Expecting to Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

“Shhh,” Santana said, then, still holding his wife, glowered at the man who’d once been her husband. “Slow down and tell us everything you know, you slimy son of a bitch, or I’ll kill you myself.”

“She’ll be all right,” Luke said. “She has to be all right.”

“Put me down!” Regan demanded, and as Santana dropped her onto the bed, she reached for her phone. With one thumb, she speed-dialed her partner, who answered groggily. “Yeah.”

“It’s Pescoli.”

“I know that.”

“Bianca’s missing!”

“What?”

“Luke set her up, had her kidnapped by Bryant Tophman.” She launched into her story, breaking it down to the bare facts, and when she’d given Alvarez the bullet points, finished with, “I want a BOLO out on Tophman and Bianca. Get a search party. Use those damned Big Foot Believers and Jeffe with his drone. Whatever. Just find my kid,” she cried as the baby, finally disturbed, started to whimper and cry. “Oh, honey,” she whispered. “You got that, Alvarez?” she said.

“Loud and clear,” her partner responded. “There might be one other wrinkle.”

“What?”

“Kywin Bell is still MIA. I think he might be with Tophman.”

Pescoli’s heart turned to stone. The thought of the two muscle-bound thugs, both of whom probably were already involved in the murder of two girls, holding her daughter hostage, curdled her blood with fear. “Get them,” she whispered and hung up.

“You bastard,” she hissed at her ex-husband. “If anything happens to Bianca!” Her voice broke, and tears of fury and fear stung her eyes. “I swear to you, I will hold you responsible. And I’ll kill you.”

Santana shook his head. “Nope. I will.” To Luke, he said, “That’s a promise. Now, get out of here and—”

An obese man in a security uniform strode into the room. “Is there any trouble here?” he asked in a deep voice just as, two steps behind him, Bianca appeared. Her clothes were torn, her face filthy, her eyes round as saucers, and next to the hulking guard, she looked tiny.

Pescoli had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

“Oh, honey,” Pescoli cried, scrambling to get to her daughter, but Bianca wasn’t looking at her. Her eyes, narrowed with hatred, were focused on her father.

“Baby,” he whispered, tears in his eyes.

“Not anymore,” she said, her chin jutting forward, disgust twisting her features. “I’m not your baby anymore.” And then she spat on the hospital floor.

EPILOGUE

Two months later

As she stared at her newborn sleeping peacefully in his crib, Pescoli couldn’t believe that her maternity leave was nearly over. Soon, within the next few weeks, she would have to decide whether to leave the department, turn in her badge and give up law enforcement, or return to being a homicide detective, which was far more than an eight-to-five job.

As moonlight danced through the open French doors and the hint of autumn rode in on a night breeze, she picked him up and held him close. Her family had expanded and changed. Not only did this little guy need her, but there were other considerations as well.

Bianca.

Ever since she’d returned from her ordeal at the hands of Tophman and Bell, she’d been a changed girl, more like a woman, one who had taken another’s life. Kywin Bell had died from his injuries, which were all consistent with Bianca’s story of her capture and escape.

Bryant Tophman, who had been found hiding in the forest by Carlton Jeffe’s drone that same morning, had been brought to justice by the Big Foot Believers. Jeffe and Fred Nesmith had delivered him to Alvarez at the station. Tophman was now behind bars, awaiting trial. His story was that Kywin had killed Destiny Montclaire when she’d told him about the baby, but Pescoli wasn’t sure that Tophman wasn’t involved. Either way, he was facing a long term in jail for his part in covering up the homicide as well as selling all kinds of drugs found in a private stash at his home at the church parsonage. Not to mention the kidnapping and attempted homicide of Bianca. Janie Tophman had quit saying he was a “good boy.” Her tune had changed to “Bryant has finally found Jesus.” Pescoli wasn’t betting on it.

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Kip Bell was facing charges for his part of the scheme, in which Lindsay Cronin had died. He’d finally admitted that she’d known about Kywin and Destiny, that Destiny had never considered him her “protector” but had been afraid of him as well as excited by him and wanted to get back at cheating Donny Justison. She hadn’t planned it, but she’d ended up getting pregnant.

Lindsay had suspected that Kywin had killed her, and Kip had wanted to make certain his brother didn’t go to prison. After Kywin’s death, he’d opened up about knowing that his brother had, indeed, killed Destiny and left her in the creek. Kip hadn’t known he’d placed her body there and it was just damned bad luck that his prank had gone so bad and he’d chased Bianca straight into the girl’s body.

The only true winner in all of this mess was Barclay Sphinx, whose reality show had gained more than its share of ill-gained publicity. The first episode of Big Foot Territory: Montana! had aired, and the whole family had watched it together, though Bianca without much interest. The series was still in production, though rumor had it that it might move north of Missoula for the feuding families, and the reward and trailer that Barclay Sphinx had promised never came to fruition. There had been no need. Pescoli had heard that the Big Foot Believers had enjoyed a surge in membership. Mayor Justison, relieved her son wasn’t a murderer, was satisfied that she’d put Grizzly Falls on the map and Big Foot Daze had been a roaring success. Pescoli hadn’t participated; she’d spent her time here, at their home, with her newborn and other two children.