile curled her lips. One that didn't even come close to reaching her eyes. “I'd better go after Dace—­I mean, Detective Black. I can talk to his captain and assure him that even though my findings on the hair are preliminary, they—­”

“Don't bullshit with me.”

Her smile wavered.

“She isn't remains. Not to you. None of them are. They are always more. They're people. They're victims. They matter.”

Her long lashes swept down and a lone tear slid down her cheek. “She suffered so much, Wade. So much.”

“We're going to get the bastard.”

She shook her head. “That's not our job. We find the missing. We aren't supposed to hunt the killers.”

“If you believe that, then I don't think you fully grasp the reason why Gabe brought me and Dean on board with LOST so early.”

A faint furrow appeared between her brows.

“I was a homicide detective, love.” The tender endearment slipped out. A tell he'd have to watch. “Dean was violent crimes with the FBI. Sure, Gabe might give some lip service to just finding the missing, but he wants
justice
for them. He wanted justice for his sister, and he got it, even though the price was fucking high.” He clamped his lips together because the end for the bastard who'd taken Amy—­that was one secret he'd carried for a long time. He'd backed Gabe up during those dark times and crossed a line that had made him turn in his badge.

Because when I lied—­under oath—­there was no going back for me.

“Justice.” A shiver slid over her. “I want Kennedy to have justice.”

So did he. “And Kennedy isn't the only victim. We can find Melissa. We can bring her back.”

The faintest flicker of hope lit Victoria's gaze.

“We
will
bring her back,” Wade said. Because he didn't want to lose another victim. And he sure as hell didn't want to think that Melissa Hastings would be trapped for years, used as a sick bastard's torture toy.

H
ER RIGHT WRIST
slid out of the rope. At first Melissa was so stunned that she actually froze. Her fingers were nearly numb, there was so much blood, but—­

My hand is out.

She started shaking her fingers, trying to get the feeling back into them, and then she reached for her left hand. She'd get the knot untied and then she'd get the hell out of there. She would not give up. She
would
escape.

She worked faster, harder, her fingers desperate on the ropes. She had to be free before he came inside. She didn't even know who
he
was but . . .

But I know he'll hurt me.

The knot slipped beneath her bloody fingers, ­loosening . . .

CHAPTER SEVEN

V
ICTORIA HURRIED TOWARD
Police Captain Harry Vann's office. He was on board—­fully now, according to Dace—­with the search for Melissa. He wanted to put every available resource into her search. There was hope. And Victoria was both elated and terrified.

What if we can't find her? What if we just keep knowing she's out there and that he's hurting her? And the years pass right by . . .

The muscles in her back had knotted from spending so many long hours examining the remains. She'd wanted to be as thorough as possible, and the daylight hours had slipped away. A glance through the window showed her night loomed, and the sight of the darkness made her shiver.

Her phone rang, the sharp cry jarring her to a stop. Unlike Wade, she didn't have some cool, rough music ring tone that played when her phone rang. It was just a normal beep. High and long. She automatically yanked out the phone, but she didn't recognize the number on the screen. Victoria started to ignore the call, because she was so intent on going to talk with the captain, but some instinct nagged at her, and she put the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

A rush of air—­as if someone had just taken a sharp breath.

“Hello?” Victoria repeated again, her fingers tightening on the phone.

“You found her.” The voice was low and rasping. She had to strain to hear the man's words. “You found Kennedy.”

Goose bumps rose onto her flesh. “Who is this?” Her gaze darted around the hallway. Wade was up ahead, already in the captain's office. Dace was with him. She took a tentative step forward.

“I'm the man who knows . . . all your secrets.”

Her goose bumps were getting worse. “I doubt that.”

He laughed. “Death can be so cruel, can't it? Taking away beauty. Leaving only . . . bones in its place.”

Now she wasn't creeping down that hallway. She was full-­out running toward the captain's office. Wade saw her coming and surged forward, frowning.

With her eyes wide and—­no doubt—­desperate, she pointed to the phone.
Him.
Victoria mouthed her fear. Her certainty.
It's him.

Wade's eyes narrowed. Behind him, the captain pushed to his feet. “What's going on?”

A killer. I think the killer just called me.

“Did you study her bones?” that rasping voice wanted to know. “Did you see the marks I left on her?”

Oh, Jesus. He'd just confirmed her fears. She was talking to the man who'd killed Kennedy Lane.
How has he gotten my number?
Her private line. “I saw the marks. All fifty-­seven of them.”

That laughter came again. “Is that all? For some reason . . . I thought I'd left more.”

