Bone Cold (15 page)

503 Ivy Circle, Alexandria, Virginia, 3:55 p.m.

Chief Reginald Larson parked in front of the senator’s front steps and shut off his engine. He wasn’t sure what Adams wanted to hear. Reggie had nothing except two more missing kids to report. The case was at a dead end, and he hadn’t heard from Sarah in more than forty-eight hours. He wasn’t sure which terrified him more, the wall they’d hit with the investigation or the idea that she was out there trying to find those kids on her own?

He could pretend she’d taken some time off as she had said, but he knew better.

His cell phone vibrated again to remind him he’d missed a call. The number wasn’t one he’d recognized so he’d let it go to voicemail. Frankly, he had no desire to sit out here and return the call, keeping Adams waiting. When a senator called, a mere cop jumped. Reggie had people to answer to. The chief of police had made it clear that whatever Adams wanted or needed, Larson was to make it happen.

He got out of his car and closed the door. There was sure as hell something off about this whole situation. He trusted Sarah too much to believe Tom was as wrong as Swinwood insisted. Swinwood and the other FBI agents who’d been buzzing around Reggie’s office insisted Tom was unstable. Whether he was or not, one thing was certain, he was in deep trouble.

As he climbed the steps, Reggie braced for more complaints from the senator. He had a feeling that whatever the hell was going on, the senator was eyeball deep in it. With his little girl missing, one would think he’d be all too ready to cooperate with the investigation. Instead, Adams had bucked up, done nothing but give Larson trouble, and refused to talk to Riggs. Then suddenly about half an hour ago, he called and insisted Reggie was to come see him ASAP.

He raised his hand to knock. The door was ajar. His instincts went on point as he withdrew his weapon. What the hell was going on here? He eased the door open.

The first thing he saw was Mrs. Adams hanging from a rope tied to the bannister on the second floor. Judging by the discoloration of her face she had been dead for a good while. “Mother of God,” he murmured.

Reggie started forward, but stopped when he saw the senator sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Blood had pooled on the marble floor around him. His cell phone, crushed into several pieces, lay nearby.

At first, Reggie figured the senator was dead, too, then Adams turned his head and looked at him. His eyes were glassy.

Damn
.

“Thank you for coming, Chief.”

“Is there anyone else in the house, Senator?” Reggie turned all the way around, his weapon at the ready, scanning the entry hall and the doorways of the rooms that funneled from it.

“He’s gone…”

Reggie put his weapon away and reached for his cell. “I’m calling for help.”

Adams dragged in a rattling breath. “It’s too late.”

Reggie ignored him long enough to give dispatch his location and to order an ambulance. He shoved his phone into his pocket and knelt next to Adams. “Let’s have a look.”

Adams pushed his hand away. “It’s too late. I’m dying. You have to listen to me.”

His voice was weak and thready. He had at least two gunshots to the gut. There was a hell of a lot of blood.

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed an ambulance?” Reggie felt sick to his stomach. He could have had help here by now. Hell, he’d made a stop at a drive-thru for coffee on the way. “I should try some pressure on those wounds.”

Adams held up a hand, then dropped it just as quickly. “One of Meltzer’s thugs came after I spoke to you.” He looked up at his wife, anguish twisting his face. “He did that to her. I tried to help her before he shot me.” He gasped for air. “I… didn’t know he was still in the house.”

“Who did this, Senator?”

“Doesn’t matter. You need to listen, Chief. I’m going to tell you how to find the children.”

Reggie stilled. “I don’t understand.” Was the man delusional?

“I want your word that you’ll protect my daughter, no matter what happens.” Adams made a choking sound.

“I will. I swear.” If he knew where those kids were, Reggie needed him to talk fast… before it was too late. “Where are the children, Senator?”

“They’re with a monster, Chief. The kind of monster you’ve only known in your worst nightmares.”

“Mommy?”

Sarah tried to make her eyes open, but her lids were too heavy. Warm, moist breath fanned her face just before something wet and rough slid across her cheek.

“Are you awake?”

Sarah’s eyes opened. Her heart bumped into a faster rhythm.
Sophie?
A face came slowly into focus.

“Sophie?” Sarah wet her dry lips. Her throat was so dry she couldn’t swallow. She was dreaming, she realized. Sophie always came to her in her dreams.

The little face smiled at her. “You’ve been asleep for a long time.”

The big black Lab Sarah had seen at the fence, nudged her as if he wanted her to wake up now, too. Sarah tried to smile, but her lips wouldn’t work right. She reached out a shaky hand, her fingers landed in the child’s hair—in Sophie’s hair.

Sarah smiled. “I love dreaming of you. It’s the only time I can see you now.”

“You’re not dreaming, silly,” the little girl said.

“Ah, she’s awake.”

Sarah jerked at the booming voice.
Male
. Her gaze sought and found the man who’d spoken.

Detlef Meltzer
.

Part of her crumpled. She had been dreaming. She looked back to where the little girl had been standing expecting to confirm the precious image had been nothing but a hallucination.

But she was. The exact image of Sophie stood right there smiling at Sarah.

