Touching Silver (23 page)

“Caught? At what?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Do you not know, or do you want to avoid implicating yourself in crimes I’m not aware of? You are the reason Isaac McGuire has been focusing on me so intently for the past week. Ever since he found Ali’s body.”

Parker shook his head. “Why would I do
anything
to attract McGuire’s attention? The man hates me. The last thing I need is him on my back.”

“But he hasn’t been on your back. He’s been on
mine
. Because somehow, some way, you fucked with the third fire. You’re the reason there was something to link me. You can’t kill me outright. You’re smart enough to know that. But there are other ways to get me out of the way.” He brushed his jacket aside, revealing his gun. “Which is why I felt we needed to talk about where this relationship is going.”

The only indication of Parker’s rising stress in the face of danger was his audible intake of breath. “I don’t know why you think I’ve got anything to do with Ali’s death. But I assure you, it had nothing to do with me. I’ll do anything you want to prove that, Gabriel.”

Gabriel took a deep breath. It would be easier to shoot him—problem solved. But Parker was smart, and he knew the area very well. Gabriel had had a grudging respect for the man since before he went to prison. And anybody who could get Nathan Pierce off the force deserved a second chance.

One second chance.

“Find Stacy Montenegro.”

Nathan kept the conversation superficial as Stacy ate her donuts. She even smiled at him. Olivia saw a lot in her smile—so much of the young woman she could have been if Gabriel hadn’t stolen five years from her life. So much of the girl who had just been a child when he pulled her from her home. Stacy licked her fingers with the same sort of enthusiasm as a child, not at all self-conscious to be covered in glaze and fruit filling. Nathan handed her a stack of napkins with an amused smile.

Olivia leaned against the wall, her arms folded, feeling a sharp sense of
déjà vu.
Of course she had actually experienced some of this before. Watching as Nathan tried to coax Stacy out of her reticence, hoping she’d give them something new to work with. The urge to apologize was new, though. Stacy had already given them so much information. She shouldn’t be forced to relive her ordeal again and again. She just wanted to go home. Olivia just wanted to let her.

After this. We’ll get him after this. We won’t fuck up again
.

If they had anything to fuck up. They had no guarantee Stacy would remember anything new. Or useful. Olivia couldn’t escape the fear they were just pounding their heads against a wall.

“Did you do what I asked you to do last night?” Nathan asked, once she finished eating.

Stacy’s smile faded. “I don’t think it’s what you want.” Twisting to the side, she opened the drawer on the nightstand and rooted around, drawing out a small steno pad with a pen clipped to its spiral ring. She passed it over to Nathan, almost looking guilty as she did so. “My head started hurting, so I laid down, and then I fell asleep.”

“No, I’m sure it’s fine.” As he read over the notes, Olivia tensed, forcing herself to stay where she was instead of crowding the bed to read over his shoulder. He pointed at the pad. “Are these the people you saw regularly? Did you ever see Gabriel?”

She nodded. “He liked to come at holidays. With gifts.”

Olivia’s gut twisted. Nathan and Remy thought Gabriel was trying to reassemble the coven of priestesses for the Silver Maiden. Olivia didn’t quite know what that meant, but as far as motives went, it was as good as any. And she knew Gabriel treated them kindly. If he planned to use the girls in some sort of cultish ritual, it wouldn’t behoove him to hurt them.

But he
was
willing to hurt them. Or he allowed somebody else to hurt them, judging from the bruises healing on Stacy’s neck.

“What sort of gifts?” Nathan asked.

“Stuff like you’d get from The Body Shop. Except nicer. A lot nicer. Bath oils, shampoo, hand lotion. Pretty stuff. Kind of a…” Her nose wrinkled, her mind intent on the sensory memory. “Kind of a green smell?”

Olivia caught her breath. Nathan looked confused, but she understood. Her nostrils flared, the phantom aroma suddenly overwhelming her. Her head throbbed, and she closed her eyes, trying to force the memory—a memory that wasn’t even hers—away. When she opened them again, both Nathan and Stacy were watching her.

“Speaking of green,” Nathan said. “Are you okay?”

Olivia swallowed hard and forced herself to smile. “I’m fine. Stacy, was there anything else special or distinctive about the gifts?”

She thought for a moment before saying, “No, not really. The only thing weird was how much he would bring. Enough to last for months, until he’d come again. And if we didn’t use them…” Her skin paled, and she began toying with her bedspread, pleating the soft fabric between her fingers. “But they were nice.”

Nathan looked up, meeting Olivia’s gaze. A shadow passed in the blue depths, a shadow she knew was mirrored in her own eyes.

“What happened if you didn’t use the gifts?” Nathan asked.

