Sweetest Taboo (20 page)

My head is pounding when I wake, and though I try to open my eyes, I can only manage to squint. Dozens of spotlights are aimed right at me, and I can see nothing except pure white light and faint spectral arcs in my periphery that seem to be dancing and leaping.

I'm dizzy, and I remember being stabbed with a needle. Some sort of hallucinogen, I think, considering the way the world seems to be all wonky.

A moment later, I realize that I'm standing. I try to raise my hand to shield my vision, but it's impossible. My wrists are strapped behind me, and my back is pressed to a pole. I try to step forward, but there are ties on my ankles as well as one around my waist.

It's the one that encircles my neck that terrifies me the most.

I don't know where I am, but I do know who brought me here. And that certainty makes my blood run cold.

“Adele,” I say, though the name is only a whisper. “Please. My mom. Where's my mom?”

I don't really expect an answer. I know how she works. She will leave me here for hours upon hours. Sweat pouring down me from the heat of these lamps. My mouth dry with the need of water. My muscles aching and trembling. My stomach clenching, and my head woozy from fear and hunger. She will push me to the edge, and when I am close to tumbling over into insanity or death, she will bring water. Bread. Maybe boiled meat.

And then the horror will start up again.

Or maybe not. Maybe this time she's tired of her games. Maybe this time she just wants to kill me.

What was it her text message said? That she could have done so much worse?

This, I think, is worse.

“Adele, please…”

And then I hear her heels. Those damned stilettos she always wears. They click across the concrete floor, and if I squint I can barely make out her movement to my left. She steps to one side so that she is blocking one of the spotlights.

Now I can see her silhouette against the light. I can't make out her face, but I'm sure that she is smiling, simpering and cold and crazy.

“Please what? Please make this fast? I don't want to make it fast. You've made me suffer for seventeen years. I don't think you'll be able to hold on for that long, but I'm willing to try if you are.”

“I thought we were friends, Adele,” I say. Not because I believe it but because I am desperate. “Why are you doing this?”

“Darling, we
are
friends. Or I thought we were, too. You stayed away from him, just like a friend should stay away from another woman's man. I don't hold a grudge about what you did when you were young—teenagers can do such foolish things—but once you grew up, you understood. You left. And, Janie darling, you were right. You even got married, you totally cleared the path. And then,” she says, the soft edge of her voice turning as sharp as a blade, “then you twisted it all around.

“You want to know why I'm doing this? I'm doing it because
you
started it. Because you left me no choice. Because when someone tries to take what is yours, the only option left is to fight. And, darling Janie, this is a fight I promise you I'll win.”

I wish I could see her face. I want to see the crazy in her eyes. I want to face down the monster who's been haunting us all this time.

But all I can do is talk to the shadow.

All I can do is pray that Dallas finds me in time.

Because I don't need to see her face to know that if she has her way, I'm not getting out of this room alive.

“Goddammit, we're running out of time,” Dallas bellowed as he burst through the door and into Deliverance's headquarters.

Thirty-seven fucking minutes had already passed—thirty-seven minutes since a white van took down his mother in the intersection, and most likely would have killed her had Jane not been there to pull her enough out of the way to lessen the blow. Thirty-seven minutes since a man with a full beard and dark glasses leaped from the passenger side door and dragged Jane away from Lisa's side. Thirty-seven minutes since the man slammed the door shut, trapping Jane inside as the unseen driver sped away, leaving Lisa bleeding in the street.

Thirty-seven goddamn minutes since he'd lost her. And that was thirty-six minutes and fifty-nine seconds too long as far as Jane's safety was concerned.

“I know,” Liam snapped as he looked up from where he stood in front of a monitor. “Don't you think I know?”

“Sorry—I'm sorry.” He knew Liam was just as on edge as he was. Just as worried.

Just as fucking terrified.

“Adele will kill her this time, Liam. Our only chance is to find them fast, and hope she didn't already do it and dump the body.”

Christ, were those words even coming out of his mouth?

“We're working on it. We've confirmed that Christopher Brown was one of her patients.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Christopher Brown, Caucasian male, now twenty-seven. Former juvenile offender. History of sexual abuse, both as a victim and a perp. As an adult, his sheet's long and varied. Arrests ranging from assault, domestic violence, burglary, armed robbery. Pled out for attempted rape, and as part of the deal he agreed to undergo counseling.”

