"Yes along with your men, I have paid for my own search team to locate Paul. I'm sure he probably pulled a stunt like ran off with that girl to elope," he said dismissively with a wave of his hand.
"Well, he wouldn't have done that either, Officer Stevens. I am sure you know by now our son is a promising athlete. We are very proud of him," Mrs. Hirsch said beaming.
Officer Stevens gave a warm smile to both of them. Of course, everyone in town knew. His face was on billboards everywhere. Some guys just had all the luck. "I will assure you that we will do all that we can to locate Paul. If you remember anything, please do not hesitate to call." He put on hat and left out.
Be careful what you wish for. Stevens wanted action on his job, and he was surely getting it. In a matter of days, he was solving missing person cases and three nasty hit and runs that was looking more and more sinisterly intentional.
He turned left onto a main highway, passing through the plowed streets. The snow had since stopped falling, but the roads were not all the way clear. Still, Stevens had a job to do by searching for Paul and going door-to-door who lived in close proximity to obtain tips. As he's driving toward an area, he notices an opening to a smaller road on his left. He stops.
"Hmm, I've never seen this road before." Looking a few feet ahead, he noticed a truck on the road near a path to his house. Stevens drives up to him. He rolls down his window.
"Excuse me, are you okay?" Stevens asked the man. He's never seen him before. It was Numbers. Numbers had his hair pulled back in a ponytail, and was wearing a suit and overcoat.
Numbers laughed it off. "Oh yes, I'm good. I am going to visit my sick aunt in hospice. Cancer," he said in a sad low tone.
Stevens feels sympathy for this man and his aunt, but he has a job to do.
"Yes I understand. I lost my mother to cancer. It is a bitch." Before Numbers could say something else, Stevens interjected his real reason for stopping. He took out a flyer of Paul Hirsch.
"The Oswego Police Department are looking for this young man. Name's Paul Hirsch, aged 19, attends high school. Have you seen him?" Stevens asked.
Numbers took off his fake wire-rimmed glasses and examined the picture. The reward was for seventy-five thousand dollars. He gave the flyer back and looked Stevens straight in the eye.
"No, I'm afraid not," he lied.
Stevens nodded his head, taking the flyer back. "Okay and no you keep it. Just in case you do see him, you can contact us at the number listed at the bottom.
"Okay, great, I'll do that if I see him," Numbers said evenly. He stood still waiting for Officer Stevens to say something else.
Stevens sighed. "Well, I guess I'd better get going. You be careful out there. There' still some icy patches on the road," he advised.
"Oh, sure thing. Thank you Officer," he snapped his finger as if trying to remember.
"It's Stevens and actually, I didn't mention my name. Drive carefully," Stevens said flatly.
Numbers gave him a simple nod, got in his car and drove off.
Stevens couldn't help but think that there was something up with that guy. He watched him as he drove off.
Stevens felt freer on the road by himself without Bly. Bly was never really all that nice to Stevens so he doesn't care. Right now, Stevens wants to save the day. Once he found Rodney and Paul, he knew for sure that he would get promoted. Hell, he might even take Bly's spot, he chuckled to himself. He would be that golden boy on the front of the papers and Lance Steele would do the story. Bly would just have to get over it.
He waited a beat and drove up the path that he didn't know existed.
After about a mile into the thicket of trees, he spotted a huge white house with lots of land in front and behind it. Even more curious, he drove up the snowy driveway and got out, searching his surroundings. It was still and quiet. In fact too quiet. No sign of children living there as it was devoid of any sleds, bikes, and other things children played with.
Stevens climbed the short stairs to the front door and knocked. At first, no one answered. He knocked again. A large man wearing a dress opened the door.
"Oh honey did you forget your keys?" he asked in a soft voice.
Stevens blushed. "Um, no. I'm actually Officer Stevens from the Oswego Police Department. We are going door to door doing a search for a missing young man named Paul Hirsch." He took out a flyer and showed the man Paul's picture. "Do you know him?" Stevens asked curiously.
