Текст книги "Alone in the Dark"

Автор книги: Karen Rose

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Текущая страница: 46 (всего у книги 49 страниц)

Thirty-six

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 10.45 P.M.

‘Almost there,’ Scarlett said quietly. They were less than ten minutes from the site where Marcus would walk into a certain trap. She wanted to talk him out of it, but knew that she couldn’t. If he left Gayle with that monster to save his own skin, he’d never forgive himself.

It was who he was and she accepted that.

‘Would you have really done it?’ he asked. ‘Given up your badge?’

‘I told my dad that if I were forced to choose, I’d choose you. I never said I’d give up my badge, but that’s what it translates to. But you know, if it came down to that, I wouldn’t want to stay, anyway. I’m a good cop. I have integrity. If I didn’t believe in it, I wouldn’t do it. If the department and I came to an impasse, I wouldn’t be the one to yield.’

‘I’m . . .’ He stammered, flustered. ‘Thank you.’

She smiled at him. ‘If you want to thank me, call Deacon. He’s late checking in. If I call, he’ll yell at me.’

‘Thirty seconds late,’ Marcus said, ‘but I’ll call. For you.’ He dialed Deacon’s number and put him on speaker.

‘Thirty seconds, people,’ Deacon growled. ‘That’s all the late I was. But’ – his voice became lighter – ‘we have what you asked for. You want me to read it or send it?’

‘Both. Send it to my phone,’ Scarlett said. ‘I’ll pull over to look at it.’

‘You’re welcome, Detective Meanness,’ Diesel said.

Scarlett grinned. ‘Thank you, Diesel. I’m sorry I threatened you, but you deserved it.’

‘I did,’ Diesel agreed. ‘And I have to admit, it was kind of hot.’

Scarlett started to scold him, then looked over at Marcus. He was nodding vigorously. ‘Very hot,’ he mouthed, and she swallowed her rebuke, giving Marcus a wink instead. Terrified for Gayle, he was holding on to his composure by a thread. If a little flirtation helped him, Scarlett could flow with it.

‘I’m pulling over now,’ she said, ‘and, Diesel, you are going to forget we ever had this conversation.’ By the time she’d stopped the car, the letter had arrived in her email inbox. She and Marcus huddled over her screen, studying the note while Deacon read it aloud.

When they’d finished, Scarlett frowned, completely disappointed. ‘It’s exactly as Gayle said. Dammit. Thanks anyway, guys,’ she said into the phone’s speaker. ‘I was hoping.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Marcus said. ‘Not so fast.’ He expanded her phone’s screen and glanced over at her with a smile of satisfaction. ‘Look at the return address. That’s not where the McCords lived. But it is about five miles from the entrance to the park where we’re supposed to meet Sweeney.’

‘Oh my God – do you think . . . Could she have put Sweeney’s return address on her letter?’ Scarlett asked. ‘Why would she? How would she even know it?’

‘She did it so that we’d check it out,’ Diesel said. ‘I bet Leslie McCord realized her and her hubby’s numbers were up and she wanted someone to know who’d done them in. As for how she knew the address . . . Maybe she’d visited, or even followed Sweeney after a meet. Anders took photos to cover himself. Maybe the McCords wanted a little insurance too.’

‘But why not just tell you?’ Deacon asked.

Scarlett got it. ‘Because she was worried about what would happen to her, but Woody was trying to cut a deal with the prosecution. She didn’t want any evidence floating around to indicate that her husband actually was guilty.’ She let out a breath of air, ‘So, let’s rethink our plan. We have a little more than an hour now. It is entirely possible that we’re wrong. If so, I want to be able to quickly punt back to plan A – meeting Sweeney where he specified. To that end, we should leave at least Adam in place. We can call Kate to meet us at the address Leslie McCord left us. If we’re wrong about Gayle being there, then Kate will be our backup.’

Adam Kimble had camped in that park and knew the layout, so they’d all agreed that he’d go ahead, scout out the area and find a tall tree with a good vantage point of the meeting place. Kate was a sharpshooter, so the base plan had been that she would accompany Adam, finding her own tree.

