Forgotten (26 page)

“I don’t know yet.” He started the engine. “I have to think it out. It has to be the right spot. It has to mean something.”

He drove past the guard’s kiosk without stopping. The guard stepped into the drive but made no attempt to stop them. Why would he? Employees wouldn’t be required to stop at the gate.

“This was all your fault, you know?” he told her. “It took too long for it to make the news.”

“Is that what this is about?” She turned to him. “Making the news?”

He didn’t appear to have heard her.

“…Sick of everyone making such a big deal out of him. Books and newspaper and magazine articles. People wanting to interview him. Women throwing themselves at him. Me, I can’t get laid on a dare, but he has women coming in there and begging for conjugal visits. A couple of ’em want to marry him.” He laughed hoarsely. “You think crazy Weezie is the only one? She thinks she is, but uh-uh. And every couple of years, there’s another book.

Someone comes around to do a TV special. Jesus, it makes me sick. Guys like me, we’re invisible. Me, I worked my ass off all my life, and I am still a nobody. He kills kids—rapes little boys!—people treat him like he’s a celebrity. How the fuck do you figure that?”

“I can’t figure it, Officer DeLuca. I don’t understand it, either.”

“How come when he does it, the story’s everywhere. When I do it—nothing. Can you explain that to me, Agent Cahill?”

“No, I can’t. I don’t…”

“You paid attention to him. Why wouldn’t you pay attention to me?”

“Is that what this is about, Officer DeLuca? Getting
attention
?” she asked, fighting to keep the incredulity from her voice. “All of this is because you wanted some attention?”

“You kept going back to
him.
Talking to
him,
doing favors for
him.
He raped little boys, that’s how sick he is.” He snorted. “But I guess that’s what it takes to get the world to sit up and take notice, right? You gotta do something really sick.”

His head bobbed up and down. “I’m going to show you sick. Then we’ll see who everyone wants to talk to. Who gets the books written about them. We’ll see who gets the movie. We’ll see who’s invisible now.”

“You killed three boys so that a movie would be made about you?” She managed to catch the words
Are you crazy?
just before they slipped out of her mouth.

“Shut up. Just shut up and let me think.”

She watched him from the corner of her eye. He was sweating profusely, and his hands were shaking. It wouldn’t take much to put him over the edge. He began to mutter under his breath, and she could not pick any intelligible words out of the rant. When she turned her head to look out the window, he grabbed her chin and forced her head around.

“Look at me when I talk to you! Look at me!”

“All right, Officer DeLuca. I’m looking at you,” she said as calmly as she could get the words out.

“It was on the news today,” he told her, holding on to her arm. “From New York. All those big stations in New York are carrying the story. They’re all talking about me now.”

“You know, you don’t have to do anything else. You give yourself up, you’re already famous, but you’re still anonymous. If you give yourself up, they’ll all want to talk to you. But they can’t make a movie about you if they don’t know your name.”

“Oh, but they will, soon enough,” he told her confidently. “By the time this night is over, everyone will know my name.”

“What exactly do you have in mind?” she asked, but he did not respond.

Through the windshield Portia saw a grove of mimosa trees that she could have sworn they’d driven by before. She studied the landscape as they drove on, noting the turns that he made and trying to get a feel for the direction they were headed. The third time past the mimosas, she was certain. He was driving in a circle.

She’d just figured out the spot where she could risk jumping out and finding a place to hide when he pulled over to the side of the road.

“Get out.” He pulled her by the arm and dragged her to the rear of the car, the gun held to the back of her head. He opened the trunk and took out a piece of rope.

“Turn around.” He shoved her up against the car and jerked both arms behind her back.

He placed a piece of rope in her hands. “Loop it around your wrists, then tie it. Tight.”

She looped it over her forearms and tried to hold it there as she tied the knot as he’d directed. If he secured the rope where it was, she’d have enough slack to slip her hands out.

She felt the rope tighten, and then he gave it a good tug and tightened the knot, forcing her wrists to cross. He turned her around, lifted her off the ground, and laid her in the trunk on her back.

“Now be a good girl,” he said as he slammed the lid, “maybe I’ll let you out sometime today.”

THIRTY

“L
ivy, this is Larisse Jordan at the lab. I’m told you’re working with Portia Cahill on this case of hers. I’ve been calling her and leaving messages for her for the past couple of hours, but she hasn’t called me back. If you talk to her, would you please tell her to call me ASAP? Tell her to use my private line—she has the number. I have some DNA results from that ‘lost boy’ of hers that are going to drop her on her ass.”

Livy listened to the message a second time, then tried to call Portia herself, but she, too, got voice mail. She called Eileen to see if Portia had checked in since she left for the prison, but Eileen had already left. She tried John, but he hadn’t heard from her, either. Puzzled, she called the warden’s office at the prison.

