by Kaylea Cross
“Go, go, go,” Cooper shouted. Kyle took off down the road.
The black and white monitor was not as clear as Cooper. The picture was fading in and out because night was beginning to fall. He directed the drone by adjusting two dials on the unit aiming for an elevation of two hundred feet. The monitor showed it had flown over the busy road that led to a string of businesses. He spotted the truck immediately and directed the drone to hover over it.
“No infrared?”
“Didn’t get a chance to mount the camera. This will have to do for now.”
Cooper punched a button and street lines formed on the screen.
Cooper’s cell phone went off. He passed it over to Kyle.
“Hey Fredo,” Kyle said.
Cooper heard Fredo shout at the other end of the line, “That detective dude is looking for him. Some urgent shit about Libby.”
“I think we already know. Trying to locate her now.”
“You guys over at the house? I want to help.”
“Nope. Just came from there. We’re following someone.”
“That’s what the dick said—” Cooper couldn’t make out the explanation.
“We know this,” said Kyle.
Fredo was asking for their position and Kyle gave Fredo some street names and descriptions of buildings.
The monitor showed the truck turning. “Take a right up there about three blocks,” Cooper directed Kyle.
He was fairly certain the truck would go towards the freeway, which pleased him because he could see on the monitor commuter traffic ahead was at a near standstill.
“Fredo, we’re barreling down South Morrison, I think headed toward the freeway.”
“Fuck it,” Cooper said as the truck turned in the opposite direction. “He’s going back down the other side, parallel to the freeway.”
“Okay, now we’re headed south on—” he looked for a sign, crossed a set of railroad tracks, and still couldn’t find any. “We just crossed some tracks, back on South Morrison. Have Riverton call us, okay?”
“Will do. Malcolm and I are gonna try to find you, too.”
“No. Stay out of it,” Kyle said.
“Not a fucking chance,” Cooper heard Fredo shout back to his LPO.
Kyle hung up and placed Cooper’s phone in the center console.
They tried to catch up to the truck, but traffic was all over the place. For several minutes they followed and continued to fall further and further behind.
“Talk to me, Coop,” Kyle demanded.
The truck had turned off the main road. “I think you go right at the next street.”
Kyle did as he was told, and they hit a dead-end cul-de-sac. They quickly recovered and continued down the previous route, and then turned at the next intersection. For a second, the picture went black.
“Come on. Come ooooonnnnn, sweetheart! Don’t fade on me now. Just a little longer,” Coop was coaxing the machine with everything he had. The screen lit up again, and they spotted the truck turning into an industrial yard that looked like a graveyard for old semis.
Coop could see the chain link fencing coming up on their right. An automatic gate was just closing a few yards ahead of them. The sign out front said Corsi Bros. Transportation and Salvage. Several large hangars big enough for a cruiser sat in abandoned rows. Between them stood several two-story buildings with broken windows.
Kyle came to a sliding stop.
Coop’s cell phone chirped again. This time, Coop picked it up just as Kyle hopped out of the van and ran towards the closing gate.
“Where are you?” Riverton shouted.
“Corsi Salvage Yard, off Morrison—South Morrison, down by the inlet.”
“I know it. Don’t try to approach.”
“He’s got Libby.”
“Probably, but we can’t say for sure. Did you get a good look at the guy?”
“Absofuckinglutely. The Brownlees’ asshole gardener.”
“Good. Look, you got to wait for us. No vigilante justice here, catch my drift? You’ll get yourself killed, or, even worse, get her killed.”
“Sorry, but I gotta run.”
“Coop, do not interfere, do you—” Coop hung up the phone.
The picture on Coop’s monitor was fading fast, and at this point was more out than in. Kyle had gotten through the gate before it closed all the way, hitting the reset button on the opposite side. They were rewarded when the gate slowly swung open again and Coop drove through.
“Where are they?” Kyle asked.
Cooper was trying to get a decent picture. “We might be too far away.”
“Not possible. The inlet is only a few hundred yards in this direction. He’s here somewhere in this fenced area.”
