Lethal Confessions (47 page)

He looked down at the top of the kid’s head. “One twist is all it would take.”

He reached for the phone with his free hand and held it to the bitch’s face.

Saturday, August 7

8:45 a.m.

“God, Amy, what if that fucking serial killer’s got them? I’m out of my mind…” Amy’s brother-in-law choked back a sob, unable to continue.

Amy’s lungs seized as she cast panicked eyes around the Floor for Poushinsky. “Try to stay calm, Justin,” she said into her cell phone, mustering every ounce of her professional discipline. “Take some deep breaths, then tell me exactly what’s happened.”

She listened to Justin inhale three or four times as she fought a losing battle to keep her own breathing steady.

Please, dear God, please let there be some other explanation
.

“Cooper’s day care called me around seven-thirty. They said M.L. hadn’t shown up. But she always has Cooper there by seven. The center couldn’t reach her at home or on her cell, so they tried my cell number.” He took a shuddering breath.

“Go on,” Amy said, nausea gripping her insides like a damn vise.

“I thought maybe M.L. had gotten sick or something. But she didn’t answer when I called, either. I tried over and over again. I called her work number, too, but they said she hadn’t shown up yet. So, I reached Sammy next door and asked him to check the house, but he called back and told me M.L. and Cooper weren’t there. He said the beds weren’t made, and her clothes were on the floor. And her car was still there.”

Her legs rubbery, Amy grabbed a corner of her desk.
Please God, please don’t let this be happening. I’ll do anything to make it not be true.

But her gut told her that her prayers would be useless.

“Sammy was going to call the police, but I told him my sister-in-law
is
the police. Jesus, Amy, you’ve got to find them. I can’t even think about—”

“You did the right thing, Justin,” she interrupted, in a voice calm enough that it surprised her. “I’ll find them. You know damn well I’ll find them.”

“I know you’ll
try
,” he said in a choked voice. “Look, I’m getting out of here as soon as I can get a flight. I should be home by mid-afternoon. Call me the second you know anything, okay?”

“Count on it.” She hung up, her heart pounding so hard she thought she might pass out.
Breathe, Amy. Breathe.

When Poushinsky walked through the door, Amy stood up and gave him an urgent wave. What were the chances Gardner would have randomly picked M.L. as his next victim? Damn slim. And why take Cooper, too?

“I think Gardner might have snatched my sister and her son.” She could barely force the words out.

“What?” Poushinsky said, gape-mouthed. Then he grabbed her shoulders. “Jesus, Amy. Tell me everything.”

She let him steady her for a moment before stepping back. “My brother-in-law’s been trying to reach M.L. since early morning. The neighbor checked the house and said her car’s there, but they’re not at home. Cooper’s not at day care, and M.L.’s not at work.”

Poushinsky uttered a low curse. “But you know the first question cops always ask,” he said, locking his gaze on her face. “Is it even remotely possible your sister took the boy and ran off?”

Amy gave an angry shake of her head. “M.L. would never do that. And sure as hell not without telling me or our parents. Listen, I’ve got to race home and get photos of the two of them so we can put out a BOLO. And an Amber Alert on Cooper.” She grabbed her cell phone and slid it into the holster on her belt.

Poushinsky held her arm as she turned to leave. “Amy, this can’t be a random thing.”

“
Calice
, no,” she growled. “That scumbag wants to get at me, and he’s going to use an innocent woman and her four-year-old to do it.”

Saturday, August 7

6:30 p.m.

Amy paced across the near-empty HQ parking lot, trying to burn off the relentless nervous energy and fear that gripped her.

Beckett spotted her and gave her a quick wave as he pulled into the lot, finally back from his Starbucks run. She took a few steps to meet him as he got out of his car, gratefully grasping the big cup of dark roast he held out to her. He’d been taking care of her all afternoon, forcing her to eat a few mouthfuls and supplying her with steady stream of much-needed caffeine. He’d rarely moved from her side except for getting her provisions. But she could read the frustration in his eyes and sense how useless he felt.

Right now, Amy felt useless, too. Despite her confident promise to Justin, ten long hours had dragged by since he called and they were no closer to finding her sister and nephew. The BOLO and the Amber Alert had produced nothing but a handful of false leads.