“Nothing.” But the answer came too quickly.

That’s enough. We don’t need to push her. They were captives. We know what that means
.

But she kept her protest to herself. She wasn’t usually this soft when questioning a witness, but her need to protect Stacy was almost painful.

“Stacy, I know this might be a hard memory for you.” Nathan leaned forward. “But we need to know everything we can about Gabriel.”

Her eyes were large and luminous, and her knuckles grew white where she fisted the comforter. “It wasn’t him,” she whispered. “It won’t make a difference in catching him.”

Talking about Tomas and Nando didn’t inspire that sort of reaction from Stacy. Not even Gabriel inspired that reaction.

“Who was it?” Olivia asked urgently.

Stacy jerked at the insistence in her tone, and her gaze flew to Nathan’s face. She didn’t move, she didn’t even breathe, until he gave her a gentle nod.

“Her name…her name is Marisol. She is…not very nice.”

Olivia sought her memory for the name, but she came up blank. It might ring a bell for Isaac, though. She made a mental note to call Rico and ask him if he had any information about Marisol. If she had any sort of record, they might be able to track her down the way they’d tracked Tomas.

“Can you give us a physical description of her?” Olivia asked, stepping toward the bed in her excitement.

But Stacy shook her head and burrowed down into her pillow again. “Just a girl. Older than me, but not much.” She turned a hand over to reveal a healed scar on her inner forearm. “She likes knives, but we were never hurt when Gabriel might be visiting.”

When she was twelve, Olivia’s older brother broke his leg during a football game. The bone stuck right through the skin. She had turned and vomited from the top of the bleachers before she even registered what she was seeing. It had been instantaneous, and at the time it seemed more natural than crying or screaming. Olivia wanted to vomit now. It wasn’t the sight of the scar—not by itself. It was the sudden certainty that Stacy had more scars, carefully hidden. On her upper thighs, her buttocks, the soles of her feet, her hairline, below her arms.

“I’m sorry,” Olivia said, covering her mouth and heading to the door. But stepping into the hall didn’t help her roiling stomach.

Isaac immediately stepped forward from where he’d been lounging against the wall. A worried frown creased his brow as he searched her face. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, though she knew the lie was futile. “I don’t…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Probably just something I ate.”

A fresh revolt from her stomach made her bolt for the bathroom, shoving Isaac out of her way as she raced to make it in time. The porcelain lid of the toilet rang through the tiled room when she shoved it open, and she barely pulled her hair back before her breakfast came back up.

Isaac was right there, a strong hand stroking her spine, the other helping to keep her hair out of the way. He didn’t say a word when her vomiting turned into dry heaves. He didn’t say anything until after he’d risen and gotten a glass of water for her from the sink.

“If you didn’t like the Spanish omelette, you should’ve said something at breakfast.” A small smile accompanied his gentle tease.

The water didn’t soothe the burn in the back of her throat. She swished it around in around her mouth and spit it into the toilet before leaning over to flush. She could feel Isaac’s eyes on her, and for a moment she was angry. She didn’t need him to hover over her. She just wanted to be left alone.

Olivia looked up, intending to tell him just that, but she saw the obvious concern in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, she forced back her anger. Isaac didn’t deserve it—she was angry at herself, not him.

“Your omelette was fine. I just…she said Marisol liked to use a knife on them and…I’m fine now.” She smiled to prove it.

Isaac didn’t look like he believed her, but he straightened anyway. “I’ll be out in the hall if you want anything else. Remy was driving me crazy downstairs.” He was in the open doorway when he paused and glanced back. “Who’s Marisol?”

Olivia set the glass aside and frowned. “You don’t recognize the name either? She seemed to be the one in charge of the girls when Gabriel wasn’t with them.”

“It might be somebody new he’s brought in. I’ll run the name through the system and see what pops up. I suppose it would be too much to hope that she gave you a last name too.”

“She might have given Nathan one. I was too busy trying not to blow chunks to ask.” She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were surprisingly dark, and the blood had drained from her face. “God, this is so embarrassing,” she muttered to herself.

“I think it makes you human.”

She caught his brief smile in the reflection before he left her alone in the bathroom, the door closing quietly behind him.

Olivia found mouthwash in the medicine cabinet and rinsed her mouth out. She felt empty, oddly hollow, but her stomach had calmed considerably. She splashed her face with cold water, pinching her cheeks until some of the color returned. She didn’t know how, or why, but this was connected to her visions with the coin. It was the only explanation that made sense. She had seen much,
much
worse than a few scars on a girl who was otherwise whole, and she had never lost her lunch before.

