Dire

by Jeff Carson

She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Did either of them use each other’s names?”

  “The crazy guy’s is some weird name.”

  “Zeke?”

  “Yes, Zeke.”

  He took out his own phone and dialed Patterson.

  Lauren watched him with an unreadable expression, probably wanting to trust him but unable to.

  “Hell—” Patterson cleared her throat and fumbled the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hey. Where are you?”

  “On the couch in your office. Where are you?”

  “I’m with Lauren.”

  “In Frisco?”

  “The guy that’s holding Ella Coulter, I have the number he uses to call Lauren.”

  “You do?” She grunted and shuffled the phone some more. “Okay, go ahead.”

  He relayed the digits.

  “Foreign?” She shuffled the phone and he heard some keys clicking in the background. “Looks like Vienna, Austria. Which means …”

  “What?”

  “He might be using a call-masking service online. He uses his computer to make a call, and the service routes it through different IP addresses around the world.” She went silent for a few seconds. “Or maybe he just has an Austrian phone. I’ll look into it.”

  “Don’t tell anyone.” His tone was ice.

  “Rachette and Hernandez?”

  “Yeah, they’re fine, but nobody else. Especially if you get a location on that number. We can’t move until we have a rock-solid plan on this. The more uninformed people involved in this, the more that can go wrong.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Talk to you soon.” He hung up.

  Lauren looked up at him. “What’s your deputy going to do?”

  “She’s going to check into that phone number.”

  “What do you do?” she asked. “Just put the number in a database and it shows where you are? Isn’t that what happens when somebody dials 911?”

  Wolf had been a cop in the digital age long enough to know sometimes it was difficult to find a phone. It was a serious problem that Enhanced-911 engineers and cell-phone carriers were trying to iron out. People on cells could call 911 easier than ever nowadays, from more remote places, but it in no way guaranteed that help was on its way. It depended on the surrounding cell infrastructure and many other factors.

  “It depends. If he shut off the phone, then it won’t be transmitting. We might be able to get historical data, but … we’ll see.”

  And then there was the whole call-routing thing.

  Wolf looked over. The hope had leaked out of Lauren’s eyes.

  “My deputy is the best. She’s looking right now.”

  Lauren closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. “What if they can’t find her?”

  Chapter 28

  “I need to know everything,” Wolf said. “From the call you got at work up until now. Everything.”

  “Okay.” Lauren sniffed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Like you said, I got a call at work. It was from a number I didn’t know, and I thought it might be you … you know, your work number. But it was a guy. He said, ‘I have your daughter and nanny. Leave work and come home now. Don’t tell anyone or I’ll kill them both.’ And then he hung up.

  “So I left work and came home. The whole drive back to Rocky Points, I thought about telling you. I passed by the Sheriff’s Department, and I almost … but he’d said not to tell anyone or he’d kill them.”

  Tears fell from her eyes.

  “I went home, saw the car parked outside. Inside there were two men with my daughter and nanny in the kitchen, waiting for me. One of them was this really dirty, scary guy. He had a knife in his hand and was jabbing it everywhere, saying he was going to cut us with it. He had constricted pupils, shaky hands, scratched himself. Classic signs of being completely screwed up on drugs.

  “And then there was the other guy. He was completely different. Calm and cool, and he had a pair of purple latex gloves on, which freaked me out.”

  She zoned out for a few seconds.

  “Then what happened?” Wolf asked, his voice a tiny nudge.

  “It was like this rubber-glove guy was putting the scary guy on display. Letting him talk, jab his knife everywhere. And then the gloved guy told him to shut up. He had a gun and he pointed it at the scary guy … Zeke. He was like a pet. A sick pet to this other guy.”

  Wolf watched as Lauren faced her memories with clenched eyes.

