Gabe grabbed his bag and charged down the stairs. “Papi! I’ve got a killer headache. I’m gonna run to the store. Be back in a few.”
Papi, trailed by Jacob Landman, followed him to the door. “You don’t look so good, son. One of us will drive you.”
“I’m fine,” Gabe said, exasperated. “You’re busy. I can drive myself.”
Landman stepped forward. “I’ve got nothing better to do. I’ll drive you.”
“No, really, I . . .” Gabe protested.
“Gabriel,” Papi said in his I-won’t-take-no-for-an-answer voice. “Give him your keys.”
Gabe handed the car keys to Landman, whose face lit up in a huge grin. “Thanks. I haven’t driven since I busted out of the Institute. Looking forward to it.”
For the rest of his life, Gabe would look back at that day and shake his head in disgust. If he’d been a little sharper, if his mind hadn’t been clouded with pain, much of what happened could have been avoided.
The Walgreen’s parking lot was jammed. Gabe spotted an open spot between two pick-up trucks, but Landman shook his head. “Nope. Too tight. Don’t want to get your paint job dinged up. We’ll park out here.”
He parked the Honda in a space at the far edge of the parking lot and turned off the ignition. Gabe nodded, stepped out of the car, and trudged toward the drugstore, which, in his present state, seemed miles away. So much for a quick in and out.
Five minutes later, Gabe stepped out of the store and dry swallowed two aspirin, shuddering at the bitter taste. He hurried through the parking lot. Landman saw him approaching and started the engine. As Gabe’s hand reached for the door handle, a black Suburban pulled up behind him, boxing him in between the two cars.
The door of the Suburban flew open.
Gabe turned to see a wiry, thin-faced man dressed in dark clothing step out. Pale gray eyes peered out from beneath the bill of a ball cap pulled down low on his forehead. Before Gabe could react, the man pressed a gun into his spine.
“Here’s the deal, kid. You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. Too bad for you. But, follow my instructions and maybe I won’t shoot you in the back. Got it?”
Paralyzed with shock and fear, Gabe looked into the man’s pale, dead eyes and nodded. His heart banged against his ribs like a trapped bird looking for escape. His mouth was too dry to form words. A feeling of dread swept over him as everything he’d learned about stranger abduction scrolled through his mind. Things like Never let yourself to be taken captive in a car. Your chances of survival go down with each passing mile.
But, what choice did he have? If this was the same guy who’d killed McMillan and Lacey Woodard—and Gabe was pretty sure he was—he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him right there in the parking lot.
“Good boy,” the man said in an eerie whispery voice. “Now, here’s what we’re going to do. I want you behind the wheel. Landman in the back seat. In case you’re wondering, here’s why. Landman’s an old guy. He’s got nothing to lose and might do something crazy. You, on the other hand, have your whole life ahead of you. You want to live . . . right?”
Gabe nodded again.
The man’s lips curved into a mirthless smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s what I thought. So, if you do exactly what I say, you’ll live to see another day.”
Gabe stiffened as the man slung an arm around his neck and showed him the gun. “You’re going to walk nice and slow to the other side of the car. You run, and I shoot Landman. No worries. I’ve got a silencer in my pocket if I need it.”
He gave Gabe a shove and opened the passenger side door. With one eye on Gabe, he leaned inside the car, shielding his gun hand with his body. To an outsider, it would look like he was having a friendly conversation with the driver. He reached over and snatched the keys from the ignition.
Gabe’s legs were trembling as he walked to the driver’s side and opened the door. Landman gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands, his face a sickly shade of gray. He turned away from Gabe and spoke to the killer. “Let the kid go, Lew. It’s me you want.”
“Nah, I don’t think so. He’s my insurance. Now, get in the back seat. If you take off, I shoot the kid. Then I come after you. Lose-lose situation.”
