Thicker Than Water (29 page)

Dawn almost choked. The name Mordecai Young was as well-known as that of David Koresh. She racked her memory, wished she'd paid more attention in social studies class when they'd covered local history. There had been some kind of compound or something, not all that far away. And a raid that ended in disaster. A lot of people had died. She thought Mordecai Young had been one of them.

“Lizzie was so sweet. She never would have taken you away from me without Jewel's influence on her. But then there was the raid…” He fell silent, shaking his head sadly.

“The raid?” she asked, just to keep him talking.

He nodded. “We lived on a farm, all together, sharing the wealth and the work.”

“Like a commune?”

“Yes. A spiritual family. The Young Believers. All we wanted was to be left alone, but the government has its own ideas about nonconformists. They sent in soldiers.”

She frowned, certain there had been more to the story. Hadn't there been illegal weapons and drugs involved? And weren't most of the residents underage girls? She thought so. Probably best not to ask, though.

She looked at the cell phone. “We have a signal now. Can I call 9-1-1 for my mom?”

He looked angry, but only briefly—and probably because she'd referred to Julie as her mom again. “Wait just a second, first.” He flicked on the radio, started changing channels, then paused when he heard a deep voiced anchor in midstory.

…is sixteen years old, five feet eight inches tall, with long, black hair and blue eyes. The suspect is a thirty-nine-year-old white male, with a shaved head and no facial hair, piercing brown eyes, six-two, one hundred seventy pounds. The two were last seen in a black late-model Jaguar with N. Y. plates, traveling in the Adirondack region along Route 28. If you see anything, please call 555-AMBER. Do not phone tips in to this station. This Amber Alert will be repeated frequently throughout the day and for as often as necessary until Dawn Jones is found.

He clicked off the radio. “Well, I guess we don't need to call anyone. Jewel survived, and she's apparently done everything but call out the National Guard.”

“You must have known she would.” She tipped her head to the side. “You did know, didn't you?”

“Of course I knew.”

She licked her lips. “But you didn't kill her. Even though you had a gun.”

He pursed his lips. “No, Sunny, I didn't kill her. I—I tried to heal her, in fact. It wasn't part of the Higher Power's plan for her to die. I only act in accordance with spirit. Don't think
that means I would hesitate to kill, or to die, if that were what the universe wanted of me. I let her live because our Source told me to.”

Dawn tried not to let the chill in her blood cause her to shiver visibly. She said, “How did God tell you? Did you hear a voice?”

“No. I saw a sign. When I first looked down at the car, where it lay, the sun hit the broken glass, and it made a rainbow that arced right over the car, right over Jewel. I knew I was supposed to let her live.” He closed his eyes. “I don't know, maybe they're supposed to come after us. Maybe that's the plan, to complete the cycle that was left unfinished sixteen years ago.”

He looked at her, his eyes sad, but then he smiled gently. “Don't worry, Sunny. Whatever happens, it will be in keeping with spirit's plan.”

She rubbed her arms, wishing he wouldn't call her by that strange name, but afraid to tell him so. “You killed the other guy, didn't you? Harry Blackwood? Then planted the knife in our kitchen trash?”

He shot her a look—almost denied it, she thought—then blew air through puckered lips and looked at her again, but said nothing.

“He was a lowlife,” Dawn said, to ease the tension from the kidnapper's face. “I think he found out about me. My birth, I mean. He was blackmailing my mother.”

“He knew about you because he was there. And he was blackmailing me, too.”

She shot him a look.

He shrugged. “He knew I was still alive and who I was. He threatened to expose me unless I paid him off. I was hoping,
Sunny—” She must have made a face or something, because he stopped there, tipped his head slightly to one side, and started over. “I was hoping, Dawn, that I could manage to keep my secret
and
get my little girl back. Killing him was necessary to accomplish the former, and every sign from spirit told me to go ahead with that act. He wasn't worthy to live, really. Setting up your mother—well, I acted impulsively on an idea that was solely my own, thinking it would clear my path to you. Spirit disagreed with that decision. Had I taken the time to seek the signs, I'd have known as much. That's why it didn't work.”

Dawn listened carefully. She had always believed in this man's powers. She wasn't entirely sure she disbelieved them now, and that made him even more frightening. “Was I the secret you were so determined to keep? The fact that you had an illegitimate daughter? ‘Cause I don't really think it's that big a deal.”

He drove a little faster. “As Mordecai Young, I was a wanted man—justified or not, there it is. They thought I died in the raid.”

“And you let them think it.”

He nodded. “Otherwise I'd be sitting in a prison cell right now.”

She shook her head. “You've got such a great career going. The talk show, the books. You do so much good for so many people. But this—this is just throwing it all away.”

He nodded. “My work is important. But nothing is as important as you are, Sunshine.”

