9 Kill for Me

  A sob rose in Luke’s throat and, horrified, he tried to shove it back. “Goddammit, Nate,” he choked. “Look what he did to her. To all of them.”

  Nate squeezed his shoulder hard. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “It wouldn’t be the first time one of us let go in here. That’s why we’re soundproofed.”

  Luke shook his head, slowly grappling for his control. “I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Okay, I’m not. But I’ll do what needs to be done.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got enough time to see Daniel before the Knights get to identify their daughter. Maybe Daniel knows something more.”

  “You need to sleep, Luke.”

  “Not now. I can’t close my eyes now. I’ll see that.”

  Atlanta, Saturday, February 3, 2:30 p.m.

  “Hello, Susannah.”

  Susannah turned in the chair next to Jane Doe’s bed, surprised to find Mrs. Papadopoulos holding a big shopping bag in each hand. “Mama Papa. Hello.”

  “I thought I would find you here, with this girl.”

  Susannah smiled. “I thought you’d already forgotten about this girl.”

  Her dark eyes twinkled. “I am mute when I leave. For now, I bring you these. Luka told my daughter Demi what my granddaughter bought for you. Demi was not pleased.”

  “It was still very kind,” Susannah said, but Luke’s mother shook her head.

  “So I send my youngest daughter Mitra out this morning to buy you proper clothing.” She held out the bags. “You like, you buy. You no like, Mitra will return.”

  Susannah looked through the bags and smiled. “It’s all beautiful. Truly appropriate.”

  “And everything was on sale.” Mama’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been crying.”

  “I went to a funeral. I always cry at funerals.” Which was a lie, but Susannah had to keep some dignity. “Here, come meet M. Jane Doe.”

  Luke’s mama covered the girl’s hand with hers. “It’s nice to meet you, Jane,” she said softly. “I hope you wake up soon.” Then she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the girl’s forehead and Susannah felt new tears well. No one, ever, had done that to her. Luke’s mama turned to Susannah, her dark eyes shrewdly appraising. “Come, let’s change you out of that dirty dress. You’ll feel better.”

  “All right.” Susannah brushed the hair from the girl’s face. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Atlanta, Saturday, February 3, 2:45 p.m.

  She wasn’t dead. Monica couldn’t move again, but she wasn’t dead. Whatever the nurse gave me wore off before. It will wear off again. So stay calm. It’ll wear off.

  When it does, what will you do? Will you tell the cops? If you do, they’ll sell Genie.

  If I don’t, they might anyway. They won’t let her go. I have to tell.

  At least Susannah was back from changing her clothes, sitting in the chair next to her bed, but something was wrong there, too. I always cry at funerals, Susannah had told the woman, the one who’d brought her clothes. The one who kissed my forehead.

  Funeral for who? They couldn’t be burying the others yet. It was only yesterday that they’d been killed. Who died? Susannah had left with the other woman, then had returned a few minutes later alone. She’d been quiet. Subdued. So very sad.

  Monica tensed. Someone else was here now. “How is she?” a man asked.

  It was the agent, the one with the black eyes. Luke. He sounded angry. Upset.

  “She woke up for a little while this morning,” Susannah said, “but she slipped back under. I suppose it’s her way of dodging the pain for a while.”

  A chair scraped and Monica could feel the warmth from his body. “Did she say anything when she woke up?”

  “I wasn’t here.”

  “What about yesterday? Did she say anything else?”

  “No. She just looked at me like I was God or something.”

  “You brought her out of the woods.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Susannah said, and Luke sighed.

  “Susannah. You did not cause this.”

  “I don’t happen to agree.”

  “Talk to me,” he said, frustrated. Like he’d said it before.

  “Why?”

  “Because . . . Because I want to know.”

  “You want to know what, Agent Papadopoulos?” Susannah’s voice had grown cold.

  “Why you think this is your fault.”

  “Because I knew,” she said flatly. “I knew and I said nothing.”

  “What did you know?” he asked, soothingly.

  “I knew Simon was a rapist.”

