by L. T. Ryan
“A whole lotta nothing, man.”
The helicopter dipped and rose and swayed a few feet. The whomp-whomp of the rotors pervaded the senses if you let it. It was warm in there and smelled like stale chips.
We lurched forward.
“Moving on,” the pilot said.
“What’s the deal?” I asked.
“Pennington said it’s a known private residence with a registered business selling floral arrangements at flea markets and road-side stands. He’d actually been out there in the days before he was in homicide. Couple of kids came across it, thought someone was growing marijuana there. Turns out it was lilies.”
“Doesn’t sound like Novak,” Sam said.
Indeed it didn’t. The guy had an interesting psych evaluation. I guess all the crazies did. But nowhere had it been mentioned he was into selling flowers, let alone growing them. Then again, we weren’t entirely sure what he was doing in his greenhouse.
As we raced north, I couldn’t help but feel we were wasting a whole lot of time. There was too much ground to cover. How were four men in two helicopters searching an expanse of land larger than New Hampshire expected to find a couple of greenhouses holding a couple of women and who knew how many corpses?
They needed to arrange search teams. Bring in more helicopters. We had a lead, possibly a solid one, and the detectives were doing too little in my opinion. Maybe it wasn’t their fault. Small-town politics, I supposed.
I stared out the window at the passing scenery. We came across a few more greenhouses, but quickly dismissed them from being top prospects. They were too obvious and visible. The place we were looking for would be away from civilization. Novak wouldn’t feel safe hiding out in a neighborhood, let alone with a few captives.
As quickly as I thought it, I had to dismiss it. There had been many stories over the years of kidnapping victims found several years after they had gone missing. They’d been living on busy streets, in apartment buildings, row homes, surrounded by people. Deep cover wasn’t required for concealment. You had to be smart. Careful.
Was Novak either of those anymore? He had to be watching his back every step he took. One wrong move, he was either going back to prison, or taking a dirt nap. Did he even care? I doubted he did. A man concerned with his life would not have abducted Cassie in the middle of the day. He broke free from his confinement with the realization that everything could slip away at any time. That made for an even more dangerous psychopath.
The pilot changed his heading to the northwest. Bright sunlight made viewing anything out of my window impossible. It also radiated heat. I pulled my headphones off and wiped my damp ears.
Sam gave me a curious nod. I shrugged and pointed him back toward his window. Couldn’t have him missing that major clue we were bound to find up here.
I turned my thoughts to Cassie and tried to reach out to her. Just to let her know I was still looking and I wouldn’t stop until she was safe again. I had no way of knowing if it worked. She even joked herself she was more comfortable speaking with the dead than the living. And that was after we’d spent a couple of hours in bed together.
Sam started pointing out his window, tapping it with his thick fingertip. I put my headphones back on to see what was going on.
“That looks like a promising spot,” he said.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned over to get a look. The pilot angled the helicopter. An unkempt circular lot surrounded by pine forest held what we were looking for. Two ragged-looking greenhouses stood in the middle about fifty feet apart. Looked like a small garage with a rusted roof was near one of them. About a quarter-mile away I spotted another clearing with an old beat-up house. Best guess says it had been abandoned decades ago.
“You might be right.” I leaned forward next to the pilot. “Can you get us down there?”
“I tried radioing to Pennington,” he said. “Got no answer. Let’s circle for a few and I’ll try him again.”
“We need to move away,” I said. “Gonna spook whoever’s down there if we hang out too long. Find a spot to land and shut this thing off.”
The pilot stared at me for a long fifteen seconds. It seemed he couldn’t figure out what to make of me. “All right. But any grief over this goes on you.”
I gave him a broad smile. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He found a level patch of dirt a little ways to the north to set the helicopter down. We hopped out onto solid ground. My ears rung long after the whine of the turbine had dissipated. The smell of fuel clung to my nose and throat.
“I’ll keep trying to reach the other helicopter,” the pilot said. “Get them to reroute out here. In the meantime, take this.”
I grabbed the radio from his outstretched hand.
“Keep it on channel nine and listen out for me. If you need backup, let me know.”
“That’s it?” Sam asked. “Just gonna let two detectives from Philly take this?”
“One, I’m just a pilot,” he said. “Two, we’re out of our jurisdiction, so it doesn’t matter who goes in there. From what I know, I figure this fella ain’t coming out alive. So, go do what you gotta do.”
Sam and I maintained silence as we picked our way through the dense forest. Poison ivy grew everywhere. Just a brush with the stuff would cause me weeks of pain. When I was a kid, I had it so bad they ended a Boy Scout camping trip two days early in order to get me to the hospital. My entire body had swollen so bad I must’ve had an inch of fluid under my skin. They said if we’d stayed in the woods any longer, I’d have died.
We reached the wood’s edge and waited for a few minutes. The garage I’d seen from above was in fact a carport. Underneath was a rusted Dodge pickup truck. The grass all behind it was matted down. Someone had been in and out with the vehicle recently and regularly, judging by the path that extended across the clearing.