She jolted up into a sitting position, swayed a bit. “What is this?” she demanded of Meltzer. What had he done to her child? Was this her child? Her heart stumbled.

Meltzer smiled. “I’m quite certain you can come to the proper conclusions, Detective.” He placed a hand on Sophie’s shoulder.

Sarah struggled to her feet. Staggered.

“Slowly, Detective. You’re still groggy from the drugs.”

Drugs. The tea. Mia had drugged her… Mia knew this man. He was her grandmother’s beau. The one in the photos.

Sarah reached toward the little girl. She looked from Sarah to the man whose hand rested on her shoulder.

“Go to your mother, Sophie.”

A hurricane of emotions swam through Sarah as the little girl walked over and held out her hand. Trembling, Sarah closed her hand around the little girl’s. She pointed a lethal glare at Meltzer. “What’ve you done?”

Meltzer smiled. “Sophie, take Sam to Josh. The two of you may take him outside to play while your mother and I talk.”

He’d called the dog Sam… how was this possible? Were the side effects of whatever drug they had given her messing with her head?

“Can the other children go?” the little girl asked hopefully.

“Not tonight.”

Sarah forced her brain to focus on the details. It was nighttime. She’d been out of commission for several hours. Where was Tom? Had he called for help?

The little girl hesitated as she reached the door. “I’ll be back soon, Mommy.”

“Okay, sweetie.” Sarah’s entire body shuddered. What had he done to her child—to… to this child?

When the door was closed and it was only the two of them, Sarah shoved aside those softer emotions. “What’ve you done to her? Is she…?” Sarah swallowed hard. “Is she a clone of Sophie?”

Meltzer laughed. “We have cloned many children, Detective. Most were created to give parents back the child they had lost. To clone a child is quite simple, really. For my uncles and my father the process was a major scientific milestone. For me, it was about financing my other pursuits. Like Sophie.”

“So, she’s not a clone?”

“She is not. She’s your daughter. Just as she was when your negligence made her available to me as so many others were.”

At first Sarah couldn’t move. Someone had finally put blame where it belonged and the magnitude of the words spoken aloud shook her to the very core of her being. The feeling of desolation lasted only a second and then she charged up to the sick son of a bitch. “That’s impossible. Five years have passed.”

“Not for Sophie.”

Sarah swayed again, tried to brace herself. “I don’t understand.” What she needed was to buy as much time as possible for her head to clear. The man didn’t appear to be armed. She needed a plan. Whatever else happened, she had to escape and get these children—her child—to safety.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with Cryonics.”

Sarah frowned. “Are you talking about cryogenics?” She’d read a science fiction novel based on the technology years ago or maybe it was a movie. Was he insane?

“It’s hardly as simple as that,” he countered. “I’ve refined the process in hopes of preventing any significant loss of the memories and personal identity encoded in the brain. You see, the cellular damage caused by deep freezing has been the key issue all along. For decades, failure after failure has haunted science, but I have finally achieved a ninety-eight percent success rate with my two latest specimens. Sophie and Josh awoke from their Cryogenic sleep as if only a few hours had passed, not five years. Sam as well. Of course, he wasn’t the first dog to be successfully brought back with little or no permanent damage.”

Sarah couldn’t breathe. “What you’re suggesting is scientifically impossible.” That much she understood.

“Until very recently that was true. It was simple enough to preserve a human in cryosleep. The trouble was in bringing them back. The result was always far too much damage on the cellular level. Irreversible damage. Many hope success will come when nanotechnology has been developed further, but I chose not to wait. The only deterrence was in having the necessary test specimens.”

“Test specimens? You’re talking about people—children!” Fury roared through her.

“Don’t you see, Sarah? It’s always been this way. In order to advance science sacrifices have to be made. None of what I have accomplished would have been possible without the children. Since picking up children on the black market often meant they had been abused or otherwise neglected, I was forced to make other choices.”

“You stole my daughter.” Sarah wanted to tear him apart. She wanted to watch him die screaming. Suddenly, every part of her quieted as the realization of what he was saying sank deep inside her. “You chose children for refining your technique.” The words were scarcely a whisper.

The knowing smile that slid across his lips was all the answer she needed, but he wanted to brag. “It was the perfect solution. Children’s bodies are fresher, so to speak, than those of adults. Most are undamaged by the world we live in and the self-inflicted damage we do on a daily basis. Even on a cellular level their bodies are more flexible than ours. You saw the results for yourself. Sophie is perfect. She shows very little cellular damage.”

Heart pounding now, Sarah steeled herself against the confusing and shattering emotions. “Does she remember her life?”

“Memories of her life are coming slowly. As soon as she saw you, she recognized you as her mother. The memories must be nudged by her senses. Whenever she is shown an image she recognizes, any memories associated with the person, place, or thing awaken. The same with the sense of smell. She recalled how much she loved cheese pizza before she tasted it. Any part of her previous life with which she comes into contact she makes the connection. This is far more than we’d dared hope for.”

“You son of a bitch. You killed my little girl.” Sarah lunged at him.

Two of his minions hurried into the room and grabbed her.

