The Evan Buckley Thrillers: Books 1 - 4 (Evan Buckley Thrillers Boxsets)

by James, Harper

  ‘Do you believe me?’

  ‘I’d like to, but I have to admit I’m struggling.’

  ‘There’s something else,’ Evan said, ‘but you’re probably not going to believe that either.’

  ‘Try me.’

  He told her about the light he’d seen under the doors to the smaller, locked barn.

  ‘Maybe there’s another door. We didn’t look round the back. We can take a look now.’

  They went back upstairs and out through the kitchen door to Guillory’s car. She got a flashlight out of the trunk and they walked over to the smaller barn. There was no light showing now. She played the beam over the padlock. It was new and top of the line.

  ‘I can see why Ryder couldn’t get past that,’ Evan said.

  ‘You know, I had this funny feeling someone was watching us. Who’d have thought it was you.’

  They walked all around the barn. It was bigger than it looked at first. It wasn’t as wide as the other one, but it went back a long way. There were no other doors, not even any windows you could climb through. The front doors were the only way in.

  ‘Maybe I was mistaken,’ Evan admitted. ‘I’d just got out from under the bed. It must have been a trick of the light.’

  ‘Don’t let Ryder hear you make an admission like that. He’ll never believe another word you say.’

  ‘Is he like that with everybody, or is it just me?’

  Evan kicked at a small rock, bouncing it off the barn door.

  ‘I think it’s just you.’

  He looked across at her and saw she was smiling.

  ‘Seriously though, he just doesn’t like P.I.’s. Especially if they make extra work for him. Extra chickenshit work.’

  ‘Isn’t most of what you do chickenshit?’

  Guillory gave him a hurt look and they made their way back to the house. Ryder had just come into the kitchen when they got there.

  ‘The place is clean,’ he said. ‘I didn’t find anything apart from this.’

  He held out Faulkner’s gun.

  ‘Pinocchio here must have missed it. Looks like our jobs are safe for a while.’

  Guillory took it from him and inspected it.

  ‘We’ll get it checked out to see if it’s what he hit Faulkner with. Check to see if he’s got a permit too.’

  Evan would have liked to explain that they didn’t need to bother on either count because Hendricks had never been near the gun in his life. However, he certainly wasn’t going to admit what he’d done to Ryder. Guillory wouldn’t have been able to help him out of that one.

  ‘Must be an idiot if it is what he used,’ Ryder said, ‘seeing as it was just sitting there in the nightstand drawer.’

  If it hadn’t been for the fact that Guillory was getting drawn into the charade as well, Evan would have enjoyed watching Ryder go barking up the wrong tree.

  ‘I also found out who the other guy is,’ Ryder continued. ‘His name’s Jack Adamson. There was some work ID in his blazer pocket. We can check him out, see what he’s driving and maybe pick them up in his car.’

  Evan made a mental note of the name even though it meant nothing to him.

  ‘Okay Mr P, time we all got out of here,’ Guillory said. ‘Where’s your car? We’ll give you a ride back to it and then show you the way back to town. We wouldn’t want you to get lost. You might go around in a circle and end up back here.’

  ‘And next time we won’t be so understanding,’ Ryder said.

  Chapter 39

  EVAN WASN’T GOING TO get any sleep that night. He played through it all over and over in his mind. He could remember their argument word for word, particularly the part about braining him as well. He wasn’t about to forget that in a hurry. He distinctly remembered the sound of them running along the hallway and down into the basement, the door slamming behind them. He knew he wasn’t mistaken and he knew he wouldn’t be able to let it drop. It didn’t matter how many times he went through it all, everything pointed to the same conclusion—he was going to have to go back again. He was pleased he’d kept the key. His subconscious must have known he’d need it. Guillory had taken the other one with her after locking the back door. He wished he’d been able to keep the gun. As it turned out he could have had it in his pocket the whole time he was with Guillory and Ryder, but at the time it had seemed like too big a risk. Hindsight’s a wonderful thing.

