40 Souls to Keep - 12. Chapter 12

Always be ready for things to go the opposite of how you’d expect.

Philip’s words had never felt so prophetic. Dizzy, Jase bent over and braced his hands on his knees. “Please let her be okay,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes closed. Why couldn’t he sense her? He’d felt the presence of number forty since he’d stepped off the bus downtown three nights ago, turning toward the hospital before he even knew it would be his destination.

His dream was a beacon, and as always, he’d been helpless against the draw. So where was that connection now? Disconcerted, he peered into the dark. It wasn’t that he couldn’t sense her. It felt like he was right on top of her, even though she was obviously gone. No invisible cord pulled at him.

“Macy!” He spun in a clumsy circle.

Lucas caught him by the upper arms. “I thought you said you could find her anywhere?” he snapped.

He’d thought so too. He’d have bet his life on it—a foolish promise. The only life on the table now was Macy’s. “I—I don’t know. I should be able to.” Yanking away, he took a few unsteady steps farther into the gloom. His sneakers sank into the moist sod, and it took his mind a full minute to understand the importance. “The grass is spongy here. If it hasn’t been too long, we might be able to pick up her footprints.”

Ignoring the fury in Lucas’s eyes, Jase jogged back to the lanai, then followed the wall around the corner to the open window. A narrow mulch bed hugged the outside wall, but beyond that, dense grass covered the yard. He couldn’t see a damn thing.

He spun away, right into Lucas. Lucas shoved him away, movements stiff with anger. “I got a flashlight off the lanai,” he growled. He snapped it on and pointed it to the ground under the window. His body language couldn’t have been clearer: back off. Jase did, bereft and fighting back nausea. The night was warm. Still, he had to clamp his arms over his chest to fight the shivering.

The beam of light swung in a wide arc over the ground, then lifted to Jase’s face. It held there several seconds, then Lucas shut off the flashlight. With one hand, he guided Jase to lean against the stucco wall.

“Take it easy. Breathe.”

Some of the anger had left his voice, but Jase felt no relief. He didn’t want to take it easy; he wanted to rage at Lucas for his calm. Subtlety wasn’t his strong suit, obviously, because Lucas huffed a quiet, mirthless laugh. “If looks could kill...” He squeezed Jase’s shoulder. “You’re not used to things going wrong, are you?”

“I don’t make mistakes,” Jase spat. His statement in the face of their current reality nudged his embarrassment higher.

“Okay, Mr. Perfect. Sorry. I didn’t realize.” Lucas let him go so fast that Jase stumbled. “But, see, I fuck up all the time, and things don’t even go my way on my birthday. Now I have no idea what’s wrong with that channel you’re tuned in to—” he pointed at Jase’s temple, “—but neither do you, so let’s focus on what we do know until you figure it out. Calm down and help me, okay?”

Jase had never imagined he’d be a burden, a handicap, but he wasn’t coping well—even he could admit that. His successes had made him lazy and complacent. “I’m sorry,” he said, choking on the words.

“Yeah, I know.” After another long look, Lucas broke off to inspect the ground under Macy’s window. “You were right. Come here.”

Jase pushed off the wall and bent over the patch of grass Lucas had highlighted with the flashlight. “Those aren’t Macy’s footprints.”

“Not even close. For one, they’re about ten sizes too big. And Macy was barefoot. These are boot treads. I think,” he added. “I’ve got a similar set, with that funky whirl on the heel.”

“Some kind of designer brand?”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Like I could afford those. No, just some off-brand. Agency-issue. But look at the size of that thing. Twelve, at least. I think we can rule out the tooth fairy.”

They both digested the unspoken implication. “But how?” Jase asked. “Unless Swift leaked our location.”

Lucas walked in tight circles, panning the flashlight’s beam over the grass. “He didn’t even know it. He didn’t want to know it.”

“Then someone put two and two together at your office, checked your recent cases.”

“That’s a stretch.” Lucas clamped the light between his thighs, scrubbing his hands over his face.

With a shrug, Jase said, “Someone saw you at the shopping center and followed you back here.” He snatched the flashlight and started down the side of the house, keeping a sharp eye for more footprints. After a moment, Lucas appeared at his side. A splash sounded off to the right, and they both froze. “Maybe alligators got her,” Lucas said, without a hint of his usual humor.

