Pretty Little Lawyer (Nick Teffinger Thriller)
Page 8
Del Rae understood and agreed.
“Talk her back into it for her own sake,” Aaron added.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Day Four—May 8
Thursday Afternoon
______________
PAIGE FELT LIKE A FROG in a snake pit. The darkness of the room couldn’t have been more absolute if they were a thousand feet under ground and wore blindfolds. She felt around, found Ta’Veya’s hand and held it.
Ta’Veya gripped back with a sweaty palm.
Neither of them spoke.
There was no need to. They understood the situation. The man would either walk in for whatever reason or he wouldn’t. If he did, then that was that. If he didn’t, they’d either have to wait for him to leave or try to sneak out tonight after he went to bed.
She had to relieve herself like crazy.
They listened to every sound that came from the main room, trying to figure out what he was doing, hoping to hear something to indicate he was on the way out.
Instead, cabinets opened and closed.
The shower ran for a few minutes and then cut off.
A phone rang and words mumbled, too muted to understand, but loud enough to tell when he was talking and when he wasn’t. Judging by the volume, Paige figured it would probably be safe to whisper if she barely used any breath.
“Can you hear me?” she asked.
“Yes,” Ta’Veya said.
“There’s a ladder against the back wall.”
“I saw it.”
“I’m going to hold it steady,” she said. “See if you can get on top of the drawers.”
They felt their way over to it—a stepladder, folded shut and leaning against the wall. Paige felt the angle and pulled the feet out a little farther.
“Go ahead,” she said.
Ta’Veya climbed, feeling her way up, one careful step at a time. Then she stopped and Paige heard her fingering the wood.
“It’s solid up here,” she said. “I think it’ll hold us.”
“How much room is there?”
“About the same as a coffin.”
Great.
Still better than nothing.
“It’s going to be a little tricky swinging up,” Ta’Veya said.
Paige gripped the ladder and took a firm stance. “Whenever you’re ready,” she said.
Two seconds later the ladder pushed away from the wall, so hard that Paige had to put all her weight into it. Ta’Veya grunted and struggled for what seemed like a long time. Then she said, “Whew,” and exhaled.
“You up?”
“Yeah, but it was harder than I thought.”
A lot harder.
“You’re going to need to open the ladder,” Ta’Veya added. “Otherwise it’s going to buck off the wall.”
Paige chewed her lip.
Once up, she wouldn’t be able to close it.
And if the man came in he’d notice.
“I’ll make it,” she said.
When she got to the top of the ladder she understood what Ta’Veya was talking about. She got as good a grip as she could on the top of the drawers, then pushed off and swung her leg up.
The ladder jerked away from the wall and sounded like thunder when it slammed to the floor.
Paige muscled up and held her breath.
Her heart raced.
Ten seconds later a light came from under the door, meaning the man was in the darkroom, heading here next.
If he came in and saw no one here, he’d look on top of the drawers and find both of them.
Paige jumped down and landed on her side just before the door opened.
A HAND WENT TO THE LIGHT SWITCH and the room suddenly sprang to life. The man wore no shirt and towered over her. His body was massive and muscled beyond belief. He had a lion’s mane of thick blond hair.
“Who are you?” he asked.
The tone gripped her so hard that she didn’t talk.
She’d heard it before.
It meant violence.
“Answer me!” he said.
Before she could say anything he slapped her across the face, with an open palm, but still strong enough to make colors flash. Ta’Veya suddenly appeared in her peripheral vision, getting ready to jump on him.
“No!” Paige shouted.
“No? Come here,” the man said.
Then he jerked her up, scooped her under his left arm and slammed the door shut as he carried her out of the room.
HE THREW HER ON THE MATTRESS, roughly, not caring if she broke her neck.
She could only think of one thing.
He didn’t recognize her.
He truly didn’t know who she was, meaning he wasn’t the man behind the scrambled voice.
“Don’t move!” he said.
She watched him walk across the floor, moving like a wild animal. He returned with a pair of scissors and rope. Then he hogtied her, tighter than tight, and cut her clothes off, every stitch of them.
“I think I made some kind of mistake—”
“No kidding.”
He smacked her on the side of the head.
Colors flashed as he gagged her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Day Four—May 8
Thursday Afternoon
______________
NOW THAT MARILYN POPPENBERG wasn’t the woman from the boxcar, Teffinger intercepted Katie Baxter at the coffee pot and told her he was getting out of her way so she could run with the case.
She made a face.
“Finally, something to do.”
“It’s all part of my evil plan to keep you from having a life,” he said.
“Such a guy.”
He headed to his desk which was over by the snake plant, out in the main room with everyone else. As the head of the homicide unit he had every right to occupy the office down the hall, the one with four walls and a door that actually closed. When he got promoted into the position three years ago he actually sat in that room for a couple of days before he realized it was too close to the chief’s office and too far from the coffee.
