DAVE FINE had asked for a Bible, and the preacher rested his right hand on top of the book as he stared blankly at Nick Shelton. He seemed almost perplexed as to why he was here.
“I love children,” Fine said. “I’ve always loved children.”
Nick leaned back in his chair, balancing it on the back legs. “Sure you do, Preacher.”
Jeffrey kept his mouth closed, because Dave Fine was Nick’s collar. His fists were itching to do some real damage to the preacher, and there was a buzzing in the back of Jeffrey’s mind, telling him that Dottie was still out there, doing God only knows what to Lacey Patterson, and the asshole pervert across the table from him was one of the people who had helped her get away.
“Well,” Nick said, holding his arms out in a big shrug. “Tell me your story.”
Fine stared at the Bible, as if he felt he could get strength from the book. His hands were sweating, and Jeffrey could see a darker streak on the black cover where perspiration had rubbed off his palm.
“I’ve worked at the church for going on fifteen years,” Fine said. “I grew up in Grant. I was baptized in that very chapel.”
Nick bounced the chair slightly, waiting him out.
“I married my wife there,” he continued. “I baptized my two little boys there.”
Silence filled the room, and Jeffrey let himself look at Dave Fine. He was the type of man who served as a living example of the phrase “pillar of his community.” Fine volunteered with the seniors’ program down at the Y, delivering meals to the elderly every weekend. His children played softball on the peewee league, and Fine coached the girls’ team.
Jeffrey loosened his collar, thinking about all the young girls Fine came in contact with on a daily basis. His fists clenched again.
“I never touched any of them,” Fine said, as if he could read Jeffrey’s mind. “I know it’s wrong. I know that.” He ran his thumb along the spine of the Bible. “I prayed for strength, and God gave it to me.”
Nick crossed his arms, and Jeffrey could sense that this was getting to the other man. Nick wasn’t overtly religious, but Jeffrey knew that he attended church every Sunday. One of the clunky gold charms around his neck was a cross with a diamond embedded at the center.
“I never touched my children,” Fine insisted. “I never hurt my boys.”
Nick said, “You understand we can’t take your word for that.”
Fine seemed shocked that someone would not trust him. “I would never touch my sons,” he said. “I would never do that.”
“We know you’re not into little boys,” Nick told him. “But, you gotta understand, Preacher, we gotta check it out.”
Fine stared at the Bible. “I would never have acted on my feelings if she hadn’t approached me.”
“Dottie Weaver?” Nick clarified.
“Jenny was such a sweet child. She had a light in her. A true light that God put there.” Fine’s lips curved up in a smile. “She sang like an angel. She really did. You could hear God coming through her voice.”
“Yeah,” Nick said. “I bet you could.”
Fine gave him a sharp look, as if he deserved more respect than this. The man seemed not to realize that he was in a police station, about to be sent to jail for a long time.
Jeffrey said, “How did Dottie approach you?”
Fine seemed relieved that Jeffrey was taking over. “She didn’t exactly approach me so much as lure me,” he said. “Adam never thought to eat of the forbidden fruit until Eve tempted him.”
Nick said, “Seems to me Adam’s snake had something to do with that.”
Fine frowned. “It wasn’t like that. It was never about sex for me.”
“But, you did have sex with her,” Nick said.
Fine chewed his lip. “Not at first,” he said. “I just wanted to spend some time with her.” He paused, and took a deep breath. “Dottie let me take her to the movies, and sometimes we would go into Macon to get her some clothes.” He looked up at Jeffrey and Nick, obviously needing their approval. “Her father had abandoned her,” he told them. “I was just trying to fill in, to make her feel loved and wanted.”
Nick was silent, but Jeffrey could see the muscles in his arms tense.
“I just wanted to nurture her, to give her some guidance.”
“Did you?” Nick asked, not bothering to hide his hostility.
“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not like that, it’s not like that at all.”
Jeffrey tried to remain calm, asking, “What’s it like?”
“It’s like…”—Fine made a wide gesture with his hands—“it’s about love. It’s about listening to children, and trying to understand their wants and their needs.”
“Did she want sex from you?” Nick asked.
Fine dropped his hands. “I never would have touched her that way. I was content just to have her company.”
Jeffrey asked, “What changed that?”
“Dottie.” He spit the word out of his mouth as if it was poison. “I had always thought about it, always. Not with Jenny, but with other girls. Some girls that I saw just around town.” He blinked his eyes several times, and Jeffrey was struck by how easily these men cried for themselves. They never seemed to cry for the children they hurt.
Fine said, “But I’ve always been content with my fantasies. That’s always been enough for me.” His voice rose. “I’m a happily married man,” he told them. “I love my wife and my sons.”
“Sure you do,” Nick said, the flippant tone back.
Fine shook his head. “You don’t understand.”
Jeffrey leaned over the table. “Explain it to me, Dave. I want to understand.”
“She was such a smart girl, and so well-spoken.” He picked up the Bible. “She read the Book with me. We prayed. We understood each other.”
