Baltimore 03 - Did You Miss Me?

shelf, the pile of wood, the chains. How can it look the same?’
    ‘Where’s the entrance, Daphne?’ Joseph asked, his voice tense. He was watching, waiting. Worrying.
    ‘Under the dead cat,’ she murmured. ‘Of course. Where else would it be?’
    Joseph grabbed a snow shovel from a rack on the wall and pushed the carcass aside, tested the perimeter of the trap door for explosives, set the detector aside. ‘When I call for you, bring down that bundle.’ He pointed to a brown blanket. ‘Wrapped inside is water, bandages, medicine. One last time – are you sure?’
    No . ‘ Yes.’
    ‘Okay.’ He pulled the door open.
    Silence. Harsh silence. Daphne’s heart sank. She’s dead . She opened her mouth to say as much, but Joseph shook his head, laying a finger across his lips.
    Weapon in hand, he started down the narrow steps and she knew true fear. It was the dark hole in her dreams, the one she always fell into. Doug could be down there. Or Beckett. Or a bomb or . . .  Stop it . This is what cops’ spouses went through every day. She needed to learn to be okay with the danger. Or at least try to handle it.
    Daphne gritted her teeth and prayed.
    She heard a click, then saw the beam of his flashlight moving across the small patch of floor she could see. Then a murmur, muted voices. Then his voice at full volume. ‘Daphne, come down. She’s alive.’
    Daphne grabbed the blanket bundle and hurried down the stairs, ignoring the new fear clawing at her gut. As long as she’d been afraid for the girl or for Joseph, she hadn’t been afraid for herself. Now, she was.
    Knees knocking, she reached the bed, saw the girl. Naked, chained. Emaciated.
    Joseph turned his back to give the girl her dignity and was shrugging out of his wool overcoat. He wore the flak jacket beneath. ‘Wrap her in the blanket, then in my coat.’
    Daphne hurried to the girl’s side. ‘Heather?’
    Heather’s face was all bone, her eyes shrunken, lips cracked. ‘Water?’
    Quickly Daphne covered her, tucking the blanket around her as best she could considering she was still chained. ‘My name is Daphne. That’s Agent Carter. He’s with the FBI. We’re here to take you home.’
    Tears filled the girl’s eyes, seeping down the sides of her face. Daphne poured a few drops of water into her mouth. ‘Easy. You’ll get sick if you drink too fast.’
    She heard another click and the room was illuminated. Heather looked even more emaciated in the bright light and Daphne felt the unholy urge to kill Beckett. She wrapped Joseph’s coat around Heather, felt the girl’s hard shudder.
    ‘How did you know I was here?’ Heather asked, her voice hoarse.
    ‘My son was kidnapped a few days ago. He was kept in the garage above you. He escaped and found your purse in Beckett’s truck.’
    ‘That’s the noises I heard? I thought I’d finally lost my mind. Who is Beckett?’
    ‘The man who held you here,’ Daphne said softly. ‘But you’re safe with us now.’
    Joseph had checked every corner. From his pants pocket he drew a felt pouch and from that a slim metal pick. In seconds he’d picked the locks that chained the girl and he and Daphne massaged Heather’s shoulders, helping her to bring her arms down and under the blanket. He repeated the motion with the chains at Heather’s feet.
    ‘That’s his name? Beckett? I didn’t know.’ Heather closed her eyes. ‘All he ever said was “Did you miss me?”’
    Daphne stroked the girl’s hair, trying to give her hands something to do so they wouldn’t tremble. ‘I know, honey.’ She made herself look around the small room. There was a bed and a nightstand. A sink and toilet.
    A fine layer of dust covered the nightstand. Cutting into it were two circles, one much larger than the other. A glass for water and . . .
    ‘Medicine bottle,’ Heather whispered. ‘He always kept a medicine bottle there.’ She started to cough and Daphne lifted her enough to slide behind her to sit against the headboard, cradling Heather against her body.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Sleeping pills. For when we don’t want to stick around anymore. He told me so, the day he brought me here.’
    More rage exploded within her and Daphne had to clench her teeth to stay in control. And then she looked up. And froze. Her heart . . . stopped.
    ‘Joseph,’ she rasped, the voice not her own.
    He was halfway up the stairs, talking to Kerr who stood above them.
    ‘Joseph,’ she cried, more loudly and shrilly.