Jase stared out toward the small pond, mind racing. How they’d been found was no longer important. They needed to focus on where Macy might have been taken.

“Why can’t you sense her?” Lucas asked, circling back to the very subject Jase hadn’t wanted to think about. He shook his head and continued walking, sneakers squelching in the grass. There’d only be one reason he could fathom, and it turned him ice-cold. He couldn’t even voice it.

“Give me the flashlight,” Lucas said suddenly. “I see more of those footprints here.”

Jase obeyed, still reeling, and Lucas walked off, flashlight beam sweeping over the ground in front of him. After a minute, Jase followed, forcing his heavy legs to move. If he let the despair suck him in, then Lucas would be alone. Maybe all wasn’t lost. He broke into a jog, catching up just as Lucas reached the road.

“They stop here,” Lucas said, shining the beam on the black pavement of the neighbor’s driveway.

“They had a car,” Jase guessed.

“Could it be she’s too far away for you to feel her?”

Jase shook his head. “In this short period of time? I don’t think so. I’ve followed my gut across hundreds of miles to find who I was after. How far away could she be? I think we only missed her by minutes.”

“Okay.” Lucas grimaced. “Good and bad news there. I wanted to say it was a matter of minutes, myself. But if they took her away by car, it’s academic anyway. We have no idea which way to go.”

Academic and hopeless. Except... “If these people are out to erase a witness, why not just kill her in her bed?” He squinted when Lucas swung the flashlight to his face. “That’s what Swift was beating his chest about, wasn’t it? She’s a witness to murder. So why kidnap her? That makes no sense.”

Lucas shut off the flashlight but said nothing. “So maybe she’s still alive.”

“Maybe.”

“But she might not be.”

Because, as Lucas chose not to reiterate, the fact that Jase wasn’t sensing her presence implied she could be bleeding out in a ditch somewhere, dead. “She might not be,” Jase conceded, barely enunciating the words.

They retreated back inside the condo. Lucas shut the sliders, then went to do the same to the window. He dropped into a chair and massaged his temples with shaking hands. “At the hospital, Melissa said something to me.”

Jase cocked his head. “Melissa? The doctor?”

“Yeah. She said Macy kept talking about a man. I didn’t have a chance to get more details because that was when you showed up.”

It wasn’t difficult to put two and two together. “You think this man might have been the one to take her?”

“Or someone connected with him.” Lucas nodded. “Yeah, I do. I’m not a big believer in coincidences.”

Jase choked on a bitter laugh. “Me either. So what now?”

If Lucas noticed how easily Jase was deferring, he made no mention. “I’ll have to call Swift. In fact, no. I’m going to pay him a visit. There’s no reason to hide now. I’ll track him down and get details on who exactly he suspects. There are several hubs of cocaine trafficking here. Small-scale stuff, but a couple are branches of Miami syndicates. Honestly, though, my knowledge is all secondhand. Swift will know more. He’s got to have narrowed his suspect list by now.” He cut off, turning away. “We’ll find her, Jase.”

Jase flinched, glad for the dark. He didn’t want to see the disappointment on Lucas’s face. Carefully, he made his way to the couch and sat down before his legs gave out.

“It’s not your fault,” Lucas said, breaking the silence a few minutes later. “Stop beating yourself up.”

“It is my fault.”

“Why?”

Because he’d been more interested in getting laid, that was why. He’d put Lucas first, before Macy.

He sprang off the couch and stalked into the kitchen. The beer he’d bought the day before was there, all six frosty bottles in their cardboard carrier—a gift for Lucas, who’d jokingly asked for it, though Jase had known the request had been a serious one. The bottle clinked together as he grabbed one and yanked it free. His hand shook so badly, it took three tries to twist the cap off, but when he did the crisp scent of hops made his mouth water.

After Philip, he’d laid off the alcohol. This might even be his first drink in five years. And what an occasion it was.

Lucas intercepted it before it touched his lips. “Don’t.” They wrestled for the bottle, sloshing the dark amber liquid everywhere. “You don’t need that. You don’t even really want it.”

“Wrong.” Jase jerked it out of Lucas’s hand.

“You think I don’t know what you’re feeling?” Lucas asked through clenched teeth.

Jase had rarely been more positive of anything.

