“He’s after me anyway. If you want to look at it as self preservation, you can add that to the fact I’d rather be dead than live without Ellie.”
“You’re kind of young to be this into one girl.”
“You don’t know her.”
“You’re right,” Bodey said. “I don’t. You know, you sound a little older than your real age.”
“I’ve had to grow up a lot in the past few days.”
“True that,” Bodey said. “Double true. Give me your e-mail and I’ll walk you through it.”
Luke sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Jenson. You don’t know what this means.”
“It’s Bodey, since we’re so intimate now, and I think I know all too well what this means. Don’t get yourself killed kid.”
“I’ve got help.”
“I think you’re going to need it. E-mail?”
Luke gave it to him and a few minutes later he had the program installed on his computer. Bodey walked him through how to work it. It took a few minutes because it was not very user friendly, but he eventually got the hang of it.
“How are you going to get him to call you?” Bodey asked.
“I’ll send him a message on Facebook he can’t ignore. He has a huge ego and I’m going to bruise it. He’ll respond.”
“Got it. If you can’t get it to work right, call me back. I give tech support.”
Luke actually laughed. “Thank you, sir-uh-Bodey. You’re awesome!”
“Luke?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
“I will.” He hung up.
Chapter 50
Ellie woke to find her father standing over her.
“Get up,” he said. “Time to move.”
She rose slowly, shakily. She didn’t know how much time had passed since the video incident and she hadn’t had anything else to eat. She still stunk of urine despite washing herself off and dunking her clothes in the soapy water. She had put them back on wet and lay down on the concrete shivering. She hadn’t wanted him to see her naked. Even if he was her father.
She eventually fell asleep and now he was back.
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace new.”
“I thought you wanted Jaxon to find me,” she said.
“I don’t want to make it easy for him,” and he grinned. “He has to prove he’s worthy.”
“Worthy of what?”
Her father didn’t answer. He told her to turn around and he bound her wrists behind her and then he marched her up the stairs. They emerged into a dingy room with a cot, a chair, a small table, and a hot plate, but nothing else. It had one window and Ellie could see it was dark outside. She felt confused because in her mind she thought it was morning. Her internal clock was all off balance and she had no idea what time it was or even what day.
He pushed her down a hallway and out a door to what looked like a back yard. It was overgrown with weeds as high as her shoulder. Further back, in the dim moonlight, she could see what she thought looked like a small outhouse nestled against a tree. The light was so dim it was hard to tell. A black or brown car was parked by it and he nudged her along toward it.
“No noise, now,” he whispered.
He went to the passenger side and pushed her in. Shutting the door he came around, sat in the driver’s seat, and reached around behind him grabbing a small bottle and a rag. She knew what was going to happen.
“Please,” she said. “I’ll be good. You don’t have to knock me out.”
“Yes I do,” he said, soaking the rag with the fluid. A strong astringent odor filled the car and he rolled down the window. “Just hold still and let it do its work. You’ll be fine in no time.”
She started to cry, but didn’t fight him. The rag was pressed to her face and she held her breath.
“You’ll have to breathe eventually,” he said. “Might as well do it now.”
She took a breath and then another and soon the world started spinning. His grinning face, lit only by the moonlight, was what followed her into the blackness. She dreamed for what seemed an eternity, her father’s angry voice shouting a single word over and over again: ‘Read!’ No matter what she tried, she could not find where the voice was coming from. His low, deep, booming cry seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. In the dream, she was free to move around and she ran from the command, but she could never get away. It followed her into the darkness, where she finally slept deeply and awakened, stiff and cold on a concrete floor, a thin wool blanket covering her legs.
She sat up shakily and looked around. She was in a basement again, but someplace new. Another chair was sitting in the middle of the room, pushed up close to a folding card table. A Styrofoam cooler sat against one wall next to a door which stood partially open. It was dark beyond the opening and she could not see into it. If she had to guess, she was pretty sure it was another ‘bathroom.’
Turning to her left, a wall of cubbies stood stark and empty against a wall that had a window high up near the roof. The glass was painted black but she could see light leaking around the sill. At least she could tell it was daylight. It was too high for her to reach even if she stood on the table. Maybe if she put the chair up on the table and stood on it she thought it might be within reach. She’d have to try when she wasn’t so weak.
Standing slowly, her legs shaking beneath her, she wobbled around the rest of the space finding nothing of interest or value. A set of creaky stairs led to a locked, solid feeling door that echoed when she rapped on it. No one came to answer. Holding the railing as she slowly descended back down, the room started to spin and she lost her footing. Falling the last couple of steps, she twisted her ankle and cried out in pain as she landed hard on the concrete floor. She sat there holding it and crying, the despair she felt magnified by her weakened and now injured body. Nobody was going to find her here and no one was coming to save her.
After a few minutes she got herself under control and tried to stand. She limped and hopped over to the Styrofoam cooler and looked inside. There were a few bottles of water, some snacks, and a sandwich nestled in some ice. She grabbed a handful of the cubes and held them to her swelling ankle. Hopefully she’d be able to keep it from swelling too much and stiffening up.
