“Look, if Terry has your sister, what difference does it make how many people he knows? He could have killed her when he had the chance.” I paused. “Or maybe not. What’s going on, Amanda? There’s something you’re leaving out.”
Amanda dangled a set of car keys.
“You take your husband’s car. He knows yours. If he’s waiting out there, he’ll go after me.” Of course, if Terry had Elizabeth, he wasn’t interested in Amanda.
Nineteen
Inside West Perimeter Road
Elizabeth ran deeper into the woods. No one could drive through these trees unless they had a tank, and Terry wasn’t driving one.
She stopped running when she felt safe, then leaned against a Ficus tree and vomited. That was close. She knew what her crazy husband was capable of—especially now that she’d escaped once by lying to him about returning to their home.
But now, she’d tested his patience. Terry had already killed her New York therapist because he thought she was having an affair with the guy. He was on the warpath, and she feared he would stop at nothing to get her back, even if it meant killing another therapist: Nick Ross.
While surrounded by nothing but darkness and the occasional smell of raccoon—which she was petrified of—Elizabeth thought of Nick Ross. She was totally smitten. He was caring and loving and wasn’t looking for a one-night stand. She had to keep him safe. Them safe. But how?
Elizabeth wiped her soiled mouth, spit out residue from a slice of pizza she’d grabbed on the run, and carefully made her way back to the parking lot. When she reached the clearing, she stopped and looked around.
She noticed two cars heading out. Amanda’s cars. She tried running after them, but it was too late. Amanda and Hank Reed—she assumed—must have thought Terry had taken her. She wanted to scream.
Elizabeth leaned her tired body against a Queen Palm. Thank God she’d taken her handbag. She removed her other cell phone—a burner—and was about to call her sister to turn around and pick her up, then stopped.
What if Terry was still lurking around, maybe waiting for her somewhere on West Perimeter Road? He knew the car she was driving. Terry wasn’t an idiot; he’d know she’d have to return to the car eventually, and he’d be watching just outside the safe perimeter zone.
Oh, God! What if he cuts off her car? Or Hank’s? Would he harm them?
Elizabeth inhaled jet fuel and became nauseous. She held back, heaving again. She knew she needed to get out of there. Fast.
Elizabeth remembered passing a building near the parking lot. Naval Museum or something. She skirted the back of the parking lot and dashed across the dark, lonely road and climbed a few steps to the entrance. It was closed, which suited her fine.
She really only had one option: Uber. She removed the burner from her bag and made contact.
Elizabeth Bash had managed to outmaneuver her crazy husband once again. But she wondered for how long.
While following Amanda to the interstate, I wondered why the sisters refused to go to the police. Body language spoke a lot about a person during difficult times, but I couldn’t get a read on Amanda.
I called her. “Time is of the essence. If you want me to help you and your sister, tell me now: what is Elizabeth up to?”
Amanda sighed into the phone. “Fair enough. Elizabeth was bored with her job, and not having kids, decided to go into business. Maybe a carwash like Skyler in Breaking Bad. When she mentioned her idea to Terry, he thought it was great. He’d put up the funds. Turns out, he was familiar with the series, too. Only his plan was to wash other people’s money, not cars. When Elizabeth found out what he was up to—only recently she swears—she demanded he stop, or else.” Amanda paused. “Terry doesn’t take threats lightly.”
“Did she say how long the laundry business had been operating?”
“Terry was evasive and told her not to interfere in his business.”
Continuing on the interstate northbound, I asked, “And it took her all this time to figure out what he was up to? Seriously? You told me she was the brains of the family.”
Amanda must have taken offense to my response and nudged a little closer to the median. “She claimed she didn’t know until recently, period.”
I continued watching her car. “No offense. But you must admit—”
“What can I tell you, Hank? I believe my sister.”
Apparently, Amanda was very protective of Elizabeth. My instinct told me Elizabeth knew what Terry was up to long before she admitted it to Amanda. Maybe she had a personal stake in that part of the business. Hence, no cops.