Jeffrey glanced at the Bible. While at some level Jeffrey had always believed in the presence of good and evil, he had never really attached a biblical significance to it. Seeing Dave Fine’s hand on the Bible, hearing his tale of seducing Jenny Weaver through prayer, struck him as the highest form of blasphemy.
Nick said, “Okay, you prayed with her. What happened to change that?”
Fine set the book back on the table. “Dottie changed that,” he said. “She called me in the middle of the night.”
“When was this?”
“Around Thanksgiving,” he said. “This past Thanksgiving.”
“Then what?” Jeffrey asked, thinking the bastard was probably lying.
“I went to her house, because she said that Jenny wasn’t doing well. She said she was upset, and that she needed to talk to me.” His eyes filled with tears again. “I was her friend. I couldn’t ignore a plea for help.”
Jeffrey nodded for him to continue, trying to block the image that came to his mind of Sara pointing out the pelvic fracture in Jenny Weaver’s X ray. The girl had been brutally raped. Dave Fine could have been the man who did it.
Dave cleared his throat. “I had never really been inside the house before. Jenny always waited for me on the front steps.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “When I got there, Dottie led me upstairs. Upstairs to Jenny’s room.”
Fine fell silent, and neither Jeffrey nor Nick prompted him to continue. After what seemed like a long while, he picked back up where he had left off.
“We did things,” he said, his voice low. “I’m ashamed to say that we did things.”
“You did things,” Jeffrey told him, wanting to make that point.
“Yes,” Fine agreed. “I did things.”
“Did the acts only take place in Jenny’s room?” Jeffrey asked, thinking that this would explain why Dottie would risk not stripping Jenny’s room. The only evidence they found would point back to Dave Fine.
“Yes.” He swallowed hard. “Only in her room.”
The men were silent as Fine seemed to get his thoughts together. He was certainly good at painting himself as a helpless victim. A thirteen-year-old girl might have bought his act, but the more excuses Fine made for his actions, the more Jeffrey wanted to kill him.
Finally, Fine said, “Dottie took pictures. I didn’t know until later.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “She brought them to the church the next day, and threatened to expose me if I didn’t do what she said.”
“What did she want you to do?”
“Make those deliveries,” he said. “I used the church van.” He put his hand over his mouth. “God forgive me, I used the church van.”
Jeffrey crossed his arms, willing himself to calm down. Nick Shelton was so angry there was almost a heat coming off of him. How this sick fuck could cry for himself was beyond him. Dave Fine felt sorrier for himself than he did for the kid he raped.
Jeffrey asked, “Where’s Dottie now?”
“I have no idea,” Fine said, tapping his palm on the Bible for emphasis. “That’s the God’s truth.”
“When did you see her last?” Jeffrey asked, knowing he could not trust the answer.
“Monday. She had Mark at the house. They stripped everything. They painted the walls, they moved the printing press.”
“Where did they move it to?”
“I don’t know,” he said, and he seemed to be telling the truth. “They put it in a truck, an unmarked truck.”
“And then?”
“She told me that I still had to make this last delivery or she would send the pictures to the police station.”
“What about Lacey Patterson?”
Jeffrey wasn’t sure whether or not something registered in Fine’s eyes. The man said, “I have no idea. Dottie wouldn’t tell me something like that. I wasn’t involved in that end of things. I only did what she said to protect my family. Our lives.”
Jeffrey crossed his arms, asking, “When did you get the magazines?”
“That night,” he answered. “I put them in the basement of the church until this morning.”
“You already knew about the meeting in Augusta?”
“No,” he shook his head, vehement. “She called me last night. It sounded like she was on a cell phone.”
“You said the last time you saw her was Monday,” Jeffrey reminded him.
“It was the last time,” Fine countered. “You said the last time I saw her, not the last time I spoke with her.”
Jeffrey let this pass. “What did she say?”
“She told me about the hotel, when to meet Joe, what the code word was for the next pickup.” Fine paused. “She said she was still around, watching me.”
“Do you believe that?” Nick asked. “You think she’s still in town?”
Fine shrugged. “She’s capable of anything,” he said.
“Capable of what, for instance?” Jeffrey asked. When Fine did not answer, he asked, “What do you think she’s going to do to Lacey Patterson?”
Fine looked away. “I don’t know what she does. I was only involved with Jenny.”
Jeffrey stared at the other man, trying to understand him. Fine was so good at justifying his actions, he could probably pass a lie detector test. Jeffrey seriously doubted the man even believed what he had done to Jenny Weaver was wrong.
Fine volunteered, “I know Dottie needs money. She told me she had to wait around for the next payoff.” His voice rose as he tried to defend himself. “I was being blackmailed. I had no choice.”
Jeffrey ignored the excuse, instead thinking about Dottie’s post office box in Atlanta. Dottie had no way of knowing that they knew about the drop. She would think she was safe. They might have a chance of catching her before she had time to rape another kid, or sell off Lacey Patterson.
“So,” Nick said. “You packed the magazines in the church van this morning and toddled on over to Augusta?”
“I had a bad feeling about it,” he said, picking at the pages of the Bible. “I guess I wanted to get caught. I couldn’t go on with this hanging over me.”
