BATON ROUGE (12 page)

He’d been so sure. He’d been so positive that they’d found the place where the captives were just waiting to be released from their cages.

As he drove home, all he heard was the loud ticking of a clock in his head, an instinctive clock that told him time was quickly running out for Bob’s hostages.

Seeing the location of the old jail, recognizing how many other places there could be in the back of any number of swamps, had shot a wave of discouragement through him that he hadn’t been able to shake no matter how hard he tried.

He pulled into the driveway and together they got out of the car and went into the house. “Dinner?” She looked at him in question, her gaze holding a dull light of defeat.

“I’m not really hungry. What I’d like is a nice stiff drink.”

“I’m of a mind to join you,” she replied as she sat at the kitchen table.

Alexander opened the cabinet that held his small liquor collection. “I’ve got whiskey, scotch and there might even be a bottle of wine up here.”

“To hell with the wine. I’ll take scotch on the rocks,” she said.

He looked at her with a raised brow. She normally wasn’t much of a drinker, other than an occasional glass of wine.
But you don’t know what she’s done during the past two years,
he reminded himself. Still, she’d always been a lightweight when it came to holding her liquor.

He poured them both scotch on the rocks and then joined her at the table. Dark shadows rode the delicate skin beneath her eyes and her entire body appeared smaller, as if she’d pulled into herself. She wore the defeat of the day on her face and in her posture.

She took a sip of the scotch and made a face. “I’ve never understood how people drink this stuff. I think it tastes awful.”

“You want me to get you something else?”

She shook her head. “No, tonight I need something strong and biting.” She released a weary sigh. “I was so sure we were right, Alex. I was so certain that we were at the end of the case and everything was going to be good. We were going to rescue everyone and get the bad guy behind bars.”

“I know. I felt the same way. Seeing that empty, abandoned building kicked the stuffing out of my gut.” He downed his scotch in two swallows and then got up from the table, grabbed the bottle and returned. He poured himself another two fingers of the amber liquid.

Georgina tipped up her glass and downed her drink, then gestured for him to refill her glass as well. He did so and then leaned back in his chair, a deep weariness settling heavily on his shoulders, into his very soul.

“You have to promise me something, Alex,” she said, her green eyes the color of the swamp that had earlier surrounded them.

“Promise what?” he asked.

“Promise me that if this all goes bad, you won’t go back to that dark place where you went with the Gilmer case.”

He turned his glass around and around between his hands as he stared down into the scotch. “There’s only been one thing that took me back to that dark place, one thing that took me even deeper into the darkness, and that was you walking out on me.”

He looked up at her, his heart filled with the love he feared he’d always hold where she was concerned. “I thought the Gilmer darkness was bad, but the pit of darkness I fell into when you left me was even worse.”

She broke eye contact with him and instead leaned back in her chair and released a deep sigh. “I thought it was the best thing to do for you.”

She took another drink and he couldn’t help but notice that her cheeks had filled with pink spots of color, a sign that she was feeling the effects of the alcohol.

When they’d been married he’d always known when she was getting tipsy by the blushing red that saturated her cheeks. Apparently she was still a lightweight when it came to alcohol.

Maybe now was the time to have the conversation they’d never had, the one where she told him exactly what had driven her away from him.

“You know what I hate most about Bob? I hate him because he got pieces of your past, he got your tears, he got from you things I never got from you.”

“I told you before, that was something I didn’t want to drag into the marriage with you.” She took another sip of her scotch despite the fact that her voice already had a small slur. “Things were so good with us, I didn’t want you to know the ugliness of my past. I only told Bob about those things in an effort to help the case.”

“I did a little research this morning on scapegoat child syndrome,” he confessed.

She took another drink and then pushed her glass away. “Then you know the gist of what my childhood was like. Basically it stank.” She reached up and stroked her fingers through her short hair and cast him a slightly bitter, rueful smile. “When I was fourteen I had hair down below my shoulders. As a last-ditch effort to be what my father wanted me to be, I cut it all off.”

She released a burst of laughter that was laced with pain, the pain she’d never shared with him. The pain he would do anything to assuage if only she’d allow him in. “Of course it didn’t work,” she continued. “I was the child who should have never been born and my family never let me forget it.”

