Unlawful Contact (30 page)

“The next night, he came for me—came in and told me to undress. I told him to leave me alone, told him he couldn’t do that. Then he…” Megan’s voice broke, and she took a long shuddering breath.

Marc’s guts knotted to see his sister so upset. He wasn’t sure she could handle this. Hell, he wasn’t sure
he
could handle it. “You don’t have to do this, Megan. You don’t have to go there.”

He might as well have been talking to the fricking wall.

Ignoring him, Sophie took Megan’s hand and spoke to her in a soothing voice. “You’re safe now, Megan. They can’t hurt you here.”

That wasn’t true, of course. They could drive up and shoot everyone. But Marc had already tried to make that point—and had failed.

Megan went on, her face now impossibly pale. “H-he hit me and grabbed my hair and told me that he was the law and if I didn’t do what he said I’d be in jail forever. I was so, so scared! So I did, and h-he…”

“He raped you.” Sophie finished for her.

Marc wanted to hit something, anything. He wanted to piss on Cross’s grave, to dig up his body just so he could spit on the bastard’s corpse. He wanted to find the guards who’d helped Cross and drill them through the skull with a forty-five—after feeding their dicks to a Doberman. He wanted to hurt them, make them pay for stealing the joy from his sister’s life.

Megan nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks, her voice quavering. “I-I was a virgin, and it hurt. Then he gave me a chocolate bar and told me to stop crying. After that it became a regular thing, sometimes every night depending on who was working. There were four of them, and they took turns on us, using their radios to keep track of the other guards.”

It seemed to Marc that the floor tilted beneath his feet.

Four of them?

Christ! Jesus Christ!

He felt sick, bile rising in the back of his throat.

Every one of those bastards deserved to die.

“And none of you ever got pregnant?”

Megan shook her head. “They wore condoms. ‘No babies, no DNA evidence,’ they said.
I hated them!
”

Marc swore under his breath. “Goddamn fucking bastards!”

And from inside his own mind came the unwelcome echoes of another night, another time he hadn’t been able to help his sister.

Let her go! Leave her alone! She’s my baby sister!

He broke into a sweat, guilt sliding thick and greasy through his gut. And yet even through the heat of his rage and regret, he was struck by how much stronger and calmer Megan seemed tonight than she’d been seven years ago. Though he’d heard some of this story before, Megan had been hysterical then, beyond his reach, and he’d had to piece it together. But tonight, Megan was telling the whole thing, from start to finish, and although she was visibly upset, she was clearheaded and coherent.

His little sister was finally beginning to heal.

Sophie fought back her tears, trying to grasp the horror of what had happened. Megan had been repeatedly raped by four guards while in Denver Juvenile, later killing Cross in a state of hysteria. To protect her, Hunt had taken the fall, enduring six years of hell on earth.

Why didn’t you tell me, Hunt? You should have told me.

She could feel Hunt’s desperation and rage building from across the room, and she couldn’t blame him. What had happened to his sister was unfathomable, unspeakable, unforgivable. But it was more than anger tearing him up, she knew.

Some part of him blamed himself.

She focused her attention on Megan, gave the young woman’s clammy fingers a reassuring squeeze. “What happened wasn’t your fault, Megan. Those men did something terrible. They had no right to touch you or hurt you, even if you were an inmate. They deserve to spend the rest of their lives in prison. We’re doing everything we can to make sure they don’t hurt anyone again.”

God, her words sounded so lame! But what could she possibly say that could offer Megan any comfort? Nothing.

“That’s right.” Connie spoke softly, still rocking the baby. “Those guards were supposed to watch over you. They betrayed that trust and abused you instead.”

“What they did was violent and shameful. A man is not a man who hurts women and children.” Pastor John rose, walked to the fireplace, and added another log to the flames. “It wasn’t your fault. You bear none of the shame.”

Megan seemed to hang on their words, looking from face to face, until her gaze came to rest on Sophie. “I got sick. A fever. Pain. They sent me to the infirmary. The doctor said I had a pelvic infection. I trusted the doctor, so I told him what was happening—a mistake.”

Sophie listened as Megan told her how the administration launched an internal investigation but refused to suspend the guards, only transferring them to the boys’ unit.

