Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,225

murmured. “He is an utter chameleon. He can torture, order killings, enable rape, and then talk to Liza like he’s Mr. Rogers.”

“I can see how people would follow him,” Croft agreed. “They’d just trust him.”

It was true. Then again, Tom had grown up with a monster, a murderous dirty cop whom everyone had liked and admired. “The best sociopaths can feign empathy. My biological father was the life of the party, the cop all the other cops looked up to. One of the guys on the force even named his kid after him. That was awkward, especially after he was killed in prison.”

Croft sighed. “And all the time he was coming home to abuse you and your mother.”

“Yeah. So I guess I’m a little cynical about people like Pastor.”

“A little cynicism isn’t a bad thing,” Raeburn said. “Keeps you sharp.”

Tom agreed with that, to a point. “But too much can make you bitter.” His phone chimed and he grabbed it, hoping it was a notification of activity on Cameron Cook’s account—maybe Graham telling him that he’d clicked on the link that would allow Tom to control his computer—because they’d heard nothing out of Eden. But it wasn’t from Cameron Cook’s account.

“Someone in the billing office finally clicked on my Trojan,” he said, relief coursing through him. He’d be able to shut the security network down. Best case, they’d order in an outside contractor and the Bureau could get another person inside. Worst case, the security team would be so busy fixing their network that they wouldn’t detect Liza’s presence.

He had opened his laptop and begun to type when a strangled noise from Croft had him looking up at the monitor.

Tom’s blood ran cold. “No, no, no,” he whispered.

DJ Belmont had entered the solarium with Nurse Innes. The two left a moment later, but Tom had seen the look on Belmont’s face. He knew. Oh my God. He knew.

Raeburn was already on the phone with the surveillance van. “Move,” he ordered.

Federal agents, including a SWAT team that had been positioned near the surveillance van, rushed to cut off the exits.

“Run, Liza,” he breathed. “Run.”

Liza did, leaving Pastor where he sat and heading for the exit.

Tom fired off a text to Rafe, who was keeping watch from the employee lot. Belmont in the facility. Liza headed to employee exit.

Ready was Rafe’s reply.

And then Liza stopped walking.

Tom’s heart stopped at a man’s murmur. “If you run, I’ll kill you. Then I’ll go into that solarium and kill every single patient. Not all of them are criminals. A couple of them are kids. You okay with them dying, too?”

“What do you want?” Liza asked, turning her body so that the pendant and her glasses caught DJ’s face. He was bald and clean shaven, and a surgical mask dangled under his chin.

A moment later, the pendant was yanked from Liza’s throat, followed by her glasses. And then all they could see was the inside of a trash can.

Tom stared at the monitor, trying to think of what he could do. None of the wireless cameras were picking her up, and he could only watch helplessly.

“They’ll be searching for her soon,” Raeburn said. “She’ll be okay.”

Croft squeezed Tom’s shoulder. “Breathe,” she ordered.

Tom realized he hadn’t been, so he sucked in a breath that burned.

His cell began to buzz. It was Rafe. Tom snatched it up and answered. “Where is she?”

“In Sunnyside’s ambulance. I’m in pursuit—”

A crash made Tom wince. “Rafe? Rafe?”

Both Raeburn and Croft turned to him with twin expressions of confusion. Raeburn caught on first. “What have you done, Hunter?”

Tom didn’t answer. “Rafe?”

“Put the gun down!” a voice yelled.

“Police! You put your gun down,” Rafe yelled back, then in a more normal voice, he recited the numbers on a license plate. “That’s the plate on the ambulance he stole. Security just wrecked my SUV. I’m pinned against a rock wall. The ambulance is gone, but Belmont’s in it, along with Liza and Pastor.”

Tom had repeated the license plate numbers for Raeburn when a gun fired, followed quickly by a second shot. “Rafe?”

“I’m not hit,” he said, a car door loudly groaning through the phone.

“Our people are in pursuit of the ambulance,” Raeburn told Tom and Croft. “Are you talking to Rafe Sokolov?”

Tom nodded once. “Yes.”

Through the phone they heard Rafe shout, “SacPD. Drop the gun, asshole! Hands where I can see them! Do not push me, buddy. On your stomach. Do it. Now.” After a pause, Tom could hear the click of handcuffs and another