Alex glared at her. Neither of them smoked. “You just shut up.”

Meredith chuckled. “When you decide to get a wild hair, you really do it right.”

Dutton, Wednesday, January 31, 5:55 a.m.

Daniel was turning onto Main Street when he saw a light come on in the window of the office of the Dutton Review. Instinct told him to hold tight, so he pulled his car behind a boxwood hedge, turned off his headlights, and waited. A few minutes later Jim Woolf appeared from behind the building, gliding past Daniel with his headlights darkened as well.

Daniel pulled out his cell phone and called Chase.

“What now?” Chase asked, grumpy.

“Woolf got another big scoop last night. One of the town men was killed when his car went off the road. I came to ask him about it and it looks like our boy is going for another early morning romp.”

“Fuck,” Chase muttered. “Where’s he going?”

“East. I’m going to tail him, but I need backup. I don’t want him noticing me.”

“Tell Hatton to stay with the ladies and have Koenig tail him with you. I’ll start driving your way. Call me before you confront him.”

“Yes, sir, partner sir.”

Wednesday, January 31, 6:00 a.m.

No, no, no, no, no… Bailey rocked herself, the pain from banging her head against the wall a welcome relief from the loathing and disgust that made her want to die.

“Bailey. Stop it.”

Beardsley hissed the command, but Bailey didn’t listen to him.

Bang, bang, bang. Her head throbbed and she deserved it. She deserved to be hurt. She deserved to die.

“Bailey.” Beardsley’s full hand shot under the wall and grabbed her wrist. He squeezed hard. “I said stop it.”

Bailey dropped her head, dug her chin into her knees. “Go away.”

“Bailey.” He wouldn’t go away. “What happened?”

She stared down at the dirty hand that had her wrist in an iron hold. “I told,” she spat. “All right? I told him.”

“You can’t blame yourself. You held out longer than most soldiers would have.”

It was the smack, she thought heavily, her thoughts a nauseated whirl. He’d held the syringe just out of reach and she’d wanted… needed. Craved to the point nothing else mattered. “What have I done?” she whispered.

“What did you tell him, Bailey?”

“I tried to lie, but he knew. He knew it wasn’t in my house.” And he’d kicked and hit and spat on her every time she’d lied. Still she’d been strong. Until the needle.

Now it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered.

“So where did you hide it?”

She was so tired. “I gave it to Alex.” She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. She tried to cry, but she had no more water in her. “Now he’s going after Alex, and Alex has Hope. And he’ll kill me, and probably you, too. He doesn’t need us anymore.”

“He won’t kill me. He thinks I wrote down Wade’s confession and hid it.”

“Did you?”

“No, but it’s buying me time. He’ll keep you alive until he checks out your story.”

“It doesn’t matter. I wish he’d just killed me.”

“Don’t say that. We’re going to get out of here.”

She let her head drop back against the wall. “No, we won’t.”

“Yes, we will. But you have to help me. Bailey.” He dug his fingers into her wrist. “Help me. For your daughter and for all those other girls you hear crying in the night.”

Bailey faltered. “You heard them, too? I thought I was losing my mind.”

“You aren’t. I saw one of the girls when he was taking me to his room.”

His room, where he’d tortured her for days. “Who is she, the girl?”

“I don’t know, but she was young, maybe fifteen.”

“Why does he have them?”

“Why do you think, Bailey?” he countered gravely.

“Oh my God. How many does he have?”

“I counted twelve doors on that hall. Now help me. For those girls and for Hope.”

Bailey drew a breath that hurt inside and out. “What do you want me to do?”

Releasing her wrist, Beardsley threaded his fingers through hers. “Good girl.”

Chapter Fourteen

Dutton, Wednesday, January 31, 6:15 a.m.

Can I get you some more coffee, Agent Hatton?” Alex asked. He sat at her table, calm and unrushed. His partner was gone, giving backup to Daniel.

Hatton shook his head. “No, ma’am. My wife only lets me have a cup a day.”

Alex lifted her brows. “You listen to your wife? Really? Very few men that come through the ER listen to their wives, which is why most of them end up in the ER.”

He nodded solemnly. “I listen to every word she says.”

Meredith scoffed from the kitchen. “But do you obey her?”

Hatton grinned. “I listen to every word she says.”

“I thought so,” Meredith said and filled his cup anyway.

Hatton saluted Meredith with his cup, then put it down on the table. “Hello there.”

Hope stood in the doorway of her bedroom staring at Hatton.

“This is Agent Hatton.” Alex took Hope by the hand. “Agent Hatton, my niece Hope.” Then Alex stared as Hope touched Hatton’s face where a soft gray beard grew.

Hatton leaned forward in his chair so Hope could reach him more easily. “Everyone says my beard makes me look like Santa,” he said. He opened his arms, and to Alex’s shock, Hope climbed into his lap. She stroked his beard with the flat of her palms.

Meredith uttered a small groan. “Not again.”

Alex looked at Hatton helplessly. “Hope’s had a tendency to fixate on things.”

“Well, she’s not hurtin’ a thing, so leave her alone for now,” Hatton said, forever endearing him to Alex.

Alex sat down at the table with them. “You have kids, Agent Hatton?”

“Six. All girls. Eighteen all the way down to eight.”

Meredith looked at the organ, then at Alex. “Maybe he knows what the song is.”

“I don’t want to get her started again,” Alex said, then sighed. “We have to try.”

“What song?” Hatton asked.

Meredith hummed it and Hatton frowned. “Sorry, ladies. I can’t help you.” He checked his watch. “Vartanian said you were meeting Dr. McCrady and the forensic artists this morning at eight. We should be getting a move on.”

Disappointed that he hadn’t recognized the song either, Alex stood up, her knees still stiff from her concrete slide the day before. “I have to walk Daniel’s dog.”

Hatton shook his head. “I’ll take the dog outside, Miss Fallon.” To Hope he said, “You’ve got to get ready. Little girls need time to primp.”

“He does have six daughters,” Meredith said wryly.

Hope pressed her hands to Hatton’s soft beard, her little face suddenly intense. “Pa-paw.” It was the first word she’d spoken, her voice small and sweet.

Hatton blinked once, then smiled at Hope. “Your pa-paw has a beard like mine?”

“Does he?” Meredith asked, and Alex tried to bring Craig Crighton’s face to mind.

Quiet. Close the door. When she could think, she shook her head. “He never had a beard that I remember.” She cupped Hope’s cheek. “Did you see your pa-paw?”

Hope nodded, her big gray eyes so sad Alex wanted to cry. But Alex made her mouth smile. “When, honey? When did you see your pa-paw?”

“Didn’t you say the nun at the shelter said Bailey had looked but hadn’t found him?” Meredith murmured.

“Sister Anne said she didn’t think Bailey had found him.” Alex frowned. “You know, Daniel never told me if he’d found Sister Anne. Or Desmond.”

“I know he called it in last night. I’ll check it while you two get ready,” Hatton said. He set Hope on her feet and tipped up her little chin. “Go with your aunt now,” he said, and Hope obediently put her hand in Alex’s.

“We have to keep him,” Meredith said, pointing to Hatton. “He’s got a way with her.”

“Or he needs to give us his magic wand,” Alex countered wryly, and Hope’s face shot up, suddenly panicked. Alex glanced at Meredith, then ignoring the protest of her knees, crouched to look Hope in the eye. “Sweetheart, what is the magic wand?”