Relieved to feel surprisingly little pain from his newly inflicted wound, Ruger cursed the bitch who’d stabbed him. She would pay for this... dearly!
Hearing a gunshot echo through the woods as he ran, he zig-zagged to foil their aim if they’d spotted him. Likely they took out his dog, though he hoped the animal had ripped the woman apart before being wasted or, better still, that they’d accidentally plugged the woman instead.
After all the hours Ruger invested in training—the rigorous discipline, the punishment and the strict food control—that damn dog turned out a total loser. While on guard, he failed to attack or bark a warning when the woman escaped; in fact, he went with her! If the dog weren’t already dead, he’d kill it himself. But only after teaching painful lessons!
He willfully compartmentalized his fury at the dog in order to focus on flight. No room now for mistakes. Woods like these didn’t provide the dense jungle cover he used to advantage in Central America, making this dash in the dark through towering trees and scattered underbrush easier and faster but far less concealing. Yet Ruger knew a deer could vanish seconds after being sighted in woods like these. So could the trained human.
He traversed his neighbor’s property swiftly, the glaring headlights, police conversation and vehicle radio static fading with each distancing step. By the time cruiser searchlights raked the forested hill, Ruger had crossed the road and sprinted up his own long driveway to the place he’d concealed Jennifer’s van.
Swinging open the barn’s aging doors, he grabbed an emergency knapsack hidden inside and flung it into Jennifer’s vehicle. Hastily donning plastic gloves lying on the driver’s seat, he grabbed her keys from the floor mat, started the car and backed out of the ancient building, stopping only long enough to close the barn so they wouldn’t know to look there first.
Besides Ruger, probably no one alive remembered a narrow, overgrown dirt road crossing the field behind the barn. Once active, where plowing and harvesting equipment moved daily to the fields of the working farm, the path had languished under years of overgrowth.
Nevertheless, Ruger’s trained eye spotted the obscure pattern of parallel tracks while walking the property with his dog. Trained to prepare for all possibilities, he carefully removed obstructions such as fallen branches, protruding rocks, scrub trees and pieces of abandoned machinery in anticipation of a situation like tonight’s. He also learned exactly where this path ended: at a paved county road two miles in the opposite direction from the current activity on Winding Trail.
Consistent with military tactics requiring contingency alternatives, he’d rehearsed an escape plan. The duct-taped light-switch inside Jennifer’s car door frame would not turn on when he climbed into the vehicle. Headlights off, he drove slowly but confidently, bumping lightly along the abandoned, overgrown secret dirt road. Given the dark night, they wouldn’t discover his route until morning light revealed foliage crushed by his vehicle’s tires. If it rained in the interim, coaxing the weeds to rebound and stand tall again, they’d detect almost nothing.
Bouncing at last to the far end of the lane, the SUV’s ride smoothed immediately when its tires touched the asphalt county road. He turned on the headlights and with a self-congratulatory grin at his success, proceeded at normal speed along the deserted secondary roads toward crowded Tysons Corner.
Ten minutes later, as the Fairfax County helicopter’s blades throbbed deafeningly overhead and its brilliant searchlight raked the countryside below, Ruger was long gone.
CHAPTER 55
Even inside the cruiser, Jennifer had to shout over the hovering helicopter’s whomping thunder above them. “Adam,” she cried, “if the man isn’t here at the farm, could he have gone back to his truck across the street? What if he’s getting away in it right now?”
Adam rolled the window down. “Jake,” he shouted, “have you heard from backup about the guy’s truck in the driveway across the street?”
“No, we’ve been too busy here,” came the barely audible answer.
Adam put the window up and grabbed his phone. “What’s with the pickup truck at 3509 Winding Trail Road, the house that had the B&E residential alarm?”
The phone crackled, “Two units here now and forensics on the way.”
“Any sign of the suspect?”
“No, K-9 didn’t score yet but still trying. He’s not in this house and we’re securing the front door.
“Got it! Thanks!”
Overhearing that conversation and clearly upset, Jennifer said in a wavering voice, “Adam, as long as he’s out there, my family’s in danger. Where could he be?”
