Hugging her waist, she nodded. Her eyes were bright with moisture. Her control was slipping.
Brody pointed toward the phone the patrol officer was holding. “Where is the man in the picture?”
But Mick claimed his rights before Brody even arrested him. Probably not his first brush with the law.
“I’m not talking unless you let me go. And if you don’t, I want a lawyer.”
Brody walked over to Hannah.
Her face was drawn and strained. “It’s going to drop well below freezing tonight.”
“I know. We’ll find him.”
“Mick said if he doesn’t call his brother by eight”—Hannah checked her watch—“that’s less than three and a half hours from now, the brother will kill Chet.”
Brody took the cell phone from the officer. In the photo, Chet was lying on weeds. There was a wall or something behind him. Was he behind a building? Disappointment filled Brody. There was some writing on the wall in the corner of the picture. Brody expanded the photo, but the image was too blurry to identify the letters.
Chet could be anywhere.
The Scarlet Falls interview room was furnished with one metal table, bolted to the floor, and four chairs. Mick Arnette sat in one chair. A uniformed SFPD officer stood a few feet away.
“OK, Mick.” Brody took a seat across the table. “Where is he?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mick leaned back. His handcuffs clanged as he intertwined his fingers. Attached to the ring in the center of the metal table, he didn’t have much room to maneuver. His smile was malicious. “I’ll talk to Hannah Barrett. No one else.”
“That’s not going to happen.” His relaxed posture sent anger crawling up Brody’s throat. He wanted to grab Mick by the hair and slam his face into the table. Never had he been tempted to hurt a suspect. He’d always played by the rules. But today, with Chet’s life on the line and the knowledge that this man had hurt Hannah and abducted a teenage girl, Brody had a much better understanding of what had driven Grant to beat the hell out of the man who’d killed his brother. This was personal.
Hannah would talk to this guy. No question. She would never be able to resist helping others.
Brody tossed Mick’s phone onto the table. “Why don’t you unlock this for me?”
“Why don’t you get a warrant? The courts have ruled that I have an expectation of privacy when it comes to the contents of my cell phone.”
Great. Another criminal who was an expert on the law.
“The warrant is on its way,” Brody said. To expedite the warrant, Stella had driven to the courthouse to personally obtain the judge’s signature. A technical expert was on hand to attempt to track the phone’s location and usage history the second the warrant was issued. If Mick communicated with his brother by phone, with the number and the records from the carrier, the police might be able to ping the brother’s current location.
“Don’t expect me to make this easier for you,” Mick said.
“Why are you in New York, Mick?”
“I’m not answering any questions from you until I talk to a lawyer.”
Brody left the room. He went to the end of the hall and ducked into the conference room. Hannah sat at the long table. She’d already given him her statement, but Brody didn’t want her out of his sight, not with Mick’s cohort running loose.
Shivering, Hannah had wrapped her hands around her coffee. She’d changed into jeans and a sweater but looked as if she was freezing. She set her cup on the table. “Did you find out where Chet is?”
“No,” Brody said. “I’m waiting for a call from the crime scene tech at Chet’s house.”
“So Mick won’t talk?” Her blue eyes went cross-examination sharp. She knew he was holding back. No pulling anything over on her.
Brody hesitated. “He says he’ll talk to you.”
“I’ll do it.” She pressed her hands on the table and stood.
Brody shook his head. “No. I don’t trust him, and I don’t negotiate with criminals.”
“But if there’s a chance he’ll say where he stashed Chet, then it’s worth a try.” Her jaw was set—as was her mind. “He’s restrained, right?”
Brody nodded.
“Then what’s the harm?” she reasoned.
I don’t want you anywhere near him.
Instead, Brody said, “He gets two minutes. A sheriff’s deputy is on his way to pick him up and take him to the jailhouse.”
Scarlet Falls’s small police station didn’t have a holding cell. Brody led the way back to the interrogation room. Mick’s gaze focused with intent on Hannah.
“Did you have something to say?”
Malice gleamed in his eyes. “You have no idea how much I want to fuck you.”
Rage ignited in Brody’s chest. His body was moving forward without any consultation from his brain. Hannah stopped him with an arm across his chest. “Don’t. It’s exactly what he wants you to do.”
Brody eased back. Mick was grinning. Hannah was right. If Brody hit him, he’d have grounds for a lawsuit, and ammunition when it came time for charges to be filed.
“Let’s go. He’s not talking.” Brody opened the door and steered Hannah through the opening.
“I want her to be my lawyer,” Mick called after them.
Brody shut the door. His phone vibrated. Vinnie, the crime scene tech, was calling from Chet’s house. Brody answered. “What do you have?”
“Not much,” Vinnie said. “He broke in through the slider. Chet’s phone was on the table, so we can’t trace him that way.” He paused.
“What is it?” Brody asked.
Vinnie exhaled. “It looked like Chet had been doing some serious drinking last night.”
“So he probably didn’t put up much of a fight.” Brody loosened his tie. Anger, and a hefty dose of fear for Chet, still warmed him. After the turmoil of yesterday, he should have checked on Chet this morning.