“I do,” Lucas said. “Maybe not all of it, but some. So stop the bullshit.” Lucas won the battle for the bottle and tipped it into the sink. Jase listened to it gurgle down the drain. “You feel helpless, and not just for Macy. For yourself too. You feel everything you’ve worked for slipping away, and it rubs because your conscience is telling you it’s Macy you should be grieving for.”

Wrong again. He was grieving for Macy. He’d failed her—a child who’d put her faith and trust in him. Who believed he’d do anything to keep her safe. He’d always thought losing the battle for number forty would be the worst that could happen. Now he knew that failure couldn’t touch this one.

He grasped the bottle but didn’t lift it from the sink. It was empty anyway. “I told her I wouldn’t let her down,” he said quietly.

Lucas laid a hand on his back. “We both did.”

* * *

Lucas suggested they start with Martinez. “I have no clue where Swift is, and I don’t relish trying to track him down.” He held up the registration he’d found in the Camry’s glove compartment. “She lives in Golden Gate. We can be there in twenty minutes.”

“How do you know she’ll be able to help?”

“I don’t. But you know what?” They locked the front door behind them and crossed the tiny courtyard to the garage. Lucas flipped on the overheads. “I want my car back.”

They left Lely on a different road. “Double secret shortcut,” Lucas said when he swung the car off the well-maintained, palm-lined avenue onto a dirt road pocked with bumps. They drove into what looked like uninhabited swampland, but Lucas pushed forward, splashing through puddles, bottoming out more than once. “Oops. Hope Martinez has lifetime alignment on this thing.” His teeth flashed in the dark, and Jase felt a fraction of his despair lift.

Five minutes later, the dirt path—Jase had revoked its right to be a real road—ended at a four-lane divided highway. Even at that hour, it was busy.

Jase checked the rearview mirror. A line of cars stretched into the distance, but little else. The vista in front of them was just as desolate.

“You’ve been to her house before?”

“Nah. Never met her before the night Macy’s parents were killed. But I spend my fair share of time in Golden Gate.”

“Is it Golden?” Jase asked, trying on some of Lucas’s levity.

“No. Not in the slightest.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jase got a taste of what Lucas hadn’t said. “It looks...” He tried for diplomatic. “Tired.”

Lucas shot him a look. “Not a bad descriptor. Even when the going was good in town, it wasn’t good here. Ten years ago, nobody could afford to live in Naples. Even rent at the roach motel was out of reach to anyone making under a hundred grand. The problem’s different now. It’s a housing horn o’ plenty, but not a job in sight. About forty percent of the kids out here live below the poverty line. The rest are close enough to see the other side. So...you know this recipe, right? Low-income, substandard schools, drugs, alcohol, gangs...shall I go on?”

“Sounds like hell,” Jase said.

“Bite your tongue. It’s paradise, son.”

Lucas’s sarcasm hung heavy in the air. His concern for these kids might have been the most genuine thing Jase had experienced in the past two days.

The shopping centers in Golden Gate were nothing special, but neither were they the demilitarized zone Jase was expecting. It wasn’t until they drove deeper into the residential district that Jase got a taste of what a thirty-six percent vacancy rate looked like. They wound their way through neighborhoods, following no discernible path, as far as Jase could tell. It was difficult to get a sense for the size of the community in the dark, but it felt big. The empty houses went on forever. “How is it you know where you’re going?”

“Technically Golden Gate is its own city, but for practical purposes, it’s in Collier County and in the same borough as Naples.” A line of streetlights illuminated his frown. “I’m out here a fair bit.”

Lucas found Martinez’s street, and they crawled up the road until her number came into view—tarnished brass numbers on the side of a crooked mailbox. Impossible to tell for sure—the house was dark without even a porch light burning—but Jase thought it might be tan and white. One level with a low roof, it was perched on a decently sized scrub-grass lot. A tricycle sat in the middle of yard, tipped upside down. The house to the left was a close twin, except it had a For Sale sign in the yard and weeds growing up through cracks in the cement driveway.

Lucas killed the headlights before they turned into the driveway. “What do you think? Throw pebbles at her window?”

Running his tongue over his teeth, Jase asked, “Does she have a gun?” He watched Lucas’s eyes narrow as he weighed the potential in his head.

“Good point,” Lucas said, killing the engine. “Front door it is.” He tried peeking through the grime-streaked glass windows at the top of the garage doors but came away cursing.

“Is your car in there?” Jase asked.

