by ANDREA SMITH
“This girl—she’s someone special to you, isn’t she?”
“She’s someone special to a lot of people, your Honor.”
He nodded and picked up his phone, buzzing the “Bailiff from Hell.”
“Evelyn, please contact Ed Harsher with the Investigation Division of GBI in Atlanta. Let him know we need a half-dozen agents reporting here STAT. That’s right. Then call the Atlanta field office of the FBI and request special assistance for the county. We need a couple of SWAT agents to work under Special Agent Matthews when he serves these warrants to the various properties in Cobb County.”
I’d never wanted to kiss or hug a guy until now. It was God’s providence that had brought me to Judge Trey Sinclair. He was going to help me save an angel.
chapter 43
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been in this dim, quiet bedroom, tied to this bed. I’d lost all sense of time passing. I knew that I hurt all over.
Somehow, I’d been rolled back over on my back. They must have untied me to flip me over, and tied me back up. I felt wetness underneath me. I was certain there was blood involved. I’d also urinated myself. What choice did I have?
I hadn’t been given any more water since before I was raped by Kyzer. Unfortunately, my black-out had not erased the memory of each ugly, nasty, painful detail of what that bastard had done to me…all the while, Susan had watched and helped when necessary.
Why had they done this to me? If they had what they wanted with that stupid formula that Kyzer had taken from me, then why had it been necessary for him to kidnap me and now hold me hostage?
This wasn’t their home. It didn’t seem like a regular house at all. There were no sounds of activity either inside or outside…no horns or sirens, no television or radios playing, not even the sound of a furnace kicking on or off, yet it was warm enough.
My lips felt dry and parched, my stomach growled from being empty. The blinds were shut tight. I had no clue as to whether it was day or night.
Then I heard the echo of footsteps coming closer to the door. The hallway outside must be tiled or wooden. There was just one set of footsteps nearing the door to this room, my jail. I heard the key turn in the lock. An overhead light switched on over the bed. My eyes immediately closed tightly from the sudden burst of light it shed.
“Well, you’re certainly a mess,” Kyzer said. “You stink, too.”
I was glad. I hoped the stench would keep him away from me. I would rather die than go through another round of his perverted torture. “Why are you doing this to me, Kyzer? I need to know.”
“It’s simple. Suzy and I don’t believe you. You’ve been in touch with that asshole of a father of yours, and he owes us something. We figure if you mean shit to him at all, he’ll produce what we need in exchange for you. Trust me, your old man has the resources to find you. He has a network here in the states. That’s why he’s able to move about fairly freely. Not like poor Suzy. She constantly has to go into hiding from pricks like your step-father and boyfriend. They aren’t doing you much good right now, are they?”
“You have to believe me. He hasn’t been in touch with me at all. You think I wouldn’t have told you by now if he had?”
“I think Daddy’s girl still feels loyalty to the rotten bastard; that’s what I think.”
“Well, you’re wrong. I don’t condone what he did, or what you and Susan are doing. I certainly wouldn’t protect him with my own life. What is it he owes you? Is it money? Maybe I can help.”
“Does it look like we’re hard up for money here? No, it’s not money, per se. He does, however, owe us something that’s going to make us a whole lot more money. I’m talking billions. The sick thing is that the bastard can’t do anything with it himself. Yet, he’s prepared to let you die rather than just give it up.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I screamed.
I don’t know where I got that sudden bit of strength to scream, but I did. I was sick of this pathetic game he was playing with me. I wanted an answer.
“I’m talking about that formula,” he spat. “There’s one ingredient missing. It’s useless to us and to our plans without that one missing ingredient, okay?”
“How do you know he even has it?”
“He has to. There’s no one else involved. When he found out that Suzy had commissioned one of the chemists at Banion to finish developing a chemical formula that I’d started for a substance to be used to create a hybrid plant, he wanted in.
“The substance was successfully tested on a prototype plant, proving out the formula. The formula on the paper you found has failed in the lab. It’s incomplete. Something is missing. Who else could have tampered with it?”
“Why would my dad have reason to?” I asked.
Kyzer rolled his eyes at my inability to get with the program.
“Because, he realized that she was going to cut him out. He was not going to be part of the project. My stepmother was a married woman, with plenty of resources right within the Stanfield group to produce the plants. She needed the formula development to be done outside of my father’s company. It was to be her secret—and mine. My father had a tendency to keep an eye on her activities, until he just couldn’t anymore. Once she had the formula, she didn’t need Jack anymore. Once my father passed, production could commence.”
My skin went cold hearing him say that about his own father. My God, what kind of a monster was Kyzer? My mind, foggy as it was, went back to that formula. Slate was supposed to talk to the chemist in prison. His name was John Davey. I had no clue what Slate had found out; I had nothing to barter. Maybe I could bluff.
“Did you ever consider that my father didn’t know the formula had been tampered with? Did it even occur to you or your step-mommy-dearest that it could have been John Davey?”
“Who?”
Now I rolled my eyes to show him that he needed to get with the program.
“The chemist who wrote the formula equation, John Davey. He’s serving time in Deep Meadow Correctional Center.”
