LINKED (The Bening Files Book 1) Page 24

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with Birmingham.” Matthew’s voice brought him back to the present.

  “What?”

  “You said he hasn’t been out of his house since arriving home from the hospital. Which means he isn’t behind this, as much as we’d both like to stick it to him.”

  “How many times has he visited you?”

  Matthew rubbed a hand across his face, across the mustache and muttonchops he’d left behind when he’d shaved earlier at his mother’s house. “Once.” He adjusted the Guinness hat covering most of his hair, his eyes unreadable behind the sunglasses Jordan loaned him.

  “Why?”

  “Because I couldn’t ignore a visit as easily as I could letters and emails. He likes to stir up trouble and then disappear.”

  Jordan never should have come back.

  “We used to be friends, long before you were born, long before your mother was ever in the picture.”

  “I didn’t think the devil had any friends. Just minions to do his bidding.”

  Matthew chuckled, the sound a little forced. “Hard to believe, huh? I introduced him to Alexis early in our friendship. They seemed to hit it off. He played the gentlemanly part. Somewhere along the way, he started changing. Like something inside of him snapped. Their relationship changed. I’ll be the first one to say my sister can be a pain, but that’s no excuse to treat someone like they are nothing. He treated your mother the same way. Reeled her in with smooth lines and romantic promises and then forgot all of them. That’s why he’s alone. Why he’ll always be alone.”

  “That doesn’t explain why he came to see you.”

  His eyes locked with Jordan’s. “The same reason he sought you out in Las Vegas, son. He thinks a few nice words will make everything better. That after twenty years with nothing, but grief, we can be friends. Family.”

  “With him, it’s never that simple.”

  “No, but just like the devil, it’s hard to know what he’s up to until it’s too late.” After a long pause, he pointed to the map again. “There’s a service road here, but I doubt this guy is on foot.”

  Jordan watched the crew near the shed covered with growing vegetation. A tech brought out something in a specimen bag. “You better get out of here before someone recognizes you.”

  “People only see what they want to see.” He continued to study the map.

  Everybody had assumed he belonged here, because he carried himself as if he did. A consultant, Jordan had called him. But, he suspected that Robinson would know the minute he got close, if he didn’t already.

  Robinson stood near the building, talking on his cell phone.

  “You’re not surrounded by regular people.”

  Matthew shook his head. “I’m not leaving you.”

  “How am I supposed to explain how I know our perp isn’t driving a Geo? I don’t want to know what you did with it.”

  “Don’t worry about it. The less you know about it, the better. Then you won’t have to lie.”

  “Right.” That old anger was back. At Matthew. At his mother. Himself. Her death. The trial and the way his words got screwed around by an uptight lawyer. The way Matthew had given up toward the end, when Jordan had needed him to fight.

  “I’ve held you against your will.” Matthew scratched the back of his head.

  No, way. “Thought I wasn’t lying?”

  “If it comes to it, that’s what you say. If you don’t agree, I’ll find McKenna on my own.”

  “Neither of us wants to sit through another trial.”

  “Jordan.” The other man’s voice held sympathy he couldn’t stomach.

  Ignoring Matthew, he walked toward Robinson, his footsteps crunching over the gravel.

  Robinson ended his phone conversation. “The blood from Ciamitaro’s house and the sample they obtained when we first got here, match. And it’s not his DNA or McKenna’s. He hasn’t returned to the house, yet.”

  A whoosh of air left Jordan, but didn’t settle his mind or heart.

  “Can we even confirm that he has anything to do with this, other than the fact that he’s AWOL at the moment?”

  “The syringe had his prints on it as well as the kitchen knife. I put an APB out for his Bronco. We took some casings from some of the shoe prints. Should have results soon.” He paused. “You got that under control?” He nodded toward where Matthew stood with his back to them, but didn’t make eye contact.

  Here we go. “I had him cuffed earlier this morning.”

