Breaking News

by Fern Michaels

  Suddenly, Sophie’s head dropped to her chest. She appeared to be unconscious; then, seconds later, in a voice that did not belong to her, she spoke. “I don’t recognize you anymore. You’ve lost weight.”

  Mavis looked at Sophie as though she’d seen a ghost. Well, of course, she had.

  “Herbert?” Mavis whispered. In all the séances they’d held, Herbert had never made himself known.

  “Mavis, I am so proud of you. Find someone else. Be happy.”

  The air in the room dropped several more degrees; then the orbs began to swirl around the room, dancing like fairies. The candles flickered again. Then, as fast as it happened, the room became warm again. The orbs disappeared, and the temperature returned to normal, yet Sophie still remained in her trancelike state.

  “John,” Sophie called, her voice her own, yet soft and low. “Can you make your presence known? Your daughter needs you.”

  The room was still as night, the occupants motionless.

  For the second time that night, the temperature in the room dropped precipitously. And from nowhere, a translucent cloud suddenly appeared, hovering above the center of the table.

  “Let’s move our hands away from the glass and join hands,” Sophie instructed.

  Toots stared at the glowing image inside the cloud. “Oh my God!” she said out loud. “John!”

  “John Simpson, if this is you, whirl around the room,” Sophie requested.

  The cloud sprang around the room, stopping to hover above Toots.

  “Where is Abby?” Sophie asked in a whisper.

  “Mr. Steve. Hot. Dark. Riots. Hurry.”

  Again, the room returned to its normal temperature. The candles stopped wavering, and Sophie’s head jerked up. “Toots?” she asked when she saw the look of shock on her friend’s face. “Are you all right?”

  Inhaling and exhaling, Toots nodded, but her hands were shaking so badly, she couldn’t control them.

  “Was that John?” Phil asked.

  “Yes, yes, it was,” Toots answered. “He was so young when he died. But I don’t understand what his message was.” Defeated, Toots appeared to age right before their eyes.

  “I remember what he said,” Chris told her. “Remember the riots in South Central LA? Watts? Wherever Abby is, she’s in the area where they took place. I don’t know who Mr. Steve is or how he is relevant, but I would bet everything I own that Abby was taken and left in one of those run-down apartments there.”

  Ida switched the lights on and blew out the candles.

  “Call the hospital, Goebel, and see if Rag is awake. Maybe the son of a bitch can tell us what this means,” Chris said. “Meanwhile, I’m going to call Jeff to see if he’s homed in any closer on those pings. Maybe he can tell us more.”

  Toots stood up, shaking but a bit more in control of herself. “We need to get to South Central LA, and we need to do it now. Mother’s instinct tells me we don’t have a lot of time.”

  Chapter 30

  “They’re not sure he’ll make it through the night,” Goebel said as they gathered in the kitchen before leaving.

  “That son of a bitch,” Chris said. “I would love to choke the life out of him myself, but it may be too late for that. Jeff said the pings were close to South Central Avenue. That’s in the heart of South Central.”

  “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go to South Central and start looking,” Toots said, already grabbing her purse and racing to the door. “I don’t think we should all go. Someone should stay here, just in case, by some fluke, Abby calls. We’ll bring Chester with us. If she’s close, he could help find her.”

  “I’ll call Jeff back and have him meet us there. He’s as committed to finding Abby as we are.” Chris called him back. “He’ll meet us in the McDonald’s parking lot on South Central Avenue in thirty minutes. Ron and Keith are coming with him.”

  “I’ll stay here. I have a few phone calls to make,” Ida said. “I’m going to postpone our Home Shopping Club debut. This is way more important.”

  “I agree with Ida. I’ll notify all the funeral homes that Ida and I won’t be available for any services until further notice,” Mavis added.

  “Let’s take the Escalade. It’s got a GPS, so we can put that street in and go directly to the McDonald’s,” Goebel said.

  Within minutes, Goebel, Sophie, Toots, Phil, Chris, and Chester piled into the Cadillac SUV. Goebel punched in the street name, and they took off.

