Night of the Hunted: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 11)

by Renee Pawlish

  She gestured at the dresser. “All her things. It’s…personal.”

  “I won’t disturb anything.” I walked over to the walk-in closet and stepped inside. It was filled with expensive clothes for both William and Holly. She favored shoes. Lots and lots of shoes. And jewelry. A built-in cabinet housed all kinds of necklaces, earrings, rings, bracelets, and pendants. It was a lot to give up. Everything appeared to be neatly in place; there was no sign that she’d packed anything or that she wasn’t planning to return.

  Betsy pointed toward the door. “You need to leave now.”

  “Okay.” I wanted to give the room a thorough search, but it was clear Betsy wasn’t going to allow that. “Let me look around William’s office and then I’ll go.”

  “Fine,” she said, but she was irritated.

  She strode out of the room. I followed her back downstairs, through a spacious foyer, and down the hall to William’s office. It was functional, with a wall of bookcases that held a few books, but that was mostly filled with pictures of William with some of Denver’s elite society, golf trophies, and a few civic awards.

  “Man, he has people fooled,” I muttered.

  A huge cherry desk dominated another wall, with two wingback chairs in front of it. A couch and coffee table sat near a big bay window that faced the front of the house, and a small table in the corner held a pewter chess set.

  “Andre was in here for a while this morning?” I asked.

  “Yes. He was on the phone.”

  I headed toward William’s desk, but Betsy suddenly grabbed my arm.

  “Do you hear that?” she asked, her head cocked to the side.

  “What?”

  “He’s back,” she hissed.

  I crossed to the window, but stayed to the side, and peered out. A black SUV was sitting in the driveway. Betsy came up behind me and saw the car.

  “Oh no! Oh no!” she said. She whirled around and stared at me. “You have to get out of here!”

  The front door slammed.

  “Too late,” I murmured.

  “Hide!”

  Betsy’s eyes darted around; she was panicking. I shoved her toward the door and then she came to her senses. “Go right,” she whispered, then slipped past me. I followed her around the corner and down a hallway to the laundry room. Once in there, we looped around and back to the kitchen. Betsy paused and peeked into the kitchen.

  “He must’ve gone in William’s office,” she whispered.

  We darted into the kitchen and started around the island, and then we heard Andre clear his throat. Betsy’s eyes widened. I glanced around, then rushed toward a folding double-door at the edge of the kitchen.

  “Act normal!” I whispered.

  I opened the door, slipped inside and banged my head on a metal rod. I muffled a groan as I ducked under some coats. Betsy yanked out a vacuum cleaner and slid the door closed.

  “Oh,” she said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “William needs some stuff from his office,” Andre said. He had a low voice that sounded threatening, whether he meant it to or not.

  “I see. Is Holly here?” Betsy asked. I had to give her credit, she made the question sound casual, with no hint of anything but curiosity in the tone.

  “No, she’ll be back later. Fix me a sandwich, will you?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  I heard them move away, and then heard sounds of cupboard doors opening and closing as Betsy bustled about the kitchen. Andre’s voice drifted through the slats in the door. I sidled around some boots on the floor to the other end of the closet and strained to hear him.

  “Yeah, I’m at the house now.” A pause. “Uh-huh.”

  He said something else, but I couldn’t hear it over the sounds Betsy was making in the kitchen. I wished I could shush her.

  “I can’t find it.” Pause, and I missed something, then he said, “Yeah, okay.” A pause. “There’s no other way she could know you fixed it?” Betsy banged a plate on the counter and I missed some more of what he said. “We have to find Charlie.” Another pause. “Before she finds it.” I missed something else, then, “Okay, see you tonight.” More words I couldn’t hear, and then silence.

  Who was Charlie? I thought. And why do they have to find him? And what did they think “she” might find? Holly?

  I waited a minute, but all I heard was Betsy in the kitchen, so I gently pushed the door open a crack. Nothing happened so I poked my head out. The sound of drawers opening and closing came from the office. I craned my neck to see around the corner into the kitchen. Betsy was at the island, spreading mayonnaise on bread. Time to go while Andre was occupied in the office. I’d go outside and wait in the 4-Runner until he left, then follow.

