The Iron Tiara: A Nine Minutes Spin-Off Novel

by Beth Flynn

  One ring.

  It intermingled with another smell. One that he couldn't place but it attacked his senses and sent a bolt of lightning to his groin.

  Another ring.

  He tried to remember what she smelled like when he'd carried her down the stairs at the Chapmans and when he’d held her under the water in his shower. He couldn't remember. He gulped and struggled not to adjust his jeans.

  "Hello?" a woman's voice answered before the third ring.

  "Yes, I'm returning a page," Christy said.

  Anthony felt her warm breath on his cheek.

  "Christy?"

  "Who's this, please?" Christy asked. The voice was familiar, but two words weren't enough for Christy to identify it.

  "It's Kimberly Cochran," the woman said. "Are you okay, Christy?"

  "Detective Cochran?" Christy asked, the surprise in her voice obvious. She felt Anthony stiffen at her side. A million thoughts battled their way to the surface of her brain. A million thoughts all jostling for first place, trying to fight their way to the surface and gain supremacy over her tongue. She knew instantly this was not the opening she was looking for. If she managed to tell Detective Cochran where she was and who she was with, she had no doubt that Anthony Bear could not only stop her from getting more than two words out, but he could kill her and dispose of any evidence of her existence before the first police car arrived. She would have to do the opposite. She would have to deter the woman from suspecting Anthony.

  "I didn't recognize the number you called from," Christy remarked.

  "I'm at a pay phone," the woman answered. "Are you okay?"

  "Yes, of course I'm okay. I'm fine." She paused and pulled away from the phone to give Anthony a questioning look. Words weren't necessary. She was beginning to comprehend how the game was played and knew what she needed to say. An unspoken understanding passed between them, and Anthony nodded. "But I almost wasn't." Without giving the detective a chance to say anything, Christy quickly added, "I think Van must be in trouble, Detective. I had the strangest encounter with a big, scary looking guy named Anthony."

  "Anthony Bear?" Detective Cochran asked in a worried voice.

  "Um…maybe," Christy stammered. "Possibly. I don't remember if he said his last name."

  "What kind of encounter?" the detective prodded.

  Christy knew that one conversation with Nadine would reveal that she'd brought Anthony to Nadine's home. And if Detective Cochran decided to interview Evelyn, her landlord, she would know that Anthony was at her apartment as well. She needed to come clean up front and hope the seasoned detective bought it, and pray she didn’t say anything that would lead the police to Anthony Bear’s front door. Visions of hostage situations and a gun being held against her temple clambered into her head. Shaking her runaway thoughts off, she continued, "Just a weird one. I was snooping at Van and Vivian's, and he was working with the landscaping crew that was there servicing their house. Anyway, I was having car trouble when I went to leave, and because his company works in my brother's neighborhood, he offered me a ride over there. Nadine's grandma made us lunch and invited him to stay for something to eat. He was there when Richard pulled the stunt I called you about."

  "Christy, are you with him now? Are you with Anthony right now?" Detective Cochran asked. The worry in her voice almost reached through the phone and grabbed Christy by the throat.

  "No! Of course not!" she answered a little too quickly. "He looks mean and scary, but he was super nice. I mean, I think he owns the landscape company that has serviced the Chapman estate for years so I didn't have any reservations about letting him give me a ride. He was a perfect gentleman. He even had one of his guys get the loaner car running and swapped out my Rabbit."

  She turned her head to look at Anthony, her eyes like saucers. He gave her an approving nod.

  "Christy, listen to me. If it's the Anthony I think it is, he is not nice. And he is definitely not a gentleman. Are you home now? Did he follow you there?"

  Christy took a deep breath and continued with her lie. "I'm not home, but that's where it got a little weird."

  "Weird how?" the detective prodded.

