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

by Rayven T. Hill

  “He sent me a picture of her,” Martin said. “To my phone. I … I can’t tell where she is. In a room somewhere. A concrete room.”

  “Mr. Martin, I know it’s hard, but try to relax. I’m sure the police are on this even as we speak. Let them do their job and I’ll be in touch with them as well. I’ll let you know as soon as the kidnapper calls me.”

  “I’ll pay the ransom, Mr. Lincoln. I just want my wife back safely.”

  “This is not the first kidnapping,” Jake said. “He doesn’t allow a lot of time to get the money together. He might want it tomorrow. Is that a problem?”

  “No, no problem. I have enough here in my safe, but … he said he knows the police are already aware of this and I’m not to talk to them. I … I don’t know what to do.”

  The police were already involved and nothing could be done about that. But right now, he wanted to be sure Mrs. Martin didn’t end up dead. “The police will keep it discreet,” he said. “But first, I have to wait for the kidnapper to call, then we’ll know how to proceed.”

  “I … guess all I can do is leave it in your hands,” Martin said. “And the police.”

  Jake sighed. His hands weren’t all that capable right now, but there didn’t seem to be any choice. “I’ll be in touch,” he said.

  ~~*~~

  TEN MINUTES later Jake’s phone rang again. He looked at the caller ID. Unknown number. He was pretty sure he knew who was calling.

  Jake pushed back from the kitchen table. “I think it’s him,” he said to Annie as she dropped her book on the table and sat back.

  He put the phone on speaker. “Jake Lincoln.”

  “Good evening, Jake.”

  It was him.

  The deep voice continued, “I’m sure you’ve heard the good news?”

  Jake took the bait. “What good news?” he asked.

  “We have another transaction to take care of. What could be better news than that?”

  “I could think of a few things. Perhaps seeing you behind bars might be better news.”

  A laugh came over the line. “Now, Jake, let’s not be bitter, shall we?”

  Jake stood, paced the floor, and said nothing.

  “I assume you received a call from Mr. Eli Martin?” the caller asked.

  “I did.”

  “And did he tell you the amount of the purchase? I think fifty thousand dollars is reasonable, don’t you?”

  “He can get the money.”

  “I didn’t doubt it for a minute.”

  Jake raised his voice. “But we don’t want any harm to come to Mrs. Martin. He’s willing to do as you ask, but please, you must release her.”

  “All in good time, my friend.”

  Jake looked at Annie. She’d been listening intently to the call and was frowning at the phone.

  The kidnapper continued, “As you know, Jake, I’m not all that fond of the police. I’m well aware they know about this current transaction, but you must keep them from further involvement, or … just let me say, things might get messy.”

  “I can’t stop them from doing their job,” Jake said. “They’re already involved, thanks to your sloppy work.”

  “You must not tell them my delivery instructions. We can do this discreetly.”

  “That would be up to Mr. Martin,” Jake said.

  An unnatural laugh and then the caller said, “I do hope he makes the right choice.”

  “I’ll advise him to do what you ask, but it’s his choice.”

  “Excellent, Jake. I’ll be in touch with you again soon to let you know the further terms of our contract and how the transaction is to take place. I’ve already informed Mr. Martin to have the funds ready as soon as possible, but I’m relying on you to impress upon him the urgency of this matter.”

  “I will,” Jake said and then the line went dead.

  “Did you record that?” Annie asked.

  Jake nodded, a deep frown on his face. “I don’t know what the witness saw,” he said. “I have to talk to Hank, but hopefully it was enough to nail this guy.”

  Jake dialed Hank’s number and the call was answered on the first ring. He told the cop about the calls he’d received.

  “I’m just finishing up something here,” Hank said. “And then I’ll go and interview Eli Martin. I’ll pick you up on the way there.”

  Chapter 41

  Friday, September 2nd, 6:02 p.m.

  HANNAH MARTIN sat huddled against the wall of her cell. She didn’t know for sure how long she’d been here and how long she would have to remain. She was terrified for what her future held, shivering with fear and cold.

  Her abductor had returned once to snap her picture, and then left without a word.

  She knew he was outside the door, in the next room. She heard him moving around from time to time and her banging on the door to attract his attention had gone unheeded.

  She didn’t know where or what this building was and had screamed as loud as possible, over and over, trying to attract someone’s attention. Her screams seemed to have gone unnoticed, or more likely, unheard by anyone except her jailer prowling around in the next room. Once he’d yelled at her, “Shut up in there,” and then seemed to pay no mind to her after that.

  Her voice had gone hoarse and she’d finally given up hope of being heard.

  She was hungry and thirsty and the thin shirt she was wearing did little to protect her from the cold. But most of all, she was fearful for her life. She never expected to be a kidnap victim, and wondered if these were the same kidnappers she’d heard about.

  She had heeded the news warnings and been careful not to go out at night, especially alone, and to keep her doors locked at all times. But to be abducted in front of her own house in broad daylight was beyond anything she could’ve imagined.

  The lock on the door rattled and the door grated open.

  “I got some food for you.”

  She strained to see his face against the brightness of the room behind him.

