by C. E. Nelson
“Volk! This is the police! Come out with your hands in the air! Now!”
There was no response.
“Volk! Come out now!”
No response again, but Scott could hear noises inside. He wasn’t sure what they were at first, afraid Volk may be getting a weapon. But then he knew.
“You two get out the front!” he shouted to the officers with him. The men hurried down the hall. Scott put his back to the wall across from the door and kicked.
The door was hollow and Scott’s leg went right through. Palm could see the man was about to lose his balance and fall backwards, hurrying behind him, and grabbing his shoulders. Scott finally regained his balance but still had difficulty extracting his leg, falling into Palm when he finally did.
Grace watched the whole episode with some amusement, stepped up to the door, and turned the handle. He pushed the door in to see Volk’s butt facing him, legs hanging down, the chair he had used to get up to the window tipped on its side.
“There’s your pervert,” said Grace to Scott. “We’re going to go look for the kid.”
Their search did not turn up Austin Newman or any sign that he had been in the house. They pressed Volk about the boy, but he said he didn’t know where Austin was, and Palm believed him. Palm and Grace walked onto the front steps, neighbors now standing in front of the house in the street. Palm turned on his phone and waited. Wondered where Austin Newman could be.
“Unbelievable!”
“What?”
“There are two calls on Creekside. One at the Cousins’ house, the other at the Arnold house.”
“What’s happening?”
Palm was reading as he was moving. “Shots fired at the Cousins’ place. 911 call by Trevor Cousins.”
They reached Palm’s car.
“And Arnold?”
“The call came from Dave Trask, Sheriff of Lake County. Said his brother was being held against his will inside the Arnold home. He and a cop from Stillwater were going in and called for backup.”
“The Sheriff of Lake County and a Stillwater cop?”
“That’s what it says.”
Palm started his car, Grace jumping in next to him. “Which one are we going to?”
Michael Little was running. Michael was not a good runner. His legs never seemed to move like he wanted them to. He’d take a stride with one leg and try to take a stride with the other leg, but the second leg didn’t always want to move. It would drag behind, like it was injured or something, and he looked almost like he was skipping. The other reason Michael was not a good runner was that he was short of breath if he did any extended physical activity. His parents had the doctor check him out several times but nothing wrong was ever found. Still, Michael found he often had to stop and rest.
He was running along the creek, through the backyards of the homes on Creekside Drive. It was already hot. Michael began to perspire. He stopped to wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, not doing much more than leaving a muddy streak there. Bent at the waist, he took deep breaths, the dinosaur and knife in his hands at his hips. He looked up to see where he needed to go and a drip of dirty sweat slid into his eye. It burned and hurt, and the boy blinked furiously trying to make it stop. Rubbing his eye with his knuckle, only making things worse.
He began to cry. Tears made trails down his dirty cheeks but only after washing out his eyes. Michael continued on. The yards were mushy from the rain, and he sunk in as he moved, the ground trying to suck off his tennis shoes with each step. Finally, he lost one, stopping to go back and pull it from the muck. He sat on the wet ground and pulled the shoe on over his now wet and muddy sock. After picking up the dinosaur and knife, Michael stood and started walking toward home again.
He looked to the left and recognized the house. It was where the bad boys lived. The bad boys had teased him when he rode the bus and laughed at him when they rode their bikes by ,and he was outside. Mommy said they were bad boys and he should stay away from them. As Michael looked at the house he heard a noise, sirens, getting louder. What if they were coming after him?
And then Michael saw the back door of the bad boys’ house open, and the bad boys were coming out. The bad boys saw him and ran at him. Michael ran again.
Chapter 48
The sirens woke Daniel. He panicked for a second, thinking they were coming for him, quickly realizing they were moving past. He wondered where they were going. Rolled from his side to his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment thinking about Trask. Something Trask had said had bothered him. Something about people coming to look for him.
Trask was an important guy. At least he was until the child pornography thing, but probably still important. And no doubt he’d have to show for a trial or something. People would look for him. But would they come here?
Daniel wasn’t sure. He didn’t think so, but there was a nagging doubt now. He’d have to get rid of Trask and his car. Sooner than later. He’d spent so much time getting ready to torture the man that he really had spent little time thinking about disposing of the body. And now he had a car to get rid of too. The more he thought about it, the more ways he could think of to get rid of the body without too much difficulty, but the car. The car could actually be more difficult.
Daniel was concentrating on ways he could get rid of the vehicle when he thought he heard a noise in the hall. Turned his head to the door and listened.
“Who’s that?” said Jenkins as she pointed at the window.
Dave turned his attention that way to see a big man gallop by. He had something in his hands. And he looked very dirty.
“Got me.” He turned his attention back to the hall. Waved his pistol. “Come on.”
They had only taken a few steps when the door at the end of the hall opened, and a man peered out. His eyes were wide in disbelief. “Trask? How did you…?” The man saw the guns now, quickly backing into the room, slamming the door behind him.
They could hear the door lock.
“Who’s that?” asked Jenkins again.
“I don’t know. Daniel?” Dave moved back down the hall now toward the stairs, pushing Jenkins. “Come on, we’re too exposed here.”