  "I was freaked out by what Richard had done, and I wanted to go home. Anthony offered to drive me to my apartment, and when we got there, my landlady said something about two men who'd stopped by and were looking for me. I can't explain it, Detective. I got a vibe. Like my instinct was telling me something wasn't right. I packed a suitcase and told my landlady I was taking a trip. I left with Anthony, and we met up with his friend who'd picked up my car. Anthony asked me about where I was going, and I don't know, he seemed a little too interested. He then started asking me a lot of questions about Van. It felt...it felt..." she paused trying to come up with the right word, "off."

  She paused to take a breath and see if she could gauge the detective's reaction. There wasn't one so she continued.

  "Long story short, after his friend showed up with my car, I asked Anthony if I could buy him dinner to thank him. I told him to pick a restaurant and I would follow him." She gulped. "I was driving behind him, and he made a right and I made a left and headed for I-75. I've been driving north for a little while. Not sure where I'm going, but something is telling me I shouldn’t go home. I only pulled over to answer this page."

  She looked sideways to see if Anthony approved. She caught sight of a deep dimple. He was smiling.

  "So, can you tell me what this is all about? Why do you want to know if I'm okay? Does it have something to do with Van and the two men who were at my apartment?"

  She heard Detective Cochran blow out a relieved breath. "Christy, I heard from my street informant that loan sharks are looking for Van. Apparently, he's run up a serious debt with a couple of the worst ones. Anthony Bear being one of them and if the Anthony you were with is six foot six with long black hair, then you escaped serious danger."

  "Then it must've been him, Detective, but he never mentioned money. He was just curious about Van and places he might like to hang out. Stuff like that."

  "Do you know where Van is, Christy?" she asked, her worried tone suddenly replaced with her professional one.

  "No. And I told Anthony the same thing."

  "I need to get you to a safe house, Christy. If my informant is right, Van is in over his head with people that don't make deals. It would make sense that they might come after you to find out his whereabouts, but what scares me more is that they might use you or the rest of your family to get to Van. To be honest, I'm completely shocked that you were in Anthony Bear's company for a few hours and he didn't assert himself. It almost sounds like he tried to woo you and you don't know how lucky you are because that is not his style. Anthony Bear is a serious criminal, Christy. One of the worst. I'm going to place your entire family in protective custody until we get this figured out. You need to come to the station right now."

  Christy could hear the unmistakable flick of a lighter as the detective lit a cigarette.

  "If he's as awful as you say, Detective, why isn't he in jail? I mean..." She paused. "The guy owns a landscaping company. How bad can he be?" She wasn't trying to make small talk. She was downright curious. She felt Anthony's posture change next to her. She held her breath as she waited for the detective's answer.

  "Because he's smart, and surprisingly, he's respected. He owns a lot of people. People that are afraid to cross him because they know if they do, it'll cost them their lives. And yes, he owns a landscape company, but he also owns a lot of other businesses." The detective went on to mention a chain of laundromats, car washes and drive-through ice stations that could be found all over Florida. "I'm sure he owns the cash businesses to launder money, although nobody's been able to prove it." She paused and exhaled impatiently. "But that's not what's important now."

  Christy could hear her take a long pull from her cigarette.

  "He's as bad if not worse than..." The last words of her sentence died off, and Christy heard her mumble under her br
eath, "At least that one's on the other coast." The detective regained her focus and asked, "What time can I expect you at the station?"

  Christy pulled away from the phone to look at Anthony. His earlier smile was gone. His lips formed a straight thin line, and his eyes were bottomless black pits. So black, she could see her blonde hair reflected in them. She swallowed the lump in her throat and put her ear back to the receiver. He leaned in too.

  "I'm sorry, Detective, but if I'm in as much danger as you think I might be, then I'm not coming back to Naples. I'm going to keep driving north. I may or may not hop a plane in Tampa or Orlando. Don't worry about me and definitely don't try to find me. Just make sure you keep my family safe. I'll wait for your page that tells me when it's okay to come home."

  Without giving the woman a chance to reply, Christy disconnected the call.

  She turned to look at her abductor and thought she saw something that could've been admiration in his eyes.

  "You're a fast thinker and a good liar," Anthony told her.

  "So are you," she answered, remembering how easily he came up with false stories to tell Richard and the travel agents she'd been calling. But her tone lacked sincerity. If anything, she sounded sad.

