Too Close to Home Page 21
“What else do we have on her?”
“She was a nurse manager at the hospital up until about eighteen months ago. She quit and supposedly went into home health for a while.” Connor pulled into the driveway and whistled through his teeth. “Sorry, but home health doesn’t buy this. Neither does a nurse’s salary.” The sprawling house was at least five thousand square feet. Spanish stucco and arched doorways. “Nice.”
“Rich husband?”
“Or old family money.”
“Or a murderer for hire.”
“Or that.” Connor readied his gun.
Samantha slid her safety off. “You see any movement in the windows?”
“No, and the garage is closed. Looks like no one’s home.”
Connor’s phone rang. Keeping his eye on the house, he answered it. “Hello?”
Senses on alert, Samantha watched the windows. Still nothing. The team would be here in short order, then they’d hit fast and hard.
The front door caught her eye. Was it cracked? It was hard to tell from her position in the car.
Connor hung up. “That was Dakota. He’s about a minute away. The GPS signal tracked the phone to here. But the text was originally sent from somewhere near Elizabeth Street off 56.”
“That’s farm country.”
“Yeah. A great place to hide. I’ve got people pulling addresses of houses near there and names of their owners and any renters. Hopefully something will show up.”
Samantha itched to get inside and see what they could find. Finally, Dakota pulled in next to the curb. Search warrant in hand, he nodded to Connor and pulled an MP5 from the back of his car. Eyes alert, protective gear donned, the trio waited.
Thirty seconds later, backup arrived in the form of six patrol cars and two unmarked. Officers divided up to surround the house. Connor, Samantha, and Dakota descended upon the front door.
She’d been right. It was open.
Connor banged on it with his fist and it swung open with a crash. “Police! Ms. Bennington?”
A SWAT member kicked the door in, and the team swarmed the house. Connor and Dakota quickly followed. Officers had already made their way to the back of the house. One reported in. “All clear back here.”
Sam brought up the rear.
The house had an empty, hollow feeling. She doubted anyone was here, but wasn’t taking any chances. Her Springfield Armory 1911-A1 pistol clutched in both hands, she looked at Connor and jutted her chin toward the kitchen. He nodded. Dakota took the stairs, another officer behind him.
Sam swung around the corner. Nothing. “Clear.” Turning, she moved through the laundry room, the half bath, the dining room.
Connor covered her back. Then he swung into the dining room and she covered his. In a low voice, he growled, “Clear.”
A crash followed by a curse came from the second floor and jerked her attention from the living area. Heart pounding, she looked at Connor; he took off for the stairs, bounding up them two at a time. Samantha did likewise, hearing several SWAT members coming after her.
They burst into the master bedroom to find one of the uniformed officers staring down at a broken lamp, an embarrassed flush scorching his ruddy cheeks.
Dakota stood next to the closet, disgust written on his features. “Rookie tripped over the cord.”
Relief rolled off Connor’s shoulders in almost visible waves, and Samantha knew he’d had visions of finding another one of his buddies covered in blood. “Right.”
Two more officers met them in the bedroom. One holstered his weapon and said, “The place is clean. Literally. I gotta bring my wife over here and show her what clean looks like.” Samantha raised a brow at the man and he shrugged. “It’s no secret she hates housework.”
Dakota swung his weapon around to rest on his back, the strap drawing a diagonal line across his chest from shoulder to hip. “All right, let’s see what we can find. We’ve got to turn up something to justify this warrant, or the next time we ask for one, we’re gonna get laughed at.”
Connor slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll take the master bedroom. You guys spread out over the house. I don’t know exactly what we’re looking for, but you’ll know it if you see it.”
Samantha and Connor started going through dressers, closets, under the bed, under the mattress. Finally, he looked up in disgust. “Nothing here.”
“Look at the walls.” She walked over to look closer at the ocean scene. “See these pictures? She’s an artist. She painted these pictures. There’re gaps on the wall and a faint outline in certain spots. She took some of the smaller ones, probably her favorites.” Samantha turned back to close a drawer that had been left open. “She’s running and she’s not planning on coming back.”
He nodded. “I got that impression too. No jewelry box. Indention on the closet floor carpet from where a suitcase sat for a long time. Hangers on the floor like she pulled clothing off them in a hurry. Drawers not pushed back in. Pretty obvious.”
“Single woman, big empty house. No pets. A few personal pictures.” He looked around. “She was ready to run.”
“Like she knew this could happen?”
“Yeah. And something spooked her. I’m even willing to bet she’s got a first-rate new identity, passport, credit cards, etc.” Connor pulled his phone out. “I’m putting a BOLO out on her anyway, get her description at every airport within a two-hour drive. I’ll cover the trains and buses too, but again, I bet she’s heading for the air.”
“I would agree.” Samantha went to the window and looked out. Yeah, they needed every available cop keeping their eyes peeled for this one. She wondered about the woman they’d hoped to find. Sam didn’t blame her for running. If she was mixed up in whoever was killing the girls and she’d made him mad . . .
“Hey, Connor, come check this out!”
22
Dakota’s shout came from the next bedroom. Connor and Samantha bolted over there to find the agent standing inside the closet.
