What Frank was hoping was that the man who had called from Marlene’s phone would call again. He was hoping that he’d be able to hear some background noise, get some indication of where he might be holed up. Over and over again Frank had called Marlene’s number, but each time it had gone directly to voice mail.
Jimmy was still working with the phone company to get a signal they could triangulate for location, but in the meantime Frank didn’t know where to look or what to do next.
He sent officers out to Edward Cardell’s home, other cops to the Amish settlement. Minutes turned into agonizing hours as they all scrambled to figure out who had broken into the tavern and taken Marlene away.
Frank tried to keep his emotions in check, attempting to approach this as a crime against a person he didn’t know, a woman he had no connection with. It was the only way he could think without losing his mind. Somehow, they’d missed something; there were clues they hadn’t really seen right before their eyes.
A frantic energy coursed through him. There was nothing more he wanted to do than go outside and start busting down doors, searching every house and shed in the entire town. But he also knew that wouldn’t be as productive as his sitting here with everything they had on the case spread out before him.
He looked up as Officer Joe Jamison stopped in front of his desk. “Is there anything I can do?” The big man’s eyes were filled with compassion.
Frank knew he was on his way out the door with the rest of the search team that had been scouring the mountain cabins for signs of Liz. “Find her,” he replied, aware of the hollow ring in his voice. “At least find us something.”
“We’ll do the best we can.” Joe patted Frank on the back as he went to meet the rest of his team members.
Frank stared down at the two notes on his desk, the notes that had been left for Marlene. Vengeance is mine. An eye for an eye. What in the hell did it mean? Who on earth could Marlene have offended? What could she have done to cause somebody to want to kill her?
It was almost ten. The window of time when Marlene had been taken was between two, when the tavern closed down, and five, when Frank had received the phone call. That meant the Avenging Angel had a good six or seven hours’ head start on them.
A lot of things could happen in that length of time. It was possible she wasn’t in the area anymore. She could have been taken across state lines or miles away in any direction.
He stared at his cell phone in the center of the papers on his desk. Ring. He wanted it to ring. He needed the bastard who had Marlene to call him again.
Maybe this time he’d get something from the call, recognize the voice on the other end. He’d been so stunned to hear the male voice when he’d initially answered his phone at five, he feared he might have missed some nuance that could have provided them some vital information.
He was frozen with inaction, plunged into a darkness he hadn’t even experienced when Grace had died. Marlene was gone and he was dead inside.
He hadn’t been her hero, and he knew he hadn’t been the man she needed in her life. He’d let her down on a number of levels. And self-pity, under the circumstances, was at the very least unbecoming, he told himself.
Just about to go through the interviews and information on his desk once again, he was halted by Jimmy’s voice. “We’ve got it,” Jimmy said. “We’ve got the coordinates for her telephone.”
Frank jumped out of his chair, as did Steve, and the two of them hurried over to where Jimmy was marking a map of the Wolf Creek area.
Jimmy looked down at his notes and then back at the map. “It’s amazing how detailed technology has become and how a cell phone can be an effective tracker. Here,” he said as he drew a star on the map partway up the mountain where Bear Trail met Maple Road.
“Didn’t the search team already check that area?” Frank asked.
“They did, but that was a couple of days ago, and the signal from Marlene’s phone is definitely coming from this area,” Jimmy replied.
“Then let’s move,” Frank said urgently.
Unaware of what they might find or who they may be facing, their team consisted of Frank, Jimmy and Steve, and also Chelsea, and Officers Jack Ruby and Louie Pastori.
Jimmy and Steve got into Frank’s car, and Jack and Louie rode with Chelsea. Together the two cars flew away from the station, tenuous hope a silent fourth passenger.
Jimmy got on the phone to Joe Jamison to find out exactly what was in that area. “Joe says there’s two homes there. One is abandoned and belongs to some guy in New York City, and the other belongs to George and Nina Sunni, who haven’t been here yet this year.” Frank knew George and Nina were from Arizona and each year escaped the intense desert heat and spent the summer months at their place here in the beautiful mountains.
As he drove as quickly as possible, a sick energy of anticipation gripped him. Would they find Marlene? Was she still alive? She had to be. He couldn’t believe any other way.
The tension in the car was palpable as they started up the mountain toward the destination the cell phone company had indicated was where Marlene’s phone was located.
A glance in his rearview mirror showed him that Chelsea’s car was just behind his. Surely with six well-trained officers of the law, they could take down whoever posed the threat to Marlene. If she was still alive.
The question popped in and out of his head at regular intervals, making him want to scream in frustration, in outrage, in utter devastation.
But he knew he had to keep it together. He couldn’t go down the rabbit hole now, not without knowing her condition. He had to keep it together in case she did need him. There was a tiny fragment that clung to the belief that there was still some way that he could be her hero. He could do for her what he hadn’t been able to do for Grace...he could save her.
By the time they reached the junction of Bear Trail and Maple Road, Frank’s guts were twisted into a thousand knots. The Sunni house sat on one corner, and an old weather-grayed house was on the other side of the road.
