36 Hours

by B. J. Woster

  Her eyes widened in fright. She stared at him, her gaze pleading for understanding, pleading with him to release her.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “Hopefully, the police will find you and you’ll continue with your life unharmed, with only a few nightmares by which to remember this moment.”

  Seconds later, her large brown eyes fluttered closed and her body went limp. He waited a minute longer to ensure that her collapse wasn’t a ruse. He wanted to make certain that the chloroform fully flooded her system so that he could prep the next step without fear of her waking up to scream.

  When he was certain she was fully unconscious, he removed the cloth and shoved it into his coat pocket. From the other pocket, he removed a syringe containing his signature dose of Rohypnol and Melatonin.

  He raised the woman’s limp arm and located a vein on the inside of the elbow joint. He laid her arm on the top of the door and carefully slid in the needle. He’d done this so often, that he could nearly inject his mixture blindfolded.

  Her body, already limp from the chloroform, actually deflated further before his eyes. She was now in as deep a sleep as was humanly possible and would remain that way well into the following day. He pulled open her door and slid his arms beneath her body, lifting her petite form with ease. When he reached his car, he laid her on the grass and then moved to pop the lid to his trunk.

  Christian turned back and scooped her into his arms, depositing her into his trunk. He stood looking down at her for a moment longer, and then glanced at his watch. Since he decided she would serve as the victim for this next experiment, he now needed to find an ideal location to set up the perfect murder for the police to avert. After that, he’d need to locate someone willing to share their apartment for the next few days. It was going to be a busy night.

  Chapter 17

  As Christian made his way back to the nearly deserted streets of downtown Atlanta, his ire at Detective Hardwick’s insistence on ignoring his dictates, elevated again. Hardwick hadn’t allowed the APD time off to prepare, rather the streets appeared inundated with black and whites. The moment he spotted the first of the police vehicles, he veered off onto a side street and back toward the interstate.

  “Why can’t you be like the other police and do as instructed,” he snapped, “There’s a reason for those instructions, you know?”

  In fact, the dictates given were often selfishly motivated. He didn’t want the streets swamped with police because it made finding a suitable location more difficult. With police on high alert, he’d never be able to waltz unnoticed into an abandoned building with a body slung over his shoulder. Every other city department had heeded his advice, and had sent the force home to rest in preparation of the coming challenge of locating the next victim.

  He drew in a deep breath of irritation through his nostrils.

  “Well, I didn’t commit so many successful experiments by allowing the slightest hiccup in my plans to rattle me.”

  He drove about casually as any other Atlantian would, but his gaze was on high alert. It took him a while, but a thought came to him that had him laughing aloud.

  “It would be almost too ingenious,” he laughed, as he spotted the Bank of America Plaza a few blocks over from his current location. He took one-way street after one-way street—each time scanning the road as far as his sight could see to ensure it was clear, before turning onto it—until he finally managed to pull into the building’s parking structure. He headed down to the recesses of the parking garage, knowing that a majority of the people who parked in these types of places always headed up, since most people were like trees—preferring to reach toward the sun, rather than wilt in the bowels of darkness.

  He also knew, that while this place would be full of cars come tomorrow, the area that he needed for his experiment wouldn’t likely be accessed until tomorrow evening, after his experiment was concluded. At least he hoped his supposition was correct.

  As he made the final turn onto the lowest parking level, a quick glance about let him know that the structure was indeed deserted. From this point, it would only be a matter of time before his next experiment was set and ready to proceed.

  He reached down and pulled the latch that would pop the trunk, and then stepped out of his car. It was important that his latest prey remain unconscious while he set everything up; otherwise, things would go to hell in a hand basket if she started screaming and banging on the trunk lid.

  She remained immobile, limp, when he shoved at her shoulder, building his sense of security. He shut the trunk and returned to retrieve his pack from the back seat. His plans were intricate, and took time to set up, but time wasn’t always on his side.

  Chapter 18

  “The news broadcaster never said when Price was going to make a return appearance. Do you think he’s back yet?” Wilson asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. It read 6:30 p.m.

  Hardwick too glanced at the clock, “His last call came at 7:30 in the evening. He told the media that it would be soon, so I’d say that it’s a likelihood; still, I was kind of hoping that the police presence would deter him.”

  “Maybe it did and he will call and say he’s expecting a different district to handle this particular abduction.”

  Hardwick shook his head, “Doubtful. He needs us to prove we can do our job before he moves on, remember? It doesn’t matter that our district is part of a whole, he selected us and therefore we’re the target of his experiment.”

  “I know I’m a fairly new detective, but I can’t see how we’re going to do any better this time. We did everything humanly possible to find Brooke Madison. What can we possibly do different?”

  “Despite our combined experience, our focus kept shifting to Price, where the clues led. Deep down, I think we kept assuming that if we followed the clues and found him that this would all end.”

  “Yeah, and normally that is precisely how it gets done, but we didn’t start searching for Price until after…well, until the Madison case was closed.”

  “I know, but to answer your question, we don’t follow the typical clues. We shove Price to the recesses of our brains and focus entirely on locating whomever he abducts next.”