“And you know this, how?”
“I was the one that pointed out the chemist identification number to Slate. I worked in the R & D lab at Banion. I was familiar with the identification stamps. Number 31 was John Davey’s stamp. He was convicted in all of the drug trafficking stuff that went down that summer.”
“Tell me more,” he prodded, now interested in what I had to say (or bluff).
“I need some water first.”
“Talk now, then water.”
“Slate went to Deep Meadow to question John Davey on Sunday morning, the same day you and I met at Applebee’s. He got back before I left to meet Darcy. I heard him telling Taz all about it,” I lied. I shook my head in disgust.
“So, I’m waiting,” Kyzer snapped.
“John Davey told Slate that there was an ingredient left off of the formula and it was in his head and that was where it was staying.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I don’t care whether you believe it or not, Kyzer. That’s what he told Taz. He claimed he’d come to mistrust both my father and Susan, imagine that, and until he saw the cash he was promised, he was not parting with that critical piece of information.”
The lie was plausible. I prayed to God he accepted it as the truth. He had no reason to torture me further if he believed it was the truth.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“When have I had the opportunity? You pretty much tortured me and then left me to bleed out here.”
Kyzer got up and left the room, returning with a glass of water. I struggled to lift my head from the pillow to sip it. My head was throbbing. I drank it all, relaxing back down. My body felt hot and clammy.
Kyzer looked at me with no emotion whatsoever. “You’re burning up,” he commented.
“Please. Let me go. I won’t tell anyone.”
“You must think I’m fucking stupid
,” he said.
“How long do you think it will take for your step-father and boyfriend to figure out who you’re with? I’m sure they’re chasing their tails in Miami right now. That’s where I told my roommates I was going to be.”
“What do you plan on doing with me?”
“I haven’t decided. I need to talk to Suzy.”
“So, in the meantime, you’re just leaving me here alone to starve?”
He tossed a blanket over on top of me.
“I’ll have to check with Suzy to see if she wants you to have food. I wouldn’t be making any long-term plans though, Lindsey. It’s almost noon. I need to get back to the condo. I need to fill Suzy in on what you overheard regarding the chemist.”
“Kyzer,” I called out as he started toward the door, feeling as if were the last time I would see him, or anyone else for that matter, “what day is this?”
“It’s only Monday, love. You’ve not even been here for twenty-four hours yet. Don’t tell me that you’re homesick?”
The sick bastard persona had returned. How had he kept it hidden from me all those times before? He put his hand on the doorknob and then turned around to look at me. His expression was almost nostalgic.
“What a shame,” he said. “This room you’re in is over the factory where Suzy and I were going to make our dreams come true. There are acres and acres of soil out back that were going to host our lovely Khat plants. The factory floor below was going to robotically process the plants into potent amphetamines that would have netted millions, if not billions. Such a shame.”
He left the room, locking the door behind him, as if I even had the strength to walk if I hadn’t been tied up and still feeling blood trickle from me in various places.
I felt myself cry, but no tears came out. I was still dehydrated. I couldn’t even produce a single tear.
chapter 44
~ TAZ ~
A few minutes after 10 a.m., the team of FBI Swat agents and the half-dozen GBI agents from Atlanta were assembled at the Cobb County Sheriff’s Office for de-briefing.
Kim had kicked ass downloading the addresses along with photos of the properties covered in the search, photos of Kyzer, Lindsey, Jack and Susan.
Slate had arrived just minutes before, having driven from D.C. I wasn’t sure how much trouble I was in with the bureau, but I was sure he would deal with that later. I waited for him to take the lead and divvy up the resources.
“Agent Matthews,” he said, “this is your operation. I suggest you get the ball rolling.”
I de-briefed the rest of the agents and officers on the available intelligence, distributed the photos, and plotted out the locations of the properties to be searched on the electronic map of the county. We were all connected through walkie-talkies, which ensured our communication remained private.
Slate went with two of the GBI agents to execute the search warrant at the exclusive condo that was titled in Kyzer’s father’s name. We sent another team to execute the warrant on Stanfield R & D.
I went with two of the SWAT team members to serve the warrant on a rural property holding about twenty miles outside of Marietta. This property was titled to “SKS Enterprises.”
From the information Kim had gathered, it was a fairly recent acquisition. It was an abandoned factory that had gone into foreclosure a couple of years back. It had been purchased by this alphabet LLC from the bank just a few months ago.
I wasn’t sure what we would find there. There was no phone listing for it. It wasn’t registered as a local business of any sort.
It was going to take my team the longest amount of time to get to the search destination. Everyone was to hang back, using the walkie-talkies inside of the unmarked vehicles to communicate with one another from that point on.
Once everyone was in position, the warrants were to be executed simultaneously to make sure no one else was tipped off. Kim was monitoring all of the vehicles on GPS from our field office in D.C.
The SWAT agent driving was Agent Hardesty. He was well-versed in the winding, narrow, rural roads we were traveling to reach our warrant destination. Agent Evans was in the back.
Kim’s voice came over my walkie-talkie. She was patched in from the D.C. office.
