“Helpless is right.” Summer knew the feeling well. She was completely helpless right now and there didn’t seem to be anything to do. She was at the kidnapper’s mercy and all she could do is sit and wait until the phone rang.
Summer stepped inside the office and saw Dean was still out cold, so she turned to Gavin. “What do you think I should do? Nate’s planning to ambush the kidnapper at the drop location, but I’m not sure it’s the best thing to do. What if the kidnapper spots him when he arrives? What do you think he’ll do if he thinks he’s been double crossed?”
“If it were me, I’d shoot the fucker down the minute I saw him, but that’s just me.” Gavin raised his eyebrows, wrinkling his forehead all the way to his shaved hair line. “But you said he sounded willing to let her go the last time, so why not trust him. Give him the cash and I’m sure he’ll let Sabrina go. You have to believe he’ll do the right thing.”
Summer snatched the duffle bag from the side table and quickly stacked the piles of money inside, then zippered it closed. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. I used to believe that people were genuinely good natured, but I’m finding that harder and harder to believe with each passing day.” She shook her head. “Once they caught John Scott I thought I’d be able to move on with my life, but even with him lying dead out there, I still haven’t taken a single step in that direction.”
Gavin rounded the desk and plopped down in the chief’s chair and Summer couldn’t believe his lack of respect. How could he and Dean be born from the same womb? How could they have been raised by the same mother, but turned out so different?
“Gavin, I wouldn’t sit—”
“Don’t worry. Dickson won’t mind one bit.”
“Yeah, not a bit. A whole fucking lot.”
“I was thinking,” Gavin said, his brown eyes watching her carefully, “maybe you’d like me to make the drop?”
“No.” Summer turned and leaned back against the table. “He specifically said it had to be me.”
“But I’m sure if you mentioned it to him, making sure to tell him that I’m an ex-convict myself, that he’d be willing to allow us to switch places.”
Summer shook her head and hoisted the bag onto her shoulder. “No. It has to be me. I have to be there when he lets Sabrina go.”
“Well, how about I just tag along?” Gavin leaned forward onto the desk. “You know, in case something goes wrong and you can’t handle it.”
“Can’t handle it?” Summer glared at him. “I’m a cop! You of all people should remember that. After all, I’m the one who sent you away for eight years.”
She saw immediately that he did remember. The vein on the side of his bald head bulged with anger. She never should’ve egged him on, not after he’d agreed to drain the company fund for her and Sabrina.
“I’m sorry, Gavin. I should never have said that. It was wrong.” She shook her head and looked down at the bag full of money. “I’m just so on edge right now waiting for him to call back.”
Gavin glanced at Dean sleeping on the couch. “You know, for the first year in prison I wished that something terrible would happen to you. Every night I prayed that you’d be shot or run down while doing your job—that same job that put me inside that small cube of steel bars.”
Summer glanced at Dean, wishing he was awake to hear this, but he was still out cold. She knew it was good for Gavin to express his anger at being locked away, but not now. Not while her whole world was turned upside down.
“Then when I heard the news that you were marrying my brother, I wanted to kill you myself. I couldn’t believe you had the balls to stick me away then invade my personal life like that.” Gavin closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “But when Dean came to visit me, we had a long talk and I realized that if you could enchant my brother and make his life so full and complete, then maybe I was just being an asshole, sour at being bested at my own game of corruption.”
Gavin opened his eyes and leaned forward on the desk, tenting his fingers before his face. “For Dean’s sake—and yours—I’ve spent the last four years of my sentence trying to turn my life around. Trying to right the wrongs that I’ve done in the past. It hasn’t been easy, but with Dean taking me under his arm, I’m learning how to make an honest living now.”
Summer didn’t know what to say. She was happy to hear Gavin was committed to her side of the law, and in debt to Dean, but right now she only had one thing on her mind. “I’m happy to hear that, Gavin. And I’m glad there’s no hard feeling between us.”
“So, about me coming along?”
Summer shook her head and opened the door, leaving a speechless Gavin behind.
Hurrying around the corner and down the hall, she made her way into the locker room. She had the money and phone, but her Volvo was still out of commission and Dean’s Mercedes was currently being processed for evidence. There was no way they’d let her take it from the shop for at least a few more days.
When the kidnapper calls, she’ll need to be ready to move. That meant taking a cruiser to make the drop, but somehow she didn’t think the kidnapper would appreciate the irony of her showing up with the lights blazing away. Instead she headed to Nate’s locker, knowing that he would stash the keys to his Malibu inside, like always.
When Summer opened the door, she stumbled backwards as her eyes settled on the images inside. There was an instant swell in her stomach as it churned and threatened to unload its contents all over the locker room floor. She took a step back and sat on the bench, drawing cleansing breaths until the feeling passed.
“How could he do that?” She glanced up, hoping that it’d only been her imagination, but the two pictures were still there, side by side. A gross before and after of the woman she’d been, and the woman she’d become, thanks to the hands of the corpse outside. She started to look away, but forced herself to keep looking at the damage that John Scott had done to her.
