by B. J. Woster
“Now,” he continued, “you should be happy to know that you have the best chance for survival because I’m going to make certain that I give them some really good clues to find you, okay?”
Lucia didn’t respond this time. She sat immobile, her gaze glazing over in shock.
Daniel decided that she understood well enough, and moved to complete setting up. He pulled a syringe from his coat pocket and slid the needle into the vein in Lucia’s arm, watching with satisfaction as her eyes rolled back into her head, and she fell into a deep sleep.
Before he could finalize her placement inside the pit however, he needed to ensure that he provided Detective Hardwick the pertinent instructions needed to prevent Lucia’s imminent death. It would be a sad turn of events if he placed her inside the shaft only to have her die before…he picked up his disposable cell and dialed the front desk sergeant, grinning at the irony of this call.
“Atlanta Police Department, Zone 5.”
“This is Christian Price—”
“Hold and I’ll put you through,” the sergeant interrupted and Daniel’s smile widened. As the minutes ticked by, waiting for Hardwick to answer his call, his mind began racing: Had they discovered his whereabouts and were closing in on him while he held on the line? Had they found a way to trace his phone? Just before Daniel determined that it would be best to disconnect the call, Hardwick came on the line.
“Detective Hardwick here. We thought you’d tucked tail and run.”
“It took you a long time to answer. I nearly gave up on you.”
“We were down in the commissary. We needed time to get back to the bullpen.”
Relief flooded through Daniel’s body and he sighed. Time to get to it then, he thought and then brought the conversation around to business. “I’ll not remain on the line long, Detective, since I’m very, very angry at the loss of Miss Richardson. She was all but handed to you on a silver platter.”
“If it helps any, our captain put the two detectives responsible on administrative leave and both will be terminated after a cursory investigation.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m disappointed that they’ll be looking elsewhere for employment, as they were far too incompetent to be police officers, but aren’t you going to take any responsibility this time, Hardwick? After all, you ignored my call, which could have—”
“Anti-venom is precise. The paramedics wouldn’t have had it on their vehicle—”
“Fine, point taken,” Price interrupted. “I’ll make this easy and difficult at the same time. You see, I came to the realization that you and your co-workers weren’t required to do any detecting.”
That single comment had Hardwick’s pulse racing, as if the man were somehow privy to their conversations. Did Price know that he and his fellow detectives planned to pursue him instead of participating in this next search? He shook his head and tried to focus on what Price was saying.
“However, since I have neither the inclination, nor the time, to test your detecting skills at this point in the game, I’m simply giving you unlimited time in which to locate one of your officers; however, I won’t be providing but a single clue.”
“Wait! What do you mean, ‘locate one of your officers’?”
“That one sentence is what you latch onto? No surprise there. Yes, I’ve abducted one of your own. Hopefully that will ensure a better response than civilians seem to warrant.”
“We did everything we could—”
“Save your breath, Detective, and listen well, because I’ll only say this once. You have half an hour to kill the power that feeds the businesses along Spring Street…oh wait, they’ve renamed a majority of that street Ted Turner Drive. Well nonetheless, you get the idea. If you fail to convince the powers, that be of the necessity of killing the electricity, then your officer will surely die, since she’s connected to an electrical device in a building along that section of road. The longer you keep the electricity off, the longer you have to search for her, which translates to a longer lifespan for your officer. Of course, the longer it takes you to find her, the longer the citizens that live or work along that stretch will go without electricity. So, Detective, I do hope you can persuade whomever needs to be persuaded, that this officer’s life is worth the inconvenience to the populace. Your thirty minutes start now.”
Daniel disconnected the call and checked the time on his watch. It would take approximately fifteen minutes to get Lucia’s body into the pit, position her, and set up the IV drip meant to keep her sedated for a good long while. He settled against the wall and watched the minutes tick by, but the lights remained on. When the time reached his fifteen-minute set up deadline, he reached in his toolbox and pulled out his flashlight. He didn’t need it now, but he was hoping that he would, before the thirty-minute deadline was reached. If they didn’t turn off the electricity as instructed, he would simply take a ride in the elevator to ensure Lucia died quickly. Then he’d be ensured that she’d be found, eventually—through the stench of decaying flesh.
He took a deep breath, then reached down and started scooting Lucia’s body toward the opening in the sheetrock. He looked up to ensure that the elevator was high enough up the shaft to work undeterred. He certainly didn’t want them both getting squashed if this took too long, or the electricity remained on. Next, he propped her up against the buffer and bent her head to lay it across the top of it. He snorted softly when her head wouldn’t bend quite as far as he needed.
He grabbed her legs and repositioned her into more of a recline position, and then tested the head bend again. This time, her head cocked just right, so that her temple lay nearly flat against the buffer. He checked his watch, though he really wasn’t in a huge hurry. Still, it concerned him slightly that the lights were still blazing with only minutes remaining in his deadline. That realization had him moving more swiftly, as he needed to be out of the shaft and well on his way before the search efforts began.
