The Zoo Crew (Zoo Crew series Book 1)

by Dustin Stevens

  No less than three contradictions in the one line course description. Still, it was a two credit class that met once a week. Pretty much the only two requirements Drake had when scheduling in the spring.

  If it wasn't already too late to take something else, he would.

  Tucked away in the far corner, Drake did his best to make it through the class. Conducted an email conversation with Greg and Wyatt on either side of him. Checked his fantasy football team. Read the Sports Guy on ESPN.

  Minutes crawled by.

  When it ended he begged off a mid-afternoon trip to the Food Zoo with the two of them and instead opted for a quick run up Mount Sentinel.

  He figured he could shower at the rec center and be back in the clinic office in under an hour. He hadn't yet seen Ava for the day, but needed to talk to her.

  Just because the pleading was filed meant nothing. They now had a brief to draft. The real heavy lifting of the operation.

  The afternoon sun felt warm on his face as he stepped out through the front door of the school, Greg to his left, Wyatt to his right.

  A gaggle of co-eds walked by, talking in squeals. Handful of blondes. Couple of brunettes and redheads thrown in for good measure. All young and wearing tank-tops.

  One of the few joys of still being on a college campus at the age of twenty-four.

  "You see that one smile at me?" Greg asked as the girls slid by. "In the purple shirt?"

  "Um, I don't think she was smiling at you," Wyatt said and slapped his friend on the back. Nudged him on towards the parking lot with his fist.

  "Oh, sure," Greg said. "They're always looking at the football star. The one who won't do a damn thing about it."

  Drake smiled and shook his head. "Can't you all just enjoy the scenery while it's here? Need I remind you what happens in just a few short weeks?"

  Wyatt grumbled. "Ugh, sweater season."

  "Nine months of it," Drake added.

  This time both Greg and Wyatt shuddered. A practiced two man dance that made Drake laugh out loud.

  He turned and went for the parking lot without another word. Stopped by his truck and exchanged his land use planning books for a gym bag. Ducked into the rec center at the opposite end of the parking lot and changed in the locker room.

  Ten minutes after fleeing a dungeon-like classroom, he was circling the back end of campus.

  Gym-shorts swinging along his thighs. T-shirt bouncing over his shoulders. Running shoes slapping the pavement beneath him.

  Drake opted against the front face of the mountain. Away from the famous M Trail with its switchbacks and scads of hiking tourists.

  Went around back instead. Took an unmarked path and ran through the trees.

  The backside was deserted as he wound his way up. The only sounds were his feet beating against the soft dirt of the trail and his own breathing.

  The run to the top took a little over twenty minutes to finish, all of it fast and moving hard. By the time he reached the summit his heart was pounding in his ears. Sweat drenched his body.

  Drake slowed to a walk on the peak of the mountain. Peeled his shirt off over his head. Let the Hellgate Canyon breeze blow across him.

  From fifteen hundred feet above town, the world looked pristine.

  Below him extended the Missoula River Valley for miles in all directions, every possible shade of green sewn together in a mottled weave. The Clark Fork and Blackfoot Rivers and their tributaries cut meandering stripes through it like spokes on a wheel.

  Below him was the University of Montana campus. Washington-Grizzly Stadium. Missoula, laid out in perfect grid format.

  Drake considered starting his way back down but opted to linger a little longer.

  In a just a few weeks everything would be awash in gold and red. For the moment, it resembled Ireland in the spring.

  Drake ran his t-shirt over his face once more. Tucked it into the waist band of his shorts and took a few steps down the front side of the mountain when his phone rang.

  Usually, even bringing it would be a major faux pas. The fact that right now there were two girls under his indirect care made him do it anyway.

  It took several steps for Drake to slow down. The sharp downhill made it hard to stop his momentum.

  "This better be important," he muttered and pulled the phone from the zipper pocket along his waist line. Coughed from the cloud of dust he'd just kicked up.