‘Adam and Kate should be at the park by now,’ Marcus said. ‘Let’s tell Kate to meet us at the McCord address.’

Scarlett nodded. ‘Kate can be our lookout while we search the place for Gayle.’

‘First priority is to get Gayle out, then find Sweeney,’ Marcus said. ‘I say we give ourselves until 11.30 to find Gayle. If not, I go to the meet as agreed, miked up so that you all can hear. If Kate can safely find a new tree in time, she should. Otherwise, she’s Adam’s backup on the ground.’

Once they had a visual lock on Gayle, they were to shoot Sweeney to injure, but not to kill. Not unless Sweeney did something stupid, like attempt a double-cross, and then all bets were off and Adam and Kate were to do whatever necessary to bring the bastard down.

Scarlett and Deacon were to remain far enough back so that their presence would go undetected. Unless, again, something went wrong with the trade, or Sweeney simply started shooting. Then they’d sweep in and, like Adam and Kate, do whatever needed to be done to stop him. Not allowing Sweeney to escape was the one thing they’d all agreed on. Either they brought him in alive or they took him down. Permanently.

Marcus gave Scarlett a frighteningly sober look as he added into the speaker phone, ‘And, guys, if it comes down to saving only one of us, choose Gayle. Promise me.’

There was silence on the line. Scarlett’s lips tightened. She wasn’t entertaining that as a possibility. If she did, she’d crack and be utterly useless to everyone.

Finally Deacon sighed. ‘All right,’ he said quietly. ‘But let’s pray this McCord address is the right place.’

Scarlett cleared her throat. ‘If it is the right place, we storm the castle instead of walking into a slaughter.’

‘Not to be too particular,’ Deacon commented, ‘but what exactly does storming the castle entail?’

Scarlett hesitated. ‘Assessing the perimeter first. We can at least check out the house and the property on Google Earth. Then we find a way in, find Gayle and get out.’

‘In other words,’ Diesel drawled, ‘you really have no flippin’ idea.’

‘Pretty much,’ Scarlett admitted. ‘We’ll play it by ear. It’ll be dicey, but at least we’re following our plan, not a response to his.’

‘I’ll contact Kate and Adam,’ Deacon said. ‘I’ll leave Adam in place and have Kate call you to coordinate. I’ll meet you at the McCord address in twenty.’

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 11.05 P.M.

‘The wall’s at least a hundred yards long on each side,’ Kate Coppola said as she jogged up to where Scarlett and Marcus stood next to the car they’d parked at the edge of the property to which Leslie McCord had led them. ‘Maybe half that widthways. Encloses about an acre.’

Kate had arrived ten minutes earlier and, her rifle strapped to her back, had attempted a perimeter check. Deacon was still ten minutes out. Scarlett checked her phone. They were very quickly running out of time to figure out a way in. Hopefully Sweeney was still in there and they could catch him coming out.

‘The wall is eight inches thick and ten feet high,’ Kate continued, ‘with high-voltage wire on top. There’s an iron gate at the end of a long tree-lined driveway. Remote-controlled. I didn’t see a guard shack inside, but my angle was bad so there could have been one.’

‘Cameras?’ Scarlett asked.

‘I counted at least sixteen of them on the side of the wall I could see, evenly spaced along the outer perimeter, and they’re active. The high-voltage wire is live. I climbed a tree and got a decent view of the interior, but none of the limbs extend over the walls, so there’s no entry that way. Good news,’ she finished, ‘is that with all this security, this is probably Sweeney’s place.’

‘But bad news,’ Scarlett said grimly, ‘is that it’s a fucking fortress.’

Marcus closed his eyes on a wave of palpable despair, but his voice remained strong. ‘Are you sure the wire fence is live?’

‘I could hear it humming,’ Kate replied briskly, but there was sympathy in her eyes.

He nodded, eyes open and alert once more. ‘What else?’

