Finding Grace Read online

  “I’m not going to like the way this ends, am I, officer?”

  She swallowed. “No sir.”

  “Just get on with it, then, like pulling off a Band-Aid.”

  “Yes, sir. I brought the first-aid kit with me, figured I’d treat her first and maybe by then someone would have come to help me move her. Her wrists—”

  “Yeah, she managed to mangle them pretty bad yesterday.” Luke was losing the battle on not feeling guilty about that, even if it was Thorne’s own damn fault.

  “Yes, sir, they were cut up and bruised real bad, but that’s not what threw me. It was the scars.”

  “Scars?”

  She made a face. “Awful. If I’d have to guess, I’d say they were made by, um, some kind of manacles. Something with prongs on the inside.”

  “Jesus. How did I miss that? I cuffed her myself.” That coffee was really rolling now. He remembered how she’d pulled her sweater sleeves down over her wrists in the interrogation room after he’d taken the cuffs off. He’d thought it was just a nervous habit.

  “I, ah, I don’t think any of us really watches when we cuff anyone. We just slap ’em on. There’s too much else that needs watching, sir.”

  He nodded, mentally giving her points while deducting his own.

  “Did you move her, then?”

  “Um, well, that’s the thing…” She said the rest fast, apparently pulling that Band-Aid off as quick as she could. “The door locks are electric…I still can’t figure out how she did it. But, you know, it’s not exactly a high security area. I went to look for someone to help me move her and, next thing I knew, she was bolting by me. Another officer was just coming through the door and she slipped by him, too. I swear I’ve never seen anyone move that fast. She was on the street in two minutes.”

  “Have you issued any kind of warrant?”

  “No, sir. I wanted to talk to you first.”

  Luke was relieved to hear that an APB had not been issued. Thorne hadn’t been formally charged and with the claustrophobia and the injuries—though minor, he reminded himself—and whatever Griggs might have done when he put the first set of cuffs on her, well, he wanted to finish reading the file before doing anything else. She wasn’t in the system for being a criminal, after all. She had been a victim.

  “Does anyone else here know Thorne’s a woman?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then let’s keep it that way, shall we.” It wasn’t a question. The young officer nodded and left him to finish reading up on Ms. Thorne.

  Make that Dr. Thorne. He finished the CODIS file and searched for anything related.

  He scanned the newspaper articles first and stared at the photo. She might have been pretty, it was hard to tell with the big glasses she was wearing. They weren’t tinted or as cool as the ones she wore now. Her hair had been long and dark, pulled back tight. She looked so small, so young and so very serious staring back at him. She reminded him of a young owl. Of course, she’d been barely twenty then and had just received her doctorate in computer sciences.

  The later photos, the ones from the court records, had been taken around a year later. Flipping through them and reading the doctors’ testimony was like watching a horror movie he couldn’t look away from. Almost twenty years on the force should have prepared him. It hadn’t. He nearly ended up losing his coffee to his wastebasket.

  If she’d weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet in that first photo, she must have weighed less than seventy in the later ones. And the injuries…God, the injuries.

  He was thankful that his officer hadn’t seen more, hadn’t seen the same scars around Thorne’s neck and ankles, or the cigarette burns covering much of the skin on her torso. Skin the doctors said had also been flayed by some kind of whip. They’d tried to fix her, smooth out the skin. He couldn’t see much of an improvement in the photos.

  Then there was the internal damage. They couldn’t repair much of that, either. Dr. Thorne would never have children.

  His stomach rolled again as he tried to forget. Because if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep. She’d been missing for six weeks before turning up in a backroad ditch, in a coma. A newspaper article mentioned that the guy who’d found her had needed counseling. After seeing those photos, Luke wasn’t surprised.

  The court records also contained mug shots of three men. Three; Christ Almighty. They’d been found and prosecuted. Thorne had been in no condition to testify and that had hurt the DA’s case. But even if he couldn’t make the attempted murder stick, they should never have gotten off with less than ten years for the rape, torture, and kidnapping. So what if it was a first offense for all three? It was one damning hell of an offense.