Jeffrey said, “Mark felt the same way.”
Fine snorted. “Mark,” he said, as if he were talking about the devil himself.
Nick exchanged a glance with Jeffrey.
“You know why Jenny wanted to shoot him?” Fine asked them, a slight grimace on his face. “Because he was going to end up doing the same thing.”
“Doing what?”
“He enjoyed it,” Fine told them. “Mark didn’t have any qualms about what he was doing.”
“And you did?” Nick shot back.
Fine ignored the question.
“You’re saying Mark liked posing for the pictures?” Jeffrey asked, and in his mind he saw Mark’s pained expression in the magazines they had found. This was not the face of a kid who was enjoying himself.
“He didn’t just like it. He wanted to do it.” Fine tapped his finger on the table. “If you ask me, it was just a matter of time before he started in on his sister. Jenny knew that. As cruel as that family was to her, she knew what Mark had become. She knew he would end up abusing Lacey.” He sniffed, as if holding back tears. “Jenny was trying to protect Lacey from that animal.”
“You have proof of this?” Jeffrey demanded.
“Grace had him in the game since he was six,” Fine told them. “It was only a matter of time. Jenny knew this.”
“You have no way of knowing what Mark would’ve ended up doing,” Jeffrey said. “If every kid who was raped by some freak like you grew up to molest children—”
Fine interrupted him. “You don’t know Mark very well, Chief Tolliver. Trust me, he would’ve been hurting kids, just like his mother.” He shook his head, giving a snort. “He learned from the master.”
Jeffrey countered, “He was just a kid himself.”
Fine held up his finger, as if he was making a good point. “He was a grown man. He could’ve stopped.”
Nick barked, “So could you.”
The comment cut, and Fine showed it by looking down at the Bible, his lips pursed in a classic pout, like he had been falsely accused.
The room was quiet as they all seemed to take a deep breath.
Jeffrey tried to keep his tone even, asking, “Did you tell Jenny your theory about Mark? Is that why she wanted to shoot him?”
Fine stared at the Bible.
Jeffrey took his silence as a confirmation. “What else did Dottie have you do?”
“Just the deliveries.”
“No, before that.”
“She made me come over when she was taking the pictures,” he said. “I didn’t want to, but she held my life in her hands.” He held out his hands to illustrate the point. “If those pictures ever got out,” he said, “it would have ruined me. My wife, my children…” Tears welled into his eyes. “I have responsibilities.”
“You posed for more pictures?” Jeffrey asked, wondering at anyone who could be so stupid. Or, maybe he wasn’t stupid, maybe he enjoyed it.
Fine nodded. “I didn’t want to. She…”—he looked for the right word—“she liked to humiliate people. She got something out of that.”
“How did she humiliate you?”
“She knew I didn’t like boys, and she made me do things.”
“Things with Mark Patterson?”
He gave a tight nod, and for the first time, he actually showed shame. “What Jenny and I had was…special. I know you don’t understand that, but there was something between us. Something that bonded us.” He put his hand over his eyes. “She was my first. I loved her so much.”
Jeffrey cut him off. “Shut up about that part of it, Dave, or I swear to God I’ll beat the ever loving shit out of you.”
Fine looked up, and he seemed hurt that they did not understand.
Jeffrey said, “Why did you stop? With Jenny, I mean. What stopped the sexual contact?”
“She rejected me,” he told them, tears welling into his eyes. “She said she didn’t want anything more to do with me.” He sniffed loudly. “After the pictures…I don’t know. It was as if Dottie was proving something to Jenny, my showing up that night.”
“Proving you were all alike,” Jeffrey provided, thinking this was just the kind of thing a woman like Dottie Weaver would do.
“That’s not true,” Fine insisted. “I loved Jenny. I cared about her deeply.”
“That’s why you tried to visit her after the church retreat?”
“She looked sick,” Fine told them. “I didn’t know what was wrong with her and Dottie wouldn’t let me near her. I even posed for more of her pictures just to get into the house, just to see if Jenny was all right, but Grace kept her at the trailer when I was there.”
Jeffrey clenched his teeth together knowing Fine had willingly gone to Dottie’s so he could molest more children. The fact that Fine truly believed he loved Jenny Weaver was just as obvious as the fact that there was something seriously wrong with his mind.
Nick asked, “What about Grace Patterson? What was her involvement in this?”
Fine scowled at the name. “She was worse than Dottie. She was disgusting.”
“How so?”
“The things she came up with,” he said, his voice coarse. “May she rot in hell for her sins.”
Jeffrey did not point out the obvious. “Dottie and Grace were together on this?”
He nodded. “Grace directed most of the photo shoots. Dottie took care of the business end of things.” He waited a beat. “All the poses were Grace’s idea. She liked to get in on them, touch some of the children. The more sadistic it could be the better.”
“Dottie never did this, too?”
“She knew how to make the ones that looked real. The romantic ones. Dottie worked the softer stuff and Grace worked the hard core.” He licked his lips nervously, as if by default the women were more guilty than he was. “They knew each other from way back.”
“They told you this?”