The two cars parked in the Sunni driveway and the six people got out. “We’ll take this house and you three take the Sunni place,” Frank said, gesturing to the gray house.
“George told me a spare key is kept in a bird feeder in the front yard,” Jimmy said.
As the others took off toward the Sunni house, Frank led the way to the other place, his gun out of his holster and steady in his hand.
Aware of his partners at his heels, he approached the old house cautiously as his heart slowed to the calm and even rhythm of cool professionalism.
He couldn’t think about Marlene now. He had to approach this as he would any other potential crime scene. He had to rely on his training and not on his emotions.
“The phone could be anywhere in the general area, although if it’s with her and the perp, it’s probably inside the house,” Jimmy said.
“Steve, why don’t you take a walk around the lawn and see if you see it anywhere? Jimmy and I will go inside.” Steve nodded and took off to do a search in the weeds while Frank and Jimmy approached the front door.
Frank was surprised to find the door locked, and the fact that it was sent his nerves tingling. Why would anyone keep a dump like this locked? It was in the middle of nowhere, and the Sunni house across the street would be a far better choice for a robbery.
“Do we try to get owner permission to go inside?” Jimmy whispered. “Or do I need to try to get hold of a judge and get a search warrant out here?”
Frank frowned thoughtfully and then used the butt of his gun to break out a small window right next to the door. He reached inside, unlocked the door and slowly opened it. “Exigent circumstances―we don’t need a warrant.”
Frank already had a bad feeling about the whole thing. The tinkle of the breaking glass should have alerted
somebody inside that they were no longer alone. He shoved the front door open the rest of the way with his foot, grateful that it didn’t creak or groan.
If the perp had Marlene in a back bedroom then perhaps he hadn’t heard the breaking of the glass. Maybe he was oblivious to the fact that the authorities had arrived and were about to bring him down. Frank hoped that was the case, that things would end here and Marlene would be safe and the perp under arrest.
Frank indicated that he’d go in first and Jimmy should follow. Frank took two steps into the room and then went into a shooter stance, his heart beating so hard he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear any other sound.
The room was the main living area, with an old sofa and chair, a set of empty bookcases and a couple of end tables. The door had probably been locked to keep out squatters, Frank thought as he motioned Jimmy forward, although any respectable squatter was capable of breaking a window and setting up housekeeping.
The next room was the kitchen, with no signs or scents of recent use. A layer of dust darkened the top of the counters and a mouse ran across the old linoleum floor and disappeared into a small hole in the Sheetrock.
Frank drew a steadying breath. As much as he wanted to remain as emotionless as possible, every nerve in his body was silently screaming.
With the kitchen cleared, the two men moved slowly, silently down the hallway, where there were three doors, all of them closed. Frank gripped his gun more tightly as he used his other hand to slowly twist the knob of the first door.
He swung it open. Jimmy whirled inside but relaxed. It was a small bathroom with no places to stuff a body or hide a perp. The second doorway led to a bedroom that was empty of furniture.
As they approached the final closed door, a wealth of despair swept through Frank. It was obvious that Steve hadn’t stumbled onto anything outside. It was equally obvious that the other team hadn’t yet found anything suspicious at the Sunni house, and yet the coordinates from the cell phone company indicated that the phone was here somewhere.
His hand was slick with nervous sweat as he grabbed the last knob. Was Marlene’s body in this room? There had still not been a single sound that would indicate anyone was anyplace in the house. If she was behind the door, then she was probably dead.
Knees threatening to buckle beneath him, he turned the knob, threw open the door and once again fell into a shooter stance, a stance he held only a moment. The double bed held no bedding and he could easily guess that the dresser contained no clothes.
He dropped his gun to his side, vaguely aware of Jimmy standing just behind him. There was only one other place to look: the bedroom closet. Frank motioned for Jimmy to do the honor as he stood motionless and tried to tamp down the terror that they were already too late to save Marlene.
He was vaguely aware of Jimmy sliding open the closet door. “Hey, Frank, you’d better see this.” Jimmy’s voice held a simmering surprise that instantly snapped Frank back into focus.
Frank moved to the closet and looked on the floor, where Marlene’s phone nestled on top of a sheet of white paper. On the paper was writing in the familiar red marker.
Frank stared at the words written on the paper above the phone. “FOUR DAYS OF HELL AND THEN I’LL RETURN HER BACK TO YOU...DEAD.” It was signed, “The Avenging Angel gets his justice.”
“What does it mean?” Frank asked, confused and even more frightened as Jimmy pulled gloves and an evidence bag from his pocket. “‘Four days of hell...’ What does that mean?”
He stared at Jimmy’s back as the man squatted down and bagged the evidence. When he was finished, he turned to look at Frank, his brown eyes dark and unreadable.
“First of all this means that the perp was here, which means we need to process this room, this house as a crime scene.”
Frank played and replayed the words on the note through his brain, and for the first time since Marlene had disappeared from Travis’s place, a tiny ray of hope battled with the dark despair.
