Sullivan’s was dimly lit but the air-conditioning was heavenly. It was large enough to accommodate a dozen or so people at the bar, another dozen booths around the perimeter, and a smattering of beat-up wooden tables in the middle. The overall appearance fit the industrial atmosphere of the neighborhood, with tin and neon accents on the walls and a painted concrete floor.
Ethan’s hand returned to Maggie’s back, directing her to a table in the corner big enough for the six of them when the others arrived. He promptly claimed the seat that faced the door. From there, he could also keep an eye on the group that had gathered at a table in the opposite corner of the room. J. P. was among the after-work crowd of men gathered there. Judging by the level of noise, most of them were clearly not on their first half-price beer. The few other patrons were relatively sedate.
Maggie waited patiently for Ethan to finish scanning the room and return his attention to her. When he did, his eyes softened almost imperceptibly, but his jaw remained rigid.
A waitress stopped at their table, jutting her hip out in half annoyance, half innate come-on. She flipped open her notepad and dug in her apron for a pen, then stopped in mid-motion and smiled when her eyes finally focused on Ethan. Estrogen responded to testosterone.
“Hiya.” It was clearly a welcome meant only for him. Her gaze eagerly slid down what she could see of Ethan’s torso. “You’re new here.” She turned reluctantly to Maggie. “What can I get you two?”
With a smile, Ethan arched a brow at Maggie. “What do you want, sis?”
Sis?
She recovered from her surprise quickly. “Whatever’s on tap.” Something to help her relax. If they weren’t going to get anywhere today, a beer might do the trick.
“Basket of fries and a Coke,” he added.
The waitress gave him a look of disbelief. “What, are you working the twelve steps or something?”
Ethan’s sexy smile had Maggie gaping. Was he flirting? “Or something. Hey, do you know who those guys are over there? My sister thought she may have recognized one of them.”
The waitress turned her head, snapping her gum between her teeth. “Locals. At least, they work around here. Come in here on Saturdays to wind down from the long workweek. Real fond of our half-price menu. Not very good tippers, either, but at least they keep the business going, you know?” Her curious gaze turned back to Ethan. “You work around here, too? You look like you got the biceps for it, but you’re not dressed right.”
“You’re very perceptive,” he said, scanning her nametag and hinting at appreciation for her breasts, “Denise.”
Her smile grew sly. “I’m a woman of many talents.”
Ethan’s deep chuckle heated Maggie’s blood. She could only imagine what Denise was feeling as he aimed the full force of his charm directly at her. “And one of those many talents is bringing a man what he wants?”
Of course, he was only trying to get information, but it still made Maggie’s heart lurch to watch him work another woman over.
“You bet, sugar.” Finally, Denise left to fetch them their drinks.
Maggie watched Ethan survey the men in the corner, his body deceptively relaxed as one arm draped along the back of the chair next to him. The tension in his jaw told her he was ready to pounce at one wrong move. J. P. was over there, cracking jokes and making the group laugh. The man actually looked over and winked at her before moving to the bar to talk to Denise. From the corner of her eye, Ethan’s jaw hardened. She reached out and laid a hand on his forearm, where it rested, muscles clenched, on the table.
“They’re just blowing off steam,” she said quietly. “Not everyone’s a suspect.”
“They are until I figure out who Fearmonger really is.”
The ruckus across the bar built in tempo, and some catcalls were thrown in when Maria and Noah arrived. Maria’s reply was something mumbled in Spanish as she slid into a chair.
“You couldn’t have picked a more civilized dive?” Maria asked Ethan.
“I think it was meant as a compliment,” Noah said, jerking the knot of his tie loose as he sat next to Maggie.
Maria rolled her eyes. “Or maybe the whistles were meant for you, partner.” She leaned over the table toward Maggie. “Wouldn’t be the first time. I heard a story about one of his undercover operations where he had to—”
Noah cleared his throat and gave his partner a warning look. “Another time, maybe?”
Becca and Lorena entered soon after and joined them as Denise returned with their drinks and appetizers, her predatory gaze now sizing up Noah. He took it like a professional. Of course, with his rugged, sandy-blond good looks, he probably got that kind of female attention all the time.
Maggie smiled behind her glass as Noah met Denise’s advances with good grace, politely rejecting them. She took a drink, feeling the cool crispness of the beer soothe her.
After Denise moved away again, Ethan leaned in. “So, did you find anything? Anything we can build on?”
