CHAPTER 40
After Medora watched Harper’s rapidly receding taillights disappear around the corner of a darkened sand dune, she turned and stared angrily out towards the empty beach, her thoughts in turmoil.
Damn you, Colton! She silently raged, this was between us! She allowed herself to mentally think of what he could be putting Angie through, knowing full well the range of his predilections, and shuddered. It should be me.
Pacing along the sandy edge of the beach road, Medora was thinking, trying to decide what to do. She glanced down at her phone, and punched in the station number, but then hung up. Jericho was smart enough to know to pull out the chip in Angie’s phone to disable the GPS. And having Barnes and the feds coming down here now was akin to closing the door after the cows had left the barn. Thinking hard, she strode over to her Mustang and popped OPEN her glove compartment, withdrawing another cell phone. Pressing a button on the side, she impatiently waited for it to power up. Thirty seconds later, the softly glowing screen chirped that it was ready, and Medora, after a pause, began typing in a text box. After a minute, she read what she had typed, paused, then hit Send. Ten or so miles away, the screen of the receiving phone lit up in the inky darkness, and then, moments later, went dark again, returning to its restless sleep.
----------------------------------------------------
Not waiting for the police to show up, I stepped through the shattered glass of the door and entered the bank. I figured I wouldn’t have to wait long if Barnes was already on his way to the scene of the abduction. He probably heard the call over the radio after the security company had called it in, and, realizing that the bank was across from Angie’s work, had changed course and was heading here.
Sure enough, as I was in the process of turning on the bank’s lights, my cell phone hummed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I noted that it was indeed Barnes calling me, and putting it to my ear, said earnestly, “Detective Jones.”
“Where are you?” Barnes yelled without preamble, the sound of his police siren echoing in the background.
“Exactly where you think I am,” I replied, flicking on another overhead light. “At the bank across from the television station.”
“Goddammit, I told Detective Dunning to tell you to stay put at the beach!” He thundered. “Now I find out that you’ve broken into a bank?”
Finished with the lights, I began making my way back to the bank’s entrance. “I need to see the bank’s security footage. Jericho was stalking Angie, and I think he started here, at her work.” I replied, as way of explanation. “This can’t wait until morning. He can’t have her all night.”
Relenting slightly, Barnes swore under his breath, and then said, “Alright, go outside in the light with your badge held high, and this time, stay fucking put! We’re five minutes out, and I don’t want some green patrol officer getting there first and taking potshots at you before I get the chance to take one of my own!”
I was about to reply when Barnes disconnected the call. Slightly chagrined but still determined, I pocketed the phone, and made my way outside just as a black and white with its lights going pulled up next to my car.
Immediately, the passenger door opened, and a female officer spun out and dropped behind the door, gun drawn. “Hands up! Now!” She ordered, and I recognized the voice as Perkins, the young officer that had sat in on my meeting with the feds a few hours earlier.
Raising my hands, one hand holding my detective’s badge, I called out “Officer Perkins, I’m Detective Harper Jones. We met at the meeting in the conference room this afternoon!”
As Perkins’ partner popped out from the driver’s side, gun also drawn, Perkins stepped forward slowly, gun raised as she looked from my face, to the badge in my hand, and back to my face again.
Abruptly, she drew her gun down and looked back at her partner, an older Hispanic man with a graying handlebar mustache. Diaz, I think his name was.
“It’s ok Ricardo,” she said, confirming my estimation, “It’s Detective Jones.” Holstering her pistol, she looked back at me, then past my shoulder at the lighted bank behind the broken door.
“Is the bank clear? Perp gone? How did you get here before us?” She asked me, her hand still on her pistol grip.
Lowering my hands, I clipped my badge back on my belt. “No perp.” I replied. “The bank’s clear.”
“Are you sure?” Asked Diaz, approaching up the path, keeping his gun pointed at the ground. Diaz was a grizzled veteran of the street, and knew to never holster your weapon until you were sure the scene was cleared.
“I’m sure.” I answered, as sirens began to approach in the distance, undoubtedly belonging to Barnes and his entourage. “Because I’m the perp.” I turned and began making my way back into the bank.
“What?” Perkins and Diaz asked in unison. “You broke in the bank?”