“Agent Matthews, I’m synchronizing your vehicle’s GPS with that on unit serial number 10978233 that I’ve been tracking per your request at 11:45 a.m. EST. That vehicle is within a five-mile radius of your current location. Stand by.”
Shit! That’s Kyzer’s Benz. Keep on coming, baby.
“That’s clear,” I radioed back. “It’s on the screen now. Over.”
“Agent Hardesty, the vehicle approaching right here,” I said, putting my finger on the GPS screen and showing him the moving pink dot, “is Kyzer Stanfield’s dark blue, Mercedes Benz, C300. If he continues on his current route, we should be coming up on him in about three minutes. We need to apprehend this individual.”
“Not a problem, Agent Matthews. There are no turn-offs between here and there.”
“Keep in mind, he may have passengers.”
“Not a problem.”
“Keep in mind, there is not a warrant issued for this individual.”
“Still, not a problem. Get ready, Evans.”
Good. We are on the same page.
I could feel my adrenaline pumping; the bastard was almost in our sights. The seconds ticked by like minutes.
Finally, up on the horizon, we could see his dark blue Benz coming closer. We couldn’t afford to get tangled up in a car chase…not out here on these twisted, narrow, hilly roads.
Hardesty pushed a button and the sunroof opened on the top of our SUV. Just as the two vehicles prepared to pass, Evans raised himself up quickly, clearing the roof of the vehicle, and fired two shots from his high-powered, automatic rifle at the back tires of the Mercedes.
“You gotta love these bullets,” he said, smiling as he sat back down. “They do a nice job on steel-belted tires.”
Hardesty slowed the SUV and made a U-turn, coming up quickly beside the Mercedes, now limping along the graveled berm.
I was out of the vehicle like a shot. It was me and him, and he was going to tell me what I wanted to know. He cowered in his vehicle, trying to use his cell phone.
Oh, hell no!
I braced myself, grabbing my Glock from my waistband holster, and ordered him out of the vehicle.
He delayed. Not good.
I shot the glass out of the driver’s side window. Reaching inside, I hauled his skinny ass through the window with one arm. I threw him up against the side of his vehicle.
Hardesty had his weapon drawn and on him, while Evans frisked him, top to bottom.
“Clean,” Evans said, retreating back.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said, walking closer. “You can turn around now, Kyzer. We were just on our way to see you. We have some questions.”
He looked up at me, his face full of haughty attitude. He was not going to make this easy, I could tell. We didn’t have a lot of time to lose either.
“I’m not saying a thing. I want a lawyer.”
“Did you hear that guys? He wants a lawyer and we haven’t even questioned him yet.” I heard the other two agents scoff in response.
I held the cold, steel barrel of my Glock up next to his temple, pressing it into the skin.
“Where’d you get the nice, long scratch on your face, Poindexter?”
“My pussy cat,” he said, smiling.
The son-of-a-bitch is so close to dying. He’s just too fucking stupid to realize it.
“Are you resisting me?” I bellowed, causing him to jump. The barrel of the Glock left a mark on his skin.
“Hardesty, is this mother-fucker resisting me?”
“Looks that way, Special Agent Matthews, sir!”
“Evans!” I shouted, not taking my eyes off of Kyzer’s now frightened ones. “Is the suspect armed and threatening
our safety and our lives?”
“Yes, sir, Special Agent Matthews! I plainly see the gun in his hand, sir. The suspect has drawn a weapon on an agent of the F.B.I. and has threatened to shoot!”
“That’s what I thought,” I sneered, snatching him up. I moved the barrel of my gun and ran it across his lips.
“Do you like the taste of gun metal, Poindexter? You’re going to taste a whole lot more of it if you don’t tell me in the next five seconds where Lindsey is, you sorry-ass, mother-fucker.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, his eyes now panicked. “She’s back at the old factory on Fraley Road. There’s a locked room up on the mezzanine, overlooking the factory floor. If you release me, I’ll give you the keys.”
“Who else is there?”
“No one. Just her. I swear.”
I released him, and he audibly sighed with relief. Our weapons remained drawn, as he reached into the pocket of his Polo jacket, and pulled out a set of keys.
“This one’s to the main factory door, and this one’s to the locked room on the mezzanine.”
“You better hope she’s alright,” I hissed, putting my Glock away.
“Evans, Mirandize this piece of shit. I want you to stay with him until the locals get here to haul him in. By the way, Poindexter, it appears you’ve pissed yourself.”
Kyzer Stanfield lowered his head, as if he hadn’t realized throughout the ordeal that he’d urinated in his drawers. A large wet spot covered his whole crotch area, and halfway down each thigh.
Hardesty and I returned to the SUV and took off. I radioed the others that Kyzer Stanfield was in custody. Kim was contacting the locals to dispatch deputies to pick him up with Agent Evans.
We were going to proceed with the warrants, as authorized, to see what other evidence could be uncovered. I relayed to Slate that Stanfield had said Lindsey was locked up in the deserted factory, and that I would radio back once we had her in our protection.
Slate was tense. I could hear it in his voice. I was not as tense, knowing that we would be there within minutes to get her into our custody and protection. My protection. My Lindsey.