“The second thing I think,” Jimmy continued, “is that Marlene might still be alive and our perp has given us a ticking time bomb.”
Frank stared at his youngest partner. “We have four days to find her...four days to save her life.” As he thought of what little they knew, what few clues they had to go on, he realized four days was nothing more than the blink of an eye, the beat of a breaking heart.
Chapter 16
“Who are you?”
It was the first question Marlene asked her captor when he ripped the duct tape off her mouth. She didn’t scream for help because she rationalized that if he was worried about her making too much noise and rousing neighbors, he wouldn’t have pulled off the tape at all.
Besides, he sat at the kitchen table nearby, a cup of freshly brewed coffee in front of him, along with a revolver and a look in his eyes that made her believe he wouldn’t hesitate to use the gun on her if necessary.
He took a sip of his coffee and then grinned at her. “You should know who I am, Marlene. I’m the Avenging Angel.”
Marlene tamped down a rising irritation. If this man intended to kill her, then she deserved to know who he really was. “That’s just what you call yourself. What’s your real name?”
He took another drink from his cup, eyeing her over the rim. “I guess it don’t matter if you know my name. As far as I know, dead people can’t talk. My name is Chad, but most of my friends call me Chopper.”
“Chopper?” Marlene’s brain tried to remember where she’d heard that name before and what it had to do with her. When she finally snagged the memory, she stared at Chopper in stunned surprise and confusion. “But you’re the man who brought Tommy back to Steve.”
“Bingo!” Chopper grinned in obvious delight. “I was a hero taking that kid back to his daddy.” His smile faded and he stared darkly into his cup. “I could have kept him, you know. Nobody would have been the wiser. He could have grown up here with me, been my son and kept me company.”
“But you did the right thing.” Marlene kept her voice soft and calm, even though she had no idea why she was here, what any of this had to do with her. “You took him back to his father where he belonged.”
“Hey, you want some breakfast?” Chopper jumped out of the chair like a rocket. His arms and legs appeared to go in separate directions, as if he were a marionette without strings.
Marlene thought it possible that Chopper was hopped up on more than just caffeine from the coffee.
“I’ll make some eggs and toast,” he said as he pulled a skillet from a cabinet. “I’ll untie one of your hands so you can eat. As long as you behave yourself and don’t try any funny business, we’ll get along just fine.”
“Why am I here? Have I offended you in some way? Are you responsible for my aunt’s disappearance?” The questions tumbled from her as she struggled to make sense of everything.
“Whoa, slow down,” Chopper said. “It sounds like you snorted a line this morning instead of me.”
His words confirmed what she’d suspected. Not only was she dealing with a kidnapper, but a drugged-up kidnapper, which made him even more unpredictable.
He turned on the gas burner beneath the skillet and then glanced back to look at her. “I didn’t have anything to do with your aunt’s disappearance. I don’t know nothing about whatever happened to her.”
Marlene remained silent as he cut a stick of butter and added it to the skillet. For the hundredth time her gaze went around the room, seeking some sort of weapon she could use, some kind of instrument she could utilize to try to free herself.
She could always hit him over the head with the heavy iron skillet, but that would require she get out of the chair, and after spending the past couple of hours trying, she knew without a knife or something sharp, the ropes couldn’t be slipped.
“Are you going to kill m
e?” she asked as he cracked eggs into the waiting skillet. Why hadn’t he already killed her? Why was he cooking her breakfast if his intention all along was to harm her?
“Eventually,” he replied easily, as if he were speaking of one day in the future visiting a foreign country.
“Why?” A surge of panic welled up inside her. “What have I done to you?”
“You haven’t done anything to me.” He frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Just shut up for a minute while I finish fixing breakfast. There’s nothing I hate worse than a jabbering woman when I’m trying to get something done.”
Marlene shut up, but her brain raced in a million different directions. He was going to kill her eventually. What did that mean? Was he fixing her a last meal before shooting her? Were they so far away from any neighbors or other people that nobody would hear the gunshot?
She’d been unconscious for several hours. In that amount of time he could have taken her miles and miles away from Wolf Creek. How would anyone be able to find her, or discern that the guilty party was Chopper, when she still didn’t know why he had her here, why he intended to kill her?
She desperately wanted answers, an explanation for why Chopper had kidnapped her. Why she was tied to a chair with him calmly announcing he intended to kill her. But she also knew now wasn’t the time to talk. The last thing she wanted was to do anything that might make him fly off the handle, pick up that gun and shoot her.
As Chopper put slices of bread in the toaster, she wondered if he was just some doped-up druggie who had made a mistake, who had taken her for some psychotic reason that made sense only in his own head.
She was in trouble...deep trouble, and she had no hope of anyone riding to her rescue. She wanted answers from Chopper, but she also knew she had to tread softly, to be as agreeable as she could and do what he told her to in an effort to survive as long as possible.
He prepared two plates, and when they were on the table, he walked over to her, picked up her and the chair as if she weighed no more than that of a baby, and placed her at the table across from where he had been seated before.
Lethal Lawman Page 20