Bree braced herself to duck for cover when his hand went to the coat, only to sag in relief when he pulled Scarlett from its folds. He stroked the bird with a long, thin finger.
“Grape?” Scarlett asked, twisting her head to look first at him then at Bree. “Grape?”
“No grapes.” Gordon’s hand tightened around the parrot’s neck. “You like this bird, don’t you?” His eyes never left her face. “I like her too. But the difference between you and me is I’m willing to sacrifice her to get what I want. Are you? I’m willing to squeeze the life out of her if you don’t put your phone on the desk, miss.”
His fingers flexed and Bree grabbed her phone. “Okay, okay, I’m doing what you asked.” She eased it onto the desk, keeping her eyes on Gordon while surreptitiously trying to punch in 9-1-1.
“Hands away from it,” he ordered, the whine dropping to a guttural menace.
She raised her hands.
“Now the earpiece.”
“I don’t—”
“Take it out!”
Bree reached into her ear to remove the com, hoping Tugood heard enough to help her.
“Now,” Gordon said, producing a gun, “you’re going to go for a little ride with me.”
“I’ll die here, thank you very much,” she said, egging him on.
He turned the gun on Scarlett. “Fine. But the bird goes first.”
“Wait.”
Gordon laughed, the sound shivering along Bree’s spine. “You’re too soft for your own good. Lucky for me you’re fond enough of this parrot to risk your life for her.” He stepped in close, faster than she’d anticipated and thrust Scarlett into her arms before wrapping her elbow in a punishing grip.
The frightened bird shivered against Bree, and she struggled to calm herself for Scarlett’s sake. She’d play along until she could get herself and the bird to safety. But first, she needed to leave as many clues for Matthew as possible.
“What are you going to do with us?”
“We’re all going for a little ride. In that nice big car you love so much.” He jerked his head toward the car showroom.
“The Crown Vic?”
“I’m sorry about this, miss. Really I am. I don’t want you to suffer, but I can’t let you take your story back to the police now, can I? Any more than I could let Billy continue down the path he was on. I didn’t have a choice, now, did I? Not with him getting in over his head with those mafia fellows. I couldn’t let him do that to Jack. Jack’s a good man. He didn’t deserve to pay for Billy’s sins.”
Bree listened with half an ear while she looked for an opportunity to escape. Gordon dragged her toward the car, keeping the gun trained on her. Running and weaving wouldn’t be an option in the crowded garage. Instead she let him force her into the trunk of the Crown Vic, Scarlett cuddled in her arms.
“Billy couldn’t be allowed to continue in his life of crime. He had to pay.” Gordon shook his head. “Had to.”
The trunk lid banged shut. Bree focused on her breathing and stroked Scarlett. “Pineapple,” she said to the bird, repeating the word over and over as Gordon started the car. “Pineapple. Pineapple.”
“Grape?”
“Pineapple,” Bree repeated firmly. “Come on, girl, learn this one for me. Please.” She stroked Scarlett’s feathers, keeping them both calm while the car backed out of the garage and turned. At least Gordon wasn’t driving wildly.
While she worked to teach Scarlett the new word, Bree reached under her costume and located her Maglite. She flicked it on. No quick release handle for the trunk lock. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. She’d have to search for the cable running from the front of the car to the trunk release mechanism and try to get a grip on it. But at least she had room to maneuver.
Doing her best not to damage the bird, she held the Maglite between her teeth and ran her fingers along the inside edges of the space, searching for the remote cables to the trunk latch and wiring to the brake lights. Disabling the lights might attract attention; however, it would increase the risk of the car getting rear-ended by another driver. Bree dismissed the idea. The car turned hard left, shifting her against the interior of the trunk and causing Scarlett to squawk.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she crooned. “Pineapple.”
“Prapple?”
“Good girl,” Bree stroked the parrot’s feathers. “Pineapple.” Once the bird calmed, she continued the instructions while she located the trunk release cable. She couldn’t get a grip on the thick bundle of wires from the location along the side of the vehicle.
The car jerked to a halt, then inched forward, its movements indicating they were in traffic. Good. More time for her to escape in a populated area. More chance that when she jumped from the trunk, the car would be going slowly.
Muted sounds from beside the car caught her attention. A whistle and screech sounded like one of the commuter trains that flanked the throughways. Even better. Most stations had merchants and buildings that clustered alongside the tracks. More places to hide if she could escape before Gordon made it to the freeway.
She searched around the back edges of the trunk, feeling for the release cable, hoping to get a better grip from a different angle. When she located what she hoped was the cable, she gripped it, tugging to try to unlock the trunk. No luck.
“Pineapple?”
“Good girl. Brave Scarlett,” Bree praised while working the cable loose. When she could get enough leverage to slip her Maglite under it, she worked the flashlight like a lever, working to twist the cable in a way her bare hands couldn’t.
The car came to a halt just as Bree’s efforts to work the cable paid off. The pop of the trunk sprang her into action. She leapt from the space, using the trunk lid for cover. Tossing Scarlett into the air with a prayer the bird found her way home and gave the message to James, Bree ran.