“I thought the guards would be punished, but the investigators twisted everything. They acted like we’d done something wrong. They said that we’d had sex with the guards so that we could get special favors.” Megan paused, still clinging tightly to Sophie’s hand. “Cross came to my room just before I was released. He told Char and me that if we ever mentioned this again, they’d kill us. And so I never said a word.”

“Until the afternoon you saw Cross again,” Sophie added.

Megan nodded, then buried her face in her hands and began to sob, her entire body shaking. “I-I didn’t mean to k-kill him. I-I didn’t think…I didn’t…”

Sophie reached to wrap her arm around Megan’s shoulder, but Hunt was there. He knelt before his sister, drawing her into his arms, murmuring words of comfort, the gentleness of his voice at odds with the violent expression on his face. While Megan wept, her face buried in her brother’s shoulder, he finished the story.

“Cross had come over to return my tool set, just like I told the police. Megan saw him, became hysterical, told me bits and pieces of what had happened, too incoherent to make much sense. But I understood enough. I confronted the bastard, ready to take him apart, only to have him laugh about it. I didn’t know she had my gun until she fired. By then it was too late.”

Sophie knew the rest. “Then you sent her away and took the blame. Was it the adult man who made that decision, or the terrified ten-year-old who still feels it’s his job to carry the world on his shoulders?”

He shot her a sharp glance, but didn’t answer her question, still stroking his sister’s brown hair. “I wiped her prints off the gun and sent her home. I thought that with my military record and no adult priors I’d get a lighter sentence than she would with her long history of drug arrests. I didn’t want her to have to testify. I didn’t want her to land back in prison. I didn’t think she could handle it, but I was sure I could. I had no idea how it would turn out.”

Megan lifted her head, a pleading look in her tear-filled eyes. “I-I’m so sorry, Marc! I-I let you take the blame, and I hate myself for it! The drugs made me forget for a while. I’d shoot up and forget what they’d done to me. I’d forget what I’d done. Sometimes I’d even forget you…forget that you were in prison, forget what I let you do for me. I’m so sorry! I d-don’t know why you even care about me!”

“You’re my sister, Megan.”

For awhile there was no sound except for Megan’s weeping. But there were still so many unanswered questions, so many things Sophie needed to know.

“Why did you take Emily and run, Megan?”

Megan sniffed, looked at Sophie. “I-I never should have let you interview me. They saw the articles and were afraid of what I’d told you. When I got out, one of them was waiting for me. He offered me heroin, tried to make me have sex with him, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t! I told him that if he didn’t leave me alone, I’d tell you everything, and he said he’d kill us both. I should have warned you, but I was so afraid. I took Emily and…”

More quiet sobs.

Sophie hated to push Megan, but needed to know. “Was John Addison one of them?”

Megan’s body went stiff, then she nodded, whispered,
“Yes.”

Sophie shuddered, realizing how close she had come. The bastard had tried to get into her cell! “Addison is dead. He’s gone, Megan. Who are the others?”

Megan didn’t seem to hear her.

Hunt met Sophie’s gaze, then looked down at his sister. “I’m taking you away from this, Megan. I’m taking you where they’ll never be able to find you or hurt you again. But Sophie needs to know who the other two are so she can protect herself.”

Megan sniffed. “Officer King.”

“Officer
Gary
King?” Sophie couldn’t believe it. He’d been with Julian when they’d rescued her from the cabin. He’d questioned her in the hospital. “Who else?”

“The Boss.” Megan shuddered. “That’s what they called him. But his last name is…Harburg. He was the worst. He offered me heroin and tried to make me have sex with him the first time I reported to his office. But I wouldn’t do it. He said he’d revoke my parole if I refused and kill me if I told you. So I took Emily and ran.”

Ken Harburg?

Sophie felt dizzy.

Hunt raised an eyebrow, his green eyes hard as jade. “The ‘nice’ parole officer?”

Her mind reeling, she tried to recall her last conversation with him. “At the restaurant, he asked if you’d told me where Megan was, and I said you hadn’t. Then I asked him to help me find that report.”

“And that night, knowing that you knew about them, they planted drugs in your car and your apartment.”

Sophie shivered. “I need to call Julian. I need to give him their names. He’ll find them, bring them in for questioning.”

“So now you trust me?”

Sophie’s head jerked around at the sound of the familiar, deep voice, the breath leaving her lungs in a rush.
“Julian!”