The support she’d received from her fellow cops, though, had overwhelmed her. Cramer had vowed to muster every resource available. Her whole squad, including Sergeant Knight, plus a half dozen other detectives had scoured M.L.’s neighborhood, hoping for a break like the ones they’d lucked out on with the Noble and O’Neill abductions. But this time not a single neighbor had noticed anything amiss at the Wilson home the previous night. Like M.L., they’d probably all had their windows closed, ensconced in their climate-controlled cocoons.

Gardner hadn’t tried to fool his way inside this time, and that didn’t surprise Amy. After all the publicity, not to mention her nagging warnings, she didn’t think M.L. would have let a stranger in under any circumstances. Gardner would have planned on that, so he’d decided on the direct approach—simply picking the lock on the back door. The alarm monitoring company confirmed that a door alarm went off at twelve fifty-two a.m. When the operator called, M.L. had told him she’d forgotten to disarm the system when she went outside to get some something she’d left in the lanai.

That was total bullshit. Gardner would have had a gun to her head—or to Cooper’s—when M.L. answered that call. Amy hadn’t been able to get that mental picture out of her head. Cooper’s bewildered cries and M.L.’s frantic sobs. The utter terror that must have filled her sister’s mind and body.

Amy pushed down the panic that was threatening to completely swamp her. She couldn’t let her imagination spin out of control or she’d be useless.

More than seventeen hours had passed since the abduction, and they had nothing. But, unlike the other cases, at least they didn’t have bodies, either. She took a sliver of comfort from that, but it raised a million questions. What the hell was Gardner up to, anyway?

Completely distracted, she gulped down the coffee. Thankfully, it had cooled enough that the impulsive gesture didn’t ravage her tongue and throat.

“What else can we do?” Beckett asked as he draped an arm around her shoulders. She shuddered, grateful for his warmth in the damp, overcast evening. Dark clouds had massed in the western sky, promising heavy bursts of rain, lightning and thunder.

“All we can do is wait. We’ve put out all the alerts, their pictures are on every newscast and on the Internet, and my team is calling every real estate agent in four counties to see if someone matching Gardner’s description bought or rented a house since last October.”

“Waiting sucks,” Beckett said, squeezing her a little more tightly.

“Big time.”

She rested against him, needing the comfort and reassurance of his firm touch. Right now, she didn’t give a damn that the other cops and civilians at HQ might see them huddled together. She didn’t give a damn about anything except rescuing her sister and nephew. If she failed—if Gardner murdered them—she honestly didn’t think she’d survive it.

The inescapable, sickening fact was that Gardner would have killed M.L. and Cooper solely because of her. Because she was a cop, and a cop who just had to bag herself a serial killer. Amy would have to live with that weight—that unbearable weight—on her shoulders for as long as she lived. And watch helplessly as the grief destroyed her parents.

She couldn’t do it.

As soon as she’d dropped the photos off at HQ, she’d raced down the coast to her parents’ home. She’d wanted to tell them herself before they saw the nightmare unfold on the airwaves. Her father had gone ashen, wobbling on his feet until Amy helped him collapse into a chair. But, like the cop he would forever be, he’d pulled himself together and soon enough was peppering her with hard questions. Her mother, on the other hand, had remained a wreck. Amy had managed to get a tranquilizer into her, and had called her mother’s best friend to hurry over and sit with her while she lay dazed in bed.

Later in the afternoon, she’d headed to Justin and M.L.’s house, not just to brief him, but to try to offer comfort, too. Amy had never seen Justin cry, and for the first time since he’d married M.L., she started to think he deeply loved her sister. Or maybe his tears were just for Cooper. Either way, her heart went out to him in a way it never had before.

She stirred in Beckett’s grasp. “Any more news on Alicia today?” she asked, desperate to distract herself from her unproductive, chaotic thoughts.

Beckett glanced down into her eyes, surprised. Then he nodded, clearly understanding. “She had some tests yesterday and again this morning. I called her surgeon a while ago, and everything’s still a go for the operation.”

“You’ll be there when she goes into the O.R., right?”

“I’m planning on staying at the hospital all day. The doctor said it would be okay if I spent the night, too.” He set his jaw in that stubborn way she’d come to love. “I don’t plan on leaving her side for long. Not even after I get her home.”

