CHAPTER TWELVE

Voices call left and right as they move through the house.

"Clear!"

"CLEAR!"

Pistol drawn and heart galloping, she leaves the swarm of uniformed bodies to race up the stairs. Takes point ahead of Korsak as the older man catches up.

Across the landing, she pauses beside the only locked door. Steadies her breath as his shoulder comes to rest heavily against the doorframe opposite. One little nod from him is all she needs to confirm he'll cover her ass as she barges foot first into the unknown.

"Ready?" she mouths, earns another nod before she steps back and delivers a swift kick, splintering wood from metal with an almighty crack.

She sweeps right while he sweeps left. But all too soon it's evident they have already missed their chance. Closets and dressers are thrown open like someone left in a hurry. Unwanted remnants left behind. Traces of a child's life stolen away.

"Clear," Korsak grumbles as he snatches up a well-worn and discarded stuffed toy.

"Clear," she parrots. Sighs a dejected fuck under her breath as she shoves her weapon away and unclips her phone.

"Kelsey was here before he took off."

With the call already dialed and the phone held out, she gestures impatiently around the room, lands on the pink plastic castle in the corner and snips, "Really. What gave it away, Cinderella?" She turns away as the call connects via speakerphone. "Nina! Mills is gone and we need to know where he went. Please tell me you have something."

"Not really. But I finally tracked down Rebecca's mother, Abigail Bryant. She's on her way here now from New Hampshire."

"Good, good," she mutters, squints hard as she scratches her forehead. "You're telling me we've got nothing else on Charlie Mills?"

"Nothing but dead ends and an old farmhouse that was sold off after his parents died."

Jane swings around to look at Korsak, finds him staring back equally intrigued. "Who owns the farmhouse now?" she asks, unable to hide the hope that lifts her tone.

"No one… technically. It was bought by the county years ago to clear land for a new highway."

Damn. Her shoulders slump. "So, they bulldozed it?"

"Well, they were supposed to, but the construction has been tied up in red tape ever since -"

"That has to be it," Korsak interrupts, brooks no argument as he promptly exits the room with a gesture that says Jane should follow. "Let's go!"

As they thunder back down the stairs, she watches Korsak direct several uniforms back to their vehicles to provide backup.

"We need that address, Nina!" she pleads. Hopes against hope that Korsak's hunch is right, and that they won't be too late. Again. "He still has the girl."


If Charlie Mills is hiding out here, they don't want to tip him off. So their sirens have been off for the last couple of miles, fearing the wide-open space might allow the sound to carry on the wind.

If only there were some way to mask the crunching of tires on gravel, she thinks, as they speed down the long driveway that splits an enormous hay field.

Not that it matters much; anyone with eyes can see them coming. All she can do is hope their speed makes up for it. And with a bit of luck, this is Charlie's only way in or out.

Slowing to a halt at the edge of the property, they exit their vehicles and draw their weapons. Take cover momentarily behind open car doors and take stock of the scene.

They can see the whole of the front and partially down one side. There doesn't appear to be any movement inside or out. But the garage door is open and inside Charlie's pickup truck sits with its engine idling. Hopefully it's helped a little to cover the sound of their approach.

Sensing they still haven't much time to spare, she bends her knees and hunches her shoulders, tries to make herself a smaller target. "I'm gonna check it out," she whispers to Korsak. Gives him no time to respond before she dashes inside.

"Clarkson. Sanders. Go cover the back," she hears him gruff at the uniforms as she reaches the tailgate of the truck and squats down. "We don't want him getting away."

Pressing her back to the bodywork, she shuffles silently along the length of the truck, moves deeper into the darkened and cluttered garage. Stops beneath the driver's door and takes a steadying deep breath. Pops up to her full height and turns, points her gun in the window and freezes.

It's empty.

But even unoccupied, there is a ton of stuff packed inside. The backseat as well as the truck bed is full to bursting.

Looks like they got here just in time because clearly he was preparing to leave.

Peering carefully into one of the boxes, she finds a stack of framed photos. All of them shots of Rebecca and Kelsey. The kind she'd have expected to see displayed around Rebecca's living room. A handful of colorful drawings in crayon, too, like she'd expect to see pinned to a proud mother's refrigerator.

She remembers the scene, recalls the living room being devoid of any traces that Rebecca had a child. It had made no sense at the time, but it does now.

There's another box full of a little girl's toys. And another full of tiny clothes.

She turns back to find Korsak peering at her from the garage doorway. Spots the one remaining uniformed officer over his shoulder, still covering the front of the property as well as Korsak's back from beside his police car.

"I have an idea," she whispers, points a finger at the internal door in the back corner that must connect the garage to the house. Hopes the low rumbling of the engine remains enough to cover their movements. "Charlie wants to make a run for it. I say we give him a shove in this direction."

She waves the uniformed officer over and they quickly huddle up.

"What are you thinking?" asks Korsak, and she's grateful he hasn't pulled rank yet. Gets the feeling she might be in for an earful later for being rash and rushing into the garage without warning.

