Devoted (Lace Underground Trilogy Book 3) Read online

  Silvana is getting some coffee in the cafeteria. Since Maddox is in critical condition we were given a private waiting room. I sit on the uncomfortable upholstered chair and stare at the floral still life painting hung on the wall across from me. I've memorized the picture and now vow never to have a floral still life painting in my house. I tried more than once to read one of the totally uninteresting magazines on the side table but found myself just staring at the pictures through tears. It is amazing how, when you've been close with someone for a long time, every darn thing, whether it's a certain type of soda or a brand of athletic shoe, can remind you of that person. Especially when you're not with the person anymore.

  Silvana looks wilted and tired as he walks in with two cups of coffee. "You said cream right? I'm so out of it, I got to the cafeteria but couldn't remember."

  "Yes, cream." I take the cup from his hand. "Thank you. I need it so much I'm even looking forward to hospital coffee."

  He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out two granola bars. "I thought you might want a little breakfast. I gobbled a few of these on my way back. They aren't too bad if you can overlook that the walnuts are stale."

  "Thanks." I place the granola bars on my lap. Food seems impossible at the moment. My appetite has been wiped away just like it was by the nectar.

  I drop my head back and instantly my eyes slide shut. The buzz of Silvana's phone makes me sit upright. He smiles sheepishly at me.

  "It's just Sheila calling to see how Maddox is doing." He gets up and walks into the hallway with the phone. Silvana is head over heels in love, and Sheila is wonderful. Watching their relationship bloom has been a bright spot in a never ending sea of gray. Just when it seems life is looking up, something comes around to smack down the hope again. But of all the things that have happened to me in the past year, losing Maddox would make everything else seem like a fucking picnic. No way I'd come out of this. Ever.

  My throat closes up too much for the coffee. I place the cup down and hug myself, hoping I can just squeeze myself into a different reality. Any reality but this one. The utter devastation I'm feeling assures me that I'm just as in love with Maddox as I've always been.

  Silvana walks back into the room. "Sheila sends her best." He sits next to me and eyes the granola bars.

  "Go ahead, Sil. I can't eat a thing."

  He grabs a bar but his phone rings again.

  "Mr. Popular," I tease. "I used to get calls and texts but that was long ago."

  Silvana winks at me. "I still call ya." He points to the phone. "It's Rowley. He's investigating Maddox's accident." He walks out again, apparently thinking I'm better off not listening to one side of a conversation about the accident. He's probably right. The fact that Maddox called me to warn me about X-crew just before he was forced off the road makes it pretty clear that this was no accident.

  I pick up my phone and peruse the news, hoping it'll cheer me up. It only depresses me. I put the phone back down and finish my cold coffee. I should be dead tired but adrenaline and worry have kept me fueled and on edge.

  My phone beeps with a text. It's Clark. "Are you still at the hospital? Any news?"

  "Yes, I'm here with Silvana. No news yet."

  "All right. Stay there. I need to talk to you."

  "I'll be here." I put the phone down and stare with curiosity at the text. What could Clark possibly have to talk to me about in the middle of this terrible chaos?

  Silvana comes back in shaking his head. "They found Maddox's phone in the shrubs. It survived the crash. His last voicemail was from a private number. It was someone from X-crew. They told him no hard feelings about Junior's arm and then asked how his cute ginger partner was doing."

  A lump forms in my stomach. "That's why he called to warn me. He thought they were going to take it out on me. It seems they knew he'd drive straight to my place and they followed him. It was a trick."

  "Assholes. Rowley says a fast thinking driver who witnessed the incident took a picture of the car just as it swept across the lane into Maddox's bike. They blew up the picture and got the plate numbers. The car is registered to Junior's cousin, Ross. They are on their way to arrest him."

  I sit back. "That's good news. Now, if we can just get some from the doctor." I glance at my phone. "Clark is on his way. Says he needs to talk to me about something."

  Silvana sits down and grabs the granola bar. "Yeah? Maybe he's going to just relay the information Rowley gave me."

  "Yeah, that's probably it. Should I text back and tell him to forget the visit?"