  I signaled to Betsy that I was going out the back. Her mouth dropped open and she shuddered, then mouthed, “No!” I ignored her, edged out of the closet, and tiptoed to the island. I quickly took out my wallet and handed her a business card.

  “Call me if you hear from Holly,” I said in a low voice.

  She nodded, her mouth still open as she stuffed the card in her apron pocket. I moved toward the sliding glass doors. Then she started to sing softly – to cover any noise I might make or to calm her nerves, I wasn’t sure – but her voice warbled. I reached the doors, slid open the screen and slipped outside. I quietly shut the screen and took a few steps.

  “Who is that?” Andre asked.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Andre had come into the kitchen. He was staring at me, his jaw open in surprise.

  Betsy looked stunned as well as she pointed at me. “Who is that?”

  “What the hell!” Andre said.

  I didn’t wait to hear more. I peeled across the porch toward the garage. Behind me, the screen door opened with a bang. I ran along the back side of the garage and scrambled over the fence, landing in a heap on the other side. I leaped to my feet and ran toward the front of the house. The gate rattled and Andre swore as he struggled to unlock it. I tore across the lawn and down the block.

  “Hey!”

  I glanced over my shoulder again. Andre had reached the street and was chasing after me. As I ran toward the 4-Runner, I yanked my keys out of my pocket, then hit the keyless entry button. I got to the car, jerked the door open and dove inside. I started the car and looked up. Andre had given up the foot chase, but then I gulped. The SUV was screeching out of the driveway. Then it headed straight at me. I punched the gas pedal and shot toward the SUV, then swerved at the last second and dodged it. I rocketed down the street. Tires screeched as the SUV skidded to a halt. I careened around the corner, then glanced in the rearview mirror. The SUV had reached the corner. I had the gas pedal to the floor as I neared Fifth Avenue. I hoped no cars were coming from the other direction because I wasn’t stopping. I got halfway through the intersection when a blue Lexus appeared. The driver slammed on the brakes and veered to the left, narrowly missing the rear end of the 4-Runner. As I raced toward Sixth Avenue, I checked the rearview mirror again. Andre had slowed to avoid the Lexus, and he was almost a block back.

  I reached Sixth Avenue, turned right in front of a slew of cars, pressed the gas and zoomed toward Colorado Boulevard. As I neared it, the traffic light turned yellow. I punched the gas. The light had gone red by the time I got to the intersection, but I sped on through. Horns blared and cars braked, but I couldn’t stop now. No way was Andre making it through that. I drove east for a few more miles, then turned north and back west, headed toward downtown.

  I slowed to a reasonable speed, but then slapped the wheel. So much for waiting at Holly’s to follow Andre. Then I calmed down and assessed the situation. I could call Betsy and see if Andre had returned to the house. If so, I could wait outside and follow him as I’d originally planned. And if he was somewhere else, I could only hope I’d come across him again. Except that in either scenario, I had a problem: he’d recognize the 4-Runner. That meant I had to come up with an alternative. I thought for a second and then pulle
d out my phone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  3:20 PM

  “Hey, babe,” Willie said when she answered her phone. “How’s your case coming along?”

  “I’ve run into a problem.”

  “Uh-oh. Is Honey not so sweet?”

  “Good one,” I laughed. “Her name isn’t Honey. It’s Holly. Holly Rasmus.”

  “Never heard of her.”

  “What about William Rasmus?”

  “The guy who wants to run for mayor?”

  “The same.”

  “We went to his brewery in Vail, remember?”

  “We did?”

  “Sure, when we went up to Vail to hike.”

  “I remember the hiking, not the bar.”

  “It’s because you said it wasn’t B 52s, so it wasn’t good enough. And when I suggested we visit the one in Denver, you said the same thing.”

