The man popped the tape from the camera, then slunk away, sputtering apologies.
“Dumb ass,” she muttered under her breath.
Unsettled and needing her, Luke put his hands on her shoulders and she jumped. “Sshh,” he murmured, soothing himself as much as he soothed her. “It’s just me.”
Her frown disappeared when she saw him, a soft smile blooming. “You weren’t too late this time.” But she sobered when she realized he had not smiled back. “What happened, Luke? What took you so long? Where’s Bobby?”
“Bobby got in a car up at the end of the row. The engine was running with the passenger asleep. The driver hadn’t locked the door.”
“I knew she’d stolen the car, but she has another hostage?”
“No. She pushed the passenger out going about sixty. She knew I’d stop. Of course I did, but the passenger was dead. She’d shot him first.”
Her fingers closed over his arm, lightly. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” He looked to the end of the rest area to where a man sat in the back of a police car. “Now I get to tell that man his son isn’t coming home.”
“Let someone else do it. Chase will be here soon.”
“No. I’ll do what needs to be done.”
“Then I’ll go with you.”
He almost said no. But after everything, he needed someone to lean on. “Thanks.”
The man got out of the police car as he approached, the color draining from his face when he saw Luke’s expression. “No.” He shook his head. “
No
.”
“I’m sorry. Your son was shot by the woman who stole your car. He didn’t survive.”
The man took a step back, denial warring with horror. “But we’re going to Six Flags. It’s his birthday. He’s fourteen. He’s only fourteen.”
“I’m so sorry,” Luke said, his heart so heavy he wasn’t sure he could bear it. “Is there someone I can call for you?”
“My wife. I need to call my wife.” Stunned, numb, he stared ahead, his cell phone in his hand. “She’s home with the baby. This is going to kill her.”
The state trooper who’d been waiting with him gently took the phone from his hand. “I’ll take care of this, Agent Papadopoulos. You get back to your other victims.” The father’s shoulders were now heaving, the sound of his sobs like a knife in Luke’s gut.
Now Luke had one more face to add to all the others who haunted his mind.
Behind him, Susannah’s small hand came to rest on his back, tentatively at first, then with greater pressure. “You saved ten girls, Luke,” she whispered. “Ten.”
“All that father cares about is the child we didn’t save in time.”
“Don’t do this,” she said, urgency giving her voice strength. “Don’t you dare do this to yourself.” She grabbed his arm and swung him around. “In that trailer were ten girls who would have been forced into prostitution and death. Now they’re going home. You stop thinking about the one you didn’t save and you start counting the ten that you did.”
He nodded. She was right. “You’re right.”
“Damn straight I am.” Her eyes narrowed, full of purpose. “Now walk back to your car. You’re going to drive back to Atlanta, sit down with your team, and figure out how to catch Barbara Jean Davis. Then you can throw her into hell and throw away the key.”
He started walking, her arm around his waist. “I’m so tired.”
“I know,” she said, her voice gentle again. “Let me drive back. You can sleep.”
He leaned over until his cheek rested on her head as they walked. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I think I owed you before. Now we’re even.”
“We’re keeping score?” he asked soberly.
“Not anymore. I think you need somebody as much as I do.”
“You’re just now figuring that out?” he murmured.
Her arm tightened around him. “Don’t be smug, Agent Papadopoulos.”
Interstate 75, Sunday, February 4, 6:45 a.m.
Bobby finally drew a steady breath. The car from the rest stop was ditched. This car was a new one, stolen from a parking lot off the highway.
What next? What next?
Tanner’s dead.
It had been so much harder that she’d thought, pulling the trigger.
I’m alone. I’m truly alone
. There was Charles, but Charles had never been . . . family.
Tanner was my family
. And now he was dead. But he never would have been able to run fast enough. She’d known it when she’d told him to trust her. Tanner had a fear of jail and he was too old to survive prison. He would’ve wanted it this way.
So now what?
Susannah Vartanian. She was the only end left unsnipped. She’d been with Papadopoulos. She’d ruined everything.
My business. My life
. Now Charles would finally get what he wanted. For some reason he’d always hated Susannah, more than even Bobby had.
I could have killed her long ago.
But putting it off had annoyed Charles—the only way Bobby had been able to control
him
when it was always the other way around.
Fine, Charles. You’re about to get what you want. I’ll kill her for you. Then I’m gone.
Atlanta, Sunday, February 4, 8:40 a.m.