  Once they were on the Pacific Coast Highway, Toots, somewhat calm since the séance, spoke. “Chris, does ‘Mr. Steve’ mean anything to you? Or would it mean anything to Abby? I don’t have any idea what John meant. What about it, Sophie? Do you have any explanation?”

  Sophie, seated in front with Goebel, turned around to look at Toots in the middle seat, with Phil’s arm draped around her shoulders. “I don’t have a clue. I’m just the medium. I have never made contact that fast. Did you happen to think of that? This is a good sign. It makes me think John is with Abby wherever she is, watching over her until we find her. I know all of this sounds crazy, but I just know these things. Don’t ask me how. I just do.”

  “Then he said, ‘Dark and hot,’ ” Chris offered. “I would think wherever Rag is holding her, that it’s in a place that’s hot and dark. Maybe a basement. Or an old wine cellar. They’re still around—I don’t know if South Central has any—but at this point, I’m willing to look in every possible nook and cranny.”

  No one said anything for a while. The buildings they passed were shoddier, older, and many were boarded up. The local economy hadn’t recovered since the Rodney King incident all those years ago.

  A mechanical female voice spoke. “Destination on the right in three miles.”

  “Almost there, Toots,” Goebel said. “Okay, there’s the McDonald’s. I see Jeff and the others are there.”

  Goebel pulled up next to Jeff’s vehicle. He pushed the DOWN button for the electric window. “Let me fill you in on what we know. No news from Rag, he’s in a coma, and they don’t know if he is going to make it through the night. I can’t reveal my source, but we’re looking for a place that’s dark and hot, one where you could hide someone. Also something to do with Mr. Steve. We’re not sure if this is a place or a person. Does it mean anything to you guys?”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell for me,” Jeff said. Turning to his right, he asked Ron and Keith. “How about you guys?”

  “This is nowhere near our precinct. But I know a guy I can call who patrols this area. Let me give him a call real quick,” Ron said and took his cell phone from his pocket. “Hey, Frank. It’s me, Ron. You on duty tonight? Good. I need some help. I’m working a case for a friend right now. It’s off the record, but nothing illegal. I need some information. We’re here on Central Avenue in South Central, looking for a young woman who’s been kidnapped. I can’t say who my source is, but does the name Mr. Steve mean anything to you? What? No shit. Thanks, man. I owe you one.” Ron clicked the END button on the phone.

  “What?” Goebel asked. “Did you learn anything?”

  Ron rolled the window down and spoke to Goebel. “You’re not going to believe this, but apparently Mr. Steve’s is a big-time pawnshop in the area. He owns several apartments that he rents out, some by the hour, if you know what I mean.”

  “Follow me,” Jeff said. “It’s right around the corner.”

  Ten o’clock was early by South Central standards. The streets were crowded with gang members shouting obscenities to one another. Loud music blared from a souped-up Dodge Neon with a muffler that resembled a megaphone, and an older-model Cadillac with four-thousand-dollar wheels bounced along the street, stopping at a traffic light. The driver of the Neon pulled up beside the Caddy, revved its four-cylinder engine, and looked at the traffic light as though it were the Christmas tree light on a drag strip. The second the light turned green, engines raced, tires squealed, and both cars sped to the next traffic light.

  “God, if Abby is here, I pray s
he is safe. This is worse than a third-world country,” Toots said.

  “It’s not one of LA’s hottest nightspots, that’s for sure,” Chris agreed.

  “Look! There it is, Mr. Steve’s Pawnshop,” Goebel said, slowing down to get a closer look at the place. Neon lights of every color in the rainbow glistened from the three-story building. Old, probably from the early sixties, the bright neon signs read WE BUY GOLD; BUY, TRADE, OR SELL; and BEST PRICES IN TOWN.

  Keith, Ron, and Jeff parked in front of a fire hydrant and entered the building.

  “Toots, you and Sophie wait here with Phil. Chris and I will go inside with the guys. If I suspect there’s anything connected to Abby here, I’ll come and get you. Now, roll up the windows and lock the doors.” Goebel and Chris followed the cops inside the building.

  Inside the pawnshop Keith, Ron, and Jeff flashed their badges at a young punk sitting behind the counter, sending text messages on a cell phone.