For just an instant, Cooper saw an image on the screen of the truck parked in a garage structure with a metal rollup door that was closing behind it.
“He’s in one of those bays. One of those buildings over there.” He pointed and Kyle drove to a row of warehouses and paused. They were looking at a cluster of buildings, each with similar roll-up doors, all closed. There must have been at least fifty of them.
Cooper’s heart sank as he realized he might not find the right one in time to save Libby.
He called the drone back and flinched as it made a hard landing on the dirty asphalt storage yard just next to Kyle’s van.
“So now we just have to find the needle in the haystack,” Cooper said to his LPO.
“I’m guessing you brought equipment?”
“Fucking A.” Cooper picked up the drone, placing it carefully in the back of Kyle’s SUV without taking it apart. He set the controller next to it. He pulled out the black zipper bag and extracted another polyethylene case and flipped it open. His H&K MP7 was tucked into the black packing material, but Cooper was after the thermal scope.
He had small IED charges in another smaller bag, which he pulled out and attached to his belt as he joined Kyle.
“It was an interior garage, with doors on both sides,” Coop said.
“So that rules out about eight of them. About forty to go,” Kyle chuckled.
They put on their night vision gear. Cooper saw Kyle strap on a utility belt similar to his own, but not as customized. Coop had made a cottage industry of sewing specialized belt pockets and vests for other Team members. Each man had his preferred equipment in addition to the standard issue.
The two started creeping down the first row of storage units as Cooper scanned them with his thermal scope. He was picking up some small images toward the bottoms of the units.
“Rats,” he whispered. They got to near the end of the first row when they saw headlights from a vehicle approaching around the corner of the building, stop and heard the idling of a gurgling motor.
Kyle and Cooper flattened themselves against the row of warehouses on the opposite side and took what few inches of cover they might have in one of the doorways.
The springs on the truck groaned as a very large man extricated himself from the driver’s side and, in the light from the truck saw heavy lace up combat boots stomp on the ground. A flashlight clicked and light flooded out as they quickly flipped up their goggles to avoid getting blinded. He held something heavy in his hand, which wobbled the flashlight briefly.
Shotgun.
A gravelly voice bellowed “Hold it right there. Don’t even think about farting, or I’ll blow your asses into the bay.”
Chapter Forty
Libby was being hauled from a truck that smelled of gasoline into a chilly, dark covered space, perhaps a garage. As her feet dragged along the floorboards, they snagged a gasoline can and tipped it, sending it crashing to the concrete below. She heard a man’s voice swear. The gasoline smell was almost overpowering.
With his arms under her chest, her kidnapper dragged her through a doorway and into a carpeted small space. The room was done up in pink, complete with a set of Barbie Dolls on a French Provincial sideboard that looked like it came out of a little gir
l’s room.
And then it hit her. It did look just like a little girl’s room. A single bed with a hot-pink, fuzzy bedspread, dotted with stuffed animal pillows was in the corner. An overhead chandelier in pink had lit up automatically as they entered the room. The massive arms hoisted her up and onto the bed. She was left in sitting position. She couldn’t feel much of her body below the neck.
Her eyes were beginning to focus better and she turned her head in time to see the man’s back, dressed in the same khaki clothes the gardener had worn every time she saw him. His hair fell loosely in ringlets as he removed his baseball cap. He quickly tied the ringlets back with a rubber band. Then he began searching for things in a makeshift kitchen consisting of a deep utility sink, a microwave and a hotplate.
He disappeared into what sounded like a small bathroom, bringing out a plastic glass of water. He sat and held it out to her. She saw his frog print tats, just like Cooper’s. That’s when she realized her hands were tied in front of her with green plastic tree staking ties. She took the water without looking into his eyes.
“You don’t look much like my Callie, but then no one could ever be as beautiful,” he said as he brushed the hair back from her forehead. She moved her head to the side and wrinkled her eyes and nose in disgust.
“Ahh. We are a little scared, and feisty. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time to get acquainted.”
