CHAPTER 34
Hurrying out of the station, I was just about to hit “send” on my phone when it abruptly sprang to life, startling me, and displaying Medora’s name in the window.
Grunting, I punched “Accept” and, mentally restraining myself, said “Medora! Are you ok? Where the hell have you been?”
Through the phone I could hear what sounded like the rustling of clothes, then Medora’s voice came on, “Harper, I’m sorry. Yes, I’m fine. I had some physical pains that have caused me medical concerns in the past, and I wanted to get them checked out right away. I’m at the hospital-”
Impatiently, I cut her off. “I’m sorry to hear that, but unfortunately, it couldn’t have come at a worse time. Are you able to check out?”
There was a slight pause, then Medora replied, “Yes, I’m leaving now. Chief Barnes had said something about federal agents coming to meet with us at the station about Alison Newton?”
I reached my car as I hastily filled Medora in. “Alison is really someone named Sabrina Velloti, who was a victim of a serial torturer and killer from Colorado. She escaped, was put into witness protection here in Wolf Hollow. Somehow, her tormenter found out she was here, and came east to dig up her grave. Now, he’s here in Wolf Hollow, and apparently he has a type, which is very similar to Angie, my ex-wife. I’ve tried to reach Angie, but she hasn’t been heard from since around four o’clock this afternoon, and she’s not answering her phone.”
A much longer silence on the phone as I inserted my key and turned the engine on. “Medora, you still there?”
Medora came back on. “Yes, sorry, signing some discharge paperwork for the nurse. So, what are you doing now? Do you have any idea where she might be?”
I backed out of my parking spot and spun the car around, my low beams cutting a gentle swath through the settling evening. “The television station said she’s on assignment, taking photos of horseshoe crabs down by the beach. I’m heading there now.” I replied, as I pulled out of the lot. “Are you able to meet me?”
“Sure.” Medora said briskly now over the phone. “Where?”
“I’m starting up north, at the end of the boardwalk, going to head south towards The Beaches, looking for her car. Call me when you get down here.”
“On my way.” Medora replied. “And Harper?” She paused. “I’m sure it’s a false alarm.
I clicked my phone off as I turned onto Laurel Avenue, silently hoping that Medora was right, but the cold feeling that was coiling in my gut was telling me she was wrong.
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Medora hung up her phone as a nurse called out from behind the curtain. Fully dressed, Medora pulled back the screening, revealing a short, plump, pleasant-looking nurse holding a clipboard.
“I have your discharge papers here for you to sign, “she began politely, “if you could just sign these, and I have to tell you about the precautions that the doctor recommends- “
Medora pulled the clipboard from the nurse’s pudgy fingers and scribbled her name across the bottom of the discharge papers. Reaching over, she grabbed her keys and detective’s shield off the table as she slid past the startled nurse.
“Thank you for the concern,” Medora said with a quick, apologetic smile, “but I really have to go. I appreciate your service, and thank the good doctor for me.”
The nurse, her mouth slightly open, just nodded silently as Medora turned and walked quickly down the hall past other curtained patients.
Dammit! She cursed silently to herself, accelerating her pace as she reached a sign indicating the exit to her left. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this! He’s mine!
Turning another corner and pushing through a set of secured doors, she entered the entrance lobby to the emergency room. Seeing the glassed sliding doors of the entry lobby, she rapidly threaded her way through the half-filled waiting room, her face a stony mask.
Reaching the entrance, the glass doors slid open silently, releasing her into the gathering darkness of the coming night.
Crossing under the port au cochere to the parking lot, she thought about what Harper had told her. If Colton had taken Harper’s ex-wife, she thought grimly, then he’s using her.
She reached her car, got in, and pressed the start button, the throaty roar of the powerful engine springing to life. Using her for his own perverse needs, she finished her thought, as she slammed her car into gear, and to get to me.
CHAPTER 35
Barnes slowly hung up his phone, knowing damn well that Turk, while an excellent officer in his own right, would cover for Harper as long as he deemed it necessary. Barnes hadn’t been here long enough to earn the trust of his officers yet, and that, combined with what he personally acknowledged as his somewhat un-impressive background, would take time.
