by Jenna Night
Before they left, they’d walked around the store and Daisy had spotted prepaid phones for sale. “That’s it,” she said. “Daltrey and Bunker came to this part of town to take care of their need to communicate with their organized crime pals back in Florida. They bought their burner phones here. Maybe they used the pay phone at Rizzoli’s when they ran out of minutes on their prepaid phones, or when the weather was terrible and they couldn’t get decent reception on the cell phones.”
Her theory had made sense to Martin. Like the pizza place, security in the store was very basic. If Daltrey and Bunker bought their phones in a box store or even a gas station, a clear image of them would have been captured on video. In Your Family Store, that would not necessarily have been the case. If they’d paid in cash and refrained from looking up at any of the four high-mounted video cameras Martin had seen inside the store, they would have been able to make their purchase almost invisibly.
Daisy texted that information to the sheriff, as well. A few minutes later she’d received a response thanking her for the information and letting Daisy know that the sheriff’s department, Jameson PD and Montana Highway Patrol were all looking hard for her mom and following up on several tips and possible sightings that had been reported.
Convinced that Daltrey and Bunker came to this part of town regularly, Daisy had turned to her informants at the hair salon and the QuickStop convenience store. Now the second of those informants had made it clear he didn’t want to get involved.
“Maybe Louis and Janis aren’t helping you because they’re scared of Daltrey and Bunker’s organized crime connections,” Martin said while they stood in the parking lot of QuickStop. “The local news stories about them keep emphasizing it.”
Daisy nodded. “Maybe so.”
With no other leads to pursue at the moment, they decided to visit every business in the area, showing the owners and employees pictures of Daltrey and Bunker, and hoping that someone could confirm that the men spent time in this part of town. If so, then this might be a place where they felt comfortable and would be likely to hide out while the cops were hunting for them. Maybe they would have made friends—perhaps people who didn’t realize they were criminals on the run—who were helping them now.
They spent a couple of hours doing that, but it didn’t gain them any leads. A few people had seen the mug shots of Daltrey and Bunker on the news, but none claimed to have seen them in person.
Daisy was obviously becoming increasingly worried about her mother. A couple of times when Martin glanced over at her, he saw her wiping tears from her eyes. Empathy for her, and for how Mrs. Lopez must be feeling right now, wrenched his heart.
“Let’s take a break,” he said to Daisy as they walked down the sidewalk. It was midday, and if they were going to be hunting into the evening, they needed to keep up their strength and energy. He nodded toward a diner up ahead.
“All right,” she responded. “But we need to make it quick.”
They sat at a booth in the back of the restaurant. Initially, Daisy just asked for coffee. But Martin convinced her to choose something to eat, too, so she added a short stack of pancakes to her order. He was happy to see that she ate half of them. It was better than nothing. He got a meat loaf sandwich and iced tea.
When they were finished eating, Daisy checked in with Alvis. Martin texted Cassie to let her know they didn’t need any help from the other Rock Solid Bail Bonds bounty hunters, yet. Then they both scrolled through their phones looking for news updates on the search for Daisy’s mom. There wasn’t anything significant mentioned on the various news sites they visited, but Martin knew law enforcement agencies often kept information to themselves during active investigations.
“Do you have any ideas on what we should do next?” Daisy asked.
“Let’s go down to the sheriff’s department.” Martin figured they might be able to get some updated information if they went there in person. If nothing else, Daisy would see the people at work trying to find Shannon and that might make her feel a little bit better. It would certainly make him feel better. He didn’t voice his concerns because he didn’t want to add to Daisy’s burdens, but it had now been twenty-eight hours since Shannon was kidnapped. And experience had taught him the more time that passed, the less likely they were to recover Mrs. Lopez alive.
Martin paid their bill and they slid out of the booth. Daisy excused herself to visit the ladies’ room while Martin headed for the door. It was a sunny day in October, with a bright blue sky overhead and not a cloud in the sky. The temperature was comfortable, but soon enough, winter would make its way here and Jameson would be blanketed with snow.
Martin looked up at the surrounding mountain peaks. He could see a few patches of fall color, but most of what he saw was evergreen. He glanced up and down the street. Thought about Daltrey and Bunker, and how they might try to escape town.
Eventually, after it seemed like a lot of time had passed, he sent Daisy a text. Everything OK?
When he didn’t get an immediate response, fear began a cold, icy climb up his spine. He hurried back inside the diner, looking around while calling out her name. He knocked on the door of the ladies’ room, and when there was no response, he had a female employee take a look. The employee came out and told him it was empty, so he went in and confirmed it for himself.
Fear clawed at his throat as he ran out the back door into the alley, didn’t see Daisy and then hurried back inside and fast-walked through the diner to the front of the building in case they’d just missed each other. She wasn’t there.
There still hadn’t been a response to his text, so he sent another. And then he checked the men’s restroom, the storage rooms, the closets. He rushed through the kitchen looking for her, asking the employees if they’d seen where she’d gone. While dialing 9-1-1, he questioned the handful of patrons still in the dining area. No one had seen Daisy leave. She’d simply vanished.
