No One Heard Her Scream (24 page)

Sonja had reached out and contacted her. Normally, a good sign. But something tugged at Becca's instincts. Despite her misgivings, she had no choice but to hear the girl out.

"Yeah. Just tell me where and when." Becca listened to the girl's instructions. And again, she glanced at her watch, one thought on her mind.

Late better be late, my love. Duty calls.

Cavanauch Estate
8:00 P.M.

Dressed in an Armani suit, Diego looked at himself in a hallway mirror to straighten his tie. He knew his outward appearance was the same, but inside he had changed. He fought hard to hide the smile emerging from deep in his soul. Rebecca's influence. A sensation he hoped would be permanent.

But a dark and sinister rumbling tainted his happiness, replaced by the face of Hunter Cavanaugh. He took a deep breath, remembering he had a limousine to catch. Diego turned from the mirror and made his way toward the grand staircase.

Tonight, it could all be over.
One way or the other.

At the top of the stairs, Diego touched the butt of his .45-caliber Colt, the weapon in its holster at the small of his back. And he felt for the sheath of knives, strapped to his leg. Reassuring old habits. Diego buttoned his suit jacket and walked down toward the foyer, lost in thought.

Cavanaugh might not have an ulterior motive. Maybe the man had been straight up and would tell him everything he'd need to nail his despicable arrogant ass. A man like him didn't deserve fair play. If it went down like that, Draper would lose the permanent grimace etched on his face. The overbearing FBI man might see fit to let his father, Joe Rivera, step out from under the threat of an indictment held over his head. And Diego would reclaim his life—a life with a glimmer of hope, thanks to Rebecca.

Better still, if the missing girls were alive, Cavanaugh might reveal their location. They could be rescued from a living hell. Since Rebecca had told him about her sister, Diego put faces to each girl, even Danielle's. He had forced Draper to give him their case files and photos. He'd studied them, committed each to memory. In his mind, he pictured what they were like before the long arm of a sexual predator stole their lives for money, capitalizing on the depraved weaknesses of others. Big business built on a foundation that human life had no worth. For him, these girls weren't blank canvases anymore. Each had a name, a face, and people who loved them. Even now, candles burned in vigil until they came home.

Diego knew the rest of their lives would be an uphill struggle to heal. But at least they would have their lives back. And in the arms of their families, they wouldn't be alone. He understood the value of hope.

It might work out that way. He preferred not to think of the alternative, but he had no choice, being a realistic guy. Draper said it first. Cavanaugh may be setting up an elaborate trap, complete with a last meal—
how very civil.

"It is what it is," he muttered under his breath as he walked across the tiled atrium.

The stakes were too high not to take the risk. Diego shut the front door behind him and stood under the elaborate red awning over the entryway outside. As promised, a black stretch limo was parked at the curb, ready to pick him up for his solo ride to Cavanaugh's mystery location. Dressed in the formal uniform of a chauffeur, the driver hustled around the vehicle to open his door, all part of the service.

Diego took a deep breath and got inside. The soundproof vacuum of the interior had the feel of a cocoon when the door slammed shut—giving an eerie quality to the voice that greeted him.

"Glad you decided on comin' to our little shindig. It wouldn't have been the same without you." Matt Brogan grinned. "You bein' the guest of honor, and all."

Diego held firm to his composure. Only the hair raised on the nape of his neck gave him away.

Northwest San Antonio
8:15 p.m.

Becca had gotten lucky. No doubt about it. And she wasn't one to downplay her stroke of good fortune. She glared into her rearview mirror to make certain the burgundy sedan still tailed her from downtown. A Lexus LS 430. A burned-out headlight made her notice and now helped her spot the vehicle in traffic, several cars back. Becca clenched the steering wheel of her unmarked Crown Vic, her mind racing with scenarios on how to play this. But first, she had to confirm the unwanted surveillance.

Under the ebb and flow of streetlamps, she tried for a glimpse of the driver by changing speed, but the windows on the Lexus were too heavily tinted, a curse for police officers making traffic stops. And forget about a peek at the tags—no, no such luck from this distance.