There wasn’t a shred of doubt in Gabe’s mind. The guy would happily kill them both without blinking an eye. Their only option was to cooperate and look for an opportunity to escape. He murmured to Landman. “It’s okay, Jacob. Just do as he says.”
As Landman climbed out of the car, his legs buckled. Gabe gripped the old man’s shoulders to steady him, leaned close and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”
He guided Landman into the back seat and then slipped behind the wheel. “Where to?”
The killer inserted the keys into the ignition. “Drive to the four corners and head south.”
Gabe pulled slowly out of the parking lot and merged with the traffic heading toward the intersection known locally as the four corners. In the passenger seat, too close for comfort, their captor sat with his back against the door, the gun trained on Jacob Landman, his finger on the trigger.
Head south.
Somehow those words fired a bolt of adrenaline through Gabe’s body. He knew the area well. Probably better than Lew did. After a couple of strip malls, the landscape gave way to a dense forest of Douglas Fir, Hemlock, and Spruce, the forest floor covered in a thick jumble of ferns and tangled blackberry brambles. Between the large country homes spaced far apart, isolated logging roads snaked off to the left and right of the highway. Logging roads, now totally deserted.
Despite the gravity of his situation, Gabe almost smiled at the memory. Back in his bad boy days, he’d sought out the very same roads in the company of numerous willing girls. Those memories seemed a lifetime ago. Lifetime. It was just a word with no meaning, until you looked down the barrel of a gun and realized your life could end today.
He glanced over at the man holding the gun, the man with the cold dead eyes. The man Landman called Lew. An icy chill crept down Gabe’s spine. The guy was a stone killer. He had no intention of letting Gabe live. A graphic picture flashed through Gabe’s mind. In vivid, living color. Two bloody bodies tossed along the side of a deserted logging road. Papi frantically looking for them.
Gabe bit back his rising panic and took a couple of deep breaths. He needed to figure a way out of this. He glanced at Landman in the rearview mirror. His pallor was gone. He was staring at the killer through narrowed eyes flashing with anger. Gabe prayed he wouldn’t do something foolhardy and end up getting himself shot.
Gotta get us out of this mess. Nothing to lose. But, how? Think, Gabe, think.
“See that road up ahead on the right?” Lew said.
“Yeah.”
“Turn there.”
Gabe looked over at the man and nodded like an obedient soldier afraid to challenge authority.
Lew smirked and said, “Good boy.”
At that instant, every vestige of fear remaining in Gabe’s body vanished. Okay, asshole, give me a sec and you’ll see what a good boy I am. Fueled by rage, he gripped the steering wheel to keep it from showing. He had to make Lew believe he was still that obedient soldier. The good boy who still believed he would be spared.
Gabe slowed the car and turned onto the gravel road, making sure he crowded the tree line on the right. He forced a quiver into his voice. “How far?”
“Keep driving,” Lew said, leaning back against the door.
“No problem.” Gabe jammed the accelerator to the floorboards. The car began to fishtail in the gravel.
“Hey, slow it down, Ace! Now!”
Gabe ignored him and pointed the car at a thick stand of trees. He cranked the steering wheel to the left and slammed on the brakes. The back end of the Honda skidded right, s
lamming the passenger side of the car into the unforgiving trunk of a Douglas fir.
Three things happened at once. The air bags deployed. Lew’s head smashed against the center post. A shot rang out.
Chapter Thirty-Five
THE AIRBAG SLAMMED into Gabe’s face with the intensity of a vicious punch cushioned by a feather pillow. Deafened by the gunshot and blinded by the white powder and smoke swirling through the car, Gabe clawed at the deflating airbag. Lew had gone silent.
“You okay, Jacob?” he yelled and threw open the driver’s side door to clear the air.
Choking and sputtering, Landman croaked, “Yeah. The shot went through the roof.”
Gabe peered through the haze and spotted Lew slumped against the door, his head on his chest. Blood trickled from a gash on the side of his head.
Was he really out or was he faking it? Heart in his throat, Gabe pushed Lew’s airbag aside. Have to find the gun.