"The engine's running, so he's obviously planning to leave. Korsak, you take the corner behind the door to the house. I'll take up position behind the truck. Travers, I want you to go pound on the front door, announce you're the police as loud as you can. When he runs, he's gonna come this way and we'll be here to cut him off. Take him by surprise."

Korsak gives his blessing with a jerk of his head, one that points Officer Travers back outside to do as she says. "Tell Sanders and Clarkson to keep their eyes peeled, just in case he takes a different way out."

"You got it," Travers nods. Uses his walkie-talkie to share the plan as he heads for the front door.

And just like that, they move into position. Listen intently as the pounding begins. Take care to conceal their presence as signs of life stir from within. And hold their breath as the door handle twitches.

Once. Twice. And then an angry voice and a child wailing. "Now, Kelsey! We're not going back for Mr. Bear!"

The door crashes open and a breathless Charlie Mills rushes out, clutching his squirming daughter with one arm.

The child kicks and screams. Cries repeatedly, "I want my mommy!" until he deposits her roughly into the passenger seat and slams the truck door with a growl.

Jane stands up and steps out from behind the truck as Korsak steps down from his hiding spot.

Charlie turns to head around the front to the driver's side. "We have to -"

"Go?" Korsak supplies with a cocked eyebrow. Finishes Charlie's thought for him as the man comes face-to-face with the sergeant's gun.

Whipping around as if to run, Charlie freezes again. Finds Jane with her weapon trained at his chest and a smirk on her face. "Don't. Move!" she barks and he puts his hands up in defeat.

"Hands behind your back," Korsak orders, steps up behind the man and wrestles each of his wrists down into handcuffs as Travers enters the garage through the door from the house and the other two officers enter from the driveway. "Charlie Mills, you're under arrest for the murder of Rebecca Mills."

She holsters her weapon and opens the truck door. Scoops up the crying child who clings to her desperately, tiny arms looping around her neck.

"Mommy!"

"Shh. It's okay, baby. You're okay." She clutches Kelsey to her chest, rubs a gentle hand over the girl's back as she turns to exit the garage. "Let's get you out of here."

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" Charlie struggles against his cuffs and Travers joins Korsak in keeping him under control. "SHE'S MY DAUGHTER. YOU CAN'T TAKE HER!"

Heart pounding and blood boiling, she stops and turns to Sanders. Keeps her voice low as she instructs, "See if you can get her settled in your car and then stay there." She hands off the girl and then, with a single head jerk, sends Clarkson out that way, too. Plants her hands on her hips and watches for a moment as they climb into the vehicle.

"FUCKING BITCH! YOU CAN'T TAKE MY DAUGHTER."

She sniffs and runs a finger beneath her nose as she turns. Tries not to let her emotions get the better of her, but it proves difficult as she stalks back toward the man who murdered that little girl's mother.

"You stole everything you could from Rebecca. You took her life, her daughter." She jabs an index finger at the open box visible through the truck window as she strides past it. Sneers as she says, "You even took her fucking memories!"

"She tried to take my life first," he spits, but pulls his head back a little when she gets right up in his face.

"Well now I'm taking it," she growls, her top lip curling it into more of a snarl. Dangerous and threatening, like the sharply drawn brows from beneath which dark eyes burn down on him. "You just said goodbye to your life as you know it. Because I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you die in prison."

And for a second he seems amused, as if he doesn't believe she'll follow through.

But then there's a twitch to his eyebrow, a move that brightens the look in his eye even more, only a split second before he head butts her in the face.

"AGH!"

She stumbles back against the truck as Korsak and Travers wrestle him out of the garage, kicking and yelling like a maniac.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

"You're going to jail, pal."

"That's enough! You son of a bitch. Move. Now!"

Bent over with her hands on her thighs, she blinks and squints, widens her eyes over and over again. Repeatedly stretches her face and works her jaw until the spots and lights that dance before her watery eyes are almost gone.

She listens as the yelling dies down, as their voices get further away. Then hears the slam of a car door.

Once she's a bit steadier, she presses the heel of her hand to her eye socket. Feels the tender sting of injury to her brow and cheekbone. There's no open wound because her hand comes away clean, but getting away without any marks is probably hoping for too much. He caught her good. And maybe she deserves a couple of bruises for being a cocky dumbass.

Korsak saunters back into the garage. "You okay, Rizzoli?"

"Yeah," she breathes as she stands up, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Follows him as he heads back out. Frustrated, and mainly because she can't kick herself in the ass, she kicks the back tire of the truck as she passes. "Motherfucker!"

"Come on," he chuckles, pauses long enough for her to catch up. Is kind enough not to tell her she's an ass when she rudely shucks off his attempt to help her over to the car. "The sooner we get this bastard back to the station, the sooner we can get him behind bars where he belongs."

And she can think of nothing better. To close a case. And this one in particular is a special kind of high. One that might take her mind off how mad she is at herself right now.

"We got him," she sighs as they climb into the car. Lets her head fall back against the headrest as Korsak smiles and nods.

"Yeah. We got him."