Chapter 6

The SUV came to an abrupt halt. By then, the neurotoxin was starting to wear off. Nona had begun to move, to struggle against her bonds. Before she was able to get too far, Holly was there, putting her into her place. She kicked Nona in the small of her back violently, causing a jolt of pain that went throughout her body. Holly took her chance and jammed a hypodermic needle into Nona's arm. Nona moaned against the gag. It fucking hurt. If she could work her way loose, she would stick her booted foot up Holly's ass. Sadly, she didn't think she was going to get loose any time soon. Desperately, Nona fought against the drug, memorizing every detail she could about her abductors. Some way, she had to send a message out to the good guys.

When her world began to blacken around her, she saw the double doors at the back of the SUV coming open. The man, who called himself Lincoln, crawled into the back with the two women. Sitting up on his knees, he stared down at her almost comically. He took his index finger and poked her. The tranquilizer was working nicely now. She barely made a noise. He cackled with the glee of a five year old playing with his favorite toy. This was always the best part-subduing them.

Lincoln took a hand full of her shortened black hair. Without her long locks, she really wasn't all that pretty. He didn't care. He saw that Holly held most of her hair in one hand. She probably would have shaved Nona bald if Lincoln had let her. Holly always became so jealous when he messed with the girls. How could he tell her enough that she was the only one to get him? How could he tell her enough that if he had the capability to love, it would be her he loved? She never listened to him.

"How long is it going to take to remove her larynx?" Holly asked.

Lincoln shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not sure, but we can't do it here."

"We need to hurry. We're due back."

Later, he would have to remind her that she wasn't the one in charge here. He was. Right now, they didn't have time for such a lesson. "I know we're due back. Keep your panties on."

Several hours before the conversation between Holly and Lincoln would occur, the agents at the residence of Rachel Sloane and Jack Ashcroft were completely unsure how Nona Pope had slipped from their grasps. They spread out to interview the other guests, all the while keeping the buzz down. If word got out that Nona Pope was missing, the neighborhood would be crawling with the press and paparazzi.

Once Donovan noticed how long he held onto Rachel, he moved away from her abruptly. He wasn't one who often allowed a person out of his sight. He wasn't one who often allowed a potential victim out of his grasp. It was fucked. The longer they waited, Nona would die. He watched as Nona's publicist pulled out his cell phone and began jawing outrageously into it. Hanging onto him was a cool blonde whom Donovan identified as Nona's girlfriend. Although the man was taller and outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds, it didn't stop Donovan from jerking the phone out of his hand.

Angered, Max glared down at the agent. He couldn't remember his name for the life of him. "You're about to lose a tooth for that, man."

Knowing that Max was upset about his friend coming up missing, Donovan didn't do what he first wanted to do, which was giving him a severe shot to the Adam's apple. "If you would like to spend about ten years in a federal prison, go ahead. Right now, we need silence."

Lana glared at the federal agent. "Nona is missing and somebody snatched her right under your over educated nose, you fucker. I'm calling the fucking police."

Just what they needed. Local police who usually brought along the press and other publicity whores. "No, you're not. If she was abducted, if she is in trouble, your call to the police will surely end her life. Put your phone away and let us do our jobs. When it's time, I will call the police. Do the two of you understand me?"

Reluctantly, Max put away his phone, but his eyes still spelled murder. Beside him, Lana said something to the effect of 'are you taking that shit from him, Max?' Donovan turned away from the mountain of a man and Nona's girlfriend to search for Rachel. It was time to put this memorial to bed. She was the hostess: it would be her responsibility. As far as he knew, everyone else had been quietly interviewed, their names, addresses, and phone numbers taken for good measure. He found Rachel speaking to someone he thought was related to Aspen Greene. Her hand was at her throat, fingering a string of pearls nervously. He only hoped she had kept her cool enough not to let anything out that didn't need to be spilled.

Rachel felt a tug at her arm. She looked away from Aspen's brother and focused her eyes on Donovan's face. She excused herself and allowed him to lead her away. "What is it?" she asked shakily.

"Keep your mouth closed about Nona Pope. Are we clear on that?"

She nodded without speaking. Rachel thought before the night was through, she might lose her mind. "What do you need me to do?" she whispered.

He brought his mouth close to her ear, as if he were whispering sweet nothings. He didn't want to see her visibly upset. Mourning was okay, but not having a fit about a missing rock star. "What you need to do is wrap up the memorial. We need everyone out of here. Keep your cool, you are functioning beautifully."

"Okay," she said. "I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want me to do. What about the police?"

