Seek and Find

by Dana Mentink

  Feeling more than a little foolish, he closed and locked the door again and checked out with Alice. “Removing anything today, James?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  After he signed out in the log, he flipped back a page to the week before he’d scrounged around in Frances’s bushes. There was no signature for that period or the entire week before. Theoretically, no one had visited the evidence room anytime recently.

  His eyes wandered to Alice’s desk, where there was a little plastic vase full of pink carnations. “Nice,” James said.

  “A birthday present from Ken Bucks. I was sure surprised he actually remembered my birthday was Monday.”

  “So, Bucks was here on Monday?”

  She nodded, still smiling.

  “He’s not logged in to the book.”

  “No, he didn’t go in the evidence room. He just dropped off the flowers.”

  James mulled it over. He’d never figured on Ken Bucks to be the thoughtful type, but he didn’t know the guy well. He began to walk away. Then a thought struck him.

  “Hey, Alice. Did the flowers come in that vase?”

  “That’s an odd question.” She gave him a sly look. “Are you planning on some flowers for your girlfriend? I understand that reporter is quite a looker.”

  “Just wondering,” he said, ignoring the stab of embarrassment. “Did they? Come in the vase?”

  “No. Ken watched the desk for me while I ran to the kitchen and found the vase and arranged them. That was real sweet, wasn’t it?”

  Real sweet. Though there was no proof that the tape Hawk found was actually from the Desert Valley evidence room, the other facts were beginning to come together. When Bucks arrived with his flowers, Alice had run to the kitchen, giving Bucks plenty of time to duck into the evidence room and take a packet of drugs to give to Falkner And Bucks knew every detail of the truck sting operation, which he could easily relay. All guesses, James. You don’t have any proof. He thought of Lee Earnshaw.

  What if he is telling the truth?

  He ran to Bucks’s cubicle. Hawk heard him rush by and woke with a startled bark. Bucks wasn’t at his desk. Racing to the front desk, he asked Carrie, “Where is Ken Bucks right now?”

  “Taking an early lunch, I think. Why?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “James, where are you going?” Carrie asked.

  “Tell you later,” he called over his shoulder as he and Hawk ran to the car.

  Twenty-Two

  Madison stopped her car a block from Frances’s bridal salon and dashed off a couple of paragraphs on her iPad. The piece would need refining and editing, and the finishing touch would be a quote from Frances about how she’d been shaken down. Now that Falkner was dead and both Frances and Tony had revealed everything they knew, she hoped Frances would not be too scared to make a statement. Her hand was on the door when she saw Ken Bucks exit the back door of the salon and get into his car. Frances peeked through the window, face pale, before she quickly pulled the curtains back into place.

  Ken Bucks was the cop King believed was guilty of framing him. Madison had found it hard to believe until that moment. What would Bucks be doing calling on Frances? Police business? But something in the way he slammed the salon door and drove out of the back lot made her question that conclusion. He looked irate, the customary “good old boy” smile missing.

  She reached automatically for the ignition, heart thudding. Follow? Stay put and keep to her plan?

  Ryder Hayes, Doug Marlton, Ken Bucks. She knew deep down that one of them was the boss in charge of Falkner, the brains behind the intimidation. King said Bucks was the smart one. Good old boy Bucks? She’d follow, staying safe, watch and listen. If she was wrong, no harm done.

  When Bucks pulled out along the main street, she let him drive nearly two blocks before she started along behind him. He was meandering, seemingly with no specific destination in mind, until he idled near the little storefront on the end of the street where the Hot Dog Spot was set to open the following month, if the sign was to be believed. She thought he would pass by, but then he pulled around the back to park in the rear. Madison stopped at the curb a few blocks away, got out her handheld recorder, and crept along the sidewalk.

  She could not accept what she was witnessing. The whole thing was crazy. There was no way Ken Bucks would march into a closed restaurant to shake down the owner in broad daylight. It was too brazen, even for a guy like Bucks. Still, she kept on, easing her way past some piled-up pallets to the back entrance. Bucks’s vehicle was parked next to a dusty pickup truck.

