“I remember Jackson was always talking about knowing the latest thing about them. And Julie.”
“How about Mark?”
“Mark?” The man looked down at his muddy boots. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard that about him.”
Brad’s cell phone rang, and he pulled it from his belt. He couldn’t see the screen because of the sun glare. “Hello?”
“Reggie . . . you . . . to . . . here.”
Sounded like Reggie, and he was upset. “You’re breaking up. Let me call you back.”
“You’ll be lucky to get service here at the creek,” McCoy said. “It’s better at the office, but still not good.”
They hiked back to the office, with Brad attempting to call Reggie back every few steps. Finally the call connected. “What’s going on?”
“An hour ago, Kelsey’s sister tried to call her, and when she didn’t get an answer, Sabra called me. I’m on my way to the Pink Palace now.”
Blood thundered in his ears. Kelsey. “We’ll be there in an hour, but call me if you hear from her.”
He turned to Rachel. “No one has heard from Kelsey for the past hour.” He sprinted for the car.
“I’ll drive,” Rachel said when she caught him.
Brad gladly gave her his keys. He’d probably get them killed. Besides, he needed the time to think. Fifty minutes later, they swung onto Highway 385 at Eads, just outside of Memphis.
“Where to?”
“Let’s start at Kelsey’s last known location. The Pink Palace.” His phone rang. Reggie. “Did you find her?”
“No. Jackson King says Mark Tomlinson knocked him out and kidnapped her.”
47
BRAD PACED THE DIRECTOR’S OFFICE. When they had arrived twenty minutes ago, the visitors’ parking lot was empty, but police cars and an ambulance were sitting at the back entrance. And now a paramedic was examining Jackson King’s head.
“What do you mean, the cameras are down? How long?” Brad fisted his hands and scanned the four people in the museum director’s office. Not that he expected Phillip or the paramedic to know. But King or Tomlinson should. He’d kept quiet until now, letting Rachel ask the questions.
“My brother can’t be involved in this,” the director said.
“Well, he is,” Jackson snapped. “He must have turned the cameras off when he came to work this morning.”
The paramedic handed Jackson an ice pack and instructed him to keep it on the back of his head. Then he packed his supplies into his medical bag. “If the headache gets worse, go to the ER.”
Brad moved to let the medic out the door.
“I don’t have time to go to the ER,” Jackson muttered as the door closed. He held the ice pack to his head.
Tomlinson scrubbed his face. “I can’t believe this is happening. This isn’t like Mark.”
“You can’t believe it’s happening. How do you think I feel?” King said. “One minute Kelsey and I were leaving her office to get coffee, and then Mark rushed in, knocked me out, and when I came to, she was gone.”
“Where’s his car?” Rachel asked.
Phillip spoke up. “I checked, and it’s gone. Mr. Tomlinson gave a description of it to the police an hour ago.”
So, by now the DMV should have Mark Tomlinson’s license plate number to go with the description. Brad pinned the young man with his glare. “Why weren’t you with Kelsey?”
“Because I sent him out,” Jackson said. “I wanted to discuss something in private with Kelsey.”
“What was that?”
The security director rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to discuss the partnership I’ve offered Kelsey with Rutherford Security. She accepted, and we were going down to the coffee shop to celebrate when Mark busted in.”
Kelsey had told him about the offer, so he could see Jackson sending the bodyguard out to discuss it, but the timing was horrible. His gaze collided with Rachel’s. Stepping back and letting her run the show was the hardest thing he’d done in a while, but it wasn’t his case. Neither was it a cold case. He hoped it wouldn’t be a homicide.
“Let’s go over this once more,” Rachel said to Jackson. “You two were in her office when Mark Tomlinson came in.”
“Yes. Like I said, she’d just agreed to become a partner in the firm.”
Brad eyed Jackson. He appeared to be telling the truth, and he certainly didn’t hit himself over the head. He turned as the door opened and Reggie joined them. “Any news?”
Reggie shook his head. “No. No one saw Mark leave with or without Kelsey.”
Brad turned to Tomlinson. “I’d like to see Mark’s office.”
“Crime scene techs are going over it now,” Rachel said. “And Kelsey’s office.”
Again a gentle reminder that this wasn’t his case. He eyed Tomlinson. “How about you? Where were you when all this was going on?”
“Excuse me?” Tomlinson’s eyes widened. “You don’t think—”
“We don’t think anything right now,” Rachel said. “I’m sure Sergeant Hollister was just trying to get a picture of what everyone was doing this morning. So why don’t you give us a summary.”
The museum director cleared his throat. “Phone records will show that I’ve been on the telephone quite a bit this morning. Went down and spoke with Julie and returned a crate of files to the archives. And then this awful thing happened.”
Brad looked over the notes he’d taken. He exchanged looks with Rachel. “Has the museum been searched?”
“Yes. The Rutherford people assisted.”
“Can we search again?” Brad asked.
Rachel snapped her notebook shut. “Brad, there’s no reason to believe she’s here. I need you to assist in interviewing people.”
He cocked his jaw. “But no one saw Mark take her out.”
