She crouched behind a stack of cardboard boxes and rusty farm equipment, and strained to hear every syllable.
Their captive had eaten part of his meal and asked about his family. The men mentioned something about money, and made fun of the hostage’s youngest child’s disability and behavioral quirks. The victim had to be Chuck Davenport. The men’s accents showed they weren’t locals––too many Anglicized words thrown in. They sounded like people she’d grown up with in Los Angeles. These men were not from northern Mexico—an important piece of information to pass on to Bowen. The taller man stepped away from the shack and slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Keep alert, Javier. The boss’ll have my hide if Davenport gets away.”
“Sí, Victor. I understand that he’s real important.”
Victor returned to the house.
Javier parked himself on a boulder not more than ten feet from Lela.
She couldn’t move without being heard.
He patted his shirt pockets. Then muttering an oath in Spanish, Javier strutted to the door of the shack and lit a lantern. After setting it on the ground, he fiddled with a chain. When he pushed on the door, the hinges squeaked like mice in agony.
Crouch-walking to the shack, Lela scanned her surroundings before flattening herself against the rough siding.
Javier’s voice carried through slits between the planks. “You doing all right?” His hoarse chuckle negated his choice of words. “Want anything?”
“You know what I want. Untie my hands and give me a head start.” Chuck’s words slurred as if he had a mouthful of pebbles. “I’ll pay you well for your help.”
More chuckles. “No, no, señor. They’ll have my head if I help you. But don’t worry, you’ll soon make us all rich. Then you can return to your family.”
“Can I have a drink of water? Please.” Again, Chuck’s words meshed together.
“Why not? I’ll go to the house. I need cigarettes anyway.” He slammed the door, secured the chain, and trudged away into the tomb-black darkness beyond.
With at least two armed men on patrol, Lela would have to use every precaution in her rescue attempt. She examined the heavy chain. No way could she remove it quietly. However, Javier had left the lantern lit. Lela stood on tiptoe and studied the inside of the shack through the small, high window on the back wall. She recognized Chuck from a photograph Beth had showed her. He lay curled up on a dirty mattress under the window. The lantern rested on a wooden crate, the only other item in the nine-by-six-foot room.
From her right boot, she unsheathed a duty knife and thrust the sturdy blade at the siding directly behind the prisoner. The weathered wood splintered creating a small hole.
“Who’s there?” Chuck whispered.
“I’ve come to help you.”
Further jabs widened the hole. When Lela could squeeze her hand in, she plucked at the knots around Chuck’s wrists. She couldn’t risk using her knife. One slice from the double-edged blade could sever an artery.
In no time, the rope gave way, and he wriggled his hands free.
“Who are you?” With a pained grunt, he peered through the hole.
Lela flattened herself on the ground. The sight of Chuck’s battered face almost turned her stomach. “I’m from the International Retrieval Organization.”
A cross between a sigh and a whimper escaped from his swollen lips. “Good, good. Beth remembered my ties to IRO. How’d you find me?”
“No time for that now. How many men are here?”
“Five. Well-armed.”
“I’ll make this hole big enough for you to squeeze through.” Lela pried loose another piece of wood. “Are you injured? Can you walk to my truck beyond the fence?”
“My right ankle throbs, but I’ll crawl if I have to. Anything to—”
Footsteps crunching on gravel interrupted their conversation.
“Clasp your hands behind your back and sit in front of the hole.” Lela stood, holding her knife at waist level, prepared to execute defensive moves if necessary. Although a pistol nestled in her shoulder holster, using it would advertise her presence. She stole into the dense vegetation behind the shack and chose a broad tree trunk as cover.
Victor approached the shack and bellowed, “Javier? You in there?”
The chain clanked, and the hinges complained as he yanked the door open. “What’s going on in here? Where’s Javier?”
Had Victor noticed the loose rope or the hole? Lela hugged tighter to the tree, her heart racing.
“Javier went to get a drink of water for me.” Chuck’s even tone sounded convincing.