He wanted to hold her. He wanted to cradle her close and tell her how precious she was, what an amazing person she was despite her tragic beginnings, but she sat rigid in her chair, her chin uplifted in a defensive mode that kept him in his seat across from her.

“You understand that it was never about you, that it was your parents who were dysfunctional.”

“Thank you, Dr. Harkins,” she replied lightly, but with a faint hint of sarcasm. “Rationally I know that now. When I went into foster care I was told that again and again. The scars I carry are deep, but they’re old scars.”

“I don’t think those scars are as healed over as you tell yourself they are,” he replied. He also shoved his glass away. He didn’t want to be tipsy to have this conversation with her. He wanted to be clearheaded with all his faculties intact when he asked her what had eaten at him for the last two years.

“Why did you leave me, Georgina? Why wasn’t I enough for you? What could I have done differently to make you feel safe and secure enough to share it all with me? Why couldn’t I make you feel completely loved and not afraid to give love back?”

“Oh, Alex, the problem was never you. It’s always been about me. It always will be me.” Her eyes grew misty as she held his gaze. “You’re right. Some of the scars aren’t as healed as I want them to be. I thought I could be normal. When I fell in love with you, I thought I could get married and have children and walk away from my childhood whole. But the truth of the matter is that I’m damaged goods, Alex. You deserve better and far more than what I could ever give to you.”

“You’re wrong, Georgina. You were always all that I ever wanted, and you didn’t give me enough credit if you believed I couldn’t handle both the best and the very worst of you.” He leaned forward, his heart aching with all the emotions that had assailed him since the moment she’d left their marriage.

She closed her eyes, as if to shut out whatever else he wanted to say. “It was the right thing for me to do,” she repeated. “I only wanted what was best for you, and that wasn’t me. That could never be me.”

“Did you love me when you left me?” His heart hurt so much. “Georgina, open your eyes and look at me. I need to see your beautiful eyes when you answer me,” he said.

She opened her eyes and their green depths were filled with such pain. “Yes, I loved you when I left. I left
because
I loved you so much.” Once again she threaded her fingers through her rich, dark hair.

“When you were dealing with the aftermath of the Gilmer case, having bad dreams and so obviously in pain, I didn’t know what to say to you. I didn’t have the words to comfort you.” A single tear fell from each of her eyes and splashed down on her pink cheeks. “I knew then that I couldn’t be, would never be, enough for you.”

Alexander couldn’t stand it any longer. He needed to touch her, to hold her. He got up from his chair and walked around the table to where she sat. As he touched her arm, she folded into herself, as if protecting herself from any onslaught that might hurt.

“Georgina,” he whispered her name softly. Tears chased faster down her cheeks. “Honey, all you had to do for me was just be there. When I had my nightmares and I turned over in the bed, you were always there to hold me. I didn’t need words from you. I just needed to know that you were next to me. That was enough. You were enough.”

He pulled on her arm and breathed a ragged sigh of relief when she unfolded, rose and fell into his embrace. She began to cry and he savored each of her tears, knowing they were a form of cathartic release she rarely allowed herself.

She leaned weakly against him as he stroked his hands up and down her back. He relished her weakness as it was a gift she’d never given to him before. It was a sign that she trusted him enough to give him her tears.

He knew it wouldn’t last long, that she would quickly pull herself together and be the strong, stubborn, independent woman she’d always been. But for now, he just wanted to hold her while she dealt with her pain.

“I never stopped loving you, Georgina,” he said softly. “I tried to stop. I didn’t want to keep loving you, but I couldn’t help it. I’d see you in the hallway at work and it would be like an arrow piercing through my heart. There hasn’t been a day since our divorce that I haven’t wanted you back in this house, back in my life.”

She’d stopped crying, but she didn’t move from his arms. He relished the feel of her so close against him, her heart beating rapidly against his own. This was where she belonged...in his arms forever.

“Come back to me, Georgina. Come back and be my wife, my lover, my life partner. Nothing has been good since you left me.” He was baring his very soul to her, feeling more vulnerable than he’d ever felt in his life.

She raised her head to look up at him, her eyes simmering with emotion. “Alex, I...”

Whatever she was about to say was interrupted by a loud knock on the front door. They both froze and stepped apart.

