The White Carnation Read online

  “Just after Valentine’s Day. There’s a calendar in my office. I circled the dates.”

  She swallowed, trying to stem the tears and control herself. Lord, she’d been raped, drugged, and had four days stolen from her, so why should discovering the truth about the flowers feel like the end of the world?

  Annoyed with herself, she grabbed a washcloth, wet it, and scrubbed her face. Self-pity replaced her aggravation. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional about all this. I usually have a tight grip on my feelings. As a reporter I have to, and yet …” She put her head down again. “How did he find me here? You said it was a secret—that I was here under an alias.”

  She looked up sharply, her misery turning to fury as the truth struck her.

  The low-down, lying bastard!

  “You lied to me! You used me to bait a trap for the son of a bitch. Does everyone know what happened to me?” she accused. “Is it all over the news? My mother! Does my mother know?”

  “Calm down, Faye. I wouldn’t do that. What the hell kind of cold, unfeeling jerk do you think I am? You didn’t believe me fifteen months ago, but you damn well should this time. I haven’t lied to you, not now, not then, but I may not have been entirely truthful to others. Once I knew you were out of danger, I called your mother and told her we were talking again and that you’d been sent out of town unexpectedly on assignment. I didn’t think you’d want her to worry. As far as the paper knows, you sent Sloan a message Friday saying you were taking some time off. You can call him and ask for an extended leave. You have three weeks of vacation coming—I checked.”

  Faye walked back into the bedroom, angry and confused. Bullshit. He’d do whatever he had to in order to catch the Harvester, and if that meant baiting a trap with her as the cheese, so be it. Well, she’d accepted her role in what had happened last year, but he hadn’t done anything to prove his innocence, and she’d be damned if she’d take his word or any other man’s for it. As far as lying to her, he’d evade the question, omit information, or give her just enough to hang herself as he had with that damn file. She should be grateful he hadn’t told her mother the truth. Mom would only get upset if she knew what had happened, and having anyone find out just how vulnerable she’d been wasn’t something Faye wanted out there. Checking on her vacation time was just another means he used to manipulate things in his favor, the way he always did when he wanted his own way. Damn it. Unfortunately, this time she was at his mercy. That lousy bouquet of flowers proved it. Accepting the inevitable, she turned back to him, wanting to see his eyes when he answered.

  “If what you’re saying is true, how did he find me?”

  “As I told you, the Green murder made the papers on Saturday, but we kept your name out of it. Someone knows about your break-in and subsequent ambulance ride. It didn’t come from your neighbors—no one was around—and the Cambridge police closed up quickly, hoping to catch the culprit if he came back. The lab techs took everything that was broken, and the cleaners aren’t going in until later today. The only ones who know all the facts are the people on the special task force. Whoever he is, he’s got a pipeline to highly confidential information. I’m taking you out of here now.”

  She pulled away from him and crossed her arms protectively in front of her.

  “Back off, He-Man. Like hell you are. I’m not going anywhere with you or anyone else. If that monster was able to find me here, in police custody under an assumed name, he’ll find me in that safe house and drug or kill everyone. I won’t be responsible for that.”

  • • •

  The door buzzed, and Dr. Chong entered. “What the hell happened here? I leave my patient alone with you for an hour, and she turns into an emotional wreck.”

  “Hey, don’t hang this on me. I’m just trying to do my job. Blame her for being her usual mulish self.”

  “I don’t care how many insults you toss at me. I’m not going to that damn safe house, and unless you arrest me, there’s no way you can make me.”

  “Arresting you isn’t a problem.”

  “Stop!” Dr. Chong shouted at them. “Now, will someone tell me what’s happened?”

  Rob pointed to the flowers. “It looks as if Faye’s attacker has found her.”

  “And if he’s found me here, he’ll find me in whatever safe house you’ve got planned for me.”

  “Damn it, Faye. You can’t stay here. I can’t protect you here. At least at the safe house there’ll be other agents …”

  “I’m missing something,” Dr. Chong said. “No one except my hand-picked staff and your people know she’s here.”

