Nicked
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Beau sat. “Fine by me, patron. We never talked.”
“I’ve been avoiding any involvement in this coed kidnapping case for months. CBI’s been working it with their task force, doing everything possible. But no results yet. Frankly, I preferred this to be their failure instead of ours.”
Beau had no idea what to make of that. The boss usually kept his sneaking and conniving to himself. “But you’re willing to accommodate me?”
The boss rubbed his face with his hands. “I received a personal request from the head of the CBI. They’re at their wits’ end.”
Beau had figured as much. If they’d been making progress, he would’ve heard something through the grapevine. “If it goes bad after we join the task force, we can always point our fingers at the others.”
Yang nodded. “It could easily come to that. You will be our main contact on this case. You’ve been lucky recently, including in the Langer matter. We need to take advantage of your good fortune while it lasts. I’ll assign two others to help you, but I’m not sure who yet.”
Beau wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment or a hint that Yang thought Beau’s prior success had been a fluke. Both alternatives seemed equally plausible.
-o-o-o-
Denver Health Medical Center
Beau’s first stop after stepping into the investigation was to visit the trauma center where the EMTs had taken Mingus Dunbar. Beau said a quick prayer to the Virgin that the injured Scotsman would survive the attack and provide crucial first-hand evidence.
Outside of Dunbar’s hospital room, Beau chatted with Lenny Alvarez, the head of the CBI’s sex trafficking task force. The man introduced him to Erin Dunbar, Skye’s mom. Her eyes were red and her cheeks damp with tears.
Beau took her right hand in both of his. “Can you tell me what happened?”
She spoke with a heavy Scottish accent. “I was taking tae long in a gift store than I’d expected, so my husband went tae sit with our daughter waiting outside. While I was paying a few minutes later, a middle-aged woman came running inside. She yelled, ‘Call 911! A man’s out cold, lying on the sidewalk.’ I ran outside and found Mingus. Skye was gone.”
Erin wailed.
Beau understood her despair, but he needed to keep her talking. “We’ll get her back, ma’am, and you can help us—a lot. Tell me what happened to your husband.”
She took a moment to compose herself. “Mingus has a bloody scrape on his temple. I think his head must’ve hit the concrete. Anyway, just as I reached him, he began tae stir. I told him, ‘Stay still, not tae move’ until help arrived. Was afraid he’d hurt his neck. I knelt down next tae him ‘til help came.”
“Did he say anything?” Beau asked.
Erin shook her head. More tears flowed. “Didn’t really wake up. Only moaned.”
Beau softened his voice for his next question. “What do the doctors say about his condition, Erin?”
“Severe concussion. Oh, and a bad bruise on the right side of his head. Someone might’ve hit him with something.”
“Can we talk to him?” Beau asked.
Lenny shook his head. “Hasn’t been allowed, so far. The nurse is supposed to let us know when Mingus regains consciousness.”
-o-o-o-
While Beau waited, he coordinated with two other people Yang assigned to the task force. First, he spoke to a CSI named Laura Perdue. She agreed to visit the scene of the attack and coordinate with the Denver and CBI techs. With any luck, they’d find videos recorded by other businesses near the crime scene.
Beau also called a brand-new Special Agent just out of the Academy named Taylor Beckham. He agreed to review the CBI’s files on the earlier cases to prepare a summary.
Beau then updated Athena. She was his secret crime-fighting tool. As a private citizen, she wasn’t constrained by all the FBI’s pesky rules intended to protect a criminal’s constitutional rights. Beau worried more about a victim’s right to remain free from violence.
Fortunately, he and Athena tended to agree on such things. So, Beau had learned to be careful about asking her certain questions. He couldn’t constantly pretend to be ignorant. All Yang or anyone else knew was that he had a confidential informant with a knack for finding out information most investigators couldn’t unearth.
His thoughts were interrupted when one of the nurses emerged from Mingus’s room. “He’s awake, asking for his wife.”
