Dirty Secrets (12 page)

I can’t stay here. He might come back
. She couldn’t go to her friends’ houses—they’d all have left for school by now and their mothers wouldn’t go along with her plan.

Then a few minutes later salvation arrived. Uncle Jerry’s SUV pulled into the driveway. She’d go with him. He’d understand. He was her father’s friend, but he’d been her mother’s friend first. Her mother had told her so. Megan bit her lip. Her mother had told her a lot of other things that she didn’t want to think about now.

She frowned. Jerry was taking a long time to get out of the SUV. He sat there, his hands clenched on the wheel. Finally he got out and slowly walked up to the house and let himself in the front door. Her frown deepened. Uncle Jerry never looked old to her before, but this morning he walked like an old man. She’d make sure he was eating right, just like she did for her dad. No more KFC for Jerry.

But for now, he was her escape.
He’s my godfather. He’ll understand. He’ll let me hang with him until she’s gone.
But just to be safe, she’d hide in the backseat until he got far enough away from the house that she could explain without being taken immediately home. Looking both ways for that detective, Megan sprinted across the street. Luck was with her and he’d left his door unlocked. Quickly she climbed in and over the backseats, hiding in the cargo area. She pulled a blanket over herself and waited.

* * *

Emma’s head jerked up when the door opened. “Chris—” His name went unfinished because it was Jerry who stood in the foyer, a haunted expression on his face. Of course, Christopher had called him. He was Megan’s godfather. Of course he’d be worried. She stood up, uncertainly. “Jerry. Christopher isn’t here. Megan is—”

“You have to come with me,” he said heavily. She studied him with a frown. It wasn’t intoxication that made his speech slow. It was dread.

Suddenly his dread became hers. “Why are you here? Everyone else is—”

“You have to come with me,” he repeated, drawing a semiautomatic pistol from his coat pocket. “Don’t make me use this, Dr. Townsend. Please.”

Emma’s eyes darted side to side. The cordless phone was . . . on the coffee table. Just out of reach. But her cell phone was in the pocket of her jeans.

“Dr. Townsend, please. I will use this, I can assure you. Don’t even think about touching that phone. And give me the cell phone in the pocket of your jeans. Let’s go.”

“Why?”

Jerry shook his head. “Just go.”

She didn’t move a muscle, just stood her ground. “It’s you, isn’t it? Darrell and Tanya? You killed them. Or you know who did.”

For a bulky man he moved quickly. In a split second his hand was tangled in her hair, lifting her to her toes. The back of his other hand crashed into her cheek, making her cry out. “I said, let’s go.” He forced her to the door, the gun jammed against the small of her back. “I’m going to let go of your hair and take the phone from your pocket. Then you’re going to walk quietly to my car. If anyone sees you, you will smile and say ‘Hello’ as will I. If you scream, I will shoot you and any innocent bystander that sees us.”

Her heart pounding in her head, Emma did what he said, stumbling as she was forced to his SUV. He opened the back passenger door and pushed her. “Climb in,” he said softly. “Don’t try anything stupid. I really don’t want to kill you.”

She climbed in, her lungs pumping. She had to think.
Think
.

He slammed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. Emma grabbed the door handle and pulled, but nothing happened.

“I have the child locks set on both doors,” he said, climbing into the front seat. “Now get down on the floorboards and don’t move.”

Helplessly Emma did what he said. “Where are you taking me?”

“Shut up.”

“If you’re going to kill me, I at least have a right to know why.” She knew why. Jerry was the connection between the lab and whoever had falsified those soil tests. But she wouldn’t let him know. Feigning ignorance might be the only thing that saved her life.

“Shut up.”

“But—”

“Dr. Townsend, I don’t want to hurt you any more than I wanted to hurt the others. But I will if I must. Now shut up.”

Emma tried to control her breathing. “Are you the one that broke into my house?”

The SUV made a right turn, slowed, then stopped. Jerry’s arm came whipping over the seat and grabbed her by the sweatshirt. They were in an alley, between two buildings, not a window or person in sight. “I said shut up.” His fist slammed into her other cheek, the pain shocking her. Rage and pain erupted and she stared him down in contempt. Blood filled her mouth and she spat it at him. Furiously he stared down at the stain on his white shirt and cuffed her on the side of her head. Stars twinkled before her eyes and she moaned.

“Now you’ll shut up,” he growled and threw her back down to the floorboards.