With one hand on her head to hold it in place, he reached down to retrieve his duct tape, then used his teeth to loosen a strip. He latched that end to her cheek, and then held it in place securely while unraveling more tape. The pull of each strip was like thunder to his ears in the confined space, but he needed to ensure that she stayed put; so, he wrapped the first strip around her head and then around the pole, then began again swiftly, until it looked more like a giant ball of gray tape than a head.
When he’d used every inch of tape, he sat back and inspected his work rapidly; shaking her firmly, tugging and pulling on her head—all to make certain that she wouldn’t be able to pull herself free. He tilted his head and looked at her, his face twisting into a comical grin. The only way anyone would be able to identify this ball as human was by the mouth and nose—the only two features that remained visible beneath the giant wad.
Another glance at his watch showed he had less than two minutes remaining before deadline. He went to strap her arms to her body, but then realized that he’d used all of his duct tape. He sighed and crawled partway back through the hole in the wall, reaching for the other roll. As with her head, he loosened some tape, placed the sticky end to one arm and held it firmly while pulling more tape from the roll; then started wrapping it around and around her torso. Now he was confident, that should the drip run out, prior to the detectives locating her, she’d be unable to move or cry out. Next, he retrieved the needle attached to the IV bag that he’d set up earlier in the day, slid it into her arm, and duct taped it in place.
Just as he reached up to set the knob to a very slow drip, the power went off. He smiled widely, “Well, at least you won’t die before I exit the building.”
He reached over to retrieve his flashlight and concluded his work by the glare of a halogen bulb. “You may survive after all,” he whispered close to her head and then slipped back through the hole he’d cut. Without delay, he collected all of his gear and headed back up the stairs.
“Hey, what’s with the power?” he asked the front desk serg
eant, when he reached the lobby.
“Nothing. Just a power outage. It’ll be back on before long. Did you get your work done?”
“Yeah, just in the nick of time,” Daniel replied honestly.
“Glad to hear it. Enjoy your day off.”
“Thanks. I hope you don’t have to work in the dark too long,” Daniel replied amicably, and pushed open the front door of the building. “Have a good night.”
“You too.”
Daniel walked outside and headed toward his car, but the first thing he noticed was that some of the power, further down Ted Turner Drive was still on. “Must be racing to cut power at individual substations,” he said to himself. “Oh well, not my concern, as long as the power along this stretch stays off. Now, I need to inform citizens of the true reason for the power outage. Don’t want the APD getting lazy.”
He placed the toolbox into his car and settled into the driver’s seat, then pulled out his disposable cell and dialed the Channel 5 newsroom.
Chapter 31
Thirty-five minutes prior to lights out
“He’s back,” the captain called from the door of the commissary and all four detectives, and the captain, took off for the bullpen at a dead run.
“Start a trace,” he snapped at his fellow detectives. Cortez veered off and headed for his phone.
Detective Hardwick wasted no time in punching the only blinking light, followed quickly by the speaker button.
“Detective Hardwick here. We thought you’d tucked tail and run.”
“It took you a long time to answer. I nearly gave up on you.”
“We were down in the commissary. We needed time to get back to the bullpen.”
The call proceeded, with all men listening intently for anything that might assist in providing a clue as to their officer’s whereabouts. One thing that none of them missed this time, however, was that Hardwick did nothing to agitate Price. No snapping, no baiting comments—nothing. That meant only one thing: Hardwick was worried.
The captain sat in on a majority of the conversation with Price, but as soon as Price mentioned cutting the power, he left for his office.
The moment Price concluded the call, Hardwick slammed his finger against the speaker button, “Tell me we got him!”
Cortez shook his head and sighed heavily, “I’m being told that we can’t trace a burner, unless we were to geolocate it by accessing his GPS or his Wi-Fi signal. There simply wasn’t enough time.”
“Shit!” Hardwick yelled, slamming his fist against his desk. He drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, “Let’s see if the captain’s made headway.”
All four detectives filed into the captain’s office. The captain looked up and questioned Cortez with a nod. Cortez shook his head and it was the captain’s turn to draw in a deep, agitated breath. He listened to the person on the other end a minute longer then responded.
“That’s correct, Governor, and only you can make it happen. It’s imperative that you—” He stopped talking when the governor interrupted him and then he interrupted the governor, “This isn’t a terrorist attack, sir; this is a serial killer who’s now got one of our own. If we don’t kill the power, he’ll ensure she dies within the next half an hour. How is that going to look come election time? We’re already struggling in the eyes of the citizenry—”
The captain’s tirade was interrupted again, but when he hung up the phone a minute later, he appeared satisfied. “The governor is calling the Department of Energy now to ensure that power is cut; however, he sadly regrets that he may not be able to see it done in only half hour.”
“Twenty-nine minutes now, actually,” Wilson said and his cheeks reddened at the looks he received. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“That’s a habit you better break, Wilson,” the captain snarled, “because I swear that if you point out the time to me one more time, I’m going to personally ensure you’re demoted to beat cop. Time to get this search started—again.”
