Tess Gerritsen - Vanish

“My baby can’t hurt you,” Jane said. “She’s not even a month old.”

The man said nothing. The only sound was their footfalls in the woods. The snap of twigs, the rustle of leaves. So much noise, but no one was around to listen. If a woman falls in the forest, but no one hears her…

“You could just take her,” said Jane. “Leave her where someone will find her.”

“She’s not my problem.”

“She’s just a baby !” Jane’s voice suddenly broke. She paused there among the trees, clutching her daughter to her chest as tears flooded her throat. Regina gave a soft coo, as though to comfort her, and Jane pressed her face to her daughter’s head and inhaled the sweetness of her hair, felt the heat of her velvety cheeks. How could I bring you into this? she thought. There is no worse mistake a mother can make. And now you’ll die with me.

“Keep walking,” he said.

I’ve fought back before and survived, she thought. I can do it again. I have to do it again, for you.

“Or do you just want me to finish it here?” he said.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of trees and damp leaves. She thought of the human remains she had examined in Stony Brook Reservation a summer ago. How vines had snaked through the orbital fossae, hugging the skull in greedy tendrils. How the hands and feet were missing, gnawed off and carried away by scavengers. She felt her own pulse, bounding in her fingers, and thought of how small and fragile were the bones in a human hand. How easily they are scattered across a forest floor.

She began to walk again, deeper into the woods. Keep your head, she thought. Panic, and you lose all chance to surprise him. All chance to save Regina. Her senses sharpened. She could feel the blood pumping through her calves, could almost feel every molecule of air that brushed against her face. You only come alive, she thought, just as you’re about to die.

“I think this is far enough,” the man said.

They were standing in a small clearing. Trees encircled them, a dark ring of silent witnesses. The stars were cold glitters. None of this will change when I’m gone, she thought. The stars don’t care. The trees don’t care.

He threw the shovel at her feet. “Start digging.”

“What about my baby?”

“Put her down and start digging.”

“The ground’s so hard.”

“Like that matters now?” He tossed the diaper bag at her feet. “Let her lie down on that.”

Jane knelt, her heart now thumping so wildly she thought it would slam through her ribs. I have one chance, she thought. Reach in the bag, grab the weapon. Turn and squeeze off the round before he knows what’s happening. No mercy, just blow out his brains.

“Poor baby,” she murmured as she crouched over the bag. As she quietly slipped her hand inside. “Mommy has to put you down now…” Her hand brushed across her wallet, a baby bottle, diapers. My gun. Where is my goddamn gun?

“Just set the baby down.”

It’s not here. Her breath whooshed out of her in a sob. Of course he took it. He’s not stupid. I’m a cop; he knew I’d be carrying.

“Dig.”

She bent down to give Regina a kiss, a caress, then laid her on the ground with the diaper bag as a cushion. She picked up the shovel and slowly rose to her feet. Her legs felt drained of all energy, all hope. He was standing too far away for her to swing at him with the shovel. Even if she threw it, it would stun him only for a few seconds. Not enough time to pick up Regina and run.

She looked down at the ground. Under the light of the half-moon, she saw a scattering of leaves on moss. Her bed for eternity. Gabriel will never find us here. He will never know.

She planted the spade in the soil, and felt the first tears trickle down her cheek as she began to dig.

The door to his apartment was ajar.

Gabriel paused in the hallway, instincts prickling with alarm. He heard voices talking inside, and the sound of footsteps pacing across the floor. He gave the door a push and stepped in. “What are you doing here?”

John Barsanti turned from the window to face him. His first question took Gabriel aback. “Do you know where your wife is, Agent Dean?”

“Isn’t she here?” His gaze swung to the second visitor, who’d just emerged from the baby’s room. It was Helen Glasser from the Justice Department, her silver hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, starkly emphasizing the worried lines of her face.

“The bedroom window’s wide open,” she said.

“How did you two get in here?”

“Your building super let us in,” said Glasser. “We couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Where’s Jane?”

“That’s what we’d like to know.”

“She should be here.”

“How long have you been gone? When did you last see your wife?”

He stared at Glasser, unnerved by the urgency in her voice. “I’ve been gone about an hour. I drove her mother home.”

“Has Jane called you since you left?”

“No.” He started toward the telephone.

“She doesn’t answer her cell, Agent Dean,” said Glasser. “We’ve already tried reaching her. We need to reach her.”

He turned to look at them. “What the hell is going on?”

Glasser asked, quietly: “Is she with Mila right now?”

“The girl never showed up at the…” He paused. “You already knew that. You were watching the park, too.”

“That girl is our last witness,” said Glasser. “If she’s with your wife, we need to know.”

“Jane and the baby were alone here when I left.”

“Then where are they now?”

“I don’t know.”

“You understand, Agent Dean, that if Mila is with her, Jane is in a very dangerous situation.”

“My wife knows how to take care of herself. She wouldn’t walk into anything without making damn sure she’s prepared.” He crossed to the drawer where Jane usually stored her weapon and found the drawer unlocked. He yanked it open and stared at the empty holster.

She took her gun.

“Agent Dean?”

Gabriel slammed the drawer shut and went into the bedroom. As Glasser had reported, the window was wide open. Now he was scared. He walked back into the living room and felt Glasser’s gaze searching his face, reading his fear.

“Where would she go?” Glasser said.

“She’d call me, that’s what she’d do.”

“Not if she thought her phone was tapped.”

“Then she’d go to the police. She’d drive straight to Schroeder Plaza.”

“We’ve already called Boston PD. She’s not there.”

“We need to find that girl,” said Barsanti. “We need her alive.”

“Let me try her cell phone one more time. Maybe this is nothing at all. Maybe she just ran out to the store to buy milk.” Right. And she took her gun with her. He picked up the receiver and was about to punch in the first number when he suddenly frowned, his gaze on the keypad. A long shot, he thought. But just maybe…

He pressed redial.

After three rings, a man answered. “Hello?”

Gabriel paused, trying to place the voice. Knowing he had heard it before. Then he remembered. “Is this… Peter Lukas?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Gabriel Dean. Would Jane happen to be there?”

There was a long silence. A strange silence. “No. Why?”

“Your number’s on our redial. She must have called you.”

“Oh, that.” Lukas gave a laugh. “She wanted all my notes on the Ballentree story. I told her I’d dig them up.”

“When was that?”

“Let me think. It was about an hour ago.”

“And that was it? She didn’t say anything else?”