by K. P. Hilton
“Where are you taking me?” Betty kept asking. The pair remained silent.
Betty wondered, Is this it? Is this how it ends? “Are you going to kill me?” she asked, but got no response in return. The men didn’t even look at her.
“We're here,” said the driver, hitting the window from the back of the driver’s seat. “C’mon. Let’s get this party started,” he said as he got down and opened the slide door.
Chapter 14
Martin thought that Yellow Rose looked like another dimension during this time of night. He needed to use this night to figure out some things regarding the death of Toby Sanders. He was out taking a walk shortly after dinner. The dark, heavy overcast clouds thundered.
He only shrugged. A little rain never hurt anybody, he thought. He saw something ahead moving fast like bugs that scatter when hit with light. Some sort of silhouette ran right for him.
“If you’re looking for a fight, ” he said, “you’ll find it here.”
Something hard pushed him onto the ground. With one pivot left, he stepped fast into their path before the person could throw another blow.
Two men had him, pulling at his legs and arms. He turned around fast and from the corner of his eye saw two men with long black jackets push his down against a culvert. Martin lifted his head.
Another peal of thunder and he felt another twist in his arm as he tried to wrangle free. Someone smacked his face into the pavement and held it there with his hands.
“You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” one of them said. Martin couldn’t see their faces because everything was so wet from the rain. They dropped him, the dim light of the sky reflecting off of their jackets. He tried to lift himself up again.
“Stay down.” The voice broke through the hot but quiet dark.
“What are you guys being cowards for?” Martin shouted, trying not to choke himself on the heavily falling rain.
“Look, there’s no fight to win. But you don't understand your place in things. You're not in the investigation business, understood?”
The thugs were telling Martin more than he thought they’d share through their eyes. This was too much even for him. He shuddered trying to find his breath. His brain fired all sorts of signals, telling him both to get up on his feet and fight or to turn and run. He was overcome with exhaustion, feeling his flesh being pummeled and bruised from all sides. His muscles felt spongy, useless. It was the same pain he felt after working out for hours and not realizing how late the day had gotten.
He rolled over onto his side in agony as they tripped him up again, rain flying all over the place. He drove his hand behind him so that he could stand up tall again. The two shadowy figures stood side-by-side. Motionless, like monsters in the night.
When he rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, he could only see a blur of headlights rushing down the street on his side. A blaring of horns pierced his ears. He blinked hard, trying to make sure of where he was actually standing. He stepped toward the street and waved his arms.
A car swerved past. He was still trembling from the mixture of aches and the cold. He took two steps backwards, then collapsed toward a brick wall. The rain continued its rhythmic splashing against his eyes as he closed them again to sleep.
* * *
The next morning, Martin ran his hand over his face and tried to stretch but all of his muscles felt like they’d been contorted inside a meat grinder. What happened last night? he wondered. All he could remember was being at Lake Travis and then going out for a walk.
Then it came to him. That feeling of needing to grasp for something to prop himself up. Falling hopelessly to the ground. He was convinced that the two men who had come for him last night wanted to keep him from finding out who killed Toby Sanders.
Gazing into the mirror, Martin probed his cheek with his index finger. A mottle of blotchy purple and red hues covered the whole of his face. He knew something needed to be done. The attack on him was blatant. That meant that someone was starting to lose control. The heat coming off his window kept him alert. He needed to do something. And it needed to get done fast.
Chapter 15
Hours later, Martin had patched himself up and found the building where Debra Harrington worked at the newspaper. She was at her desk when he arrived. He'd phoned ahead to make sure she'd be available to talk. He wanted to discuss Toby and his work habits since the two had worked so closely together. He thought that maybe he could get some information regarding Molly, which would aid in finding her.
She wore a short-sleeved silk blouse with black slacks and matching shoes. Her hair was tied neatly into a ponytail. Her frame was so slender and petite that she looked like she might blow away if even a hint of a breeze blew in from outside. Martin started off talking about Molly and how he hoped that she'd turn up soon.
“Oh, I don't think anyone should be worried,” Debra said. “Molly's a responsible woman. She's probably just upset with what happened and all. Who wouldn't be, when their spouse dies suddenly and unexpectedly.”
There was a brief silence as Martin waited, thinking Debra had more to add. Sure enough, she said, “The two of them didn't always get along too well. Between you and me, I think their marriage was on the rocks.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Oh, things that Toby would say. He was never direct, but you could read between the lines. Also, she would come by every once in a while. You could hear them arguing in his office.”
