Saturday. Are you just going to show up at the front door of his home?”
“I’m not sure what other choice I have.”
“What makes you think it’s going to do any good?” he asked.
“It may not. But Anderson’s right. Unless something breaks soon, I’m out of options, Ray. Evie is going to be murdered on closed circuit television in twenty-five hours! If talking to Jackson Cave – appealing to him for my daughter’s life – has even a chance of working, then I’m going to try it.”
Ray nodded, clasping her hand in his and wrapping his huge arms around her shoulder. He was gentle but she winced in pain nonetheless.
“Sorry,” he whispered quietly. “Of course – we’ll do whatever it takes. But I’m going with you.”
“Ray, I’m not holding out much hope that this will work. But he’s definitely not going to say anything if you’re standing there next to me. I have to do this alone.”
“But he might have tried to have you killed tonight.”
“Probably just maimed,” she said with a weak smile, trying to lower the temperature. “Besides, he won’t do that if I show up at his house. He won’t be expecting me. And it’d be too risky. What kind of alibi would he have if something happened to me while I was at his home? He might be delusional but he’s not stupid.”
“Fine,” Ray relented. “I won’t go with you to the house. But you better believe I’ll be close by.”
“Such a good boyfriend,” Keri said, snuggling up closer to him, despite the discomfort that moving caused. “I’ll bet you’ve got a black-and-white outside patrolling the neighborhood to make sure your little lady sleeps safe through the night.”
“How about two?” he said. “I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
“My knight in shining armor,” Keri said, yawning despite her best efforts. “I can still recall the days when I was a criminology professor at LMU and you would come and speak to my students.”
“Simpler times,” Ray said quietly.
“And I also remember the dark days after Evie was taken, when I started drinking scotch instead of water, when Stephen divorced me for sleeping with everything that moved, and the university dumped me for corrupting one my students.”
“We don’t have to hit every pothole on memory lane, Keri.”
“I’m just saying, who was it that pulled me out of that pit of self-loathing, dusted me off, and got me to apply to the police academy?”
“That would be me,” Ray whispered softly.
“That’s right,” Keri murmured in agreement. “See? Knight in shining armor.”
She rested her head on his chest, allowing herself to relax, to ease into the rhythm of his breathing as he slowly inhaled and exhaled. As her lids became heavy and she drifted off into sleep, one last coherent thought passed through her head: Ray hadn’t actually ordered two police cars to patrol the neighborhood. She’d checked out the window as she’d changed earlier and counted at least four units. And that was just what she could see.
She hoped it was enough.
CHAPTER NINE
Keri gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying not to let the sharp curves of the mountain road make her more nervous than she already was. It was 7:45 a.m., just over sixteen hours until her daughter was supposed to be ritually sacrificed in front of dozens of wealthy pedophiles.
She was driving through the winding Malibu hills on a chilly but clear and sunny January Saturday morning to the home of Jackson Cave. She hoped to convince him to return her daughter safely to her. If she couldn’t, this would be the last day of Evie Locke’s life.
Keri and Ray had woken up early, just after 6 a.m. She hadn’t been very hungry but Ray had insisted she force down some scrambled eggs and toast to go with her two cups of coffee. They were out of the apartment by seven.
Ray spoke briefly to one of the patrol officers outside, who said that none of the units had reported any suspicious activity during the night. He thanked them and sent them on their way. Then he and Keri got in their cars and drove separately to Malibu.
At that hour on a Saturday morning, the normally clogged Los Angeles roads were virtually empty. Within twenty minutes, they were on the Pacific Coast Highway, catching the last remnants of the sunrise over the Santa Monica Mountains.
By the time Keri was white-knuckling it up Tuna Canyon Road high in the Malibu hills, the splendor of the morning had given way to the grim reality of what she had to do. Her GPS indicated she was close to Cave’s place so she pulled over. Ray, who was right behind her, eased up next to her.
“I think it’s right up past the next bend,” she said through the open car window. “Why don’t you go ahead and set up a little further down the road. He’s the type of guy who will have surveillance cameras all around so we don’t want to be driving up there together.”
“Okay,” Ray agreed. “The cell service is really spotty up here so once you’re done I’ll just follow you back down the hill and we can debrief at that diner we passed at the PCH turnoff. Sound good?”
“Sounds like a plan. Wish me luck, partner.”
“Good luck, Keri,” he said sincerely. “I really hope this works.”
She nodded, not really able to think of a meaningful reply at that moment. Ray gave her a little smile and drove on ahead. Keri waited another minute, then eased her foot onto the gas pedal and made the last curve before Cave’s house.
When it came into view, she was surprised to find it looked modest compared to other homes in the area, at least from the street. The place had a bungalow appearance to it, almost like an elaborate version of something one might find at a South Seas resort.
Then again, she knew this wasn’t even Cave’s main Los Angeles residence. He had a mansion in the Hollywood Hills, which was much more conveniently located to his downtown high-rise office. But it was common knowledge that he liked to spend his weekends at his Malibu “retreat,” and she’d checked around to make sure that was where he’d be this morning.
Keri pulled into the short gravel driveway just off the road and hopped out. She walked slowly up to the security gate, taking in the impressive privacy measures Cave had employed. The house might not be massive but the safety precautions were. The gate itself was wrought-iron and easily fifteen feet high, with curled spikes that pointed outward toward the street.
A twenty-foot, ivy-covered stone wall surrounded the property as far as the eye could see, with what appeared to be three additional feet of electrified fencing above that. She counted at least five cameras mounted on the walls and attached to high branches of several trees just inside the property.
Keri pushed the “call” button on the keypad next to the gate and waited.
“May I help you?” a middle-aged female voice asked.
“Yes, Keri Locke here to see Jackson Cave.”
“Does Mr. Cave know you’re coming, Ms. Locke?” the voice asked.
“I