Alexander looked at his watch. It was almost ten. Who would be at his door at this time of night?

“I’ll be right back,” he said to her. “We aren’t finished here, Georgina.”

She released a sigh and nodded.

As he walked to the door, he pulled his gun, unsure what or who to expect. It might be one of the team members dropping by with new information or it could be something else altogether.

He looked out the peephole, and when he saw who was there, a shock of surprise swept through him. He holstered his gun and opened the door. “Hey, what’s going on?” He stepped out on the porch.

Before he could speak another word, he felt a sharp sting in his upper back. He reached an arm up and felt the dart that still clung to his body.

At the same time, a weakness attacked his muscles. He tried to remain upright, but his legs had turned to jelly and his brain felt wrapped in cotton.

Trouble. Georgina was in danger.

This was his final thought as he fell to the ground next to the stoop and the last of his consciousness slipped away.

Chapter Twelve

“Alex?” Georgina called from the kitchen when he didn’t immediately return. Who could he be talking to for so long and why hadn’t they come inside?

“Alex, is everything okay?” She left the kitchen and her breath hitched in her chest as she met a masked man in the living room. Before she could draw her gun, a dart struck her in the chest.

She stared down at it in disbelief at the same time she fumbled to get her gun from the holster. But nothing was working right. Her legs were going out from under her, and even when her hand finally landed on the butt of her gun, she didn’t have the strength to pull the weapon.

She tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words of panic, the scream of terror that was trapped inside her. He merely stood before her, his face hidden but blue eyes gleaming from the holes in the mask.

“Just let go, Georgina. Give in to it. You can’t fight the drugs.”

His voice sounded vaguely familiar, but her brain refused to recognize it as darkness began to creep into her head, a darkness that finally pulled her under and she knew no more.

She dreamed that she was a child and once again her father had locked her in the closet because she was a bad girl. She wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong to receive the punishment. He’d just looked at her and gotten angry.

She never knew how long she’d be locked up and hated the weekends when it was possible she’d spend all of Saturday and Sunday inside the small, dark enclosure. Her sisters knocked on the door and called her names and laughed, deepening the pain of the isolation.

No good, piece of dirt, a waste of space and oxygen, over and over again their voices called to her, telling her just how bad she was and how they wished she’d never been born.

Then she was a grown-up and Alex was by her side. Alex. Someplace in the blackness of her drug-induced sleep, her heart cried out to him.

Was he dead or alive? It was a nebulous question that floated around in her head, but she couldn’t hang onto the thought as other visions and nightmares returned to visit her.

She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious when she began to wake up. She was on a thin mattress, but for several minutes she didn’t open her eyes; rather, she listened to the sounds around her.

Whispers.

Was she still a little girl? Were the whispers those of her sisters making fun of her again? No, that wasn’t right. She wasn’t a child anymore, and as she remembered encountering the masked man in Alex’s living room, she knew what had happened.

Bob had gotten her into his lair.

She opened her eyes and found herself on a lower bunk bed in a jail-like cell. She didn’t move, but rather allowed her gaze to take in all the details of her surroundings.

There was a sink, a toilet and a shower nozzle and a curtain hanging down that could be pulled around the toilet and shower to provide some modicum of privacy.

She closed her eyes once again, her heart pounding with fear and her head aching with the residual effects of whatever drug Bob had shot her with.

Why would Alex open the door to a man wearing a ski mask? And what had happened to Alex? Had he merely been drugged and left behind, or had Bob killed him?

No, Alex couldn’t be dead. She absolutely, positively refused to believe that. He had to live and he had to find her. But how could he? How could the task force find her when they had no leads, no clues to follow?

Blue eyes. That’s all she remembered. Did Jax White have blue eyes? Did Roger? God help her, she couldn’t remember.

“Georgina, are you awake?”

It was Jackson’s soft, drawling voice. She turned on her side and opened her eyes once again, now able to see that Jackson and a pretty strawberry-blonde woman were in the next cell. And beyond their cell she could see the others.

“I’m awake, but I have the headache from hell,” she replied.

“It’s whatever drug he used. It will go away pretty quickly,” he replied. “You might have a bit of amnesia, as well. Some of us suffered from a lack of memories concerning our kidnapping for a couple of days. Must be a side effect of the drug.”