  No wonder Thorne didn’t believe in the system. It’d failed her miserably. Luke’s fist slammed onto his desk, rattling everything on it and not making him feel the least bit better.

  A short newspaper article further on did make him feel better, though. All three men had met with peculiar accidents just after arriving in prison. Electrocution. Something to do with the door locks, investigators had surmised. Thorne had been called in for questioning, of course, but she’d been in a cyber cafe when it happened. The log had revealed her searching graphic novel sites and shopping for shoes. The shoes should have tipped them off, but Luke suspected that no one had really wanted to pin the deaths on her anyway.

  Electrocution was fitting, though, considering what he’d read in one of the transcripts. Luke doubted he’d be able to hear her rough voice again without wincing. It was no wonder it sounded that way.

  And no wonder about all the rest of it—the way she’d made herself physically strong, the whole tough punk act, the way she tried to hide that she was a woman, and why she was so angry. It all made a lot of damn sense. The shrinks had been sure she’d never recover and had tried to keep her confined. Yeah, right. That explained the low profile she kept, too.

  That, and the military file he was lucky to have the clearance to access. A major from the DOD had marked Thorne as a person of interest. It appeared that he’d been unsuccessful in several attempts to recruit her prior to “the unfortunate development,” as Thorne’s trip to hell was referred to in his report. The major stated in no uncertain terms that Dr. Thorne was not only a subversive and a mercenary who’d sold her genius to foreign governments, but was mentally unstable and guilty of three murders. The file conveniently left out what Thorne’s motive might have been, along with substantive proof regarding the charges it listed.

  Luke had encountered a few like him. Men in positions of power so fixed on their goals that collateral damage to those under them never even entered the equation. Men so assured in their righteousness that they were blind to the truth. Men like that did more harm than good. They were dangerous to themselves and whatever causes they served.

  As far as Luke was concerned, there was only one unanswered question: that of Thorne’s connection to the kidnappers. But even they had denied there was anyone else involved.

  Was it really a vision like she’d said? He had found an obscure tabloid clipping that mentioned her solving a vicious robbery and assault while she was still in the hospital.

  Luke wasn’t as skeptical as Paul when it came to psychics or other phenomena that were hard to explain. He ascribed to the philosophy that the explanation that fit best, no matter how strange, was probably the right one. He had to admit Thorne’s ability, if she had one, made more sense than any other connection to the kidnappers. And then there was the question of how she’d known how he’d blown it with Sarah. There was no logical explanation for that at all.

  Now that he knew what he knew, he was worried. Gifts like hers needed to be channeled to the forces of good before the dark side could truly win her over. If she’d been an odd duck before, she was well into a flock by now—not that anyone could blame her. She already had a problem with authority; he’d seen that for himself. He didn’t need to take the major’s word for it. Maybe he’d read too man
y graphic novels himself, but she wasn’t someone he’d like to see end up as the evil genius in this story.

  And he’d fucking locked her up. Luke couldn’t imagine what kind of memories it had brought back for her. Just reading that shit had damn near brought back his coffee. He owed her. Hell, the city owed her, never mind the Tierneys. And he just happened to know someone who would be able to channel her skills, someone who could guide her. Someone who’d want to protect her. God knows, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to face her again.

  For everyone’s sake, maybe especially his own, he flipped open his cell phone.