  “Whatcha need?” he asked, then noticed their badges. “Hey, man, I just work here. I didn’t do anything,” the kid said defensively.

  “I need to see the owner. Now,” Keith said in his cop voice.

  The kid looked behind him, where a curtain separated him from whatever lay behind it. “Steve,” he called out. “We got the cops here. Probably bought some stolen shit from somebody.”

  The kid resumed texting at such a fast pace, he would rival Evelyn Wood.

  From behind the dark curtain, a heavyset man with a too-tight shirt that revealed a fat, hairy stomach waddled his way to the counter. “What’sa problem?”

  “You know a guy named Rodwell Archibald Godfrey?” Keith asked.

  With an accent that sounded like it came from the latest gangster movie, “Do I look like someone who would know some prissy ass named Rodwell?” Steve replied.

  Goebel stepped up to the counter. “He goes by Rag. Does that ring a bell?”

  Laughing, Steve said, “Rodwell Archibald Godfrey! You mean Rag? That’s his name? What’s that piece of shit done now?”

  “That doesn’t concern you. Tell me what you know about him,” Keith demanded. “When was the last time you saw him?”

  Before Steve could answer, Chester leaped through the door, with Toots trying her best to contain him. Phil raced in behind her.

  “He went crazy. He was clawing at the window. He always does this when Abby’s around,” Toots said.

  Growling, hackles raised, tail stiff at attention, Chester snarled, every tooth in his mouth ready to chomp a few inches from the pawnshop owner’s ass.

  Steve jumped back. “Hey, get that dog outta here!”

  “Never mind the dog. When did you last see him?” Keith asked.

  Chester continued to growl.

  “The last time I saw that little bastard, he was sneaking out of the apartment I let him have for next to nothing. He’s probably trying to skip out on the rent again this week.”

  At that moment, Chester jumped up, placing his front paws on the glass countertop.

  He began to bark excessively.

  “Down, Chester,” Toots shouted. The shepherd jumped back from the counter but continued to growl ominously.

  “Where is this apartment? We have reason to believe he’s kidnapped a woman. She could be there right now, and unless you want to be held as an accessory to kidnapping, I suggest you tell me now!” Keith shouted. “Now, man. I’m not gonna ask you again!”

  “Okay, jeez! Give me a minute. I gotta get the keys.” Steve disappeared behind the curtain, returning with a giant ring of keys. “There’s a back entrance. There is a set of stairs here that leads to the apartment. Let me unlock the door.”

  Chester sprang from behind, knocking over several stacks of DVDs and passing everyone as he raced up the flight of stairs and entered the apartment. The big canine raced over to a door with a chair wedged against the handle. He began to scratch at the dark chair and bark wildly.

  Seconds later, the others entered the apartment, where they saw the chair and Chester. It was then Toots knew that they had found her daughter.

  “Abby!” she screamed as she yanked the chair away from the doorknob and pulled the door open. What she saw brought tears of joy to her eyes. “Oh my God, Phil, come quick!”

  Immediately in physician mode, Phil placed his hand on Abby’s neck to check for a pulse. “She’s alive but barely conscious. Someone call an ambulance.” He pulled the chair out of the closet into the center of the room. “A knife,” he shouted.

  Goebel whipped out a pocketknife and sliced the tape from her legs, cut the zip ties from her hands, then gently removed the tape from her mouth but left the tape on the back of her hair. They could remove that later. Phil laid her down on the hard floor.

  Toots dropped down on her knees beside her limp daughter. “Abby, can you hear me?”

  Her eyes fluttered, and she tried to speak, but Toots couldn’t make out what she said. It didn’t matter. She was alive. Chester, seeing his mistress lying on the floor, dropped down beside her and began to lick her face like he always did.

  Abby’s eyes opened again, only this time they could hear her words clearly.

  “I knew you would find me.”

  Chapter 31

  The smell of antiseptic assaulted her nostrils. Bright flu-torescent lights above her forced her eyes shut. Hushed voices spoke softly around the perimeter of her bed. Abby thought she had to be dreaming, because when she licked her lips, there was nothing to bind them, no sticky residue. Fleetingly, she dared to open her eyes just enough for her to view her surroundings. When she saw her mother standing next to her, her eyes instantly opened all the way.