"Don't worry about them for now. We can handle the scene until they arrive."

Donovan stood, watchful, eagle eyed as slowly, one by one, Rachel ushered the guests from the house. After a fair amount of time, everyone was on their way home other than the members of Nona's entourage and the FBI agents. Taking initiative of their own, Hurtz and Lockwood checked with as many neighbors as they could to find out if anyone had seen Nona in the company of strangers. Donovan, Ashcroft, and Lily remained inside with the principals. Only after the guests were dismissed did Donovan grant Nona's people permission to call the police.

Ashcroft told Lily earlier that the house had three bathrooms in it, but only two were accessible by guests. She checked them both herself, but found nothing incriminating within. Although she had looked for superficial evidence, she would leave it for the CSI team of the Miami PD to do more of a thorough job. However, there was nothing there. The CSI team wouldn't have needed to be summoned at all if it wasn't warranted. They had lead of the case, but it was truly up to the PD to decide whether or not the house had become a crime scene.

"It was up to you people to keep Nona safe. What the hell happened here tonight?"

Donovan stared into the eyes of Nona's girlfriend. He supposed she picked him to direct her anger toward, since it was his idea they wait to call the police. Now she was after her pound of flesh. He hated the way this had happened, and he knew they had their share of blame, but the negotiator side of himself wanted to explain that sometimes bad things happen regardless how well they were in control of a situation. This woman did not want to hear that, she wasn't ready to hear it, in fact. How many parents or loved ones of abducted individuals felt the need to lay all the blame at his door? How many would understand that he felt like kicking himself as well? He opened his mouth to respond when someone else did it for him.

"Miss," Jack Ashcroft's raspy voice said. "All the proper precautions were put into place." Using a version of Donovan's earlier words, he continued, "There was no way to have controlled this situation. We cannot guarantee."

Lana, all of five feet two inches tall, turned toward him, glowering up at his face. "Desperate words of somebody who has fucked up." She focused her hatred filled glare toward Lily, before settling her eyes on Rachel. "I told her not to come to this bullshit." Back to Donovan. "If anything happens to her, you all will have to answer to me."

She made a lunge at Donovan, but Max was there to take hold of her. Dragging her along, she continued to spit, curse, and scream at the agents in attendance. He had sympathy for her, but they did not have time for hysterics.

Counting on Lily, he approached her. "Stay close to her. Keep her calm. The police will be here shortly and she doesn't need to interfere. If she causes trouble, escort her away."

"Got it," she said and headed toward them.

Rachel stood alone, leaning dazedly against a buffet table. She had hired a catering company to tend to the guests and they milled about almost silently, cleaning up the mess. She had basically forgotten to ask Donovan if they should be sent away as well. Every now and again, she played with the pearls at her neck. She didn't know someone was watching.

In the distance, Donovan could hear the wail of sirens approaching, likely disturbing everyone in the quiet neighborhood. Although he wanted to be as close to the police as possible during this end of it, he also could not tear his eyes off Rachel. Knowing it was not his home, it was not his place, he still wanted to talk to her, offer some comfort. His eyes went in search of Ashcroft, and he noticed that he was keeping pretty much as far as away from her as he could. He stayed in the house only a few moments before he went outside to gather up Hurtz and Lockwood. Now wasn't the time to treat her shabbily. Now was the time for him to do what should have been old hat. Cursing under his breath, Donovan made his way toward Rachel.

At first, he didn't speak to her. He waited to see if she was going to jump at the chance to blame him for this, to blame him for dragging her into something she wasn't ready to be a part of just yet. She didn't. She stood silently fingering her pearls. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it tightly when she shook her head.

"It's funny," she said with a bitter laugh. "These pearls are the first piece of jewelry I bought myself when I landed my first job after law school. I thought they would make me look smart, classy."

He thought about what he wanted to say next, all the while listening to the police cruisers coming to a halt outside. Hopefully the agents outside would clue them in, insuring they brought along a CSI team before they set foot into the house. After all, they had done all the interviews.

When they were together, he once thought of buying her a set of pearls as a birthday gift. Instead, he bypassed them for something else. With a pang, he realized he should have gotten them. She would be wearing them tonight instead of a piece she bought for herself. Why was that thought so important to him now?

"You never needed pearls for that, Rachel," he said before truly understanding what would come out of his mouth the moment he opened it.

"You don't have to be nice to me, you know," she said.

She focused her eyes on his face, her dark, dark sapphire eyes. She wasn't yet crying, but her tears weren't far away. "I know." He was about to say more, to try to reason with her, tell her it wasn't her fault, but it was no use.

