by Craig, Susan
Jim tightened his arm, steadying her, and reached out with a hand to stop the elevator doors from closing. “Damn it, what now?”
A worn bomber jacket lay in a heap on the floor, a note on familiar paper taped to it.
“It’s Daniel’s,” Sally said. Her voice sounded tight and strained.
Jim stepped forward, bringing them both into the elevator. As he bent to pull the stalker’s note off the jacket, he heard the soft thud of the doors closing behind them. “It’s addressed to me,” he said and read aloud:
‘Tell the slut I have her other lover. She can have him back if she can find him before he freezes. It is a cold night in hell. No police or his blood will be on her hands.’
Sally stood rigid, still staring at the jacket on the floor of the elevator.
Jim scooped the coat up, wrapped a strong arm around her waist and pushed the button to reopen the door. “Come on.” He urged her forward. “Get back in the truck.”
“He’s got Daniel,” she said.
“He says he does, at any rate.” Jim tried to ignore the jealousy that rose, snake-like, inside him at the tightness in Sally’s voice. He pulled his cell phone out.
She turned to face him, a crease between her brows. “What are you doing?”
“Calling Smith.” The phone rang five times, then switched to voicemail. Jim ended the call and punched more numbers.
“Who are you calling now?”
“Demarco.”
Sally grabbed his wrist, pulling the phone away from his ear. Her voice was shrill. “But the note said no police.”
He shot her a hard look. “They always say no police. It doesn’t mean anything. The police are our best chance of finding Smith. We won’t go to them—he could be watching us—but it would be insane not to call and tell them what’s happening.”
The look on her face had him snapping his phone shut. Her generous mouth pinched tight, a frown creased her brow, and she was pale in the darkness.
“Why would he grab Daniel?” Her voice shook. “It’s my fault. We have to find him.”
Jim’s lips tightened. There wasn’t time to sugarcoat this. She’d just have to be strong enough to deal with it. “He grabbed Smith because he thought it would hurt you. He’s watched you long enough to know you don’t back down from a challenge.
“Look.” He took a firm grip on her shoulders and waited for eye contact. “He wants you, not Smith. He wants to get his hands on you, and he’s hoping that in the search for Smith he’ll get a chance to grab you. He might not be far from us right now.” Jim squeezed her tensed shoulders. “This bastard’s not hiding, Sal—he’s hunting.”
Sally’s voice rose in pitch. “It’s my fault! We have to find Daniel. Let’s go!”
She was more panicked than he’d thought—not at all the response he’d come to expect from her—and she had to get past it. “Hey! Look at me. You have to hear what I’m telling you. Smith is only bait. This guy is hunting you. Do you understand? Can I trust you to stay where you’ll be safe? I have an idea where Smith might be. We have to stay together. Right?”
She still looked disoriented, but she reached for her own phone. With a small smile she punched a button and offered it to him. “Police station. Speed dial.”
With a nod of acknowledgement, he took the instrument and asked for Demarco as he steered the truck out of the parking lot. He refused to go to the station, though the officer wanted them to come in right away. “No. She’s safe with me, and she’s staying that way.
“Smith planned to go to Mark’s Spot tonight to watch the games. Can you check and see if anyone saw him leave? His Hummer will stand out, if it’s there. His jacket was in the elevator at my place. Sally and I are going to stay together and keep moving.”
Handing the phone back, Jim turned the truck around. Driving through the dark streets, he doubled back a few more times to see if they were being followed. No one seemed to be trailing them. Probably the stalker was with Daniel…somewhere.
Sally’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Where are we going?”
“Smith’s apartment, for starters. If the bastard has Smith, then he’s got keys for access.” He flicked her a glance. “Besides, he wants you to be able to find him.”
“What if it’s a trap?” Her voice still trembled on the edge of panic. Jim frowned. Her state of mind could tilt the odds heavily in the stalker’s favor.
