Snake Skin (10 page)

With that, Ames flounced into her car,
adjusted her hair in the mirror, then turned the BMW around, and
sped back up the road.

"Nice work," Burroughs said as he returned
them onto their previous course. "You know it's going to come back
to haunt you."

"As long as it gets Ames off our backs until
we find Ashley."

"Don't count on it. And, for the record, I
think you look just fine in that top."

Lucy glanced down at the baby-blue sweater
set Megan had given her for her birthday two days ago. Ames was
right, it was the wrong color for her. Sometimes she worried Megan
had inherited her father's color blindness. The knit was
comfortable in the heat but maybe a little too clingy. Burrough's
gaze darted down to rest on her bustline. Not for the first
time.

She grabbed her cell phone. "My daughter's
home sick, I'd better check in."

The annoying beep of the busy signal greeted
her. "Great. Busy. That means she's on both lines at once." She
dialed Nick's work number.

"Dr. Callahan, please," she asked the
operator. "It's his wife. Thank you." She waited to be connected.
"Hey, just wanted to let you know this thing is going to probably
go long. I already pissed off some reporter, so be careful. Did you
get my voice mail about Megan?"

"Hello to you as well. I got the voice mail
and sent her an IM. She says she's fine and wants to know if she
can make mac and cheese for lunch."

Lucy laughed—she never used the IM or text
functions her daughter and husband found so useful. She seldom
e-mailed either. In her line of work the miracles of modern
communication represented danger more than convenience.

"Her throat must be feeling better. I called
and both lines were busy."

"So, did you catch your badguys?"

"Yeah, but then I got called in on something
else. Listen, this case is pretty complicated, I'm not sure how
long I'll be tied up."

"One step ahead of you. I already called
your mom. She has a date tonight but will come tomorrow if we need
her."

"Thanks, should have known you'd—hey, did
you say she has a date? With who? We are talking my mother, Coletta
Guardino, the last of the Italian martyred widows, right?"

His chuckle reverberated through the tiny
handset. "Said she met him on the Internet, a group for Catholics
who have lost their spouses."

Lucy lost her focus for a moment, still
reeling with the concept of her mother shrugging off her widow's
weeds. Going out with someone she met on-line? What was the woman
thinking? Didn't she know what kind of predators were out
there?

"Did she give you the," she caught herself
before she said "perp", "guy's name?"

"No, she did not. I think she was afraid
you'd run a background check on him and send surveillance. She said
she'd tell you all about it tomorrow and not to worry."

Not to worry? Her fifty-nine year old
mother, alone for a quarter of a century, was venturing back into
the dating scene with a stranger she met in some dark alley of a
chatroom. "I can't believe this is happening."

Nick's voice was calm, reassuring. One of
the few things she hated about her husband. She could project calm,
take control over chaos no matter the crisis, but dammit, he really
was
calm. Like some kind of Southern-Irish-Zen Master.

"Everything's going to be fine, Lulu," he
said, using his private name for her. "Are you going to have time
for lunch?"

A Zen master with twice the maternal
instincts she had. "Dunno. We might stop at Mickey D's on the way."
She glanced over to Burroughs and he nodded his agreement. Yeah,
cops loved donuts, but it was beef and grease that you needed to
get through a long day with no end in sight.

"If you get stuck, I left you a
present."

She took a look inside her purse. And found
an evidence bag marked: For Emergency Use Only. It contained two
Power Bars, a package of Aleve, breath mints, and a Hershey's
Special Dark. Lucy didn't try to hide her smile. "Have I told you
lately exactly how wonderful you are?"

"No. But you can show me later when you get
home."

"Hey, what can you tell me about kids who
cut themselves?"

The abrupt change of topic didn't knock him
off his stride. Nick was well-accustomed to Lucy's hyper-kinetic
thought patterns. "Girl or boy?"

"Girl. Fourteen. Parents divorced about ten
months ago and it looks like she's been having some self-image
problems. Wearing baggy clothing, locking herself in her room."