But Stacy—and her green smell—had been in her vision. And Olivia wasn’t so sure she believed in coincidences anymore.

She stepped out of the bathroom just as Nathan shut the bedroom door behind him.

“Well?” Isaac beat her to the punch. “You get anything good? Olivia mentioned another name. Marisol. Did the girl say who she was?”

Nathan shook his head. “I don’t think she knows too much about Marisol. Not any more than what she was telling.” He turned to Olivia. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine, thanks.”

Nathan passed the notebook to Isaac. “I think we need to find this Marisol.”

He was already nodding. “That’s going to be my first priority when I get back to the station.”

Behind them, the stairs creaked as Remy bounded up them. “Are we done? Tell me we have enough to find the others.”

“Not yet.” Isaac gestured with the notepad. “But we’ve got a definite lead.”

She plucked the pad out of his hands before he could yank it away, flipping through Stacy’s scribblings. A frown began to crease her brow, and she thumbed back to a previous page, her mouth moving silently as she went back and forth between the pages. Olivia realized she was counting.

“I thought there were only seven girls kidnapped,” she said, looking to Nathan and Olivia.

“There
were
only seven girls kidnapped,” Olivia said. “Why?”

“Because there’s seven names here. And if you count Stacy, that’s eight.” Panic flared in his dark eyes. “The coven was eight, right? That’s how many Gabriel needs.”

“But the eighth name is Marisol’s. She works for Gabriel,” Olivia explained. “She wasn’t kidnapped. Not just any combination of eight girls will do the trick, right?”

Nathan frowned and turned back to the door. “Still, we should eliminate the possibility.”

Olivia followed him into the bedroom automatically. Stacy looked at her warily, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge her.

“Stacy, we just have one more question for you,” Nathan said, standing near the bed. “About Marisol.”

She paled, but nodded slowly. “But I don’t know what else I can tell you.”

“Those lotions, and soaps and oils Gabriel insisted you use—did Marisol use them too?”

Her gaze slid sideways as she searched her memory, her nose wrinkling in the same manner it had before. Olivia braced herself for another wave of nausea to come from experiencing it, but the flash that went through her was too swift to find root.

“Yes.” Stacy’s eyes returned to Nathan’s, certainty shining in them. “I never really noticed because all of the girls wore that scent, but yeah, Marisol smelled the same.”

Olivia’s nausea didn’t return, but that was about the only thing she had going for her. Her mouth still tasted awful—no amount of mouthwash seemed to help—her throat still burned, and her head still ached. The pain only intensified when she left Stacy, drumming through her body with each step she took.

Not even the excitement of finding a new link to Gabriel soothed her. She knew if they tracked down this Marisol person, they could stop Gabriel. But they only had her first name. Stacy couldn’t provide a strong description, or identifying details, or any background. When Olivia reached the station, she sat behind the wheel of her SUV for several minutes to mull over what they had. Really, it was more to take the time and gather her strength so she could walk to her cubicle without looking like death warmed over. She held her head high when she went inside.

Until she called Rico.

“I told you last time you called that I’m done with you. It’s not personal, Olivia. But I can’t go back to my church, and my kids are suffering from traumatic stress disorder or something.”

“What would Jesus do?” she blurted.

“What did you just say to me?”

“Rico, I meant, I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important. I know you’ve done a lot for me, and I appreciate it, but I just need one more thing.”

“One more thing? How am I supposed to believe that?”

“Because after this, Gabriel is going to prison for a long time.”

“What makes you think you can get him? Even if you arrest him, which no offense to you, but that’s a big if. Even if you arrest him, nobody will make anything stick. I’ve seen this shit before.”

“I need to find those girls, Rico. I know you’re trying to turn a new leaf. I know this isn’t your life anymore. But it’ll be on your head if any of those girls don’t come out of this alive. Do you want to live with that? Do you want to look at your daughter’s face and see Stacy Montenegro, or Lucy Chavez, or Amy Mills? What if your daughter just disappeared one day?”

“What do you want? I’ve already risked my neck too many times for you.”

“Who’s Marisol?” The line went silent. “Rico? Who is she?”

“I wondered when you’d start asking about her.”

Olivia was glad they were having this conversation over the phone, because if they were sitting face-to-face, she might have punched him. “Why didn’t you mention her sooner?”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

His voice had wavered. She’d heard it, clear as day.
Bingo.
“Well, I think it is. Who is she?”

“She’s Gabriel’s cousin. We think. They have the same last name and she’s not his sister or his wife. She lived with the girls, for the most part.”

“She took care of them?”

“I guess. She didn’t like them, though. A few of the girls tried to be nice to her, tried to make her happy, but she didn’t want anything to do with them. Hated living in Twenty-Nine Palms. Unless it was bath time. It was creepy. I tried not to spend any more time in that house than I had to.”