"I think they need you," she said, nodding toward the police officers who were entering with Hurtz and Lockwood flanking them.

He wanted to say that, perhaps, she needed him more at the moment. He didn't. It was her way of dismissing him for other things he needed to do. It was an old tactic, one she used plenty when they were together. "Do you want me to find Jack?"

"No," she said. "I don't think he wants to talk to me right now."

Speaking of him made Donovan wonder where the hell he had gone. Shaking the thought away, he gave Rachel a brief nod before approaching the two junior agents on their team. He allowed Hurtz to stay with the Miami cops, but he managed to get Lockwood's attention before he followed suit. Lockwood, who was short in stature, was physically dark and intense.

"Anything from the neighbors?"

"Just one of them. Her name is Adele Peterson. Earlier, she was out walking her poodle. She said she saw three people donning waiter outfits walking toward a dark colored SUV. The thing is, this neighborhood is filled with dark SUVs. I counted twelve on one block alone. She said it appeared as if one of the waiters was drunk."

The information tweaked Donovan's nerves. He didn't like it. "Could she identify them?"

Lockwood shook his head. "No. She wears Coke bottled lenses, which she wasn't wearing. All of them had on caps, like the catering staff in the kitchen here in the house. When I asked if she could see the hair lengths on all three, she said she could easily enough to tell. One had long hair, but it was red. The other two had short hair."

Nona Pope's hair was long, thick, and black. No one had time to have dyed it, but there may have been time to cut it with very sharp shears. Donovan still didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. "All right. Check with the caterers here, find out who was working and if any staff went missing."

Donovan turned toward the front door, noticing Jack Ashcroft as he entered. "Where have you been?"

"Not that I should answer to you, Donovan, but since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you. I was outside calming down my neighbor. She said somebody was asking questions, and she was patently freaked out about it."

Donovan realized that his words had an accusatory tone to them. He wasn't afraid that Ashcroft was outside goofing off, but he should have stayed inside to at least offer comfort to Rachel, even if they had been fighting. He was ready to tell him to man up, get over his anger, and take care of business, not just FBI business, either. Instead, he said, "I wasn't asking in the capacity you're implying, Jack. I simply don't want another person to go missing."

Donovan treasured his ability to maintain a solid poker face. Tonight, however, he was doing a piss poor job of it. "Whatever you say."

"Look," Donovan began pointedly. "How often do we have to have this conversation?"

"I don't know, Frank," Ashcroft said with a smile. He noticed the instant Donovan used 'Jack' again. He had been using it a lot lately, so perhaps he was plenty pissed at him. Good, because the feeling was mutual. "How many times do you intend to fan the old flame?"

"Do we think we can cut the shit for a few hours," Donovan said.

"I can," he said evenly. "Can you?"

Without missing a beat of his cocky walk, Ashcroft moved away from Donovan in search of something else to do. Anything would do, as long as it kept him away from Rachel and Donovan for a few hours.

It was close to midnight before the last police officer left the house. The FBI agents were the last remaining people, but they soon separated and left. Hurtz and Lockwood were the first. They were the tactical members of the squad and needed to help plan the next phase of their investigation if the news regarding Nona Pope was not good. Lily, Ashcroft, and Donovan straggled behind.

Rachel had changed into sweats and a loose fitting tee-shirt. She was surprised to note that Ashcroft had stayed behind. He stood in the kitchen, drinking cup after cup of strong coffee. She saw that Donovan was in the living room with the female agent of their group, whom she thought was named after a type of flower. At first, she couldn't think of it. She wanted to say Iris, but stupidly shook it away. Hers was Iris. The other woman was Lily, the flower that women were known to have held in their hands at burial.

Looking past them, she took hold of Ashcroft's arm. He didn't look her way. "Can we talk?"

"No time for that tonight," he said distractedly. "I have to go in and flush out some work details." He turned to look at her, giving her an odd wink. "Super spy stuff, babe. I could tell you about it, of course. What is it that they say in the movies?" He tapped his forehead as if waiting for the words to come. "Oh yeah. If I told you I would have to kill you or some cheesy shit like that."

They had been plenty angry with each other over the span of their relationship. Never like this. He was being completely mean. "Jesus, Jack. You can give me five minutes."

He shook his head. "No. I don't think I can."

Donovan watched as Ashcroft pushed his way out of the house. Lily hung back with him for a moment. "I think you should go home," he told her. "We may be burning the midnight oil soon enough. Get some rest while you can."

