Only His (A Sadie Price FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 3)

CHAPTER ONE This had been a long time coming. Sadie banged on the door of her father’s rundown cabin as loud as she could, and then stood back and waited. In her other hand, she held the folder that Sheriff Cooper had given her before she had left the station. She had a lot of questions for her father. Getting him to answer them honestly, however, now that was another thing. “Who is it?” his voice yelled, just as Sadie saw the curtain in the window twitch. He knew damn well that it was her. She answered him anyway. “It’s me, Dad,” she yelled, although the word stuck in her throat. He had long ago lost the right to be called that by her. “It’s Sadie.” There was silence. She banged the door again. “I’m not going anywhere,” she yelled, “until you answer this goddamn door.” Finally, she heard his footsteps coming toward the door, and she held herself still as she heard the bolts slide back. For just a second, she was a frightened kid again, fearing the wrath of her father but determined not to show it. Then she took a deep breath, and the moment passed. She wasn’t a kid anymore. She was an FBI special agent, an expert in her field in the Behavioral Analysis Unit who had gotten further and achieved more than her father would have ever believed her capable, and she had done it alone and without his help. There was nothing to be scared of anymore. At least, that was what she told herself. When the door cracked open and his face appeared, her first thought was how ill he looked. She knew that he had terminal cancer, and right now it showed, He had lost weight, his skin was wrinkly and tinged with gray, and his eyes were rheumy with bloodshot irises. She could smell the booze on him too. Some things never changed. For all his pitiful appearance, however, his eyes burned with something like his old malevolence, causing Sadie to stiffen, preventing herself from taking an instinctive step back. She’d be damned before she would show the mean old bastard any fear. “I told you last time to go away,” he said, spitting out his words. Sadie stood her ground. “Sorry, Dad, no can do. I need to talk to you, and you are going to talk to me. It’s been too long.” He snorted. “Not long enough. What are you doing back here? I saw you in the news,” he added, but his tone was accusatory, as though he thought she had returned simply to spite him. Perhaps, on some level, she had. “I had a job to do.” “Go and do it, then,” he spat. “What do you want with me? Turning up here after all this time, after no word for years.” Sadie shook her head, wondering just what story he was telling himself where he had somehow managed to end up as the victim in their family situation. She didn’t have time for this. “I’m not here about me and you, Dad,” she said. “I have questions to ask you. And if I have to haul your a*s down to Sheriff Cooper’s station to get you to answer them, then I swear to God that’s exactly what I’ll do.” He glared at her, but Sadie met his gaze head on. He went to slam the door in her face once again, but this time Sadie was expecting it and was too quick for him. He looked down in surprise at Sadie’s leather-booted foot wedged in between the door and the frame. “Let me in,” she said. He stared at her with hatred and, she was amazed to see, even fear in his eyes. Then, to her surprise, he opened the door. Well, that was easier than I expected, she thought to herself as she stepped into the small cabin. It hadn’t changed much since the last time she had been here, before she left for college and the FBI, over a decade ago. When she had been an anxious and rebellious teenager, desperate to get away from Alaska and the memories of her childhood. Memories of Jessica. There was no trace of her dead sister in the cabin. No pictures, nothing that had once belonged to her. It was odd, because Jessica had been her father’s favorite daughter, but then he had never had pictures of their mother up, either. “I’ve come about Jessica, Dad,” she said, deciding that to cut to the chase would be the best tactic. He ignored her, turning his back on her and walking through into the small kitchen. “Coffee?” he barked at her, loudly rattling around. Sadie followed him inside. “Please. Make it strong.” She watched him as he puttered around, noticing how much his movements had slowed and the way he winced when he lifted the kettle onto the gas ring. She knew better than to offer him any help, but it was hard not to feel a twinge of sympathy. “I heard you were ill,” she said carefully. He stopped what he was doing and looked over his scrawny shoulder to glare at her. “So they say. I don’t have much faith in doctors.” He banged a cup down on the counter, making it clear it wasn’t a subject that he