by Dana Marton
“What? When?”
“In the last hour. She was hiding in Broslin. She’s the only person who’s ever seen Rauch Asael and lived to tell the tale. Either he or someone connected to him came after her.”
“You couldn’t tell me this before?” Bing snapped on the other end, but knew better than to waste time on being angry. “I’m putting out a statewide APB. You got a picture of her?”
“No.”
“All right. I can give a fair description. You have any idea what kind of car we are looking for?”
“I wish.” Guilt ate at him. He shouldn't have left her alone, not for a second, dammit.
“I’m sending everyone out on the roads. I’ll call you back as soon as we have something.”
“Thanks.” Murph hurried to collect his weapons, scattered at strategic locations throughout the house. Looked like Kate had never reached them.
He shrugged into his harness and shoved one handgun into that, another behind his back into his waistband. He swung his two rifles around his shoulder and grabbed the bag that held his extra bullets.
He was heading out when the doorbell rang. He tore the door open, only to find himself facing down three gun barrels. The government-issue weapons were held by two men in black suits, a similarly dressed woman behind them—all trim, crisp and clean-cut, as if they’d just come off an assembly line.
“Drop your weapons!” the one in front yelled.
Oh, hell. Murph put his hands in the air. “Agent Cirelli and crew, I assume? I’m Murph Dolan. Kate has just been taken.”
The woman stepped forward and disarmed him with a few efficient moves. “I want to see I.D. Keep your hands up.”
“Back right pocket.”
She reached for his wallet, flipped it open, checked. “Where’s Miss Bridges?”
“I don’t know. I was out shoveling snow. The kidnapper came in through the back door of the garage. Disabled security.”
“I talked to her earlier today.” Cirelli watched him through narrowed eyes while the other two spread through the house, all three keeping their weapons out. “She was concerned about you. She said she wanted to leave, and you didn’t want her to go.”
“I wanted her safe,” Murph snapped out the words as the other two came back from the bedroom.
One of them said, “Clear,” even as the three agents exchanged meaningful looks.
“I have no time for this. I need to find her.” Murph moved to push past her, but Cirelli put her gun up right against his chest.
Then the other two were behind Murph, and the next second he was in handcuffs, cold metal circling his wrists.
He gritted his teeth. Okay, so Cirelli was going to be a hardass about this. She’d already lost Kate once. She was probably determined not to fail again.
Murph looked her in the eye as frustration hummed through him. “I’m not the enemy here.”
“Why don’t I decide that? I need you to come with me, Mr. Dolan.” Cirelli’s face was set in a cold mask as she holstered her weapon at last. “How about the two of us go down to the local police station where we can talk a little while the agents look through the house and figure out what happened here?”
Headbutt Cirelli, shove the younger agent into the kitchen island with his good shoulder, then make a break for the door before the other one could react. With everything that he was, Murph wanted to fight. His muscles bunched. He ground his teeth as he shook his head.
“You’re making a mistake.” They were wasting precious time. But cooperation would get him out of this insanity the quickest. Bing, Harper and Chase were out looking for Kate, but Leila would be at the station. She would vouch for him. “Fine. Okay. Let’s go. Every minute you’re wasting on me, Asael is getting farther away with her.” He strode to the door.
Cirelli opened it for him. “Rauch Asael is in Hong Kong. We’re cooperating with the local authorities there on his apprehension. They found his lair this morning. Signs point to him being there just hours before.”
“Then his girlfriend. I thought it was the neighbor….” He was never going to forgive himself for that mistake.
Cirelli drew up an eyebrow as she opened the black SUV’s back door. “Asael is into men. He has a long-term lover called Mordocai. A little older.”
Murph’s head spun as he slid onto the back seat. The word older reverberated in his brain. Fred? But Fred had checked out. Fred had been at the mechanic shop when the dark sedan had followed Kate.
Cirelli shoved behind the wheel then punched things into the GPS. She called the station, identifying herself as an FBI agent. She asked for assistance, an interview room and a holding cell.