  Checked the caller ID.

  Ava.

  Drake pressed a finger to his left ear. Lifted the phone with his right. "Hey there. Taking the day off are you?"

  The fierce mountaintop breeze was his only response.

  "Hold on, I can't hear you," Drake said and stepped off the trail. He lowered himself to the ground and leaned his head forward between his knees.

  "Alright, that's better. What's up?"

  "I said, I haven't taken the day off. Been quite busy in fact."

  Drake's head shot up. His breath caught in his chest. The voice was damned sure not Ava's.

  "Who is this?" Drake asked.

  "Who I am is of no consequence," the voice said. It was a man's voice. Low and graveled, a streak of something that sounded almost amused. "What you should be asking is what I want."

  "Why are you calling me? And why do you have Ava's phone?"

  Drake feared he already knew the answer to both questions. For some reason, deep down, he needed to be sure. He needed to hear the words.

  "Again, you should be asking me what I want."

  Drake's eyes slid closed. He tried to swallow but his parched throat wouldn't allow it. "What do you want?"

  "Very good," the voice said. "I want to make a trade. The girl for the girl."

  Drake's mind swam. He had no idea what to do next.

  "What girl?"

  The man on the other end tutted at him. "Don't play stupid with me Mr. Bell. I happen to know you are quite intelligent and know who I'm referring to."

  Drake felt his stomach drop another few inches. Whoever was calling knew who he was. Knew he had Beth.

  Had Ava.

  Drake only had one card left to play. He prayed it wouldn't be her undoing.

  "Yeah, I happen to know a lot about you too, Notch."

  The man on the other end paused for a few moments.

  Drake held his breath. Hoped he hadn't just made a fatal blunder.

  "Very impressive," the man said. "The girl must have remembered more from our little encounter than I gave her credit for."

  Drake let out a small puff of air, relieved that he hadn't just condemned Ava.

  It was soon replaced by unadulterated hatred. Anger at a man who enjoyed destroying females.

  "What do you want?" Drake asked again, an involuntary edge to his voice.

  "I appear to have hit a nerve," the man said. "Good. It's about time I got your attention."

  He paused.

  "Tell you what. I'm going to give you awhile to think things over. To sit and contemplate all the fun I'm having with your little friend here."

  Drake gripped the phone so tight he could hear the plastic cracking. Didn't trust himself to say a word.

  "I'll call you with further instructions when the time is right. Until then, go get the girl from the reservation. And keep your ass away from the cops.

  "We'll be watching."

  The phone went dead without another sound.

  Drake sat still for a full minute and tried to wrap his mind what had just taken place.

  A middle-aged couple walked past him up the trail. Both looked like they'd been through hell. Waved and said hello anyway.

  It was all Drake could do to register their presence, let alone respond.

  Once the breath returned to his chest, he started to run through what he knew.

  The man was a psychopath that went by the name Notch. He had kidnapped and decimated Ella without remorse. He had entered her house and Ava's apartment undetected. He knew all about Drake and where they were keeping Beth.
/>   He had Ava's cell-phone.

  Drake dropped his attention back to his own phone. Hit speed-dial two. Waited for it to connect.

  "Talk to me," Ajax responded.

  "I need a favor."

  "Where the hell are you? A wind tunnel?"

  Drake ignored the question. "I need a favor."

  Ajax paused. His voice went from normal to serious. "What's up?"

  "Can you trace a cell-phone? Access its GPS?"

  "Easily," Ajax said.

  Drake could hear him moving through their place. Hear the sound of plastic wheels on hardwood as Ajax slid in front of his computer.

  "Who am I looking up?"

  "Ava," Drake said and read off her number.

  Ajax fell silent for a moment. The clatter of him working a keyboard poured through the phone.

  "Nothing, man. She must have it turned off. What's going on?"

  "He has her," Drake said through gritted teeth.

  He hated the taste of the words in his mouth. The sound of them in his ears.

