Serial Escape

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  Say yes, he willed silently. We get through this. We put Hanes back where he belongs. And then we move on, together.

  “A deep, dark hole?” she said, echoing his sentiment from a minute earlier.

  “The deepest and the darkest,” he replied firmly.

  At last, her expression softened, and she nodded. “Okay, Lucien ‘the man’ Match. I’ll take that offer.”

  “Hold me to it. You’re the boss now.” He touched her cheek once more, then turned back to the laptop, even more eager than before to get the job done.

  Chapter 14

  Raven wondered if Lucien knew what his words had done to her heart. If he had any idea how it felt to hear him separate himself from the job. He might not even have meant it the way she wanted him to—and maybe he wasn’t even aware that he’d said it—but there was a steady thrum of hope running through her anyways. It made her blood warm and her brain buzz, and when Lucien murmured something about wondering where else chalk might be found, an idea burst from her mouth.

  “Gymnasts!” she said.

  He turned a puzzled look her way. “Uh. Gymnasts?”

  “They put chalk on their hands.”

  “Yeah, I know. But...”

  “What?”

  “I’m having a hard time picturing Hanes in a leotard at any stage in his life.”

  She didn’t let his amused smirk or the wry comment deter her. “Okay. Fine. Pool halls. They put it on the cues, right? So that—” The look in his face stopped her. “What? What is it?”

  “Lou’s Pool Hall.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hanes worked at this place. I remember because he stayed there longer than most of the other ones. Stuck with me. Lou’s Pool Hall. He did equipment maintenance,” he explained. “Can you think of anything that would connect that to Juanita?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Not off the top of my head, anyway.”

  Lucien sat back, his frustration showing in the set of his jaw. “This would be a lot easier if we had full access to her life like we do with Hanes.”

  An idea popped into Raven’s mind. “Maybe we do. Pass me the laptop.”

  Without asking why, Lucien handed it over. Raven quickly loaded the search engine, then pulled up her social media accounts and logged in. From there, she searched her friends list for Juanita. A few seconds later, she had the older woman’s page up. She played around for another few seconds before she found what she was looking for—a “Getting to Know Your Friends” questionnaire that Juanita had filled in. She turned the computer toward Lucien.

  “This came up in my feed a couple of weeks ago,” she told him. “I remembered it because about ten of my friends did the same quiz, and it kept coming up over and over. I didn’t look at it carefully at the time, but...”

  Lucien’s eyes moved over the page. “This is good, Raven. Really good.”

  “It is?”

  “Look.” He swung the laptop back her way, then tapped the screen about three quarters of the way down. “Right there.”

  “How did you meet your significant other?” read the question.

  And underneath that, Juanita had typed an answer.

  “I was at a pool hall with my girlfriends. Jim made a bet with his friend that he could get my number. He challenged me to a game, and he made me promise that if I lost, I’d give him my number. I let him win.”

  “It’s just the kind of detail Hanes likes,” said Lucien. “Significant, but not that easy to figure out.”

  Raven nodded. “And far more subtle than the school idea.”

  “I’m going to let the sergeant know. Do you want to poke around on the local news sites and see if you can find a location that fits?”

  “Sure.”

  While Lucien stood up, pulled his phone from his pocket and stepped to the kitchen, she grabbed the laptop and typed in the search using the same parameters she’d done for the pork-processing facility. Her efforts weren’t as quick or fruitful as they had been with Jim’s location.

  Shut-down pool halls aren’t big news, I guess, she thought, scrolling through the results.

  There were a half dozen websites with addresses. Coupons for a few places. One small article on a fistfight outside one of the halls, only noted because one of the parties involved was a celebrity chef of some kind. Nothing that stuck out at all.

  Raven sighed and tried to think of a word or two to add to make the search more effective. But as her fingers hovered over the keyboard, she heard Lucien sign off from his phone call, and she looked up at him instead of typing in anything else. She could tell from his stormy-eyed expression that his conversation with his boss hadn’t gone well.

  Her stomach dropped. “What’s wrong? Is it Jim?”

  “Jim’s fine,” Lucien said quickly. “Stable. Awake and lucid, too. But there’s a bit of an issue. He told Sergeant Gray that he and Juanita don’t have a son.”

  “So Hanes deviated from his usual plan?”

  “I don’t know. I honestly can’t see it happening.”

  “A mistake, maybe? Could he have thought there was a son?”

  He exhaled noisily. “I can almost see that even less. He’s so damn meticulous.”

  “But there must be some explanation.”

  “Yeah. I just wish I had any idea what it might be.” He paused and shook his head. “Bit of good news, though. The second I said the words pool cue, the sergeant jumped on it right away. Told me that the owner of an out-of-the-way pool-table manufacturer got busted last year for a gun charge. Boss kept an eye on the place, so when a pipe burst and flooded it a couple of months ago, he was made aware. The whole warehouse had to be gutted, and financial issues meant it never got put back together. In particular, the floor gave out and left a gaping hole down into the ground. Sound about right?”

  Raven wished she couldn’t picture it as well as she could, but there was no denying that the description ticked all of Hanes’s boxes. “So should we—”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t let me finish.”