“Y
OU SHOULD HAVE
come to me with this, Sophie.” Julian stood in the doorway dressed entirely in black—black leather jacket, black turtleneck stretched over Kevlar, black jeans, black boots, black scowl on his face. His gaze passed over her and settled on Hunt, who was already on his feet, weapon pointed straight at Julian’s chest.

“No!” Heart pounding, Sophie jumped up and put herself in the line of fire between them. “Please, don’t do this! Please don’t!”

“Sophie, move!” the two men barked in unison.

“N-no! I won’t let you shoot each other!”

Somewhere nearby, Megan whimpered, the baby cried, and Connie muttered a prayer.

Julian looked past her. “He’s not going to shoot me.”

“You willing to bet your life on that, cop?” Hunt’s voice was ice-cold.

“I already have.”

And then Sophie saw.

Julian wasn’t holding a gun.

“H-he’s unarmed, Hunt. You can’t—”

“Like hell he is! He’s got a piece in a shoulder holster, and I bet he’s lethal on the draw.”

“If you wanted me dead, Hunter, I’d be dead.” Julian stepped sideways, making himself a target again. “You’re one hell of a shot. Set a new record for your sniper unit, didn’t you? Eighty-five confirmed kills.”

“Eighty-six.” Hunt held the gun steady, his gaze unwavering.

“Yeah, that’s right—eighty-six. Including that Taliban leader you took out from a hillside three quarters of a mile away. God knows how you were able to adjust for wind speed and bullet drop at that distance. That was one in a million. You’re deadly, Hunter—stone-cold. But you’re not a murderer—not yet, anyway.”

Sophie gaped at Julian in astonishment. He knew things about Hunt that she didn’t. And somehow he knew that Hunt was innocent. “You overheard—”

Julian cut her off, his gaze fixed on Hunt. “I’ve made it my business to learn everything about you, Hunter. I know how you stood by your mother, bouncing from foster home to foster home. I know you graduated from Grand Junction High School—two years ahead of Sophie. Is he the one you told Tessa about, Sophie? The school bad boy? Your first? The one who left to join the army the day after he took your virginity?”

Stunned, Sophie opened her mouth to speak, but Hunt beat her to it. “None of your goddamned business, cop.”

Julian took a step toward him. “I know you got a
D
in geometry and an
A
in astronomy. I know about your juvie record—petty theft, vandalism, a couple of fistfights. I know you straightened up enough to get into the army, then paid Uncle Sam back by kicking ass in Afghanistan. You earned a Bronze Star. In fact, you left with a chest full of ribbons, didn’t you? Not bad for a kid who grew up with an alcoholic, drug-addicted mother—and no father.”

Barely able to breathe, Sophie saw a muscle clench in Hunt’s jaw and wondered why Julian was doing this. Was he trying to provoke Hunt into firing?

Julian went on. “I know you came back to Denver to find Megan and signed up with the DEA, hoping to bring down dealers like the ones who helped destroy your mother. I know you found Megan, paid for her rehab, got her off the streets. I’ve memorized the court transcripts and your prison file. I know about the attacks in prison, about the inmates you protected, about the guard whose life you saved.”

“You’re a walking encyclo-fucking-pedia, Darcangelo.”

“All of that, together with the handful of clues Sophie gave me—the open-records request, the tip about the heroin, the other victims’ names—helped me to put most of it together. What I just overheard has filled in the blanks.”

“Is there a point to this, or are you stalling, waiting for backup?”

“I admire you, Hunter. You’ve earned my respect. Not every man would try so hard to turn his life around or care enough about his sister to get her off the streets. Not every man would go to prison for life to protect her. Don’t throw yourself away.”

“Cut the shit. How’d you find us?”

Julian met Sophie’s gaze, his eyes hard. “That was easy. The e-mail I sent Sophie this morning was embedded with a trace program. She opened it, and it downloaded to her hard drive, sending out a GPS signal over her wireless connection and monitoring her Internet activity. It’s a test program designed to help us locate online child predators. I saw she’d downloaded a map for this address, and I followed her GPS signal here.”

Sophie remembered how her computer had seemed to freeze when she’d opened that e-mail, and she felt like an idiot. “I-I didn’t know…”

“It’s all right, Sophie.” Hunt’s gaze stayed on Julian. “I don’t blame you.”