“Which is how he met Adele.”

“Bingo.”

“His residence?”

“That's the question. He rents a house in Queens, but he's not there, and neither are Jane and Adele. Noah and Tony found a receipt for a recent storage shed rental, though. They're en route. I'm expecting them to report back any minute.”

Dallas nodded, his gut twisting. “They won't be there. Adele will have her someplace more secure. More private. Too many people coming and going at a storage shed.”

He didn't say that the only way they'd find Jane in a storage unit was if that was where Adele had dumped the body. He didn't say it because he couldn't even bear to think it.

“What about property in Adele's name. Still no hits?”

“Nada.”

“Shit.” He was just about to insist that Liam call Tony and check in when Liam's phone chirped with an incoming text.
Site clear. No J. No A. No sign of recent activity. Dead end. Heading to Breakers.

“What's that?” Dallas asked, reading over Liam's shoulder.

“A bar Brown is known to hang out in.” He sighed, sounding about as miserable as Dallas felt. “We're scraping the bottom of the barrel here, Dallas. The guys are going to ask around. Maybe see if Brown said something. If he mentioned a woman he was seeing, a property he went to with her. Anything that might point us in the right direction.”

“We don't have time for that.”

“You think I don't know that?” Liam's retort snapped out fast and hard. “
Shit
. Sorry, man. I didn't mean—”

“I know. I get it.
Fuck
. Traffic cams? ATMs? Can we track the van's path? Find out what neighborhood it ended up in?”

“Quince is on it.” He pointed to the conference room where Dallas could see Quince pacing behind the glass, a headphone strapped on and a tablet computer in his hand. “He's called in favors with MI6 and also with some friends at the FBI. Nothing yet, but there's a lot of data to sift through. We might get lucky.”

“We don't have time for luck. We've only got one chance of finding out where Adele took her. Colin.”

Liam shook his head. “We can try again, but he's resistant to the drugs. The only clear results Quince has managed to get have been the polygraph, and it's not like we can point to every building in Manhattan and ask if Adele is there.”

“Quince isn't the one going in,” Dallas said as Archie approached with mugs of coffee for both men. “I am. And I don't want him drugged. I want him to talk to me.”

“You really think he'll tell you anything?”

“He loves Jane,” Dallas said simply, then looked at Archie. “You've been there our whole lives. You knew Colin before I ever met him. You saw him with Jane, with Mom. Am I right? Will he tell me?”

Archie's face grew tight. “He's not the man I once knew. But if any hint of that man still exists inside him—yes. That Colin loved his daughter. If he helps you, it will be for her.”

“That settles it,” Dallas said, and without waiting for either man to respond, he crossed the room to Colin's cell and punched in the code.

“Dallas.” Colin looked up as he walked in. His face was drawn, his eyes bloodshot with dark circles that gave him a skeletal appearance. He hadn't shaved in days, and his patchy beard gave him an even more haggard appearance. He sat behind the table, but this time his hands were cuffed to the arms of the metal chair.

He looked defeated.

Dallas hoped to hell he was.

“We know about Adele. You tried to protect her because you love her. I get that. You've been together for even longer than I realized—more than seventeen years. There's a history. There's understanding. But despite all of that, there's your daughter.”

While Dallas spoke, Colin didn't move. Hell, he barely breathed. But Dallas saw his eyes flicker just a little at the mention of Jane.

“Adele has her now. She used a van to run Lisa down in the street.” Another flicker. And the knuckles on Colin's hands turned white. “When Jane went to help her mother, a man got out of the van and dragged Jane inside.” He deliberately didn't say “
our”
mother
.

Colin lifted his head. “Where is Adele now?”

And that was it. He had him.

Dallas sat across the table from him. “We don't know. But what I do know is that she'll kill Jane.” His voice cracked as he spoke, but he made no effort to hide it. Let Colin see how scared he was. Let him know that the risk to Jane was real. Too damn real.

“I don't understand.” Colin's voice was almost a whine. “Why are you in here? Why aren't you out looking for my little girl? What do you want with me?”

“Where are they, Colin?”

“I—I don't know. How could I know?”