“In a manner of speaking.” I replied. “I need access to the bank’s security cameras, “I nodded to the cameras over the shattered front door and on the roof, “and it can’t wait until morning.”
Perkins and Diaz looked at each other in confusion as they hesitantly followed me into the bank. The oncoming sirens were now deafening, signaling Barnes’ imminent arrival. Turning in the doorway, I looked back at Perkins, “You wanna come with me to witness I don’t steal anything?” I smiled slightly, and looked at Diaz, “And that’ll be Chief Barnes, pulling in any minute.” Diaz’s eyes widened. “Can you wait here and tell him that we went in to find the security room?”
Diaz nodded and holstered his weapon as Barnes’ Escalade, lights flashing, pulled up to the bank’s entrance. Not wanting to waste any time arguing with Barnes outside, I nodded to Perkins and went into the bank’s interior, the alarm still screeching in protest. Looking around the tastefully decorated reception area, I noted the three glassed-in cubicles for personal appointments by the front windows, the main counter area in the middle, and to the right, a small hallway that had two restrooms on the right side, and a door on the left, ostensibly leading to the back of the bank. Striding over to the door with Perkins trailing behind, I jiggled the knob, and as expected, it was locked.
“Shit!” I muttered, turning to Perkins. “You don’t have a set of lockpicks on you by chance, do you?” When she shook her head, I turned and headed back to the front, Perkins on my heels. Suddenly, I felt a buzz, and pausing, I reached for my phone. Looking at the screen, I saw Brian’s name pop up. Months ago, when he and Angie had started dating, I “accidentally” came across his cell phone number while doing a background check and had stored it for “informational purposes”. Impatiently, I pressed “End”. I didn’t need to hear his questions right now.
Reaching the front door, I stepped through, and saw Barnes already out of his Escalade, talking on his phone. The two back doors were opening, with FBI agents Walsh and Cabot emerging, and another patrol car was just turning into the bank’s parking lot.
Taking a deep breath, I marched down the path towards Barnes, who was just finishing his phone call. Turning to me, he said acidly, “Jones, you really strapped on your big ones tonight, what the hell were you thinking?” Officer Perkins, coloring slightly, stepped back, not wanting to be in the path of Barnes’ ire.
I stopped in front of Barnes, and, ignoring his question, asked brusquely, “Do you have a lockpick gun in your car?”
Barnes face became momentarily puzzled, then cleared. “Yes, I have one, but no, you are not breaking into the bank again.” He emphasized.
Looking into his angry eyes, I could tell that he wasn’t going to budge. As the FBI agents approached, I spun, pushed through Perkins and Diaz, and made my way again back towards the bank entrance.
“Harper! Where do you think you’re going?” Barnes roared, following me up the walk. “Stop, now!”
“You not going to give me a lockpick, I’m gonna break through the teller’s window!” I hollered over my shoulder. “Angie can’t wait until morning!”
“Jones, goddammit, wait!” Barnes hollered. “I called the Bank Manager! He’s on his way!”
I paused at the doorway. Why couldn’t he have just led with that? I wondered silently. “How long?” I asked, turning around. My phone started vibrating again, and cursing irritably, I pulled it out. Brian again. Impatiently, I made the connection, and without giving him the chance to say anything, I growled “Brian, I’m in the middle of something connected to Angie. I can’t talk right now. When I get anything, I’ll let you know.” And disconnected the call. Concerned boyfriends should not be calling ex-husbands as to the whereabouts of their lovers.
“Ten minutes, if that.” Barnes replied, puffing towards me and raising a finger. “Now listen to me Harper. You can’t keep running off like some lone ranger. With Angie’s abduction, the FBI is now officially involved. And…” Barnes continued, overriding my impending objection, “you’re not going to like it, but you’re off Angie’s case. You’re too close to it, too emotionally involved. Hell” He spread his hands. “Take a look around.”
I shut my mouth and silently glared at Barnes, who, to his credit, glared right back at me. Internally, I knew he was right. In his position, I would say the same thing. However, that being said, there was no way I was staying on the sideline, and based on the way Barnes was looking at me, he knew that.