“What’d you find?”
“Come here. You’ve got to see this.”
Curious, Connor moved forward. Samantha trailed him. He could practically feel her excitement arching from her. “What is it?”
Dakota moved out of sight. A grunt echoed from the belly of the closet, then the sound of something sliding. “This. A small secret area. She didn’t do a good job of closing it when she left, or I never would have spotted it. Clever.”
Connor pushed aside what was left of some winter clothing and blinked when the light hit his eyes. About six by six by six, the room was a perfect little concealed area—when the door was closed right. A small filing cabinet was the only thing in the space. The bottom drawer jutted like a mouth with severe underbite. Cleaned out.
“Well, if we were going to find something, my guess is that it was probably in here.” With a gloved hand, he reached out to pull open the top drawer, then stopped and looked up at Dakota. “This thing’s not going to explode in my face, is it?”
“Naw, it’s clean. I checked.”
“Right.” He grasped the handle and pulled. The drawer slid out easily. Empty.
“Well?”
The question came from Samantha. Connor smiled to himself in spite of his raging disappointment at coming up empty-handed. She’d stifled her impatience as long as she could stand it.
He called, “Come on back. Unfortunately, there’s not much to see, but you can have a look.”
Almost immediately, he felt her behind him. Her familiar scent wafted to him, and he inhaled as the desire to touch her caused his fingers to tingle. Curling them into a fist, he resisted. Then she was inside the little room and very close to Connor. He liked it. Clearing his throat, he said, “This is it.”
Disappointment that mirrored his made her lip curl. “Rats.”
“Yeah.”
She pulled her gloves off. “Guess I don’t need these. The guys finished the rest of the house.”
“Let me guess. It’s clean.�
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“Mr. Clean couldn’t have done a better job himself.”
“All right, well, we’ve still got our team out at the address where the text message came from. Let’s head over there and see what they’ve come up with. The crime scene unit is on the way.”
Dakota shifted the file cabinet. “I want to know if there are any other prints on here besides Ms. Bennington’s.”
Connor nodded. “Yep, I was just thinking that. Crime scene guys’ll cover that and let us know. I want to get going.” Connor stepped out of the closet and took a deep breath. Sam’s vanilla scent lingered even here. Connor shook his head. He was finally ready to admit that he had it bad. Andrew would be thrilled. At that thought, a shaft of pain shot through him; he rubbed a hand through his hair as he waited for it to lessen in intensity.
Keep your mind on the case, Wolfe. Focus. You’re not doing Andrew any good if you let yourself get distracted.
“Connor, come look at this.” Excitement tinged Samantha’s voice.
“What?” He turned and made his way back into the little room.
Samantha had slipped her gloves back on and now held a piece of paper. Dakota stood behind her, looking over her shoulder.
“What is it?” Connor stepped closer.
“A break. A lawyer’s office receipt.” She turned it over and looked closer. “Actually, it’s a copy of a receipt.”
“Where’d you find that?”
Dakota pointed. “Behind the cabinet. When I moved it, it slipped out. I’m guessing she stacked the papers on top of the cabinet as she was cleaning it out. One must have fallen from the stack and she didn’t catch it.”
“Fortunately for us.”
“Let’s bag that and pay a visit to . . .” He leaned over to read, “Jefferson Abbott, attorney-at-law.”
Samantha slid the paper into the bag and labeled it.
A knock on the door brought Connor back out of the closet to find Jake and his team headed into the room. Connor extended his hand to shake his friend’s. “Hey, Jake. Good luck with finding anything. Your best bet is probably that cabinet back there.”
“We’ll take care of it.” Jake looked Connor in the eye and asked, “On a personal front, how are you doing?”
The pain returned with full intensity, but Connor forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. But he said, “I’m making it, Jake.”
Jake nodded. “When are you going to let God help you make it?”
“Probably pretty soon.”
Jake’s eyes went wide at that. “Great.” Then he saluted Connor and went to work.
Samantha and Dakota came from the closet, and Connor radioed to see how the task force was coming on locating a reasonable area to start searching for the text message’s location. He got his answer and motioned for Samantha and Dakota to follow him down to the car. “Let’s go.”
Connor’s phone buzzed again. “Wolfe here.”
He listened and felt his gut clench. Turning to Samantha, he said, “Our nurse friend here works for Physicians Associates. She’s actually a physician’s assistant and she specialized in infertility treatments.”
Samantha’s eyes went wide and her mouth formed a perfect O.
Connor shook his head. “Our guys are also at an address off Highway 56. The place was a rental. The renter’s name was Danny Lucci.”
Connor, Samantha, and Dakota headed out.
Barbed wire fence surrounded the twenty-six-acre farm. To the outside world, the place looked harmless, a peaceful haven. Horses grazed in the distant pasture. Two wrought iron gates remained firmly shut.
The house enclosed behind the fence was a white wooden structure that had been built in 1899. Black shutters and a red chimney gave it a hominess that Samantha envied. One day.
Right now, she just wanted to get in there and catch the bad guys, rescue the girls.
Samantha adjusted her earpiece, which would allow her to hear any conversation between the team, and took it all in— the scenery, the beautiful house, everything. “Do we have the right address?”