“He probably used one of the rolling bins,” Tomlinson said. “There are any number of them around this place. I used one myself when I returned files to the archives. Someone’s always moving large items from one place to another.”
Brad wanted to do more than interview people. What if Mark had her stashed somewhere in the building until night, when no one would be around. “I’m going to search the building again.”
“And I’m going to interview the other employees,” Rachel said. “I’d hoped you would help me with that.”
“Reggie can help, and I’ll join you as soon as I take a look around.”
“I’ll go with you,” Jackson said, slipping his blazer on.
Brad eyed him. He’d feel better having Jackson where he could see him. Plus, he probably knew the building better than anyone other than Mark Tomlinson. “Let’s start at the top.”
“The top floor is used to store everything except artifacts, and it’s pretty big and cluttered.”
Might be a perfect place to hide someone. “Why don’t we start on the east side and work our way to the other end.”
It didn’t take Brad long to realize searching the attic with its maze-like pathways through the stored items would prove difficult. “Are there any parts of the attic sealed off into rooms?”
“There are a couple of rooms, but it’s all like this, practically wall-to-wall junk.”
He surveyed the wing they were in. He just didn’t see Mark hiding Kelsey there. Maybe Rachel was right, that his time would be better spent interviewing the other employees. “Let’s take a look at the west end before we quit.”
48
THE NEXT TIME KELSEY WOKE, the fog in her mind had cleared. She had to get free before Jackson returned. But the darkness overwhelmed her, and she had no idea how much time had elapsed. Her arms ached from being behind her. If she could get her hands in front of her, it would make it easier to get the restraints off. Grunting, Kelsey tried wiggling her arms past her hips, but her hands were bound too tightly.
“Even if you get loose, you can’t get out of here.”
She whipped her head toward the new voice. “Mark? Where are you?”
>
“In the corner.”
“Do you know what’s going on?” The tiny pinprick of light caught her eye again, and she blinked to see if it went away. Still there.
“Yeah. He’s going to kill you and pin it on me.”
That was why Jackson was so certain he’d get away with it. “You don’t know anything about computers, do you?”
“I can turn one on and fill out the forms I need to and that’s about it. Whenever Walter tried to explain something about how the internet security worked, it went over my head.”
Jackson was actually very smart. He’d created a computer-savvy persona, and with Mark dead, no one could prove it wasn’t correct. Jackson would find a way to convince people that Mark had hidden his talent.
Not if Kelsey could help it. She struggled to get her hands past her hips, pulling on her arms until she thought they’d come out of their sockets. But either her arms had to grow or she had to turn into a contortionist. Or stand up. She ran her thumb along the restraint. Smooth, so not rope. Plastic, maybe?
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to get my hands in front of me so I can untie them.”
“Won’t do any good. I heard him lock the door—even if you had your hands free, you couldn’t get out of this room.”
“We can yell.”
“The police have probably cleared everyone out, and if they haven’t, we’re still on the west side, where no one ever goes. There’s no one to hear us.”
Thanks, Negative Nancy. “If we can get our hands free, we can climb out the window.”
“And do what? We’re in the very top of the Pink Palace. It’s at least forty feet, straight down to the ground. I’m not jumping and I can’t climb down.”
“I can.” She yanked on the restraints, and pain shot up her arms. “Do you know what we’re tied with?”
“He used a zip tie.”
A zip tie? She’d seen a video on how to break restraints using zip ties, but the person had been standing. Just like in rock-climbing, there was always more than one path up the wall. Kelsey rolled over on her stomach. If she could get on her knees, she could get to her feet. But even with years of exercise and rock-climbing, she couldn’t do it without the use of her hands.
And the darkness. It would drive her mad. With every muscle tensing like a wound spring, Kelsey forced herself to breathe deeply. Panic would only make things worse. Where was that light she’d seen? She turned her head, seeking the tiny pinprick again, and her whole being leaped when she found it.
“We have to get out of here,” she said, her voice startling her in the quiet. Staying in this room was not an option. If there was a pinprick of light, there was a window. “Or at least get our hands free,” she said. “That way we can attack him when he comes back.”
“I’ve tried, but the zip tie doesn’t give. And just so you know, he has a gun.”
She hadn’t even considered a gun. “When do you think he’ll come back?”
“Maybe a couple of hours. Can’t tell how much time has passed. I figure right now he’s dealing with the police looking for us.”
Then they had a little time. “Do you believe in God, Mark?”
“Been praying.”
A dart pricked her heart. Kelsey should have been. She sought the tiny light again. Maybe if she had depended on God for guidance, she wouldn’t be in this mess to start with. But someone had to catch the bad guys, and that’s all she’d wanted to do.
“How does God help you in a situation like this?”
“He gives us strength,” Mark said slowly. “And he brings us ideas.”
Like how to overcome a gun? Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask.
Lord, show me how to get out of this.
Seconds ticked away. Kelsey didn’t know what she’d expected, but not silence.
