No Chance in Hell (29 page)

He drove into a grocery store parking lot, put the car in park, and then unhooked his seat belt. His hand cupped her cheek. She knew better than to look into his eyes. She wasn’t the strong person he thought her to be. He was much tougher than she was. Much more able to rein in his emotions. Much less likely to lose control.

“Don’t be nice to me right now. I’ll fall apart.”

“Go ahead. I’ll catch you.” His thumb stroked her skin.
 

“I didn’t want to believe my brother would actually kill me. I guess the van following us hammered everything home.”

“He’s not the same person you remember.”

“You’re right. But I can’t help wondering what must’ve happened to him to turn him into this monster.” She turned her head in his hand and kissed his palm. “We’d better get going. The home will close for the day around five. I think we want to talk to the first shift.”

“How do you know what time they shut down?” Marcus drove to the freeway and blended in with the traffic.

“I have no idea. Maybe Dr. Stern was right about bits and pieces of my memory coming back.”

****

DaVinci dropped the paint brush into a container of cleaner and hurried to answer his cell.
 

“Yes?”

“We’ve located her and her friend,” his mentor said.

“And?” he asked.
 

“Her driver took evasive action and lost our lead tracker.”

He didn’t want to hear excuses. “Then why the hell did you call me?”

“I said the lead tracker lost visual contact. We have more than one car following her to prevent such occurrences.” Michelangelo went on to explain that she and her bodyguard had gone to the Palmer Building, but a confrontation there in broad daylight hadn’t been feasible.

“Where is she now?”

“On I-30, headed west toward Fort Worth.”

“Stay with her. I want to know the minute they get situated for the night. I’ll be dressed and ready.” He disconnected, not waiting for a response.
 

****

Chris stopped at the bottom of the steps. Standing in front of the Miriam Waters Home for Children sent her memory into hyperdrive. Tiny pieces of her past flashed like a slide-show presentation, moving too fast to fully understand. She fisted her hands against the light-headed feeling pushing its way to the surface.

“You’re not going in there alone.” Marcus wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “If you’d rather, I’ll come back by myself tomorrow. You’ll be safe with Dalton and Nate watching your back. Not to mention Kay. She can kick ass when she has to.”

Chris appreciated his offer to spare her and his attempt at humor. This visit wasn’t a job she could shift onto his shoulders. “I have to do this. I want to.”

“It could dredge up even more upsetting memories.”

“Funny, standing here in front of the place, different emotions are flooding my brain. I recall crying for my mother late at night. An overwhelming sense of loneliness had wrapped around me. Along with an irrational fear of the dark.”

“I imagine those feelings are normal for any child who’d been taken from her mother or who’d been abandoned.”
 

She leaned against Marcus, drawing on his strength. “My fears went away when a new mommy and daddy took me home with them. I have to know how long Charlie was here. Was he adopted? Or did he get lost in the system?”

“Hey,” Marcus said.

She turned to look at him, and his soft lips covered hers. This wasn’t passion, it was comforting and connecting. It was his way of saying, “I’m sorry for all the sad days you had.” And she loved him for it. Hopelessly loved him.

“If you’re sure.” He smiled down at her and swiped his thumb across her bottom lip. “Then let’s do this.”

“Okay.”

Walking up the steps and into the building wasn’t as daunting as she’d expected. The front desk still sat just inside the big double doors, which weren’t all that large now that she was grown. She scanned the waiting area, noticing the softness of the decor, the pale-colored walls and a couch with two chairs facing it. No doubt, the space provided a place for adults to discuss which child to adopt or not.
 

“Chris,” Marcus said, snapping her attention back to the front desk.

“Sorry, I was taking it all in.”

A striking brunette was heading straight toward them. She wore navy slacks and a crisp white blouse. Her thick-soled flats spoke to the many miles she probably walked every day. She smiled, and her compassionate eyes sparkled.
 

“I’m Joyce Waters. You look a little lost. Can I help?”

Chris introduced herself, offered her hand, and Ms. Waters clasped it tightly. Chris relaxed a little. “I lived here twenty-five years ago.”
 

“An alumni. Welcome back.”

“Thank you. This is Marcus Ricci. He’s helping me locate my brother.”

Marcus handed his business card to Ms. Waters. “Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. “We’re looking for information on Charles Shelby.”

The woman picked up a pen off the front desk and wrote Charles’s name on the back of the card. “That long ago, you should speak with my mother. If you’ll wait here, I’ll see if she’s available.” Ms. Waters turned and walked down a hall.

Chris fought back the crushing feeling in her chest. “What if she refuses to help us?”

“Then we’ll find another way. I don’t know Texas law when it comes to situations like this. We may need a court order.”

Ms. Waters didn’t return quickly. Chris’s nerves got the best of her and she paced, hoping to learn more about the past.

“Here she comes. Are you ready?” Marcus asked.

“Yes.”
 

Ms. Waters motioned Chris and Marcus to follow. “If you’ll come with me.”

 
She ushered them into a small office and introduced them. The woman who rose and shook their hands didn’t look familiar to Chris. She tried to remember something, anything, but failed. Once they had been seated in plain but functional office chairs, she stopped trying.

“Forgive the wait. I wanted to pull up your files. My daughter said your name is Christine Shelby and you’re searching for your brother Charles?”

“That’s correct. My sister, Chelsea, was here with us, also.”

“You’re trying to locate both of your siblings?” The older Ms. Waters brushed a hand over her salt and pepper hair. Maybe in her late fifties, she was attractive, but her eyes held a sadness.

