by K D McNiven
Callie screamed and fought to sit upright, feeling a sharp sting as the pistol butt struck her on the side of her head. Everything went dark.
***
Decker and Dax gathered around Detective Brock’s desk at the police station. The phones were ringing off the hook and a flurry of activity rippled throughout the room, adding a sense of chaos. People were wandering in off the streets, many of them badly injured, trying to escape the mayhem outside the precinct doors.
Because of the copious amounts of wounded people, the paramedics were overwhelmed. The station offered to hold a small few who were not severely injured until an ambulance could get there to transport them to the hospital.
Off to Brock’s right, a woman cradling an infant wailed inconsolably, her face covered with blood. One of the officers dabbed away the blood and bandaged her head, doing her best to console the woman. Beside her, an elderly gentleman had his head place between his palms, his shoulders jerking with tormenting sobs.
It was difficult to think for all the pandemonium, but Detective Brock wanted to get off Dax’s sketch of the man he believed responsible for both terrorist acts. He hoped once he ran it through the criminal files, they would find a match. An APB had already been issued on the dark Buick that had nearly run over them, with the license plate beginning with TW.
“Brock,” one of the officers yelled above the din. “A dark Buick was involved in a crash near the business district on Fulton. First letters on the silence…TW.”
Brock grinned. They were making strides; short ones, but Brock was elated by the news. “Hey, you fellas want to head over with me to identify the vehicle?”
“Try and keep us away,” Decker said.
They rushed out of the police station and down the front steps to one of the police vehicles. The officer motioned for them to climb in and stomped on the gas pedal, flipping on the sirens as he did. They sped down the street, dodging in and out of traffic.
The air was thick with smoke and anticipation as they passed the casino, still ablaze with red-orange flames licking through the blown-out windows. Firefighters were dragging more hoses out in order to bring it under control, dozens more firetrucks screamed around the corner to offer aid.
Approaching Fulton Street, they saw an ambulance at the scene. They veered off to the curbside and piled out of the car. In hurried strides they made their way into the intersection, weaving through the throngs of people who were circling the wreck.
The EMT’s were pulling someone out of the passenger side when the three of them managed to shoulder their way through the crowd. It only took a fleeting second to realize the woman being hauled out on a stretcher was Karina and that the car was Decker’s rental. Decker’s eyes searched frantically for Callie. He ran to the ambulance and looked inside. Empty. His heart jack-hammered in his chest. Turning, he ran up to the EMTs who were carrying Karina toward the ambulance.
“Karina,” Decker called out. “Karina, can you hear me…where’s Callie?”
Karina was unconscious and appeared to have head trauma. Until she went to the hospital for tests, they wouldn’t be able to detect how much physical damage had occurred. He turned and began searching the perimeter for Callie, but she was nowhere to be found. A geyser of panic erupted inside of him.
“Did you see another woman in the vehicle?” Decker asked, his throat constricting. “Do you know if she’s been taken to the hospital?”
“Sorry,” the man said shaking his head. “It appears there was a driver, but we don’t know if he or she, whichever the case may be, fled the scene. A couple of witnesses believed they saw a woman being shoved into another vehicle but they were a bit vague on details. The passenger is the only woman we found. However, we did take a gentleman to the hospital moments ago. Looked as if he’d been struck on the head and was knocked unconscious.”
“Do you think he was the driver of the other vehicle?” asked Decker.
“Can’t say for sure. The police will be heading to the hospital to speak with him and the young woman soon as they come around.”
Decker looked to Dax. “We need to head over to the hospital. I have to find Callie.”
Decker pulled his cell phone from his shirt pocket and dialed her number. It rang and rang, and to his dismay, went to voicemail. “C’mon Callie. Answer!” Frustrated, he shoved the cell deep into his jeans pocket, his mind whirling with unanswered questions.
“This is the vehicle we saw earlier,” Dax told Brock. “The men must have fled on foot.”
