Dorie’s phone buzzed again and she took the call on speakerphone. It was Captain Conroy. “I’m with Teresa,” he said. “There’s been another text, which I will forward to you in a moment. The picture shows Chloe in a large cage—the kind you might use for a big dog. She’s got on the same clothes from the day she went missing and there’s duct tape across her mouth. Lighting is poor, so it’s hard to tell if she is otherwise injured. No visible blood from the angle of the shot. The text says: ‘If she dies, will you just get another one?’”
“We’re ten minutes away from Providence now,” Dorie told him.
“Good. There’s one other thing. It looks like she’s being held in a basement. The background of the photo shows a stone foundation—big rocks held in place with mortar. The FBI says that means the house is old, maybe 1880s. Possibly still intact or there may be a more modern house built on top of the old foundation.”
For Ellery, the closet had been an upright coffin. Smothering in the summer heat, she’d been literally dying of thirst and bleeding out on the wooden floorboards around her. She could still feel the gouges from the desperate girls who had been there before her. The ones who never got free. She pressed the gas pedal all the way to the floor.
The large marble dome of the Providence State House came into view on the left side of the road, signaling their arrival at the city limits. It was too far away to see clearly the eleven-foot figure Ellery knew stood atop the dome, a golden statue of a semi-naked man crowned in a wreath of greenery and holding a spear. Her eyes sought him out anyway because of his name, The Independent Man, and the principle he stood for: freedom. As they headed for Jenna Desmond’s address, Ellery had to slow the car or risk rolling the SUV around a sharp corner.
She knew she’d hit the right neighborhood when she saw a lineup of Providence PD black-and-white units parked all in a row. She slowed further, driving past them and around the corner onto Gray Street. “That’s the place right there,” Dorie said, leaning forward to peer out the front window. Ellery pulled off to the side and parked the car.
“We’ve got company,” she said, nodding up the road to a parked sedan with a pair of men sitting in it. She flashed her headlights at them, and one of the men, a moustached but otherwise hairless guy, got out of the car. He wore mirrored sunglasses and walked like he’d been sitting for a while. She rolled down her window as he approached.
“Detective Jake Osborne,” he said to her. “We’ve been watching the place for two and a half hours now, ever since that Target video set off all kinds of alarms.”
“And?” Ellery asked him. She looked toward the house. It was a pinkish-beige color, two stories, with a neat row of bushes at the front. Colorful perennials added cheer and the metal railing on the porch appeared to be freshly painted. She spotted a kid’s bicycle overturned on the front walk and, beyond it, an old stone foundation.
“Nothing. No one in or out. The Subaru in the driveway is registered to Nicholas and Jenna Desmond, which suggests someone is home. We had someone walk by with a dog about an hour ago to glimpse the backyard. Nothing there but a kiddie pool and some lawn furniture. She confirmed the AC unit is on, which again points to the house being occupied. Mostly, though, we’ve been hanging back, waiting on your move.”
Ellery looked around at the neighboring houses. All were well-kept historic homes. She spotted several other rock foundations. New Englanders had built these houses hundreds of years ago, and generations of frugal Yankees kept right on recycling them. Ellery wished she had X-ray vision to see inside. The thought of Chloe in a cage in the basement made her want to take a battering ram and knock down the door. Osborne seemed to read her thoughts.
“We’ve got backup parked one block over, if you need it. We can take the place whenever you want.”
She clenched the wheel, tempted. Reed’s suggestion that Jenna Desmond might have a partner gave her pause. They had no idea who or what might be on the other side of the door. “Maybe there’s another way.”
“What are you thinking?” Dorie asked.
Ellery squinted at Osborne. “You have a florist shop around here?”
He looked surprised but pointed westward. “Sure. There’s a grocery about three blocks thataway.”
Ten minutes later, Ellery had a vase full of purple flowers bound by a green bow. Osborne, his partner, Dorie, and Reed all suited up in protective gear emblazoned with law enforcement logos. Ellery demurred. “I’m the decoy, remember? I have to look like a civilian.” She adjusted her windbreaker so it did not show her holster while Osborne had the backup teams come around the block on foot. He gave instructions for four men to go around to the rear of the house and wait. The rest of the teams flanked the front stairs, crouching under the windows as Ellery and her flowers mounted the steps.
Her heart beat erratically, the vase growing slick in her hands. Lace curtains blocked her view in the front window. The front door was a solid brown with no way to see inside. She rang the bell and waited. A few moments later, she heard footsteps and the door cracked open partially. A young woman with a blond ponytail—the same woman from the Target video—peeked out at her. “Yes?”
“Jenna Desmond?”
“Yes, I’m Jenna.”
“I have a flower delivery for you.” Ellery forced herself to smile.
“Really, for me? How nice.” She widened the door, relaxing somewhat as she started to reach for the flowers in Ellery’s hands.
Ellery’s gaze fixed behind her. She saw a shadowed hallway and a moving figure with the unmistakable shape of a gun. “Gun!” she hollered, dropping the vase to the concrete porch. It shattered at her feet as she grabbed Jenna and dragged her out and to the side. Behind her, men with their own guns streamed into the house. Someone was screaming and crying. A child, she realized.
“What are you doing?” Jenna cried, her face pressed down on her own porch. “Let me up!”
“Where’s Chloe Lockhart?” Ellery demanded, pushing her harder into the wooden planks.
“I don’t know. Please, you’re hurting me.”
Dorie appeared with a screaming and thrashing boy in her arms. “This one had the gun. It wasn’t real.”
“Mommy! Mommy!”
“I’m right here, baby.” Jenna struggled to get free, but Ellery held her in place with a knee to her back. “Stop it; you’re scaring my children. It’s okay, Mikey. Mommy’s right here.”
Dorie carried the boy away from the house, which caused Jenna to fight harder.
“Where are you taking him? Michael! Let. Me. Up.”
“Tell me where she is,” Ellery replied harshly. “Where’s Chloe?”
“Ellery,” Reed said, but her name barely registered.
“Tell me! What have you done with her?”
“Ellery!”
She forced herself to look. She saw Reed standing on the far side of the porch. A blond girl stood next to him with tears in her striking blue eyes. “Stop it,” she demanded of Ellery. “You’re hurting her.”
“Ellery, it’s not her.” Reed said the truth that was now apparent to everyone. “It’s not Chloe.”