Mounted

by E. H. Reinhard

  “Don’t know,” I said. “Seems a little immature.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, obvious resolution. Turn your phone off for the night. Anything work related will also come to me. I’ll just let you know if it’s something you need to know.”

  “Yeah.” She hit a button on the side of her phone and dumped it into her pocket. Beth and I finished our dinner and settled up the bill. I left her in the lobby and headed up to my room. After a solid hour of television mixed with commercial breaks of researching where one could buy human-looking glass eyes, my cell phone rang. I clicked Talk and brought the phone to my ear.

  “Babe,” I said.

  “Hey, you. How’s Kentucky?” Karen asked.

  “Meh. Nothing really got done on the investigation today. Aside from us getting in late, we stopped by a local precinct and just kind of made a plan of attack. The hotel here is nice, though. Beth and I just ate downstairs a bit ago.”

  “So what are you doing now?” she asked.

  “I’m just kind of winding down in my room. Looking at a few things on my phone. I’ll probably stay up for another half hour or so and call it a night. I want to be up early and get started on checking out some locations where our girls were last seen and had been taken from.”

  “You didn’t really give me too much about what this investigation was about, other than the vague references of beheadings.”

  “Trust me—that’s all you want. But if you really want the gory details, I guess I can give them to you.”

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  “You sure? You’ll probably catch it on the news within a few days, anyway. These guys here think they can kind of keep this all under wraps, which I’m pretty certain won’t happen.”

  “Yeah, I’ll still pass for now,” she said.

  “Probably for the best,” I said. “What are you doing?”

  “Surfing the Internet, looking at furniture that could go with a new house—some things for kids’ rooms.”

  “Probably would require a new house first?” I said. “And a kid.”

  “I’ve been meaning to bring that up,” Karen said. “I think we should schedule something to look at that Leaf Lane place again. We’re going to need to find a place soon.”

  “We’ll talk when I get back—look at a few places, schedule some stuff.”

  “You said you liked that place, right?”

  “I liked it. Can’t say I’m all that jazzed about the price,” I said.

  “Everything around here is expensive, Hank.”

  “I’m aware. You sure you don’t want to think about re-signing where we’re at?”

  “I think it’s time we get a home,” she said.

  “Well, find some potentials, and when I get back, we’ll start looking. So why do we need new furniture?”

  “I’m just browsing. On another note, when you get home, we’re going to have to talk about how we want to proceed with the adoption plans. Mainly, what age child we’ll be a good home for. I was thinking that we should talk to our case worker and see what she thinks.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” I said. “I told Beth the news earlier today and mentioned that you and I will have to have a real discussion about it.”

  “What did she say?” Karen asked.

  “She was happy for us. And wanted me to tell you congratulations and all that. She seems to think we’ll make good parents.”

  “Aw, that’s nice of her. Tell her thank you. She needs to ditch that ex-husband and find a real guy to have a family with.”

  “Did you want me to tell her that part as well?” I asked.

  “No. Not that part.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I think she’s about done with him, anyway. The quarreling seems to have escalated to the point where she might actually rip off the Band-Aid and be done.”

  “Good. Good for her. I mean, I’ve only met the guy the handful of times that we’ve been out, but he just seems like an ass. She’s too nice to be with someone like that.”

  “Loving someone tends to affect judgment. Just be happy that you love me because I’m pretty much as good as it gets.”

  “Yeah, same,” Karen said.

  I chuckled.

  “All right, baby. I just wanted to say hi and goodnight. I’ll call you in the morning on my way to work. If I don’t catch you, just call me when you get a chance.”

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  “Love you.”

  “Yup, love you, too. Have a good night.”

  I clicked off and tossed my phone onto the nightstand. My glass-eye research, which I wasn’t coming up with much on, could resume in the morning. I reached for the remote control to actually find something to watch and heard my phone buzz from a call. I reached over and scooped it up, figuring Karen was calling back because she forgot to tell me something. The phone’s screen said it was Beth.

  I clicked Talk. “What’s up?”

  “Hank, come downstairs. I’m in the bar.”

  Beth clicked off before I could ask why. I stared at the screen of my phone, debating whether to call her back and ask her what she wanted. Her tone of voice struck me as odd. I scooped up my room key from the desk near the window, slipped on my shoes, and headed down the hall to the elevator.

  CHAPTER NINE

  As I walked down the hall toward the hotel bar, voices there were shouting at each other. I stepped through the bar’s doorway and entered the dimly lit room filled with empty booths and tall vacant tables and chairs. I didn’t see Beth anywhere, just two guys standing chest to chest near the bar.

  When I glanced toward the far-right corner of the room, one of the guys shouted, “What’s your problem?” pulling my eyes immediately back to the left.

  I focused on the men and the lone female bartender behind the bar, who was threatening to call for security. One of the men had his back toward me while the other faced me but was blocked from my view by the other guy’s back. In an instant, the guy with his back toward me pushed the other man and threw a punch, which landed.

  A woman yelled, “Stop!”