  “Give me one really good reason why I shouldn't call it in?”

  “He’s the one that led me here.”

  Silence stretched for a moment. “Hate to play devil's advocate, Jordan.”

  “Timeline doesn't fit.” Every syllable tasted like hot ash. “He was still in the dental chair at the time of the abduction.”

  Robinson swatted a bug from his neck. “Possible accomplice?”

  “I'm sure you could come up with a list. In the eyes of some, that list might also hold my name.”

  “Have you considered the implications of his presence?”

  Only a dozen times. And he couldn’t afford to waste any more time on it. Right now, Matthew was the only thing keeping him semi-sane.

  “Your call, man. But I can revoke that at any time.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The sight of the abandoned Bronco on the side of Lakehead Road, was both a blessing and a curse.

  Blessing, because McKenna was not inside and there was no obvious sign of blood. Curse, because, well, McKenna wasn’t inside and neither was Ciamitaro.

  Double curse because Amanda had to contact Robinson.

  So far, their short conversations had been nothing more than brisk. The motto: The quicker we get to the point, the quicker we can hang up. And that was the only form of apology she would get or expected from the SAC.

  Juvenile break-up didn’t describe it so much as hostile divorce. It was ridiculous. Every time she called him, she intended to smooth things over, because they had to work together for Pete’s sake.

  He always said the right thing to keep her back up. If he didn’t care, neither did she. Working together didn’t necessarily mean they had to get along. They just had to do the job and do it well.

  She dialed his number, wedged the phone between her neck and shoulder while she slipped on a pair of latex gloves.

  He answered on the fourth ring. “Robinson. Hold a sec. Get that K-9 unit here, now.” He must have covered the phone with his hand because his words were garbled. “Sorry. What can I do for you?” Crispness filled the undertones.

  “Which unit are you bringing in?”

  “Cadaver.”

  She didn’t let herself stop to think about what that meant. McKenna was the sister of her heart and she believed she would feel it if… “I’ve got Ciamitaro’s Bronco. Ditched on Lakehead. About a mile from Sequins road.”

  “That’s two minutes from here.”

  “I don’t have any other tracks leaving this scene. I’ve got Crime Scene on their way. One of the nearby neighbors called in a suspicious vehicle.” She opened the glove compartment and started digging through the mass of papers inside. Something hard at the bottom caught her attention and she pulled it out. Three keys dangled from her fingers. A gray ignition key, a run-of-the-mill metal one along with a stubby lock-box key stared back at her. The Audi’s signature logo burned into her hand. How did he get her keys?

  “You still there, Nettles?”

  She hopped out of the vehicle and opened the hatch. No lock-box in sight, but she hadn’t expected it to be with the vehicle. “He had her keys, Robinson.”

  “Come again?”

  “I found the Audi ignition key in the Bronco. He’s had her keys. One of them is to her townhouse. I’m almost positive.”

  Amanda could hear the sound of people talking around him, the crunch of gravel under his feet. “I’ll get someone over there, pronto. Let’s figure out who called it in.�
��

  ###

  McKenna’s body was heavy, as if someone had attached bricks to each limb.

  Every move seemed stuck in slow motion. Even breathing was a huge task she didn’t have the energy for. Her fingers hurt from trying to pry the door open, her fingernails jagged and her fingertips stinging.

  She’d ripped the C02 monitor from the wall what seemed like hours ago, its life forever shattered in a corner. In the moment, freedom from the beeping had been her first thought, but now she wished she could take the action back. The small device had been the only thing telling her how much time had passed. How much time might be left.

  “When I find Ciamitaro, he’s going to be sorry he was ever born.”

  No reply.

  She abandoned her futile attempts at escape and knelt near Kara, her balance wavering and sending her into the floor hard. She righted herself. “You still with me?”

  “Yeah.” The words were soft. “Can’t get rid of me that easy.” A shudder went through her.

