by Dan Padavona
LeVar dialed the sheriff’s department. Deputy Lambert answered.
After LeVar told Lambert that Osmond Bourn had drugged Raven, the deputy said, “Give me your position.”
LeVar peeked out from behind the trashcan and read the exit marker, keeping his voice low.
“I’m on my way, LeVar. Under no circumstances should you engage Bourn. Do you understand?”
LeVar understood. But there was no way he’d let Bourn rape his sister. He crept out of hiding and moved across the rest area, close enough to sniff the SUV’s exhaust as Sinatra’s muffled voice pumped out of the vehicle. He should have realized Bourn had slipped something into Raven’s drink. But he’d believed his sister was putting on an act and playing easy to get.
He moved in for a closer look and noticed Bourn talking on the phone. Odd. If Bourn wanted to rape Raven, why would he place a call?
The teenager was ten paces from Bourn’s vehicle when the contractor’s eyes caught him in the mirror. LeVar lunged for the bumper. Bourn’s tires burned rubber before the SUV shot toward the highway. LeVar scrambled to his feet and raced back to his car. With every stride he took, Bourn drove further away. LeVar couldn’t lose sight of the contractor. If he did, he’d lose his sister forever.
He phoned the sheriff’s department again while he drove, pushing the Chrysler past eighty miles per hour. Lambert was already en route, but the dispatcher took LeVar’s information. LeVar updated dispatch when Bourn swerved onto the exit for Kane Grove and drove through a red light.
The SUV sped down deserted streets. LeVar glued his eyes to the glowing taillights, refusing to give up the chase.
“Back off, LeVar.”
Lambert’s voice came through the radio. LeVar glanced around but didn’t see the deputy’s cruiser.
“He’s driving south on Route 29 through Kane Grove,” LeVar said.
“I’m a half-mile behind you.” Headlights flashed in LeVar’s mirrors. “Pull over and let me pass.”
“He has my sister.”
“I’m not letting Bourn take Raven. Move aside, LeVar. That’s an order.”
A second pair of headlights appeared on the horizon, driving toward Bourn. If Lambert wanted to pass, LeVar wouldn’t stand in his way. But Raven was the teenager’s priority, and he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to his sister.
He stomped the gas pedal as Lambert kept pace. Bourn was only a quarter-mile ahead now.
“He won’t get away,” Lambert said. “We’ve got him cut off.”
That explained the oncoming headlights. Aguilar was approaching Bourn from the opposite direction.
Without warning, Bourn slammed the brakes and spun out. LeVar saw the SUV flying at his windshield a split-second before he yanked the wheel. The Chrysler skidded across the gravel shoulder and stopped inches from the ditch. Bourn exited the SUV and leaped the ditch, his arms and legs pumping as he fled into the darkness. LeVar stumbled out of the car on shaky legs and searched the night. He needed to check on Raven, but he didn’t want Bourn to escape.
Lambert’s cruiser pulled beside LeVar’s Chrysler. A confusion of red and blue lights swept over the pavement as Aguilar exited her cruiser and sprinted after Bourn.
Gunshots blasted overhead. LeVar ducked before Lambert threw his body into the teenager. They toppled to the blacktop as two bullets exploded through the grille of Lambert’s cruiser. More shots tore through the night. LeVar hoped Aguilar was doing the shooting. Otherwise, Bourn had them pinned down.
When the suppressing fire ended, LeVar scrambled to the SUV and pulled the passenger door open. He opened his arms, prepared to catch Raven if she tumbled out. The seatbelt held her in place.
“Raven, can you hear me?”
Her eyelids flickered and closed.
Lambert radioed for backup and came to LeVar’s aid. “Is she conscious?”
“Bourn slipped something into her drink. I think he meant to rape her.”
Aguilar jogged back to them. “I lost Bourn. He’s somewhere between Route 29 and Highland Parkway.”
“Kane Grove PD is on the way,” Lambert said.
Sirens rose and fell in the distance. With a grunt, LeVar unbuckled Raven and lifted her out of the vehicle.
