The Broken Road (The Broken Series)

by Ruff, K. S.

  Habib settled into the driver’s seat. Then he eased into traffic.

  I tried to make small talk, but Habib was not his normal talkative self. He seemed stressed. His brother was outright hostile, so I could certainly understand why Habib wasn’t feeling chatty. I wondered whether the two of them had been in an argument before I arrived.

  Habib and his brother began talking in low tones in what I could only assume was Pashto, since Habib had told me that was his native language. Exhaustion got the best of me as I curled my right leg under my left and relaxed against the door. I closed my eyes, trusting that Habib still remembered his way to my apartment.

  Abdul and Habib’s deeply melodic voices must have lulled me to sleep, because I woke with a start. My eyes narrowed as I tried to focus on the landmarks we were driving by. Nothing looked familiar. I wondered how long I’d been asleep. “Habib, this doesn’t look like the way to my apartment,” I suggested uncertainly.

  Habib glanced at me. “It’s not.”

  I sat up straight. Every single one of my neurons fired at once. “Are we taking your brother home first?”

  “No.”

  I suddenly felt scared. There was something about Habib’s behavior that didn’t feel right. “Habib, where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you to see your fiancé,” he responded through clenched teeth.

  “My fiancé? What do you mean my fiancé? Habib, I don’t have a fiancé.” My voice was three octaves higher than normal. My heart was beating erratically, which made it difficult to speak. “Habib, who are you taking me to see?”

  Habib refused to look at me. “He has my sister.”

  “What?” I exclaimed, thoroughly alarmed. “Someone has Diwa?” I reached for Habib’s arm. “Please, Habib. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Stop! Do not touch him,” Abdul demanded from the back seat.

  I gritted my teeth as I turned to face him. “Then why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  “Shut up,” Abdul responded, glaring at me.

  I turned back around and studied the road in front of me. Nothing looked familiar. We were driving on a four lane highway. Habib was driving fast, too fast for me to jump out of the car.

  I narrowed my eyes as I peered out the windshield. Is that a toll booth? If that was a toll booth, then Habib would have to slow down. Every fiber in my body was screaming for me to get out of that car. I could jump. I could jump from a moving car, couldn’t I? The toll booth loomed up ahead. I glanced nervously at Habib.

  He was still refusing to look at me.

  I reached for the door handle as Habib merged into the express lane. Just then, an ominous metallic click sounded from the back seat. I froze.

  “Do not touch that door,” Abdul growled. “Habib may consider you a friend, but I do not.”

  I slowly turned to look at Abdul. He did, in fact, have a handgun; and it was pointed directly at me. I turned back around and slumped down in my seat. I was determined to make myself as small as possible as I resigned myself to my fate. There would be no talking my way out of this. No jumping from the car. I hugged myself tightly. Take a deep breath,” Charlie’s voice echoed through my mind. “You are not alone. You are never alone.” A single tear slid slowly down my cheek. I closed my eyes and silently began to pray.

  I tried to make sense of the large green signs that dotted the side of the road. None of the street names looked familiar. I sat upright as we passed a sign for the Leesburg Airport.

  Habib eased his car onto the exit ramp.

  “Oh God, please, not the airport,” I pleaded silently. If I was forced onto a plane, I would never be found.

  Habib drove past the small executive airport. He turned into an entrance at the far end. This part of the airport was poorly lit, and it was pitch black outside. Tiny drops of rain dotted the windshield. I could just barely make out a row of hangars on our left. Habib drove his car to the far end of the hangars before turning the car around. He parked in front of an open hangar.

  My eyes flitted between the hangar and Habib.

  He just sat there with the car idling, staring grimly over my shoulder at the hangar.

  I watched in horror as Diwa appeared in the entrance of the hangar. A tall man, who was wearing a full ski mask and dressed entirely in black, was roughly shoving her forward while keeping a firm grasp on her arm. Diwa struggled against him, but she stilled as he pressed a gun to her temple.

  I tore my eyes away from her to look at Habib. An apologetic look flashed across his face. Then his eyes hardened. Habib and his brother got out of the car as one, both on the driver’s side, which was angled opposite the hangar.

