Racing Through Darkness

by G. K. Parks

  “Parker,” Moretti barked from his office door, “get in here.” I stood up, expecting to get fired after being on the job for a day. At least fired would be better than being brought up on charges for assault and false imprisonment or maybe it was kidnapping. Had Mercer kidnapped the kidnapper? My head spun, and I couldn’t be bothered to think about it. It was hard enough not thinking about the reason my hand ached.

  “Sir?” I asked from the doorway.

  “Close the door.” I obeyed and took a seat in front of his desk. “I’m not telling you to keep tabs on anyone, especially someone who I’ve been ordered not to harass any further. I’ve instructed everyone under my command who possesses a badge to steer clear of the Estes’ family, and this morning, I added Mr. Santino to that list, despite the fact he has a very odd fondness for his boss’s wife and daughter. The same daughter who is currently missing. Do we understand one another?”

  “The police can’t interfere with the Estes family or Santino which is counterproductive since something doesn’t sit right when it comes to Mr. Santino.”

  “Right,” Moretti gave me a curt nod.

  “I believe my consulting would be better applied outside the walls of this precinct,” I responded, standing. “If my expertise is needed here, please let me know.”

  “I’m glad we understand each other, Miss Parker. Have a good day.”

  Even Moretti wanted answers. Not having a badge could get me into trouble, but it could also keep the precinct out of trouble. Parker, you’re getting yourself mixed up in too many things, my subconscious warned.

  I left without a word to Heathcliff. I couldn’t tell him what I was doing. He was back at work and required to uphold the law. Thompson was benched for the next thirty-six hours, and hopefully, he was smart enough to follow orders, instead of getting himself in deeper. He knew what transpired between me and Catherine’s captor, and in the event I needed someone to cover for me, I’d like him to still be on the job.

  I drove to Santino’s apartment, but his car was no longer there. There was no way of knowing where he went or what he was doing. Mercer would have to keep his ear to the ground at the Estes’ house to determine if anything changed. With no other options, I went to Mercer’s flat.

  Bastian was still figuring out a way to track the signal. Mercer was at the Estes’ estate. I knew what I wanted to do and what I needed to do. I just wasn’t sure I could pull it off.

  “Can I have a few minutes with Adam?” I asked.

  Bastian looked up from the computer, completely perplexed. “Love, are you sure about that?”

  “Is he still breathing?” I inquired. “Because I need him to answer some questions.”

  “I’ll go,” Hans offered from his spot in the kitchen. He had just reassembled his handgun. “The waiting is making me loony.” Bastian nodded. Apparently he was in charge when Mercer was away.

  The drive to the storefront was awkward. I said a handful of words to Hans, and I wasn’t sure what his take was on interrogation procedures. He stopped the car, and we got out. After unlocking the door, he ushered me inside.

  “I can handle it,” I insisted. Now that Adam knew who I was, maybe things would go differently. At least I hoped they would.

  “Sorry, Julian wants him kept alive. I’ll observe.” He unlocked the room that held our captive. “Do what you like, but I’ll make sure you don’t get out of control.”

  “I’m not a killer.”

  “Never said you were.”

  “Okay.” The door opened, and I strode into the room. Adam looked as if someone shoved his face through a meat grinder. “Hello, Adam.” My stomach lurched, but I swallowed and kept going. “We’re going to have a nice chat. I’d suggest you answer swiftly and honestly.”

  “Bitch,” he mumbled, but I didn’t hit him. I just leaned against the wall in front of him and waited for him to pay attention.

  “Which Season are you?” No response. Not that it mattered, but I continued anyway. It would be nice if I could get some answers out of him on something. “I’m guessing Autumn, maybe Spring. Definitely not Winter. Winter’s in charge, and if the guy in charge was left to guard the least important captive of them all, well, that’d be downright pathetic.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Not whatever. You work for someone. A good and bad thing really. It means you have bargaining chips you can cash in. There are people you can turn on, and it’ll get you out of this mess. The bad news, which you’ve probably figured out by now, is you got stuck holding the bag, and no one is coming for you.”

