Luke’s mama covered the girl’s hand with hers. “It’s nice to meet you, Jane,” she said softly. “I hope you wake up soon.” Then she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the girl’s forehead and Susannah felt new tears well. No one, ever, had done that to her. Luke’s mama turned to Susannah, her dark eyes shrewdly appraising. “Come, let’s change you out of that dirty dress. You’ll feel better.”
“All right.” Susannah brushed the hair from the girl’s face. “I’ll be back soon.”
Atlanta, Saturday, February 3, 2:45 p.m.
She wasn’t dead. Monica couldn’t move again, but she wasn’t dead. Whatever the nurse gave me wore off before. It will wear off again. So stay calm. It’ll wear off.
When it does, what will you do? Will you tell the cops? If you do, they’ll sell Genie.
If I don’t, they might anyway. They won’t let her go. I have to tell.
At least Susannah was back from changing her clothes, sitting in the chair next to her bed, but something was wrong there, too. I always cry at funerals, Susannah had told the woman, the one who’d brought her clothes. The one who kissed my forehead.
Funeral for who? They couldn’t be burying the others yet. It was only yesterday that they’d been killed. Who died? Susannah had left with the other woman, then had returned a few minutes later alone. She’d been quiet. Subdued. So very sad.
Monica tensed. Someone else was here now. “How is she?” a man asked.
It was the agent, the one with the black eyes. Luke. He sounded angry. Upset.
“She woke up for a little while this morning,” Susannah said, “but she slipped back under. I suppose it’s her way of dodging the pain for a while.”
A chair scraped and Monica could feel the warmth from his body. “Did she say anything when she woke up?”
“I wasn’t here.”
“What about yesterday? Did she say anything else?”
“No. She just looked at me like I was God or something.”
“You brought her out of the woods.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Susannah said, and Luke sighed.
“Susannah. You did not cause this.”
“I don’t happen to agree.”
“Talk to me,” he said, frustrated. Like he’d said it before.
“Why?”
“Because… Because I want to know.”
“You want to know what, Agent Papadopoulos?” Susannah’s voice had grown cold.
“Why you think this is your fault.”
“Because I knew,” she said flatly. “I knew and I said nothing.”
“What did you know?” he asked, soothingly.
“I knew Simon was a rapist.”
Simon. Who is Simon? Who did he rape?
“I thought Simon didn’t do any of the rapes, that he only took the pictures.”
There was a beat of silence. “He did at least one.”
Oh, no. Monica now understood. Whoever Simon was, he’d raped Susannah, too.
Luke sucked in a breath. “Did you tell Daniel?”
Who is Daniel?
“No,” Susannah said angrily. “And neither will you. I only know that if I’d said something, this might have been avoided. She might not be here right now.”
Nobody said anything for a long time, but Monica could hear them breathe.
Finally Luke spoke. “I recognized one of the bodies back there yesterday.”
“How?” Susannah asked, surprise in her voice.
“From a case I was working eight months ago. I failed to protect that girl. I failed to bring a sexual sadist that preyed on children to justice. I want another bite at the apple.”
He sounded so very angry. His voice shook.
“Granville’s dead,” Susannah said.
Dead? He’s dead? Hallelujah. He couldn’t hurt Genie.
“But there’s still the other. Someone who’s pulling the strings. Someone who taught Granville how to be very good at his job,” he said bitterly. “I want him. I want to throw him into hell and throw away the key.”
The other. The woman who’d given the doctor the order to kill them. The other had Genie. Monica’s elation fizzled.
“Why are you telling me this?” Susannah asked. There was a note of impatience in her voice, like tell me something I don’t already know.
“Because you want the same thing.”
There was a long pause. “What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll call you when I do.” He got up. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not telling Daniel about Simon.”
“Thank you for respecting my decision.”
Then Luke was gone and Susannah sighed heavily.
Yeah, Monica thought helplessly. Tell me about it.
Daniel looked asleep, Luke thought as he stood in the doorway.
“I’m not asleep,” Daniel said, opening his eyes. His voice was raspy, but stronger than Luke had anticipated. “I was wondering when you’d come by.”
Luke’s gaze dropped to the smudges on the shoulder of Daniel’s hospital gown. “You’d think for what you’re paying that you’d at least get a clean gown.”
One side of Daniel’s mouth lifted and Luke saw an uncanny resemblance to Susannah. In no other way did they look alike. “Everything went to hell yesterday.”
“You have no idea. I don’t have much time, but I need some information.”
“Shoot.” Daniel grimaced. “Actually, on second thought, don’t do that.”
Luke chuckled, feeling a little better. “I’m sure glad you didn’t get yourself killed.”
“Me, too,” Daniel said. “But I gotta say you look as bad as I feel.”
“Thank you,” Luke said dryly, then sobered. “You may not have heard the news. Kate Davis was killed this afternoon.”
“Suze told me, but it doesn’t make sense. Kate didn’t seem like the type to start shooting people.”
“I agree, but nothing about this case is the way it seems.”
“Alex told me about the bodies you found and the live girls they took with them. She said Mansfield and Granville were into human trafficking.”
“She’s right. Too much has happened in the last twenty-four. I don’t have time to tell you all of it right now, but, Daniel, we found a file on Mansfield’s computer. Very graphic photos of Granville torturing these girls. The file is called Sweetpea, my ass.”
“Sweetpea is Mansfield. Granville gave him the name and he hated it.”
“That’s what I thought. What do you know about Judge Borenson?”
Daniel looked surprised at the question. “He presided over Gary Fulmore’s murder trial. Frank Loomis’s clerk said he retired and became a hermit up in the mountains.”
“That part I know. What do you remember about him? From when you were young?”
“He sometimes had dinner with us, then he and my father would go into his study and talk until the wee hours of the morning. Why?”
“He’s missing. We found his cabin ransacked, blood everywhere. Last I heard Talia was waiting for cadaver dogs to search for his body.”
Daniel winced. “Hell. They’re all gone, then. Randy Mansfield’s father was the prosecutor on Gary Fulmore’s murder case and he’s dead. The coroner who did the autopsy’s dead. Fulmore’s original defense attorney is dead-that was a suspicious death, by the way. He had a car accident on a dry road in the middle of the day.”
“And now Frank Loomis is dead, too,” Luke said, and Daniel looked haunted.
“I know. I keep seeing him die. He tried to warn me at the last minute. He did something horrible, Luke, falsifying evidence. Gary Fulmore’s spent thirteen years in prison for a crime he didn’t do and for the life of me I can’t figure out why Frank did it.”
“Loomis wasn’t a rich man, so there wasn’t any payoff,” Luke said.