Forever Man (21 page)

She grabbed the lid and flipped it open. It took her a moment to fully comprehend what she was seeing. Then it hit her—

She started to collapse. Katie grabbed her arm and yelled her name. She felt Gene catch hold of her other arm. She tried to stand, but she couldn’t seem to feel her legs, couldn’t seem to feel anything. There was nothing left for her to feel.

Inside the box were photos of Natalie.

“
Oh my God
,” Izzy whispered, and then she started to cry

In the one picture Izzy could see, Natalie was splayed out on the ground, dirt underneath her as if she were in an old-fashioned fruit cellar. It must’ve been dark where she was—the photo had that too-bright, grainy quality of cheap flash photography. Natalie was wearing the change of clothes she’d brought to the homecoming dance: jeans and a white designer blouse that Izzy had gotten her for Christmas last year. But the shirt wasn’t white anymore. Dirt had left ugly brown smudges on the fabric. And there was blood staining it, spreading out from her abdomen. Her daughter had been bleeding. Dear God, she
was
hurt.

Izzy’s gaze shifted fractionally. She took in her daughter’s pale face. There were five small wounds gouged into her flesh near the hairline. Lines of dried blood, so dark they looked almost black against her alabaster skin, drew ghastly patterns on her cheeks and neck. Her beautiful auburn hair was tangled and knotted, with leaves and twigs caught in it. Her eyes were closed. She looked dead.

No!
Tears filled Izzy’s eyes, blurred the edges of her vision.
She can’t be dead! She can’t be!

Izzy felt new hands, strong hands, replace the others. She was lifted. Turned. A face swam into view, brown, intense. Blue eyes bore into her, commanded her attention, pulled her back from the place where she’d been falling.

Bart Owens. He was speaking to her, but she couldn’t hear him. Didn’t want to hear him. Her life was over.

Her baby was dead.

Through her dismay, she began to hear Owens’ voice, deep, compelling. A singer’s voice. He shouted her name, but his voice sounded distant, as if he were talking from another place, another time.

“Chief Morris!” Owens yelled. “Izzy!”

She found the strength to say, “Not dead. Can’t be dead.”

“Izzy!” Owens again. “Listen to me! You haven’t seen all the photos. Look at what Gene found.”

Gene thrust a photo in front of her face.

Reluctantly, Izzy looked. It was another photo of Natalie. She didn’t understand what he meant. Then she saw it. She snatched the photo from Gene and brought it close to her face.

Natalie’s eyes were open. They were open. She had been alive at the time. Maybe she was still alive.

Still alive.

Owens released her. She found she could stand on her own. She snatched the other photos from the box and rifled through them. Of the six snapshots, only one other showed Natalie with her eyes open. The blood stain on her daughter’s shirt made Izzy want to vomit. Whatever that injury was, it had happened three days ago. If Natalie had been bleeding all this time….

She ran a finger lightly over one photo. “Be alive. Please be alive. I’m coming for you, honey.
Be alive
.”

Katie came into the room carrying a glass of water. Izzy hadn’t seen the girl leave. She accepted the glass and drank it down completely.

Gene took the empty glass from her hand. “Better?”

Izzy nodded. “Thank you. Thank you all.”

“Do you want more water?” asked Katie.

“No, sweetheart,” Izzy replied. “That was fine. Right now, I need to think.” She turned away from the photos; they were too upsetting. “Those were taken at most three days ago. Natalie was bleeding. She’s likely in shock, and she could have an infection. If she hasn’t been getting any water, then she’ll become dehydrated. On top of all that, it’s getting cold at night. If she’s in someone’s basement or cellar that may not matter as much, but if she’s outside…. I don’t think she’ll survive through to tomorrow night at the latest.” Her insides felt heavy, as if her guts had melted and settled at the bottom of her pelvis. “I have a little over a day to find her. If she’s still alive.”

Owens moved to stand in front of her. He used one hand to gently lift her chin so that her eyes met his. “Listen to me. I believe your daughter is alive. It’s only a feeling I have, but it’s a strong one. And I agree that we don’t have much time—we need to find her, and soon. The key is Darryl Webber. He’s the one who’ll know where she’s hidden. Now, what we need to do is find him.”

“And Kevin,” added Katie. She shook her head, frowning. “I—there’s something I’m missing here.”