Clenching her teeth against what would have been a whimper of pain she was quiet, wondering how this man had become involved in such a mess. He was a physics professor, for God’s sake. Christopher’s closest friend.

Christopher.

“What will you do to Christopher?” she asked, her speech now slurred. Her tongue felt swollen and her jaw ached along with her head. He said nothing and she knew. Panic gripped her. He was planning to kill Christopher, too.

* * *

Wednesday, March 3, 9:45 a.m.

She wasn’t here.
He’d called to talk to Emma, to see if Megan had returned, but the phone rang and rang so he’d raced back home to find her gone, too. Christopher ran from room to room, retracing his steps, checking every closet, under every bed.

They weren’t here.
He punched in Harris’s number on his cell, jumping when the doorbell rang. It was Detective Harris himself, holding his ringing phone, looking grim. His stomach roiling, Christopher disconnected his cell and stepped aside to let Harris in.

“Megan’s still missing. I’ve been to every one of her friends’ houses, her school, the mall,
everywhere
.”

Harris nodded. “I know. I was here earlier talking to Dr. Townsend. Where is she?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. Because Emma’s gone, too.” He could hear the hitching panic in his voice and was powerless to stop it.

“Maybe she went out somewhere.”

“She didn’t have the car. I had the car.” Shaking, Christopher pressed his fist against his lips. “She wouldn’t just leave, Detective. She was staying here in case Megan came home. Something’s wrong.” He frowned. “If you’re not here about Megan, why are you here?”

“I just got Tanya’s cell phone LUDs. Here’s the number she called when she left the lab Thursday night, when she was sick. It’s a disposable cell.” Harris held out a piece of paper with a number scrawled across the top.

Christopher shook his head. “I don’t recognize it.”

“Do me a favor,” Harris said evenly. “Call it.”

His palms sweaty, Christopher complied. And his heart dropped from his chest to his gut like a rock as his phone’s display listed the name that went along with the number. “That’s not possible. It’s Jerry’s cell.”

“Is he answering it?”

“No. It’s still ringing.” Dazed, Christopher sank to the arm of the sofa. “He called me once and I asked what number this was because it wasn’t his normal cell. He said it was a new phone, so I stored the number. This isn’t possible. Jerry didn’t even know Tanya that well.” He blinked at Harris. “But you’re not surprised.”

“No. After I left you and Dr. Townsend last night I went by Tanya’s aunt’s house and searched again. This time I went through the dirty clothes in the laundry room. In the pocket of her jeans, I found a matchbook from a place called Le Panoramique.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Christopher said, still staring at his cell display in disbelief.

“It’s not around here. It’s up past Madeira Beach. I drove up there last night, got there as they were closing. Showed them Tanya’s picture. The bartender remembered her because he thought she had an illegal ID when he carded her. She looked younger than twenty-two, he said. He remembers her showing her University ID, which annoyed her companion. A bulky man in his forties with a black beard.”

“Jerry and Tanya?” Christopher whispered. “My God. That’s against the code of conduct. He’ll lose his tenure.” He closed his eyes. As if Jerry’s breaking University rules was their only problem. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.”

“No, Professor, it’s not. That’s why Tanya never told anyone about her boyfriend. It could get Dr. Grayson fired or at least harshly reprimanded. I’m afraid we need to find him, bring him in for questioning.”

“But why would Jerry be involved with Tanya? Why is he involved in any of this?”

“I don’t know, Professor. But we’ll find out.”

The doorbell rang and Christopher bolted.
Megan.
Then exhaled in disappointment when he saw his elderly neighbor standing on his doorstep. “Mrs. Hewett, have you seen Megan?”

Mrs. Hewett’s face fell. “Megan’s not home yet? I hoped he’d brought her home.”

Christopher straightened slowly. “Who, Mrs. Hewett?”

“That friend of yours. The one who drives the big black Expedition.”

Christopher’s heart stopped. “He was here?”

Mrs. Hewett started when Harris stepped out from behind the door. “Who are you?”

“I’m Detective Harris, ma’am,” he said, showing her his badge. “What time was the black Expedition here?”

“It was daylight,” she said. “Maybe quarter to eight? He didn’t stay long.”

Harris wrote it down. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. My husband had just left for work. Chris, your guest from up north went with him,” she said and looked over at Harris. “She got in the backseat, not the front.”

Christopher steeled his body to stay upright even though every drop of blood had drained from his head. “He’s got her, Harris. Just like Tanya.”