  "Nah, he's probably on the road already. His house is just ten minutes away. Maybe the doctor will have an update when he gets here."

  Needing to get some nervous energy out, I get up to pace the floor. "I get why you guys had to arrest Junior. Creep that he is, but why did Maddox break his arm? It seems that was the trigger of this ruthless revenge."

  "I was in the front room keeping the teenage girls safe and away from the action. Maddox said Junior pulled a knife on him. He wrenched his arm back too hard and it broke." Silvana grins. "Wish I'd seen it. I did hear it though. It was pretty gruesome." Silvana picks up the second granola bar and opens the package. "Maddox has been really on edge since you guys—well, you know. He hasn't been himself at all."

  His words make my chest ache. I've been wallowing in pity and a long, drawn out bout of depression, somehow convinced only I was suffering from the breakup. I walk to the stupid floral painting. "I hate this picture. Why would they bother with a painting in a room where you are waiting to hear whether someone you love has made it through the night."

  The door opens. I suck in a breath and hold it in anticipation. I release it when Clark enters the room.

  "Whoa, Captain." Silvana presses his hand against his chest. "Thought you might be the doctor."

  Clark turns to me and seems to be assessing how I'm feeling with a noticeably scrutinizing gaze. "So, no news yet?" he asks. The second he finishes the question, the door opens and the surgeon, Dr. Rodriguez, walks in. His surgical mask is hanging down below his chin. He's one of those distinguished looking, fifty-plus men, tall with ramrod straight posture and gray threads in his black hair. He nods at Captain Clark and motions for us to sit down.

  I'm so nervous the act of sitting takes some effort. I instantly cross my arms, a defense that I ridiculously hope will shield me from bad news. I'm scrutinizing the distinguished looking surgeon's face just as Clark did to me seconds earlier. If he hadn't become a surgeon he might have looked good on the big screen as a leading man. I push the stupid thought from my mind. I haven't slept in twenty-four hours and I'm lightheaded.

  "James is resting now. Not comfortably, unfortunately. We managed to set the compound fracture of his femur, but his right clavicle and his left wrist will need titanium plates."

  I press my fingers against my mouth to stifle a sound. I'm blinking a million times a minute to hold back the tears.

  The doctor grins faintly at me before continuing. "We'll wait for his overall condition to improve before we call in the hand and shoulder specialists. Three of his ribs are broken and he has a punctured lung. It's still early and other complications can arise."

  Silvana reaches over and pats my arm for support.

  "Fortunately, he's young and strong," Dr. Rodriguez continues.

  "When can we see him?" I ask.

  "Let's wait until we get his pain a little more under control. Possibly tomorrow. In the meantime, you should go home and get some rest." Dr. Rodriguez gets up to leave.

  Clark follows him out, apparently deciding his few questions were better asked out in the hall. I look at Silvana.

  Clark returns.

  "What was the secret conversation about?" I ask. It seems paranoia is seeping into my sleepless brain but I can't stop it. "Is he keeping something from us?"

  "No, Tennyson, I was just thanking him for looking after our boy." Clark's unexpected sob makes me crumble into tears. Clark and I hug. Silvana attach
es himself to the outside of the embrace.

  It takes a few minutes to compose ourselves. Clark's eyes are watery. It's always hard on a captain to see one of his officers hurt. Even though they clash heads a lot, I know that Clark has a special fondness for Maddox.

  Clark takes a tissue from his pocket and blows his nose. "We need to stop worrying about that kid. He's a goddamn rock, that one. He'll be up and around and irritating the hell out of me before the trees start changing to fall colors." He takes a steadying breath and pushes the tissue back into his pocket. "I came to talk to Tennyson. And it's urgent." He glances at Silvana.

  "You can say whatever it is in front of Sil." Silvana has now fully solidified his friendship with both Maddox and me for good.

  "Yes, fine," Clark says. "I've just received word from the Tulane Division up north. They managed to corner Freestone but he's taken a hostage, a young woman. He says he'll surrender peacefully if he can talk to Detective Angie Tennyson. In person," he adds.

