HUNTING (PAVAD) Read online

  Checked on Malachi himself.

  “Why? We got the bastard. Now give me what you owe us.” False bravado, easy for a trained psychologist like himself to see.

  They’d struck a covenant, him and this foolish young man who would not live to his twenty-first birthday. “Why should I? You didn’t deliver on your end of the bargain, and because of that, I must adjust my plans.”

  “If you don’t, then I have to rat you out.” Self-satisfaction was evident in the kid’s smirk. “So just give me the scripts you owe us. My brother and me and the others will consider the deal paid.”

  He pulled the coveted prescription pad from his desk drawer, where he kept it secured at all times. “This? I do believe we had a deal. But since you failed to deliver, I think we’ll cut your pay in half. Since you’ve caused me twice as much work in the future. You see, I was about to end things with Malachi Brockman, but since you’ve involved another piece to the game, I must concede defeat.”

  “What the fuck you sayin’, man? We had a deal, remember?”

  Yes, they had. And to him, his vow was sacrosanct. He didn’t give his word lightly. And he expected the same from those he engaged with. This young man had violated that sanctity by involving two other players in the game he played with Malachi. He pulled one more item from the desk. Aimed it at the young man. “Yes, we did. And you failed.”

  ***

  It was simple to dispose of the young man’s body. He was a major part of the local gang and of a disadvantaged background. It was as simple as dumping him in an area of others with his socioeconomic and ethnic background would congregate.

  To ensure there was time for him to complete what he needed to do, he drove across Eads Bridge into East St. Louis, stripped the youth of his identification and cut off his fingertips with the pocketknife Meredith and her husband had given him for his fifteenth birthday.

  He liked the symbolism of it, of using the knife in the game against their son. The fingertips he saved in a bag. It would be a small matter of dumping them in the river on his way home.

  He completed his task with only the smallest bit of impatience, and he had to commend himself on his efficiency, and his ability to suppress his desire to rush through the project.

  Rushing never accomplished anything, in his experience.

  The last thing he did before dumping the body in a back alley was shove the black piece into the boy’s mouth. The bishop had threatened Malachi as the king, but once again Malachi triumphed.

  And he lost.

  And that infuriated him…

  Chapter Sixteen

  * * *

  Malachi pulled everything he’d gathered about the UNSUB known as the Chess Master from the last five years. It wasn’t much but the information Malachi carried in his head gave a much clearer picture. He knew everything about the UNSUB but his name and where to find him. How to stop him.

  This particular UNSUB had stalked Malachi for half a decade, since his days with the Violent Crimes unit based in New York. Messages had been sent to him via email, photographs of victims had been left on the hood of his car, but the UNSUB was always just one step out of Malachi’s reach. This was the first time he’d physically engaged Malachi personally. Always before it had been generic means of communication. Almost bragging about the kills. But nothing that said he was coming after Malachi at any moment. Not then. But all that had changed.

  The UNSUB had upped the stakes by involving Julia and Paige. Malachi wasn’t stopping until he found him. And now he had one of the most powerful divisions of the FBI to back him. Resources and agents he’d not had before. He’d find him this time, or he’d simply die trying. Period.

  “There’s been no contact since my transfer to St. Louis,” he told Dennis and Hellbrook after explaining the details of his longest running cold case ever.

  “Probably took that long to find you,” Hell said. “Do you have any idea?”

  “About my age and has close to the same level of education. I believe he’s white and reasonably athletic. Not married. Definitely white collar.” Malachi pinned another sheet to the bulletin board inside his office. “He doesn’t pick his victims randomly, but what his pattern is, I can’t determine. He’s very smart, probably brilliant.”

  “That’s all you’ve gotten in five years?” Hell asked.

  “Yes. This UNSUB is extremely meticulous, probably obsessive-compulsive. The crime scenes are too clean. Little to no forensics found in all this time.”

  “So why you?” Dennis asked.

