BATON ROUGE (7 page)

“He’s physically fit enough to be able to move the bodies if they were unconscious,” Georgina replied. “And he definitely simmered with excitement while he talked about the case.”

“Yeah, simmered with a little too much excitement in my mind. Something about him left a bad taste in my mouth.” He started the car and pulled out of the apartment parking lot.

“So, he goes up on our whiteboard and we do more digging into who he really is and what, exactly, he’s up to,” he added. What little background information they had gotten from Roger would have to be vetted.

“That still makes our person of interest list pathetically short,” Georgina replied.

“We’re only a couple of days into this, Georgina. It’s going to take time.”

“I know. I just hope...” her voice trailed off as she turned to look out the passenger window.

She didn’t have to finish her sentence; he knew exactly what she was going to say. She just hoped the seven people they sought had enough time to be found alive.

* * *

J
ACKSON
R
EVANNAUGH
HAD
BEEN
ANGRY
ever since he’d awakened on a top bunk in a jail-like cell with Marjorie unconscious on the bunk below him. The last thing he’d remembered before arriving in the cell was making love to Marjorie and then falling asleep.

He’d gone to bed wearing boxers and when he’d become conscious he’d found a pair of his jeans and a T-shirt in the cell. There had also been clothes for Marjorie, who had been taken from the bed in her nightgown.

It had been six days since then, and in those days Jackson had come to know the others who shared the same fate. On one hand he was relieved to know that they were all alive; on the other hand he knew they were all in big trouble.

The only ray of sunshine was little Macy, who sang songs and made up stories about princesses being rescued by handsome princes. The sound of her sweet little voice coming from the cell on the other side of Amberly and Cole’s broke his heart. No kid should be here. Nobody living and breathing should be here. Hell, he didn’t even know where
here
was.

He’d already learned the daily routine. The creep who had taken them showed up each morning wearing a ski mask and bearing breakfast sandwiches and cups of coffee or juice. The trays were slid through a slot, just as prisoners were served in jail cells.

There was rarely any lunch, and then dinner was served the same way. There was just enough food to keep them alive, but not quite enough to allow them to thrive.

When their captor delivered the food, he never spoke, although Jackson had learned from the others that he’d interrogated Sam, Amberly and Cole several times.

Jackson now sat on the lower bunk, Marjorie curled up against him. Guilt weighed heavily on him. She shouldn’t have been here. He’d encouraged her to leave Kansas City and come to Baton Rouge to continue the relationship they’d formed while he was working the case of the missing Amberly and Cole.

If he hadn’t encouraged her, if he’d just walked away from her, then she wouldn’t be sitting in this hellhole with him. She’d be safe at home.

He tightened his arm around her and she raised her head and looked at him, love shining from her eyes and pulling a lump into his throat. “I’m so sorry, Maggie,” he said softly. “I should have just walked away from you and left you in Kansas City.”

“I didn’t want to stay in Kansas City. I wanted to be with you,” she replied, keeping her voice low so that the others couldn’t hear their conversation.

“And now here you are,” he replied with a trace of bitterness.

“In your arms, exactly where I want to be,” she said. “Jackson, I love you, and no matter what happens here, I will always love you.”

His heart filled with his love for her. “And I will always love you.” He lowered his lips and gave her a gentle kiss and at that moment the far door in the distance swung open and their captor walked in.

He grabbed a folding chair and positioned it in front of Jackson and Marjorie’s cell. “I think it’s time we have a little chat, Agent Revannaugh.” He sat down.

“I can’t imagine what we’d have to chat about,” Jackson returned, aware of the silence from the other two cells.

“On the contrary, you have a wealth of information I need.”

Marjorie threw herself against the bars. “Why don’t you take off that stupid ski mask and face us? Why don’t you just go to hell?”

The captor pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it at Marjorie. “Agent Revannaugh, I suggest you get control of your woman or I’ll take care of her and you can spend the rest of your time here with her rotting corpse.”

Jackson instantly grabbed Marjorie and threw her behind him. “She won’t be a problem. What kind of information do you want from me?” His chest was tight, but it eased slightly as Marjorie curled up on the bottom bunk and the man shoved his gun into his waistband.

“When you were chasing the Twilight Killer, what kind of mistakes did he make that eventually led to his arrest? He killed five women with baseball bats before you finally caught him.”