  “The gloved guy told Zeke to take Barbara, my nanny. And he did. Grabbed her by the hair and took her downstairs into the basement. Then they were outside, walking through the snow toward the forest. She didn’t even have shoes on.” She closed her eyes. “The guy with the gloves on told me that he was doing this to let me know he was serious. I begged him not to do anything. Told him I knew he was serious. But he just watched as they disappeared into the trees, and then a few minutes later Zeke came out.” Lauren’s voice shuddered. “His arms were covered in blood. He was wiping them on the snow. And then the gloved guy pointed the gun at me and Ella and told me to open the safe for him.”

  “He wanted the Glacier pendant,” Wolf said.

  “Yeah. You know about it?”

  Wolf nodded.

  “But I told him I didn’t have it. Because I didn’t. He didn’t like that and told me to show him. So I picked up Ella and went into the office. I gave him the money inside, two thousand in cash. I told him the pendant was in the bank vault in Denver, where my parents left it, and where it’s been ever since.

  “He forced us back into the kitchen.” Lauren stared into nothing. “Zeke was back by then. I’ve never been so scared in my life, walking back to the kitchen with him in it after what he’d just done to Barbara … he was washing blood off his hands in the sink. He saw me watching him, and that seemed to piss him off so he came over and hit me.” She felt her bruised cheekbone under her eye.

  “Then what?” Wolf asked.

  “Then the rubber-gloved guy told him to relax, and he gave him a bag and a syringe, and Zeke took it and disappeared into the dining room for a while. The other guy took out his phone and called my brother. And he told my brother he was holding us hostage and he wanted him to come up to Rocky Points, or else he’d kill us.”

  “He told your brother to get the pendant at the bank in Denver and to bring it up?” Wolf asked.

  She frowned. “No. I thought he was going to, but he didn’t. He just told him to come up. To get in the car and drive, or else we were dead. He wouldn’t have been able to get the pendant anyway. It was left to me by my parents when they died.”

  “How did this man call your brother? Did he have your brother’s number in his phone?”

  She thought about it. “No. He went into my phone and got the number.”

  Wolf nodded.

  “And then we just sat there and stared at one another while we waited for my brother. I sat with Ella at the kitchen table while she colored, and the crazy guy was doing his heroin in the other room. The guy with the gloves just stood like a statue, watching us.”

  Wolf narrowed his eyes. “And then I called.”

  “Yes.” She drew in a breath. “And then you called my phone. And that set off a whole thing, because the guy was holding my phone, and he saw it said Detective David when you called, and he freaked out. He listened to your voicemail, and then he started asking about you, who you were. I told him you were a cop. I thought that news would maybe scare him off. But instead he made us get ready to leave immediately.”

  “Because of my voicemail,” Wolf said. “Because I said I was looking forward to our lunch date and I’d be a little late coming over.”

  “That explains it … he was calm and collected before and then went into freak-out mode after your call. Ella and I watched him pace back and forth for a while, and then he shut off my phone, took out the battery, and gave me this phone. He called my brother back and told him there was a change of plan. That my brother was not to c
ome to my house, but to meet me somewhere else. He made me tell him which gas station would be the best to meet at.”

  “The Mackery.”

  Lauren sniffed. “Yeah.”

  “So,” Wolf said, “instead of your brother being forced to come up and meet you guys at your house, I called and screwed up this guy’s plans. So you all had to scramble and get out of there. He went up Rainbow Creek Canyon with your daughter and this guy, Zeke.”

  She nodded. “And I waited at the Mackery for my brother. While I was waiting, he called me with the old couple’s house address. Up at the end of Rainbow Creek Road.

  “My brother got to the gas station. We filled up and drove up there. When we went inside, the old couple were sitting on the couch and Ella was set up in a room in back. The guy with the gloves shoved my brother in the back room with her. Barely even let me say hi to her.”

  Wolf thought about the Mackennas’ corpses. “Then what?”

  Lauren gathered herself again. “Then he sent me back out the door to Denver. He said he wanted the pendant and ten thousand cash. He gave me until 8 p.m. to return, and so I got in my brother’s car and drove.”

