Ghosted, p.5
Ghosted, page 5
Who else would have wanted to hurt him? Jude gasped. Maybe the person who did this was after Cope and Jude was just a means to an end? Who the hell could possibly want to hurt Cope? Deacon Boudreaux was dead, killed in prison several years ago. He’d been an only child whose parents died before he did. There was no one left to avenge the former fiancée who’d almost killed Cope. Twice.
Not to be egotistical, for once in his life, Jude knew Cope had nothing to do with his current situation. This was all on him. Sitting up, Jude’s stomach cramped and he was swamped with nausea. He moved to the bucket, which smelled horrible and did everything in his power not to throw up like he’d done last night.
Jude’s memory cast back to the previous night. He’d been absolutely sick to his stomach, which never happened to him. It had been years, maybe decades since he’d had enough booze to make him as sick as he’d been the night before, which was why he’d assumed drugs had been slipped into one of his drinks. He could remember at least two that were handed to him where he didn’t see the bartender mix them.
One person who’d given Jude a cocktail was the former mayor of Salem. She was now the lieutenant governor. Sarah had been thrilled to pieces that Jude’s work had led to the arrest of Rebekah Harrigan’s killer. That case had been an ache in her heart that time had never dulled. She’d been proud of Jude and told him that if there was ever anything he needed, that she should be his first call.
It was impossible to think the former mayor would do this to Jude. Yes, he was incredibly handsome, but she was gay. He’d been introduced to her wife at a benefit a year ago. They’d ended up spending the evening talking about organic baby food and if it was worth the extra monty. If the former mayor wanted Jude to suffer, she would have come after his career, not his person. Besides, there was no way a woman of her short stature would have been able to lug Jude into a getaway vehicle and then into whatever the hell building this was.
Of course there could have been a team of people behind his abduction, but Jude didn’t think so. There was something tickling at his memory. Something he remembered just before he was assaulted and knocked out. What the hell was it?
Jude closed his eyes. He tried to relax his mind to go back to what happened this morning. He’d been sitting on the bench at the Salem Willows watching the waves crash against the beach when he heard footsteps behind him. Only one set of footsteps. There was more to the memory, but it danced beyond the tips of his fingers, out of reach.
What he did remember was that the second drink last night had been handed to him by Jerry Dunkirk. It had been cranberry juice with vodka. It was Jude’s drink of choice on the night he and Jerry had hooked up for the first time. It was definitely possible that his former lover drugged him. Jude always made it clear he wasn’t looking for anything serious or long term. Jerry hadn’t liked those terms, but had gone along with them.
After Jude had ended their association, Jerry had called him several times a day, begging for another chance, saying he could handle friends with benefits. Jude knew he couldn’t. He blocked Jerry’s number and had moved on to his next conquest. He understood the idea of a former lover wanting to get back into his pants, or wanting some kind of revenge over being dumped, but their relationship ended over seven years ago. If the kidnapper was Jerry, why now after so much time had elapsed?
Jude thought back to the beach. There was something else lost in the back of his mind about what had happened to him. He blew out a frustrated breath The memory would come back in time, Jude assured himself. Unfortunately, he didn’t think he had a lot of it left.
He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to keep him down here for years. No, Jude decided, whoever this was would torture him for a bit, then kill him. Probably leave his body in an abandoned field or in the median strip of a highway. Somewhere anonymous, but not impossible to find. His body would be located one day when some public works guy needed to take a piss with no bathroom in sight and had pulled off the road to relieve himself. That was Jude’s luck and after the way he’d treated Cope, what he deserved.
His eyes burned with unshed tears. Jude prayed, promising that if he could just live, he’d mend all of his stupid ways, that he’d be a better husband, father, cop, and friend. He would do just about anything to get out of this cage. It didn’t matter if he ever found out who did this to him or why. All he wanted to do was see his family again. To hug Cope like there was no tomorrow, to build LEGOs with Wolfie and sing silly songs with Lizbet.
