Colby Agency: Colby Justice Part 13

"Fifteen," Thorp admitted.

"You and your wife sought help for Patricia?" Victoria already had that answer as well, but she needed Thorp to hear those details as he said them out loud. To be reminded that Clark didn't just murder a woman out of the blue. There was a history between them. One that led to a tragic end.

"Many times." His voice was lower now, thin. "Several rounds of rehab. Counseling, tough love. We tried everything to help her. Depleted our savings and our retirement funds."

No parents could have done more. "Yet, each time she got clean, with her family's help, only weeks or months would pa.s.s before she turned to drugs once more." Victoria didn't dare breathe as the words she had uttered echoed in the room. She, of all people, understood that sometimes a parent could not protect a child. No matter the lengths taken to do so.

Thorp clasped his hands in front of him and studied them as if he'd never seen them before. "Every time. No matter what we did or how hard we tried to help her, she always returned to that world."

"After her death," Victoria ventured, moving into even more agonizing territory, "did you and your wife discuss anything you might have done differently. An option that you may have overlooked."

More traumatic silence lapsed. "We asked ourselves why we hadn't moved away from Chicago years ago. A new place. A new beginning might have helped." He shook his head. "We considered doing just that so many times. Each time, we tabled the idea."

"Why didn't you try that strategy?" Victoria empathized with those feelings. After her son was abducted, she couldn't-to this day-stop questioning her every action at the time. Had she done this or that differently...would it have made a difference?

"My work was here." He shook his head. "How could I hope to find something in a smaller town where drugs and the like weren't so plentiful? We couldn't just pick up and go."

Thorp was a museum curator. Finding a position in a small town was highly unlikely. "So you and your wife decided to take your chances here in Chicago. To ignore what some might consider a drastic measure?"

"Yes." His angry gaze collided with Victoria's. "Does that make us responsible for the actions of unsavory characters like him?" He gestured to Clark. "Or him?" Then he pointed at Gordon. "I think not."

"Certainly, it doesn't," Victoria agreed, keeping her voice calm despite the man's rising tension. "You made the decisions you thought were best at the time. What about the tough-love technique you mentioned?"

For three long beats, Thorp stared at her. The ramifications of his answer weren't lost on her or on him. He didn't want to say it aloud. But she'd left him no choice. Not if he was going to do this right. Reciting the agonizing steps was his only alternative.

"We were advised by Patricia's last counselor not to enable her any longer. We stopped providing her with financial a.s.sistance and warned that she couldn't stay in our home as long as she was using."

"Did that stance appear to be helping?" Victoria steeled herself for another outburst.

"We don't know." He hiked up his chin and shifted his attention to Gordon. "We've wasted enough time. Plead your case, Gordon."

"You can't answer that question-" Victoria b.u.t.ted in "-because you hadn't seen Patricia in two weeks prior to the night she was murdered."

This time Thorp's gaze was lethal. "What are you implying, Victoria?"

"You and your wife booted Patricia from your home and refused to provide her with living a.s.sistance. Is that correct?" Victoria had thrust the knife deep into his chest, then twisted. She could feel his pain, had suffered the same rising tide of misery. It rose and rose and rose without ever receding.

Thorp stared at her, his gaze now blank. "That's correct."

"Mr. Clark provided her with a place to stay, drugs and money. Is that not also correct?" she pressed onward, the idea of what her words were doing to the man cutting her to the bone.

Clark attempted to answer the question himself by grunting and groaning around the gag. His guard whacked him again.

"It is." Thorp's tone lacked any semblance of inflection. "We failed...her."

"Ultimately," Victoria went on, wielding the final blow, "Patricia's death occurred because she had no place else to go and no one to help her save for a drug-peddling murderer. Would you say that's correct as well, Mr. Thorp?" Memories from those days after her son had gone missing kept echoing in her brain. She should have watched him more closely. She should have kept him safe.

If she had been a better mother...

Thorp didn't speak for a minute or more. "Yes."

