The Taken

“Good God, Grif. You have wings.”

“I know,” Grif said. And his long-suffering sigh was the last thing she heard before the buzzing rose again, and Kit passed out.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Entering the station house, Kit couldn’t help recalling the last time she’d been there, seated in the sterile, fluorescent surroundings, shocked into numbness by her best friend’s murder. She gave the bank of chairs where she’d sat a quick glance, unsurprised to find that a new motley crew inhabited the spot. This place was an ever-revolving door of human drama, with all its folly and thrashing, but at least she wasn’t the one who’d been sideswiped by fate this time.

Of course, Nic’s death still shocked her to her core. The finality and the gross unfairness of it made her wish she could turn back time. So Kit chose instead to focus on its conclusion-Nic’s murderer had been caught. Detective Hitchens wouldn’t see the outside of a cage for the rest of his natural life. The investigation Nicole started had also turned out to be the paper’s biggest headline yet, picked up by a nation that was by turns fascinated, dumbfounded, and repulsed that Caleb Chambers had been running young girls into the ground.

“Nic would have loved it,” Kit murmured, earning a questioning grunt from the man who now walked with her, his hand placed firmly at the small of her back. That was something else that had changed, she thought, smiling up at Grif. This time she wasn’t here alone.

“Come on,” she said, spotting the open door at the end of the large bullpen where Dennis could be seen hunched over his desk.

But Grif pulled back just short of the detective’s office, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets instead. “You go ahead. He’s an old friend, and you trust him, right?”

She frowned, but nodded.

“Then go on.” He jerked his head at the door. “And tell him… thanks.”

A full smile bloomed at that. This man… this reticent, complicated, darkly sexy man could fight off murderers with his bare hands, but was confounded by the most basic of human relations. Well, Kit could help him with that. She had enough communication skills for them both.

Rising to her toes, Kit dropped a kiss on his cheek, as much to feel the stubble against her lips as to make him mumble and blush, then headed in to Dennis’s office. She felt Grif’s eyes on her back, and knew he’d settle himself atop the desk just outside, where he could still see her through the open blinds of the window. It was mildly unnerving-he said he wanted to be sure she remained protected and out of mortal harm-but it was also warming. It’d been a long time since someone had watched out for her.

Rapping on the open door, she stuck her head in the office, though she jerked back when she saw who else was seated there.

“Charlotte.”

Still wispy as a colt, the girl gave her a hesitant smile. Yet she was clear-eyed, like she’d been getting sleep, and… something else, too. Self-possessed. At peace. Almost smiling.

“I can come back-” Kit began, but Dennis waved her in, gaze never shifting from his computer screen. Moving to his side, she put a hand on his shoulder. “I just wanted to stop by and say thank you. You vouched for me with the department and I’ve been able to get some great… What’s that?”

Leaning over his shoulder, eyes also narrowed on the screen, she studied the video before drawing back, blanching when she saw herself appear. “He was really recording it.”

Chambers had intended to capture the last moments of her life. The details of her intended death.

“Of course he was.” Disgust on his face, Dennis paused the video with a rough slap. “But thanks to our budding detective here, that has turned out to be a great mistake.”

Kit looked at Charlotte.

“I know a lot of those men,” the girl explained, voice soft but even. “They came to the house for the… parties. I saw what went on there.”

“Saw,” Dennis agreed, pushing a paper toward Kit. “And told.”

Kit glanced down to find the original e-mail transcript from a young girl… to Nic. Shocked, she looked back at Charlotte. “It was you? You’re the one who found us through the Gregslist ad?”

Charlotte tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I knew it was wrong to send you to the Wayfarer, but I had no one to tell. Who would listen? And if he found out it was me-”

“You don’t have to explain,” Kit said. “I know…” What kind of man your father was, and what he’d have done. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry about your friend,” Charlotte said quickly, and her fragile composure shattered. “I never thought they’d… I mean, I didn’t know…”

Kit knelt before the girl and put her hand on her knee. “Nic would have loved your bravery.”

“That’s not all,” Dennis said, patting Charlotte’s shoulder. “Tell her the rest.”

Charlotte nodded. “Well, I heard things in that house. After my brothers and sisters were sent away, and I was isolated for… for grooming.” She cleared her throat. “Well, you saw my mother.”

Kit straightened. “Go on.”

“So I’d wander. Sneaking, my fa-” She stopped, frowning. “He called it. But I heard him tell Hitchens to kill that man. Your ex.”

“Paul,” Kit said softly.

“I called the police-”

“There’s a record of it in the call logs, and though it was anonymous, the caller mentioned Paul and Chambers by name… prior to Paul’s T.O.D.”

“But I was too late,” Charlotte said, eyes cast down.

Kit shook her head. “Paul was blackmailing Chambers. Do you know what that means?”

Charlotte nodded, but Kit told her anyway. “It means you couldn’t have stopped it.”

“It means,” Dennis corrected, “that we have a credible, viable, very brave witness.”

Charlotte squirmed under the detective’s praise, but lifted her eyes and her chin by a degree. Kit smiled.

“Strange thing, though…” Dennis’s expression upended itself into a frown as he glanced back at his computer screen. “This tape skips a beat right when Jane Doe enters the room. We still have no idea where she came from, or who she really was.”

“That is strange,” Kit said, widening her gaze at Charlotte, before quickly changing the subject. “So do you think they knew what was going on?” she asked, jerking her head at the recording of the men circling the room.

“About the cameras?” Dennis huffed, and shook his head as he ran a hand through his dark hair. “Chambers has been getting away with this for so long I’m not sure they even cared. No one was ever outed before. It was like some big…”

“Rapists’ club,” Kit said, recalling how every head on the video turned her way, yet not one man had lifted a finger to help. Kit shuddered, then put it away, along with the memory of what was supposed to have happened next. It hadn’t happened. And because of her-because of Nic and Grif and Bridget and young Charlotte the Brave-it never would again.

Linking his hands behind his head, Dennis leaned back. He was trying to look casual, but she saw the way his gaze darkened as it passed over the bruises on her neck. “Don’t worry. I intend to identify every last one of them. Including those who were…”

“Hooded,” she finished for him.

“There are other ways to identify a man. Especially with top-notch surveillance.”

“Especially with a damned good friend on the job.” Kit squeezed Dennis’s shoulder, and smiled down at him. “And what about your partner?”

Now his handsome face went dark. “Not my partner. Hitchens was in with Chambers. He’ll go down for murder, attempted murder, and corruption. He’s already confessed to running hookers as a part of his plea bargain. The