Becca looked grim. “Talked to eight or nine artists, who all agreed to let us look around. Only a few fit the profile Lorena drew up. None are working with African mahogany right now.”
Maggie sighed. “Dead end.” She paled immediately, realizing her word choice. She took another gulp of her drink.
Noah spoke into the heavy silence. “Maria and I went to six furniture factories, all on the outskirts, or in suburbs, and had the same experience. There were two employees we didn’t speak to who may have fit the profile, and one was on vacation, one home sick—from different companies. We’ve sent officers to question them, if they are indeed in town and at home. If not, they’ll question their neighbors. Someone will have seen something. But none of the businesses admitted to working with African mahogany at this time. We just need to be ready when something breaks open.”
“And it will break open,” Maria said, her eyes full of compassion.
Maggie nodded, but she felt sick to her stomach. Her chest was feeling tight too. In fact, it seemed to be constricting with every second that passed. “Excuse me,” she mumbled as she stood. “I need to visit the restroom.”
“Go with her,” Ethan told Maria, but Maggie managed a smile and a shake of her head.
“I just need a minute. Please.” The plea was for Ethan, who assessed her carefully. The squeeze in her chest tightened still more.
“One minute. If you’re not back, I’m coming in after you.”
Nodding, she grabbed her purse and headed toward the back of the bar to the hallway that led to the restrooms. She rounded the corner and leaned her head back against the wall where a payphone hung. But it wasn’t enough. Dizziness was coming in waves now, and she was fairly sure vomiting was in the near future. It wasn’t quite like her other panic episodes, but she still felt as if she was losing control.
She pushed open the bathroom door, thankful the place was empty and fairly clean. She emptied the meager contents of her stomach in the toilet and flushed. Though she wished for nothing more than to sink down next to the cool wall and rest, she forced herself to stumble to the sink. If Ethan was going to check on her any second, she didn’t want him to know how sick she was. He’d make her go home, effectively ending her part in the search for Julia. And he’d probably insist on going with her, which would be two less people looking for her sister. That was unacceptable.
She swished water in her mouth and pressed a cold, wet paper towel to her closed eyelids. The ladies’ room door opened on her right, but she didn’t remove the soothing towel.
“I said I’d be okay,” she said as the sound of heavy male footsteps came closer.
“Then you still have a lot to learn.”
The hairs on Maggie’s neck rose. She dropped the towel into the sink, her eyes flying open. Owen’s voice. No, Fearmonger’s. She looked up at his smiling face in the mirror.
“We meet at last,” the image of J. P. said. He’d lost his Southern accent, and all his Southern charm with it.
She began to shake, the pain behind her breastbone building to match the throbbing behind her eyes. She pressed a hand to her chest and he laughed.
“Looks like drugging your drink worked. Did you think you were having a panic attack, Maggie?” He stepped closer.
Maggie had nowhere to go. She spun to face him head on, a wave of dizziness washing over her as she groped in her purse for pepper spray or hairspray. Anything to fight off her worst nightmare in the flesh. She fought to control her breathing as her hand wrapped around a slim bottle.
In. Out.
“How did you know about my attacks?” she managed to push out between gasps.
He laughed again. “I know everything about you. Including how much you care about your sister. Julia’s been waiting for you to join our little party.”
Maggie’s vision wavered, and the image of evil split into two mirror images. She brought her hand up and aimed for the middle of the two, spraying the small bottle of hairspray, just as Ethan had mentioned.
If the perp corners you in the bathroom…
But it wasn’t enough. The drug was too powerful, and she’d missed Fearmonger’s eyes. With a curse, he ripped the bottle from her hands.
“Surprisingly pathetic, Maggie. But resourceful. I’ll give you that.”
She was going to vomit again, which might be good if it got this drug out of her system.
“I know your MO,” Fearmonger said. “I knew you’d run for the bathroom at the first sign of panic. And that you’d want to be alone. It pays to know things. Like I told you before, I’m a student of human behavior. More specifically, fear. And you made it so easy, coming to find me.”
Keep talking. Ethan will be here soon.
“It took some of the challenge out of the game,” he continued, “but also some of the risk. I guess I can live with that.” Chuckling, he glanced at his watch and Maggie knew then that Ethan wouldn’t get there in time. Fearmonger was much too careful at planning these things. As the monster pulled a needle from somewhere, there was a knock on the bathroom door.