Grabbing the sandwich, she opened it warily and smelled. This one seemed ok and checking the date on it did no good because she had no idea what day it was. She took a tentative bite and chewed slowly. It was glorious. She swallowed whole mouthfuls without even chewing and even though she knew she needed to slow down, she couldn’t help herself. She was famished.
Chugging some water after devouring one half of the sandwich, her stomach revolted and she threw everything back up all over the floor. She started sobbing again, angry at herself for being so foolish and loathing the man who put her in this position. Sitting on the cold floor, vomit in front of her, her ankle on ice and continuing to swell, a complete feeling of hopelessness washed over her and she actually started to believe she might not live through this. Her despair was a living thing crawling around inside her. She moaned aloud in the quiet room, trying desperately to push everything but Luke from her mind. The ache she felt slowly subsided as she closed her eyes and envisioned him in front of her, reaching for her and taking her into his arms. The room grew warmer and the stench of her clothes and vomit faded into the background as she lost herself in the vision.
The tears dried up and she felt a little better. The strength she received from Luke amazed her and she clung to his image like an overboard passenger at sea, hanging to a life preserver. He was her life preserver and she would never let go. Never let go. Never let go…
Chapter 51
Jaxon watched Victoria talk to Holt on the phone. They had driven to the Hoover building and were now in her office expecting to look over the uncut version of the video Worthington had sent to the networks. Jaxon was rogue now, and they had to be careful. No one seemed to care at the moment who Victoria brought into the building, but if Bento
n or Holt knew he was here, they would probably arrest him and her too. They had to be careful, but they had to have information too. They were walking a fine line between investigators and criminals.
“Yes. I know,” Victoria said. “I won’t let that happen. Dammit Emory! You know I’m the most informed of any one on this case besides Jaxon.” A pause. “You can’t!” She hung her head and then picked it up again, angrier. “I will not have what is between us endanger this little girl’s life! Can you live with your decision to pull me off of this case? If she dies, I will blame you for the rest of my life!” Silence for a few seconds as Jaxon tried in vain to hear Holt’s side of the conversation, but all he heard was noise. “Yes.” She looked relieved. “I can live with that. Twenty four hours is plenty.” She was about to hang up when he must have said something else. She nodded to herself and then said, “Thank you,” and hung up.
“That didn’t sound too good,” Jaxon said.
“It didn’t start very good, but I got what I need. He gave me twenty four hours to produce some results or he’s pulling me off.” She stood. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”
“Where too?”
“Quantico,” she said. “They’re analyzing the tape there and they have some footage we need to see.”
“What is it?”
“Apparently there is a picture that flashes up briefly in the video. Invisible to the naked eye, but they were able to freeze it.”
“Did they say what the picture is?”
She nodded. “It’s a house.”
An hour later they were in a room at Quantico and the man talking to Victoria held a manila envelope in his hand as he chewed the fat with her. He didn’t seem to feel the urgency that Jaxon was feeling and it was getting to him. His head throbbed from the drinking binge and though he had taken a handful of aspirin, it remained a distracting spot of pain just behind his eyes.
“Vick, we need to get moving,” Jaxon said, finally.
The man stopped in mid-sentence and turned to Jaxon as if seeing him for the first time. Victoria covered. “He’s right, Tom. Sorry, we need to stay on top of the time. We only have…” she looked at her watch. “Twenty two hours.”
“I thought you had three days,” Tom said.
“Three days-twenty two hours-two minutes,” Jaxon said. “What difference does it make? This little girl is in a horrible place and the quicker we get to her the quicker she’ll be away from him. Now, show us the damn picture.”
She glared at him but didn’t say anything.
Tom said, “Alright,” and took the picture out and laid it on the table.
Victoria took a quick breath in and Jaxon felt a jolt run through him as if he had been hit by 110 volts.
“I take it, you two recognize this place?” Tom said.
Jaxon looked at her and she said, “Shit.”
Luke was in his parents’ room standing in front of the bureau next to the bathroom. John and Jimmy had gone home for a bit while Luke rested. He needed to get moving, but his body wasn’t cooperating. The headache was still going strong and now the dizziness had returned, though not quite as bad as in the hospital.
He had sent Worthington a message on Facebook, but the man had not responded. Luke was worried he may have calculated wrong. Maybe the asshole wasn’t going to be tricked into giving his position away and if that was the case, Luke was hopelessly out of the loop. He didn’t have the resources the police and FBI had. His only ace in the hole had been Bodey Jenson and his software.
Closing his eyes and picturing Ellie in his head only made things worse. He couldn’t seem to think of her without seeing her tied to that chair, reading the message and sobbing uncontrollably. He clenched his fists and opened his eyes. Looking into the mirror that was over the bureau, he stared at his face. What he saw shocked him. He didn’t recognize it at first. His eyes were sunk deep in their sockets and black smudges were visible under them as if he had bruised them. His hair was sticking up in large clumps and his clothes were wrinkled and stained. They had been the clothes he had been wearing the night Ellie was taken.
