Captive Justice: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (A Jake & Annie Lincoln Thriller Book 4)

by Rayven T. Hill

  Coleman frowned. “He told me in no uncertain terms not to call the police. But they always say that, don’t they?”

  “Of course,” Jake said. “They always do, but this guy is deadly serious.”

  “Then we’ll pay him. It’s as simple as that.” Coleman reached into his shirt pocket and produced a cell phone. He touched the screen a couple of times and handed the phone to Jake. “He sent a picture of her.”

  Annie leaned over and squinted at the phone. Mrs. Coleman appeared to be tied to the same chair Mrs. Gould had been tied to earlier. She had a cloth in her mouth and her frightened eyes stared at the camera, pleading for help.

  Jake sent the picture to his own cell and handed the phone back. “Mr. Coleman, what do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a landscaper.”

  Annie had taken a notepad from her handbag and took notes as Coleman continued, “And my wife takes care of the business end of things from home.”

  “What time did you get home today?” Annie asked.

  “About five thirty or so.”

  “Was the house broken into, or did you see any signs of a struggle?”

  “Not at all. The door was locked and the burglar alarm set. Wherever it happened, it wasn’t here.”

  “Would your wife have been out somewhere, perhaps at the grocery store, or at a friend’s place?”

  Coleman shook his head slowly. “It’s doubtful. I spoke to her on the phone about three o’clock or so and she rarely went out after that. She’s always here when I get home.”

  “And yet, the burglar alarm was set,” Jake said.

  Coleman snapped his fingers. “She often goes for a run.” He motioned vaguely to his right. “There’s a wooded area just over there where she likes to jog, sometimes in the mornings, but she usually goes out in the afternoon.”

  Annie pursed her lips, her forehead puckered in thought. That had to be where she’d been abducted. The kidnapper must have known she usually went for a run and exactly where she went.

  “Will you have any problem getting the money together?” Jake asked.

  Coleman shook his head. “It’s a much smaller amount than I would’ve expected and I can withdraw it from our savings account.”

  “I suggest you do that as soon as possible and let me know when you have it. I believe the kidnapper will be calling me shortly with instructions.”

  Coleman looked at his watch. “I’ll have to get it in the morning. The banks are closed now.”

  Annie looked at Jake. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to take a look at the wooded area.”

  Jake stood and offered Coleman his hand. “We’ll do what we can to get your wife back,” he said.

  Annie stood and followed Jake to the door. As Coleman let them out, she said, “We’ll let you know when we hear from the kidnapper.”

  Coleman stepped onto the front porch behind them. “The wooded area is just down there,” he said, motioning with his hand.

  They walked to the Firebird, climbed in, drove a couple hundred feet, and pulled to the curb where the road ended in a cul-de-sac. They stepped from the vehicle and looked at their surroundings. Annie could see the wooded area on the other side of a large vacant lot. They took a footpath leading from the street, crossed the lot, and approached the treed area.

  The overhead greenery darkened the forest and shaded them from the early evening sun. All was quiet and peaceful, a sharp contrast to the events Annie was sure had taken place here earlier today.

  “Watch for any signs of a struggle,” Annie said.

  They wandered down the path for several minutes, keeping watch on both sides.

  Annie stopped short as she heard the sound of an engine—possibly a motorcycle—coming from their right.

  Jake had stopped too and frowned as he pointed in the direction of the sound. “I think there’s a road over there somewhere. The motorcycle is going too fast to be on a path.”

  Annie followed Jake as they turned off the trail and headed through the overgrown forest. They dodged fallen trees and shrubbery and finally came to a slope.

  Annie pointed. “There’s the road.”

  They continued to the tree line and then down the grass-covered slope to the edge of a dusty gravel road.

  “This is where it happened,” Annie said. “Somewhere along here. Unfortunately, there are no houses along this stretch of road. It might be difficult to find anyone who saw a vehicle in the area.”

  She closed her eyes and pictured the scene—Mrs. Coleman, out for an afternoon run, and then seized in the forest, dragged to this spot where the vehicle had waited and then carried off to who knows where.

  They spent the next half hour examining the edge of the road for any signs of a disturbance, a struggle, or anything that just didn’t seem right. They came up empty-handed, but Annie was confident they were on the right track.

  Chapter 26

  Thursday, September 1st, 6:12 p.m.

  ROSEMARY COLEMAN struggled against her bonds for what seemed like hours. Her legs were cramped from being unable to move them and when she tried, the plastic ties bit into her legs. Her wrists were red and raw from tugging uselessly at the restraints.

  She’d been left alone, her abductors probably certain she was securely bound. And they were right. Any attempts to free herself only resulted in more pain.

  She looked up as the door at the top of the steps creaked open. A pair of legs appeared and then, except for the ski mask covering his head, one of her abductors was fully in view. He stepped to the floor, stood under the bright overhead light and watched her a moment.

  “Do you want some water?” he finally asked.

  Rosemary nodded. Her throat was parched, her head throbbing, and she was hungry. Water would be welcome.

  The man stepped behind her chair. “If you promise not to scream I’ll remove the cloth.”