Uttering a string of colorful curses, Victor picked up the lantern and shut the door.
Lela dared not budge. A circle of light accompanied Victor’s erratic movements. What would he do? If he returned to the house, she and Chuck could whittle away at the planks. They didn’t require light to accomplish that goal. But another set of footsteps sounded in the yard.
She froze.
Lantern high, Victor rounded the shack. “Why’d you leave your post?”
“I was only gone a few minutes.” Javier, puffing on a cigarette, stopped about fifteen feet from Lela. He carried a bottle of water.
“Don’t do it again, hear?”
If Lela flinched, they’d see her. Smoke drifted past her nose. Visions from her past surfaced and sapped her willpower. A creepy-crawly dropped on Lela’s neck, snapping her back to reality. Cringing, she closed her eyes. As long as the thing didn’t bite her, she’d ignore its prickly legs. The bug moved, sending a shiver down her spine. She forced her eyes open. Had they seen her? No. Focus.
With the toe of his boot, Javier ground his cigarette stub into the earth. “In the future, I won’t go anywhere without your permission.” Sarcasm laced his words as he adjusted the rifle strap on his shoulder.
Victor snarled and extinguished the lantern. “If he escapes because of your negligence, the boss will make you and your family suffer.”
“OKaaaay. I get it.”
In the distance, a door banged shut, light flooded the yard, and a man headed their way.
Knife at the ready, Lela sucked in a breath.
“Victor, Javier. Where are you?”
The two men entered the arc of light.
Releasing a soft sigh, Lela lowered the knife and swiped at her neck with her other hand, flicking away the insect. She could face an assailant easier than a disgusting bug.
“Bring Mr. Davenport into the house.” The same man that had yelled for Victor and Javier. “I want to make a video. It’s time his wife knows what she’s up against. When she sees her hubby’s condition, she’ll stay clear of the cops.”
Victor entered the shack. Seconds later, Chuck stumbled out the door as if he’d been pushed. He seized the frame with his right hand.
“What’s this? The rope’s loose,” Victor said.
Crouching low, Lela eased the pistol from its holster.
6
What had Chuck gotten into now? Jay’s brother-in-law was a decent guy, but his odd-ball hobbies and conspiracy theories often landed him in one scrape or another. It wouldn’t be half as bad if the schemes didn’t involve Beth and the kids. A light drizzle misted the windshield, and Jay switched on the wipers.
Beth was older by three years but emotionally frail. Jay constantly assumed the role of big brother. Rescuing her from a bad relationship in college. Providing a shoulder to cry on when Father died. And more recently, reassuring her Chuck loved her as she struggled to cope with their youngest child’s disability. The whole family had much to learn about fragile X syndrome.
Beth’s frantic voice played over in his mind. Chuck’s been kidnapped. I need your help. Come home right away.
A roadside sign flashed by. Ensenada, 60 kilometers. Forty-five minutes and he’d be with Beth. Although he’d questioned her, she’d provided scant details. Chuck had been taken from the beach. The kids were shaken but unharmed. Beth’s words, saturated with fits of uncontro
llable sobs, were garbled. No amount of prodding solicited additional facts.
Fisting his hands on the steering wheel, Jay passed a slow-moving semi. Why hadn’t he turned his phone on sooner? Before he could dwell on his concerns another second, his cell rang. Ed Langley, again. Jay activated the hands-free device. “Hey, Ed. I’ve got a problem.”
“More ex-fiancée—”
“No, nothing to do with Kate. Chuck’s been kidnapped.” He shared all the information he possessed.
“Is Beth OK?”
“Not sure. She sounded rattled and scared. Obviously, I’m heading back to Ensenada.”
“Drive carefully, pal.” Ed paused then asked, “Are you confident it’s not another of Chuck’s off-the-wall games?”
“I’m not. All Beth said was he’d been kidnapped.” Jay checked the dashboard clock. Nine thirty. He had no idea when the abduction had occurred. Hours—
“I know you, Jay. Quit worrying. You’ll be no help to her if you end up in a ditch somewhere.”
