by Robena Grant
“You got a good description of the guy? Okay, that’s good, yeah, middle-aged, Caucasian, white hair. What did you say? A wig…you think he was wearing a wig?”
Okay, so it wasn’t Trigger, she’d guessed wrong. Still, the guy could be working with him. Damn it, she wanted her phone back. She reached forward, wriggled her fingers. “Give it to me.”
Jack turned his attention back to Rachel. He made notes on the end of the legal pad.
“Did you get a license plate, model of vehicle? No problem…a few letters will help. You’re doing fine, Rachel, keep talking. Can you describe the van? Okay I’m imagining it looks like one of those restaurant delivery vans, correct? Excellent. We’re on it, Rachel. No, you stay there in case the cops need to talk to you. You’ve got my cell phone number. Call it if you need to, okay? We’ll stay here, and I’ll contact Dave.”
Debbie stood and almost fell. She could hear Rachel’s voice again. I’m sorry, so sorry. She stumbled to the bathroom and threw up. She sat on the toilet, holding her head in her hands, aware of the tightening in her chest, the wheeze working its way up from her lungs. A middle-aged man with a bald head, wearing a white wig, was holding her daughter captive, and he’d escaped in a white van. A van, like the one Trigg had been underneath at the back of Cliffs.
There was a tap on the door. “You okay in there, Deb?” Jack asked.
“Yes. I’ll be out…in a bit.” The room began to swim before her eyes, and she hurried to the sink and washed her face, afraid she’d be sick again. She had to get control, or she’d end up with a full blown asthma attack. There were important steps to consider. Whatever the guy wanted, he could have. He could take the whole damn spa as far as she was concerned. She’d do nothing less for her daughter and a calm, rational mind was required.
****
Jack paced up and down the small hallway. Deb had been in the bathroom for quite a while, and he worried about her condition. When he’d get ready to break down the door, he’d hear her move around again. He knew he had to give her time to process this situation, but he also worried about her health. She could have a panic attack. Anything could happen behind that closed door.
“Debbie. Deb. Please don’t shut me out. Talk to me,” Jack said loudly through the closed bathroom door. “If you don’t come out soon, I’m coming in.”
The door opened, and she came out looking as bedraggled as a cat caught in a rainstorm. He reached out with both arms ready to enfold her, but she shoved him away and stomped down the hall carrying a wet wash cloth.
“Hey, don’t blame me for this,” he said, following at a safe distance. He hadn’t liked that accusatory look in her eyes. “Remember, I’m on the right side of the law.” He followed her into the dolphin treatment room. She climbed up onto the bed and lay flat on her back for about ten seconds. Then she got up and paced a bit, a scowl on her face. He knew not to say anything. She was obviously thinking up a plan. Then she lay back down. He ventured closer, bent too close, and she covered her face with the entire washcloth.
“Did you call Dave?” she asked, her voice muffled by the wet cotton.
Jack almost sighed with relief. Good, she’d processed the information and was beginning to develop a plan of action. “I did.” He needed to think things through himself and didn’t want to use up valuable time with hysterics. Although, he understood the reaction any parent would have in a situation like this, that sense of helplessness, the loss of control, the interminable wait.
“And he said?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Jack said, jolted out of his thoughts. “He’s got men on it. He’s already got an APB out on the make of the van, using the partial plates. A guy is coming over to put a tracer on your business and home phones. Dave isn’t involved in any of that at the moment. He’s questioning witnesses who were in the parking lot.”
“What are we supposed to do?”
“We wait. He’ll be over as soon as possible. They’re short staffed.”
“Of course they are.” Debbie removed the washcloth and sat up. She stared at him, and her gray eyes blazed with anger again.
Jack wasn’t sure if she was mad at him, or the fact that Rancho Almagro didn’t have enough cops in their department. He figured her getting pissed off was a ton better than the crying or the hysterics. He could handle anger. That was an emotion he knew and respected. But now came the hard part. They had to discuss what might be the man’s next move, and Jack had no idea if the guy who took Janelle had done so because she was young and pretty, and it was a coincidence, or if it had to do with the case.