Georgina nodded, although she didn’t think she had any amnesia.

“You must be Marjorie,” Georgina said to the woman. “Alex told me all about you.”

“So Alexander is working the case?” Jackson asked eagerly.

Georgina pulled herself to a sitting position, careful not to hit her aching head on the top bunk. “There’s a task force working on finding you all.” She realized everyone in the room was listening to her. “Do you know who your captor is?”

“No, so far he’s always worn a ski mask when he comes in here,” Jackson replied. “The task force...do they have any clues? Are they getting close to finding us?”

Georgina heard the hope in Jackson’s voice and she didn’t have the heart to completely crush it. “We had several people of interest we were looking at. I’m sure it won’t be too long now before they narrow it down. The police department is also helping to check out old buildings where we hoped to find that you all were being held.”

“And yet he managed to get you.” Sam Connelly’s voice came from the distance, although his “cell” was too far away for her to see him.

“Georgina, I talked to you on the phone. Remember me? I’m Macy.” The childish voice sliced through Georgina’s heart.

“I remember, honey,” she replied. “And it won’t be long now before we’re all out of here.”

Jackson moved closer to the bars that separated them. With effort, Georgina got up from the bed and joined him. He reached his fingers through and she covered them with her own.

“How close are they really to finding us?” he asked, his voice once again a low whisper.

She hesitated and realized he wanted the truth, not some fairy tale to keep everyone filled with false hope. “Not close at all. The task force is working every angle and hopefully they’ll figure it all out.”

“How did he get to you?”

“I was staying with Alex. There was a knock on the door. Alex answered, and when he didn’t come back to the kitchen, I walked into the living room and encountered the perp.”

“And he got you with a dart,” Jackson said flatly. “That’s how he got us all. So exactly what’s being done?”

For the next few minutes she filled him in on the task force investigation, the connection they all had with Michelle Davison’s book and the fact that Roger had been at all of the crime scenes.

“We know he grew up in the swamp and according to him he killed his mother and father. We believe he has some level of higher education and that he’s obsessed with becoming the perfect, unstoppable serial killer.”

“I think it’s a good sign for us that he hasn’t shown us his identity,” Jackson said. “Once we see his face, once we all know what he looks like, there’s no way he’ll allow us to walk out of here free and clear. He carries a gun and eventually he’ll use it to kill us. To be honest, I think that time is growing near. Over the last couple of days he seems to have lost interest in whatever he thinks he can learn from us. He feeds us but then leaves, and there’s a new restlessness in him that feels dangerous.”

Jackson moved away from the bars and placed an arm around Marjorie and they both sat in the bottom bunk as Georgina returned to her own bunk.

Once again she lay down on her back and stared up at the bottom of the upper bunk. Was Alex alive? She could only assume that he’d been hit with a dart. Was he conscious? Were he and the team now hunting, frantic to find them before time ran out? Or had the dart that had pierced him held enough of the drug to be lethal?

One thing was certain. Nobody was going to die until Bob got a chance to talk to her, to crow about the fact that he’d once again managed to kidnap an FBI agent and get her into this hellhole. He’d want to brag about taking her from right under the protection of Alex.

She closed her eyes again, aware of the other couples talking quietly among themselves. A vision of Alex filled her head as she replayed the conversation they’d been having before being interrupted.

She couldn’t think about it. She couldn’t deal with it right now. She just had to pray that Alex was still alive and the task force was tearing up every street and building in the entire city.

He feeds us but then leaves.
Jackson’s words reverberated around in her head, along with a horrifying thought. Bob wouldn’t have to use his gun or his darts to kill any of them. All he would have to do is stop coming, stop feeding them and they would all die a slow and painful death.

* * *

A
LEX
WOKE
UP
to the scent of grass and a headache that made his stomach roll with nausea. He remained immobile for several minutes, his brain too fogged to think.

He finally turned over and realized he was outside of his house on the lawn, his front door wide open as if to invite in any nefarious creatures. Snakes could slither in, a wandering gator could go inside, or Bob could make an unexpected appearance.

Bob!

A rush of thoughts frantically worked through his mind as he struggled to get to his feet. Georgina! Her name scalded his brain as he forced his legs into action. Even as he flew through the front door, he knew she wasn’t here.