“Raven needs to get to the hospital,” Aguilar said as she helped LeVar.
Just then, Raven’s eyes opened. She peered at Lambert, Aguilar, and LeVar in confusion. “Where the hell am I?”
“Outside Kane Grove,” LeVar said, hauling her to his car. “Bourn drugged you inside Level 13.”
Raven touched her forehead. “Oh, shit. I should have known he’d try something like that.”
LeVar set Raven on the Chrysler’s passenger seat and buckled her in. The hospital was a ten-minute drive from Route 29.
But LeVar had a bigger problem on his hands. Bourn wasn’t carrying a peashooter. Those gunshots had sounded like cannon fire when they dug holes into the grille of Lambert’s cruiser.
Osmond Bourn was no ordinary contractor.
37
The dashboard clock ticked past eleven when Chelsey pulled her Civic into the hospital parking lot. She found LeVar with Darren and Deputy Aguilar in a waiting room on the hospital’s second level. Chelsey’s eyes locked on LeVar’s as she hurried inside.
“She’s going to be fine,” LeVar said, pulling Chelsey into a hug.
Chelsey lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, thank goodness.”
“The doctors hooked her to an IV. She’s tired but lucid.”
“Bourn shot at you?”
“Believe it. And that was no ordinary gun. Bourn fired .44-caliber ammo. If I was a betting man, I’d say he shot at us with a Titanium Gold Desert Eagle.”
Chelsey held the teenager at arm’s length. “I told you not to mess with Osmond Bourn. Why did Raven insist on luring him back to her motel room?”
LeVar raked fingers through his dreadlocks. “She wanted to close the case, Chelsey. With all the investigations we’ve taken on, Raven knew we needed to catch Bourn and move on.”
Chelsey’s shoulders sagged. “I never should have thrown so many cases at you.”
The teenager jammed his hands into his pockets and wandered to the window, where he stared out at the parking lot. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”
Chelsey pressed her hands against her eyes. What if Raven had died tonight? She’d caused this mess, and she was damn well going to fix it. The puzzle pieces fell into place. Osmond Bourn was her mystery caller, the man who’d disguised his voice and threatened her over the phone. Yes, Chelsey was over her head. But only because she didn’t know who she was dealing with. Chelsey yanked the phone out of her pocket and scrolled through her contacts.
LeVar eyed her from the window. “Who are you calling?”
“Rosemary Bourn. I’m putting the call on speaker so you can listen. What the hell did she get us into?”
Chelsey didn’t expect the woman to answer at this time of night, but Rosemary picked up on the first ring.
“Where’s your husband, Rosemary?”
“I told the police I haven’t seen Osmond since this morning. How should I know where he’s run off to?”
“Call your husband and tell him to turn himself in. Find him, Rosemary, before someone gets hurt.”
“Isn’t it your job to tell me where Osmond is? That’s why I hired you. He’s probably with some other woman and—”
“Osmond isn’t cheating on you.”
Silence.
“Rosemary?”
“What do you mean, he isn’t cheating on me? He must be. Where does he go in the middle of the night?”
Chelsey pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mrs. Bourn, you own a six-bedroom French Tudor on Riverwalk Drive. A bit extravagant for a one-income family, don’t you agree?”
“Osmond is the county’s most respected contractor.”
“Oh, he’s a contractor, all right,” LeVar said.
“Who’s speaking?”
“That’s LeV
ar Hopkins,” Chelsey said, “one of my investigators. Your husband shot at him tonight. Rosemary, you couldn’t even afford the taxes for that house on a contractor’s salary.”
“What are you implying?”
“This evening, my investigators tracked Osmond to a club in Syracuse called Level 13.”
“Probably so Osmond could dance with some young floozy.”
“You’re not listening. We believe the 315 Royals gang runs Level 13. Furthermore, my firm photographed Osmond at Coral Lake, meeting with a man named Hunter Dalbec. If I dig into Dalbec, something tells me you won’t like what I find.”
Rosemary hitched over the phone. “I’ve never heard of anyone named Hunter Dalbec.”
