Rules of Crime (2013)

by Sellers, L. J

  Now she’d been abandoned. It was very possible she would die here in this room, slowly starving. Renee sat up and moved to the floor again. Yesterday, she’d rubbed the tape that bound her wrists against the corner joint on the bed frame for an hour, then had given up in despair. But she had to try again. She couldn’t lie here and wait to die.

  After a few minutes, she knew it was pointless and began to sob. But her despair was again driven out by determination. Now that she knew her captor was no longer out there, she had nothing to fear. These walls were probably made of sheetrock and she might be able to kick a hole in the interior one.

  She picked a spot, brought her knee up and smashed her heel into the wall with all her might. The pain made her eyes water but she’d made a little crack. Renee brought her foot up again and the sound of a car caught her attention. Thank god, someone was here. Tears of relief flowed freely as she scrambled to decide her next move. Sit here and wait to see who came through? Or press herself to the wall and shove him as he opened the door?

  The footsteps sounded different this time. Quicker and lighter. Was it someone to save her?

  He called out her name and her pulse accelerated. A rescuer was looking for her!

  Renee rushed to the door. “I’m in here.” Her throat was so dry she could barely project any sound. She pounded on the door and soon footsteps were in the hall.

  She stepped back and the door opened. At the sight of the mask, her heart sank. He wasn’t here to rescue her.

  Silently, he took out a pocketknife. Renee cried out but he reached for her bindings as if to cut them.

  What now?

  The sound of another car outside. The man spun around, surprised. When he turned back, he had a gun.

  Ten minutes later, Anderson’s car rolled by. Jackson waited for a count of three and pulled out behind him, driving slowly. The poor son of a bitch. Jackson empathized with Anderson’s desire to protect his daughter’s reputation, even beyond her death, but it enraged him that Anderson was willing to risk Renee’s life for it.

  In the distance, Anderson’s sedan slowed at the intersection, so Jackson pulled off and waited. He must not believe Renee was in danger, Jackson reasoned. Or else he knew she was already dead and planned to move or bury her body so Dakota wouldn’t be blamed for the kidnapping. Or maybe Anderson had no idea of what he would find or how he would react. But it was obvious he’d decided to keep his knowledge from the police.

  The Lexus turned right and Jackson pulled out and followed. They were headed out of town on Willamette, toward Spencer Butte. Jackson wondered how far he would go to protect his own daughter if she got into trouble. Would he break the law or lie to police officers? Especially if he believed no harm could come of it? Jackson didn’t know and he hoped he never had to find out.

  When they passed Braeburn, Anderson picked up speed. Jackson finally had to pass the little car in front of him to stay with the Lexus. He glanced in the rearview mirror and didn’t see River’s vehicle. Had she gone the wrong direction? It didn’t matter. He could call and let her know their location. Should he contact Schak too for more backup? It seemed premature. They didn’t know where Anderson was headed and it seemed inevitable that Renee had been abandoned and would be alone or dead. Dakota, the ringleader, was dead, and one of the couriers had drowned during the money exchange. The other courier had left town and Renaldi was in jail. Who was left?

  Talbot? Was that why he’d ditched his FBI tail earlier today? Jackson shook his head. Either Dakota or Talbot had planned the kidnapping, not both. If they had been working together, they would have demanded a lot more money. He called Schak. “Hey, partner. Where are you?”

  “At my desk, checking out Hartwell, who seems pretty wealthy. What’s up?”

  “River and I are following Anderson. We think he might be headed to where Renee is being held.”

  “You think he kidnapped his own girlfriend?”

  “No, but we convinced him his daughter did. Now he might be trying to find out for sure, while still protecting Dakota.”

  “You mean he plans to bring Renee home and say the kidnapper dropped her off and everything is fine?”

  “Something like that. He’s probably not rational right now.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “Nothing yet. I just wanted to check in and get you on standby. We’re headed up Willamette and just passed Spencer Butte. If you don’t hear from me in thirty minutes, head this way.”

