Authors: Allison Brennan
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Suspense, #Thrillers
“She’s close,” Dillon said. “She’s not going to want to drive for three days. I’d guess twelve hours, tops. Start in those states.”
“California, Oregon, Nevada, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, maybe Montana, Idaho, and Washington. That’s still a lot of territory.”
“Then we’d better get started,” Jack said. “Are you sure we’re not just chasing our tails? If this takes hours and doesn’t lead anywhere . . .”
“I’m confident in my assessment, Jack.”
Jack had a hard time trusting anyone, even his brother. But Dillon had proven himself in the past; Jack had no choice but to trust him now.
“Thanks,” he said quietly.
“She means something to you.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll find her.”
“God, I hope so.”
“Where’s your friend, Father Francis?”
“Hidalgo. Why?”
“There’s something to that. I’ve been reading Rosemont’s records in more depth. He was extremely obsessive-compulsive.”
“Which means?”
“Father Francis should have died.”
“We already figured they didn’t have the time to kill both Scout and Padre, or were interrupted.”
“No. Rosemont wouldn’t have left unless it was complete, or it would bother him so deeply he would be compelled to return.”
“And if he couldn’t?”
“He may start acting erratic and unpredictable, like he’s trying to scratch an itch he can’t reach.”
“Perhaps like killing two innocent civilians for no reason.”
“Perhaps.”
“Why is Padre important?”
“He saw Karin at the church. They talked. She knew he was a priest and that he was part of the Delta team. But she couldn’t set him up. I think she had a Catholic upbringing. Team up with him; he may be able to talk her into letting Megan go. She has a healthy dose of respect for and fear of priests.”
“Fear?”
“I probably said that wrong. I meant, she respects and admires priests, but has a fear of God. That if she hurts a priest, that’s it.”
“She’s already going to Hell, Dillon.”
“I’m not making a moral judgment; I’m getting into her head. She justifies her actions because she’s not killing a man of God. Everyone else is guilty of something.”
“So she’s a religious nut job killing for God?”
“Absolutely not. She’s not insane, and she knows exactly why she kills.”
“Why?”
“Because she can get away with it.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
Icy water hit Megan across the face like a brick. She jumped and kicked, her thoughts jumbled. She was drowning. She coughed, breathed air through a raw throat, then received another slap of cold water.
Kicking again, Megan realized she was restrained. She shivered uncontrollably and opened her eyes, but even the dim lamp light made them ache.
“Come on, Meggie Eggie, time to wake up!”
Karin. The tranquilizer. She’d been talking to Hans and then . . . her ex-partner appeared.
“Karin.” Megan’s voice was low and raw from disuse. How long had she been unconscious? She squinted through dim, artificial light. Outside was complete darkness.
Megan had no idea where she was. She inhaled deeply, smelling the fresh, cold, pine scent of mountain air. What mountains? More pine than redwood. The room was large and open, like Jack’s cabin in Hidalgo but larger and lived in.
She couldn’t stop shivering and realized she had no clothes on. Only her bra and panties. She was tied to a table that had been tilted at a forty-five-degree angle.
“Karin,” she repeated.
“Great, you figured it out. Took you long enough.” The sarcasm rolled off her tongue.
“What do you want?”
“I want to hurt you.”
Megan’s head was still fuzzy. She started to ask another question, her training reminding her to keep the kidnapper talking, to buy time.
A prick like a bee sting pierced the back of her hand. She opened her mouth to protest, but screamed as pain shot up her left arm. Megan couldn’t think. She could scarcely breathe. Her arm convulsed against the restraints.
Then the pain was gone, only a residual throb.
“I’ve learned a lot,” Karin said. “I’ve learned that my mother was right. Revenge is best served cold. You didn’t see me coming. If Ethan hadn’t fucked up and used the wrong gun, I wouldn’t have had to act so quickly. But it was fate. I never expected to find you down here. The FBI has gotten lenient over the years, letting you roam outside of your jurisdiction.”
“You killed Ken Russo with the same gun you killed the Hoffmans, General Hackett, and Barry Rosemont.”
Karin made a buzzing bee sound with her mouth and pierced Megan again, this time in her neck. Instantly, Megan’s head felt like it was on fire. She moved it side to side trying to alleviate the pain.
Karin was laughing.
“I didn’t kill those people. They weren’t a problem. Ethan just lost it. He was insane, you know.”
Megan took a deep breath, mentally pushed aside the residual pain as best she could. “But you’re not, Karin. You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“If only I were a better shot, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Why didn’t you kill me back there? Twelve years . . . you had twelve years to what? Seek revenge because I turned you in for being a fucking sociopath?”
Karin pricked her on her right hand this time. Megan bit her lip to keep from screaming. She tasted blood. Her eyesight wavered and a sob escaped.
“You can do better than that,” Karin said, poking behind her ear.
