The Ultimate Mystery Thriller Horror Box Set (7 Mystery Thriller Horror Bestsellers)

by Perkins, Cathy

  He couldn’t hear anything over his own heavy breathing, so he sucked in a deep breath and held it while he tried to listen. Silence. Well, not total silence. The rain pattered on the leaves. His heart pounded in his ears.

  He looked around for tracks. If he didn’t find any marks quickly, the rain would wash them away, so he kept searching. No one could run full speed through the woods and not leave a track, especially when the soil was so soft. He followed the same direction of travel and within fifty yards found a slow-moving stream. He searched the bank for a track and still couldn’t find anything. Water ran down his face and down the back of his neck. He shrugged deeper into the Arctic shell he had purchased as a coat.

  The thing was worthless. It claimed to be waterproof, but wasn’t, and it did absolutely nothing to block the wind. He looked up through the trees at the ominous gray clouds, and a stupid song went through his head, a song about the bluest skies being in Seattle. He’d been in Seattle for three days, and had yet to even see the sky.

  His rented Volvo was parked off the road about a mile from the ancient white house, and he sloshed through the rain-drenched woods trying to find a short route to it. The sky grew darker and he glanced at his watch. It was only four p.m. The sun, hidden behind the dark clouds, was beginning to set.

  He thought about the heater in the car and smiled. He was going to crank that heat up full, thaw out, and dry off. As soon as he saw the silver paint of the Volvo, he punched the button on the key. The alarm chirped merrily as it shut off, and the doors unlocked.

  He stepped out of the woods.

  “Get on the ground!”

  The sudden command startled him. It took him a second to locate the person who had barked the order. A King County deputy stood near Chase’s car, with his gun pointed at him.

  Bowden looked past the gun and into the deputy’s eyes. They didn’t waver.

  “Get down! Now!” The deputy took a step towards him.

  The soggy grass didn’t look very appealing, and Bowden took one last glance at the unwavering stare of the deputy before dropping to his knees. He clasped his hands behind his head without being told to do so.

  “All the way down.”

  He sucked in a deep breath of air and let it out. This wasn’t his idea of fun. He knew the deputy could cuff him this way if he wanted to, but the deputy had to play a little game with him. Lying in the water, he waited for the deputy to come up and put the cuffs on him.

  There was a short, beep… beep as the deputy keyed his mike. “Nora Three. I’ve got one at gunpoint.”

  The metallic response of the dispatcher came back. “Nora Three has one at gunpoint. Your location Nora Three?”

  “I’m at the car.”

  “Received. Nora Three has one at gunpoint at the car.”

  Bowden lifted his head off the ground until his ear was out of the water puddle that had formed under him. It was cold, damp, and unwelcoming.

  “Put your head down!”

  He silently cursed the deputy, and put his ear back in the water.

  “Put your arms out. Palms up.”

  This was academy stuff. Hopefully he didn’t have a nervous recruit holding the gun on him. He hadn’t noticed if the deputy was indexing, or if his finger was resting on the trigger. He could hear the sirens now, faintly at first, but growing stronger.

  Two patrol cars splashed off the road, and slid to a stop on the wet grass. Doors slammed and two deputies ran forward, the gear on their duty belts clanking with each step. He heard them closing in on him. They’ll drop. He tightened for the impact.

  A knee dropped into his back with the full force of the deputy’s weight and drove the breath from his lungs. The second deputy dropped down on the back of his neck. Strong hands grabbed his and slapped on the steel cuffs. One of the officers stood up, and the other turned Bowden onto his side. The deputy ran a hand up his side and felt the shoulder holster.

  “Gun!” he shouted. “He’s got a gun.” The deputy grabbed him by the hair and shoved his face into the puddle. “Don’t move!”

  He lifted his head to get some air and the deputy shoved it back down. Rough hands ripped his coat down over his arms, and his Glock was torn from the holster.

  “It’s loaded!” the deputy shouted.

  What other kind was there?

  The deputy handed Bowden’s Glock to another deputy that stood close by. That man released the magazine and snapped the slide back, so that the bullet in the chamber spun into the air and landed with a splat. He scooped it up in his fingers.

  “Gun’s clear.”

  Their searching hands found his notebook and pen in the inside pocket of his jacket. Next his wallet was removed from his pants pocket. These items were handed to another deputy, so that the one doing the searching could keep his hands free.

  The deputy on his back yelled, “Get up!” and jerked up on the cuffs.

  He clinched his teeth as pain seared through his wrists and right shoulder. He struggled to his knees, as the deputy pulled him backwards. It was hard to get on his feet, because the deputy kept jerking him towards the patrol car. He was shoved in and the door slammed.

  The deputy who had drawn down on him put his hand on his heart as he explained how scared he was when the Volvo chirped, and Bowden had appeared out of the forest. The other two started laughing and slapped him on the back. Bowden sat in the back seat and enjoyed the heat.

  One of the deputies opened Bowden’s wallet and looked at the license. He keyed his mike and spoke into it. “Nora Six with a name out of New York.”

  The police radio in the car kicked the words back out for Bowden to hear.

  “Go ahead Nora Six,” the dispatcher responded.

