Love and Lies: A Jake Badger Mystery Thriller

by Glenn Rogers

  “You claim to have Heidi,” I said. “All I know is that there is a woman there and she can scream.”

  Heidi came on the line. “Jake,” she said, her voice trembling with fear. “He has pliers. He used pliers on me.”

  Jasper came back on. “Convinced?”

  It was all I could do to remain calm. I was in a public place, and upsetting people in the restaurant would be counterproductive. Plus, getting angry would be playing into his hands. I needed to stay cool.

  “Okay,” I said. “So what do you propose?”

  “Just like in the movies,” he said. “A trade. You for her.”

  “When and where?”

  “One hour. My office. When you get there, call this number. And again, like in the movies, come alone. Any cops and she dies.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Just like in the movies.”

  Pipestone disconnected.

  Every muscle in my body was tense. My stomach was churning.

  Monica said, “Heidi is the neighbor you told me about? The one with a stalker?”

  I nodded. “He's got her. He used pliers on her to make his point.”

  Monica winced. “And he wants to exchange her for you,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “And when he has you,” she said, “he'll torture you and then kill you.”

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “Where's the exchange?”

  “His office in Reseda. One hour.”

  “How we gonna do this?”

  “This is not the kind of work I was asking you to do,” I said.

  “No, but it's the kind of work we’ve done for each other in the past and that needs doing now.”

  “It's gonna get ugly,” I said.

  “All the more reason to have me along as backup.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  I left a hundred dollar bill on the table, enough to cover the check and a generous tip.

  It was going to take almost forty minutes to get to Reseda. Not a lot of time to spare. We'd have to devise a strategy on the way.

  As we pulled away from the restaurant, I asked, “What are you carrying?”

  “The usual. A nine with two extra clips. Jacketed hollow points.”

  I nodded. She was as good with a handgun as I was, maybe better, and as tough as anyone I'd ever worked with. I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather have with me in a fight.

  “So what's the plan?” she asked.

  “I don't know exactly what he's got in mind, so we need to keep it simple. We need to be able to adapt to whatever develops.”

  “I stay out of sight and hope for a shot?” Monica said.

  “Be nice if you got a shot.”

  Monica must have sensed my concern because she said, “You worried about this guy?”

  “Norman told me this guy was dangerous.”

  “Hanson?”

  “Yeah. He said not to underestimate him. But I did. Can't make that mistake again.”

  “Is this guy smart?” she asked.

  “I don't know. We should assume he is.”

  “Well, smart or not,” Monica said, “he's certainly ruthless. Got to factor that in.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  We were quiet for a moment. Then Monica said, “He wants to make the trade at his office. Do you think he plans to do whatever else he's going to do there, or will he take you somewhere else?”

  “No idea,” I said. “We'll have to make it up as we go.”

  “Start from the beginning,” Monica said. “Tell me the whole story so I understand what's happened up to this point.”

  “It started a few days ago,” I said, “when Heidi came to see me about a guy that was stalking her ...”

  Monica listened patiently as I told the story while I drove. Then she said, “And you feel responsible for what's happened to Heidi.”

  I didn't say anything, but she was right. I did feel responsible.

  “There's no way you could have anticipated he'd go after Heidi,” Monica said.

  “I should have sent her away for a few days until this was over.”

  “Jake, there was no way you could have known. It's not your fault.”

  I had just gotten onto the freeway. I moved across into the fast lane. Then I looked at her and said, “Even if you're right and it isn't my fault, what happens from here on out is my responsibility. I need to save her and stop him.”

  “No,” Monica said. “You don't, we do.”

  Chapter 32

  I slowed down as we drove by the Security Specialists' office complex. It was seven-thirty on a warm summer evening. It wouldn't be dark for a couple of hours, but it was Friday evening and there were only a few cars scattered in the various parking lots throughout the larger industrial complex that stretched on for several blocks. There was only one car in the lot of Security Specialists, a black Mercedes. Probably Jasper's. We drove around the block to get a feel for the complex and see if there was a back entrance. There was a rear door—metal—a fire door that could only be opened from the inside. I drove back around the building to the front, parking about fifty yards up on the opposite side of the street.

  “How do we play it?” Monica asked.

  “He said to call him when I got here. Let’s call and see what he has in mind.”

  I took out my phone and called him, putting it on speaker so Monica could hear what he said.

  “On time, Badger,” Pipestone said. “Lucky for your little friend.”

  “I want to talk to her,” I said. “Make sure she's okay.”

  “No. What you're going to do is take Saticoy over to Tampa and turn right. Take Tampa all the way up beyond Devonshire. When you cross Devonshire, look for Tunney. When you get to the intersection of Tampa and Tunney, call me again. You got fifteen minutes.”

  He disconnected before I could say anything.

  I put the Jeep in gear and took off.

  “Do you know that area?” Monica asked.

  “Yeah, there's a big park up there. Actually, it’s more of an small wilderness area.”

  “Remote?”

  “Remote enough,” I said.

  “He's not going to let her go, you know. He can't.”

