by D. V. Berkom
“No, I didn't know about it. Would you check for me?” Finally, something she could work with.
“Sure, Mrs. Basso. Hold on a minute.”
Leine waited, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. Cory came back on the line a few minutes later.
“It shows her last location as Tujunga Boulevard, seventy-four hundred block. The cross street is Sherman Way.”
“Does it tell you when she last updated it?”
“Thursday. Have you talked to her since then?”
“Our last conversation was on Thursday morning.” Leine's pulse was rocking now. This was what she'd been searching for. “Cory, would you like to help me with something very important? It involves April.”
***
Her smartphone rang as she was driving to meet with Cory and Gene near the block where April had pinged her last location. Please, please, please be Azazel, she thought.
Private Caller. Leine punched the button.
“You were very naughty, Madeleine.”
Leine let out the breath she'd been holding. She's still alive. She has to be. He wouldn't call me if she was dead.
“I know. I'm sorry. Something was wrong with my phone. I didn't realize until this morning. Can I talk to her?” Leine had to bite her lip to keep from saying what she really meant, which would have gone something like, Get her on the fucking phone, you lunatic, and let me talk to my daughter.
A long sigh echoed from the other end.
I'm going to kill him so slowly, he'll beg me for mercy. Fair price for keeping her in agony.
“Well, yes, I guess so. You did do everything I asked. I have to tell you, though—” He paused and she heard the jingle of keys. “Your actions caused me to vent my frustrations.”
Leine's breath caught in her throat. If he touched April…
“Now, now, I know what you're thinking. Did he take it out on poor, dear April? I'll tell you, I was tempted. She's quite disrespectful. But no, I did not. I am a man of my word. Maybe this time the actors will finally figure out how to comport themselves like real killers, although I'm afraid it's for naught. They appear a little slow. You'll find when you return to work there's one less problem to deal with. You might want to suggest to the female contestants to lay off the Botox, though. Nasty stuff.”
“One less? What do you mean?” Gene was right. He killed Tina.
“I won't bore you with the details. You'll find out soon enough.” Azazel's breathing changed, becoming deep and heavy. It reminded her of the sound Darth Vader made in the Star Wars movies.
“Are you still there?” she asked. He didn't answer, although she could hear him breathing. More keys jangled, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing.
“Here she is. In all her glory. You look tired,” he said, away from the mouthpiece. “Did the little shot Gwen gave you make you sleepy?” He chuckled and spoke into the phone. “Your daughter's exhibiting some of your tendencies, Madeleine. She's quite the pistol, aren't you, April? Would you like to talk to your mother?”
“Mom? Are you there?” April's voice barely wavered, but Leine could sense her fear. She clenched her fists to keep in control as a mixture of relief and anger flooded to the surface.
She's alive. That's all the confirmation she needed. Leine felt a fresh surge of energy flow through her, giving her resolve the boost it needed.
“I'm here, baby. It's going to be okay.”
“Mom, tell Brutus I'm all right.”
Azazel came back on the line. “That's more than enough time to talk, you two. Madeleine, I have one more task I'd like you to perform. I realize you have others who are anxious to see you dead, but I'd like you to complete this last request for me. If you do what I ask, April will be free.”
After Azazel gave her the directions of his last request and ended the call, Leine started to formulate another plan. April mentioned Brutus, which was the name of a dog that spent most of its time in the next door neighbor's basement. April would visit with him through a window the owners would leave open while they were at work, and afterwards came home crying because she thought it was cruel to leave him inside all day and wanted to bring him home with her.
Leine assumed that April was telling her the killer was keeping her in his basement. Now, all she had to do was figure out where.
It's only a matter of time, Azazel.
***
Gene was the last to arrive. Leine told them to meet her one block down so they wouldn't draw suspicion. Cory sat next to Leine in the front passenger seat of the second rental. Gene parked his car so he faced her.
The block of well-kept, older homes showed freshly mowed yards for the most part, with evidence of several kids in the neighborhood; bicycles, soccer balls and Big Wheels littered the sidewalks. Leine shivered at the thought of the monster most likely living next door to these innocents. This is almost over. With any luck, he'll be dead before dark.
“Cory's an old friend of April's and has information on the last place she was before she was abducted,” Leine said, by way of introduction. “It's a long shot, but I'm hoping that she entered the location just before Azazel got her.
“There's at least one woman guarding her, probably two. Paula described the woman who delivered a package to you as different than the one who dropped off mine. I've identified the one who delivered my package as Sissy Nelson through fingerprints on the box. She's approximately five feet five, thin with strawberry-blonde hair and a light complexion. She drives a late model red Honda Civic. Her last known address was some place in Ohio. She's wanted for armed robbery, so she could be dangerous. The other woman's name is Gwen. I don't know anything about her.” Leine glanced at Cory. “That means you only observe. You do not attempt to follow her or stop her in any way. If you see a woman with her description, call me immediately. That goes for you, too, Gene. We don't need any heroes here, okay?” They both nodded.
“Once we have a positive ID we'll verify the house and I'll contact Detective Jensen and give him the information. The man who abducted her is extremely dangerous. He's killed three women as far as we know. This is not something to try to accomplish on our own. Got it?”