A loud screech interrupted Jude’s train of thought, and sent him jumping to his feet. Light flooded his cell as a hooded figure stepped into the room. He or she was holding a tray, which they set down in front of the bars to Jude’s cage. “Dinner,” the modulated voice said.
“The door is locked, asshole. How am I supposed to grab the food?” Jude studied the tray. It contained a peanut butter sandwich, a small bag of chips and a bottle of water. He was so hungry and didn’t care what he had to do in order to eat.
“Ask and you shall receive.” The kidnapper set the tray on the floor and edged it toward Jude with his foot, stopping several inches shy of the bars.
It was against Jude’s better judgement, but he reached through the bars. The tray was too far away. Getting down on his stomach, and stretching out his arm, Jude was able to get his fingertips on the tray and pulled it toward him. He quickly grabbed the food. “Who are you? Why are you doing this? Tell me what you want and you can have it. I have friends with money, name your price.” Jude was pretty certain Jace or maybe the Salem Police Department would pay whatever ransom this maniac asked for.
“What I want can’t be bought and paid for. An eye for an eye, isn’t that what the good book said?”
Jude shivered. It was beyond creepy to hear this madman/woman quote scripture in that weird, modulated voice. What was more alarming was the quote they’d used. “An eye for an eye? Whose eye did I take? Please. Whatever it is you think I’ve done, let me make amends. Let me at least try!”
The kidnapper stood silently watching him.
“I want to go home to my family. Whatever I’ve done can be made right. I promise you. I have small kids who don’t deserve to grow up without their father.”
“Oh, you mean this family?” The kidnapper stepped closer to the bars and pulled a piece of paper from the pouch of the black hoodie they wore. Turning it around, the image became clear.
Jude’s mouth dropped open in horror. It was a photograph of Everly, Wolf, Aurora, Lizbet and Ezra dressed for bed, sitting in front of the television on their sleeping bags. A still shot from Finding Nemo was displayed on the television screen. Lizbet pointed toward the orange and white clownfish. In his mind, Jude could hear her shout, “Meemo!”
“It would be a shame if they had to pay the price for your mistake, wouldn’t it?” The kidnapper let the picture flutter to the floor where it landed right side up. They turned and walked back toward the open door. “A life for a life.” With another ear-piercing screech, the door slammed shut and a bolt was shot home.
“A life for a life? What life? Whose life?” Jude shouted to his empty cell. To the best of his knowledge, he hadn’t killed anyone, with the possible exception of his mother when he was born. He wasn’t responsible for killing Deacon Boudreaux, his cellmate had done that, but it could be said that Jude and Cope were the reasons he’d been in prison in the first place. The kidnapper hadn’t mentioned Cope at all. They’d only mentioned Jude.
Setting his food down on the bed, Jude went back to the front of the cage. Getting down on the floor, he stretched his right arm past the bars and was able to slowly drag the picture back toward him. Pain slashed through him. This freak had somehow been able to get a photo of their kids. A photo taken in his own living room. Jude felt chilled to the bone. Seeing his kids’ faces gave Jude the boost he needed to carry on.
Jude would die for his kids. If he said it once, he’d said it a hundred times, never once imagining the scenario actually playing out. It was obvious the freak who’d taken him had access to his family. If Jude dying was what it would take to keep his family safe, then he’d die ten times over.
What scared him more that the afterlife was the fact that this asshole had been inside his house, with his kids. Looking at the picture, Jude focused on Wolfie. He was wearing a navy blue t-shirt, instead of a pajama top. From the angle he was photographed, Jude could see a number three and the letters “ORT.” Jude knew at once Wolf was wearing his new David Ortiz shirt. Lizbet was dressed in her panda bear pajamas.
Wolf had gotten the shirt for Christmas and he’d been wearing it earlier that morning when he’d gotten out of bed. Same for Lizbet with the pajamas being a gift from Ten and Ronan. The picture he was holding in his hands was from last night. Jude bellowed at the top of his lungs. His kids and Cope were in danger and there was no way to warn them.
