“In the van.”
“Not good enough. I need to see him,” Duke said.
Max offered a subtle nod of his head in the van’s direction. Duke realized he wasn’t breathing as he watched what looked like a young boy with dark hair climb up to the passenger seat from the back of the van. Duke squinted in the direction of the child, but with the distance, he couldn’t pin the boy as being Ben.
Duke heard the sound of a door opening, and Ahote appeared from behind the van. He looked enormous to Duke and even more menacing with the fresh pink scar that Duke had sliced in the shape of a crescent from his eye to his jawline.
Ahote mumbled something in a language Duke had never heard before. The big Indian’s right hand turned into a menacing fist, and he raised it over his head like a deadly mallet.
“Settle down,” Max told his employee. “You don’t give me the shipment right now, Duke, I’ll have Ahote bring your boy out here, and he’ll snap his neck.”
An old VW Bug darted into the rear parking lot, and Duke spun around to assess the new danger. He spotted two kids, teenagers, a boy and a girl, who probably figured they found a perfect place to make out. The VW’s headlights shot across the van, and Duke quickly scanned the front seat of the van to get a better look at the child. The boy had dark hair, but he was smaller than Ben. The boy wore a Detroit Tigers hat and Duke realized someone had stuffed the boy’s dark hair inside it, since a few long pieces that skimmed to the child’s shoulders had come loose and framed the boy’s face. Duke instantly knew this was a setup, since Ben never had hair that long a day in his life.
Duke felt a sick plummeting in his stomach as the VW made a quick reverse and hightailed it out of the parking lot.
“You’ve kept your end of the deal by bringing my boy here. Now let me keep mine. I’m going to get the package from Lemming. I’ve got a team with me, so don’t try and do anything stupid,” Duke bluffed. “Give me two minutes.”
Duke didn’t wait for a response, figuring it wouldn’t be one he wanted to hear, and tried to walk confidently back to the side of the building. As soon as he turned the corner, he began to sprint. At the halfway point, he desperately wished he had a walkie-talkie so he could warn Marjorie to start the car so they could make a quick escape. He had only three feet left until he reached the front parking lot, but then a giant hand yanked him backward so hard, Duke stumbled and smacked the side of his head against the concrete wall of the Kmart building.
Duke felt his body being spun around, and before he could get his bearings, a mammoth hand connected with his nose like a fast-swinging club.
Duke hit the ground and could feel the blood starting to pour from his nose as he dodged another punishing blow from Ahote’s fist, which missed its original target of his eye, but landed against his ear, instead.
The now-terrible scene playing out around him seemed to melt like a Salvador Dalí painting as Duke tried to speak. His big mouth had usually been his secret weapon in the past to get him out of sticky situations, but it was silenced when Ahote’s foot drove into his rib cage and Duke heard something inside his body snap, right before he lost consciousness.
Duke came to, coughing and trying not to choke. He instinctively started to reach for a glass of water on his nightstand, but realized he wasn’t waking up from a horrible dream in his motel room. Instead, he was strapped into the Cadillac with Marjorie next to him. Duke looked down and saw that both of his wrists were duct-taped to the steering wheel.
Duke turned his face away from his wife and spit out what was thick and floating at the base of his throat as a stream of blood spewed out and splattered across the driver-side door.
He quickly looked around and realized the Cadillac was no longer in the back of the Kmart construction site by the airport, but instead was lying nosedown in a ditch.
“Jesus, what happened?” Duke asked. His words got lost as he saw Max standing on top of the embankment next to Ahote.
The window of the Cadillac was open just enough for Duke to hear their conversation.
“They’re beautiful,” Max said as he examined the contents inside the box. “Put these in my car, and then take care of them.”
“Yes, sir,” Ahote answered.
Duke looked down at his arm and saw that Marjorie was holding on to it for all she was worth. But most important, her hands weren’t duct-taped together.
“I’ve got a straight-edge razor in my pocket. It’ll cut the tape free. Get it out and cut me loose. Do it quick, and then run! Ahote didn’t tape you?”