Lily wasn't the jealous kind, and was certain that she had nothing to fear from Ashcroft's girlfriend, but something seemed off. After a moment, she realized that he was trying to get rid of her. She didn't understand the dynamic and surely intended to ask him about it sooner rather than later. "No problem," she said. "See you in the morning."

When she left the house, he entered the kitchen where Rachel had primly set Ashcroft's used mug in the sink. Dressed the way she was, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail, she looked more like a college student than someone almost fifteen years out of it.

"I thought you left already," she said.

"No. Ask anyone, I'm the last to leave a scene." He had meant the statement to be light, but immediately sensed it was way out of context. However, it was too late to take it back.

"I would," she said with a shaky laugh. "But no one is really speaking to me right now. Just you. I'm sure before the week is out, you won't be speaking to me, either." She turned around to look at him. "I didn't tell him much. He found my cell phone and saw the last person I called was you. I have no idea why he did it, he has never done that before."

She was pitiful, profoundly sad. There was nothing he could do to fix it. "I'm sorry, Rachel."

"Yeah, so am I." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Now, it's weird for you at work, huh?"

"It is," he said. "Jack is a professional. He won't let anything interfere with what we need to do." He didn't know if that was the truth or not, he only hoped it to be. "Soon everything will be back to normal. I know we've both told him it's over, he'll accept it and move on."

"I have to be honest with you, Frank. I thought it was over, but things have been popping in my head more than usual."

He could have lied and said nothing of the sort was the same way. He couldn't. "Me too," he admitted. "I think it's only because of a few circumstances beyond our control. When everything normalizes, we'll simply go back to our corners. We've co-existed this long happily, I assume we will continue that trend."

"Yeah." Yet, she felt something was wrong with that analysis, as fine as it was. Could they both call it a happy existence? "I don't know whether Jack and I will get back to normal, though. It's not your problem, it's nothing you have created." Changing the subject rather quickly, she asked, "The female agent? Lily, is it? You're with her, right?"

He noticed the shift in their conversation. Since she had gone through a hell of a night, he wouldn't mention it. "Yes."

She smiled. "I thought so. It's in the way she looks at you." Switching gears, because she really didn't want to get into it with him, she said, "I think you should go. You don't need to hang around. I'll be all right. I do hope you find Nona, and I hope she's just one of those kooky rock stars playing a horrible prank."

Although he was almost certain that wouldn't be the case, she was in no shape to hear it tonight. "So do I."

It was awkward between them now for many reasons. All Rachel knew was that she wanted him out of her house. She couldn't look at him anymore. Slowly, she approached him, took his hand, and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks, Wilson."

He smiled. "Don't mention it, Iris."

It began innocently enough. She squeezed his hand, thanked him, and then did what she had done numerous times to other men she had known since moving in with Jack. She leaned forward to place a dry peck on his cheek. She managed that part of it with no issue. He even leaned down a bit in expectation of it. The instant her lips touched his cheek, something changed. She caught a whiff of his cologne, he caught one of her perfume. Neither of them had an inkling of an idea that they wore the same cologne and perfume as they had years ago, but they were the types of individuals who did not embrace change as much as they would have liked for their loved ones to believe.

Slowly, Rachel drew away, but did not release his hand. She gazed into the face of a man who looked so different than the one she knew before. He was still the same inside, with the same eyes, the same way of conveying his moods effectively through them. Before long, her lips were pressed firmly to his. The taste of him was the same, as were the softness of his lips, the firmness of his body. The same thoughts sprung into Donovan's head as well, stunning him with their ferocity. Later, neither of them would be able to answer the question who kissed whom first.

Within a mere few moments, Rachel moved away. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Donovan said nothing. Instead, he left while he was still able.

It was almost three before Donovan finally made it home-if his tiny apartment could be called that. After leaving Rachel standing in her kitchen, he drove for a while, with the windows down, hoping that the salty night air would clear his head. It didn't. Since it was so late [or early, depending on how he looked at it], the parking lot was almost full, most of the closer spaces were filled. It took some time to finally find an available slot. He walked toward the building slowly, savoring the night, allowing it to cloak him.

When he finally sauntered up to the door, he thought that since it was so late, he would probably have to use his card key. His building, although gated, wasn't exclusive. All residents had to have a card key and gate code if they were out past two. There was a concierge desk in the lobby. Despite that, during the week, it wasn't manned around the clock. If a guest happened to come by, they were required to have a code to unlock the front gate. If they arrived any time after two in the morning, they wouldn't likely see the person until a security guard came on duty at four and let them in. Those unfortunate enough to lose their card keys or forget the code were charged an excessive amount of money to cover changed locks and recoding of the keypad at the gate. Since moving to Miami, Donovan had yet to be in that class, and certainly didn't intend to be any time soon.