He pulled the truck into an empty space and parked it. Turning toward her, he took her cold hands in his. “Wait. Take a minute and process what’s going on. You have got to stay strong. I know this is the first time you've had to deal with this kind of situation, but you’ve got to get your head wrapped around it. Talk to me. Tell me what you see happening. Tell me what you think we should do.”
“But we have to hurry—”
“No, love. The bastard wants us to hurry. He wants you to run off in a panic. Don’t give him that. Take a minute to think. Come on. Think. What’s going on here?”
Jim’s gaze was steady, his grip on her hands firm and warm. The incoherent fear that had been driving her settled as she met his determined gaze. She took several steadying breaths and concentrated on putting her emotions back in their box. Now was not the time for them. Now, she needed a clear head.
Jim didn’t move or speak, yet strength and calm reached out from him and surrounded her. The quivering in her chest quieted, and her hands ceased their nervous trembling. Rational thought reasserted itself. “He knows I went out with Daniel. He might know Daniel came into the house with me. He thinks grabbing Daniel is a way to get me.” The lid popped off her emotions, and her voice became strained and tight. “Jim, if he knew, he might have taken you. He might—”
Jim squeezed her hands. “Settle down, love. I can handle him. You know that, don’t you?”
What had she been thinking? “Yes, I know that.” Calmer now, she went on. “He’s after me. Daniel is bait. It is a trap.” Odd, how saying that aloud made the whole situation deflate. They were matching wits with a person, not some all-powerful god of evil. They could beat this guy. “So we have to spring the trap without getting caught, find Daniel and get him out. The creep doing this won’t make Daniel too hard to find. He wants me to find him, and he can’t know for certain if I’ll be with you or on my own.” She forced herself to relax and raise steady eyes to Jim’s. “I’m ready now.”
Jim leaned forward and kissed her. “I love you,” he said. “Now and always, whatever happens.”
Looking into his eyes, she repeated the words and the promise. “I love you too. Now and always, whatever happens.”
He squeezed her hands and released them. “Let’s go find Daniel.”
Jim pulled the truck back onto the road, continuing toward Daniel’s apartment. Sally shivered. The temperature was dropping rapidly as the promised cold wave moved in. The heater on the truck was roaring away, but fighting a losing battle. She thought of what the note had said: ‘find him before he freezes’. How could he freeze in his apartm—“Jim! Does Daniel’s apartment have a balcony?”
“Yes, why?”
“Because that’s where he’ll be—freezing on the balcony. If they’re there at all.”
Jim nodded. “He lives on the third floor. To the right. See if you can see anything.” Jim slowed the truck to a crawl as they passed the apartment complex.
Sally craned her neck, peering at the balconies three stories above the street, the weather advisory they had heard minutes before running through her mind: Fifteen degrees Fahrenheit, wind at thirty miles per hour, wind chill of minus five. How much time to frostbite, half an hour? How much time to hypothermia? Or death?
“I see him!” Lights from the apartment illuminated the silhouette of a coatless man, sitting facing the apartment’s sliding glass doors. He seemed to be at ease, leaning back with his arms stretched out along the top of the wrought iron railing. Sally remembered Daniel’s skilled hands as he had rescued Mugs’ pups, and thought of the blacke
ned, gangrenous fingers that severe frostbite could cause. She shuddered. “We have to get him in from there.”
“Not we,” said Jim. “I don’t want you anywhere near this. Call Demarco.”
Sally speed-dialed the police and asked for Demarco. Jim held out his hand for the phone.
“This is Donovan. They’re at Smith’s apartment. Third floor, Newberry Manor. He’s got Smith out on the balcony. I’m going after him. Sally’s driving my truck. Make it fast.” He set the phone down and turned to her.
“When we get out of sight of the apartment windows, I’ll slip out and go get Smith. You keep driving around the block. Not too slow. And don’t stop for anything. If anybody looks like they could even try to approach the truck, speed up and get the hell out of there, understand?
“When I get Daniel, I’ll bring him to the spot where I got out. Don’t stop for us anywhere else. If the stalker realizes I’ve gone for Smith, he’ll try to come after you. Don’t let anyone get close. I shouldn’t need more than ten minutes, and Demarco will have men here soon. But don’t stop for them either, uniform or not.”