“I got worried when you were taking too long, so I got out of the car to find you. Ahote hit me and I pretended to pass out, so he just dumped me in the passenger seat and I played dead.”
“Good move. Get the razor and hurry,” Duke said in a rush.
Marjorie dove her hand into Duke’s front pocket, extracted the razor, and opened the blade. Duke’s eyes stayed fixed on the embankment where Ahote and Max had disappeared from view.
“Too slow! You’ve got to work faster. Ahote will be back,” Duke urged.
“I’m trying. Damn it, I cut my finger,” Marjorie cried as the razor’s sharp edge nicked her thumb in her haste.
Marjorie worked the blade back and forth across the tape as Ahote reappeared at the top of the embankment with a sledgehammer.
“What’s he going to do with that?” Marjorie asked.
“I’m hoping he’s going to use it on the car, so it will look like we were in an accident, and not on us,” Duke said. “Come on, hurry before he gets here.”
Marjorie cut the last strand of the duct tape that held Duke’s wrists bound to the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry. I truly am. You deserved better,” Duke said, and took a quick look at his wife of fifteen years. “Now get the hell out of this car and run as fast as you can.”
Marjorie reached for the door, but Ahote was already coming down the embankment.
“Change of plans. You’ll never outrun him. Down on the seat, quick. Make him think you’re still unconscious,” Duke said. “That’s probably the only way you’re going to get out of here alive.”
Ahote reached the car and took a look at Duke and then up to the night sky. Ahote raised the sledgehammer over his head and dropped it down, letting it connect with a thundering blow against the Cadillac’s hood. He then landed two powerful strikes that took out the car’s headlights and then moved over to the windshield in front of Duke.
Duke ducked his head down to protect his face just as the windshield exploded, and he could feel slivers of glass embed in his scalp.
Ahote dropped the sledgehammer and opened what was left of the now-misshapen Cadillac’s hood.
The open hood obscured Duke’s view of Ahote, but Duke could hear something like water pouring over the engine.
“What’s he doing?” Marjorie whispered.
Duke knew the answer immediately as the smell of gasoline registered in his brain. “He’s going to light the car on fire. Shit, he’s coming. Play dead.”
The passenger-side door opened, and Ahote reached across a prone and falsely limp Marjorie to the ignition and started the engine. Duke held his wrists tightly together and prayed Ahote wouldn’t notice that the duct tape was severed in the mess of broken glass that littered across his body, the dashboard, and the seat. Duke wasn’t sure how he’d get out of this, but he realized he’d made one small step ahead when Ahote got out of the car and shut the passenger-side door. Ahote started to move back toward the engine, but stopped and walked over to Duke’s window.
“You got a beef with me, fine, but my kid and my wife didn’t do anything to you,” Duke said.
Ahote stared at Duke, his almost-black eyes fixated on him without blinking. He then rapped his giant fist against the window and started to move back to the engine.
“That scar I put on your face, you’ll never forget me every time you look at it,” Duke called out.
Ahote dropped the hood down a few inches, knowingly
being cruel, so Duke could watch the onset of his death, and the big Indian pulled out a matchbook. Duke held his breath as he saw the orange glow of the match catching. Ahote waited as the lit match burned down to his finger and then jumped back as he threw it on the engine. Then Ahote bent down toward the ground and lit the grass on fire on the passenger side of the vehicle.
Duke watched helplessly as a dance of flame licked across the engine in between the sliver of space between the hood and the engine.
“We’ve got to get out!” Marjorie cried in a desperate whisper.
“Wait until Ahote is out of sight. You can do it,” Duke said.
Ahote ran up the embankment and away from the quickly spreading fire. The second he disappeared, Duke scrambled for the driver-side door and then yelled to his wife as he leapt from the burning car.
“Run! Get out of the car!”