  “But he doesn’t give us very many clues in which to locate the victim…”

  “He may this time. Remember his M.O?”

  “Yeah, well, that may change because of the number of times you’ve pissed him off.”

  Hardwick grinned, but it held no humor. He realized that his partner was just agitated and was striking out at the only person nearby. It wasn’t his fault that the women were abducted, and he certainly realized that it wasn’t his fault that they weren’t found in time, and it didn’t matter if others thought to the contrary—including his partner.

  “Sorry,” Wilson muttered when Hardwick didn’t respond to his accusation.

  Hardwick didn’t acknowledge the apology, instead, he called over the two detectives partnered with them, “Cortez, Harding.”

  “What’s up?” Harding asked, rolling across the floor in his chair.

  “It’s nearing that time when we may be dealing with another abduction,” Wilson supplied, “We think.”

  Cortez nodded solemnly, “So, what’s the plan, Hardwick?”

  “He’ll call, and when he does, it’s imperative that we listen carefully and do everything we can to find whomever he’s taken next.”

  “I thought we did that automatically,” Harding asked, his brow knitted in confusion.

  “Yeah, it’s all that we can do. If we do anything other than that, we’ll lose another one,” Hardwick snapped.

  “I’m just hoping he’s not too pissed at Hardwick to be stingy with his clues,” Wilson stated antagonistic.

  “I pissed him off. I got it, Wilson,” Hardwick snapped more firmly, “so, drop it already.”

  “Yeah, Wilson,” Cortez jumped in, “stop being a freakin’ harpy, will ya? It’s not like you’re Mr. Infallible.”

  The three seasoned d
etectives looked at the rookie detective with expressions of irritability, which made Wilson purse his lips in a huff. “Fine, but I’m going to keep hoping he gives us more clues and more time.”

  “He’ll give us more clues, but less time, as well you know,” Harding supplied. “That’s what he’s always done when it comes to the third victim.”

  “I think a lack of sleep and success is making us all irritable—” Cortez started, but the phone rang, interrupting him.

  Hardwick looked at the phone, raising his gaze to the clock. If nothing else, he’s punctual, he thought.

  He lifted the receiver and waited for the front desk sergeant to notify him of which line the caller was waiting.

  “Line 2,” was all the sergeant stated, for he knew it was all Hardwick needed to hear. Hardwick punched the speaker button and then punched the blinking number 2.

  “Price?”

  “I see you were expecting my call. I could have done as before and simply had the victim call—”

  “Let’s get to it, shall we? A woman’s life is at stake. Last time you jumped the gun and Brooke Madison died,” Hardwick stated and every detective’s eyebrows darted upward. This was the first any of them had heard of this theory. What Hardwick hadn’t shared was the autopsy report, which he’d gone over just before 6 p.m.

  “I didn’t—” Price started, but Hardwick was in a foul mood and needed Price to realize that the police weren’t the only ones who’d screwed up.

  “Yes, you did. Brooke’s death is on your head, not ours. We were well within range of her location at 7:30 a.m., would have easily reached her and saved her life if you hadn’t released the toxin early. That’s right. I just got her autopsy report and it said she’d been exposed to a high concentration of venom for long enough to cause her to be dead before we arrived. We got there at 7:35 a.m., and when I broke into that room, the air was inundated with gas and those tanks were empty. According to your own actions, that gas shouldn’t have released until precisely 7:30, if the door wasn’t breached. We should have been able to get in there and get her out in time to save her life. Brooke didn’t stand a chance. You either misjudged the amount of gas or you intended that she die. Either way, I’m letting the press know that Brooke’s death is on your head. Now, where is your latest victim or do you plan to deliberately kill her too?”

  “Be careful, Detective. I’ve already decided that I don’t like you.”

  That statement caused Wilson to glare at Hardwick, but it went unnoticed by everyone except Cortez who glared back, daring Wilson, with his stare, to open his mouth and say something. Wilson chose to refocus on what Price was saying.

  “You have eighteen hours. I suggest you concentrate your efforts on parking structures. And Detective, your time starts now!”

  The line went dead, and Hardwick immediately stood and started pacing.

  “He’s given us half the time to locate this one. Why?” Wilson asked.

  “Think, Rookie, because he’s told us where to concentrate our search,” Harding supplied, watching Hardwick pace in agitation. “Why didn’t you tell us about the autopsy report, Hardwick?”

  Hardwick stopped packing, but before he could respond, the captain opened his door, “All of you, in here now,” he barked and then returned his attention to the breaking news story in progress.

  “So, the race against time begins again.” The anchor was saying as the four detectives filed into his office. “And the question on citizens’ minds everywhere is, will they prove successful this time?”

  The captain picked up the remote and turned off the set, then spun the chair to face his detectives, “Half the time.”

  Hardwick nodded.

  “Does this guy even think before he acts?” the captain continued to rant, “Or does he not realize how many parking structures there are in the greater downtown area? Our entire city’s infrastructure is reliant upon parking structures.”

  “We already have men on the streets, Captain,” Hardwick interrupted. “We have better odds in locating the victim this time, since we know where to concentrate our efforts.”

