Fear No Evil (12 page)

Dillon took the jab, understanding his brother’s frustration. “It’s the anticipation. He’s working himself up toward the final act.” He turned to Kate. “Has he ever changed the countdown?”

“Only Paige,” she said quietly. “She had twenty-four hours, not forty-eight. But that was a completely different situation. He…he had another girl, killed her when he captured Paige. We were close and he knew it. So the countdown was the same, he just killed two women.”

“How did you track him then?”

“He wasn’t as cautious then as he is now. We tracked him through his corporation, Trask Enterprises, which has several online pornography sites.”

“What happened to the corporation?”

“The board of directors testified that they didn’t know anyone named Trask, that Roger Morton was the owner/operator as far as they knew, and that someone from the outside had hacked into the company’s equipment. We didn’t catch anyone lying, but that’s not to say someone didn’t. Soon after, several people disappeared from the company. The corporation lost all its assets, but ultimately it owned the domain names and rights to all the big online porn sites and was able to refill its coffers. Quickly. Trask operates solely outside of Trask Enterprises, at least for now. The FBI is still tracking the company. Spending too much time doing it, in my opinion.”

“He’s bringing in money from all over the world. He’s promised these people something,” Dillon said. “He’s not going to renege on his deal with them. He’ll lose face, and they won’t trust him down the road.”

“But if Lucy
is
on that island, we can get her out before anything more happens to her.” Connor’s voice cracked. “You can stay, Dillon, but I’m going.”

“Go,” Kate said. “I never asked any of you to come here. I didn’t
want
anyone to find me. You’ve already screwed me. As soon as this is over, I’m going to have to find another place.”

“You’re already giving up,” Dillon said.

“I am
not
giving up.”

“You’re talking about when this is over. When Lucy is dead,” said Dillon. “But if we
do
stop him this time, you won’t have to hide anymore.”

“You don’t understand. Quinn didn’t tell you everything.”

“You might be surprised. He’s been protecting you. You have friends you might not even know about.”

Kate shook her head, not wanting to hear what Dillon had to say. And he couldn’t push. He didn’t have time to sweet-talk her, to coddle her and tell her everything was going to be just peachy. He didn’t know if he believed it himself. But if they didn’t do
something,
he’d never forgive himself.

Patrick spoke up. “I think these coordinates are valid. If we jam, we might make it to Hidalgo in four hours, maybe less, charter a plane and get to Baja in another four hours. That puts the countdown at twenty-five hours, giving us time to set up a rescue effort. It’ll take the feds nearly that long to get permission for an op on foreign soil. We can meet them there.”

“Do what you feel you must.” Kate rubbed her eyes as if she had a fierce headache. “A few things you need to know. First, Trask will wire any facility to explode. He did it with Paige and others. Second, he kills on sight. He will give you no time to negotiate or plead. He shot Evan at point-blank range without hesitation.”

“Who’s Evan?” Dillon asked.

Kate didn’t answer. “Third, he has four to six men surrounding him at all times. Trask doesn’t like to lose his men, but they are casualties of war as far as he’s concerned. He’ll leave the wounded behind, possibly even shooting them so they can’t talk. I doubt he trusts any of them, even Roger Morton, who’s been with him since the beginning.”

“We should wait until Quinn Peterson returns his assessment.” Dillon remembered what Peterson had said about the last false lead and the lives that had almost been lost. Lucy was already in danger. Dillon couldn’t send his brothers on a deadly mission without additional support.

“We don’t have time,” Patrick said, showing rare frustration. “Dil, I understand where you’re coming from, but we have to move. We can’t wait for the feds.”

Kate pulled open a desk drawer and took out a laptop. “This is my extra portable. It has a four-hour battery, and an extra four-hour battery in the bag.” She plugged the unit into her hard drive and started typing a bunch of commands.

“What are you doing?” Dillon asked.

“Giving Patrick everything I have. Everything except the trace program, which you wouldn’t be able to run off this anyway without wasting battery life. You have the coordinates, maps, the connections he’s used in the past. If I learn anything else, I’ll communicate with you through this computer.” She pulled another trick out of the drawer. “Here’s a nifty device. Checks for explosives. Trask loves his bombs.”