  “Paul? Luke…Oh yeah, I got a hit in CODIS all right, but it’s not what you think. It’s nothing anyone would think, not in their worst nightmares.” Luke let out a hard breath and went on. “I’m calling because I want you to consider hiring Thorne…No, wait, Paul. I’m going to breach twenty kinds of protocol to do this, but I want you to read the CODIS report and everything else I found. I’m sending the files now. It’ll take you a while to read it all, long enough for me to have someone drop off the laptop so you can bring it as a peace offering when you make your recruitment pitch. I’ve got a hunch Thorne will be there…Well, not exactly released…Hey, I resent that…No, I don’t think Thorne will talk to me and I don’t blame her…Yeah, you heard right, her. And bring Dagger, I think she likes him…Don’t ask me, I don’t know why you hang around with that scary sonofabitch. Oh, and I think it’s safe to say that she doesn’t want anyone to know about her, so don’t tell him anything until after you’ve cleared it with her…Because I don’t want her any more pissed at me than I’m sure she already is…Trust me, you’ll be interested. You, um, might want to read this stuff on an empty stomach though, Paul. It’s bad, really bad. Well, let me know what happens after you talk to her…Yeah, you will…Yeah, because I’m Captain fucking America, that’s why.”

  Luke clicked his cell phone off. He was going to go see Sarah, just walk into her office and kiss the hell out of her like Thorne had told him to. If nothing else, just to reassure himself that she was okay and that there weren’t any monsters lurking near her.

  * * * *

  “Uh, Thorne, you in there?” Paul had been knocking for five minutes and Dagger was ready to make him leave and insist he forget about the whole thing.

  Then he heard a distinctive husky voice ask them, “Who wants to know?”

  “Paul Weston and Jack Daggery.”

  “Who the fuck are they?”

  Definitely Thorne. He couldn’t stop his grin. The damn kid had lifted the corners of his lips more in the two days since he’d met him than anything in the last year—including busting those two lame clowns at the ball.

  Paul blew out his breath and made a face, “Buzz and Judas to you, I suppose. We have your laptop.”

  “Oh. Why didn’t you say so?” The door opened about an inch. “Why did Captain America give it to you? What do you want?”

  “Look, after yesterday, I’m not expecting any kind of warm welcome. I was an asshole.”

  That got Dagger’s attention. It was as close to an apology as he’d ever heard Paul make to anyone besides his wife, Katherine.

  Paul said, “We have a proposal for you, Thorne. All I ask is that you hear me out. Here’s your laptop, whether you let us in or not. But, ah, may we come in?”

  Dagger was trying to understand what the hell was going on. He’d been out when Lieutenant Rigby had called Paul. When he’d come back, Paul had informed him that they were going to recruit Thorne. No discussion.

  What Thorne had said the day before in the interrogation room had nailed it, however the kid had known. Paul was a natural leader and Dagger—well, he guessed he was a natural bogeyman. It was best for the company if Paul was the boss and afforded Dagger ample latitude to do what he did best—keep order among the men and scare the fuck out of anyone who might want to threaten whatever it was they were being paid to protect.

  But he couldn’t believe Paul had out-and-out refused to tell him anything more about Thorne, had just asked Dagger to trust him on it. It wasn’t a card Paul had ever played before, and he felt bound to honor it. But that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Not one fucking bit.

  On top of it, Paul had asked him to come with, and that made less sense than anything so far.

  He wasn’t sure what he expected the kid’s place to look like, but this wasn’t it. The first thing he noticed was all the color. There were balls of yarn everywhere, arranged in rainbows. Well, that figured, anyway. There were just as many books, stacks used as construction materials for shelves that held the yarn and one that functioned as a table with a lamp on it. A lot of them bore labels from the secondhand bookstore he’d spotted around the corner. Dagger wondered if the kid had read them all.

  There was no TV. Who the hell lived without a TV?

  Paul was acting stranger by the minute. First, there’d been the apology and now it looked like he was hunting some particularly wild and spooked prey. He was moving in front real slow, letting Dagger hang back to cover the rear; holding the laptop out like bait, not looking directly at Thorne, using his softest, least threatening tone.

  Thorne seemed to be moving a little stiffly, but he managed to snatch the laptop from Paul before motioning them inside. “Um, pull up a seat.” The kid waved his hand vaguely around the room before flipping open the laptop briefly, closing it again and plugging it into a charger in the wall. “Did Captain America say anything? I can tell prying fingers got pinched, but not how badly.”

