Phoenix: A Hunter Novel

by J. V. Speyer

  “He said he didn’t know what ‘poor Tammie’ was up to or why we pigs would be pestering her, but she’d borrowed the van with his full permission.” John scanned through the message on his screen.

  Scott was busy typing away, keyboard clacking so loud Donovan worried he’d break something. “Okay. Awesome. So we’ve got sightings of the van heading south on Washington Street from that country club in Newton. We can call off the search from any of the abandoned facilities on the North Shore.”

  “Not if she doubled back, we can’t.” Patricia nudged Scott. “It’s what I would do.”

  Donovan frowned. “How did you get access to the traffic cams in Newton and Wellesley? I thought only locals and State were supposed to have those.”

  “Oh, that’s easy. I went snooping in John’s phone while he was in the can one night when we were at a bar and stole his password.” Scott didn’t even have the good grace to look ashamed. “You’d be amazed at how conscientious the dude is, always logged in, always looking. Good on you, John.”

  Patricia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Good God, I’ve raised a monster. Whatever. If it gets the work done, I’m okay with it. How far can we trace this—is that really her van?”

  Scott zoomed in on the van in question. It was electric blue. It featured a wizard, with a hat, a long beard, and a loincloth, shooting lightning out from his fingertips while scantily clad redheaded women of questionable age admired his prowess at his feet.

  Donovan tugged at his collar. “Um. Well, it’s certainly a van.”

  Kevin shuddered. “If I were abducting a drugged federal agent, I’d want to be as inconspicuous as possible. I’d definitely want to avoid driving something that screamed, Pull me over, I’m carrying so many psychedelics I’ve created a wormhole to a different reality. But then again, that’s just me.”

  “Well, we know Tammie lives her life on the edge.” Patricia shrugged. “And she may not have had many other options. She doesn’t have prior convictions. She may not be adept at stealing cars. For all we know, she couldn’t get another van on short notice.”

  “Even with plenty of warning, she wouldn’t want to create a paper trail.” Donovan nodded, his head spinning as he took in the new information. “Renting a van definitely leaves a trail, and people remember if they have to take out seats and stuff. Scott, how far were you able to track her?”

  “There’s a camera near the Lookout Farm Brewing Company. That’s as far as I was able to track her.” Scott made a face and turned the laptop around, so everyone could see his screen. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still running a check to see if any other cameras picked her up. So far though, nothing.”

  “Okay, it’s still a direction.” Donovan clapped his hands together. “Who do we have in the Wellesley, Foxboro, Norwood area?”

  “Nothing to have kept her from going right into Rhode Island.” Kevin sighed. “Or into Attleboro or down to the Cape.”

  “True. But I think the cameras would have picked her up around there. They’re better maintained in that area because Homeland Security gave us a grant.” Donovan knew all of the possibilities. He could see them as easily as Kevin could, and they affected him more.

  He wouldn’t let himself resent Kevin because of them though. He needed to keep a reasonably positive focus, for Luis’ sake.

  “She’s got a drugged-up federal agent strapped to a gurney in the back of a shag van, and she’s not stupid. She’s not going to want to take that risk for long. She’s going to want to get to a place where she can hide him as soon as possible. All we have to do is figure out where that is.”

  Patricia pulled up a map on her laptop. “You’ve said you believe he’s being held in an abandoned facility. We’ve got the Foxboro State Hospital, the Medfield State Hospital, and the Metropolitan State Hospital if she doubled back. The Gaebler Children’s Center was right next door to the Metropolitan State Hospital. Both Foxboro and Metropolitan have been at least partially demolished and repurposed, and like hell would I ever buy a condo on those sites.”

  Kevin did a double take. “You believe in ghosts?”

  “I’m not such a skeptic I’m going to choose to live in a place like that.” She sniffed at him. “Now. We can have some people go check them out. I can get people to go walk the grounds without a problem, but the issue is . . .”

  “It’s dark.” Scott ground his teeth. “It’s dark, the buildings are largely boarded up, and for the places where demolition has happened it’s going to be easy to miss something that could be important.”