FOUR
The man who was shoving a pistol into Daisy’s ribs had looked like an easygoing college kid when she’d first seen him.
Young, with stylishly rakish hair and wearing a Dawson University T-shirt with khaki pants, he’d approached Daisy as he’d ambled down the alley appearing to be focused on the screen of his phone. Daisy had seen him coming, but hadn’t registered him as a threat. She’d turned her attention to the alley behind him. She’d wanted to do a quick scan of the area to see if by chance the fugitives’ truck was hidden back there.
The next thing she knew, she had a gun pressed to her side. The thug draped his arm around her shoulder, making it look to anyone watching like they might be buddies. “Don’t scream or I’ll drop you right here. I get paid the same whether I bring you back dead or alive,” he’d whispered in her ear as she twisted, desperate to loosen his grip on her so she could reach for her gun.
Plastering a big, fake, friendly smile on his face, he’d tightened his grip on her and pulled her back against him. She’d looked into the cold, reptile expression in his eyes and felt a chill pass through her body.
With his gun still trained on her, he let go of her arm for a few seconds as he yanked the gun out of her holster and jammed it into his waistband. Then he grabbed her again.
“What do you want from me?” she demanded.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he resumed pulling her down the alley, laughing and jabbering the whole way about people she’d never heard of, making it appear to anyone who might be looking out onto the alley that the two of them were friends and she was walking with him willingly.
Where was Martin?
The adrenaline pumping through her veins sent her thoughts racing at such breakneck speed that she couldn’t determine if it had been minutes or merely seconds since she and this creep had started moving down the alley. But Martin would come looking for her, she was sure of that.
The alley led to a two-lane st
reet where it ended, and then picked up again on the other side. They were moving quickly. She tried to see if the back door of the diner was still in view behind them. But the assailant was strong. He held her close to his side and didn’t give her enough room to turn her head.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Shut up,” he snapped, with that fake smile still on his face.
The alley was lined with garbage bins pushed up against the backs of the buildings, along with stacks of wooden pallets, recycling bins and empty cardboard boxes. To anyone looking from the back of the diner, Daisy and the jerk holding on to her had probably disappeared almost immediately. Martin might not have any idea where to look for her.
She had to do something to save herself. The alley turned and then ended not too far ahead. There were a few abandoned industrial buildings up there, a rarely used railroad spur surrounded by high weeds and not much else. Maybe the thug intended to force her into a waiting vehicle when they got to the end of the alley. Or maybe he planned to kill her.
This abduction had to be related to Daisy’s search for Daltrey and Bunker. She was sure of it. University Guy was possibly another hit man who worked for the same Miami mob.
He started to pull her across the street, heading toward the spot where the alley picked back up on the other side. Halfway across the road, she made her body go limp, bending her knees and dropping to the pavement. She’d surprised him, and she slipped out of his grip.
Cars passed by on the main street paralleling the alley just a few yards away. There were people walking on the sidewalk over there. She just needed to somehow get moving in that direction, taking the chance that this criminal wouldn’t shoot her when they were in clear view of potential witnesses. As soon as she was beyond his reach, she’d grab her phone and call for help.
She’d landed on her side when she hit the street, and now she moved her hands and knees so that she could push her body up off the asphalt. The skin on her back crawled as she anticipated the blast and pain of a gunshot. At the same time, she fought to focus her thoughts enough for a quick prayer that someone over on the main street would see her and come to help. Maybe that would scare the thug away. Get him to cut his losses and leave before a crowd formed or the cops showed up.
She hoped that slowing down their movement away from the diner like this would give Martin time to find her, slap a pair of cuffs on the kidnapper and get whatever information he could out of him regarding the whereabouts of Daltrey and Bunker before the cops arrived and hauled him to jail.
None of those things happened. Instead, the thug cursed, grabbed her arm and yanked her up off the pavement.
Her hand shot out as she tried to grab the gun he’d taken from her and tucked into his waistband, but he knocked her palm aside before she could reach it. She opened her mouth to scream and he slapped her with the gun in his hand, the extra weight of it sending a bolt of pain radiating through her jawbone.
Stunned by the assault, she was unable to resist as he pulled her the rest of the way across the street and into the alley to a secluded spot behind an industrial garbage can where he threw her to the ground. Her head smacked against the side of a building. She lay there, the alley seeming to swirl as small sparkles of light bounced around the edges of her field of vision.
Do not pass out, she commanded herself, fighting the temptation to close her eyes, block out the dizziness and rest for just a few seconds.
She heard a faint ringing sound, but her addled mind didn’t place what was happening until she felt the cold steel of a knife blade the assailant had pulled from a sheath biting her skin from her shoulder across to a point just below her collarbone.
“You’re thinking I won’t shoot you with so many people within earshot,” the kidnapper said, crouching down in front of her, his breath hot and clammy against the side of her face. “Maybe you’re right. But there’s more than one way to shut you up.” He held the wicked-looking knife in front of her face. “You pull a stupid stunt like you did in the street again, and the next cut will be across your throat.”
