Cold Snap (18 page)

“Where the fuck did they go?” Tucker said.

Patrick tapped Jack on the shoulder and motioned to the room the girls had been kept in. “We searched it,” Jack said.

“They have to be in there. It’s the only place.”

Tucker nodded. He used hand signals that Jack understood, and the two entered cautiously, shining flashlights all around.

Patrick hit the wall. “They have to be here!”

Jack knocked on the wall and frowned. He then looked at the trucks. Patrick followed his gaze. He didn’t know what his brother was thinking, but he definitely had an idea.

Jack put a finger to his lips and motioned toward the trucks. Tucker nodded, and Patrick wished he could read the minds of these former military guys, because he didn’t know what they were communicating.

Patrick glanced at the plywood wall. It had sounded hollow. Was Jack thinking there was a false bottom or wall in the trucks?

Jack and Tucker walked around the trucks, inspecting the exteriors. Then Tucker motioned to the truck in the middle. The decoy.

“PK,” Tucker said to Patrick, “watch the cab.” Then he motioned to Jack and they shined their lights in the back.

Patrick walked around to the cab and stepped up on the running board. He had his gun trained toward the back. He heard knocking inside, but didn’t know if it was Tucker checking the interior, or if it was someone inside the walls.

A large panel behind the passenger seat opened up and Patrick saw Grayson’s face. He was stunned to see Patrick pointing a gun at him. He quickly disappeared from view and Patrick called out to Jack and Tucker.

Then Elle came out of the panel. Grayson held a gun at her temple as he pushed her through, holding her tightly. “I want a driver or she dies.”

“You’re not getting out of here, Clark,” Patrick said.

“If I don’t, she doesn’t, either. Bring me one of my drivers. When I’m clear, I’ll let her go.”

“Don’t make this worse.”

“How can it get any fucking worse?” Grayson screamed.

Where were Jack and Tucker? Why hadn’t they come around? There was a whole slew of FBI SWAT with their guns trained on the windshield, and Patrick was between them and Grayson. Great. But if he moved, that could put Elle in greater danger.

She was terrified. Her eyes were too bright, she had blood on her face and scalp. Her shirt was filthy and bloody. Patrick swallowed the rage that filled him. He closed off his emotions. When Elle caught his eye, she flinched.

“Get them out of here,” Grayson demanded. “Now.”

Patrick motioned to the SWAT team leader to go. He didn’t budge. These guys didn’t know who Patrick was from Adam, and they certainly didn’t take orders from him.

“Tucker!” Patrick called out the door without taking his eyes off Grayson. “I need you to call off the FBI.”

A moment later, Tucker walked past where Patrick was standing on the running board. He immediately called off the SWAT team, and they backed away.

Grayson nodded, excited that one of his demands had been met. “Good. Good. Now, a driver.”

“Tucker, he wants a driver,” Patrick called out.

“And put down your gun.”

“I’ll put my gun down if you put yours down,” Patrick said.

Elle’s eyes were focused on Patrick, and he was trying not to let her fear distract him. He glanced down. Her wrists were raw and bleeding and she couldn’t stop shaking.

He wanted to shoot Grayson.

It had been a long time since Patrick had worked hostage negotiation. And he’d never had a personal connection with the gunman, or the victim, like he did now.

“I will kill her,” Grayson said, his voice shaky.

“You’ll be dead.”

“So will she.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Put the fucking gun down!”

Patrick slowly put the gun on the driver’s seat in front of him. He glanced out the window and saw Tucker with a gun trained on Grayson. Where was Jack?

“Good,” Grayson said. “Now tell that black guy to get me a car.”

Patrick called out to Tucker, “He wants a car.”

Tucker didn’t say anything, nor did he move.

Patrick shrugged. “They don’t take orders from me. I’m not a cop.”

“Then get me someone in here who can make decisions!”

Patrick glanced at Tucker. He averted his eyes briefly, toward the back of the truck, then looked squarely at Patrick.

Patrick hoped he read him right. Now he had to figure out how to communicate with Jack.

Or maybe he really needed to communicate with Elle.

The most important thing was to get the barrel of the gun away from Elle’s head.