  She noticed the back door was partially open. Easing close, she tried to peer through the gap.

  Bucks stood next to some newly installed shelving. The owner, an older man with a prominent nose and wide-set eyes, stood across from Bucks, clutching a stack of foam trays.

  “We’re not even open yet. There’s no money coming in,” the man said.

  “I understand your problems, Joe,” Bucks said with a smile. “I got some of my own. The guy that works for me got a knife in his back. Imagine that? That’s what a lack of cooperation will get you.”

  Madison’s breath froze in her lungs. You’re taking too many wild chances. Bucks killed Falkner.

  Joe’s face went milk white.

  “So you see, I had to make this call on you myself. One grand. That’s the price for opening a business in Desert Valley. Then five hundred a month thereafter.”

  “I don’t have that kind of money to spare,” Joe choked out.

  “Now you see,” Ken said, taking out his nightstick, “that’s the kind of attitude that will only end in defeat.” He smashed the nightstick into a tray filled with glasses, sending them crashing down in shards onto the floor.

  Madison nearly screamed aloud. She clutched a hand to her mouth, the other recording every word.

  “Please...” Joe said. “I’ve sunk everything I have into this business. I’m sixty years old. I can’t start over.”

  “You’ll pay up, Joe, because you don’t have a choice.”

  A glint of defiance showed in Joe’s face, and his chin went up. “I’ll...I’ll go to the cops.”

  Bucks laughed. “You know what, Joe? You remind me of Albert Jennings. Do you know Albert? He ran the lumberyard. He threatened to go to the cops, too. Know what happened to Albert? I had my associate pay him a visit.” He leaned closer and rapped his nightstick on the counter. “Now you can visit Albert in the hospital—if he hasn’t died, that is.”

  Madison gasped.

  Joe closed his mouth and tightened his grip on the stack of trays.

  “Why don’t you give me a little tour, Joe?” Bucks said. “Show me the dining area. Since we’ll be in business together, I’ll be dining here often. Nothing better than a hot dog with all the fixings.”

  Bucks and Joe moved away into the front of the shop.

  Madison’s hands trembled so badly she could hardly manage to hold on to her phone as she crouched down. Steady, Mads. She forced herself to breathe in and out a few times. Ken Bucks was behind it all. A cop, responsible for intimidation, the near death of Albert Jennings, planting drugs in Tony’s backpack. He’d tried to throw the police off the trail by having Falkner fake his death while incriminating King. When she got control of her hands again, she started to text James. Bucks is dirty. I’m here at...

  Then a hand came across her mouth, and she was jerked to her feet. Bucks pulled her against him, ripped the tape recorder and phone from her hands.

  “Who’ve we got here?” he breathed into her ear. “Why, I do believe it’s Little Red. I thought I heard you sneaking around outside Granny’s house.”

  She struggled, trying to peel away his fingers, but he was strong.

  “Didn’t you learn anything yet, Little Red? I
told you the woods were full of wolves.”

  Though she thrashed as hard as she could, she was not able to rip his hand away so she could scream. His other arm crooked around her neck and he squeezed, choking off her oxygen. She clawed at his arm, but he only tightened his grip. Head swimming, she kicked out a foot to try and knock him off balance. Her ears began to ring, and she felt her arms go numb and drop uselessly at her sides.

  Vaguely she was aware of him opening the trunk of his cruiser, and he dumped her inside.

  Her vision blurred. Darkness descended as he slammed the trunk closed.

  * * *

  Since Madison had mentioned she was going to meet with Frances, James went to the bridal salon first, but the doors were locked and the curtains drawn across the windows. It was almost one o’clock. Perhaps Frances had taken a lunch break? He’d decided to try the Cactus Café, to see if Madison had gone there to check in with Kate, when he saw her car parked on the street.

  The door was unlocked. He scanned the street. Where had she gone? He ran into the hardware store.

  “She didn’t come in here,” Bill said.