“We need to find out who the hell just called her,” Wade said, his voice a lethal whisper.
“Now.”

Victoria stumbled forward. With her free hand she grabbed a piece of paper from the captain's desk and scribbled down the number that she'd seen on the screen moments before. Then beneath that number she wrote:
It's him.

Dace raced out of the room. She knew that he could contact the cell phone company and get a location on that phone. LOST had even pulled some—­somewhat shady—­strings before and done the same type of search. Dace would need to demand real-­time information about that cell phone—­the company would need to ping the phone every minute or every few seconds so it would report back its location. So in order for Dace to do his job . . .
I can't let this guy off the phone.  

“Keep him talking,” Wade said to Victoria, obviously thinking the same thing she was. His voice softer than she'd ever heard it before. “Keep him on the line.”

Well, she knew one way to engage the guy. “Why did you take Melissa?”

Silence.

And fear swamped her. Maybe that had been the wrong thing to say. She wasn't the shrink. She didn't know killers. Sarah did. Sarah could get into their heads. She could always say the right thing. But her—­

“I like to see . . . just what people can endure. How far they can be pushed.”

Her heartbeat was so loud she almost couldn't hear his words as that frantic drumming filled her ears.

“Sometimes, though,” he said—­still in that rough voice,
disguising his voice
—­“people have to be punished. Don't you agree?”

“I—­it's not my place to punish.”

“Liar, liar . . .”
He taunted. “I know all about you, Victoria. All those dark secrets . . . are you ready for them to tumble out?”

Fear and rage beat through her. She thought of Kennedy. The pain she'd endured. And Melissa. “You know nothing about me. Or those women or—­”

“I won't tell. Don't worry.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“I like you,” he said. “More than the others. You and I . . . I think we're the same.”

And she thought he was crazy. But Wade was staring at her, nodding encouragingly, and she was obviously supposed to keep talking to the madman on the phone.

This was out of her realm. She was going to say the wrong thing. She said the wrong thing all the time. Wade should know better. He should—­

“Want to make a trade?” the rasping voice asked her.

“What?”

“We could do it. You can come to me, and I'll let Melissa go.”

Her lips parted. She stared straight into Wade's eyes. “A trade,” she repeated, needing Wade to understand what was happening.

“Speaker,” Wade said, barely breathing the word. “Put it on—­”

Speaker. Right. Shit.
She should have done that sooner. Her fumbling fingers flew over the phone's screen. But there was only silence. She sucked in a deep breath and said, “You want me to trade myself for Melissa?”

At her words, Wade lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. He gave a hard, almost violent shake of his head.

But she wasn't just supposed to let a victim die, was she? If the guy was going to let Melissa go . . .

The caller asked her, “Can I trust you, Victoria?” Still disguising his voice. Still playing some game.

No, you can't trust me.

“Because if you betray me, the world will know what you did . . . that friend of yours . . . your LOST agent . . . he'll know, too.”

What was going on? How had the guy learned so much about her? About Wade? Because he
had
to be talking about Wade.

“But then . . .” His sigh carried over the line. “You've always been the monster, hiding in the room.”

He knows. He knows.
Her gaze flew away from Wade's. She couldn't stare into his eyes right then. She was too afraid of what she might see. “Tell me where to go,” she ordered, voice breaking a bit. “Tell me where to come for the trade.”

“Jekyll Island.” His voice was even lower now. “Always a good place for a hunt . . .”

He hung up. For an instant Victoria just stared down at her phone. No, no, that wasn't right. He needed to tell her more. He had to tell her
where
on that island to trade for Melissa.
When
to meet. She spun around and nearly ran right into Dace.

“Got the location,” he said, voice excited. “Fucker actually used Melissa's phone—­arrogant SOB. But we have an address on the bastard—­let's go get him,
now.
”

She took a step back. It all seemed so easy. The killer had just called them and basically handed over his location.
Too easy.
Nothing had ever been that easy before, and the situation made her nervous. But Dace and his captain were whirling and rushing into the hallway, already in hot pursuit.

What about the trade? Jekyll Island?
The name was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it, not fully, and there was no time to stop and question anyone right then. Wade had her arm and he was hauling her with him down the hallway. Up ahead, Captain Vann was barking orders and uniformed cops were surging forward.

Just as they reached the glass doors that would take them outside, Victoria staggered to a stop. Her hand turned and she was the one grabbing Wade. “It doesn't work this way.” He knew that. She knew that. It was never this easy.

“It can work this way if the perp is too damn cocky. Too sure of himself and he screws up with a small mistake.”

