Baby Girl Doe (Stephanie Chalice Thrillers Book 5) (26 page)

Raven and Raiden: 2012

R
aven reached out and reluctantly took Alana’s bag from her brother.
“Do I have to?”

“You know you do,” Ray said. “You think I went to all of this trouble for nothing?”

“But is she—”

“Look, the less you know the better. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? This is why you tried so hard to find me. You don’t want to be Raven Gallagher any longer, and I don’t want to be who I am either. This is how we get to do it.”

Raven took the wallet out of the handbag and began looking through it. She examined Alana Moore’s ID. “She looks nothing like me.”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s blond and you’re blond. You’re about the same age. That’s all it takes.”

“And no one’s going to ask questions?” she asked pointedly.

“No one’s going to ask questions? Are you nuts? There’ll be a million questions,” he blurted. “There will be a police investigation. I killed her, for God’s sake. I killed her for you.”

“But—I didn’t think—”

“Right, you didn’t think. More like you didn’t
want
to think. You thought someone was going to say, ‘Totally, take my identity. I want to disappear anyway.’ This is how it’s
done
, Raven. This is how it has to be done. This is the legacy our father left us when he turned you into a lab rat and stuck me in a retard home. The motherfucker,” he swore angrily. “This is the first step. It’s drastic I know, but there’s no other way.”

“Did you have to kill her?”

“Yes, Raven, I had to kill her.” He took hold of her arms. “She died so that you can live. She died so we can
both
live. Are you going to fall apart on me?”

“Ray, this is bad. It’s so fucking bad.”

“Look!” he yelled. “We’ve suffered our entire lives and for what? Our father was a spineless worm who couldn’t take care of his children. I want him dead and everyone else who screwed us over. It took us over twenty-five years to find each other, and now that we have . . . Look, I love you, Raven and I’m going to take care of us. We’ll go back to Long Island and no one will be the wiser. Alana Moore, the bumpkin farm girl . . . she’s just collateral damage.”

“But I thought—”

“That he died at birth?” Ambler asked.

“Yes.”

“I guess that’s what everyone was led to think, but Struthers is telling me he’s real and that he played a big role in Gus’ abduction.” Ambler sighed, looked around, and then brought his focus back to me. “I believe her. I think she’s just a dumb kid who got caught up in a plan of revenge. She and Raven—”

“I know. They’re lovers.”

Ambler shrugged. “Why else would anyone get involved in all of this stupidity? Only for love or money, and money doesn’t seem to be part of this equation.” Ambler shook his head woefully.

“They both have transgender tattoos. I guess to show they’re a couple. They also dressed as guys but I’m not sure if they did so because they are into cross-dressing or to disguise themselves.

A police officer sat in his car waiting for his onboard computer to spit out information on Raven’s brother. Multiple searches had already been run with variations of the name Raiden Claymore to no avail, but now that we had some hard details . . .

I prayed that the police computer would spit out an address.

Gus’ eyes opened when the car bounced off the curb and hit the pavement.
It was pitch black and it took a full minute for his head to clear sufficiently for him to understand that he was locked in a trunk with his wrists and ankles bound. The effects of the sedative were still working on him. His eyelids felt like lead and they continued to close even as he fought to awaken.
Christ, I’m so woozy.
He was bound tightly, and there was barely any room for him to move around within the tight confines of the trunk. He shook his head violently to get his blood pumping.
Think. Damn it. Think. What did they give me?
He rubbed his face on the abrasive trunk liner, anything to stir the senses and get himself going. The car hit a pothole, and he smacked his head on the trunk lid. His head stung like hell but the blow succeeded in bringing him around where his other attempts had failed.

He knew that newer model cars have glow-in-the-dark trunk release handles. Gus searched within the confines of the trunk and found it. The cable had been clipped, and the handle was lying on the floor of the trunk—useless. His eyes closed in despair, but only for a moment. The car bounced again, and this time his back pressed against the corner of the trunk support bracket. He squirmed until he was able to bring his wrists in contact with the unfinished steel bracket and rubbed his twine restraints against it.

~~~

I got excited when my cell phone rang. A call was coming in from Pulaski but the call dropped before I could answer it. “Shit!” I called him back, dying on the inside as the phone rang. “Pulaski?