Murph could only shake his head in disgust in the back as she shot down the road. “If you want to catch Mordocai, you need to run a no holds barred FBI check on Fred Kazincky.” She had access to data beyond the basic law enforcement databases.
The agent flashed him a skeptical look in the rearview mirror.
“What do you have to lose? I obviously don’t have Kate. What if Kazincky does? He could be Mordocai.”
Cirelli hesitated for a moment, but then pulled her cell phone back out and called the name in to her own office, while Murph tried to think back to every single thing he knew about Fred.
“Around sixty,” he told the agent. “New to town. Works as a mechanic at Arnie's Gas Station. Kate takes her car to him.”
Bing waited for them in front of the station, glaring when the agent pulled Murph from the back of the SUV. Leila must have called him back in.
“That’s my officer.” He strode toward them. “I guarantee you’re making a mistake here.”
“Your opinion will be taken into consideration, Captain. We need to hold Mr. Dolan for questioning. Agent Cirelli, FBI,” she introduced herself as she escorted Murph in.
Murph figured on ten minutes of interrogation, then they could all finally focus on finding Kate. He could probably be patient for ten minutes before murdering any FBI agents.
The station stood empty, save for Bing and Leila, everyone else out looking. Murph was grateful to Bing for that.
And the Captain insisted on being there for the questioning, too, not that it did Murph any good. Even between the two of them, they couldn’t convince Cirelli to let him go. She was determined to do this one by the book. After fifteen minutes of badgering, she requested a holding cell.
“I need to keep Mr. Dolan secure until we search his house to figure out what happened to Miss Bridges.”
“Fred Kazincky took her!” Murph raised his voice for the first time, frustration pumping through him.
Bing protested, too, but he could do little else. The FBI outranked him. He led them to the largest cell.
Murph was inside and locked up by the time he realized he should have fought them right at the beginning, right before they’d slapped the cuffs on him. Which were left on, even if it was against regulation. Cirelli wouldn’t listen to Bing about that, either. She told Murph she’d be back shortly, then asked the Captain to walk her out so she could ask him a few more questions.
Jerry, one of the town drunks was the only other guest of the Broslin P.D. this evening, in the smaller cell next to Murph's.
“Murph.”
“How are you, Jerry?”
The fifty-something plumber sat up on the bench, stretched his legs. “Stiff in the mornings, and not in a good way,” he said mournfully.
Murph didn't have the heart to tell him that it was almost night time.
He paced the cell, his thoughts turning darker and darker. The agents would search through his house within half an hour at most. They would see the blood and that all the doors were reinforced. They would wonder if he’d kept Kate locked in.
They would circle back to the suspicion that he’d killed her. Then they’d start looking for the body. They wouldn’t find it. Maybe they’d bring in equipment to dig around out back.
Hours could pass before they came back to interrogate him.
&
nbsp; If Kate was still alive, she didn’t have that much time.
Mordocai hadn’t killed her on sight. He’d taken her, which meant he wanted more than a quick kill. Murph couldn’t bear thinking about what that might be. He had to get the hell out of here. Mordocai wouldn’t play with her forever.
Murph kicked the bars so hard the whole damned cage rattled. He was ready to tear the cell apart with his bare hands by the time Bing hurried back, his face dark, his jaw set tight.
“How in hell did you get yourself into this mess? The FBI wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“You have to let me go. If I don’t find her, she’s dead. I think the assassin is Fred Kanzincky. The new mechanic at Arnie’s. Older guy.”
“We’re looking. I’m heading back out in a second.”
“I can’t sit here while she’s being tortured or worse. I’m asking you as a friend. They’re not going to find her body at my house. I swear.”
“If you think you have to tell me that—” Bing’s face turned dark as thunder. “They might try to pin this on you without the body.”
“Not if I bring her back.”
