Nothing to Fear

Mia sighed. “Lillian Goodman.”

  Over by the door, Evie gasped. “No.”

  Dana closed her eyes, the remaining color draining from her face. “When?”

  “Thursday. A squad car got a call to her mother’s apartment and found both Lillian and her mother dead.” Mia grasped Dana’s shoulders, squeezing hard. “I am so sorry, Dana. I wish I didn’t have to tell you this.”

  “How?” she asked, her voice harsh.

  “Her husband beat them to death. Both Lillian and her mother.”

  Dana’s throat worked viciously. “The kids?”

  “Both of them alive.”

  “They left here last Friday,” Dana murmured, looking away. “Lillian found a job. She was going to make it on her own. She lasted less than a week.”

  This next part, Mia knew, would be the hardest for Dana personally to bear. “One of the units responded to the kids’ 911. The oldest, Naomi, told the uniforms that she and her brother came home from playing at a friend’s house and . . . found her.”

  Dana slowly lowered herself into a chair. David Hunter’s hands covered her shoulders protectively. Evie, Mia noticed, hadn’t moved a step. She stood alone, apart, tears rolling down her face. Something was very wrong here.

  “Where are they now?” David asked, his voice rough. “Naomi and Ben?”

  He’d known them, too, Mia thought. And had cared. “In a safe house.” Mia crouched down, caught Dana’s chin. “If you want to see them, I’ll arrange it. But wait a day or two.”

  Dana nodded, dully, Mia’s words sinking in. Those babies were hiding yet again, with strangers this time. When they’d hidden at Hanover House it had been with her and Evie and, and their mother. Who was now dead. She could only imagine how scared they must be right now. But that day, Thursday . . . Finding her broken body . . . Dana didn’t have to imagine that. “When can I see them?”

  “I’d like you to wait until we have Mr. Goodman in custody.”

  David’s hands clenched on her shoulders. “You mean you don’t have him yet?” he hissed. “Dammit. Does he know about Dana? About this place?”

  Mia straightened. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, because I think if he had, he’d have been here already. Just be careful and keep your doors locked. I’ll call you when I have more information. If you hear something, I need to know about it.” Mia handed David one of her cards. “I know the way out.”

  “Mia.” Evie held up a hand to stop her. “When is the funeral?”

  Mia frowned. “Tomorrow. But I don’t want you there. If Goodman shows up he could follow you back here. Understood? I’ll let myself out. Dana, call me if you need me.”

  Evie waited until the front door closed behind Mia before turning to Dana with glittering eyes. “He wouldn’t have found her if she’d had papers.”

  Dana’s eyes widened, the words like a physical blow to her gut. “Evie, that’s not true.”

  Evie’s eyes hardened. “What’s true is that Lillian’s husband killed her like she was nothing.” Her hands clenched at her sides. “Nothing. If you hadn’t been so damned high and mighty and stubborn with all your damn policies, she might be alive today.”

  “Evie, that’s enough,” David bit out.

  “She wouldn’t leave Chicago, Evie. I begged her to leave, but she wouldn’t.”

  “She might have if she’d known she could really, truly disappear.” Evie turned on her heel, paused at the kitchen doorway to lob the final verbal grenade, tears coursing down her cheeks. “But now we’ll never know, will we?”

  There was silence in the kitchen, then David pulled up a chair next to her and sank into it heavily. “Dana—”

  “Don’t say it,” she interrupted him. “Don’t tell me this wasn’t my fault, David. Don’t tell me there wasn’t anything I could have done.”

  “Okay, I won’t. Seems to me you said it just fine yourself.”

  He put his arm around her and for just a moment she rested her head on his strong shoulder. For just a moment she allowed herself to wish she had someone of her own to hold her in the middle of the night when she was sure to wake with nightmares. Then shoved the self-pity aside to focus on the real issue. “Those poor children,” Dana murmured. “They’ll never be the same.”

  “I know.” He gave her a squeeze. “You want me to stay with you?”