"You'll probably find that she has peer
problems, especially in school. Often times the self-mutilation
decreases during the vacations and escalates when back in school.
These girls are usually shy, low self-esteem, unable to make their
needs known, so they disassociate from their lives, from their
reality. The pain of cutting is an attempt to regain control, to
feel something."

"Sounds like our girl. Thanks, sweetie."

"No problem. I know you'll probably miss
dinner tonight, but will you make a point of coming to Mass
tomorrow? Megan's CCD class is ushering."

Lucy grimaced. Damn, how had she forgotten
that? "We've got the Canadians tomorrow."

Nick made no sound at all. He didn't need
to.

Her sigh echoed through the phone. "But our
meet's not until afternoon. I should be able to make it. If she
feels good enough to go, that is."

She hated using Megan's sore throat as a
hedge. Of course, Nick saw right through her.

"Should I tell her that?" Nick never made a
promise he couldn't keep. One of the ways he kept his halo shiny
and polished bright.

Lucy wished her own parental halo wasn't so
tarnished. She tried to put a positive spin on things. "No. Let's
make it a surprise."

She disconnected and returned the cell phone
to her belt. Burroughs was watching her, a gleam in his eyes.

"Just so you know," he said, returning his
attention to the traffic in front of them. "I wasn't going to hit
on you or anything."

He was an average sized man with above
average looks, not too handsome, not too plain, but his body
language screamed alpha male on the prowl. The way he held his
stare a little too long, stood a little too close.

Alpha male or not, Burroughs wasn't her
type. Her type of guy, the one and only guy she was interested in,
pampered her with neck massages and doing the laundry and Hershey's
Special Dark. Her guy didn't have to flash a toothy grin to make
her knees wobble. All he had to do was walk into the room, say her
name or brush her with his gaze.

Not that Nick didn't have plenty of
flaws—after fourteen years of marriage she still hadn't been able
to train him to put the toilet seat down or to share the remote.
And he had an irritating habit of taking the high road when she'd
rather slug it out, down and dirty, in the mud, baring her
soul.

Seemed like lately neither of them had the
energy to fight—God, how she missed their fights. Passionate,
fierce, just like the sex that always followed.

Another sigh escaped her. "Sorry, I usually
don't make personal calls at work."

"No need to explain. It was kind of nice to
hear a man and wife talking instead of shouting at each other. Your
kid gonna be all right?"

"The doctor thinks it might be mono."

"Mono? That sucks, I had that when I was a
kid. Felt crappy as hell."

"Fingers crossed it's just strep or a
virus."

"Your husband's a doctor?"

"Psychologist. He specializes in
post-traumatic stress and anxiety. When we lived in Virginia, he
worked at the VA with guys coming back from Iraq and their
families."

"High-powered stuff. You two don't take the
easy way out on anything, do you?"

She had to laugh at that. "Guess we're both
compulsive overachievers."

"A match made in heaven. Unlike the two back
there. What's with them? The mister, I swore he never even blinked
the whole time I was talking with him. Eyes like a dead fish."

"Maybe that's from studying snakes and
reptiles all day long. He's not used to us warm-blooded
creatures."

"Guess that's why he picked her. She's not
exactly warm and fuzzy, is she?"

"More like lost in her own little universe.
I think maybe they both are—which left no place for Ashley."

"Poor kid. As bad as it sounds, I kind of
hope she ran away, maybe with a boyfriend who really cares about
her."

"Too bad that usually translates to:
pedophile who seduces young girls. You know as well as I most of
these guys know exactly how to manipulate kids, give them all the
love, attention and affection they need."

Burrough's expression went to cop-neutral
but his knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. "Yeah. Just what
every kid needs and wants. Until the pervs start asking for more."
He cut her a look. "I don't know how you deal with these bastards
every day, seeing what you see, knowing what you know."

"Someone has to."

"Better you than me."

Lucy shrugged and stared out the window. She
hadn't perfected a way to "deal" yet—other than insulating Nick and
Megan from her world as much as possible. And she was beginning to
worry that insulation was fraying—or maybe working too well.
Sometimes she felt disconnected, working to get back inside the
bonds Megan and Nick forged when work pulled her away from
them.