“Ma’am, he could hide in the fields or the woods; he could be alive or dead; remember, you wounded him! We’re bringing in more dogs for the ground search. The helicopter doesn’t miss much upstairs. Chances are we’ll find him yet tonight. If not, tomorrow’s search has the added advantage of daylight.
“I... I’m very tired,” she said softly, her fatigue multiplied by this added worry. “Adam, could I just get my car and drive home now?”
“Your car?”
“Remember, I told you I drove here to what looked like a garage sale. Isn’t my car still here?”
“We haven’t found it yet, but we’ve just begun to look. Maybe he ditched it somewhere else. If so, it should turn up fast because we’ve had a BOLO on it since you disappeared.”
“I’m ready to go home.”
“Okay. I’ll take you there right now.”
“Oh, that noise is awful.” She covered her ears.
“Be glad you’re in the car and not outside. The president’s plane is called ‘Airforce One,’ so we named our chopper ‘Fairfax One’.”
“How did it get here so fast?” Jennifer asked.
“It’s hangared next to the landfill on West Ox Road, only a short distance in flying time.”
“Do you think it will find him?”
“If anything can, it can,” Adam replied with conviction. “Its spotlight is as bright as daylight and from the air it has machinery to detect and follow anything moving on the ground.”
Adam turned the patrol car around, reached the road and headed for McLean. The chopper’s throbbing drone gradually diminished as they distanced themselves from the crime scene. “I can hardly wait to see... ” his mind focused specifically on Hannah, but instead he said, “…all your family’s glad faces when you arrive home.”
“Me, too!”
She looked down at Adam’s holstered gun, visible in the dashboard light. Could armed police protect her loved ones from a predator like Wrestler or should her family buy guns for the house? She hated the thought of transforming their home into a fortress, where defending themselves might accidentally risk her own loved ones. The faces of her trusting little Grands flitted across her mind. That was no way to live.
Sitting stiffly in the patrol car’s seat, Jennifer shouldered the burden that her family would never be safe while that terrible man remained free. What if he headed toward her house this very second? Besides her own abduction, her rescue also exposed his torment of Tina. From the contents of Jennifer’s purse, the man knew her address. She had to acknowledge responsibility that her own actions in choosing to attend that “sale” resulted in her family’s current danger. But Wrestler’s convoluted mind might also hold her responsible for his crumbling world.
She sat up straight, grasping the dash with both hands.
Looking at her in surprise, Adam asked, “Is... is something wrong?”
“Adam, aren’t there two possibilities? Either this guy is not a danger, because he’s caught or dead, or he is a danger because he’s alive and loose. Don’t we need to prepare for the worst until we know for certain it’s safe?”
Silent as he processed her logic, Adam wordlessly pressed a dashboard control. Instantly, flashing blue lights speckled the dark night as he accelerated the cruiser, racing unimpeded along McLean’s empty nighttime streets and intersections in a rush toward the Shannons’ home
.
CHAPTER 56
Reaching residential Lewinsville Road, empty of traffic at this early morning hour, Adam dispensed with the cruiser’s lights. Responsive to Jennifer’s concerns, he slowed as they approached her house, alert for anything unusual. No suspicious cars along the street approaching her cul-de-sac, but he remembered that the Shannons’ wooded back yard bordered parkland, offering additional access for a determined criminal.
When Adam pulled up at the front gate, most windows in Jennifer’s house blazed with light, even though Adam’s watch read 4:30 a.m.
“Why not stay here in the cruiser while I ring the doorbell?” he suggested. Wearily, she nodded.
Moments later, her family streamed out of the house, down the sidewalk, through the front gate and surrounded the police car. Their unrestrained squeals of delight at seeing Jennifer caused lights to turn on in several curious neighbors’ houses. Adam stood back, scanning the surrounding area for any potential trouble, as Jason opened the cruiser door, and Jennifer staggered out into his arms.
Her husband and children swept her into the house. She was home. She was safe.
The family was exuberant!