‘The wall itself only encloses the house and an attached garage,’ Kate said. ‘There’s a chain-link gate in the back wall that opens to the rest of the property. I didn’t run the entire perimeter, so I can’t tell you how many acres it covers, only that it’s enclosed by a twelve-foot chain-link fence, also high-voltage, also live.’

‘If the property database is correct,’ Marcus said, ‘the entire property is just under forty acres. I ran a quick check as we were driving here. The owner is listed as Kenneth Spiegel, forty-eight years old.’

‘Kenneth Spiegel, Kenneth Sweeney,’ Kate said. ‘At least he did us the courtesy of keeping his first name in his alias.’

‘The age is about right too,’ Scarlett added, ‘assuming Kenneth is the man in the photos with Alice.’

‘Did you get a photo of Kenneth Spiegel?’ Kate asked.

Marcus said. ‘Not yet. Deacon’s having Isenberg’s clerk search the DMV database. Spiegel still exists – as a name, anyway. He’s on record as paying the property taxes every year. He assumed ownership from Martha Spiegel – his mother – twenty-two years ago, when he was twenty-six. It appears this land has been owned by Spiegels for a hundred years. The primary residence is a six-bedroom, three-and-a-half-bath Tudor-style home with a six-car garage, just under four thousand square feet.’

‘That’s what I saw within the walls,’ Kate agreed. ‘The back part of the property is mostly forested, but I did see two sheds through the chain-link fence. One is normal-sized – for shovels and stuff – and the other is large, with a high ceiling, almost like a building you’d see at a state fair.’

‘Lots of places to hide one small woman,’ Scarlett muttered.

‘She’s likely being kept in the basement,’ Marcus said, ‘based on the video he sent us. The cage was on a concrete floor and the walls in the background were unfinished.’

‘And the sound echoed a little,’ Scarlett added. ‘I’d start looking there once we get in.’

‘Did you see any sign of people?’ Marcus asked. ‘Guards specifically?’

‘Not walking around,’ Kate said, ‘but there have been people there recently. There’s trash in the cans outside and one of the garage doors is up. I took some photos.’ She handed over her phone, and Scarlett and Marcus flipped through the pictures, confirming what she had described.

‘Any ideas of how we get in?’ Scarlett asked.

Marcus shook his head, his shoulders sagging. ‘No,’ he murmured.

Scarlett curled her hand around his forearm. ‘Then we wait for him to come out. If he hasn’t left yet, he’ll have to come through the front gate. We put Kate up in the tree and she can take him out with a head shot, assuming his vehicle isn’t fitted with bullet-resistant glass. If we can’t take him out, we disable the car and physically ambush him.’

Marcus lifted his head. Stared at her for a moment, hope in his eyes. ‘We have to get him before he knows we’re coming. Kate?’

Kate checked the time. ‘Deacon will be here soon, but the SWAT guys are still twenty minutes out. I really want the backup.’

‘But Sweeney might leave for the meet before they get here,’ Marcus protested.

‘Kate, let’s get as close to the front gate as we can without setting off the security, and find our positions,’ Scarlett bargained. ‘We won’t move in until backup arrives, unless Sweeney’s vehicle comes through the gate. Does that work?’

Kate considered it for a split second longer. ‘Yeah, that works.’

‘Then let’s go,’ Marcus said, his jaw clenched. ‘How do we avoid the cameras?’

‘I hid in the tree cover. I assume it worked because nobody shot at me. Follow me.’

Scarlett gave his arm another squeeze. ‘You heard the woman, soldier. Fall in.’

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 11.10 P.M.

Ken logged out of his bank account and closed his laptop before turning to look down at his son, who lay on the floor shivering, despite the heat in the garage. Bound hand and foot, Sean boasted fewer fingers and toes than he’d had before they’d started.

It only seemed fair. Ken had taken Demetrius’s fingers based on the belief that his old friend had betrayed him, when in reality it had been Sean setting his team up to mistrust each other. Sean fancied himself a grand puppet master, pulling the strings. Sean had been wrong.