“No,” he said. “Jenny did. Jenny said that she and her mother moved around a lot. Wherever they went, Grace would visit them at least once a month.”
Jeffrey asked, “What about Teddy Patterson?”
Fine shook his head. “He would have killed us all if he had known.”
Nick showed his surprise. “He didn’t know?”
“Of course not,” Fine snapped. “We never did anything unless he was out of town on business. He drove a truck.”
Nick sounded as skeptical as Jeffrey felt. “He never delivered any of the magazines?”
“Grace kept him out of it,” Fine said. “He wasn’t that kind of man.”
“What kind of man is that?” Nick asked.
Fine stared at the Bible again. “A man like me, I guess. A man who would be with children.”
“A man who would hurt children,” Nick corrected.
“I didn’t hurt her.”
“You didn’t?” Jeffrey asked, leaning across the table. “You wanna tell me how a thirteen-year-old girl gets a pelvic fracture?”
“There were other men she was with,” Fine countered, yet he did not seem surprised by the information.
“Other men who weren’t gentle like you?” Jeffrey goaded.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Really?” Jeffrey said, incredulous. “How big are you, Dave? You want me to look up in Jenny’s autopsy records how much smaller she is than you?”
Fine cleared his throat, but he did not answer. He took the Bible off the table and held it to his chest. Jeffrey stared at the man, thinking there was something he was missing. He saw it then—the wedding ring on Dave’s left hand. His mind flashed on the image he had seen earlier in the magazine: the hand firmly behind Jenny Weaver’s head, pushing her down so that she gagged on him.
“You son of a bitch,” Jeffrey said, lunging across the table. His knee caught the edge, but he didn’t care as his hands wrapped around the Bible.
“Jeffrey,” Nick yelled, halfheartedly trying to pull Jeffrey back.
Jeffrey let the anger take hold of him, saying, “You sick son of a bitch,” as he ripped the Bible from the preacher’s hands. Fine had been holding on so tightly that he fell back in his chair. “I saw the pictures, asshole. I saw what you did to her. I saw how you raped her.”
Jeffrey stood, looking at him over the table. “You don’t deserve this,” he said, indicating the Book. “What you did to those kids…what you did to her…”
“It was just Jenny,” Fine insisted, sitting up.
Jeffrey started to go around the table, then stopped himself, thinking Fine wasn’t worth it.
Fine repeated, “It was just Jenny.”
“You left your fucking wedding ring on in those pictures,” Jeffrey told him, putting the Bible down. “I saw it in at least ten different pictures with ten different kids.” He walked around the table, groaning at the pain in his knee. “You fucking idiot.”
“You can’t talk to me that way,” Fine snapped.
Jeffrey grabbed his arm, yanking him up off the floor. “You’d better be glad I’m talking and not beating the shit out of you.”
“This is police brutality,” Fine said, brushing off his pants. “I want a lawyer.”
Jeffrey said, “Buddy Conford wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”
“I’ve got someone else,” Dave said, tucking his shirt into his pants. “Someone from Atlanta.”
Nick provided, “Someone who defends perverts like him all the time. Probably takes his fee in pictures.”
Fine smiled, and for the first time, he appeared to be on the outside what he was on the inside. “Or little girls.”
Jeffrey felt his shoulders tighten, and the animal desire to rip Fine’s throat out was only quelled by the possibility that Fine knew more than he was saying.
“You’re going to jail,” Jeffrey told the preacher. “You know what they do to people like you in jail?”
“Right,” Fine said. “I watch television. I know you’re just talking crap.”
“Crap?” Nick said. “You mean that bloody stuff you’re gonna find in your underwear every morning?”
Fine had the gall to look smug. “I don’t think I’m going to jail.”
Nick asked, “What makes you think that?”
“I’ve got a bargaining chip,” Fine said, smiling.
“What bargaining chip,” Jeffrey shot back, trying not to sound eager. If Fine thought he had power here he would never tell them what he knew.
“Let’s just wait for my lawyer to get here,” Fine said, holding out his hands to be cuffed. “I don’t have anything to say without my lawyer.”
“Think about that in general lockup,” Jeffrey said, pulling out his handcuffs.
“Goodness me,” Nick breathed. “General lockup.”
“What’s that?” Fine asked, something close to panic in his voice.
Jeffrey tightened the cuffs on Fine’s wrists. “Just jail.”
“Funny thing about jail, though,” Nick began. “Lots of fellas in there had someone just like you in their lives when they were growing up.”
Fine turned around. “What does that mean?”
Jeffrey smiled, turning Fine toward the door. “Means while you’re waiting for your fancy lawyer to drive here all the way from Atlanta, you’ll have plenty of time to explain to your fellow inmates how it’s all about love.”
“Wait a minute.” Fine stood where he was, even as Jeffrey tried to push him. “I’ll have my own cell,” he said as if he was certain this would happen.
“No you won’t, you sick fuck,” Jeffrey said, pushing him so hard that Nick had to catch him before he fell.
“It’s the law,” Fine insisted. “You can’t put me in with other inmates.”
“I can do whatever I want,” Jeffrey told him.