I broke eye contact, and looked at the fibbies over his shoulder, who were watching me silently. “Who’s working with them?” I asked quietly, nodding at Cabot and Walsh. “Riley and Sears?”
“That’s right.” Barnes rasped. “You and Detective Dunning will continue working the Alison Newton case and liaising with Marshals Chu and Devlin. And if…” Barnes raised his finger again, “there is overlap with Angie’s case, then you are to follow the Marshals’ lead. Clear?”
Fat chance. I nodded slowly as I looked back at Barnes. “Where are the Marshals now?”
Barnes lowered his hand and took a deep breath. “They’re back at their hotel. There’s nothing more they can do on the Newton case tonight. Now, Riley and Sears are on their way to the beach scene, where Angie was taken. When they get there, Detective Dunning has been told to go home for night, which is where I want you to go now. The agents, “He nodded over his shoulder, “Perkins, Diaz and I have got this…mess…from here.”
Barnes stepped back, to let me pass. “I’ll smooth over the Bank Manager, but I want you gone before he arrives. We’ll look at the footage, hopefully get a make and model on his car if he parked here, and work it from there.”
Blowing out my cheeks, I looked around, thinking quickly. Barnes clearly wasn’t going to let me get anywhere near the video footage, so there wasn’t really anything else I could do here. Riley and Sears would be reaching the beach soon, if they hadn’t already. Casting about, I couldn’t think of anything else I could follow up on tonight to help Angie. Dammit, I cursed to myself, feeling a sense despair overcoming me. There’s got to be something I’m missing!
I hadn’t moved yet, and everyone was staring at me silently, the alarm still wailing in the background. Finally, under Barnes’ insistent stare, I let out an angry huff and stalked past him towards my car.
“Barnes, keep me updated. Not as a cop then, but as a…concerned party.” I muttered as I passed him.
Barnes met my eyes and nodded silently in tacit understanding. He had a job to do and an image to protect, but he had an ex-wife as well as two kids that he cared about, and despite his obvious anger at my actions, he got it.
I got into my car and leaned back, closing my eyes briefly as adrenaline began to fade from my system. I briefly thought about going to the Wolf’s Den, and stirring the pot a little to see if I could get anything else on Alison, or maybe something on Jericho that I could get from a regular who was maybe there last night. As exhausted as I was, sleep wasn’t going to come easy, if at all.
Reaching over, I started my car and began to pull out of the parking lot as a silver Cadillac CT-4 made the turn into the bank. Bank Manager’s here, I thought distractedly as my phone began to buzz again.
Reaching down, I fumbled for the phone while trying to keep my eyes on the road ahead. Pulling it out of my pocket, I glanced down at the screen. Brian again. Feeling exasperation beginning to surge through me, I connected the call. Before I could lay into Brian about letting the investigation play out, Brian burst out, “Harper! It’s Brian! Don’t hang up!”
I paused, and Brian rushed on before I could say anything. “I haven’t heard from Angie about our dinner, so I called the police station, they said they hadn’t found her yet. The officer…Turk, started asking me questions, but I couldn’t tell him anything more than I told you. So I hung up-“
“Brian.” I cut in. “I’m not involved in Angie’s case anymore. I got taken off.”
But Brian didn’t hear me, and rushed on, “I suddenly remembered, the camera, Harper. We can find her with the camera!”
Instantly I perked up and pulled over as I listened to Brian’s excited voice. “Brian, “I said carefully, “what do you mean the camera can find her?”
“The Canon EOS 1DX Mark II! That’s the station camera that Angie took! It costs over $7,000, and has these functions like face tracking, color tracking, 4K resolution- “
“Brian!” I shouted. “I don’t give a shit about what it can do! Why can it help us find Angie?”
“GPS!” I could hear Brian take a deep breath. “It has a GPS tracker. I can find it’s location on my work computer!”
Shit! I thought as my adrenaline spiked again. “Where are you?” I barked into the phone.
“I’m at Atilo’s, where we were going to meet.” He replied. “About ten minutes from the media station.”
“Get your ass to the station!” I yelled into my phone. “I’ll meet you there!”
247Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBPDCfRm9yq
CHAPTER 41
The man rolled over, restless in his sleep, and opened his eyes. The darkness in the hut shrouded his sight, and the surrounding silence was like a tomb. Memories were invading his dreams, as they always did when he experienced periods of duress.
Sitting on a rickety chair at their breakfast table, he cowered as his mother stumbled around the kitchen, swearing as she bumped into the half-open refrigerator door. Propping herself against the swaying door, she looked inside, the small faded interior light giving little assistance to the morning rays forcing their way through the grimy windows.
Reaching in, she pulled out a bent pizza box, and turning, tossed it on the table in front of him. The top flopped backwards, revealing two slices of cheese pizza, both wrinkled and limp.
Closing the door, she made her way over to the sink, and pulled a dirty glass from the half-full basin. Reaching above the sink into the dank cabinet, she pulled down a half-full bottle of brown liquid. He didn’t know what it was, but the men always brought one when they visited, and his mother never turned them down.
She shakily unscrewed the cap and poured two fingers into the glass. He knew not to ask for some, as the one time he did, she had screamed at him and banished him to his closet without any breakfast.
Taking a healthy slug, she sat across from him, her glass in one hand, the bottle in the other. Placing the bottle on the table, she reached for a slice of pizza and looked at him.
“Eat.” She commanded, her voice slurring slightly. “Darnell will be here soon, and I have to get ready.”
The boy looked at the remaining slice, which a fly had already landed on, claiming it as its prize. He then looked up at his mother, who was staring at him, flecks of day-old cheese and tomato sauce on her chin. Once, years ago, when his father was around, his mother had been beautiful and caring, her reddish chestnut hair rich and vibrant, her eyes dancing and alive. Now, her hair was muted, greasy and disheveled, spilling over bony shoulders. She was wearing a threadbare nightgown, which did little to hide the angry welts and scars around her shoulders and breasts. Her eyes that used to crinkle with laughter, were now bleary and haunted, hiding the pain and fury that he knew was there.
Raising his eyes from the pizza, he looked at his mother and shook his head. “I’m not hungry,” he said, belying the painful rumble of his stomach.
Instantly, his mother’s eyes sharpened into focus as she glared at him. “Eat! Or you won’t get anything ‘til dinner!” She shouted, spittle and pizza crumbs flying from her lips.
The boy looked down at the slice of pizza and shook his head again. The first fly had now been joined by another, and they were slowly crawling around the slice, declaring it as their own.
His mother suddenly stood up, about to fly into a rage, as her nightgown began slipping off her shoulder, causing the boy to turn away in shame. “What? You’re embarrassed to look at your mother?” She screamed, stumbling around the table towards him. Slamming the glass on the table, its amber liquid sloshing over the lip, she reached up and tore her nightgown all the way down. “Look at your mother!” She demanded to him. As he reluctantly raised his gaze to his mother’s bare mottled and damaged torso, she said “This,” running her hands up and down her naked body, “is what pays for your food! What pays for this place!” She indicated the yellowed walls and ragged carpet. Then she turned back to him. “You are NOT to be embarrassed by me; do you understand! I’m providing for you the best I can! Do you understand?”
The boy looked up into her manic eyes and nodded numbly, too scared to reply.
“Good, you better!” she replied, reaching down and pulling up her tattered nightgown, slipping the worn straps back over her shoulders. “But now we’re going to have a lesson later about it, just to make sure you UNDERSTAND all that I do for you.”
Instantly, the boy’s thoughts flashed to the bedroom and the chains, and tears sprang to his eyes.
His mother, somewhat calmer, reached down for her glass again. “Now that you’ve gone and ruined our breakfast, go to the closet. I have to get ready, and I can’t have you skulking around while I meet with Darnell.”
Darnell. A big, heavy black man with a long scraggly beard, he remembered from the first time Darnell had come over, one of mother’s initial friends. Darnell had stared at him and given him a creepy smile that his mother had noticed, which led to him being banished to the closet ever since.
The boy trembled and went down the hallway to the closet. His mother followed, clutching the pizza box in one hand and her glass in the other. He entered the closet, and made for the corner of his cage, where he had made a small nest of woolen blankets. His mother bent down and looked at him, the crazed look having receded. “Here,” she said, tossing the pizza box at his feet, next to the dish of tepid water. “In case you get hungry later.”