I watched the nearest greenhouse for a few minutes. The glass exterior appeared as though someone had covered the lower half with a film that allowed light in but made it impossible to see through. Of course, it could’ve been a thick layer of grime that had built up over the years.
“Ready?” Sam said.
“I’ll go first,” I said. “Watch my back.”
“All right.” But Sam took off before I could take a step. He hustled across the open field to the dilapidated carport. It looked like it was going to collapse as he reached out for the support pole and used it to break his sprint.
The truck shielded his body as he scouted the area up close. After a few seconds he opened the passenger side door and leaned in. I lost sight of him after he climbed into the cab and the door eased shut on its own.
I covered what was visible of the lot from my spot just inside the tree line. If someone had been watching, they had decided to remain in place. Can’t blame them. If I saw Sam hauling ass in my direction, I’d get out of the way. Never understood why coach didn’t let him line up at fullback in goal line situations. The other team would’ve created the holes themselves for him to run through.
Sam signaled over the top of the truck from the driver’s side. That was my cue. I dashed across the open field to the waiting carport, refraining from using the support as a stop. It wouldn’t survive a second collision. Instead, I jogged around the back of the truck and met Sam on the other side.
“Anything good in there?” I asked.
He held up a faded registration card. “Gotta be ten years old. Can’t make out the letters anymore.”
I wondered if anyone could. “Hang onto it. Someone might be able to help.”
“And there was this.” Sam held up a .357, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. He glanced over his shoulder as though someone had called out his name. “Haven’t checked to see if it’s loaded. Might be some evidence on it.”
“Let’s leave it in the truck. Maybe we can find a bag inside the greenhouse to store it.”
We didn’t need the firearm. Cervantes had hooked us up with standard is
sue Glock 22s the afternoon before. The pistols offered plenty of stopping power. I was touched by the gesture. Of course, the bastard made us go to Wal-Mart to buy our own ammo.
“You ready for this?” Sam stood facing the nearest greenhouse. “Once we go in, there’s no chance at turning back.”
“There never was, bro.”
Chapter Sixty
Cassie had spent the better part of forty-eight hours strapped to her bed. That was her best guess. She’d lost all concept of time the moment she woke up in the horrid place. She’d freed herself from the restraint, but didn’t risk spending much time untethered. Novak came and went at irregular intervals, and he rarely made much noise when he did so. Last night had been an aberration. His slurred words were all she needed to hear to know he was drunk or high. And he’d done the same to Alice. The young woman had actually laughed.
Cassie wondered whether she ever would again. There was nothing that could make her feel that way now. Maybe the sight of Novak’s rigid body, his chest and head riddled with bullet holes. That, she thought, would elicit a joyous response.
She’d been ready for him last night. Her sweat-soaked body felt like forged steel as she lay there, waiting for him to enter her room. All he had to do was take eight staggered steps in her direction. She planned to feign resistance. And when he least expected it, she’d take him on.
But it wasn’t meant to be. She could only hope Alice was okay now. Normally the two would communicate minimally throughout the day. It wasn’t much. After all, Novak might be sitting outside their doors listening, so the women found ways to let the other know they weren’t alone.
Cassie glanced at the shadow cowering in the corner of her room. She was never alone. Doubts crept into her mind as she watched the spirit. Was it really there? Were the things that had happened to her since that night in the graveyard really happening to her? All the evidence in the world pointed to the answer being yes. Hell, she’d converted non-believers with the information she’d gleaned from her helpers, passing it along to law enforcement agencies and family members. The NSA had even contacted her for help.
Where were they now?
She sunk her head into the pillow and stared at the dim overhead light.
Tell me you’re out there, Mitch. I’ve heard your voice before. Talk to me again.
She waited for several seconds, studying the subtle movements of the shadow. There was no response from Mitch. Or anyone, for that matter.
A door beyond hers slammed shut. Cassie closed her eyes and tuned in to the dank environment. The smell of stale urine was strong. It was something she just couldn’t get used to. She shook her head and ignored the odor.
Was Novak in Alice’s room now? She counted the seconds. Novak rarely went more than a minute without speaking once he entered in a way that let them know he was present. It was as though he had the inability to do so, even when he knew the women would say nothing back to him.
More noise coming from outside her door caused her to muscles to clench. What was he doing? Something was dragging on the floor. Not a body. She doubted she’d hear that. This sounded like metal scraping on the concrete. Chains, perhaps? Were the ropes not enough?
She tugged her left hand toward her waist.
No, the ropes were most certainly not enough.
Keep cool, Cass. Don’t give it away too early. You’ve only got one shot at this.
And it was a shot she could not afford to screw up. Death would be the immediate and permanent response for doing so.
Several minutes passed with no activity in or outside of the room. The shadow had moved on to elsewhere. She hated when they came and observed without attempting to make contact with her. Who had sent it? What purpose did it have visiting her?
She heard faint humming. What was the tune? She couldn’t quite place it. Something she’d heard before, though. The tempo was fast, upbeat. Maybe a song from the seventies.
What was taking him so long? Was he doing it on purpose? Novak never lingered in the background for long when he was deliberately making himself heard.
