by Tim Kizer
“Okay. I’ll take it. Do you sell car phone chargers?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to buy one.”
While the clerk was preparing the paperwork, Detective Falcone called Holly and told her that Chapman’s, Ralph’s, and Eric’s cells had been switched off at about a quarter to one and were still off.
3
Holly got a room at the Days Inn Hotel across the street from the airport. She lay on the bed for a minute or so staring at the ceiling, then called Maggie’s brother, Jason Culver. He answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Jason. Did I wake you?”
“No.” Jason paused. “Did you do it?”
“No. He killed Ralph.”
“What? Oh my God! How did it happen? Are you okay? Is Eric okay?”
“No. Chapman kidnapped him.”
“Kidnapped?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God! Oh fuck. I can’t believe it.”
“Chapman has a partner.”
“He has a partner?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus.”
“The cops are looking for Eric. I hope they find him.”
“Did they hurt you?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Where are you?”
“New Orleans.”
“Did you call Falcone?”
“Yes. Can you call Brooke and tell her what happened?”
“Yes. When are you coming back to Dallas?”
“I don’t know. Goodbye, Ralph. I’ll talk to you later.”
“If you need anything, let me know.”
“I will.” Holly hung up.
Should I call Jim?
Jim Sanders was the Chief of the Plano Police Department and Holly’s biological father. (Her parents had divorced fifteen years ago, when she was fourteen. The split had been amicable. Holly’s mother had never tried to turn her against Jim or prevented him from seeing her.)
When she had asked Jim why they had let Chapman go, he had told her the same thing he had told John Benning.
Her friends didn’t know that Jim Sanders was her father, and neither did Falcone (she hadn’t told the detective that she was Chief Sanders’s daughter because she had thought he would refuse to help if he knew that his boss’s child was involved).
Yes, she should call Jim. He had more resources at his disposal than Falcone and he might have some advice on how to track down Chapman.
He’s going to be so mad, Holly thought as she dialed Jim Sanders’s number.
Sanders answered on the fifth ring.
“Hello,” he said in a sleepy voice.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Holly? Is something wrong?”
“Do you remember Michael Chapman? He killed Maggie.”
“Yes, I remember him.”
“He killed my friend Ralph three hours ago.”
“What?”
“He also kidnapped my friend Eric.”
“How did it happen?”
“A week ago we found out that Chapman bought a bus ticket to Miami, and decided to follow him there. We thought he was going to kill someone in Miami. We wanted to catch him in the act and arrest him.”
“What? You followed him? What the hell were you thinking? He’s a killer!”
“We wanted to bring him to justice. Maggie was our friend.”
“He got onto you, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Where did he kill Ralph?”
“New Orleans.”
“Where are you?”
“New Orleans.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes. I’m in a hotel room.”
“Chapman’s going to get your name and address from Eric. Stay away from your apartment.”
“The New Orleans police called your police department, and your people told them there was no record of Chapman’s arrest. Why is there no record of his arrest?”
“It was expunged. Did you change your phone number?”
“No. I’m calling from a disposable phone.”
“When are you coming back to Dallas?”
“I don’t know. Maybe in a few days.”
“Don’t tell anyone where you’re staying.”
“Dad, we have to find Chapman before he kills Eric. Is there any way you can help?”
“I'll see what I can do.”
“He was using a fake name on the bus, Nick Hayden. He might use it again.”
“Can you spell the last name?”
“I don’t know how it’s spelled.”
“Okay.”
Holly said goodbye and hung up. Moments later Brooke called. She was crying.
“How did it happen?” Brooke asked.
“He figured out we were after him.”
“I'm going to kill this motherfucker! I’m going to kill him!”
Chapter 42
1
The alarm woke them at six-thirty the next morning. While Castor waited for his cab, he reserved a ten-foot moving truck on U-Haul’s website.
“There’s a Wendy’s not far from the U-Haul office. Can you buy me three Dave's Doubles there?” Osiris said as Castor put on a wig (this one was of the male variety).
“Sure.”
Castor got out of the van and walked to the house whose address he’d given to the cab company.
He thought about Holly on the way to the U-Haul office. He would have loved to fuck her. Sooner or later they would track the blond bitch down and snatch her.
His penis stiffened as he imagined raping Holly in the ass.
Castor kept his sunglasses on when he entered the U-Haul office.
“How can I help you?” the clerk asked.
“I reserved a truck online.” Castor pulled out his wallet and took out a driver’s license and credit card under the name of John Millman, which was not his real name.
“What’s your name?”
“John Millman.”
The clerk found his reservation and then asked him for his driver’s license.
“I’d like to buy a large wardrobe box and four large moving boxes,” Castor said as he handed the driver’s license to the clerk.
He only needed a wardrobe box; he purchased moving boxes to avoid raising suspicions.
“I’d also like to buy a padlock.”
The clerk printed out the paperwork and gave Castor a padlock, and then they walked to the lot, where Castor inspected the truck and received the keys.