“No. They tracked some mud onto the carpet but not enough to analyze or compare the tread.”
“Fingerprints?”
“Since they came in through the slider, I expected to find prints on the glass, but there weren’t any.”
Mick’s attitude told Brody he was an experienced criminal. “They probably wore gloves. I want you to compare Arnette’s prints with the ones taken from the shooting scene last night.”
“OK, and I’ll let you know immediately if we find anything else.” Vinnie ended the call.
“Nothing?” Hannah shivered, though she was still wearing her jacket.
“No,” Brody said.
“See what you can make of this,” the middle-aged techie on loan from the county said from behind a bulky laptop. “I can’t enhance the image any more.”
Brody crossed the room to lean over his shoulder. He pointed to a few blurry white numbers and letters in faded paint above Chet’s feet. “What is this?”
Hannah looked over his shoulder. “Those white letters in the rust?” She squinted. “Looks like CR 268 . . . I can’t read the last few numbers.”
Brody stared at the image. It was a close-up of the red building in the background. The numbers and letters meant nothing to him, but there was something familiar about the image. “I don’t know what that means, but I feel like I should.”
The county geek said, “I’ll run it through whatever databases I can find and send a copy to the state computer forensics analysts. Someone will know what those letters and numbers mean.”
“It has to be local, right?” Hannah asked.
“Probably.”
“Let me send the picture to Mac. No one knows this countryside better.”
“Worth a try.” Brody asked the tech to message the pic with just the background, not Chet’s face, to the number Hannah provided. “You’ve heard from
him, then?”
“Yes. He texted me this morning.”
“Where is he now?” Brody asked. Hannah’s youngest brother had a reputation for living off the grid.
Hannah scrolled on her phone. “He’ll be here sometime tonight. Hopefully his phone is still charged and he’s checking it, but no promises. You know Mac.” She lowered her cell. “Now what?”
“I don’t know. We keep looking for Chet.” Brody paced. “We’ve called in additional law enforcement from the county and state. Search teams are being organized.”
Chief Horner walked into the room. “The state police are setting up a command post at the county administration building. I’ll need you there. Also, the mayor scheduled a press conference in two hours. I’d like to have something intelligent to say.”
“Yes, sir.” Restless, Brody clenched his hands into fists. Prepping the chief for a press release was the last thing Brody wanted to do. He should be out there, looking for Chet. The image of his friend unconscious and gagged twisted his gut every time he looked at it. Chet wasn’t in the best health. The sun had been down for an hour, and the temperature outside was dropping.
“Hopefully, the press conference will clear the media from our street.” The chief waved at the windows. Outside, media vans lined the street. Using the police station as a backdrop, reporters stood on the sidewalk and spoke into cameras.
Brody waited for the chief to leave. He turned to Hannah. “You can come with me.”
“He didn’t say that.”
“There is no safer place for you to be than a building full of cops. I don’t want you to be alone until the guy who kidnapped Chet is apprehended. His brother won’t say why he came to New York, but I assume he came for you. Plus, my gut is telling me Mick and his brother killed those two women and shot Lance.”
Hannah put a hand on his arm. Her eyes were bleak. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I brought this man here. I should have just gone with Mick Arnette. Maybe he would have released Chet.”
“I didn’t mean it was your fault. Going with him would have been crazy. He would have killed you both.” Brody covered her hand with his. “Every available member of law enforcement will be out there looking for Chet. We’ll find him.”
But would it be too late?
Chapter Thirty-One
Mick sat in the back of the police car. In the front seat, on the other side of the metal barrier that separated him from the cops, sat two sheriff’s deputies.
He was fucked. He and Sam hadn’t discussed a contingency plan in case one of them was caught. But Mick would never give up on his brother. Sam was around here somewhere, waiting.
The cops turned onto a rural highway. Traffic was light. They approached a bridge. Mick stared out the side window. How was he going to get out of this? That damned blond hadn’t done what he’d expected. He’d assumed she’d do as he said to save her friend, but no, the selfish bitch had called the cops.
Didn’t she understand she was signing her friend’s death warrant?
Not that the old guy was going to survive no matter what she did. Once Sam had an idea in his head . . .
The car approached an overpass. A moving van barreled toward them in the other lane, its high-mounted headlights glaring through the windshield. Just as they hit the end of the bridge, the van swerved toward the police car. With a crash and a groan of metal, the police car slid off the embankment. Mick’s body slammed against the seat belt. The deputy grabbed the radio, but the car jerked, and he dropped the receiver.
The car bounced. Mick lost perspective as the world slammed. The vehicle came to a stop. He hung forward, his weight shifted, the seat belt digging into his chest and collarbone. With his hands cuffed behind his back, he hung helpless. The pressure of the strap across his chest forced him to take shallow breaths.
The deputy grabbed the mic on his uniform and called for assistance.
“Shit. You all right, Steve?” the deputy in the passenger seat asked.
“I’m good.” The driver unsnapped his seat belt. Turning on the interior light, he glanced in the back. “You alive, Arnette?”
Mick didn’t answer. Fuck that cop. Let him crawl back here and find out.