Martin started to ask about the possible source of the arguments, but got cut off when Debra's cell phone rang.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Possible quote for a feature.”
She walked into the next room and talked for several moments. Returning, she said, “That was someone I'm interviewing for a story I'm working on. He'll be here soon. I'm helping with Toby's work load until the managing editor hires someone new. Afraid I'm going to have to settle in and get back to work.”
Martin nodded. “All right. If you think of anything else later today while you’re out and about I'd appreciate a call. Leave a message if I'm not available and I’ll get with you as soon as I can.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, though after this I have a ton of paperwork to go through so I doubt I’ll be venturing out any time soon.”
Martin took that as his cue. Having nothing else to add, he thanked her for her time. She walked him to the door and watched as he headed for his vehicle. As he pulled away from the curb, he slid a Rolling Stones disc into the CD player.
He drove out the same place he’d entered. The disc was skipping on Brown Sugar, so he pulled off to the side of the road and ejected it, using his shirt tail to remove any sticky gunk that might be adhering to Sticky Fingers when he noticed something in his rear-view mirror.
Debra Harrington. Driving down the road.
She made a left and headed out opposite the way Martin was pointed. He waited as two cars whipped by, then turned around and followed from a distance.
Why had she so deliberately stated that she wasn’t going anywhere? Martin wondered. Did I say something that had caused her to dash out?
Martin's guess was that it had to do with the phone call she’d received. She’d been attentive when he’d first arrived, yet distracted after ending the call.
Around him, enough vehicles littered the road to keep him hidden. His line of sight to her was broken when he caught a red light. When it changed to green, he crested the hill she’d driven over and was able to reestablish a visual. A short distance later she entered a parking lot. Martin slowed, drove past, and turned in at the next opening.
She walked into the office of a Texas Health & Life Insurance agency. Martin parked far enough away so that he wouldn’t be noticed. Now the dilemma. He could wait till she came out and continue tailing her to see where else she might go and figure out later why she had rushed over here. The problem, though, was that he'd miss out on who she might talk to and what she was doing inside. She also probably wouldn't
be happy later learning that she'd been followed.
His other option involved following her inside. In close quarters, though, he’d probably be spotted. He decided to chance it. If Debra saw him, she saw him. All thinking and no action makes Martin a dull boy. And who likes being dull?
He stepped out of his vehicle and started toward the building, slowly and casually, in step with the other foot traffic. As he drew closer he saw that the windows had commercial tinting. Businesses used the material chiefly to cut down on high power bills during the warmer months. It also made it harder to see inside, which was a bane to snoops like Martin.
He could get close enough to one of the glass panels and lean up against it to get a decent glimpse inside. Problem was, from the inside he’d be highly visible and about as inconspicuous as Ted Cruz at a Lady Gaga concert.
He went with the direct approach. With his head lowered, like he was looking for change on the floor, he pressed against the door and walked in. To his right, two middle-aged women were seated and talking. To his left, an assistant talked with another woman at the counter. Martin stepped to the side and did a quick scan.
A corner cubicle was positioned in such a way that he couldn’t tell if anyone was behind it. Nearby, a pair of gray-haired men talked in loud tones. The older of the two slapped the younger on the shoulder and laughed. Off in the back sat Debra.
She was talking with another man in a gray suit. Martin was too far away to make out the name on the nameplate perched on the man's desk or hear what they were saying. Her jaw flexed between short bursts of words. The man she spoke to did more listening than talking, getting cut off in mid-sentence the few times he attempted speech. Martin watched for several minutes longer, then eased himself out of his seat and turned to leave. The assistant was still talking to the same woman as before.
Curious. If Debra's trip here had nothing to do with my visit, why had she bothered trying to cover it up? Did any of this have to do with Molly Sanders? And if so, what?
Martin sat in his car and waited. When Debra finally came out fifteen minutes later and drove off, he once again followed.
Chapter 16
Everything was going well for Martin. Right up until the time it wasn't. Debra had made a beeline for Lake Travis. Unfortunately for Martin, he'd had to drift so far behind in the hopes that he wasn't seen, he'd eventually lost sight of her.
He was getting the sense that time was of the essence. He played a hunch and drove over to the cabin rentals.
The cabins didn’t seem any busier since the last time Martin had dropped in. This time he didn’t see any shifty housekeepers loitering around. Karl Valdez was actually in his line of sight. He was raking up a pile of dead leaves and mulch. Karl’s eyes widened when he recognized Martin, who couldn’t tell whether it was a good thing or bad. He didn't really know, but Valdez knew something else and he needed to tell Martin what it was.