  He found a flashlight that actually had some working batteries in it and decided that was another good omen, more divine support for his decision. Then he watched the hands on the clock crawl round until just after two in the morning before driving back to Hendricks’ place.

  Hendricks and Adamson had been about to go out when the police interrupted them, but he had no idea whether they had or not, and if they had, whether they’d come back. There was a chance they were still hiding somewhere on the property. He might need to make a quick escape, so he slowly backed his car up the driveway, leaving the key in the ignition. Then he let himself into the house but didn’t lock the door behind him this time. Every second might count. He stood still and listened. The house seemed even quieter than before if that was possible. He crossed the kitchen in the dark and crept down the hallway to the door at the top of the basement stairs. He put his ear to it and listened. Absolutely nothing. He pushed the door open carefully and stepped through, then closed it behind him before flicking on the light.

  Everything looked exactly the same as it had the last time. He went down the stairs and stood in the middle of the basement and looked all around the room.

  There was nowhere to hide that was for sure. He did a slow lap of the room. It was just as he remembered it. Shelving on two sides, workbenches on another and bays filled with lumber on the fourth wall. There were no other doors apart from the one at the top of the stairs. No other visible doors. But he knew there had to be another one. It was just a question of finding it. He ruled out the wall with the lumber; nobody would want to move all that every time. Similarly, the wall with the workbenches; they only came up to waist height so you’d see the top half of a door. That left the two walls of shelving as the most likely candidates.

  It didn’t take long to find it, once you were looking for it. The middle section of shelves on one of the walls hinged outwards revealing a door behind it. The shelves themselves were stacked with tins of paint. Evan picked one up, then another and another—they were all empty, so the whole unit swung back and forth smoothly without any effort. The hinges were cleverly concealed at the back of the metal uprights but you could see them if you knew what you were looking for.

  Why on earth hadn’t he thought of this before, when he was with Guillory and Ryder? He knew perfectly well why not. For one, he’d been so shocked to find that they weren’t there, his mind had gone blank. Secondly, he’d already been feeling foolish enough as a result of Ryder’s scepticism and mocking. He wasn’t about to make it worse by saying there must be a secret door, even if he’d thought of it in the first place. Ryder would have crucified him. But now he’d found it, he ought to call them and wait for them before going any further.

  That’s what he ought to do. Instead, he pulled the shelves all the way open and tried the door. It was locked. Damn. Talk about belt and suspenders. Then he remembered the ring of spare keys in the kitchen drawer upstairs.

  He went back upstairs into the kitchen. He located the drawer where he’d found them earlier, but they weren’t in it. Guillory had taken the spare back door key with her, but he was sure she hadn’t taken the whole ring. Where the hell had she put them? There was almost no light coming in from outside and he could hardly see a thing. He flicked on the flashlight and played the beam around the room. It was risky but he didn’t have any option unless he wanted to feel around blindly all night. He found them sitting on the kitchen table, switched off the flashlight and went back into the basement.

  He felt vulnerable without the gun, needed to arm himself in some way. He examined the tools on the pegboard and
selected a couple of extremely sharp-looking chisels and a heavy claw hammer. He saw a workman’s tool belt with lots of loops and pouches and strapped it on, then dropped his new-found weapons into place. He was as ready as he was ever going to be.

  He went back to the hidden door and found the right key after a couple of attempts, then dropped the key ring into one of the pouches. He pushed the door open. A narrow tunnel led away into the darkness. It was roughly three feet wide and six feet high with a bare earth floor and was shored up by two-by-fours and plywood. He’d never been in one, but he thought it was what a mining shaft would look like. Electrical cords ran along the side wall looping in and out of bare bulbs in metal cages. He saw the switch but decided not to turn the lights on. Footprints in the dry dust on the floor disappeared out of sight. He went back to the stacks of lumber and found a small wedge-shaped piece which he tapped gently under the door jamming it open.