“But now we know who we’re looking for, Professor,” Harris said. “I’ll put out an APB for Dr. Townsend. I want you to focus on finding your daughter.”

Chapter 9

Wednesday, March 3, 11:00 a.m.

The gravel crunched under her shoes as Jerry dragged her. She was blindfolded and her hands were bound in front of her. They had driven for hours, she thought, but she didn’t know how far she was from Christopher’s house. Jerry had made a lot of turns before arriving here. Wherever “here” was. She was dragged up three steps, then pushed through a door into a stuffy room. Pushed into a chair, her feet bound to the chair legs. Someone else was here. They were smoking, but didn’t speak. Finally Jerry pulled the blindfold from her eyes and Emma looked around.

It was a small trailer, dingy and hot. A large man with a nasty sneer was looking her over, head to toe. A shiver of fear ran down Emma’s back, which seemed to amuse the man. “So you’re the famous Dr. Townsend,” he said sarcastically, taking a drag on his cigarette. “What took you so long?” he snapped to Jerry. “We’re only a half hour from Walker’s house. You drive around for hours, losing your nerve?”

Jerry said nothing and Emma felt a spurt of hope. Jerry was weakening. Maybe she could use that to her advantage.

“Why am I here?” she demanded with far more bravado than she possessed.

“Because your boyfriend can’t keep out of matters that don’t concern him. I know you were at the Costaine construction site yesterday, gathering samples.”

Emma did her best to appear confused. “We were at so many sites yesterday. I’m not sure which one you mean.” Then she cried out when the man struck her, harder than Jerry had.

“Maybe you’ll remember now. It’s a pretty little place. Two big condos. One enormous medical center.” Her eyes must have flickered, because he grinned. “Good. Now we’re speaking the same language. Did you analyze the samples you took?”

She said nothing. His lip curled. Another blow knocked her to the floor, chair and all. “Don’t even consider lying to me,” he said quietly. With one hand he jerked the chair back up and Emma felt a sob build in her chest, but ruthlessly battled it back.

“What does it matter what I say?” Emma said, her breath hitching. “If I say we found nothing, you won’t believe me. If I say we found something, which we didn’t, you’ll kill me.”

He shrugged. “I’m going to kill you anyway. I just want to know how much damage control I have to do. What did you find?”

She looked into his stubbled face, at his hard jaw, his crooked nose, and knew he spoke the truth. She was seeing his face. There was no way he’d let her live. Panic welled, but like the sob, she battled it back. At this point, all that mattered was protecting Christopher. “We found nothing. We were only able to test about half the samples. We hadn’t gotten to the samples from that construction site yet.” She narrowed her eyes. “You can believe me or not. It’s the truth.” Carefully she turned her head toward the door where Jerry stood, pale, his pipe clenched between his teeth. Ignoring the pain shooting down her spine, she shook her head. “How could you?” she asked. “Christopher is your best friend. How could you betray him this way?”

“Money is a powerful motivator,” the man with the crooked nose said, humor in his voice. “Professor Grayson here has a bit of a gambling problem. We offered to help him out of his dilemma in exchange for a small favor.”

“You betrayed your best friend,” Emma said quietly. “You killed Darrell and Tanya. Will you kill Christopher too?”

Jerry flinched. “I brought her to you, Andrews. I fulfilled my end. Let me go.”

Andrews stood abruptly when the door opened. Filling the opening was yet another thug, this one older and balding. But it wasn’t his receding hairline that had both Emma and Jerry gasping. It was the young girl whose shoulders he held in an iron grip.

Megan.

“She was in Grayson’s SUV,” the man said, his voice raspy. “She was trying to sneak away.”

“Megan,” Jerry whispered. All the color had drained from his face. “What—”

White-faced, Megan said nothing, just stood looking at all three men. And Emma. Andrews made the floor creak as he crossed to her. Ran a fingertip down her cheek. “Pretty,” he murmured mockingly.

Emma lunged to her feet, bringing the chair with her. “Don’t you touch that child,” she snarled and Andrews just laughed.

“My taste doesn’t run this young,” he said, his voice back to amused contempt. “But I know lots of people who would pay good money for a girl this pretty.”

As if the words were a whip to her back, Megan began to frantically struggle.

The man holding Megan shoved her at Andrews and with excessive force pushed Emma back down, her teeth jarring in her head as her chair made contact with the floor. Horrified, she could only sit there and stare at Andrews. “You monster.”

