Authors: Karen Rose
„You’ve notified the Chicago PD?“
„This morning at about two a.m.“
„Why didn’t you call me?“ Steven demanded.
„Because I knew you’d be dead tired from your trip. I thought I’d let you sleep.“
Steven frowned. „Where’s Jolley now?“
Toni rubbed her hands over her eyes. „In Interrogation 1. Steven, there’s more. You aren’t going to like it. Look at his calls for last Saturday.“
He did… and the cold fist of fear clamped his heart. Every drop of blood in his body seemed to turn to ice. „Oh, God,“ he breathed, then looked up to find Toni’s gaze focused on him. „He was in Raleigh. He was near my kids.“ Abruptly he stood and shoved his fingers through his hair. His heart was racing. „I’ve got to call my Aunt Helen.“
„I did already,“ Ross assured him quietly. „And I called Lennie Farrell. He put twenty-four-hour surveillance on your house and on all of your kids, to, from and during school. He said you were relieved of the assignment if you wanted to get home.“
Steven dropped back in his chair and pressed his fingertips against his eye sockets. „Twenty-four-hour?“
„Yes.“
„I’ll call my aunt and ask her what she wants me to do. For now I’ll get working on how Winters got all the way up to Chicago. Can you ask Lambert to help me check the airlines? Just in case our boy likes to travel in style.“
„What did your aunt say?“
Steven looked up from his laptop where he’d been checking his E-mail in the relative quiet of the sweltering little conference room. Toni stood in the doorway, her expression concerned. „She said what I thought she’d say,“ he answered. „That she and the boys were fine and I could do more good here trying to find the bastard than hovering over them at home for God knew how long.“
Toni smiled. „She called him a bastard?“
Steven raised a brow. „Actually I called him a bastard. Aunt Helen called him something slightly less repeatable. Listen, I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to show you something. Did you know there was a website devoted to patron saints?“
Toni shook her head. „No, but it doesn’t surprise me.“
He double-clicked his mouse, eyes locked on the screen, then tilted it in Toni’s direction.
„Saint Rita of Cascia,“ she read. „Patron saint of impossible causes. Just like you thought.“
„Read her bio.“
Toni read, than looked up with a frown. „So it all fits together. Susan Crenshaw gives Mary Grace a statue of the patron saint of impossible causes that also was an abused wife. Rita’s husband beats her, dies; Rita takes her vows and enters a convent. Susan knew.“
„Toni? Thatcher?“
Steven turned to find Detective Lambert standing in the doorway, holding a manila folder, the light from the window turning his head into a shining halo. Steven still had to fight to keep from thinking of Jonathan Lambert as a pretty boy. But he’d do it. Toni Ross considered Lambert her right-hand man and Steven had come to respect her as a class act.
„What do you have, Jonathan?“ she asked. „Please tell me it’s good news. I need a little of that today.“
Lambert entered the little conference room, his linebacker’s body making it that much smaller.
„I’ve examined Rob’s hard drive and Internet cache.“ He waved the folder with a satisfied smile. „Interesting stuff.“
„And?“ Steven asked. „Have a seat, Lambert. Make yourself right at home in my little sauna.“
Lambert pulled out a chair with a sympathetic grin, sat in it, then handed him a summary of Winters’s computer journeys. „Up until Monday the fifth, he visited basically the same sites. A lot of porn sites, a lot of white power sites.“
„Surprise, surprise,“ Toni murmured.
„Then on the fifth, he started visiting people finder databases.“
Steven frowned. „What? Why would he do that?“
„He was putting in names like Mary, Grace, Mary Grace, Mary Anne, Mary Beth. Last names varied from Smith, Jones, Summers, Fall, Spring, to name a few.“
Steven looked at Toni, brows nearly fused together. „He’s looking for his wife.“
„Why would he look for her? Why would he search for a woman who’s been dead for seven years?“ Cognition lit Toni’s eyes. „Unless maybe he thinks she’s not dead?“
Steven rubbed his temple. „I can’t believe this.“
„Why would he suddenly believe she’s not dead?“ Toni mused.