“Or they took the third vehicle,” Decker said, remembering the EMT saying a woman standing nearby had witnessed another woman being pushed into a vehicle. He shuddered. The mere thought that the men who had bombed the casino and possibly abducted his wife, clenched him like locked down vice grips. He couldn’t shake his fear.
Brock crawled out from the back seat of the Chevy. He had two black masks hanging from his gloved fingertips. “We need to have the car scoured for prints,” he told them. “No matter what, we’re going to find them!”
“Right now, I’m going to the hospital to make sure Karina is okay and hopefully find out what she knows about Callie,” Decker said, dialing for a cab.
“Hold up. I’m with you,” Dax told him.
On the way, Dax called Captain Manny on board the Shark Eater to let him know what they were up against. No doubt the crew had heard the casino explosions and were wondering what had transpired. At the same time, Captain Manny informed Dax that Callie and Karina had left together to find him and Decker.
By the time they made it to the hospital, they were informed that Karina had been rushed into surgery with a couple of broken ribs and several abrasions. They were down-spirited—not the report either of them wanted to hear. However, the doctor assured them she was holding her own and he expected a full recovery.
Decker paced the floor, rubbing his chin in his hand. His nerves crackled, stretched tight as violin strings. Karina would probably not remember what had happened after the car crashed into the side of theirs. Her head would have struck the window upon impact. Ever present in his mind were the men responsible for the detonating of bombs at the casino. The same men who had fired at him and Dax in the parking lot, and more than likely, the ones responsible for the sinking of the tug and the murder of five men.
Decker knew Callie would never have left Karina unless forced to. The only sense he could make of this was the men had grabbed Callie and taken her hostage. The thought made him sick to the core.
“Mr. Hayden,” a pleasant voice called out.
Decker spun on his heels to see a nurse walking toward him, a clipboard in her hand. “I wanted to let you know the gentleman brought in along with Karina Gustoff is awake now and put into a room.”
“Can I speak with him?” Decker asked, urgency ringing in his voice.
“You’ll have to speak with one of the police officers in charge. However, if he consents, you can only be in for a few minutes,” she told him. “Mr. Krieger has a concussion as well as a bit of anxiety. That’s to be expected after such a blow to his head.”
Decker nearly ran to the man’s room where he found an officer posted outside the door. “I’m Decker Hayden. Is it possible for me to speak with Mr. Krieger? I need to know if he saw my wife. She was the driver of one of the vehicles involved and no one has been able to locate her.”
The officer thought about it for a moment. “I understand your plight, Mr. Hayden. It’s a bit unusual, but considering the circumstances, you can go in—only for a minute though. You need to understand the man is shaken from the incident.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep it short,” he replied, reaching for the doorknob. He stepped into the room, and the man’s head rolled to the side, blinking a couple of times as if to focus in on the man standing near his bed.
“Mr. Krieger, my name is Decker Hayden. Do you mind if I speak with you a moment?”
“Are you from the police department?” he asked, a bit confused. The m
an’s eyes were swollen and black, and the large nob at the side of his head was wrapped in bandages. A spot of blood had dried on his earlobe and neck that had not been cleaned up.
“No. I need some information on the car wreck though. Can you remember what happened?”
“Yes,” he replied. “As I came to the intersection, the light turned red, so I stopped. When it changed to green for the other lane of traffic, I saw a gray Ford Explorer start to pull forward into the intersection. It happened so fast…a dark car, I believe…I’m a bit hazy, sorry. Um…yes…a dark vehicle and it ran the red light, smashing into the side of the Explorer.” The man took several gulps of air, his face going white as he recalled the incident. “I pulled over to go see if anyone needed help, and saw a blonde-haired woman get out of the driver’s side and run to the passenger side.”
“You saw a blonde woman get out? Was she okay?”
“I-I don’t know,” he replied. “Um, I can’t be sure…I-I believe so. She looked quite shaken though.”