Left, right, dodging oncoming traffic, huffing for breath, she focused on each step. Two blocks. Four. Gordon’s voice mingled with the blare of horns, the screech of brakes, and at least one instance of metal crashing into metal.
She doubled back, hoping to throw Gordon off the scent. Bree lost track of time as she alternately ran and rested, twisting in what she hoped was a hard to follow pathway. Every time she thought she’d shaken her pursuer, he managed to shift tactics and follow. How long before she’d run out of places to hide and have to confront him in an open area?
She shifted direction again, operating on instinct rather than by plan.
As she’d suspected, the tracks were nearby, visible within a few blocks of her current position. A small shopping district butted up between the tracks and the adjacent freeway. Bree raced to the cluster of buildings and charged into an opening between towering brick structures, harsh breaths squeezing her lungs. She peered out, safe for a few minutes until she spied Gordon headed toward the buildings.
Break time was over.
Sprinting through the tiny alley, she turned left, running parallel to where she last saw Gordon and raced into a boutique, hands held high as she headed to the register.
“Help. I need help. Call the police.”
The young salesclerk’s eyes widened. “No cops,” the clerk said as she grabbed her bag from under the counter and edged her way toward the door.
“Just call,” Bree began, gasping for air as she took a cautious step forward.
“No cops,” repeated the girl, fear icing her voice as she took a last look at Bree and fled the scene, leaving Bree on her own.
James rubbed his hands over his face and stared at the notes in front of him before raising his eyes to Margie once again. “I’d like to help you but—”
“I’ll tell you what will help,” Griffin said, talking over his words, playing bad cop to James’s good cop. “Telling the truth will help. I’ve about lost my patience with your waffling. Why did you do it? How did you do it?”
Margie’s lips trembled, the first major crack in
her composure since she’d entered the interrogation room two hours ago. “I didn’t kill anyone. I swear.” Her eyes sought out James’s face.
“Margie, we know about the poison,” he said gently. “What we don’t know is how you administered it or why.”
“No, no, no, no.” Margie shook her head. “It wasn’t poison. It was just plain old booze. Vodka. I soaked the gummies in vodka to give ‘em a kick. I thought…” She looked at her shoes and slumped back in the chair. “I thought if I doped him up with enough alcoholic gummies, he’d show up drunk to work and get fired. God only knows how he could hold so much booze. I tried a handful of the gummies and I was drunk off my ass in no time flat.”
“Not the alcohol,” Griffin shouted. “The poison. Did you put that in the gummy bears too?”
Margie came out of her chair in a bust of energy, shoving it back till it toppled behind her. “I don’t know anything about poison. Nothing. Understand?” Spittle flew from her mouth landing on Griffin’s cheek. He didn’t flinch.
“Mrs. Lewis, pick up your chair and sit down.”
After a minute of psychological tug-of-war, Margie complied. “I don’t know nothing about no poison,” she repeated.
Beside James, his phone vibrated. He glanced at it then held a finger up to stall Griffin’s next words. “A minute, please.” He left the room to take the call.
“O’Neil here.”
“You need to get to the garage, ASAP,” Matthew said into the phone. “I caught some garbled chatter between Bree and someone. The analytical equipment here caused accidental jamming of the coms, but what I heard wasn’t good.”
“Oh God.” He was running to the garage before the word left his mouth. “When?”
“Not long. She may still be there. Or she might be on the move. He had her remove the com before I could give her instructions. Look I’m in Tech Ops now, monitoring the movement of the Crown Vic. It pulled out of the garage minutes after the com cut out. You need to tell me if she’s safe. Until I hear otherwise, I assume she’s in the car.”
James burst through the doors, startling Juan and Magnus, who stood by in their Jedi robes and Storm Trooper garb. “Where’s Bree?” At their stunned, confused looks he amended his question. “Cat. Cat Holmes. Where is she?”
He didn’t wait to hear their replies but took off running to the exterior as soon as they shook their heads. “She’s not outside,” he said to Matthew. “Retreating to check the garage now.”
A search of the premises turned up only her phone and earpiece. He grabbed them and relayed the information to Matthew. “Keep an eye on that Crown Vic. I’ll put out an APB on it.”
He shoved Bree’s com into his ear. “Can you hear me?”
“Check.”
“Good.” He cut off the phone call and connected with the local PD, issuing the all points bulletin for the car as promised. He gave them the information Matthew relayed about its location.
“What the hell—” Juan’s startled expression drew his eyes to the front of the garage near the open roll up doors. A blur of color swept into the room, landing on the back counter.
“Scarlett?”
The bird paced, its head bobbing as it spewed forth random phrases. Until one caught James’s attention.
“Pineapple,” Scarlett said in a credible mime of Bree’s voice. “Pineapple.”
Bree’s safe word.
His blood ran cold.
Chapter 29
“Curse it!” Bree scanned the empty store with its trendy glass front counters and minimalist décor. Why couldn’t she have run into a minimart with crowded shelves and lots of hiding places?
For that matter, why couldn’t she have run into a place that had a phone?
Sweat pooled in her armpits and ran down her back, causing her layers of clothing to stick uncomfortably. Every breath hurt and her calves throbbed from the effort of running so far and fast. A year ago, she wouldn’t have made it to safety.
