by Laura Scott
“Call Maddy,” Marc suggested. “She’ll know which judge to approach to get the warrant.”
“I don’t need one,” Mike said, lifting his chin and staring down his brothers. “As a private investigator, I’m not held to the same rules.”
Matt put a hand on his arm. “Mike, listen to me. We can’t hold Walters or anyone else responsible for Dad’s murder unless we go through the proper channels. Without a search warrant, the DA will throw out any evidence we find and they’ll get off scot-free. We can’t let them get away with this.”
“And in the meantime?” Mike didn’t care how upset he sounded. “I’m just supposed to wait while you guys jump through circus hoops, leaving Shayla and Brodie in danger?”
“I’ll take him to the apartment building,” Mitch offered. “He can sneak in while you guys get the paperwork you need.”
“And if Shayla and Brodie aren’t there, then what?” Marc’s face was flushed with anger. “You can’t botch this up for us, Mike. We don’t know where they’re being held. They could be anywhere.”
Mike knew his eldest brother was right, but that was all the more reason they needed to move quickly. To eliminate one potential hiding place before moving to another.
“I think we should split up, as Mitch suggested,” Mike said. “We’ll take the apartment building. Marc, you should call Miles so the two of you can head over to speak with Gordon Beecher, the second in command. If he’s not available, go to Kirk Stoltz. We need someone high up in authority on this. Maybe Matt and Duchess could go to Peter Fresno’s place. Duchess would be able to search for Shayla’s scent.”
“What about Noah?” Matt asked.
Mike thought about it for a moment. “Send him to confront Rafe Scarletti. If he knows we’re onto him, he might talk in exchange for a lighter sentence.”
Marc threw up his hands in frustration. “But we don’t have anything on him! No solid proof against anyone.”
Mike took a threatening step toward his brother. “And if it was Kari, Maggie and Max who’d been kidnapped? Would you feel the same way?”
Marc let out a heavy sigh at the reference to his wife and two children, named in honor of their parents. “No,” he roughly admitted. “I wouldn’t.”
“Okay, then. It’s settled.” Mike turned to Mitch. “Let’s get cracking.”
They strode quickly back to the cabin in silence. Mike had no idea how they’d been found at the remote location, not that it mattered. The damage was done. They’d been found. Shayla and Brodie had been kidnapped.
Might even already be dead.
He didn’t want to think about it, but the very real possibility nagged at him. The gunman had made so many attempts against her already, what was one more?
He couldn’t imagine the gunman having a reason to wait.
As he opened the cabin door, his phone rang in his pocket. Surprised, he pulled it out and glanced at the screen. The number was almost identical to the one he was using.
Shayla!
He quickly answered, his heart pounding. “Hello?”
“M-Mike?” The connection was so bad, he could barely hear her through the static.
“Shayla? Where are you?”
“Base—ap—” Her voice continued to break up. “Dunc—”
He gripped the phone tightly. “I can’t hear you. Can you speak up? Are you with Duncan?”
“Hurry” was all he heard before the line went dead.
“What did she say?” Marc asked.
“The connection was terrible, I couldn’t make out most of it. She mentioned ‘base ap’ and ‘Duncan.’”
“Basement of an apartment building?” Mitch asked. “Phones don’t work well when surrounded by concrete.”
Relief at his brother’s brilliance washed over him. “Yes, that must be it.”
“And that’s more than enough for a warrant,” Marc said in satisfaction. “I don’t even need Maddy’s connection. With a statement from the victim herself, I can get a warrant from the FBI.”
What Mike had heard was more garbled than statement but he wasn’t about to argue. Especially since he didn’t even want to wait that long. But knowing Shayla was alive helped keep him calm. “Can you get it on the way?”
“Yeah.” Marc already had his phone to his ear. His eldest brother took a few steps away, speaking rapidly to the person on the other end of the line.
“Why can’t he call from the car?” Mike asked, chafing at the wait. “We should already be on the road by now.”
“I think he’s arranging backup,” Mitch said. “We can’t just go in guns blazing. Not when we have no idea what we’re facing.”
He hated to admit his brother was right. But standing around was driving him nuts. He picked up his phone and called the number for MPD station one, asking to be connected to Kirk Stoltz. Gordon Beecher might be the proper channel, but he intended to get his father’s friend on board, as well.
“One moment, please.”
Annoying music played in the background while he waited for his father’s friend to pick up.
“Stoltz,” a deep voice finally answered.
“This is Mike Callahan,” he quickly identified himself. “I need your help. We believe we’ve identified the cops who are linked to the Dark Knights.”
“Really?” Stoltz’s voice rose with excitement. “Tell me!”
For some reason Mike hesitated. “I will, but we need to meet in person. I’m going to ask Miles to catch up with you, okay? And I need you to help smooth the way on this. We don’t have a lot of time.”
“Of course. I’m happy to talk to Miles. But why be so evasive? I need to know what evidence you have so we can move on this immediately.”