“Okay, Clark, I’m going to be honest with you. That man over there?” He gestured toward Tucker. “He’s not going to let you leave. He’s kind of a hard-ass that way. He saw what you left behind at the food processing plant. Four dead girls. He has a daughter. He wants blood.”

Patrick had no idea if Tucker had kids, but he just rolled with the story.

“If I get out of this truck, he’ll kill you. Notice, he’s the only one around here with a gun.”

“I have a gun,” Grayson said, his eyes darting from Tucker to Patrick.

“Yes, you do. But I’m between you and Tucker. I leave, he’ll kill you. No witnesses.”

“Then she dies,” Grayson said. “He’s not going to shoot me. Not as long as I have her.”

Grayson shifted his body and Elle’s so that she was clearly between him and Tucker’s rifle. That brought him closer to Patrick by several inches.

And gave Jack a clear shot. As soon as Patrick could get Grayson to lower his damn gun.

“Elle,” Patrick said, “do you remember that kid in high school, Garrett something … he was in my graduating class.”

“Garrett Brown,” she whispered. She stared at him with a confused expression.

“Right. Garrett Brown. Remember that thing he used to do, freaked everyone out.”

“Y-yeah.” But she didn’t. She looked more confused than ever. And terrified.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Grayson demanded.

“I’m just trying to calm her down. Can’t you see she’s scared? She’s shaking.”

When he said “shaking,” the realization of what Patrick meant showed in her eyes. Patrick nodded, just a fraction.

“It’s about time. I’ve never seen her scared of anything—”

Elle started wildly shaking as if she were having a seizure, just like Garrett Brown used to do with regularity at their high school.

Immediately, Patrick grabbed Grayson’s gun hand at the same time Jack put a gun on the back of his head and his arm around Grayson’s neck. How Jack came that fast and quiet out of the back of the truck, through the same panel Grayson had used, Patrick didn’t know, but the timing was perfect.

Patrick disarmed Grayson and pulled Elle away from him. He picked her up and carried her from the cab of the truck.

Her arms were tight around his neck and she was still shaking violently.

He said to Tucker, “The girl in the office. Ashley.”

“We got her. She’s on her way to the hospital. Looks like a broken rib and internal bleeding.” He patted Patrick on the shoulder. “Good job, Kincaid. Ever want to go legit, let me know.”

“RCK is legit.”

Tucker snorted and went to cuff Grayson.

Patrick sat Elle down at the back of the SWAT truck. One of the guys brought her a water bottle. She drank greedily, then coughed.

“How—”

“Shh. I’ll explain everything later.” He looked her over. “Are you okay? Where are you hurt?” He touched the bruises on her face. Brushed away her dark hair, sticky with blood.

“I’m okay.”

“You need to get checked out.”

She shook her head and then started crying. “I didn’t know. How could I not have known?”

He hugged her tightly and closed his eyes. “This isn’t your fault. Sometimes, people aren’t who we think they are.”

“But you knew. You knew the moment you saw him.”

He looked at her and smiled. “Maybe that coma I was in made me psychic.” He was trying to make her feel better, but it wasn’t working.

“Or maybe I’m just a bad judge of character.”

“No.” He tilted her chin up. “Grayson fooled a lot of people. Not just you. I like that you see the good in everyone.”

“Where was the good in him?”

“He helped some kids get off the streets. Tutoring them, getting them jobs—”

“While selling girls and drugs. No, nothing is going to make me think anything Clark did was good. He would have killed me. How did you do that?”

“You did it, too. You knew what I wanted you to do.”

“But how did you know someone was behind us? That he was right there, that he could get him like that?”

“Trust.”

“But
how
?” She was still confused and scared, and while Patrick had faced these situations before, this was a first for Elle.

And hopefully the last.

“How did you trust Kami? Why did you help her? Because you knew, in your gut, that you could. The man in the truck is my brother Jack. I trusted he’d know the exact moment to act. He would have killed Clark if that’s what it took to save you.”

“So much death. So much—” She stopped. “What about Lee?”

Kyle Tucker heard her, and approached. “Ma’am, we’re already on our way to apprehend him. He attempted to flee the country, and they’re detaining him at SFO right now. He won’t be going anywhere.”