  Simon. Who is Simon? Who did he rape?

  “I thought Simon didn’t do any of the rapes, that he only took the pictures.”

  There was a beat of silence. “He did at least one.”

  Oh, no. Monica now understood. Whoever Simon was, he’d raped Susannah, too.

  Luke sucked in a breath. “Did you tell Daniel?”

  Who is Daniel?

  “No,” Susannah said angrily. “And neither will you. I only know that if I’d said something, this might have been avoided. She might not be here right now.”

  Nobody said anything for a long time, but Monica could hear them breathe.

  Finally Luke spoke. “I recognized one of the bodies back there yesterday.”

  “How?” Susannah asked, surprise in her voice.

  “From a case I was working eight months ago. I failed to protect that girl. I failed to bring a sexual sadist that preyed on children to justice. I want another bite at the apple.”

  He sounded so very angry. His voice shook.

  “Granville’s dead,” Susannah said.

  Dead? He’s dead? Hallelujah. He couldn’t hurt Genie.

  “But there’s still the other. Someone who’s pulling the strings. Someone who taught Granville how to be very good at his job,” he said bitterly. “I want him. I want to throw him into hell and throw away the key.”

  The other. The woman who’d given the doctor the order to kill them. The other had Genie. Monica’s elation fizzled.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Susannah asked. There was a note of impatience in her voice, like tell me something I don’t already know.

  “Because you want the same thing.”

  There was a long pause. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’ll call you when I do.” He got up. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For not telling Daniel about Simon.”

  “Thank you for respecting my decision.”

  Then Luke was gone and Susannah sighed heavily.

  Yeah, Monica thought helplessly. Tell me about it.

  Daniel looked asleep, Luke thought as he stood in the doorway.

  “I’m not asleep,” Daniel said, opening his eyes. His voice was raspy, but stronger than Luke had anticipated. “I was wondering when you’d come by.”

  Luke’s gaze dropped to the smudges on the shoulder of Daniel’s hospital gown. “You’d think for what you’re paying that you’d at least get a clean gown.”

  One side of Daniel’s mouth lifted and Luke saw an uncanny resemblance to Susannah. In no other way did they look alike. “Everything went to hell yesterday.”

  “You have no idea. I don’t have much time, but I need some information.”

  “Shoot.” Daniel grimaced. “Actually, on second thought, don’t do that.”

  Luke chuckled, feeling a little better. “I’m sure glad you didn’t get yourself killed.”

  “Me, too,” Daniel said. “But I gotta say you look as bad as I feel.”

  “Thank you,” Luke said dryly, then sobered. “You may not have heard the news. Kate Davis was killed this afternoon.”

  “Suze told me, but it doesn’t make sense. Kate didn’t seem like the type to start shooting people.”

  “I agree, but nothing about this case is the way it seems.”

  “Alex told me about the bodies you foun
d and the live girls they took with them. She said Mansfield and Granville were into human trafficking.”

  “She’s right. Too much has happened in the last twenty-four. I don’t have time to tell you all of it right now, but, Daniel, we found a file on Mansfield’s computer. Very graphic photos of Granville torturing these girls. The file is called Sweetpea, my ass.”

  “Sweetpea is Mansfield. Granville gave him the name and he hated it.”

  “That’s what I thought. What do you know about Judge Borenson?”

  Daniel looked surprised at the question. “He presided over Gary Fulmore’s murder trial. Frank Loomis’s clerk said he retired and became a hermit up in the mountains.”

  “That part I know. What do you remember about him? From when you were young?”

  “He sometimes had dinner with us, then he and my father would go into his study and talk until the wee hours of the morning. Why?”

  “He’s missing. We found his cabin ransacked, blood everywhere. Last I heard Talia was waiting for cadaver dogs to search for his body.”

  Daniel winced. “Hell. They’re all gone, then. Randy Mansfield’s father was the prosecutor on Gary Fulmore’s murder case and he’s dead. The coroner who did the autopsy’s dead. Fulmore’s original defense attorney is dead—that was a suspicious death, by the way. He had a car accident on a dry road in the middle of the day.”