“Let me get your boxes.” The clerk went into the office and came back with the boxes, which Castor put in the back of the truck.
He drove to the Wendy’s on Williams Boulevard and bought three Dave's Doubles for Osiris and two Baconators and a Spicy Chicken Caesar salad for himself.
As Castor pulled up behind his van, Osiris got out and came over to the truck. He now wore a mustache and shaggy wig.
“The carriage is here,” Castor said, stepping out of the cab.
He took out the wardrobe box and climbed into the van through the rear doors. Osiris got in after him. They assembled the box, stuffed Veronica into it (Osiris had given the woman another dose of sedative fifteen minutes earlier and she was fast asleep), and taped the lid shut. They transferred everything but the wardrobe box from the van to the truck, then Osiris started the van, made a three-point turn, and backed up to the rear of the truck (they wanted to carry Veronica as short a distance as possible).
As he walked to the rear of the van, Osiris looked up and down the street. No one in sight.
They pulled the wardrobe box out of the van and loaded it into the truck.
“Did you give her another dose of sedative while I was away?” Castor asked.
“Yes.”
It’s going to get hot in here, Osiris thought, climbing into the truck. We should buy a few bags of ice.
As he slid the box to the far wall, a paunchy middle-aged man came out of the house across the street and walked to the white Honda parked in the driveway.
&nb
sp; “Is Drew moving?” the man asked Castor.
Castor shook his head. “No.”
The man got in the Honda, backed out of the driveway, and drove off.
“Is he gone?” Osiris asked.
“Yes.
Osiris opened the lid of the wardrobe box (he’d positioned the box so the lid faced the far wall) and hopped out of the truck.
“Who’ll drive the truck?” Castor asked as he shut the rear door.
“I will.”
Castor put the padlock on the door latch, snapped it closed, and slipped behind the wheel of the van.
He drove to River Road and turned east. Osiris circled the block and caught up with Castor on River Road a few minutes later. When they reached New Orleans International Airport, Castor went to the airport’s long-term parking garage and Osiris pulled into the lot of an IHOP restaurant across the street.
Castor parked the van on the fourth floor of the garage and looked around the vehicle before getting out, to make sure they left nothing behind. He thought about wiping off the fingerprints but then decided it wasn’t necessary.
The van wouldn’t stay here for long: tomorrow he would fly to New Orleans and pick it up.
Castor memorized the location of the van and headed to the stairs.
On the way to the IHOP lot, he searched the Internet for news about Ralph Zimmer’s murder and found an article on the website of The Times-Picayune newspaper saying that the New Orleans police had opened a homicide investigation into Zimmer’s death. The police suspected that he had been killed by Michael Chapman of Dallas. The story had two pictures of Osiris; in one, he wore a beard and mustache (it must have been snapped by Holly), and in the other, he had no facial hair (it must have been his DMV photo).
When they got in the truck, Castor took off his wig and showed the Times-Picayune article to Osiris.
“I wonder if they showed my pictures on TV,” Osiris said.
Chapter 43
1
Holly fell asleep around four and was awakened by the phone ringing at seven. It was Detective Falcone.
“Did I wake you?” he asked.
Had one of the phones been turned on?
“No.”
“I just went through Chapman’s text messages. It appears that he and his partner plan to go to Washington, DC. Chapman sent his partner a message saying that they’d go to DC after he and Harry killed you.”
“Are the phones still off?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks for the information, Chris.”
“Are you still in New Orleans?”
“Yes.”
Would Chapman and his partner drive to Washington, or would they take a plane?
“Goodbye, Holly.”
“Goodbye.”
If Chapman and his partner decided to take a plane, they would have to kill Eric and Veronica before they headed to the airport.
Although Holly had slept only three hours, she didn't feel like going back to sleep.
Her stomach growled.
There was a 24/7 IHOP restaurant next to the hotel. She would have breakfast there and then go to the hotel's business center and watch the video filmed by Ralph.
But first she would take a shower.
Her phone rang. It was her father.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, sweetie. What are Eric’s and Ralph’s last names?”
“Eric’s last name is McCormick and Ralph’s Zimmer.”
“What’s Eric’s phone number?”
“The police are already tracking his and Chapman’s phones. They’ve been off since one in the morning. By the way, I forgot to tell you that Chapman has a partner.”
“Do you know his name?”
“No. Chapman told him that they’d go to Washington today.”
“Did he say why?”
“No.”
“Was his partner on the bus with you?”
“No. His partner followed us in a van.”
2
Why was Chapman going to Washington? Sanders wondered as he dialed Ben Weaver’s number.
Perhaps he was going to CIA Headquarters in Langley to receive a new assignment.
Did his partner work for the CIA, too?
“Hello,” Weaver said.
“Hi. This is Jim Sanders, the Chief of the Plano Police Department. We met about a month ago in Plano.”
“How are you doing, Mr. Sanders?”
“I’m fine.”
“What can I do for you?”
“It’s about Mr. Chapman.”
