Deserving of Death (CJ Washburn, PI Book 1)

by James Paddock

  “How did you and Mom know?”

  “We’re divorced now; maybe we didn’t know and thought we did.”

  “Oh! I never thought of that.” She contemplated it for a few seconds and then said, “Did you think you loved each other and then found out later, after raising two kids, that you actually didn’t?”

  They walked on for a half minute before CJ answered the question. “As I think about it I have to say that we did know it was right. We loved each other; still do as far as that goes, but now it's in a different way. How can I not love the mother of my children? We simply lost compatibility after a dozen years, though we did try to hold on for a while after that, tried to work on it.”

  “But how did you know at first? I know you lived together for a while. How long?”

  “About eight months.”

  “Were you engaged before or after you started living together?”

  “After.” CJ had to think a minute to remember more precisely. “We were six months into it before I popped the question.”

  “So you had six months to determine whether you were suited for each other.”

  “Exactly.”

  “We didn’t even get to that point before....”

  “Before his scumbag colors showed.”

  “Exactly.”

  “When you started talking about moving in together,” CJ said, “did you have any doubts?”

  “Yeah. Loads of doubts.”

  “There’s the difference. If he was the right one, you’d have had no doubts.”

  “Oh.” They stopped and looked at the water park next to the clubhouse, kids splashing and laughing, and then continued on. “Did you and Mom have doubts?”

  “I had no doubts, and I’m fairly certain your mom would say the same thing.”

  “Do you have doubts about Stella?”

  CJ smiled. “None.”

  “Good. She said the same thing about you. She also told me you asked her to run away to Las Vegas with you. Do I need to talk to you again about a proper wedding, Dad?”

  CJ chuckled. “No, dear daughter. I got it the first time. I’m taking your advice to heart.” As they continued their walk, making the turn around the south end of the lake before heading back, CJ began to wonder about the true purpose of Trish needing to talk. Was it about her and her recent failed relationship or about him and Stella? Did she start this entire conversation about her looking for the right guy just to let him know that Stella had no doubts and was ready? He was suddenly filled with pride at realizing the woman his daughter was becoming.

  When they completed the loop around the lake, CJ was ready to jump in just to cool down and there was still a quarter mile to go. He chided himself for not taking water. Trish didn’t seem to be bothered by the heat, striding along as though it was a mild spring morning. They turned away from the lake and followed a short street for about fifty yards to the entrance to the trail that’d take them back to the house. They followed that for four or five minutes; CJ was more and more starting to fade from the heat and wished, again, that he’d brought water. As they rounded the last bend where they would step onto the street upon which David’s rental house waited within view some hundred yards away, CJ’s head was down, his gaze focused in front of his feet, his worry upon whether he’d make this last stretch before passing out from heat stroke. He was starting to seriously regret having made this suggestion to go for a walk. They could have talked in the cool of the living room.

  It was in those last few yards of the trail where he sensed something in his peripheral. He didn’t register a concern, however, or enough energy to turn his head for a closer look. Instead he kept his head down until suddenly there was a vehicle in the way and Trish was pulling him to a stop. He brought his eyes up to discover a black van with dark shaded windows, the side door open six or seven inches. For a couple of seconds something about this van was bothersome.

  “Are you okay, Daddy?” Trish said as she tried guiding him around the obstacle.

  It was then that it came to him, cutting through the broiling fog clogging his brain. This was the van he’d seen the night he climbed into the dumpster, the same one he’d noticed amongst the half dozen vehicles when they stepped out to begin the walk. There came an adrenaline rush and he turned to reach for Trish when the dark form that seconds before had shown in his peripheral, loomed larger.

  “Daddy!”

  “Run!” CJ screamed and then suddenly the entire world ignited; every muscle seemed to spasm, then go limp and he found himself being shoved forward into the van, unable to control his decent to the carpeted floor, landing half on his back with one arm underneath him. In police training he’d been hit with stun guns several dozen times, but for some reason this was different. He should have had muscle control almost immediately, but it seemed like he was stuck in mud, his mouth dry and his head spinning. Suddenly Trish was lying next to him and the guy was sitting on top of her. CJ got his hands underneath him and started to push up to drive the guy off of her when the stun gun hit him again. Anger and fear surged through CJ as he jerked up to his knees and then was knocked back down with a third jolt. As he struggled to rise once more he heard the gun go off another time and understood immediately that it was Trish taking the shock. For an unimaginable period of time this cycle continued until finally the guy stepped out and the van door closed. A few seconds later the vehicle was moving.

  Chapter 42

  CJ turned his head and saw the frightened look on Trish’s face. They were on their stomachs, hands handcuffed behind their backs, duct tape across their mouths, several wraps around their ankles. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d been hit, the number of jolts sent through his body, and hoped Trish had not gotten so many. He closed his eyes and wished that he’d not insisted on going for the walk. But would it have made any difference? This guy knew where they were and was determined.

  After a few minutes, when CJ sensed that they’d gotten onto the interstate, he rolled away from Trish and maneuvered enough to be able to see between the front seats. For the most part, however, all that came into view was the blue sky. He couldn’t tell if they were moving north or south. A road sign whipped by, but from his angle all he caught of it was the corner.