So I’ll give him some rope, Barnes decided, as he slowly turned to the federal agents still sitting at the table expectantly, but I also need to give these clowns some meat to keep them happy.
“Agents,” Barnes began, his stomach beginning to grumble in protest to the long day, “I apologize for my detective’s behavior. He can sometimes be a little…impetuous, and now that he’s concerned that his ex-wife may be involved…”
Agent Walsh held up a hand, cutting off Barnes’ excuse, “Chief Barnes, “he began,” while I appreciate Detective Jones’ concern for his ex-wife, and his…ardor…for his job, this is first and foremost a federal issue. Jericho is a wanted fugitive who has crossed multiple state borders. In addition, “he continued, as Barnes opened his mouth to protest, “if Detective Jones’ ex-wife has been taken, then he has to be removed from this case immediately. As I’m sure you are aware, personal emotions have no place in manhunts.”
As the other agents nodded in solemn agreement, Barnes spoke up. “Agent, I of course agree with your assessment regarding personal emotions. However, both Alison Newton’s grave…fuck, I don’t even know what to call it, molestation, and Kenneth Brainwell’s murder both occurred in my jurisdiction, and this Colton Jericho is suspected in being involved in both crimes. I was under the impression that we were going to create a task force to hunt this man down?”
Cabot looked at Walsh briefly, then tented her hands and responded, “Chief, you are correct. We do want to create a task force with your local law enforcement. Your team knows the area, the terrain, the people. Jericho likes to hide in the mountains, it’s where he feels at home, what he knows. However, the task force will be led by the FBI. He is our fugitive, first and foremost. And, “she continued, looking again at Walsh for confirmation, “if it turns out that Detective Jones’ ex-wife has been kidnapped, then he cannot be included in the task force, and will need to be sidelined. Is that understood?”
Barnes looked at Cabot, then at Walsh. The Marshals just sat quietly, watching the exchange. “Yes ma’am, “Barnes replied, somewhat cowed. “Jones is off to find his wife, so what would you like to do now?”
Walsh glanced at his watch, then looked outside at the darkening sky. “Keep in touch with Detective Jones, let’s see what he finds out. If she’s safe and sound, then we’ll set up shop tomorrow with him and his partner. If it turns out that she’s been taken, then we’ll need to work with someone else. Do you have any other detectives that are available to work with us on this case, if necessary?”
Barnes nodded and replied, “Absolutely. Detectives Riley and Sears. They were peripherally involved in Newton’s original murder case. They oversaw Detective Jones’ partner, Detective Kaplan’s murder investigation, which actually happened while they were investigating Newton’s crime scene. Let’s go see if Riley and Sears are still here, and you can fill each other in.” Barnes rose unsteadily, his stomach now in all out rebellion.
The agents rose as well, with Walsh looking at the Marshals. “You guys can head to the hotel, we can take it from here. Cabot will reach you if we need you.”
Agents Chu and Devlin nodded, and gathered their papers, preparing to leave. Walsh then looked at Barnes, “So Detective Jones is familiar with the protocol of sidelining investigators who are emotionally involved then? Good.”
Barnes nodded in reply as he opened the door for the agents. Sure he’s familiar, he thought morosely, but he sure as hell won’t like it.
196Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD26Nc2GRRK
196Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOrTUaGXXi7
CHAPTER 36
Darkness had settled over Wolf Hollow as I reached the beachhead just south of the boardwalk. Turning south onto Shoreline Drive, I flicked my high beams on to better see any vehicles parked on the side of the road.
Shoreline Drive ran along the beach the entire length of Wolf Hollow, from the Merritt River in the north to affluent The Beaches enclave in the south. After it traced the commercial boardwalk in the touristy northern end of Wolf Hollow, it began to meander through the salt grass and sand dunes of southern Wolf Hollow, affording little hidden parking niches that local teenagers often took advantage of for late night trysts. The beaches south of the boardwalk were also always less crowded, typically inhabited by locals who wanted the quiet solitude of the crashing waves and sand beneath their toes away from the weekend vacationers.