  “You better eat,” he said as he crouched down and tossed a bag toward her. “It’s a burger.”

  She saw his face now. It was the same man—the one who’d forced her into the van and brought her here.

  “I’m thirsty,” she said.

  He pointed to the bag as he straightened up. “There’s a drink in there too.” He pulled a knife from his pocket. “Stand up and turn around.”

  She stood and turned slowly, and he cut the ties holding her wrists.

  “Okay, you can eat now,” he said.

  She turned back and picked up the bag as he stood in the doorway, watching her, his arms folded.

  “Why are you holding me?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “You’ll find out, I guess.”

  “Are you going to let me go soon?”

  “Can’t say when. I guess we’ll let you go, but I have to do what the boss tells me. It ain’t up to me.”

  She examined his face carefully. Despite the wounds, he didn’t appear to be a cold-blooded killer. But then, if what he said was true and he was following orders, then who knew what he would do?

  “If you let me go,” she said, “I can make it worth your while.”

  “I doubt that. I’m getting paid pretty good for this job.”

  “I can pay you more.”

  He laughed. “I don’t see how that would work. You have no money on you and if I let you go get it, then you wouldn’t keep your word. I’m no dummy. I know better than that.”

  “I’m not necessarily talking about money,” she said, forcing a seductive smile.

  He laughed again and leaned against the doorframe. “If I wanted that from you, well, I could just take it, couldn’t I?”

  “But you wouldn’t. You’re not that type of man.”

  He chuckled. “And how would you know that?”

  “Because if you were, you would’ve done it by now.”

  “Yeah, that’s true,” he said in a thoughtful voice, and then a little gruffer,
“But I still can, you know.”

  “You won’t.”

  He studied her face a moment and then looked her up and down. Finally, he said, “Yeah, you’re right, I wouldn’t. I might be many things. Probably not the best man you’ll ever meet, but I gotta draw the line somewhere I guess.” He looked at her defiantly. “And I ain’t never killed nobody either.”

  She believed he was sincere and that gave her a ray of hope. She understood it wasn’t him she needed to be afraid of, but whoever he worked for. But he was the gatekeeper standing in the way of her freedom and she had to do something. It didn’t look like she would be able to bribe him, either with money or the promise of sex.

  One last try. She took a step toward him and smiled again. “Can we make a deal?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I guess not.”

  “Don’t you find me attractive?” she asked, pretending to be disappointed.

  “Uh, of course I do, but you know, I just can’t do that. The boss would kill me for sure and all for what? A couple minutes of fun?”

  She took another slow step forward, now just three or four feet away from him.

  He bounced off the wall, stood upright, and pointed to the bag on the floor. “Eat your food. I’ll be back again.” He turned his head sideways and reached for the doorknob.

  It was now or never.

  She leaped forward, knocking against his shoulder as she scrambled past him, through the doorway into the other room.

  “Come back here,” he shouted.

  She looked around for a weapon, anything at all she could use to ward him off while she got her bearings. Shelving, containing rows and rows of boxes, lined the walls. She spun around. Something that looked like a short piece of garden hose lay near the wall close by. It wasn’t much, but she dove for it, gained her footing, and swung it wildly in the air as he approached.

  He stood back out of the way of the swinging weapon. “Drop that,” he said. “You can’t get away.”

  She disregarded him and looked toward the stairs leading up. They were on the other side of her abductor and she needed to get to them, the only way from this wretched dungeon.

  He followed her gaze. “You’ll never make it,” he said. “That hose ain’t gonna protect you much.”

  She moved toward the stairs, whipping the hose round and round. It sang as it spun through the air.

  He glared at her, raised his arms to protect his face, and dove, straight for her legs. She was knocked off balance. The hose spun away and he pinned her to the floor, his hands holding her arms firmly against the concrete.

  He grinned down at her. “Told you it wouldn’t work.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Let me go.”

  “Can’t do that.”

  “Please,” she begged.

  He rose to his feet, still holding her by one arm, forced her up, and glared at her. “You almost had me fooled,” he said. “But no more.” He spun her around, wrenched her arm behind her and prodded her back toward the small room.

  With a final thrust he pushed her through the doorway. She fell forward onto her knees as the door slammed shut behind her and once again she was alone, all hope gone, and terrified.

  Chapter 42

  Friday, September 2nd, 6:16 p.m.

  HANK PULLED his Chevy into the driveway behind Annie’s car and stepped out. He squinted up at the lowering sun. It’d been a great day, weatherwise, and he’d much rather be spending the coming evening relaxing, but the dark cloud of fear which hung over the city would be his first priority—his only priority—until this thing was solved.

  He strode up the pathway and tapped on the front door.

  Annie opened it immediately. “Come on in, Hank.”

  Hank stepped inside. “I’m just here to pick Jake up. Can’t stay long.”

  “I’m ready.” Jake popped out of the kitchen. “Let’s go.” He looked at his wife. “You coming, Annie?”

  “Not this time. I have a few things to do. Besides, I don’t want to overwhelm Eli Martin with too many people around. You can fill me in later.”

  Jake followed Hank from the house and they climbed in Hank’s car.

  “What’s Detective King up to?” Jake asked, turning to Hank.