Heading west on Loop 410, she hit the Ingram Park Mall area and made her exit. As she eased to a stop, she kept her eyes on the mirror. Headlights from a car behind the sedan only showed the driver in dark silhouette. A man by her guess. At the frontage road light, she pulled a U-turn under the overpass. The Lexus followed.

Sonja asked to meet near the Dumpsters in the south parking lot of the Regal Movie Theatre, Cielo Vista 18 on Cinema Ridge. The massive complex was located across the freeway from the mall. Becca would keep her promise to meet the young woman, but not before she figured out if paranoia was messing with her head.

If the guy tailing her had his heart set on a blockbuster movie, why drive to the burbs to satisfy his stale popcorn and Goobers addiction? Becca would know soon enough. If the jerk had other things on his mind, she wouldn't lead the bastard straight to Sonja. Hell, if things played out her way, she might get the chance to ask him herself, up close and personal.

With fewer cars on the residential side streets, her pursuer would have to lag farther behind and risk losing her. A major disadvantage. But Becca had a problem, too. She'd be easier to track. Timing would be everything. She'd have to pick her spot and pray her luck held.

Becca saw the cinema up ahead on top of a ridge, a sprawling facility. Moviegoers pulled in and out of the lot. A hive of activity. One of the reasons Sonja had picked it. Some big movie must have let out. She glanced at the clock on her dash. Fifteen minutes before the meet time. Becca knew she'd be late.

Avoiding the theater down the street, she made an immediate right and accelerated up Ingram, into an older section of town. Callaghan Road was the next major intersection. Fewer houses lined the streets, making the road darker. Bigger lots with acreage for sale, but not many lights. Better odds for her, she figured. Plus, Becca's car was the only one on the road. She slowed down, waiting to see if her tail drove straight for the theater or followed her down the side street. Becca smiled when the Lexus turned and shut off his one good headlight. A careless move. He had made things way too easy. Now she had no doubt the surveillance was meant for her.

Becca felt the pressure of her Glock in its holster under her jacket. Time to play.

The street elevations in this section of town would serve her purpose. She gunned it over a ridge and searched for the right timing to turn off her headlights. Two could play that game. After cresting a hill, she killed her lights and sped for a dark side street to the right. Her tires squealed as she made the abrupt turn.

Becca turned her Crown Vic around at a cross street and kept her motor running. She waited in the dark, looking like a parked car at the curb. Adrenaline jacked her up, forcing her heart to beat full throttle. The sound of her breathing filled the vacuum of the car. No sign of the Lexus. She licked her lips and leaned forward, chest heaving.

"Where are you, buddy?" she whispered, her voice dry and raspy. "Come on. Don't let me down."

Finally, the sedan drove past the street. Becca hit the gas pedal and gunned it to the corner. When she hit the main drag, she turned right and spotted the Lexus up ahead. She accelerated to close the gap, to read a tag or catch a look at the driver. But as soon as the car got near Callaghan Road, the guy must have spotted her. He spun out, heading east at high speed. No lights.

"Damn it." She only got a partial read on the tag. The rest, she couldn't be sure.

Becca had a decision to make in the blink of an eye. Pursue the bastard or let him go? A high-speed chase in this area of San Antonio had a lower risk than one in a more densely populated residential neighborhood. But if she did this thing, she had no choice but to run Code 3 to act as a warning beacon. The way the Lexus tore through city streets without headlights put innocent bystanders at risk.

Not backing down, Becca floored the Crown Vic in pursuit and hit the switch panel on her dash. At the punch of a button, her headlights flashed, and her siren wailed. The spiraling lights cast eerie shadows onto the mesquite trees, scrub oaks, and barbed-wire fence posts whizzing by.

Suddenly, the Lexus swerved hard left onto a side street, trying to lose her.

"Shit."

She gripped the wheel, leaning into the turn. His car spun out, kicking up gravel in a spray. Rocks pummeled her windshield. Each loud smack sounded like a bullet. In reflex, she shielded her face with a hand. Becca's heart leapt into her throat. Her breaths came in short gasps.

"Now you're just pissing me off."

She gritted her teeth and maneuvered through narrow streets and low-water areas, trying to make up ground. She zipped past low-rent horse stables to her right. Her flashers reflected off the eyes of a curious bay quarter horse. The animal bolted and trotted off for a quieter piece of ground.