Tonight, with the early day rains gone, the sky above sparkled with bright stars unstained by the invading aura of big city lights. At first glance through the dunes, I only saw a few hand-holding couples strolling by the water’s edge. I rolled down my window as I began my slow drive, searching the small parking recesses while my headlights cut through the darkness in front. I could hear the gentle crashing of the tidal waves encroaching on the beach as a pleasant salty breeze wafted by my nostrils, its subtle briny smell invigorating my tired and overloaded senses.
For the first thirty minutes or so, it turned out to be slow going. With the temperate evening, there were plenty of cars parked along the road, and between couples, night fishermen, and a few surfers, I was kept busy crossing possible Angies off the list. Every five minutes, I also tried to call her phone, which, after one ring, reliably went to voicemail every time, gradually increasing my already high level of concern.
Forty minutes in, Medora finally called, reporting that she was at the north end of Shoreline Drive. I told her what mile marker I was at, and she replied that she’d catch up as soon as she could.
Flicking my phone off, I returned my eyes to the roadside and the beach. The dunes had now started to give way to flat sand, making my search easier. Accelerating slightly now, I continued sweeping the shore looking for either her car or a solitary figure walking the beach.
Suddenly, up ahead, my headlights peeled back the darkness, exposing what could only be Angie’s electric blue Mustang, pulled up onto the beach, it’s top down, its nose pointing towards the now-crashing surf.
With a growing sense of dread, I floored my car, screeching up to her roadster, while I began to scan the water’s edge, looking for her silhouette. Not seeing anyone on the beach, I pulled in next to her car and glanced at my watch. Eight thirty, I thought. Much too late to still be taking pictures, and she was supposed to meet Brian for a late dinner… Opening my car door, I got out, and walked over to her Mustang. Looking in the passenger side, I could see the seats were empty, her purse and the camera she must have had with her were not there.
Taking a deep breath, the salty air that only recently had smelled tangy and invigorating, now invaded my throat with an acrid, harsh sensation. Looking out again towards the ocean, I hollered her name, and only received the waves’ rumbling response in return. Walking towards the front of her car, I repeated her name, looking up and down the beach.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see headlights approaching from the north. Medora, I thought. Finally. I paced out ten yards onto the sand, looking both ways and shouting again, frantically now, to no avail.
Medora pulled in on the other side of Angie’s Mustang and got out as I continued to pace towards the water, shouting Angie’s name as I did so. Suddenly, Medora’s voice pierced the night, calling to me.
“Harper, get over here!”
I spun around and looked back. Medora had gotten out of her car, the door still open. She was standing next to Angie’s driver’s side door, waving at me agitatedly with one hand while holding something up in her other.
I stopped searching and began running back up the beach towards the cars, my icy feeling of foreboding turning into full blown dread. As I got closer, Medora stopped waving, and held out what she had found. Seeing what it was, I slowed to a walk, both exhaustion and fear suddenly overtaking me. He’s got her, I thought, staring at the lavender stiletto that Medora was holding in her hand. The fucking bastard’s got her.
CHAPTER 37
The man finally stepped away from the crude bed on which Angie was sprawled. She was spread-eagled, her arms and legs chained at the wrists and ankles to spikes that the man had driven deep into the ground. Her blouse was ripped apart at the buttons, and her lace black bra underneath cut off and cast aside, exposing her bruised and cut breasts. Her skinny pants that she had been wearing were also sliced off, revealing her lacy black underpants and shapely legs, now also marred by reddened pinch marks and smeared blood.
Angie’s eyes were closed, her makeup streaked from her tears, and her hair tousled and wild from her desperate twisting and turning as she had tried to avoid the man’s attentions. The only indications that she was alive was the bubbling bloody mucus in her wet nostrils and the slow rise and fall of her chest as she slept in a merciful cocoon of unconsciousness.
The man strode over to the desk and placed the pliers and bloodstained boxcutter back in their assigned spots. Shaking his head as the rage inside him subsided, he thought to himself, Why Mother? Why? Why did you torment me so? Trembling as he always did after his sessions, he fought to understand. And as always, as his rage gave way to his sanity again, he looked upon his prisoner with something akin to sorrow. I’m sorry, he said to Angie silently, looking down on her savaged body. I’m sorry, but I need you, in more ways than one, and I cannot help it.
As if she could hear him, Angie stirred, her chains clinking across the weathered floorboards in the dead silence. She opened her tear-stained eyes and looked up in abject terror at the man who had done this to her and whimpered, “Stop, just please stop.”