She wouldn’t look at him, but handed him back the water without taking a sip.
“Very smart, but no, I don’t want you drugged. Nothing’s in there but our horrible San Diego water.”
Don’t want me drugged? The impact of what that could mean sent a shiver down her neck.
He took the cup from her and placed it on a makeshift countertop in the kitchen. Bringing up a chair, he sat next to the bed, elbows on his knees, and rested his chin on his folded hands.
“You know, Libby, I’ve watched you. Watched you for several days now. You are such a beautiful girl, and I can see how fond your father is of you. I frankly don’t blame him.”
Libby looked at three Twilight posters pinned to the wall along the bed. There was a white collapsible dressing room divider in the corner. A pink flannel nightgown was thrown over the top. What she saw next to it frightened her. A studded dog collar and riding crop dangled from a hook secured by the top of the divider, along with a pair of handcuffs.
She looked at his face in shocked reaction but then wished she hadn’t as he smiled back to her.
“Yes, my dear. We’re going to have some fun. I intend to deflower you.”
She didn’t understand. Deflower?
“Well, you are more experienced than my daughter was. I watched you and that big SEAL having sex. I could hardly hold the camera up, it was such a turn-on.”
Libby found her voice. “You are completely sick. My father has only been good to you. Why are you doing this?”
“Your father?” He leaned back and stared to the side. “Your father didn’t save my little Callie. She promised me she wouldn’t tell.” He turned and focused his brown eyes on Libby’s lips. “I believed her. Still do. She went to her grave with our little secret. Your father’s partner found out about it, and took advantage of her. Your father should have stopped it.”
“How could he have known? You blame my father for what that cretin did to your daughter?”
“He’s a useful idiot. I think Dolan will take the fall for what I’m going to do to you.”
Libby thought perhaps her greatest chance of survival would be to delay whatever sick scenario he had planned out in his twisted mind. “I’m not following you. Dad gave you a job.”
“Which is what I’d begged for because I wanted to get even. You see, I had other plans, but then—” he rubbed his fingers against Libby’s cheek and she fended him off with her shoulder, turning her face around and back. “I feel I should be perfectly honest with you, Libby. We are going to have a wonderful time together. If you pleasure me enough, if you can convince me you like it, perhaps I’ll let you live. But you must be very convincing,” he said as he leaned over and tried to plant a kiss on her mouth.
Libby shook her head violently.
“That really isn’t a very good start, sweetheart.”
“I’m not your sweetheart. I’m not your daughter. And I’m not going to have sex with you.” Her chest was heaving. Bravado and anger were taking over. All the things that had happened between her and Dr. Gerhardt came flooding back. She was angry for having to give up school, angry that he had tried to hold her grades over her head to gain sexual favors.
This monster had used her father’s trusting side, their vulnerable side, to his sick advantage. She even found it in herself to be angry with her father for this.
The gardener stood, and began removing his shoes. She knew what was going to come next. His eyes were flashing like roman candles as he reached up and began to unsnap his shirt. As he tossed it to the ground, she watched with horror as he flexed his forearms when he fisted and released his hands.
The frog print tattoo, just like the Cooper had, danced on the skin covering muscles underneath.
Chapter Forty-one
Cooper and Kyle raised their hands, partly to protect their eyes from the disruptive bright light. Cooper saw smoke billowing around the massive legs and boots of the giant.
“So, what the hell are you guys up to?”
Cooper put his fingers to his mouth to indicate he wanted silence but the man wasn’t having anything of it.
Kyle whispered, “He the gardener?”
Cooper shook his head, no.
The man raised his voice further. “I said, I want some answers, and quick, or I’m calling the cops.”
Not a cop? With the boots and the gun, Coop figured he was either a bad guy or a security guard trying to do his job.
“They’re already on their way,” Kyle said as a test. His voice was commanding but not threatening. Cooper hoped they were not within earshot of the man who had Libby. The man with the shotgun didn’t move, so Kyle continued. “We’re looking for a guy in a pickup. We think he has kidnapped a girl and brought her here. Need your help.”