Bing nodded. “You just trust the law and stay put. I hear you were back here the other night. Lock got beat up. That's government property. You better calm down if you want your badge back. I'm telling you this as a friend, Murph. You have your job waiting for you when your shoulder heals. Harper's been using your cruiser while his was in the shop, but he just dropped the keys on my desk this morning. Anyway, I’m heading out to look for Miss Bridges.”
He moved over to the next cell and unlocked it. “I'm letting you go, Jerry. I don't have time to worry about you tonight. You go straight home and sober up, you hear me?”
Jerry, knowing a good deal when he heard one, hurried forward. “Yes, sir, Captain.”
Murph grinned after them. The lock on his cell was broken, the keys to his old cruiser were on the Captain's desk, and everybody was heading out. Bing's message had been loud and clear.
Murph lifted the door and rattled it. That didn’t do the trick. But when he dropped the door back down and leaned forward to check it out, he could see that Bing was right. The locking mechanism was definitely damaged enough so it would have to be replaced if they wanted to keep the criminals inside the cell.
Ramming the door with his shoulder wasn’t going to work, so he backed up a step and executed a text book roundhouse kick. Then another and another. Then he lifted and rattled the door again, and the next second he was free, running up front.
Nobody in the office. He didn’t stop to wonder where Leila had conveniently disappeared to.
He went for Bing’s desk, looked for a handcuff key first, found one pretty easily—almost as if left out on purpose—but when he turned it in the lock, only one side popped open. He tried it again. Nothing. Damn cuff was defective. He banged it against the edge of the desk in vain, accomplishing nothing but skinning his wrist.
He left the cuffs dangling, yanked Bing’s top drawer open and found the cellphone Cirelli had taken off him along with his wallet and gun. He grabbed all three, then the keys to his old cruiser. Having the radio would be an advantage. He could keep up with what law enforcement was doing.
He snuck out the back and drove to Arnie’s. Arnold Martin had been one of his father’s drinking buddies back in the day. Except, Arnie had given up the bottle, settled down and built a decent life for himself. Now he had more fat rolls than teeth, but his wife loved him anyway. Since he’d hired Fred, Murph figured Arnie might have some useful information about the bastard.
He found the guy in his windowless office in the back. “I need everything you have on Fred Kazincky. I think he kidnapped someone.”
“Murph.” The man nodded in greeting, snapping his bushy gray eyebrows together. “What’s this about now?”
“I need Fred’s employment file. Everything you have on him.”
“He didn’t come in this morning. I can’t give you his file. Are you all right? What’s with the handcuffs?”
“Misunderstanding with the FBI. The bastard took Kate.”
“Who?”
“Fred kidnapped Kate Concord. The new waitress at the diner. I don’t think she has much time left.”
“That sweet girl who brings her Chevy here?” The man stared. “Are you sure? Why on earth would Fred do that?”
“He’s a professional hit man. He’s been after Kate all along. She only came to town to hide.”
Now the eyebrows slid up. “Like witness protection?”
“The whole police station is out looking for her. Even the FBI is here. She’s running out of time.”
He was ready to go through the man and apologize later, but Arnie made his decision and heaved off his chair, yanked his keys from his pocket and hurried to the file cabinet, unlocked it and the next second handed Fred Kazincky’s manila folder to Murph.
“I appreciate it. You know what he drives?”
“A beat up, black Dodge pickup. But it’s in front of his apartment. I saw it just now when I went out for coffee. Anyway, he wouldn’t get far in that.” Arnie scowled. “A red Mazda 6 was stolen overnight. I reported it to Bing first thing this morning.” He rifled through the papers on his desk and pushed one toward Murph, tapped it with his finger. “That’s the license plate number.”
Murph stored it in his brain. “Did you ever see him drive a dark-blue sedan. Do you have a loaner car like that?”
“We ain’t that fancy. We don’t have a loaner.”
“If there’s anything else you can think of about Fred that might help….”
