Patricia Rosemoor: Skin

Voice mail.

What now?

Michael.

Hesitating only a second, she tried his number. He answered on the first ring.

“Lilith, where the hell are you?”

“The west side.” She gave him the address. “I followed Gabe O’Malley. This must be where he’s holding Hannah and Carmen. You have to get that information to Detective Pucinski, please!”

“Pucinski is–”

“I don’t have time to talk. I’m going in!”

She heard him say, “Lilith, no!” as she ended the call.

CARMEN WAS handcuffed to a radiator, Hannah to a cot.

The way they’d both been worked over stopped Lilith’s breath.

Barely able to believe her eyes, she stared and fought the urge to sink to her knees. Dear Lord, she’d known they wouldn’t get away unscathed… but this…

She visualized smashing Gabe’s head into a brick wall.

Carmen’s face was a mess. Bruises were blooming beneath smears of dried blood, and the eye Lilith could see was swollen shut. With her bruised wrist handcuffed to a radiator, Carmen had collapsed on the floor, her head tilted at an odd angle. Lilith didn’t know whether or not she was conscious.

“Oh, Carmen,” she whispered.

The girl’s head snapped up and around, and her good eye went wide. She whispered, too, her words slurred because one side of her cheek and mouth was swollen. “…knew ya’d come!”

Grateful that the girl seemed to be okay other than the cuts and bruises, Lilith put her finger to her lips, and when Carmen nodded in agreement, she moved to see to her sister, who lay handcuffed to the cot. It took everything in her not to cry out at the sight.

Blood still oozed from a nasty gash in Hannah’s hairline. Both eyes were swollen closed, her mouth was so swollen it was slightly agape, and the lower lip was split. Still in the dress she’d worn the night she’d been taken, the additional injuries on her arms and legs brought tears to Lilith’s eyes.

In far worse shape than Carmen, Hannah lay as still as death.

A thought that choked Lilith.

No, not after all this…

But Hannah didn’t seem to be breathing.

Lilith’s heart thundered as she sat on the edge of the cot and felt for a pulse, and she nearly collapsed in relief when she found a light, irregular thread.

Let her live. Please let her live!

She gently touched and shook her sister’s shoulder to wake her, but Hannah’s swollen eyes didn’t so much as crack open.

Where the hell was backup? She might be able to defend herself against Gabe, but Hannah and Carmen needed medical help. How long before Pucinski arrived with the cavalry?

Had Michael even been able to contact the detective?

Pulling her cell from her pocket, she was about to try calling him again when she heard a footfall behind her. The bastard’s laugh cut through her, and she dropped the phone and bolted up off the cot and whirled around–

“Looking for me?”

–barely getting a glimpse of Gabe before he struck out with a rifle butt and whacked her in the head.

Her mind lit with bright lights before going dark.

“AS IF YOU COULD save anyone,” Gabe muttered, his laughter stilled when Lilith collapsed at his feet.

“No! Lilith!” the girl wailed.

“Your Lilith can’t help you now.”

The little bitch had jumped him. He took pleasure in taunting her.

She swallowed a sob and glared at him in silence.

Gabe ignored the girl and fetched a length of rope. He hadn’t expected Lilith to find his lair. How had she figured it out? No one else had been able to identify him as the hunter killer. Other than the bitch they’d planted at the club. But he’d taken care of Caresse for good. She wouldn’t be able to tell anyone anything.

Lilith must have figured out he was the killer on her own. She must have followed him here from home.

That ruined his plans.

He’d been anticipating torturing her until she was out of her mind with fear, then taking her when she least expected it.

“I guess the time-line just moved up for us, sweetheart.”

“What’re you goin’ t’ do t’ ’er?”

He ignored the girl’s frantic slur and checked the sister, who wasn’t looking so good. Nice handiwork. He congratulated himself.

And then he shook her. Hard.

“Hey, wake up. Hannah! You want to see your sister alive, open those eyes right now!”

If she heard him, it was in some faraway place. Her eyes flicked open to slits in the swelling, but they didn’t focus.

“Sit up.” He tried to force her, but she merely moaned, and her eyes shut again.

“Stop it! You’re ’urting ’er!”

Obviously he wasn’t going to rouse Hannah. She’d gone to a place he couldn’t reach, so he abandoned the idea of doing the sisters in tandem.

Disappointed.

At least he had the one he really wanted. A real challenge for once. He would take her to the forest preserve and get rid of the sister and girl later.

PUCINSKI WAS driving with lights and sirens flashing, DeSalvo and uniformed backup spread out a short distance behind him. He navigated straight through a red light at an intersection and narrowly missed a jerk who wasn’t paying attention. Pissed him off good. He’d like to give the careless bastard a ticket but couldn’t stop.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Wyndham urged. “We’re already more than ten minutes behind Lilith.”

“I’d fly if I could; believe me. Settle down. We’ll be there in two minutes.”

Wyndham was near basket-casenervous over the Mitchell woman. Apparently, she’d gotten to him good. Pucinski wondered how exactly that had happened under the circumstances

“Interesting how this all turned out,” he mused. “You were one of our chief persons of interest.”

“If so, why are we going after O’Malley just on Lilith’s word?”

“Something I should have picked up on earlier, if I hadn’t been so worried about Carrie… Caresse… Officer Walker. Why did Lilith Mitchell think O’Malley was involved in the investigation unless he made her believe that?”

“Your undercover officer never suspected him?”

“She did identify O’Malley as a person of interest, but only as a customer in the club night after night.”

“I don’t understand,” Wyndham said. “O’Malley is a cop. Why is he doing this? What the hell is his motive?”

Pucinski didn’t know why he hadn’t put it all together before, other than you didn’t usually suspect someone on the job, at least not in a vile case like this.

He said, “O’Malley’s ex-wife, who happens to be alive, is the motive. She blew the whistle on him about his brutality issue after he made his last arrest. He’d been abusing her for years, and she knew what he was doing on the job. He finally pushed her too far. Her deposition got him suspended, then reassigned as a paper pusher while he was working on his anger management. He needed a psych evaluation to clear him, to get him off desk duty. In the meantime, the wife left him and got full custody of his kids.”

“And he’s one of our finest.”

“Don’t equate him with everyone else on the job!” Pucinski snapped. “Most of us eat out our guts trying to bring fucks like this one in.”

He could use a swig of Pepto-Bismol now.

Approaching the side street where he would turn, Pucinski cut his siren and flashing lights. He’d already cautioned backup to do the same. He hit the intersection, From the address, he knew the building was on the next block. Plenty of parking. He pulled to the curb and got out in tandem with Wyndham. The building was numbered. This was it, but it was dark. Shuttered tight as far as he could tell.