by J. Kenner
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."
Dallas sat beside Liam in the Range Rover as Quince tore through traffic toward the Connecticut farmhouse that Colin had directed them to. A property in need of restoration that Adele had purchased under her true, legal name upon first moving to the States after the kidnapping.
"She said it represented her," Colin had said. "That as she grew and changed, the house would, too. She's like that. Very self-aware. That's why she's such a good therapist. That's why she was able to help me deal with what we'd done--why she urged me to reestablish our relationship when you and Jane were in college."
You fucking idiot, Dallas had wanted to say. Because Colin seemed to truly believe his bullshit. That Adele was some kind of psychological guru, forging a path through both their neuroses. He had no inkling that she was a psychopath, no hint that his own descent had fueled her obsession.
Maybe Colin really was a man who'd spun out of control, pushed over the edge by the loss of his daughter and financial devastation.
Maybe.
But Adele was just one-hundred-percent fucked up.
And that fact terrified Dallas.
Now, Colin was in the back of the SUV with Noah and Tony on either side of him. He was gagged and wore noise-blocking headphones tuned to classical music, so as to ensure that the men could speak freely without giving Colin any information they didn't want him to have. Dallas didn't truly believe that Colin's reveal of the location was part of a larger plan forged by Adele, but he wasn't taking any chances.
Liam turned to him. "And when it's over? What are we doing with him?"
Dallas's gut clenched. If he didn't need Colin's information, right then he could happily put a bullet through the bastard's brain. Or maybe he couldn't. Though he hated the pity that had welled up inside him, he couldn't deny that he felt it. And that pity just might save the son of a bitch's life.
"We'll worry about that after we get Jane safely out," Dallas said. He shifted in his seat to look back at the man. "And if we d
on't get her out, then I don't give a shit what happens to him."
The secluded farmhouse stood at the end of a dirt road that opened onto twelve acres of untended apple orchards, and even with Quince behind the wheel it took an hour and a half to get there. When they finally approached the turnoff to the property, Dallas was about to lose his shit.
"We walk from here," Liam said, and Dallas nodded. Right now, Liam was the de facto leader. Not only was Dallas not typically in the field, but he knew damn well his judgment was tainted by fear. "Tony and Noah, get to the house and get the device set up. Stay low, stay quiet. Once you've located them inside, signal us. Colin is going in with me and Dallas. Quince will provide backup from another access point. Tony, you handle anyone else who might be inside the property. Noah, you're on coms unless Quince or Tony need assistance."
They'd already gone over the plan multiple times, but it helped to hear it again. Solidified it. And gave Dallas a sense that this was really going to happen. That they were on it. That they would get in, and get her out.
Back in Manhattan, they'd pulled the farmhouse's original blueprint, but there was no way to know if alterations had been made in the meantime. Hopefully not. Right now, the plan was for Quince and Liam to enter through the cellar access while Colin and Dallas entered through the kitchen door. They'd locate and approach, then assess the situation. If necessary, they'd try to reason with Adele, with Dallas promising her whatever she wanted. But the real mission objective was to take her down, and the men intended to stay hidden long enough to do that, so long as it didn't compromise Jane's safety.
As for Noah's and Tony's assignments, Noah would be stationed near the front door, and Tony would make his own determination once they were aware of how many people were in the property.
That little task was going to be accomplished using the listening device Noah had invented. Though designed for much larger buildings, it should work as well for the house, pinpointing--and relaying--internal conversations. The team anticipated that Jane was being held in either the basement or the attic. By using the device, they could confirm that and conserve valuable time.
Now that they were moving, Dallas removed Colin's headphones, since he'd need to hear and follow instructions. He kept the gag. His tentative trust only stretched so far, and no way was he risking Colin shouting a warning to Adele.