The man glanced at the picture studiously and shook his head. He put his hand to his chest. "No. Oh good heavens. Missing? I'm so sorry. No, I don't know him. Never seen him before," the man explained.
Stevens squinted his eyes. "Okay, sorry to bother you." Something seemed very off about this man so he made up a lie. "Actually, we're asking local residents to allow us to search inside their homes for Paul Hirsch. We have reason to believe he could be in danger and we need to do a wellness check," Stevens explained, stepping closer. He tried to look around the man to see inside. All he saw was darkness.
"Oh, I'm sorry. No that won't work. See I'm taking care of my sick uncle who is ninety. He made a big mess in his Depends and I need to change him. His wife is in hospice. My husband went to go see about her. She could go at any day now. Once she goes, I'm sure he will, too. They were married for seventy years. A wonderful love story, right?" he said with a syrupy voice.
Stevens gave him a curt look. Just when he was about to say something to get inside that house, he received an urgent call on his radio. It was the lieutenant telling him and a couple of other officers to come to a different location. No other details were provided. Stevens turned and rushed off without even acknowledging Brennan, the man at the door in a dress. Brennan smiled and waved at him.
He waited until Stevens was gone and closed the door. He crumpled the flyer and tossed it on the foyer table.
He stomped downstairs to the basement, peeling out of the dress. He had on a tank top and shorts underneath. He gave an evil glare at Hillary Ahmad, screaming through her mouth gag.
He came over to her and slapped her mouth, forcing the gag to go in her mouth deeper. She began choking, so he thrust it out of her mouth.
"Cry or scream one more fucking time and I will blow your damn brains out," he snarled, pointing a gun at her.
Rodney couldn't take his fear-filled wide-eyed gaze off Brennan. Or that gun.
Chapter Forty-Five
I was trying to heal nicely, as the nurses in the hospital put it. I would feel even nicer when I got my hands around the person's neck who was holding my nephew for a ransom.
Lying down, I was replaying everything in my head. Nothing from the video stuck out at me, so I pushed that to the side. The whole Johnston fiasco turned out to be an organized drug crime ring. Jessica and Davion could only tell me but so much. I felt like I had leads, but they were still dead ends.
Lieutenant Ben and the rest of my department called to ask if I needed anything. Lieutenant Ben was contacted after he heard about the hit-and-run attack. He scolded me at first, but he also said he couldn't fault me because if it were his family, he would do the same thing.
I struggled to sit up. My hands were getting some feeling in them, but they still weren't one-hundred percent. I took a sip of my tea, which was now cold, and grimaced. The hospital staff was nice, but the food wasn't the greatest. I couldn't wait to get home to cook a real meal, no offense.
I turned on the television just to make some noise. I was tired of hearing the pressure monitor I was hooked up to. Turning to the news channel, I saw a reporter that looked like Lance. In fact, it was Lance. He was recording live about a murder-suicide committed by a cop. His wife was presumed dead, too.
My eyes widened when they showed Sheriff Bly's picture, smiling from ear to ear in his dress uniform and wide hat. He looked a bit younger in this picture. The few details I received were that the police were checking the area, but they were certain this was, unfortunately, a murder-suicide.
I d
idn't think so. How is it that Bly was dead around the same time I fall into a ditch on the side of a road, Ms. Lily gets rammed from behind in her car as if she is in a Monster's Truck event and my brother, who just arrived, gets randomly shot?
No, I wasn't buying it.
The reporter from the main newsroom asked Lance some more questions. I must say, even in this gruesome situation, Lance played his role as a calm, cool and collected news reporter. He wore a beige wool coat with a fedora. His face looked smooth and his leather-gloved hands held fast onto some papers.
The news story switched over to another one. This time a missing young man by the name of Paul Hirsch. He was last seen driving his car and there was some footage of him using his credit card to buy him and a young lady some pizza. After that, nothing else. Both him and the young lady, Hillary Ahmad, had not been heard from since the day before which according to their parents, was unlike them.
