White Wedding Page 8

  Damon held onto that thought as he pulled open the nearest box, careful not to rip it. Didn’t want to leave any sign that he’d gotten into anything. Let those jerks upstairs think he’d just been wasting away downstairs, waiting on them.

  Then he would surprise them. Make his move. Get outside to freedom.

  He leaned over the box and looked inside. Hard to see with so little light.

  One of the nightlights flickered. Great. If it went out, there’d be even less visibility.

  Time was of even more essence now. He pulled out the top item. A hardback book. Long and thin. Not a novel. Couldn’t tell what it was.

  He brought it over to the nearest light. It was an old yearbook, probably belonging to one of his parents. He flipped through the pages, looking for a key or anything else that might be hidden. Nothing. Of course not. His dad wouldn’t be dumb enough to hide something in the top item of the top box.

  Damon replaced the yearbook, then moved the entire box out of the way.

  Something crashed above. Shouts sounded. Another loud thud. Glass shattering.

  Footsteps thundered down the stairs.

  He swore and quickly replaced the box where he’d found it. Hurried over to the other side of the room to lie down. Curled up then closed his eyes.

  A key jiggled in the lock. Then another.

  More yelling sounded from upstairs.

  Damon’s pulse pounded. He cracked one eye. What was going on?

  The door flung open.

  He squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Get up!”

  Damon jolted. He sat up slowly, pretending to be groggy. “What’s going on?”

  “Up! Now!”

  “Okay, okay. Hold on.”

  The man marched over, grabbed Damon’s arm, and yanked him to standing. “I’ll call the shots around here!”

  “What’s going on?” He narrowed his eyes, hoping to hide his fear.

  “What do you know?” The man gripped Damon’s arm even harder.

  “About what?”

  He squeezed. “Your father’s plans!”

  “How would I know anything?” He struggled to pull away.

  The man punched him in the face. “There’s no way it’s a coincidence!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Damon shoved him with his free hand.

  His captor forced him against the wall and twisted his arm. “What did Cal tell you?”

  “Nothing! I don’t know anything, I swear!”

  The man twisted Damon’s arm further. Any more, and it could pop out of the socket. “What do you know?”

  Damon winced. “I already told you!”

  “You’re useless.” He let go, but not before shoving Damon to the ground.

  His head pounded. He struggled to his feet. “If you tell me what’s going on, maybe I can help.”

  “You just said Cal doesn’t tell you nothing!”

  “No! I said I don’t know anything about what’s going on now. That’s what I said!”

  The man glowered at him. Hesitated. “Hugo Maximé has been arrested.”

  “Who?”

  He shook his head and sneered. “Doesn’t matter. You obviously know nothing.”

  “Who’s Hugo?” Damon stepped closer.

  The abductor muttered under his breath. “The French ringleader.”

  Then he left the room. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Damon with nothing but the echo of the lock clicking into place.

  Chapter 17

  The station was buzzing with the news of the captured ringleader when Alex arrived.

  Anderson pulled him aside. “You ready to question the kid?”

  Alex rubbed his temples. “Him. Right. I’ve been trying to figure out if the arrest of the French ringleader plays into Damon’s disappearance.”

  “Kutcher’s on it. She’s locked herself in her office.”

  “She has an office now?” Alex arched a brow.

  “You know what I mean. The conference room she’s using.” Anderson nodded toward the questioning rooms. “Let’s talk to Teivel.”

  “Give me a minute to settle in. I just got back.”

  Anderson nodded. “Meet you back there. Room five.”

  “Sure thing.” Alex drew in a deep breath as he made his way to his desk, exhaled slowly as he slid his jacket onto the chair. His head was pounding, so he dug a couple ibuprofen out of his drawer then popped them into his mouth. Downed them with some cold coffee. Hopefully it was from that morning.

  Alex then sent a quick text to Zoey to make sure she and Ariana had gotten home without incident. They had, so he made his way to his partner.

  Anderson was in the room behind the two-way mirror, watching their suspect.

  “Have you spoken with him at all?” Alex asked.

  “No. Letting him sit with his thoughts.”

  Alex glanced over. Teivel was slumped in a chair. It was impossible to tell from the angle if he was even awake. “Did he lawyer up?”

  “Not yet.”

  “He knows he has the right, doesn’t he?”

  Anderson nodded. “He hasn’t said a single word.”

  “One of those. Fun.”

  “Right.” Anderson tapped the table nearest him. “I was thinking we could start with the classic good cop, bad cop. You’re young, so he might relate to you.”

  Alex’s mouth twisted. “And I’ve been in my fair share of trouble.”

  Anderson didn’t deny it.

  “So, you want me to go in first?”

  “It’s worth a try.”

  Alex shook his head. “I’m the one who took him down. Doubt he’s going to have much to say to me.”

  “Play the sympathy card. Everyone wants to be believed in.”

  “This job should require acting lessons.” Alex drew in a deep breath.

  “You don’t have to act. Think about where you were at your lowest point. We’ve all been down and out. Done things we regret. Pull from that.”