‘I gotta hand it to you, son,’ Ken said. ‘You held out far longer than I expected before spilling your secrets.’ But he had spilled them. ‘You’ll be happy to know that I’ve reclaimed my money – and yours. But not to worry. You won’t be needing it anymore.’

Sean stared up at him, hatred and agony glazing his eyes. ‘You fucking bastard,’ he croaked hoarsely. He’d screamed long and loud, and his voice was mostly gone.

‘Watch your tone, boy,’ Ken said mildly. Swiping his shirtsleeve over his brow, he wiped away the sweat that dripped into his eyes. He’d opened the garage door to get a little fresh air after finishing with Sean, but the air outside was hot and muggy too. He needed a shower and a change of clothes. I reek, he thought. His clothing was smeared with Sean’s blood. Now that his money was safe, he needed to clean up and get in position to eliminate O’Bannion.

Ken had no plans to walk up and meet the man. There would be no exchange of pleasantries or threats. No face-to-face final confrontation. He didn’t need O’Bannion to know who was killing him. He simply wanted the man dead. He knew the park like the back of his hand. He’d grown up here. He knew where to hide for the best shot that would drop O’Bannion in his tracks and still allow for a speedy and unnoticed escape.

Because he did not want that man following him to the ends of the earth. Ken wanted the freedom to live where and as he pleased.

He reached down to grab Sean’s ankles so that he could drag him out of the garage, but hesitated. There were still a few things he needed to know. He met his son’s furious – and helpless – gaze. ‘So nobody was stealing money, Demetrius was loyal, and you really don’t know where Reuben is?’

‘Go to hell.’

He tapped Sean’s shot-out knee with the toe of his boot, making his son moan in pain. ‘I’ll kick it. You won’t like that, I promise. What about Reuben’s wife, Miriam? Was she really saved by an anonymous 911 call?’ He held his knife poised over the knee wound. ‘Don’t give me attitude.’

‘There was an anonymous 911 call,’ Sean gritted. ‘But Miriam was already dead. Nobody pumped her stomach or made her vomit. She died because you drugged her.’

Ken clenched his jaw. ‘So you lied about Burton double-crossing me, too.’

‘No. I didn’t lie.’ Sean’s baring of teeth was a gross parody of a smile. ‘You assumed.’

Ken’s rage roiled within him. ‘I ordered Burton’s death. Decker killed him and disposed of him.’

‘You have a conscience?’ Sean scoffed.

‘No. But you cost me a man I could have depended on later.’ And that pissed him off. Losing a loyal man who’d kill his friend’s wife on Ken’s command? Burton had been an asset. ‘What about your sister?’ he asked. ‘Was Alice in on this with you?’

Sean pursed his lips like he wasn’t going to answer until Ken pushed the blade further into his knee wound. Sean’s eyes rolled back and Ken slapped his face hard.

‘You will keep it together,’ Ken snarled. ‘You’ll die when I decide it’s time. Was your sister in on this with you?’

‘No!’ Sean cried out shrilly. ‘She was loyal.’ He panted, his face ashen. ‘She wanted to buy you out.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Pay you money.’

‘But you didn’t,’ Ken said quietly. ‘You wanted to steal it.’

‘I wanted you to die knowing you’d lost it all.’ Sean spat the words as tears ran down his face. ‘But she loves you,’ he sneered. ‘And I hate her for it.’

Ken blinked, momentarily stunned. ‘You would have killed her too?’

‘No. No. I couldn’t do that.’ Sean shook his head, sobs now shaking his body. ‘So I got her out of the way.’

Slowly Ken came to his feet, his mind numb, yet racing. Alice was out of the way. In custody. Because I sent her to take care of the tracker supplier. Because Sean had told him that the supplier was being brought to police headquarters. He grabbed his son by the collar of his blood-soaked shirt. ‘You set her up to go to prison?’

‘I was going to get her out!’ Sean shouted. ‘I was going to get her the best lawyer money could buy!’

Ken shook him hard. ‘When?’