  James’s gut tightened in frustration.

  “But I saw her walking that way.” He jabbed his finger. “Toward the new place.”

  The new place, James thought as he and Hawk took off. A closed-up restaurant?

  Inside the Hot Dog Spot, he found Joe sweeping up the broken remnants of a tray full of broken glass.

  “What happened?”

  Joe glared at him. “Nothing.”

  “Did you see a woman? A redhead?”

  “Ain’t seen nobody.”

  “How about an officer named Ken Bucks?”

  The jerk of surprise on Joe’s face confirmed it for James, even though the man remained stubbornly silent.

  “Which way did he leave?” James demanded.

  Joe pointed toward the parking lot.

  “I’ll be back to talk to you later,” James said. He took off through the restaurant and out the door. The lot was empty except for the owner’s pickup truck.

  There was no sign of a struggle. Where was she?

  Then he noticed the faint puff of dust from the dirt trail that led up to the woods. Stomach clenched, he sprinted back to his car, Hawk at his heels. He rounded the corner of the building, tires screeching, and took the path he knew Bucks had traveled.

  Hold on, Madison. Just stay alive. I’m on my way.

  * * *

  Madison floated back to consciousness. She was tossed from one side of the trunk to the other as Bucks took what must be a rough trail. Her throat was dry with terror, head still fuzzy from the choking. She tried to calm herself. Father God, help me. Her phone was gone. Of course he’d taken it, along with her recorder. She squirmed her way around, fighting the movement of the car, feeling with numb fingers for a trunk release that she could not locate.

  A hard jolt banged her head against the trunk lid, and she cried out in pain. Tracing her hands along the edges of her prison, she felt the gap that led to the taillight. Pushing with all her strength, she popped it out. A spark of hope lit inside her. She felt the sweet rush of fresh air on her face and immediately thrust her hand out, waving frantically to attract attention.

  “Help me,” she yelled. Swirls of dust obscured her vision, but she kept on, waving and yelling, until she realized the road under the tires was dirt. She caught glimpses of thick brush, and the trees overhead were dense and dark. Her stomach fell. Bucks was taking her deep into the woods to a remote spot where no one would overhear his bloody business.

  She could hardly breathe through the panic. Think, Mads. She had to get free of the trunk and run. She was certain she could outpace Bucks with enough of a head start. Frantically, she fumbled in the darkness, trying to find something to use as a weapon. Boxes of plastic bags, a first-aid kit, bottled water. Another bounce tossed her on her side, and her legs banged against a jack. She grabbed it. When he opened the trunk, she could swing it at him and ideally drive him back a step, but her angle would be poor, and he was very strong. Her chances weren’t good.

  Had the car begun to slow? Cold with terror now, she continued to search, scrabbling around until her knee banged against something metallic and cylindrical. A fire extinguisher.

  She grabbed it and pulled the pin. Her hands shook as she gripped the lever, ready to squeeze, and aimed the hose. The car was definitely slowing now. Ken Bucks was closing in on the place he intended to kill her.

  Shaking all over, she gritted her teeth.

  “Go ahead and give it your best shot, Bucks,” she hissed aloud. “God didn’t make me a survivor so I could be taken down by the likes of you.”

  The movement stopped. The brakes creaked. She felt the car lurch as Bucks stepped out. Her hands were trembling so badly she thought she might drop the extinguisher. Would he open the trunk and fire his weapon point blank? She didn’t think so. It would make too much of a mess. He would order her out and kill her.

  Three steps and then the trunk opened. A crack of light dazzled her eyes.

  As the lid rose, she squeezed the lever, and yellow powder exploded right in Bucks’s face. With a grunt he leaped backward. She scrambled from the trunk. Feet pounding, arms pumping, she raced for the trees, running for her life.

  * * *

  James radioed for help.

  “Wait for backup,” Ryder commanded. “You’re not taking him on yourself.”

  “He’s got Madison. I’m not waiting.”

