In the third room, slivers of light streamed through scratches on a barred, painted window. Chuck wiggled his fingers through the bars and attempted to remove more paint. But the dark material was on the outside.
On tiptoe, he still couldn’t see outside. He needed something to stand on. A thorough search revealed a large, empty metal can that had contained cooking oil. He set the can against the wall and balanced on it. By holding onto the windowsill, he peered through a cleared space halfway up the window.
An expanse of dry, shaggy grass spread out straight ahead. To the left, a stand of decrepit bleachers. Many seat planks missing, and metal twisted into grotesque shapes. To the right, more open field, and a large billboard with trees beyond.
Chuck staggered off the can and dropped to the dirty, tiled floor. Myriad ideas raced through his head. His heart beat wildly against his ribs. He drew in a deep breath. Cooking oil. Odors from rancid grease.
Not a billboard but a scoreboard.
He was in an old concession stand at a defunct football field.
Was this the same field he’d seen when first taken to the house?
In that case, there would be people close by. He hollered and banged on the door for at least thirty minutes.
No one responded.
What next?
He searched each room for an implement to use on the door. If he could pry the hinges off, it would open. But the only tool he found was a fork, and the tines bent on his first attempt.
Disappointed, he plodded to the plastic sack in the corner. The yelling had dried his throat. He opened a bottle of water and gulped down most of the contents. Grunting, he slid to the floor and opened the other bottle.
How long would Walter be gone? Chuck drank half the second bottle and rested his head against the wall. Walter would come back, right? Yes, he wanted the money. He’d be back. And Chuck could attack him…
His eyelids felt weighted. He couldn’t raise his arms. Lethargic, sleepy. Had Walter drugged the water? His body slumped sideways.
The last thing he saw was a cockroach scampering toward him.
48
The encouraging news received from IRO minutes ago had Jay and Lela speeding to an address near the airport. One of Harry’s neighbors had divulged crucial information about Walter’s other companions. Jay gripped the passenger seat armrest as Lela maneuvered her truck around a sharp left turn.
IRO now had addresses for Victor, Walter, and Lewis. Agents Cooper and Smitty had been dispatched to Walter’s house, Manny and Pam to Victor’s apartment. That left Lewis Stoner’s residence for Jay and Lela.
“Lewis Stoner. Ha. Chuck must have been trying to spell Lewis Stoner, not Lewis Street on the video.” Jay adjusted his sunglasses. The early morning clouds had all but evaporated.
“Understandable mistake. Too bad Walter didn’t refer to him as Lewis while they were in Mexico.” Lela’s phone rang. She checked caller ID and handed the phone to Jay. “It’s Bowen. You talk to him.”
He swiped the screen. “This is Jay.”
“Hi. Put me on speaker.”
Swiping the icon, Jay held the phone between them. “Go ahead, Bowen.”
“Cooper and Smitty found large quantities of baby clothes, blankets, and four infant car seats in Walter’s house. Also, a box of a medication called terbutaline.”
“Was he asthmatic?” Jay asked.
“Don’t think so. The medication can also be used to prevent premature labor. They might have used it on the young girls.” Bowen paused. “Um, one other item. A wedding band.”
“In the latest video Chuck’s not wearing his ring. He never takes it off normally.” Jay squeezed his thigh with his right hand. “Is there a word engraved inside?”
“Yes. Mizpah.”
“It’s Chuck’s.”
“What does the word mean?” Lela asked.
“Mizpah. Taken from Genesis chapter thirty-one, verse forty-nine. ‘May the Lord keep watch between you and me when we are away from each other.’ How ironic.”
“Sorry, Jay. Definite evidence Walter kidnapped your brother-in-law. But the agents found nothing to indicate Chuck was kept there. I haven’t heard from Manny or Pam. How close are you to Lewis’s place?”
Jay scanned the neighborhood with the map he’d studied in mind. “A mile or two away. We’ll let you know when we arrive.”