Although I was saddened by Bly's death, I tried my hardest to remember our last conversation. It didn't come to me then, but it would later. The concussion was causing me to have temporary short-term memory loss. Interrupting my thoughts, my phone chimed. I looked down at the screen. It was my mother.
"Hey Mom," I answered.
"Nina, what is going on up there in Oswego? When we were kids, going to visit your grandparents, we didn't have this type of stuff going on. Now you're telling me that cop who was so condescending with us is now dead?" she asked incredulously.
I exasperated. "Yeah, well, times have changed Mom. I remember when you used to take us as kids, and we would swim, play, go horseback riding and skiing without a care in the world. Guess we're all paying attention now, huh?"
"Yes, you're right. When was the last time you had spoken to Bly?" she asked me.
"Honestly, I can't remember. This bump on my head has me all messed up. What I do recall is the last time I saw him, he was, well, nice. Not rough as you called it. There was a difference between his shallowness he had with us. ," I said, with a quick recollection of my memory serving me right.
"Hmm, something doesn't sound right. Anyway, I know you can't get to James' room, but he has been upgraded to stable condition. They still have him under medication, so he can't talk. I'm sure Stephen will get there before I do. I hope you're able to walk tomorrow to go see him. I just want to see his face, Nina Belle," she said with a sniffle.
"Yeah, me, too. I'll try my best Mom, you know I will," I said, hearing noise in the background.
"Mom, where are you?" I asked.
"I slept overnight at a hotel near the airport. They gave vouchers for hotel stays since we can't leave yet."
"It's fine Mom. Soon as you can, I know you'll get here. In the meantime, I will keep you posted. Stay in touch with the lieutenant Mom. He's the one that will keep you updated. Him or Officer Stevens," I told her. We said our I love yous and hung up.
About fifteen minutes later, Lance came into the room. "So I took it that you watched the news?" he asked early. "This doesn't necessarily mean much, but I do think it's connected some kind of way."
I shook my head, agreeing with him. "I can't help but think that something is very fishy."I tried to connect the dots but was coming up blank. I watched the video again on the phone and then it hit me. Lance watched it as well, staying quiet as he examined the video.
I think I had it, but first, I needed to get out of the hospital and I wasn't cleared yet.
"Have you ever aided someone with breaking out of a hospital?" I asked him, already tossing the covers back and swinging my feet over and onto the floor.
He gave me a strange look. "Well, um, no. But you should lie back down," he suggested. I had already peeled off my neck brace and put my sweater on over my gown. I had to act fast.
"Good. Can you help me then?" I asked, ignoring his advice.
"You got something don't you?"
I didn't answer him as I took my pants from my hospital room and went into the tiny adjacent restroom to change into them. I brushed my hair back as best as I could, pulling it back into a bun. I rinsed my face, brushed my teeth, and poured a cup of water with some water from the faucet.
I came out of the restroom, took my last pain pill and tossed it back with some water. I stole a glance over at Lance. He had a smirk on his face. "Shall I come with you?"
***
The policeman at the door didn't seem to notice when Lance started talking to them about Bly. They were saddened about his death and remembered the many years of working with him. I listened to them from behind the door as Lance put on his charm and persuaded them to go get some coffee and lunch. At first, one of them said they had orders to stay by the room. Lance told them it would only take a few minutes and that he was buying. After a few more minutes of small talk, they all left for the cafeteria. Good.
Opening up the door to my room, I looked to see if any nurses or doctors were cruising about. None of them were near the room or the station, so here was my chance. I sneaked out wearing Lance's coat and hat.
I headed for the stairway, leading to Lance's vehicle. The plan was that after ten minutes, I would then send him a text and he would leave to come to get me and take me home.
I looked down the hallway and saw Lance look over his shoulder at me as him and the other cops rounded the corners. Because the hospital was so busy, no one but Lance noticed me leaving to take the stairs down to the parking garage level. I was wobbly, going down. That's what those ten minutes were truly for. I managed to meet by Lance's car. After waiting five more minutes, Lance appeared jogging over to me. He opened the door, helped me in the car and sped out of the garage to drive me home.