Duke dove from the Cadillac and ran to the back of the vehicle for cover; all the while, he was looking back toward the top of the embankment. But Ahote hadn’t stuck around. Duke tried to look through the window to the passenger seat, but in the growing smoke, he wasn’t sure if Marjorie had gotten out. He looked back toward a field and every fiber of his being screamed at him to take off and never look back, but Duke made one loop around to be sure his wife had run like he’d told her. He coughed through the smoke and started to reach for her door, when an inferno blasted from the engine and the car engulfed in flames. Duke felt a searing heat that went hot to cold run down both his arms. The words “drop and roll,” which he had learned in the third grade at St. Mary’s Catholic School in Detroit, popped into his mind, and Duke fell to the ground and looked on in shock as both his arms were fully on fire. Duke began to roll away from the car, over and over, across the ground and away from the Cadillac, which was now nearly invisible in a wall of flame.
Duke stared down at his hands, which were folded in front of him, as he sat between his daughters at the kitchen table.
“I met Ahote at Liam Mueller’s place,” Julia said. “He’s working for him, now that his dad’s out of the picture. You said Ahote had a bow and arrow to hunt that Vietnamese boy. A young man, his name was Angel Perez, was just murdered and his killer used a bow and arrow. The police chief told me there were other killings dating back thirty years that were done the same way. One of the first victims was a Vietnamese boy.”
“Ahote killed that kid then. I’d hoped he got away.”
“You need to go to the police and tell them about what you saw. Ahote is a serial killer,” Julia said.
“Not my problem right now.”
“He’s going to kill again. If you won’t do the right thing and tell the police, then I will. The cops are going to pick up Ahote.”
“Good luck with that. Ahote has always lived under the radar.”
“He knows what happened to Ben. I’m going to find him, whether you help me or not.”
“If he doesn’t find you first. Vegas odds, he was the one shooting at you in Stinson Trail.”
“Who cares about these people? Did Mom get out alive?” Sarah asked.
“I don’t see how. We were likely headed for a split, but that’s not the ending I wanted for her,” Duke said. “If she’d run like I told her to, I would’ve seen her in the field, but I didn’t.”
“Mom didn’t get out. The police ID’ed her body,” Julia said.
Duke looked away from his daughters and shook his head.
“You didn’t call the police. You didn’t go back for Ben,” Julia said.
“No. That’s true. I was in horrible pain, and the only thing I was thinking about was survival. I don’t know what Max did with Ben, whether he killed him or sent him to Lemming. I needed to go to a hospital for the burns on my arms, but I called my friend Rickie and he said he’d take care of everything. I got my stash and got out of the country.”
“How do I find Lemming?” Julia asked.
“You don’t.”
“You can make it easy and tell me, or I can find out myself. Either way, I’m going to track him and Ahote down.”
Julia began to turn pieces of Duke’s story over in her head. “There was a male body found in the burned-out car, along with Mom. Who was the man?”
“Like I said, Rickie took care of everything. He was a fixer, and I didn’t ask questions. I figured he found another body to take my place. Max and his clan needed to believe I was dead, and Rickie made sure they did.”
Duke reached into his suit coat jacket, which was lying on a chair in the kitchen, and pulled out Julia’s phone.
“What’s your password? I need to be sure your phone is safe.”
Julia reluctantly gave her father the information and watched as Duke studied her cell, his index finger swiping and tapping on the screen until he found what he was looking for.
“It hasn’t been hacked. Now . . . who should I call?” Duke asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m calling someone you trust to pick you up. Who is it?”
“Ray Navarro,” Julia answered quickly without having to think about her response. “He’s a cop.”
“A cop? Great. I’ll put the call on speaker for your convenience. But if you say a word about where you think you are, forget my offer to help you.”
“Just make the call,” Julia said.
Duke hit the number and Julia listened as it rang for less than a split second when Navarro picked up.
“Julia, Jesus, are you okay?” Navarro asked.
“Julia’s fine. You’ll get a call in a few minutes where you can pick her up. If you’re smart, you’ll have law enforcement keeping a twenty-four-hour watch on her kids.”
