“So, you just went back home.” George looked disgusted.
“Of course not,” Oswald said defensively. “I’m not a monster. I waited under one of the trees on the other side of the road so I could show the police where the accident was.”
James pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes as if in pain. “So, did you see anyone leaving the area? Hear anything else?”
“Not really. There was a guy who went by on a big motorcycle, but he didn’t stop or anything.”
“Did you get the license plate?” George asked, and Oswald shook his head.
“Nope, but it was one of those big Goldwings. You know how much those bikes cost?” He gave a snort of derision. “A guy has to have some major bucks to get one of those. Might as well get a Caddy.”
George glanced at James. “Any sort of description of the driver?”
“Um, he had a black helmet on, and was wearing dark clothes. That’s about all I can remember. He went by me real fast.”
“So, nothing else?” James asked. “That’s it?”
“Nope, not that I can think of.” Oswald looked at the men, suddenly hopeful. “Hey, you guys know everyone in town. Do you know anybody who’d be able to fix my truck for cheap?”
AFTER TURNING DOWN Oswald’s offer of day-old coffee, James and George walked back outside. The afternoon light was waning a bit, and there was a chill in the air.
As soon as they were away from Oswald Pike’s house James put a hand on George’s arm.
“Hey, there’s a guest back at the Inn who drives a Goldwing, and his buddy does, too. Amanda said something about them driving from Baja up to the Canadian border on a major road trip, that they’d been planning the trip for years. Might be a coincidence, but it might be worth checking out.”
“We don’t see many Goldwings in this area,” George said, his eyebrows pulled together as he thought it over. “Couldn’t hurt to check it out.”
“I’ll take care of it,” James said, pulling out his keys. “Let me know what the lab says about the car, if they find anything at all.”
“You sure you’re up to talking to those motorcycle guys?” George asked. When James frowned at him he put up his hands in mock self-defense. “Look, I’m just saying your emotions are all over the place right now, and you know what that can do to a cop. The last thing we need right now is for you to get in trouble for putting your hands on a suspect.” He zipped up his jacket against the cold. “Don’t go any do anything that could jeopardize the investigation, okay?”
For the first time since he’d known George Ortiz, James had the sudden urge to hit him square on the jaw. What he said made real sense and was exactly what a good lawman should do.
The problem was James was ready to do whatever it took to get Amanda home.
Chapter 8
Amanda glared up at her captor, every line in her face reflecting defiance.
“Let me go, you big creep! Why did you bring me here? What could you possibly gain by keeping me tied up like this?”
The middle-aged man looked down his nose and regarded her with the detached interest he might give a yowling cat. He slid back the Oregon Ducks ballcap he was wearing, revealing a patch of thinning, sandy-colored hair. Still wearing the muddy military boots he’d used to grab her from her car, he crossed his arms over his plaid shirt and made a face of disgust.
“Do you realize you bit me when you started coming out of the anesthetic? I had to drug you all over again. I should probably get a rabies shot.”
She considered saying something really foul, but stopped herself, and he grinned smugly. “You should be happy I’ve taken that rope off from around your feet. Now at least you can get some blood back in them.”
Blood was flowing back into her feet all right. Amanda was doing her best to keep her focus on being belligerent, because there was no way she was going to give the big brute the satisfaction of knowing how much it felt like pins and needles were poking her legs as they woke up.
“Let me guess,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Next you’re going to tell me all about how your husband is some hotshot detective and how I’ll be really sorry if I keep you in my basement. You’ll cry and plead with me to let you go, and promise me you won’t tell anyone I brought you here. Then you’ll say you have no idea what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! You made me smash my car, then drugged me so I passed out, locked me in your car’s trunk, and then dumped me here on the basement floor, chained to this —” she slammed her hands against the thick cast iron pipe that ran from a bend near the ceiling into a hole in the cold concrete floor under her. Sitting down and looking up at her captor wasn’t optimal, but until her legs were usable again it was going to have to do.
“It’s very simple,” he said. “I want my missing money back, and from what I hear, you are the only person who can get it for me.”
“But I don’t know anything about missing money, I swear! I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“That’s not what I hear, Mrs. Landon. From what I can tell, you seem to have a habit of winding up in whatever trouble is going on around Ravenwood Cove, and that sort of reputation isn’t just an accident, you know. It’s earned.” He sucked at a back tooth as he looked at his fingernails. “Most people in little towns pretty much keep to themselves. You seem to spend a lot of time around criminals, from what I can tell.”
“Look, who are you?”
“You can call me Koi. I’m a man of business, and right now my business is to get my cash back in my account.”
“But I don’t know—”
He cut her off, his sudden glare so fierce she automatically shrank back away from it.
“Ken says you got the money, and I made real sure he knew how important it was he was telling the truth.” His thick lips pulled back into a slow, deadly smile. “Yep, real sure.”
“I don’t know anyone from here named Ken!” she practically screamed at him, wishing her words were weapons that she could fling and hurt him.