His mouth was set in a thin line and his brow creased in a permanent scowl. He looked ten years older. The world started to spin again and he grabbed on to the edge of the bureau and steadied himself. It passed in a few seconds and he took a deep breath. Opening his father’s sock drawer, he pushed the black and brown and grey and white socks around until he found what he was looking for. The gun felt huge in his hands, but the weight, pleasantly solid; powerful. He looked at himself in the mirror again as he held the weapon and didn’t like the small grin on his face. He turned away and carried the weapon into his room.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he popped the clip out and checked the ammo. It looked full. His dad had said the Glock held fifteen rounds but he didn’t know if his dad had fired it the other night. The police had returned it to Deana and she had placed it in its hiding place. Everybody knew the gun was there.
He carefully popped out each round and held the small brass cache in his hand. Fifteen exactly. Dad had never gotten a shot off. He pressed the bullets back into the clip and then rammed the clip home. His dad had gone over the gun again with him the night before Worthington had shown up and Luke felt good he had insisted on it. The gun felt foreign in his hands, but not so alien he couldn’t make it do what it was made to do. He just hoped he’d be able to hit something with it. Namely Worthington.
His phone rang and he looked at the caller ID. He answered Jimmy’s call, turning the weapon over in his hands, feeling the weight of the metal. It made him feel powerful.
“Anything yet?” Jimmy asked.
“Nothing.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Nothing we can do,” Luke said. “We’ll have to wait until he gets the message.”
“Do you think he’ll answer?”
“Yes.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He can’t let a kid challenge him like that and not answer. His ego is too big.”
“He’s smart though. He may just keep quiet. You know, like radio silence in a battle.”
“He’ll call.”
“If he doesn’t?”
“He’ll call.”
“I know you called him out, but what did you say exactly?”
“I called him a pussy and said he couldn’t hide from me. I would be coming for her and I wouldn’t stop until he was lying on the ground bleeding and dying while I piss in his face.”
“Damn. Yeah, that’d piss me off.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Chapter 52
“It’s our house,” Victoria said.
“Your house?” Tom asked.
“Well, it was,” Victoria said. “It was our first place. Michael was born there.”
“You two are married?”
Victoria looked at Jaxon and said, “We were.”
Tom turned to Jaxon and said, “You’re Jaxon.” A statement, not a question.
“Come on, Vick,” Jaxon said. “We’ve got to move.”
They both turned and started to walk out.
“I thought you wanted to see the video,” Tom shouted after them.
“We’ve seen it already,” Jaxon shouted back.
“If you find anything else in it,” Victoria said, “Call my cell. Thanks!”
In the car, Jaxon jammed the accelerator to the floor and put the lights on. His car was still his and they couldn’t stop him from using what he had. It took only thirty minutes to make the trip from Quantico to Herndon where the house sat. 90 to 110 MPH got you there fast.
“She’s not going to be there,” Victoria had said on the way.
“I know.”
“We’ve got to try anyway.”
Jaxon knew she was just affirming what they both already knew.
“He’ll have left another clue,” he said.
She nodded, knowing this to be true. She turned to look at him. “I hope we can figur
e it out.”
“We will. We have to.”
She spent a few minutes on the phone briefing Holt on the situation. When she hung up she said, “He offered to send back-up.”
“We don’t need it.”
“That’s what I said. I told him they would just be in the way.”
“Good.”
“He knows you’re with me.”
“You told him?”
“He guessed.”
Jaxon nodded. It made sense. It would be stupid for her to be doing this on her own. “Is he going to do anything about it?”
“No-not right now.”
He stared straight ahead and dodged the traffic. “He’s giving you the same twenty four hours as me and then he’s going to have you arrested.”
“Screw him.”
“No.”
She smiled and he caught it out of the corner of his eye. He smiled too and a little of the tension drained out of them. Only a little.
Turning into the old Herndon neighborhood of Oak Place, Jaxon was appalled at the state of disrepair. The houses that had once been cute and appealing, were now trashy and run down. Sad popped into Jaxon’s head. The neighborhood had been his and Vick’s first and Michael had been born here. They had moved shortly afterward, when Jaxon had been promoted to detective, his income taking a nice jump.
The streets were littered with garbage and abandoned cars, tires, refrigerators and window A/C units. It was bordering on a slum. As their old house came into view on the right, he slowed and approached quietly, coasting to a stop one house over. They sat for a second, staring at the ruin of their past life. He felt embarrassed that he had once called this home.
The house sat back about fifty feet from the street, nestled in a yard of weeds and dirt that hadn’t seen attention in probably two years. A small, faded, red wagon lay on its side in the middle of the yard, abandoned and apparently useless, one of its wheels missing. No children could be seen or heard anywhere near their immediate vicinity. The siding hung off in places and the once dark, brown paint had faded to what looked like old, dried blood. A few of the window screens were missing, with one hanging tilted in its frame, the screen ripped and torn. The front door was half open and moved slightly in the breeze. The driveway was empty. As a matter of fact, the whole neighborhood looked empty. Not a soul moved about or made a sound. It was like a ghost town.
Frozen Past Page 27