Dallas sat back in his chair, trying to give the appearance of a man with all the time in the world. A calm man negotiating a business deal, just like on any other day. “I understand why you didn't tell us earlier that Adele was involved in the kidnapping,” he said. “But we know the truth. But we're not upset, Colin. You loved Adele. You were trying to help her.”

He leaned forward, then, his eyes tight on Colin's face. “And now I need you to help Jane. Because she needs you desperately.
You're
her father. The man who shares her blood. And you're the only one who can save her. So tell me, Colin. Where would Adele take Jane? Where would she take a woman she wants to torture? To kill.”

Colin's shoulders jerked, and he shook his head. “No. No, she wouldn't.”

Dallas grabbed the edge of the table, squeezing as tight as he could in an effort to stay calm. To not leap across the table and strangle the man. This stupid, psychopathic lunatic with absolutely no perception of reality. “Do you really think that Adele will let her go? You know the woman better than anyone, Colin. Do you truly believe she'll let Jane live? After what she did to me? After how obsessed she is about me?”

Just saying the words aloud hurt, the effort of forcing them out so intense his entire body ached. He was wound so tight he didn't know how much longer he could hold it in, and he stood up, circling the table and then pacing in front of Colin, hoping the act of moving would help him control his rage.

For Jane,
he thought. He had to keep it together for Jane.

Colin just shook his head. “I don't know,” he said, a high note of hysteria tainting his voice. “I don't know what you're talking about. What did she do to you? She's your friend, she always has been. And I—I know you two had a relationship, but she's moved on. You've moved on. I don't know what you're talking about.”

“You
fucking
liar,” Dallas said, his fist swinging out to connect with Colin's jaw.

Violent sobs wracked the older man. “I don't know!” he said. “I don't know what you mean!”

And, goddammit, Dallas believed him. The fear in his eyes. The unfocused terror. Not that he would be discovered lying, but that he would be punished again for something he didn't even understand.

“You worthless bastard,” Dallas said. “You planned the kidnapping—don't even try to lie, Quince has done the polygraph, and Ortega suggested as much before he died. Before
you
arranged to have him killed. Now, goddammit, help me find Jane.”

“I snapped.” Colin choked out the words. “What Eli did. Lisa, how she hurt me. And the money. So broke, and I needed to—”

“You let that bitch have free rein,” Dallas growled, interrupting the string of almost incomprehensible excuses.

“No—no. Just food. Water. She took care of you.”

Dallas barked out a raucous laugh. “The hell she did.” He moved in, then jerked Colin's chair to the side so that he could lean in close, his hands on the arms just above Colin's wrists. “She tied Jane up. Left her in the dark, bound to a table. No food, no water. For hours at a time. Sometimes days.”

Colin only whimpered and shook his head.

“But she actually went easy on Jane. It was me she wanted. Me she wanted to break. Maybe she was playing with me because she knew you couldn't give a shit. That you were happy to kill me if Eli didn't pay your fucking ransom. Or maybe she was already obsessed with me. Maybe that's why she snapped so hard—why she's carried this obsession with her for so long. I don't know. I don't fucking care. All I know is that she did things—”

His voice broke, and he took a hard breath as if gathering strength.

“Horrible, sexual things. Emotional things. Sex and mind games and everything in between. She broke me, Colin. She fucking broke me. And Jane is the one who saved me.

“Now that bitch girlfriend of yours has taken Jane. She's going to kill her. Somewhere in that fucked-up brain of hers she thinks that will clear a path to me. Or maybe she knows that I would never be with her, and she's going to kill Jane to punish us both. I don't know. I don't fucking care. All I know is that the woman I love—the woman you fathered and claim to love, too—is going to die if we don't move now. And right now, it's all on you.”

“I didn't know! I swear, I didn't know! Oh, god, Dallas, I swear I didn't know!”

Dallas didn't know if he was lying, and right then he couldn't care less. “Then help me, dammit. Tell me where she took her. Tell me before she kills Jane.”

For a moment, Colin was silent except for the sound of his ragged, wet breaths. Then he lifted his face and Dallas saw renewed determination. “No.”

Dallas reeled backward, the force of Colin's words as powerful as a punch in the gut. “What the hell did you say?”

“No,” Colin repeated, and some of his old confidence seemed to flow back into his face. “I have a good idea where Adele would take her. And I'll tell you,” he said. “But there's a price.”