Then Pastor John seemed to remember this was his house. He stood, confusion and anxiety on his face, his gaze moving from Julian to Hunt and back again. “I don’t want violence in my home. And you, sir, I don’t know who you—”

“Easy, Hunter. I’m just getting my badge.” Julian slid his hand slowly inside his jacket, pulled out what looked like a black billfold, and flipped it open for Pastor John to see. “I’m Detective Julian Darcangelo with the Denver Police Department. I’ve come to take Hunter and his sister into custody.”

“Turn around and walk away, Darcangelo. Take Sophie with you, and guard her with your life. I’m leaving, and Megan and the baby are coming with me.”

Julian shook his head. “Over my dead body.”

Sophie’s mouth went dry.

M
ARC FIGURED HE
had three choices, and all of them sucked.

He could take out the cop—one clean shot between the eyes—except that Darcangelo was clearly one of the good guys. Besides, the man had a wife and a baby on the way, and he was a good friend to Sophie. Darcangelo had risked his life for her and would do all he could to protect her once Marc was gone. No, killing him wasn’t an option.

Marc could try to overpower him with a few nonlethal moves, but Darcangelo was clearly a pro and probably had a few moves of his own. If they got into a full-blown fight in this confined space, someone else would probably end up getting hurt.

Or Marc could trust Darcangelo, turn himself over to the police, let them take Megan—and hope for the best.

No fucking way.

“Why can’t you let them go, Julian?” Sophie’s voice took on a pleading tone.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that, Sophie, or I might feel insulted. I’m not the judge or the jury. I’m just an officer of the law, and right now the law says that Marc Hunter is a convicted murderer, an escaped fugitive.”

“But you know he’s innocent!”

“He’s not innocent!” The cop gave a snort. “He might not have killed that agent, but he tampered with a crime scene, perjured himself, assaulted a correctional officer, kidnapped you—or was the whole hostage scenario an act?”

Sophie’s head snapped back as if Darcangelo had struck her. When she spoke, her voice was almost a whisper. “It wasn’t an act. I thought he was going to kill me. I didn’t recognize him until later that night.”

Megan looked back and forth between Sophie and Marc. “Y-you took Sophie hostage?”

But Marc didn’t have time to explain. He didn’t like the direction the cop’s thoughts had taken. “Sophie’s not a part of this.”

Darcangelo glared at him, undisguised rage in his eyes. “You made her a part of this, you son of a bitch!”

It was the truth, and Marc hated himself for it. “Take her, and go. She’s why you’re here. Get her out of here, and keep her safe.”

Darcangelo crossed his arms over his chest and seemed to study him. “You’re pretty tough, Hunter, but do you really think you can do it with a woman and a baby? Cross the border, I mean. The place is a no-man’s-land. You got drug runners, coyotes, sex traffickers, border patrol—and they’re all armed to the teeth. Do you think your sister is up for that? Look at her. She’s been brutalized enough—her parents, those COs, drug dealers. Is life on the run what you really want for her?”

Hell, no, it wasn’t what Marc wanted for Megan—or for Emily—but it wasn’t like they had any other choice. “She’ll be safe with me.”

The pastor cleared his throat. “Why don’t you ask Megan what she wants?”

Julian nodded. “Good idea. Megan?”

Megan stood, her gaze fixed on Emily. “I-I’m tired of being afraid. I want this to be over. I want you to be free, Marc. I want my baby to be safe.”

Marc saw the anguish on Megan’s face, heard the longing in her voice, and felt something twist in his chest. “Megan, honey, there’s a chance they’ll lock you up for the rest of your life. You might never hold Emily again.”

Megan broke into desperate sobs. “I-I…d-don’t know…what else…to do!”

“Turn yourself in to me, Hunter, and I will make it my life’s mission to put away the bastards who hurt her. I’ll make sure she gets the help she needs. I’ll even testify on her behalf. And I’ll make sure you’re both kept in protective isolation in the city jail under DPD jurisdiction and not in DOC.”

Marc stared at him, astonished. “Why? Why would you do that for us?”

The cop glanced over at Megan, and for a moment his gaze softened. “Your sister is the victim of a crime. She deserves justice. She deserves a life. Her baby deserves a mother. As for you, well, you might be a scum-sucking bastard, but you’re not a murderer. You deserve justice, too.