A stranger to her own family. Probably a lot
like how Ashley felt.

They pulled up in front of a small strip
mall directly across from Gateway High. "Cashier at the Stop N Go
says she saw a girl fitting Ashley's description yesterday
afternoon."

Lucy got out of the car and looked around.
There was a bus stop on the curb, a chiropractor's office, the Stop
N Go, and a nail salon. "Let's hope she saw more than that. We need
to get a bead on Ashley. Soon."

This was the hardest part, Jimmy told
himself, swiveling his chair to decrease the glare on the small
computer screen. Just another day—a minimum forty-eight hours,
that's what all the experts said. He had to do it right this time,
couldn't fail.

Not again. He scrubbed his hand over his
face, trying to block out the images. Sweet, sweet Connie with her
heart-shaped face and lilting voice. And Vera—God, that had been
awful, whoever would have guessed that such a tiny thing could be
so strong?

Enough. They were the past. Ashley was his
future.

He had to stay in control, follow the plan.
He had to save her. He needed her as much as she needed him. What
else could you expect from family?

He focused on the ghostly green images the
night vision camera projected. He'd heard her screams. His palms
still held the imprint of screws from gripping the edge of his
seat. He wasn't ashamed to say that her terror and despair had
driven him to tears. True love had its price.

Step one
. Establish control.

Ashley crawled across the screen, jerked
short by her leash. Step one, complete.

Step two
. Foster dependence for
survival.

The sounds of Ashley gulping the water he'd
left her carried through the speakers. He turned his head, gave her
her privacy as she used the commode. Step two, finished.

Step three
. Complete disorientation.
Break old reality.

He'd sound-proofed the barn, blacked out
every speck of light. Forty-eight hours, they said. Of course there
were ways to hasten the process. Drugs. Sleep deprivation.
Dehydration. He'd use those if need be, but he knew how frail she
was, knew her weaknesses.

She'd already told him all her secret
shames, her fears. He'd already prepared her; a long, long time
he'd spent. She was ready, malleable.

Part of him wanted to rush, was eagerly
anticipating Ashley's liberation. Finally, he'd have someone by his
side once more. It'd been almost three years since Alesia left for
the nursing home. With each passing day alone he felt the thin edge
of control slipping from him.

So much so, that some days—especially after
his first two failures—he wondered if his mother wasn't right.

If he wouldn't be better off dead.

But not now. Now he had Ashley and she would
save him. As he would save her.

Because that's what family did.

He rubbed his eyebrow, watching her hug
herself as if she were cold, even though it had to be over ninety
degrees in the barn. Wished he could make things easier for the
both of them.

Knowing the worst was yet to come.

Chapter 9

Saturday 1:48 pm

Burroughs showed the cashier at the Stop N
Go Ashley's picture. She was a gum-cracking, twenty-something named
Jalonna. "Sure, I seen her," she said. "Same as I told the other
cops."

Knowing Guardino was watching, judging,
Burroughs toned down his usual style, instead adopting a soft,
polite tone and thanking the less-than-helpful num-nuts for her
time.

"She came in here, bought a diet Dr. Pepper,
went out and waited for the bus," she continued, her eyes and
fingers busy sorting lottery tickets. "It was about one o'clock or
so. She got on the East Liberty bus." She paused, still looking
down, a hitch in her sorting. "That was it."

Burroughs looked at Guardino, shrugging as
he put his notebook away. "One o'clock yesterday, East Liberty bus.
Okay, thanks a lot."

He started for the door but Guardino stepped
forward. The clerk didn't notice her at first, not until Guardino
slammed her palm down over the stack of tickets. "Tell me what else
you saw."

Was Guardino trying to show off for him? To
let him know who was boss or to impress him? The move was pretty
darn aggressive to use on a cooperating witness.

The clerk jerked away, backed up a step,
rattling the cigarette display. "Nuthin. I didn't see nuthin'
else."