The gusting wind blew the first drops of rain against Amy’s face. She shifted away from Beckett and turned to go back into the station.

“You’re a good man, Beckett,” she said softly, staring at the gathering storm. “And a hell of a lot braver than I’d be in your situation.”

He scoffed. “Bullshit. You’re as brave as they come. You prove that every day out there on the front lines.”

She gave a weary laugh, feeling it scrape like broken glass in her throat. “I wish that was true.”

She moved away, picking up her pace as the rain intensified. Beckett caught up with her, his long strides eating up ground. By the time she reached the door, he already had it open for her. Halfway down the hallway, her cell phone buzzed.

She didn’t recognize the number. Not a local exchange. “Robitaille,” she said, giving her damp hair a shake.

“Listen up, Detective, because this is going to be quick.”

Gardner
. Her stomach twisted into a pretzel and she immediately began to sweat profusely.
Please, God, don’t have him tell me where to find the bodies.

She turned to face Beckett. “Go ahead, Gardner. Or, should I say Garneau?” Motioning Beckett to follow, she strode back toward the door they’d just come in. She didn’t need anyone overhearing the conversation.

Gardner snorted. “Smart little Detective Robitaille. Well, I’ve got your sister and the kid, smart bitch, and they’re alive. At least so far.”

Relief almost buckled her knees. They were alive, and Gardner was calling because he wanted something. Without having to think, Amy knew in her gut what it was likely to be.

Beckett hovered over her, his face grim, his hands flexing into fists. She gave him a quick, reassuring nod before returning her full attention to the call. “What do you want, Gardner? Just spit it out.”

“You know what I want.” His drawl seemed to thicken. “I want you.”

Though she’d seen it coming, it still hit her like a freight train. A wave of nausea washed over her and she clutched a hand to her stomach, desperately trying to force deep breaths.

She had to stay calm. Focused. Her sister and Cooper depended on her. This time, she wouldn’t fail. “Spell it out, then.”

“Oh, come on, Detective.” He blew out an impatient breath. “I get you, in exchange for these two.”

He’s probably going to kill us all
.

A nightmare image flashed into her brain. Her parents, in a cemetery, standing beside three caskets waiting to be lowered. One only four feet long.

Not going to happen
.
Not as long as I’m still breathing.

Amy knew what she had to do. She steeled her voice. “All right. You let them go, and I’m all yours.”

Beside her, Beckett recoiled as if he’d been punched in the jaw. He gave a violent shake of his head, looking ready to rip the phone from her grip.

She put up a hand, trying to signal that she had the situation under control.

If only
.

“Smart move,” Gardner snarled. “The next time I call, I’ll give you the details.”

“But—”

He hung up.

She’d been about to demand proof of life, but the killer hadn’t given her the chance. Now he was going to make her wait. And suffer. She hoped to God it wouldn’t be for long.

Beckett grabbed her by the shoulders, his dark eyes blazing. “Fuck, no! There’s no way you can do that. You know damn well he’ll kill them. He’ll kill all three of you.”

Amy shook out of his grip and took a quick glance around to make sure no one had heard Beckett’s raised voice. “I don’t
know
that,” she said sharply. “But I do know that we have absolutely no idea where that nut case has taken my sister and her son. And I know he
will
kill them if I don’t do what he asks. I
know
those things, and so do you.”

Beckett slammed his hand against the wall. “Then you’ll have to find a way to string him along until we can find them,” he said, his voice as hard as stone. “Trying to be a hero almost always gets you killed. Trust me on that. I’ve seen it happen too often.”

Beckett was right, but he didn’t get it. If she blew off Gardner, M.L. and Cooper would die and her life would be as good as over, anyway. She’d barely managed to survive Ariane’s murder. There would be no getting over this. M.L.’s and Cooper’s faces would haunt her for the rest of her life. And her parents...they’d simply never survive another unthinkable tragedy. Not for long.

String him along? No, Jason Gardner was clever and he was calling the shots, so she had no choice but to do as he said. He’d set the whole thing up with some skill. For a low-life ex-con that didn’t make it out of high school, the bastard had a brain.