  Hank started the engine. “He’s checking out all the yellow vans registered within ten miles of the city.”

  “These guys use a different van every time,” Jake said. “What about the blue van? The one they used to abduct Mrs. Coleman?”

  Hank shook his head. “No luck with that.” He backed from the driveway, dropped the shifter into drive, and sped away. “I have a feeling this yellow van is going to be a dead end as well.”

  “What about the witness?” Jake asked.

  Hank glanced over at Jake and shrugged. “She got the plate number. Unless she got the number wrong, it appears they used stolen plates.”

  “Did she see the driver?”

  “Sure, but not clearly. He was wearing a baseball cap and she couldn’t make out his face.”

  “It strikes me as being rather brazen,” Jake said. “Kidnapping her in front of her own home like that.”

  “And with the stolen plates,” Hank added. “It almost seems like they wanted to be seen.”

  “It sure does. The doctor’s wife, what’s her name … Linda Gould, was taken from the underground parking, a secluded spot, and Rosemary Coleman was taken in a secluded spot as well, out jogging in the woods.”

  “Maybe they’re just getting braver.”

  “Or careless.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Hank said. “I sure hope you’re right.”

  “But you know what worries me?” Jake asked.

  “What’s that?”

  “If the kidnapper didn’t wear a mask, or hide his face this time, then that means Mrs. Martin can identify him.”

  Hank frowned. “Which means they aren’t going to let her go.”

  There was silence a few moments, then Jake said flatly, “We need to catch these guys. And soon.”

  Hank pulled to the curb behind a bright red pickup truck. “This is it.”

  They climbed out and surveyed the small house. The dwelling appeared to be well kept, could use a bit of paint maybe, but overall seemed pleasant enough. The property was separated from its neighbors on each side by a row of manicured hedges.

  Jake followed Hank past a black SUV parked in the driveway, strode up a stone walkway to the front door, and rang the bell.

  Eli Martin looked like the average working guy. A buzzed-off haircut, a roundish face underneath three days’ growth, perhaps a bit overweight, but with some obvious strain showing in his dark brown eyes.

  Hank introduced them and showed his badge. Martin glanced at it, ushered them into the front room, and waved toward the couch. He sat in a matching chair as Jake and the cop settled into their seats.

  “I was at work when the police contacted me and told me what had happened,” Martin explained. “I came right home. The officers were still here, checking out my wife’s vehicle, taking pictures, etcetera. They asked me a few questions but I’m afraid I wasn’t much help.”

  Hank had a notepad out, thumbing through the pages. He found a blank one and asked, “Where do you work, Mr. Martin?”

  “Please, call me Eli.” He took a breath and continued, “I run an auto repair shop off Main Street. Martin Auto. I’ve been doing that for a lot of years.”

  Hank scribbled in his pad. “And you were there when the police called you?”

  “Yes. I have a mechanic helping me full-time and I was in my office when they called.”

  Hank would have to check that out, to be thorough, but he was more interested right now in getting some information that might help them in their search for the killers.

  “When you got home, Eli, was your house locked up? Was there any signs of entry, legal or otherwise?”

  Eli shook his head. “Everything was still locked up securely and the alarm set. Apparently, my wife had just got
ten home from doing some shopping when she was …” He reached to a stand beside his chair and retrieved a cell phone. “The … kidnapper called me a few minutes later.” He motioned toward Jake. “He advised me to call Mr. Lincoln, which I did.”

  “That was about five fifteen or five twenty,” Jake said. “And then a few minutes later, the kidnapper called me.”

  Eli handed his phone to Hank. “They sent me this photo,” he said, his voice trembling.

  Jake took the phone and looked at the photo on the screen. A woman, presumably Mrs. Martin, was huddled on the floor, her arms behind her back. She was looking at the camera, terror in her eyes.

  “I’ll need to keep this for now,” Hank said.

  Eli nodded.

  Hank dropped the phone into his jacket pocket. “Do you have a photo of your wife?” He paused. “Other than this one?”

  Eli stood, went to a bookcase, and leafed through an album. He returned a moment later and handed Hank a photo. “Here’s a recent one. A couple of weeks ago.”

  Hank took the photo and glanced at it. It was a full-length shot of Mrs. Martin, standing on the front lawn, her arm around a young girl.

  “That’s her niece,” Eli explained. “Her sister’s daughter.”

  Jake tucked the photo into his notebook. “Where does your wife work, Eli?”

  “She has a part-time job at a beauty salon. Just keeping track of appointments and so on. It gives her something to do and gets her out of the house awhile.” Eli smiled faintly. “We have no kids, so her life is rather boring sometimes.”

  “Did she work yesterday?” Hank asked.

  “I don’t believe so. She works Tuesdays and Thursdays. Unless she was called in for something, but I don’t think so.”

  Eli gave him the name and address of her work and Hank made a notation in his pad. He would check at her job, but that was unlikely to yield any results.

  “Eli, would you like me to send an officer here to stay with you … just in case?” Hank asked.

  “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Detective. I doubt if I’m in any danger. If they want a ransom for my wife, then they wouldn’t harm me.”