“Bet you’re glad now that you have a high-rise going up next door.”
“I had the same thought when we were chasing Sidney.”
“I didn’t have any thought except trying to keep us alive and trying to keep you from jumping out of the car and pursuing on foot.”
He turned as Sheryl approached. “What’s with all the tire squealing? I heard you two take off out of here like a couple of bats outta hell. How’s an expectant mother supposed to get any sleep?”
“Bobby spotted Sidney,” Rand said. “And we got stuck in sand up to our hubcaps.”
Sheryl snorted. “I know. I saw Bobby hanging off the girder like a monkey and asked him. Figured if you were landlocked, you didn’t need my help. I tried to go back to sleep, but no dice. You guys had lunch?”
Allie and Rand looked at each other. “We haven’t even had breakfast.”
“How about Lester’s in half an hour?”
■ ■ ■
Sheryl took a bite of her hamburger, and Del reached over and wiped the mustard off her chin.
“I’m not a baby,” Sheryl said, slapping his hand away.
“Just practicing for—you know.” The grins they gave each other were almost embarrassing in their intimacy.
Del was the only bartender working, but the bar was almost empty. Sunday morning wasn’t a heavy drinking time unless there was a hurricane approaching, and hurricanes were a nonissue in February.
“I think I saw him in here a time or two,” Del said, taking the stool next to Sheryl. “Now that I know about the disguises, I’ll keep a close eye. If he comes here again, he won’t get out.”
“Alive,” Allie finished. She looked at Del and Sheryl. What a couple of wonderful, overprotective parents they would be. Del could teach the baby martial arts, and Sheryl could show it how to handle a firearm. No one would mess with their kid.
“I wish I’d had my gun,” Allie said.
Rand looked at her in surprise. “I didn’t know you had a gun.”
“It’s a weapon—or a firearm,” Sheryl said with derision. “You sound like a jerk when you call it a gun.”
“Well, it is a gun.” She turned to Rand. “It’s a Glock 26. Gen 4, whatever that means.”
“It means it’s the fourth generation of Glock 26,” he said.
“I didn’t know guns had generations.”
“Weapon,” Sheryl said in exasperation. “Firearm or weapon, for Pete’s sake.”
Allie rolled her eyes.
“What would you have done with it?” Rand asked. “Shot out my tires?”
“I was mad enough.”
Sheryl glared at her. “You don’t need to be shooting anything until your permit comes through, or it’s my ass for giving it to you. Except for Sidney, but only if you have to. We know what he’s driving now, but we haven’t spotted him yet. Hard to spot anything with all the snowbirds on the road.”
“Most snowbirds don’t drive Harleys,” Allie said.
“You’d be surprised what’s under some of those helmets. Anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to have a few like Bobby in the department. That boy takes the work seriously. Not that the vets don’t, but rookies always have that shiny enthusiasm. You know?” She took another huge bite of her hamburger. “Good news is Sidney tried to make a withdrawal from the bank this morning. Machine kept his card.” She swallowed. “Same thing with his mom’s Chase VISA. He won’t get any more funds.”
Allie frowned. “I don’t know if that’s good or not.”
“What do you mean?” Rand asked.
Allie looked at him. “I don’t want him to feel too desperate. Desperate men tend to do desperate things.”
Twenty-six
Sidney parked the bike in the Cape Canaveral Hospital parking lot. He knew he should take the time to find a better source of transportation, but time was one thing he didn’t have now. Twenty-four hours to get the Grainger guy down to the Glades, return to Cape Canaveral, and board his ship.
He’d decided to travel as the redhead. She was his favorite. He sure as hell couldn’t wear his uniform, and the fat guy outfit was too damn hot. The red wig was hot, too, and it itched after a while, but it was better than a sweatsuit.
He didn’t need much time, just long enough to get to Cocoa, load his human cargo, and head south. He’d ditch the car in Clewiston, where he and Cord had embarked on their Everglades adventure back when he was a kid. It was about fifty miles from Palm Beach. He could ditch his new ride at the airport there and pick up another for the last leg of his trip. It would work.
