Jo hurried to the front door, anxious to deal with Ellie and get into a hot shower. Her muscles ached and her head throbbed. She opened the door.
Immediately a blast of a foul-smelling mist struck her in the face. She squinted her eyes, rubbing them as they burned. She coughed and staggered back as she stared through the blinding haze to the person at the door.
Strong arms gripped her. The front door slammed closed, trapping her inside with her attacker. Jo, blinded by the spray and eyes burning, kicked and blindly lashed out, hoping to do some kind of damage. Once or twice she heard a grunt but her attacker recovered from her assaults.
He hit her hard across the face and she stumbled back against the wall. Blood trickled from a gash on her lip.
He jerked her forward and as she opened her mouth to scream he pressed a cloth soaked with chloroform over her face. She scraped her fingers over his hands. He grunted and responded by pressing the rag tight against her face. The chemical smells burned up her nose and quickly her head swam. Her world went dark.
Brody’s phone buzzed, and he picked it up on the second ring. “Winchester.”
“Officer Raynor with DPS. I have orders to contact you if Dayton crossed our paths.”
Brody checked his wristwatch. One o’clock. “That’s right. What has he done?”
“Got himself killed.”
Brody stiffened. “Say again.”
“Dayton’s body was found in his garage. He had three shots to the chest.”
This was the last bit of news he’d expected. “When was he found?”
“Three hours ago. The medical examiner’s assistant has already cleared the body for transport. It should be in the ME’s lab within the hour.”
Brody rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, annoyed that it had taken this long for him to be notified.
“Any witnesses?”
“None. A neighbor noticed his garage door was open. He went to investigate and found Dayton dead.”
“Thanks.” Brody hung up and immediately dialed Santos. He explained what had happened and asked Santos to get a copy of Dayton’s phone records.
“Consider it done.”
Brody leaned forward in his chair, a theory prowling in the back of his mind. “Be on the lookout for calls to Connors.”
“Connors?”
“Dayton was stalking Jo.”
“And Smith’s apprentice, a.k.a. Connors, didn’t like the fact that Dayton was messing with her.”
“I think in an odd way Robbie/Connors thinks he’s protecting Smith’s legacy by protecting Jo.”
“Robbie/Connors shoots Dayton.”
“Fits.” Brody rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “But don’t limit your search to Connors. I want to know of any connection Dayton might have had to any specific person that doesn’t make sense.”
“I’ll get right back to you.”
Brody spent the next hour calling contacts, trying to track Connors, but the more calls he made, the more frustrated he became. It was as if Connors had fallen off the face of the earth. He’d not used his cell and his credit cards had showed no activity. An attempt to ping and locate his phone had failed. Connors had switched it off.
After he hung up he dialed Jo’s cell. It went straight to voicemail. No doubt she was at the hospital. He thought about driving over there, but decided to give it a few more hours. Seeing him would spike Candace Granger’s blood pressure.
April knocked on Brody’s door after three. “Your sketch is ready.”
He shook his head, annoyed that he’d forgotten about the age progression. He rose from his chair and came around his desk.
April opened a file full of computer printout forms. “I plugged in all kinds of variables. Twenty years can change a person a lot of ways depending on their habits.”
“Let’s assume he was disciplined and stayed trim and fit. His mentor would have drilled that kind of behavior into him, so it makes sense he’d have held on to the habits.”
She shuffled through several pages. “Here is your Robbie, provided he lived a clean life and didn’t have any major reconstructive surgeries.”
Brody studied the picture. He recognized the guy instantly. “Shit.”
Jo’s head felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton and her mouth was so dry she thought her tongue had swollen. She drew in a breath and tried to lift her head but found the slightest movements made her head throb.
Groaning, she rolled on her side, aware that she lay on the damp ground. Opening her eyes, her vision filled with the view of freshly tilled soil.
Tilled soil. Her mind jumped to Christa. And Hanna. Buried alive.
Her heart kicking into high gear, she pushed through the pain and forced herself to sit up. The sun burned bright and hot, scorching the barren horizon. The surrounding land was covered in brush and low-lying trees. Crickets sang. A coyote howled. She appeared miles from any permanent structure.