  “And now Frank Loomis is dead, too,” Luke said, and Daniel looked haunted.

  “I know. I keep seeing him die. He tried to warn me at the last minute. He did something horrible, Luke, falsifying evidence. Gary Fulmore’s spent thirteen years in prison for a crime he didn’t do and for the life of me I can’t figure out why Frank did it.”

  “Loomis wasn’t a rich man, so there wasn’t any payoff,” Luke said.

  Daniel closed his eyes. “He was the only father I really ever had.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” His eyes still closed, Daniel frowned. “Fifty-two,” he said, then opened his eyes and Luke saw renewed vitality. “I was seeing the moment Frank died. He’d come to warn me that it was a trap. There was a gunshot and he just slid down my window.”

  Luke remembered the bloody streaks on the window. “What’s fifty-two?”

  “The boat. I tried to back away, but Mansfield had blocked the road and I crashed and hit my head. For a minute I thought Alex was dead, but she was just stunned. Mansfield made me carry her into the bunker and as we were walking around to the door I saw the boat as it passed. Those numbers were on the bow.”

  “There should have been a GA, four numbers, then two letters.”

  Daniel closed his eyes, concentrating, then shook his head. “Sorry, I only remember the fifty-two. I only glanced at it. It was moving really fast.”

  “And you were seeing stars from the crash. This is the closest we’ve come so far.”

  Daniel sagged back against the pillows. “Good.”

  “I’ve just got one more and then I’ll go. Does the name Rocky mean anything?”

  Daniel pondered, then shook his head again. “I’m sorry, but no. Why?”

  “We think that’s the name of Granville’s partner.”

  “There are no pictures of the partner in Mansfield’s Sweetpea file?”

  “Not that I saw, but there are five hard drives to search, so we might find one.” Luke stood. “Get some rest. That nurse outside looks like she’s going to take off my head.”

  “Wait.” Daniel swallowed. “I need you to tell me what’s going on with Susannah.”

  “What do you mean?” Luke asked warily.

  “Not like that.” His jaw tightened. “Although you make her one of your affairs and we will speak, and not kindly.”

  “Relax, Daniel. Susannah’s made it clear she’s not interested.” Crystal clear.

  “But you are?”

  Luke considered, then decided he’d been friends with Daniel too long to lie. “I was from the moment I saw her at your parents’ funeral, but not in the way you think.”

  “So not as a time-passer?” Daniel asked, very seriously.

  “No. She’s been through too much.”

  Daniel swallowed. “I know. She told me.”

  Luke’s eyes widened. “She did? When?”

  Daniel lightly touched the brown stain on his hospital gown. “Before you got here. She told me about her friend Darcy and everything else.”

  No, my friend, Luke thought sadly. Not everything. Susannah would not tell Daniel that Simon had brutalized her. “She’s strong, Daniel.”

  “Nobody’s that strong. But I know there was more. More she didn’t tell me.” His eyes narrowed. “You know.”

  “She’s safe. At this point, that’s all I can tell you.”

  “Because you don’t know or because you won’t tell me?”

  Luke stood up. “Don’t push it, Daniel, please. Just know that I’m watching over her.”

  “Thank you.” His eyes moved and a smile bent his lips. “Mama Papa. You came.”

  Luke’s mama came in, her arms opened wide. “I just hear from that nurse that you are awake.” She arched an eyebrow at Luke. “Some people tell their mamas nothing.”

  Daniel closed his eyes as Mama hugged him, and the look on his face was one of a man finally warm after months of winter. Luke remembered the yearning in Susannah’s voice as she insisted Jane Doe’s mother loved her and his heart hurt.

  “Did you drive yourself, Mama?” Daniel asked, teasing reproach in his tone.

  “No.” Mama sat in the chair, her huge purse in her lap. “Leo drove me.” She looked up at Luke with a frown. “Your refrigerator was disgusting, Luka.”

  Luke’s lips twitched. Obviously Leo had called in the Special Forces to deal with his kitchen. “I know. Did you clean it?”