“Let me put you through to the guard up front,” the warden told her. “If she was here, she’s come and gone through the front door, and the times would be noted.”

The guard picked up on the third ring. Livy started to identify herself as an agent working with Portia Cahill, but the guard told her, “The warden already told me who you were and cleared me to give you whatever information you needed.”

“I need to know what time Agent Cahill signed in and out from the prison today.”

“She signed in here at the desk at…” Livy held while the guard checked her sheets. “She signed in at four-fifteen.”

“What time did she sign out?”

“She didn’t sign out. I was here when she left,” the guard told her, “but she was supposed to be coming back in a few minutes.”

“How long ago was that?”

“About twenty-five minutes ago.”

“Do you know where she was going?”

“No, she and CO DeLuca left together. He was the one who said they’d be back.”

“Who’s this DeLuca?”

“He’s just a guard here.”

“Agent Cahill must have forgotten to come back in to sign out,” Livy said.

“If she did, she didn’t get very far. She left her bag here. She checked it and her gun when she came in, and she…”

“Her gun is still there? She left without it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did they leave the premises?” All of Livy’s senses went on alert. She didn’t like what she was hearing.

“I don’t know. I can check with the guard out front at the gate…”

“Please do that. I’ll hold.” Livy walked down the hall to John’s office. The lights were out and his door was closed. She tried the doorknob, just in case, but it was locked.

“Agent Bach?” The guard came back on the line.

“I’m here.”

“The guard out at the gate said that Agent Cahill and CO DeLuca went through the gate about twenty minutes ago.”

“Did he say who was driving?” Livy asked though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

“Officer DeLuca was driving his car,” the guard replied.

“I need a description of that vehicle.” Livy began to pace through the darkened hall that ran past the row of empty offices.

“The front gate has a list of the vehicles, including the license plates. I’ll be back to you in one minute.”

She was. After giving the information to Livy, the guard said, “Would you like me to have Agent Cahill call you if she comes back?”

“Yes, please.” Livy was now in a hurry to get off the phone. “Thanks for your help.”

She disconnected the call and started back to her own office to get her bag and keys. As she passed by Portia’s, she heard a phone ring. Stepping inside the half-opened door, she realized it was the desk phone. She lifted the receiver and answered, “Agent Cahill’s office. Agent Bach speaking.”

“This is Jim Cannon, I’m a friend of Agent Cahill’s. I’ve been trying to get in touch with her all day, but haven’t been able to track her down.”

“This is Livy Bach. I’ve been working with her on this case of hers. I’m also her friend.” She took a deep breath and said, “So you haven’t talked to her, either?”

“What do you mean ‘either’?”

“I can’t seem to find anyone who’s heard from her since she left for the prison earlier this afternoon.”

“She’s been out at the prison all this time?”

“I’m not really sure where she is now. Apparently she left the prison in the company of one of the guards about a half hour ago.” Livy hesitated. “I was just about to head on out there myself to see what’s going on.”

“What do you think is going on?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m real uneasy about this,” Livy told him. “According to the guard I spoke with, Portia left the building, but never picked up her bag and her gun. She had checked them at the front desk when she arrived.”

“Maybe she forgot.”

“It’s her
gun
we’re talking about. She doesn’t forget.” She was wasting time that could come back to haunt her later. “Look, I’ll have her call you if I catch up with her. I have to go.”

Livy hung up the phone and practically ran back to grab her bag from the back of her chair. On her way to the elevator, she was already dialing John’s private line.

“John, I think we have a problem…”

I
t had been Livy Bach’s use of the word
if
that bothered him. “
If
I catch up with her,” she’d said.

Why would Livy think she’d not catch up with Portia?

Jim was on his way back to the office from court, but without thinking twice, he made a U-turn and started back in the direction from which he’d come. Eleven miles down the interstate was the road that led to the prison. If Portia still hadn’t returned, he’d wait for her.

It was killing him that she felt responsible for what happened to Justin McAfee. Worse, she wouldn’t return his calls so that they could talk it out. She would never knowingly put a child in danger, of that he was positive. How could she have known that she was being watched?

Had the killer targeted Portia because she had targeted him? Jim hadn’t been able to voice his suspicions to Dani, but he believed that Finn had been the intended victim, that the killer had wanted to get to Portia by going through Jim to Finn. When he couldn’t get Finn, he’d taken Finn’s friend, just to prove that he could, to show how close he could come to what mattered to her. The thought had kept Jim up all night, listening to the old pipes creak, jumping every time a tree branch scraped against a window. When morning came and there was no way to shield Finn from the news, Dani and the other mothers got together and took all of the be wildered boys from the tee-ball team to one home, to keep them all together, to let them talk and learn to mourn a friend. It was a terrible lesson for seven-year-olds to have to learn.