“Good.”
Bowen ended the call, and Jay dropped Lela’s phone into the cup holder. He pounded a fist over his heart. How could he control the dueling gladiators at war in his chest? Rage at Walter, Chuck’s former employee and friend. Jay’s biceps flexed as his hands clenched. But they had Lewis’s address. Hope. The right place this time? He closed his eyes and voiced a silent prayer.
As they neared the address, the houses became more rundown, dilapidated. Exactly as Chuck described in the video. Overhead, the unmistakable drone of airplanes. This had to be where the kidnappers kept him. Jay pointed to a street sign. “This is it.”
Lela veered left onto Sage Mont Road. “Here’s 330. I’ll park farther down.” She slowed, made a U-turn, and stopped at the curb four lots away.
They climbed out of the pickup and headed toward the house.
“How do we handle this?” Jay shoved his hands in his pockets. “Knock and ask if they have Chuck?”
Lela had a pistol in a shoulder holster underneath her khaki vest. Jay wished he had one, too.
“Here’s our cover story. We live in the next block. Our dog ran away last night and was seen on this street earlier. We’re checking all the houses. Make sense?”
“Yup. Let’s go.”
The crooked gate swung open and crashed into the chain-link fence at Lela’s touch. As they strode up to the front door, Jay scanned the windows. Drapes drawn tight. No movement.
Right hand at her side ready to draw her weapon, Lela nodded to him. He knocked and stepped back. No response. He pounded again. No noise from inside.
“Around back.” Lela jumped off the small porch.
He followed and noted no vehicles in the driveway. No garage either. All the windows were covered either by drapes or closed blinds.
Standing about six yards from the back steps, Lela said, “You go up and knock. I’ll watch for movement.”
Jay knocked three times. “No one’s home.” He turned the knob, and to his surprise, the door opened. “How about that.”
“Careful. Might be a trick. Let me go first.” Lela bounded up the stairs, brushed past him before he could object, and entered the dim kitchen, pistol drawn.
He took one last look across the backyard, and then closed the door. Lela stood, listening before crouch-walking down the hall. At the entrance of each room, she raked her weapon around the interior. No one was home.
“There’s one more room,” he whispered and tipped his head. “Back there through the bedroom.”
Lela led the way into the room. She gasped. “Those blinds, the bed. That dreadful floral wallpaper. This is where they made the last video of Chuck.”
“Thank You, dear God.” Jay raised his eyes to the ceiling. “We found the place where they kept Chuck. Please lead us to him.”
He caught Lela staring at him with a cross between a smile and a smirk on her face. What now? Hadn’t her attitude toward his praying improved?
The bed on which Chuck had apparently slept—perhaps as recently as last night—provided a change of topic for his confused thoughts. “There’s blood on the pillow. Chuck’s?”
Lela nodded. “I’ll call Bowen. San Diego PD will send a forensics team, but before they arrive, let’s go through everything in the house. See if they left any obvious clues.” She extracted latex gloves from one of her voluminous pockets and handed him a pair. “You start in here. Remember, don’t touch anything without gloves. I’ll take the living room.”
While struggling to slide his hands into the gloves, Jay surveyed the area. “Chuck, I believe we’re close to you. Hang in there, bud.”
Ten minutes later, he and Lela met in the narrow hall.
“Find anything?” he asked.
“No. Looks as if you didn’t either. We should wait outside in case someone returns to the house. We can sit in my truck.”
He followed her down the cracked sidewalk. Close. They were close to Chuck. He scanned the weed-filled field across the road. Where are you?
Seated in the pickup, Lela inserted the key in the ignition and opened the windows.
She turned to him, eyes wide and watery. Was she crying?
Uncertain and worried, Jay folded his arms, then straightened them. Why was he fidgety? He finally found the courage to ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing bad.” She smiled.
He’d seen her smile many times, but this smile lit up her face. Eyes gleamed. Cheeks glowed.