  Donovan’s heart fell. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

  “It’ll be easier to pull off at sunrise. Plus, then we can make sure your boss has buy in.” John nodded at Kevin. “Don’t get me wrong, if she doesn’t approve we’ll do it anyway. Luis is family, But it’s better if we’re not stepping on each other’s toes.”

  Donovan stood up. “Yeah. Good point. I’m going to . . . um. I need air.” He stumbled through the kitchen until he could get to the patio door.

  He fumbled with the handle until he could get through. Then he raced to the far edge of the back deck and leaned over. He inhaled the frosty October air, breathing as deep as he dared. He could only hope the cold would wake him up and help him find Luis faster.

  What was Luis doing right now? Lightfoot had told him Luis was awake, so the drugs weren’t a problem. He must be scared. Was he trying to escape, or was he waiting patiently to be rescued? The phone hadn’t worked, so he must not have a signal wherever he was.

  Or his captor had caught him with it.

  A sound behind him alerted him to company. He turned around to see Patricia standing there. “We’ll find him, love.” She walked over slowly, carefully. “We will.”

  “Will we find him in time though?” Donovan threw himself into one of the deck chairs. He and Luis had planned to put them away over the coming weekend. He only hoped they’d still get to do that. “I don’t . . . I’m worried.”

  “I know you are, love. I know. And it’s easy for me to sit here and say things like ‘We’ll find him’ when I’m not the one in danger of losing my partner, right?” She stroked Donovan’s hair, just the way she had when he was small. “Miss Hatch needs him alive. Not that the federal government is going to dismiss charges because she took a man hostage. Nothing works like that. But in her twisted and warped little world, she needs him alive. And that means she cannot kill him. She has to make sure he’s alive to trade for this boyfriend of hers.”

  “In my head, I think I know that. In my heart though . . .” Donovan trailed off. “In my heart, it doesn’t make enough sense. She’s going to get mad when we won’t make the trade, and then she’ll kill Luis to derail the trial. No, it won’t change anything. But she thought taking him hostage would, and it makes about as much sense.”

  “Fair enough.” Patricia kept stroking his hair. Even though Donovan’s heart rate hadn’t slowed, he found himself relaxing against her. Even though he was in his thirties, his mother could still make him feel like a little boy. He should be embarrassed, but he couldn’t bring himself to be. “But finding all of that out will take time. We’re already collecting our resources to put search parties together. We will find him, Donovan. And when we do, we’ll bring him home.”

  Now Donovan could hear the smile in her voice. “And you’ll meet his foster dad, at long last.”

  Donovan groaned. “Yes, just how I wanted to meet Jose. ‘Sorry I misplaced your son, sir. Mind if I marry him?’ ”

  Patricia hugged him. “You know that won’t be how he sees it. And thanks for letting me know you’re at least thinking about making this arrangement permanent.”

  “He’d never say yes. Permanence gives him hives.” Donovan slumped, staring at the woods.

  “I think he’d put up with a few hives to be with you, but you’ll never know until you ask.” Patricia kissed the top of his head. “Get a nap in, Donnie. You want to be alert when we finally get out into the field.�
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  Chapter Nine

  Luis fell to the ground as pain burned through his left leg. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore. The agony radiated all the way down to his foot and all the way up into his spine. He reached down to grab at the wound. Blood gushed over his fingers.

  Hyena Lady kicked him right where she’d shot him. The pain was so intense he thought he might pass out.

  “You stupid moron.” She kicked him again. “It didn’t have to be like this. You were supposed to stay in the basement, nice and asleep, until your buddies set my Santo free.” She switched her target to his ribs. “There was no reason you had to move. No reason you had to get out of place. Now you’ve gone and made me shoot you.”

  Luis used his good leg to hook Hyena Lady and knock her down. He couldn’t get up and run, but he could definitely drag himself over and punch her. “They will never release Santo Gelens.” He had to grit his teeth against the pain. “You can kill me, you can keep me here until time ends, but Santo Gelens is never getting out of jail.”