He pulled over a battered wooden chair and set his considerable bulk into it. “Oh, Ken’s not from here. He’s from Los Angeles, and from what I hear, he was coming up here to see you.”
“This Ken... was from LA?” she asked, her eyes darting to the side. Something started stirring at the back of her mind, a slow suspicion that was too distasteful to even consider.
Koi nodded. “Said you two had been really... close...” — he leered suggestively — “at one time.”
Amanda closed her eyes. “Ken Yoder. That’s who you’re talking about, isn’t it?”
Scoffing, Koi looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Well, who else, missy?”
Ken Yoder. The shallow, deceptive boyfriend she’d finally dumped and moved north when she got tired of his constant criticism and roving eye.
Amanda shifted her face against the thick steel, her hands now bound in front of her and wrapped around the pole.
“If I had eight hundred grand someone had just handed me, do you think I’d be out running errands and worrying about whether the market has navel oranges for tomorrow’s breakfast?” She tried to laugh, but her mouth hurt from where she’d hit the steering wheel. “I’d be off on a cruise somewhere. Someplace warm, where they serve those fancy drinks with little umbrellas in them.”
“Uh huh.” He looked completely unimpressed. “Say, it must be getting kind of uncomfortable, with your arms around that big, cold, pipe. Now, I’m a reasonable man. Really, I am, and I don’t want to do anything I’m going to have to regret later. If you have a single brain in your head you’re going to do some long, hard thinking about how you can help me get that cash back in my hands.”
She looked him square in the eyes. “What did you do to Ken?”
“Ken? Oh, Ken’s fine. He’s cooling his heels back at the motel while I talk with you to get things straightened out, and then we’re going to meet up and get my money.”
<
br /> In the time since she’d lived in Ravenwood Cove, Amanda had dealt with several violent criminals, and she’d developed a sense of when someone was lying.
This man was lying to her face.
Her heart sank. If she was right, Ken was probably dead somewhere. She hadn’t loved the man, and to be honest, she hadn’t liked him either at the end, but she certainly didn’t wish him harm.
Koi stood up, the chair making a scraping sound on the concrete floor as he scooted it back.
“It’s nothing personal. Like I said, this is business. That money was keeping my company afloat, and it’s all mine. Ken had no right to steal it from me, and now I’m just trying to get it back.” He smiled. “You’d be surprised at what I had to do to get in the first place.”
His voice was deceptively calm, but Amanda knew better.
“You killed him, didn’t you?”
He looked at her for a long, slow moment, then the corners of his thick lips curved upward.
“Well, aren’t you the bright bug?”
“Not really,” she said sadly, looking around the basement to see if she could figure a way out of her predicament. “If I’d been smarter I would’ve realized that was one of those tack strips you threw across the road to blow out my tires. Pretty slick of you to pull a stunt like that.”
“Worked like a charm, didn’t it?” He sounded almost proud of himself. “Well, if you’re so sure I’ve hurt poor little Ken, then maybe you’re also aware that I won’t stop at much to get my cash back. I’m a businessman, pure and simple.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m going to give you half an hour to come to your senses. You need to figure out that your only option is to tell me where my money is.”
Amanda had to bite her swollen lip to keep from yelling, ‘but I don’t know where your money is!’. If he believed she was completely ignorant, he couldn’t afford to have her around as a witness, and as a kidnapping victim. Her best hope was to buy enough time to either be rescued or figure a way out of the situation.
When he didn’t get an answer to his statement, Koi gave a loud harrumph of disapproval and grabbed the handrail to the basement stairs. “If I were you, I’d be doing some hard thinking about this whole thing, Mrs. Landon. No one knows about this cabin, and you’re miles away from anyone being able to help you. It’s time you play ball or pay the consequences.”
With those parting words he stomped up the stairs, and she could hear him walk across the creaking wooden floor over her head, toward the tiny living room. There was the sound of a Western movie as the TV clicked on, then more loud footsteps as he walked into the kitchen. There was a rattling of crockery, then the loud beeps as he punched the numbers on a microwave and started it up.
“Time’s ticking away, Mrs. Landon!” he hollered. “I’d suggest you start thinking what you’re going to do. Either that, or pray really, really hard.”
Amanda scanned the basement around her. It was small and damp, with a battered workbench against one cinderblock wall, a tiny window casting partial light across the workbench, and a jumble of old cardboard boxes next to it. Besides the wooden chair, there was nothing else except an old toilet with a wooden seat and no lid, and the stairway upwards. She could hear the TV change channels, then a loud stomping again to the kitchen.
“Think, Amanda, think!” she commanded herself in a hushed whisper. As long as Koi was in the house she was in mortal danger, and she knew it. She strained to hear anything she could, but the TV volume was suddenly turned up.
After several minutes of the movie upstairs blaring loudly, Amanda could suddenly feel a faint vibration in the floor beneath her, a low rumble she hadn’t felt before.
It was a car engine. The same big engine she’d heard and felt when he drove her to the cabin. She’d bet her life on it.
He was leaving as quietly as he could, with the TV blaring upstairs so she’d think he was still in the house. He was sneaking out.