“Got it,” Gene answered. Cory nodded his assent. Leine continued.
“I have to leave for a while this afternoon, but I should be back before nightfall. If I'm not, here's Detective Jensen's number.” Leine handed them each a business card with her number and Jensen's written on it. “Call him if you've verified the location and you can't get a hold of me. Tell him everything I've told you. The GPS on my phone is turned on and you can track me from this.” She turned on the small tablet so they could both see what she was doing and clicked the link to a website where she entered a password. The screen came to life with a map of Los Angeles and a blinking avatar labeled 'Leine.'
“Rescuing April is more important than finding me. Once she's safe, come for me if you have to. Otherwise, I'll bring you two dinner.” She rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck to relieve the tension. The strain she was feeling played with the relief of a possible end in sight.
Cory frowned. “What if it takes longer than overnight? I mean, we could be sitting her for days, theoretically.” His face turned red. “Where do I—you know, where do I go to the bathroom?”
Gene scoffed. “Open your door and piss on the neighbor's lawn, kid. If you gotta do something more than that, hold it.”
“There's a coffee shop around the corner. Let Gene know if you have to go.” She rolled her eyes at Gene. “Give the kid a break, will you? He's new.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Gene reached through his window and rested his hand on Leine's door. “You sure you don't want me to come with you?”
Leine shook her head. “Thanks, Gene, but I've got this one. Cory, you take this corner, Gene you cover the other end of the block. Keep in touch with each other. She could be in any of these houses.”
Cory picked up the tablet and got back into his Jetta. Gene turned his c
ar around, heading for the far end of the street. He cruised slowly, checking both sides of the block. Leine started the car and pulled out, on her way to complete her last task for Azazel.
CHAPTER 31
GENE DORFENBERGER WAS no stranger to waiting. He'd been tapped as a getaway driver more times than he could count. It was always the same. Wait, keep an eye out, wait some more. Hope you don't hear shots fired. Wait again, until the rest of the gang comes running, jump in the car and scream at you to hit the gas, then drive like hell. Not a great way to spend your time, but safer than doing the actual job.
Gene was done playing it safe.
This time, he swore to himself he'd make things up to Leine. He'd never intended for April to be involved. The only reason he'd agreed to deliver Leine to Azazel was because he figured she'd be able to take care of herself. She was smart and had the skills to take out another killer. Gene hadn't banked on April showing up.
He hadn't banked on a lot more than that. He had no idea Azazel was going to continue to kill the contestants. The call to Ella hadn't gone well. She'd cursed him for a full twenty minutes before she hung up. Didn't matter to Gene. All that mattered was she got Brenda the hell out of town. Somewhere Azazel couldn't find her.
If everything worked out the way Gene envisioned, he'd rescue April and re-earn Leine's trust. Without April, Azazel wouldn't have a bargaining chip. Leine would then be free to hunt him down without the added stress of keeping her daughter alive. He hoped she made him suffer when she did find him. Knowing her, though, it'd be quick. Gene didn't think it was so easy to change a person's working style.
Gene sighed and lit a cigarette. Maybe he'd take the money he saved from the Serial Date gig and buy a piece of land in Montana. Sure, it was cold as hell in the winter, but there wasn't much pollution to speak of and the place was so big, he could keep to himself, live out the rest of his life reading, do some writing. Hell, maybe he'd even start a little ranch. Couldn't be too hard, right?
He glanced toward the end of the block at Cory's car. He'd have to make sure the kid was elsewhere if this surveillance thing checked out. There hadn't been a lot of activity on the street: a couple of kids kicking around a soccer ball; a woman in a jogging suit taking her dog for a walk. Typical summer afternoon.
Gene leaned his head back and blew smoke rings at the windshield. There was movement out of the corner of his eye. The side door opened on a white house about a third of the way down the block and a woman with dark hair stepped out, carrying a paper grocery bag. She walked over to a garbage can and dropped it in before she turned toward the house. Gene brought his gaze back to the door and caught a glimpse of a redheaded woman. No, make that a strawberry blonde-headed woman.
Gene sat forward and grabbed for his phone. The red haired woman disappeared behind the door as the dark haired woman walked back up the steps into the house. Gene punched in Cory's number.
“You see something?” Cory asked.
“Nah, not yet. Hey, I'm getting hungry. You up for running over to that coffee shop Leine talked about and getting me a black coffee and blueberry muffin? Get something for yourself, too. I'm buying.”
“You sure that's okay? I mean, I don't want to miss something.”
“Yeah, it's fine. This has to be the quietest neighborhood I ever seen.”
Gene waited until Cory left and then got out of the car. He shoved his Glock in his waistband, looked down both sides of the street and crossed to the opposite sidewalk. He slowed as he reached the white house, keeping an eye on the door. Stepping behind the thick trunk of a eucalyptus tree, he waited and watched the house.
After a few minutes, he checked to make sure no one was nearby and slipped between the white house and its neighbor. He crouched, slipping down the driveway toward the one-car garage in back with an eye toward the house. What he saw told him the side door led into a small entryway next to the kitchen. He continued to the garage and looked in through the small window. A red Honda Civic was parked inside.
