“Let go of me, Eric.”
“Not until you calm down,” Hensel says, tugging her away from the table.
“I’m under control.”
Hensel releases her. The guards stand ready to intervene if she lunges at Rivers again.
“Give me a name,” Darcy says, straightening her shirt. “Who’s targeting my family?”
“I’m done talking to you. Rest in peace, Agent Gellar.”
Before the guards yank Rivers out of the interview room, Hensel motions the lead guard aside and whispers something in his ear. The guard gives him an irritated look, but Hensel repeats the message and elicits a nod from the man.
Rivers glances over his shoulder and smiles at Darcy as they lead him out of the room. The door closes, and Hensel rounds on her.
“What the hell was that about?”
“He threatened my family. I want him dead.”
“We had him talking.”
“No, Eric. He only talked to me. If I hadn’t been here, he would have given you the silent treatment.”
Hensel releases a heavy breath and falls back against the wall.
“We didn’t get anything we can use. Either he had an accomplice when we caught him or—”
“You weren’t listening, Eric. Rivers told us everything we need to know. That part about always working alone. His ego is too large to allow someone to share his glory. Which means the current killer met Rivers after the incarceration.”
“We checked the visitor logs. Besides the media, nobody comes here to see Rivers.”
“Then someone on the inside is making sure Rivers’ visitors stay off the books. Likely the same guy who got him a disposable phone.” Darcy sinks to the floor and wraps her arms around her knees. “Nobody threatens my family. I want that bastard dead.”
“The whole world does, but that’s not the way the law works. Bribe some inmate to stick a knife in Rivers’ stomach, and you’ll end up behind bars too. If we want to hurt Rivers, we have to catch this new killer. He’s Rivers’ lifeline, his connection to the world. Rivers keeps saying he can get to you from inside the prison, but not without help.”
Hensel offers Darcy a hand, and she takes it, her knees achy as she steadies herself against the wall.
“So what did you tell the guard?”
“Let’s just say I promised him a little Christmas bonus this year if he forgets he saw you attack Rivers. If the psychopath claims you assaulted him, we’ll have two witnesses who state otherwise. Now, keep your head down, and maybe we’ll get out of here with no one asking questions.”
Stepping into the crisp November air, Darcy can breathe again. Her fury is a beacon of light that cuts through the darkness.
Darcy’s breaths puff tiny clouds as they wait at the security gate for the guard to release them. Then they’re in the rental and driving back to the airport, the long day turning into a long night. The clouds break. Stars sparkle across the sky. Hensel runs the heat on high as the Buffalo chill pours into the car.
She calls up the security app on her phone as Hensel navigates around a slow-moving vehicle and accelerates down the interstate. Exhaustion catches up to Darcy. She’ll sleep on the plane no matter the discomfort. Her eyelids flutter as Hensel switches the radio to sports talk.
Until her eyes lock on the blank screens from the security cameras. What the hell?
“Something wrong?”
Hensel’s voice barely registers as she swipes through the menu and ensures she’s toggled the appropriate options. She reloads, and the same blank camera views fill her screen.
“Darcy?”
“The security cameras. They’re not working.”
“Could be a poor connection. The airport has Wi-Fi.”
“It’s not that. My phone shows four bars. No, something is wrong.”
She dials Bronson’s phone. It rings and goes to voice-mail. Clicking out of the call, she redials. This time Bronson answers.
“Bronson, what’s happening there? I’m getting blank screens on the cameras.”
“Power hit, Darcy. I lost all the cameras. We’re in the dark here.”
A sign flies by off the shoulder. Five miles to the airport.
“Wait, we can’t lose power. The generator should have kicked on.”
“Well, it didn’t. Are you sure the generator has enough fuel?”
“Of course. We haven‘t used it yet.”
Quiet follows as Bronson thinks. Darcy hears Jennifer in the background. She’s upset.
“I’ll check the generator after I calm Jennifer down.”
“No. Don’t leave the house.”
Hensel watches her from across the car. He mouths, “I’ll call GCPD.”
Darcy nods her head.
“Bronson, I’m calling Gilmore. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
“Okay, Darcy. Don’t worry, I’ve got this under control.”
Does he? From where she sits, it sounds like the world is caving in on the cove.
Hensel swings the rental onto the airport exit as Darcy listens to the phone ring. The woman who answers huffs as though Darcy ruined her night. So much for customer service. Darcy feeds the woman the details.
“It’s unusual for the cameras to stop working unless the batteries go bad, but that never happens on a new system. Are you sure the problem isn’t with your phone?”
“My phone isn’t the issue. The man watching my house said the power is out and the security cameras are down.”
“Your monitors won’t work if the power is out, ma’am.”
“He’s using my laptop. The battery should last three hours.”
Hoping for a quick solution, the woman sighs irritatedly. Because the alarm seems to be functioning and nobody is breaking into Darcy’s house, the woman arranges an order for the tech crews to check the cameras tomorrow afternoon.
“Tomorrow? I paid for twenty-four-hour monitoring.”
“We are monitoring the house, Ms. Gellar, and the alarm is operative. Now, as there isn’t a break-in and the system is running properly, is there anything more I can do for you this evening?”
“You’ve done so much, I’d hate to ask for anything else.”
Darcy ends the call before the woman responds.
“That sounded like it went well,” Hensel says as he swings into the rental return lot.
Darcy calls Bronson back, but he doesn’t answer. She redials and still can’t get a hold of him. Calls to the kids’ phones yield no results.
A creeping terror that something is wrong follows Darcy into the airport. At the check-in counter, she juggles her bag and ID while trying to reach Bronson and the kids. She doesn’t hear when the counter attendant, a frail woman with glasses and hair tied in a tight bun, tells Hensel the flight is delayed.
Hensel grabs her by the shoulders on the way to the TSA checkpoint. Two harried travelers glance in their direction as they wheel bags toward the escalators.
“You aren’t helping your family by thinking the worst. The weather looked bad when we left. Maybe a storm knocked out a cell tower.”
“And the power, generator, and every camera?”
He sighs.
“I called the GCPD back while you got your ticket. They sent a cruiser to the house. If there was a problem, we’d have heard by now. It’s been a long day, and what happened at the prison was scary. Keep it together. You’ll be home soon.”
But they won’t be home soon. Another delay sets them back an additional hour and leaves Hensel and Darcy haggling with a gate attendant, attempting to find a connecting flight from DC to North Carolina. The best-case scenario flies them into Rocky Mount at six in the morning.