I could hear tears in the background, and the car again, tittering off the lane. “Elizabeth left her phone in the car, so there’s no way I can reach her. Oh, Hank, this is so bad.”
“We’ll find her,” I assured. “Did she mention the motel she escaped from?”
“The Rustic Motel, off Federal Highway in Davie.”
“Where’s that?”
“Just north of the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel & Casino, on State Road 7.”
“It’s foreign to me, Amanda. I’ll follow you. Just don’t enter the parking lot. Terry might already be there. And one other thing: we haven’t finished our conversation on the carwash business.”
“I have a call coming in,” she said quickly, and hung up.
The Uber driver pulled up to the Coastal Inn, an old, brick and mortar building with a big, obnoxious yellow and white neon sign blinking its name and “Coffee Shop”.
Elizabeth ran to her unit and double-locked the door, then stripped down before jumping into the shower.
After patting herself dry, she retrieved the burner from her handbag and called her sister.
“I’m safe. Terry missed me by minutes. I took an Uber back to my motel.” She perched on the bed and surveyed the room with its flower wallpaper and yellow everywhere: drapes, bedspread, and wall-to-wall shag carpeting. God, she felt dirty.
“Terry must have found out where I was heading. How the hell…?”
“Thank God you’re safe. Stay put.”
“I need to get out of Fort Lauderdale, Amanda.” She looked in the room mirror. Her face showed fatigue—dark circles and new wrinkles.
“Nick has been looking everywhere for you! You know he’s crazy about you.” She stopped.
“I hear a but in your voice.”
“Nick’s been hospitalized. He’s…had a breakdown. We need to find a way for you to see him—tell him you’re okay.” She paused. “Could be why he got sick.”
“Oh, God. It’s all my fault.” She shook her head. “I need to see him. Can we do it?”
“You’re on a burner, right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, stay put and don’t open the door for anyone. I mean it, Elizabeth, no one. Hank is behind me in my car. I’ll have him follow me to your motel. See you in less than a half-hour.”
“Please hurry.”
I glanced in the rearview mirror. The same vehicle had been following me for the past few minutes. I entered the center lane. The truck pulled out and kept a tail. I feared following Amanda, especially if she was heading toward Terry’s motel. I called, but had to leave a voice message.
“I think I’m being followed. Forget Terry’s motel. Keep driving and I’ll call when it’s safe.”
As Amanda continued north, I exited at Broward Boulevard. My tail followed. So much for speculation. One good sign: if Terry had Elizabeth, he wouldn’t be following me.
I made a quick right onto South Andrews Avenue then another at Himmarshee Street, finding myself in the heart of downtown Fort Lauderdale. At midnight, the streets were near-deserted. My cell chimed, and I picked it up.
“Where’d you go?” Amanda asked.
“Didn’t you get my message? I think Terry’s following me. I’m sure he was waiting outside the perimeter road for Elizabeth to show up. Which means he doesn’t have her.”
“I know. She called me when you were calling in. Sorry. I ch
anged plans and am driving to her motel, the Coastal Inn. What are you going to do?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Be careful. He’s—”
“I know, dangerous. Later.” I disconnected and pulled up alongside an IMAX movie theater. The truck stopped a few spots behind me. I pressed my Glock, took a breath, and emerged from the car.
The truck remained still, so I waved and approached the passenger side, my slack arms at my sides. This wasn’t what I’d signed up for, but here I was going after bad guys again. I must be crazy, but if Terry thought I knew where Elizabeth was, he’d hold off shooting.
That was my hope, anyway.
I stood next to the front passenger window and motioned the guy to roll it down. When he did, I peered inside. “Say fellas, I need directions. I’m from out of town.”
Two white guys, late thirties. The passenger was skinny with a sneer, his long brown hair unkempt. He wore a black Metallica T-shirt and a gold studded earring.
