CHAPTER 63
Jack called Detective Brad Mills and delineated all the details of the recent events.
“Place undercover policemen at all the emergency rooms, especially those in the outskirts of town. The Lagranges will be showing up at one of them over the next few hours,” said Jack.
“And how do you know that?”
“I gave Lagrange a hefty dose of Antabuse. The stuff will make him sicker than a dog if he drinks alcohol.”
“I doubt he’ll be having any—”
“Something tells me Lagrange will be having some champagne soon,” said Jack. “After all, he’s French, right?”
“OK, we’ll see if your prediction comes true.”
Once the call terminated, Jack returned to www.SeeSusanDie.com and witnessed his friend squirm uncomfortably on his screen, the noose on her neck increasingly tense. Although no sound paralleled the live image, the facts were plain to see. Susan was getting in trouble fast. Jack could also determine that Susan was freezing, noticing her body shivering uncontrollably, a plume of breath visible as she exhaled.
“Where are you, Susan?” said Jack aloud. “What type of room are you in?” He gawked attentively at the screen. “What kind of walls are those? They look weird. Are there any windows? How far are you from the door?”
The image quality was purposefully poor to prevent derivation of clues. Jack couldn’t discern any windows or doors. The walls were devoid of pictures or paint. Just dull, drab gray. There were no furnishings other than the dreaded gallows apparatus and the diminishing ice-block platform. As Jack’s eyes scanned the image, his gaze again landed on Susan’s thick breath. At least you’re breathing. Still. He shook his head. But for how long?
CHAPTER 64
By the time Jack and Kate reached Claire’s location, she had a plan and was more than excited to fill them in on her discoveries.
“We know Susan’s on a block of ice,” said Claire. “I looked up places here in Evansville where you could buy those. There are three places. The next issue is, how do you transport the block of ice? It’s massive and weighs a ton.” Claire’s eyes widened. “A refrigerator truck. I found a place in Evansville that sells ice blocks that big, and as it so happens, they reported a stolen refrigerator truck this morning. Detective Mills helped me with that. I have a picture of the truck. It is gray and huge.” Claire removed a large picture from the backseat of her van. “The police have disseminated the picture to all the patrolling officers, and they have an APB out for Ganz and Lagrange, not only in Evansville but also in surrounding counties.”
“I was wondering what kind of place Susan was in,” said Jack, his eyes again scanning his mobile feed from Susan’s location. “But I now see—it’s the truck itself.”
Claire nodded. “Exactly.”
“Can we use GPS to locate the missing truck?” said Kate.
“Unfortunately, this company doesn’t place GPS tags on its vehicles,” said Claire, her voice deflated.
“There’s got to be something else we can do,” said Kate. “For one thing, we can drive around and look for the truck as well. I’ll call everybody at work and send them a picture of the truck. The more eyes we have looking, the better the chance of—”
“Wait a minute. That’s a great idea, Kate,” said Jack, looking heavenward. “A wonderful idea.” Jack had an optimistic look on his face. Enthusiastically, he fished out his cell phone from his pocket and dialed.
While Jack retreated to make his call, the women typed in their mobile devices: www.SeeSusanDie.com. On the screen, Susan was now standing on her tiptoes, the noose around her neck and rope stretched tightly. She was beginning to have significant respiratory distress, the breath moisture coming in spurts. The melting process was slightly uneven, and Susan was struggling awkwardly to stand on the right side of the block, the higher ground. She shivered uncomfortably.
“She doesn’t have much time, does she?” said Kate, fear and frustration obvious in her voice.
“I don’t think so,” said Claire. “I don’t think so.”
“I can’t stand to watch her, and I can’t stand not to watch her,” said Kate.
Jack returned to the women. “Let’s send a fax. I have some friends who are going to help us with the search.”
CHAPTER 65
Vicky took a deep breath and smiled. She might be able to catch up on her murder-mystery novel after all. Though earlier in the shift the emergency department at the small hospital in Vincennes bustled like a beehive, the place was finally quiet, and only two patients remained.
One man lay on a gurney in room 3 watching TV, his wife sitting at his bedside. He had presented two hours earlier with chest pains. So far, the evaluation had not revealed a heart attack. It would be a waiting game for a few more hours before a determination would be made as to whether he could go home or would need to be observed in the hospital overnight.
Fifty minutes earlier, a woman brought in her seventeen-year-old son who had suffered a concussion while playing football at the local high school. He was in room 4. Cody rested comfortably, though intermittent splitting headaches and waves of nausea came and went. She had medicated him, and for now he wasn’t complaining. Dr. Robinson was finishing his evaluation.
The beep, beep, beep of Cody’s heart monitor competed musically with the older man’s in the room next door.
Vicky entered room 4. She wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth as the plan of management was decided. Hopefully then she could pick up her book for a while.
“We’ll watch you a little bit longer,” said Dr. Robinson, his eyes on Cody first and then his mother sitting on a chair next to the bed. “I’m waiting on the neurologist to call me back.” Dr. Robinson left the small cubicle. Vicky smiled at Cody and then followed the doctor out of the room.
