Return to Poughkeepsie (34 page)

McHugh had extra officers from surrounding counties and SWAT teams scoping out all the Baker’s Realty properties they could find. He was damn happy he’d found the kid and McHugh had gotten a girl, but neither had been Livia, and she was his ultimate goal.

He called the tall man who procured items. “Milton, you got an invite for me? And how about a tux? Looks like I’m headed to a party.”

He needed his hands around that bitch’s throat to get her to talk.

26

Thank You

J
UST
L
IKE
T
HE
L
AST
D
AMN
P
ARTY
Mary Ellen had insisted on, this one had turned to spectacular disaster. The crowd had nearly rioted as they watched the little boy freed, and only quick action by Mary Ellen’s people and several in the crowd who evidently still had loved ones in play had prevented the boy’s father from taking Mary Ellen out immediately. When one of the women was freed half an hour later, Mary Ellen had blanched, and Primo had hustled her over to a safe corner for what looked like a decidedly unpleasant discussion. And, as Eve had predicted, after the second melee Mary Ellen’s people had come for Ryan. They offered her no explanation, but seemed to snatch him up simply for being there, watching her all the while. She played along, making her face impassive and letting him be carted off. She waggled her fingers in goodbye as they dragged him away.

No one was allowed to leave, so the crowd was now glued to the screens, waiting to see if the remaining woman would be freed. She joined them in studying the last captive. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the first man to bust into the room with the little kid had been Beckett. As she watched, Mary Ellen stepped away from Primo to look anxiously around the ballroom. Eve couldn’t believe she was going to have to save this chick’s ass. Again. But damn it, until she knew where Livia was, she needed her.

Eve tapped Micki as she walked by and motioned with her head for her to follow. Shark’s friend had stayed alive this long, and Eve hoped she could be trusted. Micki followed Eve until they flanked Mary Ellen. Eve put her hand on the woman’s shoulder, leaning down to whisper behind her cupped fingers. “You need to get the upper hand. This is turning to shit.”

Mary Ellen whirled to face Eve, rage filling her eyes. “I have complete control.
Why does everyone doubt me?”
She cleared her throat and turned her back on them to return to the microphone. “Everyone! Everyone! Please. You think these events are a surprise to me? I was never actually going to keep your people. Like that was ever an option. It would be a death sentence.” The group quieted down. “These kidnappings are for display only. I’m trying to show you that as individuals, we
are
vulnerable. That’s why we need to work together. Clearly Mr. Harmon won’t protect you—or can’t protect you—so why not do things my way? My family’s business is long-standing and well-respected. I’m certain we can accommodate your needs.”

Mary Ellen held out her hand, and Eve helped her up on a table. She had to hand it to her: this woman was going to put icing on a pile of shit and call it cake.

“These tactics I’ve used to bring you together are not the ones I like. I prefer things to be much more dignified. And I see no reason they can’t be, going forward. I just need you to understand how deadly serious I am about this.”

She stopped and let the crowd talk among themselves for a few beats. Eve held out a hand to help her down and tried to avoid rolling her eyes.

“Thank you,” Mary Ellen said demurely. “And thanks for bringing Ryan. He’s going to be very helpful in ensuring I’ve made my point. Hope you’re not too fond of him.” Mary Ellen nodded to one of her guards, and he spoke into an earpiece. Moments later, Ryan appeared on the dance floor, hands bound.

Mary Ellen snapped her fingers and cleared her throat into the microphone to get everyone’s attention. There’d been no rescue for the remaining hostages, so some remained focused on that screen. “Poughkeepsie Police Officer Ryan Morales is here to show you what happens to those who pledge their cooperation, accept my offer of employment, but don’t follow through adequately.”

She ran a finger along Ryan’s jaw. He spat in her face.

She stumbled backward, gasping. Micki hurried over with a napkin. One of the guards punched Ryan in the stomach and collapsed his knees with a swift kick. Eve worked to show she was unmoved. She was being watched for sure. Mary Ellen waved her arms angrily, and her men got into position. Ryan caught her eye and shook his head almost imperceptibly as they pulled him to his feet. She knew he was right. There was nothing she could do.

So she just watched. The men who went to town on him now were clearly seasoned at this sport. Ryan flinched in pain as one hit his kidney and the other punched the center of his chest. Eve looked at the floor. She couldn’t even find her fancy shoes hidden under all the damn skirts. She needed a second to arrange her face in the appropriate reaction. She opened her hands, which had balled into fists, and exhaled. When she was finally able to look up, a bemused smile placed on her lips, Ryan was facedown on the floor. Mary Ellen nodded at her and raised her glass, toasting Ryan’s pain.

Eve suppressed the scream building within her. She added Ryan’s beating to the list of wrongs she needed to right—along with Livia, her father, and probably all of Poughkeepsie.

Cole watched as Kyle tried the bottle again, but Kellan just let the formula spill out of his mouth. She shook her head.

Kellan had awakened, hungry, barely half an hour after his father’s departure, and his cries had roused his sister. The initial mayhem was now under control, but the situation was testing their skills. And Kyle wasn’t even convinced she had any to test.