Pulling away, she fumbled around and locked the cage door. Then standing up, she looked down again at him, and for an instant, he thought he saw a flash of tenderness. Then it was gone, replaced by a weary look of resignation.
“Stay quiet.” She said, moving out of the doorway and closing the closet door. “Darnell pays good, it’ll be a good day.”
The boy watched the last sliver of dreary daylight disappear as the door closed and he could hear the lock snick shut. Heaving a sigh of relief, he pushed the pizza box away with his foot and curled into his blankets and closed his eyes. As he settled down, he felt a small ball of emotion stirring in his mind. He’d felt it before, and he couldn’t identify it just yet, but it promised him comfort. Solace. Retribution.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, the man sat up, squinting to let his eyes adjust to the near-darkness. Able to see just shadows, he looked over to the cage in the corner, and could just make out the faint outline of Angie’s body, curled in the corner of the cage just like he had been those many years ago. Absently brushing at what felt like a fly buzzing around his face, he thought, Lessons. He continued, gazing at her silently. Comfort. Solace. Retribution.
247Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8RhkfaLqE3
CHAPTER 42
After hanging up with Brian, I kept driving, thinking furiously. If I turned around and tried to pull into the station’s lot, there’d be a decent chance that my car would be seen and identified, especially given the time of night. No, I decided, I couldn’t risk it. Looking ahead, I saw the entrance to the Crow’s Nest, a bar that gave a nod to merchant ships that used to ply these waters during colonial times.
Turning in, I parked in a corner of the crowded lot. Hopping out, I glanced at my watch and looked back the way I came. Eight minutes and about a quarter mile. Piece of cake. Walking quickly, I went down the sidewalk, not wanting to go too fast to avoid unwanted attention. I briefly thought about calling Medora but decided against it. There was nothing she could add by coming down here. If I needed her later, I’d contact her then.
Reaching the edge of the station property, I slowed as the bank came into view across the street. Standing hidden behind one of the old leafy oaks that lined this road, I looked across the street at the beehive of activity surrounding the bank. Someone had finally gotten the alarm turned off, but I could clearly see the bulky shape of Barnes on the front path. He was silhouetted by the bank’s interior light, and appeared to be listening as a short, skinny man with sparse gray hair was talking at him animatedly. Perkins and Diaz were standing by the bank door, looking unsure of what to do. The fibbies were nowhere to be seen, undoubtedly inside, looking at the bank security videos.
Turning away, I looked at the empty expanse of the media station’s parking lot. Too open, I thought. Spying the row of evergreen bushes that marked the edge of the lot, I headed that way, crouching and hugging shrubbery line. Reaching the side of the station, I crouched in the greenery by the nearest parking space, and peered around the corner to the front entrance.
I didn’t have long to wait. Not less than five minutes later, I could hear a car roaring down the quiet road. Seconds later, a tobasco-colored Mazda Miata approached the entrance, and screeched into the parking lot. Wincing at the noise and the attention it would create, I looked across the street, and could see Barnes glance away briefly from the bank manager to see what the noise was.
I shrank back against the side wall, not wanting to chance being seen as Brian pulled up to the front and immediately jumped out. With Barnes still watching, I couldn’t just walk out to meet Brian.
Gritting my teeth, I looked around for a solution. My eyes fell on the gravel beneath my feet. What is it with me throwing rocks tonight? I thought as I reached down and grabbed a stone the size of my thumb. Looking briefly around the corner, Brian was already at the front door, fumbling with his keys. What? I thought. Does he expect me to already be inside? Cocking my arm, I tossed the stone at Brian, and promptly missed, the projectile landing softly in the grass beyond him. Shit! I reached down again as Brian looked up, as if about to greet someone. Thunderhawk must be coming to the door. Glancing at the bank, I could see Barnes still looking this way as the manager continued to talk at him, his arms gesticulating wildly.
Looking back, it looked as though Kitty must almost have the door unlocked. Shit! Shit! Shit! I thought frantically, reaching for another stone. Screw it! This time, I reared back and threw the rock at his Miata. This time, it hit the front left fender with a solid thump, and Brian jumped slightly, startled. As he turned to see where the rock had come from, I partly stepped out from the bushes, silently waving one hand, with my other making a shushing motion.