  After the stressful, long night I'm struggling to make sense of what Clark is telling me. "They caught him? I can't believe it."

  Clark snorts. "Thanks for the vote of confidence in law enforcement."

  "Yes, well Kane is not your average on the run criminal."

  "Look, Angie, we don't have much time. Freestone is holding a woman hostage. The officers can't get near him without risking the woman's life. He wants to see you. I've got a plane on standby. It's about a forty-five minute flight to Frisco. From there, they'll helicopter us to Redmonton."

  My eyes are burning from lack of sleep. I rub them. "Did you say Redmonton?"

  Clark nods. "Yes, it seems he went back home to the place where his father killed eight women. The officer I talked to, Officer Greene, said it was almost as if he wanted to get caught. But when they closed in on him on the bridge, he found a woman and decided to use her as a human shield."

  I'm still trying to clear my drowsy head and get the facts straight. "Did you say bridge? He's on the Delta Bridge?"

  "Isn't that the bridge his dad used to dump the bodies?" Silvana asks.

  "It doesn't make sense. Why would he go there?" I ask.

  Clark takes hold of my arm. "What shall I tell them, Tennyson? There's no telling how much time we have before he snaps and does something to the hostage."

  "No, that doesn't seem possible. That's not like him." My thoughts are scrambled. I scrub my face to wake myself up. "Let's go. I can talk to him. I need to talk to him." I turn to Silvana. "Call if you hear anything."

  "Yep and, Ten, be careful."

  Clark and I walk out of the hospital.

  "You've been up all night?" he asks.

  "I think I might have dozed off a few minutes here and there. I'll be fine. Let's just get to that bridge so I can get back here to Maddox."

  26

  Angie

  There's far less chaos at the scene than I anticipate. Then I realize it makes sense. We are out of the city and in a small town. His small town. Officer Greene, a woman who looks like she could bust a few heads with one hand tied behind her back, fills us in on the way to the bridge. I'm in the backseat and Greene glances at me in the mirror a lot as she drives. It seems she's very curious about the detective Freestone insisted on seeing before he surrendered. I wonder if Clark filled her in on the connection but quickly push it from my head. I'm past caring what anyone knows or thinks anymore. Dr. Hoffman has helped me past that hurdle and it's been damn freeing.

  Greene glances up at me one more time before focusing on the road. It's a quiet, rural road with no traffic, unless you count the occasional squirrel darting from side to side. "Freestone showed up at a local motel last night and boldly used a credit card with the name Kane Freestone," Greene says.

  "So he wanted to be caught," Clark says. "Maybe he was just tired of running."

  I know it can't be as simple as that. Kane doesn't do simple.

  "It's what we thought too but by the time officers arrived at the motel, Freestone was gone. He was spotted at the local diner eating breakfast with a young woman who seemed to just be passing through town. She had a backpack. The diner owner saw her getting off at the bus stop this morning." She glances at me again. Greene has small eyes for her big face. "Ironically enough, the girl has copper red hair like yours."

  I'm not sure how to take the comment so I ignore it. "Is she the hostage?" I ask.

  "Yes. Police found Freestone on the Delta Bridge with her. That's when he made the demand to see you." Greene looks up in the mirror again.

  I turn away from the reflection of her scrutinizing gaze and stare out at the scenery. It's nice down south but the northern half of the state gets much more rain. The landscape and grass is bright green. Not a trace of the southern drought.

  Clark turns back to look at me with his fatherly brow. "How are you feeling, Tennyson? Remember, do not put yourself in danger. We'll get this guy."

  "I won't be in danger." I'm not even the slightest bit tense or nervous. But I'm highly curious about what Kane is up to.

  The roads are blocked off by local law enforcement. We drive past and park at the start of the bridge. The Delta Bridge, the site that ten-year-old Turner Vossnik led investigators to with his letter, the letter that sent his dad to death row and eventually his own seat in hell, is a hundred foot stretch of steel triangles, or trusses. It's not the most picturesque bridge but it serves its purpose connecting two sides of a town separated by a wide, deep river.