Chapter Forty-Six
"I know you know something Hillary!" Brennan shouted. He was the most abrasive toward her since he had brought her now-deceased boyfriend into his and Numbers' hacking ring. He slammed his fist into her jaw, causing her head to slump to the side.
"I honestly don't know," she whimpered. She was fastened to a chair wrapped in cable cord, her arms tied behind her back around the chair. Her hair had fallen wildly in her face, making her look feral.
Brennan hit her again, this time, knocking out a tooth. Surprisingly, she let out a guttural laugh, spitting out it out. She'd been through worse than that. When she got out alive and well, she would get her tooth replaced, she thought to herself. No big deal.
Brennan was about to stab Hillary to death like he did Paul, but Numbers held his hand up to silence Brennan. He walked closer over, crouching down to be face-to-face with her. "Ms. Hillary," he started in a sing-song type of voice. "There's no way you were that close to Paul and didn't know what he was up to. So tell us. Did Paul show you any of his files? Hmm?"
She pretended to ponder, cocking her head to the side. "He spoke about his future with me, but both you scumbags took that away from me!" she screamed. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Numbers didn't flinch. He remained on his toes, waiting for a better answer.
"Tell me, Hillary. What was Paul up to? Surely skating and twirling around on ice was not bringing in any money like that. We already checked his account. He had over a million dollars in it. Were you aware of that?" Numbers teased.
Hillary's eyes widened. Actually she wasn't. She was low-key pissed that she couldn't ask Paul about it because he was dead. If he had that kind of money, why he never told her about it?
She swallowed hard before talking. "Listen, all I know is that his father is some rich hedge fund guy. His mother has her own marketing firm. Paul, he made his money from skating. He just told me today that he was going to be on the winter Olympics snowboarding team. He has several endorsements that pay him handsomely. Perhaps that is where the million dollars came from?" she asked, smiling inwardly.
Numbers sighed. "You know Hillary. I really want you to live. I am going to find out what Paul was up to. And if I find out that you knew anything, you're going to die. Simple as that. Do we have an understanding?"
She nodd
ed her head up and down like a bobblehead toy. "Yes, I do," she replied with a gulp.
"Good." Numbers stood up. He put a hand to Brennan's chest, signifying that they would leave this alone for now and handle other business. Numbers was pleasantly surprised at Brennan's sporadic larcenous behavior. Usually, that was Numbers' role. This time Brennan played it to a tee.
They went upstairs to get a bite to eat. Numbers eyed Brennan carefully. "Man, what's gotten into you?" he asked.
Brennan let out a grunt, facing Numbers by the counter. "I'm tired of these younguns trying to play me. I bring them in, pay them good money and they try to stiff me. Maybe I should hire a couple of oldheads to do the trick, yeah?" he asked, waving a knife in the air.
Numbers laughed. "Nah man, take a look at our world. The demographics for hackers are usually young white males. It might sound cliche, but it is what it is. I honestly think many of them start out ethical, like me and you did. However, once they see dollar signs, they go crazy with it," Numbers explained casually.
"Right. Like me and you did," Brennan finished for him.
There was a short silence between the two men as they prepared their meal of chicken penne with broccoli.
"The next step will be to torture the Perkins family more especially since James is still in critical condition," Numbers
***
Rodney was still in the cold damp corner. He rubbed his fingers across his jaw, trying his hardest not to touch a certain area. It was still tender. He was intrigued by the young lady sitting in the chair, facing him. He wanted to know what she truly knew about Paul.
"Who are you?" Rodney asked Hillary. She was staring straight ahead, at first not hearing Rodney.
"No who are you? Are you that kid that went missing a few days before?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yes, that's me. What do you want to know?"
Hillary replied, "Everything. Especially the part about how you got hooked up with these two assholes in the first place," she seethed.
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