Tumbledown (31 page)

Someone approached her and a booted foot tipped her onto her side. She looked up into the barrel of a silenced gun.

“Where the fuck did you think you were going?”

Deakin clearly didn’t expect an answer, and he punctuated his question by kicking her in the abdomen. It drove the breath from her, leaving her gasping. He was about to deliver a second blow when a woman’s voice made him turn sharply.

“Caleb, Caleb,
please
. You don’t want to kill her here, do you? Please let me see to her.”

The woman sounded young and tremulous, as if she was taking a great risk by intervening. Deakin didn’t reply, but he must have relented because he stalked away and left the woman to kneel by Sarah’s side. Careful hands touched her face, wiping at the gravel and blood.

“You’re okay,” the woman whispered. She was as unconvincing a liar as Sarah had ever been. “You’re going to be okay.”

Sarah didn’t have the strength to argue. She felt the woman wrap something around the wound in her leg, and welcomed the renewed surge of agony that finally took her under.

*

Bare-shouldered and shivering in the cool night air, Leah waited for Sarah’s eyes to roll back before she tightened her shirt around the bullet wound Caleb had inflicted. Sarah whimpered, her hands stretching and flexing against the cuffs but unable to reach the source of her discomfort. Her leg was broken, Leah could tell. Even without any first aid training, she had no difficulty identifying the place where the bullet had snapped the bones. Sarah’s pants were already soaked through with blood, and the thin cloth binding the entrance and exit wounds felt heavy and wet beneath Leah’s fingers. She pressed harder, murmuring to try to calm Sarah when she kicked out in response.

Her attention focused on stopping the blood loss, Leah startled as Caleb’s contact suddenly raised his voice.

“You think your people won’t find out?” he yelled at Caleb. “I’ll tell every fucking one of them that you can’t be trusted. That you make promises that you can’t keep!”

She looked across to where they were standing, clearly lit by the cars. The police officer’s face was scarlet with fury and he used both hands to slam into Caleb’s chest, forcing him onto the back foot.

“Shit, Deakin. Do you know what I risked for you?” His tone had altered, sounding more saddened than enraged. He stepped back from Caleb and buried his face in his hands. In the light of the headlights, Caleb smiled, regarding him with obvious pity.

“You knew what you were getting into, Tobin. You should just take your money. This was never about you. It was about what she”―Caleb jerked his chin toward Sarah―“and that other dyke did to my father. If you weren’t so day-old fucking stupid, you’d have figured that out by now.”

Tobin went deathly still, his hands falling by his sides. “I’m not stupid,” he said, the challenge in his voice unmistakable. From where she knelt, Leah saw the fingers on his right hand twitch. “You think I don’t know enough to ruin you? Believe me, Deakin, if I go down for this you’re coming with me.”

She counted silently, knowing Caleb too well to believe that that would be the end of it, that he would let Tobin get into his car and drive away. She had only gotten to three when Caleb took a step back, opened his arms as if to intimate that Tobin was free to leave, and then snapped his hands back together and shot him point-blank through the forehead. She looked away as the body fell, but she couldn’t shut out the thud of it hitting the ground. Her hands clenched involuntarily, forcing a thin cry from Sarah.

“I’m so sorry,” Leah whispered, helpless to do anything more than delay Sarah’s inevitable death. She relaxed her hold a little. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but there was still too much blood on her hands, her shirt, and the ground beneath Sarah.

She squinted as the light she had been working by disappeared. When she looked up, she saw Caleb pushing the patrol car down a small embankment, saplings splintering and cracking beneath its weight. He had moved Tobin’s body, presumably concealing it in the car, but neither was likely to remain hidden for long in a picnic spot popular with day-trippers. Tobin had chosen the perfect meeting place—remote, deserted through the night, yet providing easy access to the coastal routes—never suspecting that it would become the scene of his murder.

Apparently satisfied with his efforts, Caleb ran toward Leah, his eyes wild with exertion and adrenaline. “She still alive?” he called as he approached.