  “Okay.” Alex studied his partner. It was hard to imagine his new partner had ever experienced anything like that, maybe he just needed to get to know him better. But first he turned his attention to the teen shriveled in the chair. Regardless of whether he’d murdered his parents, he’d be spending a lot of time in jail for his stunt at the daycare center. If he had killed his mom and dad, he would likely never see the outside of a prison again. And he was barely older than Ariana.

  He actually did feel bad for the kid. Couldn’t help wondering what had brought him to that point. Especially since he’d been given so many opportunities unavailable to most—a seemingly endless supply of money and the most expensive school in the area.

  Anderson cleared his throat.

  Alex glanced over at him. “You told me to get in his head. That’s what I’m trying to do.”

  “We don’t have all day. Crawford’s going to be breathing down our necks before too long.”

  That was all Alex needed to hear. He hurried to the suspect.

  Teivel didn’t budge.

  Alex slammed the door shut.

  He still didn’t respond.

  “Let’s talk.” Alex pulled out the chair across from him and banged his palm on the table.

  Teivel let out a small snore.

  He’d slept through all that? Had he not had any sleep since his parents’ deaths? Or was it true that the guilty finally rested once caught?

  Alex glanced over at the mirror as if his unseen partner could help him out. He turned back to the suspect and cleared his throat. Hit his fist on the table.

  Teivel finally looked up, his eyes barely cracked open.

  “Time to wake up.”

  “No.” He closed his eyes again.

  “I’m here to help you.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  “Don’t believe me? I don’t want an innocent person behind bars. I want to nail the person who killed your parents.”

  He opened one eye. “And you d
on’t think it’s me? I’ve been hiding since they were found, and you saw me in the preschool. You know I held a little girl hostage.”

  “Doesn’t mean you offed your parents. Just means you were desperate. Prove to me that’s the case.”

  Teivel opened the other eye. “How exactly am I supposed to do that?”

  Alex leaned forward. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”

  He groaned.

  “Would you prefer to talk with a lawyer present?”

  “How’s that going to help? Everyone already thinks I’m guilty.”

  “If you’re not, what does it matter what anyone thinks?”

  The kid held Alex’s gaze. “Because innocent until proven guilty is a fairy tale.”

  “Actually, it isn’t. But I can see why you think that.”

  “Go away.” He closed his eyes again.

  “I don’t think that’s really what you want.”

  “You don’t know anything about what I want.”

  “No?”

  He shook his head, not opening his eyes.

  Alex didn’t move a muscle. Waited. Watched the second hand move around the clock.

  After it took six trips around the circle, Teivel opened one eye. Jolted when he saw Alex. “You’re still here?”

  “Yep. Ready to talk yet?”

  “Nope.” He closed his eyes again.

  “Okay.” Alex rose and pushed his chair back as loudly as possible. “I have other things to do, anyway. Better prepare yourself for Anderson. He can make grown men cry.”

  He looked back up at Alex. “What?”

  “I tried. You won’t talk to me. Have a nice nap.” Alex spun around and reached for the knob.

  “Wait.”

  “Yes?” Alex turned toward him.

  “I’ll talk.”

  Alex glanced at the clock, feigning annoyance. “Like I said, I have other things to do. There’s this whole other—never mind. Have fun with Anderson.”

  “I swear I’ll tell you what I know.”

  He crossed his arms. “Sure you aren’t just going to waste more of my time than you already have?”

  “No. I’ll tell you everything I can.”

  “Everything you can?”

  Teivel cleared his throat. “I don’t know who did it, but I have a few ideas. Some you probably haven’t even thought about.”

  Alex pretended to mull it over. “You’re not yanking my chain?”

  His eyes widened. “No! Really. I don’t want to talk to the other guy. The one who makes men cry.”

  Alex held back a laugh. Let the silence linger. “I need some coffee. Want something?”

  He chewed on his lip. “You’re not going to slip anything in it, are you?”

  “That’d be illegal.”

  “Oh. Right. Yeah, I knew that.” He cleared his throat. “You don’t have any pop, do you? I could really go for a Cherry Coke.”

  “I’ll see what I can find.” Alex left the room without another word.

  Anderson met him in the hall and gave him a high-five. “Great work. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen anyone that willing to talk.”

  “We’ll see what he actually has to say. I’m not going to hold my breath—and I meant what I said. I really need a coffee after this day.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.” Anderson rubbed his neck. “Get your caffeine. Can’t wait to see what you can get out of our suspect.”

  “You and me both.”

  Chapter 18

  Damon’s heart was still thundering after what had to be twenty minutes. His mind raced, trying to figure out what the French ringleader’s arrest meant. His abductors were obviously freaking out. The muffled voices were still loud upstairs. Their footsteps were heavier, and things were still scraping and bumping above.

  Clearly, they hadn’t been expecting it. But it was halfway across the globe—what did it really have to do with anything going on near Seattle? Were they just worried the police would be on to them now? Might the Hugo guy spill their names and get them arrested?