Erin rushed into the room. Lenny and Beau tried to follow, but the nurse put up her hand. “Give them a minute. Then if he wants to talk to you, I’ll come get you. And be forewarned, if you do get to ask questions, it’ll only be for a few minutes.”
She reentered the room and closed the door.
Soon, however, the nurse returned. “He’s eager to talk to you, but I’m very concerned that the strain might be too much now. I’ve recommended he wait until tomorrow to speak with you, but he insists on telling you what he knows. The poor man is worried that he might take a turn for the worse before he can help you find his daughter.”
“How likely is he to make it through the night?” Beau asked.
The nurse sighed. “He has considerable swelling inside his brain. The doctors have done everything they can to get it under control, but needless to say, Mr. Dunbar’s condition is very serious. Only one of you should ask questions, and keep it brief.”
Beau raised his hand, and Lenny didn’t object. They followed the nurse into the room. He’d interviewed a dozen witnesses on their deathbeds, and he had a bad feeling about this guy. The man’s skin was ghostly white, and he could barely keep his eyes open. His chest rattled as he breathed.
His wife stood next to him and fought to keep from falling apart.
No time to lose. Beau quickly introduced himself and Lenny and asked what had happened to him.
With a deep Scottish accent barely registering above a whisper, Mingus said, “I-I walked out of the store to sit at a bench next tae my d-daughter. She was bent forward like she was s-sick. Sat next tae an old woman. I rushed forward tae h-help her. Heard something next to me but didn’t take the time tae look.”
He paused for a moment before continuing. “I woke up here. Erin says Skye v-vanished. For God’s sake, do everything possible tae f-find her.”
He wheezed as he tried to catch his breath.
Beau reminded himself to be patient, even though they might not get anything else. What do I need to know most?
He blurted out the next question. “Was the old woman a witness or one of the kidnappers?”
“I-I dinnae…” As his voice trailed off, his eyes fluttered shut.
When Mingus’s eyes cracked open a bit, Beau asked, “What did the woman look like?”
The poor man didn’t speak for a moment. Beau feared he’d never talk again but couldn’t push.
A moment later, Mingus whispered, “Dinnae get a good look. Too worried about Skye. T-the woman’s was face was wrinkled, gray hair…past…shoulders.” He faltered again but then started, as though waking up from a nap. “Big…dirty clothes…said something, uh, like, ‘Jesus…what’s wrong?’”
Although the poor man had struggled so much to get the words out, his description of the woman was close to useless. It matched too many of the homeless people who swarmed downtown. Beau asked several more questions, but Mingus didn’t say any more.
Before Beau could think up another question, the nurse raised her hand. “Enough.”
He and Lenny gave their cards to the wife. She took them eagerly. “I’ll call ye if he remembers anything else.”
Beau nodded. “You do that, ma’am, day or night.”
Chapter 3
US 85 north of Denver
As time passed, Skye’s heart rate slowed, and she couldn’t hear it pounding in her ears anymore. The pickup kept flying down the road for what seemed like hours, over a mixture of highways and city streets.
Where the bloody hell are we going?
The puppy woke up, took a leak in the corner of the pickup’s bed, and dashed over to greet his fellow prisoner. She wished he’d chew the zip ties binding her feet and hands, but he just jumped on her and licked her bare arms. When he got bored with her lack of response, he curled up and slept again.
The pickup turned onto a highway heading east. They continued at a high speed on a wide, two-lane road. Through the grimy back window, Skye watched the passing farm country. The landscape remained mostly brown and gray—too early in the year to plant the fields.
-o-o-o-
US 85 at the Weld County line, south of Greeley, Colorado
As they got closer to home, Maude grew nervous again. Rufus was well known to the local cops. They pulled him over every chance they got. She didn’t want to be caught driving on stolen license plates, so she said, “See that abandoned gas station up ahead? That would be a good place to switch the plates back.”