  “That’s the problem. It looks as if there might be someone leaking confidential information. There’s got to be a mole somewhere—if not here, then at the station. I’ve got to get her away from here until we figure it out, but I have to admit Faye’s right. If the leak is in the investigation, then they’ll find her in the safe house.”

  “Maybe I can help you with that,” Dr. Chong said. “If I’ve got the leak, I’ll find it. If not, then you’re right, and you’ve got a hell of a problem on your hands.” She removed a ring of keys from her pocket, undid two brass ones, and handed them to him. “I bought this cabin in the Adirondacks about six months ago. I’ve only been there a few times. I wanted a bolthole where no one could find me. It’s isolated, but it has everything you might need. I do like my creature comforts. I was up there a couple of weeks ago. Who do you trust?”

  He was about to say Tom but stopped, remembering his partner’s opposition to his theories last Friday and the way he’d been behaving since they’d been given the Harvester case. The guy had been gung ho to help since, had seen to it that Faye’s rape evidence made it to the lab in time, but … While he and Faye hadn’t discussed the O’Malley case, the one that had ruined their relationship, someone had put that file on his desk. Tom had been in the room that day congratulating him on his promotion. If there was a mole, wouldn’t the guy do everything to discredit him and his theories? But if not Tom, who could he trust? He dismissed Pierce. The man was too quick to come up with ideas of his own, and Rob disliked the guy’s attitude about Faye. “The BAU team leader, Trevor Clark,” he answered, certain that he’d made the right choice.

  Dr. Chong pulled a pink cell phone out of her jacket pocket. “I just took this away from a patient who needs to get some rest. The young lady is rather annoyed with me at the moment, but her mother all but applauded my actions. Call him. If someone is monitoring your calls, they won’t be monitoring this.”

  “Thanks.”

  She smiled at Faye. “I thought you’d like to know baby boy Smith is doing fine. He reacted well to the transfusions and the coagulants we gave him. He’s small, probably born a couple of weeks early, but he knows how to drink from a bottle, so he wasn’t being nursed—or if he was, he was getting formula as well.”

  She took the discharge papers she held and tossed them on the table. “I won’t be signing these for a while. Let’s get you out of here.” She drew the curtain across the glass wall as she did when she examined Faye.

  “The bathroom connects with the one next door. When ICU is busy and isolation isn’t needed, the nurse can move from this room into the next, but not back again. The door can only be opened from this side. There’s a small utility room off the next room that opens into the nursing office. We’ll go out through there. Don’t close the door—I need to get back in to set things in motion.”

  “Thank you,” Rob said.

  “Don’t thank me. Catch the bastard and put him away for good. Now, go.”

  • • •

  Rob stood on the porch of the secluded cabin along the west branch of the Ausable River and watched the night sky. He wore a plaid shirt, jeans, and his Sig Sauer shoved into his shoulder holster. His feet were stuffed into wool socks, but he wore no shoes or slippers, preferring not to make a sound as his feet padded across the pine veranda.

  Electrical storms of this magnitude were rare this early in the
season in the Adirondacks. The almost constant roll of thunder coupled with the continuous cloud-to-cloud lightning made him feel as if he were trapped in a scene from a World War II movie and the light in the distance was from the unrelenting bombs dropping on the countryside. It was beautiful yet disturbing. The lightning lit the clearing once more, giving it a surreal quality. The storm was still some distance away, and he heartily hoped Faye would sleep through it. You’d think the last thing she would need, after being unconscious for four days, was more sleep.

  He ran his hand through his hair. I need a haircut.

  He and Faye had arrived about three hours ago. Night had fallen, and the dark clouds hovering over the mountains promised rain, possibly snow, at the higher altitudes. The seven-hour drive from Boston with a stop for dinner had exhausted her. She’d barely been able to get undressed and crawl into bed. He’d made himself comfortable on the couch with the pillow and sleeping bag he’d found in the downstairs closet. He’d tried to sleep, but his mind wouldn’t settle.