~~~

Pulaski stepped through the front door and checked his cell phone to see if he had better reception outside than he had within the house—still no signal. He began walking down the block. One bar appeared. He dialed and continued to walk in the direction of the strengthening signal. “Chalice, the house is empty, but Gus must have been here. I found a pair of shackles around a support column in the basement, and there are injectable sedatives in the kitchen. Hold up.” A full minute passed before he came back on the line. “That was one of his neighbors. He said a car pulled out of the garage about fifteen minutes before we arrived. He didn’t know the make or model but he said it was a gold sedan.”

~~~

Gus felt the steel bracket cutting through the restraints and into his skin. He pulled against the restraints as best he could and heard some of the fibers begin to pop.
Thank God.
He continued to rub against the metal bracket, distracting himself from the pain by thinking forward to what he would do when his hands were finally free.

~~~

“That would put them about thirty minutes ahead of us,” I said over the phone to Pulaski, screaming so that he could hear me above the infernal chopper noise. “The only real ground route off the island is west on Route 27. Any other direction and they have to cross water.”

Ambler relayed my comment to the chopper pilot.

“We’ve got all the ferries and marinas covered, correct?”

“That’s affirmative, Chalice. Every water route is covered, one hundred percent,” Ambler said.

~~~

POP! Gus’s wrists were free. He tried to untie his legs, but there wasn’t enough trunk space for him to reach down by his ankles with both hands, and he couldn’t untie himself with just one hand. He had formulated a plan and was now ready to carry it out. He listened for road sounds while he got his hands into position. He could hear the noise of the car on the road surface and the hum of the running gear, but not the rumble of trucks, which meant that the car was moving rapidly but was not on a major expressway like the LIE.

He was becoming more and more awake with every passing second. He pried up the trunk mat and cover, which contained the spare tire and tire-change equipment. He could not lift the cover fully because he was lying on top of it but he pulled with all of his strength and the cover snapped. He removed the jack and jack handle.

~~~

We were flying at high speed over Route 27—any faster and we wouldn’t have been able to identify the cars as we shot past. A dozen law enforcement helicopters were in the air, scouting various routes. Kaley’s last call was made just minutes before she surrendered at the marina, a tipoff to Gus’ captor that she had been found. The call was traced to the location Pulaski had just called from.

All eyes were on the road as we tried to identify a gold sedan. We were so close to Gus I could feel it, but at the same time, I also felt an undercurrent of tragedy that wouldn’t be lifted until Gus and I were once again together.

~~~

Gus tried to pry the trunk latch free with the jack handle, but he could not get sufficient leverage to muscle it open. His movements were limited only to what he could accomplish with wrist movements.
Think, Lido. Think! At least my hands are free. If he comes at me with a syringe again, I’ll . . . Wait a minute. Got it!

There was just enough room for Gus to insert the jack handle into the jack. Using small wrist movements he was able to ratchet the jack open until he had it tightly wedged between the steel trunk liner and the trunk latch. With each click of the ratchet, the force required to expand the jack grew greater and greater. The jack was almost fully expanded. With the jack at near maximum extension there was just enough light spilling in around the trunk seal for him to see the remaining notches on the jack—there were only two left. He worked his forearms with every last ounce of strength. The jack ratcheted up another notch, one from the last.
Shit!

~~~

There were only about two miles to go before tributary roads would branch off Route 27 and lead to major parkways and expressways.
And then what? He’ll slip through our fingers again? Please, God, no.

I was becoming discouraged again and was fighting off tears when I saw a car’s gold roofline in the distance.

“Is that it?”

Both Ambler and the pilot trained their eyes on the gold sedan. Just as they did, the trunk popped open and I saw him—I saw Gus. “Oh my God.” I could see the strain on his face as he sat up and tried to untie the rope around his ankles.

The chopper pilot was on the loudspeaker instructing the driver to pull off to the side.