The driver had a military-style haircut, dark brown, menacing eyes and a chunky build. His choice in T-shirt was Iron Maiden. A mean-looking dragon tattoo decorated his arm with a phrase at the bottom that read, “Trust No One.”
I figured he was Terry.
The skinny one, trying to sound threatening, said, “Yeah, well, we’re not from around here either.”
“What a coincidence? So, you’re lost too?”
A glare. “None of your fucking business.”
The Iron Maiden guy stared and looked mean, like his tattoo.
“Okay then, you guys enjoy the rest of the evening.”
The window rolled up and the driver pulled out. As he drove slowly past Amanda’s car, he appeared to be looking inside.
“She’s not there, asshole,” I called out, then memorized the plate number.
When the truck disappeared, I called Elizabeth or Amanda, whoever picked up. “Describe Terry.”
Amanda conveyed a detailed description.
“I just said hello. Not too friendly. Or his skinny sidekick, who did all the talking.”
“Sammy. Another nut job.”
“At least I know who they are. They’ll probably follow me back to Nick’s place, maybe even stay the night in the truck, which is fine with me. You guys stay put, and I’ll call in the morning.”
Twenty
I was beat. It had been a trying day. Hopefully, tomorrow, I’d get a better sense of who Terry really was, but that would require my detective buddy’s help.
I speed-dialed JR. He wanted an update on Nick, and I needed his help. I could hear a singer in the background—off-key—and knew my buddy detective was in a bar.
“I was just thinking of you, Hank. I’m hanging out at the Dive Bar. You remember; I took you there one night a while ago.”
“How could I forget? I borrowed your knife that night.”
He chortled. “Let me go outside. It’s Crazy Karaoke night, and the guy singing Sinatra is killing it, and not in a good way.”
I laughed. “You oughta get up there and replace him.”
“Not me, amigo. The crowd would toss me out on my ass.”
I could tell JR reached the street as the music died down.
“Worse than the guy singing Sinatra?”
“Hank, I don’t even sing in the shower. Anyway, I was going to call you. How’s Nick doing?”
I pulled into a tight spot in front of Nick’s building and peered out the window before getting out. Was I getting paranoid?
“Not well. I have to tell you, there’s more going on than just a missing person, who, by the way, is no longer missing.”
I laid out the details, including my encounter with Terry and his sidekick. “I need you to pull up a New York plate number. A background check on the owner, which I believe is a guy named Terry; sorry, no last name yet. See if he has a rap sheet. I’m told he washes cars for a living. Think Breaking Bad, if you get my drift. He’s the prior missing person’s husband.” I paused. “For all I know, she could be in business with him, though her sister vehemently denies it. Too vehemently if you ask me. Just a feeling.”
“Hank, I’m sorry I got you mixed up in this. Look, I can get a few locals involved if you need them.”
“I’m good.”
“Christ, my poor cousin. I hope this woman is worth it.”
“Me too.” I checked the street for the umpteenth time since connecting to JR. “I better get upstairs.”
“What about the plate number?”
“Oh, right. It’s been a hell of a day.” I passed on the information, then emerged from the car and kept in touch with my surroundings. All quiet.
I took the stairs to Nick’s unit. “I don’t believe the guy’s broken any laws in Florida, at least, not yet.”
JR said, “Sounds like we need him to attempt one. I’m sure we can come up with something.”
“We?”
“Hank, I’m up here, but we’re in this together now.”
Twenty-One
I was fishing out Nick’s house keys from my pocket when I noticed his door ajar. I went for my Glock and stepped closer. The door hadn’t been tampered with, which meant someone had a key.
I nudged it open and listened for intruders.
Silence.
I extended my weapon hand and slowly entered. The unit was dark. Knowing Nick was in the hospital, who else would be interested in his place?
Terry.
I hit my cell-phone light and brightened up the living room, then flipped on the light switch. Nothing appeared out of place. Moving from room to room, I flipped on every switch in the condo before turning off my cell light.