“But more than that, Sophie is family to me, and she cares about you. She cares about you enough to put her entire future on the line to help you. That means I have to care about you—even if what I’d rather do is
kick your ass
. That good enough for you?”

Marc looked into the other man’s eyes and weighed what he saw there. “Swear you’ll look after Megan, Emily, and Sophie and keep them safe.”

Darcangelo met his gaze straight on. “You have my word as a cop—and a man.”

The room seemed to hold its breath.

And suddenly the gun felt so heavy in Marc’s hands. He lowered it, opened his fingers, let Darcangelo pull it from his grasp.

From nearby he heard the pastor’s wife let out a sigh. “Thank you, Jesus!”

“You’re doing the right thing.” Darcangelo tucked the gun inside his jacket, drew out his Nextel phone, then called someone named Irving and passed on the names of Megan’s attackers. “I don’t want to believe it either, but I’m willing to bet my badge it’s true. Thanks, chief.”

“You didn’t tell him about us,” Marc said after Darcangelo hung up.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to give your sister some privacy. We’ll roll into the station, nice and quiet, and by the time the media hears about it, you’ll already be inside.” He drew out a pair of handcuffs. “But apart from that, we do this by the book, Hunter. You know what that means.”

At the sight of the cuffs, Marc’s lungs seemed to implode, blood rushing to his head, his heart thudding in his chest. Willing himself not to panic, he sucked in a breath and assumed the position, forcing his feet apart, clasping his hands on top of his head.

What the fuck have you done, Hunter? You’re going back to prison.

“You have the right to remain—”

“Skip the sonata, Darcangelo. I know my rights.”

And as the cop patted him down, confiscating the other Glock, his spare magazine, and the keys to the Jag, Marc found himself clinging to the hope he saw in Sophie’s eyes.

S
OPHIE SAW THE
panic on Hunt’s face and watched him subdue it, breath by slow, steady breath, his gaze locked with hers as if she were his lifeline. She took a step toward him, wanting to touch him, to comfort him.

He shook his head, his jaw tight.

“No contact, Sophie.” Julian held up the handcuffs. “I know you’ve got a talent for breaking out of these, Hunter, but I’m going to ask you not to do that.”

Sophie heard Hunt’s quick intake of breath, saw his body jerk when the metal touched his skin. But he didn’t resist as Julian locked his arms behind his back, then forced him to sit in a nearby chair.

And then it hit her.

This was good-bye.

Julian would take him to the station. Hunt would be booked, strip-searched, maybe even put through a body-cavity search. Then he’d be locked down. And the next time she’d be able to see him would be…when?

Maybe never.

“Pastor, I’ll need you to follow me down to Denver in your car with Sophie and Emily. I have room only for two in my unit and no child seat. Why don’t the two of you go get the baby’s things and give Megan a moment to hold her?”

Pastor John helped his wife to stand, and Connie placed the distraught baby gently in Megan’s arms. Then the two of them made their way upstairs.

A dazed look on her tear-stained face, Megan sat in the rocker, her gaze fixed on her daughter. And, as Sophie watched, Megan began to sing, her voice quavering with tears. It was a song she’d obviously made up herself. “Baby Emily/You are so pretty/Mommy loves you with all her heart/She’s loved her girl right from the start.”

Tears blurred Sophie’s vision, spilled down her cheeks. She looked over at Hunt, saw him watching his sister, an expression of torment on his face.

God, this was unbearable, and it was happening so fast!

Julian stood next to the rocking chair and put his hand on Megan’s shoulder, his voice soothing. “I know it’s hard, Megan, but it’s for the best.”

Hunt shifted his gaze from his sister to Julian, and if looks could have killed, Julian would have been dead that instant.

H
IS INSIDES CHURNING
, Marc trudged through the snow around to the back of the house where Darcangelo had hidden his unit. Megan walked beside him, Darcangelo’s arm hooked through hers to keep her from slipping or falling down. He could tell from her irregular breathing that she was still crying, but he couldn’t see her face.

Despite her tears, she’d handled being separated from Emily much better than he would ever have imagined, giving the baby one last kiss, then handing her over to Darcangelo with a wobbly smile and thanking him, as if he’d done her a big favor.

“Make sure she stays warm,” she’d said.