“Yes, but…” Leah’s voice trailed off as he dragged Sarah up and hauled her over his shoulder. He set off at a jog, her limp form jostling against his back. Leah followed him to where his car was waiting with the trunk already open. He hoisted Sarah into it, cut off a strip of duct tape, and used it to gag her. Leah recoiled on her behalf, but Sarah barely reacted to his touch or to the pain his rough handling must have caused her. Her hair was soaked with sweat and Leah had never seen anyone so pale. Caleb casually tossed the roll of tape into the trunk and slammed it shut.

“Move,” he told Leah. “We’ve wasted enough fucking time here.”

She fastened her seatbelt as he yanked the car into drive. He tore back up the access road and took a left at the junction. “How far d’ya think we’ll get?” he asked, a grin splitting his face.

“I don’t know, baby.” She answered by rote, unable to stop thinking about the young woman with the shattered leg who lay bound and unconscious not three feet behind her.

Caleb laughed. “Can’t remember when I last saw the ocean.”

“No.” Leah had never seen it, and she hated him even more for making this her first time.

The road widened, still empty of traffic and descending gradually. With a whoop of triumph, Caleb lowered his window and stuck his head out, making a show of breathing deeply. Fresh, salty air rushed into the car, and as they rounded a bend, Leah could hear the sound of waves crashing onto rocks. They passed a signpost for Northport and he flipped it the bird, his speed increasing recklessly, almost as if he wanted someone to spot him and start off the chase.

“Reckon we can at least get out of this shithole state,” he said, and hammered down on the gas.

“Alex, honey—”

“Don’t.” Alex cut off Esther’s entreaty. “Please don’t even say it.”

Kneeling beside her, Esther took hold of her hand. “Only an idiot would tell you to go home, but when they find Sarah—and they will find her—she’s really going to need you. So, what I was going to suggest is that you find a quiet corner and get some sleep.”

Alex gave a wry laugh and looked around the open plan office. Unfamiliar faces occupied each of the four desks: FBI agents from the local field office, who had utilized the space to set up their own equipment. Working with the Avery and Prescott police departments, they were coordinating the search for Tobin and interviewing anyone who had been involved in the initial case. There had been none of the traditional posturing upon their arrival. Quinn—still looking heartsick—had immediately ceded command of the investigation and was now en route with Emerson to liaise with the Prescott police. Alex’s request to join them had been vetoed on the grounds of her own safety. An agent had already interviewed her at length and seemed to have taken on the responsibility of keeping her updated, at least until Castillo arrived. Every so often he would come to her with a progress report, but he was obviously running out of ways to tell her that they hadn’t found anything yet.

Tobin had used the paperwork he stole from Quinn’s desk to collect Sarah, along with her jail escort, Emily Kendall, at approximately 7:45 p.m. No one had noted his direction of travel, and his car hadn’t been spotted since. It seemed probable that he had arranged to hand Sarah over to Deakin but, with Deakin’s vehicle still unknown, an APB could only be issued for the stolen patrol unit. Having confirmed with the jail that Kendall wouldn’t have been carrying a cell phone while on duty, the agents were working with the telecom company to try to track Tobin’s cell. Alex drew little solace from the fact that Kendall had been armed; if Kendall and Sarah had managed to escape, surely they would have contacted the police or the jail by now. Prescott County Jail was almost one hundred and eighty miles south of Avery, and Alex was feeling the distance keenly. Wherever Tobin had taken Sarah, it was unlikely to have been back up to Aroostook County.

“How long till your Agent Castillo gets here?”

The question made Alex blink slowly; she suspected it was not the first time that Esther had asked it. She checked her wristwatch, trying to quell the familiar rising panic as she thought of how much time had already passed.

“Two, maybe three hours,” she said.

Esther tugged gently on her hand. “Come with me, then.”

The small room Esther led her to contained a sofa, a low table, a stack of tattered paperbacks, and a kettle.

“Back when I started working here, there were no other women on the force.” Esther patted the lumps out of a cushion and laid it at one end of the sofa. “Quinn gave me this room for my rest breaks and he’s let me keep it ever since.” She steered Alex to the sofa. “Give me the key to your new place and I’ll get my youngest to go over there, feed that menagerie of yours.”

Alex fished in her pocket and handed the key over. “Thanks, Esther.”

“Sleep. I’ll come and get you the second anything happens.”

“Promise?”

“Of course I will.”

