Caged (35 page)

‘If you can spare the time,’ Sam said.

‘I wouldn’t bother with sarcasm either,’ Dooley told him.

‘I’d very much like to understand,’ Grace said. ‘I’m very confused.’

‘I expect you are,’ Simone said.

‘I thought . . .’ Grace stopped.

‘What?’ Simone said. ‘That I liked you?’

‘Yes,’ Grace said. ‘You said as much, so I believed you.’

‘I guess that makes me a liar.’

Grace was staring at her, struggling to reconcile this person with the capable, kindly woman in the Opera Café, with the weary daughter she’d taken to visit her sick mother. And she realized abruptly that she didn’t even know the nature of her mother’s illness, had assumed it was either a form of dementia or perhaps stroke, had not felt it her place to ask.

‘What happened to you, Simone?’ she asked now.

Psychologists seldom asked questions like that of their patients, but this was no consultation, and Grace found that she wanted, needed, to know, and maybe, in any case, dialogue might buy them a little more time.

‘To make me do things like this?’ Simone shrugged. ‘I like it. It makes me feel alive.’

‘Don’t tell her anything you don’t want to,’ Dooley said.

Still protecting her, Sam registered. Not quite everything a lie then.

‘I don’t mind,’ Simone said. ‘After all, we know it’s going to be over after this.’

‘For them,’ Dooley said. ‘Not us.’

‘Over for us too,’ she said. ‘At least for now.’

ONE HUNDRED AND TWELVE

M
artinez and Saul were at the café.

Too late to break in.

Black-and-whites everywhere.

‘Damn it,’ Martinez said. ‘Drive on.’

He was pissed as hell on one hand that the guys had beaten him to it, had thought they might focus on the Becket house first, but he had no business being surprised, and he guessed it proved the doc’s point, proved that even mentally he was unfit for work – and it was fine that Sam and Grace’s abduction had brought all hands on deck. Except Martinez badly needed to help, to do something.

Not here.

He was glad now that Saul had insisted on driving, and Martinez had griped when he’d seen the old Dodge pick-up Saul was using for business, but now he figured that at least the guys were less likely to spot him than in his own car.

The last thing he wanted was to be stopped, ordered to go home.

‘So what do we do now?’ Saul asked.

‘Just drive,’ Martinez said. ‘Give me time to think.’

Except his brain was still mush, home probably the only place he was fit for.

Not going there yet, no way.

Over his dead body.

ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN

‘
H
ow long have you been together?’ Sam asked.

‘A long time now,’ Dooley said.

Over on the screen on the wall, the silent movie still played, casting shadows over the cage, and Sam had sat down again because it was less confrontational plus he was closer to Grace, and she’d gotten a dialogue going with them, and this was the right way, the only way to go.

‘Where did you meet?’ Grace asked.

It was hard for her to believe she could go on formulating questions and controlling responses even now, yet if the nakedness was about power, then continuing this was more than just a means to gain information or even of delaying tactics.

It was a measure of defiance, for now all they had.

And it seemed, at least for the time being, that the killers wanted to talk.

‘We both worked in a restaurant over in Naples,’ Dooley answered. ‘I found Simone in a storeroom late one night after everyone else had gone home. She was hurting herself. Cutting herself with a knife.’ He paused. ‘That’s what they’d done to her.’

‘Who?’ Grace asked, and it seemed that Dooley, more than Simone, was the one choosing to talk, either because he wanted to unload or just because it suited him. ‘That’s what
who
did to her?’

‘The perfect couple,’ Dooley answered. ‘Celine and Dougie Regan. Her wonderful parents.’

‘They were very gifted,’ Simone said. ‘They ran their own restaurant in Sarasota. Everyone thought they were the most talented, charming couple, and they loved each other and they were beautiful too.’

‘So beautiful they used to torture their kid,’ Dooley said.

‘Torture,’ Simone said, ‘is a strong word.’

‘They used to scald her, burn her,’ Dooley said. ‘Sometimes they just hit her with pots or pans. They always did it together.’

‘They hit me so hard once,’ Simone said, ‘I was in the hospital for a while.’