„This whole thing started after he’d seen the car in Sevier County.“ Steven stood up and paced the length of the tiny room. „It has something to do with that statue.“
Toni was quiet for a long moment. „Nurse Burns told you that Mary Grace said it was the first gift she’d ever received, right? It would be important to her.“
Steven stopped pacing and stared out the window. „It’s a symbol.“
„Freedom. Independence.“
Steven thought of the hopelessness in Sue Ann Broughton’s eyes. „Hope.“
„Pretty powerful emotions.“
Steven nodded, thinking, creating the scene in his mind. „Yeah. And for Mary Grace those emotions were more powerful than fear. That car was launched into the lake, not pushed. Picture this. Mary Grace makes some friends in the hospital. Susan Crenshaw is one of them. Susan gives her a statue and Mary Grace treasures it. She gets home from the hospital and what will hubby dearest do?“
„Break it,“ Lambert answered.
Steven met his eyes with a brief nod. „To break her. It was cracked and glued together. She glued it back together. Maybe hid it so he wouldn’t break it again. Vandalia said Winters was… agitated.“
Toni sucked in her cheeks. „She’s outsmarted him.“
„Rob wouldn’t like that,“ Lambert commented dryly.
Toni’s grin was wry. „No, he wouldn’t, would he?“
„He’s infuriated,“ Steven continued, barely aware of their comments. „But she endures, somehow. Makes some friends. Connections. Somebody helps her escape.“ He turned to stare out the window, not really seeing anything but the scene unfolding in his imagination. „They take the car to the lake. Can you see it? She has that statue, her own symbol of freedom. She uses it to launch her car in the lake, leaving behind everything that was Mary Grace Winters. She’s reborn.“ He stopped, wheeling around to catch Toni’s eye. „She’s someone else now.“
„That would explain why she left her purse behind,“ Toni agreed.
„And why Winters is checking databases for variations on her name,“ Lambert added.
Toni frowned. „But why did she leave her walker behind?“
„I don’t know,“ Steven answered, „but I bet we’ll find out when we find Mary Grace Winters.“
„There is one more piece of information that was irregular,“ Lambert said, a gleam in his eye.
„Well, don’t keep us in suspense,“ Steven returned impatiently. Lambert just grinned.
„He was using the yellow pages on the Internet. He looked up the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. The computer science department.“
Toni scrunched her brows. „Why?“
„My guess?“ Lambert asked. „He wanted a hacker. Someone who could get into the personnel database at Asheville General. The hospital’s website was the last one he visited before looking up UNCC. He tried the ‘career opportunities’ area, but of course that told him nothing. He may have been looking for names of hospital personnel.“
Steven ran his tongue over his teeth. „Susan Crenshaw.“
Lambert stood up. „That’s just a guess.“
„A damn good one,“ Toni stated. „I feel like we’re finally getting close to this bastard.“
Steven sat down in a chair heavily. „If he’s in Chicago, it’s because Mary Grace is there or someone who knows where she is.“
Lambert sighed. „It’s hard to believe Rob would go to such lengths to find her.“ He shook his head. „My God. He murdered that nurse.“
„Power,“ Steven muttered. „He gets his rocks off by controlling people. She outsmarted him. He can’t live with that. And once he finds her, he finds the boy. Sue Ann said he was obsessed with the boy to the point of wanting no other children. We need to find him.“
Toni straightened her shoulders. „Before he finds her first.“
Chicago
Thursday, March 16
3 p.m.
Max sat alone in the deafening quiet of his office, staring at the note.
All week she’d prepared his coffee, sorted his mail, and typed his letters. She’d greeted him with a good morning, exited with a good night, in every way the model secretary. Except that never once did she smile. Certainly never laughed. She’d stayed away from his office, coming in only once the day after that terrible meeting to pick up his papers and restore his desk to rights.
He’d catch her looking at him with eyes so sad it nearly tore his heart out. Then the blue would flash with challenge and she’d turn away. He knew what she was waiting for. But the bitterness had become a close, if not hated, bedfellow. Twelve years of anguish was a hard thing to simply erase. He’d tried. God, he’d tried.
He’d returned to his house after taking her home the night after their explosive fight and stood in his driveway, staring at the pole that had once held the backboard where they’d played ball as kids. He’d stood and listened to the echoes of pounding balls, grunts and hoots of glee. Swishes of the net as the ball cut neatly through. All in his memory. All long gone. He’d stood and stared until David pulled him inside.
Just last night he dragged himself up the attic stairs, found the box of newspaper clippings his grandmother had so religiously saved. He’d managed his way through three or four articles before the grief returned, stabbing deep.