  B 52s is my favorite hangout. It’s a pool hall and bar, and I love the 80s music they play. It had once been a warehouse, and is now decorated with old plane propellers and advertisements from the 1940s and ’50s. It has a cool feel of a bygone era, like the film noir movies I love.

  “I doubt I said that,” I said, but my denial was lame. She was right, I was partial to B 52s.

  “Anyway,” she said. “What did Rasmus’s wife want with you?”

  “She wanted me to help her leave her husband.” I proceeded to explain Holly’s plan to leave William and how she was a no-show.

  “And I suppose William really doesn’t want anyone to know he abuses his wife,” she said when I finished.

  “You got that right,” I said. “However, Holly seems to be missing, and I’m trying to find out where she is.”

  “Has William harmed her in some way?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out. And I need to switch cars with you.”

  “That’s an unusual request. How is switching cars going to help you find Holly?”

  As much as I didn’t want to make her more anxious, I had to explain. Willie had accepted my profession and its inherent dangers, but I knew that she still worried about me.

  “Well, there’s only one problem,” she said when I finished. “I’m down in Castle Rock, looking at that hall for the wedding reception. Remember, I told you this morning?”

  “Uh-huh.” I was drawing a blank. Had we already reached the stage in our relationship where I was being accused of tuning her out? Correction, where I’d been caught tuning her out.

  “That’s right,” I said, trying to cover my faux-pas.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “I’m near the condo.”

  “I can leave in about half an hour, but it’s at least another thirty minutes to get there.”

  “Unfortunately I don’t have time to wait.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “It’s the best I can do.”

  “It’s okay. Maybe I can get one of the Goofballs to help.”

  “They do love to help you.”

  “That’s true.” Ace and Deuce Smith are brothers, and they were my downstairs neighbors. We shared an affection for playing pool, and I’d dubbed them “The Goofball Brothers” because, well, they could just be so…goofy sometimes. They were fun, loyal friends, and I cared about them like they were my brothers. Willie and I enjoyed hanging out with them, and they both loved to help me, as long as the work wasn’t boring. Deuce especially fancied himself a detective, even though he’d had a harrowing kidnap experience a while back. “Okay, have fun.”

  “Will do. You may have to come check this place out if it looks like a possibility for the reception.”

  “Okay, I can do that.” I told her I loved her and then ended the call. By now, I’d driven up to my building, so I parked in front and strolled up the sidewalk to the long front porch that extended the length of the building. But instead of heading left to the stairs that led to my unit, I rapped on the Goofballs’ front door. I didn’t figure Deuce would be there. He works a construction job with regular hours, but Ace works at Best Buy – the electronics store – and his hours vary. Sure enough, after a moment, the door opened and Ace’s face brightened when he saw me.

  “Hi, Reed,” he said in a lazy drawl that fit his overall demeanor, his gray eyes languid. He ran a hand through his blond hair.

  “Hey, buddy,” I smiled. We exchanged pleasantries and then I said, “I have a favor to ask.”

  “Sure.” Just like a Goofball, no hesitation.

  “Can I borrow your car for the rest of the day? You can use mine if you need to go anywhere.”

  “The 4-Runner?” His eyes gleamed. Ace loved the 4-Runner, as he’d told me many times, but his budget wouldn’t afford him one of his own, which is why he drove a Kia sedan.

  “Yeah, the 4-Runner.”

  “You’re on a case?”

  “I am, but I promise I won’t let anything happen to your car.”

  “Aw, I’m not worried about that. I trust you. Let me get the keys.”

  “Thanks.”

  He whirled around and hurried back into his kitchen and returned with a lone key on a Denver Broncos key ring. “Here.”

  I took the 4-Runner key from my keyring and handed it to him. I resisted the urge to tell him to be careful with the car. I knew he would be, and I didn’t want to insult him.

  “You need any other help?” he asked. “Want me to follow anyone for you?” On an earlier case of mine, he’d tailed a suspect, and he remembered the fun part of it, not the part where the suspect had spotted Ace and we’d worried that the goon might come after him.

  “Not right now, but I’ll call you if I do.”