‘After you were dead,’ Sean said flatly. ‘And I’d put you through the goddamn woodchipper.’

Ken twisted Sean’s collar with one hand as he drew his other back and backhanded his son so hard that his head hit the floor with an audible crack. ‘You little bastard,’ he said quietly. I want to kill him. Want to break his fucking neck. But that would be too quick. Too merciful. ‘Tell me, Sean,’ he continued, still quietly. ‘Had you planned to kill me before you put me through the woodchipper?’

Sean blanched, able to see where this was going. The boy was smart that way. ‘I hadn’t thought about it,’ he replied, struggling for bravado.

Ken smiled. ‘I have. And I don’t.’ He had the satisfaction of watching his son’s bravado drain away, leaving Sean shaking in a pool of his own blood and tears.

But he couldn’t do that right now. He checked the time and cursed. He needed to get clean. O’Bannion was no idiot. He’d most certainly bring all kinds of law enforcement with him. The woods would probably be crawling with cops. And if any of them had called in a canine unit, the dogs would smell him a mile away as he was right now, all covered with blood.

Checking the security of Sean’s bonds, he shoved a cloth gag in his son’s mouth before cleaning his knives and putting them back in their case. Then he took them and his laptop back into the house. He started the hot water in the master bath as he stripped off his fouled clothing. He’d throw the clothes in the pit with what was left of Sean.

Ken climbed under the hot spray, feeling every one of his forty-seven years. His daughter was in prison and he needed to find a way to get her out. And he had to do it from a long distance away. Because only one thing was crystal clear: he would be on that plane tomorrow when it left for Papeete, no matter what. He’d do what he could for Alice from there.

He considered his options as he lathered off the grime. He could—

Suddenly the lights went out and the AC motor whined as it shut down. No power. The power had gone out. Which it wasn’t supposed to do. They had a backup generator. It should have kicked in already, but it hadn’t.

Something was wrong.

Ken quickly rinsed himself off and crept from the shower.

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 11.10 P.M.

The wall with its iron gate, evenly spaced cameras and high voltage was exactly as Kate had described, Marcus thought as he and Scarlett followed the agent through the woods. Scarlett lurched forward to tap Kate’s shoulder, bringing them all to an abrupt halt.

Scarlett pointed to the mounted camera. ‘How did you know they were live?’ she whispered.

‘The red lights were lit on each of them,’ Kate whispered back. But the lights weren’t on now. She cocked her head. ‘The hum of the high-voltage wire is gone too, and there was more ambient light overhead because of spotlights inside the wall.’

‘Someone didn’t pay their power bill,’ Marcus said. ‘If the back fence is also dead, we can go in that way rather than waiting for Sweeney to come through the gate.’

Kate checked the time again, then sent a quick text from her phone. ‘To Deacon,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m telling him that we’re going in. We don’t know if the power outage is planned or accidental, but it could come back on. Let’s cut our way through the chain-link. If the power comes back on, retreat to the forested area until backup arrives. I’ll check the two sheds in the back, then I’ll find a good vantage point with the garage in view. If he leaves while you’re in there, I’ll fire as soon as the car clears the garage.’

They set off at a jog through the trees until they reached the point where the wall ended and the chain-link fence began. Marcus plucked a leaf from a tree and dropped it on the fence, relieved when there was no fizzle. He pulled the bolt cutters from the pack and cut a section of fence, three feet wide by five feet tall. The fence curled away, leaving an opening large enough for them to dive through. Even if the power came back on, they had a quick escape route.

Kate disappeared to the left, into the trees in the direction of the two small sheds that she’d seen. Scarlett had already run to the chain-link gate set into the back wall and was cutting away a portion of the gate similar in size to that which Marcus had cut in the fence itself.

She handed him the bolt cutters and he slid them back into the pack. She crawled through the hole she’d cut, fearless but careful. Marcus was right behind her.

Hold on a little longer, Gayle, he thought. I’m coming for you.

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 11.15 P.M.