Enough. Victoria couldn't do this anymore. Not for more time...not for anything. "Mr. Thorp, you and your wife did not cause your stepdaughter's murder." Victoria struggled against the ma.s.sive lump in her throat. "Patricia was the victim of a criminal who'd managed to slide under the justice radar for too long. This animal-" fury tightened Victoria's lips as she motioned to the man seated across the table "-didn't choose to be born into a situation where he felt compelled to turn to a life of crime in order to survive. But those are the facts. Justice can only be served if all the facts are taken into consideration."

"And Mr. Gordon," Thorp said, "can you provide him with a similar defense?"

Another lump swelled in Victoria's throat. She'd backed herself into a corner. "Our very society," she began, her heart thundering in her ears, "promotes selfish greed. Mr. Gordon is a victim, too." The point was flimsy at best, but she ran with it. "A victim of the staggering indifference of our culture. Even now he doesn't own the decisions he made that cost at least one life."

More of that pulse-pounding silence filled the room for what felt like a mini-eternity.

"And you, Victoria," Thorp said, his expression as empty as his voice, "what's your defense for allowing a murderer to go free. You were the final juror to agree to a not-guilty verdict. It was your decision that broke the camel's back, so to speak."

She had no idea how he'd gotten his hands on that information, but after the lengths he'd gone to in order to make this operation happen, she wasn't actually surprised. "That's right," Victoria confessed. "I made that decision with a heavy heart. Like you, I was well aware of Mr. Clark's numerous alleged bad deeds. But as a member of that jury, I took an oath to be swayed by nothing more than the evidence presented in the case. Had I done otherwise, I would have failed to do my duty."

Thorp nodded. "Indeed." He shifted his attention down the table. "Back to you, Gordon. Now is the time to say what needs to be said. When you have presented your case, I will, based on the facts, announce my findings and execute sentencing."

"Your jury will have no vote?" Victoria countered in a last-ditch effort to slow the momentum. What was the point of her being here if nothing she said mattered?

"There is only one vote, that counts," Thorp said. "That vote is mine."

Gordon swung his gaze to Victoria. For one instant it held and she saw the stark terror there.

"No!" Gordon jumped to his feet. "I-I-" He started backing toward the door.

Two of Thorp's men grabbed him and dragged him back toward his chair.

Gordon stiffened. His mouth sagged open and his eyes rolled back. He slumped forward.

Victoria pushed to her feet and moved toward him.

"Sit!" the masked man she'd many hours ago recognized as the one in charge of the team of terrorists commanded. Those gray eyes warned that he would not repeat his order.

"But he needs help!" Victoria tried to get a better look at Gordon, who now lay on the floor. When one of the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds shoved her away, she whirled toward Thorp. "He needs attention. You can't just sit there and do nothing. He could die."

"Perhaps he will," Thorp offered without so much as the blink of an eye. "Then that will be one less execution I'll have to order today."

Chapter Seventeen.

Temporary Command Center, 4:00 p.m.

"What the h.e.l.l is going on in there?" Jim didn't like this. He stormed over to the window and stared at the building where the whole operation was going to h.e.l.l in a hurry. There had been no contact with Ben or Alexander in far too long.

"No movement visible," Ted Tallant informed him. He had maintained a vigilant watch through his high-powered binoculars for the better part of the past eight plus hours.

"There's something happening in the conference room," Rocky shouted.

Ian Michaels and Lucas Camp stood behind Rocky, observing the movement of the hot spots that represented the people who remained under siege inside the Colby Agency.

Jim joined the huddle. Three of the hot spots were merged in the middle of the room. The rest remained gathered around the conference table.

Rocky shook his head. "Either someone is down or-" he shifted his gaze to Jim "-someone's going down."

"We still have no contact with Ben or Alexander?" Jim asked, fully aware of the answer before he voiced the query.

"Nothing," Michaels said flatly. "We know Penny and one of the guards went back to the office belonging to the savings and loan president. Steele apparently returned to that same location to try and secure her release. He and the other guard b.u.mped into each other in the corridor. Only one walked away. We're hoping it was Steele."

