HARD FAL (22 page)

Her vision tunneled to focus on the little girl who stood frozen. Lucy barely registered the dark van with its rear doors open parked between the girl and the end of the drive. Or the flames marking the Dumpster’s movement as it finished its arc by slamming into the Tahoe’s rear driver’s side panel.

Taylor pressed his face against his window, watching as they skidded in front of the girl, while Lucy furiously spun the wheel back the opposite way to avoid going a full 180 and risk hitting the girl with the rear of the SUV. Instead she aimed for the wall of the building opposite them. They’d slowed enough that was the safest course for everyone.

The SUV hit the wall. Taylor’s laptop flew past Lucy, careening into the back seat. The airbags deployed, filling the passenger compartment with smoke and powder and swaths of fabric dropping from the ceiling as well as bursting free from the dashboard.

The Dumpster lurched to a stop, bouncing off their rear quarter, in effect swapping positions with the original angle of the SUV that now sat stopped, blocking the road horizontally.

“Can you see her?” Lucy asked Taylor, choking on the smoke. Her seat belt had tightened and wasn’t helping; she could barely draw in a breath. Never mind the red-hot blaze of pain racing up her leg. “Did I hit her? Are you okay?”

She raised her head, trying to see through the windshield. A rush of cold air and water hit her from Taylor’s side of the vehicle. Still stunned, she swung around to face him, just as he yelled something incomprehensible.

His body was dragged from the vehicle and out into the night.

She blinked, trying to focus, the airbag smoke burning her eyes. A man. A man had Taylor.

It took two tries to get her seatbelt unfastened. She drew her weapon but Taylor and his abductor had moved far enough away that she had no shot—and no cover, not sitting in the vehicle.

Her door opened with a groan of metal. She slid out, forgetting how high the Tahoe was, but her good foot caught the running board in time to save her from a fall. Adrenaline swept away the pain as she landed on the pavement and stumbled around the backside of the SUV, using it as cover. The Dumpster was behind her, only five or six feet away, the heat of the flames rising over its sides warming her back.

She barely noticed. All her focus was on Taylor. The man used him as cover, couldn’t be much taller than Taylor’s own five-seven. He must have come prepared because he was forcing Taylor to place handcuffs on himself as he dragged them back, a semi-automatic pistol held to Taylor’s head. It could have been Taylor’s own service weapon.

She aimed her Glock but the girl stood between her and the man. And the man was smart enough to stay behind Taylor, the only part of him exposed was his arm holding the weapon. Taylor snapped the handcuffs shut and raised his head, his expression a mix of shock and fear.

“Stop!” Lucy shouted over the roar of the flames behind her and the sound of the rain. “Federal agents. Put your weapon down.”

She wasn’t expecting the man to obey—it was clear this was a well-planned attack—but hoped he might stop to answer, giving her a few more precious seconds to find the shot she needed. They were almost to the rear of the van.

Lucy moved forward, her weapon trained on Taylor and the man. She had almost reached the little girl who still wasn’t moving, hadn’t even turned to watch the commotion behind her. Least of Lucy’s worries. If she let Taylor get inside that van…

“You know what I want,” the man shouted, raising his head just enough for Lucy to see that he wore a ski mask. “Call me when you have it.”

They reached the open rear door of the van. Lucy braced herself. There’d be a moment, just a moment, when the abductor would need to show himself as he loaded Taylor inside. That’s when she’d take him down.

The abductor swung Taylor around, ready to push him into the van. Lucy forced herself to slow her breathing. Get ready, get ready… In the instant before the abductor would have been exposed, he lowered his weapon.

Just long enough to shoot a puddle standing between him and the girl.

Fire blazed up from the pavement. Lucy blinked against the sudden light as she realized the attacker had done more than prepare a diversion with a puddle of gasoline. He’d left a trail of it leading to where the girl stood.

Her aim remained on the attacker who waited, his mouth a pale, twisted goblin grin in the light of the fire, the rest of his face concealed by the mask. The fire raced toward the girl.

