Reece kept a careful eye on his rearview mirror. He didn’t detect anyone following them but still took the precaution of driving a circuitous route on a few back roads. They were almost to the cabin before he drew an easy breath. Apparently Frank had been alone and wasn’t in a position to follow them.
Once they were inside, Reece locked the cabin door before turning on the lights. The sight of the blood smeared across the side of his jacket jumped out at Brandi. A startled gasp escaped her throat. A hard lump formed in her stomach, accompanied by a sick feeling that tried to make its way up her throat. She swallowed several times in an attempt to diminish the uncomfortable sensation. Her words came out as a frightened whisper.
“You’ve been shot—”
“No—I’m fine. Apparently Frank caught a piece of the bullet. That’s his blood. It also explains why he didn’t take the time to try and retrieve this before leaving the house.” He grabbed a dish towel from the kitchen, then used it to pull Frank’s pistol from his jacket pocket, making sure to handle it carefully. “This is a .25-caliber Beretta Bobcat semiautomatic pistol—small, lightweight and efficient. It’s his personal property, not his officially issued weapon. He probably carries it in an ankle holster. The Rocky Shores Police Department uses 9 mm Glocks. If it had been his service weapon, he would have had to do a lot of explaining to account for it being missing.” He released the magazine from the handle to check the number of bullets, then replaced it. He cleared the chamber. Only one shot missing. There were still seven shots remaining. He set the pistol on the desk.
Reece furrowed his brow in concentration. “I wonder if there are any unsolved cases with a ballistics match to this pistol.” The words were more a matter of him thinking out loud than addressing the comments to Brandi.
“Then it was definitely Frank James you struggled with?”
“What?” Her question knocked him out of his thoughts. “Uh, yes. But I’m sure he didn’t see my face. He had no way of knowing you were in the house or who I was.”
“But wouldn’t he have recognized me when we went inside?”
“I don’t think he saw us enter the house. If he had, he would have been there much sooner or at the very least he would have called for someone to back him up before entering. We were ready to leave before he came in the back door. Since he didn’t know who he was up against or how many people were actually inside the house, he did the only logical and prudent thing. He pulled a strategic retreat as soon as I disarmed him. I have no idea how badly he was wounded, but my guess is that he didn’t hang around because he needed to get some medical help. There isn’t enough blood on my jacket for his wound to have been very serious. However, even if it wasn’t anything more than a flesh wound, he needed to stop the bleeding and clean the wound so it doesn’t get infected.”
Reece stared at Frank’s pistol while turning several thoughts over in his mind. He grabbed the magnifying glass from the desk drawer, then turned on the lamp. He carefully inspected the surface of the weapon and also took close-up photographs. He made notes on a piece of paper—time and place of struggle, including the fact that some of Frank’s blood would most likely be inside Brandi’s house, Frank’s fingerprints on the pistol, noticeable blow-back blood spray on the metal surface of the pistol and Frank’s blood on Reece’s jacket. If the bullet had caught only a small piece of his arm, then it was probably lodged in the floor or wall or a piece of furniture somewhere in Brandi’s house. He removed his blood-stained jacket and put it with the note.
Brandi wrinkled her brow in confusion. “What are you doing?”
Reece glanced at her. “I’m documenting evidence for future reference. I need to test-fire this pistol in order to retrieve the spent cartridge with the ballistics markings. I also need the discarded shell casing.” Then his voice trailed off, as if once again talking to himself rather than to Brandi. “But where and how to do it so that the bullet isn’t destroyed by smashing into something solid.” He immediately returned his full attention to the task at hand.
Then the light of realization struck him. He stared at Brandi without really seeing her. “The rain barrel! I can fire the shot into the water-filled rain barrel. The water would slow down the bullet to the point where it would sink through the water to the bottom of the barrel from its own weight rather than hit the bottom with full impact. The lands and grooves on the spent round would be preserved.”
He glanced out the window. Should he do it now in the dark or wait until morning? He shook his head. He had to do it now, then hide the weapon in a secure location until he needed to produce it as evidence.
He turned toward Brandi and motioned toward the kitchen. “Grab that flashlight.”
Reece carefully picked up the Beretta, again using the dish towel to preserve Frank’s fingerprints and not leave any of his own. He walked out to the front porch with Brandi following closely behind him. The rain barrel stood at the corner next to the porch.
Reece carefully balanced on top of the porch railing so that he could get a direct downward shot into the water-filled barrel from a bit of a distance. He fired twice, then hopped down off the railing. A tingle of excitement raced through his body. It was a good feeling, one that told him he was accomplishing something positive. The energy flowing through him said they were moving closer to resolving her nightmare, recapturing his past and putting it straight.
Brandi handed him the flashlight so he could search the ground for the ejected casings. He retrieved them using a handkerchief and handed them to her wrapped in the handkerchief. “Don’t touch these. Frank would have hand-loaded the cartridges into the magazine, so the casings should contain his fingerprints.”
He paused as he stared into the rain barrel, then plunged his arm into the cold water. He felt around for the spent bullets. Finally, his fingers closed around the two objects and he pulled them out of the water.