‘Weren’t they prosecuted?’ Sam tried not to let cynicism leak into the words, though everything that came out of these two felt like lies to him now, and he wondered how far Alvarez and Riley and the squad had come, and so long as Cathy was OK and able to tell them, they’d know by now who had taken them.

‘I didn’t tell anyone they’d done it,’ Simone said. ‘No one would have believed me.’

‘Why not?’ Grace asked. ‘I believe you.’

Simone made a scornful sound. ‘I ran away instead. Took the bus to Naples and learnt to get by.’

‘On work and dreams,’ Dooley said, then looked at Grace. ‘I expect you’d like to know what kind of dreams.’

‘Only if Simone wants to tell me,’ Grace said.

Sam knew she was playing their game with them, was aware she was being toyed with, and yet she was moving steadily on with it, and he was, as he’d so often been, filled with admiration for her.

‘My, what a tactful shrink,’ Dooley said. ‘They’re not all as patient as you.’

‘I’d like to hear about Simone’s dreams,’ Sam said.

‘She didn’t want to tell me about them in the beginning,’ Dooley said, ‘but I was gentle with her, and she began opening up. She said if I really knew her thoughts I’d run, think she was crazy, but I told her that I had “thoughts” too – which was true, by the way, just in case you think I was using her – and I’d never found anyone I could talk to like I could to her.’

‘He said we were meant to be,’ Simone said.

‘And wasn’t I ever right?’ Dooley said.

‘You always are,’ she said.

That tenderness again, perhaps for real, Sam acknowledged, yet now every to-and-fro between them made his flesh creep.

He faked a cough, used the small convulsive jolt of his body to take another yank at the chain.

‘You pull away, big guy,’ Dooley said. ‘But I bought the strongest.’

‘Can’t blame a man for trying,’ Sam said.

‘Were you bored?’ Simone asked suddenly, a new sharpness to her tone. ‘Were we boring you with my story?’

‘I think you’re right,’ Dooley said to her.

He took two steps closer to the outer bars and Grace experienced a new rush of terror, felt he was going to do something now, enter the cage and punish Sam.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘Wasn’t you who faked the cough,’ Dooley said.

Sam looked through the bars down at the other man’s sneakers and found himself suddenly
willing
him to come inside, because if the sonofabitch came close enough for him to make a grab, he could maybe tackle him, bring him down.

‘I wouldn’t even think about it if I were you,’ Simone said.

Neither Sam nor Grace spoke.

Dooley stayed right where he was, smiling.

‘You need to take this woman seriously, guys,’ he said.

Sam looked up at him, unblinking.

‘Oh, we do,’ he said.

ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN

M
artinez and Saul sat in the pick-up outside Saul’s apartment building.

‘What do we do now?’ Saul asked.

He could feel the cracks beginning to show.

The agony of what had already happened.

What still might. What might be happening even as they sat here.

Useless.

The loss of Teté came back again.

He’d loved her, and he loved Grace, but his big brother was the lion of his life.

‘What do we
do
?’ he asked again.

‘I do the only thing I can,’ Martinez said, feeling the young man’s pain. ‘Go join the squad, make damned sure we find them fast.’

‘What if they won’t let you?’ Saul said.

‘They’ll let me,’ Martinez said.

Saul looked at him and believed him.

‘You doing OK?’ he asked.

‘I’ll only be doing OK,’ Martinez said, ‘when we get Sam and Grace back home where they belong.’

ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN

‘
S
imone’s mother’s in a nursing home,’ Cathy said suddenly.

She was still with Beth Riley in the Violent Crimes office.

Everyone else out on the streets looking, without a clue where
to
look, and Riley was itching to be out there too, but Alvarez had ordered her to stick with Cathy in case there was one still-buried piece of information left to drain from the young woman.

And now, abruptly, here it was.

Might
be, Riley told herself.

‘Grace drove her there only last . . .’ Cathy shut her eyes, fought to remember, dug it up. ‘Last Monday,’ she said. ‘Simone was having one of her migraines.’

‘She gets bad migraines?’ Riley made a note.

