by Sam Cheever
The DA rolled his wide shoulders and shook his head. “You're an idiot, detective."
Bud stood up and arched an eyebrow at Brita.
Brita nodded and he stepped back. Now that he had the DA all warmed up it was time to hit him with the pushy female. It was their own special version of good cop bad cop. They used it with misogynist types all the time, with great success.
She clasped her hands behind her back and started pacing. Back and forth along the table, pursing her lips as if in deep thought. After a couple of minutes she stopped and placed her hands on the tabletop, leaning across the table to get into the DA's space.
"You've got friends in low places, DA Burns. Why is that?"
His eyes narrowed and he smirked, obviously he didn't consider her worthy of his self protective instincts. “I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Detective Muldane. I demand that you let me go, or the department is going to get slapped with a law suit that will destroy your career before you can say PMS."
Brita nodded, straightening up from the table. “You can certainly do that, DA Burns. That's your prerogative of course.” She lifted her chin and fixed a hard, golden-brown gaze on him. “But if you are even one fraction as guilty in this mess as you appear to be ... it would be much better for you in the long run if you'd work with us."
His gaze narrowed on her, assessing. “I don't know what you think you have against me, Detective Muldane, but I can assure you that, whatever it is, I had nothing to do with my daughter's kidnapping. I'm not desperate for money and I would have no other reason to do such a heinous thing."
"Then why on Earth would you have the cell phone number of one of the kidnappers in your caller ID? Not once, but several times over the last several days. Starting before your daughter was kidnapped."
The DA's wide, stern face paled to a sickly gray-green color. It was not a good color for the corpulent attorney. Not a good color at all.
Brita's cell phone rang and she glanced at it to see who was calling, her eyes widening in surprise. Then she nodded at Bud and left the room to answer it. Behind her, Bud resumed his badgering of the recalcitrant DA. Brita's mind shifted away from the questioning. This was the call she'd been waiting for. With any luck, she wouldn't need the DA's confession after all.
* * * *
* * * *
Debra flicked her little pink cell phone shut and dropped it into a shallow compartment in the console between the seats. She slowed to make the turn onto the dirt and gravel road leading to the small airport that was buried in the countryside about twenty minutes from Indianapolis. She wrinkled her pert little nose as the earthy aroma of cow dung wafted through her little blue sports car.
The wind blew her long, dark hair into her face and she reached up to pull it away, catching a few silky strands on the hinge of her two hundred dollar sun glasses. “Shit!” She pulled the glasses off her nose and swung them back and forth in the air to close the arm so it would release the clump of hair that was trapped there. The hair fluttered loose and she jammed the sun glasses back onto her nose. When she looked up there was a horse standing in the middle of the road, just about forty feet in front of her fast moving bumper.
* * * *
* * * *
The pilot checked his instruments and made some notes on the clipboard he kept hanging in the cockpit. He checked to make sure the repairs he'd requested a few days earlier had been done and then placed a check mark next to the request. He heard movement behind him and turned, barely stopping himself from grimacing when he saw who had joined him in the cockpit.
"Are we ready to leave as soon as Ms. Burns gets here?"
"Yes. I'll power up when she pulls in."
"No, you idiot! Power up now. We'll need to get underway the moment she arrives."
The pilot nodded, turning away so that his passenger wouldn't see the irritation in his eyes. It was always that way with this passenger. Annoying was the kindest word that came to mind. Downright obnoxious was probably more accurate. But he had a job to do and he did it well. He could always vent to his wife later.
Some days it was the only thing that got him through.
* * * *
* * * *
Brian took his time driving to the airport. The longer he could delay the better. He felt sure that he had set things into the proper motion and it would soon all be coming to a head. But he didn't feel good about his part in it. Debra wasn't going to be happy with him. She'd most likely never speak to him again in fact. But he'd done what he knew he had to do.
He'd have to take comfort in that.
He saw a bright blue spot in the road ahead and pressed the brakes. He pulled up alongside Debra's little convertible and frowned. The car was skewed kind of sideways at the end of a fine set of skid marks in the gravel and it was empty. Debra was nowhere to be seen. On an impulse he climbed out of his car and searched the convertible, even reaching inside to press the button and pop the trunk. Aside from about a hundred pairs of shoes, the little trunk was empty.
He stood looking down into the car, frowning thoughtfully. That was when he saw the soft, pink glimmer of something on the floor of the driver's side.
Reaching over the door he grabbed Debra's cell phone off the floor.
This was not good. She would never leave her cell phone behind. It was her lifeline.
He stood back up and looked around, really worried now. Something had gone terribly wrong.
* * * *
* * * *
Debra Burns had never experienced anything so humiliating and downright terrifying in her life. She was trussed up like a Christmas goose, with her hands twisted painfully behind her and her ankles strapped together with some sort of plastic thingys, and she was staring down at the rocky ground as they flew along, the hard leather of a saddle cutting her painfully across the middle.
The man who rode behind her had one hand on the strings that led to the horse's nasty mouth, and the other hand rested moistly on her behind. If she could just get a hand free she'd definitely punch him in the family vault for grabbing her butt like that.