  It's mid-morning. The sky is bright blue. Lush green foliage lines both sides of the river. If it weren't for the patrol cars and uniformed officers, it would be a picturesque scene. The hour nap on the plane did little to help me regain my bearings but the fresh air wafting off the river and through the fragrant landscape revives me.

  Several state police officers are standing in a half circle on the bridge. I can see the dark head of hair just above the others.

  Clark stands next to me. "Are you ready?"

  "As I'll ever be." I look over at him. "Get that worried look off your face. Like I said before, I'm not in any danger."

  Officer Greene is at least six feet tall. She leads us to the half circle of officers on the bridge. I get a brazen round of scrutiny from the group as Greene introduces me as Detective Tennyson. It makes sense that I'd be the center of curiosity. I nod politely to everyone and glance between them to the metal railing on the bridge where Kane is leaning rather casually for someone who is surrounded by police. A young woman, a girl in her late teens or early twenties is standing in front of him. Her cumbersome backpack is sitting next to her feet. Her dark red hair is pulled up in a ponytail. She's dressed in cut-offs, a tank shirt and hiking boots. Her eyes flick my direction. I stare at her face and can't find much terror. I've been in enough hostage situations to know that, in general, the people being used as shields are terrified. She has pink in her cheeks as if she's just out for a stroll. Nothing about her posture says fear.

  "Excuse me." I make my way through the circle and step out in front of them. As always, Kane's blue gaze lands on me and stays there like iron on a magnet.

  Kane is only fifty yards away but an officer behind me speaks through a megaphone. "Mr. Freestone, we've fulfilled your request. Detective Tennyson has arrived," he says even though I'm standing plain as day in front of Kane. "Please let the hostage go."

  Kane shoots an amused expression my way and motions slightly with his head for me to move closer. I take a few steps and hear shifting and even some weapons locking behind me.

  I turn back and make my irritation clear. Greene yells at everyone to stand down.

  The girl watches me approach and seems to look me over with the same curiosity as the officers. I'm getting somewhat annoyed by the judgmental scrutiny from all sides.

  I walk toward Kane and his hostage. I stop just a few feet from them. Kane has let his hair grow longer. There's heavy stubble on his chin. He looks tired. Maybe tired of running. I sure as hell would be.


  "Do you want to switch one ginger for another?" I ask.

  Kane leans forward and whispers something in the girl's ear that makes her blush and smile. I'm stunned when a jealous pang shoots through me. He's flirting with another woman. I'm not thrilled to stand by and watch. Her reaction also solidifies my earlier observation that she isn't the least bit afraid of him.

  I step forward and hold out my arm. His warm fingers wrap around my wrist as he releases his hold on the girl. She casually grabs her backpack and blows a kiss at him before walking toward the officers.

  He keeps hold of my wrist as I stand in front of him. "Starting them a little young, aren't you?" I ask.

  He squints one eye as he looks over my shoulder at the girl. "I find that I suddenly have a very big affinity for redheads."

  The bridge and adjacent roads are filled with law enforcement but it feels as if we're up on the bridge alone, just chatting about the day.

  I lift my face and stare up at the metal beams that make up the trusses on the bridge. They've recently been painted a steel gray. The river flowing beneath us is swollen with early fall rain. It's at least a hundred foot drop to the water below. I look back at him. His gaze never left my face.

  "This is the bridge, eh?" I ask.

  He leans on the railing enough to send my stomach into one of those weird falling sensations. "This is it." He glances back over his shoulder. "See where it disappears around the bend? That's where the bodies always got hung up. I think his first plan was to send them out to the ocean where they would never be discovered. Then the first victim was found right on the bend of the river. Now that I'm older and can understand his motives more, I think he just kept dropping them off the bridge because he liked the notoriety it brought when another body showed up. It even earned him a nickname."

  Kane glances over at the people waiting anxiously for him to surrender so they can check off a law enforcement victory and get on with their day. "I think he was playing a game with the cops too. He was making it all so damn easy for them really, but they still couldn't figure out who was dropping the bodies into the river."