Gene cut into the conversation. “I don’t think finding either one is going to be easy.”

“True,” Owens agreed, then turned to Katie. “I’m afraid finding Darryl is going to have to come first. We have to keep him away from the boy.”

Katie shook her head again. “I don’t agree. If we find Kevin first, then this Webber guy will eventually come to us. Wouldn’t that give us the advantage?”

Owens pursed his lips. “Not bad. But let’s think this through. First, your suggestion turns this into a race. Can you guarantee that we’ll be the first ones to find to the boy?”

“But we—” Katie began, then stopped. She pulled her lower lip in between her teeth. “I suppose not.”

“And if we
are
the first to find him,” Owens went on, “Darryl could very well be right behind us. That places Kevin in the middle of a possible—no, a
probable
gunfight. Do you think that’s going to keep him safe?”

Katie began shifting from foot to foot, a scowl on her face. “Okay, I get it. Bad idea.”

“No, there are no bad ideas,” Owens countered. “Only incomplete reasoning. And complete reasoning, of course, comes with experience.”

Katie stared at the man for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she relaxed and allowed herself a small smile. “At least I tried.”

“Yes,” Owens said, returning her smile. “You did.”

“Okay,” said Izzy. For some reason, the interaction between the old man and Katie had made her uncomfortable. Owens was a stranger, no matter how helpful he might appear. His easiness, his sense of familiarity with Katie, almost bordered on inappropriate. “Where do we start looking for Webber and Jack?”

Owens gave Katie a final nod of encouragement, then turned his attention to Izzy. “You know, Darryl has to be staying somewhere. I can’t see him sleeping in his SUV all this time.”

“That poses its own problems,” Izzy said. “Finding where he’s holed up could take hours, if not longer. There are dozens of motels within thirty miles, not to mention the campgrounds or the small places he could hide if he has a trailer. We just don’t have that kind of time.”

Owens said, “I may be able to help with this one.” He walked behind the desk and picked up Jack’s phone. With his back turned to Izzy, he punched several buttons. He turned, holding the receiver to his ear. After a few seconds, he spoke into the phone. “Hey, Phil. It’s me. Got a quick question, if you have a moment? When you trailed Darryl here—yeah, I’m in Kinsey now. Look, when he got here, was he towing anything? Trailer? Camper? Boat?” He frowned at Izzy and shook his head. “Nothing but the truck. Great. Thanks for the help.” He paused to listen. “No, it’s not been my best work, but I’m getting there. I’ll let you know when I’m done. Bye.” Then he hung up the phone. “It looks like you can stick with the hotels in the area.”

“Who was that?” Izzy asked.

“An old friend of mine.”

Izzy looked at the phone. “That call will be traced, you know. After all this.” She gestured vaguely at the destruction in Jack’s office.

Owens seemed unconcerned. “It’s for an empty office building in Colorado whose ownership is, shall we say, muddled. But before it got there, the call was routed through several switches. Someone might get as far as Lithuania. After that, forget it.”

While Gene and Katie looked at Owens in frank amazement, Izzy absorbed the man’s words. Only a federal agency could manage what he claimed he had just done. Which of those would have an interest in an eight-year-old boy? “Are you FBI? CIA? NSA?”

“I’ll let you work that out for yourself,” Owens said. “But for now, we have to get moving.” His gaze found Gene. “We can’t afford to let Darryl see you. Is there a place where you can hide out?”

“Oh, I know a few spots that would work,” Gene replied, his hand lightly rubbing his back. “But I won’t be using them. I’m coming with you.”

“Not a good idea,” said Owens. “If Darryl discovers that you’re still in town, things will get busy fast. Busy and dangerous.”

“All the same,” Gene said, standing a little straighter. “We’re in this together. ‘All for one and one for all’.”

Owens crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sure Dumas is rolling in his grave somewhere.”

Gene crossed his arms. “And I’m not hiding while you guys risk your necks!”

Izzy stepped between the two men. “We don’t have time for this.” Then she took Gene by the arm and led him away from the others. “You know he’s right,” she said. “The best way you can help is by staying out of sight.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “This is about Natalie’s life, as well Kevin’s. I need you to do this.”