What the hell?
Jackson thought. That particular case was a little over two years old, and for a two-month period the women in Baton Rouge had been afraid to leave their homes at the time between day and night.

“He got sloppy,” Jackson finally answered. “They always get sloppy and make mistakes.”

“Like what?” The captor leaned forward as if eager to hear any information Jackson could impart.

“In that particular case we found the bat he’d used on his last victim in a storm drain. He’d gotten careless and hadn’t bothered to wear gloves. We got a couple of good prints off it and the man was already in the system because of an arrest for domestic abuse.”

“In your personal experience what other mistakes do killers make to get caught?”

Jackson frowned. This was all so bizarre. Who was this man who’d managed to get seven people in his lair? And where was this place where he kept them?

The question-and-answer period lasted for about twenty minutes. The man was totally focused on how criminals got caught, on what mistakes they made.

Jackson didn’t pretend not to cooperate. The price was too high if he didn’t. Besides, most of the information he had to impart could be found by studying any criminology book or the dozens of tomes written on profiling.

With a glance at his watch and appearing to be satisfied with the conversation, the man got up. He folded his chair and carried it to the wall.

“You’re a mean Mr. Poopy Head,” Macy said.

It was as if time stood still. Everyone froze as Macy’s words hung in the air. The man pointed his fingers like a gun at her.

“Bang,” he said and then left by the door he’d entered.

Chapter Seven

The next couple of days went by in agonizing slow ticks of the hands on the clocks. Georgina’s phone had remained silent, and that worried her. She had hoped that the perp would continue to call at regular intervals. She had hoped that somehow the calls would give up some clues as to the identity of the man they sought. Each morning when she arrived, she set the phone in front of her on the table, just in case a call came in.

She was also frustrated by Alex, who had done nothing at all but what she’d asked, treated her as part of the team and nothing more.

It was exactly what she’d wanted and yet now that he appeared distant and completely professional, she realized she missed the way he’d looked at her before, as if he’d never really stopped loving her. She missed the private conversations that had gone beyond the case, even though most of them had made her uncomfortable.

She glanced up from her laptop to see him at the end of the conference table, immersed in paperwork. As usual he wore black slacks, but today he’d paired them with an ice-blue shirt that made his eyes appear a glacier-blue. His dark hair was slightly rumpled, only adding to his overall hotness.

She focused back on her computer, wondering if there would ever come a time when she didn’t find him attractive, when she didn’t look at him and remember what it had felt like to be naked with him, to feel his warm flesh against her own?

The case,
she told herself.
Work on the case and stop thinking about Alex.
She’d been tasked with finding out everything she could about the hotshot self-proclaimed newsman, Roger Cambridge.

All the members of the team were in the room except Nicholas, who had left earlier to get some lunch. A cloud of frustration hung heavy in the air. Everyone felt the lack of forward motion, the stagnant condition of the case, despite the short length of time they’d been working it.

The press conference had gone off, posters of Jackson and Marjorie had been plastered all around town and the TIPS lines that had been set up in another conference room, manned by trained volunteers, were receiving dozens of calls.

The volunteers would be able to determine if the calls were the usual crazies or something that needed to be checked out. So far the TIPS line had yielded nothing worthwhile.

It was just after two and Georgina was fighting against an afternoon drain in energy. She got up from her chair and walked over to the coffeemaker and poured herself a cup. Before carrying it back to her chair, she stretched and tried to shove away the weariness of inactivity.

She was halfway back to her chair with the coffee when her cell phone rang. The coffee sloshed over the rim as she hurried to her seat, conscious of everyone’s gaze focused on her.

Her insides trembled as she placed her cup on the table and then answered the phone, as usual punching speaker and record at the same time. “Agent Beaumont,” she said.

“Ah, Georgina, have you missed me?” Bob asked.

“Actually I have,” she replied. “I thought maybe you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

“You’re my closest friend, Georgina, and I want to continue the discussion we were having the other day about family.”

Georgina closed her eyes, a familiar pressure of pain filling her chest as she thought about her family. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you let Macy go? Just drop her off at some mall or in the middle of a park and drive away and then we’ll talk about my family.”

“Georgina, are you trying to call the shots here?” Bob laughed, the sound a sinister one that crawled up her spine. “How about we talk about you first and then I’ll consider your request to release the little princess.”