  “Mom?” Abby asked, her voice scratchy, her throat raw and dry. “Where am I? What time is it?”

  “Shhh, you’re going to be just fine, Abby. It’s a little past seven in the morning. You’ve been out most of the night,” her mother told her. “Try to relax. We’re all here for you.”

  Suddenly, the events of the past thirty-six hours filled her head like a heavy fog. “How did you—”

  “It doesn’t matter. Relax. We can talk later,” Toots assured her as she brushed Abby’s damp hair away from her forehead.

  Abby tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but her wrists were both wrapped in heavy gauze, both sore. “Why are my hands . . .”

  Her mother stepped away from the bed, Chris taking her place. “You’re going to be fine, Abby.” Gently, he patted her arm.

  “Did you find—”

  “Rag? He’s in the hospital. I don’t think he’s going to be leaving anytime soon. At least not without the assistance of a gurney, or, if we’re lucky, a frigging casket!”

  By now Abby had managed to push herself into a sitting position despite the large bandages on her hands. “What do you mean? Is he here in this hospital, too? What happened to him, the slimy son of a bitch!”

  Everyone in the room who knew Abby smiled. She was going to be absolutely fine.

  “Let’s just say Chester can smell shit from a mile away,” Chris teased. “Your old boss isn’t going to be going anywhere for a long time, if at all. He was shot at the ransom drop-off point, though I’m not sure of the details at this point. After they saved his life at the hospital in Santa Monica, he was transferred here after we found you. We’ve got a former member of the Secret Service, your director of security, outside his room. If he blinks, we’ll know about it before he can do it again. Now, tell me exactly what happened?”

  Abby repeated her story for Chris and her mother. Goebel and Sophie, and some man she didn’t know, listened intently while she told of her trip to the basement, searching for Rag’s old files, thinking she might find a clue, something, anything that would lead to him.

  “And I found more than I expected,” Abby concluded. “It’s hard to believe no one ever noticed where that door led. I’ve been in that basement dozens of times. I thought it was just an old storage closet. Unreal.” She shook her head, then lay back agai
nst the starched pillow. “How long was I in that closet, anyway?”

  “Too long as far as I’m concerned,” Toots said. “Thirty-six hours ago, I was in Naples, Florida, worried about a dog.”

  “What dog? Chester?” Abby inquired. “Is he okay?”

  “No, it was Frankie,” Toots said. “It’s a long story and . . .”

  Phil stepped in again to rescue Toots.

  “Abby, we have never met. I’m a friend of your mom’s. Phil Becker. Bernice is my patient. She found a little dachshund right next door to your mom’s place in Charleston.”

  “You mean Mrs. Patterson’s little dog, Frankie?” Abby asked.

  “The one and only,” Phil said. “He suffered a spinal injury, and I knew a neurologist who specializes in back injuries to animals. As luck would have it, I was about to take your mother out to dinner when Bernice found the little guy.”

  Abby looked at her mother, then again at the doctor. She raised her brow in question. “Oh, I see.” In spite of all that had taken place in the past thirty-six hours, Abby grinned. Uh-oh, she thought. Phil better watch out. She studied her mother’s face and saw something in it she hadn’t witnessed before.

  “No, you don’t,” her mother said quickly. Toots looked at Phil.

  “Your mother and I have become friends. We met when Bernice was brought to the hospital for surgery.” He didn’t expound any further. He didn’t have to. Abby could see he was as smitten with her mother as she was with him.

  “Amazing,” Abby said, then spied Sophie wearing a huge grin. “Sophie, you’re just dying to tell me a secret, aren’t you? I’ve seen that look on your face before.”

  Sophie walked across the room and stood at Abby’s bedside. “No, no, I’ll leave that to your mother. I’m just grateful we found you.” Sophie turned to Toots. “Should we tell her how we found her?”

  Toots rolled her eyes. “You’re going to tell her no matter what I say, so you might as well.”

  With a grin, Chris added, “Tell the whole story, Sophie.”

  Sophie flipped Chris the bird, and he flipped one right back. The entire room filled with laughter.