A Case of Love

by Wendy Stone

  "Good enough to eat,” she joked. She leaned back against the pillows. “I really do owe you a thank you. I've never seen my cousin back down in front of anyone."

  "You still haven't seen it,” he kidded her, flicking her nose. “Somebody was too chicken to make herself known and kept her head covered by the blanket.” He sat down next to her and pulled socks onto his feet. “I don't blame you though. Has he always been this intense?"

  "Dillon got left in charge of his brother and sister when my aunt and uncle, his parents, were killed. Then his sister married a dirty politician who used her as a punching bag, and tried to kill her when she ran away from him. He feels responsible, especially after Aaron was kidnapped and beaten so badly he almost died."

  "Jeez, maybe I don't want you to marry me,” he teased. “Sounds like you guys are jinxes."

  "So you don't want to hear about how Dillon and his wife, Rylie, who ended up in Mexico. Rylie fell into some ancient city and lost their baby. She's pregnant again, by the way."

  "Anything else? Do you have a cousin who's like James Bond or maybe you're related to Jimmy Hoffa?"

  "I do have a whole passel of relatives in England and Scotland I've never met,” Mackenzie teased. “Who knows, we could have a relative who's licensed to kill."

  Hawk nodded, reaching over to take his watch off the nightstand. He buckled it on, glancing at the time. “Why don't you let that pill work, I'll go out and get us something to eat.” He pulled the mussed covers up, tucking her in gently.

  Kenzie sat up, reaching for him. “What, no goodnight kiss?"

  "If I kiss you, I might not be able to stop,” he teased, leaning down to brush her nose with his lips.

  But Mac had other ideas, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer before finding his lips with hers. It started slow, a soft burn that made her moan. Then she licked at his lips, teasing him with her tongue.

  Hawk growled deep in his chest, pulling her closer until she jerked away because of the pain. “God, Mac, I'm sorry. You go straight to my head.” He helped her lay back on the pillows again, drawing the covers up to her neck. “You okay?"

  "Yeah,” she sighed. “I'm fine.” She snuggled down into the pillow. “I love you."

  "I love you, too.” He bent and kissed her forehead. “Sleep. I'll be back before you even know I'm gone."

  She mumbled something, rolling to her side with her back to him. She was asleep before Hawk even left the room.

  * * * *

  A sharp pain woke her momentarily and she grabbed her arm, her eyes still sleep blurred. The room began to spin. A strange face appeared in her line of vision, a terrible grin upon his lips.

  "Now it's just you and me,” he said as her eyes closed and she fell into unconsciousness.

  When she woke the second time, her mouth was dry and felt stuffed with cotton, her head hurt and she was seeing double. She tried to wipe her eyes only then realizing that she was tied to a chair, even her chest was taped to the back, holding her in.

  She blinked furiously as a strange smell attacked her senses. It took Mac a moment to figure out what it was. “Gasoline,” she breathed, staring around the room at the candles, all lit, on top of gas tanks. Her chair was in the middle of a puddle of the volatile stuff, a pillar candle lit and sitting just off to the side of her on the floor.

  She was wearing one of Gideon's tee shirts, her legs and feet bare, her arms pulled back behind the chair and taped together. Pain was a constant companion as her injured arm rebelled against being abused in this way.

  Mac's head swiveled upon her shoulders as she tried to figure out where she was and who had her. The room was unfamiliar but the walls—they were covered with pictures of her, hundreds of them. Some were taken while she was working, others while she had been out doing errands. But the ones that chilled her were the ones with Hawk. His face had been cut out or marked over in every photo. Comments in big black block letters were written under or over the pictures. Words like bitch, whore, die left there. They sent a chill of fear down her spine.

  There was also newspaper articles taped up on the walls and over the windows. She saw the article she'd written on the drug bust where she'd met Gideon, and more articles written about the arsonist. Under them was a small bed made in almost military precision, every fold or tuck tight. On top was a thick black scrap book, every page so full that bits were hanging free.