  Kara had stopped talking some time ago, unable or unwilling to truly level with her. The silence was more grating than the C02 monitor’s chirping. “Here.” McKenna sat beside her and lifted her head into her lap. “That’s probably better than the hard floor.”

  “I’m so c-cold.”

  “It’s the metal.” The half-truth came easy. “Transmits heat or lack of, of the ground around us.”

  “I don’t have any pain. I should have pain.”

  Yeah. She should. Helplessness snuck up on McKenna as fast as a shark zeroing in on a tasty morsel. It tightened in her chest and squeezed the air from her lungs. “It’s called endorphins. Weren’t you paying attention in health class?”

  Something wet hit her leg and then she heard a sniffle. “Too busy staring at the back of Jordan’s head. Thinking up ways to get him to notice me instead of you.”

  Ah, Jordan. She could imagine him in his high school health class, bored out of his mind. Not his subject at all. “A little less planning and a lot of mystery probably would have gone a long way.”

  Another sniffle, more wet drops. “I don’t know what changed, but he stopped being himself.”

  “Who, Jordan?”

  “No. Vincent. He became so secretive, insisting he needed some space. I thought it might be another woman. I should have left, but I couldn’t. Every time I planned to, he’d reel me back in with some lie.”

  “When did Ciamitaro start acting like this?”

  An audible swallow. “A few weeks ago.”

  That coincided with Emily Gaidies’ death.

  “When I questioned him about it, he became angry. So, I dropped it. Then I got wind of the Gaidies murder and couldn’t help myself. I’m a reporter, after all. Being nosy is in my bl-lood.” Kara’s teeth chattered together.

  McKenna rubbed the other woman’s arms and checked the bandage. Blood seeped through it, so she pressed another piece of cloth on top of it and held it in place.

  A soft groan came from Kara. “I pressed for details on the case, did some digging, found as much of the story as I could. Every time I would share the details with him, he’d get quiet or change the subject.”

  “What did you unearth?”

  “Not that I’m in a position to talk, but that woman had so many affairs it would be hard to pinpoint her death to just one person based on that alone.”

  “But you didn’t know about Ciamitaro.”

  A hitch in her breathing filled the space. “No. Then you and Jordan showed up and I was just j-jealous. And I wanted you to be wrong.”

  McKenna’s eyes had invisible weights anchored to them. “Jordan makes things easy.”

  “Mmm-hmm. He’s probably thought about you every day.”

  “That’s a bit overkill.”

  If McKenna took the time to look back closely, she could see all the signs. Signs that she’d been too much of a chicken to acknowledge as a teenager. Because she’d wanted Jordan, but she’d been too afraid to move beyond friendship. After his mother’s death, she became terrified of even the slightest change.

  Even her teenaged-self had known she couldn’t live without him.

  Unable to stop the flow of tears, she thought about Jordan, alone. The grief he’d have to bear. Ciamitaro had been right about one thing. This would keep Jordan so busy he would cease to really live. To be the man that made him so unique. She tried to lift her body, to make one last attempt at escape, but couldn’t move more than her hand.

  No. It couldn’t end like this.

  She had to leave something behind. Something to help him close this case and move on. With the blood on her hands, she started writing, hoping he would understand what it all meant. Hoping he'd find her.

  She didn’t know how long she sat like that, seeing nothing, thinking of nothing other than a boy who’d stolen her heart before she turned ten and a man who’d done the same with his return to her life.

  She took a deep breath. This is it.

  A bright light hit her square in the eyes, blocking everything out. Somebody—a man from the timbre of the voice, said something, but she couldn’t make out the words. A feeling of weightlessness took over her body for minute, making her head spin, before she met a hard surface. It was prickly beneath her bare arms and her face. But softer. So much softer.

  That was the last thought she had before everything went blissfully dark.

  ###

  The call came in through the tip hotline from an anonymous caller.