  “Will do. Be safe.”

  “I’m more worried about finding my ex-wife dead in a basement.”

  “I hope not.”

  They hung up and Jackson got another call. River. “Are you still with me?”

  “I was stuck behind a school bus for a few minutes. Still on Willamette?”

  “Yes and I see Anderson turning off. There’s a sign on the left. It’s faded but it says Harper House.”

  “What is that?”

  “I think it may have been a bed-and-breakfast once. I’m turning now.” Jackson clicked off. He needed to be on full alert.

  The asphalt driveway turned to packed gravel after a short distance and curved up through a wooded hillside. Jackson pressed the gas. At this point, it didn’t matter if Anderson saw him. If Renee was out here, he would find her.

  At the top of the hill, the driveway widened into a parking lot. Next to Anderson’s Lexus sat a new SUV. So they were not alone. As he pulled in, Jackson called Schak, didn’t get an answer, and left a location and request for backup. Anderson had climbed out of his car and was staring at the large A-frame building nestled in the fir trees.

  Jackson joined him, his hand on his gun. “Do you own this property?”

  “My business partner and I do.” Anderson’s voice was soft and calm, like a man in dream walk. “We had planned to reopen it, but then the recession hit and money dried up. Then we ran into problems with the kitchen and county building codes, so we put it on the market and couldn’t sell it. So it sits here, running up property taxes.”

  “Whose car is that?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t expect anyone but maybe Renee to be here.”

  “Please get back in your car. This could be dangerous.” Jackson wanted to hear the sound of River’s vehicle behind him.

  “I’m going in to get her.” Anderson started up the brick path.

  Jackson grabbed him by the shoulder. “Get back in your car and drive away. Now!”

  A door banged open and Jackson looked toward the building. Someone stepped out. The person wore a dark, puffy down-filled jacket, jeans, and a knit cap. Another gang member. With a gun aimed at him.

  Jackson pulled up his Sig Sauer. “Drop your weapon!”

  The perp started to run toward him.

  “Drop it!”

  The perpetrator staggered on, making a strange noise, weapon held out.

  Jackson had no choice. He fired twice in rapid succession.

  The gunman dropped to the ground. Weapon still drawn, Jackson moved toward the fallen body. Doubt and dread slammed him like a rolling boulder. Something was wrong! He charged up the path. The perp’s face had one side pressed against the red brick. The profile he could see was suddenly very familiar.

  No!

  Jackson dropped to his knees and rolled the still body to its back. No!

  Dear god, he’d killed the mother of his child.

  CHAPTER 40

  As she pulled into the parking area, two shots rang out. River saw the perp go down. She cut the engine and leaped from her car, Glock drawn. Instinctively, she scanned the scene in all directions as she ran toward Jackson. Anderson sat in his car, like a man in a trance, and a figure darted out from behind the A-frame building, then bolted into the trees. What the hell was going on?

  “Jackson! Are you okay?” Her heart pounded as she ran. Where was Renee?

  Jackson knelt next to a small figure in dark clothes. Similar clothes to what the second courier had worn. River stared at th
e bleeding body. A woman! She glanced at Jackson and saw no blood on him, but the expression on his face scared her. “What happened?”

  “I shot Renee. She had a gun.” The hollow voice of a man in shock.

  River stared at the lifeless woman. Her hands had been duct-taped to the gun. Oh christ. A cruel set up. But this wasn’t over. “Call for backup. We have a runner.”

  Jackson’s eyes focused and he reached for his cell phone.

  “I’m going after him.” She squeezed Jackson’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

  River pushed to her feet and pounded toward the woods. Her legs were still sore from yesterday’s bicycle chase and running had never come naturally to her. She felt heavy and awkward and out of shape. Still, she pushed as hard as she could, jacket flapping in the cold. She passed the back of the A-frame and ran along the edge of a grassy courtyard. Ahead, the stand of trees thickened. As best she could tell, the perp had gone into the woods just ahead to the left, where the courtyard ended. She spotted a trail and raced toward it.