  "Where am I?"

  "You're here, in my home."

  The voice came from behind her and Mac tried desperately to see who it was, though she knew, deep in her heart she knew. “What do you want from me?"

  "You lied about me. You lied and then all the other papers lied too. I brought you here to pay for those lies."

  He moved closer and she cringed as he dropped his hands to her shoulders. His skin was burned, horribly scarred on his right hand. “If...If you let me go I could fix those lies. I...I could write the truth about you and why you burn those buildings. I promise, I'll write what you want me to."

  He patted her shoulder, laughing softly. “Did you like my fires? I know you've been at a couple of them. The flames were so pretty, dancing as they ate. Did you know that fire is alive? It breathes and it consumes and it destroys."

  "I...I never thought of it that way,” she said, when he paused. “But now that you said that, yeah, I can see that."

  "Quit patronizing the freak,” he said with a soft chuckle. “I'm not an idiot and I don't wet my bed either."

  "I...I'm sorry I wrote that,” Mackenzie said quickly. “I got that quote from an expert on arsonists. I'll retract what I said. You've just got to let me go.” Tears began to streak down her cheeks, the fumes from the gasoline irritating her eyes and making her feel sick. “Please, just let me go."

  "I can't do that. You have to be made to see the truth the way I was. You have to face the fire, let it burn into you. You have to feel the ecstatic blessing as it feeds off your flesh.” He moved so that she could see his face.

  Mackenzie barely bit back the scream that clogged her throat, as she saw him for the first time. Fresh burns covered his cheeks, huge blisters and red skin covered by a thin sheen of some kind of cream. His eyes were wild above the burns, his eyebrows gone, burned off in whatever fire had caused the rest of his injuries. His hair was burned in places, thick and full in others, like a crazy patchwork quilt.

  "God no, please don't,” she begged, horrified by what she was facing. “Why are you doing this? Please, let me go, I won't tell anyone. You can just undo this tape and I'll leave. I won't cause any problems. Please,” she begged shamelessly.

  He laughed, the bandages on his face moving. “I can't do that.” He bent and picked up the candle from the floor, turning it so that wax dripped off of it and onto her knee.

  Mackenzie hissed as the hot wax struck her knee. She couldn't move to get away from the drops, he had taped her too tightly. “Please,” she sobbed.

  "You beg so prettily,” he said, lifting the candle. “Now, I'm going to take this candle and put it on the table just behind you. If you can face the fire and let it burn through your tape, you'll be able to get free. If not, I have a timer rigged on one of those gas cans. It has just enough explosive to knock over the tank and make the candle on top fall into the gas.” He laughed again, chilling Mackenzie to the bone.

  "I'm not going to tell you how long a fuse it has,” he whispered, bending down and pressing his burned cheek against hers.

  Mackenzie cowered away, the sticky fluid on his cheek rubbing against her and leaving a thin residue. She could smell him, the foul decay and smell of burned flesh sickening. “Please don't do this,” she cried.

  "You can get free if you wish,” he said, pulling away. “You can feed those lovely fingers to the flame and let it free you. Or you can sit here and wait for the timer to go off and hope that the little explosion blows out the flame on the candle before it hits the gas. Either way, it's time I left.” He lifted her chin, forcing her to look
up at him. “Can I have a good-bye kiss?"

  "Fuck you,” Mac said, jerking her chin away from his strong fingers.

  "Now, now, is that anyway to treat someone?” He chuckled, reaching down and rubbing the front of his pants. “I kind of wish I could stay here and watch, but I've got stuff to burn and not much time to do it in. Have fun,” he chortled, bending to pick up a can of gasoline and a small plastic grocery bag. She heard the door behind her open and close again, then she was alone in the room full of gasoline and lit candles.

  Panic struck hard and fast and she wriggled in the chair, trying desperately to free herself. She pulled against the tape that was against her arms, feeling it move but not enough for her to get loose. It was wrapped around the bandages that the doctor had put on the day before. If she tried to burn the tape, the bandages would burn as well. “Fuck! Fuck!” she screamed after struggling for a few minutes. “Gideon, where are you?!"

