Closer Than You Think (16 page)

‘I know. I’ll talk to you without one.’

This time he was unable to hide his surprise. ‘Why?’

‘Because Arianna didn’t ask to be assaulted. I can’t erase her trauma, any more than I could for any of the girls who came through my office over the years. But if I can help you find her friend, I want to do that. I’m not involved. I know that. I’m going to have to trust the system, even if I can’t trust you.’

Deacon’s chest tightened as a host of emotions slammed into him. Respect. Pride. And an overwhelming need to protect her from the very system she trusted more than him.

Adam might be right. She might be using him, lying to him to save her own skin. But Deacon didn’t think so. He also was pretty sure he shouldn’t say what he was about to say, but if she wasn’t lying, she deserved what little he could guarantee. ‘I can’t promise to protect you if I believe you’re a suspect,’ he said, ‘but I do promise that I’ll listen to what you have to say and make no assumptions based simply on your background.’

One side of her mouth lifted. ‘Pretty words, Agent Novak, but we all make assumptions. It’s part of being human. I’ll just have to hope that I’m not making a big mistake.’

He hoped that she wasn’t either. ‘And if you are?’

Unexpectedly she unbuckled her seat belt and leaned forward, wincing as she reached up to turn on the dome light. Then she leaned over the center console, tilting her face up toward his. ‘Look at me, please,’ she said.

‘Why?’ he asked, Adam’s cruel barb still ringing in his ears.

‘Because I like to see the eyes of people who’ve made me a promise.’

Deacon forced himself to hold his expression rigid while he waited for her flinch. But there was no flinch. Instead she searched his face with a strange mix of keen discernment and vulnerability. Finally she sat back, still watching him, saying nothing.

She was using her silence to create a vacuum intended to make him uncomfortable enough that he spoke first. He knew this because he routinely used the same ploy. But damned if it didn’t work. He cocked his brows, forcing the nonchalance that he normally faked so easily. ‘So what’s the verdict, Doc?’

Her gaze didn’t falter, but sharpened, as if detecting the mask he’d assumed. ‘I’m willing to try not to make assumptions simply based on your background either.’

‘Which means what, exactly?’

‘It means I still don’t trust you, but am willing to entertain the notion that just because you play the good cop so well doesn’t mean you aren’t one.’

‘And if I’m not?’

She shrugged self-consciously. ‘Then it won’t be the first time I took a risk and had it bite me in the ass. Take me to the ER, Agent Novak, and on the way you can ask me what you will.’

He pulled away from the line of cars in front of her house, suddenly annoyed with himself. He prided himself on reading people, but she was a shrink and he couldn’t let himself forget that fact. In matters of reading and manipulation, they were on an equal footing.

‘Not on the way. I’ll wait until we get there before I ask you anything.’

‘Why?’ she asked, her confusion sounding genuine. ‘I thought you’d be in a hurry. The clock is ticking and Arianna’s friend is still out there.’

‘That’s true, but I like to see the eyes of the people I’m interviewing,’ he said, intentionally rephrasing her earlier words. He glanced at her in time to see her slight flinch, but wouldn’t allow himself to feel any pity. If she was involved, he needed to know. She needed to pay. If not, her hurt feelings would have to be acceptable collateral damage.

‘Fair enough,’ she murmured, sucking in a sharp pained breath when he hit a pothole in the driveway, reminding him that, involved or not, she had been injured and she had to be hurting.

He flicked a switch on his dashboard. ‘I turned on your seat warmer,’ he said. ‘It might provide some relief from the bumpy roads. I’ll get you there as painlessly as I can.’

Her eyes slid shut. ‘Thank you, Agent Novak.’

Eastern Kentucky, Monday 3 November, 9.15
P.M.

Yes!
Corinne’s face was raw and bleeding, but she didn’t care. She’d finally succeeded in working a corner of the damn duct tape free.

But she was tired. And her back hurt. And her hands and shoulders. She’d wondered how long she could go without her meds before the symptoms started to flare.
About this long, however long this has been
. She still had no idea how long she’d been gone.