Cathy nodded. ‘Or she says she does.’ She put one hand over her eyes for a moment, trying to drag up details. ‘Grace came to the café Monday afternoon – she’d brought flowers to thank them for this dinner they’d helped me make for them a few days before, and I told Grace that Simone’s car was in the workshop—’

‘What car does she drive?’

‘I don’t remember, I hardly ever saw it.’ Cathy shook her head, mad at herself. ‘It was red, I know that, and small.’ She shut her eyes again. ‘Two doors. I can’t tell you the make, I’m sorry.’

‘You know which workshop she used?’ Riley asked.

‘No.’ Cathy clenched her right hand, pounded it suddenly on her thigh. ‘God, I’m worse than useless.’

‘You’re doing great,’ Riley told her. ‘Go on about that afternoon.’

Cathy took a breath, got back on track. ‘Grace told me later that the home seemed nice, that a woman at reception said Simone was a wonderful daughter.’ Her mouth compressed bitterly. ‘Wonderful.’

‘Did Grace tell you the name of the home?’

‘No, but Simone told me it was off Indian Creek Drive, just a few blocks south from the café.’

‘But she never told you the name?’

‘Not that I remember.’ Cathy paused. ‘Grace might have told Mildred, though, because she was minding Joshua that day, so she’d have been home when Grace got back.’

Riley was already keying in David Becket’s number.

She had the name less than three minutes later.

‘It was the James L. Burridge Care Home,’ Mildred said. ‘I asked Grace for the name because it sounded like a nice place, and you never know when you might hear of someone in need.’

‘Burridge,’ Riley said. ‘You’re sure, Ms Bleeker?’

‘I’m sure,’ Mildred said. ‘I hope it helps.’

Alvarez came in as Riley was printing out the details.

‘Cathy’s given us something,’ she told him, grabbing the printout from the machine. ‘Regan’s mother’s nursing home.’

‘Let’s go,’ he said.

Cathy was on her feet. ‘Can I come along?’

‘Afraid not,’ Alvarez said.

‘We’ll get you taken to Dr Becket’s,’ Riley said.

‘That’s just going to be a waste of your time,’ Cathy said, ‘and anyway, I don’t want to sit at David’s pretending not to be going crazy.’

‘I’m sure he could use your company,’ Riley said.

They were out of the office, already on the stairs, Alvarez ahead and moving fast.

‘He has Mildred and Saul and Joshua,’ Cathy said. ‘And you never know, I might remember something else.’

‘OK,’ Alvarez said, ‘you can come, but I need your word you’ll keep your mouth shut at the nursing home, or we’ll lock you in the car.’

‘That’d be against the law,’ Cathy said.

‘So sue us,’ Riley said.

ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN

G
race was shivering, mad at herself for showing weakness, but finding it beyond her control.

‘Please.’ Sam tried again. ‘Grace is really cold. Couldn’t you please just find something to cover her with?’

‘If you’re concerned about her catching a chill,’ Simone said, ‘I wouldn’t be.’

‘Oh, what the hell,’ Dooley said.

A wisp of humanity left in him, Sam wondered, maybe even of shame.

And
maybe
, with that, a scrap of hope for them.

Dooley stepped away back into the dark beyond the scope of the light bulb, came back holding something.

He took a key from a pocket in his tracksuit pants.

‘Are you sure?’ Simone asked.

‘Won’t make any difference to us now,’ Dooley said.

Sam saw her shrug, and maybe Regan did defer to him, even if Dooley had said this was her ‘fantasy’, and Sam logged that mentally, getting down every tiny detail that might possibly help them get out of this mess alive.

The cage gate opened and Dooley stepped inside.

The thing in his left hand was a filthy white towel.

He turned to Simone, nodded to her, and she followed him through.

‘You give it to her,’ Dooley said, and passed her the towel.

And was there a little propriety in that, Sam wondered, and might their ‘friendship’, monstrous sham as it was, nonetheless be making this a little less easy for Dooley? Maybe, despite himself, the man felt some respect for Grace, or maybe some of his fondness for Cathy had been real. And Sam was trying not to think about Cathy and what this was going to do to her, though it was
he
who’d brought these people into their lives, not her . . .

Simone threw the towel on to Grace’s knees, stepped quickly back.