Landman hitched forward. “There! On the floor.”
Keeping a close watch on Lew’s face, Gabe snaked out an arm and retrieved the gun.
Lew groaned and began to stir.
“We gotta tie the bastard up,” Landman said. “Got anything in the trunk?”
“Tire chains and bungee cords.”
“That’ll work. Get ’em.”
A few minutes later, Lew, conscious but minus the smirk, was propped in the passenger seat, his wrists and ankles secured in tightly wound bungee cords. The tire chain probably was probably overkill. But Gabe didn’t have the heart to spoil Landman’s fun. He grinned as the old man wrapped the chain around Lew’s waist and fastened it behind the seat.
“Not so tough now, are ya, Lew?”
“God dammit! I need medical help!”
Gabe pulled his cell phone from his jeans’ pocket. “Don’t worry, Lew. You’ll be getting medical help. Detective Paulson from the Sea-Tac Police Department will be here soon. I’m sure he’ll help you after you answer some questions about two murders at the airport.”
“You’d better watch your back, kid,” Lew muttered. “You’re in over your head. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
“Shut the hell up, Lew,” Landman said. “Look at you. Strung up like a Christmas goose and still making threats. I know who we’re dealing with, and she’s about to get busted.”
Gabe stepped away from the two and punched the home button on his phone. When Papi answered, Gabe said, “Um, we need a ride home.”
Papi’s voice was tight with tension. “What happened? Where are you?”
Gabe pitched his father an edited version of the episode and asked him to look up Detective Paulson’s number. While he and Landman waited for their ride, Gabe left a detailed message on Paulson’s voicemail, ending with, “We’ve left a surprise package for you in the front seat. You may want to question him about the Sea-Tac murders.”
The expression on Papi’s face when he saw the smashed-in Honda and its tightly bound passenger was beyond description. When he was able to speak, he said, “Well, Gabriel. It looks like you and Jacob will have an interesting story to share on our drive to California.”
At precisely that moment, Gabe felt a shift in consciousness. He would remember his father’s words and calm reaction for the rest of his life. Was it possible his dad was cool?
TWELVE HOURS LATER, Gabe, wide-awake in the back seat of the family van, stared through the pitch-black night at the endless freeway unspooling before him. His left arm was wrapped around Abby who slept soundly with her head resting against his shoulder. Jacob was slumped against the opposite passenger door, snoring softly. Simon rode shotgun, working both his laptop and cell phone while muttering softly under his breath. The mobile hot spot device he was never without sat on the dashboard, sliding back and forth as the van took the curves. Papi was currently behind the wheel. With five drivers, they’d each taken a two-hour shift on the long drive south.
Gabe’s anxiety ratcheted up with each passing mile. Now, a scant twenty miles from their destination, he’d entered the red zone. The ticking time bomb zone. Barely able to sit still, he clenched and unclenched his fists.
“Papi,” he whispered. “What do you think they’re doing to Birdie?”
“Don’t go there, son,” Papi said. “After all they went through to get her, they’ll take good care of her.”
“But, she’ll be so confused. She just got used to us, and now she’s with strangers who are doing God knows what to her. To them, she’s just a . . . a . . .” his voice broke, “a God damn lab rat.”
“Gabe,” Papi’s voice was gentle. “She’s only been gone a few hours. Soon, she’ll be back with us. I want you to focus on that. Will you try?”
Gabe swallowed the golf ball sized lump in his throat and mumbled. “Yeah.”
Jacob Landman awoke with a snort and peered through the windshield. “Take the airport exit. Should be coming up soon.”
Abby stirred, pulled away from Gabe and stretched. “Do you have the ring I gave you at the airport?”
“In my pocket.”
“Put it on,” she ordered. She rummaged around in her backpack, pulled out the dragon necklace, and slipped it around her neck. “Can’t hurt,” she said. “Might even help.”
Landman nodded. “Right on. We need all the help we can get.”