Brian just looked at me, then as his eyes showed recognition, I ducked back. As the front door swung open, I locked eyes with him, and motioned towards the side of the building, where I had noticed another door leading out to a small patio.
In a flash, Brian caught my meaning, and nodding imperceptibly, he turned and glanced at where I had hit his car. He then wheeled and faced Kitty, who had come all the way out, and was looking around curiously.
As I melted back into the shadows, I looked again back across the street. Barnes was still watching Brian, no doubt wondering what he was doing at the station after hours. Abruptly, something the bank manager said caught his attention, and he turned away to address whatever it was that he had said.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I retreated further behind the bushes, and crept over to the side door. One minute later, I could hear the sound of the lock turning, and the door was pushed open. Grabbing the handle, I looked in, and saw Kitty’s pleasant face grinning back at me.
“Detective Jones.” She said, her eyes crinkling in amusement. “What a pleasant surprise. Couldn’t stay away?”
I allowed myself a brief smile as I entered the station. “Something like that.” I allowed, seeing Brian behind her, a quizzical look on his face.
“Looks like you caused quite a commotion across the street. Trying to rob the bank too?” She asked.
Seeing Brian’s now thoroughly confused face, I replied quickly, “There was a misunderstanding with the security system. Brian? Can we get to it please?”
Brian continued to look at me for a second as Kitty chuckled softly. Then he muttered, “Follow me.” Then, as he made his way down a short hall to his office, he asked “Why the hell did you have to hit my car with a frickin’ rock?”
Realizing that he didn’t know about my break-in across the street, I replied “It’s complicated, but cluing the police in on this right now would lead to a lot of delay and confusion.” Even coming out of my mouth it sounded lame, but Brian didn’t really seem interested in my answer as he swung through his office door and sat down in his full grain leather office chair.
“All I want right now is to find Angie, make sure she is ok.” he said, waking his computer and shaking his mouse to activate the screen. He looked up at me. “Do you know what’s happened to her?”
Looking at his concerned face, I almost gave in, but ultimately said, “No. All we know is her car was found at the beach. But there are signs that she might not have left willingly.” I glanced at Kitty and shook my head slightly.
Grimacing, he nodded, and when his screen lit up, he began clattering away. Five minutes later, as my impatience was beginning to surface, he made one final click, then swung the monitor so Kitty and I could see it, showing a topographical map of the area.
Leaning in, I studied it closer as Brian pointed with his mouse to a blinking dot, buried in the forested mountains to the west of Wolf Hollow.
“The camera’s here.” He announced, magnifying the screen. “Why the hell is the camera up there?”
“Maybe someone stole it, and that’s where they’re hiding out.” Kitty volunteered, looking at me.
“Then where’s my Angie?” Brian asked. “If someone stole it, then she should be near her car, right?”
Not having an answer, I instead looked closer at the screen, noting the small brown line that snaked its way up from Channelwood Road to the blinking dot. “This is the old logging camp, isn’t it?” I asked. “The one that went out of business some years back?”
Kitty nodded. “Yep. They had to stop logging because they began to encroach on the Waccamaw Sioux lands. It went to court, and my people were able to shut them down. Now it’s just abandoned equipment, some shacks, not much else.”
I stood up, preparing to leave. Brian stood up also and announced, “Harper, I’m going with you.”
Immediately, I shook my head. “Can’t do it Brian. This is police business, and I can’t bring a civilian along.”
But Brian wasn’t backing down. “Harper, I’m not stupid. If this is police business, then why are you hiding from your boss across the street? Also, I do know where the camera is. I’ll just follow you there.”
Goddamit, he had me. So rather than having a loose cannon running around, I relented “Ok fine. But when we get there, you stay in the car. No bullshit.”
Brian nodded vigorously as he came around his desk. “Of course. I just want to be there, to help find her.”
As I left through the door, I passed Kitty, who was watching me closely. “I know I’m going to regret this.” I muttered as I passed by, glancing at her holstered gun. “I’d much rather be taking you.”
“Aaaw Detective,” she replied with a smile, “you say the sweetest things.”
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