  “Didn’t have to.” He tossed his cell onto the coffee table and sank back down onto the couch. “You were going to ask if we should go there. Maybe not even ask. Maybe suggest in a kinda bossy way.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “Uh-huh. You know it’s true. And before you remind me that I just promised that you are the boss, I should let you know that my other boss refused to give me the name of the pool hall solely because of our so-called shenanigans. And yeah...he actually used that word.”

  Raven couldn’t help but laugh. “Did you remind him that we saved Jim’s life?”

  “Twice. I also reminded him that we have the internet and could simply look it up. Then he reminded me that I like my paychecks.”

  “Not an unfair point.”

  “Nope. He also said that if none of that deterred me, then to just be aware that the place in question is on his side of the highway, and that everything is still ridiculously backed up.”

  “Covered all of his bases, didn’t he?”

  “Man didn’t get made sergeant because he wasn’t shrewd and thorough.” Lucien threw an arm onto the back of the couch. “But I don’t like feeling like I’m just sitting here with my hands under my—” The buzz of his phone cut him off, and he lifted an eyebrow as it danced over the table. “If that’s the sergeant, telling me he’s already got Juanita, I think I’ll be almost as annoyed as I will be relieved.”

  Raven made a face and tried not to be too hopeful that the unlikely suggestion might become reality. “Answer it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed his phone and glanced down. “Unknown number.” He shrugged, then pushed his thumb to the screen anyway. “This is Match.”

  Raven could hear the reply on the other end—a man’s voice, a little hesitant and nearly overridden by cell-p
hone crackle. “Is this the detective? The one in charge of Sally’s case?”

  “Who am I speaking with?” Lucien replied.

  “This is Henry Gallant. I’m Sally’s boyfriend.”

  Lucien met Raven’s eyes, and she shook her head. She didn’t know Sally well enough to say whether or not she had someone significant in her life.

  But...

  “Wouldn’t your boss have mentioned it if he knew about a boyfriend?” she whispered.

  Lucien nodded, and as he spoke into the phone again, his voice took on a smooth, placating tone—one Raven was sure he reserved for questioning during police business.

  “No worries, Mr. Gallant. I’m just going to put you on speaker so my colleague can hear you.” He gave the screen a quick tap, then held the phone out. “Okay. Just so we’re on the same page and there’s no misunderstanding...you said you’re Sally Rickson’s boyfriend?”

  On the line, a car horn honked, and Henry Gallant dropped a curse, then immediately apologized. “Sorry, Detective. Trying to make my way out of Vancouver International, and the traffic’s nuts.”

  “You just got in?”

  “Yes. I live in Toronto.”

  Both of Lucien’s eyebrows went up. “Do you mind if I ask how you got this number?”

  The rush of a car engine surged, then died out. “There was a message on my phone when I landed. The guy said he was with VPD and he found me in Sally’s call log, and was looking to talk to me about a few things. Kind of vague, with a number to call. So I tried to call her first, but I couldn’t get her, so I called the VPD number. Voice mail, so I tried Dispatch. A friendly woman named Geraldine said Detective Match was the one to talk to.” There was a momentary break in his speech. “Is something wrong, Detective? Is Sally okay?”

  Raven could hear the worry slip into the man’s voice, and her suspicion of him eased into sympathy. But Lucien clearly wasn’t quite ready to let his distrust go.

  “Forgive me, Mr. Gallant,” he said. “I just wasn’t aware that Ms. Rickson had a boyfriend.”

  Henry noisily cleared his throat. “I don’t think anyone was.”

  “That’s going to need a bit of an explanation,” Lucien stated.

  “Look,” replied the other man over the roar of more traffic. “It’s a little awkward. Sally and I met at a singles event last year. I was visiting from Toronto and went out on a whim. I had no intention of meeting someone. I just...uh. You know.”

  Raven’s face warmed a little, and Lucien swiped a hand over his mouth, obviously trying to cover his amusement.

  “Yeah,” he said in a perfectly blasé tone. “I know.”

  Henry cleared his throat again. “Anyway, I met Sally at the singles event. We connected. But I’m nine years younger than she is, and I think it makes her uncomfortable, so we haven’t exactly been advertising it.” He paused. “But really, Detective. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

  Lucien’s fingers strummed on his knee, and Raven was sure he was trying to decide just how much to disclose.

  “In all honesty, Mr. Gallant,” he said after a moment, “it’s probably best to have an in-person discussion. But I know how I’d feel if I were in your shoes, so I’ll tell you what I can without going into too much detail. Can you hang on for a second?”

  “Sure.”

  Lucien gave the phone a couple of quick taps, then lifted it to his ear and stood up, pacing the room as he talked like he always did. His explanation made no mention of Hanes and no mention of Jim and Juanita. His speech was efficient and comforting at the same time—the perfect, practiced blend.

  Lucien the man, and Lucien the detective.

  Unconsciously, Raven closed her eyes, thinking about it. Hadn’t she just been feeling elated about the fact that he’d separated the two? Hearing him now, it seemed impossible to believe that it could ever really happen. The two parts of him were fused.

  And is it even fair to expect it?