She frowned at him. “Why?”

“Are you kidding?” He sent her a loving look. “Because…you're mine.”

The words, spoken so gently, so softly, sent a shiver right down her spine, but she wasn't sure why. She shook it off, changed the subject. “So…where is this mansion of yours, anyway?”

His eyes seemed to light up. “You'll love it, Sunny. I bought it before you were born, but it needed so much work. I've spent the past sixteen years getting it ready for you. It's perfect.”

“And south,” she said. He shot her a look. “We're going south.”

He nodded. “It's in Virginia, and not just a mansion, an entire plantation. Not a working one, of course.”

She blinked and felt as if the bottom had fallen out of her stomach. “Virginia.”

“Blue Ridge Mountains. A crystal blue lake right at our feet.” His smile grew. “It's a dream your mother and I shared. To live there, with you, together.”

Virginia. That was a long, long way from home. She no longer thought he would kill her—not when she was the center of this intricate fantasy he'd been building in his mind for the past sixteen years. Not unless she threatened to blow it to bits on him.

Play along, she told herself. Just play along.

* * *

Sean pulled into the Emergency entrance of the hospital right behind the man in the pickup, who gave him a wave and kept on going around the looped driveway and back out onto the road. Sean stopped in front of the double entry doors, got out of the car and ran around to Julie's side, then scooped her into his arms and carried her inside.

He was almost dizzy from the force of so many unfamiliar
feelings flooding his brain all at once. Holding her this way, limp and pale, scared the hell out of him, and he hurt down deep—not just for her. For himself. For Dawn. For all of them. Panic was like a windstorm in his mind. What if she didn't make it? What if she were hurt far more seriously than he knew?

God, what if he lost her?

He forced the thought from his mind as he carried her into the E. R. and people in white surged toward him. A nurse grabbed his shoulder. “This way, bring her in here. What happened?”

“Car accident,” he said as she led him into a room. He lowered Julie carefully onto the narrow bed that stood in its center. “She has a head injury. Ankle, too. I don't know what else.”

The woman was leaning over Julie, prying open her eyes and shining a light into them, then pressing a stethoscope to her chest. “You saw the accident?”

“No. She crawled out of the wreck and made her way to a phone. That's where I found her.”

“So she was conscious.” She was taking Julie's blood pressure now.

“She was unconscious right after the wreck, came to and made her way to a phone. Then she passed out again in my car.” He'd moved to the other side of the table, so he could be close to Julie without getting in the way. “Is she gonna be all right?”

“We need to get some X rays. But her vitals are good.” She was pushing the hair aside to look at the cut in Julie's head. “She'll need a few stitches.” Then she moved to the foot of the bed and unwrapped the bundled ankle, shaking her head slowly as she did. “She was a quick thinker. Nylons.
Must have been damned determined to get where she needed to go.”

“The man who ran her off the road abducted her teenage daughter.”

The nurse's head snapped up fast. “Jesus. The police have been notified?”

He nodded. The woman shook her head, returning her attention to the ankle. She crossed the room to a phone on the wall, spoke to someone in the X-ray department, then came back to Julie.

“You won't be able to keep her here long, once she comes around,” Sean told the woman. “Whatever you need to do, do it fast.”

“Can't say that I blame her. I have a daughter myself.” Her lips thinned. Then others came in and wheeled the bed right out of the room with Julie on board.

Sean closed his eyes. “Be all right, Jones. You'd damn well better be all right.”

A
feeling of panic surged through Julie as she opened her eyes wide, sat bolt upright and shouted, “Dawn!”

“It's okay. Easy. Easy now.”

A jackhammer was pounding inside her head, and she squeezed her eyes shut against it, even as MacKenzie leaned over, his hands gentle on her shoulders.

Julie opened her eyes, facing him. “Sean.” God, the relief that flooded through her at the sight of him was utterly ridiculous. Then she took in the room beyond him. “What happened? What are we doing here?”

“You passed out in my car, Jones. I had to bring you to a hospital. I was afraid you might die on me.”

She shook her head, flinging aside the sheet that covered her, intending to get to her feet, then pausing to stare down at her thickly wrapped left ankle.

“You have a bad sprain in that ankle. They thought it was a break but couldn't find one. You have a concussion, and you took five stitches in the head. They want to keep you overnight.”

“That's not going to happen.” She looked down at the pillow, spotted the call button lying beside it, pressed it down and held it.

“That's what I thought you'd say.”

“We have to find Dawn.” She kept her thumb on the button until a nurse came running into the room. She looked as if she expected to find an emergency, then looked irritated. Julie didn't even miss a beat. “Find me a pair of crutches. I have to leave, immediately, and it'll be faster if I don't have to walk on this thing.”