  As she left the clearing, the trees closed around her and blocked out the sun. River focused on the path and kept running. She listened for the sound of footsteps but could only hear her own labored breath. The path narrowed and wet branches slapped her arms as she pounded down the muddy trail. Where did this lead?

  A sense of doom and pointlessness clenched her overworked heart. She wasn’t a woodsy person and the perp had a head start. She told herself to let him go, to wait for a search team. His car was in the parking lot and they would soon have his ID.

  But she kept running, following the curves and dips as the path climbed the hillside. The terrain grew steeper and she became aware that it dropped off dramatically on her left. Ferns grew thick on the forest floor. Where did this lead? To the butte? If so, once the perp made it to the top, several new paths leading down would be open to him. If he made it to the other side, he could hitchhike back to Eugene…or to Cottage Grove. If he was resourceful, he could elude them and leave the state. If he was rich, he could leave the country.

  River pressed on.

  A minute later, she heard a startled cry. Had he slipped and fallen?

  She rounded a rock-walled curve and saw a glimpse of maroon coloring below the path to her left. She slowed and approached with caution, pulling her weapon up with both hands. The man had fallen to a narrow ledge about twelve feet below the path. Beyond the ledge was a steep drop-off. He struggled to climb to his feet but cried out and collapsed on his knees. Hearing her winded breath, the perp looked up. Did he seem familiar? Maybe one of the men in Dakota’s vacation photos? As far as she could tell, he didn’t have a gun. “Show me your hands.”

  He laughed, a short dry sound, and held them out. “I think you’re pretty safe up there. But my ankle might be broken. How are you going to get me out of here?”

  River had never had a suspect in this situation before. A surge of power traveled through her body. Could she make him tell her everything? “Why should I help you? Why not just leave you to die the way you left Renee?”

  “Hey, don’t misread that. I didn’t kidnap Renee. I came out here to set her free.”

  River didn’t believe him but wanted him to keep talking. “Who did kidnap Renee?”

  “I thought Dakota might have done it. That’s why I came up here to check.” Pain made his voice breathy and hard to understand.

  “You taped a gun to Renee’s hands and sent her out to be shot by the police.”

  “I needed time to get away, and I didn’t want to be blamed for the kidnapping.”

  “Renee is dead and I’m sure you’ll do time for it.”

  He looked away.

  “What’s your name?”

  “If you don’t know, I’m not saying. Anything could still happen. This isn’t over.”

  “You’re right; it’s not. When I walk away, you’ll be here alone. In a few hours, it’ll be freezing as well as dark. If you’re lucky, you’ll die quickly. But it could take days. And you sound like you’re in pain.” River couldn’t believe what she was saying. Was this how her father had felt when he killed those women? To have the power of life and death?

  No. She wasn’t like him. She wanted to set things right.

  “You won’t leave me.” The perp didn’t sound that sure.

  He was right though. She wouldn’t leave him to die, even if he had killed two women. “Why did you sic the dog on Dakota?”

  The man on the ledge was silent.

  River turned and walked away. How much time did she have before backup arrived? What could she learn? And would it hold up in court? Either way, she had to know. She kept walking, noticing that her daylight was fading fast.

  “Hey, you can’t leave me here.” His voice was faint but filled with panic.

  River stopped but kept her feet moving in place for a moment.

  “Don’t leave me. I’ll tell you everything.”

  River turned around and sauntered back. “Who are you?”

  “Austin Hartwell.”

  “Why did you kill Dakota?”

  “She broke the rules.” He moaned in pain.

  “What rules?”

  “The club rules. No crimes for personal gain. No one gets hurt.”

  “A crime club?” Good glory. “No one gets hurt? But you killed Dakota and Renee.”

  “None of that was ever supposed to happen. Dakota got herself into trouble and fucked up everything.”