Suddenly, the large doors to the emergency-vehicle bay swung open. All eyes turned to the entrance. From the shadows beyond the threshold, two dark figures appeared. A man assisted another older man, who was bent slightly at the waist, into the building. The older man was in obvious misery, stopping occasionally and heaving dryly. He was obviously weak, anguish written all over his face. The younger of the two appeared anxious and restless. The ER staff converged on the newly arrived.
“Room one,” said Vicky.
Soon the distressed man was on a bed in room 1.
Dr. Robinson arrived and began to examine the patient. “Zofran, four milligrams IV,” he ordered. Vicky left to fetch the antinausea medication.
“Let me get some information from you,” she demanded of the younger man, escorting him out. “We need some information for our file.” She pointed to a chair several feet away by a desk. “Have a seat. I’ll be right with you.”
“I need to go park my car,” said the man, leaving hurriedly.
• • •
Bennie was an off-duty Vincennes police officer who had been called at home to help out with a situation. He needed the overtime pay, so he was happy to oblige. He had carried from his car a clipboard, which he placed on the counter. Trying to remain inconspicuous, he nonchalantly spied the two large pictures of the two men he was dispatched to this location to seek. When the two men arrived, he slowly but carefully scrutinized the faces on the photographs and then looked up to inspect the two strangers who had just walked into his ER. It was then he realized these were the fugitives he was hunting for. By the time he realized this, the younger man had sprinted out of sight and into the night.
“He won’t be coming back,” he told the hospital security guard. “Come with me, Milo.”
Bennie led Milo into room 1. He opened the door to the examination cubicle. Vicky was holding a large puke tray, and the patient was unloading his hamburger lunch into it.
“Can you please wait out there?” Vicky said.
“No, I’m sorry. I can’t,” said Bennie. “This is Simon
Lagrange, a Most Wanted man by the FBI.”
“This guy is one of the men you’re looking for?” asked Milo.
Bennie nodded and began to frisk Lagrange. When he was done with his quick search, he cuffed Lagrange to the stretcher. “He’s clean.” Bennie made a face as he wiped vomit from his hands on the bed sheets. “Well, sort of clean. No weapons, at least.”
“Where’s the younger guy?” said Milo.
“You’re in charge until my men get here. Let the doc and nurses do their thing, but don’t let this man out of your sight.”
Milo nodded. “Fine.” He placed his right hand on his holstered weapon. “I’ll take care of it.”
Bennie departed the room swiftly. “This is Officer Benjamin Markus,” he said into his cell phone. “I’m in pursuit of fugitive Mike Ganz from the Vincennes ER.”
“Standby. I’ll radio for backup,” said the police operator.
“I’m in an unmarked car following Ganz. I’m about five cars behind him on Route 41 South.”
“I have two Vincennes cars and one state trooper on their way to you,” she said, her voice full of turmoil.
“Simon Lagrange is under arrest, handcuffed to an ER stretcher. Send a car there to bring him in when able.”
“Bennie, you’ll be getting a call from a Detective Brad Mills from Evansville. I just gave him your number.”
“Roger that,” said Bennie, hanging up the call, his gaze on the car he was pursuing.
His cell phone chimed. It was Mills.
“Does he know you’re giving pursuit?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good,” said Mills. “Stay back some distance. This guy is armed and dangerous.”
Unobtrusively, Bennie kept the black Chevy Impala in sight, staying back about three cars. “Do you know where he might be headed?”
“One of our officers was taken hostage,” said Mills. “Hopefully, he’s going to her location now.” Mills described quickly the situation at hand. “He’s our only lead to find my detective. If he knows we’re following him, he’ll escape, and we’ll have no way to find her.”
CHAPTER 66
Her eyes were puffy from the tears. But they were not tears of defeat; they were tears of rage. She would endure. It was becoming very difficult to breathe, her choke collar increasingly suffocating her. Standing on an icy platform had caused her core temperature to become glacial. Her body obliged her by unconsciously accelerating her respiratory rate and depth, deepening her agony. Stretching her body and toes was still giving her enough support, but it wouldn’t be long until her windpipe would collapse completely, giving in to the weight of her own body. The good news was that the ambient temperature had dropped significantly, given the small quarters. This had created a refrigerator effect and decreased the rate of melting of the huge ice block. Susan feared losing consciousness. If this happened, her full body weight would cause her cervical spine and airway to crumple, garroting her to death. To gather strength, Susan thought of Dave and Sean, her boys. Right now, they provided Susan with much-needed resolute stoicism. To stay awake and generate body heat, Susan danced like a ballerina on the frigid stage. She knew she wouldn’t last much longer. She sang to herself and pranced about, tiptoeing on her little scaffold.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray,” she chanted in a whisper, smiling at the thought of her baby son. “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you, so please don’t take my sunshine away.” The tune gave her the strength she required at this time to stay alive. Her love for her son would see her through this ordeal. “The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken. And I held my head and cried.” Her consciousness was slipping into oblivion. She couldn’t allow that. She would fight to stay alert.