He ran a hand down his face, trying to relieve the tension pressure behind his eyes with no success. It had been days since he’d drawn an easy breath, since he’d slept through the night, since he’d had the energy to care about anything. And although the March sun shone brightly at his back, the world seemed gray. David wasn’t speaking to him and Ma nagged him continuously to apologize to Caroline.
But worst of all were the words that kept running through his mind, mostly Caroline’s. She needed a man she could lean on. He wanted so desperately to be that man. For her. For himself. But it still hurt. The pain of losing his wings was still so strong it crushed him inside.
And now this. He felt like tearing it up but he only stared at her hastily written note.
I’m sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you more than you‘d already hurt yourself. You’ll have my resignation on your desk tomorrow morning.
No signature, certainly no ‘Love, Caroline.’
With a sigh of capitulation, he picked up the telephone.
Chicago
Thursday, March 15
4 p.m.
Winters was lying on the hotel’s lumpy mattress smoking a cigarette when his cell phone rang. He immediately swung himself to a sitting position and answered it. „Yeah?“
„Rob, Ben here.“
Winters ground the cigarette in the cheap metal ashtray with an oath. „What are you doin’ calling me here? Don’t you know they can trace this call?“
„I’m using a pay phone. I thought you needed to know the latest.“
„You told me Ross revoked my paid leave and ordered me back. I told you I can’t come back yet.“ He was close. So damn close. One more day and he should have the list.
„Yeah, well now she’s put out an APB for you.“
Fury erupted and the hotel phone went flying into the old television set. „An APB? Like I’m some common crackhead?“ His hands itched to find their way around Ross’s black throat, to hear her gurgle an apology that would be way too little, way too late. „When this is over, I swear to G – “
The hotel room door opened and Angie slipped in. Rob didn’t believe the hooker’s name was Angie, but it didn’t really matter in the whole scheme of life.
„Did you get it?“ he growled.
Angie nodded and tossed several sheets of paper on the bed.
„Bingo.“ Winters held his cell phone to his ear once again. „Thanks for the update, Ben. But I got the information I was looking for. Before long I’ll be home. I’ll deal with Ross then.“
He disconnected and picked up the first page. It was covered with names. The guest list of Hanover House the summer Mary Grace stole his son. He scanned the list for Mary Grace’s name and came up nil. „This many?“
Angie shrugged. „That Hanover House helps a lot of women.“
Rob grabbed Angie’s shirt and yanked her face down level with his, finding the fear in her eyes a real turn-on. He was already hard. „That Hanover House is responsible for the breakup of good marriages. The husband is the head of the household and has every right to discipline his wife and children. It’s Biblical.“ He closed his fingers on the back of her neck and pulled her down to the mattress. Angie liked it rough. „'Till death do you part,’“ he quoted. „And soon I’ll find the bitch that made that promise to me.“ Then I’ll release Mary Grace from our marriage, he finished to himself. Till death do us part, Mary Grace. If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.
Winters smiled and rolled on top of Angie, pinching her nipple through her shirt, hard. She whimpered softly. He liked to hear her whimper like that. Soon he’d be hearing Mary Grace whimper like that once again. He could hardly wait. „Tell me the setup of the place again?“
„It’s an old house. It has a parking area off the street, room for about three cars, that’s all.“
He yanked at the buttons on the shirt he hadn’t seen before. „Where did you get this shirt?“
„Dana gave it to me.“
Dana Dupinsky. Angie had come back talking about her the first day she’d found Hanover House. „The head interfering bitch.“ He stripped the shirt from her body and kneeling astride her, ripped it to shreds with his bare hands. „Don’t be taking charity from that woman, Angie. You work for me.“
She shrank away from him. „I need to be getting back, Rob, or they’ll know I’m gone.“
„Honey, your job there is finished.“
„But – “
He silenced her with the back of his hand. „Don’t argue with me, girl. I hired you to find the place and get taken in. You did good, pretending to be an ‘abused woman.’“ He said the words mockingly. „Asking that social worker how to find Hanover House, making up the friend that had heard of it – nice touch. You got into the office, broke into that bitch Dupinsky’s files. That was good. You found the names of all the women who’d come through Hanover house seven years ago. Good job again. Now you’ll finish the job, here, with me.“