“Already done. Put Julia on the line. Now.”
Duke held the phone out in Julia’s direction.
“I’m okay, Ray.”
“You hear that? She’s fine,” Duke answered.
“You asshole. You’re Julia’s dad. She told me everything about you, how you ran off and left her when she was a kid.”
“Asshole. Right, that would be me.”
“Everyone is looking for you, the Feds, Max Mueller’s old crew. Turn yourself in before you hurt any more people. If you do anything to Julia, I’ll kill you.”
Duke looked over at Julia and raised his eyebrows.
“You love my daughter, I’m guessing. Do you believe in irony, Mr. Navarro?”
“It’s Detective Navarro, and I believe that men who abandon their families, and then pull innocent people into their messes and almost get them killed, should go to jail. Where did you take Julia?”
“You didn’t answer my question. I’m a firm believer in irony. And the fact that I’m a wanted fugitive and my daughter is a crime reporter who’s with a cop, that, my friend, is fate laughing directly in our faces. Julia is safe. She’ll call you after I drop her off, and she’ll let you know where you can pick her up.”
“What did you steal from Max Mueller? We brought his son, Liam, in, figuring he grabbed Julia in the park, but Liam swears he doesn’t know anything about any bad dealing you had with his father or what happened to Julia.”
“A minute until you keep me on the phone long enough that you can figure out my location. Nice move about Liam, but you don’t care about what I stole. You only care about my daughter. Thirty seconds.”
“Hold on, I need to tell him about . . . ,” Julia started, but Duke cut her off.
“Have a nice afternoon, Detective,” Duke said, and ended the call.
“I needed to tell him about Ahote.”
“You can do it later.”
Duke started to stick Julia’s cell phone into his pants pocket, but it rang again. Duke hit the play button and answered. “You don’t give up easily. I told you, Julia will call you when I drop her off. I’m turning the phone off now.”
Duke started to move the phone away from his ear, but froze in place.
“Ben?” he asked. “No way. I don’t know who you are, but . . .”
“Give me the phone. Give me the damn phone!” Julia answered, and tried to snatch the phone away from her father’s hands, but he wouldn’t let go. Julia latched onto it, and the two clung to the phone and listened in to the person on the other end claiming to be Ben.
“Who is this? You set me up at the park and almost got me killed,” Julia said.
“I’m so sorry, Julia. I told you to come alone, but you didn’t. I had to leave. I wish I could explain.”
“Why don’t you?” Julia asked.
“Everything Phoenix told you was true. I have to go back. They don’t know I left. I can’t stay here anymore, no matter how much I want to. My time is up. If I don’t leave now, we’ll both be killed. I love you, kid.”
“I don’t know who you are, but Ben is dead. You aren’t my son,” Duke said. “Stop trying to screw with Julia’s head to get to me.”
“Duke? Get away from him, Julia! I told you. He’s going to get you killed. Everything he told you is a lie. Where are you? Tell me. Get away from Duke. Now!”
Duke pulled the cell phone away from Julia’s hand and ended the call.
“What did you do?” Julia cried.
“I kept everyone from getting killed,” Duke said, and pocketed Julia’s phone. “I’m keeping this for a while.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I’m going to track the number,” Duke said.
“The cops already tried and they couldn’t.”
Duke looked at Julia and offered up his most blinding smile.
“You’re playing with the big boys now, honey.”
CHAPTER 21
Ahote looked down at the parks-and-rec employee’s body and breathed in deeply before he dumped it in the fresh hole he had just dug deep in the woods near his trailer in Macomb County. The property had once been a busy hub thirty years earlier when Max Mueller was alive and still carrying out his human-trafficking business. But now it was just Ahote out here these days, giving him enough reclusive freedom to do whatever he wanted. Well, almost anything, except for what he wanted the most. Ahote’s gray T-shirt clung to his still strong as a slab of granite, almost-sixty-year-old body, and he sighed as he realized the parks-and-rec employee would have to satisfy him. For now.
Worth Killing For Page 23