As Kate’s hand brushed against her keyboard, a scream pierced the air. All four of them jerked their heads toward the screen.

Lucy was still tied to the chair. A woman stood over her. Dillon couldn’t see her face, but she had short dark hair and was small and bony. Lucy’s arm had been cut, the skin barely punctured, and blood slowly seeped from a three-inch incision.

“Dear God,” Patrick said.

They heard Lucy’s voice on the speakers. “Get away from me, you freak! Get away from me!”

The knife came up in the woman’s hand and her profile was in view.

“No!” Connor screamed at the same time Lucy did.

The woman laughed, a low, barely audible rumble. “Just teasing,” she said and kissed Lucy on the lips before walking out of view.

Dillon turned to Kate, whose face was ashen. “What is it?” he asked.

“It’s Denise Arno. She’s supposed to be dead.
She’s supposed to be dead!”

Kate punched her fist into her desk.

TEN

D
ILLON WALKED
with Connor and Patrick as far as the edge of the observatory. “I wish you’d wait until we hear back from Agent Peterson. They’re on top of this.”

“We’ve been through this,” Connor said. “You know how to reach us.”

Jack motioned for his team. They immediately fell into position without a word.

Dillon stared at his twin. So much time had passed since they had considered themselves brothers. And they had been close—best friends as well as brothers.

Dillon wished he knew what had changed. He had hints, his years of experience, his counseling, understanding the delicacy and strength of the human psyche. But he didn’t know enough to get into Jack’s head. Jack’s actions, however, gave Dillon hope. His help today had been invaluable, and Dillon would never forget it. Maybe later he and Jack could reconnect. When Lucy was safe and the family was back together.

“That Kate Donovan is a piece of work,” Jack said. “Leave her. I don’t think she’s all there.”

Dillon raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you get your psych degree?”

“Observation, brother. You don’t need a fancy degree to see what’s what.”

“I’m staying until we hear from the FBI.” Dillon slapped Connor and Patrick on the back. “Be careful. I know why you need to go. But stay in the loop. Remember that Kate thinks it’s a trap.”

“We’re expecting anything,” Connor said. “But you be careful, too.” Connor looked worried and told Dillon to keep his backup weapon.

“Don’t try to leave the mountain alone,” Jack told Dillon. “I’ll come and get you when I’m back in the area.”

“Don’t count on me being here.” Dillon believed Kate was close to finding Trask, either through her computer or because Trask wanted her to find him. If she left, Dillon was going with her.

Jack turned and walked with his team, Connor, and Patrick down the mountain road. They disappeared from sight.

Dillon didn’t know what made his twin tick, but he had ideas. A fierce sense of loyalty. A code of honor that wasn’t exactly the same as their father’s. Jack showed no fear, no remorse, and little emotion. Like an automaton. He did what he did—both good and bad—for a purpose, not because he enjoyed it. Unlike the man who had Lucy.

Trask imprisoned women for pleasure. And he relished the power he had over life and death, to be able to do exactly what he wanted without remorse, without repercussion.

Dillon remembered the tragic case of Angie Vance earlier in the year. Her killer had suffocated her, laid on top of her body while she was dying, becoming sexually aroused while in physical contact with her dying body. Afterward she became garbage to him, disposed of in bags on the beach. A necessary cleanup after the act of murder.

Trask had the same basic fantasy—murder while in the process of a rape—but he wasn’t the emergent killer who had raped and suffocated Angie. Trask was older. Orderly. Mature. Angie’s killer had been aloof, with few friends. Trask had charisma, an ability to bring people, suspecting or not, into his fold. He had help in his killings, people loyal to him in the same way Jack’s team was loyal to him.

Maybe Trask had been in the military? Maybe the men he surrounded himself with were indebted to him for reasons other than a common bond of hurting women. There was
some
connection between Trask and those who helped him. Military seemed the most logical, because these efforts relied heavily on strategic planning. But other groups had the same kind of bonding and ability to plan. Cops, for one. Any group of people who had been through a traumatic event. Had Trask saved these men at one time? From death or prison? Were they criminals? Had they gone to school together? Worked together?