  Not that Damon cared. He’d be better off trying to find a way out than worrying about the commotion upstairs. At least they were distracted. That could give him the advantage. If he’d been ready, he probably could’ve taken the guy down by surprise when he came down and told him about the arrest.

  Damon opened the nearest box and rifled through it. Blankets. Or could there be more? Like a key tucked away in the folds of one?

  He pulled out the top one then gave it a good whip to unfold it. Listened, hoping to hear a key bounce against a wall. Or something.

  Nothing.

  His heart sank, but there were still many more boxes to go through. If there was something hidden away, he’d find it. He needed to think like his dad, as much as that thought made him shudder. Getting into his dad’s head was dangerous territory.

  Damon took a deep breath. He only needed to think like him enough to escape. That was it. He wasn’t going to abduct or kill anyone—ever. Cal’s life wasn’t his destiny. He had choices. Not only that, he was half his mom. She’d been one of the kindest people ever to live. In fact, even in her death she had been trying to help others. She was a journalist trying to get to the bottom of rumors of a construction company putting people’s lives on the line. Then she was killed by a falling crane. It had been one of many over the years in the area, and it hadn’t been the last.

  Tears pricked Damon’s eyes. He blinked them away. It was neither the time nor the place to let his mind go there. She wouldn’t have wanted that for him. If she was watching him anywhere, she would be rooting for him. Maybe even nudging him to find a way out. And that was what he needed to do. Now was his time. If he wanted to get away, then acting while his captors were distracted and upset was ideal.

  Damon dropped the blanket and picked up the next one. As he unfolded it, he got a whiff of his mom’s perfume. Maybe that was a sign he was on the right path. He might find what he was looking for in this box. Or at the very least, this stack of boxes.

  His pulse drummed in his ears as he felt every inch of each blanket in the box. There were no keys or weapons, but several of the blankets smelled like his mom. Her scent gave him what he needed to keep going.

  Once he reached the bottom of the box, he refolded each blanket and put them back into place. After he was finished, he moved the box to the floor then opened the next one.

  Would he find something in it? Or the box after that?

  There was only one way to find out. He opened the next one and tried to see inside. Looked like books, but it was hard to tell with the pitiful lighting.

  Damon pulled out a mass market paperback novel. Looked like something Mom had picked up from the grocery store when she did the weekly shopping. She’d been the one to instill a love of reading in Damon. A wave of nostalgia ran through him, recalling their lazy summer afternoons together reading and sharing the plots with each other.

  They hadn’t had enough of those times. Dad always considered reading a useless activity. If he found them with their noses in books, he acted like they were doing nothing and would interrupt them until they stopped. He was always ruining their fun.

  Damon shoved those memories aside and flipped through the pages of the book in his hand. Sent up a silent prayer for a key to fall out.

  Nothing.

  But there were plenty more books to go through in just this box, which was one of many. He only needed to stay awake and focused. Giving up was the only sure path to not escaping.

  Damon set the book on top of the box of blankets next to him and picked up the next paperback. As he fanned through the pages, he got another whiff of his mom’s perfume. His heart ached.

  This was going to be harder than he thought. He generally tried not to think about her. It hurt too much. Now there was no getting around it.

  It was such a good thing Dad wasn’t here to see this. He would have so many choice words for Damon. Mama’s boy had been a favorite insult of his,
going back as far as he could remember. Mom told him not to take it personally, that Dad had actually called Damon that when he was only a few weeks old. There was nothing he could’ve done to escape Cal’s name calling. He was a cruel and unhappy man.

  And Damon would do everything in his power to be the complete opposite of his dad.

  Yet they were both locked up and had to wait for someone else to provide meals. Both had to relieve themselves in front of others.

  But beyond that and half the shared DNA, the similarities ended.

  Damon was getting out. He was going to live a long and happy life. Someday he would be a kind and loving father and husband. Every word from his mouth would be full of encouragement and love. He wouldn’t make fun of his family. No, he’d inspire them to be the best they could be.

  A renewed wave of energy ran through him. He set the book down and picked up the next. Flipped through the pages then grabbed another. Continued the pattern until he’d gone through each one in that box.

  Despite having found nothing yet, he was eager to continue. He left the books out, moved the empty box, and opened the one on the bottom.

  The voices up above grew louder. Someone shouted. Then another person.

  Something crashed. Sounded like more broken glass.

  Someone stomped.

  Footsteps headed toward the stairs.

  Damon’s heart leaped into his throat. He stared at the boxes. There was no way he had time to put everything back before one of his abductors unlocked the door.

  Chapter 19

  Alex slid the can of pop across the table. “That was as close as I could find to what you wanted.”

  Teivel barely looked at it before opening it. “Thanks.”

  Alex sipped his coffee as his suspect gulped down his drink. He studied the kid, trying to figure out where to start. Anderson had given him some ideas, and he was watching. But Alex was going to feel out his responses before deciding how to handle it.

  He slapped down the empty can. “Don’t suppose I can get another?”

  “After a few questions.”