Trapped

by Rhonda Pollero

  “My parents are never awake that late.”

  She heard Ziggy let out a breath. “There’s a voicemail.”

  “Can I hear it?” Chasyn asked.

  “It isn’t good,” Ziggy hedged.

  “Oh god,” Chasyn grasped the back of the chair to keep her balance. “Play it.”

  “Boss?”

  “Play it,” Declan said.

  There was a beep, then “Your mother and father are fine for now. No harm will come to them if you meet me at Carlin Park next Tuesday at eleven p.m. No cops. Come alone or they die.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Oh God,” Chasyn whispered, knees suddenly boneless.

  Declan took her by the shoulders and lowered her into the chair. “Ziggy, send Gavin over to Chasyn’s parents’ house to check it out.”

  “What if he’s watching?” Chasyn asked. “I don’t want him to think I’ve involved anyone else. I can’t risk my parents’ safety.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Gavin is stealthy. He’ll get in and out without anyone knowing.”

  “There’s a spare key under the red flower pot on the back patio,” Chasyn said. “The alarm code is oh-five-two-one. And they have a video surveillance system. The recorder is in the den.”

  “Got it,” Ziggy said. “Anything else?”

  “No. Let’s hope Gavin can recover the recorder. Maybe we can finally get a good look at this guy.” Declan was about to end the call when he said, “One more thing. I need you to find a link between Dr. Lansing and a 2013 Ford Taurus.”

  “I’m on it, boss,” Ziggy said before the line went dead.

  Chasyn looked up at him, silently wondering how bad this was going to get. Her skin prickled cold, then hot as her heart thudded with dread. She had to swallow twice before she could push out any words. “What are the chances my parents are still alive?”

  “Fifty-fifty,” Declan answered candidly. “A real pro doesn’t usually concern himself with collateral damage, but, in this case, I’m guessing he won’t harm them unless and until he gets what he’s after.”

  “Me.”

  “That’s not an option,” Declan said flatly. “But we have to go to my office. We’re going to demand proof of life.”

  “What’s that?” she asked as she rubbed her arms.

  “We’ll call your parents’ cell phone and tell this bozo that there won’t be any meeting unless he provides you with some sort of tangible proof that your parents are alive and well.”

  “And if he won’t?” Her voice cracked from the terror holding her chest like a vise.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Declan tugged her to her feet. “Come on, he’s only given us a seventy-two-hour window. We don’t want to waste time.”

  Chasyn was fairly silent on the drive to the compound in western Palm Beach County. She was paralyzed with guilt. If she had been honest with the police from the get-go, she never would have been involved in the Mary Jolsten case. Kasey probably wouldn’t have testified, so she wouldn’t be dead, and her parents definitely wouldn’t be being held by a professional killer. How had this gotten so crazy?

  Once they were inside the hangar, Chasyn followed Declan into the partitioned off office part of the building. Ziggy greeted her with a tentative smile. Beyond her, there were a half dozen computer screens scrolling code and symbols against a black background.

  “Is the phone ready?” he asked.

  Ziggy produced Chasyn’s cell phone. “I downloaded the content and wiped it clean,” she explained. “The only numbers in there are for her parents. No other identifying information.”

  “Why did you have to reset my phone?” Chasyn asked.

  “We’re going to head to a neutral location and then you’ll send our killer a text asking for proof of life. He may be sophisticated enough to hack your phone so we don’t want there to be anything he can grab and use as further leverage.”

  “But won’t he be able to track my phone?” Chasyn asked.

  “We’ll only turn it on for a few minutes for you to send the text, then we shut it off,” Declan explained.

  “If he’s got the equipment, he might be able to track a tower ping, but you’ll be long gone before he can do a triangulation,” Ziggy added.

  “Then what?” Chasyn asked.

  “Ziggy can monitor your phone by hacking your account. When he replies to the request for proof of life, we’ll know it without having to turn the phone back on,” Declan said.