Anger filled her body, replacing the nauseous feeling and bringing a bitter taste to her mouth. It was the taste of revenge not yet fulfilled. She realized at that moment why Nate kept that picture there. He wanted to be reminded daily of the injustice in the world. And knowing Nate, he wanted to fire himself up, and what better way than to look at the partner he’d lost due to his own misjudgement.
Summer knew Nate still held himself responsible for what had happened to her that day. Knew he felt like the older brother who’d let his kid sister get harmed while under his care, and she understood exactly where those feelings had come from. At first she’d blamed him for not being there to stop John Scott from drugging her and taking her away, but with time she realized that it wasn’t his fault. If it was anybody’s fault, it was her own.
Summer snatched the key chain from the side hook then ripped the after picture from the locker and stood studying the image. She looked like hell, worse than being in a high speed car crash, but, Summer glanced into the wall mirror, she was still alive—that’s more than she could say for John Scott—and her wounds have healed. At least her physical wounds have.
Grabbing her stomach, Summer felt a twitch from deep inside. It wasn’t the usual muscle spasm, but more like a tiny foot kicking and suddenly she wondered if it could be Dean’s child waiting to be born. Just yesterday she was content to have the child and give it away without ever seeing its face and never letting Dean know about it, but after everything that had happened in the last four hours, she was beginning to wonder if she’d been too distraught to make a clear decision. After all, why hadn’t she run the tests? Why was she punishing Dean by not telling him about the chance that he may be the father of this child, but she knew that answer. Knew that she still held a deep-rooted grudge at him for never coming to her rescue in that farmhouse while John…
Summer shook her head, clearing the memory from her mind. She folded the after picture up and tucked it into her pocket. There was a feeling of anger that seemed to be driving her now and she suspected it was from facing her past—Faci
ng everything she wanted so much to run and hide from. Maybe Nate had the right idea, infuriate yourself every day so as to focus your mind on the end result. And now that John Scott was dead, she only had one last hurdle to overcome. She moved to the supply locker, grabbed an ankle strap and cinched it on under her pant leg.
“Damn it, Nate, where’s my god damned gun!”
Slamming the locker door shut, Summer stormed to the mirror and stood looking into those green eyes. They were focused, driven, but not yet commanding like they’d once been. She brushed back her tangled blond hair and drew a deep breath, preparing herself for the challenges that lie ahead. She knew that if things didn’t go down smoothly, she would need to regain her old composure and take action. She would need to do whatever it took to get Sabrina back—even kill if she had to.
Marching out into the hall, she slung the bag of money over her shoulder and headed for the back door where Nate had parked his car. She burst through the door, shoving her way through the rouge reporters who’d gather at the back after Gavin had returned, hoping to get the scoop from a different angle, and limped toward Nate’s red Malibu. She placed the bag on the rear seat, tucked the cell phone in the holder and started the car. The parking lot was crammed full so she turned the wheel sharply then drove over the curb and tore off through the grass toward the roadway.
She drove with purpose, feeling settled behind the wheel and wondered where Nate was right now. Was he just driving around aimlessly throughout the countryside, trying to think like the kidnapper so he could find him hiding away in the corner of a back alley? Or, Summer knew she had a better hunch, was he at the farmhouse where she’d been held captive, searching for a clue as to who the kidnapper might be.
If she was a betting woman, she’d have slapped down the hundred grand in the bag, because she knew a sure thing when she heard it.
After checking the rearview mirror and finding no news vans giving chase, she cranked the wheel and raced down the street, zigzagging down back streets along the way, hoping to keep anybody from tailing her. The last thing she wanted was to have the news cameras showing up at the drop location, trying to capture footage of the hostage release.
Once she reached Bloomfield Road, she punched the accelerator to the floor, challenging the Malibu and herself at the same time. The car tore down the road, picking up speed until the blurring houses thinned and only a few farms dotted the countryside. She should’ve eased up on the pedal, but she had to prove to herself that she could handle the challenge of a fast pursuit. It wasn’t until she saw the overpass racing upon her at a breakneck speed that she stomped on the brakes, sliding the car for fifty feet until it finally came to a complete stop on the road, facing toward the cut off.
She squinted up toward the hillside and tried to spot the old farmhouse she’d been held inside, but it was completely shrouded with trees, invisible to the naked eye. It was almost as if the house was a secret hideaway, dropped from the sky into the thick of trees.
Summer saw the flash of movement in the rearview mirror as a car pulled onto the roadway far behind. Quickly she sped onto the gravel back road before the approaching car could spot her. She drove past the cut through that she’d taken earlier, choosing to take the long way around, not risking getting trapped down in the valley again.
The little alcove where the Mercedes had been parked was all cordoned off with yellow tape, as was the worn out driveway—except there was a police cruiser wedged under the tape. She knew immediately that her hunch had been correct. Nate was here and he was inside searching for a clue that Stevens and Malroy might have missed. The same reason she’d come. To find answers when there was nothing else to do but sit and wait.
Summer pulled tight to the side of the alcove and got out. She tucked the bag of money under the seat then locked the car and headed around the bushes, ducking under the police line as she tried to hold onto her new found courage.