His heart beating rapidly in his chest, he skirted the yard and sidled up against the house so he could peek in a larger window.
The window opened onto a small room with an old fashioned closet. Several boxes of gardening tools had been stacked neatly against one wall. The closet held what looked like pairs of fisherman's waders on hangers. Gene moved on to the back door. The lack of gutters and roof overhang told him the house had been built during World War Two. Its back door had been modified somewhat by one of the owners replacing the original single door with a pair of French doors. One of them stood ajar.
Gene worked his way to the side of the door, all his senses alert. He drew his gun from his waistband and double checked that he had a bullet in the chamber. Wiping perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand, he crept inside the house.
***
Leine parked a block down from her house in a vacant lot, grabbed the small pack sitting on the seat next to her and cut through the alleyway to the backyard. She had to get to her weapons stash before she did what Azazel requested. Careful to remain hidden from view of the house in case Eric stationed someone there, she slipped into the garage and went to the door of the small room. Earlier, she'd searched her purse for the key to the lock, but couldn't find the keychain. She assumed it had fallen out of her purse into her other car, or might still be in the house.
She reached inside the pack and produced a burglar's pick. Making short work of the lock, she opened the door and turned on the light.
Her heart missed a beat. The shelves were clean. Eric's people found the room. All her hardware was gone, including a simple metal file she'd thrown in when she discovered it in a drawer in the kitchen.
That left her with the nine millimeter, the night vision gear and the electronic scramblers she'd used on the Russian import store. She closed the door and exited the garage, headed back to her car.
The unmistakable sound of The Godfather's theme song broke through the quiet of the afternoon as she approached her car. She quickly unlocked the door and grabbed her phone.
Azazel.
“Finally.” He sounded upset. “Madeleine. Listen to me closely. There is a man following you. He was waiting for you at your house. He's muscular, has blonde hair and I think he may want to kill you.”
The phone went dead. Leine scanned the street in both directions. She didn't see anything, but that didn't mean much. Eric's people were experts—trained to be invisible. She was surprised Azazel warned her. Didn't he want to see her dead?
But it wouldn't have been by his hand. He'd feel cheated. For once, she was glad he'd rigged cameras outside her house.
Leine reached under the seat for her gun.
CHAPTER 32
CORY PAID FOR the coffee and muffins, drove the two blocks back to the neighborhood and pulled in behind Gene's car. He didn't see anyone through the window. Probably napping, Cory thought. He got out of his car with Gene's coffee in one hand and the blueberry muffin in the other and walked to the driver's side window. Gene wasn't there.
He set the coffee and muffin on the roof of the car and looked around. There was nothing happening in the neighborhood that he could see. A bumblebee buzzed by him and Cory took a step backward.
When Gene didn't appear, Cory placed the coffee and muffin on his dash. He wondered if Gene had seen something while he was at the coffee shop and was checking it out. Just my luck, Cory thought. He thought about walking back to his car to drink his hot chocolate when he heard two pops, one after the other. Two more followed, but further apart than the last two. Cory had never heard the sound of actual gunfire and didn't realize at first what it was. When it finally dawned on him, he sprinted to his car and dove inside, dropping to the floor on the passenger side.
Shit. Cory reached for his cell phone and punched in Leine's number. The call went directly to voicemail.
“Leine. It's Cory. I'm parked behind Gene's car. I think I just heard gunshots. I-I think they came from inside one
of the houses a few doors down on the opposite side of the street. Gene's not in his car. I don't know what to do. Call me as soon as you get this.” Cory ended the call still clutching the phone.
Sweat trickled down the side of his face as he weighed his options. Should I call the police? He looked at the card with Jensen's number on it. Leine said to call him only if they'd verified the woman's location. He considered dialing 9-1-1 to report shots fired, but thought better of it. What if it was just some kids lighting off fireworks? What if having the cops come around asking questions put April in more danger? He decided to wait for the neighbors to report it.
The only experience Cory had with guns was through watching cop shows on television. He was smart enough to know the shows didn't reflect real life. The risky heroics shown every week were to grab the audience's attention, not to be viewed as a how-to manual for dangerous situations. Still, it would've been nice to know something he could do. He resolved to check into self-defense classes and maybe even try shooting at a range.
After a few minutes, when he didn't hear anything further, he risked a peek over the dash, through the windshield. No curious neighbors were outside, trying to see what happened. No sirens wailed in the distance. Maybe Cory had been mistaken. Maybe it wasn't gun shots he heard. He slid up onto his front seat to the driver's side. Hesitant at first, he started the car and was about to shift into drive to go back to his corner when a red Honda Civic backed out of a driveway onto the street about a third of the way down the block. The car headed straight toward him. Panicked, Cory couldn't decide if he should crouch down so he wouldn't be seen, or if he should try to get a good look. He decided to look. As the car passed by, Cory caught a glimpse of the driver. It wasn't a woman with strawberry blonde hair. Cory averted his gaze as the man drove by, but not before he made eye contact.