Jerry put his pipe in his pocket, his hands shaking. “Surely you can’t be serious,” he said, trying for calm reason even though his voice was shaking nearly as badly as his hands. “She’s just a child.”

Andrews shrugged. “Then kill her. But she’s not leaving here free.” He flicked a finger at Jerry’s shirt, bloody where Emma had spat on him. “Kill her or I’ll sell her. I like the second one because it makes me a profit. But I’ll let you choose. I have to go deal with Walker. With his daughter gone, we’ll have no leverage, so he’ll have to go, too. He’s got an old car, doesn’t he? Too bad about old cars. Their brakes go bad.”

“No,” Megan whispered harshly. “Uncle Jerry, please. Don’t let them hurt my dad.”

“You don’t think anyone’s going to notice all these missing people?” Emma asked derisively. “You don’t think anyone will figure all this out?”

“Probably,” Andrews said smoothly. “But none of it can be linked to me. Grayson will go down for all the murders.”

Jerry made a choking noise. “But—”

Andrews just smiled. “Never forget, Professor, when you gamble, the house always has the advantage. Always.” He grabbed Megan by her arm and forced her into a chair. “Sit down, Princess. Your uncle’s about to decide your future. Wait outside the door,” he said to the balding man. “Don’t let him leave unless Townsend is dead. Then bring the girl to me. If he doesn’t come out in twenty minutes, go in and kill him and Townsend yourself.” He smiled. “Then bring the girl to me. I have some calls to make.”

The door shut, leaving Emma, Megan and Jerry alone.

“You can’t kill her,” Emma said, her voice husky with fear. “You can’t. You are her godfather. You vowed to care for her. You promised, Jerry. Kill me if you must, but you have to get her out of here alive.”

Wide-eyed, Megan sat and cried quietly.

“You don’t understand,” Jerry said pathetically. “These men are powerful.”

“For God’s sake, Jerry,” Emma exploded. “Be a man, dammit. You’ve got a gun. Use it on them.”

“You think it’s just the two of them?” Jerry laughed hysterically. “There are ten men out there. Even if I kill Hudson out there on the stairs, two more will take his place. I’ll be dead. I can’t run. They can get to me anywhere. They got to you in your own house, a thousand miles away. They’ll kill me.”

“You are an adult, Jerry,” Emma said levelly. “You made choices that brought you here. Megan did not. You have to find a way to get her out of here and keep Christopher safe. You owe that to them, Jerry. Whatever the cost to yourself.”

“What about you?” Megan whispered, her voice small.

Emma turned to her, saw the girl wince at the bruises on her face. “I don’t want to die, Megan. I’ll fight to live. But you’re a child. Adults . . .” She glared at Jerry. “Good, responsible adults care for children. You are important to your father. He’s important to me. I don’t want to see either of you hurt.”

Jerry pulled his pipe from his pocket and tried to light it, but his shaking hands extinguished every match he lit. Finally he sank into the chair at Andrews’s desk and covered his face with his hands. “I don’t know what to do,” he murmured.

“Yes, you do,” Emma said, injecting into her voice all the authority she could muster. “Untie me, Jerry.”

“Please, Uncle Jerry,” Megan sobbed. “Please don’t do this.”

He dropped his hands and looked at her sadly. “I’m sorry, Megan. I’m so sorry.”

* * *

Wednesday, March 3, 11:00 a.m.

Harris slipped his cell phone into his pocket. “Do you know a soil testing firm by the name of Seymour and Elliot?” he asked Christopher, who sat in a chair at the police station, numbly watching the activity. All available personnel had been put against finding Jerry. And Emma.

Jerry. There was still a piece of Christopher’s heart that refused to believe his friend could be involved.
I’ve known him for fifteen years.
Since before Megan was born. Since before he’d married Mona. The Jerry Grayson he knew could never do something so vile. But pictures didn’t lie. While the surveillance cameras in the chemistry lab had been disabled, the cameras in Jerry’s condo complex had not. There was proof in black and white that Tanya had visited Jerry the afternoon she disappeared. Right after two big men wearing baseball caps had visited Jerry. Harris was circulating photos of the two big men, but held little hope as their caps hid their faces.

“Professor?” Harris snapped his fingers under Christopher’s nose. “Seymour and Elliot. Have you heard of them?”

Christopher shook his head to clear his thoughts. “No. Should I?”