Ambler was on the phone calling for backup.

The sound of police sirens filled the air as the chopper descended onto a field just north of the roadway.
The door opened, and the driver ran from the sedan. I had the chopper hatch open and was out the door before the chopper touched down. I hit the ground running.

The driver had taken off and was heading south of the roadway, across an open field.

I saw Gus and choked up realizing that I couldn’t go to him yet.
I’m sorry
.
Just a few more minutes. I’ll wrap my arms around you after I see this all the way through.
I ached so badly. I wanted to run to him and hold him but I couldn’t. I had to end this thing now.

Most of the cars had slowed but not to a full stop. I zigzagged between the two opposing lanes of traffic as I gave pursuit.

The driver was in a flat-out run, but I was not going to be beaten. Not now, not with Gus’ captor in sight. I reached down deep and found an extra gear, one that I didn’t know existed. I was running so fast, I felt as if I could take off. I was closing in on him: two yards behind . . . one . . .

I lunged and took him down by the ankles. As he attempted to kick free, I pounced upon him, fists flying. I hauled back and was ready to pummel him when I froze.
“You? It’s you?”
The face I was about to strike was one I had seen before. This man was the one who told me there was absolutely nothing suspicious about the fire the day I first inspected the remains of Bill Alden’s cottage. Two bodies, burnt beyond recognition—now I understood who would use that specific MO.
Dummy, you couldn’t make the connection?

It was the fire inspector, Jay Charnoff.

“You son of a bitch.” I heard the sound of others running toward me, but my fist was clenched.

“Chalice, we’ve got him,” Ambler said. “Don’t!”

There was no force on heaven or earth strong enough to keep me from striking him, this man who had turned my family’s world upside down and put my husband’s life at risk. I drove my fist into his jaw and heard it crack. I was ready to hit him again when someone grabbed my arm. I looked up and saw Gus. His cheek was swollen, and there was dried blood on his face.

“Thanks, babe,” he said, “I’ll take it from here.”

“Stephanie, I want to go home.”

“Tomorrow, babe, the doc says you’ve got to stay overnight.”

“But I’m fine,” Gus frowned. “I want to see the little guy.”

“Me too, but you’re dehydrated and they have to make sure all the sedatives have been flushed out of your system. You need your fluids and a good night’s sleep.”

He flexed, making a point of his rock-solid bicep. “I’m strong as a bull. I can take on a toddler.”

“Max isn’t walking yet.”

“Your point?”

“He’s not a toddler yet. He sleeps, crawls, poops, spits up, gushes, and laughs . . . those are your options.”

“Seriously?”

I snuggled close to Gus on his hospital bed. “I’m so glad the doctors finally left you alone. All that poking and prodding . . . that’s my job.” I gave Gus a big kiss on the lips and then I just couldn’t wait any longer. “I hope you’re up to this.” I probed his mouth long and deep. He seemed to enjoy the passionate kiss, and as far as I could tell, all of his snogging equipment was in fine working order. “Let’s see an EMT pull that one off.”

“Ya see,” Gus said, “I’ve got the best canoodler on the planet taking care of me. That’s got to beat the hell out of a bagful of electrolytes.”

“Look. Get your strength back. We’ve got a private room. As soon as the sun sets I’m going to lock the door and . . .”

“And what?” he asked impishly.

“Let’s put it this way, I’m not gonna go easy on you. I want to make sure you’re roadworthy before I sign your discharge papers and take you home.” I played with his freshly showered curls. “What do ya say, muscles? Wanna make out?”

“My lips are yours, gorgeous.”

I heard a knock on the door followed by an exaggerated,
“A-hem.”

Commissioner Bratton stood at the door, waiting for us to acknowledge him. I did far more than that. I jumped off the bed and threw my arms around him. My emotions were still out of check. A few tears drizzled down my cheek. “Commissioner, so nice of you—”

“Call me, Joe,” he said in a warm tone. He looked over at Gus. “Is this the guy causing all the fuss? He looks like he can handle himself.” I released the commissioner from my grasp, and he walked over to Gus. “Joe Bratton,” he announced as they shook hands. “Glad to see you’re up and around, son. I heard you’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

“Thanks for stopping by,” Gus said. “Stephanie told me you were instrumental in finding me.”