  Another whipped by a few seconds later with the same result. As he started to struggle to get into a better position, he glanced back at Trish and was shocked to find her sitting on her butt, her handcuffed hands in front of her, peeling back the duct tape around her ankles. By the time he got over to her, her legs were free and she was peeling the tape from her mouth.

  He shook his head at her. She pulled the tape from his mouth.

  “Lay down,” he whispered.

  She did so and he moved up close to her and looked back over his shoulder. He couldn't see the guy's eyes in the rearview mirror which meant he didn't have it adjusted to see them.

  Close to her ear he said, “Are you okay?”

  She nodded though appeared ready to burst into tears, on the edge of hysteria.

  He whispered, “If he should move his rearview mirror we’ve got to look like we’re still as he left us.”

  She nodded.

  “There’s no way I can do what you did without dislocating something. Once he’s off the interstate he’s going to have to stop at a light or stop sign. When he does you hit that door and run like hell.”

  She shook her head and stuck her lips up to his ear. “I’ll get your tape off. We’ll both run.”

  “You’d be faster without me. I can distract him, jump into his lap if I have to. If there’s traffic around you yell, ‘call 911.’ Attract as many witnesses as you can. If you can get a license plate number, more the better.”

  She continued shaking her head, her tears breaking free. “You go with me.”

  He looked at her for a long time, his little girl, considering the chances of success. If he was able to keep the guy occupied she most certainly could get away. If they both tried to escape, chances
were he’d manage to recapture at least one of them and the odds were it’d be Trish. That wasn’t a chance CJ was willing to take. But if his legs were free he certainly could be more effective at keeping the guy occupied while she escaped.

  “Okay,” he said. “But I don’t know if you can get my tape off without him noticing.”

  She glanced down at his ankles and then back up at him. She didn’t have the where-with-all to come up with a suggestion.

  “I’ll roll away from you and bend my legs. If he looks, he shouldn't be able to see us doing anything.”

  He waited a long time for her nod then rolled away and bent his legs until his heels touched his butt. While she worked on the tape he watched the rearview mirror. Not once did it appear that the guy had any thought about paying mind to his captive passengers. It was likely that his attention was completely on traffic, maybe too over-confident that he’d left them well secured. However, once he did stop for a light, his focus very well could shift to what was taking place in the cargo area. CJ began running all the possible scenarios through his mind. What if the guy became aware of what they were doing and was able to get to the door before Trish could get it open? He’d most likely have the stun gun, or worse yet, a real gun. What would he possibly do with witnesses on the street?

  The guy’s insane. He‘d likely do anything.

  A road sign flashed by and he caught only the first few letters, “Vale…” That had to be Valencia, so they were heading north. In a few minutes, unless the guy took that exit or one of the following two, they’d be merging onto I-10. Would he go east or west? CJ pulled his thoughts back to the possible scenarios.

  Instead of coming around to the door, the guy could come back between the seats and zap them both back into submission. No witnesses; just pissed off drivers who’d see no more than a stalled van. CJ would have to be proactive, then. As soon as the van begins to slow he’d rush the guy, keep him occupied while Trish jumps out and runs away. He’d take another zap if necessary. Maybe he could force him to have an accident. That would certainly create a scene and witnesses. But what if the door is locked or Trish just simply can’t find a way to get it open?

  Was there an alternative?

  Not one that CJ could think of, but anything was better than waiting until the perp got to his intended destination.

  The letters on a blue sign, “Irvi…” flashed by and CJ’s legs suddenly came free. He straightened them out and rolled back to face Trish.

  “What now?” she said.

  “We’re coming to the Irvington exit. Whichever exit he takes we wait until he’s slowing for his second stop.”

  She scrunched her face in confusion.

  “The first is going to be right after taking an exit. There may be few or no witnesses there and no place to go. The second most likely will be a light. That’ll be our best bet.”

  “Okay.”

  “As soon as I get up, you go for the door. I’m going to rush him, distract him.”

  “But…”

  “When I know you have the door open and you’re out, I’m coming out right after you. Remember to yell at the top of your lungs.”

  She seemed to consider the plan for a time, maybe preparing her argument. “What if I can’t get the door open? What if it’s got a child safety lock or something?”

  “If you can’t get out the door, kick out a window; anything to attract attention. Remember those kickboxing lessons you took?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s time to put that to good use.” He grinned at her, but all she did was nod again. “I’m going for his head to try and knock him unconscious.”

  She looked so scared that all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and say that everything was going to be alright, but that would certainly be a huge lie.

  The van started slowing. CJ rolled to his back to be able to see. When he was certain, he turned back to Trish. “He’s getting off onto Ajo. Be ready.”

  Trish nodded.