“Your husband works for the mob, Mrs. Bourn. He sneaks out while you’re asleep because he’s working for Dalbec.”
“No, no. This isn’t possible. We’re members at the Kane Grove Country Club, and Osmond is running for alderman. We have a perfect life, Ms. Byrd.”
“A perfect life neither of you can afford.” Chelsey glanced up when a short doctor with a black mustache appeared in the doorway. “I need to go. If you hear from Osmond, call the police and the sheriff’s department. You’ll get my bill on Monday.”
While Chelsey and LeVar listened in, the doctor told Darren they would release Raven by morning.
“She needs rest and fluids, but she’ll make a full recovery. I’ll allow you to see Ms. Hopkins, but you only get five minutes. After that, I want her resting.”
While Darren conferred with the doctor, Chelsey pulled LeVar aside. “I’m sorry for getting you into this mess. The firm is hanging by a thread. We’re almost bankrupt. That’s why I accepted so many investigations.”
LeVar leaned his back against the wall. “How is that possible? Business has been great for almost a year now.”
“It’s the tax increase. That, and my house hasn’t sold. I realize it’s not fair when my personal problems affect everybody, but that’s my reality. I need to sell my house by the end of next month, restructure our rates, and close as many cases as I can in the interim. If everything goes as planned, Wolf Lake Consulting might be viable by Halloween.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because I didn’t want you to worry.” Chelsey waved her hands in the air. “Yeah, I made a terrible mistake. But you’re my friends and family. If anything happened to you tonight, I couldn’t live with myself.”
Aguilar returned to Chelsey and LeVar. After speaking into her radio, the deputy lifted her chin at Chelsey. “So the doctor thinks Bourn slipped Rohypnol into Raven’s drink.”
“A roofie. Standard date rape drug.”
“You figure he intended to rape Raven?”
Chelsey glanced at LeVar and shook her head. “This was personal. Bourn must have spotted us at a job site and figured we were investigating his mob ties. He drugged Raven so he could get her out of the club, kidnap her, and force us to back off.”
“Thomas said you received a threatening phone call at the office. That must have been Bourn.”
“Yes.”
LeVar exhaled. “What happens next?”
Aguilar set her hands on her hips. “You go home and get some rest.”
“I’m not leaving until the doctors finish with Raven.”
“I understand, but you’re no good for your sister if you’re too exhausted to think straight.” Aguilar moved her eyes between them. “Don’t get any bright ideas about revenge. Let us catch Bourn. There’s a BOLO out, and the entire county is searching for Bourn. It’s just a matter of time before we rein him in.”
LeVar folded his arms. “We’re not backing off until we catch Bourn. This time, I’m coming up with the plan.”
38
Thomas Shepherd didn’t believe in fate. Yet he acknowledged the universe had dealt him a stroke of luck.
Five minutes ago, while he coordinated with Syracuse and Kane Grove police over the Osmond Bourn search, the Treman Mills school district had contacted him about career day. Because of a last second cancellation, there was an opening for a guest speaker at ten in the morning.
“You’re accepting the invitation?” Aguilar asked, curious why an introvert like Sheriff Shepherd wanted to speak to a few hundred students in a crowded auditorium.
“It’s an opportunity to poke around and ask questions about our victims.” Thomas straightened his hat. “Do I look okay?”
“Definitely. Not at all like fresh bait thrown into shark-infested waters.”
“It won’t be that bad, will it?”
“You remember how teens act.” She patted Thomas on the shoulder. “Stand tall and keep your chin up. And never let them see you sweat.”
During the drive to Treman Mills, Thomas checked on Chelsey at the office. She was alone today while LeVar took an exam for a summer class at the community college. Raven was home resting after the hospital released her.
“My team refuses to back off the case,” Chelsey said over the phone. “And I don’t blame them.”
“I contacted Agent Gardy at the FBI about Hunter Dalbec. He doesn’t investigate organized crime, but he put me in touch with an agent who does.”
“Did the FBI confirm Dalbec and Bourn have mob affiliations?”
