by L. T. Ryan
We entered the station from the back, the same way I’d gone in with Cassie on a couple of occasions. The familiar smell of stale coffee and Lysol hit me and I felt a slight pang of yearning to be back home.
They already had a VCR hooked up to a large display in one of the meeting rooms. There were four conference tables pushed together to form a large rectangle, and probably twenty chairs stretching around the table. I grabbed one and wheeled it closer to the screen. Cervantes sat to my right. Pennington cut the lights and shut the door, then took a seat on my left. He slipped the tape into the VCR and cut on the screen with a remote.
The large air vents in the drop ceiling piped frigid air into the room at around twenty miles per hour. It didn’t take long before the effects of being in the heat and humidity all morning wore off.
Cervantes leaned closer to me. “It’s every damn meeting room.”
“What?” I said.
He jutted his chin toward the ceiling. “The air vents. Freezing in the summer, and hot as hell in the winter.”
“Good thing it’s fall.” I studied Cervantes for a few moments wondering if the current extreme personality shift would last long.
“You ain’t lying,” Pennington said. His demeanor shifted as he pointed to the screen. “Here we go.”
The image on the screen was split into four boxes. The top left showed the empty office. Next to it was an angle that covered most of the inside of the store, shot from the front doors. Bottom left was of the pumps and parking lot. And bottom right was out back.
A brindle pit bull sauntered through the field behind the gas station, stopping every few steps to cock his head and listen. Then he moved offscreen and didn’t return.
Pennington hit the fast-forward button and the scene raced by. A couple cars pulled up, got gas, and drove off. The drivers never set foot in the store. Craig the clerk paced behind his counter and played at his laptop. A couple times he came out from hiding and stood in front of the doors, looking the road up and down. At one point, he grabbed a stool and carried it to the back corner. He climbed atop the stool, pushed away a ceiling panel, and stuck his arm into the darkness.
“I knew that son of a bitch was crooked,” I said.
“Petty shit,” Pennington said. “Nothing to be concerned about. If we notice anything unusual around the time the van shows up, we can use Craig’s dealings to get him to talk.”
Several minutes passed as we watched the sped-up version of that morning’s events. Then a primer gray Ford panel van appeared.
Pennington slammed his thumb into the remote so quickly he ended up stopping the tape. He cursed, restarted playback and apologized.
The van pulled alongside the same pump we had used. A man wearing a hat stepped out. He tossed something into the trash.
“Dammit,” Cervantes said.
“You had the right idea,” I said.
“Don’t forget it.”
I waved him off and returned one hundred percent of my focus to the screen. Sunlight reflected off the van’s windshield, making it difficult to monitor any activity within. I doubted there’d be much, though. No way Novak would leave her alone out there if she was conscious.
After pumping a few gallons of gas, the man walked into the store. He moved slowly and casually, without purpose. Didn’t look like a man who held a kidnapped woman in the back of his vehicle.
We all shifted our gaze to the box on the top right of the screen. Craig the clerk glanced up from his laptop and nodded at the man as he entered, then veered toward the counter. All we had was a shot of his back so far. After saying something to Craig, the guy went to the back of the store, where the refrigerated coolers were. He reached inside one and pulled a tall can of something out. The film was getting grainy.
“Bet they just record over the same tape,” I said.
Pennington nodded. “Not like much happens out there. System is in place in case they need to recoup some insurance money, or catch someone shooting buckshot at the window late at night.”
The guy walked down the back row, head down. All we wanted was the confirmation that it was Novak and the son of a bitch was making us wait for it. Finally, he turned toward the camera.
Pennington paused the tape. The image of the guy was one big blur. Pennington clicked through frame by frame, forwards and back, until we had the clearest shot. And it was still shit.
“You know that’s him,” I said.
Cervantes rose and paced to the back of the room. He threw his hand out. “You think that’s admissible? Come on, that could be any number of guys.”
“He’s right,” Pennington said. “This tape isn’t going to do much to help us when we’re up against ‘beyond a reasonable doubt.’”
The feed resumed at normal speed. There wasn’t another shot of Novak’s face. We followed him out of the store, watching his back all the way to the van. He climbed inside. The sun had risen a little higher. The glare wasn’t as strong as it had been. He could be seen climbing between the front seats into the back.
“What was it he purchased?” I said.
Pennington rewound the tape. “Looks like some energy drink and a bag of chips.”
“Some lunch, huh.”
We watched him exit the store again.
“A few landmarks there,” I said. “Forensics guys can figure out his height, approximate size, then match that up with what we know about Novak.”
Neither detective responded. We watched the rest of the tape in silence. He spent two minutes in the back of the van before leaving the scene. He pulled forward and made a sweeping U-turn.
Pennington jammed the pause button down. “Either of you make out that plate?”
The three of us huddled as close to the screen as we could in an attempt to make out the tiny set of letters and numbers on the back of the van. It was pointless.
“Too damn grainy,” Cervantes said. “We’ll never figure that out.”
“Don’t say never,” I said.