  “And with it being nighttime, a majority of the parking structures will be vacant, right?” Wilson asked, “So we’ll be able to spot a vehicle…” he stopped speaking when he noticed the looks beings sent his direction. “What?”

  “There are also residential parking structures to consider, Wilson,” Cortez stated, “which means hundreds of parked cars to search.”

  “No,” Hardwick supplied, suddenly thoughtful. “She won’t be in a car.”

  The captain shook his head and rubbed his eyes, then sighed, “What makes you jump to that conclusion?”

  “Because of what Cortez just said,” Hardwick said and then elaborated. “He wouldn’t park a car with her in it in a busy parking garage, and then just walk away. There is too great a chance of a passerby spotting her, and he doesn’t want her found by a passerby. He wants the police to sweat out a search.”

  “So, then, we’re back to him parking a car in a business garage, mostly deserted in the evenings?”

  “But it wouldn’t be deserted tomorrow, and we have until 1:30 tomorrow afternoon to locate her. So, same issue.”

  “So, then what? It’s a ruse? A trick to throw us off—” Harding started.

  “No,” Hardwick interrupted. “He gave us credible information. What he didn’t tell us, and what he wants us to ascertain for ourselves, is that he’s placed her somewhere within a parking structure that’s not a car.”

  “¡Madre de Dios! A maintenance closet!” Cortez blurted suddenly.

  Hardwick nodded, “A maintenance closet sounds plausible.”

  “Okay, so let’s say you’ve figured that much out,” Wilson interjected, “that still leaves more garages to search than we potentially have the manpower for. And, if she’s in a maintenance closet, wouldn’t she draw attention if she started causing a ruckus? Anyone parking would hear her banging on a door just as they would if she was in a car.”

  “Good point,” Harding muttered, “Nice call, Wilson.”

  Everyone remained thoughtful for a moment and then Hardwick spoke up, “Suppose she’s bound. She wouldn’t be able to draw attention. In a car, bound or not, she could still bang on the car with her feet because the space is confined. So, I think our best bet is still maintenance closets, unless someone can think of someplace different?”

  Everyone nodded in unison.

  “Okay, so we’re back to parking structures and maintenance closets.”

  “And,” Harding interjected, “with as many as there are, we may easily overlook one. Do we even know where all of the parking garages are located?”

  “It would be nice if there was a map denoting the location—” Cortez started, but was interrupted by the captain.

  “Actually, I have an app for that.”

  “What?” Hardwick asked, stunned.

  “Well, it won’t show every single parking structure in the Atlanta area, but it will help us in not overlooking some that we may not think of readily.” He passed over his phone, “Click on ParkWhiz.”

  Harding opened the app and scrolled through. “There are at least twenty here that we can search,” he stated, astonished. “And we know that most corporate buildings have their own parking structures, and some residential buildings have their own. I’ll be damned, we may just beat this thing. Captain, could you write down these locations and dispatch them to black and whites?”

  “Don’t waste your time. I’ll do a web search for parking structures,” Cortez added. “This app may provide a good starting place, but I know for a damned fact that there are literally hundreds of places for parking in Atlanta.”

  “You compile a list, Cortez,” Hardwick concurred, “As soon as you have it ready, get it out to all units.”

  “Wait,” Wilson called, as the meeting appeared to be breaking up, “how do we keep from wasting our time by doing overlapping searches? I mean, if every black and white has a map
, then…”

  “Shit, they could waste time searching the same locations, which means some places might get missed altogether,” the captain concluded. “Yet another good catch, Wilson. You’ll make a good detective yet. So then, how do we prevent overlap?”

  “We do what we did when searching the warehouses. We create a completed search grid reference. This is going to be just as time consuming too. Captain, I think we need to call every black and white in off the streets now,” Hardwick said, rubbing his face in agitation.

  “Wilson, get word to dispatch to call in every available unit then go wake those who had off-duty rest time,” the captain stated and Wilson jumped up and left the office hurriedly.

  “Captain, while we’re waiting on the units to arrive, I think you need to get in touch with Channel 5 and every other news affiliate in Atlanta. It’s time we deflate Christian Price’s ego and re-establish not only a bit of faith in the Atlanta PD, but also restore some confidence in our own abilities. The people of Atlanta need to know they can rely on us, and our exhausted police force needs to know that there really wasn’t any way to save Brooke Madison.”

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Christian Price blundered his experiment with Brooke Madison, and the city needs to know it.”

  Chapter 19

  “Okay, everyone, quiet down,” the captain stated to the room full of officers; the entirety of the Atlanta Police Department’s Zone 5. “As you are all aware, we have less than sixteen hours remaining in which to locate the latest victim of the man we call Christian Price. In order to use that time effectively, we’ve broken down each sector into grids. I’ll assign each group a grid to search, and search thoroughly. You don’t want to overlook a building in your grid only to discover it was that building in which our vic was being held. Be vigilant. None of us wants the blood of this woman on our conscious. Let’s show this perp, and the citizens of Atlanta, that we know how to do our job and we know how to do it right.”