The woman's eyebrows went up, and she exchanged a look with Sean.

“I told you. There's no point in arguing with her,” he said.

“No, I don't suppose there is.” The nurse crossed the room to where a pair of crutches leaned in the corner. She brought them closer to the bed and left them there, hurrying back to her duties elsewhere.

Julie shot a look at Sean. “Why didn't you tell me those were there?”

“You didn't give me a chance. Listen, we're supposed to wait here for Lieutenant Jackson. She should be here any—”

“She's here now,” a woman said from the doorway. Cassie Jackson walked in, eyeing Julie, who sent her a glance and went right on with what she was doing, getting upright and onto the crutches.

“Not leaving so soon, are you, Ms. Jones?”

“Damn right I am. I have to find my daughter.”

Jackson had the good manners to wipe the smug expression off her face. “Look, we have every agency in the state looking for Dawn.”

“Glad to hear it.” She looked down at her bare legs, bare feet and hospital gown, then looked up at Sean. “Where are my clothes?”

“Not much left of them,” Sean said. “They cut the jeans off, and the blouse was all bloody.”

“I, uh, keep a spare set of clothes in my car, if you're interested,” Jackson said.

Julie didn't try to hide her surprise. “You'd do that for me?”

“In exchange for a little of your time, yes.”

Pursing her lips, Julie shook her head. “No deal. I don't have any time to spare, I'll just go as I am.”

“Julie, we've activated the Amber Alert System. Signs on every highway are flashing descriptions of Dawn and Z and the black Jag. Every media outlet is running this, including your station. Someone is going to see them and call in. Until then, there's not a hell of a lot we can do but wait.”

Julie didn't feel reassured. Glad, but not reassured. Reassurance wouldn't come until she was holding Dawn tight in her arms again—safe.

“She must be so afraid,” she whispered.

“She's a tough kid. Tough, and smart. We'll get her back,” Sean promised.

Julie sat back down on the edge of the bed and looked up at the lieutenant. “What else is being done?”

“We have people tracing every piece of property Nathan Z has ever owned. We'll have cops watching in case he shows up at any of them.”

Julie glanced at Sean, licking her lips. She was going to have to tell this cop—and dammit, she didn't want to. How much, though? How much to tell her? Sean gave her a very slight nod. She looked at Jackson.

“What?” the cop asked.

Julie licked her lips.

“Give us a second, would you, Jax?” Sean said.

The lieutenant frowned, clearly not liking this, but finally nodded and stepped out of the room. Sean closed the door and went back to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it, beside Julie. “You're going to have to tell her who he really is. You know that.”

“I know.”

“They need to be checking out property that he owned when he was Mordecai Young.”

She met his eyes. “Dawnie isn't my biological daughter.”

He went very still, just staring at her. “But—”

“She was my best friend's. The other girl you saw on the tape. The one who was carrying her. Lizzie died in the fire. She wanted me to raise her daughter, and that's what I've done.”

He sighed deeply, lowered his head. “Now I get it.”

“I could lose her, Sean. I have no legal right to keep her.”

“Who are they going to give her to? Young?”

“What if he has relatives? Or what if Lizzie's are still living? God, she had a bad enough time at home that she ran away. I don't want Dawn in a place like that. Even for the two years she has left as a minor. And I don't want her to end up a ward of the state.” She bit her lip. “I can't lose Dawnie. God, Sean, she's all I have.”

His hand cupped her face, tipped it until she looked at
him. He started to say something, then seemed to change his mind, dropped his hand, turned to paced the room. “Look, you don't need to tell Jax that part,” he said. “Just that Young is her father, that you thought he was dead, and that he's tracked you down to take her from you.”

She stared hard at him. “And you won't tell her?”

His eyes widened a little; then he lowered his gaze, hiding whatever was in it. “If you were thinking straight right now, you'd know better than to even ask. At least, I hope you would.”

She frowned at him, and he met her eyes again.

“Just how hard is that head of yours, anyway? No, Jones. I'm not gonna tell her anything.”

She swallowed hard and wondered what was going on with him, why he suddenly seemed so much more intense than he ever had before.

“How did you know to come up here?” she asked him slowly.

“My cell phone has caller ID. I had a P. I. friend tell me where the phone with that number was located.”

She nodded. “And why did you answer when I dialed Allan's number?”

“I knew you'd call him. So I arranged to have all his calls forwarded to my cell.”

“So you had it all planned—so you could track me down and come charging up here when I got into trouble.”

“I was charging up here before I knew you were in trouble.”

She held his gaze, probed it. “Why?”

He stared into her eyes, not saying a word. But there was something there, in that look. She broke eye contact first, her head spinning.

“Can I call Jax back in now?” he asked.