He shook his head. It was no damn coincidence. It had to be the same guy who’d run them off the road, and then he’d shaved his head and stalked him at the hotel this morning. That was a smart move to switch cars and wear a wig for the abduction.
Debbie sat up and dangled her legs over the side of the bed. He knew she was about to interrogate him, and he had to get his thoughts into some kind of order.
Maybe the guy intends to hold Janelle for ransom. He shook his head again. Nope. Not much money in this spa. What if he intends to barter for what he wants from Debbie’s spa?
He snapped his fingers. That’s the most likely scenario. The big question is though, if he’s the same guy who dismembered Juan, how far will he go with Janelle in order to get what he wants?
Chapter Seventeen
The telephone rang in the spa. Debbie froze for a second before hurrying to the reception area.
“Extension?” Jack asked.
Debbie nodded and waved a hand toward the laundry area near the back door. She knew he sensed her fear.
“Pick up when I yell three. Okay?”
She nodded, calming herself with his quick, clear instructions.
“One, two, three,” he yelled.
“Healing Spa, how can I help you?” Debbie asked, and prayed it was a client. They needed more time to think things over. To get the police here, to put on a tracer.
“Debbie Williams?”
The voice sounded weird, and Debbie swallowed against the dryness in her mouth, trying to be as calm as possible. “Yes.”
“I have your daughter.” The voice had an echo and sounded distorted. There went the hope that she’d somehow recognize who the abductor was by the voice.
“Can I speak to her?”
“No.”
“How do I…how do I know you’re telling—”
“Shut up and listen. It’s crucial you follow each step. I’m watching. Go to the front door and unlock it. Leave by the backdoor, and leave it unlocked. Take the crazy-assed cowboy with you.”
Debbie sucked in a huge breath at the mention of Jack. She’d hoped he’d get to stay and maybe jump the guy.
“You want us to leave now?”
“Yes.”
It was a risk, but if she could stall him for fifteen minutes, Dave could get here and put tracers on the phones. And maybe she and Jack could figure out their next move and…panic began to work its way into her chest and up her neck. Her throat tightened, and she felt the tingle around her lips. She needed to breathe into a paper bag. Dizziness almost overtook her, and her knees felt rubbery, and she grabbed onto the edge of the counter. She would not let this guy get away without a fight.
“I have a client,” Debbie said, her breath so tight that she almost squeaked.
“I said, get the fuck out!”
“She’s having a massage. You wouldn’t want to risk hurting an innocent bystander.”
“Move. I have my men stationed throughout the mall. Sharpshooters, dozens of them.”
“Okay. Okay. Can you prove you have Janelle? I need to hear her voice…” Debbie’s voice trailed off as she heard a scuffling sound. She pulled in a deep breath, and held it, while she prayed that Janelle would still be alive.
“Mom.”
Debbie let the breath out, and tears filled her eyes and spilled down over her cheeks.
“Go, Mom. He knows what he wants. I’ve assured him i
t’s there. He’ll be in and out in two minutes.”
“Janelle,” Debbie said, and her eyes started to smart, and the room seemed to tilt then sway.
“Your daughter, in exchange for what I want,” the strange voice said when he came back on the line. “No questions asked. No cops. I’ll drop her in the Civic Center Park once I have it.”
“Tell me what it is and I’ll put it in the alley now. Just don’t hurt Janelle.”
“Get out. For every five minutes you delay, your precious daughter loses a finger.”
Debbie heard Janelle scream, and she dropped the phone. She unlocked the front door, ran toward the back, and collided with Jack. She scooped up her purse, and didn’t even wait to lock the cash register. Neither of them stopped running until they were in Debbie’s car.
****
Jack reached for his cell phone, about to call Dave, but Debbie slapped his hand.
“No cops. You heard him,” she said, and a sob got caught up in a breath and almost choked her. She coughed hard a few times, and then she dashed at her eyes with one hand and reversed out of the parking lot.
“What? Are you crazy?”
