Karen Rose - Scream For Me

Chase nodded. “I’ll inform the Andersons. We already have both Davis and Mansfield under surveillance. If they try to bolt, we’ll grab ’em.”

“Chase.” Leigh ran into the room, Alex at her heels; both were pale. “Koenig just called. They found Crighton, but he pulled a gun and got Hatton in the shoulder.”

“How bad?” Chase demanded.

“Bad,” Leigh said. “They rushed him to Emory. He’s in critical condition. Koenig’s at the hospital now. Koenig was hit, too, but not as bad.”

Chase drew a breath. “Their wives?”

“Koenig’s called them. They’re both on their way.”

Chase nodded. “All right. I’ll contact the Andersons, then head over. Luke, I want everything we can get on Mack O’Brien, down to what breakfast cereal he ate as a kid. Get financials on the others-Mansfield, and both Garth and his uncle.”

“I’ll call you when I have something.” Luke left, laptop under his arm.

Chase turned to Daniel. “Crighton can wait. They’ll put him in the tank until we’re ready to deal with him.”

“You’re right. I’ll go see Jared’s wife.”

“Wait,” Leigh said. “Your FedExes just came. From Cincinnati and Philly.”

“The keys,” Daniel said. He ripped open the envelopes and slid the keys onto the table. It was easy to see which of the five keys Ciccotelli had sent from Philadelphia was the right one-it was almost identical to the one Alex’s ex had sent. Daniel held up both keys, one in each hand. “They’re not for the same lock, but the keys themselves look like they’re from the same manufacturer.”

“Safe-deposit box?” Chase asked, and Daniel nodded.

“I’m betting so.”

“Garth’s uncle’s bank?” Chase asked, and Daniel nodded again.

“I can’t go storming into Davis’s bank demanding access to boxes without a warrant, and even when I get one, it’s tipping our hand.”

“Call Chloe, get the warrants started,” Chase said. “Once we get more information, we’ll at least have a jump on the paperwork.”

“That’s a plan. Alex, you have to stay here. I’m sorry. I can’t be worried about your safety and do all of this.”

Her jaw tightened. “Okay. I understand.”

He pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. “Do not leave this building. Do you promise?”

“I’m not stupid, Daniel.”

He scowled. “No evasions, Alex. Promise me.”

She sighed. “I promise.”

Arcadia, Georgia, Friday, February 2, 10:30 a.m.

Jared O’Brien’s wife lived in a house the size of a crackerbox. She answered the door wearing a waitress uniform and a weary expression. “Annette O’Brien?”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s me.”

She didn’t seem surprised to see him, only tired. “I’m Special Agent-”

“You’re Simon Vartanian’s brother,” she interrupted. “Come in.”

She crossed her tiny living room in a few steps, picking up a shirt, a pair of small shoes, a toy truck as she walked. “You have children,” he said.

“Two. Joey and Seth. Joey is seven. Seth turned five just before Christmas.”

That meant she would have been pregnant with her younger son when her husband disappeared. “You don’t seem surprised to see me, Mrs. O’Brien.”

“I’m not. In fact, I’ve been waiting for you to come for more than five years.” Her eyes shadowed with apprehension. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. But I have to get protection for my kids. They’re the only reason I haven’t said anything until now.”

“Protection from whom, Mrs. O’Brien?”

She met his gaze unflinchingly. “You know, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Fair enough. So when did you find out what Jared and the others had done?”

“After he disappeared. I thought he’d run off with another woman. I was pregnant with Seth and getting too fat for… well, I thought he’d be back.”

Daniel felt anger at Jared and pity for Annette. If Alex were pregnant, she’d still be the most beautiful woman in the world to him. “But he didn’t come back.”

“No, and after a few weeks the bank account was empty and we were hungry.”

“What about Jared’s mother?”

She shook her head wearily. “She was out of the country with Mack. Rome, I think.”

“You had no money for food and his mother was in Rome? I don’t understand.”

“Jared never wanted his mother to know how badly he’d messed up his daddy’s mill. His mother was used to a certain standard of living and he made sure she had it. We did, too, on the surface. We lived in a big house, drove fancy cars. But we had no credit with the bank and no cash. Jared kept a tight hold on the finances. He gambled.”

“And drank.”

“Yes. When he didn’t come back, I started searching all the places he hid money.” She drew a deep breath. “And that’s when I found his journals. Jared had kept one religiously since he was a boy.”

Daniel had to fight to keep from punching at the air in glee. “Where are they?”

“I’ll get them for you.” She went to the fireplace and jostled an interior brick loose.

“Risky place to hide a journal,” Daniel commented.

“Jared hid them in the garage with the spare parts for his ’Vette. My sons and I moved here after we lost everything. Seth has bad allergies, so we never use the fireplace. It’s safe enough.” She’d been working at the brick as she spoke and finally pulled it free. Then she sat, pale, openmouthed and staring. “That’s… not possible.”

Daniel felt all his glee fizzle away. He walked to the fireplace and looked in the empty hole and suddenly pieces of the puzzle began to slide into place.

“Let’s sit down.” When they had, he leaned forward, keeping his expression calm because Annette appeared on the verge of hysteria. “Has Mack been here to visit?”

The look she gave him was one of genuine shock. “No. He’s in prison.”

“Not anymore,” he said, and she paled further. “He was paroled a month ago.”

“I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”

“Have you noticed anything else missing?”

“Yes. My tip money that I keep in a jar in my bedroom disappeared about a month ago. I blamed Joey for taking it.” She covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “Then two weeks ago it happened again-my tips and the cookies I’d baked for the kids’ lunches. I spanked Joey and called him a liar.” Tears filled her eyes. “Like his daddy.”

“We can deal with that later,” Daniel said gently. “For now, can you tell me what you remember from the journals?”

Her eyes had gone glassy with panic. “Mack was here. My boys are at school. They’re not safe if Mack’s around.”

Daniel knew he couldn’t expect her to be helpful when she was panicked over her kids. He called Sheriff Corchran in Arcadia and asked him to pick the boys up from school, then turned to Annette, who was visibly struggling for control. “Corchran said he’d let them run his lights and siren. They’ll have a ball. Don’t worry.”

“Thank you.” She closed her eyes, still very pale. “Mack is out of prison, the journals are gone, and four women are murdered just like Alicia Tremaine.”

Five women, Daniel thought. Annette O’Brien must have missed the morning news.

She looked at him, her eyes stark and desolate. “Mack killed those women.”

“You knew him. Could he have done it? Would he?”

“He would and he could,” she whispered. “My God. I should have destroyed them when I had the chance.”

“The journals?” Daniel asked, and she nodded. “Please, Mrs. O’Brien, can you tell me what you remember from the journals?”

“They had a club. Your brother, Simon, was the president. Jared never mentioned any real names. They used nicknames.” She sighed wearily. “They were stupid boys.”