Then she realized, it might not be Novak. There was the other man. “Hello, Detective.” At first she’d thought him to be a hallucination, but knew that was not the case. Was he going to become a frequent visitor? What did he want with them?
Her chest tightened, constricting her breaths. No panic, not now. She needed to have her wits about her. There could be no delay in her attack, either. Novak had developed a habit of sticking her with a needle anytime he got close. The drugs acted quickly enough that she would not be able to take him down if she were sedated.
The overhead light cut off and a moment later the door cracked open. A thin beam of light knifed across her stomach for a moment before it was blocked out by his body. He stood there for a minute, silent, unmoving. She resisted the urge to yell at him. She fought back the tears that tried to push through in waves. Hell no. She was too strong for that.
Cassie eased her left arm back. Her fingertips rested inches from the bedpost. A simple arch of her back would provide the necessary adjustment for her to wrap her hands around the hunk of broken wood.
Novak pushed the door open further, but he didn’t advance. More light flooded in, scratching across the floor, up the bed, over her bare skin. His breathing was heavy, ragged. Had he been with Alice? This was unusual behavior, even for Novak. Something had happened. She felt the pressure in the room change, acknowledging her fears.
“I’ll be back soon, my dear Cassie.” Novak swung his arm around as he turned and slammed the door shut, casting Cassie into darkness once more.
Chapter Sixty-One
The drum of the approaching helicopter drowned out the sounds I’d grown accustomed to while waiting outside. Cervantes had insisted we wait for them before investigating the greenhouses. Sam was right. I shouldn’t have let the pilot call it in. But we couldn’t keep our eyes on the man the entire time. He would have radioed them at some point.
The chopper crested over the trees and set down in the clearing. So much for the quiet approach. If someone was around, they knew full well we were outside.
Sam shook his sagging head and rubbed his eyes. “Amateurs.”
“And it’s their show. Nothing much we can do about it.”
“No, there’s something we shouldn’t have done.”
I waved him off. No point rehashing it now.
Gale force winds extended fifty feet out from the helicopter’s spinning rotors. Cervantes hopped out, tucking his billowing shirt deep into his black tactical pants. Once he cleared the zone, the pilot lifted the bird and swung back over the trees. Silence returned within thirty seconds.
“Anything happen?” Cervantes glanced around the property. “I had him push it to get here as fast as possible.”
“Where’s Pennington?” I asked. “He take a different helicopter?”
“He received another lead. Felt it was best I take scouting duty today while he followed up on it.”
An unusual request, I thought, but understandable given the circumstances. We had to spread ourselves thin if it led to finding Cassie.
“Place seems deserted,” Sam said. “No signs of movement since we’ve been here. Looks like the truck’s been in and out recently, though.”
Cervantes followed Sam’s gesture toward the rusted pickup. “I’ll check it out in a minute. Think it’s best we get inside those greenhouses.”
He led the way. I wasn’t sure what to even look for once inside. It was hard to imagine Novak would leave signs pointing to bodies buried in the dirt or the location of his captives. They wouldn’t be inside, that much I knew for sure.
There were two long rows of weathered, wooden tables adorned with empty planters, dead leaves and branches, and a few garden tools. Weeds grew up through the concrete floor. The temperature and humidity were higher than outside. It hit me like stepping off a plane on the tarmac in Orlando in early August. The only thing the greenhouse had going for it was t
hat it smelled like death.
“Not much going on in here,” Sam said. “That supply store, they said he’d been purchasing, right?”
“Yeah.” Cervantes had reached the other end. He pulled a table away from the wall and slipped behind it. Then he knelt down, out of sight.
“What’s there?” I said.
He’d found something. Maybe something hidden.
Cervantes rose, holding a dead possum by the tail. Now we knew why the place stunk so badly.
We spent another five minutes looking over the greenhouse before moving on to the next. It was even easier to investigate. There was nothing but a crushed pad of gravel on the floor in there. Window panels had been knocked out. Glass mixed with the rocks on the floor. No signs of anything having grown in there for years.
“We should check out that house,” Sam said.
“What house?” Cervantes asked.
“About a quarter-mile from here there’s another clearing. House set on it looks like it might be related to this place. It’s just as dilapidated.”
“Maybe the supplies are there.” Cervantes pushed past me toward the exit. “And the girls.”
I got my bearings straight and led the way through the woods. We walked in silence, each of us scanning a different section of the forest. If this was where Novak was hiding, he had to know we were here. This was his territory. The guy could be perched in a tree, waiting with a rifle to pick us off one at a time.
The wound on my head ached a little. I still don’t know what that little prick Seth was thinking. Pennington had said Seth thought I was involved and that I might’ve been out there to destroy or recover some evidence. His actions were the result of misplaced vengeance.
It was cooler under the woodland canopy, but without a breeze, it didn’t matter much. It took five minutes to reach the clearing. Up close it was obvious the house had been abandoned long ago. Any inhabitants were sure to have four legs or wings. Maybe things that slept upside down. There were probably a few transients that called the place home over the years. Doubtful anyone would stay long, though.