The man looked down at her, the maniacal look gone from his eyes, but with a haunting darkness that still persisted. He knelt down on one knee and leaned towards her as she pulled frantically at her chains, trying to shrink away.
The man scanned her partially nude body, not a trace of lust in his look, as he raised a hand to gently caress her sweaty hair. “Shhh.” He whispered softly, “it’s ok.”
Angie mewled quietly as she strained to move her head away from his touch. “Why? Why are you doing this to me? I’m not your mother!” she whispered quietly, fearfully.
The man looked at her silently for a moment, the violence gone from his eyes. “No,” he replied, “you aren’t. At least not right now.” He braced himself and stood up. “But this is why.” He reached for his dirtied t-shirt, and pulled it over his head, exposing a well-muscled torso that was covered in a multitude of faded ugly scars and burn marks, evidence of tortures from days long past.
“I was taught lessons,” he continued, “and so must you be.”
Angie’s eyes widened as she gazed upon the tapestry of horrors that painted his body and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
The man continued to gaze at her silently while she screamed, with only the silent woods to hear her. When she had spent her breath, he reached down and unlocked her chains. Angie struggled briefly, but she was no match for his brute strength. Picking her up easily, he brought her over and pushed her tenderly into the cage. Looking at her with his black eyes, he growled, “if you make noise, I will have to tie you up and gag you. Do you understand that?”
Miserably, Angie looked up at him as she feebly tried to cover herself with her tattered clothes and nodded slightly.
The man stared at her for a moment longer, then said, indicating the two dog bowls in the front corner of her cage, “there’s food and water. I’m going to be sleeping right over here.” He indicated the air mattress on which she had been tortured. “Any noise, and I promise, you’ll regret it.”
Angie nodded again mutely, shrinking against the back of the cage. The man, satisfied that he had gotten his point across, locked the cage, got up from his crouch and crossed over to the air mattress. He moved the chains aside, and lay his massive frame down, facing her. After a moment, he closed his eyes, and Angie was finally alone.
Looking around her, Angie felt nothing but despair. Noone knew where she was, and she was all but certain her phone was dead. Now that she thought about it, when he had lifted her up, she had seen that he had taken the battery and the chip out, so its GPS wouldn’t be able to locate her even if it had charge.
Shivering, she wrapped the scratchy blanket that he had given her around her bare shoulders, and stared at the man, now breathing noisily. Oddly, instead of thinking about Brian, and hoping he’d find her, she found herself thinking of someone different. Harper, she said to herself, if you’re out there, I need you. Please, come find me.
CHAPTER 39
I approached Medora, staring at the stiletto in her hand. Slowly, I reached for it, and took it, turning the lavender-colored shoe over as I thought back to the last time I had seen her in it.
It was New Year’s Eve, two years ago, the Sandspring Hotel at the north end of the boardwalk. Angie was stunning, clad in a strapless black sheath dress, her auburn curls spilling over her bare shoulders, wearing diamond teardrop earrings that I had given her on our first wedding anniversary, and soft purple eyeshadow and lip gloss that accented those lavender stilettos. In addition to the new year, we had been celebrating her first breakthrough story as a news reporter, as well as a major drug case that Anders and I had closed two weeks earlier. We had been very much in love at that point, excitedly talking about our future together, our careers, children…We had thought we had the world at our feet…
Angrily, I shook myself back to the present, and discovered a newfound energy I didn’t realize that I had. I looked up at Medora, asking urgently, “Where was this? Right here?” indicating the ground right next to door. When Medora nodded silently, I got down on one knee, turning on my phone flashlight as I did so. Scanning the ground, I could see two sets of footprints in the sand, one larger than the other, and one single print that looked like it could be from a stiletto. Scanning further, near the stiletto print was a large patch of disturbed sand, and a small handprint. Closing my eyes, I briefly imagined Angie next to her car with Jericho, possibly putting her stilettos on, then him hitting her, and Angie falling to the ground stunned, supporting herself with one hand.
Getting up, I said to Medora, “Get in your car, and back up slowly, onto the road.”