She grabbed a winter scarf from a display and wrapped it around the frizzed-out hair of her costume, hoping to be less visible, or at least less distinctive. Keeping one eye on the expansive windows at the front of the store, she crept to the back, moving from one display to the next, trying to blend in with the sale racks of off-season clothing and the sterile, headless mannequins.
A flash of tan moved past the windows and Bree blew out a sigh of relief. For now, at least, Gordon had passed by her hiding place. But he was also heading in the direction the salesclerk had taken and if he ran into her, Bree could be exposed in a matter of minutes.
She searched the rear wall until she found an entrance to a storeroom. She slipped inside and sagged against the door, her breathing returning to normal, but her senses remaining on alert. She closed her eyes and counted to ten while listening for movement in the room beyond her hiding place.
When she blinked, she scanned the room’s contents. There! A dismantled display rack provided a sturdy bar that could double as a weapon.
Even better, a back door lay only steps away, and a fire alarm was by her elbow. A tinkling bell alerted her to someone entering the store. Pounding footsteps convinced her it was Gordon.
She couldn’t outrun him on her rubbery legs. But she could outthink him.
“Why’d you have to run away like that?” His disembodied voice oozed through the door cracks, spurring Bree to motion.
She pulled the fire alarm, darted out the back exit, and flattened herself against the brick wall to the right of the door. Adrenaline surged, giving her a much-needed burst of energy and mental clarity.
One day, if you keep going into the field, you will be running…I’ll be damned if I let you die because I was too soft to push you during training. Matthew’s words buzzed in her ears, along with the self-defense skills she’d learned from both him and James.
She inched along the wall, ignoring the wail of the alarm. Assessing the situation. The door was designed to swing outward and to the left—away from her position. But Gordon was righthanded. If he was still armed—and she’d bet her life he was—she’d have a chance, a single chance, to disarm him.
Bree adjusted her grip on the pole and widened her stance. The door opened and Gordon’s gun hand emerged.
She brought the pole down with all her strength, aiming for his wrist.
Metal cracked on bone.
The gun hit the ground and skidded away.
Gordon howled, dropping to his knees.
Bree kicked the gun farther and stood, pole poised over Gordon’s huddled body. Far enough away to be out of his reach and near enough to stun him again with the pole if need be.
She pulled the scarf from her head, welcoming the wash of cool air on her scalp. The distant sound of sirens mingled with the alarm’s blare. Help was on the way.
James fisted his hands, frustrated at being stuck in the passenger side of a patrol car when Bree was on her own defending against a kidnapper. His heartbeat sped up as he scanned the streets, taking in everything, but seeing nothing that helped.
The car radio crackled to life. “Late model Crown Victoria, three miles west of your location.” The officer driving acknowledged and turned onto an alternate path to avoid upcoming traffic slow downs, twisting through alleys and sideroads until the snarl of traffic halted even the patrol car.
“Damn it,” James muttered under his breath
“Easy, James. I have eyes on her.” He resented Matthew’s voice over the com, even as he relied on it.
“How?”
“Later. She’s five blocks ahead of you. Clothing store in the complex by the eastbound tracks.”
James jumped from the car and ran two blocks before Matthew’s voice stopped him. “Gordon doubled back. He’s closing in on her location. Careful.”
“Got it.” James pumped his legs faster, eating up the ground beneath him, the shopfronts passing in a blur.
“Turn right,” Matthew ordered, “she’l
l find her way out the back.”
James cut to the right, traversing an intersecting block before turning to run parallel to his last path. The screech of a fire alarm met his ears as he raced up the last two blocks.
“She’s out. He’s down.” Cheering followed the words.
He didn’t stop to acknowledge Matthew’s report, just focused on getting Bree in sight and doing what he must to save her.
James skidded to a stop, half a block from where Bree stood over her assailant, brandishing a metal pole, looking like the victor in a hard-fought battle.
He drew his weapon and approached, identifying himself first. Bree threw him a sharp glance, then returned her focus to Gordon until James had cuffed and finished subduing him. The minute a backup officer joined them, she dropped the pole and flew into his arms.
“You found me.”
“I did.” He barely registered the com clicking off as he wrapped his arms around her. “Thank God you’re safe. When Scarlett arrived shouting pineapple, I lost a few years off my life.”
“Between escaping the trunk and running from Gordon, I lost a few years too.”
He pulled from the embrace and held her at arm’s length. “You should never have gotten into that car. Your chances—”
“Were better because of the training you gave me.”
Anger—the kind he’d spent his life pummeling into submission—sliced through him dragging fear in its wake. “You know better,” he said, tightening his grip on her arms and shaking her slightly. “You have to know better. Never get in a car with anyone. They won’t take you anywhere safer than where you are.”
“James.” She skewered him with a look and pulled out of his grasp. “I made a choice. The right choice given my options. Besides, he threatened Scarlett.”
“She’s—”
“Don’t say it. She was an innocent victim in all of this. Bird, cat, dog, or child, I would not have risked another life if I had a choice. The odds were better my way.”
“You…you could have been killed.”
Studying Scarlett the Grey Page 21