  He hesitated. His mouth was dry and he had that empty feeling in the pit of his stomach again. It was just like in all those films he’d watched. Some woman who’s lost one of her shoes and half of her clothing is just about to go down into the creepy basement where the lights don’t work and you ask yourself Why would you? Now here he was, in real life, about to do the same thing, although he hadn’t lost his shoes yet. Why? Pride more than anything. He didn’t just want to tell Guillory and Ryder about the hidden escape route. He wanted to . . . to what, exactly? He couldn’t say, but he’d be damned if he backed out now. He could imagine Ryder’s taunts; So, the big, bad detective had to call in the real detectives when the going got tough.

  He switched on his flashlight and started down the tunnel, ears straining for any sounds ahead. It wasn’t a long tunnel but it curved round to the left so he couldn’t see what was at the far end. He had a good idea where he was going to end up, anyway. He crept forward, pressing himself into the side, shielding the flashlight as much as possible. He needn’t have bothered. He rounded the curve and saw another door a few yards further on. This one was locked too. Hendricks and whoever else used the tunnel was certainly cautious.

  He put his ear to the door and listened but couldn’t hear anything on the other side. On a hunch, he tried the same key as he had for the door at the other end. It worked. You might be cautious, but it doesn’t mean you want a pocket full of keys. He pushed open the door and stepped through into another basement room.

  He played the flashlight beam around the walls. The room was identical to the one at the other end, apart from the fact that this one was smaller and completely empty and there’d been no attempt to conceal the doors. As well as the one he’d just come through there was a second one on his left. Next to that was a six-foot sheet of plywood nailed to the wall. He tried the door cautiously, the handle turning smoothly and soundlessly. It was locked. He didn’t bother trying to find the right key—he was more interested in the staircase leading up to a third door. He’d bet dollars to donuts that on the other side of that door he would find himself inside the small barn. He’d travelled the right distance underground. It all made sense.

  The stairs were rough, unfinished concrete, a metal railing on one side. He started up a couple of steps and then stopped in the semi-darkness. Above him, a crack of light framed the door. What was he doing here? He’d found the answer he was looking for. He’d worked out how Hendricks and Adamson had disappeared. That was why he’d come back, nothing more, no heroics. What would he do if they were asleep on the other side of the door? More to the point, what would he do if they were wide awake waiting for him on the other side? He took another tentative step up, placed his foot gently down, his whole body tensed, every muscle straining, head forward and turned slightly to the side, alert for the smallest sound—

  ‘Help you with something?’ a voice behind him said, as the ceiling light flooded the room with light.

  Chapter 40

  EVAN JERKED UPRIGHT, let out an involuntary shriek. He dropped the flashlight, spun round and slipped off the step he was standing on. His left foot landed on the flashlight, rolling it under him. His ankle turned over and he went down hard. The agonizing stab of pain told him it was broken. His right hip landed on the claw hammer hanging from a loop on his utility belt, paralyzing his leg from the thigh down.

  Standing in the doorway to the tunnel Hendricks grinned at the pitiful sight in front of him, a Remington Model 870 pump shotgun held comfortably in his hands. Evan hadn’t heard a thing. Worse, he’d made it easy for him to creep up on him by jamming the far door open. The soft, dry dust of the tunnel floor had masked Hendricks’ footsteps. His breathing came in short gasps as the shock subsided, his pulse trying to return to a normal level. He felt pathetic sprawled at the bottom of the stairs. He started to get up, but his ankle gave way under him.

  ‘I think I like you right where you are,’ Hendricks said as he racked the slide. That unmistakable sound that few people experience first-hand but everybody recognizes instantly stopped him in his tracks, as it was meant to. He lowered himself into a sitting position, his eyes fixed on the wrong end of the shotgun pointing at his face. Hendricks had every right to shoot him and claim he was defending himself against an intruder—a persistent intruder at that.

  There was no sign of Adamson.

  ‘Where’s your friend?’

  ‘He won’t be joining us right now,’ Hendricks said. ‘Lucky for you. He’s a lot more volatile than I am.’

  ‘So you’ve killed him as well as Faulkner. Planning on making me number three?’

