“Lucky for us, someone was kind enough to paint the street name on their mailbox,” said Lucas, grinning. It warmed my heart to see that grin.
“The Prius is at 6553, so we’re only about four blocks away from it,” said Bart. “I’ll call an ambulance,” which he did, noting the address where he’d parked, and stressing the danger of the situation.
“Tell them no siren once the ambulance reaches the cut-off to Marion Way,” warned Michael, beside himself with worry.
“Right,” said Bart, relaying that information as well.
We started up the road now, keeping on the footpath to the side of the road.
“I want to stay with Seth. Bart and I’ll go to the hospital with him,” said Kate.
Ignace let Fernice know he’d arrived, then moved silently up the driveway behind the laurel hedge. His footsteps made no sound in the layer of soft cedar chips which rimmed the hedge. Desocarras and Fernice were waiting for him close to the side door of the garage. They all moved into the garage. Fernice introduced Ignace.
“North Van is on the way,” said Alex. “We’re hoping in the next 10 minutes. They’re busy tonight.”
“How many perps?”
“We don’t know,” said Alex.
We do have seven unconscious children in the Suburban over there,” said Jeri.
“It’s great we have the kids!”
“We’re not sure if we have all of them. I’ll go now and check out the other buildings,” said Alex.
“They plan on moving them tonight and very soon,” said Jeri. You and I will cover the children and wait for the driver. When he arrives, we’ll subdue him and get the keys. Our priority is to get them to safety.”
Joy regained consciousness, but when she tried to sit up, she couldn’t move; she was pinned down by something heavy. She pushed up, hard as she could. An arm flopped down, and a body rolled over and landed in a crumpled heap behind the front seats. Melanie’s eyes stared up at Joy, glassy and vacant. Her first instinct was to scream. She knew she had to get away. She struggled to sit up but was overcome by nausea and weakness. Silent tears slid down her cheeks into the cushion. Melanie was dead and she would be too.
The car was old and the air close and thick with the acrid smell of mould and stale cigarette smoke. She grabbed the armrest near her head and pulled herself close enough to the door to try to open it. Hearing a click, she nudged the door open a few inches. Fresh air rushed in from outside, and she gratefully turned her face towards it. Now a stranger was opening the door and peering in.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
“Please. No more!”
“Shh,” said Alex, finger to his lips. “We’re here to help ma’am.” He bent over and looked closely at the body on the floor of the car, inert, eyes staring, sightless.
“How many men are here, on the property?” he whispered.
She looked at him, dazed. Alex pointed at himself. He mimicked a person walking with two fingers pointing down, gestured in the air around him. Then she realized what he was asking.
She counted to herself. “Eight men.”
“What’s your name ma’am?” Alex asked her.
“Joy,” she barely got out before she slipped into unconsciousness. Moments later, Alex felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. Too late. Felt the sucker punch to the side of his jaw, felt himself airborne the short distance to the bushes beside the car. Dazed, he listened as the car started up and crunched over something ceramic before it hurtled past him down the driveway.
Fernice and Ignace heard the car start up. “Stay with the kids,” said Jeri. I’m going to check on Alex.”
She found him in the bushes, about five metres from the garage.
“I’m fine,” he insisted as he struggled to his feet. “Let’s get back to the garage.”
“What happened?” she said, once they were inside the garage.
“I found two women in a Honda, close to the gatehouse. One was deceased. One was conscious, at least long enough to tell me there are eight men on the property.”
“Eight.”
“That’s when I was sucker punched,” said Alex. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”
We arrived at the Prius. Bart fetched a mat and a blanket from the trunk. The mat went on the ground and we lowered Seth onto it. Then Bart knelt behind him, supporting him while we tucked the blanket around him.
It was a while before the ambulance arrived, but once they did, the attendants took over. They did an assessment, moved Seth to a striker board and onto a gurney and then into the ambulance. Bart handed me the keys to the car. He’d pulled doctor status and they were letting him ride in the back of the ambulance.
“I need to be with the boy,” said Kate. She looked at Michael. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.” She got into the cab. The driver did a U-turn and the ambulance disappeared into the swirling fog.
Lucas, Michael, and I climbed into the car and the boys settled gratefully into their seats. I could well understand; I was tired, and I hadn’t done any of the carrying.
Michael broke the silence. “She said everything’s going to be okay.”
“She did.”
“I hope that means the kids are okay.”
“We could go up to Batlan’s, park a couple of blocks below.”
“Morgan, you know we can’t do that!”
“I want to go up there too, Morgan, but Lucas is right.”
“Well, what do we do now?”
“We could follow the ambulance to the hospital and wait with Bart and Kate,” said Michael.
“To the hospital then,” I said, as I started the car up and turned on the lights. I was about to start a U turn when a burgundy Honda careened past us, far too close for comfort. There was something about the driver’s face—when it clicked.
“That was him!”
Michael was lost in his own thoughts and Lucas was on his cell phone, texting Alex that Seth was on his way to the hospital.
“Who?” asked Lucas.
“The guy at the lake!” I shouted, as I did a U-turn, “The one who tried to kill me!” I took off after the burgundy Honda.
