Chapter 17
Eighty-six hours.
“They aren’t looking for Noah any longer, are they?” he asked Connor. “They know he’s dead, so they aren’t even going to try and find his body.”
Their meeting with the FBI had been devastating—on multiple levels. Their arrival at Noah’s apartment brought a whirlwind of agents. After barreling in, they used some sort of device Zach had never seen before, to scan every surface throughout Noah’s apartment. Horror nearly consumed him, as Zach watched the team remove and disable multiple recording and video devices from every room, one after another. How could he not have known someone had been watching them this whole time?
Once they’d completed that task and the larger team had left, the agents in charge of Noah’s case had been brutally honest about their progress in the investigation and their doubts that Noah was still alive. Surprisingly enough, they’d been willing to share the majority of their information, including their own dirty laundry.
Apparently, an FBI agent had been working with someone in the Moretti family, feeding them information about Noah’s whereabouts and daily activities. This agent was Cameron’s liaison with the FBI and, ultimately, the one responsible for ensuring Noah received the medications detrimental to his mental health and had been responsible for the “fake” job Noah had worked. From what they’d said, Cameron Maverick was only guilty of being a negligent human being. He’d simply done what the FBI agent told him without ever questioning anything…or caring.
The agents admitted to them how the dirty FBI agent explained how Zach’s name was used to lure Noah out of his safe zone, threatening to kill Zach if he didn’t come to them. He claimed not to know where Noah was or how they’d planned to do away with him. Zach knew in his heart they had more information on Noah’s fate but weren’t sharing all the details. He figured they justified that by telling themselves it was for Zach’s protection to not know the gruesome facts. The scenarios he saw every damned time he closed his eyes were as horrifying and soul shattering as the truth could be.
But he’d heard them whispering with Connor before they’d left the apartment. He hadn’t been trying to listen, his heart too damaged to even put together a coherent thought or action. No, hearing them hadn’t been his intention, but the words had carried to his ears anyway.
Buried alive.
As soon as he’d heard the words, he’d dismissed himself to his bathroom and thrown up. He hadn’t eaten anything substantial in days, but hot bile spewed from his mouth. His body convulsed in pain as he imagined Noah’s terror and suffering. How long would it take? Why couldn’t they have shown some mercy and killed him swiftly? Did he think of me? Did he wonder if I loved him? Did he know how hard we looked for him? Did he cry out for me to save him?
Before leaving, the FBI had stressed they didn’t have the evidence to tie anything to Dante Moretti. The man was too smart for that. He’d used people to make things happen and then started his cleanup as soon as Noah disappeared. The vicious cleanup cycle was what caused their own agent to come to them. Apparently, he’d thought jail time would be safer than what Moretti had planned for him.
“It doesn’t matter if they’re looking for him or not, Zach. We are. I have people looking for him and Moretti.” Connor’s eyes flashed with fury. “One way or another, Dante Moretti will pay for what he’s done.”
“You heard them, Conn. You heard when they explained how slippery Moretti was when it came to making any evidence against him stick. They don’t even believe they have a chance of convicting him for a traffic ticket, much less kidnapping and murder.” He choked on the last word, still unable to accept Noah was no longer breathing the same air he was, sleeping under the same sky. Denial—his constant companion.
“And I said ‘one way or another,’ Zach. I’m not going to let Moretti get away with ripping my family apart. I’m just…not.” Connor raked his hands through his hair and then banged the back of his head against the wall behind him. “I gotta call Wayne.” His eyes jumped back up to meet Zach’s gaze. “Don’t get pissed.”
“Whatever,” Zach answered wearily. “I don’t even care anymore, Conn. Hell, I don’t care about anything.”
“Don’t say that,” Connor whispered. “Please don’t give up on me, Zach. I’m doing everything I can to make this right.”
“This isn’t your fault, Conn. It isn’t your fault, and you can’t make it right. We aren’t going to bring Noah back, and I don’t want you losing your job or going to jail for doing something stupid.” It wasn’t Connor’s place to kill Dante. That luxury belonged solely to Zach. His oath to heal and uphold ethical standards was a thing of the past. For the first time in years, he was proud to have his father’s blood flowing through his veins. It would take that particular heritage to give him the strength to find vengeance for Noah.