  “Out of New York; last of Bowden, first of Chase, middle ‘A’ like Adam. D.O.B. is one, two… zero, eight… six zero.”

  “Received.”

  Another unit spoke up on the air. “David One. What’s the E.T.A. on the M.E.?”

  “Stand by, David One,” the dispatcher said. There was a moment of silence then the dispatcher came back over the air. “David One, the M.E. will be there in about two hours.”

  David One answered dejectedly. “Received.”

  “And Nora Six, your name is clear and current out of New York. No record, Washington.”

  The deputy outside the car glanced at him through the side windows before keying his mike. “Can I get physicals on him?”

  “Affirmative. White male. Six-foot-one. One-ninety-five. Black hair. Green eyes.”

  The deputy leaned closer to the window. Bowden looked at him so the deputy could see his green eyes.

  “Received.”

  The radio squawked again. “David One to…Nora Three?”

  “Nora Three.”

  “Do you have a suspect?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “What’s he saying?”

  “Nothing yet. Haven’t had a chance to talk to him. I’m still going through his car.”

  “Received.”

  “Um… He’s got the address written down here… on a piece of paper. I just found it in the car.”

  “Received.”

  Bowden adjusted the cuffs on his wrists. He wondered if the guy in the red Corvette had called the cops, or if it was the man he had chased into the woods. It was almost dark now. There weren’t any roads on that side of the house and really no other place to park a car. He smiled as he realized that the man in gray would be spending the night out in the wind and the rain.

  One of the deputies came up on the air again. “Nora Six with a plate.”

  “Nora Six.”

  “Adam, Boy, Paul… Six, Eight, One.”

  Bowden recognized the plate. It belonged to the red Corvette. He had jotted it down in his notebook when the car had pulled up the driveway. He had also written down the time of arrival and the time of departure.

  “Nora Six,” the dispatcher said. “Your plate is clear and current to an Andre Fonck out of Kirkland.”
/>
  “Received.”

  David One came over the radio without identifying himself. “Nora Six, do you have that vehicle?”

  “Negative.”

  There was a pause before David One spoke again. “The last name matches the D.O.A. Where did you get the plate from?”

  “It was written in a notebook the suspect had in his possession.”

  “Received. Bring him to my location.”

  The arresting officer got on the air. “Nora Three will do the transport.”

  The dispatcher’s voice answered again. “Received. And David One, what about the rental car?”

  “Impound as evidence.”

  “Received. Radio will be on the line with Lincoln.”

  Nora Three opened the door and slid behind the wheel. He flashed Bowden a smile. “So, how are the cuffs?”

  They were cutting into his wrists and turning his hands blue, but he didn’t answer. The deputy shrugged and put the car into reverse.

  He turned to look out the back window and flashed him another smile. “Most people complain about them being too tight.”

  Bowden smiled back and said, “How many make a formal complaint in writing?”

  “Crap.” Nora Three shoved the car into park. He climbed out of the car and Bowden turned and put his back to the door so the deputy could get to the cuffs. Once he had loosened them, he climbed back into the patrol car. The rest of the trip was made in silence.

  The drive leading to the ancient white house was blocked at the street by two patrol cars with their overheads flashing. One of them pulled forward so that Bowden could be driven through. Six marked units and two unmarked cars were parked near the house. Another vehicle, shaped like an ambulance, but with “King County Mobile Command Unit” written on the side, was parked in the driveway.

  The deputy driving him picked up his radio. “Nora Three’s arrived. Where do you want the suspect?”

  “David One. Bring him to the Command Unit.”

  “Received.”

  The deputy opened the back door and Bowden climbed out. The deputy grabbed the cuffs and wrenched them up behind his back, so that the steel applied pressure to the wrist bone. He winced, but refused to say anything.

  The door of the Command Unit opened, and he stepped inside the vehicle. Three people were inside, one of them wearing a suit.

  That one spoke to the deputy who brought him in. “Have you read him his rights?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Okay.”

  The suit pointed at a chair, and Bowden sat down. “You have the right to remain silent…”

  2

  Bowden sat silently and listened to his Miranda Warning as read by the person he knew only as David One. The guy was about the same size and build as himself and maybe even the same age. He wore a dark blue suit that had been tailored to his athletic frame.

  The suit tossed the card onto the command unit’s desk when he was finished, and asked, “Do you understand your rights?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m Detective Cooper. Sorry about the cuffs, but I can’t take them off in here. You understand, with all this stuff around.” Cooper waved a hand at the electronic equipment that surrounded them. “But it sure beats sitting outside. I got to tell you though; it looks like you’ve been outside a while.”

  Chase looked at the square jaw of the man who was speaking to him, then scanned upward until he stared into the detective’s brown eyes. “It appears that I am under arrest but no one has told me why.”

  “Really? Take a guess.”

  “Parking in a ‘no parking’ zone?”

  “No.” Cooper smiled. “Well, I guess you can’t blame me for trying, though I didn’t think you’d come right out and say, ‘murder,’ but you’ve obviously played the game before.”

  “I want a lawyer.”