  She told him about getting the pendant from the vault and how the bank had failed to give her the withdrawal.

  “So you went to Keith Lourde,” Wolf said.

  “Keith Lourde.” She closed her eyes and nodded. “I knew he used to keep a lot of cash lying in the safe of his office. And it was after hours … I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “And you attacked him?”

  “He attacked me.” She looked up at him with pleading eyes. “It was self-defense, I swear.”

  Wolf nodded. “Okay.”

  He sat quietly and listened as Lauren recounted her history with Keith Lourde—how she’d tracked him to the bar downtown, asked him for money, and ended up being assaulted for the second time in her life by the man. She admitted she’d perhaps used too much force, but Wolf thought the punishment fit the crime just right.

  “They think I attacked and robbed him?” she asked.

  “That’s what he told the cops.”

  She twisted her face. “He’s lying, I swear.”

  Wolf put a hand on hers. “I believe you. So what happened next?”

  “I was afraid to tell the man I didn’t have the money, so I lied and told him I did, and then Vail Pass closed and now I’m here with you.”

  “He knows Vail Pass is closed and you can’t make it across?”

  “Yes. He’s got tracking software on that thing and he knows I can’t go anywhere. How did you get here, anyway?”

  “A plow.”

  “A plow?”

  Wolf’s phone rang in his pocket. He leaned back and dug it out of his jeans. “Just a second. Hello?”

  Patterson’s voice was veiled by mountain reception static. “Sir, no luck on the phone. It’s gotta be like I said. He’s using a call-routing service online. There’s no way to track it.”

  Wolf rubbed a hand across his stubble. “Okay. And I take it nobody’s spotted the Jeep Cherokee?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  “Someone acting as cautious as this guy isn’t going to leave the vehicle sitting out in the open. Tell Rachette and Hernandez to come back in.”

  “Okay … so what are we going to do?”

  Wolf looked at Lauren. “I’ll call you back.”

  He hung up and opened his glove compartment. He pulled out a yellow legal pad of paper and a pen and handed it to Lauren. “I need you to draw this guy with the rubber gloves. We can’t find his phone number, but with a drawing of his face we might be able to get an ID on him.”

  She backed away, looking at the paper like it was going to bite her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I already told him I was going to draw him and go to the police. He said if I did he’d kill Ella and himself.” She shook her head. “I’ve decided I’m not going to threaten this guy with anything. Not when he has my daughter. He’s crazy. He has to be if he’s doing something like this. I’m not gambling for my daughter. I won’t draw him.”

  He lowered the paper and pen.

  They sat in silence for several minutes while Wolf contemplated their position. He thought through different options, came at everything from various angles, and concluded that no matter what, no matter how he tried to tilt the odds in their favor, it was always going to be a big gamble.

  He pulled out his phone and dialed again.

  “Hello?” Patterson answered.

  “It’s me.”

  “What’s the plan?” she asked.

  “First, I need you to call the CDOT dispatch and tell them Greg Nanteekut can go back home without me.”

  “Greg Nanteekut? The snowplow driver?”

  “Yeah. He led me here over Vail Pass. He’s waiting for me at the highway exit here in Frisco. Tell him I’m not going to need him on the way back.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to wait and come back with Lauren when the pass reopens.”

  “Okay … then what?”

  “You drove your civi vehicle into work today, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. We’ll also need Hernandez or Rachette’s car.”

  “If you want a car that runs, then you’ll want Hernandez’s car. What are you thinking?”

  Wolf laid out his plan.

  Chapter 29

  Matthew Bristol held his breath as he stared at the fluctuating audio sine waves on the computer screen. One second the voices were soft behind a waterfall-like static, and the next so loud they stretched his eardrums, but he heard every word as it was spoken.

  “… I’m not gambling for my daughter. I won’t draw him.”

