And then I see the blood.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Look at me,” I say, frantic. “Look at me.” I’m shaking Zara, doing anything I can to get her to open her eyes. A small moan escapes her mouth. “Dammit, Zara!”

  “Cheese fries,” she says, her voice soft.

  “What?” I ask, then tap her cheek with my palm, doing anything I can to get her to open her eyes.

  “Want some cheese fries,” she says, her eyes finally opening. She’s smiling but it quickly fades when she sees my face. “What’s wrong?” She looks down, realizing, I think, for the first time she’s strapped to a chair. “Krauss, where is he?”

  I step to the side, but I’m careful to keep my hand on Zara’s neck.

  “Why are you holding me like you’re going to strangle me?” she asks.

  “Because of this,” I say, pulling my hand away for a moment. It’s covered in dark crimson. “He almost killed you. The bullet grazed your neck, I’m trying to get it to stop bleeding for a second so I can untie you.”

  “He shot me and I didn’t wake up?” she asks.

  I’ve been trying to wake her for the past four minutes. I don’t know how the bullet didn’t cut deeper through her throat, I just know a millimeter to the right, and she’d be bleeding out right now. “He gave us both a heavy sedative. What happened in the control room? I thought I told you to shoot anyone who came through that door.”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” she says. “He had you with him, dragging you down the stairs. He said if I didn’t inject myself, he’d kill you right there on the spot.”

  “You should have just shot him then and there,” I say, keeping my one hand on her neck while I keep working on the rope around her arm.

  “Couldn’t risk it,” she says. “I had no idea what kind of mental state he was in. How did he get the drop on you?”

  I shake my head. “There must be another hidden compartment up there we didn’t see. He got me from the back when I was trying to call for backup.”

  “Did you get through?” she asks.

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t tell them anything before he stuck me with that needle.” I finally loosen the rope enough that she’s able to get her hand free.

  “Here, I’ll hold, you keep working on the ropes.” She puts pressure on her wound, freeing up my hands. I run back over to the table with all our equipment and grab a tactical knife, which I then use to saw through all her bonds, as well as the remaining one on my arm.

  “Stay there,” I tell her. “I don’t want you to rupture something by moving too fast, at least not until they check you out.”

  “Where are you going?” she asks.

  “I need to check on that final room. I think it’s Hannah, she looks hurt. Did you ever figure out how to get inside?”

  “No,” she says. “I don’t think the rooms are connected to the system. I think they’re individually locked, like with an actual key.”

  That doesn’t make much sense, given all the rest of the equipment Krauss has around here. “Maybe in case of power failure? He didn’t want the doors to open?”

  I go back to the table and grab a zip tie, then roll Krauss over and bind his hands together. On the back of his belt, I notice a particular keyring, with five golden keys. I hold them up for Zara. “This guy.”

  “It’s always the narcissists,” she replies.

  “Stay there,” I say. “I’ll be right back.” I grab my phone and run around the pillars I was hiding behind, looking for a way around the “cells” to the sides with the doors. After a few minutes I manage to make my way around to a long hallway, with five doors set into the concrete walls. I can’t even imagine what the general contractor who built this house must have thought Krauss was going to do down here. He probably assumed it was some sort of sex dungeon.

  I try two keys before the third fits the first door, which is the “empty” one. The lock clicks and I open the door to reveal Hannah Stewart, splayed out on the floor, her face and mouth bloody. Her face is covered in so much blood she’s barely recognizable and for a minute my heart drops because I’m not even sure she’s breathing.

  But then she gurgles out and I get under her, sitting her up to try and clear her airway. Blood flows freely from her mouth and she seems out of it, even though she’s still breathing.

  “Hannah, my name is Emily, I’m with the FBI,” I say. “You’re going to be all right, but I need you to sit up on your own, okay? Can you do that?”

  “FBI?” she says weakly, and I can see enough of her mouth that I realize where the tooth I found came from.

  “That’s right. You’re okay. We have him in custody. You’re safe.”

  Tears begin to leak from her eyes, and she tries wrapping her arms around me. I gently pull her into a hug as she cries into my shoulder. I give her a few moments, then set her back up against the bed, and pull a few pillows down. “I’m going to leave the door open. Just sit tight and I’m going to get help,” I say.

  She shakes her head and tries to get up. I guess I can’t blame her. If I’d been trapped in this room for a week, I wouldn’t want to spend another second in it either.

  I relent and help her to her feet, and get her to the doorway. Once we’re in the hall, I try to help her back down again. She shakes her head. “No, I can help,” she says, her voice muffled by her swollen mouth. I can see now she looks a lot worse than she actually is. Most of the blood seems to have come from the tooth in her mouth and possibly a broken nose.

  “Okay,” I say, handing her the set of keys. “Open the rest of these doors and help the women out, get them into the center. My friend is over there. She’s been shot, but she’s an FBI agent too. You’ll be safe.”

  She takes the keys. “I got it.”