I scratched my two-day growth and wondered if I’d forgotten to lock the door before leaving.
Doubt it.
Terry, not knowing Nick’s whereabouts, must have decided to screw with his head—not that he needed any help. One quick look out the window: it was deserted.
Goosebumps.
Inside the kitchen, I took a bottle of Peroni from the fridge and was about to head for the sofa when I spotted a greeting card perched on the kitchen table. I grabbed a paper towel and opened the envelope.
Dear Doc,
Sorry for your loss. Not yet, but you get the idea. Stay away. And if you run to the cops, well, think about Elizabeth.
A sympathy card with a threatening message.
I took a much-needed slug of beer, wiped my mouth with my wrist, and set the card back on the table. I doubted Terry’s fingerprints were on the card or anywhere else in the condo. The bastard was careful but direct. Don’t go looking for my wife or else.
I recalled JR’s suggestion. We need Terry to attempt to commit a crime. Too late, he already did. Breaking and entering. Check the box.
One thing was certain, Nick’s lock would be changed ASAP. Then I thought, maybe not.
Terry angled his truck down the block, clear enough to see Ross’s apartment. He saw the guy he’d encountered at the IMAX theater exit and search his surroundings. Terry gave Sammy a nudge with his elbow, then chuckled.
“A little hide and seek,” he said. “Catch me if you can.”
As the guy entered Ross’s building, Terry mumbled, “Who the hell is that jerk? And where’s Doc Ross?”
“We gonna find out?”
Terry shook his head. “Nah, I’m more curious to see if he flees the place after reading the sympathy card.” He slapped Sammy on the knee and chortled. “Shit, I expect him to run for the hills.”
“Yeah, but Terry, Ross isn’t reading the card; the other guy is.”
Terry scratched his head. “Well, shit, the doc’ll read it at some point. I mean, this asshole will show it to him, right?”
He turned to Sammy, who shrugged. “Hell, if I know. We don’t even know who the guy is. Maybe we shoulda asked him a few questions when we had the chance.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Could be the creep was on the phone with Ross, giving him the bad news. He’
ll probably pee himself.”
Sammy said, “Or called the cops. Especially now that he knows we have a spare key.”
Terry sneered, fingered the extra key he’d swiped from Ross’s apartment the day he snatched Elizabeth—for safe keeping. “I doubt he’ll go to the cops. I left a pretty direct message. Besides, he knows I can find him anytime. I just wanna make sure the fucker isn’t still looking for my wife, or he’s a dead man.” He held off a moment, looked down the street. “I think he got the message.”
“So, what do we do now? Continue looking for Elizabeth?”
Terry shook his head. He knew they’d never find her at this hour, and Blade hadn’t got back on any new leads. Elizabeth was safe for now. Tomorrow was another day.
Police sirens echoed in the background, and for a brief moment, Terry stiffened. Maybe entering the doc’s condo hadn’t been such a good idea.
“Let’s get out of here.”
At eight the following morning, I waited for an Uber driver outside Nick’s building. Another car-switch day. This time, I had to pick up Nick’s at Colee Hammock Park, where I’d left it after meeting with Amanda. The cool, gentle air was refreshing, and I imagined sticking around after my gig was over.
I turned my head and noticed Mrs. Burke and Tiger heading my way. I waved and she waved back, holding a fresh plastic bag of poop. At least, I assumed it was fresh.
The driver pulled up before she had a chance to ask any questions. I had already spoken to Amanda and told her I’d pick up the sisters around nine-thirty. Amanda’s voice was tense, and she said she hadn’t slept a wink. Made sense, not knowing if crazy Terry would barge in on them.
After picking up the car, I headed to the Coastal Inn and parked before calling Amanda. I stepped out and waited a few moments. Amanda appeared first, nervous, eyes darting in all directions, then hustled over to me. Elizabeth was next. As they approached, I thought my eyes deceived me.
The Edge of Murder (A Hank Reed Mystery, Book 3) Page 8
