“Show me the exact spot you got taken,” he said.
She grabbed his hand and led him north about forty feet.
“Here. Why?”
He didn’t answer and instead checked the scene. To their right, east, was a vacant building. To their left, west, was the street. It had metered parking spaces on each side. If his theory was correct, the man who took her had been parked right there and grabbed her when she got next to his car. That’s why he parked in front of the vacant building.
Smart guy.
What was he driving?
That was the big question.
“What kind of a car was parked right there?” he asked, pointing to a vacant space.
She shrugged.
“I have no idea.”
“How about there?” he asked, indicating the next space down.
“Teffinger, I have no idea,” she said.
“There were cars on the street, though, you remember that much, right?”
“Yeah, there were cars, but I didn’t pay any attention to them. I had no reason to.” She paused and then asked, “Is this guy going to come after me again?”
“I don’t see why he would,” he said.
He grabbed her hand and walked her back to where she had been parked that day.
“Wait here a second,” he said.
Then he ran to the Tundra and pulled it into the space where Rain’s attacker had been parked.
“Okay, walk,” he shouted.
HE PUT HIMSELF IN THE SHOES OF THE OTHER MAN, hiding on the driver’s side of the vehicle as Rain walked up the street. As she approached, Teffinger looked around and saw no one. He waited for her to pass and then closed in from behind. He swung his right arm around her head and clamped his hand over her mouth—no chloroform saturated cloth in it but close enough. His left arm simultaneously swung around her abdomen and yanked her into him.
Then he let his instincts take over.
He lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the side of the car. There he muscled her to the ground where no one would see her. He covered her with his body as she struggled. Thirty seconds later he got off and pulled her up.
She immediately punched him in the chest.
“You bastard!”
“Stop!” he said. “What did you see? After I grabbed you, what did you see?”
She punched him again.
“This isn’t funny.”
He ignored her.
“Work with me,” he said. “What did you see?”
It turned out that she saw the underside of his truck and the tires. “Now,” he said, “when you got taken that day, what did you see?”
She retreated in thought.
“I remember now,” she said. “I remember seeing the bottom of his car.”
“Was there space underneath, like mine?” he asked. “Or did it sit lower like a car?”
“Space,” she said. “It sat higher, like yours.”
“What about the tires?”
“They were like yours,” she said. “Knobby—mud and snows or whatever you call them. Not smooth like car tires.”
Good.
Very good.
“What else do you remember?”
“Nothing.”
“Think.”
She did.
She almost gave up but then said, “Only one other thing. I remember rust. Lots of rust.”
The corner of Teffinger’s mouth went up ever so slightly.
THEN HE HAD AN ADDITIONAL THOUGHT.
“When I grabbed you, how did the other guy compare to me?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, strength-wise.”
“You want the truth?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
She put a serious look on her face. “You’re strong, Teffinger. Don’t get me wrong. I love your body. But you’re not strong like this other guy.”
Teffinger didn’t expect that.
“Really?”
She nodded.
“If you ever get in a fist fight with him, be sure you bring a gun,” she said.
He smiled and then studied her, trying to figure out if she was messing with him.
She wasn’t.
“Now you owe me lunch for attacking me.”
He agreed.
THEY PILED IN THE TUNDRA AND HEADED TO WONG’S. On the way Teffinger called Sydney. Apparently she was at Washington Park with two nieces, feeding bread to geese.
“Okay, just wanted to say hello,” he said. “See you in the morning.”
“Spit it out,” she said. “What are you trying to get me to do?”
“Nothing, honest,” he said.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll help if you need it. I already heard you were on the TV today.”
“Just keep the geese fed,” he said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
As soon as he hung up he made a series of calls and finally ended up getting the home phone number of a guy named Dirk Smith, a higher-up in the streets department.
“How often do you pull quarters out of the meters?” Teffinger asked.
“That depends on which meters you’re talking about.”
“Bannock Street.”
“Every Monday,” he said. “If my memory serves me.”
“Good,” Teffinger said. “I want to get the coins out of a few of them.”
“Not a problem. Buy why?”
“I want to check them for prints.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Day Seven—May 11
Sunday Afternoon
______________
DEL RAE PARIS LIVED in a modest three-bedroom house at the base of Lookout Mountain in Golden, where the aroma of hops and barley hung in the air more often than not, thanks to the Coors brewery. When Tarzan arrived in his pickup truck shortly after two o’clock, she already had one of the garage doors open for him. As soon as he got the vehicle inside, the door went down. He pulled off a baseball cap, shook his hair free and stepped out.
Del Rae looked incredible, so much so that he threw her over his shoulder, carried her upstairs to the bedroom and pulled her pants off—nothing else, just her pants.
Then he took her.
Hard.
Like an animal.
Until she lost control and screamed those little screams that he liked so much.