  She shook her head. “No, you go on. I’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “David, Mia’s right. If Goodman knew about us, he’d have been here already. He’s probably hiding out with some of his friends, drunk. He’ll stagger out sooner or later and CPD will pick him up. I’m more worried about the kids. I don’t know who’ll take care of them now. Lillian didn’t have any family other than her mom. She stayed in Chicago to take care of her mother.” Dana swallowed hard. “That’s why she wouldn’t leave town.”

  “But you’ll wait until Goodman’s caught before you go see them, right?”

  Dana heard the warning in his voice and forced her lips to curve. “Of course. I’m not stupid, David.” Just high and mighty and stubborn. The words had hurt. A lot. As Evie had meant them to. Knowing that perhaps hurt more.

  David stood up, slid Mia’s card in his wallet. “I’ll be back tomorrow to fix the roof.” He hesitated, then blurted, “Do you still have your gun?”

  Dana shivered. “Yeah. At my apartment.”

  “Bring it here. Call me if you need me. I mean it. I don’t care what time it is.”

  “I will.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. Lock the door behind me.”

  Dana followed him to the door, flipped the three deadbolts. Then jumped when she heard her name called, so softly. Turned to find a woman standing in the kitchen doorway. “Jane.” The client she’d picked up last night. Quickly she searched Jane’s face, wondered how much, if any, she’d heard. But Jane just blinked out of those pale, pale eyes that sent new shivers down Dana’s back.

  “I just wanted to get some Benadryl for Erik,” Jane half whispered. “He’s having trouble breathing. Allergies, I think. But if this is a bad time . . .”

  Dana made her feet move. Lillian was gone and that she could not change. Jane was here now and needed her help. “It’s not a bad time.” She unlocked the cabinet where they kept the over-the-counter medicines and took out a bottle of Benadryl and a plastic cup. “Erik weighs, what, about eighty or ninety?”

  Jane’s eyes had narrowed at the plastic cup. “About. What if that’s not enough?”

  Dana managed a smile. “Then we’ll get him some more. Hanover House policy is to dispense medicine by the dose. I’d hate to have a kid get sick because we left a bottle out where they could get hold of it.”

  Jane’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I understand. Thank you.”

  Dana watched her take the little plastic cup. Heard Jane’s footsteps as she went up the stairs. And rested her forehead against the cabinet as she locked it back up. Policies. Without them they’d have chaos.

  Thoughts of Lillian and Ben and Naomi flooded her mind and grief stabbed sharp into her heart. Lillian had been so brave, the children so hopeful. Now those beautiful children would grow up with no one. It seemed that they had chaos anyway.

  I’m so tired. She’d sleep, she thought, but just for a few hours. She needed to be back at the bus station by four A.M. Life would go on. And so will I.

  Chapter Four

  Chicago, Sunday, August 1, 5:30 A.M.

  “Excuse me.” Ethan flagged the security guard. “I need to speak with the manager.”

  The young man lifted his sandy brows. “About?”

  Ethan reached for his wallet and held up a calming hand. “My credentials.” He’d applied for the P.I. license to do background checks for his customers. He never dreamed he’d ever be flipping it out in true Magnum, P.I. style, but that’s exactly what he’d done. Six times in the past thirty-six hours. If the situation wasn’t so grave, he’d feel ridiculous.

  “I
’m looking for a woman and a little boy.” He gave a careless shrug. “Custodial thing. The mother picked the kid up from school and disappeared.” He uttered the lie smoothly, understandable as it was the sixth time in thirty-six hours that he’d done so. “She might have come through here and I’m hoping to check your surveillance tapes.”

  He then held his breath. Technically nobody had to let him view the tapes without a subpoena. So far though, he’d been lucky five times. He silently prayed for a sixth.

  The guard narrowed his eyes. “I’ll need to talk to the manager on duty.”

  Ethan leaned against the counter, his elbow taking the weight of his whole body. Before Kandahar, four hours’ sleep would have lasted him forty-eight. Not anymore. He didn’t need to glance at his watch to know he hadn’t slept since Friday. The brass band marching through his head was clue enough. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, prodding him to alertness. The incoming number revealed it to be Clay. “What’s up?”

  “Where are you, Ethan?” Clay asked.