But Arnie just scratched his chin, looking stunned and bewildered, so Murph left him with his thanks. He let Bing know that they were likely looking for the red Mazda Arnie had already reported. Then he combed through Fred’s employment file.
He found nothing useful there, except Fred’s address, a second-floor apartment in a rundown apartment complex, not one of Bing's. He drove there next, ran up the stairs. The door stood open to a crack. He pushed his way in with his gun drawn, but the place was empty, completely stripped, as if nobody had ever lived there.
* * *
Kate shivered in the cold. In the past two years, this was her second time locked in a trunk. Except, the first time the car had been carrying her to life, while this time it was speeding her to death.
The ropes that bound her cut off circulation in her hands, which made it difficult to fish around for the phone in her back pocket.
Mordocai had taken her cell phone, but didn’t check for a second phone, and she had the cheap disposable she’d used to call Cirelli, right in her back pocket.
She could reach the top, her fingers touching the plastic, but it kept slipping from between her fingertips when she tried to pull it out. Then, breathing hard from the effort, every muscle clenched, she finally managed. The phone came out halfway, then all the way at last.
Don’t drop it, don’t drop it, don’t drop it. Of course, she did. The stupid thing slipped from her frozen fingers.
Long minutes passed before she found it, before she brought it to the front, praying the car wouldn’t stop, and Mordocai wouldn’t come for her yet.
She dialed Murph. The call rang out just as the car turned, slowed, then came to a halt. “Pick up. Please, pick up,” she whispered into the darkness, knowing he might not, since her name wouldn’t come up on his display. He had no way of knowing she was calling.
She expected the trunk to pop open any second, for her reprieve to be over. But the boots crunching in the snow kept going. She could hear other cars, then a familiar click somewhere behind her head, like the gas tank cover popping open. A metallic, scraping sound came next. The nozzle inserted?
Then the line was picked up, at last. “Murph Dolan.”
His sure, strong voice spread hope through her and gave her something to hang on to. His presence filled the trunk, and suddenly she wasn’t alone. “It’s me,” she whispered. “I’m in the trunk. It’
s Fred.”
“I know. Where are you? Are you all right?”
“I’m at a gas station.”
“Does the trunk have a safety release? It should be up in the middle, glowing in the dark.”
“I tried it already. It’s disabled.”
“Any tools? See if you can find a tire iron. You might be able to bust the lock open. And at least you’ll have a weapon when he comes for you.” His voice was tight. “You fight, you hear me? I’m coming to get you. Don’t you give up for a second.”
She pinched the phone between her shoulder and her ear to free her hands. She’d done a precursory search already, before deciding that going for the phone was her best chance. But now she stretched farther, moved around until she reached every corner.
Desperation washed through her. “There’s nothing.”
“Okay. Look for a little knob, up in the back in the corners somewhere, attached to a wire. There should be one on each side.”
Oh, God, the buttons that released the back seat to fold down. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Probably because her mind was frozen with fear.
For long moments, her frantically seeking fingers found nothing, and she panicked, thinking Mordocai had cut off the buttons. But then she found the wire and followed it, reached the end and the button was still attached. She pushed it as hard as she could and leaned against the back of the seat, tears filling her eyes when it budged.
“I got it,” she whispered.
She pushed an inch at a time, until she could see up and out a little. Mordocai was up front, cleaning the windshield. She only saw his arm, sweeping back and forth. Then the pump clicked, the tank full, and he walked around to take care of that.
“What do you see?”
“Hang on.” She cranked her neck. “I see a highway sign. PA Turnpike Northeast Extension.”
“Do you see the name of a town?”
“No.” And she didn’t dare push the seat down further for fear that Mordocai might notice. She’d risked enough already. She pulled back and eased the seat back in place.
She couldn’t make a run for it. She was tied up. Mordocai would see her the second she pushed that seat all the way down. She would never make it out of the car. Yelling for help was futile. He was the closest, he would get to her first. He had his fancy gun with the silencer.