“Maggie? Ethan wanted me to check on you.”
Becca.
She’d had training, but could she take on Fearmonger? As Maggie looked into the eyes of evil, glinting with amusement, she realized he’d already laid his plans. He was confident in them. As Maggie opened her mouth to scream, he struck her. Hard.
She saw blackness as the world tilted and the floor rose up to meet her.
“Just go check on them,” Noah urged Ethan. “You’ve checked your watch every few seconds for the last two minutes.”
And he checked it again. “Becca should have been back by now.”
“Want me to go?” Maria popped a French fry into her mouth.
“No.” Ethan rose. “Apparently, that ladies’ room is like a black hole. I’m through waiting. She could be having a panic attack in there.” He winced.
Noah raised his eyebrows at the revelation. “She covers it well. But after what she’s been through…”
It bothered Ethan that Noah had shared Maggie’s experience, had seen her cut and bleeding and vulnerable, and had been there for her after Deborah Frame’s attack and Brad’s death. But he was also grateful that she’d had someone like Noah there to help. He felt the weight of something pressing on him. Something was very wrong.
“I’ll come with.” Noah wiped greasy fingers on a napkin and followed Ethan to the ladies’ room.
Ethan pressed his ear to the door. Hearing nothing, he knocked, hoping they could hear it over the pounding of his heart. “Maggie? Becca? Everything okay?”
When nobody answered, he and Noah simultaneously pulled their guns from their holsters and stood to either side of the door. Ethan turned the knob and nudged the solid wood door open with his foot. Watching Noah, who had a clearer view through the crack that Ethan had created when he opened the door, for some kind of cue, he saw the other man’s eyes widen. Noah used his free hand to push the door open farther, and the sight that greeted them had Ethan’s stomach lurching.
Becca lay motionless on the floor of one of the two open stalls, bleeding from a cut on one temple. An empty syringe, the plunger in all the way, lay nearby.
“Jesus.” Holstering his weapon as a visual sweep of the small restroom showed nobody else was present, Ethan bent down to feel for a pulse. His fingers shook as he pressed them to her neck. “She’s alive.” He turned her head gently from side to side. “I don’t see any punctures.”
Noah took a closer look at the restroom, careful not to touch anything. “Maybe the syringe was for Maggie.” He used a paper towel to carefully collect the evidence and put it into a baggie he’d had on him. Taking out his phone, he called for medical assistance.
Ethan took off for the rear exit, at the end of the hall past the restrooms. He searched the empty alley that ran behind the building, then ran to the front and through the parking lot, but found nothing. No sign of Maggie.
Had it been less than a week ago he’d sat at just such a bar, nursing a drink that he’d hoped would cure him of the ghosts from his past? When he’d first seen Becca lying there, bleeding, Bethany’s face had come to mind. Another girl who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But this time, he hadn’t been haunted by the old feelings of inadequacy. Opening up to Maggie had helped him shed those ghosts, but now there were other things haunting him.
There were all kinds of monsters in the world. And one of them had Maggie. Sweet Maggie, who only wanted to help people.
Trying not to let despair suck the breath from his lungs, he returned to the bar.
Back at the ladies’ room, Maria and Lorena had set up a human barrier to the hallway, keeping customers in the main bar area while they waited for help to arrive. Noah bent over Becca, speaking words to her as if he could rouse her.
“She hasn’t come to yet?” Ethan asked, striving for patience. He hoped to hell Becca had some information that would lead him to Fearmonger.
Noah shook his head. “Not yet.”
At the bathroom sink, Ethan noted the discarded wet paper towel as well as several small red spots.
“Blood?” Noah asked, seeing the direction of his gaze.
He nodded. And he would guess it wasn’t Becca’s. She didn’t look as if she’d gotten very far into the room before she’d been knocked unconscious. Which meant Maggie was hurt, too.
Noah apparently saw the desperation in Ethan’s eyes. “Maria called Maggie’s description in. There are cruisers out there looking already. Fearmonger can’t have gone far. We’ll find her.”
Striving for calm when his heart was slamming against his chest, Ethan moved aside and surveyed the scene from the hallway as the paramedics arrived. A spot of blood on the edge of the door caught his attention. Had someone slammed the door into Becca’s temple—or vice versa—as she entered to check on Maggie? It seemed plausible. If Fearmonger had succeeded in knocking Becca out, he’d probably used the syringe on Maggie. And what exactly had been in it?