Patrick asked, “What about Soldare?”

“She’s my business. I have her right-hand prick Jonny, I will find her.”

He walked away. Patrick had no doubt he’d nail Soldare.

Patrick said to Elle, “You need to give a statement, then I’ll take you home.”

CHAPTER 15

It was dark by the time the feds were done with Patrick and Elle, and Patrick could bring Elle to the hospital to visit Kami. They hugged and cried and Patrick let them catch up.

He stepped out into the hall to call Jack.

“Everything good?” Jack said.

“I don’t know. I haven’t brought her back to her apartment.”

“Take her to a hotel.”

“I need to be there when she sees it. Have the police cleared out?”

“Tucker said his people already wrapped up. But it’s a mess.”

“Maybe a hotel is better,” he said, indecisive.

“I’m driving down to San Diego in the morning. I was going to leave at dawn, but Megan’s flight doesn’t get in until later in the evening, so I’m in no rush. You’re welcome to join me.”

“Do you think Ma would forgive me if I stayed here until this situation is cleaned up? I don’t feel right just leaving Elle like this.”

Jack laughed. “You’re the golden child, Patrick. Ma would forgive you forgetting to call on her birthday. I’ll tell her.”

“I’ll call her to explain.”

“That’s why you’re the golden child. Love you, bro.”

“Back at ya.”

He hung up and considered why he planned to stay with Elle. He loved his family, and missed them, but last night with Elle there was something different in him. He felt almost like his old self, before he lost two years of his life. Elle was so tactile and vibrant in everything she did. The passion that filled her job and her friendships filled her soul and spread to everything around her, including him. He craved it. He needed it. He couldn’t go back to being the Patrick he’d been before his coma, but he could be better than he was today. He needed to let the anger and frustration go.

Dwight walked down the corridor to where Patrick waited, his expression more than a little worried. “You said she was fine.”

“She is. She wanted to see Kami.”

“Oh, right. That’s why I’m here.” He held up an envelope. “I need Elle to sign some papers for Kami. She might not need to testify at all on Wednesday. Lee will be arraigned tomorrow, and my office assures me he won’t be given bail, especially since he was apprehended while attempting to flee the country. And then he’s going to federal court where he’s going to be arraigned on separate charges. My boss and ICE will fight over who gets to prosecute.”

“The feds will win.”

“On this, yes. But they have more on him than we do. You think Kami is going to be able to testify later?”

“She’s a tough kid, and smart. She’ll hold her own.”

“How’s Ashley?”

“Out of surgery. Her parents are flying in from Colorado, should be here soon. Kami asked me to check on her, so I’ll do that while you talk to Elle.”

As he started to walk away, Dwight said, “Patrick? Elle can be difficult. Don’t let it stop you.”

Dwight disappeared into Kami’s room before Patrick could respond.

*   *   *

Patrick had explained to Elle on the drive from the hospital what had happened in her apartment, and she thought she was primed for what she would face.

But nothing he could have said would have truly prepared her for the destruction of her home.

She walked up the short staircase to the main room and stared.

There were bullet holes in her walls and kitchen cabinets. Her couch was overturned, the stuffing spilling out. More bullets? She walked to her windows. Shattered. Someone had boarded them up, but they hadn’t removed her carpet, which was stained. Dark red.

Blood.

Someone had died here.

Three people had died here. Three people died in her apartment. Shot to death.

“Pack a bag, I’m taking you to a hotel,” Patrick said.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Elle walked over to where the little Christmas tree she’d bought from a street vendor was crushed and broken on the floor. She picked it up. The small glass bulbs she’d hung—all cheap, nothing of value—were shattered on the floor. She put the tree on the table. It fell over. Tears burned behind her eyes.

“Elle,” Patrick said from behind her, his hands on her shoulders, “please. This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

“I would have seen it sometime,” she said.

“But not tonight. Not tomorrow.”

“How can you be so casual about this?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

She shrugged off his hands and walked away. She couldn’t breathe. The whole day, from the moment Clark had held the gun on her until now, was surreal. The screaming girls, the gunfire, the tension in the big rig where she was certain she was going to die—it didn’t feel real.