“Wait a minute,” Fine repeated, his voice shrill and panicked. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Jeffrey asked, grabbing the preacher by the collar and forcing him out of the room.
“No,” Fine said, reaching for the door but missing. His fingernails trailed across the wood as he grabbed for anything to hold on to.
“You got something to tell me, Dave?” Jeffrey asked, pushing him down the hall.
“Help me,” Fine said, reaching for a patrolman who happened to be coming out of the bathroom. The cop looked at Fine, then Jeffrey, then walked on as if he hadn’t seen anything.
“Move,” Jeffrey said, still holding him up by his collar.
“Somebody help me!” Fine screamed, bending his knees until he was on the floor. Jeffrey still dragged him down the hallway by his shirt collar.
“Help!” Fine screamed.
“Help you like you helped Jenny?” Nick asked, walking beside him. “Help you like you’re helping Lacey?”
“I don’t know where she is!” Fine screamed, putting his hands on the floor to give more resistance.
Jeffrey saw Marla stick her head around the corner. She looked at Fine, then turned back around.
“Help me!” Fine cried, his voice hoarse from the effort. “Oh, Lord, please help me.”
Jeffrey’s hand was cramping. He let go, and Fine dropped to the floor, sobbing. “Oh, Lord, please deliver me from these men,” he prayed.
Nick bent down in front of him. “The Lord helps those who help themselves,” he suggested.
“But you can keep on praying, Dave,” Jeffrey told him. “You can pray the papers don’t print how you died from having your asshole ripped open.”
Nick put his hand on Fine’s shoulder. “Hate to have your wife and kids read about that, Dave. It’s a bad way to have to go.”
Fine looked up, tears streaming down his face. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, okay.”
“Okay what?” Jeffrey asked.
“Okay,” he repeated. “I might know where she is.”
JEFFREY drove while Nick sat in the back seat alongside Fine. Behind them, an unmarked car with four GBI officers drove at a safe distance.
“You better not be fucking with us, Dave,” Jeffrey said, making a right turn to circle the block for the third time.
“I told you I’m not sure what the address is,” Fine insisted. “Dottie only took me here once.”
“What’d she take you here for?” Nick asked.
“Nothing,” he mumbled, looking out the window.
Jeffrey looked at him in the rearview mirror. “This better not be just you postponing the inevitable.”
“I’m not, okay?” Fine snapped. “I told you this was where she did some business.”
“What kind of business?” Jeffrey asked.
Fine looked like he wasn’t going to answer, but for some reason he did. Jeffrey liked to think it was guilt that made Fine tell them things, but he had been a cop long enough to know it was plain and simple stupidity.
Fine said, “This guy, he keeps kids here sometimes.”
“You sure it’s just him alone there?” Jeffrey asked.
“Yes,” Fine insisted. “It’s mostly used as a safe house.”
“Safe for who?” Nick asked.
“Who do you think?” Fine snapped. “He keeps pictures mostly, but a couple of times I saw some kids and a couple of cameras.”
“And out of the goodness of your heart you reported him to the police,” Nick suggested.
Fine stared out the window, probably feeling sorry for himself. They had spent an hour driving to Macon, then another two hours driving around different subdivisions looking for this house that Dave Fine said he would recognize only by sight. Jeffrey looked in the rearview mirror, wondering how much longer they had before somebody called the Macon cops about two suspicious-looking cars in the neighborhood.
They were on tricky ground here. Technically, the Georgia Bureau of Investigation had jurisdiction over the state, but as a courtesy, they should have notified the Macon Police Department that they were conducting surveillance on their turf. As Jeffrey and Nick weren’t even sure Dave Fine had ever been here, let alone whether or not Lacey Patterson was being held in Macon, there wasn’t much they could tell the Macon Police Department. They couldn’t get a warrant without a street address, but Nick was counting on imminent jeopardy to cut through that red tape. They could always say later that they saw something suspicious in the house. With a child involved, and time being of the essence, neither one of them was worried about getting slapped on the wrist for this.
“Turn here,” Fine said. “Left up here. This street looks familiar.”
Jeffrey did as he was told, thinking it was pointless because they’d already been down this road.
“Then up here on the right,” Fine told him, excitement in his voice.
Jeffrey took the right, going down a new street. He exchanged a look with Nick.
“There it is,” Fine told them. “It’s the one on the right with the gate.”
Jeffrey didn’t slow the car, but he had enough time to see that all the windows had the blinds drawn. The outside security lights were also on even though it was the middle of the day. The gate had a large padlock on it. Whether or not this was to keep people out or keep them in remained to be seen.
Jeffrey stopped the car at the end of the street and waited for the other car to catch up with them. He could hear cars from the interstate, which was less than thirty feet from where they had parked. Jeffrey guessed the people who lived around here got used to the noise, but right now, every car was like fingernails against a blackboard.
Agent Wallace got out of the car, leaving two men and one woman inside. He adjusted his belt, even though he was wearing a shoulder harness. He was a beefy young guy who worked out enough to make the material around the short sleeves of his shirt look about ready to break. His cheeks were so close-shaven that Jeffrey could almost make out the razor marks.