He didn’t respond, but he did veer into the gas station and drove behind it.
A few minutes later, they were back on the road with the truck’s real plates. Nothing much to worry about now except making it home safely.
Not a moment later, her thoughts were interrupted by flashing lights that erupted in the mirrors. A car with red and blue flashing lights was hundreds of meters behind them. Fuck!
It raced toward them. Probably a police car, but she hoped it was a different kind of emergency vehicle. The other drivers on the road pulled to the side and stopped. Rufus just slowed down so they could pass him. But the cops drove up until they reached Maude’s pickup and stayed right behind it.
Rufus acted oblivious.
A siren wailed loudly behind them. Impossible to ignore that. The cops obviously wanted him to pull over. Back in the bed, the puppy barked and bounced around.
Maude knew better than to give Rufus advice in dealing with the law. He was far more experienced than her.
“Sons of bitches!” He finally parked on the road’s shoulder.
“One of the assholes is coming up on my side with his pistol in hand,” Maude said.
“Same here,” her son said with gritted teeth.
She reminded him while she still could. “Hey, if you give them any trouble, they’ll check the truck. Both of us will go to prison for decades.”
“Shut up! I know. But this is fucking harassment. Damn them to hell!”
Something banged in the back. Maude whispered, “That little whore is trying to catch their attention.”
He didn’t reply. Maude hoped the cops would be too worried about her son to pay attention to anything else. And they should.
Rufus lowered his window.
“Weld County Sheriff’s Office, Rufus!” the cop on the left side yelled. “Hands on the steering wheel where I can see them!”
The one on Maude’s side wore a ridiculous handlebar mustache. He held his pistol in both hands and used the tip of the barrel to tap on Maude’s window. “Nice and slow, Maude, roll it down! Then put both of your hands on the dash.”
She followed his instructions, but he was nuts. She’d never caused them any trouble.
The cop on the left side of the truck had a shiny, bald head. He said, “Careful, Rufus. I need you to get out, nice and slow. And keep those hands where I can see them.”
“I wasn’t speeding! What the hell’s goin’ on?” Rufus barked.
He had been, but not by much. Maude doubted these bastards were worried about his driving. Did the Denver pigs already suspect she and Rufus had grabbed the girl?
“You got in another fight at the Wrangler last night, Rufus,” Baldy said. “That’s a violation of your probation. We got a warrant for your arrest. You’re coming with us.”
Jesus Christ! The idiot kid will never learn. “Listen,” Maude hissed. “Do what they say.”
Instead, Rufus stayed exactly where he was. His fingers gripped the wheel tightly. He probably wished he could rip it loose and whack Baldy with it.
Maybe the cop thought the same. His voice hardened. “Don’t give us any trouble, now. I can have ten more officers here in two minutes. You don’t want another resisting arrest on your sheet.”
“Please!” Maude whispered. “Do what he says!”
Rufus blew out a deep breath. His fingers relaxed. He actually seemed to be ready to give up. But the banging in the back grew louder. The damned puppy barked and whined.
“What the hell is that?” Mustache asked. He stepped back and tried to peer inside the filthy canopy’s window.
Thinking fast, Maude said, “Just a couple of dogs that want out. We’ll turn them loose as soon as we get back to the farm.”
Baldy didn’t seem to care about the dogs. “Last chance to give up, Rufus, before I call it in!”
“Okay,” Rufus said and sighed. “Ain’t causing no trouble. Coming out slow. Don’t shoot.”
The cop opened the truck’s door and backed away. He’d drawn his pistol and now pointed it down, but in plain, intimidating view. Rufus eased out of the truck and stood.
The cop said, “Fine. Close the door and assume the position against the hood.”
Mustache stepped around the front of the truck and held his gun on Rufus while Baldy patted him down. He took a switchblade from one pocket and put it in his own.