The captain picked up the phone and gave the front desk sergeant the instructions on calling in all officers, whether on duty or not. It didn’t take long for them to arrive, as everyone had been told to remain on alert until the Christian Price fiasco blew over with certainty. Just as everyone was filing into the auditorium, the lights went out.
“I guess that means the governor got through okay,” Harding said, pulling out his flashlight.
“Hopefully, the Department of Energy will keep the power off until we locate our missing officer,” Cortez added, flicking his own flashlight on.
“Hopefully, we’ll find our missing officer before Price kills her,” Hardwick said softly and then all went to the auditorium to instruct the officers on their latest search parameters. None were aware that in the lowest level of their very own building, Lucia Mendocino was strapped to the elevator buffer, and should her co-workers fail to locate her before the electricity was turned back on, her head would be decimated, like a watermelon with a sledgehammer.
Chapter 32
Christian arrived back at the Highland Park Apartment Complex and did his normal sweep of the building before parking and heading toward the apartment that he currently occupied. He had his syringe in hand ready to administer the next dose of sleep aid as soon as he walked in. The last thing he needed was for his latest captive to awaken too soon.
He pushed open the door, and immediately noticed that the floor inside the front door was deserted, his prey gone. Panic set in, but subsided quickly when heard retching sounds emanating from the bathroom. He sighed inwardly, and tiptoed quickly in that direction.
“Obviously, I’ve misjudged the dosage for such a hefty male,” he whispered to himself. “Well, I’ll just get you sleeping again and then I’ll go back for another syringe.”
He paused at the bathroom door, slightly ajar, and peered around the side. He needed to make certain that he was facing away from him; otherwise, if he felt strong enough, he could easily barrel attack and incapacitate him. With the difference in their sizes, Christian wouldn’t stand a chance.
He was kneeling over the edge of the toilet, his back to the door, the heaving sounds causing bile to rise in Christian’s throat. He needed to deal with this swiftly, if for no other reason than to shut him up.
He slipped inside, mentally calculated the location of any vein in the neck, and jammed the needle in, depressing the liquid into his body swiftly. The man flailed at his assault, but only briefly. Within seconds, the Melatonin and Rohypnol worked their magic, sending the muscular male into the arms of oblivion. He slid sideways and conked his head onto the tile flooring.
Daniel immediately returned to the living area to retrieve another syringe. He then returned to the bathroom, lifted his huge, limp arm and delivered another dose. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again and risk him waking during one of his outings.
He bent to place his arms beneath the unconscious man’s armpits, so he could remove him from the bathroom floor, but after tugging several minutes without making any headway, he gave up.
“You can stay there,” he muttered and then headed back to the living room. He was more interested in learning what was happening with his current abduction, than worrying overly much about the comfort of the person with whom he was merely residing with temporarily.
He flipped on the television and immediately settled onto the couch to watch the breaking news on Channel 5. The first thing that caught his attention was the map behind the anchor’s head that displayed the area affected by the blackout.
“If you live in the blackout area, police are asking that you remain patient while they complete their search of all facilities along Ted Turner Drive.”
“That’s right, Charles,” Patricia Wheaton continued, “especially as this isn’t just any ordinary blackout. A little more than half an hour ago, a call came into the station from serial killer, Christian Price, informing us that he’d abducted yet another Atlanta citizen.”
“Not just any citizen, Patric
ia,” Charles interjected. “This time, Price abducted one of the Atlanta Police Department’s own officers; and according to Price, the life of that officer is dependent upon whether the power remains off. Right now, we’re going live to the scene outside the Atlanta’s Zone 5 headquarters, where our reporter in the field, Cassandra Bouchard, is standing by with an update. Cassandra?”
“Thank you, Charles. I’m standing outside of APD’s Zone 5, where, what appears to be, the bulk of this zone’s officers are pulling out en masse, heading to begin, presumably, a search of every building lining the entirety of Ted Turner Drive. The only reason we are able to ascertain their intent is because of the call we received from the perpetrator.”
“Cassandra?” the anchorwoman interjected.
“Yes, Patricia.”
“Have you been able to discuss with anyone yet on what type of power source the officer is connected to? Why the need to have the power off in such a large coverage area?”
“Unfortunately no, Patricia. Police have cordoned off the area directly surrounding Zone 5 in an attempt to keep reporters from blocking access to and from the building, and up until just a few moments ago, all officers were holed up inside, presumably discussing how to approach this latest assault by serial killer, Christian Price.”
“Thank you, Cassandra. Let us know if there’s anything more to report from the scene.”
“So, as of right now,” Charles Braxton continued as the camera faded from Cassandra Bouchard, “all police appear to know is that one of their officers is being held in a location—”
Daniel hit the mute button and moved to the kitchen to collect a snack. There wasn’t anything more he could do right now but wait.
Chapter 33
Half hour prior to the live news broadcast