  “In Chicago. Finally.”

  “And?”

  From his position against the bus station counter, Ethan watched the security guard lean in to murmur to the man who sat in the manager’s office. The man lifted his head and Ethan could feel the pinch of his scrutiny from twenty feet away. “I don’t think they’re going to allow me access to the security tapes until I get a shower and shave.”

  “So go get a hotel and catch a few hours’ sleep,” Clay said sharply. “You’re going to get so tired that you’d miss Alec if he is on the tape.”

  “Maybe.” Probably. “Did we get another e-mail?”

  Clay’s sharpness quickly faded to concern. “No.”

  Which wasn’t good. Neither of them had to say it aloud. It had been four days since Alec’s kidnapper had taken him and in that time sent only one e-mail. Not one iota of communication since. No ransom demands. No phone calls, no e-mails, nothing.

  “We have to get something soon.” Ethan rubbed his sore forehead. “I just need to pinpoint what city she’s actually in. I know she’s not in St. Louis,” he added bitterly.

  “You have to stop blaming yourself for that, Ethan. You made a logical choice.”

  Ethan gritted his teeth. “I hope my logical choice doesn’t get Alec killed.”

  “Stop it.” Clay’s voice was back to sharp. “You’ve done everything anyone could have done at this point. In the last thirty-six hours you’ve tracked her from that copy store in Morgantown all the way to Chicago. That’s something, so stop beating yourself up.”

  Ethan drew a breath. “I know, Clay.” He let the breath out, made himself calm. “I’m just frustrated. I’ve been chasing this woman for a day and a half and I still haven’t seen her face.” Every shot of her face on every surveillance video was blocked by a large-billed cap. Nothing to set the cap apart other than it covered ninety percent of her face.

  “Because she hasn’t wanted you to,” Clay said reasonably. “How many times have you told me that you can’t see what the camera doesn’t catch?”

  “You’re right. I know you’re right.” But in his past life Ethan had been professional, even dispassionate, as he traced terrorist e-mails, searched aerial surveillance photos of what had seemed an endless maze of tunnels and caves. This was so different. This time it was Alec. “But now she’s got an even bigger lead. Dammit, what was I thinking?”

  “Don’t make me come and kick your ass, Ethan,” Clay warned. “She bought two tickets to St. Louis via Columbus, Ohio. It made sense for you to drive straight to St. Louis to try to make up some of her lead.”

  “Which was just what she wanted us to do. I lost at least fifteen hours on that detour.” He’d had to call Randi and tell her he’d lost her son, then drive to Columbus, Ohio, Randi’s terrified whispered pleas still ringing in his ears. In Columbus the videotapes showed the kidnapper had disembarked with Alec, the child still looking to be in shock and numb. This time the woman bought two tickets from Columbus to Indianapolis. Both times she’d paid for the tickets with cash. Neither time had she shown ID.

  “She planned this, Ethan. She faked us out. At least you found her in Indianapolis. And at least now we know she’s definitely not Cheryl Rickman.”

  The woman had worn shapeless coveralls all the way from Morgantown to Columbus, finally shedding them somewhere before reaching Indianapolis. Her build was not Rickman’s. Rickman was slender and fine-boned. This woman had well-developed arm muscles and was at least a C cup. The Indy ticket-counter attendant confirmed she’d bought tickets for Chicago. The next bus should have arrived late Thursday night.

  “Which means Cheryl is still missing and not with Alec. How did Randi take the news?”

  “Not well. I think she hoped it was Cheryl even while claiming it couldn’t have been.”

  “Because if it was Cheryl, Randi would have a harder time visualizing her hurting Alec.” So had he, Ethan thought grimly. “Now, all bets are off.”

  “True. But now we have to look for a female connection other than Rickman. After you called to say that it definitely wasn’t Cheryl, I got Stan and Randi together to brainstorm other women who could have had a reason to plan a kidnapping. Randi took one look at Stan’s guilty face and went ballistic. Leaped at Stan, pounding him, scratching his face.”

  Ethan blinked in surprise. “She accused him of having an affair?”