Afterwards they sipped coffee and went over the details of the upcoming events. If all went well, tonight would be the night when Tashna Sharapova disappeared. She’d end up dead within twenty-four hours after that.
Suddenly they heard a noise, faint but definite.
It was a car engine sounding as if it came from the driveway.
Del Rae ran to the front window and peeked out the curtain.
“It’s him!”
“The lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“I don’t know. Get upstairs. Quick!”
He headed that way with the coffee still in hand.
“Hurry!” she said.
FIVE SECONDS LATER KNUCKLES RAPPED hard on the front door. Del Rae made a rapid survey of the kitchen and living room, determined that no evidence of Aaron lingered, then calmed her face and opened the door.
“Robert,” she said. “Get your sexy self in here.”
“I think I got it figured out,” he said.
“So it’s a go?”
“Oh yeah, it’s a major go.”
“When?” she asked.
“Tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight.”
“I’m so excited,” she said.
He picked her up and started walking up the stairs towards the bedroom.
Aaron slipped into the closet and stood there in the dark as still and quiet as he could.
THE LAWYER THREW DEL RAE ON THE BED, straddled her and then pinned her arms above her head. “You want to hear the plan?” he asked.
“It looks like I don’t
have a choice,” she said.
“No you don’t.”
“I’m your prisoner.”
He kissed her.
“That turns you on, doesn’t it? Being my prisoner—”
She wiggled her hips.
“I’ll never tell,” she said.
He kept her pinned as he told her the plan. They’d leave for the hideaway about five o’clock in Del Rae’s car. When they got there they’d put the woman in the trunk, assuming she was still there, bring her back to Del Rae’s house and park in the garage.
Then Robert would head home.
His wife was scheduled to attend a director’s meeting at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science at 8:00 p.m. Those meetings always lasted until about 10:30 or 11:00. She always parked at the far end of the north lot, away from the other cars where she wouldn’t get door-dings in her precious little BMW. The main road out of that lot leads to Colorado Boulevard. But there’s another way out, too, to the west.
While Tashna was gone, Robert would make a number of phone calls from the house phone through about nine o’clock.
Alibi calls.
Proof he was home.
Then, dressed in all things black, he’d slip out the back door and make his way through the open space to the side streets on the other side, where his car would be parked. That way no one would see headlights leaving his driveway.
He’d meet Del Rae somewhere, maybe at a King Soopers parking lot.
Then they’d take her car to the Museum and park next to the BMW. When Tashna came out they’d snag her, put the other woman in the front seat of her car, and head out the west exit.
He’d take Tashna to the hideaway and pump her full of drugs just like the weirdo would do.
Afterwards, Del Rae would drop Robert off where she picked him up. He’d sneak back to his house through the open space and go to bed.
At some point, say two in the morning, he’d wake up, realize Tashna hadn’t come home yet and call her cell phone to see where she was.
She wouldn’t answer.
“It’s not risk free,” he said. “We just have to hope that no one’s around when she gets to her car. That’s the key—not being seen at that point. But if someone’s around, we simply abort and come up with a Plan B.”
“What about security cameras in the parking area?”
“None,” he said. “I checked this afternoon. So, are we going to really do this or what?”
She moaned.
“Shut up and screw me.”
FROM THE CLOSET, Tarzan took deep breaths and clenched his fists. He listened to the lawyer doing Del Rae and wondered how long he’d be able to fight the urge to jump out and rip the guy’s arms off.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Day Seven—May 11
Sunday Night
______________
PAIGE POSITIONED HERSELF UNDERNEATH a gondola car, flat on her stomach, alone in the dark. She stayed hidden behind the cold steel wheels, not exposing any more of her body than necessary to keep the binoculars trained on Tarzan. He was inside the building, a hundred yards to the east, wearing boxer shorts, beating the drums to “Born to Run.”
The drums made her picture herself stretched out on the floor before him.
Naked.
Awaiting her punishment.
A shiver ran up her spine and into her brain. She let her hand reach down to feel the eight-inch serrated knife sheathed on her belt, expecting it to bring a measure of calmness.
It did just the opposite.
It reminded her how desperate everything had become.
The plan was so simple if they could just get it to come together. All they needed to do was get the final proof that Mitch Mitchell was the collar killer, find Tarzan’s captive Tracy Patterson alive, release her, anonymously blackmail Tarzan into killing Mitchell, and then rat Tarzan out to the police. At that point Ta’Veya could get out of Denver and Paige could get back to her life.
The gravel dug into her skin, even through her jeans and sweatshirt, especially on her elbows and forearms. She shifted, not escaping the sharp edges of the stones but at least moving them to fresh parts of her body.
It had been a fairly productive day.
Ta’Veya insisted that Paige spend the whole day on law school work, so that’s exactly what she did. Having done it made it even more apparent how necessary it had been.