“Me? Instrumental? Your wife deserves all the credit. I don’t think she ate, slept, or drank, the entire time you were missing. I wish I had the two of you out here in Suffolk County working for me.”

“Is that a job offer?” I asked with a smile.

“Sure. But I think the NYPD commissioner might have me iced for pulling a stunt like that,” he chuckled. “Look, I’m sure you want your privacy. I just stopped by to give you something.” He reached into a small shopping bag and handed me a flat, gift-wrapped box.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s an iPad and a hard drive.”

Gus looked puzzled.

I was too.

“A
particular
iPad and hard drive,” he said with emphasis.

“
Oh!
Got it. Thanks so much.”

“My pleasure,” Bratton said. “I figure we can make our case without this one specific piece of evidence, don’t you?”

“Yes. I’m sure you can.” I kissed Bratton on the cheek. “It’s the trash heap for these.”

“I figured you’d want the pleasure of destroying them yourself.”

“I don’t get it,” Gus said. “Why do we want to trash a new iPad?

Bratton laughed. “And on that note . . .”

“I’ll tell you later, babe.”

“Get well soon.” Bratton and Gus shook hands again, and I walked him to the door.

“How can I ever thank you for all of your help, Commissioner?”

“Help me?” He laughed. “You brought three desperate criminals to justice and solved half a dozen homicide cases. Trust me, darlin’, you’ve thanked me plenty. Gus is safe and sound. All’s well that ends well, as the saying goes.” His voice turned to a whisper. “And if you ever want to leave the Big Apple . . .” He winked and gave me a Vulcan salute just like my dear departed friend, Chief of D’s Sonellio, used to. “Live long and prosper.”

“You too, Commissioner. Live long and all that jazz.” He smiled and walked away.

I plopped back onto Gus’ bed. “I guess I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

“And I thought I had the tough part, sitting in a basement chained to a support column. So what’s with the iPad?”

“Home movies.”

“Of us?”

I nodded with big eyes. “U-huh.”

The news seemed to shock him. He shook his head in dismay. “Unbelievable. Do we at least look good?”

“Look good? I’ve gotten seven-figure offers from Wicked Pictures and Naughty America. Do we look good? Does a chicken have lips?” It was almost too good to be true. Gus was only back a couple of hours, and yet here we were laughing and joking as if nothing had ever happened. I guess neither of us was ready to talk about all of the ugly details that had led to his abduction—one day soon, but not now.

You know what they say.
You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.
I was just so happy to have Gus back. The idea of losing him tore me apart inside, the idea of him dying . . . well, a good wife couldn’t just give that one a pass. I couldn’t just accept the fact that he was back without worrying what might happen the next time. Ma had always warned me about the perils of police work . . . and as always, Ma was right.

Gus was dozing, and my eyes were half shut as the sun set outside the hospital window. I didn’t know if either of us would have the strength to consummate an evening of wild and risky reunification sex in a hospital room, but if he was up to it . . .

There were more people at the door. I turned to see the smiling faces of Ambler, Ma, Ricky, and little Max.

“What in the world?” I cried. The crew filed into the room. “
Shhh
. He’s sleeping,” I whispered.

“Nonsense,” Ma blurted. “I didn’t risk life and limb in a helicopter just to keep my mouth shut.” She rushed to the bed and began slobbering kisses and tears all over Gus. She squeezed him so tightly I thought he’d have to spend the night on a ventilator.

“I love you too, Ma,” Gus groaned, awakening from slumber.

I barely gave him time to open his eyes before placing his son in his arms. The little guy smiled and the big guy cried; then we all joined in the tear-fest.

“Maxwell Francis Lido, you’re awfully small to go for a ride in an FBI helicopter. You must’ve done something seriously naughty.”

“He did.” Gus smiled and kissed his son on the head. “He made the Most Wanted list.”