Medora carefully climbed in her car, avoiding the footprints, and slowly backed out into the street. Looking at the sand where her car had been parked, I could clearly see the large footprints tracking around to where the trunk of a parked car might have been. Then, the footprints traced back to right about where Medora’s stopped when she entered her car.
So the bastard was parked next to her, I thought, which probably means he had followed her. Then parked after she parked and went on the beach, then he either followed her onto the beach, or waited for her here. Whichever, they met here, he struck her, she fell, he picked her up, and her shoe fell off has he carried her around and stuffed her in his trunk. I walked carefully towards the road where Medora was idling in her car.
“Do you have any evidence markers?” I called out sharply, and she nodded, reaching into her glove compartment. A second later she tossed through her open window a small bag of plastic yellow numbered tent markers.
Reaching out, I snagged them in the air. “Call the station!” I hollered. “Have someone run an immediate trace on this number!” I recited Angie’s cell number to Medora. “Tell them I want its GPS coordinates now!”
I could see Medora nodding and reaching for her phone. “Then call Barnes, tell him Angie’s been kidnapped by Jericho, and I want the FBI down here now. I want to know what they know!”
As Medora began calling, I knelt down and began marking evidence – footprints, shoeprints, tire marks. Rising, I went over to my car, and reached in for my flashlight. Snapping it on, I returned to the Mustang, and studied the two sets of footprints next to her car in the brighter light. Walking my flashlight backward towards the beach, I could see that both sets of prints were side-by-side and disappeared into the darkness. So, I thought grimly, Jericho followed her here, then conspired to meet her on the beach. He walked her back to her car, which he had conveniently parked next to. Subdued her and took her off to wherever his lair is.
But where then, I asked myself, did he tail her from? Abruptly, I snapped my flashlight off, turned, and headed back towards the road. Medora had hung up her phone, and parked on the side of Shoreline Drive, her blinkers flashing. Now, she got out and approached me as I made a beeline for my car.
“Turk’s having a trace run on Angie’s number.” She began, falling in beside me. “And I spoke with Chief Barnes. He’s still with the FBI guys, and he’s coming down here with them. He got hold of Cavanaugh too, he’s going to come down and do forensics.” Medora was struggling to keep pace with me through the sand. “And Barnes told me to tell you to stay fucking put, and not go anywhere. His words”, she added.
Medora stopped as I kept marching, rounding the front of my car. “And so where do you think you’re going?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Stay here, wait for Barnes and Cavanaugh,” I said, ignoring her question. “Call me as soon as Turk gets back to you with GPS.” I hopped in my car and started my engine.
“Harper! Did you hear what I said?” Medora yelled over my engine as she approached my window. “Barnes wants you to stay here and wait for him!”
I revved my engine as I put it in reverse. “What?” I shouted. “I can’t hear you!”. Backing my car out into the road, Medora tried one last time, but I conveniently couldn’t hear her over the engine as, with tires screeching, I headed off north on Shoreline, all the while calculating the quickest way to the tv station in my head.
I made it to the station in under ten minutes, thanks to a brilliant revelation that I had where, two minutes in, I stopped, grabbed my magnetic police strobe light, slapped it on my dashboard, and took off again like a bat out of hell. On the trip to the station, all I could think about was all the evil that my imagination could conjure up of him doing to her, and the fact that I was powerless to stop it.
Reaching the station, I pulled into the parking lot of the darkened building, the only lights coming from the backlit blue and yellow “WOLF Media” signage on the front of the building, and the dimly lit entry, where the secretary would sit during working hours, but was now most likely filled by an overweight, pasty-faced, sweaty security guard.
Pulling right up to the front entrance in a handicapped parking spot, I turned off the car, and looked out and up, noting with satisfaction the two security cameras positioned over the front door. Hopping out, I practically ran up to the entrance, and banged on the front door, shouting for attention and holding up my badge.
To my surprise, the guard that came around the front desk towards me was not overweight at all, but was a tall, slim woman of American Indian descent, with dark eyes and jet-black straight hair pulled back in a turquoise clip. Reaching the door, she glanced at my badge, then at me, raising her eyebrows inquiringly.