  River heard footsteps climbing the hill. Her time was up. “We’re right here,” she called out. “And we need a rescue team.” Hartwell would probably recant everything, but now that she knew the basics, they could find the other club members. Once their leader was charged with murder, someone would talk.

  CHAPTER 41

  Wednesday, January 11, 8:15 p.m.

  Lead filled his legs as Jackson trudged up the sidewalk to Jan’s house. How could he tell Katie he’d killed her mother? How could he make her understand when he didn’t understand himself? River and Schak had both offered to break the news to his daughter, but he had to be the one.

  The porch light flickered on and the door opened. Katie stood in the frame, looking hopeful. “Did you find her?”

  “Yes and no. Let’s go inside. Your aunt Jan needs to hear this too.”

  “What do you mean? You’re scaring me.” Katie grabbed his arm as he pushed through the door.

  Jan rushed into the living room, already in her pajamas. “Tell me you found her.”

  “We did, but it didn’t go well. Let’s sit down.” Jackson wanted to get this over with more than anything he’d ever faced. Yet he had to go slow, so Katie would know what it was like to be there. She had to understand and forgive him. He hated himself enough for both of them.

  Katie clutched her shirt in her hands. “Don’t tell me she’s dead.”

  Jackson plunged in. “She was being held in an empty bed-and-breakfast near Spencer Butte. When I arrived, there was a car I didn’t recognize, so I assumed the kidnapper was there. And he was.” Sharp stabbing pains drilled into Jackson’s gut. He couldn’t bear to see his daughter’s face when he said it. Why hadn’t he let someone else do this?

  Katie and Jan both sat on the edge of the couch, waiting, hands twisting in their laps.

  “Someone came out of the house. They had a gun and they were dressed like the gang member who picked up the ransom yesterday. I yelled for them to drop the gun.” His breath was suddenly shallow and Jackson felt light-headed. “The person ran toward me instead. Holding a gun. I had no choice but to shoot. That’s my training. That’s how I stay alive.”

  The house was silent and neither woman seemed to move or breathe.

  “I fired two shots and the person with the gun went down. But when I went over, I saw that it was a woman.”

  Katie sucked in her breath so sharply it had to hurt. Jackson felt the pain too.

  Just say it. “Her hands had been duct-taped to the gun. The kidnapper sent he
r out to distract us so he could get away.” Jackson knew Hartwell wasn’t actually the kidnapper but that didn’t matter right now.

  “You shot Mom?”

  Like a knife in his heart. “I didn’t know it was her. I’m so sorry.” Hot tears filled his eyes and he fought the tide of emotion. Katie needed him to be strong.

  Jan lurched forward and hugged him. “Oh, you poor man.” She cried and squeezed until he thought he might pass out.

  Katie just sobbed, shoulders heaving. A silent deluge of grief. Jackson freed himself from Jan and sat next to his daughter. “You have to forgive me. It’s not my fault.” Yet he knew he would never forgive himself.

  After a long moment, she leaned her head on his shoulder and he finally let his tears flow.

  Wednesday, January 11, 7:05 p.m.

  “Maybe you should leave us alone for a few minutes.” Evans needed Mrs. Murray to step outside. The hospital had called earlier to tell Evans that Lyla was awake, but so far, all the young woman would say was that she didn’t remember much.

  Karen Murray had a new worry line on her forehead, but she patted her daughter’s hand and said, “Tell her what happened.”

  After the mother left, Evans tried again. “I understand it was an initiation and you don’t want your friends to go to jail, but—”

  “They’re not my friends.” Lyla’s voice was soft but angry.

  “I agree. They’re not. And my concern is that the practice will continue until someone dies or is crippled for life. Do you want that to happen to another young woman?”

  Lyla closed her eyes. “No.”

  “Then tell me their names. Tell me why they beat you so badly.”

  Lyla was silent.

  “We know who they are. Taylor Harris and Dakota Anderson. And we will prosecute even without your help. But if Taylor knows you’re willing to testify, we can probably reach a plea agreement and save everyone the pain and expense of a trial.”