“Can’t see.” He forewent the doorbell for a gentle knock, for all the good his discretion did. His knuckles hadn’t even struck the wood a second time before a series of deep barks sounded from inside the house. “Oops.” Lucas shot Jase a lopsided smile. “Quick. Look adorable.”

“That’s your job,” Jase reminded him.

“Flatterer.”

Martinez did indeed open the door brandishing her gun, and Lucas looked right down the barrel and said, “We lost Macy.”

She clicked the safety on and glared. “Did you bring my car?”

“Are we negotiating for entry?” Lucas shot back. “Then yes. Plus I have two bucks in quarters and a pack of Hubba Bubba in my pocket. Strawberry Gush.”

“I’m diabetic,” she muttered, glare undiminished.

“It’s sugar-free.”

With a roll of her eyes, she gestured them in. A short baby-blue robe hung over a large T-shirt that fell to her knees. Her hair was full and curly around her face. With the exception of the gun, she looked nothing like the police officer Jase had met the day before yesterday.

“Did you have to come to the door half dressed? It’s kind of distracting,” Lucas said as they passed through a dark living room and into the kitchen. A Great Dane followed, sniffing at Jase’s heels.

“You’re gay, Jacobson.”

“And a Gemini. We appreciate beauty.”

“Appreciate it from over there.” She pointed them to the far side of a cooking island. She set the gun on the counter between them, next to a blue iPod Nano with coordinating ear buds. “Fuck. Did you seriously lose the kid?”

“Not in the strictest sense,” Lucas hedged. “Somebody took her.”

Even the dog gave Lucas a curious look. “That doesn’t make any sense,” Martinez said. “Why not just kill her?” The dog agreed with a quiet woof.

Another level of tension bled from Jase’s shoulders. He wouldn’t celebrate yet, but knowing Martinez was just as baffled by the kidnapping helped.

“It makes no sense,” Lucas agreed. “And it could mean she’s still alive.”

Martinez threw a longing glance at the coffee pot perched on the counter next to them. Lucas followed her eyes. “Want me to make a pot?” he asked, hopeful.

Jase’s mouth watered. There was a stainless-steel canister at his elbow that smelled like it held a slice of heaven.

Martinez sniffed and tightened the belt on her robe. “No.”

“Please?” Lucas asked, and Martinez threw her hands into the air.

“Want me to cook you breakfast too?”

Lucas wisely declined. “No time. I need you to get a hold of Swift. I have no idea where the bastard is from one minute to the next.” He cut off. “How are you, by the way? At the station, you were...”

Covered in blood, Jase supplied silently.

Martinez’s eyes softened by the smallest increment. Jase still wouldn’t trust her around the gun. “Fine. I’d had the wind knocked out of me, that’s all.”

Jase tilted his head. “But—” He remembered the blood sticking to his fingers.

“You were bleeding,” Lucas said.

“The blood wasn’t mine. Relax. It’s all good, Jacobson.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lucas said. “So can you get a hold of Swift?”

Martinez shuffled around the island and shooed Jase out of her way. “Pretty sure,” she said, scooping coffee into a filter. “The investigation has him moving around a lot. He’s pretty hot to put this case to bed, and he’s really worried about Macy. I don’t have his number, but I’ll track him down.”

As the coffee perked and Lucas scratched the Dane’s head, Jase studied Martinez’s kitchen. “You live here alone?”

“Yes,” she replied promptly, then frowned. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Lucas caught his eye, and Jase nodded. Martinez couldn’t fight his influence, but she did seem to have some subconscious awareness of it.

“Sorry,” Jase said, and he meant it. He tried to only use his power if the need was extreme, but she was a bit of a puzzle, this reluctant friend, and knowing more about her might prove helpful later. He’d softened his technique over the years, sugarcoating his manipulation into something he could live with. Or at least something that helped him sleep at night. He phrased his questions to Martinez carefully.

“What exactly is Swift’s case? It wasn’t about Macy’s parents originally, was it?” Swift had told them that much himself.

“No,” Martinez said as she poured the coffee. “He’s some big hotshot over in Miami-Dade. We’ve had an upsurge of trafficking here since August, and he’s consulting on various drug cases.”

“That’s nice of him,” Lucas said, his even tone masking the roll of his eyes.