  Of course. Jordan wouldn’t have cared if his worst enemy had made the call, he’d taken off at a run as soon as they’d been able to ascertain the coordinates the caller had referred to.

  He should have thought of the old dumpster hidden between his property and one of the neighbor’s, but as far as he could remember the metal death trap had been securely locked. Someone—him—should have had the stupid thing removed years ago.

  Dread made him want to upchuck, but adrenaline kept him moving forward. He ducked around a few low hanging branches on the unused path, the rough bark tearing at his face and upper arms. He ignored the pain and jumped over a fallen log before he hit the clearing.

  Climbing branches and weeds had overtaken the green metal’s surface, the door the only thing not covered. McKenna’s body lay in front of it. He skidded to a stop inches from her and dropped to his knees.

  Afraid to touch her, afraid to know the truth, afraid he’d break into a million pieces right here, right now. He placed his fingers at her neck and waited. Her skin was still warm, but pale. Her lips tinged an indistinct blue and a dark bruise formed on her left cheek. Blood covered her hands and arms. A faint rhythm beat against his fingers. He waited for the telltale rise and fall of her chest.

  It didn’t come.

  Pressure built up behind the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t breathe. His brain refused to move forward, the moment stuck on pause. Then, before he registered what he was doing his lips were on hers, his breath filling her lungs.

  ABC’s. He didn’t even know what that stood for anymore.

  Two breaths. Was her chin tilted enough? Was any of the air going in?

  His fingers were so shaky he couldn’t tell if she still had a pulse.

  Was it his or hers beneath his index finger?

  Matthew crashed down beside her, across from him and moved Jordan’s fingers out of the way. “Thready, but there.”

  Matthew said something about positive pressure in a voice Jordan didn’t recognize or understand. Please, not again. Two more breaths. God, take me instead.

  Someone was talking to him or around him, he couldn’t tell. He heard sirens in the distance. Something wet fell down his face as he gave two more breaths.

  Robinson shouted something, maybe a curse.

  Breathe, McKenna, breathe. Come back to me.

  Mathew held her hand, the nails broken and bleeding and mumbled something. A raspy intake of breath, so soft, he thought he imagined it. Another followed, her chest
rising and falling slowly.

  “Slick.” He wanted to hold her, but didn’t dare move her yet. He rubbed her cheek, but didn’t let his eyes linger before he concentrated on her steady breaths as if the act alone could keep them coming. “Open your eyes from me, baby.” The words barely made it through his tight throat.

  Her right elbow had a huge gash and had started to swell. Dirt and smears of blood covered her shirt. The siren got louder and stopped, the paramedics making it through the clearing with their equipment. Jordan lifted the gash-free arm. “Where’s the blood coming from?”

  Matthew’s gaze strayed to where Robinson stood with a flashlight, at the opening of the dumpster. “I don’t think it’s coming from her.”

  Robinson let out an expletive as he flashed the light deeper inside. “We’ve got someone else down here.”

  A whirl of activity ensued while they loaded McKenna onto a backboard and orange carrier. They lifted the other victim from the death trap, but he refused to take his eyes from his wife. The ambulance ride took forever, seated at her head, unable to do much more than stay out of the paramedic’s way. They placed an IV and a non-rebreather oxygen mask, while he worked hard not to puke up his guts.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Cold knives drove up into her nostrils, making her brain throb much like eating ice cream too fast.

  McKenna tried to lick her lips, but her tongue had the consistency of sand paper. Something heavy rested over her eyes, blocking all but some light that tried to peak in around the edges. She reached up to remove it, but encountered something hard and cold restricting her movements. She brought both hands upward and felt around. The cold, smooth surface surrounded her. She managed to tear the cloth off her eyes, the room a powerful, bright white for several heartbeats before it started to come into focus.

  A clear glass tube circled her entire body. Like a coffin. Cool air floated around her, but none of it reached her lungs. The space got smaller.