A reckless hope buoyed up inside her as she kept her focus on the face of the cell phone. “Ask your questions, Bob, and then we’ll see if you’re a man of your word when it comes to reciprocating.”

She felt Alex’s presence right behind her, smelled the familiar scent of his cologne and a sense of calm, of security swept through her.

“Do you have siblings, Georgina?”

“Two older sisters,” she replied.

“Do you have a good relationship with them?”

“I don’t have any relationship with them.”

“Why is that?”

Once again Georgina closed her eyes as ancient memories cascaded through her...bad memories...horrendous ones. “I don’t have anything to do with any of my family because they were verbally, physically and emotionally abusive to me,” she replied, despite the ever-stronger constriction in her chest.

“Why was that, Georgina?” Bob asked. “Were you a bad little girl?”

Alex’s hand fell to her shoulder and even though she’d told him she wanted him to treat her only as a professional, she was grateful for the touch that kept her connected to the here and now as she darted down the rabbit hole where all her monsters lived.

“No, I wasn’t a bad little girl. My problem was that I was born a girl. My sisters are four and five years older than me. When my mother got pregnant again my father was certain she was going to deliver him the son he desperately wanted. Instead he got me. He called me the abortion that should have happened.”

She was vaguely aware of Alex’s fingers tightening on her shoulder as she fought the demons of her past. The last thing she wanted to do was bare her skeletons in front of the team, in front of Alex, but she would do it if it helped further the investigation. She would give to Bob what she’d never been able to give to Alex or anyone else on the face of the earth.

She’d give him her nightmares.

It was as if Bob had poked a hole in a dam and now the flood of evil spilled from her in an emotional burst. “Yeah, Bob, I had a crappy childhood. My father hated me and insisted that my mother and sisters have nothing to do with me. I was kicked and beaten by all of them when I wasn’t locked in a closet for days at a time.”

“I hear your pain, Georgina. I feel your pain,” Bob said. “My old man was a mean drunk and he was drunk most of the time. I was beaten nearly every day of my life and my dear mother did nothing to stop it.”

“Tell me, Bob, how did you manage to get the people you kidnapped?” Georgina asked. Despite the turmoil and chaos the discussion about her past had stirred up in her head, she hadn’t lost track of her main goal—to get any information she could from him. “Did you take them alone or do you have a partner?”

Bob snorted. “I work alone. Partners only screw things up.”

“So did you just surprise them and force them at gunpoint to go with you?” she asked.

“How pedestrian,” he replied dryly. “Actually, the one thing my daddy taught me was how to blow poison darts. From our saggy little porch I could shoot a gator in the eye from ten feet out. Of course I didn’t use poison for my victims. I used just enough tranquilizer to knock them out long enough for me to move them into their new homes. The drug has the aftereffect of loss of memory for several days, but that worked in my favor. Amberly and Cole were the most difficult because I had to keep them continuously drugged throughout the long road trip home.”

Tim gave a thumbs-up, indicating that he’d managed to get the phone number and triangulate the call and had a location where it was coming from. Alex raced over to his computer, took a look and then headed for the door with a nod to Frank and Matt to go with him.

Georgina picked her phone up from the table and hurried after them. “How are you keeping all those people?” she asked, still connected to the call and knowing she needed to keep him talking for as long as possible.

“Very carefully,” he said and then laughed, the sound shivering through her already fragile state.

“Let Macy go,” she said, aware of the emotion that filled her throat, nearly stifled her voice. “I told you about my childhood. I did what you asked. Now you do something for me. Let her go.”

“I’ve thought about it and I’m pleased that you shared so much with me, but I’m not ready to give up little Macy yet,” he replied.

“Please let her go.” She drew a deep breath in an effort to keep her emotions in check. “Let them all go.”

“I think we’ve talked long enough for one day,” Bob replied. “We’ll talk again, sweet Georgina.” He clicked off just as the four of them burst out of the building’s back door.

As Frank and Matt raced toward Matt’s car, Georgina hurried after Alexander toward his. “He hung up,” she said unnecessarily as she slid into the passenger seat.

“The call came from the college campus. Let’s hope he decides to linger for a while.” Alex started the engine and squealed out of the parking lot and onto the street. He hit the button to start his flashing lights, zooming through the light traffic with Matt and Frank close behind.