“I want to share something very important with you.”
Sounded interesting. “I’m listening.”
“You know I’ve been studying—” She pointed out the window. “That old green pickup is slowing down by Lewis’s house.” She paused. “Javier drove a green truck.” Her fingers sought the door handle.
“Careful.” Jay placed his hand on her arm. “The others might be right behind him.”
“Oh, no! We forgot to close the gate. But he’s turning in anyway.” She removed the keys from the ignition. “If his partners don’t show up in the next five minutes, we’re going in. You OK with that?”
“Sure. If it is Javier, he has to know where Chuck is.”
49
One minute. Two. No one else approached Lewis’s house. Lela patted the pistol concealed under her vest. “Ready? Let’s use the same cover story we had before. We’re looking for our lost dog.”
Nearing the property, she extended a hand to Jay. “May I borrow your cap to hide my hair? A little disguise in case he did see me at the border.”
Jay held the cap while she snagged her hair into a ponytail. Cap low over her forehead, sunglasses. Should be enough to conceal her identity.
She slid her arm through his as they passed the green truck in the driveway. Javier had changed the license plate. “You do the talking, gain his sympathy. Tell him we’ve searched everywhere for little, um, Pongo. When I consider the moment’s right, I’ll draw my weapon, and we’ll force our way inside.”
“Can you produce tears on demand? It might help if you appear distraught.” He patted her hand, but his smile clued her into his little joke.
“Quit. This is serious.” But his suggestion would add credibility to their visit. She located a tissue in her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “How’s that?”
They mounted the steps, and Jay knocked on the door. “At least sniffle a bit.”
The man who opened the door six inches was none other than Javier.
Lela lowered her head and sniffed into the tissue.
Jay slipped his arm around her waist. “Good morning. Sorry to bother you, but we’re looking for our little dog. He’s brown, with white paws. Disappeared last night.”
“No dogs here.” Javier said.
“Por favor a señor, mi pobre perrito.” Lela’s use of Spanish must have caught him off guard because he opened the door a fraction more. She prodded Jay with her elbow and whispered, “Now.”
He shoved Javier into the house while she followed, pistol drawn.
“Hands up. Get down on your knees. Down, I said.” Aiming at the man, she kicked the door closed with her foot. “Lay down, hands behind your back.”
The swiftness with which Javier complied signaled his confusion. “Who are you? What do you want? I don’t have any money or drugs.”
Lela indicated with a tilt of her head that Jay move closer. “There are plasticuffs in my side pocket.” She regretted not having any when she’d apprehended Freddy, and packed a handful that morning.
With Javier’s wrists secured, Jay hauled him up and marched him to the kitchen.
Lela holstered her pistol and followed.
Seated at the table, sweat already visible on his forehead, Javier eyed Lela and Jay. “Are you Walter’s friends?” The quiver in his voice added to his pathetic appearance.
Before she could address the prisoner, Jay pounded the table with both fists. “Where’s Chuck Davenport?”
Javier flinched and blinked but said nothing.
“We know he was here.” Jay's menacing expression had no effect either. He backed away from the table, running his hand through his hair.
Lela idly sauntered around the kitchen. “Javier, let me offer you a choice. Talk to us, or I’ll let my friend here have a one-sided boxing match with your face. Or,” she withdrew her pistol, “I’ll put a bullet in your knee.” She stroked the barrel of the gun affectionately. “Which do you prefer?”
“You…you wouldn’t.”
In a split-second, Jay lunged at the man and snatched a handful of his shirtfront. “Where’s Chuck? If you don’t tell us, I’ll do more than beat you.”
Alarmed, Lela glared at Jay but caught the slight upturn of his lips.
He let go and crashed into a chair at the opposite end of the table, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. She should have anticipated the strength of his reaction.
Weapon holstered again, she tapped the table in front of Javier with her index finger. “As you can see, my partner is easily agitated. Do you want me to leave the room, or will you talk to us?”