She scooted down a few inches, caterpillar style, then turned her head to press that one little corner of loosened duct tape against the boot. She couldn’t think of the person wearing it. Who was probably dead.

Focus, Corinne. Do this thing now.
She tested the bond between the tape and the boot, felt her skin burn as the tape tugged. Too hard and she might lose the grip. Too fast and she might draw the attention of the driver.

Although she now thought they were closed off from the driver. She’d heard no breathing, or coughing. No radio. Just the hum of the road and the occasional clatter when they hit a bump. But she couldn’t take a chance that he might see her in his rear-view mirror, so she rolled gently, pulling the tape off of her face a little bit at a time.
Slow and steady, girl.

She freed one eye enough for her to open it and see. She blinked rapidly, her eyes dry. It was dark. She could vaguely see the man who lay beside her, the man who wore the boots. But just his legs and his stomach. She couldn’t see his face yet. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Pull . . . slowly
.
Yes
. Finally both eyes were free. She gave one last hard jerking pull, the tape peeling off the man’s boot and hanging limply from her hairline.

She’d done it. She could see. But now that she could see, she had to look. She didn’t want to. But she had to know. If Arianna was still alive, she had to get her out of here.

Yeah, right. You can’t even help yourself. Fat lot of help you’ll be to Ari
.

Stop it. Just stop it.
She’d been strong once. She’d be strong again. Or she’d die.

She lifted her chin, sliding the back of her skull along the floor, looking directly behind her, and felt a surge of intense relief. She’d been right. They were in a cargo van with no window to the driver. The relief was short-lived, though, because there was no window to the outside world either, so there would be no signaling for help.

Drawing a breath, she pulled her upper body off the floor, supporting herself on one very sore elbow. Her joints were starting to swell. To lock up.

Damn Wegener’s disease
. The army doctors thought it had always been lurking within her but had been triggered by an infection. Within months she’d gone from a healthy soldier to an ex-soldier with a medical discharge who couldn’t get out of bed without help. But after three years of treatment, she’d finally gotten it under control. Friday had been a good day. No headache. Low pain. Good movement.

And then some asshole went and grabbed me.
Without her meds, she’d be in pain within hours. Within a day or two she wouldn’t be able to function.
So hurry up. Get out of here.

It was dark inside the van, the only light coming in through a gap at the door’s hinge. It was white light and it strobed with an almost hypnotic frequency.

Street lights, she thought. The sliver of light flashed on the face of the man with the boots.

Corinne squinted, then the breath she was holding came out in a horrified rush. There was a bullet hole in his head and his face was battered. But she forced herself to look at the rest of him, if for no other reason than to find some tool to cut the ropes that bound her hands.

He wore a heavy jacket with ‘Earl P&L’ stitched in the fabric above his heart. Earl was the power company. He must have come to the house.
Poor guy. Wrong place, wrong time
. Even in this light she could see that the fabric covering his torso was darker than the rest. As were his knees. He’d bled profusely from what looked like multiple gunshot wounds.

Her captor had capped the man’s knees, probably to keep him from running away.
How brave
, she thought with a spurt of fury. She grabbed on to the fury, fanned it higher, used it as fuel. She’d need every ounce of energy she could get.

She twisted at the waist to see what was on her right and let out a quiet sigh. An old man. He was dead too, his throat slit. Her captor used both guns and knives.
Good to know.

She’d figured it was just the three of them in the back until her eyes spied something pale. Skin. She stretched her body until she could see over the old man, and her heart skipped a beat. It was a girl. It had to be the girl who’d washed her. The one who’d refused to help her. The one who’d called that hellhole home. She was tiny, inches shorter than Corinne. She appeared to be about ten or eleven years old and didn’t look like she’d ever had a full meal, her hair matted and dirty. But she didn’t look dead, at least.

But where was Arianna? Corinne twisted one way, then another, scanning the corners of the van. But there was no Arianna. A wail filled her throat and mercilessly she forced it back.