He pinned her with a demanding glare, warrior mask firmly in place.
“Promise me, Sally. You won’t stop the truck.”
“I promise...”
They rounded the corner.
“…just hurry…”
For a moment the truck was still as he slipped from the seat and she slid over to take the wheel.
“Don’t stop,” he said. Then he was gone, melting into the shadows like a figment of her imagination.
“Be safe, Jim.” But she was alone.
Sally’s gaze traveled down the deserted street. She circled the block, moving from street lamp to street lamp, and straining to see into the darkness between. When she neared the apartments again, she looked up. Daniel still sat on the balcony in the cold. But it would take Jim time to get in, and time to get to Daniel. She drove on, passing the spot where Jim had slipped out, turning the second corner, and the third.
Would Jim have reached Daniel yet? She remembered the speed and silence with which he could move. Maybe the nightmare would end soon.
As she rounded the final corner, she caught a glimpse of movement to her left. Her head whipped around and her arms tensed, pulling her chest toward the steering wheel. Heart racing, she watched a stray dog limp down the road. Light burst onto the street from the right, and she hit the gas in near panic, racing past the couples who had flung open the townhouse door to say their goodbyes. She didn’t slow down until she rounded the next corner again. Had Jim gotten to Daniel? She hadn’t looked.
Hands shaking, she tromped on the gas pedal, wrenching the truck around three corners, then slowing down to peer at the balcony. Daniel’s silhouette remained, outlined by light that filtered out of the apartment. It looked identical to before—no change, no movement.
Her gut tightened. Why isn't he moving? Are we too late?
She gripped the steering wheel with sweaty hands, trying to stop their trembling. Where was Jim? Each time she glanced up, hoping to see an empty balcony, she saw Daniel instead. She lost count of how many times she’d driven around the block. The emptiness of the streets became a live thing, closing in on her, stalking her sanity. Where were the police? It’s been too long. Something’s wrong.
The truck rounded the corner again and Sally looked upward as the apartments drew near. The light spilling onto the balcony shifted—Daniel’s silhouette looked different. Sally slowed the truck and ducked her head to get a better view. The shadowy form resolved itself into two separate shapes. A second shirtless man sat on the balcony, a rangy, broad-shouldered man. Her heart stopped, then raced as adrenalin surged. It was Jim on the balcony, his arms stretched out along the railing like Daniel’s, his head rigidly upright.
Frantic, she looked around for the police officers that were supposed to arrive, but the street was still empty. The truck was moving at a crawl. She stared upward and saw the drapes part—a man stepped into view. The light was behind him, leaving his face in darkness, but his upraised hand held a gun. When Sally’s cell phone rang, she jumped, then stared at it blankly. Caller ID said Jim.
She looked up and realized the man standing on the balcony held a cell phone to his ear. The truck jerked to a full stop, as her cold and trembling fingers fumbled to answer the call.
The voice was familiar. She couldn’t quite place it, but the words alone were enough to make her tremble from the inside out. “As you see, Sally, your lovers are waiting for you to rescue them. Come to me, alone, and I will let them go. Best hurry, Sally. The young one has been waiting for some time already. It is unkind of you to torture him so. Come to the third floor. I will escort you to the apartment. Once you have accepted your punishment—the consequence of your unfaithfulness—and I am satisfied your repentance is genuine, I will release these two. I’ll be waiting, my Sally.”
Dead air. The truck jerked as she drove forward with shaking hands, then stopped just around the corner. Like razor blades, terror tore at her gut—for Jim and for herself. But what the cold would do to Jim outweighed what the stalker might try to do to her. She had to go. There was no other hope for Jim and Daniel. She couldn’t let them die of exposure. Her decision made, Sally speed-dialed the police. Words flew from her mouth before the office who answered could speak. “Tell Demarco he’s got Jim. He says he’ll let them go if I go in.” She gulped for air as her chest constricted. Tyler’s face swam before her eyes. She blinked once, hard. I love you, Tyler.