“Get that syringe to Sandy,” Ethan told Noah.
The detective nodded. “The SSAM team will have the quickest way to process it. Better yet, I’ll have Sandy meet us at the hospital. They have the equipment there to analyze it, and we’ll know what we’re dealing with.”
Ethan ran a hand through his hair.
Please, God,
he prayed,
keep Becca alive and protect Maggie and Julia from this madman.
Noah worked with Maria to round up the crowd and move them back toward the bar where they could start questioning possible witnesses. Ethan’s heart squeezed as he prayed somebody had seen something. Becca was lifted onto a stretcher in the hallway, dislodging him from the protective stance he’d taken nearby.
Ethan moved into the bar area, intent on heading out the front to get his car and drive around the neighborhood, looking for Maggie. Several of the rowdier locals still laughed and caroused in the corner, apparently unaware or disinterested in the sirens and the medical personnel that hustled about.
“Where’s Christopher?” one of the gang called out. “He’s supposed to buy the next round.”
“Probably trying his ridiculous accent out on Denise in the restroom,” someone said. Someone else snickered.
“He’s gonna round himself up a cowgirl,” one of them said in a ridiculous attempt at a Texan accent.
Christopher.
Tensing, Ethan redirected his steps toward the group. The men quieted as he approached, eyeing him with distrust. Of course, he probably looked like he wanted to kill someone. Because he did.
“Who’s Christopher?” he demanded. “What does he look like?”
When they didn’t respond, he grabbed the nearest one by the shirt and hauled him up, getting in his face. “Who. The hell. Is Christopher?” he bit out.
“Hey, relax,” the man tried, making a plea for sanity. Ethan was fresh out. The man’s eyes darted toward the back hallway, then widened as the paramedics wheeled Becca’s unconscious body by their table. “He’ll be back any minute. Probably just went to take a leak.”
Like hell. They would have seen anyone anywhere near the restrooms in the last five minutes.
“Describe him.”
Noah suddenly showed up at his elbow, loosening Ethan’s grip. “Let’s try this the proper way,” he said, giving Ethan a don’t-fuck-with-my-case look.
Playing good cop, Noah inserted himself between Ethan and the group. “My friend here wants to know about Christopher.” He glanced back at Ethan. “And in a bad way. I’m guessing this is important to the case we’re working on.” He flashed his badge, and several of the men began shuffling their feet. “So it’s important to me, too. Now who here is going to cooperate?”
There was a lot of grumbling among the group, but one man looked Noah in the eye. “Christopher Armstrong. He’s the boss’s son, over at the furniture place where we work. He offered to buy us a round of drinks tonight.”
“And he faked an accent tonight?” Ethan asked, ignoring Noah’s sharp look. But as the question sunk in, Noah’s look turned more curious. “A Southern one,” Ethan added for his benefit.
A man snorted. “Yeah. He’s always pulling pranks like that. Guy seems a little off sometimes, if you know what I mean.”
Ethan had a bad feeling he knew exactly what the man meant. He grabbed Noah and pulled him aside. “This guy approached Maggie in the parking lot of the furniture factory just up the street. She didn’t recognize his voice, but he was calling himself J. P.”
“Because he recognized her and disguised it,” Noah finished for him.
“And he’s the boss’s son. Sounds like he’s been filling in lately. So he has access to all areas of the facility.”
Noah’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at?”
“The property we were on, it extended back a ways. There are other buildings they wouldn’t let me look at until Monday, when they opened again.”
“A base of operations for a killer?”
Ethan jerked a nod. “It’s worth checking out.”
“Let’s go.”
Maggie stirred as she felt herself falling. But not onto the cold tile floor she’d imagined in her dream, where she’d been in the radio station’s bathroom fighting off another panic attack. This was a hard, damp concrete floor under her cheek. Willing herself to open her eyes, even as her head pounded, she saw the world sideways. And heard Owen’s laughter.
“Not so confident now, are you, Maggie? Don’t worry, I only gave you a little bit. Just enough to get you out of there without a fight. The drug will wear off soon.”
As it all came back to her, she pushed herself up from the floor, pausing halfway as the world swayed. He held a knife pointed at her, only feet away.
She was groggy from the drugs, but her head, why did it ache so badly? She put a hand to her temple, touching it gingerly. Oh yeah. He’d slammed her head into the porcelain edge of the bathroom sink. Knocked her out.