As she shifted, she heard the clink of a chain and felt the pinch of metal against her skin. Wrapped around her ankle was an iron manacle and chain tethered to a tree.
Panic rising, Jo grabbed at the manacle and tried to pry it free from her ankle. It held fast, scraping her fingertips and breaking her nails. She jerked at the chain but it held firm.
“Help!” she screamed, her head splitting with each syllable.
In the distance an owl hooted. But no human responded back to her. She was alone. Chained.
Brody, Santos and a dozen DPS officers converged on the one-story rancher located at the end of the cul-de-sac. Lights flashing, weapons drawn, the Rangers approached the house with the neatly manicured lawn.
Brody knocked on the door, and when there was no answer, he ordered the uniforms with the battering ram to take down the door.
Inside the house, he reached for the light switch but found that it didn’t work. He held up his flashlight and searched the living room furnished with a neat modern sofa, a couple of chairs and a television. Curtains covered what looked like a patio door, and the shag carpet looked smooth and even as if it had been vacuumed.
Flashlights and guns drawn, the cops moved into the house, searching every room and closet. Every few seconds someone would yell, “Clear!”
Finally an officer shouted, “Found the electric box.” A click of the circuit breaker and the lights in the room snapped on.
Brody stood back and surveyed the room, which was as neat and clean as the lawn. On the mantel above a scrubbed fireplace rested a collection of photos. All were of Robbie and Smith. The photos were organized in chronological order with the last photo snapped about ten years ago, shortly before Robbie’s falling-out with Smith.
On the end table was another picture. One glance at it and rage overtook Brody. Jo was in the picture wearing a Find Christa! T-shirt and standing next to her was Robbie, a.k.a. Tim Neumann.
Santos came up behind Brody. “What the fuck is he doing with Jo?”
Brody dug his cell from his pocket and dialed dispatch. “Send officers to Jo Gardner’s house, and if they don’t find her there, go to her office or any place she might haunt. No one rests until she is found.”
Brody studied the picture more closely. Jo was smiling at the camera whereas Tim was staring at her. The apprentice and the master’s daughter. He thought about the forged letters found on Jo’s front porch. They’d been dusted for prints but were clean, whereas the box of cards held by the attorney had been covered in Smith’s fingerprints. Robbie had gone to a lot of trouble to communicate with Jo.
His stomach curled. “What better way to best the master than to kill the daughter?”
Brody’s phone rang. “Sergeant Winchester.” As he listened to the voice on the other end of the line his scowl deepened. “What do you mean her door is open? Go door-to-door. Find me any witnesses.”
He snapped the phone closed and glared at Santos. “Jo’s neighbor found her front door open and her cats wandering around.”
Brody moved qui
ckly to his vehicle and slid inside. Gripping the wheel, he fired the engine and shoved his foot into the accelerator. Dirt and gravel kicked up. “She never lets those cats out. She’s in trouble.” He shook his head. “It’s Robbie. Tim. Whatever the hell name he’s using. Smith’s apprentice had gone after Jo.”
Santos swore. “The ultimate prize in his mind?”
“He always wanted Harvey’s approval. Maybe he figures he can really win it by reuniting father and daughter.” Brody picked up his phone and dialed another number.
“Where the hell did he take her? We ran a property search, and this is the only place that surfaced.”
“He’s a Realtor and has access to dozens of properties.”
“I’m betting this place is special. Where he has a connection to Smith.”
Frustration ate at him. They had so many pieces to pull together and so little time. “I don’t know. But there might be someone who does.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Friday, April 19, 5:00 P.M.
Brody shoved out a breath as he moved to the nurse’s station at the hospital. He’d been calling Jo for the last couple of hours and no answer. So he’d come to the hospital looking for answers. He flashed his badge at the station, got Candy’s room number and knocked briefly. When he heard a clear “Come in,” he entered to find Ellie sitting at Candy’s bedside.
The Candy he remembered had been a formidable woman. She’d been tough as nails and had sworn up and down she’d skin Brody alive if he ever came near Jo again. He’d backed off, expecting that once Jo healed they could talk. Candace had seen to it that they never did.