“I’m going.” She dropped the phone onto the truck seat and slipped out the door.
Behind her, Demarco’s voice echoed hollowly in the empty cab. “Sally, no. We’ve got it under control. Stay in the truck.”
Sally paid no heed. She was in the truck bed, rooting in the Porta-Vet for something she could use as a weapon. Pushing aside a tray of surgical instruments she saw Jim’s hunting knife. She grabbed it, and hefted a large wrench-like instrument. That’ll do. Covering her weapons with the heavy hooded sweatshirt-jacket Jim kept in the unit, she climbed to the ground.
Strapping the scabbard to her waist, she concealed the knife behind her back and beneath her coat. Then she pulled the sweatshirt on over it all and zipped it closed. She picked up the wrench and headed toward the building, trying to melt into the shadows as Jim had done. Once she was moving, new problems began to crowd her mind. How would she get into the building? She had no key, or any skill at breaking in. When she reached the front door of the complex and found it unlocked, she breathed a sigh of relief and slipped inside.
The lobby of the building was wide and shallow, a few potted ferns its only decor. The passenger elevator sat directly across from the entryway. A freight elevator with a swipe plate stood at the left-hand end and the door to the stairs waited at the other. Remembering Jim’s words—‘Don’t give him that; take a minute to think’—she stayed by the door and considered the situation. The stalker would be waiting for her, most likely either in the elevator or at the third floor. She didn’t intend to walk right into his arms. Pushing the call button for the elevator, she backed away toward the main doors, ready to run if he was inside. It was empty. She shoved a potted fern halfway into the shiny steel box, preventing the door from closing, and raced for the stairs. He would be waiting for her by the elevator on three—she hoped.
At the third floor landing, she cautiously opened the door, and scanned the hallway. No one was in sight. Daniel’s apartment should be to the right, past the elevators. Creeping along the hallway, she hoped that the stalker’s attention would be occupied with awaiting her arrival via the elevator. She came to the corner and peeked around, freezing in place as a movement caught her eye.
She was behind him, as she’d hoped to be. He was watching the elevator door, gun in hand. Something about the way he stood was familiar, but she could no more recognize the stance than she’d been able to recognize the voice, and a ski mask covered his head. Still, who it was didn’t
matter. She had a wrench in her hand with that creep’s name on it. Heart pounding, she slipped soundlessly along the wall opposite the elevator until she was nearly across from the stalker. He moved restlessly, but his eyes and the gun remained trained on the elevator door. Raising the wrench, she counted to three and flung herself towards him, swinging the wrench down toward the top of his head with all her strength.
But the man whirled, and caught her arm with one hand as it descended toward his head. The other hand raised the gun and pointed it in her face. She froze in place and fought down fear. He was wearing surgical gloves with the ski mask. “Sally, that was foolish, you should know you can’t prevail against me.” He pulled the wrench from her hand and tossed it aside. Too late, she noticed the curved security mirrors outside the elevator. Damn.
“Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?” Her voice sounded tremulous and afraid, even to her own ears.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know. It’s unbecoming. Trent was a good friend of mine in Oceanside. We didn’t spend much time together—he was always in a hurry to get home to you. One drink with his men, and a brief chat with me, then he would leave to be with the wife he loved so much.”
What on earth was he talking about? Friend? There were no friends in Oceanside other than Trent’s fellow Marines—wait. ‘One drink… a brief chat…’ The bartender.
Trent had told her about the young man tending bar at his team’s favorite hang-out, a lonely kid needing someone to talk to. He’d said he spent so much time listening to the kid’s troubles, it felt like he was the one tending the bar. Comprehension was beginning to dawn.
“Surely you remember. You were pregnant with his child.” Her captor’s voice grew harsh. “I thought you must be a wonderful woman. I thought you loved him as much as he loved you. But I’ve seen different. You’re unfaithfulness disrespects his memory. You even threw yourself at me, that morning in the shelter.”