by Dana Mentink
Thoughts of Randall and his hideous clown mask stabbed at her. Next time, I’ll finish it. Her feet froze.
There was nothing in that basement that could hurt her. At the bottom of the stairs, she strode purposefully to the neat shelves, where Bradley had a stack of tarps. She grabbed one and tucked it under her arm. The tension inside her turned to satisfaction. At least she could accomplish one small thing without turning into a quivering lump. She would put the tarp by the front door so Bradley could easily grab it.
She’d just reached out for the railing to start upstairs, when hands jerked her backward.
She wanted to claw the fingers away, but her arms were twisted behind her back and someone pushed her hard, her cheek hitting the clammy cement wall. She sucked in a breath to scream when her captor pressed a strip of duct tape across her mouth, sealing in her fear.
“Surprise,” Randall said into her ear. “Did you think I forgot about you, Penny? Did all your cop friends convince you I couldn’t get close again?”
His breath smelled of coffee and cigarettes. Disbelief filled her body even as she wriggled to get loose. How had Randall done it? Probably by intimidating Mrs. Lawson. Randall had obviously threatened her into making the initial call. Then he waited until Bradley was safely away from the house and forced her to phone again the second time, requesting the tarp.
As if Randall read her mind, he chuckled. “I saw your brother carrying the tarp through the cellar doors the last time I was watching your yard, checking things out until I was sure which window was yours. Neat trick, asking the neighbor call you to fetch it. The old lady was tougher than I thought. I had to hurt her a little bit to get her to cooperate.”
Hurt her? The sweet and vulnerable widow? Terror and outrage sparked through her entire body. Her screams were caught inside her taped mouth.
“We’d better go before dear brother Bradley comes back.” He leaned so close his lips brushed her ear. Disgust nearly gagged her. “I’m going to save him for a later date.”
There was another rip of tape and her hands were fastened behind her back. Then she was being marched, stumbling, toward the doors that exited to the outside. Randall forced her through and outside. He didn’t bother closing up. Instead he propelled her into the alley, where a small car was parked. As soon as she saw the car, her fear bucked even higher.
Her brother’s words echoed in her mind. Never let an abductor take you to a secondary location. She knew with sick certainty that once Randall forced her into that car and sped away, she had no hope of saving herself. Pressing her heels into the asphalt, she resisted with all her might. Her shoes juddered over the rough surface. Randall stopped, but only long enough to change his grip. He turned her around, pressed his arm into her stomach and flipped her over his shoulder. Leverage gone, she thrashed wildly, trying to knock him over, or slow him down—anything to prevent her abduction. He merely grabbed her tighter and sped up his pace. Her silent screams abraded her throat.
Bradley must have surely known by now. He’d have found Mrs. Lawson and gotten the truth from her. He and King would come charging down the alley any moment. She just had to hold on for a few more seconds. With a sudden violent contortion, she tumbled free of Randall’s grip.
Her knees struck the ground, causing a sharp jolt of pain. She ignored it, surging to her feet. All she had to do was get away for a split second. Legs churning, she could not maintain her balance with her hands trapped behind her back. A stumble slowed her. Randall dove at her, knocking her flat. The breath was pressed from her lungs as he pulled her to her feet and once again flopped her over his shoulder.
Her vision blurred as she was bounced against Randall. The black fabric of his windbreaker scraped against her cheek.
Stall! Fight as hard as you can for a few more seconds...
Blood pounded in her head and beat behind her temples. She kicked and bucked as if an electric current was passing through her body, but Randall was strong and determined, and this time he wasn’t going to relax his hold.
Unable to scream, born along like a leaf in the current, she heard the pop of a latch.
No. This couldn’t be happening. Bradley would see. Someone would come. Terror flooded her nervous system as she realized what was taking place. She was dropped into the gaping trunk of Randall’s car right on top of a leering rubber clown mask.
The last thing she saw was Randall’s crooked smile as he slammed the lid closed, leaving her in darkness.
* * *
Tyler smiled at Dusty in the back seat of his police car. She was curled up next to the soft pink sweater Penny had left at their apartment. Memories from their evening refused to leave his mind for very long. The dogs had seemed to enjoy their gathering as much as the humans. The two animals had tirelessly retrieved the toys Rain flung at them. He suspected both dogs had been tossed an ample supply of peas from Rain’s plate when he’d taken his eyes off her. Penny might have noticed but she wouldn’t rat out Rain to him.
He’d enjoyed the evening probably much more than he should have. It had been a very long time since he’d laughed so heartily and shared so much. For some reason, she hadn’t seemed upset by his talk of his broken marriage. There was something about her that calmed him, soothed a part that had been broken when Diane left. With Penny, there was safety in letting down his guard, showing his silly side. And when he saw her with Rain asleep, as if they belonged together... He shifted on the seat. He had enough to think about right now trying to find the elusive Andy and tracking down Randall. Not to mention the case on Ivan Holland, which could break at any minute if the local beat cops spotted him.