He turned toward Brandi, his obvious pleasure beaming from his face. “Let’s get inside where it’s warm.”
“Are you through with your experiment?”
“Yes, I have what I need.”
They went inside, and Reece changed into a dry sweatshirt. Then he took the casings from Brandi and put the two spent cartridges with them. He took two envelopes from the desk and a piece of paper. He wrote the date, the make and model of the pistol and the serial number of the Beretta on the outside of both envelopes. He wrapped one casing in a tissue and one of the spent cartridges in another tissue, then placed them in one of the envelopes. On the piece of paper he wrote Brandi’s name and address along with a brief chronology of events, starting with Brandi’s abduction, including Frank’s name and involvement. He added the tissue-wrapped cartridge and casing, then placed everything in the second envelope and sealed it. He set the envelopes to the side. Next he put the pistol inside his bloodstained jacket, rolled it up and placed it with the envelopes.
Reece pulled the desk away from the wall, then lifted up a couple of wooden planks, exposing the safe embedded in the concrete foundation beneath the cabin floor. He quickly worked the combination to open the safe. He hesitated for a moment, then removed a locked strongbox and set it on the table. Next, he placed the jacket and pistol inside the safe along with the envelope containing the full description of everything that had happened. He locked the safe and replaced the planks, then shoved the desk back in place.
Brandi gestured toward the items still on the table—the other envelope and the strongbox. “What are you going to do with those?”
“We need to be sure that we’re covered and that any evidence we come across is well protected. Perhaps Joe Hodges can be of help in a new way. He should be able to get access to ballistics evidence from unsolved crimes. I’ll give this envelope with a cartridge and casing to Joe. They show the ballistics markings of Frank’s pistol, both the barrel lands and grooves on a spent cartridge and the firing pin imprint on the shell casing. If Joe can find a match connecting the pistol to an unsolved crime, it would be so
lid evidence against Frank for yet another crime in addition to your abduction.”
He saw the worried expression on her face and heard the anxiety in her voice. “Do you trust Joe to get that type of information for you? What happens if he manages to somehow lose the bullet and casing?”
“That’s one of the reasons I did two test firings. And, of course, I still have the pistol with the five remaining cartridges that contain Frank’s fingerprints.”
He furrowed his brow in momentary concentration. “Hmm…I think it would be a good idea if I sent the second envelope out of state to someone I trust, a P.I. friend who lives in California. What I want to avoid is firing all the rounds in the magazine. I want them preserved as much as possible.”
“And what about that strongbox? What’s inside it?”
Reece unlocked the box and withdrew a 9 mm semiautomatic pistol, the clip-on holster and two boxes of bullets. “I had this before I went to prison. They confiscated my legally registered weapons, but they didn’t know about this one. It’s been locked in the safe since before I went to prison. I took it out and cleaned it after I was released, then put it back since legally I’m not allowed to have any weapons anymore.”
He sucked in a calming breath. “But that will change as soon as we get this mess cleared up and Frank is the one behind bars. I’ll get my private investigator’s license back along with my permit to carry a concealed weapon.”
The look of despair that flashed across her face tugged at his emotions. He pulled her into his arms and held her. He wanted so much to provide her comfort and tell her not to worry, to be able to promise her that everything would be okay. He wanted to hold her long into the night, to share the warmth and give her his comfort.
He also knew it would be a very dangerous thing to do. He couldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability or betray her trust regardless of what he wanted. He rested his cheek against the top of her head and closed his eyes. He continued to hold her, knowing that he should let go before he did something he would regret.
Brandi stepped back from the growing intimacy of his closeness. The warmth of his embrace had been a little too comfortable. The thought of spending the night securely wrapped in his arms a little too appealing. She could not deny how attractive she found him and how much she was physically drawn to him, but there was also the emotional aspect of the growing desire she felt for him. Another time and another place, then perhaps…
She took a calming breath in an attempt to steady her quivering insides. She looked up, capturing a moment of eye contact that did nothing to quell her growing desires.
“It…it’s very late. Perhaps we should get some sleep.”
He brushed his fingertips across her cheek as he gazed into the depths of her eyes. “I think you’re right. It’s been a long day.”
The impulse was too strong, the desire too great. He lowered his head to hers and captured her mouth with a sizzling kiss that spoke volumes about the sensuality of the man. He left nothing hidden about exactly what was on his mind, but even as aroused as he was becoming he was careful not to push her. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel trapped, to comply with something she didn’t really want because she felt as if she had no choice. If they made love, it would be because she wanted it as much as he did.
He felt her arms slip around his neck. Her response to his kiss raised his hopes, then she suddenly let go and stepped back. Confusion darted through him. Then he saw the apprehension in her eyes and knew he had gone too far. He wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say that would somehow ease her mind and concerns.
“Brandi…”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
She turned and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. He stood motionless, staring at the closed bedroom door. A million thoughts and feelings raced through him, but none that he could specifically identify.
Or perhaps it was that he didn’t want to identify them.