“If I’d been there, Chuck wouldn’t have been taken. I shouldn’t have gone to meet Kate.”
“You can’t blame yourself.”
“But—”
“We’ve been friends long enough that I can be honest with you. Sometimes you care too much. And when things go wrong, you automatically assume it’s your fault.”
“Sometimes it is.”
“You cannot bear the responsibility of everyone’s actions, even of those people closest to you. Remember, it’s not your job to police the world.”
Hesitating for a moment, Jay swallowed against a harsh rebuttal. But Ed, as usual, made a valid point. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Let’s get back to Chuck. Has he been acting different lately?”
Jay pondered the question for a second or two. “No more than usual.” Was that true? What about the time he’d visited Chuck’s office and his brother-in-law had quickly stashed something in his desk drawer? Or Beth's phone call last month to say he left the house at midnight and didn’t return for two hours? Jay scratched his forehead.
Undoubtedly, Chuck had a reasonable explanation for all his actions.
One thing Jay couldn’t reconcile though. “Last week, I did receive an e-mail from Chuck with a strange question. Remember when we explored the lower elevations in the national park and had good Wi-Fi service?”
“Yeah. What did he ask?”
Jay massaged his tight jaw muscles. Kate was the last person he wanted to discuss again. But if there had been an abduction, he’d investigate every avenue, even delving into their previous relationship.
“Chuck asked if Kate and I, um, when we were engaged, if we’d discussed how many children we wanted.”
“That is strange, especially since you were no longer getting married.”
“I know. When I asked him why he wanted the information, he dismissed it as unimportant and told me to forget it.” He paused. “I’ve been mulling over his question, but I don’t see how to connect it to his kidnapping.”
“You know Chuck’s quirks and idiosyncrasies. There might be no connection at all.”
“Yeah.” A sadness not related to Chuck seeped into Jay’s heart. “All this talk about Kate has made me come to grips with something important. While we were together, I never discussed her much with Beth and Chuck. And we never talked about kids at all. That has to be significant.”
“I’d say you’re better off without her. But back to Chuck. What about his business? Any problems?”
“None that I know of. He has many long-term clients who must be satisfied with his financial management. Personally, he has family money as a backup. Unless he’s mixed up with a shady investment scheme, he has no money concerns.”
Detour signs flashed ahead. Jay thumped the steering wheel. Detours meant delays. He disengaged cruise-control and exited the highway.
“Do you suspect Beth is aware of what Chuck might be involved in?”
“No way. He wouldn’t have shared anything with her that would increase her anxiety.” Beth. Why hadn’t she stayed in San Diego to fully recuperate from her surgery? Whose bright idea was it to vacation in Mexico? That had to be another of Chuck’s impulsive decisions. Good thing Jay had agreed to join them.
“I’ll pray for you and Chuck. Please, pal, take a deep breath and try to relax. Do you want me to return to Baja?”
“No, but thanks for the offer. There’s construction on this part of the highway, but I should be back at the villa within the hour. I appreciate you checking up on me. I’m OK.”
“Keep me posted.”
“I will.” Jay paused. “Hold on. Why’d you call?”
“Nothing that can’t wait, considering your situation.”
“Tell me, anyway.” Any news would be a welcome distraction.
“Before you leave, would you help me interview for your replacement?”
“Sure. The least I can do.” Jay ended the call and scratched his head. Huh? Without realizing it, he had donned his company cap. He yanked it off and glared at the logo illuminated by the dashboard light. Unique Resort Planners in orange with a bright yellow sun setting behind jagged purple mountains. Yeah, they were unique all right, surveying sites for luxury accommodations other companies avoided. Especially his team. He and Ed accepted challenges other teams were loath to explore. He tossed the cap over his shoulder onto the backseat and kneaded his stiff neck. What would he find when he reached Ensenada? Had Beth called the police?
A speeding driver honked as he zoomed past Jay, jolting him out of his spiraling guilty thoughts.