“Whatever.” It was Connor’s turn to murmur the noncommittal word.
“I’m going to take Denala for a walk.” Zach stood and went to get his coat. Fall had suddenly turned cold. Had Noah been cold?
“Okay, let me send Wayne a text letting him know the coast is clear, and I’ll go with you.”
“Don’t need a babysitter, Conn. If Moretti wants to come after me, let him come,” Zach said through gritted teeth as he shrugged into his coat and hooked Denala’s collar to her leash.
“I know you don’t need a babysitter,” Connor answered as he tucked his phone into his back pocket. “I want to be with my friend. Is that okay?”
With a shrug, Zach opened the door and then held it open to show Connor he wanted his company. Denala started her shit as soon as her feet hit the hallway, but since Zach was ready for it, she didn’t get far. “Heel, Denala,” he yelled angrily. He didn’t want to take his anger and frustration out on his dog, the dog Noah loved, but he was so damned tired. She whimpered and then fell in step next to him. Together the three of them stepped onto the elevator.
“She’s getting worse, isn’t she?” Connor asked quietly. “Her grief is probably causing her to misbehave. Go easy on her if you can.”
They rode the next two floors in silence before Zach said, “I heard what they said before they left, Conn. About them thinking Noah was buried alive.”
The only reaction was Connor’s jawline tightening and his eyes flashing with sympathetic anger. “Don’t think about it, okay? Don’t do that to yourself. It won’t help anything.”
“I was just thinking that if that’s what happened, he could still be alive, Conn. If they gave him a way to breathe, our bodies can go without food for weeks but we need water within three or four days. It’s only been eighty-six hours. Under the right conditions, he could still…”
“Stop, Zach,” Connor whispered.
“I can’t stop. He could still be alive.” Zach retorted, refusing to give up hope even when he knew it didn’t make sense; he knew a body could only survive four to five days without water under perfect conditions. Noah was gone, had to be gone, but his heart wouldn’t let him accept it.
“Focus on your hate, Zach. It’s the only thing that’s going to help you survive this. Focus on what we’re going to do to Dante Moretti.” Connor turned cold and determined eyes to Zach. “Think about how we will make him suffer. He will die, Zach. Slowly. Painfully. I promise you, he’ll die. Focus on that instead of…the other.”
“How? How will we find Dante if the FBI can’t?” Zach prodded as the floors counted down.
“The FBI can find him, Zach. What they can’t do is get enough evidence against him to hold up in court.” Connor shrugged as the doors slid open, and they stepped out into the lobby area. “We don’t need court evidence.” He turned to Zach and said, “We have all the evidence we need. Moretti will pay.”
They started walking across the lobby area toward the doors, Denala whimpering, whining, and pulling on the leash with the same frustrating dedication Zach had grown accustomed to over the past few days. Zach couldn’t believe he and Connor were discussing killing a man with the exact same nonchalance they would have used to discuss a ballgame, the weather, or where to spend the holidays. It was, in both their minds, a foregone conclusion Dante Moretti would die. The only questions left were how and when.
When Denala gave a particularly vicious yank on the leash, Zach moaned in pain and irritation. It felt like she tried to pull his arm right out of the socket.
Connor laughed sadly and said, “I can definitely see why she failed her police academy training. I thought she was just incapable of search and rescue and the attack commands. I had no idea she wasn’t even leash trained.”
“Heel, Denala,” Zach barked irritably as he gave the leash a yank to force her back to his side. “She’s been this way since Noah was taken,” he explained. “She was much better…before.” Hell, they’d all been much better before Noah was taken. No, murdered. Buried alive. His legs almost buckled as his mind allowed visions of Noah’s torture to flash through his head.
Connor grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. “What do you mean? She didn’t have problems with leash training before? This only started when Noah disappeared?”