"If we don't get a report from either Steele or Alexander soon," Lucas said, taking the conversation from there, "we'll have no choice but to a.s.sume the worst and move in."

Jim's tension rocketed even higher. "We need to send in backup now." They had waited long enough. Too long. His attention lingered on the monitor. Someone may have already paid the ultimate price.

"How would you propose we do that," Michaels countered, "without alerting those inside and setting off a domino effect?"

Steele and Alexander had both possessed the physical ability to make the climb through the return ventilation system. It would be impossible to get someone through that maze of tunnels quickly enough to make a difference. Jim understood that but he didn't have to like it. Going in through the front entrance was their only option.

And that one would get everyone inside who wasn't already dead, murdered.

"Change in plan."

Every gaze in the room shot to the speakers located around the communications system.

"Ben," Jim snapped, "what the h.e.l.l is going on?"

"We ran into a little problem but it's under control now. One of the seven is down. A second one is taking Alexander to the fourth floor. I'm on my way there now to get into position."

"Was Penny captured?" Michaels demanded.

"Negative," Ben reported. "The guard with Alexander is cooperating."

There was no time to ask questions. Decisions had to be made. Jim braced for the backlash. "Say the word and we'll move in."

"We've got the situation under control for now," Ben a.s.sured him. "I'll try to keep you advised, but there may be periods when maintaining radio silence is necessary. Do not," he said firmly, "I repeat, do not move in just yet."

"Understood." Jim's chest tightened past the point of being able to breathe. "Just watch your step, Ben...and get Victoria out of there alive, will you?"

"Affirmative."

Jim moved back to the window. The next few minutes, an hour tops, would be crucial to how this lethal game played out.

So much could go wrong.

Lucas came to stand beside him. He pointed to the front entry doors of the building across the street. "See those doors," he said to Jim.

Jim rubbed at his eyes then settled his attention where Lucas had directed. "Yes."

"Before this day is done," Lucas promised, "Victoria will walk through those doors. She will not be conquered by this."

Jim tamped down the feeling of unqualified helplessness that wanted to shatter his determination. Many things would change after this. Some Jim would have no control over.

Others he would initiate.

Chapter Eighteen.

Inside, 4:10 p.m.

"Your friend is crazy," Cates mumbled as he and Penny trudged up the two flights of stairs.

Penny wanted to explain to the man that Ben Steele was an Equalizer. He knew exactly what he was doing-even if she was only muddling through here. "He can take care of himself."

Cates shook his head. "We'll see."

Penny turned to the man who kept a firm grasp on her arm. "You'll all see," she promised. "And it won't be the ending you imagined."

Steele could do it. She was counting on him. Jim Colby, Ian Michaels and Lucas Camp would never have sent him in to do the job if he weren't the best man they had. That much she knew with complete certainty.

At the door to the fourth floor, Cates stopped and stared at her.

He stared so long that she squirmed. "What?" she demanded.

He shook his head and reached for the door. "Just taking one last look." He glanced back at Penny. "'Cause you'll be dead in a few minutes."

Dread knotted in her chest.

Ignore it. Time to play reluctant hostage.

Cates dragged her through the doorway. She swore at him, kicked him once. He glared at her, but there was no intensity in the look. They both realized that if this didn't look real no one would be convinced. He shook her hard.

Another man dressed in black SWAT gear turned to verify whether the approach was friend or foe.

"I need Pederson," Cates told the other man.

After scrutinizing Penny, the guy double-timed it toward the conference room.

Penny had to ask. "Why're you working with these people?" Cates was a sleaze, no doubt. But he didn't strike her as a killer.

"They made me an offer I couldn't refuse," he said flatly. "Besides," he added, looking beyond her down the deserted corridor, "once I found out about the job, I made a contact at the savings and loan. The opportunity was too good to pa.s.s up."

The guard returned with another man at his side.