  "Oh shit..."

  "Yeah," Drake muttered.

  In the background, he heard Ajax relay the information. A thought occurred to him. "Who's there with you?"

  "Sage just left for work. Rink and Ella were on their way back to the hotel."

  Drake stood. "Ask Rink if he can meet me at the base of Mount Sentinel in ten minutes."

  Ajax relayed the request. Paused. "He's on his way."

  "Thanks."

  Drake kept his phone in one hand, his shirt in the other. In long strides, he took off down the front of the mountain as fast as his legs would allow.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  For the first time ever, Drake was that guy.

  The guy that's a complete, unapologetic jackass in a public setting.

  The guy that other people look at with faces mixed in disgust and disbelief.

  The top half of the descent was almost vertical. Drake's feet barely touched the ground as he hurtled forward. Sweat rolled from his body. Dust swirled around him.

  He couldn't have cared less.

  Midway down, he entered onto the M Trail. Large handfuls of families dotted the trail. Many ranged in conditioning from athlete to couch potato.

  Drake blew past them all. Yelled for people to move out of the way. Disregarded the switchbacks and went straight down the mountainside when the crowd got too thick.

  Ignored the stares and not-so-silent comments behind him.

  Despite the length of the trail, he made it down in twelve minutes. He could see Rink's truck tearing past the stadium as he descended and kept running across the parking lot to meet up with him.

  The truck slowed as Drake tore open the passenger side door and slid inside.

  "The son of a bitch has her?" Rink asked.

  Drake was breathing too hard to respond. He nodded his head. Used his shirt to wipe the sweat and dust from his burning eyes.

  His entire body was caked with both. Some of it smeared onto the door to his right. Some smeared across Ella's sweatshirt to his left.

  "Where we going?" Rink asked.

  Drake drew in two more gulps of air. "Downtown. Pine Street."

  Rink angled his truck in that direction.

  Drake continued to draw in deep breaths and rolled down the window in hopes of air drying a bit. He wiped the dust from his face and forearms with some McDonald's napkins from the floor.

  "Where to now?" Rink asked.

  Drake pointed out the District Attorney's office a block down. "There's no chance in hell this will work, but I've got to try anyway."

  "Do we have time for all that?" Rink asked as he pulled the truck into the same diagonal parking spot Drake had used a few days before. He jammed the gear shift into park, but left the engine running.

  "Probably not," Drake said and cracked open the door. "But they have more resources than we do. Right now we have to think about what's best for Ava."

  Rink nodded, said nothing.

  Drake pulled his shirt on over his head. The gray cotton clung to his sweaty skin.

  He slammed the truck door shut and ran inside. The U.S. Marshalls eyed him as he handed over his cell-phone and stepped through the metal detector.

  Twice reminded him the building closed in ten minutes.

  Drake nodded, assured them he wouldn't need that long. Apologized for his appearance.

  His blood still boiled, but he did his best to keep it under wraps. The last thing he needed was to raise the ire of a group of armed federal officers.

  If all went to plan, some of them might even be following him from the building in a few minutes.

  Drake dashed up the stairs two and three at a time, didn't bother even speaking to the same orange-haired receptionist sitting at the front desk. Instead, he slid over the desk Dukes of Hazzard style and landed softly on the opposite side.

  He was past her before she even noticed enough to object.

  In determined strides he went straight into Timothy Wise's office and wrapped harder than he intended to on the door with the back of his hand.

  A moment later the receptionist appeared at his side.

  "Young man, I don't know who you think you are or where you think this..."

  "Shut up," Drake said.

  She pulled back, aghast.

  "I'm sorry," Drake said, "but this is important. I don't have time for your secret password games today."

  Drake turned his attention back to the desk. Behind it, Wise looked quite annoyed. Not yet hostile, but getting there fast.

  Drake knew he was on thin ice, especially coming in to ask for a favor. He only hoped the enormity of the situation would earn him a pass on his behavior.