  “I did. And stocked it with food.” Her frown became a sly look. “So if you bring home any visitors, she will not think you a pig.”

  Luke’s smile faded. He knew what she insinuated and he knew it was unlikely to ever occur. “Thanks, Mama.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll see you later.”

  Atlanta, Saturday, February 3, 3:30 p.m.

  “I hate that this girl’s parents are going to see her this way,” Felicity said fiercely.

  Luke forced himself to look at Kasey Knight’s grotesquely gaunt face. Her cheekbones were razor sharp, nearly protruding through her skin. A bullet hole was centered in her forehead. “They insisted. She’s been missing two years. It’s closure.”

  “Then let’s get this over with,” she snapped, but he took no offense because her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Go get the parents.”

  In the lobby both parents sprang to their feet. “We’ve been waiting, dreading this call for two years.” Mr. Knight’s throat worked as he gripped his wife’s hand. “We need to know what happened to our daughter.”

  Mrs. Knight was dangerously pale. “Please,” she whispered. “Take us to her.”

  “This way.” Luke led them back to the viewing room. It was decorated in warm colors and comfortable furniture, small details aimed at easing the ordeal of grieving relatives. “Does your wife need a doctor?” Luke murmured as Mrs. Knight sank onto the sofa, her body trembling. She looked as though she might pass out any minute.

  Mr. Knight shook his head. “No,” he said hoarsely. “We just need this to be over.”

  Luke wanted to prepare them, but knew there was no preparation for what they were about to endure. “This girl doesn’t look like the picture of Kasey you gave the police.”

  “It’s been two years. Kids change.”

  “It’s . . . more than that. She only weighs about eighty pounds, but her height is five-eight, the same as your daughter was when she disappeared.”

  Mrs. Knight stiffened. “Kasey weighed one-thirty.”

  “I know, ma’am,” Luke said gently, and he could see they understood.

  Mr. Knight swallowed audibly. “Was she sexually . . .” His voice broke.
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  “Yes.” Multiple times, but Luke didn’t say that. These parents were in enough pain.

  “Agent Papadopoulos,” Mr. Knight asked hoarsely, “what did they do to my baby?”

  Vile, unspeakable things. But Luke didn’t say that either. “You’ve asked to see her face and the ME will comply with your wishes, but please, focus on other parts of her body. Her hands, her feet, any birthmarks or scars.” He knew the waiting was making it worse, so he tapped the intercom button. “We’re ready, Dr. Berg.”

  From the other side of the glass, Felicity opened the curtains. Mr. Knight’s eyes were tightly closed. “Mr. Knight,” Luke said softly. “We’re ready when you are.”

  Clenching his teeth, Knight opened his eyes, and the strangled whimper that emerged from his throat broke Luke’s heart. Felicity had covered the torso with a smaller sheet, affording the victim as much decency as she could. And sparing the parents as much pain as she could.

  “Oh, Kasey,” Knight whispered. “Baby. Why didn’t you listen to us?”

  “How do you know this is your daughter, sir?”

  Knight barely breathed. “There’s a scar on her knee from when she fell off a bike. And her middle toe was longer than the others. She had a mole on her left foot, too.”

  Luke nodded to Felicity and she pulled the curtains. Mr. Knight knelt so that he met his wife’s eyes. Tears were running down her face. “It’s Kasey.” He uttered the words on a moan and she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him. Her silent tears became anguished sobs and she slid from the sofa to kneel with her husband. Her sobs became his and together they rocked, leaning on each other through their pain.

  “I’ll wait in the hall,” Luke said roughly. The Knights reminded him of his own parents. Married nearly forty years, they were each other’s bulwark, able to withstand every crisis that had come their way. Luke loved them fiercely, but at the same time envied them. Now, listening to the muted sounds of suffering coming from inside the viewing room, Luke pitied the Knights, but envied them as well. In all the world, Luke had never found a woman he trusted enough to allow her to see him like that, defenses down, soul bared. He’d never met a woman who he thought would understand.