Special Agent Kate Coppola looked over her shoulder to see Marcus and Scarlett disappearing behind the wall of the compound. She silently wished them luck, starkly aware that they’d taken the more dangerous search. Back here in the forested area, there was cover galore should she need to hide, but inside the compound there was a house, its attached garage and a lot of wide-open space.

Marcus O’Bannion was here to save Gayle first and to stop Sweeney second. Scarlett’s priorities mirrored his, but Kate’s were reversed. Kate was here to arrest the traffickers the Bureau had been following for three years now. Her secondary priority was to make contact with – and to extract, if required – their agent who’d gone deep undercover. They hadn’t heard from the agent in weeks. That wasn’t too unusual. What was more worrisome was that they hadn’t heard from the undercover’s handler in several days. The handler was long overdue for his check-in.

She moved through the forest as soundlessly as possible, headed for the larger shed because it was the closer of the two. The structure was about as large as a high-school gymnasium, the walls made of corrugated metal. The roof was a big canopy that rose to a peak in the middle, like that of a circus tent. There was no foundation that she could see and the walls were of the prefabricated type that could be quickly put together and taken apart.

A temporary structure? Probably. But what were they using it for?

She heard the loud crack of a twig and ducked back into the trees. A man was approaching from the large shed, but it wasn’t Sweeney. Sweeney was in his forties, with dark hair. The man walking toward her was blond and fucking huge. Nearly as big as Marcus’s friend Diesel. She didn’t want to have to shoot him and alarm anyone in the house, but she also didn’t want to have to tangle with him hand-to-hand unless she got the drop on him.

Sliding her rifle over her back, Kate grabbed the limb of the nearest tree, swung herself up onto it, then climbed a few limbs higher until she was certain the man wouldn’t see her.

She waited until he’d gotten a few body lengths away from the tree before dropping from the limb to land nearly soundlessly in a crouch. She shoved the barrel of her rifle into his back.

‘Hands in the air.’ Slowly he complied. ‘Higher.’ She dug the rifle barrel a bit deeper into his back. ‘Higher, I said. On the ground, face down, Blondie. Do it,’ she hissed, and he dropped to his knees, flattening his body on the ground. ‘Arms spread, palms down, fingers straight.’

Once again he complied, and she snapped cuffs on while he put up relatively little resistance. ‘Where’s your boss?’ she asked.

‘Depends. Who are you?’

She gave the rifle another shove between his shoulder blades. ‘I will shoot your fucking head off, make no mistake. Boss. Where?’

‘Inside the house, I think. At least he was a few minutes ago. Don’t shoot.’ He turned his face to the side so that he could look up at her from the corner of his eye. His very blue eye. ‘Who are you? Please.’

Her rifle was steady in her hands. ‘Special Agent Coppola, FBI. Who are you?’

He let out a breath. ‘Finally. You need to send a message to your SAC ASAP. Tell him “Pineapple under the sea”.’

‘“Pineapple under the sea”?’ Startled, Kate went down on one knee to study his face more closely. It could be him under all that grime. Carefully she pushed up his pants leg to his knee and checked for the identifying scar. It was a match. Quickly she unlocked his cuffs. ‘Well I’ll be damned. Special Agent Davenport, we’ve been looking for you.’

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 11.15 P.M.

Scarlett and Marcus ran from the back gate toward the garage attached to the house. There were six bay doors, with one open. Hopefully that meant that Sweeney hadn’t left yet.

She figured the bastard would bring Gayle to the meet, just to get Marcus to come close enough to be grabbed or shot. Once Sweeney had gotten Marcus, Scarlett had no doubt that he’d kill Gayle next, then anyone who happened to be in his way. He’d already sprayed bullets throughout the Ledger building. He was an indiscriminate killer.

But if he hadn’t left yet, they still had a chance to grab Gayle and avoid walking into what might be a trap. Although leaving his garage door conveniently open was probably a trap, too. It couldn’t matter. Marcus was right. Based on the look of the cage in the video, Gayle was in the basement. They had to go in.