  It was why, even when she questioned how come he’d left three years ago, she hadn’t worked hard to pursue him. She kept coming back to that.

  And if you keep coming back to it, doesn’t that mean it has some merit?

  In sudden, desperate need of a moment to herself, Raven pushed to her feet, mumbled an excuse that she was almost positive Lucien didn’t hear, then rushed out of the room.

  * * *

  When Lucien clicked off the phone and turned back to Raven, he was surprised to find her spot empty. His initial reaction was an unreasonable moment of panic, and her name burst from his lips before he could reason with himself.

  “Raven!”

  He immediately rolled his eyes at his own outburst.

  Relax, he ordered silently. She probably went to the bathroom, and she won’t appreciate being hollered at.

  He fired off a quick heads-up text to Sergeant Gray, dropped his phone back onto the table then settled onto the couch. His foot tapped and his knee twitched. He was undeniably antsy. He’d eased Henry Gallant’s concerns as best he knew how, then directed the other man to head to the station. He had faith that someone there would do the rest. He was certain, also, that the task forced was working thoroughly on the pool-table tip. On top of all of that, he was relieved that Raven was kept safely out of the thick of it. He had no interest in dragging her back into it. Or himself, for that matter. But he couldn’t quite curb his desire to be doing something more.

  He eyed the doorway that led to the hall where Raven had undoubtedly headed.

  “I just want it to be over,” he murmured under his breath.

  Because as long as Hanes is on the loose, we won’t ever be able to move on.

  Lucien scraped at his chin, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to breathe away the uncomfortable sense of powerlessness that nagged at him.

  He had to acknowledge that the last three years were on his shoulders. He had to own the fact that he was the one who’d left. He’d always told himself it was nobler. Better for Raven. But Hanes’s escape made him increasingly sure it’d been a mistake. The man was like a dark shadow, hanging over the possibility of a future.

  He opened his eyes and sought the doorway again. Raven still hadn’t reappeared, and his concern twitched back to the front of his mind, overruling his melancholy. He stole a glance at the little clock on the corner of the laptop’s screen. He felt like he’d been brooding for an hour, but it’d really been more like five minutes.

  Long bathroom break.

  “You’re being paranoid.” Even as he said the words aloud to himself, he stood up and took a step toward the hall. “Raven?”

  He paused and listened for a response. He didn’t get one.

  “Raven!” he repeated, a little louder this time.

  This time, he expected to get an answer. Even if it was just a shout to give her another minute. He got nothing, and his paranoia was starting to feel justified.

  He strode through the doorway and up the hall at a near run. The bathroom door was wide open, and he rushed by without bothering to look in. He didn’t even have to think about which way would offer the easiest escape route—the never-used master suite at the end of the hall had a private balcony. His feet took him past Raven’s old room, then past his own. With an unusual lack of caution, he flung open the door to the master suite.

  “Raven!”

  He swung his gaze back and forth. His eyes found the closed sliding glass doors first, and he stepped toward them and gave them a sharp pull.

  Locked.

  His worry ramped up even more.

  “What in God’s name is—” He stopped muttering abruptly as a light squeak carried in from behind.

  He faced the hall, and for a second, he spied nothing. Then the squeak sounded again, and he saw a flash of movement. It only took him a puzzled second to figure out that one of the doors was gently
swinging back and forth.

  Raven’s door.

  Wishing like crazy that he’d thought to grab his gun, he moved quietly out of the master suite. He pushed himself against the wall and slid along, thankful that his sock-clad feet made no noise on the hardwood. At the edge of the door frame, he paused and considered his options. Call out her name again, as he’d done without reserve so far? Sneak a careful glance into the room? Or go for broke, aim for surprise and just burst his way in? He was really leaning toward the last option. If Raven hadn’t responded to her name yet, she was unlikely to do it now. A sneaky glance only worked if someone wasn’t waiting for it.

  And if someone is waiting for it...

  The thought that she might be being held against her will made Lucien clench both his jaw and his fists. It also made a surprise attack more than preferable.

  Preparing to pounce, he bent his knees. He only got that far, though, before the door let out a noisier squeak, swung all the way inward then thumped dully against the wall. Lucien tensed in anticipation of an assault. Instead, his defensive position was met with the sound of wind. For a second, he didn’t react. His hands stayed up; his body stayed poised.

  Make a decision, he ordered silently.

  Exhaling a silent breath, he counted to five, then inched forward. The door flapped again. He took another step. Then another. And when he got a full view of the room, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh, cry or just plain curse his own overactive cop brain.

  Raven was there. On the bed. And she was out cold. Really, really out cold, by the look of things. She was sprawled over the mattress one arm above her head and one leg hanging off the bed in the most uncomfortable-looking sleeping position Lucien had ever seen. The window was partway open, and cold air was blowing forcefully through it.

  Kidnapping...O. Naptime...1.

  Shaking his head, he took a moment to study Raven’s sleeping form. She probably hadn’t meant to doze off. He’d bet his left leg that she’d just wanted a moment alone, had sat down, then given in to exhaustion. He didn’t blame her, either. The day felt like a month, and it wasn’t even over yet.