“I’m here about one of your employees, Angela Jones!” I shouted through the glass door. When she just stared at me questioningly, I growled a curse and shouted, “Angie Renfro! She’s a television reporter, and she’s my ex-wife. Angie’s been kidnapped, and I need to see your security cameras, now!”
At the name Angie Renfro, a look of recognition passed over the guard’s eyes, and she reached down, releasing the latch to let me in.
“Thank you, Miss,…” my eyes dropped to her name tag, “Thunderhawk.” Wow, what a cool last name, I thought randomly. “As I said, Miss Renfro has been kidnapped, and I need to see your security footage for late this afternoon for those two cameras.” I indicated the ones above the front door.
“Certainly, Detective Jones.” The guard replied. “I apologize, I wasn’t aware Miss Renfro had been married. We can access the video at my desk.”
Of course you weren’t aware, I thought sourly as I followed her to the desk. Why am I not surprised?
Reaching the desk, the guard sat down and began clicking some keys to bring up the video.
“Start at around three, Miss Thunderhawk,” I said, “let’s see if we can find when she left.”
“Call me Kitty,” The guard replied, moving her mouse and clicking some buttons, “it’s easier.”
Kitty Thunderhawk. Shit. I thought again. Now there’s a name you can put on your stationary with pride.
Kitty quickly scrolled through hours as I bent over her shoulder, scanning the cars in the parking lot as they came and went. Finally, I saw Angie’s familiar form strutting by the front desk, with her purse over one shoulder and what looked like a very expensive camera slung over the other.
“Stop there.” I said, suddenly pointing towards the screen. “There she goes.” But Kitty had already slowed the feed down, and now split the screen to include the two cameras that covered the staff parking lot and the front parking lot as well.
Quickly, we covered the ensuing time from when Angie left the building until ten minutes later when she roared out of the lot with her top down, radio blaring. The cameras covered up to the edge of the road, and there were no cars that followed her out of the lot, or anyone walking nearby that seemed to take an undue interest in her.
After running through it three times, I slapped my hand in frustration on Kitty’s desk, and straightened up, preparing to head for the door.
“Thanks Miss... Kitty,” I amended hastily, “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
“No, it’s alright Detective,” she responded, rising to follow me to the door. “Anything to help. We all like Miss Renfro around here.”
When I paused and raised my eyebrow, Kitty smiled slightly and responded, “well, we certainly don’t want anything to happen to her.” Grunting in agreement, I turned and resumed marching towards the entrance.
As we reached the front door, I looked out past my car to the lot across the street. Turning to Kitty quickly, I pointed across the street and asked, “What businesses are in that space over there?”
Kitty wrinkled her brow and thought for a moment. “There’s a bookstore, a pharmacy, the Brew Box Barista, and…a bank.” She turned to me as the same thought that I had crossed her mind.
Quickly, she opened the front door for me and said, “anything I can do, please just ask.” I nodded my thanks again as I hurriedly stepped through, walking quickly towards my car. “And detective?” she called out to me. When I turned to look at her, she smiled briefly again and said, nodding to my car, “you don’t look so handicapped to me!”
Giving her a crooked smile, I turned back and hopped in my car, determined to get a look at the bank’s cameras across the street, sure in my mind that that was where the man had begun stalking Angie.
Accelerating out of the station’s lot, I sped across four lanes, and fortunately for me, there was no oncoming traffic at the moment. Since it was after eight, it looked as if all of the businesses in the strip mall were closed, as the parking lot was deserted. I pulled up in front of the bank, this time avoiding the handicapped spot. Thanks Kitty, I thought distractedly.
I got out and approached the front door, and peered in, face against the glass, shield in my hand. I shouted and pounded on the door, hoping against hope that by some chance the bank employed a security guard after hours, but no one answered me.
Blowing air out of my cheeks in frustration, I stepped back. The sign on the door said the bank opened at nine a.m., almost twelve hours from now. Unbidden, my mind began to again create more nightmares of the torments that Angie could endure at the hands of the sadistic killer Jericho in the next twelve hours. Snapping out of my own head, I looked around at the manicured garden landscaping that surrounded the path leading up to front door. Taking a deep breath, I thought fuck it and reached down, and pried loose a large decorative stone that was part of the path’s border. Then, I reared back, and with all my strength, threw it through the glass front door.
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