No wonder he’d looked at his watch. He was meeting someone, or had to be somewhere at a specific time.
Amanda’s heart began pounding in her chest as she realized she was alone.
Whatever she was going to do, she’d better do it quick. He could be back anytime, or he could be trying to trick her into taking action.
Whichever it was, now was the time to act.
Chapter 9
When the call came over the radio, James stomped on the gas as he hit the switch for the siren and slapped a rotating light on his dashboard.
The info had been short and simple: male gunshot victim, found in the woods eight miles north of town by two men who were using a log for target practice. The location the dispatcher gave was less than a mile past the seasonal Boy Scout campground. James knew that area like the back of his hand. He’d spent summer after summer of his childhood at camp there, and he’d gotten his Eagle Scout award in the main lodge, with both his parents beaming with pride.
Maybe the call was nothing, but he had been scanning for any sort of unusual activity on the reports and radio, and even if it was just a poacher who had stepped in a hole and accidentally shot himself, James had to check it out.
It wasn’t the first time there had been emergency calls out to this remote area. More than once the cops had been alerted to a burned-out stolen car, or hikers who got lost, or kids who were our growing dope in the high meadows.
As he skidded to a stop at the trailhead entrance, two scared-looking men in bright orange vests flagged him down, one of them still clutching his hunting rifle. “He’s up here, officer!” the younger one said, pointing down the trail. “About a hundred yards in, and on the right. Our buddy’s with him. He used to be a medic in the navy, and he said he thinks the guy is in pretty bad shape.”
James nodded in agreement, and as soon as he slammed the car door the men were already jogging down the trail in front of him.
Exactly as they’d said, it wasn’t far along the path before James could see a blond man in hunter orange, standing up to get their attention.
“Over here! He’s over here!”
James stepped through the short underbrush. On the damp ground in front of him lay a thin man with a brown mustache and an expression of sheer pain. He was immobile, and clutching his bloody chest with both hands. From what James could see, the designer jacket and boots he was wearing probably cost as much as most men made in a month.
“I’m Detective Landon. The ambulance is on the way.” James hesitated for a moment. Normally he’d do what he could to make a gunshot victim comfortable and calm him, but this man’s remaining time on earth might be very brief, and he needed to know. He knelt next to the man.
“We’re looking for a woman who’s missing, and we’re checking with everyone. I need to know if you have any information about my wife, Amanda Landon. Do you?”
The man’s eyes flared wide in sudden fear.
“Landon?” The words were slurred and full of pain. “You’re James Landon?”
“You know me? Or you know her?” James asked, his voice rising as he reached down and grabbed the front of the man’s leather jacket. “Where is she? Where’s Amanda?”
There was no compassion for a wounded man in his voice, only a fierce desperation to know what had happened to his wife.
A deep, ragged sigh. “Oh, that’s just my luck. Figures. The one person who shows up would be Amanda’s husband.”
The man on the ground winced, his eyes shut for a moment as he breathed heavily, and suddenly muttered something under his breath.
“What? What did you say?” James asked, leaning closer. “How did you know I’m Amanda’s husband?”
The man blinked slowly a couple of times, his gaze unfocused, then, in a voice barely above a whisper, said his last words.
“He took her.” He coughed once.
“Goldfish...” he whispered as he breathed out, coughed one, and then his eyes fluttered closed.
James had seen people die before, some victims and some killers. This was
the first time he was so desperate to revive him, to get every shred of knowledge and experience out of the stranger’s brain that he could extract. A few seconds of precarious life had been all he needed to perhaps wring the truth out of the stranger, now lying dead at his feet.
He called the medical examiner’s office to inform him about the newly dead man, and called the sheriff’s office to update them about his status. While waiting, he noticed the victim’s leather billfold, halfway sticking out of his front pants pocket. Using a pen from his jacket, James carefully pulled the wallet out farther, then used the edged to open it. It was full of cash, with several hundred-dollar bills in the slot, but James was looking at the man’s drivers license.
Kenneth Yoder from Los Angeles, California.
He knew that name.
A sudden chill ran down James’ spine. Amanda’s ex-boyfriend was in the area, doing who knows what, and he’d been shot in the chest and left to die. The person who did it hadn’t even wanted to check out how much cash he had in his wallet.
And with her missing, Yoder’s death was somehow linked to it all.
Maybe he’d taken her and been shot after he put her somewhere.
Or maybe the person who took her had shot him.
By the time the ambulance arrived James was already on his phone, in his car, heading to the sheriff’s station. Maybe taking a different route back might spark some sort of luck and he’d be able to see something unusual, or perhaps the townspeople who were out in droves to search backroads and support the police officers had found something.
Please protect her, Lord, James prayed, at first silently, then out loud as he gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could. We don’t need luck. We need a miracle from God.
Chapter 10
James hadn’t planned on the Inn’s big front door slamming quite so hard into the wall, and he winced when it banged open. The cut crystal insert in the center was original, and he knew Amanda would have his head if he broke it.
Flora, Fauna, and Foul Play Page 3