Megan’s body convulsed, she lost control. Tears streamed down her face and she cried out, a primal sound she’d never heard before. Her vision blurred as a tidal wave of pain crashed over her. Then everything turned gray.
“No, no, no,” a distant voice chanted. “You can’t pass out on me! We’re going to have fun. Well, I’m going to have fun and you’re going to suffer exquisite pain.”
Megan’s vision slowly returned. Karin stood before her, staring. “I could have killed you, but I’ve killed before. It’s fleeting. When I met Ethan, I found someone who could teach me about suffering. He suffered. Those soldiers who were supposed to protect him? Why should they live happily ever after while poor Ethan was tied down and poked?” Karin stuck a needle between Megan’s toes. “And prodded.” Another needle between two more toes. Megan’s chest heaved with sobs—she didn’t want to let go. She didn’t want to give Karin the pleasure of her pain. “And tortured for
months.
”
A needle slid into the sensitive area next to her small toe and Megan screamed, turning her throat raw. Through tears, she looked at her foot and saw three needles protruding.
Through the haze of agony, Megan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Karin didn’t give a shit about Rosemont’s pain and suffering when he was held captive in Afghanistan.
“You don’t care about anyone, not even Ethan.” Megan swallowed, her breath labored.
“Ethan was a whiner. Do you know how many times I saved his pathetic life? The nutcase should have been committed.”
“If it weren’t for you, none of those men would have died. They didn’t deserve it. They didn’t deserve to be cut down and tortured like prisoners of war. You pushed Rosemont into murder.”
“He thoroughly enjoyed it, though he never actually killed anyone before those people at the rest stop. Killing was my job. He would have stuck needles in those bastards until the end of time if I didn’t cut him off. So far, only one of them died in the process.”
“John Doe. Heart attack.”
“Give the special agent a blue ribbon! Or should I say
supervisory
special agent?”
Karin stuck a series of ten needles on the underside of each of Megan’s arms.
The pain came in waves that never completely receded. The throbbing increased and decreased in rhythm with Megan’s heart. She thought of her family, the father she’d adored, the brother she would miss. Her younger half-sister she barely had the chance to know.
Jack.
Karin would tire of this. Eventually, she would kill Megan. Either “accidentally” like with John Doe or with a very deliberate bullet to her head. Megan had no idea where she was or how she got here. She didn’t even know how much time had passed. Hans knew who to look for, but would he know where? She didn’t even have her cell phone, did she? No, she remembered dropping it. Her BlackBerry had a built-in GPS. It didn’t help if she didn’t have it with her.
She looked around. It was dark outside—the high windows near the roofline were uncovered. Was it the same night she’d been taken? She didn’t feel as if she’d been unconscious for days. She couldn’t assume anything, though. She turned her head, saw a digital clock on a table against the wall: 1:34. That would be a.m. based on the dark. Officer Dodge ran out of gas around five in the afternoon. It had been at least eight hours she’d been in Karin’s control.
Karin would tire of hurting her. She had always been impatient.
Jack, I wish we had more time together. I found something special with you, and now we can’t see it through.
Could she be so upset to lose something she barely had?
“Oh, Meggie Eggie, are you sad?”
“You’re going to kill me—just get it over with.”
Karin jumped up and down with glee. “That didn’t take long! You think it’s almost over? You won’t know when it’s over until you feel cold steel against the back of your head.”
Crossing the room, Karin took a .357 from a desk drawer. She waved it at Megan. “This is my favorite gun. I haven’t used it on anyone yet. I was saving it special for you. But when you’re dead and buried, no one will find you, so it won’t matter! I’ll go back and take care of some of the other traitors who made me talk to those asshole shrinks.”
“You fooled every one of them. You’re good, Karin. They believed every tear, every word.”
Karin smiled brightly. “I am good. I’m even better now.” She put the gun to Megan’s temple and cocked the hammer. Megan willed herself to stop shaking, but she couldn’t.
The loud click of the hammer hitting made Megan scream. Karin laughed uproariously, greatly enjoying Megan’s terror.
She yanked the needles out of her captive’s underarm and tossed them on a table.
“I must have forgot to load it. Silly me.” She crossed the room to the desk and took out a box of ammunition. Put six bullets in the cylinder, snapped it closed. She pointed the gun at Megan and said, “Bang.”
“Bitch.” Megan bit her tongue, wishing she hadn’t said anything.
Knowing that she’d gotten to her, Karin grinned as she put the gun down on the desk.
“I’ve waited twelve years to pay you back for investigating me.
Me!
Your partner. Your friend. You didn’t even come to me first, didn’t talk to me about it so I could explain.”
“What would you have said if I told you I thought you killed that kid on purpose?”
“I would have said yes, then I would have blown your head off.”
“I should have turned you in sooner.”
“Shouda-woulda-coulda. Don’t live in the past, Meggie. That’s why I have to do this. Once you’re gone, I’ll have nothing hanging over me. No debts to repay. You’re the last thorn from my past.” She picked up a pack of five needles.