They’d all regrouped around the conference room table, a strained mix of euphoria, exhaustion, and despair hanging over the team. Ed and Chloe, Pete and Nancy, Hank, Talia, and Mary McCrady. At Luke’s request, Susannah sat with them. Her quick thinking had led them to the girls tonight. She deserved to be in on the accolades.
“So we’re still not done,” Pete said when Chase finished. “Bobby’s still at large.”
“We got the girls,
alive
,” Chase said. “Not only the ones from the bunker, but Genie Cassidy and six others who had been lured from their homes. And that is huge.”
“We also recovered boxes of records from Bobby’s trailer,” Luke said, “showing proof of financial transactions between Bobby and her customers. Names and locations. We can prosecute dozens of perverts who bought children for sexual slavery.”
Chase’s smile had edge. “We provided the FBI with the locations of her truck stop whorehouses, which span from North Carolina into Florida. GBI agents right now are raiding ten different homes to rescue the girls Bobby’s most recently sold, including the girl sold to Darryl Haynes on Friday night.”
Ed’s eyes widened. “The guy running for state Senate on a family values platform?”
“The very same,” Chase said grimly.
“Haynes wanted a blonde,” Luke said. “And a blonde helped bring him down. Ashley Csorka’s escape changed everything.”
“How is she?” Talia asked.
“Sitting up and talking to her dad,” Luke said with a smile. “Who sends his thanks, and his wish that the man who tried to buy his child gets the same treatment in prison.”
“We have a lot to be proud of this morning. Every one of you did well.” Chase went on, soberly. “Granville killed the five girls in the bunker, but Monica told us it was at Rocky’s-aka-Kate’s command, and that Kate said, ‘Bobby said so.’ When we find her, we will be charging Bobby Davis with those five counts of homicide, in addition to the ten who’ve died directly at her hand. Add to that the attempts on the lives of Ryan Beardsley and Monica Cassidy—”
“
And
the abduction of God only knows how many minors
and
interstate forced prostitution
and
child pornography in that catalog we found,” Luke inserted.
“And she’s looking at about a million years behind bars,” Chase finished.
Chloe frowned. “Wait.
Ten?
There’s Rocky/Kate and Jennifer Ohman, the nurse.”
“And the nurse’s sister,” Susannah said.
“Okay,” Chloe nodded, “that’s three. Helen Granville is four.”
“Chili Pepper and his girlfriend make six,” Nancy said.
“The boy at the rest area and Tanner, the man who was driving the trailer, are eight,” Luke said, then looked at Pete. “And Zach Granger is nine.”
“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, Pete,” Chloe said to Pete, distressed that she’d forgotten.
“It’s okay,” Pete said, fiercely, “but we have to catch this bitch and make her pay.”
“Tenth is the guard Corchran found dead at the back of her house,” Luke finished.
“If we count Darcy, she’s just one shy of an even dozen,” Susannah said coldly.
“And we will count Darcy,” Chase said quietly. “I’m sorry, Susannah. And there are still four missing. Judge Borenson, Monica Cassidy’s father, and Bobby’s two sons.”
Everyone was silent, then Luke sighed. “I hoped Bobby wouldn’t harm her own children, but seeing what she did to that kid today . . . She’s capable of anything.”
“So what do we know about her?” Mary McCrady asked. “My psych profile is simply a ruthless, intelligent, soulless monster. I’d like to be able to help you more than that.”
“The man driving the pickup was Roger Tanner, sixty-eight,” Luke said. “He had four outstanding warrants from the eighties—assault, larceny, and two counts of murder.”
“How does he link to Barbara Jean Davis?” Mary asked.
“The two counts of murder were Bobby’s parents,” Susannah said, “the Reverend Styveson and his wife, Terri. They were bludgeoned to death in the parsonage of the small Arkansas church where Mr. Styveson was the preacher.”
“Tanner was the church handyman,” Luke said. They’d pieced much of this together on the drive back. He’d been too tense to rest, and ended up spending most of the drive on the phone with the Arkansas PD while Susannah searched the public records. “His fingerprints were found in the house, not unusual because he was the handyman. But that’s when they discovered his record.”
“Everybody assumed he’d done it,” Susannah said, “because there were no other suspects and no sign of forced entry—and he had a key to the parsonage. Bobby suffered no injuries, even though she told police he had overpowered her.”