The light clicked off as Esther closed the door. Alex got up and switched it back on; she didn’t think for a second that she would go to sleep, and there were far too many monsters in the dark.

*

A firm touch on Alex’s shoulder woke her just before the nightmare could. Finding herself in unfamiliar surroundings, she covered her face with her hands, unsure whether she was really awake. The skin there was sticky with sweat and dried tears, and the feel of it made everything that had happened come rushing back.

“Shit.” She bolted upright on the sofa, to find Mike Castillo standing over her. As soon as she moved, he eliminated the height difference by dropping into a crouch.

“Hey,” she said, battening down the urge to launch herself into his arms. “When did you get here?”

He looked exactly as she remembered, except that stress had pinched new lines into his face, and the smile he gave her didn’t come close to reaching his eyes.

“Couple of hours ago. Esther peeked in and found you sleeping. Didn’t seem enough of an occasion to wake you.”

“But now?” Dread made the question stick in her throat.

“We’ve located the patrol unit and found Tobin.”

She stood too quickly and had to put a hand out to the wall. “Has he said anything about Sarah? Where was he? Are they bringing him in?”

“He’s dead, Alex.”

Don’t use euphemisms, police officers were always told. Don’t say, “He’s passed on,” or, “He’s gone,” because people in such situations need to be spoken to in direct terms. Castillo’s bluntness worked as effectively as a plunge into icy water, shaking off any remnants of sleep still clinging to her.

“Did you find Sarah?”

“No. There was no sign of her or Kendall. Tobin had been executed and dumped in the trunk of the car. Telecoms finally came through on his cell, and two officers found the body at a picnic area.”

“Where?”

“Off Highway One, on the outskirts of Belfast. We’ve altered the search parameters since then, but the initial exam of the body put the TOD at around nine p.m., which is almost four hours ago.”

“Meaning Deakin could be in New Hampshire by now.”

“Yeah.” Castillo used one hand to massage the back of his neck, his expression pained.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Alex said.

He nodded, but then shook his head. “I’m so fucking sorry for all of this.”

“Not your fault, Mike.”

An urgent knock on the door prevented him from replying. The door opened at once, the agent beyond it too impatient to wait for permission.

“Sir,” he said, but then hesitated when he saw Alex. “Aw, hell.”

“What is it?” Castillo prompted. It would have been futile to try to continue the conversation in private when Alex had heard the start of it.

“Uh…” The agent cleared his throat. “Tobin’s patrol car had a video camera. He had it switched on during the meet.”

“Jesus Christ,” Alex said. “Do you have the recording?”

“Yes. The agents on scene uploaded it onto the system.” He couldn’t look her in the eye. “Ma’am, you probably don’t want to see it.”

The walls in the room suddenly seemed to shift, the lines of the paintwork crossing at impossible angles. She felt Castillo put his arm around her, and she held on to him just to stay on her feet. He asked the question that she couldn’t.

“Is Sarah dead?”

“No, sir, but—”

“Thank you,” Castillo said curtly. “We’ll be with you in a minute.”

The agent was sensible enough to close the door behind him. For a long moment, there was silence.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Alex admitted.

“Then don’t.”

“I think I have to.”

“Yeah, I thought you might say that.”

“It can’t be worse than what I’m imagining, can it?” Just saying that aloud was enough to make her shudder.

He tightened his arm around her. The fact that he didn’t reply was no comfort at all.

*

“She runs and then Deakin shoots her,” the agent had warned Alex, evidently unwilling to let her watch the footage unprepared. After showing her and Castillo into Quinn’s office and explaining how to work the media player, he had left them alone. Before she could change her mind, Alex leaned forward and pressed
Play
, making Castillo snap his teeth on whatever he was about to say.

The camera, a standard feature on the district’s patrol cars, had been mounted on the center of the dash. Tobin had started recording as he approached the picnic area, and the first minute of footage showed nothing but murky shapes while he negotiated a rough track. The car slowed, then stopped, and he could be seen shaking hands with Caleb Deakin in the beam of the headlights.

“Deakin’s gotten himself a new look,” Castillo muttered. He tapped the screen with his pen, indicating the two men. “Guess Tobin brought him in front of the camera on purpose; he wanted Deakin to be identifiable.”