“That the house with the gate?” he asked, taking off his sunglasses.
“That’s what our guy says,” Jeffrey told him.
Wallace looked back at the car, meeting Dave Fine’s glare. He spit on the road, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “Motherless piece of shit,” he mumbled.
Nick had been on the other side of the car, calling the Macon Police Department. “He’s not happy,” Nick said.
“Didn’t think he would be,” Jeffrey answered, knowing that if someone from the GBI had called Jeffrey to say an operation was going down in Grant that Jeffrey knew nothing about, he’d be pissed, too.
Nick said, “It’ll take ’em a while to get their heads out of their asses and get over here.”
“Did you tell them the house?”
Nick smiled. “Hell, I couldn’t even remember the street.”
Jeffrey laughed, glad he was here instead of back at the Macon police department.
Nick opened the back door and grabbed Dave Fine’s hands. Before the preacher could protest, Nick had cuffed him to the strap over the door. “That’ll hold him.”
Fine said, “You can’t leave me here.”
“If I were you,” Nick said, “I’d relish this time alone.”
Fine colored. “You said I’d get my own cell back at the station.”
“Yeah,” Jeffrey agreed. “That’s the station, though. I’ve got no control over what happens to you in prison.”
Nick chuckled, knocking on the hood of the car. “Don’t worry, Davey boy. I’m sure you’ll meet yourself some quality folk in prison.”
“You can’t do that,” Fine insisted.
Nick smiled. “Don’t worry there, preacher. Near about all of ’em already found God. You can pray with them till your heart’s content.”
Fine shot Jeffrey a panicked look. “You promised!”
“I promised about my jail, Dave,” Jeffrey reminded him. “I’ve got no control over what happens in the big jail. That’s up to you and the state.”
“You said we’d work out a deal.”
Jeffrey said, “A deal for reduced sentence, but you’re still going to jail.”
Fine started to say more, but Nick slammed the door in the man’s face.
“Pussy,” Nick said.
“He will be to somebody,” Jeffrey agreed, using the remote to lock the car doors.
“Goddamn,” Nick said, his eyes lighting up as he checked his revolver. “Can’t believe I’m getting to do this twice in one day.”
“We’ll take junior, here.” Jeffrey indicated Wallace, who looked about ready to jump out of his skin. Jeffrey probably looked the same way. There was enough adrenaline in his blood to give a lesser man a heart attack.
Nick bounced on the balls of his feet as he walked toward the other car and told the three agents inside they were in charge of the back.
“Let’s give ’em a couple, three minutes head start,” Nick said, checking his watch. Time could either stand still or fly during a situation like this.
Nick looked back at the car, where Dave Fine was pouting. He said, “I wouldn’t leave a dog trapped in that car in this heat.”
“Me, neither,” Jeffrey said, making no move to roll down the windows.
They were quiet, staring out at the busy interstate while they waited for Nick’s signal.
Finally, Nick looked at his watch and said, “Let’s go.”
Jeffrey tucked his gun into his shoulder holster as they walked. He had worn his ankle holster as well. Normally, Jeffrey would feel uncomfortable armed this way, but for the moment he felt ready for anything the small house might have to offer.
Trees and high shrubs had obscured a lot of the house from the street. Up close, Jeffrey could see it was mostly brick with vinyl siding on the trim and overhangs. The gutters were painted a bright white to match the trim. The house was small, probably two bedrooms with one bath and a kitchen–living room combination. There were houses like this all over Grant, built cheap just after the war, meant to be starter homes for returning veterans. Cement blocks served as the foundation with vents to let the house breathe.
“No basement,” Nick said.
Jeffrey nodded, pointing to the roofline. There did not appear to be a second story, either, but someone could definitely hide in the attic.
Wallace went first, easily scaling the five-foot-tall chain-link fence from the side that was most concealed by the shrubs. Nick had a little more difficulty, and groaned quietly as he lost his footing on the other side, his butt hitting the ground. Jeffrey followed them, wondering why his knee was giving him trouble, then remembering how he had hurt it lunging for Fine.
When they were all safe on the other side, Nick took a small walkie-talkie out of his pocket and said, “We’re inside the perimeter.”
There was a faint “Check,” as the others got into position.
Jeffrey took out his gun indicating they should head toward the front door. As they got closer, they could hear soft music coming from the house. Jeffrey recognized a boy group, but couldn’t put a name to them.
Wallace stopped at the front door, his gun held up beside his head. He counted off to three then kicked at the door.
Nothing happened.
“Shit,” Wallace cursed, shaking his leg out. For just a moment, Jeffrey considered that they might have the wrong house. Then he thought about the fact that someone could be waiting behind that locked front door with a double-barreled shotgun, ready to blow off their heads. He thought of Sara for a split second, and how she said she worried about him, then he thought about Lacey Patterson and pushed everything else from his mind.
Jeffrey indicated to Wallace that they would kick together this time. He counted off to three, and this time the door didn’t hold.