  Abdul trained his gun on the man who held Diwa. “We did everything you said. She’s in the car. Now hand Diwa over!” he shouted over the top of the car.

  “Get her out of the car first. If she runs, your sister dies.”

  My heart clenched. He’s going to kill Diwa if I try to get away.

  Abdul walked to my side of the car with his gun still trained on the man holding Diwa. He opened the front passenger door and grabbed me by the arm. “You heard him. Get out,” he snarled at me.

  My heart slammed against my chest. I didn’t want anyone getting shot, but I didn’t want to leave the car. I didn’t want to end up with the man holding Diwa. I opened my mouth to speak, but Abdul cut me off. He yanked me from the car, then shoved me forward… hard.

  I stumbled forward, then fell to my knees. I felt Diwa running past me as I was jerked back up to my feet. Within seconds, my back was pulled firmly against the man who had been holding Diwa. He now had his gun trained on Abdul.

  Abdul was standing on the other side of the car. His gun was pointed directly at me.

  I was so terrified, I couldn’t breathe.

  Diwa was sitting crumpled on the ground in front of the car. She was sobbing in Habib’s arms. The two of them were illuminated by the headlights in the misty rain. Habib stared, completely horrified, at me.

  The man jerked me back against his chest. He tucked the gun into the back of his pants, then shoved a small vial toward my lips.

  “Drink this or your friends die,” he gritted out. His lips were pressed against my ear. His warm breath sent an insidious chill through my trembling body.

  Convinced they would die either way, I sealed my lips closed and tried to resist the vial that was cutting into my mouth. My eyes sought Abdul’s. I bit back tears as I willed him to shoot the man. Why won’t he shoot him?

  The man wrenched my head back. His fingers ripped through my hair. The bitter liquid slid past my lips as I opened my mouth to scream. A gloved hand slammed my jaw shut, forcing the liquid down my throat.

  “Why?” I choked through tears. I could already feel the poison racing through my blood. It felt almost pleasurable until everything went numb. Within seconds my body fell slack against the man who was still holding me in his arms.

  With an odd sense of detachment, I wondered when the rain had turned to snow. Habib, Diwa, and the car blurred. Then everything faded to black.

  Chapter 9 – Have you seen her?

  Kadyn was sitting perfectly still on the couch, jaw clenched, silently watching the clock approach three-thirty a.m. He looked down and briefly patted Cade, who was lying curled up next to him on the couch. “Hey, little buddy,” he whispered softly. “Where is she?”

  Cade whimpered softly. He nudged Kadyn’s leg with his head.

  “Yeah, I agree,” he replied worriedly. Kadyn rose from the couch and crossed the living room in three long strides. He reached for the house phone, pulled up the Caller ID, and hit send.

  “What?” Patrick growled sleepily.

  That one word alone told Kadyn everything he needed to know. It was politeness more than anything that drove him to respond. “Patrick. Kadyn. Is Kri with you?”

  “Kadyn? What’s going on? How did you get my number?” Patrick asked, thoroughly confused.

  “Caller ID. Where’
s Kri?” Kadyn deliberately articulated the last two words, since Patrick still hadn’t answered the question.

  “Wait. What? She’s not with you?”

  “If she were with me, I wouldn’t be calling you,” Kadyn gritted through his teeth.

  “Dude, I don’t know. She left the office before I did… sometime around midnight.”

  Kadyn’s voice was low and bordering on deadly. “Did she park her jeep under the Thurgood Marshall Building?”

  “I don’t know. I think so,” Patrick responded anxiously.

  Kadyn hung up the phone.

  Fifteen minutes later, Kadyn eased his bike into the parking garage under the Thurgood Marshall Building. He lowered his boot to the ground, allowing his bike to idle as he sat staring at the jeep. The vehicle wasn’t drivable. All four tires were slashed and resting on their rims. He nudged the bike closer and turned it off.

  He slid his helmet off and slowly walked around the jeep. He tried each of the doors. Locked. He peered inside the window. No Kri, no keys, no purse, and no cell phone. Kadyn looked under the jeep.