“Dalbec appears clean on paper, but he’s been on FBI radar for several years. That confirms our suspicions about Bourn. Look, I can’t prevent Wolf Lake Consulting from tracking down a fugitive. But let us apprehend Bourn.”
“That’s a deal, Thomas. Just remember that it’s personal now. Bourn threatened me, drugged Raven, and shot at LeVar. A lot of people want a piece of that jackass.”
A grin worked across Thomas’s lips as he took the Treman Mills exit. God help Osmond Bourn if Wolf Lake Consulting caught him first.
Principal Victoria Guerrero welcomed Thomas outside the school auditorium. The woman wore a pantsuit and high heels. She walked faster than she talked, and Thomas could barely get a word in edgewise as she led him into the waiting room.
“You’ll go on after Mrs. Sennett’s discussion on developing apps for smart phones.”
Thomas swallowed. Teens practically lived for their phones. How could he follow that presentation?
His palms were clammy and his throat dry by the time he took the stage. A bright light shone in his eyes and caused him to squint. It was hard to see faces in the crowd with the spotlight aimed at him. After a few snickers, Thomas drew them in, opting not to discuss careers in law enforcement. Instead, he told stories, focusing on how they tracked suspects.
His fifteen minutes concluded in a blink of an eye. Guerrero met him at the exit, all smiles.
“You did wonderful, Sheriff. A rough start, but you righted the ship and commanded their attention. Nice work.”
Thomas glanced down the hallway. Four presenters awaited their turns, while several teachers mingled outside the staff room.
“If I could have a minute of your time, Principal Guerrero. I’m investigating the deaths of three Treman Mills alumni and would appreciate any background information you can provide about the students.”
Guerrero’s hands tugged at her shirt. “Three students dead? Why hadn’t I heard about this?”
“The students in question graduated from your high school a little over a decade ago.”
“Oh, then I’m afraid I can’t help you. I came from the Marcellus school district five years ago.”
Thomas deflated. He’d hoped Guerrero remembered enough about the victims to theorize why someone would kill them. After Guerrero clicked away and gave the next presenter a pep talk, Thomas interviewed the teachers in the hallway. They all had nothing but positive things to say about Tina Garraway, Wade Tenny, and Harding Little. Tenny and Little were great athletes. Garraway was the prettiest girl in school and so friendly to the underclassmen. Their comments raised red flags. It wasn’t possible for so many people to have only wonderful opinions of three popular teenagers from over a decade ago.
He was
about to leave when a slender man with razor-burned cheeks eyed him from the staff room. The teacher appeared no older than thirty, and his forehead still held the hint of recent acne.
“You wish to speak with me?” Thomas asked.
The man glanced over Thomas’s shoulder at his coworkers. “Ty Kiermayer. I teach physics, and I’m a Treman Mills graduate. Garraway and Little were one year younger than me.”
“So you knew the victims.”
“I did. The teachers you spoke to taught Garraway, Little, and Tenny. But I went to school with those jerks. So I can tell you how they acted when the teachers weren’t watching.”
Thomas led Kiermayer away from the others. “How did they act?”
Kiermayer blew out a breath and snickered without mirth. “They were the biggest assholes in the school. Bullies, all three of them.”
“How bad are we talking? Like stealing lunch money and picking fights?”
“Worse than that. They ran the school, Sheriff. If you ended up on their bad side, they were ruthless. Little and Tenny would gang up on a kid half their size and beat the hell out of him. Their popularity gained them access to teachers and administration. Yeah, that doesn’t seem fair. But for whatever reason, the principals and teachers believed the lies Tenny and Little told them. Those two raised hell for four years, and neither of them spent a day in detention.”
“What about Tina Garraway?”
Kiermayer rolled his eyes.
“Nasty. You know, I actually felt bad for her once.”
“Why’s that?”
“Tina Garraway’s mother was a piece of work. Meanest woman in Treman Mills. No way I ever got close enough to Garraway to talk about her home life. She wouldn’t have been caught dead talking to a dweeb like me. But I’m certain the mental abuse played a role in who Garraway became. She made Tenny and Little seem like saints.”