“I'm afraid of that cop, Sean. She thinks I killed Harry, you know that. If she decides to arrest me, I won't be able to help Dawn.”

“You think she's going to arrest you with me here?”

She looked at him, frowning.

“It's two against one, Jones. I've got your back. She tries to arrest you, then you and I will be making a fast exit, and I can tell you right now, that Crown Victoria she's driving isn't going to get close enough to my Porsche to smell the exhaust.”

Staring at him, she shook her head slowly in blatant amazement. “I don't know what to say to you, MacKenzie.”

“Say you'd have done the same for me.”

“I'm not sure I would have. Not until recently, at least.”

He lifted his brows. “Well, you get points for honesty. You ready?”

She nodded. Sean went to the door, opened it, and a second later, Lieutenant Jackson came back inside. She had a pair of jeans and a polo shirt in one hand, and she dropped them on the bed.

Julie lifted her chin, swallowed her fear. “We have to go through this quickly. I don't feel good about sitting still while my daughter is out there, in danger. The only reason I'm even willing to do this at all is that I have no clue where to begin looking for her. But the minute I get one, I'm out of here.”

Jackson nodded, taking out a pen and pad. “Maybe we can start with the night of Harry Blackwood's murder.”

“I had nothing to do with Harry's murder. So let's start with something relevant.”

Jackson's brows arched. “Such as?”

“Such as the fact that Nathan Z used to be known by the name Mordecai Young.”

Jackson's jaw dropped. She clapped it shut again. “
The
Mordecai Young?”

“Yes. I was one of the girls at the Young Believers' compound when the raid happened.”

“I thought there were no survivors.”

“There were five survivors—that I know of. Two other girls by the names of Sirona and Tessa, me, Dawn and Mordecai.”

“The full names of the other two girls? I'll need to verify this with them.”

“They used false names, ended up married and taking their husbands' names. Sharon Beckwith and Teresa Sinclair. But you won't be able to check anything out with them. They're both dead, both within the past two weeks. Supposedly suicides by hanging, but I think it was Mordecai.”

“Jesus, Jones, you should have freaking told me this,” MacKenzie said. “No wonder you've been so freaked out.”

“I think Mordecai knew we survived, and he tracked them down, tried to make them tell him where Dawn and I were, and killed them, either because they wouldn't talk or to keep them from warning us that they had.”

Jackson frowned hard. “I'm not sure I'm following. Why would Mordecai Young, assuming he is alive, be so determined to track you and Dawn down?”

“Because he's Dawn's father. And yes, Harry Blackwood knew it. He'd been blackmailing me for months. I was there, in the hotel room, where we had agreed to meet for the latest payoff. I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, Harry was dead. I believe Mordecai killed him.”

“Did you see it?”

“No, but he admitted it to me.”

“That's hearsay.”

“Do you really think I give a shit if you believe me? I'm telling you what I know so you can use it to track down my daughter before that maniac does something to her.”

“Okay, okay.” She held up a hand. “So Nathan Z is really Mordecai Young, and he murdered Harry Blackwood.”

“Yes. He has the murder weapon. And he says he managed to put my prints on it. Something about Scotch tape. He said that unless I brought Dawn to him, he would turn it in so I would be arrested for the murder, and he'd end up with a clear path to Dawn anyway. I didn't like either of those options, so I decided to run, instead. But he was watching us. He knew when we left. He broke into the house. Dawn said she'd e-mailed her friend before we left, mentioning we were heading north, though we hadn't decided exactly where we were going. He must have found that e-mail, and he followed us. And now he has my daughter.”

Jackson glanced at Sean. “And you knew all this?”

“I—”

“He's hearing it for the first time, same as you.” Julie picked up the jeans. “When I ran into MacKenzie at the hotel that night, I acted as if I had just arrived. He thought he was telling you the truth when he said I was with him the whole time. He had no way of knowing I'd already been there for more than a half hour.” Legs over the side of the bed, she tried to pull the jeans over her wounded ankle but winced when moving the leg brought pain.

Sean took the jeans away from her, then dropped to one knee on the floor and gently worked them over the bandaged
ankle, pulling them slowly up her leg. Julie stared down at him, surprised.

He was still holding the jeans for her, so she slid her good leg into them.

Jackson frowned, lips pursed, then looked at Julie again. “And what about you? How long have you known Z's true identity?”

“I'd never seen Z face-to-face until we attended a taping of his show yesterday.”

“Surely you'd seen him on television. In the papers.”

“Yeah. But it's not the same.
He's
not the same.” She got up, and Sean did, too, bracing her so she could pull the jeans up and fasten them under the hospital gown. Not a bad fit. “I knew him as soon as he slipped into his old Southern drawl. He's had quite a bit of reconstructive surgery or I'd have recognized him sooner.”

“He deliberately altered his appearance?”