Lisa Gardner - Love You More

“Between him and Shane…” D.D. murmured. She nodded, feeling the first tinge of excitement A name, a suspect, a target. She climbed into the car and Bobby pulled away from the curb, already racing toward the highway.

“Yep,” he said now. “Easy enough to work out the logistics of setting up a shell company, with Hamilton pulling strings to cover their tracks from the inside. Except, of course, all good things must come to an end.”

“Once the internal investigation kicks into gear…”

“Their days are numbered,” Bobby filled in for her. “They have state investigators sniffing around, plus, thanks to Shane and Brian continuing to gamble excessively, they also have various mobsters wanting a piece of the pie. Hamilton, of course, grows concerned. And Brian and Shane go from being partners in crime to highly expendable liabilities.”

“Hamilton killed Brian, then kidnapped Sophie so Tessa would confess to shooting her own husband and be framed for defrauding the troopers’ union?” D.D. frowned, then added, “Or an enforcer did it. The kind of mobster Brian had already pissed off. The kind of guy willing to do one last piece of wet work in order to get his money back.”

“The kind of guy who’d mail photos of Shane’s family as a warning,” Bobby agreed.

“That’s the thing about the brass,” D.D. said with a shake of her head. “They’re big on ideas, but don’t like to get their own hands dirty during implementation.” She hesitated. “Following that logic, where is Sophie? Would Hamilton risk personally holding a six-year-old girl?”

“Don’t know,” Bobby said. “But I’m betting if we drop on him like a ton of bricks, we can find that out. He should be downtown, at the scene of Lyons’s shooting, hanging out with the colonel and other brass.”

D.D. nodded, then suddenly grabbed Bobby’s arm. “He’s not downtown. Bet you anything.”

“Why not?”

“Because Tessa is on the loose. We know it. He knows it. Furthermore, he would’ve heard by now that Trooper Lyons’s shotgun and M4 rifle are missing. Meaning he knows Tessa is armed, dangerous, and desperate to locate her daughter.”

“He’s on the run,” Bobby filled in, “from his own officer.” But then it was his turn to shake his head. “Nah, not a guy as experienced and wily as Hamilton. Best defense is a good offense, right? He’s going for Sophie. If she’s still alive, he’s gonna get his hands on her. She’s the only bargaining chip he’s got left.”

“So where’s Sophie?” D.D. asked again. “We’ve had a statewide Amber Alert for three days. Her picture is plastered all over the TV, her description on the radio. If the girl’s around, we should’ve gotten a lead by now.”

“Meaning she’s someplace buttoned up tight,” Bobby mused. “Rural, no close neighbors. With someone assigned to keep her under lock and key. So a place that is inaccessible, but well supplied. A location Hamilton trusts not to be compromised.”

“He’d never stash Sophie in his own house,” D.D. said. “Too close to him. Maybe she’s at a friend of a friend? Or a second home? We saw the pictures of him hunting deer. Does he have a hunting lodge, a cabin in the woods?”

Bobby suddenly smiled. “Bingo. Hamilton has a hunting cabin near Mount Greylock in western Mass. Two and half hours away from state headquarters, tucked in the foothills of the Berkshires. Isolated, containable, and distant enough to provide him with plausible deniability-even if he owns it, he can say he hasn’t been there in days or weeks, particularly given all the activity that’s required his attention in Boston.”

“Can you get us there?” D.D. asked immediately.

Bobby hesitated. “I’ve been there a couple of times, but years ago. Sometimes he invites troopers over for hunting weekends, that kind of thing. I can picture the roads…”

“Phil,” D.D. stated, pulling out her cellphone. “You get on the Pike. I’ll get us the address.”

Bobby hit the lights, roaring for the Mass Pike, the quickest route for cutting across the state. D.D. dialed BPD headquarters. It was after midnight, but nobody in the state or Boston force was sleeping tonight; Phil answered on the first ring.

“You heard about Trooper Lyons?” Phil stated in way of greeting.

“Already been there. Got a sensitive request for you. Want full background on Gerard Hamilton. Search under his family members’ names, too. I want all known property addresses, and after that, a full financial workup.”

There was a pause. “You mean the lieutenant colonel of the state police?” Phil asked carefully.

“Told you it was sensitive.”

D.D. heard a tapping sound. Phil’s fingers, already flying across the computer keyboard.

“Ummm, if you want some unofficial info, not even water cooler talk, more like urinal gossip…” Phil started, as he typed away.

“By all means,” D.D. assured him.

“Heard Hamilton’s got himself a mistress. A hot Italian spitfire.”

“Name?”

“Haven’t a clue. Guy only mentioned her… derriere.”

“Men are pigs.”

“Personally, I’m a pig who’s in love with his wife and needs her to survive four kids, so don’t look at me.”

“True,” D.D. granted. “Start digging, Phil. Tell me what I need to know, because we think he might have Sophie Leoni.”

D.D. hung up. Bobby came to the exit for the Mass Pike. He careened up it at seventy miles per hour and they went squealing around the corner. Roads were finally clear of snow and there wasn’t much traffic at this time of night. Bobby hit one hundred on the broad, flat highway as they soared toward western Mass. They had a hundred and thirty miles to cover, give or take, D.D. thought, not all of which could be traveled at top speed. Two hours, she decided. Two hours till finally rescuing Sophie Leoni.

“Do you think she’s a good cop?” Bobby asked suddenly.

D.D. didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. “I don’t know.”

Bobby took his gaze off the fast flying darkness just long enough to glance at her. “How far would you go?” he asked softly, his eyes dropped to her belly. “If it were your child, how far would you go?”

“I hope I never have to find out.”

“Because I would kill them all,” Bobby said flatly, his hands flexing and unflexing on the wheel. “If someone threatened Annabelle, kidnapped Carina. There wouldn’t be enough ammo left in this state for what I would do to them.”

D.D. didn’t doubt him for a minute, but she still shook her head.

“It’s not right, Bobby,” she said quietly. “Even if you’re provoked, even if the other guy started it… Criminals resort to violence. We’re cops. We’re supposed to know better. If we can’t live up to that standard… Well then, who can?”

They drove in silence after that, listening to the throaty growl of a flat-out engine and watching city lights wink by like bolts of lightning.

Sophie , D.D. thought, here we come .

Lieutenant Colonel Gerard Hamilton was my commanding officer, but I would never say I knew him well. For one thing, he was several levels above me in the food chain. For another, he was a guy’s guy. When he did hang out with the troopers, it was with Shane, and he often included Shane’s partner in crime, my husband, Brian.

They’d catch Red Sox games, maybe a hunting weekend, or a field trip to Foxwoods.

In hindsight, it all made perfect sense. Shane’s little excursions. My husband tagging along. Hamilton, too.

Meaning, when Brian started to gamble too much, get in too deep… Who would know how badly he needed money? Who would know another option for getting rich quick? Who would be in the perfect position to prey on my husband’s weakness?