“Just my brother.” For a second, Chris debated whether telling the truth would help or not. “My sister and I were adopted, but for some reason our adoptive parents didn’t take him. It’s important that I learn everything about him that I can.”

“I pulled up the archives. Some things came back to me as I read. I’m happy to share those memories.” Her fingers moved to the collar of her blouse, patting it as if it had suddenly become askew. “Unfortunately, I can’t be a lot of help.”

“I’m going to excuse myself,” the younger Ms. Waters said. “You’re in good hands.”

Marcus stood, shook her hand, and then returned to his chair. He leaned forward. “It’s really important we locate Charles Shelby.”

Ms. Waters leaned back in her chair, her friendly demeanor shifting to that of sympathy. “Charles is in trouble, isn’t he?”

“We think so,” Chris said, deciding lying would serve no purpose. “Do you remember him?”

“I do. And I wish I had better news.”

“Can you tell us what happened to him?”

“I can share some personal memories. After you girls were adopted, Charles became destructive and disruptive. We thought if we quickly relocated him with a family, he’d settle down. More than one set of foster parents returned him because he was too unruly. One couple said he was downright cruel.”

“I don’t remember him being mean.”

“He was an angry little boy when you children arrived.” Ms. Waters stared at her computer screen for a minute. “Another family tried to channel his anger. They got him interested in oil painting. According to their statement, your brother had an extraordinary talent.”

“So they kept him?” Chris took a second to absorb that fact. Even though raised apart, they both painted.

“No. The mother got pregnant, and they felt Charles’s behavioral problems would be a risk to the baby.”

Abandoned again, Chris thought while Ms. Waters scanned and scrolled. How could any child be expected to understand being dumped and rejected over and over? Chris ached for all the times he’d been rejected.

Ms. Waters opened her mouth then closed it. Color flooded her cheeks.

“Please don’t hold back. I have to know,” Chris pushed.

“Charles ran away a few times, but he was always found and returned to us. He vanished from his last foster home. No one ever heard from him again.”

“How old was he?”

“Fifteen.” Ms. Waters chewed on the corner of her bottom lip. “I can share this information with you because it’s an open case with the Fort Worth Police Department. They came here looking for Charles. They wanted to question him regarding a murder and mutilation. The foster parents’ son was found dead the same day your brother disappeared from their home.”

Dots swam in front of Chris’s eyes. Marcus reached over and squeezed her hand as if he understood she was struggling with such horrible news.

“So the police never located Charles, and he never turned up here?” Marcus asked.

“I can’t tell you more than what I have.” Ms. Watered folded her hands and rested them on her desk. “Names, addresses, that kind of information is kept private. Check with the police. They can tell you if he was ever arrested.”

“Something horrible must’ve happened to my brother.”

Ms. Waters moved to the chair next to Chris. “I’ve probably told you more than I should’ve. I’m sorry I can’t give you the names of the foster homes your brother was in. That order would have to come from the court.”

“You’ve told us what we needed to know. I appreciate your time and help.” Chris stood. “We’ll show ourselves out. Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome. Come again. The children love it when alumni stop by and spend time with them.”

Chris and Marcus walked outside and down the stairs without speaking. She turned and studied the home one last time. “Maybe I will come back. This is the perfect place to offer financial assistance.”

“I think you’re right.”

The wind picked up, and a chill raced along her arms. “When I think about the wonderful life I had as a kid and then consider what Charlie must have endured, it makes me ill. I don’t remember him being destructive or mean. The little boy who keeps surfacing in my memory was an almost too-sweet, innocent child.”

Marcus guided her to the car. Once she’d buckled her seat belt, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. He closed her door, walked around the car, and got in. “I’ll grant that he went through hell. I hate to sound harsh, but your brother is a grown man, and he’s responsible for some heinous crimes. Every second of the day, you have to remember that he killed six women that we know of, one of them being one of his sisters. He’s committed to seeing you dead.”

“I understand. Nothing justifies his actions.” A quick blast of exhaustion hit Chris. How long could she keep hiding from Charlie when he seemed so determined to make her pay?
 

Marcus dug his cell out of his pocket. “Nate and Dalton need to hear what we’ve learned.” He hit a speed-dial number then handed her the phone. “It’s on speaker. We’ll both talk.”
 

The call went as expected. Marcus navigated afternoon traffic while both men on the other end of the line listened to her.
 

“We’re running his name through the databases,” Dalton said. “That’s a fairly common name. More than one have had a brush with the law, so we’ll take a look at each of them after we narrow the list using his age. He could be using an alias or he’s stayed under the cops’ radar. I’ll run him through the federal database.”

“So you’re on board?” Chris asked Dalton.

“That we’re looking for your brother? Yes. Your conversation with Ms. Waters convinced me. Experience tells me that he was abused, probably mentally, physically, and sexually. He believes everything that happened to him as a child is your fault. None of it would’ve happened if you had gone back for him.”
 

“What the hell kind of statement is that?” Marcus snapped off the question. Chris watched his knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. “Sounds like you’re blaming Chris.”

“Hold on,” Dalton said. “I’m telling you what I think is going through his mind.”

Chris smiled, reached over, and tugged Marcus’s hand off the steering wheel. Winding her fingers through his, she commented, “We’d figured that out. It doesn’t matter that I was a child, too. I promised him I’d come back.”

“Exactly,” Dalton said. “He hung on to that like a lifeline. Eventually it became distorted, gave him an excuse to lash out.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes to pick up Diablo.” Marcus abruptly changed the subject. “Nate, did Kay line up a place for us to stay tonight?”