The house itself was simply massive. Built in the Tudor revival style so popular in Cincinnati pre-World War II, it was easily twice the size of Scarlett’s house. Partly brick, partly half-timber, it had six windows across the top floor and . . . Scarlett frowned.

There was a large picture window along the back wall whose glass had been shattered. Shards of glass littered the grass, and the opening was now covered with plywood. The window had been broken from the inside out, the broken area visible against the plywood as no one had finished removing the remaining glass. The hole was large. Body-sized.

A strangled gasp caught her attention, and she turned to find Marcus staring at the corner of the driveway closest to the open garage door. Blood stained the concrete in a wide swath, as if someone had dragged a body through the open door.

Marcus’s face had grown pale in the growing moonlight. ‘Not Gayle,’ he whispered. ‘It can’t have been Gayle.’

‘No,’ she agreed softly. ‘They won’t kill her until they get you. So let’s find her before that happens.’ She drew her weapon and started for the door, keeping her back to the wall, but Marcus hadn’t moved.

He frowned. ‘This feels too damn convenient,’ he said, his whisper almost silent. ‘The power going off just when we need to get through the fence? Leaving the door open for us?’

She’d thought the same thing. ‘He doesn’t know we know about this place.’

‘Or he didn’t. He could have seen Kate doing her perimeter check. Hell, he could have seen us approach on the main road.’

She blew out a breath, trying hard not to be exasperated. ‘Entirely possible. This could totally be a trap.’

‘I’ll go in,’ he whispered. ‘You stay here.’

Ah. He was protecting her. I don’t think so. ‘No. You go high, I’ll go low. Now.’

He closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them, she saw utter focus and concentration. Gun in his hand, he eased around the garage corner and through the open door.

Soundlessly he crept through the enormous garage, following the bloodstain that stretched from the corner of the driveway to the middle of one of the empty bays. In the bay was a pool of drying blood. Clearly a body had been moved from the garage. The forensic guys would have to determine where it went after being dragged off the driveway.

Scarlett took a photo of the bloody swath, then used her hands to measure the width of the stain. She held them up to show Marcus that whoever had been dragged was much wider than Gayle.

Understanding flickered in his eyes, followed by relief. ‘Not Gayle,’ he mouthed, then grimly pointed to the van parked in one of the six bays. Scarlett recognized the vehicle from the security video taken outside the Ledger’s loading bay. Sweeney had driven it to slaughter the Ledger’s employees and to abduct Gayle.

The license plate was different from the one captured in the security video. Someone – likely Sweeney – had changed the plates. Scarlett snapped a photo of the new plate in case things went south. If Sweeney managed to get by them and escape, she’d have to call in a BOLO.

Marcus moved quickly and quietly, opening the van doors to shine his flashlight around the interior. No Gayle. There was a bloodstain on the carpet, but the blood had dried. Had it been Gayle’s blood, it would have still been damp. Whoever had bled there had done so fifteen hours or more before.

‘Demetrius?’ she mouthed, and Marcus shrugged, then reached into the open driver’s-side window and brought out a set of keys, pocketing them. Scarlett gave him a nod of approval.

Marcus proceeded to the door that led from the garage into the laundry room. Again he took high, she low. For the first time she was truly seeing the former Army Ranger at work, and she was more than impressed. She’d known he was stealthy and capable, but while she’d had to develop a relationship with her other partners, she and Marcus seemed to flow together like two streams meeting in the woods.

They encountered no resistance, the house having a too-quiet, abandoned feel. With the power out, there wasn’t a single sound – not a hum from the fluorescent lights nor the low drone of an AC fan. The silence was oppressive.

Marcus’s lips thinned and she knew he was worried that Sweeney had already moved Gayle. She shook her head. ‘Think positive,’ she mouthed, and he nodded and squared his shoulders.

They moved from the laundry room into a grand foyer. Twin staircases curved upward, where they were connected with a balustrade that provided a bird’s-eye view of the lower floor and the front of the property through a large window over the front door. There were bedrooms upstairs. If they didn’t find Gayle in the basement, they’d check those rooms next.