‘I hope she contacts us,’ Scarlett said on a sigh. ‘But while we’re waiting, we need to find the sonofabitch who caused all of this.’
‘Wyatt Hanson,’ Adam gritted out, the sudden surge of fury a sucker punch to his gut. A clear picture of what he’d do when he found him slammed into his mind and it was not pretty. Isenberg was right. He was in no mental shape to hunt for Wyatt because if he found him, he’d strangle him with his bare hands.
He closed his eyes. ‘I think I do need a short break. A few hours, maybe. I’d like to go to the condo with Meredith. Any volunteers to guard my ass on the way?’
He opened his eyes in time to see Deacon close his, uttering a prayer of sincere thanks. ‘Took you long enough, you fucker.’
‘Yeah, well, when I learn, I learn. You won’t have to tell me again.’
‘I hope not, Detective.’ Isenberg stood, her signal for them to leave. ‘Deacon, Scarlett, take Adam to pick up Meredith and make sure they get to the condo safely, then I want you two to go to Wyatt’s house. He’s not there. My counterpart in Narcotics personally checked out the house this morning when Wyatt didn’t show up for his meeting with me. He didn’t go inside, because we didn’t have a warrant then, but he used a thermal imaging camera. There were no living people in the house at that time. I put a surveillance team on the house as soon as he didn’t show for our meeting this morning and he hasn’t been home. His wife came home a while ago, but so far no Wyatt. Search the house, question the wife, turn the place upside down.’
‘Do we have a warrant now?’ Deacon asked.
‘You do. For anything and everything. If you find a safe, do what you have to do to open it. Trip, you and Nash go to Mike’s garage in Fairfield. It’s near the used car place, and – luckily for us – has not been burned down. Find everything you can. Go. Be careful.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Monday 21 December, 11.20 A.M.
‘I thought you were going to call my husband in “a minute”,’ Rita said stiffly. ‘It’s already been over an hour.’
Linnea hadn’t yet contacted him, because every time she thought of facing him she wanted to puke. He’s a cop. But she was not going to give voice to her insecurities, so she shook her head instead.
‘He’d know my voice. Either he wouldn’t come at all, or he’d take me out with a rifle before I could pull the trigger.’
Rita’s chin lifted. ‘My husband is a police officer.’
‘Yeah. I know.’ And Linnea still reeled from the shock. Shifting the toddler to her other shoulder, she continued her gentle swaying. He’d fallen asleep an hour ago, but that wouldn’t last forever. She was going to have to make a move soon.
Several short bursts of vibration startled her, followed by another volley of buzzes. Someone was texting Rita’s cellphone. A lot. Maybe it’s him. Maybe he knows I’m here.
Good. Let him come. Although it was likely he’d send his police friends instead. They’d take her into custody because she really wouldn’t hurt the little boy. They’d never believe her story. About one of their own? Never. And then I won’t be able to kill him.
Carefully holding the child and the gun, she slipped Rita’s cellphone from the pocket of her coat and glanced at the screen.
Rita. Call me! What’s going on? CALL ME!
Followed by: RITA, r u ok? CALL ME! Wyatt’s on the news! Channel 12!
Linnea’s pulse rocketed. ‘Please turn on the TV. Channel twelve.’ She motioned with the gun when Rita didn’t move. ‘I said “please,” Mrs Hanson.’
Rita reached for the remote in a way that raised Linnea’s hackles.
‘Don’t think about throwing that at me,’ Linnea said calmly when Mrs Hanson’s arm reared back. ‘I don’t want to harm your son, but like I said before – I have nothing to lose.’
Rita blinked, sending tears down her face. ‘You’re vile.’
‘Yeah, well, you’re right about that. The television, Mrs Hanson. Please.’
Rita switched it on and found the news station. And gasped.
Linnea’s eyes widened.
The headline box at the bottom of the screen said: CPD Detective wanted for questioning in string of recent murders. The rest of the screen was filled with a photo of Wyatt Hanson. It was the same photo that sat on the family bookshelf.
It must be his department photo, she thought numbly. Then the reality of the words sank in. ‘Turn it up,’ Linnea demanded. ‘Now!’ she added when Rita didn’t move.
Rita fumbled with the remote, her hands shaking. ‘It’s a lie. It’s a lie.’
‘Turn it up,’ Linnea repeated, enunciating each word. ‘I’m losing patience.’
The remote was now shaking as Rita gripped it hard but she managed to turn up the volume. The photo of Hanson halved in size and moved to one side of the screen, the other side taken up by a podium, behind which stood a woman in her early fifties with short gray hair. She wore the same uniform that Wyatt wore in the photo. The caption beneath her name identified her as Lieutenant Isenberg.
‘It is with great regret,’ Isenberg said, the click-click-clicking of cameras in the background, ‘that we tell you that we are currently searching for one of CPD’s own detectives, Detective Wyatt Hanson of the Narcotics division, as a person of interest in the series of slayings that began on Saturday with the murder of Andy Gold.’
The photo of Hanson moved to the far corner of the screen and Andy’s face appeared where Wyatt’s had been.
Linnea’s chest tightened. ‘Andy,’ she whispered.
‘It’s not true,’ Rita insisted.
Linnea felt the stirrings of pity for the woman. ‘I’m sorry, but it is.’
‘Since Mr Gold’s murder,’ Isenberg went on, ‘we’ve seen at least ten more murders, here and in Chicago. These deaths are related.’
‘Ten more?’ Linnea murmured, stunned. Who? How?
‘A family of four died in a house fire Saturday night – a fire that was the work of an arsonist. Mr Gold lived in the house’s basement apartment. We assume the arsonist meant to destroy evidence that linked Mr Gold to another person of interest, Linnea Holmes. But,’ the lieutenant added quickly, ‘Miss Holmes is not a suspect. I repeat: she is not a suspect. We believe she has valuable information on the killers’ motives. I say “killers” in the plural because we know of two other men who were involved. Mr Butch Gilbert was killed Sunday afternoon and Mr Mike Barber was killed around midnight last night.’
‘Mike?’ Rita whispered, her face growing deathly pale.
Photographs of the two men popped up on the screen. Linnea’s stomach roiled at the sight of the men who’d raped her. Both were dead. Good, she thought fiercely. Then she looked at the baby sleeping on her shoulder. Mikey. From the look on Rita’s face, she realized the baby must have been named after the man who’d been killed at midnight.
‘As I said, there have been ten deaths related to this case. Retired police officer John Kasper became the most recent victim this morning. Two murders were committed in Chicago on Saturday night. Tiffany Curtis and her mother were killed because Tiffany had loaned her car to a friend of Andy Gold and Linnea Holmes.’
‘Shane,’ Linnea breathed.
‘Mr Shane Baird was hunted by Butch Gilbert, who apparently killed the two women in his efforts to ascertain Shane Baird’s whereabouts. We are not certain why he was in pursuit of Mr Baird, but we do know that Mr Baird had left for Cincinnati after hearing about Mr Gold’s death. He has told us he came to try and find Miss Holmes. In his effort to locate her, he recorded a video this morning, imploring Linnea to contact the police for her own protection, since we have reason to believe that Detective Hanson is still a threat to her. Since its upload to the Ledger’s website, the video has been seen over a million times, broadcasted online and over TV airwaves all over the world. We’d like to show the video in the event Linnea is watching this broadcast now.’