  “You—”

  James threw down the radio as he jerked to a stop and leaped from the driver’s seat. Buck’s car was there, the rear taillight punched out. A fire extinguisher lay on the ground, powder everywhere. Madison’s handiwork, he was sure of it. She was alive. His spirit soared. Bucks must have gone after her. The trees closed around him on every side. Which direction had they taken?

  Hawk circled, ears flapping. He thanked God that his canine partner was a bloodhound.

  James grabbed Madison’s sweater from his front seat and lowered it to Hawk, who sniffed diligently.

  “Find her,” he said, clipping on Hawk’s long leash. “Find Madison.”

  Please, God.

  * * *

  Madison lunged through the trees, fighting at the foliage that clung to her. She had no idea where she was or in which direction she’d find Desert Valley. A tall ridge of rocks stood sentinel to her left. She could hide there, climb up and get her bearings, hunker down in some dark cleft until Bucks left. He was on duty, so he couldn’t stay there too long without causing suspicion. Sooner or later he’d have to give up if she could just hide long enough.

  Straining to hear any sound that might alert her to Bucks’s location, she could not make out a thing. Slowly, keeping down behind any and every bush, she crept toward the pile of rocks.

  Twisting and squirming through low lying boulders and slapping at the bugs that flew in her face, she kept on. Rock bit at her hands, leaving them bloody and raw. Reaching the bottom of the ridge, she crept around the periphery of a jagged piece of granite.

  Where Bucks was waiting for her, smiling.

  * * *

  Hawk strained at the leash, dragging James along through the heavy vegetation. It was hot, and the dog was panting. Sweat dampened James’s forehead as he followed Hawk, praying every moment he would not be too late.

  Hawk plowed on with a steady certainty that heartened him. Hawk would lead James right to Madison. He had no doubt of it.

  The wagging of Hawk’s tail indicated the dog was closing in. Up ahead, a ridge of rock punched high into the blue sky. James pulled his gun.

  Hawk yowled and barked, surging forward before James could secure him. Half stumbling, they stopped short of the rock pile. Hawk let out a bark as Bucks stepped in vie
w, his arm tight around Madison’s shoulder, his gun pointed at her head.

  James gripped the Glock. “Let her go, Bucks.”

  Bucks shook his head. “No, James. I don’t think so.”

  Madison grimaced as Bucks’s hold around her neck tightened.

  James saw the glint of desperate determination in Bucks’s eyes. “It’s all over. Ryder knows, and the chief. There’s no reason to hurt her, because everything’s out in the open now.”

  Bucks smiled. “You watch too much TV. I’m not just going to throw in the towel and surrender. Not to you, some wet-behind-the-ears cop.”

  “So why’d you do it?” James asked, mind whirling. If he fired, there was a chance he’d hit Madison, or Bucks would squeeze off a shot and get her. Keep him talking. “Did you need the money that badly?”

  “I’ve been a cop for years, doing the job, collecting my two-bit paychecks while people like Bruce King rake in the bounty. How’s that fair? Follow the rules, put it all on the line every day, silently take the disrespect from every Tom, Dick and Harry who feels he was mistreated, and keep your mouth shut. It’s too much. I’m tired of bowing and scraping. It’s not fair.”

  Madison was stiff with fear, her hands clenched around Bucks’s forearm.

  “It’s not fair to victimize people who were just trying to run a business in this town,” James said.

  Bucks grunted. “Save it for someone who cares. I got no one to go home to, no one in this whole town who will shed a tear for me, either, so listen up. Here’s how it’s going to go down. I’m walking out of here, back to my car, and you’re not going to stop me, because if you do, I will kill her. Got that, tough guy?”

  Madison squirmed, and he gripped her more tightly.

  If Bucks left with Madison, she was as good as dead. He held the gun steady, praying he could get off the shot of his life.

  Hawk yowled, jerking the leash from James’s hand. Hawk bounded toward Madison, and instinctively Bucks aimed for the heavy body barreling toward them. Bucks’s finger tightened on the trigger. James fired.

  And then it was all over.