“I doubt he had a choice, Jacobson. We do what we’re told, right?” She held her mug to her lips. “He’s already busted a ring at one of the high schools, and we’re in the middle of taking down another. He has a soft spot for kids. He really hates the assholes that prey on them.”

So did Lucas, Jase knew.

“Which school?” Lucas asked.

“Barron Collier.” She reached into the cupboard behind her, emerging with a package of Double Stuf Oreos, and Lucas pounced like a Serengeti lion. Martinez backed away, adding, “We’re lucky to have his expertise. The situation at the high schools is appalling.”

Lucky. Uneasy, Jase wrestled Lucas for a cookie, coming up victorious. “Then how did he get involved in Macy’s parents’ case?”

“The officers who answered the call saw paraphernalia on the scene and called him in. Turns out Pearl had quite a stash, wrapped and ready to distribute.”

“Oh, come on. Really?” Lucas asked around his Oreo.

Jase shared his skepticism. “Wasn’t Pearl an out-of-work accountant? How did he get involved in selling drugs?”

Martinez struggled with her answer. “Times are hard,” she settled on.

Something wasn’t adding up, and Jase hated that he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He looked to Lucas and found him staring back.

“Okay,” Lucas said. “Do you have my car?”

Martinez pointed to a door leading off the kitchen. “It’s in the garage.”

“Get on the phone to Swift and tell him what’s happened.”

Martinez bristled. “I’m not your lapdog.”

“Do it, please,” Jase said, and Martinez smiled, holding out the coffee pot.

“Of course,” she said as she filled Jase’s cup. “I’ll do it right now.”

“Please wait until we leave,” Jase said kindly, and she sank onto a nearby stool, nodding, though a frown marred her brow. The Dane came to lean against her, ears tipped back.

“The dog’s on to you,” Lucas muttered. The door leading off the kitchen came open with a creak, and he peered inside. “There you are, you beautiful thing.” He threw the door wide and flicked on the overhead, illuminating the Jetta. “Wonder how much gas she’s got.”

“It’s empty,” Martinez supplied cheerfully.

Jase added passive-aggressive to the list of traits he was building for Martinez and steered an unhappy Lucas toward his car. The garage door rumbled up at the press of a button.

Lucas pulled onto the quiet street, mumbling a soliloquy about women and gas tanks under his breath and patting the Jetta’s steering wheel affectionately. “Now what?”

“Do you buy this thing about Macy’s father dealing drugs to kids?”

“With a kid himself?” Lucas shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know, Jase. I’d like to say a parent wouldn’t do that, but the fact is they do. I don’t know jack shit about the guy. Maybe he beat Macy and pimped her mom out to Miami high rollers. We just don’t know. I’ve seen people do desperate things these past several years. What I haven’t seen is anybody involved in the drug trade squatting in an abandoned house eating cold canned soup. That part doesn’t fit.”

They left Golden Gate behind, and Lucas floored the accelerator. Far off on the horizon, the sky held a yellowish cast. Not the pre-light of dawn; they were traveling in the wrong direction for that.

“How far away is the house where you found Macy?” Jase asked.

Without answering, Lucas let up on the gas and coasted to the side of the road. “Why? You think it’s worth a look?”

“I don’t think she’s going to be there, if that’s what you mean, but I can’t think of a better starting place if we’re looking for clues to this thing.”

“Huh,” Lucas grunted. “In that case—” He swung back onto the highway, pulling into the police turnaround a hundred yards up. “We need to ride the highway north a couple of more exits.”

“How long?” Jase watched the eastern sky brighten. Its light lay in thick horizontal stripes of pinks and purples, very unlike the sickly yellow glow that hovered over Naples.

“Twenty minutes, maybe a few more.” Lucas’s concerned face reflected the colors of the sunrise. “It’s been a hell of a long night. You want to close your eyes for a few?”

He’d never sleep, but if it put Lucas’s mind at ease, he could close his eyes. The guy had a compulsive need to take care of people, although his taste in breakfast cereal needed some fine-tuning. “I guess,” he said.

“I’ll let you know when we get there.”

Jase tilted his head back, sighing when Lucas’s fingers sneaked across the console and slid into his. Rest would sharpen his focus, but nightmares were almost a certainty. It wouldn’t do to dwell on the last time his carelessness had almost cost him everything.

That had been his second turning point—number twenty-eight. Twenty-eight had almost ended it all.