  He saluted and shut the door. I grinned as I walked back to the 4-Runner, where I retrieved my lock-pick set and binoculars. Then I hustled around to the back of the building to a two-car garage. Since Willie had moved in, I let her use the space assigned to my unit, and Ace used the other, while Deuce and I parked on the side of the building or on the street. I threw the lock-pick set and binoculars behind the driver’s seat of Ace’s Kia, got in and fired it up. As I backed out of the garage, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Reed Ferguson?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Betsy.” Her voice was tight. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, what’s going on? Has Holly showed up?”

  “Oh, I wish, but no. I wanted to tell you that Andre followed you and then he came back, but left again.”

  “Any idea where he went?”

  “No, he doesn’t tell me anything.”

  “And you’re okay?” I asked. “He wasn’t suspicious of you?”

  “I don’t think so. And I’m sorry I yelled like that when he came into the kitchen. I was afraid if I didn’t, he’d think you were there talking to me. But he thought you were an intruder, so it’s okay. I was so worried when he took off after you. I was about to check on you when he came back again, and then I couldn’t call until now.”

  “I figured as much. If he shows up again, can you sneak into another room or go outside and call me?”

  “Yes, I’ll do that.”

  “Will you be there when William gets home?”

  “I should be. I usually serve dinner and then leave.”

  “Call me when you leave. I want to know what William has to say.”

  “I will.”

  She ended the call and I drove onto Colfax. I still didn’t know whether Andre had taken Holly to his house, so I headed in that direction, using the address Cal had found for me. If she wasn’t there, I’d have to do one of my least favorite things: wait at Holly’s house for Andre to come back so I could follow him. But who knew when he’d return?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  3:50 PM

  Andre lived a couple of miles northeast of Holly’s house, in the older South Park Hill neighborhood. I drove east on Colfax to Leyden and turned left. His home was a mid-century ranch house tucked in an area where the yards were big, b
efore developers sacrificed them in order to fit more houses on a plot of land.

  I parked down the street from Andre’s house, pulled out the binoculars, and focused on the house. Through a large front window, I could see into his living room. I watched for a minute but saw no one. Then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, so I quickly dropped the binoculars into my lap. A second later, a woman pushing a stroller passed by the Kia. She either didn’t notice me sitting in the car, or she didn’t care, but I realized I’d have to be careful not to draw attention to myself. The woman walked down the sidewalk, then ten feet in front of the car, she paused, adjusted her bra strap, and continued on. She was oblivious to me. I looked back at Andre’s house and pondered my options.

  Given that he was ex-military, I’d bet he’d have some kind of high-tech alarm system in his house. That meant breaking and entering wasn’t an option. I’d have to look around the house and in the windows to see if I could find anything suspicious. But it was almost four, and people were out and about – like the woman with the stroller. As if to confirm this thought, another woman jogged by on the other side of the street. I watched her in the side-view mirror. She reached the corner and disappeared. I glanced up and down the street. Quiet. Time to make my move. But what would someone think if I walked all around Andre’s house? They’d either confront me or call the cops, I thought.

  I whirled around and stared into the backseat. Ace had a couple of blue Best Buy polo shirts – with the Best Buy logo on them – lying on the backseat and a clipboard on the floor. His uniform gave me an idea. I rooted around the glove box and found a notepad and pen. I took them, the clipboard, and my lock-pick set, and got out of the Kia. If someone saw me, I’d act like I was with Xcel Energy and was checking for a gas leak. It would have to do.

  I stuffed the lock-pick set in my pocket, then walked across the street, acting as if I had every right to be there. I marched up the porch steps and rang the bell, just to be sure. On the off chance that Andre answered the door, I turned slightly so I could make a quick run back to the car. But nothing happened. I waited a minute, then tried the doorknob. Locked. I glanced around. The street was empty, so I stepped off the porch and up to the front window. I cupped a hand to shield against glare and quickly peeked inside, long enough to assure myself no one was in the living room, but fast enough so that I wouldn’t look too suspicious if anyone saw me. Just a curious inspector wondering whether someone was home.