And too much like an elevator.
Leigh disappeared early in the morning with a list of Ford Mustang owners. Ten of them were men. She wanted to talk to each of them, face to face, to get a personal feel for whether they were the one behind the collar.
She showed up at headquarters mid-afternoon, poured a cup of decaf and slumped in the chair in front of Teffinger’s desk.
“I talked to all the men but two,” she said. “None of ’em got me excited.”
Teffinger frowned.
“Not even a little?”
She shrugged.
“If we had endless resources, maybe one or two,” she said. “But none I could justify throwing money at today.”
Suddenly Sydney appeared, gave Leigh a quick hug, and sat down in the other chair looking excited. She ignored Teffinger and focused on the profiler.
“You wanted to know if any women disappeared who fit the guy’s profile,” she said.
Meaning young and attractive.
Leigh perked up.
“Right. You got someone?”
“Maybe—”
ACCORDING TO SYDNEY, a woman by the name of Rain St. John may have vanished this morning. A couple of old ladies found her purse lying in the middle of the sidewalk on Bannock around ten o’clock. Nothing appeared to be missing. Her keys, wallet and cell phone were all safe and sound inside. The wallet still had everything in it, including her driver’s license, two credit cards and $126 in cold hard cash.
“They turned in cash?” Teffinger asked.
“Yeah. It happens all the time.”
“Not on the planet Denver it doesn’t.”
Apparently Rain St. John was on her way to a girlfriend’s by the name of Megan Foster. They were going to get their hair done and Megan was going to drive. Rain called her and said she was parking her car and would be there in five minutes.
But she didn’t show up.<
br />
Not in five minutes.
Or ten.
Or thirty.
“Megan kept calling the Rain woman on her cell phone,” Sydney said. “When she never answered, Megan walked down the street and found her car. That’s when she decided things were weird enough that she should make a report.”
Her car was two blocks away.
The old ladies found the purse between the car and Megan Foster’s house.
She hadn’t shown up at any of the metro hospitals. Nor did she have a history of medical problems.
“What does she look like?” Leigh asked.
“Let’s just say no one would kick her out of bed.”
Leigh nodded.
Then looked at Teffinger.
“Sounds like it’s worth a look,” she said.
Teffinger looked at Sydney.
“Does the woman live alone or with someone?”
Sydney shrugged.
“Don’t know. Why?”
“Do me a favor and find out,” he said. “If she lives with someone, then get a consent to enter. If you can’t get consent or if she lives by herself then work up a search warrant. Either way I want to be walking through her door in two hours.”
Sydney rolled her eyes.
“Nick, I was just relaying information, not volunteering for work,” she said.
Teffinger cocked his head.
“That’s the problem with being the messenger,” he said. “You can get killed.”
AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, Teffinger and Leigh knocked on the door of Rain St. John’s brick bungalow on Grant Street and got no answer. One of the keys from the missing woman’s purse fit the door.
Teffinger opened it and stuck his head in.
“Police. We have a search warrant.”
No response.
Leigh pushed through and said, “Let’s see what we have.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Day Four—May 8
Thursday Afternoon
______________
WHEN TARZAN FINALLY REMOVED THE GAG, Paige immediately sucked air and didn’t make a sound. She didn’t scream, mostly because more than anything in the world she didn’t want him to shove the gag in her face again; but also because she didn’t want Ta’Veya thinking she needed to run out and save her. Their only chance at getting out of this alive was if Ta’Veya had enough smarts to bide her time and escape.
From her hogtied position, she twisted her head up to gauge the man’s anger.
He was visibly calmer now.
“The ropes hurt,” she said.
“Shut up,” he said.
Ten minutes later he untied her and walked over to the fridge for another beer. She sat up, rubbed the circulation back into her wrists and looked for a weapon.
Scissors.
An ashtray.
Whatever.
About the best she could see was a sharpened pencil on the computer desk more than ten steps away.
If she attacked him she’d better kill him.
A pencil would only get him mad.
He took a long swallow of beer, about a third of the bottle, and said, “Lay down on the floor in front of the drums, on your back.”
She did.
Still naked.
With her legs pressed together and her hands covering her breasts.
“Put your arms above your head,” he said.
She obeyed.
“Now spread your legs.”
She did.
“Wider.”
She chewed on her lower lip, almost got up and ran, but then remembered Ta’Veya and did as she was told.
“Now don’t move a muscle. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“After I relax a little we’re going to talk,” he said. “You’re going to tell me what you’re doing here and why you were trying to copy my computer files. Then I’m going to decide the appropriate punishment. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you think that’s fair?”
She knew better than to give him the wrong answer.