  “They’ll come.”

  “No. They won’t.” I let out a resolute sigh and took a step toward him. “Do you have a life, Adam? Maybe a girlfriend, boyfriend, wife, mother, father, a child of your own? Is there anyone in this world that would give a damn if you never made it home?”

  “Only me.”

  “Only you because you’re afraid these lovely British chaps,” I jerked my head toward Hans, “will track down and torture everyone you know and love? Or is it because there isn’t a single person on this entire planet who can stomach being with a son-of-a-bitch who kidnaps children and holds them for weeks at a time for ransom?” His eyes shone angry in the dim light. “You’ve done some terrible things,” I surmised, “but it doesn’t mean you can’t turn it all around.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Hmm,” I cocked my head to the side and assessed him, “I don’t think so.” I stepped forward and tapped him on the shoulder, and he flinched. “Pussy,” I chuckled. He was still afraid. It was advantageous, but I was afraid too, afraid of what could happen if I lost control again. As long as he didn’t sense it, I could play the game.

  “Parker,” Hans cautioned, helping my act a little. I turned and playfully scrunched my nose at him, grinning, and Adam audibly swallowed.

  “We can make this real simple,” I continued. “We cut you loose and follow you. That means either we’d get the opportunity to take care of your seasonal friends and maybe find Adalina, or you’d lead us right into your real life. The one that doesn’t involve kidnapping and ransom. It’d be worlds colliding.”

  “Why don’t you try it and see what happens?”

  “Might.” I pretended to weigh the options. Mercer would never go for it, and I knew that. “Then again, maybe it’d be easier to turn you over to the police department.”

  “You’d be arrested.”

  “I’ve always enjoyed the concept of mutually assured destruction, but frankly, you kidnapped a cop’s niece. Whoever turns in the bastard responsible would be worshipped. Hell, I think there might even be a ticker-tape parade.” He looked green, but maybe it was the lighting. “Did you shoot the cop?” I asked, catching him off guard with such a direct question.

  “No, Summer did.”

  “See, that wasn’t so hard. Was it?” I paced in front of him. “I figured you were either Spring or Autumn. Why don’t you just give up your handle, Adam. It doesn’t make a bit of difference does it?”

  He considered my point for a couple of seconds. “Autumn,” he finally relented.

  “Very good.” I turned on my heel and walked out.

  “What did that accomplish?” Hans asked, latching the door.

  “Nothing.” I snorted. “It’s about cooperation. When was the last time he ate?” I asked, and Hans laughed. “Let’s pick up a sandwich for this guy. He’s getting a reward for answering the question.”

  “This will take forever,” he pointed out as we went back to the car.

  “It doesn’t matter. Either he’ll tell us what we want to know or not. In the meantime, Bastian’s working on a location, and Mercer’s scoping out the family. Something will lead somewhere.” Hans didn’t look convinced but did what I asked anyway.

  Thirty-five

  The way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, or so I’d been told. After convincing our captive that the sandwich wasn’t poisoned or drugged and it was simply a reward since he was being
such a good boy, he warmed to our presence in the soundproof room. I convinced Hans to unshackle his left hand, and the two of us were keeping tabs on him in case he somehow managed to break out of the rest of his restraints.

  “Things don’t have to be difficult,” I said. “You told me a woman hired you. Who is she?” Adam shook his head and stared at the floor.

  Hans reattached the restraints, making our captive helpless once more. “Answer the lady’s question,” he urged. He was bored and probably wanted to be anywhere but in this cruddy room.

  “Some lady,” Adam retorted.

  “That’s right,” my patience was wearing thin, “do we need to go another round before you decide to open your mouth with an answer?” His eyes showed great loathing, and I was positive if he wasn’t bound, he would probably try to kill me. Oh well, I would add his name to the ever-growing list. “Or we can use this opportunity to brush up on hostage negotiation. You can be the hostage.” I smiled menacingly. “I’m guessing you want to be released, which means you have to meet my set of demands. Isn’t this fun?” Hans snorted in amusement, but I didn’t want to risk losing my serious edge by looking at him.