Without planning, she and Jay had played the good cop, bad cop scenario. Would Javier take the bait?
The man licked his lips. “I get it. You mean business. I don’t know where Chuck is. He was in the room when Victor took him breakfast this morning.”
“You sure?” Jay asked.
Nodding, Javier’s eyes widened. “I heard him talking to Victor.”
“When we came by earlier, you weren’t here. Where did you go? Did you take Chuck away?” Lela tipped the brim of the cap. What an inappropriate time to remember she wore Jay’s cap.
“No. I swear. After Victor gave Chuck his breakfast, Walter told all of us to take a couple of hours off. We, um, we had a rough night, and he said we could go out for a meal. He even paid for it.”
Jay stood with such force his chair crashed to the floor. “I don’t believe you. You know where they’ve taken Chuck. You’re stalling.”
Although Javier shrank away from Jay's presence, he maintained eye contact. “No, señor. I promise. You can check my cell. I called Walter when I got here. He didn’t answer.”
“Good idea. But we’ll let the cops do that.” Lela located her phone. “I’m calling my boss.”
Lela related all to Bowen, and then settled on the corner of the table.
Jay righted his chair and sat with arms folded.
“Javier’s telling the truth. When I observed the gang in Mexico, he took orders, didn’t give any. I doubt Walter entrusted plans to him.”
Javier huffed and turned his head, staring out the window.
“I agree.” Jay rocked on the chair’s back legs. “What now?”
“Boss man said he’d call the cops. We need to stay and provide our statements. They can extract more information out of him.” She jutted her chin toward Javier.
As if on cue, the wail of a siren sounded and grew louder.
Javier twisted in the chair. “This isn’t fair. I was promised lots of money.”
“Fair?” Jay gritted his teeth, and reached for the man. “What about Chuck?”
To avert a physical altercation, Lela touched Jay's arm. “We’re closer than we’ve ever been. Go wait at the front door, please. The cops will be here shortly.”
Seeing Jay's strong reaction on behalf of a person he loved, Lela knew, if ever she was in a bind, she’d want him at her side.
~*~
The authorities excused Jay and Lela late that afternoon. They could accomplish nothing more at Lewis’s house. No leads to follow, and no other suspects to question. The cops would take care of Javier and
the evidence.
Since they’d missed lunch, when they arrived at the La Jolla house, they ate hastily prepared sandwiches by the pool. In order not to raise Beth’s hopes, they had agreed to tell her little of what transpired at Lewis’s house.
Sitting near them, Beth held squirming Sean and lathered him in sunscreen. “Mother and I liked the housekeeper we interviewed, and she’ll move in tomorrow. Patricia said Ilsa might return in a month or two.”
“That’s good news. Will Mother actually let the new person do the cooking?”
“I hope.” Beth let out a chuckle. “It’s wonderful to have Mother here.”
Jay pointed to his sister. “You’re not wearing your splint.”
“I checked with my doctor who agreed I could remove it.” She flexed her wrist. “See, all better.” Beth tugged water wings onto Sean’s arms. “We’re ready now. Let’s go.” She accompanied her words with signs.
They entered the shallow end and waved to Ruth who played games with the girls in deeper water.
Alyssa also wore water wings on her thin arms.
“Want to join them?” Jay asked.
“No way.” Lela gulped down the last of her iced tea and set the glass on the table. “Don’t have a swimsuit with me.”
“You can borrow one from Beth.”
She shook her head. The only suit that would hide all her scars would be one from the Roaring Twenties. Coverage from neck to knees.
Jay touched her arm. “Sorry, I guess, you don’t, um, want—”
“Don’t worry about it. I haven’t worn a swimsuit since the accident.” She crossed her legs and pointed to the pool. “You should go for a dip. The kids love their Uncle Jay-Jay.”
Day of Reckoning Page 22