“Was she tentative about going out in public?” Moore asked.
“They all are at first. But our goal is independence, so I insisted Sue look for a job, like I do with all new residents. She said she was afraid her husband would find her. But they’re all afraid of that, too.” Dana sighed. “Most of them have good reason to fear.” She stood up, suddenly nervous all over again, and paced the floor. “I teach them to manage their fear, to tell themselves every day that they have nothing to fear. Chant it in their minds when they have panic attacks.”
“Does it work?” Moore asked, her smile still kind.
“Sometimes.” Dana stopped pacing. “Except when I bring killers into the house.”
Ethan looked up. Finally. “You didn’t know, Dana.” He looked her square in the eyes, his gaze full of challenge. “But now you do. What you did before, all those women you welcomed into your shelter before, you did with calculated risk. The men who battered them were more dangerous than the women. Now you know differently. You know the danger. You know what Sue Conway will do.”
Tears rose in her throat. “I know she’ll kill Evie and Alec if I do nothing.”
Ethan shook his head. “You know better, Dana,” he said quietly. “She has no earthly reason to let Alec and Evie go. They’ve seen her. If she’s caught, they can identify her. She won’t let them go, no matter what you do. Something, nothing, it won’t matter.”
Moore stood up, met Dana’s eyes. “He’s right, Dana. I’ve worked with too many abductions in my career. You never give the abductor any power.”
“We have to stay focused on finding Conway alive so she can lead us to Alec and Evie,” Clay added. “We can’t do that if we’re wondering what you’re going to do. If she’s going to have yet another hostage because you gave yourself up.”
“We need you with us,” Moore stated. “You’ve spent time with her. We need you to help us understand how she thinks. Evie and Alec need you here, helping us.”
They were right. She’d already come to the same conclusion during her time in the tub, questioning herself, second-guessing her judgment. Always second-guessing. But this group was totally confident in their judgment. She found herself envying them even as their solidarity touched something deep inside her. They cared. Genuinely.
“You all practiced this,” Dana said unsteadily, looking from Moore to Clay. Then to Ethan, who just sat there, his green eyes turbulent, his lips firmly pursed, and she wondered what he wasn’t allowing himself to say.
Moore was sober. “Promise us you won’t do anything resembling trading yourself or Detective Mitchell will put you in protective custody.”
Dana knew Mia would do it, too. “You have my word.” She could feel their collective tension lessen. They’d been waiting for her to come out of the bathroom to convince her not to do something criminally stupid. “I understand that I’d just make things worse if I did.”
Clay looked over at Ethan. “That was a hell of a lot easier than you said it would be.”
Dana’s eyes flew to Ethan. “Excuse me?”
Moore rolled her eyes. “Maynard, don’t you know discretion is the better part of valor?”
Ethan’s glare was sharp. “Thank you, Clay.”
Clay’s lips twitched. “You’re welcome.” He patted the empty chair at his side. “Now come have a seat, Dana. I want to know if you’ve seen this tattoo on Sue’s shoulder.”
“I already told Mia and Abe that I saw the tattoo on her ring finger and just a glimpse of the one on her shoulder, but let’s take a look at those pictures. It might jog something out of my memory.” Dana sorted through them, shaking her head. “She’s covered this tattoo up with makeup, hasn’t she? Makeup she stole from Evie. Evie couldn’t leave the house because her makeup was gone.” She swallowed hard. “Evie thought I’d taken it.”
“Why would she think that?” Ethan asked, his voice gentle, and Dana wished he’d get up and put his arms around her as he’d done earlier in the Vaughns’ suite. Tell her it would be all right. Lie if he had to. But he kept his seat, the desk effectively separating them.
“I told her not to leave the house, because I thought Goodman was out there. Instead, the threat was inside, where I forced her to stay.” She looked down at her hands again. Wrong place, wrong time. Bad decision. My bad decision. For which Evie would pay.
“Dana, look at me.” She did, finding his eyes on her, softer. Not angry anymore. The knowledge sent relief shimmering through her. “Does Evie know you love her?”
Dana’s throat closed. “Yes. I told her. This morning, the last time I talked to her.”
“Then that will be enough to sustain her until we find her.”
Clay cleared his throat and Dana realized she and Ethan had been staring at each other across the room. Ethan looked away and Dana felt her cheeks heat again.