  “That’s how I got the first voicemail,” Ziggy added. “Oh, and you got a text from a Mr. Becker.”

  “Kasey’s father?” Chasyn asked. She couldn’t recall him ever texting in the past.

  “He wants to send you a check for his daughter’s portion of the rent but he hasn’t been able to reach you and doesn’t know where to send the money.”

  Chasyn sighed. “He shouldn’t be worried about that right now. He just buried his daughter, for god’s sake. Besides, I don’t know if I can even go back home. Not after the killer trashed the place. My apartment feels violated.”

  “You can call him or text him from the burner phone,” Declan suggested.

  “I’d like that,” Chasyn said. “He’s got to be hurting and he’s always been so kind to me. I still feel badly for missing Kasey’s funeral.”

  “You were in the hospital,” Declan reminded her. “I’m sure he understands. Let’s take care of contacting the guy who’s holding your parents.”

  “Where to?” she asked.

  Declan led her to the SUV he’d used for transportation before. “We’ll just drive to a random spot and send the text.” As he spoke he checked the power button on her personal cell phone just as a precaution.

  “Why am I using my cell instead of the burner phone to talk to the killer?” she asked.

  “He’ll recognize the number, which increases the odds of his cooperation.”

  Chasyn let out a breath. “I’m really worried.”

  Declan reached over and patted her thigh. “I know. But you’re going to have to trust me on this one.”

  Anger was a hard knot of acid in her stomach. “I’d like to take one of your guns over to Dr. Lansing’s office and force him to tell me where my parents are.”

  “That is an appealing option,” Declan agreed. “But in my experience, professional killers work fairly autonomously from their employers. Chances are Lansing doesn’t know exactly where they’re being held.”

  “But he probably knows they’re being used to lure me to Carlin Park, right?”

  “Lured, yes. Carlin Park, probably not. That gives him plausible deniability if things go south.”

  She shivered. “Why wait three days for the meeting?” she asked.

  “Possibly to give Lansing time to set up an alibi.”

  She raked her hand through her hair. “This is getting overly complicated. Maybe we should call in the police.”

  “Too dangerous,” Declan assured her. “Right now, we have to play by his rules and hope he makes a mistake.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Then we adjust,” he said with less confidence than she would have liked.

  Declan kept his hand on her thigh as they drove north on I-95, until they reached Bathtub Beach in Martin County. He pulled into the public lot and parked. Because it was still snowbird season, the lot was near capacity. The minute she exited the car, she smelled the ocean carried on the breeze coming off the surf.

  She followed Declan to the boardwalk that traversed the dunes. They walked halfway down the wooden path to where the walkway turned into a ramp that led out onto the pale sand. The beach was dotted with brightly colored umbrellas and chairs. People of all ages, shapes, and sizes were represented. Bathtub Beach got its name from a natural coral formation in the shape of a bathtub. Shallow water made the enclosed space a magnet for small children and the grandparents they visited. A large lifeguard tower stood off to one side, manned by two guards in bright red trunks with oran
ge buoys strapped over their shoulders. The rip current caution flag was flapping in the breeze but that didn’t deter many of the swimmers.

  “I’m going to turn it on now,” Declan said over the sound of the waves lapping at the sand. “Text as fast as you can and let him know you want proof of life by tomorrow morning or you won’t meet him.”

  “Tomorrow morning?” she practically scoffed. “I want to know that they’re okay right now!”

  “Trust me. Giving him twenty-four hours guarantees your parents stay alive for that long.”

  Chasyn sent the text, then powered off the phone and handed it back to Declan. “Now what?” she asked.

  “We wait for his reply.”

  Chasyn pursed her lips. “Waiting around is going to make me crazy.”

  “Then we’ll have to keep you busy,” he said as he placed his hand at the small of her back.

  Through the thin fabric of her shirt, she felt the warm play of his fingers as he guided her back to the car. She chalked it up to hypersensitivity due to incredible stress. Acknowledging, even to herself, that there might be a different reason she was so tuned to his every touch wasn’t something she could cope with just then.