“Did you ever see her hurt the girls?”

“No. But Marisol wouldn’t do anything like that in front of us. We all had pretty strict orders about how the girls should be treated. Is that all you wanted from me?”

“Do you know where she is now?”

“Probably with Gabriel. They’re pretty close.”

“Do you know where Gabriel would be?”

“If I knew, I would have told you by now. He has a dozen homes in the city, and that’s just what I know about. He doesn’t stay in one place for too long. You know that. And now I’m done. Don’t call me. Don’t let any of your cop friends call me.”

“Thanks, Rico.”

But he had already hung up.

Marisol de los Rios. Did she share her cousin’s obsession with the Silver Maiden? Did she stand to gain something as well? Gabriel hadn’t kidnapped the girls himself. That didn’t fit his profile. He rarely did
anything
himself. If nothing else, the man knew how to delegate. There had been no sign or evidence of a struggle when the girls disappeared. They just disappeared. Gone from the street, gone from their homes, gone from their schools.

Until that moment Olivia hadn’t believed Marisol was the eighth girl. Their evidence was circumstantial at best, but her gut told her Marisol wasn’t a mere caretaker or accessory to a crime.

She was Gabriel’s partner.

“Marisol took them,” she said out loud. They weren’t violently kidnapped and shoved into the back of a van. They weren’t assaulted. They probably didn’t even realize what was happening until long after it was over. She lured them, tricked them, kidnapped them, and then held them. For her cousin. For herself.

“Knock knock.”

The familiar baritone jolted her concentration. Isaac stood at the door to her cubicle, a large envelope dangling from his hand. In spite of her grim focus on their case, her heart skipped a beat at his easy smile. It wasn’t just seeing him. It was knowing he was as determined as she was to put Gabriel behind bars for what he’d done to the girls.

He ventured a step inside, his gaze going to the pictures of Tiberius and her family she had tacked up on her walls. “You know what we need? A picture of the two of us.” His smile shifted into a naughty grin. “Two, probably. One for you to put up, and then one just for pulling out of my wallet whenever you’re not around.”

“I don’t take that sort of picture until at least six months into the relationship. It’ll give you something to look forward to.” She leaned back in her chair. “I talked to Rico. He thinks Marisol is Gabriel’s cousin, or related to him in some way.”

“That matches what I found.” Opening the envelope, he slid out a single sheet of paper and dropped it on her desk. It was a photo, grainy and from a distance, of a young woman in profile. She was getting into a car in front of a large, very expensive house, and from the angle it was clear she didn’t know she was being photographed. “There are no other known Marisols in Gabriel’s immediate operation, so I extended the search to family. She’s a first cousin, been in the country for about six years, but other than that maintains a very low profile. No record, clean credit history, and the only picture we have on file is this one.”

“I think she took the girls, Isaac. In fact, I think she came to this country specifically for those girls. If Stacy can confirm Marisol is the one who grabbed her, we’ll have enough to arrest her now.” She frowned. “If we can find her. But if she is the eighth girl Gabriel needs, it’ll stall his plans indefinitely.”

“If we get the ID, it’ll be easier to make finding her a priority. Right now, she’s a ghost.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go. If we’re wrong, we’ll still have the rest of the night to find another Marisol.”

She led him out to the parking lot and her car, stopping first to grab his winter coat. Isaac maintained a professional distance the entire time, but once they were both in her Sequoia, he leaned across and caught the back of her neck, pulling her closer for a swift kiss. “I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he said as he sat back in his seat. “I think the hardest part about working with you is not giving in to the urge to drag you into a closet someplace and kiss you senseless.”

“I guess it’s probably a good thing we work on opposite sides of the building, then.” She put the truck into reverse. “Otherwise we wouldn’t get anything done, and then we’d both be fired.”

He grinned. “Admit it. You just don’t want to be stuck with me twenty-four/seven. I’d drive you crazy.”

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t mind being stuck with you twenty-four/seven. If you were naked. With a ball-gag.” She looked at him from the corner of her eye. “I have a few.”

“Me gagged and you cuffed? Sounds like an interesting night.”

“When did I agree to be cuffed? I think that’s a better look for you.”

“We had a deal, remember? I wear the nurse’s uniform, you wear the cuffs. Plus…” His eyes were twinkling. “You said you don’t break out the cuffs until the third date. The way I figure it, dinner at the Barn was number one, the gondola ride to see the lights was two, and last night was three. You owe me.”