Taylor met Lucy’s gaze. His eyes were wide, his chest heaving, but he gave her a nod. She’d already made her choice, was holstering her weapon even as she spun toward the girl who stood perfectly still, although there was no way she couldn’t sense the fire rushing toward her.

As Lucy lurched to reach the girl, her bad leg slowing her, the man threw Taylor into the van and hopped in after him, slamming the door shut. Lucy traced the trajectory of the flames—she was too slow, she wasn’t going to reach the girl in time.

The van sped off. Lucy closed the distance, was only a few feet away when the flames hit the puddle where the girl stood waiting. Fire gushed through the air. Lucy pushed off with her good foot and leapt.

She tackled the girl, cradling the girl’s head in her arms, and rolled them free from the puddle of gasoline, flames following them as the girl’s nightgown caught fire. Lucy rolled them on the wet pavement, once, twice, then stopped as the flames died and they were clear of the blaze.

She pushed up, her elbows scraped, leg crying for mercy, and examined the girl. No injuries except some redness to her feet and ankles, and the bottom of her nightgown was singed.

Running footsteps came up from behind her. The patrolman who’d been guarding the entrance to their crime scene. He had his weapon drawn and was yelling into his radio. Lucy glanced down the drive just in time to see the van careen onto the main road and vanish from sight.

“I need an ambulance and road blocks—they took Taylor!” she shouted over the rushing in her head.

She knew she needed to slow down, but the adrenalin flooding her system was in control of the moment. She sat on the filthy pavement, water splashing around her, fire in front of her and behind her, and couldn’t tell if her face was wet with rain or tears as she hugged the girl to her chest.

“What took you so long?” she asked the patrolman as he bent to see if either she or the girl were injured.

“You kidding?” he replied, his voice coming in a staccato as he heaved in one breath after another. “Broke my record for the forty. It all happened so fast.”

Sirens and lights filled the street behind her as Burroughs and the other cops arrived. The Dumpster and Tahoe blocked their path, stymieing any attempt at pursuit. Burroughs jumped out of his Impala and ran over to her. “Lucy, what happened?”

She squeezed her eyes, looked away. “Taylor. He took Taylor.”

Chapter 30

LUCY SOMEHOW MANAGED
to get a call into the on-duty agent at the federal building to send the alert of Taylor’s abduction and set up a trap on her cell phone as well as Taylor’s. That would track any incoming or outgoing calls as well as activate the GPS locators. When she finished she stared at her phone and couldn’t remember if she’d actually made the call or had only imagined it.

The girl cradled in her lap hadn’t said a word, hadn’t moved. “It’s okay,” Lucy murmured, stroking her hair and bending over her to shield her from the chaos surrounding them. “You’re safe now.”

The girl didn’t even blink. She stared at the spot where the van had been.

“Do you know your name?” Lucy asked. Missy Barstow had been only ten months old when she’d been abducted. She couldn’t be one hundred percent certain this girl was Missy, but she bore a strong resemblance to her parents’ pictures from the case file.

The girl’s face went blank as she considered the question. She didn’t look at Lucy as she answered. “Girl.”

The single word was heart wrenching. Lucy buried her face in the shoulder of her parka, wiping away water and hiding her expression. Bastard, she thought, rage drowning out any thought of professionalism. There was no hell, no torture heinous enough for the man who called himself Daddy.

“Your name, your real name,” Lucy told the girl once she composed herself, “is Missy Barstow. Your mommy and daddy—your real daddy—have been looking for you for a long, long time. They miss you very much and will be so happy to have you back.”

The girl’s face remained blank but she clenched both fists and drew them up to her chest as if warding off an attack. “I want Daddy. I was a good girl. He said to stand still and I did, no matter what, I did. Where’s Daddy?”

Lucy had no strength left to answer, so she simply hugged the girl tighter. Burroughs finished delegating tasks to the officers and joined them. He crouched down and gave the girl a warm smile. “Hi sweetie. Let’s get you out of this rain.”