Chapter Seven
“Knock, knock. Anybody home?”
A startled Frank James jerked to attention at the sound of the voice. He looked up and saw Joe Hodges framed in his office door. He quickly replaced the receiver before he finished dialing, then rose from his chair. He leaned across his desk as he extended his hand toward his visitor. “Joe…this is a surprise. I haven’t seen you since we worked together on the Peterson case. When was that—” he furrowed his brow in a moment of concentration “—a year ago? It was the same time that I trounced you at racquetball.”
He flinched slightly as Joe Hodges grasped his hand. It was only a flesh wound on his upper arm, but Frank knew it would be sore for a couple of days. Fortunately, it hadn’t needed the attention of a doctor, which would have required that the doctor report the gunshot wound. But the problem of having left his ankle pistol behind was another matter altogether, one that could be big trouble down the line if he didn’t handle it carefully.
The two men shook hands, then Joe slid comfortably into the chair Frank had indicated. A soft chuckle escaped his throat. “I don’t think the word trounced is appropriate. As I recall, the only reason you won was because of the cramp in my leg.”
“Ah…you feds are all alike.” Frank shot him a teasing grin. “You only acknowledge your own accomplishments and ignore it when someone else wins. I’ll be happy to give you a rematch any time and any place you say.”
Joe cocked his head and flashed a confident smile. “I have some time tomorrow. How about ten o’clock at the club?”
“Tomorrow isn’t good for me. How long are you going to be around? I have some free time—” he made a show of checking his schedule “—day after tomorrow, late afternoon.”
“You’re on. Will four o’clock work for you?”
“Yes, great.” Frank leaned back in his chair, not at all sure of how viable his arm would be. Hopefully it would have healed enough by then to not arouse any suspicion about his injury. “Now that we have the important stuff taken care of, what brings the FBI to my humble office?”
“Nothing in particular. I was in your neighborhood on another matter and thought I’d drop in and say hello. So, what’s on your case load? Anything interesting?”
“Just the usual routine stuff…car theft, burglary, domestic violence involving a shooting.”
“I’m working on a kidnapping case.” Joe saw the immediate flicker of anxiety dart through Frank’s eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
Frank’s body remained slightly tensed as he leaned forward. “Kidnapping? Surely you don’t mean here in Rocky Shores. I’m not aware of anyone here being grabbed.” He realized he was talking too fast, his voice too intense. He tried to force a calm. “Nothing was reported to us.”
“No, it doesn’t have anything to do with Rocky Shores. The victim was abducted in Oregon and managed to escape in Bellevue. Having been taken across the state line from Oregon into Washington made it our jurisdiction. We believe the kidnappers were trying to take the victim out of the country and were on their way to Canada.”
Frank leaned back, some of the tension visibly draining from his body. “I haven’t heard anything about it. Are you keeping this under wraps for some reason?”
“Yes…for the time being. We haven’t released any information about it to the media.”
“Do you have any leads?”
“Nothing concrete…yet. Our biggest roadblock is a motive. The victim hasn’t been able to shed any light on why he was grabbed.”
“Not for money? That’s usually the reason.”
“There isn’t any wealth involved, no real money to make the risk of a kidnapping worthwhile.”
“Sounds like you have an interesting case. If there’s anything I can help you with, give me a shout.”
“Sure thing.” Joe rose from his chair. “As long as I’m here, I should stop in and say hello to Lyle Hanover. I assume the D.A.’s office is next door in the courthouse building?”
“Yes,
there’s a connecting bridge between the build ings on the third floor. Let me give him a call, see if he’s in his office. It will save you the trip in case he’s in court right now.”
“No need. If he’s not there, I’ll leave word with his secretary.”
The two men shook hands and Frank watched as Joe left his office. As soon as the FBI agent was out of sight, Frank grabbed his phone and hit a speed-dial button.
A hint of urgency surrounded his words. “Joe Hodges was just in my office.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before a response traveled the phone line. “What does the FBI want with you?”
“He claimed it was just a social visit, that he was in the area, but I’m not so sure.”
“What makes you wonder?”
“Well…” Frank tried to swallow his nervousness, hoping to keep it out of his voice. “There was someone in Brandi Doyle’s house again last night. I’m still trying to run down the license plate of the vehicle from the night before last, but so far it’s leading me in circles.”
The long silence on the other end of the line told Frank what he didn’t want to know—the man who ran the illicit activities, the man who called the shots, the man who ran Frank’s extracurricular activities was not happy. It seemed like forever before he finally spoke.
“And you think the person in her house might have been Joe Hodges?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. The man in her house was bigger than Joe, but it’s certainly a bothersome coincidence that Joe would show up in my office today.”
A combination of shock and anger filled his cohort’s voice. “You had your hands on this guy and let him get away? This makes two nights in a row that someone was in her house—two nights in a row that you let whoever it was get away from you.”
“No. It’s not like that. He…uh, from a distance he appeared larger than Joe.” The last thing Frank wanted to do was admit that he had actually fought with the intruder with disastrous results and hadn’t even gotten a look at his face.
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