“According to the state records department, they’re the testing company that gave that contaminated land the thumbs up. We’ll check their records, find out who knew what and when. A land management company in Atlanta holds the title, so they’re suspects as well. A company named Costaine is managing the construction at the site you took the samples from. Owner’s name is Andrews. We’ll audit his records, too.”

Christopher blanched. “Now?”

Harris’s mouth quirked in sympathy. “Not now. Maybe tomorrow or the next day.”

“When Megan’s home,” he murmured. “And Emma.” His cell phone shrilled and with unsteady hands he answered it. “Hello?”

“Chris, this is Stella.” Debbie’s mom. His heart started to race.

“Does Debbie know where Megan is?”

“Not directly, no. I just got a call from Debbie at school. She promised Megan not to talk, but her conscience has been bothering her all morning. She lied to both of us, Chris. Apparently Megan was hiding under her bed all along. When you’d left, Megan told Debbie she was going home. That she’d watch your house from across the street to know when Emma had gone home. She left here a little after seven fifteen. I don’t know where she is now. I’m so sorry, Chris.”

“I’ve got to go,” he murmured, the implications already flashing through his mind.

“Chris, call me when you find her, please.”

“I will.” Slowly he hung up and looked at Harris. “Megan left her friend’s house after seven this morning, headed for home. She would have gotten there right about the time Jerry did.” Numbly, he rubbed his face, barely feeling the stubble scratching his palms. “Last night she said she wanted to stay with Jerry. If she’s with him . . .”

Harris sighed grimly. “Shit.” He stood up and shouted for the attention of every other detective in the room. “Walker’s thirteen-year-old daughter may be with Emma Townsend and Jerry Grayson,” he said. A ripple of discussion moved through the room. “How close are we to tracking his vehicle through GPS?”

Christopher’s head jerked up. “GPS? You know where Jerry’s SUV is?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Harris said gently. “Even if we find the SUV, it doesn’t mean your daughter and Dr. Townsend will be inside. Phillips, have you found it?”

Detective Phillips was on the phone and held up one finger. “Almost. Another minute.” After another minute that felt like a day, Phillips aimed an encouraging smile Christopher’s direction. “Here it is, Harris. They’re at 1298 Milliken Road, east of town. I’ll call all available cars to that location.”

“Sirens off,” Harris ordered. “Silent approach, everybody wears a vest. Walker, you stay here.”

Christopher waited until most of the detectives had cleared the room. Then calmly rose and exited the building. Found his car and turned the ignition. And followed them.

His daughter was in danger. As was his . . . what was Emma? he wondered as he pointed his car in the direction of Milliken Road. He was feeling strangely calm, surreally so. So what was Emma? His lover? After last night, yes. His girlfriend? So high school. How appropriate. The woman he’d loved the better part of his life? Perhaps.

All Christopher knew for certain was that he’d have nothing left to live for without Megan. Without Emma he’d survive, but at what cost? He prayed that would be a question forever left unasked and unanswered.

Please. I swear I’ll ask for nothing else for the rest of my life. Let them be alive. Please.

* * *

“Don’t do this, Jerry,” Emma said, her voice cracking. He’d risen from the table and, hand shaking, held his semiautomatic pistol to her head. If she was dead, there would be no one to protect Megan for Christopher. “Please don’t do this.”

“Uncle Jerry.” Megan was sobbing, begging pitifully, “You’re not a bad man deep down. Don’t kill us. Think of Dad.” She drew a ragged breath. “Think of my mother.”

Emma strained her peripheral vision, staring at Jerry’s face. Guilt was stamped there, indelibly. But more than that, Emma saw a stunned paralysis in the man’s eyes. She’d seen this before in patients she’d counseled. Faced with an untenable choice, he’d frozen. He was incapable of making a decision either way, but in less than twelve minutes it wouldn’t matter. The balding man named Hudson would barrel through that door and kill her and Jerry. And take Megan.
Over my dead body. Bad metaphor.

Think of my mother,
Megan had said, and that had triggered Jerry’s response. She looked at Megan, the girl’s dark eyes weary and ancient as tears poured down her face. What else did this child know? What strength did she possess, both physical and emotional? It was time to find out. “Megan, I see Jerry’s penknife on the desk over there next to his pipe. I want you to get it and bring it to me.” She gave a nod of encouragement. “It’s all right. Just do it.”

Sniffling, Megan got the knife and held it uncertainly.

“Cut my ropes, Megan.”