Debbie glared at him, her eyes swimming with tears. “He cut off her finger,” she screamed at him. She hit the accelerator, then the brake, then the accelerator and finally moved forward again.
“Stop the car. I’m driving. And you don’t know what he did. He may have slapped her.”
Debbie pulled over, much to his surprise, and they switched seats. Jack walked around the car and glanced back, hoping to spot any activity around the spa, but there wasn’t any. He scanned the rooftops, scanned the parking lot. No snipers. No bald headed or white-wig-wearing old guy in a white van, or a black SUV. No sign of Trigger’s truck. Of course there were dozens of BMW’s and Mercedes lining the parking lot. It was the season.
He got into the driver’s seat and noticed Debbie had slumped into the passenger seat, her head as close to her knees as she could get it. He patted her back, feeling like every kind of bastard ever known for having spoken so harshly. But he needed her alert. He needed her help.
“Listen Deb, we do have to call Dave and bring him up to date. Can you do that? I’ll drive slowly, circle around the block and see whatever I can. Okay?” Her breathing had turned into a wheeze. “You got an inhaler in your purse?”
She shook her head.
Damn. It could be a panic attack. He rummaged through her consul but found nothing. On the messy back seat was a crumpled fast food bag. Good. He stretched to retrieve it. “Use this. Hold it tight over your mouth, and then breathe in and out. Okay?” He put the car in motion and pressed Dave’s number on autodial. Debbie breathed into the bag. At the same time, her cell phone rang. He shot out a hand to get it but she answered. He gave her a quick look and breathed a sigh when he heard it was Rachel.
“What’s up?” Dave asked on his cell.
Jack relayed everything he could remember about the call, while he kept an eye on Debbie and tried to get a read on what Rachel was saying to her. She seemed to be comforted by the call. That was a good sign.
“What do you think?” Dave asked loudly.
“Get some guys up on the roof of the liquor store, and two on the opposite corner. Do it quickly, quietly, no alarms. He has to enter and leave—”
“No! He could use Janelle as a body shield,” Debbie yelled, and batted at his arm.
Jack could hear Rachel yelling through Debbie’s cell phone.
“We don’t know where he is,” Debbie said. “And he could be watching us right now, and we don’t want to scare him away. We don’t want to prolong this. Let him have what he wants.”
“Debbie. Listen,” Jack said firmly. “He might take what he wants, and Janelle. We can’t risk that. You’ll have to trust us.”
He’d hated to be so blunt, but the facts were simply that. Those men always killed anyone who could identify them. Life had no meaning to them. He’d experienced that firsthand in Colombia. He’d seen it with Juan’s dismembered body. Debbie stared at him like a frightened wounded animal, her mouth open, totally shocked. At least he’d gotten her attention, and she sat up straight now. Even her breathing seemed under control. He patted her thigh.
“You stay on the line with Rachel. Dave and I will figure this out while I drive.”
“Okay.” She blinked back her tears, and he saw the fight begin to come back to her. He eased the car into traffic and pulled up at the traffic lights. A couple of pedestrians crossed in front of them wheeling a baby in a stroller.
“I’ll be in close contact,” Jack said to Dave, and was about to click off.
“Ah, no time to explain now but we’ve got a GPS device on the white van.”
“What?”
Dave clicked off on the call. He heard Debbie say goodbye to Rachel, and then she placed the phone carefully in her lap.
“Jack,” Debbie said. Her voice was quiet, but he heard the sudden change in tone, and alerted, glanced toward her. “The man in the hotel, when his hair was shaved off, you said his scalp was white.”
“Yeah.” He frowned.
“See that man pushing the stroller? He’s got a bald head, he has those patches of darkness on his head, even though there’s no hair it’s the stubble that has color, right? Did your guy have that?”
“No. Why?”
“’Cause it means your guy is older. It’s only an idea but I saw Wendy Blue’s father the other day. He’s back in town. I couldn’t believe it, because Betty hates him.” She shrugged. “He’s odd. Anyway, this is only an idea, but Wendy has been acting strange, she’s young with brown hair and always wears dangly earrings. What if our guy, the white-haired guy and the bald-headed guy are the same person, and it’s Ira Blue?”