Chapter 15
The same feeling of dread filled the pit of Summer’s stomach as she headed toward the farm house. She paused on what was left of the ancient concrete sidewalk to the front porch, staring up at the rotting structure. The place looked totally abandoned. Paint peeled in large strips from the window trim and siding, covering the leaf strewn ground in an array of white and grey. The cracked and shattered windows reminded her of an eerie haunted house, but ghosts and ghouls were no match for the real monster that had inhabited this place in the not so distant past.
How would John Scott have known about this place? Was there a connection between this house and his past, or was it merely a convenient place to do his bidding? Summer had hoped that Stephens and Malroy would’ve tracked down some information as to who the property belonged to, but seeing as they’ve left, she suspected that’s exactly what they were doing now.
Summer took the first step onto the front porch stairs, feeling strong knowing that Nate was inside, but as she stepped into the shadow of the house, a shiver raced up her spine. She paused, glancing at the location where her badge had been placed, knowing that the kidnapper had stood exactly where she stood now.
Had John Scott told the kidnapper about this place and what to say about that night here, or was it someone else? Someone who took charge of them both? She wondered just how many people knew the truth and were keeping the secret. A secret that she pledged to flush out, and in doing so, bring everyone involved to justice.
“Nate?” Summer said, turning the handle and opening the door a crack. “Nate, are you in here?”
She heard footsteps on the floor above, but no response came back. It had to be Nate up there. That was his patrol car parked outside. She was sure of it. Summer let the door go and it swung wide open, thanks to the draft from the broken windows.
The hinges squealed slightly as it approached the inner wall, drawing a sudden halt to the footfalls. She bent down, reaching to the ankle holster strapped to her leg, then cursed Nate for not getting her gun like she’d asked.
“Nate,” she whispered softly, knowing that the person upstairs had definitely heard the squeal of the hinge.
“Summer?” Nate leaned over the upper railing, gazing down upon her with a surprised look on his face. “What the hell are you doing here? I figured you’d be holding down the station until the kidnapper called.”
The feeling of relief flooded her body, leaving her drained and weary. It felt so good seeing Nate that she rushed into the house, temporarily forgetting her inhibitions. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going for a ride.”
“I did.” Nate stepped to the upper landing. “I drove around, checked my hunches and came up empty handed. So, I came here to see how Stephens and Malroy were making out.”
“And?” Summer made it halfway up the creaky stairs before she caught the image of the room and stopped in her tracks. It’d been stripped down. Every item processed and tossed into a pile in the corner.
“They took samples from the bed. Dusted for prints all over the house. Found a fresh set, which we assume is yours. But other than that, the place looks fairly clean. They’ve found samples from when you—” Nate met her on the stairs. “But nothing much new. We’ve got his footprints from the dust and a few from the yard, plus the car tracks, but it looks like he was fairly clean. No prints, probably wore gloves when he dropped the ransom note off. The door knob, note and even your badge is spotless.”
Summer racked her brain, trying to think of anything left unturned. “Tire strip he used on my car?”
“Standard issue police strip,” Nate said, ushering her down the stairs. “Could’ve picked it up from pretty much any undesirable on the street corner.”
Summer couldn’t believe it. She was hoping it’d be harder to pick one of those up. Hoping that they could trace it back to a supplier. “They’re that easy to get?”
“If you have the money and the connections, they’re not that hard to find. You know as well as I do that there’s a whole other world out there stewing just under th
e calm society that we pretend is the reality of our existence.”
“Dean’s cell phone?”
“Thousand pieces. It’d been run over a hundred times before we could recover it from the road. The last I’ve heard, the lab’s only found minute traces of prints on the outer plastic case, but no enough to get any kind of match.”
Nate led Summer into the main room, on the lower level, and slid one of the remaining unbroken chairs to her. “Sit down and rest.”
She hated to be told what to do, especially when she was feeling down and out over the lack of evidence they had. The kidnapper had planned very thoroughly for this. It was evident in how he waited, hiding in the pile of trash for them to show up. He knew everything about them. She shivered remembering the way the light had glistened off the blade of the knife when he’d stabbed Dean.
“Wait!” She grabbed Nate by the shirt. “The keys! Dean’s keys for his Mercedes.”
Nate shook his head.
“The kidnapper wasn’t wearing gloves when he stabbed Dean. I’m sure of it.” Summer paced around the room, stirring up the layer of dust. “Then he slipped on the mask and climbed from the trash. I can’t be a hundred percent sure, but I’m betting ninety that he wasn’t wearing gloves when he picked the keys from the sidewalk.”
Nate grabbed her shoulders as she passed by and directed her to the chair, but she refused to sit. “They’re clean. He must have wiped them down before he left the car. Everything was wiped clean. Not a print, except yours. Not even Dean’s. So you know what that means.”
Summer did. He’d used a clean cloth to erase everything before she climbed into the car. “But what about the key itself.”
Nate was looking more and more confused every second that passed. “I told you they’re—”
“Clean. Yes, I know,” Summer grinned, “but the sweat from his skin would’ve corroded the metal. Now, if they use the Bond technique and apply an electrical charge and a fine carbon powder to the metal of the key, it might just reveal a fingerprint.”
Taken - Before her very Eyes Page 13