“But what about Don?” she asked as they ducked around the corner.
“We’re not leaving without him, but we’re no good to him dead.”
“So, what do we do?”
“I don’t know. Wait for backup?”
“Aw shit.”
They didn’t wait long. Within a minute they heard a noise above and shouted up the stairs. Two officers came down the steps, weapons out. Trask motioned them to move over to their position. He was about to clue them in on the situation when there was additional noise upstairs.
“Hello?”
“I don’t know who you are, but there are four armed police officers down here,” shouted Dave.
“Sheriff Trask?”
Dave watched as shoes and slacks and a gun and finally, a head appeared, trying to see below the ceiling. Dave guessed it was a cop. Another behind. He put up his hand to halt their progress, peeked around the corner down the hall, and then waved them over.
“Wow. If it wasn’t for the hair, I’d swear you were Don Trask. I’m Detective Palm, this is Detective Grace.”
“This is Inspector Jenkins of the Stillwater PD,” replied Dave, nodding in Melanie’s direction.
“What in the world is a Sheriff from Lake County and an Inspector from Stillwater doing inside a house in my town?”
Trask glanced at Jenkins and then said, “Long story, but let’s just say right now we have reason to believe that my brother is being held here.”
“And that’s because?”
“His car is in the garage, and he has a history with this guy.”
“This guy being Arnold?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what are we doing now exactly?”
“A guy poked his head out of the doorway at the end of the hall on the left and then duc
ked back inside. We think it’s Arnold.”
“Think?”
“Don’t know. Never really saw the guy before.”
“Do you think he could be armed?”
“No reason too, but…”
“You checked upstairs?”
“Yeah. Nothing.”
Palm glanced at Grace. “OK, we need to resolve this. Grace and I will go down there and see if we can get the guy out.”
“But he could have my brother in there.”
“Sheriff, I’m not sure you and the Inspector should even be here. Or me either for that matter. This is our city. Just hold back.”
Neither Trask nor Jenkins were happy, but both watched as the detectives hurried down the hall, guns leading, putting their backs to the wall as they reached the door. Palm reached over and banged on the door.
“Mr. Arnold. This is the Minnetonka police. Please come out with your hands up.”
There was no sound.
Daniel had been thinking about what was happening since he saw Trask in the hall. But it couldn’t be Trask. How would he have gotten free? And the clothes were different. Even the hair. No, the guy sure looked like Trask but it just couldn’t be him. And there was a woman with him. How had they gotten in without him knowing? He tried to remember. Had he reset the system after he let Trask in? No. After he had drugged Trask, he had become too busy. Forgot all about it.
He had listened at his door after locking it and heard voices, more voices. There were more people out there now. Probably cops. This was bad. The button lock on his door would not keep them out. Daniel looked at his small basement window, thinking he wasn’t sure he could get through it, thinking there were cops likely outside the house now too if there were cops inside.
Daniel took two steps from the door and sat on the edge of his bed and thought about it. If they hadn’t found Trask yet, maybe he still had a chance. Maybe he did anyway if they were in his house illegally. That could be a backup. First, he’d try something else. Daniel quickly took off his shirt and pants, leaving only his boxers on. He messed up his bed and his hair. As he reached for his robe, there was pounding on his door.
Chapter 49
Mike Cousins was sleeping in his lower level room when his brother started shaking him, telling him to get up.
“What?”
“We need to go! Now!”
“What?”
“Get dressed and grab the stuff. We need to get out of here.”
Mike realized Blake was holding a gun in his hand. “What the hell?”
“Hurry! The cops are coming!”
Blake dashed out the door, back a minute later with a small duffel bag in one hand, the gun still in the other. “You ready?” Mike was sitting on the edge of the bed, putting on his tennis shoes. Sirens approaching now. “Shit!” Blake dropped his bag and went to the small dresser in his brother’s room, pushing it aside, reaching into the cavity in the sheetrock behind. He pulled out two plastic bags, one filled with cash, the other drugs.
“Hey! That’s my stuff,” complained Mike.
Blake stuffed the two bags in his duffel. “Shut up. Let’s go. Now!”
Blake ran from the room, Mike close behind. They could hear pounding on the front door. Blake ran to the door leading out to the back yard and yanked it open, running out. Mike followed. Blake had only taken two steps when he saw him. The big dumb kid from down the street. Their way out. He turned back to his brother. “Follow me.”
The bad boys were coming. Michael didn’t hesitate. He needed to get home. He’d be safe at home. Michael ran. Ran as fast as he could. Taking big breaths, trying to get air. His arms held out from his sides, the dinosaur in one hand, knife in the other, waving back and forth. The ground sinking under each step, grabbing at his shoes, trying to slow him down.
But Michael kept going. Through three yards. Through Mrs. Wortman’s vegetable garden. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he could hear the bad boys behind. They were getting close. One yelled, but he couldn’t hear what the boy said. Why were they chasing him? Michael wanted to stop, wanted to rest, but he kept running. He didn’t like the bad boys.