Oh, Christ. I told him I loved him after three dates? And he’s staying with the crazy woman…why?
Her sisters would be horrified if she ever confessed her sin. Not the sin of falling in love, but the sin of saying the words far too soon.

“You forgot about my parents’ Christmas party. I guess I better not tell you what I do after the fourth date.”

His smile softened, and they drove along in silence for a few minutes, the quiet comforting in its ease. They were stopped at a red light when Isaac spoke up again, but his tone lacked the playfulness of their earlier banter.

“So I’ve got people discreetly looking for Parker,” he said. “In case what we’re trying with Gabriel doesn’t pan out. One way or another, this stalking thing should be over very soon.”

“I guess that means you’ll be able to move back to the comfort of your own apartment, then. It’ll be nice to not have to deal with Tibby’s hair getting all over your clothes.”

There was no missing the glance he shot her. “Your place is plenty comfortable.”

The light turned green, and Olivia looked away from him. She didn’t normally second-guess herself, but she did now. Her head still ached, her stomach still throbbed, she had been mulling the previous night’s conversation and alternately feeling pleased and foolish, and she didn’t want to accidentally push too far, for too much. “I think it’s very comfortable. But your apartment is very…you. I imagine you spent years getting it just the way you like it. Plus, it lacks the aforementioned hair.”

She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or not when he nodded in agreement. “I’ve got an extra room too. If you ever wanted to spend the night, you wouldn’t have to worry about what to do with Tiberius.”

“Tiberius would appreciate having new territory to explore.” Fresh pain bloomed behind her temple, and she gritted her teeth. “Isaac, I’ve got some painkillers in the glove box there. Can you get a few for me?”

He rooted around for a moment among the extra napkins and doggy bags she kept in there before pulling out the bottle. Shaking out two, he passed them over with a frown. “I thought you said you were feeling better.”

“I was.” Olivia swallowed both pills dry. “At least I’m not puking, right? Not that there’s anything left but…” She grimaced. “That’s gross, sorry. I am feeling better, it’s just a headache. Maybe the stress of the past week is getting to me.”

His mouth settled into a firm line she was beginning to recognize all too well. It meant he was about to give an order.

“I’m taking you home after we’re done with Stacy. And you’re going to have a long bath and then get a decent night’s sleep. And anything else you usually do to relax.”

“Tracking down Marisol de los Rios will help me relax. In fact, I can’t think of anything more soothing. There’ll be time for a long bath and sleep after she and her cousin are in jail.”

“And you’re not going to do the investigation any good at all if you make yourself sicker by refusing to take a break when you obviously need it.”

“What if it’s…connected to the missing girls?” Olivia asked. “I mean, I don’t know how or why, but this all started today when Stacy mentioned the soaps and lotions Gabriel brought them. I smelled it…like I smelled it in my vision…and I didn’t feel sick until she mentioned her scar…I don’t think taking a break will help.”

The intensity of his attention was an electric wire strung between them, his concern etched in every line of his face. “Why didn’t you say something about this earlier?”

“Because I didn’t want you to be more worried about me than you already were. It’s not like I know what’s going on. It’s just a…theory.”

“Did you mention it to Nathan?”

“No.” She suddenly felt like she was ten again. Not because of anything Isaac said—his tone was more conversational than accusatory—but because she didn’t have a good answer for any of his questions. “It didn’t come up.”

“He’s our resident expert on the coins. He might know why this is happening.”

“I’ll tell him,” Olivia promised, hoping it would distract him from his need to send her to bed. “We can go by their apartment after we talk to Stacy, and I’ll tell him everything that happened today.”

“Good. I can’t risk losing you over a stupid magical coin.”

As she pulled up in front of the safe house, she muttered, “I wish I’d never seen that stupid magical coin.”

She noticed the silence as soon as she stepped out of the car. The house was on a quiet block, but this was different. Olivia glanced over to see if Isaac noticed the same thing, but he approached the door like nothing was out of the ordinary. She shrugged her unease away and followed him inside. Where, if anything, the silence was more oppressive.

“Where are Pete and Ross?” Olivia looked for the police guards they’d left on watch earlier that day.

Isaac frowned and disappeared into the kitchen. It took only a moment for him to come back out, his hand already reaching inside his jacket for his gun as he bolted for the front door.

“Go check on Stacy,” he barked.

Olivia raced up the stairs without asking any questions, her gun drawn by the time she reached the landing. Stacy’s door was ajar. She could see the empty bed from the hallway. She brought the gun to the ready and released the safety before pushing the door open and burst into the room.

The empty room.

Olivia checked the bathroom, the closet, under the bed, the window. There was no sign that a girl had ever been in the room. Except for a thin line of blood stretching from the bedroom to the hallway.