  * * * *

  Hawk whistled as he opened to door to their hotel room, a bag of food in one hand, in his other he held clean clothes for Mackenzie. He could hardly wait to see her in what he'd picked out.

  "Hey sleepy head,” he called as he opened the door. “Time to get up...Mackenzie?"

  The bed was torn apart, sheets and blankets on the floor. Hawk dropped his bags and ran into the bathroom. “Mac?"

  She was no where to be seen. He reached for the phone and called the lobby. “Did anyone see Mackenzie Hunter leave the building?"

  "No sir,” the desk operator said.

  He dropped the phone in the cradle without answering. “It has to be her cousins. Dammit, I knew I should have taken her with me.” He picked the phone up again, pulling Brett's card out of his wallet and dialing the number for his cell phone.

  "Where is she, Hunter?” he asked when Brett answered.

  "She's with you, isn't she?” Brett answered.

  "No, she's not. Why would I call you if she was with me? Where are those damn cousins of yours? They must have taken her.” He dug his hand into his hair, frustrated.

  "They're with me right now, Hawk. They couldn't have taken her."

  Gideon heard some noise on the other end of the phone and then Dillon's voice came over the line. “I thought you said you didn't have her, Hawkins."

  "Can I help it if Mackenzie would rather hide out than have you stick your nose into her business? If you weren't so heavy handed, she'd probably be with you right now instead of...” Gideon took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “This won't get us anywhere. We've got to find her. I left her to go get food and when I came back, she was gone."

  "We'll meet you at the hotel."

  "No! Meet me at the precinct. Brett knows which one. I need to talk to some people.” He hung up the phone, not giving Dillon any say in the matter. Grabbing up his keys, he ran from the room and took the stairs down to the main floor. They ended in a small hallway that was out of sight of the front desk. One door led into the main lobby, the other went outside. The door to the outside was locked and you needed a room key to open it.

  Hawk went out that way, checking for security cameras, searching the parking lot for any sign of Mackenzie. There was none.

  Going back inside, he flashed his badge at the desk. “I need to see the security tapes for the back entrance and parking lot for the past two hours."

  He was shown into a tiny room that held a desk and a couple of chairs as well as a whole bank of video equipment, monitors flashing different cameras on a steady circuit, moving every two to three minutes. The hotel's security manager was there.

  "What's this about?"

  "My girlfriend was taken from our room, I believe by force. I need to see the back parking lot security tapes, especially the ones that show the exit."

  "Have you called the cops?” the manager asked. “Usually we give those to the police."

  Hawk yanked out his badge and slammed it on the desk beside the man. “I am the police, now do it."

  "Yes sir,” the manager said, pulling out a keyboard and typing in some commands. “All our security videos are done digitally now. We print them off onto disks. Easier storage as well as the ability to store more on one disk then a whole shelf of VHS tapes. It'll come up on this screen,” he said, indicating the one just above him.

  Gideon watched the tape and the steady stream of people coming in and out of the building. He perked up when he saw a man in a dark sweatshirt standing next to the door, ducking his head when someone walked past him. As soon as the person unlocked the door, the man stepped forward, grabbing it and letting himself it.

  Ten minutes later, the same man walked out the door, carrying Mackenzie's unconscious body in his arms.

  "Come on, look up. Look up you bastard. Give me a shot of your face,” Hawk growled. The man took two steps and then flinched, looking up as if startled and staring right into the camera. “Yes! I need a copy of this film."

  The manager pressed a few more buttons on his keyboard and put an empty disk into a disk drive. He didn't say anything while it burned and then popped out on its own. He slipped it into a small paper envelope and handed it to Gideon. “If there is anything the hotel can do...” he said.