Like a phone call that could be tracked. Maybe the guy hadn't realized how quickly they'd be able to lock on to his location.
Maybe.

“Come on, Viki, we're following those cops.”

And then they did. She and Wade jumped into their SUV and gave a fast and frantic chase behind the cop cars. Only those cars weren't rushing in with sirens blazing to the scene.

The cops went in with a silent attack. Because they didn't want the perp to know they'd found him? She figured they were trying to keep the element of surprise on their side. And a perp who wasn't alarmed . . . she knew that would be a perp who was more likely
not
to hurt his hostage in a moment of panic.

They stopped a block from their target. The cops quickly set up a perimeter at the scene, and then the captain marched toward her and Wade. “Appreciate all the help,” he said with a curt nod. “But I'm sure you understand . . . my team has this now. You're civilians, so you have to stay back.” He motioned to a spot
behind
the patrol cars.

Victoria had been wondering when that order would come in.

Wade's face tightened with anger but he didn't argue.

They stood behind the line of police cars as Dace led a team toward the house.

“They didn't get a warrant that fast,” she murmured.

“Probable cause,” Wade said, not looking at her because his gaze was focused on the scene unraveling before them. “They think Melissa is in that house, so they are sure as hell running in with guns blazing.”

And, sure enough, the cops barely paused at the front door. She heard Dace give a loud shout and then he kicked in the door. The cops swarmed then, going in the front of the house. The back of the house.

She heard a woman scream.

Victoria tensed.

After that scream, the moments seemed to tick past in painful silence. Victoria realized she was actually holding her breath, and she forced herself to exhale and then suck in a deep gulp of oxygen.

Then she saw—­

Dace, coming out, leading a man in front of him. A tall man with dark hair and wide shoulders.

“I didn't do anything!”

He was a
familiar
man.

Her mouth dropped open.

“Oh, shit,” Wade said.

And then she saw the woman. A woman who was also in handcuffs. A woman with a tangle of long blond hair. A woman who was yelling, “You can't do this to us!
Why
are you doing this to us?”

More cops were running in and out of the house. The man and the woman were being led toward the patrol cars.

Just then the man glanced up—­and his blue eyes locked on Wade and Victoria. There was fear in his gaze. Fear and desperation as he recognized them.

“What's happening?” Lucas Branson shouted at them. “Why are the cops doing this to me?”

Dace had a tight grip on Lucas's shoulder as he pushed the younger man forward. “We traced your call, Branson, though I sure as hell never expected to see you when I went into that house. I actually bought your act years ago. I thought you
cared
about Kennedy.”

“I do care about Kennedy!” Lucas jerked against his cuffs while the blond woman with him started to cry.

Do care. He's using the present tense.
For some reason those words pierced Victoria straight to her core.

“Dr. Palmer! Wade!” Lucas yelled their names. “Look, shit, will you two just tell this detective that I hired you? That you're working for me to
find
Kennedy?” Lucas demanded.

They hadn't even had a chance to tell him the news about her remains yet. Victoria had identified the body, they'd been going to the captain's office and—­
the killer called me.
She had planned to deliver the news about Kennedy's remains to Lucas in person.

“Cut the act,” Dace snarled. “We traced the call you just made to Dr. Palmer. We know what you did.”

“I didn't just make any call!” Lucas was nearly screaming. The blond woman was still crying. “I just got here a few minutes ago. This is my fiancée's house. We were out, meeting with the caterer. I brought her back—­and then you guys burst in the house with your freaking guns blazing!”

The woman looked over at them, her dark gaze tear-­filled. “We didn't do anything,” she cried. “I swear. We just got home. We just—­”

“Found the phone!” one of the uniformed officers yelled as he ran from the house. He had an evidence bag in his hand. “It was on the kitchen counter, just waiting for us.”

Dace shoved Lucas toward a patrol car. His lips twisted in disgust. “You sick sonofabitch. You used Melissa's own phone to make the call.”

“Who is Melissa?”
Lucas yelled.

Dace glared at Lucas. “The doc over there—­she identified Kennedy's remains.”

Lucas's eyes widened.

“Uh, detective . . .” Wade began, voice tense.

“K-­Kennedy?” Lucas whispered.

“We know what you did to her. We know you kept her alive for years. You got off on torturing her, right? You stabbed her. You broke her bones. You made her life hell—­”

“Detective Black,”
Wade barked. He rushed toward the detective and his prisoner. And Victoria ran right after him.

“Then you bashed in her head and you buried her body. That wasn't enough, though, was it? 'Cause on the anniversary of her abduction, you had to bring her back. You dug her up and you dumped—­”