“He takes bottles—Livia pumps all the time. This is bad.” She put the bottle down and tried burping Kellan, swaying gently.

Cole rocked in the rocking chair, his niece asleep on his chest. “Maybe Kathy can find a different formula?”

“I don’t know. I mean, all I have is this one job and I can’t even get the baby fed?”

Cole watched her face. “Maybe you should sit. How’s the cramping?”

“The cramping’s fine. I’ve been on the rag since I was thirteen. Cramping is what girls do.” She did sit, though. Still patting Kellan’s back, she plopped onto the ottoman in Blake and Livia’s bedroom.

Cole checked his phone behind Emme’s back. No news from Blake or Beckett or John. He wanted to help, but Kyle came first. And he wasn’t handing her solo child-watching duties while she recovered from a miscarriage.

It was like she could hear his thoughts. “Maybe I suck at babies.” Her eyes glistened.

“You don’t. This is hard on him, and he’s used to something else. We’ll get it right. Don’t worry.” He watched as she was rewarded with a burp from Kellan.

Cradling him in her arms, she offered the bottle again. Both she and Cole were surprised when he finally started to suck.

“There you go, buddy. Fill up that belly.” Kyle readjusted her hold.

Kellan kicked his feet and smiled around the bottle.

“You do not suck. But he does now, so woo!” Cole winked at her.

“You’re cheesy. Anything?” She nodded at his phone.

“Not yet. I want to text them, but I don’t want to interrupt. The most important job we can do is be right here.” Cole kept rocking his niece, who seemed so small in his arms.

“I wish I knew where she was. It should have been me. Seriously. Then she would be here with the kids where she belongs.” Kyle kept looking at Kellan.

“As your big sister, I bet she wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s as stubborn as you. Do you want to pray?”

Kyle nodded.

Cole took a deep breath and thought of one of his favorites. The words of St. Theresa…Rather than closing his eyes, he smiled warmly at Kyle as he spoke the words that called for God’s peace, even in difficult situations, and asked for faith and unbridled dreams as the means to overcome any obstacle. “Tonight is testing our family in ways we never expected,” he concluded. “But in your infinite wisdom you blessed the McHugh ladies with tremendous strength of character and will. We thank you for their courage and ask that we might draw from their strength. Lord, help us find Livia. Surround her with your love and guidance and please see fit to return her to her children, to all of us. Amen.”

Kyle nodded again. “Thanks. You always make me feel hopeful when you do that.”

They stayed like this, each looking at the other—with children and worry between them—for hours.

Blake crouched low and looked at the crushed weeds off the road. He’d walked and jogged for miles.

It felt like a fool’s errand, but he truly believed he knew these woods better than anyone else. Maybe his arrogance was manufacturing clues, but he felt compelled to follow the trampled plants and continued down a long dirt driveway. There was an old house on the water back here. A few years ago, it had been for sale. Now it was a seasonal home, used only a few weeks a year. The rest of the time it was vacant, save for an occasional cleaning crew.

He couldn’t remember if it had been a Baker’s Realty property or not, but when he drew close enough, he could see two cars. A few drops of blood were revealed in the dry grass next to them, thanks to the full moon, and Blake’s adrenaline soared. He stilled when he heard the squeak of shoes on the porch. He slipped into the trees soundlessly and heard the flick of a lighter, smelled smoke, as the men lit cigarettes.

“Some crazy shit’s going down. Bitch has lost her mind. You ever think of leaving?”

“Tell you what, this thing is getting too damn big for her. She has these giant fucking plans, but it’s the details that bite her in the ass. Can’t believe nobody’s capped her yet.”

There was manly guffaw. “I hear that. She’s made of some slimy shit…That South American dude—the one she hates—offered me a spot. You get that call?”

They continued to talk, but Blake tuned out. Inside the house, almost every damn light was on. As he made his way around toward the water, he saw two men in the den playing pool. He scanned the windows farther down the side of the house and saw movement. He watched for a moment and sure enough, a man looked out. Just past him, Blake could see Livia.

The rush of relief almost took him to his knees, but a swirl of rage—seeing her imprisoned by people who’d taken her—soon followed. He had to focus. He had to decide what to do. Call John? Call Beckett?

The porch smokers came around the side of the house. “No shit? What are they saying?”

“Apparently two of the houses have blown their covers. Un-fucking-believable.”

“Do they want us to move her? Shit, this place has a hot tub. I don’t want to leave yet. Did you see that flat screen? It’s bigger than my actual apartment.”

Blake watched as the kidnapper with Livia looked at his phone, then grabbed her by the face. Things inside were escalating.

“I don’t know. Wait—no, somebody just texted to sit tight. The bitch is fixing it somehow? Fuck this shit. Maybe we should call Harmon and tell him who we got. Maybe we can get a signing bonus.”

Blake watched as the man in the room with Livia came close to her again. He clenched his fist, then touched her face. She tried to bite him.
God, I love you
.