  “You’re fucking insane.”

  “Damn straight.” It wasn’t every day I got to play the villain. I threaded my fingers together and slowly circled his chair. “Here are my demands, pay attention. I want the location of the girl, the identities of your accomplices, the name of the woman who hired you, and,” I stopped and stood directly in front of him, “detailed information on how you managed to kidnap the girls without anyone noticing.”

  He shook his head as if there was a fly buzzing around. “I’m not telling you a damn thing.”

  I leaned down, placing my hands over both of his forearms and staring into his eyes. “Talk fast. We have Estobar Santino in holding, and he is not as strong-willed as you are.” The blood drained from his face, and I knew whatever I just said meant something to him.

  “Shit. Holy shit,” he muttered. His breath hitched, and I stepped back, gloating. “If you have him, why are you asking me these questions?”

  “I like you. We got off on the wrong foot, but I’d like to make amends. I’m really just a softie at heart, so this is your last chance. It’d be nice to have someone corroborate the things he’s been saying.”

  “I don’t know much,” Adam began, and I heard the voice in my head let out a gleeful cheer. “Winter hooked me up with this job. The entire thing was written line by line, where to go, what to do, how to do it. We were paid up front and told someone would contact us with further information on when to release the girls. Even the threats, drop-offs, and ransom requests were spelled out.”

  “By whom?”

  “Some chick. I don’t know, but I heard her talking to Winter before the job began. She said Santino would make sure it all went off without a hitch.”

  “Who the hell is she?” I screamed.

  My temper was erratic, and Adam flinched but didn’t say anything else. I stepped back, thinking. Hans took over and asked for additional information, but I couldn’t concentrate or focus on what he was saying. There was something here. I just needed to pinpoint it.

  “Let’s go,” Hans commanded my attention, and I looked up, bewildered.

  “You said you had well-connected friends. Winter hooks you up for jobs. Is he family?” I inquired, but Adam remained silent. “Not family,” I narrowed my eyes, “but you run in the same crew. You probably have a record.” I strode to the door at Hans’ insistence. “Last chance,” I tried over my shoulder, “want to give me a name for any of the other Seasons or your last name?” Adam spit in my direction, and Hans grabbed my wrist and pulled me from the room before I could retaliate for the disrespect.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Mercer was in the storefront, staring horrified at me.

  “Questioning our captive.”

  “On whose authority?”

  “Mine,” I growled, and he glanced at Hans, who shrugged. “I didn’t kill him. He’s perfectly fine. Hell, he’s better than fine. We fed him. You know you have to give people food if you don’t want them to die.”

  “He wasn’t going to die of starvation,” Mercer growled. “Do you think he’s a pet you can keep because you’ve decided he’s cute?” I ignored the comment. “No,” his tone changed, “you couldn’t stomach what you did earlier. You’re trying to make peace with one of the men responsible for all of this.”

  “I need answers. You aren’t getting them.”

  “And he gave them to you?” Running through my options, Hans already knew everything Adam divulged, so I might as well appear to be sharing. I filled in Mercer on the woman who hired the Four Seasons and Santino’s alleged connection. “Very well.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, and he didn’t elaborate. “Let’s go back to the flat. Bastian may have a lead.”

  * * *

  “It’s not a tracker,” Bastian admitted. “Honestly, I haven’t got a bloody clue what it is. I’ve been trying to reverse engineer it, and I still don’t know what it could be.”

  “And you want to believe the things that lying bastard says,” Mercer retorted, looking pointedly at me. “Rubbish.”

  “Fine. He’s a lying sack of shit. We’ll add it to his résumé, right under kidnapper.” I wasn’t in the mood. “Did Santino show up for work at the Estes’ estate?”