Debra was pretty sure all the blood had left the middle of her body and flowed into her head and feet long ago. She prayed that they'd get wherever they were going soon because she was feeling dangerously close to spewing, and she really didn't want to spew upside down, it would be very bad for her hair.
The horse finally slowed and Debra strained to lift her head and look around. She was shocked to see her father's airplane idling nearby.
What the hell?
* * * *
* * * *
Brita looked over at Percy, sitting silently in the seat next to her. His poor battered face was almost enough to make her feel sorry for him.
Almost.
Percy held his cell phone in one hand and stared silently out of the window, his purple, puffy face unreadable. He was communication central for the Honeybun Tsunami.
"Is Alfric clear on what he and his men are supposed to do when we get there?"
Percy turned to her and smiled. Then he grimaced and lifted a hand to his split lip, nodding. “You don't need to worry about Alfric, he's in full James Bond mode now."
Brita nodded. “And Clovis?"
"Almost there. He's got the rest of the family with him. They'll hang back until you and Bud arrive."
Brita frowned, “I really didn't want your parents to come, Percy."
He shrugged, “You know how they are, Brit. Once they make up their minds there's no stopping them. And they've never liked being left behind."
Brita sighed. What a complete cluster. If one of the Honeybuns got hurt it would be her neck. But Percy was right, they wouldn't be talked out of being where the action was. And they had a stake in how this turned out. Their family had been threatened and harmed. This was just not done in the Honeybun world. Brita sighed again and tried to focus on the task ahead.
She was ninety nine percent sure the arrests would go smoothly. It was that one pe
rcent that made her punch in Bud's number again.
He answered almost before it finished ringing, “Yeah?"
"You there yet?"
"No. I stopped to check out an abandoned car in the road. I ran the plate and I was waiting to hear back on it."
Brita scowled, there were times when her partner's mindless dedication to the job annoyed her. He seemed unable to prioritize. “Bud, leave the car and call it in. Let a black and white follow up. We don't have time to mess with a broken down car right now."
"I thought it might be connected."
Brita shook her head, rolling her eyes at Percy. “I don't see how it could possibly be. I need you at that airport now, partner."
"Okay. I'm leaving."
Brita bit back a sigh. “Thanks. I'm afraid I won't be there for another fifteen minutes or so. You'll have to hold the fort for me until I get there. Clovis and Alfric Honeybun will be there. Use them. And don't let that plane leave, no matter what."
"Aye, aye, cap'n.” Bud quipped.
Brita clicked her cell shut and blew air through her lips in frustration. She was stuck behind another long line of cars at a light. The traffic gods were against her.
Making a sudden decision, she pulled the magnetic flashing light out of a compartment between the front seats and slammed it into place on the roof of her car. Glancing at Percy she said, “Hold on, we're getting the hell out of this traffic."
* * * *
* * * *
Alastair and Angie sat in Alfric's black Hummer and tried to see everything at once. They were parked in the trees just outside the small airport and Alfric and his men in black had dispersed so thoroughly Angie and Alastair didn't have a clue where they were.
Angie looked at Alistair with larger than usual eyes, “I don't like this, Alastair. It's way too quiet out there. What do you think is going on?"
Alastair grabbed her hand. “I don't know but Alfric told us to stay put. We need to trust that he knows what he's doing."
Angie sighed and allowed Alastair to stroke the back of her hand. Every fiber in her being was screaming. Something wasn't right. Something, in fact, was very wrong.
When the first gunshot rang out behind them Angie jumped and reached for the door handle. Alastair grabbed her arm, “Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm getting out of this death trap. We're sitting ducks here, Alastair!'
More shots were fired, initiating what sounded like full scale war. All around them chunks of trees burst off and peppered the Hummer as bullets apparently missed their intended targets and found the first available solid object. When a bullet hit the side window right about head height on Angie's side Alastair finally nodded. “Okay, let's get the hell out of here. We'll find a spot away from the firing to hide."
Angie was out the door before he even finished speaking and was running hard toward a metal building in the distance. It looked like some kind of hangar. Alastair caught up with her and grabbed her hand. They made it to the building without getting shot and ducked inside. It took a minute for their eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the building. They closed and locked the door behind them and felt their way along the nearest wall.
From inside the building, the shooting outside sounded as if it were miles away and Angie found that she could breathe again. She had just taken a deep breath and was starting to get her pulse back into manageable range when a voice from out of the dark said, “Who the hell are you?"
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Sixteen
It was a woman's voice. Angie grabbed Alastair's arm. Alastair placed a comforting hand over hers. “Who are you?"
"I asked you first."
"I asked you second."
"Oh for god's sake!"
Angie finally spoke up. “I'm Angie, this is Alastair. We're hiding from that gun fight out there. Are you hiding too?"
The sound of air blowing through lips. “I wish! I've just been through the most humiliating experience in my life and I'm sitting here trying to get my organs shifted back into place. Can you come get me loose? I need to get on that plane outside."