There were way too many balls in the air to be preoccupied with thoughts of Penny. Still, he found himself guiding his vehicle along the road that would take him past the McGregor home. He’d just check in with Bradley, make sure the protection schedule was complete, he told himself.
Dusty flapped her ears. “Yeah, I know we already worked out the schedule, but it couldn’t hurt to double-check.” Dusty blinked. Why did he feel like the dog could see right through him?
Why am I making excuses to see her outside of work hours?
He hadn’t the faintest idea. Teeth gritted, he pulled to a stop a block before her home and let out a deep breath. Quickly he looked again at the picture on his phone of Penny and Rain sleeping soundly. Again, a sense of peace washed over him when he viewed the picture for the dozenth time.
He should turn around before he made an idiot of himself. He’d flipped on his turn signal when the call came in over the radio.
Abduction.
McGregor home.
A BOLO issued for a dark-colored sedan.
Penny.
Adrenaline swamped him as he turned on his lights and siren, then punched the accelerator. He screeched up to the curb. Bradley and King were sprinting from the alley, racing toward Bradley’s car.
Tyler rolled down the window and shouted. Bradley froze, then turned and hurried to Tyler’s car. His face was white and pinched. “Randall took her. I saw him getting into the driver’s seat. Exited the alley westbound.” Bradley swallowed. “I think he put her in the trunk.”
Tyler fought to pull in a breath.
Lani braked to a stop behind them, red lights flashing. “I was a block away, taking a report. What happened?”
Bradley pointed to the neighboring house. “Elderly lady named Anita Lawson was threatened by Randall into setting us up. She’s not hurt badly, but she needs care. And Scrappy’s in the yard. I can hear him barking.”
“On it,” Lani said.
Bradley had already gotten King into the car when the second report came over the radio. A patrol officer from the 61st Precinct had possibly spotted the sedan speeding on the Belt Parkway.
Tyler listened, his heart slamming into his ribs. His spirit plummeted when the cop informed them he had lost his quarry in
the long pocket of residential homes and shops sandwiched between the Belt and Emmons Avenue. Randall had headed into a sleepy Sheepshead Bay waterfront community close to the marina. With multiple units responding from different directions, they’d close in quickly and cut off his escape from Brooklyn. They’d locate the vehicle and make the bust. If he headed for the piers themselves between Ocean Avenue and East 26th Street, they could cut him off there, too.
His throat went dry as he finished the thought.
But would Randall kill Penny first?
SEVEN
In the cramped trunk, the darkness stabbed through her like an ice pick. Alone. She was completely alone, like she had been on the night she watched her parents die. Randall had left her then with a deep well of uncertainty that she should do something, anything. But four-year-old Penelope had not had the faintest clue what action she should take. The phone in their cramped unit had been disconnected for nonpayment, so she could not have called anyone even if she’d thought of it. So she’d huddled into a ball on the sofa, clutching the plastic-wrapped monkey, too afraid to look closer at what was lying on that worn kitchen linoleum. The fear had taken root deep in her soul. She’d been very hungry, she remembered. Stomach growling, shaking and alone, she’d waited for her brother.
Alone. Twenty-four-year-old Penelope fought hard against the buzz of panic that electrified her. Panic was not an option, and Randall hadn’t won yet. She ordered herself to calm her breathing. It was a Herculean feat since her mouth was taped shut and her body was being jostled with the car’s movement. The trunk interior smelled of gasoline and rust. The flabby rubber of the clown mask pressed into her back, where her shirt had ridden up. That horrible clown face, as if it had leaped from her nightmares into real life.
She would not cry. She was not a child and certainly not helpless.
Pressing her feet against the lid of the trunk, she kicked with as much violence as she could muster. Her heels thudded uselessly against the metal, sending pain through her bruised knees and shins. The trunk did not give, and the car did not slow. Where was he taking her? When would he stop?
She knew the answer to that question. He’ll stop when it’s time to kill me, she thought with a shudder.
She needed to attract attention.
Rolling onto her side, she desperately sought the soft glow where the taillights were positioned. She found one, wriggling as close as she could. If only her hands had been secured in front, she would be able to whack at the light until it popped free. Her only option was to try it with the heel of her boot.
Contorting her body drenched her in sweat. Inch by painful inch, she got her feet into position. Aiming her boot heel, she banged at the plastic. The crunch when it gave was sweeter than music. Another round of aerobics brought her face close to the empty hole. A puff of cool air bathed her. The sedan hit a bump and smashed her cheek into the frame. White-hot pain zapped at her. This time she braced her knee against the movement and peered out the hole.
Glimpses of paved road and the bumper of a car flashed by. A delicate whiff of the sea told her they must be near the marina. Faint hope stirred. The marina area was lined with piers housing recreational fishing fleets, dinner boats and, across the water, lovely houses she could never hope to afford. It was a vibrant place with seafood shacks, gift shops and bicycle rentals. Though it wasn’t as bustling as it would be in the summer months, the October weather was still mild enough that there might be plenty of people still about. But at this hour? Another bumper appeared in her tiny view hole. After a moment, it vanished, turned into another lane perhaps.
What if no one notices the broken taillight? She had to try something else.