  CJ rolled to his back again and watched. They turned onto Ajo Way, west-bound, went through an immediate green light and then another a minute later. Holiday Boulevard, he thought to himself. Mission Road would be next, a busy intersection; lots of witnesses if he catches a red light. After that it’d be La Cholla and then something he couldn’t remember and then Kinney. Beyond that there was nothing but open desert highway all the way to Three Points, nearly twenty miles. If he never catches a red light and doesn’t turn before passing Kinney, they’d be out in the Sonoran Desert with absolutely no hope.

  The van started to slow and then CJ saw a green light. It took him a few seconds to realize the perp was moving into the left turn lane. He’d have to stop and wait for his opportunity to go. CJ tried to remember if this was a leading or following left turn green and decided it didn’t make any difference.

  He turned his head to Trish, gave her a smile, nodded and then rolled to his knees and onto his feet. An immediate wave of dizziness dropped him to one knee. He waited for it to pass, briefly wondering if it was a result of the multiple shocks or dehydration. Probably both. It cleared and then he pushed back to his feet. Bent at the waist, hands still behind him, he rushed forward and threw himself between the seats, aiming his head toward the perp’s head. He heard the side door slam open and then a screech of tires and Trish screaming. Almost at the same time the perp’s elbow hit him in the sternum and the stun gun discharged on his cheek. Then the engine roared and CJ flew back against the rear doors of the van. A searing pain shot through his shoulder.

  He shook off the pain and struggled up enough to get a look out the back window. Trish was lying in the street in front of a car and people where running to her. With no more than a two-second look, enough to make CJ sick to his stomach, the perp slammed on the brakes. CJ tumbled forward against the seats and the side door slammed closed. There came another jolt from the stun gun followed by a second roar from the engine and CJ was once more thrown against the rear door, this time slamming into it headfirst. He struggled to one knee, momentarily unaware of where he was, white flashes filling his inner vision, a strange music off in the distance. The van swerved and he fell from one side of the van to the other, cracked a side window with his head and then felt nothing.

  Chapter 43

  CJ awoke shivering. He had no idea where he was and for the first few seconds couldn’t even think of his own name. What he was aware of was that his head hurt like hell, his face felt as though he’d been branded and he was lying on the floor in a semi-dark room. Drunk? he wondered. Hung-over? He started to push up and was struck back down from what felt like a hot spike being hammered into his shoulder. He waited for the pain to subside and then, very carefully, rolled onto his back. A bar fight?

  His mouth and throat dry, he tried sucking up some saliva.

  Nothing.

  He looked around for water and found a room with which he was not familiar, maybe a motel room.

  Where the hell am I?

  He settled back, took a couple deep breaths and began trying to remember what lead up to his being wherever he was. He recalled being in jail after surrendering to… it took him a few seconds to recall who that was. Lisa. He surrendered to Dave’s daughter, Officer Lisa Bowers. He was in jail through the weekend until Agent Crane pulled him out and turned him over to Dan Monday morning.

  In a rush the rest of Monday flooded back at him culminating with the stun gun hits and Trish jumping from the van, her scream, her lying in the street, the van speeding away. And then he closed his eyes and wept.

  It was many minutes before CJ opened his eyes and attempted to sit up. Day was breaking and the light that was finding its way past the gaps in the drapes revealed what he suspected, a cheap motel room. The air-conditioning unit under the window was on and blowing frigid air. The bed appeared not to have been disturbed. Nothing was making sense. Why would the perp kidnap him and then leave him in a motel room?

  There was a phone on the nightstand. With great ca
re he struggled to his knees and then, using the bed, carefully rose to his feet. Dizziness washed over him and he had all he could do just to sit on the bed without completely passing out. After a half minute, when his head had cleared enough that he could think, he scooted over to the phone and picked it up. There was no dial tone. He put the phone down and looked at the tag above the keypad. Smoky’s Rest Motel, it read. There was a phone number, but no address. He didn’t recognize the name, so he still had no idea where he was.

  He got to his feet, waited a few seconds to be sure he was stable and then staggered into the bathroom.

  The battered and bloodied face in the mirror left CJ’s mouth agape. He looked like he’d been struck on one side of the face with a hot poker and on the other side with a brick. Dried blood caked his mangled hair and the side of his face, partially covering a black eye. More blood had splattered onto his already badly soiled shirt. After making use of the toilet he considered standing in a hot shower for a time, but the persistent vision of Trish lying in the street had him turning away and heading for the door.

  In his rush to open the door, while still a tad off balance, CJ stumbled and struck the doorjamb with his injured shoulder. The searing pain nearly dropped him to his knees. When it finally eased, he stepped out only to be blinded by the sun just breaking over a desert full of saguaros and ocotillos. He shielded his eyes and looked left then right. With the number of cars in the small parking lot it appeared that less than half the rooms were occupied. Then his attention was drawn to the car directly in front of him. He blinked several times while continuing to push away the glare of the sun and then once again started replaying all the events of the afternoon before. At no time, other than the black van into which he was forced, had he gotten into any other vehicle. However, in front of the motel room, in which he had mysteriously awakened, sat Stella’s car. He walked around it to be certain, spotted the familiar scratch on the rear bumper, peered in at the empty interior and then returned to the motel room door to check inside for anything that might be lying around that would help solve the mystery.