If Cope didn’t figure out who “an eye for an eye” referred to, he was never going to make it home to his family.
9
Cope
Cope, Ronan, and Fitz had been driving around Salem for nearly an hour. In that time they’d been to Greek Life, West Side Magick, several clothing stores Jude liked, and the Hawthorne Hotel. No one matching his description had checked into the hotel that morning and hadn’t been seen at any of the other locations. All of Jude’s favorite clubs were closed during the day and two had signs that said they were going to be closed tonight due to the snowstorm. His car wasn’t parked in any of the lots belonging to the venues.
Cope was starting to run out of hope, and not just because they hadn’t found Jude. He’d been trying to speak with someone at AT&T who could turn on the location service on Jude iPhone so that Cope could see where he was. It was proving impossible since Jude hadn’t done it himself when he’d gotten and registered the phone.
“I understand what you’re telling me, Mr. Forbes, but without Mr. Byrne’s permission, I cannot enable that service,” the representative said, sounding a bit annoyed.
“My husband is missing!” Cope half shouted. “He can’t give you permission because he’s vanished.”
“Perhaps he was sick of you shouting at him?” The customer service rep took a deep breath. “Look, sir, I’m sure that your husband has just taken a ride to clear his head. He’ll be home before you know it. Call us back when and if a missing person’s report is file on Mr. Byrne’s behalf. We might not be able to help you then either, without a warrant.”
Ronan stuck his arm into the backseat and made a “gimme” motion with his hand. Cope gave him the phone. “Hello, this is Captain Ronan O’Mara from the Salem Police Department. Who am I speaking with?” Ronan’s voice was cold, but not angry.
“My name is Susan. How can I help you, man who is obviously not a cop?”
“My badge number is 745512. Place a call to this number, Ronan rattled off a series of numbers. That will connect you Cisco Jackson.”
“Another friend of yours?” Susan asked, sounding bored.
“No, Cisco Jackson is the Chief of the Salem Police Department.” Ronan took a deep breath. “I need to speak with your supervisor, Susan, as you are obviously not qualified to help me.”
“Fine,” Susan muttered. Seconds later, hold music began to play.
“Please keep your cool, Ronan,” Fitzgibbon said softly. “That woman might be an asshole, but she’s right about needing a subpoena. We each know a judge or two who owe us a favor, but even still, it could take hours before it would be drawn up and signed by the right people. It’s going to start snowing soon and will be dark in two hours. We need all the help we can get.”
“I know. I’ll behave.” Ronan let out a heavy sigh.
“Hello, Captain O’Mara? I’m Stephine Jones, a supervisor here with AT&T. How can I help you?”
“A member of the Salem Police Department, Detective Jude Byrne, has gone missing. He walked out of his home around nine this morning and has not been seen or heard from since. I’m with the detective’s husband, who’s trying to turn on the location service for Detective Byrne’s phone. We have a BOLO alert out on the detective and his car, but he hasn’t been located. I also need to tell you that we’re expecting blizzard conditions in Massachusetts to commence within the next several hours and it will be dark soon. Any help you can provide us would be welcome, Miss Jones.” Ronan winked at Fitzgibbon. He wore a look that said, “See, I can be civilized.”
“Unfortunately, without a subpoena or Detective Byrne’s permission, I cannot turn on the location service.”
Cope wanted to scream at the stupid woman, but he held his temper. Yelling wasn’t going to help anyone, Jude especially.
“But,” the manager continued, “since this is an emergency, I went ahead and traced the phone myself. It’s showing in the region of Ocean Street and Shore Road, in Salem Massachusetts. I’m sorry I can’t be any more specific than that.”
“The Salem Willows,” Cope said.
“Sounds like it to me,” Ronan agreed. “One last thing, Miss Jones, can you tell me the last time the phone pinged at that location?”
“11 A.M.,” she said. “The phone hasn’t transmitted any data since that time. It’s my guess the phone was turned off or the battery died. Oh, God, I mean it ran out of power.”