  She was completely overwhelmed. Responsibility weighed on her; then there was the anger. She longed to go to Lansing and beat him into submission. A fantasy not based in reality, but still, she just knew he was the key to this whole mess. Then there was her attraction to Declan. It had to be some sort of syndrome. He was her lifeline and that had to be why she was so aware of him. Maybe it was some sort of variation on the Stockholm Syndrome. Not that he was her captor, but he was in control of her life.

  That notion rankled. Chasyn wasn’t accustomed to someone else being in control. It was a foreign concept and one she didn’t care for at all. Normally, she solved her problems by creating a detailed pro-con list and rationally evaluating any situation. She always gave herself a reasonable timetable in which to solve a problem or make a decision but all that was out the window. None of the life skills that had gotten her to this point were helping.

  * * *

  Declan’s secret fear that she’d cave under the pressure of this new wrinkle was unfounded. Yes, she’d been quiet and introspective on the drive back from Martin County, but after she exited the car, he saw the determination in her eyes and the set of her jaw and knew Chasyn was going to keep it together.

  He admired that about her and had to admit that it ran contrary to his initial impression of the woman. At the hospital she’d appeared frail and fragile. But now he knew she had a well of inner strength and he admired that about her. Hell, he admired a lot of things about her, some of which were totally inappropriate. He really had meant to comfort her when he’d patted her thigh during the drive but the truth was, he just liked touching her. In fact, he liked it a lot. Too much, maybe.

  Ziggy was still trying to link Dr. Lansing to the Taurus when they returned, and Gavin was waiting for them.

  “The parents?” Declan prompted.

  Gavin shook his head. “No one has seen them since yesterday afternoon. Car’s in the garage and no signs of a struggle in the house.”

  “That’s good, right?” Chasyn asked. “I mean, the part about no struggle?”

  “Yes,” Declan answered. There were ways to kidnap someone that left no disturbance at the scene but he didn’t want to give her cause for concern.

  “I spoke to them last night, so he had to have taken them some time after that. Was their bed slept in?”

  “Yes,” Gavin answered, then shrugged. “Makes sense he’d grab them up in the middle of the night.”

  Chasyn rubbed her bare arms. “What about the video system?”

  “I brought it back with me. Ziggy was just about to connect it.”

  Chasyn, Ziggy, and the two men went over to a large-screen television in another part of the office area. Ziggy made quick work of connecting the DVR to the television. Almost instantly, the screen came to life with a tic-tac-toe pattern of images from the various cameras.

  Chasyn leaned against the corner of the desk. Declan was behind her, Ziggy was to her side, and Gavin hung back behind the group.

  “About what time did you call?” Ziggy asked.

  Chasyn told her and she fast-forwarded the recording to that time. In the bottom square of the image was the kitchen and her father and mother were seated at the table, passing the phone back and forth. Then the call ended and her mother puttered in the kitchen while her father went into his study.

  Ziggy fast-forwarded through the footage until well after her parents had gone to sleep. Chasyn was starting to think this was a pointless activity when she noticed a shadowy figure approaching the house. The picture was dark and grainy, but it was definitely a man, dressed in dark clothing.

  He moved to the front door and crouched down while he placed something in the lock. As soon as the door was opened he went to the alarm pad and used alligator clips to override the system. It wasn’t until he turned to head for the stairs that the camera picked up his face.

  “Pause that,” Declan said. “Look familiar?” he asked Chasyn.

  “He matches the description the guy from the gun shop gave us. But I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

  They advanced the tape and she watched in horror as he crept up to her parents’ bedroom and moved immediately to her father’s side of the bed. Via moonlight, they saw the intruder pull a gun out of his waistband, he placed it to her father’s temple, then gave him a nudge. He woke up and seemed disoriented at first, then based on the expression on his face, he appeared to instantly appreciate the gravity of the situation.