The lights changed, and Jack eased through the intersection. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going. But he knew without any doubt that this was a major clue. Before he took off on a wild goose chase, he turned to Debbie.
“Tell me everything you’ve ever known about Ira.”
****
Ira Blue. What did she know about him?
Debbie closed her eyes for a moment and tried not to focus on Janelle, or any pain her daughter might be experiencing. She and Jack had to work together on this and while it was only a suspicion, all of a sudden a few pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. She opened her eyes and saw that Jack watched her closely. Both of his hands were on the steering wheel and the engine was running, but he’d pulled over to the side of the road at the back end of the mall. He radiated a weird heat and energy like he was ready to take off at a second’s notice.
“Ira and Betty got a divorce years ago. She’s run the store on her own ever since. Wendy pops in and out of town, but doesn’t live here. I’ve met her a few times over the years.”
Jack nodded.
“And um…oh yeah, she shares time with her dad. He moved to Mexico.” She stared at Jack for a minute. His eyes were wide and bright. “Oh, no.” She shook her head. “Not Cancun. Not that side. I believe it was down near Mazatlan.”
“Go on,” Jack said, and his grip tightened on the steering wheel.
“Betty said she didn’t like Ira’s lifestyle. He’d party too much, and then he’d come home and beat her up. She didn’t mention drugs but I was suspicious. She hinted one time that he was bisexual. She obviously had huge issues with that because she shuddered when she said it.”
“Anything else?”
“As far as I know, Ira has never been allowed back into her home, or anywhere near her business. But I suppose, these being special circumstances…”
“Nope. I’ll bet she doesn’t know,” Jack said. “You got her home number?”
Debbie nodded.
“Call and find out what Betty knows. I’ll make a call to Dave from outside the car.”
Debbie dialed. Jack sat on the curb, his phone to his ear. Then she heard Betty’s weak voice say hello. “Betty? It’s Debbie. How are you?” Sh
e listened to the elderly woman for a moment, and then realized that question might take hours to answer. “Listen, something important has come up. I hope I’m not being out of line in asking you this, because it’s not my business.”
“Ask anything, honey. Anything at all.”
“Would you ever allow your ex-husband to manage your business?”
“Hell, no. What’s this about? That bastard ever comes within walking distance of my home, or my store, I’ll have the cops onto him sooner than you can say—”
“Stay calm. I might be wrong, but I thought I saw him in town. I was worried for you.”
“Wendy!” Betty said, almost spitting out her daughter’s name. “I knew it was a risk letting her take over. She always lets that man sweet talk her.”
“Yes, I know, but go on.”
“Well, he’s a charmer, doesn’t matter what the gender he’ll sweet talk the pants off you.”
“Betty, I have to go,” Debbie said. “I, ah, I’ve got two customers who just walked in. Listen don’t say anything to Wendy. I’ll do some detective work. I’ll go over to the boutique in a little while and pretend I’m looking for a new top, and I’ll snoop around.”
“Thanks. You’re a sweetheart. Call me tonight if you can.”
“I’ll do that, even if I don’t find out anything.”
“And Debbie,” Betty said, her voice lowering to almost a whisper. “Be careful. He’s a dangerous man. Charming, but he can turn violent in a second.”
****
Jack jumped back into the car.
“I have a plan,” Debbie said, before he’d even strapped himself in.
“Spit it out.”
“I want you to circle to the front of the Old Town mall and park the car near the restaurants. We won’t be seen from the front room of the spa. Then we’re going to get out, circle around, and walk over to Betty Blue’s Boutique.”
“Ira Blue is under surveillance,” Jack said, pocketing his cell phone. He glanced into the rear view mirror and took off.
“What do you mean?”
“Drug trafficking. That’s what the undercover guy is doing here in the valley. Thinks he’s linked to the biggest kingpin in Mexico. It’s not Trigger he’s watching, it’s Ira.”