Zach immediately started shaking his head. “I know what you’re thinking, Conn. I thought the same thing—that Denala would be able to find Noah. I even brought one of his T-shirts along on our last outing and asked her to find him. I know it was stupid, that she hadn’t completed her training before flunking out, but I tried anyway. She loves Noah; I thought she could bring him home.” No, she loved Noah—past tense.
Connor was still frowning. “Where did you take her?”
“What? Take her? What do you mean?”
“When you asked her to search, Zach. Where was she?” Connor demanded, his cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Across the street, in the dog park. She followed our exact walking path back to the door, Conn. Nothing. It was like she had his scent for a second, but then headed straight back to our building.” Zach stroked the top of her head as she continued to whine and look up at him with her big brown eyes.
“Drop the leash, Zach,” Connor ordered quietly.
“She can’t—”
Connor snatched the leash out of Zach’s hand and barked, “Search, Denala!”
Without hesitation, Denala raced across the lobby floor, causing several people to cringe in fear before she stopped in front of the door which lead to the stairwell, barking once to alert them…just as they’d tried to train her. The stairs were rarely used, only there in case of a fire. For certain, Zach and Denala had never used them before.
Zach looked at Connor, hope blossoming in his chest, even though he kept trying to squash it back down. Hope was a deceitful bitch. “What’s she doing?” he asked Connor.
“I don’t know, but we’re about to find out. Come on,” he said as he started after Denala.
They pushed the heavy doors open, and Denala burst through and headed straight up the stairs, racing like the hounds of hell were closing in on her. Zach and Connor followed as closely as possible, Connor with his gun drawn and Zach with his heart pounding so loudly he could hear it over Denala’s barks. His and Noah’s penthouse suites were on the twenty-first floor and as they passed the nineteenth floor, Zach’s hope started to diminish. Denala was just going home, hoping Noah would be there.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Connor roared as Denala sped past the nineteenth floor. “She’s just going home.”
A wave of despair racked Zach’s body. This was it. He was losing his mind. Laughter bubbled out of his mouth while tears of sadness started to roll down his cheeks. He’d wanted to believe. He should’ve known better.
Denala stopped on the twentieth floor and barked in front of the door leading to the hallway. Zach froze, the crazy laughter dying in his throat. Connor stared at the door, then at Denala. She barked again, this time more urgent.
“Oh, shit,” Connor said.
Eighty-six hours. Is he dead? Did they only take him a floor below Zach’s apartment to kill him? Has he been there this entire time?
Unable to wait another second, Zach barreled ahead and yanked the door open. Denala ran down the hallway, barking excitedly until she came to the last door at the end of the hall. At that door, she jumped up and started scratching wildly. Her barks turned to whimpers. Zach reached the door ahead of Connor and started banging, demanding they let him in. It was perfectly silent on the other side of the door.
When the apartment door across the hall opened, Connor shoved a gun straight into the face of a kid who barely looked to be in his teens. He yelped in shock, started yelling “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot,” and dropped down on his knees.
“Shit, kid,” Connor said as he dropped his gun to his side. “I’m not going to shoot you. I’m with the police department.” When the kid quit quaking in fear, Connor asked, “Do you know who lives in this apartment?”
Standing back up, he said “Nah, not a clue. About six guys moved in around two weeks ago—did a bunch of construction in there, it sounded like. They were there for several days, but I haven’t heard or seen anything in over a week.” He scrunched up his nose and said, “It smells weird. I wish they’d get evicted. I told my mom it was some weird shit going on, but, as usual, she didn’t believe me.”
Zach’s stomach plummeted at the “smells weird” comment. His hand automatically went to the doorknob, but it was, of course, locked tight.
“Listen, could you call down to the front desk for me? Tell them I need someone up here to open this apartment immediately. Let them know I’m a cop,” Connor said.
Zach didn’t wait. He reached over and yanked Connor’s gun out of his hand, unlocked the safety, tugged Denala out of the way, and opened fire on the locking mechanism of the door. After eight rounds, his ears were ringing and the kid was screaming, but the doorknob and security locks were a mangled mess. He handed the gun back to Connor, told him to reload it, and kicked the door open. Denala raced in ahead of him, ran down the hallway, and stopped in front of another door. She turned to Zach and barked.