He was surprised to find a state trooper at the prison gates. The officer held up a hand to stop Jim outside the gate.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the trooper who flagged him down told him, “but you’re going to have to turn around and go back. The prison’s closed.”

“I’m an attorney,” Jim told him. “I need to get in to see a client.”

“May I see some identification, sir?” the trooper asked, and Jim handed over his driver’s license. The trooper studied it as if debating what to do, and was about to hand it back when a car pulled up next to Jim’s. The driver called to the officer and held up some ID for him to inspect.

“Special Agent Olivia Bach,” she told him. “I need to get through.”

Before the trooper could react, Jim rolled down his window.

“Agent Bach, I’m Jim Cannon. We spoke earlier.”

“Go on home. I’ll have Portia call you,” she told him.

“No way am I leaving until I know where she is.”

“Oh, for cripe’s sake. I’ll probably get into a shit-storm for this…” She called to the trooper, “He’s with me, sir.”

Jim followed Livy through the prison gates. She stopped just inside and waved for him to pull up next to her.

“You go on and park right over there. You’re going to stay out of my way, and you’re not going to bother anyone. I understand why you feel you want to be here, and I can’t honestly say I’d feel any different if I were in your shoes.”

“Fair enough. Thank you.” Jim parked the car and got out. Livy was talking to the guard in the kiosk when Jim walked up and, without saying a word, stood quietly behind Livy as if he belonged there.

“…an older model Buick, brown. He usually stops or waves when he’s leaving, but today—nothing. He just drove right on past without even looking.”

“Did you notice the time?”

“It was around five thirty.”

“Was anyone else in the car with him?”

“Yeah. Agent Cahill. I’ve been on duty a couple of times when she came out here so I recognized her. I started walking toward the car when I saw her, because she had a visitor’s pass and she had to hand it in. But he didn’t stop, just drove on out through the gate.” He leaned on the side of the kiosk. “I figured she’d be coming back and I’d get the pass from her then.”

“Thanks.” Livy turned and saw Jim standing a few feet behind her. “What did I just tell you?”

“You must believe she’s in some kind of danger, or there wouldn’t be all this…” He waved his arm around the drive, noting the other cars that had pulled up. Several men wearing black jackets with
FBI
on the back had gotten out. “Who’s this guy she’s with?”

“He’s a corrections officer here. Name is Clifford DeLuca. He’s one of the regular guards on Woods’s cellblock,” she said.

Jim paused while her words sank in.

“If he’s around Woods a lot, he’d have heard everything that Woods told…” he began, but she cut him off with a curt, “Exactly.”

“He took her somewhere,” Jim said flatly.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” she told him. “Now, if you’d get back to your car…”

“You said on the phone that she didn’t pick up her bag when she left. Is her cell phone in the bag?” he asked.

“Good question. I’ll find out. Now, if you would please…”

“Because you can track her cell phone…”

Livy turned to the guard. “Can you get the guard at the front desk on the line?”

He dialed an extension, then handed the phone to Livy.

“Do you still have Agent Cahill’s handbag there?” she asked. “Would you open it and tell me if her cell phone is inside?”

She waited for a response.

“You’re positive? Great. Thanks.” Livy handed the phone back and turned to Jim. “The phone is not in her bag.”

“So that means she must have it with her, right?” Jim asked anxiously.

“Maybe. Maybe…” Livy stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialed a number. “John, we think Portia might have her phone with her. Can you have its location tracked through GPS? No, there’s been no sign of them. Did the APB go out for DeLuca’s car?”

She wandered off, still in conversation, and Jim waited for her to come back. When she did not, he walked to his car and leaned against the back fender, every once in a while taking his own phone from his pocket and checking for any missed calls.

Almost fifteen minutes later, he saw Livy walking quickly to her car. Jim caught up with her before she could open the door.

“Have they found her?” he asked.

“The phone’s being tracked and the information is coming over John’s computer. He’s forwarding it to my phone. She’s moving.” Livy pushed past him and got into her car. Jim opened the passenger side door and got in.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Going with you,” he told her. “If she’s out there…”

“You’re a civilian. Get out.”

“Drive.”

“I can’t. Look, we don’t know if this guy is armed…dear God, I’m wasting time talking to you…”

He got out of her car and slammed the door, sprinting to the Jag. He turned on the ignition, threw the car into reverse, and headed out through the gates. He could see Livy’s taillights up ahead, and caught up with her in less than a minute. He was pretty damned sure she wouldn’t be happy about it, but there was no way he could stand around at the prison waiting to hear Portia’s fate. If Livy was on her way to find Portia, Jim intended to be right behind her.