She was grateful that Alexander didn’t talk. She was in a dark place that she hadn’t visited for a very long time. Bob had managed to wrench memories from her she’d thought were long forgotten. He’d reminded her of what it had been like to be unwanted, unloved and unworthy.

It had only been when she’d joined the police force and then later the FBI that she’d found her worth, some form of self-respect and dignity, and the desire to be the very best that she could be at her job.

“The signal appeared to be coming from the bench area in front of the gym,” Alex said as he braked to a halt at the curb by the college. Almost before the engine was completely off, he was out of the door and running.

Matt and Frank parked and ran after him while Georgina hurried out of the car and headed in the same direction. She hoped he was still there. She hoped and prayed that this was it, that they’d get him in custody and he’d tell them where he had his captives.

She picked up her pace, running after the men as her stomach rolled with the need to throw up and her brain continued to fire memories of her childhood through her head.

The men reached the area first, where four students were hanging out, two seated on the concrete bench and two standing.

“FBI. All of you put your hands up where we can see them,” Alex said as he approached the group with his gun drawn.

The two young men who had been seated jumped to their feet and all of them raised their hands over their heads. “Wha...what’s going on?” one of them asked. Frank and Matt also had their guns drawn and the four were now circled by the agents.

“Very carefully, very easy, all of you get your cell phones out and set them on the bench,” Alex instructed.

“This is about a cell phone?” A tall, dark-haired young man asked. “I’ve got it. It was sitting on the bench when we came out of the gym. I was going to turn it in to lost and found.”

He reached into his shirt pocket and plucked out a cell phone and set it on the bench, then quickly raised his hand once again.

“How do we know that isn’t your cell phone?” Georgina asked.

The young man gazed at the phone with scorn. “Look at it. It’s a cheap piece of crap. It doesn’t even have internet capabilities. I’ve got my own phone right here.” He reached into the pocket of a duffel bag next to him and pulled out an expensive phone with all the bells and whistles.

He was here and now he was gone. The sick roll of Georgina’s stomach intensified. As Alex questioned the young men, Matt pulled on latex gloves and put the phone in a plastic evidence bag he pulled from his pocket.

They would find nothing on the phone, she thought. Bob was far too smart to leave a phone for them to find unless he knew they’d glean nothing from it. It was a cheap throwaway and she knew he’d left it behind just to taunt them.

Before the men even finished speaking to the students, she turned and headed back to the car, her legs unsteady and a bitter taste in the back of her throat.

She got into the car, and a few minutes later Alex joined her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“No. I think I need you to take me home. I’m requesting the rest of the day off.” Her voice sounded tinny and as if it came from someplace far away.

Alex asked no questions. He started the car and headed in the direction of her house. He apparently sensed that she was in a place where she didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to listen, for he didn’t speak until he pulled up into her driveway. He obviously knew that she’d be no good to anyone for the rest of the day.

“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”

She unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door. “I’ll be fine by tomorrow morning. I just need some time alone right now.” She got out of the car and shut the door, grateful that she could enter a code that would open the garage door and grant her entry into the house since she’d left her purse in the war room.

She didn’t look back. As the garage door rose, she ducked under it and hurried to the door that would take her into her kitchen. She punched the button to close the garage door and then headed for the bathroom where she fell to the floor in front of the toilet and threw up.

She felt as if she was purging all the rage and grief that had been buried inside her for so long. Tears blurred her vision as she continued to be sick.

She hated Bob, not just for the crimes he’d committed but for what he’d done to her. He’d forced her back into a darkness she’d thought she’d escaped long ago. More than anything, she hated him for making her appear weak in front of her team.

When she was finally finished being sick, she pulled herself to her feet, brushed her teeth and then went back into the living room and curled up on the sofa with the television on.

Tomorrow she’d be strong. Tomorrow she would be the kind of agent she needed to be, but right now she needed to deal with the fact that despite Alex’s warnings to her, Bob had gotten into her head and brought up memories she needed to banish from her mind forever.

* * *

T
HE
AFTERNOON
CREPT
BY
slowly with Alexander’s thoughts split between the case and the broken woman he’d dropped off earlier. He’d never seen Georgina so shattered and he worried that the conversation with their perp had pushed her over an edge he hadn’t realized existed inside her.

He now knew why Georgina had never wanted to share anything of her past with him. He now recognized that she had demons inside her he couldn’t begin to understand.