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

by Rayven T. Hill

  Her assumption was correct. Underneath the fresh black paint was a hint of yellow. She scratched some more. Blue, and then white, and then bare metal.

  This was the vehicle the kidnappers had used, covered with a fresh coat of paint each time. She suspected it was unregistered as well and that’s why Callaway hadn’t been able to track it down. It might’ve been rescued from a wrecking yard at some point and fixed up.

  She had to get inside.

  Digging in her handbag, she removed a small leather case and flipped it open. It wasn’t the first time she’d used her lock-picking tools. They’d come in handy before and she’d practiced since. It took a few minutes to spring the lock and she pulled the door handle up and climbed in.

  She went straight for the bag and looked inside. It was hair; no, wait, it was a beard, a fake one. She suspected it was the one Mouse had worn when he’d robbed Walter Coleman outside the bank.

  She decided not to search the rest of the vehicle. If she was correct, she didn’t want to mess up any evidence. She would let Jake know. His phone rang several times before he answered.

  “Hi, honey,” he said. “I can’t talk now. I’m using the GPS tracker and following Martin.”

  She told him what she’d found. He whistled and then said, “Martin has stopped somewhere. I’ll call Hank as soon as I get there.” He paused, then added, “I hope you’re being careful?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good work, honey,” Jake said. “We’re gonna get this guy.”

  “And you be careful too,” Annie said.

  Jake chuckled. “Always.”

  She hung up. There was no doubt in her mind now they had the right guy. She just had to check one more thing.

  Chapter 54

  Saturday, September 3rd, 4:29 p.m.

  ELI MARTIN reached under his jacket and fingered his weapon of choice. It was deadly, silent, and all he would need. That and his wits.

  Of course, if anyone was around, it wouldn’t do to be recognized, so he opened the glove compartment and removed a black ski mask. He stuffed it into his side jacket pocket and got out of the SUV.

  He took a glance up and down the road before climbing through the ditch and making his way up the incline to the forest’s edge. Soon, all these trees would be cut down to make room for the exploding population, but for today, they would serve their purpose.

  The darkened woods kept him hidden as he crept through the trees and stopped at the tree line bordering the rear of the Coleman house, only fifty feet from where he stood. He crouched down beside a bush and put on the ski mask. It would cover his features should anyone other than Rosemary come along while he was doing his task.

  He waited.

  He knew she wouldn’t be going on her daily jog. She hadn’t done that for a while, too afraid now to venture so far from her home. The cop was likely in the front room and didn’t concern him in the least. He only had to be patient until Rosemary came into the backyard. And she would.

  And she did.

  Eli Martin watched as the back door slid open. She had some garden tools in her hand, ready to do some gardening. Perfect. He smiled grimly, adjusted the ski mask, and rose to his feet. He waited patiently until she came a little closer and bent down by the flowerbed, close to a towering maple that occupied the center of the backyard. She held a small hand shovel, another tool in her other hand, and she began to dig in the flowerbed. She was only thirty feet away from him now.

  He moved silently to the right. The maple tree was hiding her from his view, but better still, it hid him from her.

  Just as planned.

  He stepped out and crept forward. The cushy grass under his feet allowed for a silent approach. Just a few more feet and he stopped behind the maple. Rosemary was humming to herself. She sounded contented, obviously unaware she was about to die.

  He reached under his jacket and removed the garrote. The wire was thin, like piano wire, strong, and deadly. The wooden handle at either end assured he would have a firm grip, a deadly grip, as Rosemary’s breath was cut off and she quietly died of asphyxiation.

  He was going to enjoy that part.

  He licked his lips and gripped the weapon.

  One last glance around and then he stepped out.

  Was it the faint sound of his footsteps on the grass? Was it intuition? Or was it by chance? She turned her head just as he raised the weapon. He leaped forward and flipped the garrote. It was around her neck, but by instinct she’d brought her hands up, the small shovel still held tightly in her fist, keeping his weapon from finding her throat.

  She gasped and tried to scream but no sound came out.

  As she struggled and broke free, he swung his fist. It connected viciously with the side of her head, knocking her to her back. She was stunned, but as he leaped on her she rolled to the side, swinging the shovel in one hand like a knife, a small rake in the other. It nicked the side of his head and he felt a stinging in his ear.

  He dove again and this time he was on her. He wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed. As his grip tightened about her windpipe, in desperation she swung the tool again. He ducked out of its way and had to let go of her throat to avoid another painful blow.

  She stabbed at him with the shovel, again and again. This crazy chick was tougher than he’d expected. But he couldn’t fail. Never. Never.

  He should’ve brought a knife with him, just in case. He cursed his luck. He had a small pistol in his vehicle but didn’t dare use it. He’d wanted this to be a silent kill.

  But things weren’t working out exactly as planned.

  She swung again, connected again, and he was dazed for a few seconds. Just long enough for her to struggle free, and by the time he’d recovered, she’d stumbled to her feet and was getting away. She was a good five yards from him before she wobbled, fell to one knee, rose again, and turned around.

