“The crew is probably gone,” Kyle spoke into his walkie-talkie. “But remember, you never know. These guys are killers. They seem to like it, too.”
Chapter 27
YOU NEVER KNOW, I thought. How true that was, and how thoroughly frightening it could be sometimes.
Was it part of what kept me on the job? The adrenaline spike that wasn’t like anything else I’d ever experienced? The uncertainty of each new case? The thrill of the hunt? A dark side of myself? What? Good occasionally triumphing over evil? Evil often triumphing over good?
As I unholstered my Glock, I tried to clear my mind of anything that would interfere with my timing or reflexes in the next few moments. Kyle, Betsey Cavalierre, and I hurried toward the front door. We had our guns drawn. Everyone looked solid, professional, appropriately nervous.
You never know.
The house was deadly quiet from the outside. Somewhere in the neighborhood a dog howled. A baby bawled. The baby’s cry hadn’t come from the bank manager’s house.
Somebody had died at each of the first two robberies. That was the only pattern so far. The killer’s ritual? The warning? The what? Could this be a pattern murderer robbing banks? What in the name of God was happening?
“I go in first,” I said to Kyle. I wasn’t asking his permission. “We’re in Washington. We’re close, anyway.”
Kyle chose not to argue with me. Agent Cavalierre was silent. Her dark eyes studied my face. Had she been on the front line before? I wondered. What was she feeling right now? Had she ever used her gun?
The door of the house was unlocked. They had left it open. On purpose? Or because they’d departed in a hurry?
I moved inside. Quickly, silently, hoping for the best, expecting the worst. The foyer, living room, and kitchen beyond were all dark. Except for the stuttering red glow of a blinking digital clock on the stove. The only sound was the refrigerator humming.
Agent Cavalierre motioned for the three of us to split off. There wasn’t so much as a whisper inside the house. This wasn’t good. Where was the family?
I moved in a low crouch toward the kitchen. I took a look inside. No one there.
I opened a wooden door at the rear of the kitchen: closet. The pungent odor of spices and condiments.
I opened a second door: back stairs leading to the second floor.
A third door: stairs leading down to the cellar.
The cellar had to be checked out. I flicked on the light switch. No light came on. Damnit.
“Police,” I called out. No answer.
I took a deep breath. I didn’t see any immediate danger to myself, but I feared what I might find down there. I hesitated a second or two, then I stepped on creaking wooden stairs. I hate cellars, always have.
“Police,” I repeated. Still no answer from down there. Checking out dark places in a house isn’t fun. Not even when you have a gun and know how to use it pretty well. I flicked on my Maglite flashlight. Okay, here we go.
My heart was beating wildly as I hurried down the flight of stairs. My gun was at the ready. I lowered my head and took a good look around. Jesus!
I saw them as soon as I cleared the wooden overhang. I felt the adrenaline spike.
“I’m Detective Cross. I’m the police!”
The wife and the baby girl were there. The mother was bound and gagged with black tape over different-colored cloths. Her eyes were wide and as bright as searchlights. The baby had black tape over her mouth. The infant’s chest was heaving with silent sobs.
They were alive, though. No one had been hurt either here or at the bank.
Why was that?
The pattern had changed!
“What’s going on down there? You all right, Alex?” I heard Kyle Craig call. I flashed the light up and saw Kyle and Agent Cavalierre standing at the top of the stairs.
“They’re here. They’re safe. Everyone’s alive.”