  He raised an eyebrow, but didn't question her comment. He stood up and turned to her. She felt his eyes and couldn’t bring herself to meet them. She didn't need to ask him if what the detective said was true. She stared at the floor and prayed that her theatrical telephone performance didn’t seal her fate. If he decided to kill her, she’d just erased any doubts or suspicions that Detective Cochran might’ve had. If anything, she gave Anthony Bear an alibi in her disappearance.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Naples, Florida 1978

  Ten minutes later she stood in the living room and gazed out of the large picture window. The steel bars taunted her as she mentally bludgeoned herself for being overly cooperative in the spare room with the additional phone lines. Less than two minutes after hanging up with Detective Cochran she'd made another phone call. One that'd deflated her hopes. She was certain a phone call to Van’s secretary would put an end to her captivity. She would provide Anthony Bear with Van’s whereabouts, and he would let her go. Then she would make good on the lie she’d told Detective Cochran. She would get into her little white car and head north. She needed to get away from here. From him.

  Valerie had been with Bobbi Bowen’s from the day it opened and had been Bobbi’s assistant until the matriarch's retirement. Van had inherited the older woman who he immediately tried to replace with younger, more attractive assistants. When Bobbi caught wind of it, she’d come down hard on Van who was forced to keep Valerie. Even with Van’s rejection, Valerie was fiercely loyal but only from a business standpoint. She never crossed a line and always remained professional, but Christy felt a small alliance regarding their mutual dislike of Van. He could’ve replaced Valerie after Bobbi died, but he’d come to recognize her value and kept her. Besides, he wasn’t in the office enough to appreciate a younger secretary.

  The temp who’d answered the phone informed Christy that Valerie had taken a few weeks off to visit retirement communities in California and Arizona. She wouldn’t be back for another week and didn’t leave a way for anybody to contact her. And as far as Mr. Chapman was concerned, he’d not been in for almost a week and had a list of calls to return that reached the ceiling. Christy left her pager number with the temp and asked her to pass it on to either Valerie or Van should either of them check in at the dealership.

  A slight rumbling of thunder snapped Christy from her thoughts, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Rubbing her upper arms as if to ward off an invisible chill, she walked into Anthony's office and stood. Christy scanned the front yard slowly, taking special note of the dark clouds that had rolled in. She hoped they would pass. Another weird fact that she'd never mentioned to Anthony was her intense fear of storms. She couldn't remember any specific incident from her childhood, only that when she heard the first crack of lightning she'd make a beeline for her bedroom and lock herself in the closet. Her eyes landed on her car, and she remembered something. The hide-a-key. She had a key hidden beneath the front left bumper of her Rabbit.

  She turned around and scanned Anthony’s office. Her bag was lying on his desk. She quickly checked inside and saw that her wallet was still in it. Reaching behind her, she realized she still had her checkbook in her back pocket. If she could distract him, she could get in her car and drive away. She would do what she told Detective Cochran. She would get on I-75 and head north. Her family would be in protective custody so she wouldn’t need to worry about them. She’d make a stop at the bank and request a large cash withdrawal. Large enough for her to get far away and live off the radar until Van dealt with his creditors.

  Anthony crouched in front of the closet as he slowly wrapped the phone cords around the telephones he was returning to the safe. He reflected on the conflicting thoughts converging in his head when a knock at the door interrupted him. Before he could answer, he heard Christy yell, "I'm going to jump in the shower. I'll try and make us some grilled cheese sandwiches when I get out, but I can't promise they'll be edible or that I won't burn down your kitchen."

  From his crouched position, Anthony called back, "Sounds good." He reached into his pocket and retrieved her car keys. He was going to toss them in the safe when he realized he should probably pull her car into one of his garage bays. He returned them to his jeans pocket, closed the safe and stood in front of his weight bench. Picking up a set of dumbbells he started working his arms while his mind reflected on the last twenty minutes.

  Things he knew.

  She'd heard him admit to X on the phone that he'd killed before and would do it again, but she successfully masked her fear when she came out of the bathroom.