  The infrared tape had no sound, but the killer must have said something because her father reached over and shook her mother awake. He forced them from the bed and held them at gunpoint while they hastily dressed. Next, he held the gun to her mother’s head and began marching them downstairs. Chasyn felt tears sting her eyes when she saw the terrified expression on her mother’s face.

  The man led them out of the house and down the driveway. Then a few minutes later the exterior camera caught a glimpse of a champagne-colored minivan speeding past the house.

  “Can you zoom in on the plate?” Declan asked Ziggy.

  Ziggy tried but the more she enlarged the picture, the more the image pixilated into a blur. “It’s just too far away,” she said.

  Chasyn dabbed at the tears on her cheeks and tried to swallow the lump of emotion choking her. She felt like one big frazzled nerve. Like she wanted to jump out of her skin. “We have to do something,” she said. “What if we turn the video over to the authorities? Maybe they have special software that can pull up the plate.”

  “Too risky,” Declan told her.

  “What’s risky about it?” Chasyn asked.

  “If the guy even sniffs cops, it will jeopardize your parents’ safety. Ziggy, can you make a print of the guy’s face and run it through facial recognition?”

  “Consider it done, boss.”

  “What can I do?” Chasyn asked. “I feel so helpless.” She saw a look in Declan’s eyes and tried to decipher it. Was it pity? Concern? God, what he must think of her. She was practically a basket case at this point and the bad stuff kept piling on. She met his gaze and thought she saw compassion in his expression. Maybe she was only seeing what she wanted to see.

  Declan looked at her quietly. “How about a distraction?” he suggested.

  Chasyn followed him out to the shooting range and waited while he loaded a handgun for her. As he handed it to her, he said, “Don’t forget about the recoil. Plant your feet before you fire.”

  “This isn’t distracting me,” she said.

  “Concentrate on hitting the target,” he countered, setting a pair of headphones on her head, then another pair on his own.

  Chasyn conjured up the image of Dr. Lansing. He was six feet tall, with sandy blond hair and a golfer’s tan that set off his light eyes. She imagined that face on the paper
outline dangling from the line yards in front of her. Carefully and deliberately, she sited the target, took a breath and let it out slowly, then pulled the trigger several times in rapid succession. She pulled off her headphones while Declan reeled in the target.

  Nine shots.

  Nine hits.

  Too bad it was only paper instead of Lansing himself.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  You’re a quick study,” Declan complimented.

  Chasyn placed the discharged gun on the stand next to her. “I’m motivated. I’d like to take this gun over to Lansing’s house and force him to call off his killer and free my parents. They must be so scared.”

  Declan drew her into his arms. Her cheek rested against his chest and she could feel and hear the even beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt. Hooking her fingertips on his waistband she closed her eyes, tuning out everything. Fear, anger, anxiety—even the sound of the birds faded into the distance. Her mind was laser-focused on the security of being wrapped in his embrace. There was something infinitely comforting about the feel of his solid body pressed against hers. She drank in the scent of his woodsy cologne and found a few minutes of solace in his arms.

  Eventually Chasyn took a reluctant step back. She could have gladly stayed in that position for hours, but she knew that was a dangerous and fruitless way to think. As soon as she was alone, she’d create a pro-con list on letting her emotions override her intellect when it came to Declan Kavanaugh. She needed to weigh her options for a fling, something she hadn’t considered in the past.

  But right now, she needed to return Mr. Becker’s call, a task she wasn’t looking forward to. Not that she wasn’t fond of the man; she thought of him as a second father. She was just at a loss for words. Nothing she could say could ease his pain and everything she thought she might offer seemed trite and rehearsed. Still, she didn’t want to ignore him.

  Declan picked up the gun and secured it. The smell of gunpowder still hung in the air. They returned to the building and as soon as they were inside, Chasyn took the burner phone out of her pocket. “I’m going to return Mr. Becker’s call,” she told Declan.