  "Ava's in trouble," he blurted out.

  Ire turned to confusion. Wise made a face, tilted his head. "Excuse me?"

  "Ava, the girl that was with me on Monday, she's in trouble."

  Wise frowned. Leaned back and folded his arms across his stomach. "Is this about that same case you brought in here a few days ago?"

  "Yes," Drake said. "Only it's gotten worse. Now Ava's been abducted."

  "Abducted?" Wise said. "And what makes you say that?"

  "Because they called me from her cell phone, told me as much," Drake said.

  "They called from her cell phone?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you get a name or location?"

  Already Drake could see where this was going and felt the venom begin to well up within him again. With a quick breath, he tried to remove what of it he could from his voice.

  "All I know is the guy goes by the name Notch. He wasn't nice enough to tell me where he holds his kidnap victims."

  Wise's frown grew deeper. "And tell me again why you can't go to the police?"

  "Because they're involved!" Drake spat. "You think I'd be wasting time with you condescending pricks unless I had to? Local police won't help any. I need federal. That's you."

  Drake sensed movement by his shoulder. Turned to see the receptionist looking past him into the office.

  "Timothy, I've notified the marshals. They'll be up in just a minute."

  Wise nodded. The receptionist disappeared.

  "Look," Drake said, "we did what you suggested. Filed a civil claim. But this is bigger than that right now. This isn't about court hearings or procedure.

  "They're going to kill her if we don't do something."

  Behind him, he could hear the door to the office open. Two men's voices, followed by a stream of babble from the receptionist.

  His time was up and he knew it.

  Out of frustration, he tossed his hands in the air. "Fine, sit here on your ass and do nothing.

  "But I'll tell you this, if anything happens to that girl, I'll make sure the whole damn state knows your role in it. How's that going to look for the voters this November?"

  "Come on son, it's time for you to go," the closest marshal said. He had one hand out towards Drake, motioning with his hand.

 
Behind him stood a second marshal, hand at his hip.

  Drake couldn't see the man's weapon, but he knew it was there.

  Despite the torrent of words he still had for Wise, he said nothing. Nodded and left through the front door of the building.

  The marshals followed him out onto the sidewalk. Watched as he climbed into the truck and Rink pulled away.

  "I take it that didn't go well?" Rink asked.

  "Chicken shit bastards," Drake mumbled, turned his head to Ella. "Apologies for the language."

  Ella waved a hand. Said nothing.

  "Where to now?" Rink asked.

  Drake remained silent a moment and contemplated his options.

  There were decidedly few of them. None were very appealing.

  "I need another favor," Drake said.

  "Name it."

  "It might get messy," Drake said.

  He didn't bother to elaborate further. Part of didn't want to spell it out in front of Ella. Part didn't want to stifle whatever Rink might have up his sleeve for such a situation.

  "Name it," Rink replied.

  Not the slightest hint of hesitation in his voice.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Drake pointed Rink back in the direction they'd just came and gave him an address a few block from the law school.

  Rink's eyes bulged. "He's keeping her on campus? Why the hell didn't we start there?"

  "No," Drake said. "I have no idea where he's keeping her, but I think I know somebody that does. That's where you might come in."

  Between them, Ella remained silent. If she had any objections to what might take place, she didn't raise them.

  Drake directed Rink when to turn and told him where to park. He climbed out and waited as Rink selected a wrench with a two-inch head from the bed of his truck.

  Together they strode for the front door. Ella remained behind in the truck.

  "I'm going to go up to the front door," Drake said. "I'm going to ask him once and only once. After that, do your thing."

  "I got your back," Rink said. He remained behind on the sidewalk.

  Drake walked up the three short steps to the front door and ignored the door bell. Instead, he opted to pound against the polished oak with the ball of his fist.

  After the last few minutes, he had to admit it felt good to hit something.

  It took three aggressive bursts of knocking before the door finally opened.