“I think we’re done for now,” Clay said. “We all need to sleep.”
“This is where I say good-bye,” Moore said. “I fly back to Maryland tomorrow.”
Dana plucked at the Boston PD sweatshirt. “Your clothes.”
“Send them back with Maynard. He’ll visit the DA with me when he comes back.”
Clay looked absolutely thrilled by the prospect.
Dana frowned. “They’re not going to be charged, are they?”
“Well, that’s up to the DA, but I kind of doubt it. I plan to pay another visit to Bryce Lewis tomorrow. Now that I know the right questions to ask, he should be a little more compliant.” She paused, her hand on the doorknob, sober. “When this is all over, come down to the bay. There’s something about listening to the waves that soothes pain.”
Clay stood up when the door closed behind Moore. “I’m calling it a night,” Clay said. “Ethan, can you toss me a carton of that lo mein from the fridge?”
Ethan looked at the fridge, two arm spans away. Then looked at Clay with narrowed eyes. “Get it yourself, Maynard.”
Smiling, Clay did. A look at Dana’s puzzled face had him chuckling out loud. “Good night.” He went to the adjoining room and she and Ethan were finally alone.
Dana felt awkward as a teenager as she turned to where Ethan still sat, his hands folded on top of the desk, his jaw taut. “Go to bed, Dana. I’ll sleep out here.”
Dana took a step forward. “Ethan, if you’re still angry with me—”
“I’m not,” he interrupted. “I just have a lot on my mind. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He didn’t look tired. He looked mad. But he was an adult and she’d leave him with whatever thoughts were so important that he needed to be alone. “Fine.” She was gratified to at least see him wince as she said it. “Good night.” She went into the bedroom and closed the door, half expecting him to come rushing in, apologizing for his mood. But long minutes passed and he did not, so she gave up and went to bed alone.
Chicago, Thursday, August 5, 12:15 A.M.
Sue crept up the stairs in the old apartment building. The old woman must be in good shape, she thought, being able to manage a three-flight walkup at her age. Her name was Jackie Williams and she’d been Randi Vaughn’s neighbor eleven years ago. She was also the one who’d told the police where to find Sue eleven years ago. Randi Vaughn had called the cops initially and Sue had hidden while Donnie and the boys were arrested. For two days Sue had hidden. But when she came out, Jackie Williams was watching. Just waiting to squeal to the cops. And she had.
She was next on Sue’s list. The revenge would fit the woman’s crime. Jackie Williams had watched, then talked. In an hour’s time she’d be doing neither of those things again.
Chicago, Thursday, August 5, 12:15 A.M.
Alec had no idea what time it was. It might still be Wednesday. If it was Thursday already, morning was still a long way away. It was still dark. He’d been alone under the bed for a long time. She’d put him here after retying the ropes that Evie had tied too loosely. There was something wrong with Evie’s hand, he thought. The way she’d fumbled had made the Bitch angry. She’d tied her and forced her into the bathroom. Then the Bitch had returned, that evil smile on her face. And Alec knew that she’d killed Evie, too. She’d dug his medicine from her bag. Let him see it, then just smiled and tossed it back. He needed that Keppra, he knew it. Without it he’d be seizing in a few days.
He had to get away before then.
She’d taped his mouth so he couldn’t scream and rolled him under the bed. It was a whole lot mustier than the life jackets in the closet Cheryl had tried to hide him under. Cheryl. He had to stop thinking about her. He couldn’t cry. With all this dust he was already stuffed up enough. Any more and he’d suffocate.
He was afraid. Afraid under the bed and more afraid to roll out. If she was there . . . She’d killed that woman, that friend of Evie’s. Just like she’d killed Cheryl. Just like she killed the doctor. He shuddered as he did every time he thought of the old doctor and the fingers in the cooler. She’ll kill me, too. It was easier to stop there, to not think about what else she could do with that knife. The knife was scarier than the gun.
A spider crawled over his face. It was the third, he thought. Maybe the fourth. He’d gritted his teeth against the need to scream and made himself remember that stupid flash card with the dopey-looking cartoon spider Cheryl had used to make him practice the word. Spy-dur. Again and again. Say nothing, Cheryl had said and now he thought he knew why. The Bitch knew he was deaf. But she didn’t know he could speak. His mom didn’t really know. Nobody had known but Cheryl. They’d made progress, she’d said. They’d been practicing “Big Mac, fries, and a Coke,” so he could walk into McDonald’s and surprise his mom by ordering his own meal.