“Hey, if you got it, tell the rest of us,” Cervantes said.
“No, I don’t. But I know someone who can get it.”
“Who?” Pennington stopped the playback and ejected the tape.
I sat on the edge of the conference table, cracking my knuckles on the hard surface one at a time. “A guy back in Philly. One of the best in the country at this kind of thing. We can overnight it to him.”
Holding the tape up, Pennington shook his head. “No chance this gets out of our sight.”
“Then what the hell do you want to do with it? Wipe your ass?”
Pennington chuckled. “You’re taking it to him personally, Tanner.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Cassie lifted her face from her sweat-drenched pillow. She rubbed her cold cheek and wiped her nose in an attempt to clear the smell. All it did was allow the musty odor of the room to pervade her senses again.
The overhead light cast a dim wash of yellow across the room. It was always the same. How long had she been sleeping? She’d lost all sense of time. It could be two in the morning and she had no clue.
Sometimes she awoke to find her wrists and ankles bound and tied to the bed posts. There were never any memories to go along with it. Had he been drugging her food and water? She wouldn’t put it past him.
Right now she was free to move about the room. She rose and tugged the damp nightie away from her chest. She would demand a change of clothing next time she saw Novak.
She crept to the corners. What secrets did the room hold? Cassie closed her eyes, inviting any spirits to speak with her. There had to be a tortured soul or two hanging around. Someone Novak had killed, or a weak spirit who somehow became trapped there. After a few minutes of no contact, Cassie opened her eyes and looked around. It seemed brighter now. No one had been in, though. Perhaps Novak had a way of controlling the lighting from outside.
She tiptoed to the door, stopping short a few inches. A cool draft coated her toes. She placed her hand on the frame
and eased her head to it. Her ear was an inch or so from the crack. It was dead silent aside from the sound of her raspy breathing.
That was another concern. She’d never had problems with allergies or asthma, but since being confined to the room, it had become more difficult to take a deep breath.
Was it the room? Or something he’d given her? Or something altogether different? Psychological reasons, maybe.
She knew he’d drugged her at least once. The ride in the van had been a blur. She had awoken at times. Once at a gas station. It hadn’t seemed like they had been moving for long, then he stopped. She managed to lift her head, but that was it. Her legs, arms, torso all felt as though they had been cast in iron.
From there she faded in and out until she finally succumbed to the darkness. Maybe she’d been afraid of dying and that’s why she fought the effects of the tranquilizer for so long. In the end, it had been too much for her.
Cassie shook the thoughts from her mind and stepped away from the door. The cool breeze on her feet diminished with every step back. She walked around the other side of the bed. There was only an eighteen-inch-wide gap between it and the wall. She wedged herself between, then lowered herself to the floor.
Did she really want to know what was under there? It was too dark to see anything beyond vague outlines. She swept her left arm in an arc and pulled out the first item she found. A pale towel. She held it up to the light in search of dirt or blood. Aside from dust, it appeared clean. Cassie pulled her nightie off and patted herself down. Then she wrapped the thin piece of clothing in the towel and wrenched it tight.
She didn’t like the thought of walking around the room naked. Chances were Novak had some way of monitoring her. Was he watching right now? Getting off at the sight of her bare body?
Cassie unwound the towel to retrieve her clothes but stopped. What better test to find out if he was monitoring the room? Could she stand the consequences of her action? Another visit from the demented creep?
A chance to lure him in while he was in his weakest state.
She eased herself onto the sweat-dampened sheets. Her skin pricked in response to the cold. It took a few minutes to adjust. As long as she didn’t move, it was fine.
The ceiling offered no clues. There were no cutouts, no blinking red lights, nothing hidden in plain sight. Where would Novak watch her from?
The overhead light brightened considerably. The sudden change caused a jolt of pain to rifle through her head. It felt as though she had a hangover and moved too quickly. A moment later, the light dimmed again, even lower than it had been before.
She squinted her eyes while staring at the fixture through the bright remnants of light clouding her vision. That’s how he was watching her. He had a camera inside the light. She tucked her right foot under her left knee and laced her fingers together behind her head. How long could he take it before he came into the room?
What the hell am I doing?
It was one thing to be forced to wear next to nothing. But it was quite another to provoke a psychopath. She grabbed the nightie and donned it and then wrapped the towel around her waist like a skirt.
No sooner had she curled up in bed than did the light shut off.
She turned her attention to the door where light seeped into the room through the edges. Shadows would give her advance warning of his presence. The dark offered her cover. She could pounce the moment he walked in. Her gaze shifted to the blackened ceiling. What if he had night vision in there? He’d see her setting up the ambush.
The door swung open and violently collided with the wall. Novak’s frame filled half the opening. He breathed heavily. Had he run to the room?
He crossed the room and hovered over her on the bed. She couldn’t make out his features to tell what kind of mood he was in. He moved quickly, yanking the towel from her waist, then plunged something into her thigh. The needle penetrated her flesh. The stinging gave way to burning as he injected the mixture into her bloodstream. The fire spread up through her hips, stomach, and chest.