  I leave her to it and make my way back through the small maze until I’m back at the door to the antechamber. I open it back up, leaving it open and then ascend the stairs to the basement level. The hatch is still open and as I look carefully, I see a small inset beside the bar where a false wall leads to a small room. It looks like a makeshift panic room, though there’s very little inside. He was right beside us while we were discovering the hatch and we never knew it. Who knows how many other secret chambers are in this house?

  Climbing the stairs, I reach the top level to find red and blue flashing lights coming up the driveway. I take a deep breath and put my hands on my knees. They got my call. It went through.

  I think we’re going to be okay.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Obviously, we dropped the charges against Toscani’s man,” Janice says. Zara and I are back in her office, sitting across her large desk. Zara has a bandage on the right side of her neck that goes from her ear down to her collar. She’s already complained about it a dozen times over.

  “Bet he wasn’t too happy about that,” I say.

  “Who, Santino or the guy?” Janice asks.

  “Either,” I reply. “Santino doesn’t want him back because it makes him look bad, and Federico won’t be able to sleep at night knowing he’s been ousted as still supporting Santino’s uncle. We’ll probably find his body in less than a week. The victim of a ‘tragic accident’.”

  “Unfortunately, you’re probably right,” she says. “But he’s not being discharged from the hospital for a while. The funny thing is, he finally did break when Nick went in there to interview him. Said he dumped Hannah’s body in the swamp.”

  I shake my head. “Santino really was counting on us never finding her, wasn’t he?”

  “He’s trying to build his network, expand his influence,” my boss says. “Fortunately for us, he’s somewhat inept.”

  Both Zara and I share a chuckle. But Janice doesn’t join us. She reaches down and pulls out a file folder. “But now the real purpose of this meeting.” She taps on the folder. “There’s been a serious accusation made against you. Misappropriation of resources.”

  I exchange a glance with Zara. I suppose it was too much to hope Nick wouldn’t follow through with his threat. But I’m glad I didn’t cave to his demands. “Okay,” I say.

  “Did you?” she asks.

  I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  I think back to Krauss, and how he had spent the past few years chasing after the death of his sister, to the point where it had literally driven him mad. He’d been so consumed by grief he’d built a fantasy world in which his sister still existed, in whatever form he chose. I don’t want that to be me. I thought finding Matt’s killer would give me a sense of peace. That it would close the book on that chapter of my life. But I realize now that’s impossible. I will never find peace and it will never be done. I just have to learn to live with it.

  “I allowed my feelings regarding my personal circumstances to override my better judgement,” I say. “I was so obsessed with finding answers, I put my own personal needs above those of the Bureau. It won’t happen again.”

  Janice huffs, then opens the folder before closing it again. “Normally I’d overlook something like this. But given your recent history, I’m not sure I can. You see how this looks.”

  I nod. “I do.”

  “What she’s not telling you is that Agent Hogan was extorting her to try and increase his standing here. He told Emily that if she made it so that he collared Krauss, he wouldn’t release that information.” I turn to her, my eyes wide. “What?” she says, shrugging. “You might be too big of a person to tattle, but I’m not. That’s not the kind of person we want working here.”

  “Agent Slate, is that true?” Janice asks.

  “Look, all I’m going to say is I made the wrong call by using federal resources without authorization and I’m going to leave it at that.”

  She looks at the folder again. “I’ll take care of this internally. But that doesn’t absolve you of what you did.”

  “No, ma’am,” I reply.

  Zara raises her hand. “I also have to admit I knew about it too. Though I found out after the fact. By accident.”

  “I assumed as much,” Janice says. She regards us a minute, then looks down at the file. “Given your exemplary performance in apprehending Krauss and returning all five missing women to their families, I don’t believe this warrants any action at this time.” I look up. “It wasn’t as if you were pulling resources from another case, or putting anyone in jeopardy. This was…personal curiosity. And I’m not going to make a fuss about one of my best agents over something so trivial.” She tosses the file in her wastebasket. “Just try not to do it again.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I say, suppressing a smile.

  Janice resets herself. “I got word this morning, Krauss is being remanded to the Maryland State Mental Ward. He won’t be in genpop with everyone else, which I think is for the best.”

  “So do I,” I say. “He’s obviously suffering from some mental imbalance.”

  “The worst part of it is, the Bureau now has to do a systems review of the FACE program. We can’t in good conscience keep using a program from an individual like that. I’d say give it a month before we find a new vendor, and get ready to learn a new system.”

  Both of us groan in unison.

  “I know. Me too.” She clears her throat. “I was also asked to pass along a message from ASAC Coleman, down at Quantico. He thanks you for recommending Liam Coll. He says he’s an exemplary student and thinks he’ll be a great addition to the Bureau.”

  “Glad to hear it,” I say. “I happen to agree.”

  “Anything else?” she asks. We shake our heads. “Very well. Foley, you ready to take some on your own?”

  “Absolutely,” Zara says. “I think I’ve learned everything I can from this old bag anyway.”

  “Hey!” I give her a not-so-gentle push.

  “Good. Last I saw, both your desks have stacks of new cases. Get on them.”

  We nod and head back out to the bullpen. “She wasn’t kidding,” Zara says, looking at her desk. “Is this what happens when you’re in the hospital for two days?”