Meltzer straightened his expensive shirt and jacket. “I’ve given you a rare gift, Detective. You have your daughter back. Accept that gift with some dignity.”

“Why Sophie?” Sarah had to know. “Why my baby?”

Meltzer smiled. “I saw you, your husband, and Sophie at a museum once. You won’t remember, but I remember it perfectly. Sophie was so smart for such a little girl. Smart and beautiful. I knew she was the perfect candidate. I personally chose all my candidates. The work was far too important to do otherwise.”

“You’ll wish you were in hell before I’m finished with you, you bastard.”

“I think not, Detective. You see, your husband has created quite the quandary for me and, unfortunately, I have to leave all this behind. Since I’m confident the rest of the world will be as ignorant of true science and medicine as you are, I’ll be destroying the fruits of my life’s work.”

“No!” Sarah tried to break free. She couldn’t let him harm the children… her child, Carla’s child.

“Not to worry.” He fastened the middle button of his jacket. “This time you and your husband will die with your daughter.”

“Who did you call?”

The man’s fist plowed into Tom’s jaw again. He had lost count of the number of blows. He spit the blood from his mouth, his damaged lip burning like hell. “No one. There was nobody home at any of the houses and my cell was dead. I’ve already told you this.”

The man leaned forward and put his face in Tom’s. “And I still don’t believe you, Special Agent Cuddahy. Now, let’s try this again.”

Tom braced for another blow.

The door opened with a heavy squeak and a man stuck his head inside. “Coben, the boss wants to see you.”

“Coben,” Tom repeated. He looked up at the bastard, his right eye swelling so fast he could hardly see out it at this point. “Nice to put a name with the face.”

Coben kicked him in the gut on his way out. “Shut up.”

Tom forced his muscles to relax and quieted his breathing. He needed to hear whatever he could. He had no idea how much time had passed. Six or seven hours at least. Had Larson received his message? Was Paul close? Truth was, Tom wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.

“I’m almost finished in here.” Coben said.

Tom leaned as far toward the door as possible to hear whatever was said next.

“Who he called no longer matters. Kill him. Then the woman and children.”

Fear hurtled through Tom.
Sarah
. The kids. He was going to kill them all.

“I’ll take care of it, Meltzer,” Coben groused.

“I’m leaving in a few hours and I want to see for myself that it’s done.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Coben snapped.

The air stalled in Tom’s lungs. He had to do something. He struggled against the plastic handcuffs. Had to get loose.

Coben returned. He looked to be fifty or so. Fit. Mean as hell. The sort who killed without remorse. He rolled up one sleeve and then reached for the other.

Tom laughed suddenly.

Coben stopped rolling up his sleeve. “What the hell you laughing at?”

“For an old man, you pack a good punch.”

Coben shoved the chair backwards. Tom landed on his back on the floor with a thud. The bastard’s boot settled on his throat. “I might be old, but at least I’m gonna keep breathing. That’s more than I can say for you, Special Agent Cuddahy.”

“You’re a real tough guy,” Tom ground out, “with me all tied up like this. I’ll bet you wouldn’t be so damned tough if my hands were free.”

Coben laughed. “Nichols,” he shouted, “get your fat ass in here.”

The man who’d stuck his head in a moment ago came into the room. He glanced from Coben to Tom and back. “What?”

Coben withdrew the weapon from his waistband and handed it to the other man. “I’m going to cut the Special Agent here loose. If, by some twist of fate, he kicks my ass, shoot him.”

Nichols adjusted the weapon, the barrel aimed at Tom. “My pleasure.”

While Coben jerked up the chair and stalked around behind Tom, he focused on what he had to do. He calmed his muscles. Coben’s knife slide between his wrists, slitting the plastic cuffs. Tom blocked all else from his mind as he stood. Coben gave him a push.

“Let’s see what you got, pretty boy.”

Tom spun, slamming his right fist into the man’s jaw and his left into his gut with every ounce of force he possessed.

Coben’s head jerked back as he grabbed his stomach, then he grinned. “Oh, now, is that it?”

Tom thought of his little girl. A piece of crap like this had taken her. Now the lives of at least half a dozen other children were hanging in the balance. Tom tore into the man. They tumbled to the floor. Tom banged his head against the floor. Over and over. Coben tried to buck him off. Tried to get a jab in. Tom pounded his face with his fists.

“Shoot him,” Coben squeaked out.

Tom rolled, pulled Coben atop him. The weapon fired. Coben’s body jerked. Tom dragged him up and shoved him into the other man.

The weapon discharged again.

Tom grabbed for the weapon. He twisted it around and the next bullet entered the soft area under Nichols’s chin. The man dropped to the floor.

Running footsteps echoed in the corridor.

Tom flattened against the wall next to the door.

The footsteps hurried past and eventually faded.

Sounded as if anyone who’d figured out what Meltzer was up to was attempting to escape.

Tom checked Coben’s body for a radio or phone. He grabbed the cell and the fresh ammo clip in his back pocket.

Easing the door open, Tom checked the corridor.

Clear.

He had to find Sarah and the children before it was too late.