had any intention of discussing. Sadie didn’t pursue it. His illness wasn’t why she was here. He carried the coffees back through to the main room and she followed him, sitting down on the beaten old sofa and taking the hot mug from him. He sat at the table, looking relieved to be off his feet. “What brought you back?” he asked, and it sounded more like a challenge than a question born out of genuine interest. “Work,” Sadie said shortly. “It was time for a change. I got sick of Washington.” She had no intention of talking about her last case in DC, the events of which she was still processing. A man had ended up dead, and Sadie was still waiting to be recalled for the inquiry. It would have happened already, but her recent hospital stay over Christmas had postponed it to a date that was yet to be issued. Then there was Jessica. Her sister’s memory had been calling her back for some time. Sadie had never believed that her older sibling’s drowning had been accidental, and a recent discovery had made it clear that her father may know more about that than he had ever told her. “You’ve done well for yourself,” he said, and she blinked rapidly, trying not to show her amazement. There was no bitterness in his voice, but a faint tinge of pride. He had never been proud of her. She couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t made it clear that his younger daughter was surplus to requirements. After her mother had died of cancer when she was a little kid, his indifference had turned into downright hostility. As his drinking had progressed, the physical a***e had started. After Jessica’s death, he never even seemed to notice that she was there, instead retreating further and further into the bottle. “Thanks,” she muttered. There was an awkward silence, during which they both stared at the floor. Sadie took a deep breath. This wasn’t how she had imagined things going. She had expected him to shout, or even threaten her with a firearm—it wouldn’t be the first time—but not this. She opened the folder on her lap and told herself that it was time to get some answers. “Sheriff Cooper is helping me take a look back over Jessica’s case. And there a few things I need to ask you.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you here to interrogate me?” he said, the anger back in his voice. “You never could leave things alone. Even as a kid you were always nosing around and asking questions. I should have known you would end up a cop.” Here we go, Sadie thought. This was the father she was used to. This guy, she knew how to deal with. “There are discrepancies, Dad,” she pressed. “I’ve never believed that she just drowned, it was never investigated properly. The sheriff agrees. We’re opening it up as a cold case.” Her father’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. Sadie held his gaze, keeping her cool. “Don’t think of getting physical, Dad,” she warned him, her voice like steel. “You’re an old man now, and I’m a trained FBI agent. Do yourself a favor and don’t act on that temper.” He looked furious and for a moment she was waiting for him to come at her, but then she saw his fists unclench. An expression that could even have been a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I heard you broke Ted’s boy’s nose in the saloon a few weeks ago,” he said. This time there was no mistaking the pride in his voice. She wondered who had told him. Her father was practically a recluse these days, but word traveled fast around here, even if the cabins got farther and farther apart the deeper you traveled away from Anchorage and out into the hinterlands. “It was self-defense.” She shrugged. She wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it; the guy was a creep who had tried to grope her at the bar during a routine inquiry. He had deserved it. Her father took a deep swig of his coffee, and the awkward silence descended again. Sadie knew she was unlikely to get much out of him, but she had to try. Whatever it was that her father knew about Jessica’s death could be the key to the whole case. “When Jessica went missing,” she went on, “you made a call to nine one one.” “Well, of course I did,” he snapped. “Who else would I call?” “Sheriff Cooper found the original transcription of that call.” She pulled the transcript out of the folder and held it out for him to see. He didn’t take it and she pulled her hand back, leaving the transcription face up on her lap. She looked down at it, making sure she had the words right. A chill went through her as she repeated them. “You didn’t just say that she hadn’t been back all night, Dad,” she said slowly. “You said, ‘They took her.’ Who? Who did you think had taken her?” Her father’s face had gone gray, and he wheezed when he spoke. Although his eyes were as hard as gimlets, she could see a faint sheen of sweat on his brow and she knew that her question had unsettled him. He knew something. And she wasn’t leaving until she knew what it was. “I don’t remember saying that,” he snapped, not meeting her eyes. “They must have misheard me. Or maybe they wrote it down wrong.” “You were questioned about it by the local sheriff at the time,” Sadie went on, “and you said the same thing then. That you didn’t remember. Because you were drunk.” She refrained from adding her immediate thought, which was that her father had nearly always been drunk. “Well, there you go.” He sat back and crossed his arms. “There’s your answer.” “Except,” Sadie countered, “I remember that morning, Dad. You had been asleep. You hadn’t had any more alcohol the night before than usual. You must have known what you were saying, so that doesn’t make sense.” “I was in shock,” he said stubbornly. “I was worried about your sister. You hear all sorts of things about young girls being kidn*pped by some psychopath. You should know all about that, in your job.” “Oh, I do.” Sadie nodded. “But you weren’t what I would call an overly anxious parent, were you? You left us to fend for ourselves all the time. And around here, most people would assume an accident or even a wild animal before they would consider a kidnap. Or even just that she was being rebellious, out with a boyfriend or something.” “She wouldn’t have done that. Because she wouldn’t leave you on your own.” He didn’t say the words with me, but they hung in the air between them. “No, she wouldn’t,” Sadie said softly. She looked away, feeling the threat of tears behind her eyes. Two years older, Jessica had always put herself between their father and her younger sister. Jessica had been the only person who could sometimes talk him down from one of his rages. Sadie had loved her older sister with a passion. Her death had left a void in Sadie’s life that had never been filled, and now that her hunger for justice for her sister’s death had been reawakened, she knew she wouldn’t fully rest again until she knew the truth. “I don’t believe you, Dad,” she said firmly, meeting his eyes again. “You wouldn’t have said that without a good reason. If you thought someone had taken her, then you suspected that they had. And there would be no reason for you to think that unless you had someone in mind.” Sadie leaned forward in her seat, feeling the adrenaline rise as it always did when she was on a case. This time, though, it was personal. “You thought you knew, didn’t you?” she pressed, staring at her father now with unblinking eyes. He visibly shuddered under her gaze, and she knew she was getting to him. “You suspected someone—or more than one person, because you said ‘they’—of taking her. Who, Dad? Why haven’t you said anything all these years? Are you scared of them?” Her dad slumped in his chair, looking defeated, and when he opened his mouth to speak Sadie felt a brief flicker of triumph. She had him. But then the moment was over, and he was on his feet, towering over her just like he had years ago, his features twisted in rage. “How dare you!” he yelled, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth. “Turning up here after all these years, thinking you can order me around and stick your nose in where it’s not wanted. Jessica is dead, do you hear me! Dead!” Sadie got slowly to her feet, feeling her whole body burning with a fury to match his own. “How dare you,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Jessica was my sister! While you were drowning yourself in drink, I was the one who had to live with what happened to her. To carry it all these years, never getting any answers, never knowing if there was anything I could have done to prevent it…to save her. And this whole time you knew something? And never said? If you don’t answer me, I will drag your a*s down to the station and you can answer me and the sheriff there, on record.” They were eye to eye, glaring at each other, Sadie’s whole body trembling with anger and hatred and, underneath it all, grief. For her sister, for the child she herself had been, and for the father he could have been, if the drink hadn’t taken over. It was her father who gave in, sinking back down into his chair. “Okay,” he muttered. “I’ll try my best.” Holding her breath, Sadie sat opposite him, the anger draining from her and hope taking its place. “Thank you, Dad,” she whispered. He opened his mouth, but when he tried to speak, his expression seemed to freeze, his mouth contorting. Only a thin wheeze came out, and he grabbed his chest, slumping to the side. Sadie jumped to her feet, rushing over to his side. “Dad, what is it?” She knelt down next to him and pulled her cell out of her pocket to call for an ambulance. Her father was going into cardiac arrest.