  Cooper picked up the Miranda card. “Hell, I haven’t even asked you a question yet.”

  “I want a lawyer.”

  “Okay. You can call one from the station.”

  Bowden nodded towards the cell phone sitting on the table. “I’ll use that.”

  “Your call will be monitored and recorded. That phone is relayed through the dispatch center.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “You’ll sign a waiver?” Cooper asked.

  He smiled at him. “Of course.”

  The detective slid a drawer open and rummaged through it. He found a piece of paper that had the words “wire tap” written across the top. With a pen he crossed out certain lines and hand-wrote “two party consent” on the form. He then printed and signed his own name and printed Bowden’s name on it. He spun the paper on the desk for Chase to read.

  “That will work.”

  Cooper held the pen over the paper, and Bowden grabbed it with his hands still behind his back. It took a moment to move around so that he could reach the paper in the correct spot, then he signed it.

  “This will be on speaker phone,” Cooper advised.

  “That’s fine.”

  Bowden gave Cooper the number, and he dialed it.

  As the phone rang, Cooper asked, “New York?”

  He nodded.

  The phone was answered on the other end by a male. “Hello?”

  “Mister Fonck, this is Chase Bowden, and before you say anything you need to know that the call is being monitored and recorded by the King County Police. Detective Cooper has informed me that I am under arrest for murder, and I assume that I will be booked into the King County Jail. I will need a lawyer.”

  “Very well.”

  Cooper stepped closer to the phone. “Mister Fonck, this is Detective Jim Cooper.”

  “Hello, detective. Monitoring a phone call to a lawyer violates client/attorney privacy rights. This is highly irregular.”

  “Yes, it does. But, uh...the suspect here, Chase Bowden, was supposed to be calling a lawyer, not a…um, relative, as I assume you are, of the victim.”

  “Who is the victim, detective?”

  “A Mister Adam Fonck.”

  “Thank you. Adam was my nephew. I am Bowden’s lawyer. Chase, you are hereby being instructed by your attorney to remain silent. I’ll be in touch with you soon. Goodbye… and detective, you have the wrong man.” The line went dead.

  Cooper slammed the phone on the counter and glared at his suspect. “You bastard!”

  Bowden grinned.

  “How do you know Fonck? Do you know the victim? How well did they know each other?”

  He shook his head. “Detective, I’ve been advised to not answer any of your questions.”

  “Shut up!” Cooper said.

  The two uniformed deputies laughed.

  Detective Cooper spun on them. “Shut up!”

  “Hey,” one of them said, “I want a lawyer.” They both started laughing again.

  Cooper picked up the radio and keyed it. The two deputies were instantly silent, though they couldn’t wipe the smiles from their faces.

  “David One. I need a transport for one to K.C.J.”

  “Received,” said the dispatcher. “Nora Three?”

  “Nora Three. Received. I’m still there.”

  Escorted outside, he stepped from the Command Unit to the patrol car and slid into the back seat. As soon as the young deputy put the car in drive, he cranked up the radio to drown out any questions that Bowden might have for him. The station played a variety of ‘80’s rock and touted itself as The Point.

  Other than the sheer volume of the music, he enjoyed listening to Rod Stewart, Phil Collins and others as they made a forty-five minute trip into downtown Seattle—the last twenty minutes of which was spent sitting in traffic on the I-90 Bridge.

  Later Bowden stood in the fish bowl on the north side of the booking counter and waited his turn. It took almost 30 minutes for the deputy to complete the S.I.R., which was used as the booking form. He would have liked to get a look at the statement of probable cause that the deputy had written on the back. He won
dered if they could list anything other than circumstantial evidence and answered his own question, knowing that the medical examiner hadn’t even made it to the crime scene yet. They couldn’t even place him in the house.

  He was given a red jump suit, new underwear, and new socks. He paused a moment before putting the jump suit on. Red was for violent offenders. He stood between two guards as he rode the elevator up. When the door opened, he jammed a finger in his own eye.

  It started watering and he rubbed it. His eye turned red and his nose started running. He started to sniff, and as he stepped through the last door into the population, he began to move his hands and head in fast jerky, motions. His glance darted from one prisoner to another, and they began to back away. They had the idea now that the new guy was whacked out on PCP or something, which assured him that he wouldn’t be messed with.

  He slept well that night, had his probable cause hearing at nine the next morning, and was released by ten, with the judge giving the arresting officer a stern warning about having sufficient evidence for an arrest.

  At noon he drove a rented two-door Mercedes back to Issaquah to the ancient white house. The rain fell heavily. Rivulets of water poured down the long, dirt driveway, running between the two patrol vehicles parked in front of the house and the yellow police tape. Huge fir trees stretched far up the mountain behind it, softening all sound. He walked up to the patrol cars, shielding himself with an umbrella, and keeping his new clothes dry.

  One of the deputies rolled his window down a crack. “Can I help you?”

  Bowden looked past him at the house. It looked empty. “Is Detective Cooper here yet?” he asked.

  “Not yet.”

  He made an act of looking at the rain. “When he gets here, tell him I’m already inside.” He walked towards the yellow tape.

  The deputy jumped out of his car. “You’re not going in there.”