Simon turned toward the back seat, his face solemn. “And, you’ve got me.”
Gabe leaned forward. “Explain.”
“I know how we can get through security,” Simon said. “Jacob said the guards have ID badges they wave front of a reader when they enter. That means it’s a RFID system.”
With a snort of impatience, Gabe said, “Okay, genius, what’s RFID.”
“Radio frequency identification. The system uses radio frequency electromagnetic fields to transmit data. So, all we have to do is get our hands on an ID badge.”
Gabe’s heart sank. “How the hell are we going to do that?”
Simon held up a cell phone. “Jail broke phone. Reader in my bag.”
“English, Bro,” Gabe grumbled. “What’s a jail broke phone?”
“Cell phones have limits imposed by the carrier. Let’s just say I freed it from the limitations, which means I can modify it.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“Oh, yeah,” Simon said. “A very good thing.”
“And how do you intend to get hold of an ID badge?”
A grim smile appeared on Simon’s face. “That’s where Abby comes in.”
SAMANTHA HURRIED down the creaky hall of the old farmhouse, her heart racing with excitement mixed with fear. She rounded the corner toward the nursery. The phone call she’d received at 1:30 a.m. had been brief. “The baby disappeared.”
The words had evoked a firestorm of conflicting emotion. Delight—the baby could actually vanish. Apprehension—what if they couldn’t find her? Worry—they’d moved the supes to the remote farmhouse so quickly, there hadn’t been time to put all the security measures in place. Self-gratification—she, Samantha, was on the brink of a groundbreaking discovery, the creation of a super being. So what if she had to keep her discovery under wraps? When it came down to fame or fortune, she’d stick with fortune every time.
After barking, “Find her,” she scrambled into her clothes and headed for the farmhouse.
The curtains covering the nursery window were tightly drawn. Though she wanted to burst through the door, Samantha forced herself to turn the knob slowly. She wasn’t sure what caused the baby to vanish, or even if the staff had found her. Best to proceed with caution in case the startle effect was one of the child’s triggers.
She stepped into the dimly lit room to the sound of soft whimpers. The nurse stood next to the crib like a soldier guarding her post.
Samantha str
ode across the room. “Where was she?”
“One of the security guys found her in the cafeteria.”
Samantha peered down at the baby clad in a white onesie dotted with pink bunnies. Her big brown eyes were filled with tears that spilled over and trickled down her pale cheeks. On Samantha’s orders, the clothes the baby had been wearing were now in the trash, along with the silly bracelet encircling her chubby arm. After making brief eye contact with Samantha, the baby turned her head away.
“I’m worried,” the nurse said. “She refuses to eat.”
“What do you mean she won’t eat?” Samantha said. “Babies eat when they’re hungry. She’s probably not hungry.”
“She has to be hungry. We’ve had her over twelve hours, and she won’t take her bottle.”
Samantha shrugged. “Maybe you’ve got the wrong stuff, formula, whatever you call it.”
“No,” the nurse said. “It’s the same formula that was in her diaper bag.”
“Then she’s just being stubborn,” Samantha said. “Bring me a bottle. I’ll make her drink it.”
The nurse frowned. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“Just do it.” Samantha wondered if she’d have to pick the child up to feed her.
The baby continued to fuss while the nurse warmed the bottle. When she handed it to Samantha, she pointed at a wooden rocking chair in the corner of the room. “Have a seat and I’ll bring the baby to you.”
Samantha waved her away. “Just leave her in the crib.”
She leaned over the side of the crib and crooned, “Here you go, baby. Time to eat.” She tried to slip the rubber nipple into the baby’s mouth, but the child slapped at the bottle and rolled her head back and forth. After a deep, shuddering breath, she cut loose with a shrill shriek of protest that grated on Samantha’s tightly wound nerves.
“Damn it, you need to eat,” Samantha snarled, gripping the baby’s face with one hand while shoving the nipple into her gaping mouth with the other.
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