The American Soldier Collection 3: Amazing Grace (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (34 page)

Lancaster hit the floor taking a few moments to pull himself together.

“Now I don’t want to hear another peep out of you. Get up off your ass and start working with us instead of against us. We’re a team, Lancaster, and don’t you forget it. You got it!” Sandman yelled and Lancaster nodded yes before leaving the room. The other agents heard the fight and were glad Sandstone was back in charge.

“Damn, Sandman, you got yourself one wicked right hook,” said John and the others agreed. Frank was glad Sandman got pissed off at Lancaster and put him in his place. It was something he was looking forward to doing himself. Right now they needed to figure out where Donald could be as well as Grace.

* * * *

Agent Lancaster headed down the hallway avoiding eye contact with his fellow agents. They were happy Sandstone was back and in charge. All the hard work he did while Sandstone was off screwing the brunette he was sure no longer meant shit. Who the hell did that fucking guy think he was, just because he served in the military, was a Marine in special commandos or some shit. He was fuming now as he closed the door to the small office he had taken over along with Justin Sullivan. Everyone had witnessed what happened and it was an embarrassment.

Justin walked into the room and neither man exchanged words. Suddenly Lancaster’s phone rang.

“Hello,” Lancaster answered.

“Agent Lancaster, this is Grace Thompson. Investigator Burbank gave me your number. I’m back in town as I’m sure you know, and I’m willing to use myself as bait to catch this killer. Investigator Burbank said to speak to you,” Grace told him and Lancaster instantly felt that things were turning around. He would surely have the last laugh on Sandstone. He needed to be cautious and it was obvious he had to persuade Justin to keep his trap shut.

“Are you all right, Grace?” Lancaster asked and Justin turned to look. He definitely heard him.

“Yes, I’m fine and I’m safe. Is this line secure?” she asked.

“Yes, it is. Now tell me where you are and I’ll come meet you.” Lancaster was feeling the excitement of solving this very publicized case all on his own. He would do this without Sandstone or the others. This was his case. He worked the hardest. He deserved the full credit for solving it.

“I’m just about twenty minutes outside of town. There’s an old abandoned farmhouse just past Coopers Way. Make a left turn onto Madison and follow the fields for about three miles. You’ll see a large green house that looks abandoned. My family has owned it for years. No one uses it or has been there as far as I know. Pull your car around back just for precaution,” she told him and Lancaster was impressed with Grace’s calmness and professionalism. She may be more than just a pretty face after all.

“Okay, I’ll wrap things up here then I’ll meet you in a half hour,” Lancaster said and Justin wrote down the directions just as Lancaster did.

“Agent Lancaster, is Sandman there?” Grace asked and she sounded hesitant. Maybe she was concerned that Sandstone might hurt her for sneaking away from him. Lancaster wondered if he could use that as his reasoning for not notifying anyone of this call. He smiled to himself.

The killer had to be stopped and she was willing to die trying.

“No, Grace, I’m sorry he’s not here. I don’t know where he is. Supposedly he and his brothers are somewhere that they can’t be reached. I’ll try to locate him and inform him of our plan. You stay low and don’t worry. We’ll stop this killer together,” Lancaster told her before he hung up the phone. He could feel his face turning red with excitement as well as the twinkle in his eyes and the somersaults in his belly, as he smiled, already celebrating prematurely.

Lancaster looked toward Justin “You didn’t hear any of that, do you understand me?”

“But, sir, don’t you think Sandstone and the others—”

“Fuck Sandstone, he’s not thinking like an agent. He’s thinking like a worried boyfriend. While he was hidden in a safe house having a fuck fest with her and his brothers, I was here busting my ass trying to find this killer. Grace’s the only lure we have to catch this killer. I’ll do everything I can to keep her alive and safe, but this is my case and I’ll be damned if I’m going to listen to Sandstone anymore. Senior Investigator Burbank even gave her my number to contact and recommended me. He knows Sandstone can’t handle this any further and he wants me to take over. You keep your mouth shut and your ears opened. Let me know what Sandstone comes up with. Meanwhile I’m going to try and get the killer to search out Grace,” Lancaster said as he began to dial the telephone.

“How are you going to do that, sir?” Justin asked.

Lancaster didn’t answer him. He just smiled as he asked for Debbie Clark, the lead newscaster for channel nine eyewitness news.

* * * *

Justin listened while Lancaster informed the reporter of Grace’s decision to leave protective custody on her own and make her way back to Houston without the assistance of the FBI. He told Debbie Clark that Grace wanted to be with her family and that he was unable to locate her. They feared for her safety and she refused further protection.

Justin knew that Lancaster was asking for trouble but he made the call anonymously, only saying he was connected to the police department and this was inside information. Justin wondered if Senior Investigator Burbank really felt that Sandstone couldn’t handle the case or if Lancaster was lying. He may just have to call the senior investigator as soon as Lancaster left the room.

Ten minutes later Lancaster was swearing Justin to secrecy and heading out the door to meet Grace.

* * * *

Grace made her way across the field and was merely a five-minute walk from the green-colored house. She could see a flickering light on in the basement downstairs and wondered if Lancaster was already there. She knew she was only seven minutes late. She had to take cover on her way to avoid being seen by a patrol car in the area.

Slowly she made her way around back and noticed the unmarked police car and that the door was unlocked. She cautiously entered the kitchen area and could see the dust and cobwebs that had built up over the years throughout the house. The place was abandoned and it was obvious no one had been there in years. Everything looked old and in need of major scrubbing, especially the brown, dirt-covered countertops that used to be bright, shiny, and white. As she walked toward the doorway that led to the living room, the dark brown, wide-planked hardwood floors creaked with each step she took. The living room furniture was covered with sheets that faded over time and now resembled a dull tan color. She heard someone move behind her and as she turned around toward them a sleeping bag was thrown over her head and she was tackled to the ground. She screamed for help, calling Agent Lancaster, but no one answered and no one came. She couldn’t see anything. She tried to fight her attacker off but failed. He was way too strong for her and she instantly felt powerless.