He looked around the lot. He wanted the most innocuous vehicle he could find—something that blended in with every other car on the road. Not too new. Then, he spotted it—a ‘94 Honda Civic. White like almost every other car in Florida. Four-door. And was that a SunPass he saw on the windshield? Sweet. He wouldn’t even have to stop at tollbooths and take a chance of being spotted.
He strolled over to the vehicle as casually as he could manage with a bum leg and peeked inside. Nice and clean. CD player. Couldn’t be better.
His hand was in his backpack reaching for his slim jim when a woman walked up. She smiled at him. “I’m sorry. This is my car.”
Sidney felt panic grip him. Be cool. Be cool. “I’m sorry,” he said in a high, breathy voice. “These silly things all look alike, don’t they?”
“They sure do,” the woman said, inserting her key in the door. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried to get into someone else’s.”
For an insane instant, he considered taking her out and grabbing the car. He gave himself a mental shake and backed away.
“I sure hope you find your car,” the woman said with a smile and a wave as she drove away.
Crap. That was close. If she’d been ten seconds later, he’d have been busted. God was she lucky. Women made such targets of themselves. Hadn’t she noticed he didn’t have any keys in his hand? They were too damn trusting.
Okay, it wasn’t worth the risk. He’d have to go over to Merritt Island. Merritt Square had one of those mega-theaters that showed a dozen movies at the same time. He’d check the show times. He could watch to see who entered and snatch one of their cars. That would give him at least a couple of hours of lead time.
The trip only took ten minutes, and he couldn’t believe his luck. The theaters were beginning to empty as he drove into the lot. How did so many people get off work to go to daytime matinees? But most were probably tourists. Good. The more the merrier.
He pulled the Harley into a space and waited. Soon, a man, gray-haired, pulled into an empty spot a few cars down. Malibu, another four-door. This one was a ‘96, but good enough. Not much power, but great gas mileage. Like he gave a shit.
An elderly man climbed out of the car and walked around to the passenger side. The woman who stepped out was younger than he was, probably sixty or sixty-five, plump and smiling, maybe looking forward to a matinee with her hubby. Probably the only kind of matinee they could manage these days. He kept his eyes on them as they went through the double doors and into the theater. Then, he made his move.
He dismounted the Harley and pulled off his helmet, careful not to disturb the wig. The disguise had worked on the woman at the hospital parking lot. Maybe it’d work here, too, if necessary.
He reached into his backpack and pulled out the slim jim, inserting it carefully between the window and doorframe. Keeping his head up so he wouldn’t look suspicious, he worked the tool until he heard a satisfying click. He tested the door handle. Voila! He had new wheels.
He had just pulled open the door and started to duck inside, when he heard a voice yell, “Hey, you! What are you doing to my car?”
Christ. The old man was coming back. Then he saw the woman’s handbag on the passenger floor. Shit. He had to pick the forgetful broad.
The man was drawing a lot of attention. Sidney slipped out of the car and kept low as he dodged between cars to the Harley. He ripped off the red wig and tossed it un
der a truck. No way could he use that again.
Still low, he climbed on the Harley and walked it a few rows down without starting it. All attention was on the guy standing beside his target car, talking nonstop and waving his arms in the air. Old codger would have a heart attack if he didn’t calm down.
At the edge of the parking lot, he slipped on the helmet. No one even looked his way when he finally started the hog and drove slowly away.
OK, that was it. It was clear that luck had turned on him. He wasn’t going to push it. That meant he had to leave Grainger at the trailer. Someone would find him eventually. And who cared if Sidney was made? He wanted them all to know it’d been him all the time, moving around under their noses with them too stupid to catch him. It would also be good payback for the guy who’d loaned him the trailer, for loaning him a piece of shit. Payback was hell.
In a way, it was better. There was no more time pressure. He’d leave the Harley at the trailer and take a cab to Port Canaveral. He’d give his guest one more dose of sleepy juice in the morning, which was about what he had left in his stash—a little something to keep him out for twelve hours or so.