  The guy who got hit threw a single punch in retaliation, which sent the other guy to the floor. As the pair separated, I saw Beth seated at the bar behind where the men stood—she was the one that had yelled. I hustled over.

  “What the hell is going on over here?” I asked in a loud voice.

  Beth stood from the barstool. “Hank, it’s fine.”

  “Fine?” I asked. “You called me, and I come down to whatever this is.” I stopped before the group and pointed at the man who’d delivered the punch that sent the other down. “I’m FBI. You, stay.”

  The guy, who looked to be around thirty-five, a few inches under six foot, and husky, held his palms up toward me submissively. My attention turned to the man pushing himself off of the floor, whom I immediately recognized.

  “This isn’t any of your business, Hank,” he said, rising to his feet.

  “Aside from the fact that it looks like you probably just got what you deserved, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Hank, just leave it alone. Scott was just leaving. Weren’t you, Scott?” Beth asked.

  Scott stood before me, his lip bloodied. He wiped at it with his thumb and looked at the blood. Scott pointed at the man who’d floored him. “You’re lucky I don’t kick the shit out of you.”

  “Come and try,” the guy said. “You don’t treat women like that.”

  Scott tried to take a step toward the guy but ran into my outstretched hand. I looked him in the face. “Weren’t you just leaving?” I asked. “Like, getting on a plane leaving?”

  Scott looked past me at Beth. “You and I are going to talk, bitch.”

  I resisted the urge to put him back on the ground, knowing that Beth would rather I didn’t.

  “Yeah, that’s about enough of that.” I spun Scott by the shoulders, balled the back of his shirt in my fist, hearing the fabric rip somewhere, and escorted him
from the bar area. He tried pulling from my grasp once or twice but couldn’t break my hold. I walked him to the hotel’s exit and out front.

  “Get the hell off of me,” Scott said.

  I let him go with a firm shove.

  “The bitch goes out of town, and I catch her at a hotel bar talking to some guy.” Scott paced the sidewalk and started back toward the doors to go inside.

  I stepped in his way. “You should probably cool it with the whole bitch thing, and that’s going to be your final warning with that.”

  “What are you going to do about it? I’ll call her whatever I want.”

  Scott tried getting past me again, but I gave him another shove toward the sidewalk. “Just leave, Scott. Think about what you’re doing here.”

  “Nah, I’m not going anywhere. Screw that guy. I want to press charges. He assaulted me.”

  “Dipshit. I stood there and watched you push the guy and throw a punch at him first. This is before he put your dumb ass to the ground. But, yeah, go ahead and call the local police and tell them.”

  Scott said nothing—just resumed pacing.

  “Okay. Listen close because if you don’t, we’re going to have more of a problem than you just embarrassing yourself. Now, I don’t care why you’re here or what you think Beth was just doing. You’re going to take your ass back home—on a plane, leaving town, back home.”

  “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? That’s my wife. This isn’t any of your business.”

  “Okay. One, she’s your ex-wife. Two, you’re affecting my partner’s ability to conduct a federal investigation. That means you’re affecting my abilities because I have to worry about my partner’s state of mind. I’ll make this simple for you. If I see you again while I’m in this city, you’ll be locked up for interfering in a federal investigation. Understand that? As in handcuffs, charges, sitting in a cell.”

  “You can’t do that,” Scott said.

  “I can, and I’m actually kind of hoping that you test me out on this one. See, here’s the thing…” I paused and shrugged. “I just don’t care for you that much, so I’m completely fine with seeing you in cuffs and having someone put you in a cell.”

  “Yeah, okay, nice threat. Beth would never let you do it,” he said.

  “I’ll just take it out of her hands, then. We can get you a cell right away, actually. I’ll go back inside and talk that guy into filing a case. We’ll get the local PD down here. Hell, I’d even go as far as saying I witnessed the whole thing to the officers. An FBI agent makes a hell of a witness. What do you think? You can walk yourself up the street and leave, or you can spend the night in lockup.”

  Scott stepped directly before me—his forehead equal with my nose. I assumed he was trying to exert some kind of dominance or something. His body language looked as though he’d done that before—a high-school sort of tough-guy move that he’d probably pulled out in the past.

  I didn’t budge. He puffed out his chest, which made contact with my suit jacket. I stared down at him staring up at me with anger in his eyes.

  “You may want to reconsider your actions right now,” I said.

  “Oh, you think so?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  “What are you going to do about it? You want to go a few rounds with me?”

  “What?”

  “I asked if you want to dance, Hank. You think you can take me?”

  I furrowed my brows. “I’m actually just trying to figure out if you’re serious right now. If you want to swing on me, do it. I’m guessing you won’t like the outcome.”

  He jerked his chin at me as though he was trying to get me to flinch. I didn’t move or bat an eye.

  “What was that?” I asked. “Was that the part where I was supposed to get scared or something?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Look, I don’t have all night. Are you going to just stand there like an idiot? Or throw a punch and then take a nap on the sidewalk?”

  He let out a puff of air, mumbled, “That’s what I thought,” turned, and headed down the block. I watched him as he made the corner and walked out of view.