He lifted her from Lucy’s arms and transferred her into the shelter of the wrecked Tahoe while they waited for the ambulance. She didn’t resist, wouldn’t even look Burroughs in the eye, just kept turning her head to stare in the direction the van had taken.

Lucy trudged after them, rain battering her from all directions, yet she felt nothing.

“Guess we know why he planted those drivers’ licenses,” Burroughs said, standing outside and leaning against the open rear door of the Tahoe, shielding Lucy and the silent girl from the weather. “It was a trap. This guy’s got balls, I’ll say that for him. No way after what happened down at the waterfront today would you resist coming to see the actor who tried to grab that girl. But why target you? Thought you said he was after June Unknown and her husband.”

The ambulance arrived, sparing Lucy the need to answer. Good thing since she had no answers, just an idea that scared the crap out of her. Had she told Taylor where June and Seth were? She couldn’t remember.

“Lend me your phone,” she asked Burroughs. She didn’t want to tie hers up in case Taylor’s abductor tried to call. Burroughs stood, looming over her as she dialed Walden, obviously intent on listening in. But the paramedics moved him aside as they transferred the girl to their stretcher.

“You need checked out, ma’am?” one of them asked, nodding to Lucy’s scrapes along her palms and arms.

She was waiting for Walden to pick up and spared the paramedic only a cursory shake of her head before closing the door on him, Burroughs, and the chaos of the scene.

“Yeah, Boss,” Walden answered. “Just heard about Taylor. We’ll turn around.”

“No,” she ordered. “You need to get to the house and evacuate everyone. Take them someplace safe. Don’t tell me where, not until this is all finished.”

Oshiro’s voice came through. “You think he took Taylor to get intel on June’s location?”

Not June’s, Seth’s. If her theory was correct, Daddy needed to know if one of the dead men had given him up. But it was still just a theory, so she didn’t waste energy on words. As soon as she knew Nick and Megan were clear of the situation, she would confront Seth herself. “Keep my family safe, Timmy.”

“Yes, ma’am. They’re in good hands.”

“How close are you?”

“Pulling into the drive now,” Walden replied. “Sorry it took us so long—there was a wreck on 22.”

“Didn’t you say Taylor’s banana mobile was here?” Oshiro asked. “I don’t see it.”

That would explain a lot. “Walden, call me once you’re inside and secure.”

She hung up and tried Megan’s number again. “Seth. We need to talk. I know about the men. About Sacramento, DesMoines, Bakersfield, New Orleans, St. Louis. Daddy took Taylor. He might be going after June and my family next. Call me. I know you want to do this alone, but you’ll get a good man killed. You need to let me help.”

A knock in the window startled her. She glanced up to see John Greally standing there, his expression a professional mask studded with cracks chiseled by worry and anger. She unlocked the door and he opened it, sliding in beside her, and closing it once more.

“Tell me everything,” he commanded.

She did, leaving out only her suspicions about Seth. No proof and no relevance to any official strategies to rescue Taylor.

“The fire was headed toward the girl,” she finished. “Our subject stood, watching. He knew I had no time to take the shot and save Taylor, he knew I had to choose. So did Taylor.” Her voice dropped but still sounded much too loud in the hollow confines of the SUV. “I let him take Taylor.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, then Greally the ASAC morphed into Greally her friend and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She was glad for the tinted glass giving them privacy.

“Taylor knows you had no choice,” Greally said. “Even if you did, he would have wanted you to save the girl.”

“I’m so sick and tired of being backed into a corner. Of doing the right thing yet still losing.”

“It’s not a game, Lucy.”

“Tell that to the guys at OPR when they play Monday morning quarterback and dissect my every move. I allowed a serial killer with no conscience to abduct one of my men. Take him right in front of me while I had a weapon trained on him. I’m finished, Greally. This is it.”

He moved his arm away from her and turned in his seat to face her, his expression stern. “Is that self-pity I’m hearing, Special Agent?”