After describing Adam as her rescuing White Knight, Jen hugged all of her family members one by one, with a few special words for each. To Becca she whispered, “Adam has something to tell you about later.” Hannah could only stare at her.
By then, overwhelmed with physical and mental exhaustion, she asked, “Do you mind if I curl up on the den couch while Adam tells you what happened?” She smiled and waved as Jason gently guided her to the next room.
He returned minutes later. “She’s out like a light!”
Hannah moved closer to Adam, grinned and twined her arm in his. “You did it! You found her. We’d nearly given up. You’re our hero and my hero especially. Thank you, thank you!”
More grateful than Hannah could ever know at this wished-for development in his most difficult case, Adam hugged her close and lightly kissed the top of her head.
Every face turned toward the detective, who gave them a broad brush description of Jennifer’s imprisonment, escape and rescue.
“We have an unusual situation here,” Adam continued. “Mrs. Shannon’s had a frightening experience. In the process she discovered compromising information about her captor. He is,” Adam tactfully did not say “a probable killer,” but instead, “… an extremely dangerous person who, I’m sorry to say, is still at large at this moment.”
Hearing this, murmurs of nervous conjecture rippled through the assembled group.
Adam continued. “She stabbed him in the belly with a screwdriver. We don’t know how seriously he’s injured. So this dangerous guy is doubly mad at her. He has her purse with her address and keys. If payback is on his mind, he knows where to find her. The police have a BOLO out for her car, in case he’s driving it. If he has revenge in mind, he’ll find police protection around this house. That is, until he’s apprehended, which should be soon.
“Rallying around Mrs. Shannon is good. But until he’s caught, if you don’t live here at the house, the best way to help is to return to your homes. Take everyone who lives here along with you. We may capture the man later tonight, or tomorrow, but pack to stay away for several days. Meantime, the police will give him a reception here if he comes looking for trouble. If that happens, the fewer of you here, the better.”
Jason stepped forward. “Words can’t describe our worry when Jennifer was missing and now we have you to thank that she’s safely back with us. Let’s hear it for Detective Adam Iverson!”
A wildly enthusiastic response of cheers, clapping and whistles erupted from the family, their faces beaming with gratitude.
“Adam’s plan makes good sense,” Jason said. “Let’s decide right now who goes where, pack overnight bags quickly and turn this situation over to the police.”
Becca approached Adam, “Mom said you have news for me?”
“Let’s sit down somewhere quiet.” Adam suggested.
“May I come, too?” Hannah asked.
“Of course,” Adam agreed. They sat at the wicker table in the sunroom.
Searching for the right words, Adam wanted to recount the facts yet soften the shock, an unfortunate art forced by circumstance upon detectives early in their careers. “The good news is that at the man’s farm, we found your friend Tina and she’s alive.”
After a week of anguish and dread when Tina vanished, followed by their mother’s disappearance, the sisters couldn’t hide their unabashed delight that both at last were found!
“The bad news,” Adam continued, “is that the man hurt Tina and when the medics arrived, she was in shock.”
Jumping to her feet, a hand at her mouth and tears in her eyes, Becca cried out, “Where is she?”
Adam told her, explaining they’d already alerted Tina’s mother.
“She’ll need me. I’m going there now!”
Hannah grabbed her arm. “I’ll come with you, but first let’s throw our stuff into a suitcase so we can go from the hospital directly over to Bethany and Mike’s house.” The sisters rushed upstairs.
After the girls hurried to the second floor, Jason strolled into the sunroom and Adam repeated his information about Tina. “And, Sir,” he added, “it ’s a good idea to change your house locks before our police surveillance here ends.”
“Thanks for your outstanding work, Adam! I’m also going upstairs to pack for my wife and me, but after the terrible news about Tina, I need to ask you about Jennifer... man to man.” He looked directly into the detective’s eyes. “Is she really all right? Was she... did he...?”
“Sir, my understanding is that she survived a harrowing time. Physically, a dog bite, some scrapes, scratches and a twisted ankle. Emotionally, a terrifying and exhausting episode. Certainly, a doctor should look her over tomorrow. She was incredibly lucky, Sir. What happened to Tina was in store for her next. Hers could easily have been a very different story.”