“Holy shit!” said Michael.
“Get as close as you can, Morgan!” Lucas yelled, “so we can get the plate number!”
It was eerie, coming up behind his taillights, elongated beacons of red orange that disappeared and reappeared in the heavy fog. They were my only point of reference.
The car was giving us a GPS readout and Michael had his phone out as well. I’d come down the Marion Lake, Rice Road extension and turned onto Lynn Valley Road, one of the main connectors to Mountain Highway, the Hwy 1 extension that would take us over back the Ironworkers Bridge.
The Honda was pushing it. “He must know this road really well,” said Lucas.
I didn’t and I found that oddly comforting.
As we descended further down the mountain and closer to the Burrard Inlet, our visibility slowly started to improve. This area was more built up and I backed off, concerned for unseen traffic and possible pedestrians.
“I don’t see him!”
“There he is!” Lucas yelled. “The lane beside us.”
I changed lanes and edged closer. He gunned it and pulled away from me.
“He knows we’re onto him—he’s getting away!”
“It’s okay Morgan, I got the plate number: 383 HIR ... or 385.”
“I think 5, 385,” said Michael, who was nearly in the front seat with us, craning his neck to read it.
“I’ll text Alex the plate number,” said Lucas.
“Tell him we’re on Lynn Valley Road. Close to the 29th Avenue intersection.”
Our visibility had improved. As we approached the intersection, I could see I had the green light. I slowed a bit and had just started through when a bright red, compact car shot out of the fog on our right. I had to swerve hard to the left to avoid it
and the other driver swerved right, both of us squealing to a stop.
The car missed us by inches. I quickly pulled around the guy and got the hell out of the intersection. I drove along for several minutes but the Honda was nowhere to be seen.
“Maybe I should backtrack.”
“He knows we’re following him. Maybe he pulled over somewhere and is waiting for us to go by,” said Lucas.
We’d traveled less than a kilometre when Michael spotted the front end of the Honda as we sailed past the far side of the William underpass.
“There he is! Keep going and turn off as soon as you can, but not too soon.” We were at a lower elevation now and visibility was a good 20 metres.
I spotted my chance and pulled off into a mini-mall parking lot. There was parking at the front and side as well. I pulled into the side parking lot, did a U turn so we were facing Lynn Valley Road, pulled up to the outside wall of a 24-hour convenience store and shut the car off. We didn’t have to wait long. The burgundy Honda shot by a few minutes later.
“There he is!” we all yelled together. I started the car and I took off after him.
“No word back from Alex?” Michael asked.
“Not yet.”
“He’ll have to go through the intersection at the next cut-off and take a left onto the highway,” said Michael, consulting his phone. “It’s a steep downhill all the way from here. There’s a couple more exits, a few kilometres from the Ironworkers Bridge.”
“I’m going to hang back a bit. Maybe he’ll think he lost us.”
Lucas was first to spot him a few minutes later. “I think that’s him in front of the Mercedes, two cars up. See him, Morgan? He’s trying to pass the SUV in front of him.”
“I see him.” I stayed behind the Mercedes and sure enough when he got his chance, he gunned it around the SUV. Now there were two cars between us.
“Do you think Alex got your text?” asked Michael.
“I’m sure he did. Something must be up.”
Cecil Green sauntered into the garage. Ignace took him to the ground and Fernice cuffed him. She found some lengths of rope hanging on the end wall of the garage and bound his feet.
“I’ll get you, you fucking bitch,” Green shouted as Fernice pocketed the keys to the Suburban and the perp’s cell.
“Unfortunately, a favorite of mine,” she said as she quickly gagged him with her scarf. Working together, they took the last piece of rope and tied his hands to his feet, behind him.
“That should hold him awhile,” said Jeri. She handed the keys to Adam. They approached the Suburban and he unlocked it. Fernice noticed a young girl in the front passenger seat was watching them. She quickly closed her eyes when she saw that Jeri had spotted her.
She opened the passenger side door a few inches. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid of us. We’re here to help.”
The young girl opened her eyes and studied Fernice carefully.
“Who are you?”
“We’re police officers.”
Carey had watched the officers subdue Cecil. She decided she could trust her and informed her solemnly, “They’ll kill you if they find you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Fernice, just as seriously. “What’s your name?”
“Carey.”
“Carey Bolton?” The girl nodded. “Well, it’s my pleasure to meet you Carey. You’re a very brave girl.”
Carey didn’t say anything. She didn’t feel very brave.
“Are there more children in the house?”
“No. We’re all here. Except for Georgina. She’s somewhere else. Because she got hurt trying to escape. And Marie. They were going to sell her tonight. And Seth. I don’t know where he is. Does my mom know you’re here?”
“Your mom knows we’re here. We’ll let her know you’re okay. Right now, we’re going to get all of you out of here as quick as we can. “Does Marie have long dark curls?”
“Yes.”
“Then she’s safe.”
Carey’s face lit up in a big smile, which quickly disappeared. “But what about Seth?”
“He’s on his way to the hospital.”
Alex was a block down from the foot of Batlan’s driveway, waiting for North Van. Jeri called to let him know Ignace was coming out with the children. Carey Bolton was one of them.