“Go on,” Decker urged him, feeling as if he’d been kicked in the gut.
“The men got out of their vehicle. One of them had blood on his face…I recall the woman reached over to support him. I got out of my car to go help them and when I reached them, one of the men pulled out a pistol. That’s all I remember. Apparently, he struck me. The doctor said he had to put several stitches in my head.”
“So, you didn’t see what happened to the blonde?” Decker’s heart sank.
“Sorry, no.”
“Thank you. If you remember anything else, please let the police know as soon as possible.” Decker walked to the door, his shoulders slumped.
“Hey, Mr.…Is she someone close to you?”
“My wife.”
“Sorry. I hope you find her.”
“Thanks.”
Decker located Dax in the hall where he had left him. He felt like his world had been turned upside down. He didn’t dare entertain what might have happened to Callie. She was the love of his life. And now she was most likely in the hands of two psychopaths who had no respect for life.
Taking his cell out of his pocket he hit phone tracking to determine where Callie’s phone might be. Bingo! The ping pointed to an area on Interstate 10. Decker rushed over to Dax, grabbed his arm, and nearly dragged him toward the elevator.
“We need a car immediately,” he told Dax.
“What’s up?”
“I tracked Callie’s phone. Shows she is on Interstate 10 heading north.”
“It’ll take some time to rent another car, mate,” he replied.
“Then we’ll find an available one!”
Once on the street, Decker spotted a gentleman getting out of his red Chevy Camaro. Decker dashed over to him, grabbed the keys from his hand, and moved the man brusquely aside. “Sorry, we’re desperate and need your car. Promise, I’ll get it back to you,” he ground out, leaping into the vehicle.
Dax flew to the other side, jumping in even as Decker hit the gas. He stared at Decker, wondering why his brash behavior surprised him? When Decker made up his mind to do something this irrational, nothing outside of a bullet to the head would stop him. Decker sped off leaving the man stunned and staring after them.
“I’ll call Brock to let know we just stole a man’s car so we don’t have the police department chasing us down,” Dax said rationally. “Hopefully he won’t lock us up for several years.”
Decker passed him a quick glance but said nothing.
***
Callie roused from the darkness. It took her a moment to recount what had happened. Her head throbbed. She tried to move, but the man’s foot dug into the middle of her spine keeping her stationary. Everything had happened so fast Callie hadn’t had time to piece the abduction together. She remembered Karina striking her head on the window and being unconscious when the two men had taken her. She only hoped Karina made it through all right.
“Who are you and what do you want with me?” Callie groaned.
“Shut up,” the man in the back snarled, pushing his foot down still harder on her back.
Callie’s face twisted in pain. “Why are you taking me?” she asked again.
The man stomped on her back until she cried out. “I said shut up, or I’ll blow your brains out!” He stooped and pressed the steel barrel of his gun at the base of Callie’s neck as if to validate his threat.
Callie’s heart pounded like a drum in her chest. She gasped for air. Claustrophobia had settled in as her face was pushed into the floorboards. Sweat popped up on her brow, the heat nearly suffocating. Her mind whirled with confusion. What would they do with her? To her? Would Decker ever find her?
Her phone chimed. In desperation, she reached for her back pocket but the man stopped her short, his hand clasping her wrist painfully. Then as if taking pleasure in her pain, he twisted it around until he heard her cry out. With his other hand, he reached into her pocket and withdrew the phone.
“Says Decker Hayden is on the other end,” the man said.
“He may be tracking us. Toss it,” the driver replied.
“No!” Callie screamed, scrunching her face in pain as the man cranked her arm more fiercely until she thought it would dislodge from her shoulder. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she bit into her lower lip until she tasted the saltiness of blood on her tongue.
The man in the back rolled down the window, tossing the cell phone out. “Won’t help Decker Hayden now.” An evil snort passed his lips.