Someone will come for me, she thought. There must be hundreds of people searching for me. With this thought, Susan smiled. Then she continued to sing. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.” The shiver of her teeth prevented her from singing in a whisper, but it wouldn’t stop her from singing in her head. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know, dear, how much I love…She leapt from toe to toe. Sing and fight. Stay awake. She dared to sing aloud again. “How much I love you. Don’t take my…” She paused for a slow and agonizing swallow of saliva in her mouth. “sunshine away.” Her words were now a raspy and slurred whisper.
CHAPTER 67
Yet again, Ganz spied his rearview mirrors as he drove.
“I’ll pick you up as soon as I can but not yet,” he said into his cell phone. “My father was dying, and I had to drop him off at the ER. He couldn’t stop vomiting.”
“Why can’t you stop by right now and get me?” said Shelley. “We can blow this popsicle together.”
“It’s too hot right now. I’ll call you when things settle down.”
“What about the cop? Where is she?”
“Remember where I told you I would meet you the day I’d escape from prison?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s there. They’ll never find her in time.”
Ganz drove on, ascertaining that his driving was lawful and impeccable, lest he be stopped for speeding and ruin his chances of escaping.
“Oh no!” said Shelley. “You’re on TV.”
“What?”
“Your father’s on TV. Susan Quentin’s on TV. And you’re on TV.”
“Already?” said Ganz. “I need to think.”
As Ganz hung up, his thoughts were of his father. He was too sick, and taking him to the ER was his only salvation. With his recent heart surgery, being this sick could kill him. I rescue Papa from Norris, and he begins to throw up violently, mused Ganz. He drove on. Jack, you did it to us again! He looked in the rearview mirror and then side to side, suspicious of all things. He turned right at the next light, barely tapping the brakes to slow down. A vehicle in his rear view struggled to turn right from the highway at a fast speed, surprised by the sudden change in direction. I knew it!
Ganz stamped on the accelerator, picking up speed. His phone vibrated in his pocket again. He put the caller on speakerphone.
“I’m being followed.”
“Mike, they just arrested your father in the ER at Vincennes. The newscaster says you fled and that they’re pursuing you,” yelled Shelley.
“What else are they saying?” shouted Ganz as he took a sharp left and reentered the highway. He gunned the Chevy’s roaring engine.
“Your father is stable and in police custody. He’ll be released from the ER later today to jail here in Evansville,” said the keyed-up voice.
“OK, keep me informed,” said Ganz. “I’m going to try to lose this bozo behind me. Call me—” His sentence was cut short by the loud sound of a helicopter overhead.
“Mike, I see your car on TV,” said Shelley. “The chopper is giving a live feed.” She breathed heavily into the phone. “There are several other police cars coming your way. From all directions.”
• • •
Shelley saw Ganz’s car swerve left, exiting the interstate. He entered a small country road. The live feed from the helicopter zoomed in on the Chevy. A wake of dense gray cloud shadowed behind Ganz’s vehicle. The TV screen widened again now, showing two cruisers rushing in his direction from the west, three others from the south, and one on his tail, as the live chase proceeded on the television.
“Mike, turn north,” roared Shelley into the microphone. “All other roads are wall to wall with cop cars.”
“Thanks, babe,” screeched Mike, turning his steering wheel hard. The car skidded for several yards and collided with a sturdy oak tree head on. Smoke burst from the front of the crashed automobile.
“Mike! Mike!” she yelled. “Mike, can you hear me?”
Her screams became choked with emotio
n as her realization of the terrible accident sharpened, her brain still in shock.
“Mike! Mike,” she bawled.
The live feed on TV cut to a newsman, who for the umpteenth time recounted the events of the last several minutes. Horrified, Shelley sat back heavily onto her couch, the cell phone still to her ear. She heard a strange man’s voice coming through the cell phone.
“Check inside the car, Bennie,” said one man. “I’ll call EMS.”
A short moment later, another voice spoke. “No pulse. Cancel the ambulance. He’s DOA!”
Disgusted, Shelley threw her cell phone down and rushed out to her car.
CHAPTER 68
Several miles to the south, Jack looked up at the skies. It had been an eternity since his last phone call, and he was starting to get worried. The heavens were clear of clouds with visibility as far as the eye could see.
“There they are,” he said to the Kate and Claire, pointing to the blue above. “Can you hear them?” A few more seconds passed when multiple aircraft started to appear, patrolling the county, all pilots carrying a picture of a large ice truck.
Jack dialed a phone number on his cell. “Steve, how many do you have up there?” he asked, his mobile on speakerphone.
“Nine airplanes and two choppers,” said Peski. “I’m coordinating from here at the airport. I created a grid of the surrounding counties. They’re all looking for—” his words were interrupted by a radio transmission in the background.
“Go ahead, seven-two-Foxtrot-Bravo,” Peski radioed back.
Jack and the women heard the words being spoken by the pilots over their cell phone. “I see a truck that perfectly resembles the one in the picture. It’s on a farm, twelve miles from Pocket City VOR on the two-nine-zero radial,” proclaimed the private pilot assigned to fly southwest of the Evansville airport, the thrill of discovery evident in his voice.
HARMED - Book 2: Seconds From Revenge Page 21