“Yes.”
SUDDENLY “SWEET CHILD OF MINE” filled the room, incredibly loud and extremely clear, pounding out of very expensive speakers. He walked over and stood above her, one foot on each side of her stomach.
“What’s your name?”
Her first instinct was to lie.
But she didn’t know how much trouble that would get her in if he found out.
“Paige,” she said.
“Paige what?”
She bit her lip.
And made a split-second decision.
“Paige Black.”
“Are you telling me the truth, Paige Black?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
“Because we’re going to find out and if you’re lying the punishment’s going to be severe,” he said. “Do you like this song?”
She didn’t.
But said, “Yes.”
“Me too.”
He sat down, drained the beer bottle and set it on the floor. Then he twirled a pair of drumsticks, hit the snare three times and played along. Her immediate instinct was to put her hands over her ears but she dared not move. When the song finally ended he didn’t get up, but instead sat there and twirled the sticks. Ten seconds later the song started over again.
Then again.
He was halfway through the song for the third time when Paige saw Ta’Veya sneaking up behind him.
The woman held nothing in her hand.
Not a weapon of any kind.
What was she thinking?
He’d snap her like a stick doll.
She stopped not more than two feet behind him. Then she squatted down ever so slowly and reached for the beer bottle. Tarzan must have seen her because he twisted and struck at the exact moment that she swung the glass at his head.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Day Four—May 8
Thursday Afternoon
______________
IF RAIN ST. JOHN’S HOUSE HELD ANY SECRETS regarding her disappearance, it wasn’t giving them up without a fight. To Teffinger’s eye everything looked normal. Their primary goal was to find whether the woman had been threatened or had encountered any strange bumps in the night prior to her disappearance. No messages suggesting that showed up on her answering machine. Her emails, old and new, told them nothing other than she had an extraordinary sex life.
“This girl gets horizontal more than you do,” Leigh said at one point.
“It’s not a fair comparison,” he said. “She’s obviously bi, meaning she has twice the chances.”
“Actually,” she said, “she still wins even if you take only half.”
He chuckled.
Beaten.
“She even gets more women than you do,” Leigh added.
“See, that’s where you have me wrong,” Teffinger said. “You think I’m after women all the time. Actually—and don’t you dare repeat this because I’ll deny it—all I really want is one. One good one.”
She rolled her eyes.
“And you’ll go through dozens to find her if you have to.”
He nodded.
“We’re all forced to do things we don’t particularly enjoy.”
“Please.”
“Actually,” he said, “I’m going through one right now. Or she’s going through me. I’m not sure which.”
“And?”
“What do you mean—and?”
“And is she promising?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. That’s what I’m always trying to figure out.”
“What’s her name?”
“Ta’Veya.”
“Ta’Veya what?”
He shrugged.
He didn’t know.
“You don’t know her last name?”
“Not yet.”
“Did you ask?”
“Not yet. I haven’t had a chance.”
They found a
shoebox full of hundred dollar bills in the bedroom closet behind a barricade of photo albums. Teffinger counted it.
“Fifty grand exactly,” he said.
“Well that’s interesting, isn’t it?”
He stood on his tiptoes, stretched up and put it back.
“Very,” he said.
THE FRONT AND BACK DOORS got crime scene tape. Then, as long as they were in the area, they knocked at the neighbors and talked to the ones who were home.
No one had anything of interest to say.
Apparently the Rain woman was a night owl, usually sleeping until noon and then going out-and-about until the wee hours of the morning.
The guy across the street, a scrawny man with a pervert’s face by the name of Bob Sorensen said, “I don’t know much about her. To tell you the truth, I never paid that much attention to her.”
His eyes darted nervously.
Teffinger spotted a pair of binoculars on the man’s coffee table. He would have a clear shot of the woman’s bedroom from just about any window in his house.
“Okay, thanks,” Teffinger said.
IT TURNED OUT THAT LEIGH was the keynote luncheon speaker at a criminal law seminar in Las Vegas tomorrow, meaning she needed to head to the airport tonight or first thing in the morning.
“Stay over tonight,” Teffinger said. “I still need to take you for a ride in the ’67.”
“You mean that fiberglass deathtrap of yours?”
“Red fiberglass deathtrap,” he corrected her. “We can head up to the Little Bear and get a burger.”
“I’m more in the mood for a shot and a beer.”
“They got those too.”
She looked at him funny.
“What?” he asked, curious.
“Mr. Happy’s not going to come out and visit me again in the morning is he?”
Teffinger smiled.
“No,” he said. “Mr. Happy and I had a long talk.” He paused, smiled and almost added, “Maybe you two want to shake hands. Just to be sure there are no hard feelings.”
But he didn’t.
Chapter Thirty
Day Four—May 8