Owen looked up the hallway and saw Doc’s door standing wide. That was a room normally closed tightly once the man went to bed, not inviting any nocturnal visitors. At the other end of the hallway, a door allowed a broad band of light to shine through, pinpointing Doc’s location.
He stalked up the hallway, past his office to arrive in front of the room they’d set up as a home trauma unit, their multi-bedroom house a must to accommodate all they needed. A sturdy, movable table was pushed to one side, the angle of its wheels showing the direction from which it had come. It and the countertops along the walls were covered in containers of various sizes, each filled with medical supplies.
Doc had a label maker in his hands, using his thumbs as if he were texting to input the data for the next identification label. He looked at Owen, offered a nod, then looked back down at the device in his hands. “Hey.” Doc’s greeting was soft and distracted, and some of the rigid bands around Owen’s chest eased a little more.
“The pornographer…the guy I told you about.” Owen knew it wasn’t a complete sentence, knew it didn’t convey anything of the dark, rolling anger still rushing through him, but somehow Doc understood.
“When are you going after him?” He gestured around the room. “I want to be prepared.”
Prepared in case Owen needed assistance. There were no children at risk with this mission, not directly. It would be an intelligence-gathering foray, with an eye towards breaking Kuellen to expose his network of like-minded sick fucks. The stills from the abusers his researcher had branded “frequent fliers” made Owen believe they were a pedo ring who taped and broadcast their demented desires. Maybe even the ones who’d been buying sibling pairs. Finding Shiloh in the mix had set the idea in stone. He remembered speaking directly into the camera, talking to whoever had been watching on the other end.
Found one.
“Soon. Very soon. I can’t be this close to someone like him and not do something.”
“Okay.” Doc finished the label he was working on and pulled the paper from the machine, smoothing it on the end of one container. Owen read it. Chest seal. A penetrating upper-torso wound would need that type of treatment.
“You’re planning on me getting shot?”
“No.” Doc’s thumbs worked overtime on the next label. “I’m planning on saving your life if you do get shot.” He pulled the paper out and cut his gaze towards Owen as he separated the backing from the sticker. “There’s a difference.”
“I found Shiloh.” Doc froze in place as if Owen’s words had the ability to pause time. “I told you about the setup the guy had at the cabin.” He needed to share this burden with someone he believed loved his kids as much as he did. “I found her.”
Doc swiveled to face him, skin a pasty gray. “Our little girl? Did you watch—”
“No.” Owen cut him off. “My guy took stills from the videos of the kids, the men, and the locations. Her image is in those stills, with the inside of the cabin. He’s got at least one video of our Shiloh.” His cell phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket. Alace. “I can’t—won’t—let anyone else deal with this bastard now.”
Doc nodded, then as Owen turned towards the door, phone lifting to his ear, asked a question stopping Owen in his tracks.
“You said there were snuff films, too. Owen, what if he’s got a video of you killing the guy?”
“Won’t matter.” Owen glanced over his shoulder, locking gazes as he gave Doc a promise. “But if he does, I hope it made him piss himself in fear.”
***
Alace
“I right now walked in the door, so don’t complain I didn’t call you earlier.” Alace waited for Owen to chide her, surprised when he was silent. “I’d say mission accomplished, but we saw how well that went for folks in the past, so I’ll just say mission begun.” Still no reaction, and Alace frowned. “No coaching from the sidelines? Color me shocked.”
“How did you introduce the idea Ashworth is a wife-killer?” His voice was flat, stripped bare of affect, as if he were reading from a script. Badly.
“My focus was the prostitutes, remember?” Her memories didn’t lie; that was the direction they’d discussed earlier. “We talked about this, Owen.”
“You’re right.” The sound of a sigh huffed through the phone. “I’ve been researching. Give me a minute to put my people hat back on.” She could almost imagine the small upturn of his lips now he was more engaged in their conversation. “So she made the leap from already seeing him as a lecherous wife-killer to a prostitute-murderer?”
“She did, actually. I didn’t say his name or even mention the neighborhood. I kept it to rumors and talked about the timing and sequence of events as I’d uncovered them in research for a book.” Alace unclipped the baby carrier she had strapped to her chest, cradling a sleeping Lila in one arm while balancing the phone on her shoulder. “The woman is exceptionally intelligent and made specific intuitive leaps I didn’t necessarily expect.” Up the stairs, she set the diaper bag on the bedroom floor and draped the carrier over the top, taking Lila with her to the baby bed. She placed the baby in the bassinette and smiled as Lila groaned and stretched, still sleeping. “It’s later than I expected, but I’m home. You can stop worrying.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His teasing response made her grin, and she knew he’d done it on purpose. “We’ll debrief in full tomorrow. Get some rest.”
“You, too.” She disconnected the call and turned, not surprised to find Eric in the doorway. “Owen’s being weird.”
“I’m glad you’re home.” His soft voice was pitched to let Lila sleep. “Did the interview go well after I left?”
She walked towards him, leaning in as his arms spread wide, circling his waist with hers as his wrapped around her tightly. Forehead propped against his chest, she let a measure of her tension seep away. “It was good. Long, but good. I think I got everything I wanted out of the deal, at least. You’re lucky you got to bail after the photo session.” The photographer had arrived at the same time as Eric, and Houghton hadn’t balked at the change in schedule.
“Good.” He took a step backwards, then another, leading her into the hallway. “Hungry?”
“Not tonight. I’ll double up on a good breakfast tomorrow morning.” She yawned and turned her cheek against him, closing her eyes. “You’re leading me away from the bed. I’d rather be headed that direction, you know?”
“Oh, I’m aware.” He bent slightly and scooped her up in his arms. “I thought we could have some daddy and mommy time for ourselves.”
“Did you now?” She leaned backwards to look up into his face. Her exhaustion had disappeared, fading away as if it had never existed. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“I wanted a chance to kiss my wife.” He put actions to the words, effortlessly carrying her downstairs as he touched his lips to hers. “And maybe kiss her again.” Another kiss, this one longer, deeper, threaded through with a hunger she found rising in herself to match his.