  “In my experience?” I say, “Every time.”

  I pull up the driveway and step out of my car, hauling out a large bouquet of flowers along with me. Before I’m even halfway to the door, it swings open, revealing Amanda Stewart, running at me with her arms spread wide.

  “Agent Slate!” she practically yells. “Thank you so much for coming!” She wraps me in a light hug. “Here, let me take those from you.”

  “I can’t stay long, I just came to see how she’s doing,” I say as Mrs. Stewart leads me up the stairs. I tried to get Zara to come with me on this little visit, but she wasn’t having any part of it. She was more interested in starting in on some of her own cases.

  At the top of the stairs stands Judge Stewart, his hands in his pockets. “Agent Slate, wonderful to see you again,” he says.

  “This really isn’t necessary,” I say before Mrs. Stewart ushers me into the house.

  “Nonsense,” she says. “You brought our daughter back to us. You’re practically family now.” I recall first coming to this house two weeks ago. It feels like a lifetime now. Back then it had seemed subdued, cold even. But today the house is bright, airy and seems like it is filled with life. I walk into the sitting room just off the main foyer to see Hannah sitting on the couch, a book in her hand. She still has a small brace over the bridge of her nose.

  “Emily!” she says, getting up. “I didn’t realize what time it was.” She comes up and wraps me in a hug as well. “How are you?”

  “Good, I suppose,” I say. “How are you doing?”

  She flashes me a brilliant white smile. “Whaddaya think? The dental surgeon said it was a pretty easy job, all things considered.”

  “I can’t even tell,” I reply. It’s remarkable, like she never lost the tooth at all. “How’s the therapy going?”

  “Well. I’m sleeping a little better now. I can’t even imagine what some of those other girls are going through. I was thinking about maybe setting up some kind of support group for the five of us. Do you think something like that might help?”

  “In time,” I say. “Some were there a very long time. And one of them is still a minor.”

  “I still can’t believe it was only a week,” she says. “It felt like months. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t have a clock and can’t see the sun every day.”

  “Please,” Judge Stewart says. “We’ve made you a cake and I had a friend send me a bottle of France’s finest champagne.”

  “Oh, you really didn’t have to do that,” I say, wondering if it’s too late to run for the door. I don’t do well when all the attention is on me. It’s one of the reasons I don’t like birthday parties.

  “Of course we did!” Mrs. Stewart says. “Come on now, it won’t hurt.”

  “Actually, I need a moment with Hannah. It relates to the case,” I say. This was the real reason I came here, knowing I’d still have to endure this little “party”.

  “Oh, of course,” the Judge says. “We’ll go pour you a glass.”

  As soon as they’re out of earshot, I lean in close to Hannah. “I spoke to a friend at the DEA. They apprehended Alonzo this morning for possession.”

  “Oh, thank God,” she says, putting her hand over her heart.

  “And I spoke to my boss. Considering the ordeal you had to suffer, the AG isn’t going to bring any charges against you for the drugs we found in your apartment.”

  She shakes her head. “It was so stupid. I never should have gotten involved with them.”

  “What were you trying to do, anyway?” I ask.

  She makes a motion with her head toward the door her parents disappeared through. “All my life I’ve been reliant on them. And then I finally move out, get a good job. But in this city, it’s still not enough to cover all my expenses. I thought with the promotion I could afford living on my own, but everything just piled up so quick and I panicked. Dealing for Alonzo was a means to an end; just a way to supplement my income until I could get a raise. I was just going to sell it to people I knew personally, people with extra cash. I didn’t want to come crawling back to them for help. I’ve been doing that my entire life.” She looks around. “Though, I guess I ended up back here after all.”

  “They’re your parents,” I say. “They may not be perfect, but try not to take them for granted while you still have them. Trust someone who knows.”

  “You’re right,” she says. “Poor little rich girl problems, amirite?”

  I can’t help but chuckle. At least she has enough self-awareness to make fun of herself. “I’m glad we got you out of there,” I say.

  “Me too. I’ll do better in the future. Now, how about some cake?”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  It’s been six weeks since the confrontation with Krauss at his home. In that time, Hannah has returned to her old life, though she gave up her apartment and moved back in with Margaret for the time being. And the other four women he’d held are doing well with therapy, though it’s going to take them a long time to recover.

  As for Krauss, from what I understand he’s in something of a catatonic state. He’s facing five counts of first-degree kidnapping, one count of aggravated assault against Hannah Stewart, and two counts of attempted murder of federal agents. To say it’s not looking good for him is an understatement. But the good news is I heard from one of my contacts in the Attorney General’s office yesterday telling me that his expensive lawyers came back with a no-contest plea. They know we have him dead to rights and there’s no wiggling out of it. Thankfully that means Zara and I don’t have to testify or sit through a lengthy trial. It saves everyone a lot of unnecessary time and trouble.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket as I’m finishing up the details of my most recent case: a public corruption investigation involving some local prosecutors who I found were in Toscani’s pocket.

  “Slate,” I say, answering the phone.