  “I don’t know.” That was the worst part, having a threat he couldn’t see. “Have either of you heard from the hospital?”

  “Dehydration, mainly. They’re giving her intravenous fluids and fever reducers. Keeping her overnight. Mostly on my say-so,” Dennis said. “Georgia says she’s sleeping, still. She also has a mild concussion and a nasty sprained ankle. But all in all, she’s going to be fine.”

  “There were five men.” Malachi wrote the numbers one through five on the white board. “My size or larger. Unfortunately, I saw none of their faces.”

  “Paige had skin scrapings from three under her nails. But we’ve come up with no matches yet. We’ll have something to compare to, but it doesn’t help us in this stage,” Hell pinned the report beside Malachi’s.

  “We’re not stopping until we get him, son.” Dennis put a hand on Malachi’s shoulder.

  Malachi nodded. He placed photos of the two new chess pieces on the board. Malachi had once loved chess; that ended five years ago with the first body.

  “I’m going to the hospital.” He’d waited long enough.

  ***

  Jules hurt all over, but at least she was finally warm again. Now if the nursing staff would just leave her alone, she could get some freaking sleep.

  Whatever they’d pumped her full of had been some really good stuff. She was aware enough to know she was in a hospital, but drugged enough to not quite remember getting there. The last thing she could remember, she and Malachi were...

  Jules muffled a scream with the hand not attached to an IV.

  “Shh...It’s ok.”

  Her eyes flew open and she stared into familiar blue ones.

  “How?” He was there, then. Why did that reassure her?

  “Hellbrook found us. How are you feeling?” Malachi asked.

  “Tired.” Her eyes closed again. She felt a hand brush over her hair, and for once she didn’t protest his touch. It was somehow comforting and familiar. They were both safe, and that’s all that mattered.

  Chapter Seventeen

  * * *

  “Thanks for helping me sneak away,” Paige said as he pushed the button to the hospital elevator.

  He glanced at her for a quick moment, angered once again by the bruises marring her perfect porcelain skin. Nothing should mar her skin, and she’d mostly likely have a scar across her forehead from this. “You know I’d do anything you ask, my dear.”

  He resisted the urge to cover her hand with his. She didn’t like to be touched by men; he’d have to get her accustomed to him before they pursued the physical. He wasn’t one to rush things, and physicality was not something he highly valued, though he was a healthy man with healthy sexual responses. He wanted Paige for so many other reasons. And once he refined her, she would be perfect. And then that was when the physical side of things would mature between them—he had every confidence in that.

  “That’s because you’re a true sweetheart.” The fingers peeking out of that obscene plaster cast tapped his cheek. Nothing had offended him more than that cast and the fact that she’d earned it by defending Malachi.

  He preferred to think she’d been defending her friend Dr. Bellows exclusively. He hadn’t meant to involve another woman. He definitely hadn’t planned on that occurring. He’d jumped at the chance to accompany Paige to the hospital, wanting to reassure himself that the doctor would survive. He’d always chosen his pieces with care and deliberation, made sure they’d ear
ned the distinction.

  He knew nothing about Dr. Julia Bellows.

  But that would change.

  Paige sauntered ahead, her impatience always getting the best of her. He sighed, adding that to the growing list of traits they would have to address before she took her spot beside him. He lost sight of her for a few moments.

  She was leaning against the information desk, speaking brightly with the woman on the other side when he caught up after his brief trip to the restroom. Everyone spoke to Paige, something that had surprised him at first. Her Goth appearance gave the impression of strength and toughness. But once she opened her mouth, her sweetness shined through. That could only be a plus for his ambitions.

  “There you are!” She beamed at him. “Jules is awake!”

  “That’s good.”

  “Mal’s with her, apparently he’s stayed all night.” Paige flittered ahead of him.