Jason exhaled with relief. “Thank god we have her back! And thanks to you and your fine police work,” he added.
“Unlike a lot of victims with almost nobody to fall back on, your wife has this amazing family support system. And, Sir, she’s... she’s resilient.”
To Adam’s surprise, Jason began chuckling and then laughed out loud as he felt the tension of the last nerve-wracking thirty-seven hours melting away. To the detective, he finally managed to say, “After forty years with her, Adam, I assure you ‘resilient’ is an understatement!”
CHAPTER 57
“YRDSALE” now read “RISAIF.” Ruger knew this forgery would fail close inspection, but it should escape the casual scrutiny of passing vehicles, such as a rolling police cruiser. He also knew this subterfuge bought him critical time because white vans similar to this turned up everywhere. Until they located this particular one, they had no idea where to look for him.
Even when the cops found it, his inside/outside wipe-down and protective gloves afterward guaranteed no fingerprints. Still, he’d envisioned this scene unfolding years hence, when this missing woman was old news. Then he could easily drop her van in another city or even another state: Maryland, the District of Columbia, Pennsylvania and West Virginia were all within about an hour’s drive. They’d find the vehicle but not Jennifer Shannon, who would occupy a grave on his farm. Given that future “clean” car and no corpse, anybody could be responsible for her disappearance, which by then would be a dusty cold case.
Her escape destroyed that perfect strategy. He gritted his teeth and slammed a tightly clenched fist hard against the steering wheel. That woman! She ruined everything!
When she spilled her story, cops would swarm over his house. They’d investigate his computer, which his hasty midnight departure left no time to booby-trap. They’d discover his clandestine consulting for Special Forces and side-line activities with militia, both groups operating at the edge of the law. Besides losing the painstakingly compiled files he
’d never see again, their discovery would turn the very friends who could help him create a new identity into enemies. Enemies determined to find and kill him for failing to secure their super-sensitive information entrusted to him. Now he had to dodge everybody—cops and clients.
Driving toward Tysons Corner, his life in a shambles, he took stock of his situation. He’d survived a bitter childhood, succeeded in a tough Army career, made a new start at the inherited house and worked with organizations where his unique military experience contributed importantly. He didn’t expect the unstoppable need to punish those women. But when the rage overpowered him with the uncontrollable need to punish as he was punished, he acted. Then the unimaginable physical and emotional satisfaction that followed, a catharsis experienced only by humiliating and controlling and eliminating them, justified all the risks.
Even so, except for the first woman in the bar, he’d planned carefully, proceeded efficiently, used them savagely and buried the evidence. That is, until this last one escaped. The decision for her to clean and cook allowed him critical hours to concentrate on his time-sensitive computer work and, when she reorganized the basement, to neutralize his mother’s power over the cellar. He’d captured Jennifer Shannon for his own whims. Why not use her that way, he’d decided, before he used her the other ways?
Everything went well until she caused the crescendo of events turning his life upside down. Now, as with perilous Army missions, new situations required new strategies. He needed a plan.
Pulling into a Tysons Corner hotel parking lot, he parked his car among the dozens belonging to guests asleep in their rooms. Leaning back in the seat, he closed his eyes to concentrate and fought a powerful urge to sleep, an unthinkable luxury at the moment! “On duty” now, as surely as with any Army assignment, he must fall back on his survival instincts, a natural acuity reinforced by rigorous military training.
Eyes closed, he focused his mind on the problem at hand. To accomplish his dual missions, avoiding capture and punishing Jennifer Shannon, he could flee or hide in plain sight, each with risks and rewards. If he left tonight, returning months later to teach that woman her painful lesson, she’d live in constant fear in the interim. The subtle cruelty of this psychological torture excited him. Police protection and interest eventually waned in such cases as new crises overshadowed old ones. In time, he’d get to her unimpeded.
Garage Sale Stalker (Garage Sale Mysteries) Page 25