  Hendricks smiled an unpleasant smile at him.

  ‘Don’t try to rile me. Faulkner’s okay. I called the hospital.’

  Evan noticed how he didn’t say anything about Adamson being okay.

  ‘Then you’ve got nothing to worry about. I might as well get out of here.’

  His ankle hurt like hell so he put a hand on the stairs behind him to try to push himself up.

  ‘If you don’t sit still, I’ll shoot you in the knees,’ Hendricks said. ‘I’ll tell the police I caught an intruder.’

  Evan sat still, fast. He had no doubts Hendricks would do it.

  ‘Go ahead and call them now. Turn me in.’

  ‘We’ll see. You’ve got some questions to answer first.’

  He walked the couple of paces across the room to where Evan was sitting and kicked him sharply on the broken ankle with the pointed toe of his boot. Evan gasped, bit down on the pain.

  Hendricks pulled some handcuffs out of his pocket and dropped them into Evan’s lap then stepped back again.

  ‘Put your arms around the pole,’ he said, pointing at the metal pole supporting the handrail running up the side of the stairs, ‘and cuff them together. Before you do it, take off the tool belt and throw it over there.’

  Evan did as he was told. Hendricks put the shotgun down against the wall and picked up the tool belt. He pulled the hammer out of its loop and tested its weight, a smile on his lips.

  ‘How’s your ankle?’

  Evan swallowed and said nothing.

  ‘Let’s get some things clear first,’ Hendricks said, slapping the hammer into his palm. ‘If you try to kick me or anything, I’m going to do a lot worse than smash your ankle. Am I making myself clear enough?’

  Evan nodded.

  ‘Good. What are you doing down here?’

  Evan hesitated. He didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Not a good start.’

  Hendricks kicked him again in the ankle. Evan drew his leg back sharply and twisted his body away helplessly. The pain was infinitely worse than the last time.

  ‘If you think that hurts, wait until I get going with this.’ He slapped the hammer into his palm again. ‘Let’s try again. What are you doing down here?’

  ‘I wanted to find out where you and your friend disappeared to when the police arrived.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I was in the house when the police arrived. I heard you run down into the basement.’

  Recog
nition crossed Hendricks face. He nodded as things fell into place for him.

  ‘That’s why the key wasn’t in the door.’

  ‘We came down into the basement and you weren’t there. I knew there must be another way out.’

  Hendricks wasn’t really listening to him.

  ‘Why were you in the house in the first place?’

  Again, Evan hesitated. He couldn’t tell him the truth. It was the wrong decision. Hendricks crouched down and swung the hammer briskly into Evan’s swollen ankle. An agonizingly sharp stab of pain shot up Evan’s leg, down into his foot.

  ‘That’s just a little tap, ‘Hendricks said. ‘Imagine what this would feel like.’

  He raised his arm above his head and brought the hammer down with all his strength into the dirt floor inches away from Evan’s leg. Evan flinched, an automatic response, let out another gasp through teeth gritted so hard they’d crack soon.

  Hendricks stood up and walked away.

  ‘I’m getting bored with this.’

  Without warning he threw the hammer as hard as he could into the stairs above Evan’s head. It smashed into the steps, sharp splinters of concrete spitting into Evan’s face, and ricocheted off again. Evan ducked instinctively but if Hendricks had wanted to hit him, he’d have a caved-in skull by now.

  ‘I thought this would be fun, but it’s too easy. You’re going to piss your pants any minute. I know why you’re snooping around anyway.’

  Evan waited for him to go on. This time he didn’t think he was going to be punished for his silence.

  ‘It’s about the kid who disappeared, isn’t it? That’s what you were asking about when you came out here the other day.’

  Hendricks walked back towards him, looking for confirmation. Evan swallowed and tried to speak but his mouth was too dry. The delay cost him dearly. Hendricks didn’t care if Evan couldn’t or wouldn’t answer him. He stamped down hard on Evan’s pulsating ankle, ground it into the floor. Evan thrashed and bucked, gasped out a yes.