But what could she do with her hands taped behind her?
The rubber mask.
Groping and straining, she grabbed it, willing her fingers to grasp the symbol of her worst fear. She gritted her teeth. The thing that Randall used to terrify her was going to be her salvation. As she tried to turn herself into position, the car bumped and juddered, throwing her onto her belly. Was he stopping? Her time was ticking away.
Breathing hard, she jerked her body around and fed the clown mask through the hole. Maybe if she could hold it there, wave it like a signal flag, the movement might attract attention. A violent bump of the car caused her to lose her grip and the mask fell through the hole. She cried aloud.
She tried to peer out and see where it had landed, but she only succeeded in banging her face against the metal again. Gradually, an important detail eclipsed the feelings rampaging through her.
Every nerve telegraphed the dreadful message. The car was slowing. Randall was pulling over somewhere. Her plan had failed and now he was coming to kill her, just like he’d promised. She heard the engine die.
Her brother would find her. Someone surely would come.
Footsteps crunched along the side of the car. She readied her feet to kick out, to knock him backward and earn herself a few precious seconds. The plan was unlikely to succeed, but it was all she had.
Help me, she silently prayed. Don’t let him kill me.
A key scratched in the trunk lock.
She blinked back the tears. Whatever happened, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
* * *
Tyler braked to a stop at the entrance to the marina parking area and slammed a hand on the steering wheel. “Where is he?” Behind him, Dusty whined.
Bradley’s increasing tension crackled over the radio. “I’ve checked the parking lots and we have units on both ends of the street. What’s your location?”
“Parking lot by the piers. Nothing so far. I...” He stopped in midsentence. “Hold on a minute.” He was out of his car and sprinting to the spot where a crumpled object was lying on the asphalt. A clown mask with blue hair and a slashed mouth. Had Randall stopped and opened the trunk? Continued on, or reversed and returned to the main road? There was only one way out of the parking lot. Either Randall had escaped the lot before Tyler had shown up, or he was somewhere nearby, perhaps behind the boathouses or the warehouse at the end of the long row of boat slips that lined the Sheepshead Bay waterfront.
He almost shouted in the radio pinned to his shoulder as he broadcast the location. “I’ve got a clown mask. I’m going to have Dusty track.”
“I’ll be there in five,” Bradley said. He didn’t ask Tyler to wait. Tyler wouldn’t have listened, anyway.
Unwilling to waste a moment lingering around for a reply, he released Dusty from his vehicle, clipped on her long lead and brought her to the mask.
“Track.”
The command was unnecessary. Dusty was already nose-deep in the rubber recesses of the mask. Three long whiffs and she took off across the parking lot. He pulled his sidearm and followed.
Nose glued to the ground, she led him to the last row of cars. There at the very end was the black sedan. The rear taillight was missing. Pulse roaring, he put her in a stay and edged forward, weapon aimed at the driver’s-side window. Another step closer and he darted a look into the front seat. Empty. Rear seat, also.
The trunk lid was slightly ajar. Weapon aimed, breath held, he jerked it open. Empty. A ragged breath escaped him. Tyler wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or not. Penelope hadn’t been left there for him to find. Did that mean Randall hadn’t hurt her? Yet?
“All right, girl,” he said, calling to Dusty. “Show off that champion nose, okay? Track.”
She was already twitchy, nostrils vibrating as she followed the scent from the parking lot past the dock. A row of neatly painted warehouses with corrugated roofs lined the area next to the boat slips. There was no outward indication that Randall had passed this way, but Dusty had all the clues she needed. She led him right to the second warehouse, sitting obediently at the warped wooden door and beaming those soft eyes at him.
He gave Dusty a pat and whispered, “S
tay. You’ll get your treat soon—I promise.”
As soon as he arrested Randall Gage and got Penny to safety.
Gripping his gun, he seized the door handle and counted to three.
* * *
Penny stumbled as Randall pushed her behind a stack of pallets in the old warehouse. The place smelled of oil and the far-off fragrance of the sea. She tried to stay upright but fell to her knees instead. Sharp pain cracked through her shins and she felt a trickle of warm blood ooze through her pant leg.
Her throat was dry and aching from her muted screams. She’d struggled, thrashed and gone limp, but to no avail. Not a single soul had witnessed Randall wrestle her from the trunk and march her into the empty warehouse. He’d covered her bound hands by keeping her to his side, as if they were a couple, strolling along the dock.
The skin around her mouth stung from where he’d ripped off the tape.
“It’s too suspicious having you walk around with your mouth taped. If you make any noise, I will toss you in the water and hold you under until you drown.” That thought made her weak. Drowning alone and helpless, sinking to the bottom of Sheepshead Bay to her silent death while Randall watched and gloated made her nauseous. Still, she would have risked shouting out, if she had seen a possible rescuer.
But there had only been a single dockworker, who’d been too far away to hear over the wind-tumbled waves. A couple had passed by on a boat, and her pulse quickened, but they’d merely waved a friendly hello. Randall had waved in return and the couple kept on going. Her last hope had seemed to fade away in the small vessel’s wake.