  "Lock that door and keep it locked,” Hawk growled. Then he was gone.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Sixteen

  * * * *

  Hawk parked in the underground parking lot, tires squealing. He threw it into park even as he opened the door to get out. The lot was attached to the “house” as everyone called the precinct station. He was the only one in the elevator and pushed the button for the first floor.

  The usual chaos reigned along with a bit of an added bonus as Dillon paced back and forth, snarling at anyone who crossed his path. He looked up when the elevator doors opened and marched toward Hawk with murder in his amber eyes. “What did you do?” he growled. “Who did you piss off so much that they are going after my cousin?"

  "This time your cousin did the pissing off, Hunter. Remember where you are before one of these cops decides they don't like your tone.” He motioned with his hand for Brett and Hunt to come with him and turned toward the stairs. “I've got a disk that shows the kidnapper as well as Mac. I want to get it to our Audio/Visual guy and see if he can clear it up some more."

  "Maybe you should send it to the feds, I happen to have one as a brother-in-law."

  "And you're still alive?” Hawk sneered. “We've got one of the best crime labs in the state. Our A/V guy was trained by an expert. He's come through for me before, he'll do it again."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Charlie Holcomb said, holding his hand out for the disk that Hawk carried. “What am I looking for?"

  "His face. I need you to clean it up and use that face recognition program that you are so proud of on it. I need a hit on this, Charlie. He's got my woman and I want her back in one piece.” Hawk stood over him, having him fast forward through until he got to the spot where the man in the dark sweatshirt was standing outside the back door of the hotel. “That's our guy, Charlie."

  Charlie went through frame by frame, searching for anything that would help tell who the guy was. He cleaned the video up as much as possible, stopping on one frame. “Fuck me, look at his hands."

  "Holy hell, the pain should have him half mad,” Brett said, sidling closer to the big screen. “He's had to have them checked out at a hospital. Shock alone from burns like that could kill a person.” Hawk picked up his cell phone and a phone book.

  "Hospitals, call em all and see who's missing a burn patient."

  Brett threw him back his cell phone and pulled his own out of his jacket. Taking the phone book, he went to the back of the room and started making calls. His voice was an almost indistinct buzz as they continued to go over the video.

  Hunt and Dillon both growled when he came back through the door carrying the unconscious body of their cousin. “Fucker, if he's hurt her..."

  "Stand in l
ine,” Hawk growled. “There, back it up one frame. Can you clean that up anymore?"

  Charlie's fingers flew over the keyboard typing in things that Hawk didn't understand. He kept his eyes on the big screen, watching as the picture grew clearer. “His face is burned too. God why isn't he deadly afraid of fire? That has to be excruciating."

  "Psychosis. The voices in his head telling him to set the fires are more painful than his burns. The longer he resists, the louder the voices get until his only relief is the fire."

  Charlie looked up at Hawk, surprise in his eyes. “I didn't know you Narc guys were so in tune with how people think and feel."

  "We aren't usually. Most of the scumbags we deal with are out there getting little kids hooked on drugs and fucking up lives. No, this is something that Mackenzie taught me. She got in to that guy's head, which is why he fixated on her. Now, I've got to get her back before the voices tell him to burn her next.” He watched the screen, seeing the man look up, which was where he'd stopped the video before. Now he watched as the man went to a car, small, dinged up and popped the trunk. He dropped Mac inside and then slammed the trunk lid down. “No way this is going to be that easy. No way."

  "I got the plate, running it now.” He rattled off an address that was almost smack dab in the middle of all the arsons and only a few blocks away from Mackenzie's apartment.

  "We're heading down there now. Call the arson squad and the fire department. If this guy is as big a loon as I think he is, he's not going down without a fight. Thanks Charlie, I owe you one.” He slapped the A/V geek on the back, knocking his glasses askew.

  * * * *

  The trip didn't take long, especially with Dillon and Hunter arguing and back seat driving. Hawk was tempted to stop half way there and kick them both out of the car just so he could have some quiet to think.

  "If you two can't stop your bitching, you're staying in the car when we get there,” he yelled at them.