  She nodded again and tried to say, “I promise.”

  He struggled with the knot and the cloth fell away. He pulled a plastic bottle of water from his back pocket and screwed the top off, and she drank greedily as he tipped the container, the warm liquid a balm on her dry lips.

  He set the bottle on the floor beside her and stood back.

  She stared up at her abductor. “Why … why are you doing this?”

  “You’ll be set free if your husband pays our ransom.” He paused and added ominously, “That is, as long as he doesn’t call the police. If he does, well … bad things could happen, but let’s not think about that right now.”

  She caught her breath and felt panic rising inside. So that was it. A ransom. She was sure Walter would pay whatever they asked to get her back. But he would be sure to call the police and she hoped they would find her first. Otherwise, she feared for her life. She had no doubt the kidnapper would hold good on his unspoken threat and she knew what that would be.

  She swallowed hard and implored with her eyes, now streaming with tears. “If you let me go, I … I promise not to say anything.” She dropped her head. “I just want to go home.”

  “That’s not my decision.”

  She looked up and begged, “Please … you can let me go.”

  He shook his head. “No, I can’t,” he said as he wrapped the cloth around her mouth again and tied it securely behind her head. “I can’t let you go.”

  Then he hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and the door banged shut behind him.

  ~~*~~

  JAKE AND ANNIE had barely made it home and into the kitchen when Jake’s cell phone rang. Caller ID showed an unknown number.

  Annie sat at the table and leaned forward as Jake sat down, set the phone on the table, and touched the screen to put the call on speaker. “This is Jake Lincoln.”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Lincoln. It’s a fine day to do business.”

  It was him.

  Jake got straight to the point. “I talked to Walter Coleman. He’s agreed to pay your ransom.”

  “And I assume ou
r good friends down at the precinct are unaware of our impending arrangement?” the deep voice asked.

  “I advised him not to call the police. I can’t assure you he won’t.”

  “Excellent work, my friend.”

  “He’ll get the money from the bank in the morning.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “How can we be sure Mrs. Coleman will be returned once the ransom is paid?”

  “You need to be more trusting, Jake. I’ve given my word. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Frankly, no. Your word means nothing.”

  A sigh came over the line. “I realize it takes time to build trust, but you shall see, I’m a man of my word. Keep your end of the contract and I’ll keep mine. After a few transactions, I expect we can build that bond between us.”

  Jake gritted his teeth. “There’ll never be a bond between us.” He dearly wanted to catch this scumbag before more innocent people were harmed, but he feared going to the police. He couldn’t even tell his best friend, Hank. Hank would be bound to report it and get involved. Jake’s hands were tied and he was torn between doing what he was legally obliged to do and what was best for the victim.

  “There’s one small change in our contract,” the kidnapper said.

  Jake frowned. “What’s that?”

  “I want your loving wife, Annie, to deliver the funds this time.”

  Jake looked at Annie and shook his head vigorously. “Never.”

  “Just this once.”

  Jake raised his voice. “I will not endanger my wife. I’ll deliver the funds or nobody does. There’s no bargaining with that. Take it or leave it.”

  Silence on the line and then, “Very well, Jake, we’ll do it your way. I just wanted to make things more interesting for all of us and I assumed Annie would like to be involved in our little escapade.”

  “She wouldn’t,” Jake said flatly.

  “Then I’ll call you tomorrow morning with delivery instructions,” the strange voice said. “In the meantime, I wish you and your wife a pleasant evening and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

  The line went dead.

  Jake hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. “I wasn’t about to get you involved in this.”

  “I’m already involved.”

  “You know what I mean. I don’t think I’m in any real danger in delivering the money, but you never know. I don’t trust this character and we need to be careful.”

  Annie leaned her elbows on the table and cupped her hands under her chin. “We need to come up with a better plan this time. This is not going to stop until we, or the police, catch them.”

  “Them? You’re sure there’re more than one?”

  “I think there’re two. The leader, who makes the calls and arranges everything, and I believe he has someone to help him. Someone to drive for him and likely to guard the prisoner. I might be wrong, but I’m not sure one person could handle everything.”

  Jake nodded. “I think you’re right, so let’s hope Hank’s guys come up with something before it’s too late for Rosemary Coleman.”

  Chapter 27

  Thursday, September 1st, 8:45 p.m.

  ROSEMARY WAS PRETTY sure of one thing: if she didn’t escape from this dungeon and soon, she would be dead.

  By her best estimate, it had been a couple of hours since her tormentor had brought her the water she so desperately needed, and now her throat was dry again, and her stomach was aching for food.

  Occasionally, through the overhead floorboards, she heard the faint sounds of someone moving about, probably one of the kidnappers stationed there to guard her.

  She had thought long and hard about how to free herself—first from the chair, and then from the house. It seemed like an impossible task, but Rosemary was determined.

  Her bonds were secure and the wooden chair she was fastened to was solid, but she had an idea.