  His leg burned. He wondered if the first ghost he’d met downstairs had somehow gotten out of his room and actually set his leg on fire. He couldn’t let himself acknowledge it though. He couldn’t let himself feel it. He had to focus on the present, on survival.

  “Shows what you know.” Hyena Lady’s face didn’t move, even when he punched her. She headbutted him between the eyes and reached for her gun.

  Luis recognized that gun. He’d received it when he started at the FBI academy. He hadn’t been parted from it since. He barely had time to make the connection as she brought the butt of the gun crashing into his temple, as hard as she could. The first blow dazed him. The second knocked him out.

  Oblivion was kind of nice. It didn’t hurt, for one thing. Luis could forget that he’d been shot with his own gun, that he might have lost his leg. Oblivion wasn’t cold. He wasn’t aware that he missed Donovan, so he didn’t have that hanging over his head either. Neither did he fear he’d never see Donovan again, or have the chance to give him the ring he’d hidden away.

  All in all, oblivion was a pretty sweet place to be.

  Of course, his father could find him even in this nonplace, in the void of unconsciousness. And here, where nothing was real, he was more than a voice. He had form and substance, while Luis was the one reduced to a mere thought.

  Carlos wrapped his arm around Hyena Lady and laughed over Luis’ mother’s body. “You’re such a waste of space, Luis.” Carlos looked like he had the last time Luis had seen him, locked up in Nashua Street before his transfer out to Shirley. “Some hot-shit FBI agent you turned out to be. Look, your own father managed to torch your house, and you couldn’t stop him. You couldn’t help your own mother, who died in your place. And look at you now. Bleeding out in filth all alone.

  “Your mother died to save you, but we both know she should have saved herself. She should have let you die. She could always have had another kid. Maybe that one wouldn’t have been such a fuckup.”

  Hyena Lady laughed, proving Luis’ name for her hadn’t just come from her looks. She sounded exactly like her namesake.

  “Oh my God, Carlos, I can’t believe how easy it was to take him down. He’s supposed to be smart? I mean, look at him. I was able to just slip the drug into his water. It wasn’t even hard. Can’t even escape by himself, and it’s not like I tied him up or anything.”

  Then, to Luis’ horror, his mother pushed herself to her feet. She looked just as she had the last time Luis had seen her. Her beautiful face had been mashed to a pulp, and bruises from his father’s hands circled her throat. “I gave him the most precious gift I had to give. I sacrificed my life for his. And for what? This stupid worm can’t even muster up enough people to care about him to help him get out of this situation. They’re leaving him here to rot.”

  I told them where I was, at least as much as I knew. Luis knew he wasn’t really speaking to any of these people, at least on some level. For one thing, Hyena Lady didn’t seem to speak Portuguese in the real world. Here, in Luis’ head, she spoke it in the same accent as his father. His mother also spoke Portuguese, although when she’d been alive his mother had preferred to speak to him in Nheengatu.

  He still couldn’t help but plead with this caricature of his mother for understanding.

  “Oh, sure.” His mother would have curled her lip, if she still had lips. “You got your little hallucination to pass a message along for you. A dead serial killer is helping out an FBI agent.” She tossed what was left of her hair over her shoulder. “If you ask me, you belong where you are.”

  Luis fought to remember something, anything, from the real world. Maybe oblivion wasn’t in his best interests after all. Not if he had to share it with every single one of his insecurities.

  He called to mind a recent memory, one from only last week. Alicia and Nicky were at the town house, along with Patricia. They’d had a cookout, a legit cookout with a shiny gas grill. They hadn’t had anything fancy, just burgers and salad, but they’d sat out on the patio and enjoyed their dinner like a family.

  Nicky asked for help with a school project, so Luis dived right in. Meanwhile, Alicia and Donovan brought up old stories from their childhoods to see who could embarrass the other more, and Patricia brought out a delicious apple pie she’d made only that day.

  He gripped the memory tight amid the jeers of his father, his mother, and Hyena Lady. He could still remember every detail, from the way Nicky’s eyes still shone with hero worship to the smell of Patricia’s apple pie. He could taste the burgers, feel the warmth of Donovan’s body beside him. He could even hear Tria yelling at him every time he went back inside to grab drinks or more napkins.