  “What a jackass.” I turned and walked through the hotel’s doors to find Beth and ask what exactly had occurred.

  She was inside, still seated at the bar and talking to the bartender. The guy whom I’d told to stay had gone. I took a seat next to Beth.

  The bartender stared at me. “Everything all right?”

  “Fine,” I said. “Can I just get a gin and tonic?”

  “Sure.” The bartender fixed my drink, set it before me, and walked to the far end of the bar, to give Beth and me a bit of privacy.

  “Sorry.” Beth held her head in her hands and stared down at the bar. “And thank you.”

  “No sweat,” I said.

  “Is he gone?” she asked.

  “He is. Are you going to tell me what the hell that just was?” I lifted my glass and took a sip.

  Beth took in a deep breath. “Well, apparently Scott had put one of those find-my-phone apps on my cell phone without my knowledge. He flew here to continue arguing with me, I imagine, because I wouldn’t take his calls or respond to his messages.”

  That struck me as evidence that he had serious problems, but I didn’t respond, waiting for Beth to get to the altercation.

  “Anyway. I’m sitting here, having a drink and chitchatting with the bartender and the guy that you saw—just small talk, harmless. The guy said he owned a couple of small car dealerships and was in town for some kind of auto-industry conference or something. I don’t know. Anyway, he said he’d lived in Chicago for a bit, so we were talking about that. The bartender said she’d just taken a trip to D.C. the prior year, so we were talking about that—like I said, just shooting the breeze.

  “Then I hear a voice shouting my name—I recognize the voice immediately as Scott’s. I spin on my barstool and see Scott staring down at his phone and then looking around. That’s when I called you. So he ends up seeing me at the bar and storms over, asking me what the hell I think I’m doing. Him standing in front of me, and the look on his face, I just knew it was going to end up getting bad. I ask him how the hell he knew where I was, and he tells me he put something on my phone. Well, then he reaches out and grabs my arm to pull me toward him. I yank back, and the guy that was at the bar stands up and asks if there’s a problem. Scott gets up in his face, telling him to mind his business. The guy—his name was James, I think—tells Scott to leave me alone, and then the two started going back and forth. I tried to defuse the situation, but Scott just wouldn’t let it go. The bartender asks if she should call security, Scott accuses me of being a slut, the James guy is just trying to get Scott to leave, and then, well, I think you pretty much saw the rest.”

  “Just a run-of-the-mill Monday night,” I said.

  Beth smirked and shook her head. “What an asshole. What did you say to him outside?”

  “I told him to leave. A couple different ways.”

  “Did he try to start something with you?” Beth asked.

  “I think he was trying to.” I lifted my glass, took another drink, and swallowed. “He was flapping his gums and got in my face a little bit. Puffed his little chest out at me. I think he kind of got the point that I wasn’t screwing around with him and finally left. But he did it in a tough-guy kind of way, so he has that going for him.”

  “I’m sorry, Hank. I should maybe call Ball in the morning and see if he can send Scott or Bill out.”

  “Do you think that you need to do that?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  William sat behind the wheel of his second vehicle, an old unmarked patrol car he’d picked up from a California police auction just a month or two prior. He stared through the windshield, across the street, at a restaurant parking lot. He’d been watching the side lot for the past few hours. He took the binoculars from his eyes and glanced at the time on the dash—a couple minut
es past midnight. The restaurant had closed at eleven, and the only remaining people were staff. William imagined the remaining employees were cleaning up, possibly having a drink and talking about their nights, tips, problem guests, and the other happenings from the shift.

  William had been a little more careful with each new capture. With the first couple victims he’d acquired, he was extremely reckless—merely stopping them as he saw them. Even Katelyn Willard had been a bit too dangerous for his liking. He’d seen her in a fast-food chain completely by chance and simply followed her back to her apartment. The parking lot was dark, and no one had been around where she parked.

  William had since decided to stick with how he’d picked up the fourth woman, April Backer. Her method of capture, what he was currently in the process of doing, was a bit more planned out and provided a lot less risk. He brought the binoculars back to his eyes and looked across the street at the parking lot.

  “About time,” he said.

  He watched as a couple of people funneled from the back door and stood around for a minute or two, smoking and talking, before heading to their respective cars. William kept eyes on a smaller female. The couple lights in the restaurant parking lot lit her up—yet, even through the binoculars, she was too far away for him to determine anything other than the fact she was a woman. She hopped into an older economy car parked near the end of the lot and backed up.

  “Well, let’s see what we get,” William said. He started his car and waited.

  Once she pulled from the restaurant’s parking lot and made a left out onto the main street before it, William clicked on his headlights and pulled out from the lot he was parked in. He turned onto the main road and headed in the direction she’d gone. The streets, due to the late hour, were mostly empty. He caught her car in the roadway about three quarters of a block up.

  William increased his speed a bit to keep her within a half a block but got no closer. He followed behind her the better part of four or five miles down the forty-mile-an-hour street until he caught her brake lights and her blinker showing a right turn. William took in the road as he made the turn after her, realizing he’d still need to wait for a lower-traffic street.