  She rocked back and forth and then sideways. The chair slid an inch or two but held solid. She continued to rock, forcing her weight back and then forward as much as the ropes would allow. She set up a rhythm. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  Every few minutes she stopped for a break to catch her breath and relax her tiring muscles. But she wasn’t dreaming; the legs were beginning to loosen, ever so slightly, and if she kept it up, something would snap.

  And it did.

  The right front chair leg was ready to give out. Just a few more careful heaves and then, crash …

  Rosemary’s shoulder hit the concrete as the chair leg came free and sent her tumbling forward. With a little more effort she was able to kick her right leg free, slipping it over the end of the now useless chair leg. And then she twisted about and managed to loosen the other leg and it, too, slid free.

  Now what? She was in an awkward position, still fastened to the back of the chair, but at least her legs were free.

  The cumbersome chair forced her to bend at the waist, making it hard to keep her balance, but she managed to stumble to her feet and stand precariously. Then leaning sideways, the left rear chair leg on the floor at an angle, she forced her entire weight to bear on it, and the already weakened leg snapped free and she went down again.

  But she was making headway.

  She rolled over and pushed to her feet. The remains of the chair still clung to her back, and her wrists were still tied to the arms, but now she knew she would succeed.

  She waddled over to the stairs and was able to wedge the left arm of the chair between the third step and the floor. Then, using that as leverage, she threw her weight the other way. The arm came loose and she slipped her hand free. Then the other arm of the chair got the same treatment and both hands were free. She slipped the gag from her mouth and took a deep breath of the stale air.

  After that, it was just a matter of twisting the ropes that bound her chest to the back of the chair until she was able to reach the knot. In a few minutes, she worked it loose, the ropes fell to the floor, and she was free.

  Well, not exactly free. She was still a prisoner in the basement.

  She had two options. Bring him to her and subdue him somehow, or go up the stairs and try to get through the door. She was pretty sure she’d heard him lock it when he left, so trying to break through a locked door would be futile.

  She only had one logical choice and she hoped there was only one person she had to deal with. Then at least she would stand a chance.

  She picked up one of the chair legs and hefted it. It was solid and would make a good weapon. Good enough, she hoped.

  Then taking a few deep breaths to calm her nerves, then a final one to fill her lungs, she screamed, over and over. “Help. Help.”

  There was the sound of running footsteps on the floor above. He had heard her. She slipped behind the stairs, out of sight, and raised her weapon.

  The door at the top rattled and then creaked open, and through the space between the steps a pair of legs descended one step at a time.

  Her grip tightened on the chair leg. She poised herself, and when he reached the final step and touched the floor, she stepped out and swung with all her might. The solid wooden weapon connected with her abductor’s forehead. The makeshift club flew from her grasp, rattling across the floor and into the wall.

  He went down, stunned and groaning, and lay still at the foot of the stairs.

  His eyelids fluttered and he looked up with vacant eyes as she stepped carefully around him and scrambled up the steps.

  She chanced a look over her shoulder as she neared the top. He wobbled as he rose to his feet and glared at her.

  “Stop,” he shouted.

  Rosemary paid no mind. She clambered up the final step, tripped, and fell through the doorway. As she struggled to her feet, she heard him behind her, coming up the stairs, slowly, but getting closer.

  She looked around her for a doorway to freedom. What was this place? It wasn’t a house. It seemed more like a small warehouse, or perhaps an empty store. To the right was a door, framed by a larg
e window on either side, but the door and both windows were boarded up securely. To her left, at the rear of the room, was another door, a smaller one, made of metal.

  “Stop.” Much closer this time, almost behind her.

  She slammed the door to the basement and as she wrestled with the lock, he rammed into the door from the other side. It burst open.

  Her heart pounded. She was out of time. She dashed to the rear of the room toward the metal door. It was locked and bolted from the inside. She struggled with the lock on the knob first and then slid back the bolt and turned the knob.

  In her peripheral vision she saw him stumble over a loose board. He sprawled across the floor.

  She pulled at the door, metal squealing against metal, then felt a hand grip her heel. She wrenched loose and half-ran, half-fell through the doorway. Weak and tired from her exertion, she scrambled to her feet and looked frantically around.

  She was in a narrow alleyway. In front of her loomed tall buildings, old and rundown, much like the one she’d escaped from. She dove to the left, screaming, her attacker panting behind her. A hand touched her shoulder, his labored breath almost in her ear.

  In desperation she mustered up a little more endurance, but it was futile. Her shirt was gripped from behind and she stumbled and hit the ground, her assailant on top of her.

  He growled at her, his voice raspy and angry. “Thought you could get away, did you?”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. A hand over her mouth cut off her screams and her breath as his other arm wrapped around her neck.

  “Stand up,” he said as he held his grip, heaved her to her feet, and then half-carried, half-dragged her back to her musty cell.

  Chapter 28

  Friday, September 2nd, 10:15 a.m.

  THE MAN SHIFTED his position on the uncomfortable street bench, slid forward, leaned back, and yawned. He dropped one arm across the armrest and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles.

  From where he sat, he had a clear view of the bank across the street. He knew what his job was. There was a small element of danger, but still, everything should go off without a hitch. After all, he was an expert and he had no fear of getting caught as long as he stuck to the plan.