  After agreeing to come with him, Faye had been silent throughout the journey, and that worried him. Dr. Chong had warned him her emotions would be close to the surface and that angry outbursts were as common as crying jags, but the stoic silence unnerved him. There was no knowing the amount of damage the drugs and the discovery of what had happened to her could do to her psyche, especially in someone like Faye, who prided herself on always being in control. Since he usually needed to feel in charge, that aspect of her personality and his had often set them at loggerheads. She might be putting up a brave front, but she needed time to heal, time to come to terms with her loss, and four days missing out of your life was a hell of a loss.

  They’d stopped in Albany to get more clothes—something a little warmer for the cool, late-spring nights. They’d bought groceries, and he’d added a bottle of Irish whiskey, some beer, and a couple of bottles of the wine he knew she liked. The doctor had said the whiskey couldn’t hurt. Anything else they needed, they could pick up in Wilmington or Lake Placid. The resort town was only a half hour away. They should be safe here.

  As far as everyone was concerned, Faye had taken a turn for the worse and had been moved to a private room—one without the glass wall. There was a mole in the investigation, and that changed everything. Other than the doctor, Clark was the only one who knew the truth about their location, and he’d rerouted contact with them through Langley, Virginia. While the CIA and the FBI didn’t work together on a regular basis, they did on federal crimes, and since kidnapping was a federal crime, if the Harvester had Mary as they suspected, as well as three children, then the CIA was happy to assist in whatever way they could.

  Undercover FBI agents had replaced Cambridge PD at the hospital, lying in wait to see who took an interest in Faye’s condition. She’d accused him of using her to bait a trap. In a way, he had, but instead of her in the bed, there were one hundred pounds of ballistic gel wearing a brown wig. He hoped to catch a rat, most likely one of his own men, but who? And more importantly, why?

  Rob had left his cell phone plugged in at the hospital, so if anyone was monitoring its GPS, that’s where they’d think he was. He’d picked up a pay-as-you-go disposable one to stay in touch until they’d gotten here. Dr. Chong’s place was equipped with a private-number landline and Internet service. The BAU’s amazing computer technologist had copied him on everything to date and would continue to do so, ensuring no one would be the wiser. Right now, it looked as if the leak was at Boston PD, and Rob felt he couldn’t trust anyone there with the truth. Clark would have Amos review every shred of evidence at the morgue to make sure nothing else had gone missing or been changed.

  The sound of Faye’s footsteps brought him out of his reverie. She stepped up beside him. The wind had increased, and it was cooler than it had been mere minutes earlier.

  “Hey, you should be asleep.”

  “The thunder woke me. It’s incredible, isn’t it?” she asked as the sky glowed brightly once more. “But it scares the daylights out of me. Mother Nature can be beautiful, but she can be so destructive.” A fork of lightning split the darkness, and she started. Wrapping her arms around herself, she smiled up at him. “I’m a little skittish tonight. I’ve got spots in front of my eyes as if a hundred flashbulbs have gone off.”

  The pitter-patter of rain striking the cabin’s metal roof started, gentle, rhythmic at first. Suddenly, a gust of wind, so strong it forced the white birch trees to the ground, tore through the clearing, bringing with it heavier rain. They rushed into the house, closing the doors behind them.

  The room was dark, and when Rob fumbled for the light switch, nothing happened. Within seconds, the storm arrived in all its intensity. The pounding rain on the roof and the windows deafened him. Forked lightning lit up the sky, and thunder shook the wooden structure.

  “It’s almost midnight. You should get back to bed. I know it’s loud, but there are earplugs on the dresser. We’re safe here. There isn’t anything to worry about.”

  He pushed back the hair that had fallen across her face. He was conflicted. On the one hand, he wanted to treat her like every other victim and witness he’d ever put into protective custody; on the other, he wished he could take her into his arms and hold her until the storm passed, hold her the way he used to do, but he doubted she’d welcome that. There had been moments in the hospital when he thought they’d lost her, when her pressure had dropped so low, even Dr. Chong hadn’t been able to keep the concern from her face. But Faye was a fighter. Never show weakness. She could be terrified, but no one would know it. They’d been together almost a year before she’d admitted her fears: clowns and lightning. Two things she just couldn’t trust.