Still, he raced through every room of the house, frantically calling her name, praying that she’d somehow managed to hide from danger. But he knew in his gut, he knew in his soul, she was gone.

Bob had taken her from him, and now Alexander had no idea where she was or what was happening to her. Thick emotion made it nearly impossible for him to breathe as he raced back to the front door and stared out into the night.

A glance at his watch let him know he had been unconscious for well over an hour. Bob could have taken Georgina anywhere in that length of time.

A sob of despair rose up in his throat, but he swallowed hard against it. Now wasn’t the time. He needed to get the team together. They had to figure out where Bob was keeping his captives now more than ever, because now Alexander’s Georgina was among the victims.

He had to shove his emotions aside. It was time to get to work, time to figure out what they had missed and find Georgina and all the others.

It took him only minutes to make the calls that would bring the men back to the war room. As Alexander got into his car to head toward headquarters, he saw the file folder that Director Miller had given him, the folder that held Nicholas’s personal information.

He took a moment with the car running to turn on the interior light and peruse the information contained in the file. As he read, a burning fire lit in the pit of his stomach.

He slammed the file down into the passenger seat and roared out of his driveway. He schooled his mind to blankness, focusing only on getting to headquarters.

He couldn’t think about Georgina or what she might be suffering at this very moment. If he did that, then he’d lose his mind and be no good to anyone and she needed him to be at the top of his game.

The drive to the FBI building normally took about twenty minutes. Tonight Alexander made it in ten. He was the first one in the war room. Although his instincts all screamed for him to get outside, to rip down buildings and yell Georgina’s name, he knew that kind of frantic exercise would accomplish nothing.

He made a pot of coffee and then sank down in a chair, trying to remember what exactly had happened before he’d hit the dirt in his yard.

He and Georgina had been having a talk. She’d been crying and he’d held her. He’d been telling her how he’d never stopped loving her and then there had been a knock at the door.

Frowning, he rubbed the center of his forehead. Who had been at the door? It couldn’t have been any of their persons of interest, for he would have greeted them with his gun in his hand.

The dart had struck him in the back, meaning Bob had been behind him. So who had been on his doorstep? It had to have been somebody who caused him no alarm, but he couldn’t remember.

He pressed the center of his forehead, trying to retrieve a vision of who had been on his doorstep when he’d peeked outside. Who had been Bob’s partner in crime?

The clue to everything was locked in his brain, and the harder he tried to remember, the more nebulous the whole event at his front door seemed.

Drugs. Maybe his missing memory was a residual effect of whatever drug Bob had used on the dart that had knocked him out cold. He looked up as Frank and Matt flew into the room.

“I need one of you to find out where Roger Cambridge has been this evening and I want the other to check on Michelle and Jax.” Was it possible he’d looked outside and seen Michelle on the front porch and Jax had been lying in wait for him?

“Done,” they both said in unison.

Before they could leave the room, Nicholas walked in, and before he could say a word, Alexander rushed toward him and grabbed him by the front of the shirt.

“Where have you been tonight, swamp rat?” Alexander snarled. “Why didn’t you mention that you grew up in Sampson’s Swamp? Why have you never been around when Bob calls Georgina?”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Matt asked as he tried to get between the two men, but Alexander wasn’t letting go of Nicholas until he got some answers. “Where is she, Nicholas? Where is Georgina?”

“Do you really think I have anything to do with this?” Nicholas looked at Alexander in stunned surprise. “I’ve been busting my ass to solve this case and the reason I didn’t mention my swamp background was because it was nothing to brag about.”

Nicholas’s cheeks fired a dusty red. “Let go of me. It’s not a damn crime to be ashamed of where you came from. I’m not the enemy here. I’m here to help you get her back from whoever has her.”

Alexander saw the truth in Nicholas’s eyes and he released the man’s shirt and backed away. “I read your file and saw that you were from the swamp and my head started whirling with all kinds of possibilities,” he said.

Nicholas straightened his shirt and continued to look at Alexander. “I’ll admit I haven’t exactly been a team player, but I swear I have nothing to do with these crimes and I had nothing to do with Georgina being taken. What we need to do is figure out how to find her and the rest of them now.”