He glanced over to see that Mitch had the blueprints to the apartment buildings under his arm as he headed for his SUV. “Rafe Scarletti,” Mike said. “That’s the name we have, although there are some others. I have to go. Watch for Miles, okay?”
“Absolutely. And, Mike? Be careful.”
“We will.” Mike disconnected and jogged to catch up with Mitch.
“I’ve got the warrant,” Marc said with grim satisfaction, holding up his smartphone. “It’s a scanned document for now, but should be good enough to get inside.”
“Good.” That was all Mike needed to know. He slid into the back seat, leaving Mitch and Marc up front. While they’d waited for the warrant, Matt had loaded Duchess into the back of his SUV and was already heading for the highway, getting a nice head start toward Fresno’s place.
Mike called Miles, filling him in on the upcoming meeting with Stoltz. Miles didn’t hesitate to agree.
When he finished with that call, he called Hawk. His buddy had already gone out on a limb for him, but Mike wasn’t above asking for yet another favor. Hawk readily agreed to meet them downtown. Lastly, he tried Shayla again. But the phone went straight to a message that informed him the device was not set up to accept messages.
Had she run out of battery? Or had she simply turned the phone off because the reception was so awful?
Tapping his foot impatiently, he strove for patience. And lifted his heart in prayer.
Please, Lord, keep Shayla and Brodie safe! Guide me so that I find them before it’s too late!
* * *
Shayla huddled next to Duncan with Brodie sitting on her lap, feeling reassured by both her brother’s presence and that her phone call to Mike had gone through. At least, she was pretty sure it had. It had been difficult to hear with all the static on the line.
Brodie had finally fallen asleep. She was glad he was able to get some rest, and giving him what was left of the fish crackers in her pocket may have helped.
She hoped and prayed that this wouldn’t traumatize her little boy forever.
“You’re sure Callahan will come?” Duncan rasped.
>
“I’m sure.” Duncan knew Brodie was Mike’s son. “He suspected you of being with the Dark Knights, though. Did you and Dad really discuss them at the funeral?”
“Yeah,” Duncan admitted. “But only because we’d heard about one of the victims attempting to commit suicide. A young woman confined to a wheelchair tried to kill herself. We didn’t condone what they were doing, but there was a part of their mission that made sense.”
That explained a lot, Shayla thought. “Why did they go after you?” she asked.
There was a slight hesitation before he answered.
“Dad asked me to infiltrate the Dark Knights by working undercover. I set up a meeting with Lane Walters and convinced him I wanted in on the deal. I told him how Dad and I didn’t see eye to eye any longer and I was fed up with the never-ending bureaucracy.
“Walters seemed happy to have me on board at first, but Fresno was really mad. He kept railing at Walters that I was too much of a risk. He saw us together at the hospital—remember the first day we went to see Dad? The day we learned he needed open-heart surgery? I tried to act as if I didn’t care, but Fresno didn’t buy it. Pete convinced Walters that I was working undercover to sniff out the dirty cops and had to be silenced.”
She cast her memory back to the day Duncan referenced. “He was the guy in the car? The one you went over to talk to?”
“Yeah. I tried to convince Pete that I was putting on a front for you and Dad, but he didn’t believe me. We’d been partners for a while, but had never got along, which was part of it. Plus he couldn’t get over that my father was the chief of police. I didn’t have much leverage to use to convince him to believe in me, although I made up a story about a girlfriend who’d been murdered and the guy who’d done it had got away with it.”
“Did that really happen?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, which made it a good cover story, but Fresno wouldn’t buy it. After Fresno saw us together that day, everything blew up in my face. I believe since you saw him there, he decided you had to be killed, too. He must have thought I’d confided in you about being undercover.”
Fresno had been the gunman chasing her all over town, seemingly one step behind their every move? The news was mind-boggling. That he’d come after her and Brodie because of a mere suspicion was insane.
Then again, everything the Dark Knights did was crazy and irrational. Taking the law into their own hands, taking on the role of judge and jury. Killing people because of suspicions rather than proof.
“How did you get away from the Rustic Resort?”
“I left on foot. Dug down into the dirt of the farmer’s field, lying flat against the ground, partially covered in soil. I saw you and Callahan pull up and almost came out of hiding, but I’m glad I didn’t. I was there when the sports car came up behind you and began shooting. I suspected the driver was Fresno, but didn’t have proof. I was relieved when you and Callahan managed to get away.”
“You should have come out and joined us,” she chided. “We would have been safer together.”
“I almost did,” he admitted. “But I didn’t want to bring danger to you and Brodie. I figured it would be better if we stayed separated. I remained in the field most of the night. I eventually walked back to the motel, but the next day, Fresno found me. I’ve been his prisoner ever since.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. Knowing that she and Duncan had been so close that night was painful. If they’d been able to find each other, things may have turned out differently.
Especially since they were being held prisoners, despite Duncan’s attempt to protect her.
The metallic clicking sound outside the door shot her pulse into the stratosphere.
They’re back!
She felt Duncan stiffen beside her and knew he’d heard the noises, too. And then the door was opened, revealing a sliver of dim light.