“Police!” Nick yelled, storming in after them. There was no man standing inside with a shotgun. Instead there was a young girl wearing a short pink T-shirt and matching underwear. She could have just woken up from a nap.
Jeffrey pointed his gun up to the ceiling. He was about to ask her if she was okay when the little girl pointed silently down a hallway.
Jeffrey took off his jacket and put it around the girl while Nick and Wallace checked the other side of the house. He ushered her to the front porch, telling her to wait for him inside the front of the gate. He wanted to say something to her, to put his arm around her and tell her that she was okay now, but there was something so vacant about the child he could not bring himself to do it. She seemed beyond any kind of comfort.
Nick and Wallace came back, shaking their heads that no one was in the other side of the house. Nick tilted his chin up, indicating he would go first down the hall. Jeffrey was eerily reminded of Dottie Weaver’s house as they walked in. The setup was similar, but the feeling was different. A dirty strip of carpeting muffled the sound of their feet on the hardwood floor. There were framed pictures of children’s art on the wall.
Ahead, Nick flattened himself against the wall beside a closed door. This was where the music was coming from, and Jeffrey could make out the chorus now, “I love you, love you, my sweet baby.”
Nick reached down and opened the door, crouching in the entrance in one swift motion. Something unreadable passed on his face, and he stood, walking into the room with his gun still drawn. Jeffrey followed him, seeing a king-size bed with mirrors all around it. The sheets were messed up, as if there had been recent activity, and there was a smell in the room that Jeffrey did not want to put a name to. The stereo was propped up on the box it came in, sickly sweet music still pouring out from the speakers. Two video cameras on tripods were pointed at the bed, the mirrors on the walls reflecting the scene back to Jeffrey. He stood there, wanting nothing more than to get out of this room, as Nick checked under the bed, then opened the door to one of the closets.
Wallace made a noise to get their attention then nodded down the hallway. Jeffrey backed outside the room as Nick checked the last closet, then followed.
Wallace put his mouth close to Jeffrey’s ear and whispered, “I saw a boy go in there,” indicating a closed door on the opposite side of the hall.
Nick pointed to a cord hanging down from the ceiling where the retractable stairs to the attic were. The cord wasn’t moving, but that was no guarantee no one was up there.
Jeffrey passed the bathroom, which was small and dirty. Toys werestacked on the counter and in the empty tub. There was no shower curtain or closet in there, but some cabinets were built into the wall along the hallway. Jeffrey opened the first cabinet, but all it contained were the items you would expect: towels, wash rags, some diapers. The diapers got to him for some reason, and for the first time that day, he lost what little hope he had that they would find Lacey Patterson alive.
Nick put his hand on Jeffrey’s shoulder, and Jeffrey got the feeling he was thinking the same thing.
There was one last room in the small house, and Jeffrey took the lead this time, pressing himself to the closed door just as Nick had. He threw the door open, crouching around the corner with his gun drawn, but the room appeared empty.
Three twin beds were shoved into the corner, dirty-looking sheets bunched up on them. There were no frames or box springs, just the mattresses flat on the floor. Sheets were nailed tightly to the windows like canvas over a frame. There was only one closet in the room, and Jeffrey walked over to it, expecting to see the worst behind it. He stood to the side and opened it, only to find shelves packed tight with boxes. Red numbers labeled the boxes, and Jeffrey pulled one of them out, frowning when he saw it was full of pictures. He looked at the other boxes and realized the numbers were probably the age of the kids in the pictures. The top row contained a few that were labeled “0–1.”
He remembered the boy Wallace had seen, and bent down on one knee. A couple of boxes on the bottom of the closet looked crooked, and Jeffrey pulled them out. He leaned down and saw a frightened little boy, not more than six years old, with his head between his knees. The boy saw Jeffrey, then reached out to pull the boxes back around him. He was so frightened that the boxes shook from his touch.
Jeffrey stood, thinking he would see the fear in that kid’s eyes for as long as he lived. He wanted to pull the boy out from his hiding place and tell him that it was over, but Jeffrey wasn’t sure that it was. The adult or adults who had done this were still in this house somewhere. It was better to leave the kid where he was safe rather than put him in more danger.
Jeffrey heard Nick’s boots on the floor and turned to see him walking out the door. He watched as Nick lowered the attic stairs, the springs squeaking loud enough to vibrate in Jeffrey’s ears. He unfolded the steps, which made a hollow thunking noise against the floor. Nick took out a mini flashlight, holding it between his teeth as he used one hand to climb the stairs and held his service revolver in the other. Jeffrey held his breath as Nick poked his head into the attic space. After a quick look around, Nick shook his head, taking the flashlight out of his mouth.
“Empty,” Nick said. He took the radio out of his pocket and asked, “Did anyone come out the back?”
Crackling came, then a woman’s voice said, “That’s a negative, sir. We’ve got the back and the sides.”
Nick sighed heavily, disappointment coming off him like sweat. “Let Robbins stay back there. I need you and Peters inside to help us do another check.”
“You think we missed anything?” Wallace asked.
“Hell, I don’t know,” Nick said. He picked up the stairs to fold them back up, but his hand slipped, and the stairs thunked to the ground again. He started to try again, but Jeffrey stopped him, pointing to the floor.