“You’re doing real good,” Baldy said. “Easy now, put your hands behind your back. I remember what happened the last time we had this conversation. If you try to take me out with your elbow again, I’ll put you on a slab this time.”
For once in his life, Rufus did as he was told. Baldy snapped on the bracelets. Then, both cops stood upright and relaxed. Smiled at each other like they hadn’t expected her son to give up without somebody getting shot.
The two assholes took Rufus to their car and put him in the back seat. That done, Mustache returned.
“Okay, Maude, you know the drill. He’ll be processed and returned to jail. Then he will be arraigned on a drunk and disorderly charge for last night. Don’t expect any bail since he violated probation. You can check with his public defender to find out more.”
Unfortunately, she did know the drill. In the last year, her son had spent more time in jail than free. And each time he got arrested, she needed to manage the girls by herself. Now, she’d have three of the bitches to worry about.
The cop stood next to her, as though expecting some response. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
After a moment he said, “Have a good day, ma’am.”
Maude walked around the truck and hopped behind the wheel. The men remained in the parked patrol car, doing whatever those assholes did after they’d arrested somebody.
Nobody had told her she needed to stick around, so she drove away before they decided to ask her more questions or search the pickup.
-o-o-o-
Skye’s hopes shattered. She’d heard the policemen. They’d arrested the man—apparently named Rufus—and she’d heard the worry in their voices as they’d talked him out of the vehicle.
They’d left a woman named Maude behind. She’d made an excuse to explain Skye’s kicking the side of the truck’s bed to draw the cops’ attention. Unfortunately, the cops had believed her, or they’d been too focused on Rufus to care.
Skye could just see the parked police car through the dirty window as it remained at the side of the road, lights still flashing. Maude drove off. For the first time that morning, Skye burst into tears. Dammit! So close to being saved, then nothing.
The truck picked up speed and continued east for a few miles before turning sharply north onto a dirt road. Minutes later, they crossed the only river she’d seen all morning.
The pickup bumped along another dirt road, this one heavily rutted. After a few more minutes they stopped. Maude got out, clanged somethin
g, and drove forward a few meters. She got out again, and through the back window, Skye spotted her locking a gate behind them. After driving for a few hundred meters, she parked. This had to be the farm Maude had mentioned to the cops.
Maude opened the canopy’s back. She held a large revolver in her right hand. “You made a helluva racket,” she said in her gravelly voice. “You’re gonna pay for that, you little bitch. You almost got me locked up.”
Skye sat with her back against the front of the truck’s bed. Maude dropped the tailgate. The puppy took off like a rocket. The hag crawled partway into the bed and dragged Skye onto the tailgate by yanking on the zip tie binding Skye’s ankles.
Maude holstered the pistol. She picked up a yellow, meter-long cattle prod that was lying in the bed. The damned thing gave off a high-pitched whine as Maude jammed it against Skye’s thigh and pulled the trigger.
Even through Skye’s jeans, the pain from its electric shock was horrific. Skye tried to scream, but the device had paralyzed her. All she could do was suffer.
After far too long, Maude let go of the trigger. Skye could breathe again. She took in great gasping breaths and shivered uncontrollably. The old woman had made her point—she could do whatever she wanted. No mercy from those cold brown eyes.
Maude grinned. “Now, I know that’s a bit nasty. If you don’t ever do anything that will piss me off again, that’s the last time you will be uncomfortable. Nod if you understand.”
Skye wanted to fight back, but she had no chance. So, she tried to resist passively. Didn’t move.
Maude hit her with the prod again, this time on Skye’s stomach, zapping her through a thin t-shirt. This time, the pain was even worse and lasted longer.
As soon as Maude released the trigger, Skye spasmed. The world went out of focus.
Maude cackled. “Still feeling feisty, girl?”
Skye was sick, helpless, and trapped with someone who seemed to love making her suffer. All alone. Passive resistance wasn’t going to work. Skye shook her head.
“You gonna do what I say?”
Skye had no choice. She nodded.