With extraordinary care, he removed her hand. Then he took her shoulders in his large hands and drew her close. He was peering at her with such intensity that her pulse quickened. An unexpected warmth spread through her. Or perhaps, she thought with a pang of guilt, it wasn’t so unexpected.

“It’s always been the three of us,” Gene began. “You, me, and Stanley, ever since we were kids. Always together, always watching each other’s backs.” He paused, his eyes searching hers. “I’ve still got your back. And that means I’m coming along. I can’t imagine doing anything else. And don’t forget, Natalie’s important to me, too.”

That warm feeling grew, and with it, her sense of guilt. She shouldn’t be feeling this way—at least, not anymore. Brushing his hands from her shoulders, she said, “All right. You win. I guess it couldn’t hurt to have a friend with me.”

Gene opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something. There was a look in his eyes that she couldn’t quite read. But then he gave her that lop-sided smile. “Besides, you wouldn’t deprive me a chance to save the day.”

Izzy rolled her eyes. “Come on, hero. Let’s go.”

After leaving his home, Jack Sallinen, with Denny Cain crouched in the back seat and Darryl Webber driving, had driven to a motel east of Kinsey. At the door to the room, Webber had ordered Denny Cain to stay outside and watch for anyone driving up to the motel. He crumpled a twenty, tossed it at Denny and pointed to the party store across the street. “Go get yourself some beer. At least you won’t look like a complete idiot while you’re sitting there.” Denny, who was nursing a sore hand from his rifle having been torn from his grip, glared at Webber. Jack thought Denny was going to say something, maybe tell Webber to go fuck himself, but the man simply picked up the money and skulked away.

When Denny left, they went into the room, and Webber began unloading on Jack.

“What’s the matter with you, Jack? That box on your desk. That’s where you hid those photos, isn’t it?”

Jack’s eyes tracked the man pacing in front of him. “What’s the big deal? So Morris has them. It’s not like she can find her brat from looking at them.”

“I wanted her preoccupied with her kid, you jackass. Now she knows you’re involved.”

“She just saw us together. She doesn’t need the photos to figure that out.” Jack’s tone sharpened. “Anyway, let her come after me. That’d be perfect. She knows where my son is. I’ll choke the information out of her.”

Webber shook his head. “She’s got Owens with her now. You stand as much a chance of getting through him as you do walking through this.” He slapped his hand against the room’s cracked wall.

“He’s only one man.” Jack reached into his pocket and withdrew the handgun. “A couple shots and we’ll be rid of him.”

Webber snatched the .38 from Jack’s hand. “Give me that before you hurt yourself. I swear you couldn’t hit the ground if you were aiming at it.”

Jack was growing tired of Webber’s insults. “And what about you and your brilliant plan? Remember, we’re supposed to be helping Kevin. So where is he?  Oh, wait! A
bartender
has him! Shows how goddamn smart you are.”

Quicker than Jack could’ve expected, Webber pressed the barrel of the .38 hard against Jack’s forehead. The cold metal dug painfully into his skin.

“Shall I cancel our agreement right now?” Webber said evenly.

A growl escaped from Jack’s throat.

Webber’s grip on the pistol tightened. “Rein it in, Jack, or I’ll splatter your fucking brains all over that bed.”

Jack’s lips peeled back from his teeth. His nostrils flared, and he could suddenly smell Webber. Knew the man had eaten a burger with onions earlier that day. And there was that awful
noise
—like loud static, except he thought he could hear voices hidden within the sounds. It filled his ears until they almost hurt.

His muscles tensed. If he was fast enough, he could grab the gun. Jam it into Webber’s mouth and pull the trigger. Watch the man’s face fly apart in gobbets of red meat….

Webber jabbed him in the forehead with the barrel. The pain brought Jack back to his senses.

“Not yet,” said Webber. “Not
just
yet. We have other things to finish first.” He eased the barrel from Jack’s forehead. “Now, you back with us?”

Jack nodded.

“Are we clear on who is the boss?”

He nodded again, his expression carefully neutral. “You are.”

Webber set the pistol on the nightstand. “You’re a good man, but you need to learn your place, especially if you’re going to run in my circle. Not all my friends are as patient as I am.”

Jack glared at Webber. One day he would have his moment with the man. He’d have his retribution. One day…but not today.

“We need to find Kevin,” Jack said. “Vincent’s got him, and they could be headed anywhere by now.”