  “I know.”

  It took fourteen minutes to get there. I called Pipestone again.

  “Made good time, I see. Good for you. Now, get out of your Jeep and start walking. Follow the road for three hundred yards. When you've covered the distance, turn left and walk straight in.”

  “When are you going to release Heidi?”

  “When you get here.”

  “I won't let you take me until she's safely away.”

  “You won't let me take you? Is that what you think is happening here? And I suppose you think that redhead with you is somehow going to make a difference in how this plays out.”

  I was silent for a moment and Jasper laughed. “You have no idea, Badger. You have ten minutes,” he said, and disconnected.

  Monica took her shoes off and broke off the three-inch heels and slipped them back on. “I'll angle across and come in behind him,” she said.

  “He's probably got people watching,” I said.

  “I know. But what choice do we have?”

  I reached under the seat and retrieved a small .357, a Ruger LCR. I checked the loads. I transferred my wallet to my left back pocket and put the Ruger in my right back pocket. Monica and I looked at each other for a long moment and spoke volumes without a word. Then I got out and went in one direction while Monica went in another.

  I didn't dilly-dally, but I didn't hurry, either. I wanted to give Monica time to get ahead of me and get situated before I faced Jasper. As I made my way up the road, there were houses on the right, a nice neighborhood. To the left, the park area was deserted. When I'd covered the three hundred yards, I turned left and started out across the empty spaces. There was a little breeze. I could smell the night blooming jasmine. The edge of the park where I entered was a wide band
of dirt. Beyond the dirt was an unruly expanse of untamed brush and tall grass. Beyond that, a line of trees; beyond the trees, another neighborhood. The park was really just a long ribbon of rough land, a mile wide in some places, between two nice neighborhoods. The light was beginning to fade, but I could still see, which also meant that Pipestone could see. He could see me coming, and if he had someone watching the rear approach, that person could see Monica coming. That was not good, but you had to play the hand you were dealt.

  As I crossed the distance, I could see a car parked near some trees. I assumed it was Jasper and headed toward it. I was hoping Monica could use the stand of trees behind Jasper’s location to make her approach.

  I was about fifty feet from the car when I heard the shots—crack, crack, crack, fired in rapid succession. I stopped. In a moment, Jasper appeared from the trees near the car. With his left hand, he held Heidi by the arm. In his right hand, he held a Smith and Wesson 1911.

  “That would be the redhead,” he said, “dying.” And he smiled.

  Heidi was wearing a short white tee shirt that stopped a few inches below her breasts, and tiny pink panties. Blood stained the front of the shirt over her right breast, right at her nipple. Her face was bloody and bruised. She was trying not to cry.

  Jasper continued smiling. “Missing that shot today,” he said, “was the biggest mistake of your life.”

  “I won't repeat it,” I said, and took a few steps toward him.

  “You won't be repeating anything,” Pipestone said, “because you're going to be dead.”

  I nodded. “Sure,” I said. “Send Heidi on over. Let her be on her way.”

  “Your weapon,” he said. “Show me. Slowly.”

  With my left hand, I pulled open the left side of my sport coat so he could see my revolver.

  “With your left hand,” he said, “take it out. Slowly. And toss it over here.”

  I did as he said and took a couple more steps toward him, closing the distance between us.

  “Got anything else?”

  “Don't need anything else,” I said.

  He studied me and nodded and a small smile crept across his face. “Arrogant to the end,” he said.

  “Sure. Now let her go.” I took another step.

  “Open your shirt,” Jasper said.

  I unbuttoned the first three buttons and pulled the shirt open and took two more steps toward him. I was now less than thirty feet from him.

  “Kevlar,” he said. He raised his voice a little. “Gonna have to be a head shot Gavin.”

  And then there was a shot. A nine. There was a rustling in the bushes, which was Gavin falling to the ground. Then, from the opposite direction, about twenty feet behind Jasper and a little to his right, Monica said, “You were right. It had to be a head shot.”

  Jasper jerked Heidi back toward him, using her as cover. His .45 was still pointed at me.

  “Well, Jasper,” I said. “The redhead is behind you and I’m in front of you. One of us will get you. You got no way out.”

  He pressed the barrel his .45 into Heidi’s neck just below her right ear. “I'll kill her.”

  “Maybe,” I said. I reached back, casually, and took the small .357 from my back pocket, and held it behind me for a second. Then I brought it up quickly as I dropped into a shooter's stance. His head was an eight-inch target beside Heidi's. I had plenty of room to make a shot.

  “Maybe you won't kill her,” I said. “You see, I'm really good with a handgun. At this distance, I don't miss. And the thing is, Monica, that's the redhead, is even better. And right now she's got her nine aimed at your head, just like my .357 is aimed at your head. And what I'm betting is that one of us can put a bullet in your head before you can squeeze that trigger. What do you think, Jasper?”

  He told me I should have intercourse with myself. I really didn't like him saying that. So I shot him in the face, right between his eyebrows. His head snapped back, his body pitched back, and he was dead before he hit the ground. His .45 did not go off. Heidi was left standing, bruised, bloody and terrified, but alive. She dropped to her knees, her face in her hands and sobbed. I went to her as Monica emerged from the shadows.

