Vanish (39 page)

“But this is a snuff film! Ballentree could never get away with selling this.”

“No, this was too explosive. The house mother definitely knew it was. She hid it in the tote

bag. Mila says they carried around that bag for months without knowing what was on the

video. Then Joe finally played it on a motel room VCR.” Jane looked at the TV. “Now we

know why those women in Ashburn were killed. Why Charles Desmond was killed. Because

they knew this client; they could ID him. They all had to die.”

“So this is all about covering up a rape and murder.”

She nodded. “Suddenly Joe realizes he’s holding dynamite. What to do with the evidence? He

didn’t know who to trust. And who would listen to a guy who’s already been labeled a

paranoid kook? That must be what he sent you. A copy of this tape.”

“Only I never received it.”

“And by then they’d split up, to avoid capture. But each of them took a copy. Olena was caught

before she could bring hers to the
Tribune.
Joe’s was probably swept up after the hospital

takedown.” She pointed to the TV. “This is the last copy.”

Lukas turned to Mila, who’d been hanging back in a far corner of the room, like a skittish

animal afraid to come any closer. “Have you yourself seen this man in the video, Mila? He

came to the house?”

“The boat,” she said, and gave a visible shudder. “I saw him at a party, on the boat.”

Lukas looked at Jane. “You think she means Charles Desmond’s yacht?”

“I think this is how Ballentree did business,” said Jane. “Desmond’s world was a boys’ club.

Defense contracts, Pentagon players. Whenever there are big boys playing with a lot of money,

you can bet sex comes into it. A way to close the deal.” She ejected the videocassette and

turned to face Lukas. “Do you know who this man is? The one on the video?”

Lukas swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I’m just having a hard time believing that tape is real.”

“The man’s got to be a major player. Look at everything he’s managed to do, the resources he’s

been able to call up, to track down this videotape.” She stood before Lukas. “Who is he?”

“You don’t recognize him?”

“Should I?”

“Not unless you were watching last month’s confirmation hearings. He’s Carleton Wynne. Our

new director of National Intelligence.”

She released a sharp breath and sank into a chair facing him. “Jesus. You’re talking about the

guy in charge of every intelligence agency in the country.”

Lukas nodded. “The FBI. CIA. Military Intelligence. Fifteen agencies in all, including branches

of Homeland Security and the Department of Justice. This is someone who can pull strings

from the inside. The reason you don’t recognize Wynne is that he’s not a very public man.

He’s one of those guys in the gray suits. He left the CIA two years ago, to head up the

Pentagon’s new Strategic Support Branch. After the last intelligence director was forced to

resign, the White House nominated Wynne to replace him. He’s just been confirmed.”

“Please,” interjected Mila. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“It’s down the hall,” murmured Lukas, not even glancing up as Mila slipped out of the living

room. His gaze stayed on Jane. “This is not an easy man to bring down,” he said.

“With this videotape, you could bring down King Kong.”

“Director Wynne has a whole network of contacts in the Pentagon and the Company. This is

the
President’s
hand-picked man.”

“Now he’s mine. And I’m taking him down.”

The doorbell rang. Jane looked up, startled.

“Relax,” said Lukas, rising to his feet. “It’s probably just my neighbor. I promised I’d feed his

cat for the weekend.”

Despite that reassurance, Jane sat on the edge of her chair, listening, as Lukas answered the

front door. His greeting was a casual: “Hey, come on in.”

“Everything under control?” the other man said.

“Yeah, we were just watching a video.”

That’s the moment she should have understood that something was not right, but Lukas’s

relaxed tone of voice had disarmed her, had lulled her into feeling safe in this house, in his

company. The visitor walked into the room. He had cropped blond hair and powerfully

muscled arms. Even when Jane saw the gun he was holding, she did not fully accept what had

just happened. Slowly she rose to her feet, her heart pounding in her throat. She turned to

Lukas, and her shattered look of betrayal evoked in him merely a shrug. A look of
sorry, but

that’s how it goes.