“Thank you for your help, you’ve done a great service for the Salem Police Department. Be well.” With those words, Ronan hung up the phone. “Let’s go.”
“Jude loves to go to Dead Horse Beach when he needs some time alone to think about things. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“It’s okay, Cope.” Ronan offered him a smile. “You’re scared out of your mind for Jude. I would think there was something wrong with you if you were clear headed at a time like this.”
“Jude’s not the only one whose used that bench to clear his head. Remember?” Fitz asked, elbowing Ronan.
“Yeah,” Ronan let out a short laugh. “I’ll never forget that day as long as I live.”
“What happened?” Cope asked. He welcomed the distraction Ronan’s story would bring.
“Ten and I had only been together for a few months. This happened after we closed the serial killer investigation. It was the only the second cold case we’d worked together, but Ten was burnt out and sad. Christ, he’d been kidnapped during our first case and Fitz got shot during our second.” Ronan shook his head, as if he were trying to knock traumatic images from his mind. “Anyway, Ten went up north for the weekend. Somewhere in Maine. He wanted to get away and enjoy some peace and quiet. The spirits who came in contact with him, wouldn’t leave him alone. He was swarmed, I guess you could say. Ten lost his temper and wished his gift away and it worked.”
“What?” Cope had never heard of such a thing. Obviously Ten had gotten in back somehow, but it had never crossed Cope’s mind to even try something like that.
“Yeah, it was awful. Ten didn’t tell me about it at first and tried to fake his way through a case I was working on. He went to see other psychics, got a massage, tried yoga, and finally went to see a shrink after he’d been attacked by spirits.”
“Attacked?” Cope couldn’t believe his ears. In all the years he’d known Ten, he’d never heard this story before. “How is that possible?”
“Later on, Madam Aurora explained that spirits knew Ten was a medium and they were angry that he was refusing to help them. None of the ghosts believed that his gift was truly gone and one night, they came for him. He woke me up screaming and had several dark bruises all over his body.”
“Jesus, I’ve never heard a story like that in my life.” Poor Ten, what a horrible thing to go through.
“I’ve got pictures if you want to see.” Ronan offered.
Cope shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Ronan. I’ve just never come across anything like this in all the years I’ve had my gifts.”
“When Ten went to see a psychologist, she saw the bruises on Ten’s arms and asked if his domestic partner was hurting him. She actually started to call the police before Ten bolted out of there.”
“Holy shit,” Cope muttered.
“When I showed up at the Magick shop to talk to Ten, he blew up at me and blamed me for losing his gift. I stormed out of there and ended up on a bench at the beach. I’d been there for about four hours when Fitzgibbon showed up. I was still working for Boston Cold Case, and had called out sick that day, so you can imagine my fear when he sat down next to me.”
Cope remembered Ten talking in passing about a few knock down drag out fights Ronan and Fitz had gotten into over the years and couldn’t help but wonder if this was one of those moments.
“Instead of being angry though, Fitz brought me lunch and let me cry on his shoulder, so to speak.” Ronan shook his head. “Christ that was seven, nearly eight years ago. I always go there when I’ve got something on my mind and I need a quiet place to work it out. I know I mentioned that place to Jude a time or two, but I never knew he used it.”
“I know the two of you like to give each other shit, but you’re so much alike, Ronan,” Cope said. “We don’t fight or even argue very much, but Jude also needs some time and space to work out whatever is going on with him or us. He’s always found the answers he needed on that bench in the past, which is partly why I wasn’t worried about him until he was gone for hours. This is the worst fight we’ve had over our entire relationship. What if he left me for good? What if something happened to him because of me?”
“Let’s not put the cart before the-” Ronan stopped in his tracks. Fitzgibbon had driven into the park at the Salem Willows. “Oh, shit.”
Cope unbuckled his seatbelt to peer around Ronan to see what he was staring at. It was Jude’s car. “Oh, thank God! Jude!” Cope shouted, jumping out of the SUV. He ran toward the Thunderbird, every trace of anger gone. He was just happy to have found Jude.