The giant stepped back. “So you’re not cops?”
“No, but we’re working with them,” Cooper said. “Look, we don’t have a whole lot of time. We just saw him come in here,” he continued in a low voice. He wished they could step closer so they wouldn’t give away their location.
“I didn’t see no truck. There’s usually no one here at night. Besides, the gate’s locked,” the man said.
“Well, someone got in. We saw the gate closing right before we arrived,” Cooper added, his impatience boiling over. He respected authority, but this man was wasting precious time.
“So how’d you get in?”
“I got there first,” Kyle added.
The man scratched his scalp, lowering the shotgun. “That would be my clicker, then. It was stolen two months ago, right outta my truck.”
A security guard. Much better. But they were still losing time they did not have.
“Please, we need to find out where he is.” Cooper was sweating. A distant siren put his nerves on edge. If the cops came in blazing with lights and noise, Libby might pay the price.
“You look military.”
“Navy,” Kyle volunteered.
“Special forces, I’m guessing.”
They both nodded. “You’re security, then?” Kyle asked, and got a nod from the hulking stranger.
Cooper ventured a question, “You know a dark-haired guy, say in his late forties, drives a light tan Ford pickup king cab?”
“I know a lot of dark-haired guys that drive pickups. We got over 200 units here, plus some of the storage hangars. I don’t remember everyone’s face, or their vehicles.” After a pause, he continued, “As a matter of fact, I get paid not to remember faces or vehicles, you get my meanin’?”
Cooper was angry at the holdup and wished they’d acted quicker, perhaps im
mobilizing the guard so they could complete their vital and increasingly urgent mission. He considered grabbing the man and wresting the weapon from him, but Kyle put a hand to his chest and stopped him. Cooper heard his cell phone chirp in his pocket. He stared into the light.
“I gotta get this. It might be our backup,” Coop said and waited.
Kyle tried to be convincing. “Look, we’re not here to bother anyone. Just want to catch this guy before he harms her. We’ll explain everything later,” He said in his usual velvet tones.
“You get that phone, then,” the man said.
Cooper recognized Fredo’s number. “Where are you, Fredo?”
“Right outside this fucking gate. Got razor wire all over the top or I’d already be in. Can you buzz us through?”
“I’m working on it. Hey, you have anything thermal on you?”
“Wish I did. No. Just the night gear.”
“I’m going to send a security guard over to let you in. We’re trying to find the garage and we only have one scope.”
“Okay. Sorry I can’t help you with that one. Malcolm is with me, though.”
Cooper hung up and came back to the guard, who was shaking his head.
“You gotta let the rest of my Team in, sir. Someone’s life depends on it,” Kyle stepped toward the guard, who didn’t object. He gripped his arm. “Please, I need your help.”
That seemed to have done the trick. The guard climbed back into the truck and, before backing out, rolled down the window and handed something out to Kyle. “You might need these.”
Kyle took a huge set of bolt cutters from the guard, and looked up at the man.
“Keys would be less expensive,” he said.
“No. I can’t do that. Everyone has their own padlocks, you see?” He flashed a light on one garage door and ran it down the first five or six units. Every one had a different kind and size of lock.
“Thanks, man.”
Kyle and Cooper resumed their scan, starting down a fresh row of doors as the guard drove off to let in Fredo and Malcolm.
They thought they heard talking but couldn’t make out from where. The scope detected blackness with an occasional hot spot where something was plugged in to a wall socket. Multiple targets showed up on the screen, all of a sudden in front of one door. Kyle cut the bolt and slid the door open, as quietly as he could. The metal squealed unless he lifted it slowly, and that got Cooper nervous. He dropped to his knees and immediately a rodent smell hit his nostrils. With his night vision goggles multiple cages along two sides of the storage unit held breeding mice. Then he noticed there was a door leading to a small room off to the right. He backed up and noticed there was an extra space with no roll up door between the two openings. As he looked down the line, he occasionally saw this extra space.