“Get up. We need to leave.”
No! She didn’t want to leave! Not when she’d told Mike where to find them.
“Now!” The voice was rough with anger.
Brodie woke up and began to cry.
“Shh, it’s okay, Brodie. We’re okay.” She staggered to her feet, using the cold cement wall for leverage so she wouldn’t have to set Brodie down. She heard Duncan’s labored breathing as he struggled to his feet.
The same two men stood on either side of the door, both holding guns pointed at them. Duncan was in no shape to fight them. She thought for sure that one of his eyes had swollen shut from the beating he’d suffered. Plus, she suspected he’d sustained a couple of cracked ribs.
She turned automatically to go up the basement stairs, but the gunman to her left roughly grabbed her arm.
“This way,” he said harshly, pushing her forward. There wasn’t much light and she battled a wave of helplessness, wondering if they were being led to the wall where they might be shot execution-style.
But they walked across the cold, damp, basement floor that seemed to go on forever. Then she saw a doorway.
“Open it,” the gunman to her left demanded. He was the same one who’d done most of the talking while she and Brodie were being brought here.
She turned the knob and the door readily opened, revealing yet another staircase leading upward. Light illuminated the top of the stairs so she didn’t hesitate to take them up to the main level.
The light should have been welcoming but it wasn’t. Instead there were two more men with guns standing there. She recognized one of them as Duncan’s partner, Peter Fresno.
“You,” she croaked, blinking to bring his features into focus in the harsh daylight. Amazingly they were outside, not inside the apartment building at all.
“Shut up,” he said, lifting his gun. “I should have taken care of you and Callahan when you came to my house, then we wouldn’t be stuck dealing with you now.”
“Knock it off,” the other gunman said. “We need to move fast. The others are already here and the boss wants everyone together.”
Others? A chill rippled over her. What others? The rest of the Callahans? Had they all been captured?
She bit her lip to keep from screaming at these lunatics to let them go.
“This way,” the gunman to her left said, giving her a nudge with the tip of his weapon.
Gritting her teeth, she turned in the direction he indicated. Surprisingly they didn’t go far, but straight to the apartment building right next door. A mirror image of the one they’d just left, down to the identical door leading into another cold, dark basement.
Defeat was staggering. Would Mike figure out to look for her and Brodie here? Or was it already too late? She didn’t want to believe he’d been captured, but the words the gunman had spoken rang in her ears.
The others are already here and the boss wants everyone together.
Steeling herself for the worst, she carefully negotiated her and Brodie down the steep staircase. She could hear Duncan struggling behind her, his breath coming in short, fast pants. She hated knowing how much pain her brother was in and wished there was something she could do to get them out of there.
But there wasn’t.
At the bottom of the basement stairs, she stood, waiting for direction. Her brother soon joined her, followed by all four of the gunmen.
Four of them, she thought desperately. Even if Mike hadn’t been captured, how would they manage to get past four gunmen?
“Move,” the man said gruffly from behind her.
She didn’t wait to be prodded by the gun, but quickly walked forward, assuming the setup in this building was a mirror image of the other.
And she was right. At the other end of the long basement was a door with a padlock on the outside.
A man brushed past her and went to work unlocking the door. He swung it open and she shifted Brodie in her arms as she crossed the threshold.
“Who’s there?” a querulous woman’s voice asked. “My sons aren’t going to rest until they find us, you hear me?”
Another, older female voice chimed in. “If you’re smart, you’ll let us go before they arrive.”
“Shut up,” the man beside her roared.
“Calm down, Jarvis,” an older male voice said, stepping out from the corner of the basement. “After all, enticing the Callahans to come here is part of my master plan.”
Shayla filed away the name Jarvis in the recesses of her memory even as she tried to understand what was going on. Who were the women inside the room? And why was getting the Callahans here part of the older man’s master plan?
“Who is that?” the older female voice demanded.
There was a long moment of silence before the man named Jarvis broke it. “Get inside. Now!”
Shayla entered the room, heading toward the wall to allow space for Duncan to follow her.
The door clanged shut behind them and she could hear the metallic sound of the padlock being connected.
“Who’s there?” the younger woman’s tremulous voice asked.
“I’m Shayla O’Hare and I have my son, Brodie, and my brother, Duncan, with me, too.” She hesitated and then added, “Who are you?”
“My name is Margaret Callahan and I have my mother, Eleanor with me, as well.”
“My grandsons call me Nan,” the shaky voice added.
Mike’s mother and grandmother had been kidnapped, too? How was that possible?
Then she realized the truth. This was a trap in which she, Brodie, Mike’s mother and grandmother were being used as bait.
SEVENTEEN
Mike’s phone rang. He quickly answered it. “Hello?”
“Mike?” His sister Maddy’s voice was thick with tears. “Something terrible has happened. Mom and Nan are gone.”
A chill rippled over his skin. “What do you mean gone?”
“There are signs of a struggle at the house, chairs knocked over and spilled food on the counter. You know how Mom and Nan are total neat freaks. They’re gone. Mom and Nan are gone!”