“He’s driving them down the mountain to the Lynn Valley connector. Ambulances will meet him there.”
“Two cruisers just arrived,” said Alex.
“Good. Ignace is coming out now.”
“Once he’s in position, we’ll move on the gatehouse and the main house.”
Fernice turned to Ignace. “They’re waiting for you. Text me once you’re at the connector, and again when all the children have been picked up.” She opened the garage door. Adam started the car and pulled out of the garage. The car was quickly enveloped in mist as he headed down the driveway to the road. She closed the garage door then checked on Cecil Green. She didn’t want him interfering with their plans. She quickly left the garage and joined Alex at the foot of the driveway.
“Arena, O’Meara and Bolton are chasing the burgundy Honda,” he told her when she reached him.
“Give me strength,” she muttered, furious.
“Whitaker, advise your dispatch that we have three civilians in a dark blue Prius chasing the burgundy Honda I just called in. We need to intercept that Honda. They were at Lynne Valley and 29th Avenue about four minutes ago.” Alex texted:
Sending cruiser to intercept Honda. Where are you now?
It was a full minute before the text came back:
Close to last cut off upper level highway before bridge.
Whitaker passed that along to the North Van dispatch. The call had gone out to a cruiser on the Dollarton Highway.
“They could get themselves hurt,” said Whitaker. “Are they crazy?”
“A little, yes,” said Alex.
“More than a little,” said Jeri.
Alex texted Lucas again:
Why are you chasing Honda?
Lucas texted back:
Driver Morgan’s abductor.
“Morgan, the police are going to try to stop the Honda.”
She had just rounded the curve and was looking for the last exit ramp from the Upper Levels Highway. They were about eight km from the Ironworkers Bridge and there was no cruiser in sight.
“Where are they?”
“They didn’t say.”
Morgan moved into the passing lane to keep an eye on the Honda.
“Look! said Michael. “Isn’t that Joy in the back seat?” Joy disappeared from view briefly. A few moments later she was visible again.
“There she is again! What’s she doing?”
“She’s got something in her hand. She’s trying to hit him. He’s swatting at her.” The Honda swerved from side to side. “She’s trying to stop him!” yelled Michael.
“She’s going to get herself killed,” said Lucas, teeth clenched, as I swung back into the right-hand lane.
“She knows it’s her only hope. The man’s a deranged psychopath!”
“Morgan he’s exiting!” said Michael. The Honda had swung into the Exit 22 lane, tires squealing.
There was no one behind me as I careened down the exit ramp, right behind him.
“I don’t see Joy,” said Lucas.
“I don’t either. He’s going east on Fern,” said Michael.
“What the hell’s he up to?”
“If he catches Lillooet Road and heads north, if I remember correctly, there’s a lot of bush,” Michael said. “It’s been a while, but I’ve been up here before.”
Sure enough, a few minutes later, the Honda turned onto Lillooet Rd. I followed. We were heading north now. We were going up again and it wasn’t long before we entered fog as thick as it had been on Marion Way. The Honda had disappeared. Without warning, we arrived at an intersection and
I had to brake quickly. Lillooet Road seemed to come to an abrupt stop.
“It’s a roundabout,” said Michael. “If we go right, we head further up the mountain. Left takes us into the roundabout and back the way we came.
We decided to go right. We were still heading uphill, a much steeper climb now. Now and then, we caught glimpses of pine boughs hanging close to the road, but little else.
“How long have we been on this road?”
“Ten minutes,” said Michael, checking his phone. “There are no intercepting roads shown on the map.”
“This car is in a lot better shape than the Honda. We’d have overtaken him if he’d gone this way. I vote we return to the roundabout.” The guys agreed.
I turned around and headed back down. By the time we made it back to the turnoff, over twenty minutes had gone by. I started into the roundabout.
“Morgan, there’s a hiking trail that connects with this hub,” said Michael. I cruised slowly around the circle, but we saw no sign of the trail entrance.
“It’s here, somewhere,” he insisted.
I headed back into the curve again. Lucas saw the exit first, almost hidden because it formed a backwards V with the hub.
I hung a sharp right onto a dirt trail. We were heading downhill, but I stopped quickly when we dipped into a large pothole.
“We’re better off on foot,” said Lucas. “We can travel faster.”
I backed out of the pothole, pulled over and killed the engine. We climbed out and I locked up, securing the key in a zippered pocket.
Without a word, we fanned out across the trail and headed slowly down the path, Michael and Lucas on either side of me.
We hadn’t gone far when Michael came to an abrupt halt. A woman was sprawled in his path. He knelt beside her and checked her pulse.
“It’s the housekeeper. She’s alive, but unconscious. She must have gotten away somehow.”
I bent to have a closer look. She’d been doused with acetone.
“I’ll stay with her,” said Michael. He cradled her with one arm while he wrapped his jacket around her. “I’ll call for help. You two be careful,” he whispered, as Morgan and Lucas disappeared into the fog. Then he called 911 and quietly explained who he was, described the scene as best he could, gave the coordinates from the GPS app on his phone and explained that there was at least one cruiser already looking for a burgundy Honda and them.
Blue Star Page 26