Maybe finding out who Trask surrounded himself with would lead them to Trask himself. Starting with Roger Morton.

Kate had nearly lost it when she saw the woman Denise Arno on-screen. Kate knew her, but Dillon had been unable to get her to talk further. At least not with Patrick and Connor hovering in the room, putting her on edge. He had to return to her room, communicate with Quinn Peterson, find out what the FBI was doing. He had confidence in the system, unlike Kate Donovan. He’d worked in the system long enough to know that people like Quinn Peterson were wholly dedicated and committed to saving lives.

But Lucy wasn’t Quinn’s sister. And while Dillon had no doubt that Kate Donovan would do anything and everything to stop Lucy’s murder, he also knew that her number one goal was to stop Trask.

After learning from Peterson about the failed sting operation five years ago, Dillon had glimpsed Kate’s motivation. Yet something about Peterson’s explanation didn’t jibe with the woman he’d just met. She seemed too responsible, too smart to play vigilante, putting herself and two other agents in a dangerous situation without authorization.

Yet she had been continually breaking the law for five years by hacking into computer systems around the globe. For the purpose of finding a killer, Dillon reminded himself.

He suspected that there was a lot more behind what had happened five years ago, and that only Kate Donovan knew the whole story.

“I thought you’d go with them.” Kate stood on the metal stairs outside her room.

“I told you I was staying.”

“Pardon me for not believing you.”

Had Kate been lied to so often she trusted no one?

“Remember the Dr. Seuss story of Horton the Elephant?”

A hint of a smile curved her lips. “And you’re Horton?”

He smiled back. “I always liked his philosophy.”

He followed Kate back into her room. Barracks, he should say. His eyes immediately found the screen where Lucy was…wasn’t where she should be. In its place was an older, poorer-quality video.

“What happened?” Dillon swallowed, suppressing the panic that rose with the bile in his throat. Was Lucy dead?

“She’s still alive.” Kate wasn’t looking at him. “I told you he’s not going to jump the countdown.”

“What happened?” he repeated.

“If you want to look at the recording, go ahead.” Kate faced him, sadness etched in her vivid blue eyes. “It was more of the same.”

Dillon looked up at the ceiling, his throat tight. What good would it do to watch his sister be hurt…be raped? The most important thing was finding her alive. Taking care of her, nursing her. He shook his head.

“I want to talk to Quinn.”

“He hasn’t gotten back to me since I sent the coordinates. That was over an hour ago.”

“May I?” Dillon motioned to the keyboard attached to the lone computer that had instant messaging.

She nodded, looking at a host of other monitors that flashed code and programs Dillon didn’t understand.

Peterson, it’s Dillon Kincaid. I’m with your friend. What’s happening?

Wait, I’ll get Peterson.

Dillon didn’t know to whom he was talking, so he didn’t type anything further. “You knew that woman?”

She nodded curtly.

“Who was she?”

“Denise Arno.”

“And?”

Kate said nothing.

“Kate,” Dillon said, his voice sterner than he intended. She faced him. “I need to know everything. I believe you want to help, but my goal is not Trask. It’s saving my sister. If you can’t get behind that, then maybe you don’t have your priorities straight.”

“Don’t talk to me about my priorities. Who are you to judge me?”

“I’m not judging you. But I need to know
everything
about Trask if we’re going to stop him. This is my job. I get into the heads of killers. I begin to think like them. Breathe like them. I’m beginning to get a handle on Trask.”

He continued, starting slow and speeding up as he went. “He’s forty, plus or minus. He’s from a wealthy family, used to privilege and getting whatever he wants. His parents were strict, probably excessively strict, and he resents authority because of that. I wouldn’t be surprised if his father was a high-ranking public official, attorney, or in some position of authority that he enjoyed abusing. Trask wasn’t born in a vacuum.”

“So he was an abused child,” Kate said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Dillon took a deep breath. He was used to that kind of comment from law enforcement. “He may or may not have been abused in the traditional sense. I feel no physical abuse, or if he was physically abused it was when he was very young. He likely had a volatile temper even as a young child, unable to own up to his mistakes. He feels no remorse for his actions, and I sense from reading the files Peterson gave me that he never has felt remorse.”