Nick shook his head, but then he seemed to play it back in his mind and realized what Jeffrey had. The stairs hadn’t sounded right when they hit the floor. Nick finally nodded, and he leaned down, pointing to a line of dirt where the rug had been raised then dropped back down.
Jeffrey pulled the stairs up and tucked them back into the attic. He holstered his gun and picked up the carpet. There was an outline of a trap door underneath it, about three feet square with a small, hinged pull in the center. Jeffrey indicated for Wallace to stand on the back side of the door, straddling the sides, and open it. Nick and Jeffrey stood on the other side, their guns drawn.
Time moved slowly, and Jeffrey could hear the stupid song that had been playing since they’d come in switch to another equally drippy ballad as the trap door creaked open. He could feel sweat dripping down his face, and tasted blood in his mouth as he bit the inside of his lip. Then the door was open, and about three feet down he saw a very scared-looking Lacey Patterson lying curled up on the ground under the house. She was filthy, and her hair had been cut close to her scalp. There was a bruise on her forehead, and her eyes were barely open. She had either been drugged or beaten or both.
“Holy Jesus,” Wallace muttered.
Jeffrey got down on his stomach so that he could see her better, asking, “Lacey?”
The child did not respond, though at this distance, he could see there was something white at the corners of her mouth.
“Lacey?” he tried again, putting his gun beside him on the floor so he could reach in and touch her forehead. She felt clammy and there was something gritty on her skin.
Jeffrey told Wallace, “Hold my feet,” as he reached into the hole. He managed to hook his hands under her arms and get a good grip on her. Wallace kept him from sliding in as Jeffrey started to pull Lacey out. She was small, but her body was deadweight. He asked Nick for help, and between the three of them they managed to get her out of the hole.
“You’re okay,” Nick said, setting her down on the floor inside the bedroom.
Jeffrey sat back on his heels, wiping the dust from his forehead. The crawl space was filthy, red Georgia clay like powder from the heat.
Suddenly, there was a scratching noise from underneath the house as if someone was moving. Without thinking, Jeffrey dove into the hole, catching himself with his hands so he wouldn’t fall on his face. It was dark under the house, low-hanging pipes giving it the appearance of a maze. Jeffrey blinked several times, trying to acclimate himself, when a flash of light came from the far end of the house.
“Nick!” he yelled, taking off, using his elbows and feet to propel himself through the small space. From above, he heard footsteps running through the house, and prayed Nick’s man in the back would act quickly.
Up ahead, he saw a pair of feet slipping through a narrow vent opening. Jeffrey followed as fast as he could, banging his head on a gas line. He kept going toward the light, turning at the last minute and using his feet to kick at the hole. The mortar was weak in the old house, and bricks flew out from the force. Jeffrey turned back around, pushing himself through the opening, feeling intense pain as his pants tore on the jagged brick.
“Stop!” Robbins screamed. He was just a kid, his feet out wide, his gun in front of him, pointing at the figure running toward him.
Jeffrey knew what was going to happen and it did. The runner smacked right into Robbins, who dropped his gun. Jeffrey stood, unable to move as he recognized the runner.
“Dottie!” Jeffrey yelled.
Dottie stood, their eyes locking. She raised her hands like she meant to surrender, then took off running toward the backyard. Jeffrey knelt, pulling out his ankle gun in one swift movement as he lined up to take the shot. He stopped as Dottie jumped the fence and ran into the neighbor’s backyard, which was full of kids playing on a swing set.
Jeffrey took off after her, pumping his arms as he ran. He hurdled the fence without breaking stride, running around kids like an obstacle course. He saw Dottie run into the house, slamming the door behind her. Jeffrey took the steps two at a time, busting the door open with his shoulder, breaking into the hallway and nearly smacking into a line of kids. The first one barely came up to Jeffrey’s waist, and he sidestepped to miss the boy, slamming full force into the wall. His arm felt like it was on fire, and Jeffrey dropped his gun.
“Sir?” a young woman asked. She was probably around twenty, and her dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She looked terrified.
Jeffrey sat up, pressing his fingers into his arm to see if he had broken anything. He realized he was panting from running. There were at least ten kids around, all of them looking at Jeffrey with the same fear in their eyes as the young woman had. His heart stopped as he realized he was in a day-care center. All of these kids, so close to Dottie; he could not fathom the implications.
“Sir?” the woman repeated, pulling some of the kids close to her.
Jeffrey pulled his badge out of his back pocket, showing it to her. He tried to catch his breath so he could speak. “Where…?” he began. “The woman…?”
“Wendy?” the girl asked. “Wendy James?”
Jeffrey shook his head, thinking she did not understand.
“She just left,” the girl told him. “She ran through the house and—”
Jeffrey jumped up, scattering the kids as he retrieved his gun. He ran out the open front door, into the yard and to the street. He could see a car ahead, taking a right to merge onto the busy interstate. It could have been white or tan or gray. It could have been a four door or a coupe or a hatch-back. He did not know what kind of car it was. All he knew was that it was gone.