49
DEFEAT. NOT SOMETHING KELSEY WAS ACCUSTOMED TO. Her arms and hands ached from trying to get them over her hips. And her wrists burned and were bound to be raw from straining against the ties. Why she couldn’t get to her feet puzzled her—it was like she had no strength in her legs. The injection. Whatever was in it had affected her muscles. Maybe if she rested a minute. Mark had been quiet. Evidently he’d accepted his fate.
“I know why he wants me dead. I saw him in Hendrix’s office the night he killed him,” Kelsey said. “But what made Jackson choose you to take the fall?”
“Making it appear that I killed you and then took my own life will solve all of his problems.”
“But you’re not telling me how or why,” she said.
Silence.
She should be trying to get her hands free again, but the question hung in the darkness between them. The question he wouldn’t answer.
A deep sigh came from the corner. “Look,” Mark said. “I’m really sorry about something.”
She waited, her mind conjuring wild possibilities, like he’d set the bomb or stole the papers from Brad’s car.
“I sent your father’s remains to the museum. Should’ve done it twenty-eight years ago.”
Her breath caught in her chest. “You killed my father?”
“No. I found Jackson and my brother standing over your father’s body. I found out later he’d caught them stealing artifacts. Robert was all to pieces, said it was an accident, but Jackson was as cold as an ice cube. I wanted to go to the police, but I couldn’t. Our mother had just had a bad heart attack. Robert in prison . . . it would have killed her. I wasn’t willing to risk it. And turning Robert in wouldn’t have brought your father back.”
A thousand questions bombarded her. “What made you bring his remains to the museum now?”
Once again silence filled the dark room.
“I’m dying of cancer. And your family needed closure.” Then he sighed deeply. “And Robert had promised me there would be no more killing. I didn’t know about Hendrix until later, but I knew Saturday night either he or Jackson killed Walter Rutherford, and something inside me snapped. I left the party and drove to King Scrap Iron where we had buried your father . . . I’m so sorry.”
She imagined him driving through the graveyard of cars, searching for the grave.
“It was so long ago. How did you find it?”
“I’ve seen that grave every night for twenty-eight years in my dreams. I knew where it was . . .” He sucked in another breath. “I had put a stake where we buried him. A marker of sorts, because every grave ought to have something that says, ‘I was here’ . . .”
But he still couldn’t turn his brother in.
“Jackson figured out I was the one who removed the body from where it was buried. Told me he’d kill Robert if I told what I knew.”
“Do you know who else is involved?”
“Helen. She’ll do anything Jackson wants her to do. He’s the ringleader,” Mark said. “Robert told me years ago Jackson sold the artifacts to a fence who in turn sold them to people for their private collections.”
“But Jackson was only eighteen! How did he get connected with a fence at that age?”
“Believe me, he was plenty smart for eighteen,” Mark said. “I’m pretty sure now he and Robert are still taking artifacts from the museum and selling them to private collections. I figure one of them was stealing the stamp, and Rutherford caught them.”
“Why was Hendrix killed?”
“I don’t know, but when I confronted Robert, he indicated Hendrix was part of the fence. I figure he and Jackson got crossed.”
Kelsey turned and sought the tiny light. In the blackness, it kept her oriented. “Thank you for bringing my father’s bones home,” she said. “And . . . I’m sorry you have cancer.”
If they didn’t get out of this room, Jackson would get away with murder again. If only she could get to her feet or get her hands in front of her. She played the video she’d seen in her mind. The person had been standing and brought the force of his hands against his stomach, and that had broken the ties.
Why couldn�
�t she do the same thing only with her hands behind her? She still had to be on her feet. Getting on her knees was out. Rising from a sitting position had always been simple, but she’d never realized how much she depended on her hands. Had to be more than one way to accomplish this. Kelsey scooted forward until she reached the door, and then wiggled around until her back was against it. Using her legs, she pushed her body up the door until she was standing. Victory!
Now how did that video go? The instructor had leaned forward and brought his hands down hard and the ties had magically separated. Here went nothing. Kelsey leaned forward and whacked her wrists against the top of her hips.
Her shoulders sagged. Not enough momentum to break the locking bar. Wait. She’d forgotten he said to make sure the locking tab was between her two hands. She felt where the zip tie was fastened.
It was over her left wrist, and it had to be in the middle. Kelsey twisted the zip tie until it was where she wanted it. Once more, she bent forward, and this time she raised her arms as high as she could and rammed them hard against her hips, pulling against the plastic cords at the same time.
Her hands flew apart. Yes!
“Did you get loose?”
“Yeah. I’ll help you in a minute.” She rubbed her hands to get the circulation going. “Where are you?” she asked him. “Talk so I can find you.”
“I’m in the corner.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that.” She felt the air in front of her. “How long do you believe we have?”
“He won’t do anything until after everyone leaves. Like I said, pretty sure he’s busy right now with the police.”
Kelsey dropped to her knees. Too much danger in falling over something if she tried to walk. But Mark was closer. “If people are looking for us, why don’t they search the attic?”
“I’m sure Jackson has convinced them I’m holding you hostage somewhere else.”
The scent of his aftershave tickled her nose. “Old Spice,” she said.
“What?”
“You’re wearing Old Spice. Like my dad.” She reached out, touching his shoulder. “Got you. Can you stand?”
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