  “You’re shivering. You’ll catch cold after everything your body’s been through these last few days. I don’t want you to get sick.”

  A flash of lightning brought midday into the room, and he saw the uncertainty on her face. She’d always disliked electrical storms, more so after she’d written that story about the forest fire upstate that had killed six campers, but tonight, he felt there was more to it. There was a monster out there stalking her, a predator who wouldn’t give up easily.

  “Come on. I’ll take you back upstairs.”

  Rob reached for her hand and led the way across the room. The cabin was designed with one great room downstairs, complete with a huge stone fireplace on the east wall. The south wall was a floor-to-ceiling window, and the lightning continued to brighten the room with every flash. The bedroom was in a loft reached by a spiral staircase in the far corner of the room. Rob mounted the steps and emerged into the bedroom. The king-sized bed dominated the room.

  “Get some rest. I’ll keep you safe, Faye. I promise nothing will happen to you while I’m around. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

  “Stay, please.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not? You slept in my room at the hospital. I just need to know there’s someone near.”

  She reminded him of a kicked puppy. How much pain was a person supposed to handle before cracking? Faye was tough, but …

  “I’ll get undressed,” he said, loud enough to be heard over the thunder and the hammering rain. “I can’t hold you with my gun on, and you know I can’t sleep in jeans.”

  He moved around to the other side, removed his holster, and placed the gun on the table beside the bed. With fingers that shook, he unbuttoned his shirt, removed it, and then took off his jeans and socks. He lifted the duvet and got into bed.

  As always, Faye wore an oversized New York Yankees shirt. When they’d been together, he’d laughed at her choice of “sexy” nightwear but had contributed at least three shirts to the cause.

  “Come here,” he said, knowing he might regret his offer.

  Faye turned toward him, and he pulled her into his arms the way he’d done countless times before. He felt his body stir as it recognized her shape and scent and forced his lustful thoughts
away from what they’d shared once in what seemed like another lifetime. What Faye needed tonight was to feel safe. What he needed didn’t matter.

  Faye buried her face in his shoulder, the heat of her skin searing his. “I’m sorry to be such a baby,” she said huskily. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional. In the car, all I could think of was how I was going to get even with the bastard for what he’s done to me, and now, here, in the dark, with the storm raging, I’m seeing boogeymen in every corner. Damn drugs have made me stupid.”

  Chuckling, he moved her slightly, making them both more comfortable. “Not stupid. Never stupid. If you want to try them, the earplugs will help.”

  “No, this is fine. I’m sure I’ll be my old bitchy self by morning.”

  He knew she was crying by the moisture on his chest and her gentle quaking, but there was nothing else he could do for her other than hold her. With his right hand, he rubbed her back lightly. He could smell the strawberries in her hair, just as he had Saturday morning. They lay cuddled together as the storm raged around them. Gradually, her quivering ceased, and he felt and heard the even tempo of her breathing and knew she’d fallen asleep. He pulled her more tightly to him and continued to rub her back.

  He and Clark had spoken on the phone earlier after they’d arrived. The team was working on Rob’s theory, trying to piece it together, but it seemed to have more holes in it than Swiss cheese. Everything hinged on the idea that the Harvester stalked, drugged, and raped his victims, and then came back for them before the babies were born. Pierce had been particularly obnoxious about the suggestion, thought Rob was nuts, his mind unhinged by his proximity to the “bitch who’d dumped him”—the man was lucky he was still able to chew his food.

  While Rob couldn’t connect Mary or Faye to the Harvester other than through the vague resemblance they bore to the other victims, the fact Faye had been drugged and raped weighed heavily on his side. A lot of police work was conjecture, trying to put the evidence together so that it made sense, but he didn’t have evidence—four murders, maybe five or six—and they didn’t have a lead, let alone an iota of proof.