  She had the biggest most expressive blue eyes he'd ever seen.

  She was smart. In seconds, she not only determined her own vulnerability, but predicted the detective's next course of action and quickly came up with a story that gave him an alibi and would keep the police away.

  She had skin that rivaled silk. He could feel her cheek against the back of his hand as he held the telephone receiver between them.

  She'd remained calm during the conversation with the detective because she was certain that when she told Anthony where to find Van, she would be able to walk away from the situation. She'd been counting on Van's secretary to disclose his whereabouts. The disappointment on her face when she was told the woman was on vacation was more than obvious. She'd looked at him with huge, soulful eyes. He couldn't miss the slight sheen of tears that had started to form.

  Her bottom lip trembled when she told him that her potential lead was useless. In that single moment, he wanted to bite her bottom lip more than he wanted to find Van. To gently take it between his teeth and nibble at it.

  He shook his head as if doing so would erase his thoughts and bring him back to the only reality he'd ever known. His reality and truth was the one the detective had shared with Christy. For an instant, he didn't want those stories to be true. He didn't want her to be afraid of him. And the fact that she offered to make him a sandwich told him that maybe she wasn't. Maybe she recognized something in his eyes that he didn't recognize himself.

  He let out a grunt as his arms tired. Pressing on, he continued to work his biceps. Two days ago, he would've slit her throat without giving it a second thought. And somehow, in only forty-eight hours, he was now sitting here wondering what it would feel like to taste the skin near her throat.

  He threw his weights down and grabbed heavier ones.

  After telling Anthony she would be taking a shower, Christy headed for the bathroom. She turned on the water and locked the bathroom door before exiting it. She then stopped in the kitchen and retrieved something she'd seen when rummaging for a soup spoon a little earlier. Or had it been a week ago? Time with Anthony Bear seemed to rival his eyes. No beginning and no end. Eternal. And bottomless
.

  She placed something on his desk where he would be sure to find it. Hitching her bag up on her shoulder she glanced toward the long hallway. Knowing the coast was clear, she walked out the front door.

  After working up a sweat, Anthony left the spare bedroom and headed for the master bathroom. He needed to take a shower. He could hear the water running in the bathroom and wondered for a split second how long he'd been using his dumbbells. He grabbed some clothes from the dresser and headed for the guest bath. He wouldn't deny Christy her long shower. Hot showers were something he enjoyed. He stood under the spray and let the warmth soak in and soothe his tired shoulders. He smiled when he thought about her offer to make him a grilled cheese sandwich.

  Thoughts of her being nude in his shower invaded his mind, and he quickly turned the hot water faucet off. After a good dousing of cold water, he dried off and got dressed. He headed for the kitchen. She wasn't there. He walked back to the master bathroom and noticed her suitcase was still on his bed. He knocked on the bathroom door. No answer. He called her name. No answer. He knocked again. He yelled for her and after still not getting an answer, he jiggled the handle. It was locked. Stepping back, he kicked hard and the door flew open. He lunged in. She wasn't there.

  Anthony Bear never panicked, but there was no denying that he was feeling an unsettling in his soul. He reached in his back pocket. The Volkswagen keys he'd removed from his jeans and transferred to the clean pair were still there, as were his truck keys. She couldn't have left, she had to be in the house. After searching the obvious places, he made a mad dash for the front door. He flung it open and stood there staring at the empty spot where her Rabbit had been parked. He charged toward his truck and after rounding the front of it he noticed the ice pick plunged there that was slowly deflating the front tire. A picture of himself with an ice pick protruding from his heart floated through his mind as he headed for his office. Was it the ice pick she could've stabbed him with in his sleep or the ice pick that pierced his heart at the thought of her falling in to the wrong hands? He could get on his bike or take his other car, but he had a more urgent matter. He needed to let X know the hunt for Christy Chapman was now a real one and it was imperative that his men find her before someone else did. Because he realized that his soul wasn't feeling unsettled knowing that she was gone. It was feeling empty.