But before he returned to the trailer, he had one more thing to take care of. He’d have to be careful and law abiding. It wouldn’t do to get pulled over now, but it was worth the risk. He had to pay one last call on another Grainger.
■ ■ ■
Allie’s house phone rang as she and Rand stepped out of the car. Lunch had been a waste. Allie couldn’t get a bite past the lump in her throat, and all they did was rehash what they all knew—Sidney had Len. No one could find Sidney, who was planning to skip town in less than twenty-four hours, leaving Len who knew where. If—her mind refused to go there.
“Hello.”
“Did you check your caller ID before you answered?”
“Yes.”
“So you knew it was me?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Well, thank you for answering normally. It’s disconcerting when someone blurts out ‘hello, Mother’ when she answers the phone.” There was a silence as she waited for Allie’s comeback. Allie had none. “Do you have any news about your brother?”
“Yes and no.”
“Well, pick one,” her mother snapped. Then, Allie heard her draw in a deep breath. “I apologize.”
“That’s OK. I don’t think any of us is at our best.” She wiggled her little toe.
“What have you learned?”
Allie didn’t want to give her mother false fear or hope, but Vivian deserved to know the truth. “We think we know who has him. His name is Sidney Finch. He’s a former police officer—”
“I know who Sidney Finch is. I read the papers. He’s that man who tried to shoot you last summer. So he did this to Len because of you?”
Patience. Allie took the phone over to the sofa and sat. “He escaped from where they were holding him pending trial.”
“I didn’t read about that in the papers.”
“The sheriff is keeping it quiet for the moment. All we know is that Sidney kidnapped Len from the Hilton—”
“Where you sent him.”
“From the Hilton where I sent him, fully knowing that someone was going to kidnap him.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic, Allison. What else?”
“We know what Sidney is driving, but we don’t know where he’s holding Len right now. He—”
Her cell phone rang. Rand had been standing watching her face as she talked to her mother. Now, he reached into her purse and pulled out her cell. “It’s Bobby,” he mouthed.
“Gotta go, Mom. This might be some information about Len.”
She disconnected and took her cell phone. “Bobby?”
“I see him,” Bobby said. “He drove by, but I must have had my head turned. I can see him now. He’s just about to turn on A1A heading for…” Allie heard construction noise in the background. Someone yelled something unintelligible. “Looks like he’s headed for the Bee Line again.”
Allie was already reaching for her purse. “How’s traffic?”
“Light. Well, moderate. No accidents I can see. I’m climbing to get a better view.”
“Be careful. And don’t hang up.”
She raced toward her Jeep with Rand behind her. “I’m driving,” she called as he headed for the driver’s side. After only the briefest hesitation, he reversed direction and climbed in the passenger seat. “You’d better buckle up. We’re not going to lose him this time.”
She fishtailed as she spun out of her driveway. Rand grabbed the chicken bar. “You will be gentle with me, won’t you?”
“Just hang on.”
“Woman of few words.”
“Where is he now?” Allie said into the phone, then she punched “speaker” and dropped it in her lap.
“He just entered the causeway. He’s not driving fast.”
“Doesn’t want to get stopped,” Rand muttered. Allie nodded.
“I can see your Jeep,” Bobby said. “He’s about six—no, seven—cars in front of you. If you want to catch him, you need to speed up.”
“I don’t want to catch him. I want to follow him. He has my brother, and I want to know where.”
“I’ll keep you in sight as long as possible. I’m climbing higher now.”
“For God’s sake, be careful, Bobby. Your father will kill me if anything happens to you.”
“I’m always careful.” She heard a sharp intake of breath. “Oops!”
“What?”
“Just kidding.”
“Don’t kid. Where is he?”
“Five cars ahead of you. Four. Three. You’re driving like a bat outta hell. I’m going to lose visibility soon, so you’d better move up some… one more car. That puts two between you. He’s riding toward the center lane, so keep toward the shoulder.”