But he’d never tried it with anyone else. Never tried to use his words. He didn’t know what they really sounded like. Cheryl said progress, but she could have been lying. He could sound stupid and nobody would ever understand him. But Cheryl didn’t lie. She’d been brave. She’d tried to protect him. And now she was dead. I owe her better than lying afraid under this bed, Alec thought and prepared for the worst.
He rolled out from under the bed, half expecting the Bitch to be standing there, looking down, like she’d stood there and looked down at him in the closet. But nobody was there.
The air was better here, but he still couldn’t breathe. He could see the bathroom door from where he lay. He knew Evie was behind it. Alive or dead, he wasn’t sure. He’d be able to get away better with her, though. And she’d protected him, too. He couldn’t just leave her here if she was alive. If he could stand up against that door, he’d be able to twist the doorknob and see. He breathed through his nose, drawing as much air into his lungs as he could. And started to scrunch his way toward the bathroom door.
Chicago, Thursday, August 5, 12:30 A.M.
Dana didn’t want sex. She wanted intimacy. Last night there had been someone there to hold her when the nightmares came. Today, she’d been able to hold the nightmares at bay for close to twelve hours now by staying awake, staying busy. She’d kept herself from thinking about where they were. If they were unharmed. Please let them be unharmed.
Now in the quiet of the night, the dreams would come. They always did and tonight she had new ones to add to the queue. She rolled to her back. Stared at her hands. She’d had blood on her hands today. Sandy’s blood. When she dreamed, she’d have blood on her hands again. And she’d wake up, breathing hard, crying inside.
And she’d hoped tonight she wouldn’t have to be alone when she did.
But Ethan had a right to be alone, if that’s what he wanted. He’d been through a lot today. Finding Alec, losing him again. Facing the despair of his friends and confessing his sins to two cops and a . . . What was she? Girlfriend? Maybe. Fling? Probably. Lover?
Definitely. And her lover was planning to sleep alone with no pillows or blanket. At least she could give him that. Gathering up two pillows and the extra blanket in the armoire, she opened the bedroom door.
And stood there, stunned at the sight of Ethan Buchanan standing rigid in the middle of the room, stripped down to his shorts, eyes clenched shut, jaw so taut a muscle twitched in his cheek. He’s in pain, she thought, then her eyes slid down his perfect body and widened in shocked awe. No, not in pain. In boxers. That didn’t come close to containing him. Only one word came to mind. Mercy.
His eyes closed, Ethan smelled the soap she’d used in the tub, just as he’d smelled it when she’d emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of fragrant steam. He heard her quick indrawn breath. And knew it was way too late to hide behind the desk again.
“I’m sorry,” he said, turning to where she stood holding a pillow and a blanket. A second pillow lay at her feet. Her eyes were wide, her breathing uneven, and he was disgusted with himself. He’d startled her, on top of everything else she’d been through.
She swallowed hard. “Why?” Her voice was husky and deep and sent fire licking across his skin. Made him want to shove her up against the wall and take her where she stood. Just as he had the entire damn time she’d been in that damn bathroom, soaking naked in that damn tub. Then naked under that damn terry robe. Then naked under Moore’s too-small sweats that showed off every damn curve.
“I . . . I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes still wide. “I see.” She visibly collected herself and bent over to retrieve the pillow from the floor. “I brought you these. The sofa is uncomfortable.”
“Thank you.” He took the blanket from her hands and held it up against himself. Gritted his teeth. “Dana, go to bed.” Before I take you there myself.
She stepped back. Stopped. Her tongue came out to wet her lips and he gritted his teeth in response. “You . . .” She pointed at the desk. “All that time?”
His teeth grinding, he nodded. “I’m sorry, Dana. I know this isn’t the time, but I’m a guy. I’m just wired this way. I can’t see you in the bathtub without wanting you.” He took a step back. Clutched the blanket a little tighter. “Please, go to bed. I’ll be fine. Just go.”
Silently she did and he exhaled the huge breath he’d been holding. Let his hands holding the blanket sag. It had been a hell of a day. No relief. Then the door opened and up went the blanket again, a piss-poor shield.
“Ethan, I have a confession to make.”