He tucked the knife away, then pulled a phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen. “I’ve got her,” he said into the phone after someone apparently answered on the other end. “We’re almost there.”
“Get up,” he commanded Daisy after disconnecting his call.
While she fumbled around trying to get to her feet, he grabbed her phone from her pocket and yanked the cuffs and pepper spray off her belt.
Frustrated by her own clumsy movements, Daisy bit back on the temptation to fight against him. Right now that would only make things worse. If she waited for a minute or two, the dizziness would hopefully stop and that would be her opportunity to take smart, effective action.
He dragged her along with him to the end of the alley and an old redbrick industrial building. The windows were boarded up and it looked like it had been vacant for years. They walked around to a rusty side door. He pulled it open and shoved her inside.
After the phone call she overheard, she’d expected to see Daltrey and Bunker waiting, but neither one was there. It didn’t look or sound like anyone at all was there. And even though from the outside the building had appeared abandoned, inside it was clear that at least part of it was still being used. They’d walked into what must have been the break room back when there was still a working company housed here. There was a large table in the room, chairs around it, a sink and a couple of working light fixtures that had been left turned on. A door hung open, showing a shadowy hallway that led farther into the building.
“What is this place?” she asked, while scanning, looking for something she could use as a weapon. Her mind was starting to clear. She could see packaging materials on the counter. Plastic bags. Tape. And something that might be a digital scale. Was this a drug distribution center? Or some kind of clearinghouse where other illegal or stolen items could be shipped out of the area?
And what would this have to do with her pursuit of Daltrey and Bunker? Did their mob cohorts have criminal ties to Jameson that local law enforcement did not yet know about?
The kidnapper flung her into a plastic chair, snatched up a roll of duct tape from the counter and taped her wrists together behind her back.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said. She had no idea what he planned to do, but she could imagine several things, all of them terrifying.
He tore off another strip of duct tape and slapped it over her mouth. When she started to scream, he slapped another piece over the first, this one covering part of her nose. It was hard to breathe. He yanked her up out of the chair, dragged her across the room where he opened the door of a storage closet and shoved her inside and slammed the door shut.
She fell and hit her head against the back wall. The dizzy sensation she’d had earlier came roaring back. Panic, like a wild animal trapped behind her rib cage, thrashed around in her chest.
She heard the thug talking on a phone, the volume turned up loud enough that she could hear some of the words spoken by the person on the other end. They were talking about prices, about payment and taking care of their other problem, whatever that was.
Heart racing with fear, she was breathing hard, or trying to, but the tape over her mouth and part of her nose wouldn’t let her draw in enough breath. She started to feel suffocated, like she was going to pass out.
The voice on the other end of the call began to sound familiar to her. A mental image of Daltrey and Bunker at the shopping mall drifted into her mind, and she realized it was Ivan Bunker on the other end of the call.
The kidnapper started to shout, saying something about sticking his neck out and taking all the risks. Feeling even more like she was about to pass out, Daisy couldn’t follow the thread of the conversation. She heard another, different voice start yelling, but the sound was muffled. It took her a few seconds to realize the voice belonged to someone
else here in the building, and that it sounded familiar. She strained to listen, hoping it was Martin. But it wasn’t.
So who was it?
She was still trying to figure out the answer as her oxygen-deprived brain spiraled into darkness.
* * *
“The truck Daltrey and Bunker were last seen driving was found abandoned near the campgrounds out at Pearce Park about an hour ago,” Sergeant Ken Cruise said to Martin. “We have no idea what they’re driving right now, but we’ve contacted all the car rental businesses in town and we’re also paying close attention to stolen vehicle reports in hopes of finding them.”
Martin nodded, his mind racing as he tried to think of what he could do to find Daisy. His initial assumption was that Daltrey and Bunker had grabbed her in the alley, thrown her into their vehicle and raced away. Hearing the news that no one knew what the two fugitives were driving, so the police would have no idea what they were looking for, had nearly broken his heart.
“Video feeds.” He impatiently barked the words at Cruise, a Jameson cop whom Martin had worked with on previous cases. “There’s got to be video from the businesses around here that we can view. And what about people here in the restaurant?” He gestured at the patrons in the diner. “You can’t let them leave without being interviewed. Somebody has to have seen something.”
Patrol cars were continuing to arrive at the diner, both from the Jameson PD and Beckett County Sheriff’s Department.
Martin strode out the back door into the alley, thinking maybe this time he’d see something he’d missed before that would give him an idea about what had happened, which way the person or people who’d grabbed Daisy had gone, something. Cruise walked beside him, talking on his collar mic, directing a couple of units to begin patrolling through the neighborhood.
“In the aftermath of the shoot-out at the Acorn Valley Mall, everybody in law enforcement in the surrounding four states knows what Daltrey and Bunker look like. And most cops in the county know what Daisy looks like. We know who we’re searching for. Even without knowing what kind of vehicle she might be riding in, we can find her.”