“Perfect,” Karl said. “Last thing I need is some cop wannabe sniffing around here again. I already told you everything I know. Why can’t you let this one go, huh?”
“You didn’t tell me the truth, Karl,” Martin replied darkly.
Karl eyed Martin like an anxious dog who pricked its ears. He picked up his rake and walked away. Martin didn’t panic. Karl had nowhere to hide. He had to run this business to give him any kind of life.
He waved his hand at Martin.
“We’ll have to talk in my office. We say a word out here and you’ll never know who’s listening in,” Karl said, opening the door to his own quarters.
He knew exactly what Martin had come for. He could tell what Martin thought since he looked much less like he'd come over to have a friendly chat.
“So, I need to know more about Roane and Albin McClatchy,” Martin told him.
“You mean, you haven’t heard enough already?” asked Karl.
“Be honest, and don’t give me that song and bull about what you do and don’t know. You knew those men worked for Debra Harrington, right?” Martin didn't know this as fact. He was working on a hunch based on a conversation with Betty and information he'd gathered on line about the McClatchly brothers.
Karl remained tight lipped. He didn’t want to cross Roane, not without some reassurances first.
“If I say anything, whatever that may be, and it helps you locate the missing woman, I want your absolute word that you can keep me safe,” Karl stated.
Martin didn’t bother responding to the request. He hadn't come to help Karl play catch up, and the man knew he wasn't authorized to offer that kind of assistance. He'd come looking for an explanation and to see a man who had lied to him.
“I didn’t exactly let you in on all of the details. But you’ve got to understand that if anyone found us talking about Molly Sanders, and if I didn’t say the same rote pattern of answers that I told you when you first came to see me, those men would take me aside, hurt me and organize how they would get rid of me forever.”
“Tell me where to find Molly, and I’m out of here.”
Karl gave Martin a serious look, like he was trying to decide something.
“Don’t play with me!” Martin shouted, grabbing Karl at the collar of his shirt.
Martin knew when someone took it upon themselves to tell him straight up lies. That means the truth had to be found soon after.
“Molly can be found in the north side. It's where they took her.”
Karl still looked at Martin, unsure if he did the right thing by telling. Of course, what he'd done would put him in danger, and Martin was well aware of that. But he needed to get answers.
Chapter 17
The warehouse where Betty was tied up was mostly dark, with only slivers of light coming through several broken windows. The men who'd kidnapped her had taken her in through the back, sat her in a chair, bound her wrists behind her, then affixed a strip of duct tape across her mouth before disappearing into the darkness.
The least they could have done is given me a cushion, Betty thought as she considered how to escape her predicament.
She sat perfectly still and listened.
Her wrists were bound with the same tape that had been affixed to her mouth. As she flexed her hands, she found there was little give. She stopped flexing a moment later, deciding she needed a plan before moving mindlessly about.
Until she saw the spiders.
They were small in size and number. Probably not more than six or seven that she could see, slowly moving along the floor past her feet.
Still, spiders.
Betty's mind worked fast. Her wrists worked faster.
Nothing for several moments. Then, suddenly, a bit of give. She continued the rapid back-and-forth with her hands until there was a small amount of slack. Then a little more...a little more...
Finally, the tape had given away enough that she was able to slip one of her hands free. She pulled off the strip from her mouth so that she could breath better, then freed her legs.
Which is when she heard the back door of the warehouse bang open.
She sat perfectly still and watched as Thing 1 barged in, slammed the door shut, and marched into a small room off to the side and began a heated discussion with someone inside.
So much for making a dash for the rear exit.
She got up as quietly as she could and headed for the only other door she could see, which was located at the front of the building. Unfortunately, the door was blocked by a large piece of machinery. The only way out that she could see was through the back.
She heard a muffled voice nearby and nearly jumped out of her skin. Standing stock still, hoping no one could see her in the shadows, she heard it again. There, to her left in a corner. A small enclosed area with a door and a glass window.
Betty eased over and, crouching down, peeked in from the bottom corner of the glass. Inside was a woman. Bound to a chair as she'd been until a few moments earlier.
Betty tried the door and found it unlocked. She entered the room and carefully r
emoved the tape across the woman's mouth, hoping that she wouldn't scream or do something to draw attention to themselves.
The woman drew in several deep gulps of air. “Thank you,” she gasped, as she continued breathing in deeply.
“What's your name?” Betty asked as she worked on freeing the woman.
“Molly Sanders.”