  He expanded that memory so it filled every space in the unreal chamber of his mind. I am loved. He kept his voice firm and clear, as though Donovan were right there with him. I have a family. None of you are real. You’re figments of my imagination. It’s time for you to leave.

  One by one, the images his insecurities used to taunt him winked out of existence. Then, like a punishment for his sins, consciousness returned.

  Luis had no idea where he was, thanks to the complete absence of light. Rats skittered nearby, but considering the condition of the building, he could be anywhere. He lay on linoleum over concrete. His head throbbed in time with his pulse, and his leg alternated between burning and freezing.

  He knew what that meant. The bullet had damaged nerves when he’d been shot.

  He was on his back, not in the coma position. He could wriggle, which made his head and leg ache worse, but he could not move his hands or feet. They’d been tied together with what he recognized as zip ties.

  Whiskers brushed against his ear.

  Luis bit down on his lip. He couldn’t do anything about the rats, but he wasn’t about to give Hyena Lady the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

  The stink of the grave assailed his nostrils, a sickly light brought some visibility to the space, and the rat squeaked as it went flying. “Gabe!”

  Strong, icy hands hefted Luis into a sitting position. The room spun, but Luis didn’t have anything left in his stomach to get sick from so he couldn’t throw up. Mike held him up for a second, then produced a shard of broken glass and cut the zip ties on his wrists.

  Luis could support himself now. “Thanks, Mike.”

  “Sorry we couldn’t stop her.” Mike faded for a second.

  “Hey. It’s not your job.” Luis managed to find a smile. “It’s mine.”

  Mike cut the zip ties on his leg next. “I’m the one who’s supposed to smite. That’s my whole game. I smite demons. The dame is a demon, a through and through hellspawn. It’s my job to take her down, and I failed. I couldn’t even make so much as a breeze she noticed. At least your buddy Lightfoot was able to trip her up a little. Me and Miss Millie, we couldn’t even do that.”

  “You’ll get there eventually, Mike.” Luis focused on his breathing. It was the only way he could think of
to manage the pain. “Lightfoot’s had a long time and a lot of freedom to practice. I don’t get the sense that you’ve had much fodder.”

  Mike’s light strengthened. “You’re probably right, Gabe. You’re a good egg.”

  “Where are Lightfoot and Millie right now?” Luis looked around. He’d been dragged into another room—he could see the streak of blood from where his bleeding leg had trailed along the floor. This space held plenty of debris in the form of boxes and strewn paper files, but nothing immediately useful.

  The cardboard boxes and files would make great nesting material for rodents. The thought sent Luis’ stomach twisting again.

  “They’re looking for something to use as a splint.” Mike gestured toward Luis’ leg. “The demon stole your blanket. We could have used it as a bandage otherwise. You’re still bleeding, I’m afraid.”

  Luis didn’t need to be told that. He took off his shirt. It wouldn’t make the best bandage. It was covered in filth and vomit. He could worry about infection if and when he got to safety. Controlling the bleeding needed to be his top priority.

  He wrapped the shirt around his wound. Even touching it hurt. It wasn’t the first time he’d been shot, so he knew what to expect. This time, he suspected bone involvement though. He’d worry about that later.

  “How long was I out for?”

  “Twenty minutes? Thirty? It’s kind of hard to tell. I found the phone, so we’ve still got that.”

  Lightfoot and Millie chose that moment to return to Luis’ side. “So ye’ve decided to stay on yer side of the Veil after all.” Lightfoot snorted at Luis. “I wasn’t sure you’d be wanting that after seeing you go down.”

  Luis held back a scream as Mike and Millie worked to splint his leg. They’d found—or created—some broken old broomsticks somewhere and were using them to immobilize Luis’ leg. Strips of what looked like Hyena Lady’s blouse and skirt from court held it in place.

  “It’s not perfect.” Millie shrugged. “It’ll have to do.”

  Lightfoot disappeared and returned with a pair of old wooden crutches. They weren’t the right size for Luis, being more appropriate for someone maybe five foot seven or so, but they’d do.