"Sorry, big fella."

Suddenly, her Crown Vic hit a pothole and the jolt jarred her teeth. One of her hands popped loose from the wheel. Her seat belt locked and drew tight across her chest, the edge cutting into her neck. Becca tugged to make it release. No luck.

That's when the guy hit a series of S curves and a fork in the road. He never slowed down. His tires screeched at every turn. With only her headlights to guide her, she peered through the shadows up ahead for a way to end this.

"What the hell are you doing?" She had no idea if her question had been directed at the maniac up ahead or herself, the crazed woman behind the wheel of the Crown Vic.

Normally, Becca would call for backup on her radio. But explaining her reason for the high-speed chase would get her butt in a sling, no matter how justified. Santiago might cover for her, but Draper was another matter. He'd have her ass canned and throw away the opener.

The way she saw it, she only had a short window of opportunity. She had to catch the Lexus—fast.

But her luck had run out. The madman had been heading for the lights of the freeway. Now, one of the side streets cut onto the frontage road of Loop 410. With more traffic, too much could go wrong. Unable to make her chase
official,
she had no choice but to back off and kill her pursuit.

"That's it. I'm gone." She couldn't risk it, not anymore. People might get hurt.

But the bastard took advantage of his lead and ran a light. He cut across lanes of traffic to hit the freeway entrance ramp. Becca grimaced as other drivers veered to miss him. Tires skidded to a halt. She let the asshole go, never getting close enough to pull more than a partial tag. After turning into the left lane, she cut her speed and watched the red taillights of the Lexus merge into traffic up the hill. With his headlights back on, he headed east, back the way he came.

"Damn it to hell." She pounded the steering wheel with a fist and groaned in frustration at being so close. "Arrgh."

Becca took a deep breath to slow her heart. She checked out the time on her dash and made a turn back to the movie theater. A quarter to nine. She had no idea if Sonja would wait long, but she'd find out soon enough.

Who had tailed her in the Lexus and why? The pricey car ruled out almost her entire list of suspects—
all except one.

Cool water. A placid surface as unchanging as glass. Diego pictured the image and tried to maintain his composure as he watched Brogan in silence. His muscles tense like a tight spring, he sat ready to defend himself if it came to that. His dangerous companion stared back with dead eyes, like a coiled rattler in tall grass. Brogan looked content with the absence of conversation as traffic and road noise droned in the background.

The limo headed downtown. Diego kept a vigilant eye on the route they took. He had no way of knowing whether Draper followed, but he was sure the FBI man had his back. The guy had the tenacity of a pit bull and the face to match. But Diego hated not knowing what lay ahead. With their destination being downtown, Rebecca's home turf, he had a growing suspicion she played a part in Cavanaugh's game of intimidation.

After Diego's last glance out the window, Brogan smirked as if he read his mind.

"You don't look like a guy who likes surprises, Mex." Brogan smirked.

"Neither do you." His steely gaze and quick, understated comeback made the man flinch. Brogan's sneer faded.

The limousine maneuvered through the historic arts village of La Villita and pulled up to the curb outside a trendy new restaurant called Fusion on the River. Diego had read about it. Its new and innovative menu combined the melting pot of cultures located in the region. An extravagant fare of continental cuisine blended with the old-world charm and grace of San Antonio. The limo driver let them out, and Diego followed Brogan inside. Hunter Cavanaugh had reserved a private dining room in the rear.

"Gentlemen. Glad you could join me." Cavanaugh welcomed them with open arms and a glass of wine. "Diego, please take the seat across from me."

An intimate scene. Polished silver on white linen, flickering candles, and fresh-cut flowers created an elegant table setting. Tasteful oil paintings of local artists decked the stucco walls. The restaurant was a maze of small rooms with terraced outside patios carved into the south bank hillside of the San Antonio River.

They placed their order and dined on an array of appetizers, compliments of the house. The owner of the restaurant was an old acquaintance of Hunter's.

"You have admirable taste, Mr. Cavanaugh." Diego gave the man his due as he admired the restaurant. "Is this a special occasion?"