Meanwhile, Ta’Veya spent the day tailing Mitch Mitchell. She hoped to catch him at a public phone, talking into a scrambler at the exact same time that either she or Paige got a call from the collar-killer.
Would it be only circumstantial evidence?
Yes.
Would it be all they needed to move forward with their plan and end the little freak’s life?
Yes.
SUDDENLY THE DRUMMING STOPPED.
Paige swallowed.
Tarzan walked over to the fridge and drank from a gallon jug of milk.
It would be easier if Ta’Veya was here. But Ta’Veya was on the other side of the building, hiding in the darkness somewhere, ready to run to the Nissan and follow Tarzan if he made a move. If that happened then Paige would have to decide whether to join the tail or sneak inside the building and see if she could find Tracy Patterson.
She already knew what she’d do.
She’d go inside.
She wouldn’t like it but she had to.
Time was running out.
Suddenly her cell phone vibrated.
WHEN SHE ANSWERED Ta’Veya’s voice came through. “What’s going on at your end?” she asked.
“He’s been playing the drums,” Paige said. “I’ll never be able to listen to ‘Born to Run’ again. He just stopped. Now he’s talking on a phone and walking back and forth.”
“Maybe getting ready to make a move,” Ta’Veya said.
Maybe.
She lit her watch.
10:32.
Still early for a night owl.
Plenty of time left to make moves.
“You okay?” Ta’Veya asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“You sound weird.”
“I am weird.”
“So, no sign of Tracy Patterson yet, I take it.”
“Not a peep,” Paige said. “I’m starting to think that she’s either dead or he has her off site somewhere. If she was in the building he’d be checking up on her. But so far he hasn’t moved off the top floor.”
“You never know,” Ta’Veya said. “He could have her there somewhere but shot full of drugs, meaning he wouldn’t check on her that often. You want to come over here and hang with me?”
She did.
But couldn’t.
“No,” she said. “Let’s just stick to the plan. Like you say, he still might drag her out of the woodwork. If that happens, I don’t want to miss it. That’s all we need, just that one little thing, to know she’s alive and where she is.”
“Okay.”
“If he heads out somewhere I’m going in,” Paige added.
“You are? You made up your mind?”
“We don’t have any choice,” she said. “Just be sure you don’t lose him and call me with plenty of warning if he starts heading back this way.”
“Watch for booby traps,” Ta’Veya said. “I wouldn’t put anything past this guy. Wait a minute. I think I see headlights.”
Silence.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure,” Ta’Veya said. “There were headlights. They’re gone now. They must have turned or something.”
“Where are you, anyway?”
“Same place we were before,” she said.
“By the electrical shed?”
“Right.”
Paige exhaled.
That was a good place.
Ta’Veya would be safe there.
“I’m punching out now,” Ta’Veya said.
“I’ll check with you in ten minutes,” Paige said.
“Right. Your turn to call.”
EIGHT MINUTES LATER SOMETHING WEIRD HAPPENED. All the lights on the top floor of the building went out. Paige pictured Tarzan sneaking up to the roof with his binoculars and rifle.
She inched back farther under the Gondola, then scooted completely to the other side, climbed out and crouched behind the thick steel.
There was no way he could see her.
She looked around.
The moon washed the night with a pale, almost imperceptible, glow.
She saw no one.
She detected no movement.
She heard nothing other than freeway noise.
Far away a dog barked, deep and rough. She pictured a guard dog, maybe a German Shepherd or a Rottweiler.
Suddenly a shape move behind her.
She instinctively turned and simultaneously reached for the knife, fumbling at first but finally getting it out of the sheath.
Don’t attack immediately.
It could be someone from the railroad.
She stooped down.
Hiding.
Not making a sound.
Waiting.
Then she saw it again.
A cat.
A stupid cat.
She chuckled, surprised at how nervous her voice sounded. Her adrenalin stopped pumping and the racing in her heart slowed.
Just a cat.
She kept the knife in her hand until her breath returned to normal and then slipped it back in the sheath.
TWO MINUTES LATER SHE CALLED TA’VEYA.
No one answer.
She dialed again.
No answer.
She checked the phone signal. It was strong. No problems there. She dialed again, double-checking that she had the right number.
She did.
No one answer.
Suddenly a light on the top floor of the building went on. She saw Tarzan’s hand pull away from a small table light next to his bed. He climbed out, walked over to the toilet, took a long piss, headed back over to the mattress and turned the light back out.
That was reassuring, very reassuring.
He had turned in for the night.
Paige dialed Ta’Veya again.
No answer.
She chewed her lower lip for a moment and then headed that way on foot, at first just walking, then walking faster and finally breaking into a run.
Suddenly she tripped over something and fell hard, landing directly on the bone of her left knee. An unbelievable pain ripped through her body, so intense that it shot vomit into her mouth. She swallowed it down, got up and kept going as fast as she could.
Pretty Little Lawyer (Nick Teffinger Thriller) Page 15