  “There’s no rush, my dear. Your friend is not going anywhere.” He hoped his mild tone hid the bile that filled his stomach when she mentioned Malachi. So he’d stayed with Dr. Bellows? Unsurprising. Malachi always played the hero.

  He waited outside the room while Paige peeked her head in. He didn’t want Malachi to focus on him. But he was insatiably curious to see him interacting with the doctor. He would just take one look…

  Chapter Eighteen

  * * *

  Jules was staring at her sleeping visitor when her door was pushed open and a familiar dark head popped in. “Paige!”

  The younger woman pushed into the room followed by a man Jules vaguely recognized from the party. He nodded at her, and then excused himself, telling Paige he’d wait in the cafeteria.

  “I’ve snuck away from my room.” Paige sank down on the foot of the bed. “How long has Mal been here?”

  “I don’t know. He’s been asleep since I woke up.” Jules frowned at the man in question. Malachi’s head was thrown back and he’d taken off his glasses. He wore a sweatshirt and jeans, something she was not used to seeing. “I’m not even sure why he’s here. I thought he’d be out there, doing profiler things or something.”

  She’d been tempted to wake him, but from what she remembered of their ordeal, the man hadn’t slept much, if at all. He’d been there beside her, holding her, every time she’d opened her eyes. She’d never forget that.

  “I think he’s hiding.” Paige grinned around the stitches that had been put in her lip. “Everyone wants to talk to him. I saw him on the news. Looked pretty sexy.”

  Jules eyed her friend, taking in the bruises and the cast, the stiff way the girl moved. Not to mention the hospital gown that had vampires on it, of all things. Where had Paige found that? “You ok?”

  “Yep. Just glad we found you guys.”

  “What happened, after...”

  “I was out for a while, I think. Mikhail and Al found me, sounded the alarm.” Paige shrugged. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For letting them take you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It was five men, and they even got the jump on Galahad over there. We couldn’t have stopped them, Paige. Not unarmed the way we were.” And Jules meant that. “Has anyone said who?”

  “Something about an old case of Mal’s. He and Hell are taking point.” Paige settled on the foot of the bed. “That’s all I know. They won’t tell me much of anything.”

  They spoke for a few more minutes until Jules felt too tired to make much sense. Paige left, rejoining her friend in the hallway. He’d stuck his head in the room long enough to say hello and inquire how she was doing.

  Jules pulled the blankets tighter around herself and flipped onto her side. She stared at the sleeping man for a long moment. He still had bruises, now a more livid purple as they aged. He looked dangerous, scruffy, something she definitely wasn’t used to seeing. Sexy, like Paige had said?

  Yeah, she could kind of see sexy about him. Until he woke up and opened his mouth. Not that that mattered to her.

  But at least they were both alive and she knew he would catch the men responsible. Jules didn’t want to think about the ordeal anymore.

  She had other, more important things to worry about. Like how to explain a kidnapping that had been plastered all over the national news to the department of child services in South Dakota.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ***

  Jules had been home only an hour when the phone rang. She grabbed it, then winced when her sore arm protested. She’d hit one of her attackers hard enough to do soft tissue damage to her arm. It would take at least a week for some of the stiffness she felt to lessen. But at least she and Paige and Malachi had survived the attack.

  And now Jules was at home. Alone. With nothing but the memories of what had happened running through her head.

  She sank on to the couch, uncertain what she should even do now. It was only noon, and she was usually at work, halfway through an autopsy by now. The house was spotless, and she didn’t have the energy to clean anyway.

  But sitting on the couch remembering what had happened wasn’t something she wanted to do, either.

  But that’s what she did for at least another hour.

  The phone ringing was what shook her out of her daze.

  “Hello?”

  “Dr. Bellows? This is Colleen Ashbury, how are you?”

  “I’m fine…” Jules recognized the name, and her heart rate quickened. The social worker. From South Dakota. Calling today of all days.

  Was she ready for this?