  Clay’s sigh was pained. “Does ‘You fucking sonofabitch, why couldn’t you keep your dick in your pants’ count?”

  Ethan coughed. “Yeah, I guess it does. What did you do?”

  “I pulled Randi off Stan and made her take something for her nerves. She had quite a collection, by the way, Ethan. Tranquilizers, antidepressants, you name it.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Then Stan and I had a little talk. He came clean with a list of names.”

  “Names?” Ethan winced. “As in more than one affair?”

  “As in more than ten,” Clay said flatly, his tone clearly communicating his disgust. “And those were the ones whose names Stan knew. Seems like our boy Stan has a bit of an addiction. He’d promised Randi he’d stopped some time ago, but he lied.”

  “Imagine that,” Ethan muttered, glad he wasn’t there with Stan. He might let Randi finish what she’d started. Hell, he’d do it himself.

  “I’ll start checking financials on the women and do the background checks for priors.”

  “What about Stan’s business associates?” They were interested in anyone who had been disgruntled. Anyone who could have benefited financially from a ransom.

  “Nothing so far. I’m still working through his list of suppliers and customers. There are a lot of them. I’ll let you know when I have something.”

  Ethan hesitated over the next question. “What about Alicia Samson?” It was the name on the credit card the woman had shown in the Morgantown copy store when she’d sent her e-mail, the only time she’d shown an ID.

  “Samson’s a student at the university in Morgantown. I called her place a few times yesterday, but didn’t get any answer. I’ll keep trying today, but it doesn’t look good.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Damn.” Another missing person on his conscience. He could only hope her wallet had been stolen and she’d spent the week on vacation. It was summer after all. “See if you can find out where she works and if she’s been there since Thursday morning. If not, report her missing to the local authorities. Anonymously, of course.”

  “That was my plan,” Clay said. “I called in a marker and got an old pal to run the ballistics on that slug from the bedroom wall.”

  “Timing for the analysis?”

  “Two, three days. Maybe four.”

  “This marker you called in, can he be trusted to be discreet?”

  “She always has been before.”

  She. Well, that made sense. “Old flame?”

  “More like a little spark. But no hard feelings so she’s willing to do this for me.” br />
  “And the shotgun in the shed had nothing?”

  “Nothing that I can see without disturbing the scene. Vaughn’s got to call the authorities, Ethan. Today. That body out there is putrefying. Nobody will believe he just discovered it.”

  Stan was supposed to have done it yesterday. Ethan felt a surge of anger that he hadn’t. “Tell him that. And if he doesn’t comply, report it yourself, anonymously.” It was part of their deal. Stan had to report McMillan’s body to the authorities. That young man had been murdered. He deserved more than having his body dragged out to sea.

  “Maybe the local coroner will find something,” Clay muttered. “We could use a lead.”

  “As I recall the local coroner is a retired ME out of Baltimore. Smart old guy. He should be able to help.” Ethan straightened with considerable difficulty. The security guard was headed back his way. “I have to go. I’ll call you all again later.”

  “Ethan, go get some sleep.” Clay hesitated. “Are you all right?”

  Ethan hissed out an impatient breath. “No episodes, Clay. Nothing. Nada. Good-bye.” Smoothing the frown from his face, he turned to the baby-faced guard.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Buchanan,” the guard said. “The night manager and I are both new. He says you’ll need to come back when the head security manager comes in.”

  Ethan massaged the corded muscle in his neck, both frustrated and grateful for the forced break. The woman who had Alec would have an even bigger head start. Alec could truly be anywhere. But he was so tired. He’d use the time to get something to eat and check into a hotel for some sleep. “What time does the head manager come in?”

  “Usually after nine, but his kid’s got a baseball game this morning so it’ll be at least noon. You might want—” The guard spun around when a scream echoed through the terminal. The guard started toward the sound, pulling his weapon from its holster.

  Leaving his own weapon securely tucked against his kidney, Ethan followed, a sudden surge of adrenaline fueling his legs to run. A young woman in her early thirties lay on the floor next to one of the metal benches. A thin stream of blood trickled from her temple down her cheek, clashing with the rich copper of her short hair.