  Then he just plopped down on a blindingly bright quilt covering a mattress on the floor and started knitting like they were three old ladies at a stitch ’n bitch.

  He and Paul were still standing. The single chair in the kitchen was the only thing besides the mattress or the floor to sit on. Paul squatted down just far enough from Thorne to give the kid his space, but close enough that he towered over him some.

  Dagger slid down an empty piece of wall and stretched out his legs, folded his arms across his chest, and watched Paul do his thing. He figured he was just along for effect. Just what effect exactly, he wasn’t sure.

  Paul said, “The lieutenant didn’t mention anything, but knowing what I do, I can imagine. Warning him was definitely a gesture of good faith.”

  Thorne had stopped knitting and was looking at Paul like he was trying to read his mind.

  Finally the kid shrugged and said, “I hope he listened to me. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for some kind of crime database meltdown. But I have a right to protect my work. Now what do you want from me, Mr. Weston?”

  Dagger remembered that Thorne had said something yesterday about not hooking the laptop into a network. So it hadn’t been a bluff. But the kid still seemed awful tense. There had to be more. Why the fuck hadn’t Paul told him what was going on?

  “We’re here, Thorne, to offer you a job with our company, Blackridge. One better suited to your, ah, skills, than the catering business.”

  “Satisfied I’m not connected to the kidnappers? I can’t work with someone looking over my shoulder, not trusting me. And what makes you think I’m looking for that kind of job? I take it Blackridge is a security outfit.”

  Dagger noted the kid’s shoulders had relaxed, in spite of what he just said. He’d been afraid Paul was going to talk about something else. What? Dagger wondered. And yeah, what about the kidnapping attempt, damn it?

  Paul shifted and Dagger felt his friend’s discomfort. “Listen Thorne, I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I believe any of your crap about visions, but however you knew they were coming, you saved a woman’s life. The lieutenant is convinced you had nothing to do with the kidnappers and that’s good enough for me. However, there are a couple of things on your, um, resume I’d like to discuss with you privately.”

  Dagger felt the apology in the glance Paul gave him, not that it helped.

  “And yes, we’re in security.” He paused and Dagger watched as his eyes
roamed over the tiny, furniture-challenged dump. “Look, it’s not like you’re living the high life here. We’d pay you a decent wage.”

  “I’m comfortable with the way I live, Mr. Weston. You’ll have to do better than that.”

  Dagger was enjoying the chance to watch Paul work his negotiating peacemaker magic.

  “Okay, what about a state-of-the-art laboratory?”

  “Hmm, security…We might have very different views of what constitutes state-of-the-art in that context.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Are you telling me I don’t know my own business?” Paul stiffened.

  “All your communication and surveillance equipment is off the rack, right?”

  “Best on the market.”

  It was too hard to see through the dark glasses, but Dagger was sure Thorne had rolled his eyes. The shrug and gesture that went with it said, “I rest my case.” Out loud, he just said, “Tell you what, give me your card and I’ll sleep on it.”

  Dagger noticed that while Thorne was showing Paul more respect than he’d seen the kid display yet, he was still being a smartass and giving Paul a harder time than many a seasoned businessman had ever done. Paul looked like he wanted to say something, but just then Thorne turned to him.

  “So, ah, Jack, I haven’t thanked you yet for inviting me to Captain America’s cellblock celebration. Gotta love those cages.”

  Paul winced, though Dagger couldn’t imagine why. He was the one who should feel bad. And he did.

  But damned if he’d let the little shit dump on him. “Fuck you, Thorne. You’re the dumbshit who clocked a cop.”

  “He deserved it, and more. He never would have had the chance to…if you hadn’t…” Thorne shrugged again. “Whatever. Like you care. You’re lucky you’re so cute, Jack.”