Allie and Rand exchanged glances. Allie said, “Bobby, when this is over, I’m going to give you a big kiss.”
“Oh, yeah? What will your boyfriend say?”
Rand picked up the phone from her lap. “Her boyfriend will say ‘Get to it.’”
“I’ve lost visibility of both of you.”
“No sweat. We’re on it. And thanks, bud.”
Sidney took the US-1 exit and turned right toward Titusville. Allie kept two cars between them and hugged the shoulder as Bobby had told her. About three miles down the road, he signaled a turn into a trailer park. Allie kept going. As soon as she could, she pulled over and prepared to make a U-turn.
“Give him a few minutes to get inside.”
Allie nodded.
“Do you have your Glock?”
“Glove compartment.” She was having trouble getting her breath. They were so close. So close.
Rand pulled the Glock out of the glove compartment and checked the magazine. Then, he dropped it in her jacket pocket.
“OK, now. Take it slow. First, I’ll call Dad. Remember, when we get in there, we’re looking for the bike. When we find it, don’t stop. Once we determine which trailer they’re in, we can get the manager to knock on the door. We’ll get him to say he heard some noises and wanted to make sure everything’s all right or something like that. We’ll stay out of sight.”
“What will that accomplish?”
“We’ll know for sure Sidney’s there.”
“Oh. What if the manager’s not home?”
Rand stared at her. “We’ll deal with that when it happens.”
“Shouldn’t we have a plan B?”
“Plan B is to barge into the trailer and shoot Sidney dead and hope Len doesn’t get caught in the crossfire.”
Allie shuddered. “Not much of a plan B.”
“Not much of a plan A, either, but they’re all we have to work with.”
While Rand called Cord, Allie dialed Sheryl. “Where are you?”
“I’m still at Lester’s. Where the hell are you?”
“I found him.”
“Who?”
&nbs
p; “Sidney. Len, I hope.” She gave Sheryl her location. “Bobby spotted him. We followed him from Cape Canaveral to this trailer park. He’s still on the Harley. We’re waiting for him to go inside. Rand’s calling Cord, but I wanted you to know.”
“I’m on my way.”
Allie heard the phone snatched out of Sheryl’s hand. “We’re on the way,” Del boomed.
She pulled the phone away from her ear. God, the man had a set of lungs.
Twenty-seven
“Cavalry is on the way. Let’s go,” Rand said.
Allie started the Jeep and eased back on the road. She’d have to be careful. Sidney knew her car. Intimately, she thought, remembering his shooting out her tires.
She turned into the trailer park at a crawl. Singlelane asphalt roads in various states of disrepair divided several rows of trailers. If two cars passed each other, one would have to pull off on the sparse grass. She slipped the Jeep into four-wheel drive just in case. They weren’t getting stuck this time.
The place was tomb quiet. The first trailer they passed on the right had a cardboard sign propped in the window that read “Manager.” No car on the gravel parking pad beside it, no lights in the windows. She and Rand exchanged glances. So much for Plan A.
They made their way down the first row without spotting the Harley. Then, the second. “Where is he?” Allie whispered. He was here; he had to be. She could feel her skin crawl.
It felt eerie. Not one person was in sight. No sound came from any trailer. It was as if everyone had vanished off the planet, only no one had thought to mention it to her.
There were six lanes between the eight rows of trailers, with ten to fifteen trailers in each row. The ones at the front of the park were nice, with tidy flowerbeds and window boxes, painted lattice around the bases to conceal the wheels and cinderblocks. The second row was not quite as nice; the third, even less so.
By the time they finished the fourth row, Allie felt panic clutching at her throat. If Len wasn’t here… She shivered. But Sidney had pulled in here. If it really was Sidney on that motorcycle. If this were a wild goose chase, she’d lose her mind.
Many trailers had makeshift sheds and dilapidated outbuildings where he could have hidden the motorcycle. Had they given him too much time with their stupid delay tactics?
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