Page 84 of Dead Air
"Boost me up." Lawson positioned herself against the fence base.
Parks interlaced his fingers, creating a step that allowed her to reach the top rail. She pulled herself over carefully, avoiding the sharp points, then dropped to the manicured grass on the other side. Parks followed with athletic efficiency.
They moved across the grounds using trees and landscaping for concealment. The pool house sat fifty yards from the main residence, connected by a flagstone path that wound between flower beds and ornamental shrubs.
Soft light emanated from the windows, but curtains prevented direct observation of the interior. Lawson approached from the side, finding a gap in the window covering that allowed limited viewing.
The interior had been converted from recreational space into something resembling a command center. Multiple computer monitors displayed surveillance feeds from various locations around Savannah. Recording equipment occupied a professional-grade rack system. Maps covered one wall with colored pins marking locations throughout the city.
"Surveillance hub." She whispered to Parks, who had positioned himself near the main entrance. "Someone's been watching multiple locations simultaneously."
A figure moved into view inside the pool house. Richardson, still wearing the casual clothes from their cabin meeting. He studied something on one of the monitors, adjusting controls.
But movement in the room's far corner drew Lawson's attention to another presence. A woman sat in a chair positioned against the back wall. Even from this angle, Lawson recognized the distinctive profile.
Leah Blackwell. Alive.
Lawson blinked hard, certain exhaustion was creating hallucinations. Blackwell was supposed to be in Belize with Thomas Hutchinson. They'd seen airport security footage of herboarding his private jet. Yet here she sat, twenty feet away in a judge's pool house.
"Parks." She grabbed his sleeve, pointing through the window. "Blackwell's inside."
His expression mirrored her confusion. "That's impossible. She left the country with Hutchinson."
"Unless someone else got on that plane." Lawson studied Blackwell's appearance through the glass. "Or this is someone else entirely."
But the more she observed, the more certain she became. Blackwell appeared alive but sedated. Her head lolled slightly to one side. Restraints secured her arms to the chair. An IV line connected to her left arm, suggesting ongoing chemical sedation to maintain compliance.
"She's been here the entire time." The implications crashed through Lawson's mind. "The airport footage was staged. Someone else wearing a hood to create a false trail."
Richardson moved to a cabinet, retrieving medical supplies. He checked the IV connection, adjusted flow rates, then returned to the monitoring station.
Parks positioned himself beside the window, confirming Lawson's observations. "He's been holding her here since the abduction."
"But why keep her alive?" Lawson studied the setup more carefully. "If this entire operation runs from the judge's property, why not eliminate the threat permanently?"
Richardson's attention shifted to one of the monitors displaying what appeared to be the main house's interior. He reached for a radio, speaking into it too quietly for them to overhear. After receiving a response, he moved toward the pool house entrance.
Lawson and Parks retreated to concealment behind a storage shed as Richardson emerged. He walked toward the main house, leaving Blackwell unguarded in the converted command center.
"Now." Lawson approached the pool house door.
Parks tested the handle. "Unlocked."
They entered with weapons drawn, conducting a rapid tactical sweep of the single-room space. Blackwell stirred as they approached her chair. Her eyes opened partially, pupils dilated from chemical sedation. She attempted to speak but only managed slurred syllables.
"Leah." Lawson knelt beside the chair, checking restraints and the IV connection. "We're here to help. Can you understand me?"
Blackwell nodded weakly, managing to form words with obvious effort. "You're … Detective Lawson."
"How are you here? We saw footage of you leaving the country with Thomas Hutchinson."
"Decoy." Blackwell's speech improved slightly as consciousness returned. "Someone else … wearing my clothes. I've been here … since the parking garage."
"Richardson's been holding you prisoner?"
"Protecting me." Blackwell struggled to focus. "Byrd wanted me dead immediately. Richardson convinced her … sedation provided better control."
The pool house door opened. Richardson entered alone, hands visible and empty. His expression carried exhaustion mixed with something resembling relief.