  Chapter 33

  I called 911 and asked for an ambulance as well as police officers, explaining that there were private detectives on site, along with three dead bodies and an injured victim. Then I called McGarry.

  The ambulance took Heidi to the emergency room at Northridge Medical Center. I told her I’d be there as soon as the police said we could go. McGarry got there about forty-five minutes after the local police arrived. Thanks to him calling ahead, the local cops didn’t treat us like criminals. When Frank arrived, he asked what had happened, and Monica and I explained. He then had one of his people take our formal statements. It was nearly nine when we were told we could go. Monica and I went straight to the hospital.

  They had treated Heidi, put her in a room, and given her something to help her sleep. She was already out cold when we got to her room. I left a note saying that'd I come by in the morning. It was fully dark and cool as Monica and I walked back out to the parking lot. We got into my Wrangler. Sitting in the driver's seat, I let my head fall back on the headrest and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

  “You okay?” Monica asked.

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Fine.”

  “You killed two men tonight,” I said.

  “They were bad guys,” she said. “And they needing killing.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Pipestone, too. But I still don't like having to do it.”

  “I don't like having to do it, either,” Monica said. “But when I have to, it doesn't bother me the way it bothers you.”

  I nodded as I took another deep breath, stretched my neck and scrunched my shoulders, trying to loosen the muscles and relax a little. It didn't feel like I'd been very successful.

  “Well,” I said, “the evening did not go the way I had expected it would.”

  Monica said, “So, this isn't your idea of a hot date?”

  I smiled and said, “You know, we had dinner. But we never got around to dessert. Interested?”

  “In dessert? Always.”

  “What sounds good?” I asked.

  “Let’s drive through McDonald’s,” she said, “and get an Oreo McFlurry.”

  So that’s what we did. We sat in the Jeep and enjoyed Oreo laced ice cream while the Moody Blues Seventh Sojourn played softly in the background. We talked about places we'd been and places we'd like to go. We talked about our families and our friends. We talked about hobbies and the different ways we like to relax. One of Monica’s was her knitting. One of mine was fishing off the Malibu pier. We found out we have more in common than we thought we did. Mostly, we tried to not think about what had happened earlier or about what else might happen as we went back to doing our jobs. But eventually we ran out of distractions and it was time to be who we were again.

  After a brief lull in the conversation, Monica said, “So assuming the book on Pipestone is closed, are we going to focus exclusively on the FBI?”

  “You mean just work one case at a time? I don’t know if I can do that,” I said.

  She smiled.

  But she had asked a serious question, so I said, “Yeah, we need to focus on finding the mole.”

  “Even if they don't want us to?”

  “Even if,” I said. “I need to know who's responsible for Elaine's death.”

  “And when you do?” Monica asked.

  “Then I'll know.”

  “And what will that do?” she asked.

  “If there was an informant,” I said, “then it wasn't my fault that the operation tanked. And it wasn't my fault that Elaine died.”

  Monica nodded. “Be good to know that.”

  It was obvious she wanted more.

  “But?” I asked.

  “I don't know that there is a but,” she said. “Maybe a so what, though.”

  “A s
o what?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay. So what?”

  “So when you know it wasn't your fault, what will that do?”

  “Eliminate my guilt,” I said.

  “And?”

  This was getting frustrating. “And what?” I asked.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. It was one of those looks women give you when they think you know what they want you to say but won't say it. They think you’re being stubborn or intentionally dimwitted. Usually, though, it is real honest to goodness dimwittedness. Men usually have no idea what women are trying to lead us to. At least, that’s the way I usually feel. And I had no idea what Monica was looking for.

  “Jake,” she said, as if she was my mother and I was eight years old. “What is it that you have not be able to do for a few years now?”

  Ah, of course. Now I understood. I sighed and said, “Be romantically interested in another woman.”

  “That's right,” she said. “Figuring this out will give you some closure. You'll be able to put it behind you and move on.”

  I wasn't certain, but Monica seemed certain enough for both of us. I saw no point in arguing about it. Maybe she was right. What if she wasn't? She would not be happy.

  “Well,” I said, “that might be true. We'll have to solve the case and give it some time and see if that's what happens.”

  I didn’t think she was entirely satisfied with my answer, but she probably viewed it as progress and therefore something of a small victory.

  The next morning, after Wilson and I ran, I went to the hospital. Heidi was eating a light breakfast when I arrived. When she saw me, she teared up. She pushed her tray away and held out her arms. I bent over the bed and gave her a hug. She hung on for a long time. When she finally let go and I stepped back, the tears had overflowed.

  “Jake,” she said, in a shaky voice. “You risked your life for me. He was going to kill me.”

  “Shhh,” I said, shaking my head. “I wouldn't let anything happen to you.”

  Her bottom lip quivered as she fought back the tears. “He hurt me.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m sorry he did. But he can't hurt you anymore.”

  “Because you killed him.”