This isn’t her fault. She is like us. A victim. She’s only doing what they make her do. What she must do to survive.
I get off her and pull her across the darkness until we find Ellen, and then we all lie there in a sobbing huddle.
The world we were snatched from no longer exists. There is only this place, this moment and our fears.
We now know the truth.
We’re all going to die.
43
The Brick
2:30 p.m.
Before hellos or introductions, Tony hugged Bobbie Gentry. Nearly overwhelmed with emotion, it took him a moment to find his voice. She looked great and he was damned glad she was here.
“I’m grateful you were able to come.”
“Nothing could have stopped us.” She smiled. The darkness they had shared was an unspoken knowing between them. It was a bond that could never be broken.
He turned to Nick Shade and shook his hand. “Thank you for coming.”
“You would do the same.”
Yes, he would. Tony shared something intense with these two people and he was immensely grateful for their friendship.
Nick looked relaxed, at peace. Tony was glad. The sadistic serial killer who had posed as his father for most of his life was rotting in prison where he belonged. Dying would have been too good for him. He deserved to live his final years having to mull over and over what he’d done to Nick and all his other victims. The bastard was in solitary confinement. All the benefits he’d once enjoyed for cooperating with the Bureau had been taken from him. He was merely an old man serving multiple life sentences.
He was nothing—no one—dying a slow, meaningless death.
“Joanna Guthrie,” Tony said, “this is Sergeant Bobbie Gentry.” He grinned at Bobbie. She’d received the promotion she deserved. She and Lieutenant Lynette Holt, the newly promoted unit commander, had rebuilt their homicide team. The former commander of homicide, Eudora Owens, was now the Montgomery chief of police and had married Bobbie’s uncle. Life was good in Montgomery.
The two women exchanged a quick embrace.
“Nick Shade,” Tony said.
Nick extended a hand to Joanna. “Tony filled me in on your situation. I hope we can help.”
“Thank you.” Jo shook his hand. “We need all the help we can get.”
“Let’s sit.” Tony gestured to the booth he and Jo had claimed to wait for Bobbie’s and Nick’s arrival. “I’ve ordered pizza and a pitcher of beer.”
As they settled into the booth Nick and Bobbie exchanged a glance. Then Bobbie said, “I’ll have water.”
Tony’s jaw dropped. He laughed. “The two of you have news?”
Bobbie smiled. “I’m pregnant. We found out a few weeks ago but haven’t made the official announcement yet.”
“Wow.” Tony was so damned happy for them. “I’ll bet Amelia is thrilled.”
Amelia Potter was Nick’s mother. He’d always assumed the woman married to Weller was his mother but that turned out to be a lie. Nick had been stolen from his mother when he was three years old. Amelia had spent a lifetime praying her son would one day come home to her, and he had. The investigation had concluded with that rare happy ending.
Nick nodded. “She’s moving to Montgomery to take care of the baby after Bobbie returns to work.”
“We’ve been trying to lure her from Savannah for months,” Bobbie added. “It took a baby to draw her away from all she knows. We’ve promised to take her to Savannah often to see her friends.”
The pizza arrived, Tony ordered water for Bobbie, and then brought the two of them up to speed on what he and Jo had learned since he called Nick last night. He’d never been more thankful for backup. The idea that he could be allowing his personal attachment to his niece to get in the way of what needed to be done wasn’t lost on him.
After they’d polished off the pizza, Bobbie was the first to speak. “No ransom demands, no contact whatsoever. The victims simply disappear.” She turned to Jo. “Frankly, if I didn’t know your story and the story of the other victims you’ve followed, I would be leaning toward the human trafficking scenario.”
“Unless this is an entirely different perpetrator,” Nick said, “we can assume for the moment that this guy—perhaps Blume or someone he’s associated with—is gaining something else for his trouble.”
Bobbie looked to Tony. “Have you considered the most likely motives?”
“I have. After hearing Jo’s story, my first assessment was that our unsub was creating snuff films or gladiator-type videos for deep internet consumers. Then we found the sister of a very violent, mentally ill prisoner who was exposed to movies similar to the ones Jo and the others were forced to watch and I considered another possibility. Drug trials or unorthodox testing of some sort. We all know it happens. Usually in some foreign country where the laws are less stringent.”
“They exposed us to extremely violent images,” Jo explained. “Mrs. Ruley talked about her brother being exposed to the same sort of images. He told her that watching eventually relaxed him and depressed his violent urges, so to speak. But it also made him want to see more.”
“Soothing the beast,” Nick suggested. “I read a paper on research trials performed twelve or so years ago that suggested violent patients could be controlled if their urges were met with something that satisfied their cravings—like movies depicting the sorts of activities they desired to participate in. Exactly the opposite of what we’ve believed for decades about the impact of violence on the human psyche.”
“That’s the time frame of the abductions like mine,” Jo pointed out. “They took place over a five-year period starting eighteen years ago.”
“If I can locate the articles on those trials I might be able to find a name associated with the work. I believe the work was considered bogus and charges of misconduct were filed. Numerous studies have proven the theory wrong time and again.”
“Which begs the question,” Tony spoke up, “why repeat the trial? If the unsub who took Jo and the others nearly two decades ago is the one we’re dealing with today, why reenact the same scenario? Unless, he’s hoping for a different ending.”
“Maybe he’s using subtle differences or maybe this latest abduction has nothing to do with the previous study,” Jo offered. “Maybe his colleagues discovered a more lucrative option for the same work.”
“The film clips found on Conway’s hard drives may be just the beginning,” Tony interjected. “The little bit they were able to recover may only have been his secret cut. We could be looking at a much larger operation that is in no way related to the health or drug industry.”
The server headed toward their booth and Tony waved her away. “Let’s assume the new wave of abductions is not related to Blume or anything he’s involved with, but only to Conway and Houser. What if the two of them picked up where their former boss left off? What if there have been numerous other abductions we’re not considering? Hundreds of young women go missing in the Southeast every year. Many are never heard from again. This taking of two college students in the same manner as the older abductions may have been coincidence or a stupid mistake.”
“You’re right. We can’t assume,” Nick picked up from there, “that we’re dealing with the same scenario as eighteen years ago. This may be a whole different game.”
The realization shook Tony. Why hadn’t he seen that sooner? He’d grabbed onto the first feasible scenario and hung there for days. He knew better but he’d allowed his emotions to blind him. He’d wanted Tiffany’s abduction to be like Jo’s. He’d wanted to believe she was alive and would be coming back, battered and bruised but alive. How selfish was that?
He took a breath. “Tiffany and Vickie may not have any time left.” He looked to Jo. “They could be dead already.”