A figure appeared next to Mick’s head. A man leaned down to look into the window. With the light in the vehicle and the darkness outside, it took Mick a second to realize it was his brother. A long-sleeve jacket covered his tatted arms and the bandage on his bicep where he’d been grazed by the cop’s bullet. Combined with a pair of khaki pants, his new look was electronic-store salesman.
“Hey, are you guys OK?” he asked the cops, then pointed a gun through the broken passenger window. Two gunshots echoed in the car as he put a bullet into each cop’s head. Mick flinched. Blood splattered the interior. Sam fired two more shots. Making sure the cops were dead, or just for fun?
His brother leaned into the rear compartment, a knife in his hand. He flicked his wrist and cut the seat belt.
Mick fell forward. “I’m glad to see you.”
“You didn’t think I’d let them take you away?” Sam caught him, his hands gentle.
“Of course not.” Mick should have known his brother would come after him.
Sam leaned into the front of the vehicle and searched the cops until he found a handcuff key. The back door wouldn’t open, so he released Mick’s hands and helped him wriggle out the broken window.
“Did they radio for help?”
“Tried.” Mick coughed. “Not sure if they got through.”
“Let’s get out of here.” Sam grabbed his arm, hauled him to his feet, and half carried him up the embankment. The moving van sat on the shoulder of the road. Other than a dented front fender, the vehicle wasn’t damaged. Sam shoved Mick into the passenger seat. Rounding the vehicle, he climbed behind the wheel.
Mick looked back. At the bottom of the hill, the cop car was still. From a distance, there was no sign that the two deputies had been shot.
“How’s the arm?”
“I’ve had worse.” Sam’s wound had been shallow. He accelerated, putting the scene behind them. A mile up the road he turned onto a dirt road. They drove a few hundred yards and turned again. Trees cropped up around the lane. Sam stopped the vehicle behind a half-collapsed, abandoned outbuilding. The Charger was parked behind the building.
Mick rubbed his shoulder. The seat belt had done a number on him. “How did you know where I was?”
“News report.” Sam held up a different prepaid smartphone than he’d been using before. “I destroyed the old phone in case the cops got into yours.” He rooted in a bag on the bench seat between them and pulled out another phone, which he handed to Mick. “I stole the van and waited down the road. On TV, they showed you being driven away.”
Mick shoved the new phone in his pocket. “Did you know that old dude we snatched was a cop?”
Sam nodded.
“What did you do with him?”
“I got him stashed where we spent the night. Nobody’s gonna find him.” Sam got out of the van.
They’d parked in an isolated spot overnight. It wasn’t the first time they’d slept in the car, but it had been damned cold. They’d had to start the car engine every hour.
Mick followed his brother. His whole body hurt.
Sam opened the driver’s door of the Charger. He reached in and pulled out a plastic bag. He tossed it to Mick. “Here. Change your clothes. There’s a razor in there, too. Your picture was all over the news.”
Shivering, Mick stripped off his jeans and T-shirt and tugged on the cheap khakis and blue polo shirt. Appearance aside, he was glad to don the fleece jacket. “I look like an idiot.”
“You look like you want to sell me a data plan. Now shut up and shave.” Sam tossed him a bottle of water.
Mick used the water and shaving cream to remove his goatee. He nic
ked himself multiple times in the cold.
Sam squinted at him. “I don’t think it’s enough.”
“Turn on the dome light.” Tilting the side mirror out, Mick lathered his head and shaved it bald. The night air froze his bare scalp.
“Better,” Sam said. “Do you still want the blond?” His eyes shone as if he was hoping Mick said yes.
“More than ever.” Anger surged in Mick’s chest. She’d defied him. She’d beaten him. She needed to suffer. He wanted her on her knees and begging. He’d never thought she would best him. How did a woman take him out twice? “She needs to pay.”
“All right, but then we’re wiping out all the loose ends here and heading south. Imagine how much money we’ll make when we don’t have to share our take with someone like Mr. K.”
“We’re going to make a killing.”
“Fucking A.” Sam grinned. “I have a plan.”
“Have to find the woman first. She was with that cop at the police station.” Mick rubbed his oddly smooth head in frustration. The cop’s body language with the lawyer was all possessive. He’d keep her close.
“I know.” Sam grinned. “I GPSed his car.”
“You did what?”
Sam shrugged. “Was easy. It was getting dark, and there were so many reporters and cameramen wandering around the parking lot, I just walked right through the crowd and slid it under the fender. Dressed like this”—he gestured toward his torso—“nobody looked at me twice.”
He opened an app on his phone. “Look. Here they are.” Handing the phone to Mick, Sam hurried to the driver’s door. “There’s gonna be a press conference over here.” He pointed to another point on the map. “I’ll bet that’s where they’re headed. I scoped out a few excellent places along the route for an ambush. Let’s go get her.”
Mick shivered in the leather seat. Was that a snowflake? Fuck. This. State. “We could just run. Forget about the woman. Forget about the cop. Head somewhere warm.”
“Hell, no.” Sam’s black eyes snapped. “You want the blond, and I want her, too. You promised. I broke you out of jail! You can’t go back on your word.”
Minutes to Kill (Scarlet Falls) Page 25