  He’d made it to his feet and stood between her and the house, the wooded area behind her. She glanced toward the house, hoping to make it to safety, but he stood his ground. They panted and glared at each other.

  She was feisty, he’d give her that, but she couldn’t get away now. She’d dropped the garden tools in her escape and was helpless. He still clung to the garrote by one end, the other dangling at his side.

  He dove for her but she spun and headed for the trees. But she could never outrun him.

  Or could she?

  He chased her as she tore madly through the bush. He ducked low hanging branches that swung back at him as she thrust them aside. He was getting closer. He could touch her now. He grasped her shoulder but his foot caught a root and he fell heavily against a tree.

  Then she tripped, landed on all fours, and sprang up again as he caught the back of her shirt. It ripped loose, leaving most of her right sleeve in his hand. He tossed it aside and cursed her.

  They were getting close to the other edge of the wooded area now. He had to catch her before she got to the road. He’d found out the hard way she was fast and agile, probably due to her daily habit of jogging. Once they got to the road she would outrun him. Why hadn’t he brought his pistol with him?

  She was circling around now, heading for the road at an angle, calling for help. Where’s she going?

  And then he saw what she saw.

  A car had backed into a small lane by the road and she headed straight for it. He could make out a figure in the driver seat.

  Eli Martin spun to a stop, stepped behind a tree, and peered around the trunk. He watched helplessly as Rosemary ran frantically toward the bright red vehicle.

  He cursed to himself. Even that fool Mouse couldn’t have bungled this any worse than he had. Now all he could do was get back to his vehicle, get out of here, and try again later.

  Next time he would bring a rifle.

  Chapter 55

  Saturday, September 3rd, 4:55 p.m.

  JAKE HAD BACKED his vehicle into a small laneway leading off the main road. Martin’s SUV was parked on the
shoulder, some ways back. He didn’t know what Martin was up to, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. He knew the Coleman residence was just through those trees and he feared the worst.

  Annie had found enough evidence to prove Martin’s involvement, so it was time to call the police. But until they arrived and put a stop Martin’s plans, he would have to take matters into his own hands.

  He picked his phone up off the dashboard and closed the browser. He stopped, his finger poised above the dial button. What was that?

  From somewhere close by he’d heard a call for help. It was a woman’s voice, urgent, almost pleading.

  He squinted through the window and peered up the grade leading into the woods. Through the darkness of the trees he saw a woman running his way, stumbling as she raced toward him.

  He tossed the phone onto the dash and jumped from the vehicle. As the woman drew closer he recognized her. It was Rosemary Coleman. He didn’t see her pursuer but suspected it was Eli Martin. But where was he?

  He sprinted up the grade and she fell into his arms as he reached the top. She was out of breath, panting, and she clung to him, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Thank God. Please help me. He’s trying to kill me.”

  Jake pushed her back by the shoulders and stared into her frantic eyes. “Who?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  He scanned the woods for signs of Martin but saw nothing.

  Rosemary’s legs gave way and she crumpled to the ground. Jake leaned down and picked her up. She couldn’t have weighed much more than a hundred pounds and was barely a hindrance to him as he spun around and climbed back down the grade.

  He set her on her feet at the passenger side of the vehicle, steadying her with one hand while he opened the door with the other. He helped her inside the car.

  Now what should he do?

  An engine came to life a hundred yards away. It was Martin. He was on the move again. He had to follow him.

  He ran around, jumped into the driver-side door, and grabbed his phone off the dash. He got the tracer working. But the red dot was moving this way. Instead of going back the way he came, Martin was heading out of town. The black SUV breezed past, heading north.

  Jake glanced over at Rosemary. She’d finally caught her breath, calmed down, and was watching him.

  “There he goes,” Jake said, pointing to the vehicle speeding away. “Do you know who was chasing you?”

  She shook her head and watched the vehicle disappear from view. “He was wearing a ski mask. I couldn’t see his face.”

  “It was Eli Martin,” Jake said. “Do you know him?”

  She frowned. “I’ve never heard the name. Is he one of the kidnappers?”

  “I’m afraid so, and it looks like he came back to finish the job.”

  She looked at him anxiously. “We should call the police.”

  “We will,” he said, holding the phone up as he talked. “But I need to follow him and I can’t use the tracker at the same time.”

  Rosemary squinted at the phone. “Your battery is almost dead. It’s down to one percent.”

  He spun the phone around and glared at it. He hadn’t charged it up the night before and the continuous use of the tracker had drained its remaining power. Now what? He’d better use the last of the battery and call the police. He would have to follow Martin manually. He’d better get moving.

  He handed Rosemary the phone. “Call the police. I have to concentrate on following that guy.”

  Rosemary took the phone from him and Jake dropped the shifter into gear and spun ahead, tossing up dust and gravel as the tires bit in. The vehicle swung onto the road and he rammed the gas pedal to the floor.

  Rosemary held up the phone. “The battery’s dead.”

  Jake glanced at her, frowned, and made a quick decision. He couldn’t let Martin get away. He might be a mile or so up the road, and who knew where he would end up? Jake had no choice but to follow. The speedometer climbed higher. He kept the pedal to the floor as the road wound around gentle curves and over hills.