He killed her. He killed her and left her behind
. But . . . why bring the men? Why not leave them behind too?
Corinne felt the first tendril of hope. Maybe Arianna had escaped.

I need to escape too. I need to find her.
She had to find something to cut the rope around her wrists. The old man was closest, so she searched him first, hoping to find something sharp. Twisting so that she could reach him with her hands tied behind her back, she fumbled for his pocket, nearly weeping with relief when her fingers closed awkwardly over a penknife.

God, give me enough time and strength to cut through this rope. I’ll do anything you say for the rest of my life
. Which, if her prayers went unanswered, wasn’t going to be all that long.

Cincinnati, Ohio, Monday 3 November, 9.55
P.M.

Faith woke with a start, smelling cedar and hearing the sound of a man’s deep voice.

Her eyes flew open and she felt a moment of disoriented panic. She lunged forward, only to bounce back against her seat, held firmly in place by her belt. The subsequent twinge of pain shooting down her lower back cleared the fog.
Oh yeah. I hit a tree.

And she’d found the girl.
Arianna.
A chill of dread chased the pain.
She knows me
.

She turned her head to find Novak on his cell phone, the glare of oncoming traffic making his white hair look even whiter against his tanned skin. Making her wonder if that was his natural coloring or if he worshiped the sun. Which wasn’t relevant.

He was a cop.
A dangerous kind of cop,
she thought. One who made her want to trust him.

And she
had
trusted him, far more than she’d expected. Or she must have been more tired than she’d thought, because she’d fallen asleep on the way to the ER. They were back in the city already, and the last thing she remembered was being on the interstate.

‘Thanks for getting back to me so quickly,’ he was saying quietly to the caller. ‘Are you on tonight?’ The answer must have not been the one he wanted because his mouth firmed in frustration. ‘I forgot,’ he murmured. ‘I’m sorry.
Can
you be on tonight?’ His frown faded into relief. ‘Thanks, I’ll owe you one . . . Okay, whatever. More than one. I need you to check out a witness. She got banged up in a car wreck tonight . . . Sutures. Maybe a concussion.’

I do not have a concussion
, Faith wanted to snap, but she didn’t because his expression suddenly tensed as he listened.

‘Tell him I’ll talk to him in the morning before he goes to school. And tell him to leave his homework on the kitchen table, and to make sure he shows his work. Thanks, Dani.’

Faith frowned. School? Did he have a son? A wife? Or maybe a girlfriend? And who was Danny? A babysitter? No, because whoever he was, he was coming to the hospital to suture her head, so he must be a medical doctor. Novak’s lover? Was Novak gay?

And? So what if he is?
It didn’t matter, of course. Nor was it any of her business.

Novak had been listening to Danny and now sighed wearily. ‘No, it’s okay. I’ll go. You’ve gone all the other times, so it’s my turn . . . No, don’t tell him. Let him think you’ll show up. We have to keep him off balance or we’re done for before we even get started.’ The corners of his mouth turned up wryly at something Danny said, making Faith stare.

Novak was a handsome man, but when he smiled, he was devastating.

‘You know that I know the place,’ he said, amusement lacing his tone. Then his white brows shot up. ‘
She’s
still there? No way in hell. I thought she’d be dead by now. I guess only the good
do
die young.’ He glanced at Faith, his face stiffening when he saw that she was awake. ‘I need to go, Dani. See you soon.’ He slipped his phone in his pocket. ‘Sorry about that.’

Faith knew she should keep her mouth shut, but there was something about the way he’d smiled that made her a fool. She wanted to know if he had a son. And a wife.
Because I’m curious, nothing more.
‘Whose homework will you check?’

He hesitated, then shrugged. ‘My brother’s. He’s a freshman in high school.’

Not his son
. Her eyes widened as she did the math. ‘Wow. Your mother must have been surprised. There are quite a few years between you.’ His brother would only be fourteen or fifteen and Novak appeared to be in his early to mid thirties.