Just like he’d done to Becca. As she remembered hearing the woman’s voice, her gaze flew around the room. She pushed the dizziness aside, gulping in air as she waited for her pulse to steady. A woman’s form lay in the corner, unconscious, her dark red-brown hair fanned out around her. Heart lodged firmly in her throat, Maggie turned to crawl toward the woman, but Fearmonger’s voice stopped her.
“Uh, uh, uh. No moving unless I say so. This is my classroom, my rules. But I see you’ve seen my other student. Julia’s a little sleepy right now, too, but she’ll wake up soon and then the real lesson will start.”
Julia. She’d found her sister. And now they were
both
in deep trouble. Fearmonger apparently read her thought process in her wide eyes. He laughed again.
“Why are you doing this?”
He pulled a folding metal chair from the corner and set it in front of her. Maggie winced at the scraping sound it made, echoing in her pounding head. “Because I knew you’d understand.”
“Understand?”
Understand what, freak?
She wanted to yell at him. He was being so calm, as if her life, and her sister’s life, weren’t in jeopardy.
“It’s just like us scholars to want to explore why people do the things they do. Like what I said about fear.”
“Us scholars? This really is some stupid lesson to you, isn’t it?” Her mind balked at his delusion.
In classic Fearmonger style, his mood shifted like a weather vane in a tornado. His eyes grew hard. “It’s so much more than that. It’s justice, too. I’ve fantasized about teaching my parents, and you, this lesson for a long, long time. Fantasy has always been better than reality, unfortunately. My parents’ deaths weren’t nearly as eventful, as prolonged or as painful as they deserved. But you, Maggie—I’m confident your death will satisfy my every fantasy.” He rose and walked to the corner, where he drew back his leg and kicked Julia in the stomach.
“Stop it!” Maggie yelled. Julia didn’t seem to respond, but Maggie thought she saw her sister flinch before she’d covered it.
Fearmonger waved the knife at her. “Keep your voice down or I’ll kill her. And that wouldn’t be much fun after all this buildup, would it? It would totally ruin the lesson. But then, we don’t have a lot of time.”
Stall.
Maggie watched Julia, but there was no further movement. She thought she’d seen her sister’s fingers flex, though, so maybe she was awake, but biding her time, just as they should, giving Ethan a chance to get here.
“Get up, bitch!” he yelled, kicking Julia harder. She moaned and he laughed. “I know you’re faking. Stop stalling. I’ll kill Maggie now if you don’t move.”
Julia gave up the attempt to appear unconscious and struggled to sit up. No easy feat with her hands tied behind her back and her mouth gagged. And her abdomen had to be hurting after those kicks. But her eyes glinted with determination in the white warehouse lighting as she met Maggie’s gaze. Her sister had stayed strong. Maggie tried to convey her support with a look. Then she remembered she wasn’t the one who was gagged.
Screw monster man. She would say what she needed to say, since they might not make it through this.
“I’m proud of you, sis. I love you.”
Julia’s eyes filled with tears as she nodded.
“Awww,” Fearmonger said, his hand over his heart. “Touching. Now get up. We’re moving. Time to get to class.” His knife at Maggie’s throat, he shoved a stumbling Julia in front of them. “To the van right outside. No fast moves.”
As they stepped outside, Maggie recognized the brick buildings. They were on the grounds of the furniture factory, less than a mile from the bar. And Ethan had already been suspicious of J. P. When he realized the man had gone missing at the same time she had, the SSAM team would hopefully track her here.
But her hope sank as the monster shoved them into a white van with no rear windows and slammed the door shut. There were no handles that would allow her to open the van from the inside. They were leaving, and Ethan would have no way to track them. Unless he came in the next few seconds, she might never see him again.
“Can’t this thing go any faster?” Ethan urged Noah, who ignored him. Okay, so his nerves were on edge. He was being insane. Love did that to a guy.
Love?
Ethan pondered the word for a whole second.
Yes. It was definitely love. Nothing else would make his insides quiver when he was around Maggie, and shake with terror when he knew she was in danger.
“We’re almost there. But we’re waiting for backup.”
Like hell, Ethan thought. Noah could sit and wait for the cavalry to arrive. Maggie’s life was in danger. They pulled up in front of the brick building, which looked innocent in the evening twilight. It was anything but. It had housed a vicious murderer. It had given him sanctuary, a place to indulge his madness.