They drove for an hour longer until Callie felt the car slow down and make a wide turn to the right. The road they turned onto was not well maintained and as the tires hit deep ruts, the air was jarred out of her. She couldn’t stop the images of the men murdering her and throwing her off into a ditch where she wouldn’t be discovered for weeks.
When the car came to a stop, she heard the sound of what appeared to be an electronic door opening, then the car rolled forward and into a dark room. She heard the jingle of keys as he pulled them from the ignition. The car door slammed as the driver got out and walked to the passenger side to open the door.
“Get her out.”
Callie felt her body being dragged out, her knees scraping cement. Before she could focus in on her surroundings, a black bag was drawn over her head, and one of the men yanked her to her feet, pushing her forward roughly. She stepped cautiously, not wanting to trip over some obstruction…she was in enough pain, she mused. The echoing of her shoes on the pavement led her to believe they might be in a warehouse. In the distance, she heard a train whistle.
They pushed her through a door leading down a hallway and stopped. She heard a key being inserted into a door, heard the creaking of old hinges as it swung open, and she was nudged through. They walked her to an area and pushed her down onto a chair.
“What do you want with me?” she asked again, groaning when she felt the sting of the man’s hand against the side of her head. She felt nauseous. Vomit burned in the back of her throat. Terror sank its vicious claws into her mind.
She heard the sound of duct tape ripping, followed by her arms being yanked behind her and bound, after that, her ankles. One of the men yanked the black bag from her head and she found herself staring into cold, black eyes.
The man squatted in front of her and grabbed her chin. His fingers dug into her flesh. A sadistic smile curled the corners of his mouth. “Well now, you’re quite a beautiful woman, aren’t you?” He reached up to played with a strand of golden hair and brought it to his lips, breathing in deeply. “What do we want with you?” he repeated her question and laughed threateningly. “What’s your name?”
She stared coldly, defiantly, back at him but said nothing.
With lightning quickness, his hand lashed out and struck her face, leaving a swath of red across her cheek. Her lip split open, feeling warm blood making a trail down her chin.
“We can play it your way, stupid woman,” he remarked dispassionately. “Now, what’s your name?”
“Callie Hayden,” she replied weakly.
“Hayden…”
“Decker Hayden was the man who called on the phone, Rafiq,” the man standing off to the side said.
Rafiq studied Callie’s swollen face. Blood was caked on her mouth and chin. If they played it right, she could possibly bring them in some cash. The cash they needed desperately right now. That was the only thing keeping her alive.
“Can I have some water?” Callie asked, her throat so parched she found it difficult to swallow or talk.
Rafiq motioned his head toward the door, and the other man walked out. When he returned, he had a plastic bottle of water in his hand. He unscrewed the top and placed it to her lips, tipping it until the water flowed freely. He kept it tilted even when Callie twisted her head to communicate she was through and began choking.
The man laughed and poured the remainder of the bottle down the front of her dirt-caked blouse. He reached his finger out and touched her throat, running it down to the first button of her white blouse trying to intimidate her, stopped short when Rafiq slapped his hand away.
“Ismael,” Rafiq said. “Go prepare the back room for her and see what you can turn up on Decker Hayden.”
Ismael Safar nodded his head. He looked at Callie once more, not happy Rafiq had stopped him from having some fun with her. However, Rafiq was the one in charge and would not think twice putting a bullet in his head if he refused to comply with his orders.
Callie noticed Ismael had what looked like a bullet wound at the base of his neck. The heavily scarred tissue had a round hole at the center. Just under his eye was another, tainted white scar line. He unnerved her. However, she felt relief wash over her when Rafiq put an end to Ismael’s torment because his eyes clearly reflected what he had in mind for her.
A short time later, Rafiq cut the bindings and led her into a small room with only a bed and a five-by-five bathroom. No windows, no grates, nothing Callie could visually discern that might enable her to escape. Her heart sank. She knew they would not let her live even if Decker gave them money. She had seen their faces. She knew their names. It was a matter of time.