Six houses to go. The blue house, the green house, the white house, the other blue house, the yellow house, and then his house. He could do it. But then there was the fence. It wasn’t much of a fence, a decoration really. A white picket fence hardly two feet high. It ran the length of the yard between the next two houses, from the road, down the hill, and a few feet into the brush by the creek. One neighbor had put it up three years ago to keep the other neighbor’s dog out of their yard.
Each slat of the fence was pointed on top. That worried Michael a little, but not much. He was big. He could step over the fence. But he could not jump over it. Michael was not a good jumper. Michael stopped at the fence, reached down to hold the top of the fence to help him keep his balance, and put one leg over. Got his balance again and swung his second leg over. As he did he turned to see Blake Cousins.
By the time the kidnapper was dressed, the desire to see what was happening down the block had passed as had any anxiety over the police being in the area. There were more important things to do now. Time for another lesson. The kidnapper put a slice of bread in the toaster and poured a small glass of orange juice for the pupil. If he was good, the boy may actually get something to eat.
The door at the end of the hall opened just a crack.
“I don’t know who you are, or why you are here, but don’t shoot me.”
“We are the police,” answered Palm. “Come out with your hands in the air.”
The door opened a little further and a head poked out, Daniel looking at the men in the hall before pulling the door farther open.
“I’m coming out. Don’t hurt me.”
Daniel’s hands appeared first, and then the rest of him, taking a step into the hall. He was dressed in a bathrobe, the robe hanging open, only boxers underneath.
“Stop right there,” ordered Palm.
Daniel complied. Palm holstered his weapon while Grace kept his pointed at the man. Palm grabbed Daniel’s arms by the wrist, pulling them behind the man, sliding on handcuffs.
“Am I under arrest for something? Why are you in my home?”
Palm glanced at Grace. The guy looked like he had just been woken up. Palm took a quick peek in Daniel’s bedroom to see the bed unmade, clothes on the floor.
“Are you Daniel Arnold?” asked Palm.
“Yes, I am, and I demand to know what is going on!”
“We have reason to believe that there may be a police officer being held against his will in your house.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. What reason?”
“The officer’s car is parked in your garage.”
Daniel could see the man who looked like Trask approaching, the woman and more officers behind. “What? No. Only my car is in my garage.”
“Um, no sir, the officer’s car is definitely there.”
“I have no idea how it got there. And how would you even know it was there? I have privacy screen on all of my windows. You can’t look in.”
Palm gave Trask a quick glance. “OK. Let’s all go upstairs and talk about this.” He began to pull Arnold down the hall until the man was face-to-face with Dave.
“Where is he, Daniel? Where is Don?”
“Who are you? Why are you in my house?”
Palm and Daniel kept walking. Palm turned to look at Trask. “OK, everybody out. Upstairs. Now!”
Grace followed Palm, the two uniformed officers falling in behind.
“I demand you release me right now! I am going to sue! I want my lawyer.”
Palm glanced at Grace, who gave him the raised eyebrow look, and said, “OK, hang on a minute.” He unlocked and removed Daniel’s cuffs.
Jenkins looked at Dave and said, “What the hell is going on? Where’s Don?”
Palm had reached the bottom of the stairs and looked back. “You two. Out now.”
“I don
’t know. This just doesn’t make sense,” said Dave. "We better go.”
Jenkins turned, walking to the stairs, Trask behind. She took a single step when Trask shouted, “Wait! There’s blood. Here.”
He pointed at the floor at the bottom of the stairs. Blood was smeared on the tile.
“I fell last night. Cut my head open,” shouted Daniel from the stairway. “See.” He turned the back of his head to Palm.
“He’s telling the truth Trask, there’s a big gash on his head,” added Palm.
Dave stared at the blood. “No, come back and look. Something has been dragged through the blood.”
Dave turned away from the stairs, started walking back down the hall.
“Trask! You need to get out of there now!” shouted Palm.
But he didn’t stop. With Jenkins behind, both looking at the floor, they walked to the door of the room holding Don.
“You can’t go in there!” shouted Daniel. “That’s private! I’ll sue!”
Dave turned the handle and pushed the door open.
Chapter 50
Michael took a step, stumbled. Got back up and took one more step before Blake Cousins was on his back. The two of them fell to the ground, Michael hitting his shoulder and rolling to his back, Cousins half on Michael, half to his side, both face-to-face. Michael looked at the boy’s face, expecting the bad boy to yell at him, to laugh at him. The boy’s mouth opened, his eyes wide, but he said nothing. Cousins’ eyes closed, and Michael felt the bad boy’s body go slack against him.
Michael pushed Cousins off, feeling his wrist turn as the bad boy rolled to his back. Michael held the handle of his knife, the blade in the stomach of Blake Cousins. He pulled the knife free and ran again. By the time he reached the other side of the yard, he heard someone behind him yell. Stopped and took a quick glance back. The other bad boy was kneeling by his brother. He looked up to see Michael, looked down again, picked up the gun, and then stood. Michael took off again.
Don was in the spotlight like it was some sort of macabre play. His head had fallen forward, chin nearly on his chest. There was blood running down his neck and from under his chin down his chest. Dave was sure he was dead. He raced in, found the wire tied behind the chair.