“Your friend’s a badass,” the teen whispered to Connor, loud enough for Zach to hear the awe in his voice. “Can I see your gun?”
“No, you can’t see my gun,” Connor barked. “Call 911. Now!”
Zach heard the sounds of doors, the residents no doubt peeking out to investigate the noise. “Call 911,” Connor yelled again as he entered the apartment. He was probably ready to punch Zach, worried he was going to get himself killed.
“Shit! This place is a wreck,” Conn said. “Zach! Where the hell are you? It stinks in here, but that’s rotten food. Don’t panic. I know the smell.”
“End of the hall,” Zach answered. Zach and Denala stood at the end of the hall, Zach with his hand resting on the wall and Denala in resting position for her search and rescue training.
“What is it, Zach?” Connor asked as he walked down the hall, stopping to check behind each door to ensure they were indeed alone.
When he finally got to his side, Zach whispered, “Buried alive.”
“Shit,” Connor muttered as he eyed the blocked door in front of him.
Boards were nailed in layers in front of the entrance. Zach looked around, eyed the rolls of carpet, and realized they’d probably been used for sound-proofing the room.
“Let me find something to tear these boards away, Zach. Stay calm. It’s not too late.”
Zach placed his hand on the wood in front of him, knowing Noah was on the other side of the door but not knowing what kind of shape he was in. Eighty-six, no, eighty-seven hours wasn’t too long, but he could feel the heat radiating from the wood. He didn’t have to be inside the room to know the conditions were bad. Eighty-seven hours in the heat…
While Connor dug through the gear left behind in search of something to rip the boards away, Zach pulled out his cell phone and called the hospital. He didn’t have the authority to do what he was about to do, but he hoped he could rely on the friendships he’d made in the short time he’d been working there. When they answered, he said, “This is Doctor Meadows. Can you please connect me to Tracey Parks?”
“Got it! This will work,” Connor yelled as he came barreling back down the hallway carrying something resembling a crowbar. “Let me work awhile and then you’ll take over. Got it?” He told Zach as he started trying to rip the boards away.
Zach nodded in agreement but only because he had to talk to Tracey first.
“Tracey Parks,” a chipper voice answered. “What can I do for you, Doctor Meadows? They told me you had taken some time off. I hope everything is all right.”
“I need a huge favor,” he said. “I need some things brought over to my apartment building right away. It's an emergency, Tracey. I need it here as quickly as possible.”
She paused but then answered. “Whatever you say, sir. Give me the list. I’ll bring it over myself.”
He gave her the list of the medications he would need and the address to the apartment were Dante Moretti had hidden Noah…right under his fucking nose. The bastard had done this on purpose, just another way to hurt everyone involved. Zach was certain Dante had gotten huge laughs out of thinking Zach and Connor were searching everywhere for Noah while he was slowly dying only one floor beneath them.
As soon as he finished his call, he took the metal bar out of Connor’s hand and started ripping the boards away. Connor shook his head but stepped aside to let Zach do things his way. Zach watched out of the corner of his eye as Connor got on his cell phone and started tapping away. He knew his best friend was letting Wayne know what they’d found and then he’d probably alert the police. Zach also knew he didn’t have time to worry about whether he trusted Wayne or not. Noah was on the other side of this door, either dying or already dead.
It couldn’t have taken more than several minutes, but it felt like a lifetime to Zach—a lifetime before the last piece of wood blocking the door was ripped away. Heavy locks on the door required they use the gun again but he was finally able to shove the heavy wooden door aside. The heat in the room escaped as soon as the door opened, causing Zach and Connor to gasp as it took their breaths away. Inside the room was dark but not dark enough to keep Zach from seeing the lifeless body sprawled on a mattress in the corner. There was no movement, no acknowledgement Noah heard them tearing the walls down to get to him.
There was nothing.