Checking behind him for good measure, he swiped his card and patiently waited for the loud click indicating he was being granted entrance. He stepped into the lobby, and saw Lily sitting near the concierge desk on one of five uncomfortable sofas decorating the room. The moment she noticed him, she stood up to approach him.

"How long have you been waiting?" he asked, completely not expecting to see her until later.

She shrugged. "I don't know, long enough to listen to Bruce discussing his many grandkids."

Bruce was a retired Miami police officer who pulled the late afternoon shift at the desk. He had seven children, all but two had at least five of their own. His youngest were still in college and childless as far as Donovan knew. "You should have gone home. You might not see your bed for a while."

She shrugged again. "Who cares? I like yours better anyway."

Donovan was grateful for her presence. It was just that right now, he didn't want company. He wasn't quite fit for human consumption. "I'm glad you're here, Lily. I'm grateful you came by-"

Lily raised her hands in contrition. "But you want to be alone?" When he didn't answer immediately, she smiled. "It's okay. I'm antisocial at times as well. I just sensed something weird tonight. Other than a missing rock star."

He didn't know if he was ready to tell her about the mess enveloping him right now. The issue was, he truly didn't have anyone to talk to about it, no one who might care. He certainly couldn't have gone back to Rachel, no matter how much he might have wanted to. "I suppose you noticed that it has been tense between Jack and me?"

"Well, duh," she said, miming whacking herself on her forehead. "Not only that. I sensed a few awkward moments between you and Jack's girlfriend."

Leave it to another woman to sense tension in a different woman. It was enough to make him crave a shot of vodka. "You're right," he finally admitted. "I knew Rachel long before I came here. Jack didn't know. When he found out, he was less than pleased."

She shook her head. "Knew her? Oh. You mean knew her in the biblical sense? I knew it had to be something like that." Lily went back to the ugly lobby sofa and plopped back down. "You stay close mouthed about things, finally open up, and really drop a bomb."

Donovan kept his distance for a moment. He pushed himself to sit next to her, bridge the gap. It took a long time, but he finally did it. "I didn't think it was important."

"It's funny, Donovan," Lily began. "I've been flirting with you like mad ever since I met you. It just now dawned on me that you only asked me out seriously after Aspen Greene's death. I noticed her wall, I saw she was buddies with Aspen."

"It's not what you think," he began lamely. Wasn't it?

"She still wants you, you know," she said.

"What?"

She wanted to slap the bewildered expression off his face. Men were so dumb sometimes. "You heard me. She still wants you. Women know, Frank. Should you figure out who it is you want, you know where to find me."

She made an attempt to get up, not before he tried to stop her by planting his hand firmly on her thigh. "Lily, wait…"

Lily batted his hand aside. Standing, she walked toward the door, stopping just mere inches from it, thereby almost completely exiting the building. Turning toward him, she asked, "For what? For you? I have been waiting, Frank, for months. I'll see you later at work."

Before the drama, before the harrowing scenes between this group of individuals occurred, something else happened in the city. The larynx of Nona Pope had been excised. Unfortunately, she was conscious during it.

When his cell phone began to ring, Donovan thought he was dreaming. It rang and rang, then stopped. Blessed silence. Then it began ringing again. That signaled his sleeping brain he wasn't dreaming. He rolled over and grabbed it without opening his eyes. Until he noticed who was calling, he was intent on shutting it off. The moment he saw it was Jess Lockwood, it was as if a shot of adrenaline had made its way to his heart.

"Donovan," he said tersely, ready for anything.

"Bad news."

He glanced at his bedside clock. It was almost six. Donovan sat up in bed and scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Where?"

"Her body was found in a hut on a private resort outside Miami. The owners heard a noise in an abandoned cottage. When they checked, they found a body. I got a call maybe half an hour ago."

Donovan swallowed hard, trying to force down the lump that had formed in his throat. Knowing the MO of the murders, he asked, "What went missing?"

"Her larynx. We first thought her hair was as well, but the local police squad found her hair on the beach. It was bundled up neatly in a hot pink ribbon."

"Thank you, Lockwood. Have you called the others?"

"Not yet. I can if you would like," he offered.

No matter how much Donovan would have liked to accept, he didn't. It was his news to pass along. It appeared as if they would make a trip to the scene later. "No. I'll do it."

Nona Pope was dead. Donovan couldn't help but think he was responsible.