Novak took a few steps back. He scrunched the towel into a ball and tossed it at her. It landed on her chest. Her vision started to double. There were two doorways. Two Novaks.
Then there were four of him.
It made no sense. There were still only two doorways.
She saw two of the bodies turn. The other two stood just outside of the room.
Two separate men.
The images began fading as the edges of her vision darkened.
No, this can’t be happening.
“Hello, Detective,” Novak said. “Have you met the lovely Cassie before?”
Chapter Forty-Nine
I stepped out of the arrivals terminal into a warm and hazy evening. The sun hung low in the western sky, throwing all manner of reds and oranges about. I pulled in a deep breath of smog-ridden air and held it in for a few extra seconds like I’d sucked it in through a joint.
It was good to be home.
A long line of sedans and trucks and SUVs lined the curb. Airport police kept a watchful eye over them, ushering out any who had lingered too long. They were more concerned over those going in than those leaving. But these days, you never knew where a shooter might come from.
I spotted Sam’s car idling at the back of the line and waved two fingers in his direction. He flashed his high beams in response. The passenger door swung open. I climbed in and angled the ice-cold air vents at my face.
“Traveling light, I see,” Sam said.
I shrugged the backpack off my shoulder. “Not staying long.”
“Wanna run by your momma’s house and see the little one?”
I thought about how good it would be to see Ella. Hug her and never let go. And that was the problem. “I’d never want to leave if I did.”
Sam gripped the gearshift and nodded. “I hear that. They even know you’re in town?”
“No point in getting her hopes up.”
“So straight to Sartini’s place then?”
My stomach cramped and I realized I hadn’t eaten since morning. “How about we get a bite to eat first?”
We found a pizza joint not far from Sartini’s. It was quick and easy, and I’d probably pay for it in an hour or two with a touch of indigestion. Fair enough tradeoff, I supposed. While we waited for our pie, Sam caught me up on his caseload.
“Sounds like they’ve been keeping you busy.”
He pounded down the rest of his beer and set it down loud enough for the waitress to notice. She asked if he wanted another and then disappeared behind the bar.
“Busy is an understatement. It’s like Huff has something to prove now that you’ve been suspended.”
“What’s he got to prove?” I tore a chunk off a garlic knot.
“It all happened on his watch.”
“I’ve been causing problems long before he came along.”
Sam laughed. “That you have, man.”
I swallowed the mass of garlic-laced dough and leaned back into the booth. “So, the old lady convinced the trainer to off her old man? He had plans to kill her and make it look like an accident, but the guy had no idea she was connected to the mob.”
Smiling, Sam nodded. “Can you believe that? Worst part is, DA won’t touch the case now.” Sam’s expression turned grim. “You haven’t mentioned Cassie once, Mitch.”
I had filled him in on the latest details while waiting at the gate in Savannah for my flight.
“Trying not to think about it too much,” I said.
“How can you not?”
I thought of Robbie for a moment. “I happen to have a lot of practice in this area lately.”
“I’m sorry, man. I—”
“It’s all right.” I couldn’t fault him for not thinking about everything I’d been through with my son. Not seeing him for over a year. No solid lead on where he was. I could let the situation eat me alive, or I could bide my time until the right opportunity arose. I had a feeling it was drawing close s
o long as I got Cassie home safely.
The conversation died out. Just in time, too. The waitress dropped our pizza off a few seconds later.
After we finished eating, Sam took care of the bill while I headed out to the car. The taillights flickered a couple times as the doors unlocked. A couple of teenagers who were parked in the next spot stared me down as I approached. The engine was off. Smoke wafted from the cracked windows. The unmistakable smell of marijuana filled the air from twenty feet out. I wished I had my badge on me. Incite a little fear and panic into their high.
I leaned back against the tail end of the car and waited for Sam. The pot-mobile cranked to life. The guy grated his gears shifting into first. Sam threw the restaurant door open, stepped outside, and stopped. His eyebrows knit tight as his nostrils flared in and out. He nodded, smiled, crossed the lot over to me.
“Tell me you’re not smoking dope again, Mitch.”
“Come on, man. How long I been a cop now? It’s been at least half that long since I last did.”
Sam let out a loud laugh. “Why didn’t you bust those kids?”
“They’d probably get me run through for excessive force. Figured it best to let them go on their way.”
“There’s still time to mess with them.” He pointed at the truck stopped at the parking lot exit with their left blinker on. The light there was famous for taking three minutes to change, and then you only had ten seconds to make it out of the lot.
“Maybe just turn on the strobes when we pull up behind them?”
Sam lowered himself into the car. “Deal, man.”
As he backed out, my phone vibrated on the dash. “You sure you didn’t tell Momma I’m home?”
He shook his head and said nothing.
I unlocked the screen and opened the message app.
“Son of a bitch.”
“What is it?” Sam said.
I read the text message back to him. “If you want Cassie to have a chance, stay in Philadelphia, Detective.”