  He listened carefully for another fifteen minutes, and when he was satisfied he’d heard enough, he took off the headphones and wiped the sweat from behind his ears with his sleeve.

  He was still shell-shocked he’d checked the microphone-listening function when he had. Leaning forward, he kissed the screen of his laptop.

  He swiveled in the well-oiled chair and surveyed the huge darkened room he now sat in. A cone of light sprayed from the tiny desk lamp, faintly illuminating the stuffed animal heads lining the walls. It was amazing how much money some people had that they could fill such a large room with such frivolous crap. He could only imagine the things they had to do to get this kind of money.

  A bead of sweat ran from his palm down to the tip of his finger under his latex glove. He ripped both off and let his hands breath for a few seconds. The skin was white and wrinkled, like he’d been in a bathtub for an hour, so he pulled a bottle of talcum powder from his pocket and sprinkled some on his hands, then put the old gloves in his zipper pocket with the other used pairs.

  After extracting a new set from his other pocket, he put them on and stood to stretch his back. He needed to walk off some of the nervous energy, so he moved to the yawning hallway off the side of the room.

  A sliver of light flickered underneath the door at the end. A whistle escaped the closed door, like somebody on Looney Tunes had just slipped on a banana peel.

  Shuffling on his socks across the smooth wood floor, he cocked an ear to the first door on the left. He could hear the soft inhales and exhales of Zeke in his heroin coma.

  Bristol twisted the knob and opened the door.

  A tiny lamp on the end table illuminated the scene within. Zeke was cocked sideways on the bed and lying flat on his back, a rubber strap next to one bared arm, a syringe next to that. The arm had deep, scabbed holes in it, each surrounded by jet-black skin.

  The muted television played an infomercial for an overpriced magical blender.

  Bristol walked in and poked off the TV.

  “I was watching that.” Zeke’s voice was like a dying whisper.

  “Really?” Bristol smiled and pushed the power button again. “You gonna start juicing after you get your cut?”

  “My cut?”

/>   Bristol smiled wider. “Your cut of the money.”

  “Pssh. Yeah. I need some more.” Zeke’s eyes and lips moved, nothing else.

  “You sure? You need sleep.”

  “Can’t sleep if I don’t have any more. You just woke me up.”

  “Yeah.” Bristol looked at the television and then at Zeke. The guy’s heart had to be almost dead. His brain fried. He needed him alive and active in a few hours. “How much?”

  “Just a baggy.”

  Just a baggy? My God, the guy was suicidal. And what if this batch killed him?

  Zeke sat up. His pasty white skin glowed in the darkened room. “Give me more asshole! More! More!”

  Bristol jumped onto the bed, gripped his throat, and slammed him down onto the mattress, careful to keep away from the bouncing syringe as he straddled him. He brought his mouth close to Zeke’s face. “Shut up.”

  “More!”

  Dealing with the child in the other room was nothing compared to this guy. “Okay. Chill.”

  Bristol slid off the bed and pulled out a ten-gram baggy, two full teaspoons of heroin, from his inner pocket. That made seven remaining—more than enough to kill the man with an overdose in the end.

  “Take it easy, though. I need you in a few hours—to finish the job.” He dropped the baggy next to the blackened spoon and lighter on the end table. There was a singed spot on the carpet. “And don’t set the place on fire, huh?”

  Zeke was already up and sitting cross-legged, twisting the tie off the bag.

  Bristol watched for a few seconds, marveling at the power of the drug, and then stepped out of the room and locked the door.

  Walking to the end of the hall, he twisted the lock and opened the other door.

  Michael Coulter huddled in a ball on the floor beneath a mountain of blankets, like he’d gotten an attack of the chills since the last time Bristol had checked on him.

  The television showed yet another episode of SpongeBob SquarePants. They must be having a marathon.

  The girl was on the bed, tucked under the covers, only a tuft of blonde hair visible above the sheets. The glass of orange juice was empty. He wondered whether she had to pee. It had been four hours.