  “Why was he trying to kill me?” Rosemary asked.

  Jake glanced at her. “That’s what I don’t know. I assume it’s because you can identify his partner, and if he’s found, he’ll probably turn on Martin.”

  They roared over a knoll, his stomach dropped, and the front tires left the road for a brief moment. The performance shocks cushioned the landing, the rear springs doing their job well as Rosemary clung to the dashboard.

  “But I already identified him,” Rosemary said. “Apparently, they know exactly who his partner is. A guy named Antony Miflan.”

  Jake nodded. “Better known as Mouse. But Mouse hasn’t been found and Martin might’ve gotten rid of him already.”

  “You mean … killed his partner?”

  Jake shrugged. “Why not?”

  They reached a long stretch of straight road and saw the SUV ahead. A long ways off, but they were gaining. He didn’t have a plan as to what he would do when he caught up to Martin. He would have to decide that when the time came.

  “Does he have a gun?” Jake asked.

  “I don’t think so. If he did, he would’ve used it on me.”

  “So he had no weapon? Not even a knife?”

  “He had one of those wire things, with handles on the end. He tried to choke me with it.”

  “A garrote.”

  She nodded.

  “That’s what he used on the other victims,” Jake said.

  She shuddered. “And he almost used it on me.” She paused. “Do you have a gun?”

  “Nope. Not allowed to carry one.”

  He checked the gas gauge. Lots of gas. He had topped it up yesterday. It didn’t matter how far Martin went, he couldn’t get away this time. The Firebird was tuned to perfection and its sixteen-gallon tank should outlast the SUV unless Martin had a full tank, and that wasn’t likely.

  He felt her gaze on him and he moved his eyes from the road for a second and glanced at her.

  “Aren’t you afraid?” she asked.

  Jake thought a moment. “Not really,” he said. “I’m more angry than afraid.”

  “You don’t look it.”

  He grinned. “You’ll have to trust me on that one.”

  Yes, he was angry, but he was trying to keep a cool head. He glanced at her again. “What about you?”

  The SUV rounded a curve, out of sight, and the Firebird followed.

  She shrugged. “I’ve been through a lot the last few days.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I think I’m more angry than afraid now too.” She paused. “Besides, I’m with you, and you look pretty capable.”

  She had broken the tension and he chuckled. “So far, I’ve been lucky I guess.”

  “I hope your luck holds for another day.”

  The vehicle came out of the curve and Jake’s mouth dropped open. “He’s gone.”

  Rosemary peered through the window. “He must’ve pulled off somewhere.”

  Jake touched the brake and pulled to the shoulder. He looked in the rearview mirror. “He couldn’t have gone far.”

  Rosemary twisted around in the seat. “I saw a laneway just back there,” she said. “Perhaps that’s where he pulled off.”

  “Let’s find out,” Jake said.

  Chapter 56

  Saturday, September 3rd, 4:29 p.m.

  AFTER ANNIE HAD called Jake, she was still confused about Eli Martin’s involvement in the murder of his own wife, what part he had in it, and the possible whereabouts of the man named Mouse.

  She stepped over to the back of the building and peered into the window. The mechanic was still under the vehicle, concentrating on the repairs. She retrieved her lock-picking tools again and went to work on the door she suspected led down into the bowels of the building. In a moment, the door swung open and she peeked inside.

  A set of wooden steps led down into a brightly lit basement. She listened a moment and then tugged the door open and stepped over the threshold onto
the first step.

  What was she looking for? She wasn’t sure, but she carefully took each step until she landed at the foot of the stairs. She looked around. It appeared this room was used for storage of parts and equipment.

  She checked in a cardboard box on the shelf and flipped through old business records, receipts, and bills covering the last couple of years. Other boxes held clamps, bolts, and a variety of fasteners.

  A chair sat near one wall, beside a makeshift table covered with magazines, an ashtray, and empty coffee cups. Someone had spent some time down here.

  Across the room, another set of steps led up, likely into the main part of the building. A door on the wall to the right was closed, probably leading into another room. She went closer to the door and examined it. There was a sliding bolt lock on it, pulled back. She twisted the knob and gently pushed the door open.

  The small room was dark so she found her flashlight, flicked it on, and shone it around. The walls of the empty chamber were concrete like the rest of the basement. There was no window in the room and the ceiling was solid with heavy beams.

  She shone the light on the floor, frowned, and crouched down. A dark patch had caught her eye. It was dried blood, now soaked into the concrete and staining the porous floor a reddish-brown shade.

  Annie shuddered. Was this the place where Hannah Martin had been held? Judging by the stains on the floor, perhaps she’d been murdered in this very spot.

  She’d seen enough.

  As she backed into the main room and closed the door behind her, she heard the outside door at the top of the steps open. She spun around, darted to the far side of the room and ducked down behind a wooden barrel.

  Footsteps clomped on the stairs, one at a time, until the newcomer reached the floor. She held her breath. Hopefully, he wouldn’t stay.

  What had she gotten herself into?