Connor nodded. “Yep, and we need to find a way in without tipping them off that we’re here.” He spoke into his microphone. “Johnson, you and Miller around the back?”
“Negative. Electric barbed wire fence encasing the entire property. We need the power shut off.”
“Hold on.”
Connor pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed his boss to explain the situation. He looked at Samantha and spoke again into his mic. “Captain said to give him ten minutes. I’ve got a SWAT team member ready to cut.”
The tension was palpable, nerves stretched taut. Samantha itched to get in there, prayed the remaining girls were safe.
She shifted the gun to her right hand and swiped her palm down her jeans. The police chopper was on standby, the SWAT team ready. Everything was under control. She hoped.
The place looked deserted. A plethora of emotions raged inside her. Anticipation, healthy fear, impatience. The combination made her jittery; she wanted to move but held steady. Dakota held his submachine gun ready, fingers curled around it, knuckles white. Connor answered his vibrating cell phone. Listened and hung up.
“We’re good to go.” He motioned to the team member with the wire cutters. “Go.”
The man darted across the street and began cutting. With heavily gloved hands, he pulled the wire back, creating a space large enough to drive a truck through.
All remained silent. Eerily quiet. Samantha kept waiting for the shooting to start.
Finished with his job, the man returned to his position.
“Pete, Janelle, check the front windows.”
“Yes, sir.” One voice echoed the other. One man and one woman broke from the SWAT team and ran at a crouch through the recently cut fence and up to the sides of the house. Samantha watched Pete ease up to the first window, look in, then ease back. He looked in their direction and made the sign for “all clear.” His partner slid up to the twin window on the opposite side and repeated her buddy’s actions. Nothing.
A gnawing feeling growing in her gut, Samantha felt a headache start behind her left eye. No one was there. They were too late. The girls had been moved. But there might still be evidence left behind. This time Connor motioned them forward, each person spreading out to cover the porch.
Connor rapped on the door. “Police! Open up!” He raised his foot and kicked it in. Surprisingly, the wood splintered easily. Heading the team, Connor broke right, Dakota went left, and Samantha entered the kitchen.
Just like at the Bennington house, more officers made their way up the steps, guns drawn, shoulders set.
“All clear up here,” one yelled down.
“All clear here,” Samantha reported, looking around the huge kitchen. Clean, but not sterile. It looked . . . comfortable. Like a family eating area. She could imagine a family happily sitting around the large oval oak table that seated twelve.
Connor came up behind her. “These places usually have a basement.”
She nodded. “Yeah, and other buildings.”
“I’ve got a team in the barn and the other outbuilding. All reported clean too.” His jaw clenched. “We’re too late.”
Samantha holstered her weapon. “Look.” She pointed to the drying rack over the sink.
“Baby bottles.”
“For newborns.”
“Hey, guys, come see this!” Dakota called from the east side of the house.
Samantha headed toward Dakota’s voice with Connor nearly stepping on her heels as he followed her. They came upon an open door with stairs leading downward. Descending the steps, Samantha detected a decidedly hospital-type odor. On the last step, she halted and drew in a deep breath. Pulled her gun back out.
“Anyone down here?” She could feel Connor at her back. “Oh wow . . . ,” she breathed.
“Clear!” someone called.
“What?” Connor stepped around her, gun ready, senses alert. “Oh my . . .”
“An underground mini medical office.”
That had been torn up, dismantled, and left in pieces.
“Somebody left here in a hurry. It looks like Crystal Ben-nington’s house.”
Connor pulled in a deep breath, looked at his phone. “I’ve got a signal down here too. Weird. All right, people, find every scrap of evidence left.” He walked away to start barking orders on his cell phone. Samantha caught something about a CSU team on the way.
She looked at him. “Connor, we need to get to that lawyer’s office and have a long talk with him before he gets wind that things are falling apart. Because if he’s involved in this like I think he is, he’s going to be running too.”
“I’ve already got guys watching his office and his house. But I agree with you. We need to talk to him and now. Those girls are running out of time. If our guy thinks he’s caught, he might kill them, cut his losses, and disappear.”
“This is a pretty elaborate operation. There’s got to be someone out there who can tell us something.”
“In here, people!”
The shout came from inside the examining room. Samantha pulled in a sharp breath and shot her gaze to Connor. Slipping his weapon back into his palm, he motioned for her to follow.
Connor entered the room, caution written all over him. Another sound, a gasping . . . gurgle. Samantha watched him round the examination table and stop. He dropped out of sight. She stepped around the other end and gasped. Connor and another SWAT member knelt over a young woman who’d had her throat slashed, a gaping wound that turned Samantha’s stomach. Blood pooled on the white floor beneath her as she twitched.
Connor looked up at Samantha. “Call an ambulance.” The sadness in his eyes told her he knew it would be too late, but he had to try.
Samantha finally looked into the woman’s face.
Raising her eyes to Connor’s, she said, “That’s Crystal Bennington.”
“You’re sure there’s nothing left there.” The Agent paced his new office. He hated it. It was so different than what he’d left; his only consolation was that it was a temporary arrangement.