  He walked around the jeep once more as he studied the ground. He strode to the few cars that were parked on the same level of the parking garage and examined them. He scoured the parking garage for a security guard but didn’t see anyone.

  Kadyn entered the stairwell and took the stairs to the lobby two at a time. He quickly located the security desk tucked just inside the main entrance to the building. He strode purposefully toward the guard.

  The security guard stood. “Can I help you?”

  Kadyn closed the distance between them. “Yes. Do you know anything about the black jeep in the parking garage… the one with the tires slashed?”

  The security guard silently studied Kadyn. He was obviously weighing his response.

  Kadyn quickly filled the silence, understanding the scrutiny but annoyed with the delay. “The jeep belongs to my girlfriend. She’s missing.”

  A look of understanding passed over the guard’s face, then quickly disappeared. He wasn’t necessarily buying what Kadyn was selling. “You got a picture?” he asked.

  Gritting his teeth irritably, Kadyn pulled up a picture from his cell phone. He handed it to the security guard, who was now living on borrowed time. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

  Kadyn’s eyes were trained on the guard’s face as he examined the picture on the cell phone. He saw recognition flash in the guard’s eyes before he spoke. “Yes. This young woman approached me shortly after midnight. She told me her tires had been slashed and said she’d have the vehicle towed in the morning. She left me her business card. Then she went out there to catch a cab.” He nodded his head toward the glass doors which faced the roundabout in front of Union Station.

  “I don’t suppose you saw which cab she got into,” Kadyn responded drily.

  The guard shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t see which cab she chose, but maybe the sax player did. I saw her approach him when she left.” He paused for a minute, then added, “I haven’t heard him play for a while. He may have left for the night.”

  Kadyn glanced toward the glass doors. “Know where I can find him?”

  The guard shrugged. “He could be anywhere. I think he’s homeless. He gets kicked out of Union Station a lot. You might find him sleeping in there somewhere.”

  Kadyn nodded once. “Thanks.” He strode out the door, determined to track down the sax player or a cab driver who remembered seeing Kri. He glanced down at his watch. It was four-thirty in the morning… too early for rush hour, the metro, the train, and pedestrians.

  Kadyn looked around. The place was like a friggin’ ghost town. For the first time that morning, he noticed the ground was dusted with a thin layer of snow. Kadyn walked around looking for someone… anyone… to talk to. The few homeless people lingering around looked at Kri’s picture, but they all said the same thing. Not a single one of them had seen her.

  He leaned against the base of the statue of Columbus and tried to call Kri’s cell for the sixth time that morning. Nothing. He called her house phone. Nothing. His eyebrows furrowed as he weighed his options. It wouldn’t be long before the sax player and the cabs began showing up. He was familiar with the sax player the guard had mentioned. He’d been with Kri when she gave him money and knew he regularly performed around Union Station. Surely, he’d be back for the morning rush hour. A high traffic time like that had to bring in some good tips.

  Kadyn played absently with his cell phone. He watched a yellow cab drive by, then looked back down at the phone. Slowly, a plan started to form. He scrolled through his list of contacts. His thumb hovered over Phil’s name. Then he made the call.

  “This had better be good,” Phil grumbled.

  Kadyn rubbed his hand over his smoothly shaven head. “It’s not good. That’s why I’m calling.”

  “What’s wrong?” Phil asked, suddenly alert.

  “Kri’s missing. I need you to help me find her.”

  “What do you mean she’s missing?” Phil responded sharply.

  “She had to go into work late last night. The tires on her jeep were slashed. She left the parking garage around midnight to catch a cab, but she never made it home. I haven’t heard from her. I've tried calling multiple times, but her cell phone is going directly to voice mail,” Kadyn explained.

  “Where are you now?”

  “I'm down at Union Station, where Kri was last seen. I’m trying to track down the cab driver. That’s my only lead… well, that and the sax player. A security guard from the Thurgood Marshall Building saw her talk to the sax player before she caught a cab.”

  Phil made a rustling sound as he slid out of bed. “Do you see any security cameras on the exterior of those buildings that would capture the area where the cabs park?”