The blond man took in the room at a glance, and his gaze focused on Regina, who slept

soundly among the couch cushions. At once he turned his weapon on the baby, and Jane felt a

stab of panic, sharp as a knife to the heart. “Not a word,” he said to Jane. He knew just how to

control her, just how to find a mother’s most vulnerable spot. “Where’s the whore?” he asked

Lukas.

“The bathroom. I’ll get her.”

It’s too late to warn Mila, thought Jane. Even if I screamed, she would have no chance to

escape.

“So you’re the cop I heard about,” the blond man said.

The cop. The whore. Did he even know the names of the two women he was about to kill?

“My name is Jane Rizzoli,” she said.

“Wrong place, wrong time, Detective.” He did know her name. Of course; a professional

would have to know. He also knew enough to keep a respectful distance from her, far enough

away to react to any move she might make. Even without his gun, he was not a man she could

easily tackle. His stance, the quietly efficient way he had taken control, told her that, unarmed,

she did not have a chance against this man.

But armed . . .

She glanced at the floor. Where the hell had she left the diaper bag? Was it behind the couch?

She didn’t see it.

“Mila?” Lukas was calling through the bathroom door. “Are you all right in there?”

Regina suddenly gave a start and let out a jittery cry, as though aware that something was

wrong. That her mother was in trouble.

“Let me pick her up,” said Jane.

“She’s fine right where she is.”

“If you don’t let me pick her up, she’ll start screaming. And she knows how to scream.”

“Mila?” Lukas was rapping on the bathroom door now. “Unlock this, will you? Mila!”

Regina, as predicted, began to howl. Jane looked at the man, and he finally gave a nod. She

gathered the baby into her arms, but her embrace seemed to hold no comfort for Regina.
She

can feel my heart pounding. She can feel my fear.

There was banging in the hallway, then a crash as Lukas broke through the door. Seconds later

he came running back into the living room, his face flushed. “She’s gone.”

“What?”

“The bathroom window’s open. She must have crawled out.”

The blond man reacted with a mere shrug. “Then we’ll find her another day. The video is what

he really wants.”

“We have it.”

“You’re sure it’s the last copy?”

“It’s the last.”

Jane stared at Lukas. “You already knew about the videotape.”

“Do you have any idea how much unsolicited junk a reporter gets in the mail?” said Lukas.

“How many conspiracy theorists and paranoid nuts there are out there, desperate for the public

to believe them? I wrote that one column about Ballentree, and suddenly I’m the new best

friend for all the Joseph Rokes in this country. All the weirdos. They think if they tell me about

their little delusions, I’ll take the story from there. I’ll be their Woodward and Bernstein.”

“That’s how it
should
work. That’s what journalists are supposed to do.”

“You know any rich reporters? Once you get past the rare superstars, how many names do you

remember? The reality is, the public doesn’t give a shit about the truth. Oh, maybe there’d be a

flutter of interest for a few weeks. A few front-page stories above the fold.
Director of

National Intelligence charged with murder.
The White House would express the appropriate

amount of horror, Carleton Wynne would plead guilty, and then this would go the way of

every other scandal in Washington. In a few months, the public would forget about it. And I’d

go back to writing my column, paying my mortgage, and driving the same beat-up Toyota.” He

shook his head. “As soon as I saw the videotape Olena left me, I knew it was worth a lot more

than just a Pulitzer. I knew who’d pay me for it.”

“That video Joe sent you. You
did
receive it.”

“Almost threw it away, too. Then I thought, what the hell, let’s see what’s on it. I recognized

Carleton Wynne right away. Until I picked up the phone and called him, he didn’t even know

the tape existed. He thought he was just chasing down a couple of whores. Suddenly this got

much, much more serious. And more expensive.”

“He was actually willing to deal with you?”

“Wouldn’t you be? Knowing what this tape could do to you? Knowing there are other copies

floating around out there?”