* * * *

Her attacker brought her down a flight of stairs she assumed must have led to the basement. They definitely were still in the house. Suddenly she was being shoved across the room and as she lost her footing, she fell to the cement floor smacking her face and cheek to the concrete.

“Grace. Oh my God.” She heard the voice and instantly she recognized Donald’s voice. Was he the killer after all? Could Lancaster have been right?

Then she heard the other voice.

“Shut up. No talking!” the man yelled. She couldn’t make out whom it could be. The killer must have taken Donald as well. If she could only see who was there. She wished the cover wasn’t over her head. She felt the metal grab hold to her wrists then tighten and click. Handcuffs. She knew immediately they were handcuffs.

“Who’s there? Tell me what you want?” she called into the darkness.

Out of nowhere she felt the boot make contact with her ribs and she screamed in agonizing pain. She had just been kicked somewhere from the left, no the right. She wasn’t sure as she sensed the movement around her.

“Keep quiet,” the voice said and she did so until she felt a large wooden pole against her spine then the handcuffs being removed. She instantly pushed forward into the large figure, her attacker. As he pulled the pillowcase off her head, she saw a fist headed straight toward her face. She couldn’t move quickly enough as it made contact with her mouth and sent her flying into the wooden pole. She slammed back against the pole, then hit the floor. Severe pain shot through her system. But she wanted to know who the killer was. She wanted to see his face and put an end to the madness.

As she turned her head to look up, she saw the face of the serial killer and her heart dropped into her stomach. She suddenly couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. It was as if she lost her life in a split second and time stood still. She felt the deep hollow feeling, then the absolute shock to her soul.

“Oh my God, no,” she screamed.

* * * *

The phone rang just as Sandman began opening his e-mail messages on his laptop. He was receiving a message from Jim and hoped it was a picture of Charlie Vasco. He could be the real serial killer.

“Yeah, Jim, I was just downloading your message. I’m assuming it’s a picture of Charlie Vasco.”

“Yeah, Sandman, it sure as shit is and you better brace yourself. I found out who he is and what his current name is as well.”

Just as Sandman was about to ask who it was, the computer screen blinked and showed the full download. A picture of Sarah’s husband, Eric, stared into Sandman’s eyes. He grabbed the arm of the chair then looked up toward Frank, John, Duke, and Big Jay and the others who were in the office. He couldn’t believe it as he spoke into the phone.

“Jim, I got it. Are you one hundred percent sure?” he asked him calmly.

“Yeah, buddy, I am and I also sent you the information I recovered about his past. He was never married and his parents are both deceased. He had a sister Cynthia who died at age twenty. I took the liberty of finding out how and that’s where things get a little fishy. He apparently found his sister’s body and there was no evidence to show that he was a suspect in the case. It was definitely murder.”

“Did they ever find out who killed her?” Sandman asked which got everyone’s attention in the office. They all stopped what they were doing and listened.

“No, sir, they didn’t. It gets worse, Sandman. I pulled up a picture of his sister Cynthia. I’ve e-mailed that to you as well.”

Sandman scrolled down with the mouse pad to search out the picture. His eyes widened at the sight. Cynthia had long brown hair, hazel eyes, and was a knockout. All the victims had the same characteristics.

“Oh shit, Jim, this is crazy. What was found at the crime scene? How was she killed?” Sandman asked and Jim told him all about the sexual torture and multiple stab wounds. Once again a very long thin, sharp object was used just like in the other murder cases. Sandman continued to speak to Jim, pulling together further information. Then he looked over the e-mails before breaking the news to the others.

“Sandman, what is it? What’s going on?” Frank asked and the others could tell something was up.

Sandman took a deep breath and knew this wasn’t going to be easy. How was he going to break the news? How would they react? He rose from the desk where he was sitting and asked Frank and John to have a seat. Of course they both declined and knew it was going to be bad.

“That was Jim, with some new information. Donald is definitely not the killer. Your sister came across some evidence while we were at my place looking over the case files. She found something interesting left behind by the killer at the first crime scene. Anyhow we came up with the name Charlie Vasco along with some fingerprints but no picture. Jim identified who Charlie Vasco is and confirmed the information. He e-mailed me a picture.” Sandman told them as he turned his laptop toward the others. Frank and John gasped for air. He would never forget the look of shock that came over their faces.

* * * *

Grace looked toward the corner of the room where she saw Donald leaning against the wall. Both of his legs were bleeding and she couldn’t tell what kind of wounds they were.

“Grace, I wanted to surprise you a bit differently than this. I had it all planned out for us,” Eric told her as he held an extremely sharp ice pick in his hands.

“I don’t understand.” She shook her head in confusion. “Why?” she asked as she slowly backed up.

“Because I love you. You’re the one I have been waiting for, yearning for all my life. I was devastated when you went away. Killing your sister was supposed to bring us closer.” He took a small step toward her.

“You? It was you who killed Clara? Maggie and the others?” Grace asked, raising her voice. She was beginning to get over her shock, as fear and anger began to take control.

“They were substitutes for you, my love, but they just wouldn’t do,” he told her, still standing there confident and ready to attack. Grace held her ground.

Just keep him talking, she told herself.

“What about Donald? What are you going to do to him?” Grace asked.

“He’s the serial killer everyone’s been looking for. He found you, brought you here, performed his sadistic rituals on you, then killed you. Afterward he was so disgusted with himself and what he had done, all of those women he killed over the years. He was ashamed now and he committed suicide.” Eric looked toward Donald and laughed.