Luke shrugged. “The local PD says her story just didn’t match up with the evidence, but there was no evidence to implicate her. Now, knowing she’s been in league with Tanner, it makes sense that they were in it together even then. After her parents’ funeral, Tanner escaped and was never seen again. Bobby was sent to South Carolina, to live with her mother’s sister.”
“How did they end up in Dutton?” Nancy asked.
“Who knows? Maybe Bobby knew who her real father was and forced the aunt to bring her back. Maybe the aunt blamed Susannah’s mother for having the Styvesons banished and brought the girl back as a taunt. We may never know.”
“I never heard anything about Bobby’s parents being murdered or her being the daughter of the old pastor,” Susannah said. “That kind of thing gets around in a small town, but there was never a word. Even Angie Delacroix didn’t know Bobby was the Styvesons’ daughter. In school she was Barbara Jean Brown, so she took her aunt Ida Mae Brown’s last name. And Brown was the aunt’s married name, so nobody linked her with Styveson’s wife. For whatever reason, her aunt kept Bobby’s secrets well.”
“Her aunt moved away from Dutton shortly after Bobby married Garth Davis,” Pete said. “And that’s where the trail dries up. No job, no credit cards, no utilities.”
“Maybe Bobby killed her, too,” Talia said.
“But where are her two children?” Mary asked. “Who took care of her kids while she ran truck stop whorehouses and sold young girls to rich men?”
“The Davises have a nanny,” Pete said. “Immigrant lady, likely an illegal. Her English wasn’t too strong. I talked with her when I was trying to track the aunt. She worked nine to five, weekdays. She said Bobby would leave the house every day to work in her interior- decorating business. Sometimes she was asked to work nights if Bobby had a meeting and Garth wasn’t home. The nanny seemed to genuinely care for the Davis boys, and if she had any idea what Bobby was actually up to, she hid it well.”
“Her only other relatives are Garth’s uncle, Rob Davis, and his family,” Chase said.
“I asked Rob Davis if they’d seen her,” Pete said. “I never searched the house.”
“But would Rob hide Garth’s kids?” Chloe asked. “I thought they hated each other.”
“That’s what Kate told us when she came here Thursday afternoon.” A piece of the puzzle fell into place. Luke looked at Chase grimly. “Kate led us to Mack O’Brien.”
Chase rubbed his forehead. “We were played like a cheap harmonica.”
“Kate would have wanted the spotlight off of Garth and the rest of the club, because the closer Daniel got to exposing them, the closer we got to their bunker operation. Kate gave us Garth so that she and Bobby could keep their secrets. We were played.”
“Kate also told us that Garth’s wife had fled with the children after Rob Davis’s grandson was killed by Mack O’Brien,” Ed said. “Hell.”
“We took her at her word,” Luke finished.
“Why wouldn’t you?” Susannah asked reasonably. “You had no idea any of this was going on. So get a warrant for Rob Davis’s house and check for the boys.”
“Next. We got a tip an hour ago,” Chase said. “A call to my cell from Kira Laneer, Garth’s mistress, the one who works at the airport. She says she knows where Bobby is, that Garth knew all the places she might hide. She might just be angling for publicity, but I’ll assign someone to check it out, just the same. Nancy, you’re frowning. Why?”
“I’ve been thinking about Bobby. We’re saying she’s murdered ten people in the last two days. Logistically, she had to have had some help.”
“Tanner is a definite possibility for an accomplice,” Luke said. “Ashley Csorka said he ran Ridgefield House. She called him the creepy butler.”
“I don’t know,” Nancy said. “Unless the creepy butler has some major muscles, he didn’t slit the throat of Chili Pepper. Chili’s a big dude. Was a big dude.”
“Maybe she has other minions,” Pete said dourly.
“Others,” Susannah murmured. “You know, there’s another piece missing. I’m thinking about the
thích
. That conversation between Simon and Toby Granville happened when I was eleven years old. Bobby was twelve and still living in Arkansas.”
“And so was Tanner,” Luke said, “so it couldn’t have been him.”
“ ‘I was another’s,’ ” Susannah quoted softly. “There’s somebody else out there.”
“We sent the artist’s sketch based on your description up to Manhattan,” Chase said. “The ADA’s office is going to show it to Darcy’s killer. For now we focus on Bobby Davis and her two missing kids. Pete, go to Rob Davis’s and find those boys. Hank, you and Nancy search the Davis house again. Talia, find out anything you can about Bobby’s friends, now and in the past. Chloe, how much longer can we keep Garth?”