“Do you really think Wynne is going to let you live? Now that you’ve given him Joe and

Olena? There’s nothing else he needs from you.”

The blond man cut in: “I’ll need a shovel.”

But Lukas was still looking at Jane. “I’m not stupid,” he said. “And Wynne knows that.”

“The shovel?” the blond man repeated.

“There’s one in the garage,” said Lukas.

“Get it for me.”

As Lukas walked toward the garage, Jane called out: “You’re a moron if you think you’re

going to live long enough to enjoy any payoff.” Regina had fallen silent in her arms, stilled by

her mother’s rage. “You’ve seen how these people play the game. You know how Charles

Desmond died. They’re going to find you in
your
bathtub with
your
wrists slit. Or they’ll force

a bottle of phenobarb tablets down your throat and dump you in the bay, like they did to Olena.

Or maybe this guy will just put a bullet in your head, nice and simple.”

Lukas came back into the house, carrying a spade. He handed it to the blond man.

“How deep do those woods go, in back of the house?” the man asked.

“It’s part of Blue Hills Reservation. They go back at least a mile.”

“We’ll need to walk her in far enough.”

“Look, I don’t want anything to do with that. That’s what he pays you for.”

“Then you’ll have to take care of her car.”

“Wait.” Lukas reached behind the couch and came up holding the diaper bag. He handed it to

the other man. “I don’t want any trace of her in my house.”

Give it to me, thought Jane. Give me my goddamn bag.

Instead, the blond man slung it over his shoulder and said: “Let’s take a walk in the woods,

Detective.”

Jane turned to give Lukas her parting shot. “You’ll get yours. You’re a dead man.”

Outside, a half-moon glowed in a starry sky. Holding Regina, Jane stumbled through

underbrush and saplings, her path faintly lit by the beam of the gunman’s flashlight. He was

careful to follow at a distance, giving her no chance to strike out at him. She could not have, in

any event, not with Regina in her arms. Regina, who had known only a few short weeks of

life.

“My baby can’t hurt you,” Jane said. “She’s not even a month old.”

The man said nothing. The only sound was their footfalls in the woods. The snap of twigs, the

rustle of leaves. So much noise, but no one was around to listen.
If a woman falls in the forest,

but no one hears her . . .

“You could just take her,” said Jane. “Leave her where someone will find her.”

“She’s not my problem.”

“She’s just a
baby
!” Jane’s voice suddenly broke. She paused there among the trees, clutching

her daughter to her chest as tears flooded her throat. Regina gave a soft coo, as though to

comfort her, and Jane pressed her face to her daughter’s head and inhaled the sweetness of her

hair, felt the heat of her velvety cheeks. How could I bring you into this? she thought. There is

no worse mistake a mother can make. And now you’ll die with me.

“Keep walking,” he said.

I’ve fought back before and survived, she thought. I can do it again. I
have
to do it again,
for

you.

“Or do you just want me to finish it here?” he said.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of trees and damp leaves. She thought of the human

remains she had examined in Stony Brook Reservation a summer ago. How vines had snaked

through the orbital fossae, hugging the skull in greedy tendrils. How the hands and feet were

missing, gnawed off and carried away by scavengers. She felt her own pulse, bounding in her

fingers, and thought of how small and fragile were the bones in a human hand. How easily

they are scattered across a forest floor.

She began to walk again, deeper into the woods. Keep your head, she thought. Panic, and you

lose all chance to surprise him. All chance to save Regina. Her senses sharpened. She could

feel the blood pumping through her calves, could almost feel every molecule of air that brushed

against her face. You only come alive, she thought, just as you’re about to die.

“I think this is far enough,” the man said.

They were standing in a small clearing. Trees encircled them, a dark ring of silent witnesses.

The stars were cold glitters. None of this will change when I’m gone, she thought. The stars

don’t care. The trees don’t care.

He threw the shovel at her feet. “Start digging.”

“What about my baby?”