  Kadyn scanned the area, immediately annoyed that he hadn’t thought of the cameras. “Yes.”

  “Good. Talk to the security guard. See if he can get you access to those tapes. If not, call Ryan Schaeffer over at Federal Protective Services. Give him my name. He owes me in a big way. I’m sure he can get you the tapes.”

  “Ryan Schaeffer,” Kadyn repeated as he committed the name to memory.

  “I’ll clear my schedule. Text or e-mail me a picture of Kri so I can begin contacting the cab companies.” Phil paused briefly. “Should I limit myself to legitimate means?”

  “Why? Do you think you can hack into their computers?” This was precisely the reason Kadyn had called Phil.

  Phil snorted. “Piece of cake. I’ll compile a list of cab companies and drivers who reported picking up passengers from Union Station between 11:30 p.m. and 1:00 a.m., which should be a sufficient window of time. Then I'll track down the cab drivers, show them the picture of Kri, and see if any of them saw her or picked her up. Of course, we'll be banking on the fact that our driver came from one of the major cab companies and doesn’t have anything to hide.”

  “Kri wouldn’t have flagged an independent cab. I'm certain she would have only used a well-known company. Just make sure you're working from a secure network and you burn the trail.”

  “Did you forget who you're talking to?” Phil responded jokingly.

  “No.” Kadyn wasn’t in a joking mood.

  “Kadyn?” Phil asked hesitantly. “Do you know anyone who might have a grudge against your girl… anyone who might want to hurt her?”

  Kadyn’s hand clenched around the phone. “At least two.”

  Phil sighed. “You best get someone on them.”

  Kadyn nodded. “I’m on it. Call me if you learn anything.”

  “You do the same,” Phil replied before ending the call.

  Kadyn glanced at his watch and winced. This next call was going to hurt more than the last. It was only 2:45 a.m. in Montana. Kadyn scrolled through his list of contacts, thankful he’d thought to add Dan when he was in Montana.

  The phone rang once. “What?” Dan answered gruffly.

  Kadyn beg
an pacing across the worn bricks. “Dan, this is Kadyn. I need your help.”

  “With what?” Dan asked. He articulated each word in an openly suspicious tone.

  Kadyn’s feet ground to a stop. “Kri is missing.”

  “You have got to be shitting me! How the hell did that happen?” Dan’s voice exploded across the phone line.

  Kadyn winced as he pulled the phone away from his ear. He quickly repeated the same story he’d told Phil, but then added the plans that he and Phil had made to view the security tapes and hack into the computer networks from the major cab companies.

  The phone line grew silent as Dan processed the information. “Did you pull in the DC police?” he finally inquired.

  “She hasn’t been gone long enough to file a missing person’s report,” Kadyn responded as he resumed pacing. “Dan, she’s in serious trouble. I can feel it.”

  “This shit stinks to high heaven,” Dan mumbled as he contemplated how best to help. “Do you need me to get on a plane and head to DC?”

  Kadyn shook his head. “No, not yet. I need you to rule out some suspects.”

  “Garcia?”

  “And Campbell.”

  “I’m on it.” Dan responded curtly. Then he hung up the phone.

  Kadyn stalked back to the security guard in the Thurgood Marshall building to ask about the security tapes.

  “Any luck?” he asked as Kadyn approached the desk.

  “No. Do you have access to the security tapes from the cameras on the outside of this building? The footage from earlier should help narrow down the cab company she used.”

  The security guard looked thoughtful as he considered the request. “I can’t leave this desk, and I don’t have access to the security tapes, but I know someone who does. Let me make some calls.”

  While the security guard argued with someone on the other end of the phone, Kadyn spotted the saxophone player setting up outside. He caught the security guard’s eye. “I’ll be right back.”

  The security guard nodded while still speaking into the phone.

  Kadyn walked over to Union Station. He grabbed a Mountain Dew and ordered a cup of coffee and two bagels from Au Bon Pain. He asked them to package the bagels in two separate bags. He walked back outside, crossed the roundabout, and handed the coffee and one of the bagels to the sax player.