  She’d spoken with her own case worker, explained the entire situation of the kidnapping as best she could. Told her that it was only coincidence that she’d been involved at all. Her caseworker had seemed to accept her word on it. But this was Ruthie’s caseworker, a woman who held so much of the power. Jules’ stomach was in knots. “What can I do for you today?”

  “I wanted to let you know that we’ve received and approved your homestudy for Ruth Mary Byrum. Your caseworker knows I’m contacting you today.”

  “I’ve been approved?” She didn’t want to sound like an idiot, but to be truthful, she hadn’t really ever expected it to happen. She’d feared something would fail, someone would decide she wasn’t a good candidate. She’d first started the process seven months ago, and had been waiting ever since. And with the last four days’ events, she’d almost lost hope. “For Ruthie.”

  “That’s why I’m calling. The judge will be ruling for termination of parental rights on Ruth Mary’s biological father next week. Her mother faces a hearing in three weeks regarding Ruth Mary.”

  “She prefers Ruthie. She told me that the day we met.”

  “You’ve met the child before?”

  “I was one of the first to provide medical evaluation the day she entered the system.” How much should she volunteer? Wasn’t all of this listed in Ruthie’s—and her—files? “She remained with me for nearly a day during the initial interview process during a case my team with the FBI was investigating.”

  “Good. That will make it easier. We can do visitation, then transition to a foster-to-adopt placement. I’ve spoken with the Lakes, the foster parents currently housing Ruth—Ruthie. They say she’s having a difficult time adjusting.”

  Why wouldn’t she? She was the daughter of a serial killer and rapist. And her mother had abused her from the day she was born most likely. The only stability she’d had had been in the form of an older child—Hannah—in the home. “I see.”

  “To be honest, they’ve requested her to be placed elsewhere. They’re not happy about it, but they have six other children in the same age range, with more pressing psychological and physical needs.”

  Jules closed her eyes, trying to erase the thoughts of a little girl with no one to really care what happened to her. No one but Jules. “I don’t understand. Don’t they know that I’m trying to get her?”

  “Yes. But let’s be realistic. These things take time, especially with interstate adoptions. Ruthie ne
eds placed right now.”

  “Yes, of course.” Jules hated it, but knew the social worker was right. And it was the nature of the beast that was the foster system. Most people involved really tried to do what was best for the kids, but sometimes, shit just happened. The only thing that will help Ruthie now was getting her into a permanent and stable home. Hopefully, that would be in St. Louis. “So when can we start visitation? Does Ruthie…know about me?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll be meeting with her at the Lakes tomorrow, and taking her to her new placement. I’ll start preparing her for your visits. I’ll call you this weekend with the first date. Will you be able to attend easily?”

  She’d already discussed the adoption process with Ed and Mia—who would cover for Jules when she had to be out of state. “Yes. I’m taking personal leave on those days. My superior at PAVAD has already approved. How long on the visitation? A month? Two? I guess my main question is when can we get that little girl into my home, where she’s wanted? When do I need to have everything ready?” She knew she was being pushy with the social worker, but this was her future, and more importantly, Ruthie’s, at stake. “She’s been in care since April. Hasn’t she been through enough? She’s not even four years old yet…”

  “We are moving as fast as we can with the ICPC. You know what that is, I guess?”

  “Interstate Compact on the Placement of Children. Yes, I’m familiar with it.” It was the compact between states that allowed for adoption between children in one state and adoptive parents in another.

  “Excellent. And you’ve passed all necessary background checks, your home has been inspected for safety guidelines, and now the homestudy has been approved. And you’ve already been identified as a match for Ruth Mary.”

  “Yes, I’ve been calling her previous casework Rita Sloan weekly for updates on the process. And my own, Jenny Barry, too. Once I finished the classes and the first steps in the process. They seem to think Ruthie and I would be a good match, as I have met her, am familiar with her history, and can provide appropriate counseling for the traumas she’s endured.”