The drizzle had ceased. Rhythmic movement of the tires rolling along wet pavement soothed his ragged nerves. To escape speculating about Chuck and Beth’s situation and his recent visit with Kate, he reviewed specs of the mountain site they’d surveyed in northern Baja. Space for a multi-million-dollar hotel. Access to water for swimming and boating. Snow for winter sports. Views to die for. No wonder the clients were pleased.
But the job was the least of his worries right now. The closer to Beth he travelled, the more his stomach churned. This time his brother-in-law might be in real trouble. Why hadn’t he paid more attention to Chuck’s odd behavior over the past weeks?
Red lights lined the road ahead like decorations on a Christmas tree. Jay slowed and checked the rearview mirror. Headlights on high from an approaching vehicle almost blinded him. Slow down, mister! The lights veered. He’s passing me. Jay switched his gaze forward. Another set of headlights. High and wide. Not a sedan.
Did the guy passing him notice?
The vehicle sped on.
Jay braked, hands clamped like a vise on the steering wheel.
The hotrod hit the oncoming vehicle—a tour bus—head-on.
Attention on the pieces of metal flying through the air, Jay swerved off the road and stopped. A cacophony of sounds pieced the night. Screams, crunching metal. Screeching brakes from vehicles headed north and south. Smoke, then flames. The acrid smell of burning rubber assaulted his nostrils, but he squelched the urge to gag. Adrenalin heated his blood. Jay jumped out of the SUV and rushed to the melee. He sucked in a deep breath and coached himself to focus. Not a war zone. People needed help. He withdrew his phone and dialed 911.
Victims and wreckage, strewn across both lanes, rendered the road impassable.
As much as he wanted to see Beth, he administered first aid while his personal goals faded into the background.
7
Certain the armed men remained indoors, Lela contemplated her next move. She’d almost blown her cover earlier when she’d moved near the house and Javier had tossed a bucket of water out the back door. A hasty dash into the shadows prevented him from seeing her. Fifteen minutes later, she peeped over the sill into one of the open, lighted windows at the side of the house.
With hands apparently tied behind his back again, Chuck sat on a straight-backed chair in front of a dark bed sheet attached to the wall. His T-shirt was tattered
and bloody. Shaggy, matted brown hair haloed his bruised face.
The thugs poked and taunted him.
The man standing next to Chuck nodded. “That’s enough. Leave him be and get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”
Lela recognized his voice from the yard.
If they kept Chuck inside, she had no chance of rescuing him by herself. The local authorities would take too long to arrive, or worse, might be conspiring with the kidnappers. And Chuck’s family had been threatened if they alerted the police. She needed to place tracking devices on the two vehicles parked in front of the house. Only then could she contact Bowen and return to the villa south of Ensenada to tell Beth her husband was alive.
Slinking along the wall to the porch, she held her knife ready. Although she’d seen five men in the living room, she couldn’t take any chances. She crouched, ears and eyes on full alert. Hearing and seeing nothing suspect, she sheathed her knife, extracted one device from her vest pocket, and then crept toward the pickup. But before she reached the vehicle, a movement to her right caught her attention. She paused stone-still next to a clump of weeds. One of the men must have exited the back door and circled the house to patrol the area. Perhaps Victor, judging by the tall and slim silhouette.
He closed the gate and propped his forearms on it. Trapped in the fenced yard, Lela had no quick escape. Slowly, she picked up a rock and threw it with all her strength to a spot behind the man. He turned, rifle aimed, scanning the darkness but remained by the gate.
Afraid he’d hear her heart thumping, let alone spot her if she moved, she remained like a statue next to the weeds.
One step forward. Two. He swept the area with his rifle.
Hand on her sheathed knife, she waited. Legs rustled through tall grass. Muted cussing accompanied him as he closed in on her position. Whiffs of his raw body odor hit her nostrils. The mental picture of plunging her blade into his chest made her stomach heave, and she tasted bile. If she could spring up in time, she could knock him unconscious with one well-aimed sweep of her leg. But her fingers tightened on the knife anyway.
Day of Reckoning Page 3