  “Yes, but he didn’t report any of the delays to Miguel.” Mercer was being helpful, even though he looked to be in utter pain by the attempt.

  “Can you get a list of all the female employees and staff who work for Miguel?” I asked. Mercer scoffed, but before he could respond, Bastian shoved a list at me. I looked at it. Everyone Miguel Estes employed in his private life covered the first page, and the next three sheets were all company employees.

  “Now run along and play with your copper pals. We have actual work to do.” Mercer nodded toward the door, and not wanting to be in his company any longer, I left without protest.

  I went back to the precinct, copied the list, and passed it on to Heathcliff. Picking up Catherine Cale’s account of the kidnapping, the only description she provided of her captor was a Caucasian male with brown hair. I was also sure those weren’t her exact words. At least I could give a more thorough description. I found one of the sketch artists and explained how I might have caught a glimpse of a man leaving around the same time I snuck into the storage unit to rescue Catherine. It would have been easier to take a photo of Adam, but bruised and bloodied would be difficult to explain. When a decent facsimile was created, I went upstairs to Moretti’s office.

  “Find anything on that special project?” he asked as I handed him the sketch.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary, but this guy might be involved. It’s been a hectic few days, but I remember seeing him within the vicinity of the storage unit. He’s probably a repeat offender, and maybe he has a crew. It might be good to check them out.”

  “I don’t want to know,” he picked up the paper, “but I’ll get some guys to skim through mug shots and databases and see what we find. Any idea where this scumbag might be?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t know if my lie was believable or if he decided the less he knew the better. “I’ll give you a call if something surfaces on this. If not, you might want to get an early start on that special project tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, sir.” I was being dismissed.

  Stopping briefly at O’Connell’s desk to conduct a few quick searches, I found an e-mail from Francesca. The information I requested was at her hotel, and I was instructed to pick it up at my earliest convenience. After ending up with all dead ends on my concise search history of a few of the female employees on the list, I decided to leave the detective work to the detectives. That meant a brief reprieve which could be filled with my unrelated corporate consulting work.

  On my way home, I detoured to Francesca’s hotel and rode the elevator up to her suite. Maybe whatever
paperwork she had would help put me to sleep. Although, I probably didn’t need the sleep aid after everything that occurred in the last forty-eight hours with Adam. I was still emotionally drained and being in that room with him for a couple hours today did nothing to rectify the situation, regardless of what Mercer may think. All of this was playing through my mind as I knocked on her door.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, stunned. Martin opened the door, and I was flummoxed.

  “Waiting for room service.” His eyes danced.

  “I guess I deserved that one,” I admitted.

  He smiled. “Just a little.” His grin quickly inverted as he assessed my face and hand. “But you didn’t deserve that.” I swallowed. “What happened?”

  “It’s nothing. Why are you here? Where’s Ms. Pirelli?”

  “Business and she’s on a conference call.” He held the door open, and I stepped inside to find the dinette table covered in opened manila folders and dozens of computer printouts of graphs and charts. “What did I tell you about hitting people?”

  I looked away and took an unsteady breath. “Please don’t do this now.” I wasn’t in the mood for his teasing.

  He gently touched my cheek, instinctively knowing he said the wrong thing. “Will it hurt if I kiss you?”

  “It’ll hurt more if you don’t.” Martin put his arms around me, and normally, I would have preferred to remain professional, but this morning, I had been close to unraveling in Nick’s hospital room so I was allowing myself this brief moment of comfort.

  “Ahem,” Francesca cleared her throat from the bedroom doorway, and I made a move to pull away from Martin, but he kept an arm around my shoulders as I stepped back. “Jamie, what you do with your consultants is your business, but when you let me borrow one, I’d prefer if you didn’t harass her in my hotel suite.”

  “Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t,” he remarked, and I wondered what dumbass thing he was about to say since he was searching my eyes for permission. “But when your consultant is also my girlfriend, the lines blur.”