Angie turned to Alastair and he could just barely see the whites of her eyes as they widened. She squeezed his arm to make sure he understood what they'd just heard. If the person in the darkened room with them needed to get on the DA's private plane then that meant it had to be his daughter. The elusive Debra Burns.
Alastair nodded once to let her know he'd caught it and said, “Keep talking so we can find you. It's really dark in here."
"I think there's a flashlight beside the door, on the floor. I saw that thug cowboy set it down before he closed the door and plunged me into horrifying darkness."
Alastair turned back around and walked carefully toward the door where they'd come in, shuffling to make sure he didn't step on or trip over anything in the dark. Angie clutched his hand tightly and shuffled along with him. She wasn't about to let him get away from her.
"This place stinks...” the spoiled heiress whined. “and it's dusty. I think I sneezed up a lung a few minutes ago."
"Too bad she didn't sneeze out her voice box.” Alastair murmured to Angie.
Angie choked back a laugh.
Alastair reached out and felt for the door and then ran his hand down it to the bottom, where he felt around for the flashlight. His hand bumped up against something big and covered in leather and he knocked it over. It rolled a few inches and bumped against Angie's sneaker. She bent down and picked it up. After a few seconds of fumbling she located the power button and pressed it.
An eyeball searing beam of light shot out of the flashlight and directly into Alastair's eyes.
He threw a hand up in front of his face, “Holy shit!"
Angie quickly swung the light away from his face. “Sorry."
"I think you blinded me."
Angie frowned, “Stop being such a baby.” Then she swung the light around the building, looking for Debra Burns. Finally, in the furthest corner of the building, a small, pale face under a tangled sweep of dark hair was captured by the light. “Hi.” Angie smiled at the heiress.
Debra Burns frowned back. “Okay, so much for the pleasantries, now can you get these plastic thingy's off my feet so I can get the hell out of here?"
Angie arched an eyebrow at Alistair and he shook his head. “If you want our help you might try being civil, Ms. Burns.
The young woman's eyebrows shot skyward. “How do you know my name?"
Angie lowered the flashlight to illuminate the floor between them and the surly heiress. They headed toward her, sidestepping overturned and hopefully empty gas cans, lawn care equipment, and piles of combustible smelling rags.
As they reached her, Alastair said, “Who else would be climbing onto DA Burns’ private plane?"
Debra Burns’ pretty face twisted into a mean smile. “His girlfriend maybe?"
Alastair didn't miss a beat, from all those nights spent in bars with his friends he was used to dealing with snotty, self important women. “There is that, but you've admitted that you're Debra Burns so I guess it's a moot point isn't it?"
She made a little peeved sound and jerked her hips slightly but she couldn't do much more than that with her wrists and ankles shackled.
He knelt down in front of the young woman and examined the binding at her ankles, “Hmmm, heavy duty tie wraps. We'll need wire cutters I think. Or maybe a knife...” He stood up and looked around as if looking for something he could use to cut the wraps. It was a futile attempt because the little building was pitch dark beyond the arc of the flashlight beam. “I need to search the building.” He turned to Angie with a small frown. “I'll need the flashlight. I hate to leave you in the dark though."
Angie spun the light around the space looking for windows. She saw a thin sliver of light on one wall that looked promising. A quick scan of the area with the light told them that the window had been covered over with metal on the outside. The glass was broken on the inside.
Alastair reached carefully through the broken area and shoved at the metal as hard as he could. It didn't even vibrate.
"I guess we're not gonna get that open unless we go outside.” Angie said, suddenly feeling a little bit short of breath. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead and she took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get her fear of confined spaces under control.
Alastair moved closer and rubbed her back gently. “You doin’ okay.” He spoke softly so the angry heiress across the building couldn't hear.
"I'm fine. And we're certainly not going back out there where all the bullets are so I'll cope.” She walked over to where Debra Burns sat huddled against the wall, all dusty and disheveled, and sat down next to her on the floor, holding the flashlight out to Alastair. “I'll just sit here with Ms. Burns while you look."
"Are you sure?"
She smiled but he couldn't see it so she said, “I'm okay. It's a large enough space I can convince myself I'm not being buried alive.” She'd tried for levity but hadn't quite reached it. Her voice quavered a little at the end.
Alastair took the flashlight, stroking his fingers over her hand before he grabbed it. “I'll be right back. Hopefully there's a box cutter or something in here we can use."
The two women sat in silence and watched the flashlight beam moving around the building. Angie could feel hostility coming off the bad tempered heiress in waves. Apparently their awareness of who she was put them on the enemies list.
Alastair kept up an almost constant barrage of chatter as he searched, mostly telling them about all the gross stuff he found. “Dead rat!” He informed them cheerfully.
Debra Burns shuddered so hard her teeth clacked together. “God save me from the frickin’ country.” She mumbled.
Angie grinned.
"A pair of women's underwear,” he held the flashlight beam up so they could see the dusty and chewed looking item of discarded clothing. “I hope these were chewed after they were removed."
"Hand me the flashlight real careful now and then put your hands behind your back, crossing your wrists real nice so I can tie ‘em up."