Megan tried not to stare at the shiny stainless-steel weapons. “You conned two old people into letting you impersonate their daughter.”
Karin’s smile faltered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do. Bernard and Millie Rubin,
Hannah.
”
Karin slid a needle under her thumbnail. Megan bit back a cry. She managed to control the pain through sheer will. Karin slid another needle under the other thumbnail and this time Megan screamed out, her neck straining, trying to control her reactions.
“You’re not in charge here,” growled Karin.
“Give it up, Karin. It’s you and me. I know what you did.” Why did Karin think she wouldn’t have figured it out? “I’m not stupid. I found out about Kenneth Russo. Killed in a robbery. So I followed up. Talked to his neighbor. Talked to the community director. Learned all about Hannah Rubin.”
Karin yanked out the needles. The pain slowly receded, now Megan throbbed all over. “I should have killed Paula. She was too much like you. Nosy bitch.”
“You can kill me.”
“I will.”
“But you’ll never be free. They’ll find you.”
“They have to know who they’re looking for.”
“They do. Francis Cardenas—
Father
Cardenas—remembered you so well, he was able to describe you to a sketch artist. I wasn’t the only one who got a copy.”
“You lie.”
“It’s not just killing me you’ll have to pay for. It’s killing American soldiers, a general, a family. You won’t be able to hide. You can pretend to be anyone, manipulate another senile old woman, and they will still hunt you down and put you in prison.”
“I. Don’t. Believe. YOU!”
This needle came down and simply pricked Megan. It didn’t hurt like the others. Karin stabbed again and again, drawing small amounts of blood. She threw the needles across the room and stomped off, kicking furniture and knocking chairs over. She left the room.
Megan tried to slow her racing heart, but she’d never been so terrified in her life. She didn’t want to die like this, when she had so much to live for.
Karin wanted to hurt her, and she would. Megan would fight the pain, find some way to survive. She tugged at her restraints; too tight to escape, too strong to break free. She would take the assault and agony as long as she could, hoping—praying—that Jack and Hans found her before Karin put a bullet in her head.
Karin returned with a bucket. She poured more icy water over Megan and the federal agent almost passed out.
“Better,” Karin said.
Megan couldn’t talk. Her lips chattered.
“I can improvise. We never used ice water, but Ethan told me about it.”
Karin pulled over a chair and sat in front of Megan. She stared at her on the table, grinning. But her eyes were as icy as the water she’d drenched Megan with.
“You stole everything I loved. My job and the respect I got from it. Was it so wrong to dispense a little frontier justice? I think not. They were
criminals,
Meggie. The bad guys. Or are you so worried about the damn rules and regulations that you’d rather have a guilty man walk free?”
“Y-yes,” she said.
“Right, but—”
Megan interrupted her, teeth chattering. “Y-you didn’t care who you k-killed, Karin. You j-just wanted to play God. You kill and hurt people b-b-because you like it. You feel good inside, don’t you? You’re nothing but a brutal, monstrous serial killer.”
Megan couldn’t bait her this time. Karin had calmed down. She smiled wider. Megan couldn’t quite see what Karin was doing near her feet. But—
Megan screamed. She didn’t even know where Karin had pricked her, but her entire left side felt like it burned from within.
“I learned some new tricks, Meggie, just for you.”
Megan’s screams were so loud her head hurt. Then there was nothing. No pain, no sound, no hope.
Jack paced back and forth in front of Scout’s Cessna Caravan.
It had been ten hours since Megan was kidnapped. Three a.m. and no word from her, no word from Karin Standler. Karin didn’t want to ransom Megan, she wanted to kill her.
Megan could already be dead. Suffering. Terrified. Jack closed his eyes and pictured a group of POWs he’d rescued ten years ago. The hollow eyes of men who had endured so much pain and suffering that they looked more dead than alive. Broken in every sense of the word. Hopeless.
“Don’t do this to yourself,” Padre said.
He’d flown out as soon as Jack hung up with him the night before. Padre stood with his friend on the airfield, trying to help.
“What are the damn FBI doing?” Jack said. “Taking a coffee break?”
“Jack, they found the truck Rosemont was driving when they killed the Hoffmans. They’re going over it with a fine-toothed comb, something will—”
“Have you called in favors? Is there anyone you know who can help with the search?”
“The FBI have the high-end toys in this case, Jack.”
“And they don’t know how to use them!”
A small plane landed on the lighted airstrip, and taxied over to the main area. Jack watched it, wishing he could take Megan away, right now. The two of them, no one else, on a beach, in a jungle, in the mountains. He didn’t care where he was, as long as Megan was with him.
Be strong, Blondie. You’re a survivor.
He was still watching the arriving plane when he heard a car squeal through the open gates of the small, private airstrip outside Santa Barbara. It slowed, headlights so bright Jack had to put up an arm. Out of instinct, he had his hand on his gun and stepped out of the direct light.