“I'm listening.”
“He kidnapped one of my daughter’s friends. His name’s Eric McCormick. Can you ask Mr. Chapman to let Eric go?”
“That’s a very serious accusation. I’ll look into it. Is that all?”
“Please ask him to get in touch with me. We’re not interested in prosecuting him. We just want him to let Eric go.”
“I’ll look into it. Goodbye, Mr. Sanders.”
“Motherfucker,” Sanders said under his breath after Weaver hung up.
He went into the bedroom and took a duffel bag from the closet.
He put a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a zip hoodie, and a cap in the bag and then placed his personal Glock 17, two spare magazines of ammunition, a bulletproof vest, a vest holster, a pair of leather gloves, a ski mask, and a pair of ski goggles on top of the clothes.
You intend to mess with the CIA, Jim? Are you sure you want to do that?
Yes, he was. He had no choice.
He put the bag in the trunk of his car, got behind the wheel, and called Dan Betancourt, the special agent in charge of the Dallas FBI Field Office.
“Hi, Jim. How's it going?”
“Hi, Dan. I’m fine. Can you meet me in twenty minutes?”
“Sure.”
“Can we meet at your place?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Dan.”
When they talked about the FBI, Sanders’s dad used to joke that corrupt FBI agents made the other five percent look bad. His dad had found it appalling that the FBI never recorded interviews.
Sanders believed that Betancourt was one of the good guys.
Twenty minutes later he pulled up in front of Betancourt’s house. Betancourt let him in and asked if everything was okay.
“I need a favor, Dan,” Sanders said.
“Sure.”
“Do you know anyone at the CIA?”
“The CIA?”
Sanders nodded. “Yes.”
“Yes, I do know someone there. Why?”
“A few weeks ago we arrested a guy for killing a young woman. The CIA ordered us to release him, and we did. I believe he works for them. I just found out that he kidnapped someone. I’m looking for a way to track him down.”
Betancourt thought for a long moment. “If they’re protecting him, he must be a very valuable asset.”
“Do you think you can help me?”
“I think you should leave this guy alone.”
“I just want him to let the guy he took go. Can you ask your friend at the CIA to call me?”
“Okay. But I doubt he’ll help you.”
Sanders was in a crappy mood when he walked out of Betancourt’s house. It seemed unlikely that he would track down Chapman today.
When he arrived at his office, he received a call from Holly that changed everything.
Chapter 44
1
There were about a dozen customers in the IHOP when Holly entered. She sat in a booth in the corner and ordered scrambled eggs and a stack of buttermilk pancakes. While she was waiting for her food, she called Detective Vick and asked him if there was any news.
“We haven’t been able to locate your friend Eric or Michael Chapman yet,” Vick said. “But we're doing our best to find them.”
Had they read Chapman’s and Ralph’s text messages yet?
“Are their phones still off?”
“Yes.”
“I remembered something. I hear
d Chapman say that he had to go to Washington. He might be on his way there right now.”
“Washington, DC?”
“Yes.”
Unfortunately, this information wasn’t going to save Eric and Veronica. It would be possible for the police to capture Chapman only if he took a plane (they weren’t going to check every white panel van going into Washington), and they wouldn’t be able to arrest him until he arrived at the airport of departure, by which time Eric and Veronica would be dead.
Vick hung up without mentioning Chapman’s and Ralph’s messages.
Where were Chapman and his partner? Probably hundreds of miles away from here.
If he gets arrested, his powerful friends will get him released.
When the waitress set a plate of pancakes down on the table, Holly remembered something Maggie used to say: Waffles are pancakes with abs.
Her heart squeezed in her chest.
I’m sorry, Maggie. We failed to avenge you. I’m very sorry.
We failed because of me.
2
The cash register spit out a receipt and the clerk gave it to Holly. She scribbled $5 on the tip line, signed the receipt, and handed it to the clerk.
“Thank you very much,” the clerk said.
“Thank you.”
As she approached the exit, Holly felt a burst of terror and froze in her tracks.
Chapman was standing in the parking lot outside the restaurant. He wore a wig and mustache, and his fake beard was gone; he had on a white T-shirt and the same jeans he’d worn yesterday. He was holding a hamburger in his hand.
Her heart hammering wildly in her chest, Holly quickly stepped aside to get out of Chapman’s line of sight.
How did he find me?
Maybe he didn’t find me. Maybe he’s waiting for his flight.
What if he comes into the restaurant?
She hurried to the other exit and peeked outside.
Chapman didn’t seem to have noticed her. He was munching his hamburger, looking around aimlessly.
Should she call the police?
Chapman went to a U-Haul truck parked in front of the restaurant, opened the driver’s door, reached inside, and brought out a bottle of water.
They had switched to a U-Haul truck. Were they on their way to Washington now?
Were Eric and Veronica in the truck? Where was Chapman’s partner?
Holly opened the camera app on her phone, zoomed in on the truck’s license plate, and snapped a picture. Then she texted the license plate number to Falcone.