Dead in the Water

by Denise Swanson

  “Not in the city schools.” Boo-Boo swayed. “In my neighborhood, no one’s interested. You just drop out and take care of yourself.”

  “It isn’t too late, man,” Wally said. “You can get your GED and get out of this life before you end up in prison or d—”

  “Shut the hell up!” Boo-Boo cut him off with a punch to the gut. “You’re just tryin’ to confuse me.” Another blow knocked the wind out of Wally. “The club is my family now and I’d never give that up.”

  “Okay, man.” Wally fought for air. “Just giving you some alternatives if things don’t work out the way you want them to here.”

  “I’m only in the shit house because of you!” Boo-Boo shouted.

  He drew back his fist to throw another punch, but Wally’s hands were finally free and he blocked it, then grabbed the front of Boo-Boo’s T-shirt and hauled him closer, reaching for the gun tucked into the waistband of the punk’s low-riding jeans.

  Boo-Boo was yelling obscenities and clawing at Wally’s face, but Wally ignored both the noise and pain. His fingertips had been scraping the butt of the weapon when he heard a set of boots thundering down the steps and Tin’s voice shouting at Boo-Boo.

  Before Wally was able to grab Boo-Boo’s gun, Tin hauled the drunken bozo out of Wally’s reach. Wally watched as Tin pushed the guy toward the staircase, then prodded him up each of the steps.

  A door slammed close and Wally heard Tin mutter, “Time to sleep it off, dipshit.”

  Wally was busy trying to free his feet when Tin reappeared and tsked. “I thought you were smarter than that, Chief.”

  Pointing his weapon at Wally’s chest, Tin dug a fistful of zip ties from his back pocket and fastened Wally’s wrists behind his back. He paused, then used the ties to secure his ankles to the legs of the chair. Once he was done, Tin leaned against the workbench and rubbed his jaw.

  “What I can’t figure out is how that dumbass got the door open.” Tin scratched his head. “He had to have picked the lock, but I’d have sworn he was too tanked up to manage it.”

  “He was definitely three sheets to the wind,” Wally said, trying to figure out Tin’s game. “A few more seconds and I’d have had his weapon.”

  “Yeah. Don’t do that again.” Tin rolled his eyes. “When I leave here, I’m putting a padlock on the door. If anyone but me comes down these stairs, you need to scream and keep screaming, not fight them or go for their gun.” He gave Wally a hard stare. “I’m doing my best here to keep you alive. Trying to escape isn’t your best play.”

  “Why would you want to keep me alive when I’ve seen your face?”

  “Let’s just say that you identifying me is the least of my worries.”

  Wally raised a skeptical brow. “Seriously?” Recalling what he’d previously overheard about the gang looting after the tornadoes, he asked, “Is it because one of your guys already committed murder while they were ransacking the deserted houses after the storm?”

  “Shit no!” Tin scowled, then grinned. “But they might have seen something that could point your investigation in the right direction.”

  “And what is that?”

  “That’s on a need-to-know basis and you don’t currently need to know.”

  “Currently?” Wally zeroed in on the word. “So maybe I will later?”

  Tin shrugged. “Maybe. Right now, what I need for you to do is relax and not worry about any of this shit. You behave yourself and by this time tomorrow, you’ll be holding your pretty wife in your arms.” He gazed unblinkingly at Wally. “You feel me, bro?” After Wally nodded his understanding, Tin added, “I’ll be back with some food later.”

  After Tin disappeared, Wally pondered what he’d learned. Had the gang seen the murderer? Wouldn’t that be a kick in the pants? The only witnesses were career criminals. The jury would love that.

  A few minutes later, Wally heard a drill whine to life. After a while, there was the sound of a padlock clicking closed. Tin had been serious when he’d said he’d keep Boo-Boo from returning.

  Sighing, Wally began to work on the zip ties. He’d managed to keep his hands side by side instead of wrist to wrist, so he had a little wiggle room. As the plastic cut into his flesh, he gritted his teeth and kept trying.

  Wally had made some progress when, true to his word, once the sounds of the drunken revelry had been silenced for a while, Tin reappeared with a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of water.

  Keeping a gun pointed at Wally, Tin freed him from the chair. After allowing him to eat, drink, and avail himself of an old bucket in the back corner of the basement, Tin used a fresh set of zip ties on Wally, then tucked his weapon into his shoulder holster and parked his ass on the workbench.

  He lowered his voice and said, “Is there any chance your father won’t come through with the money?”

  “Unless his plane crashed, he’ll deliver the ransom as instructed,” Wally answered. “And if something happens to him, Skye will get the cash and bring it.” Wally’s heart warmed. “My wife is an angel.”

  “You’re lucky. My old lady is still alive,” Tin joked.

  “You’re married?” Wally examined the gang member. For the millionth time, he wondered what he was missing. Why was Tin being so nice to him? Why had he taken off the blindfold? Why was he willing to reveal his face? He certainly didn’t act worried about the exposure.

  “Not anymore.” Tin’s eyes dulled.

  “Sorry, man.”

  “Anyway.” Tin shook his head and continued. “Tomorrow night”—he paused, then chuckled—“or, I guess since it’s way past midnight, tonight, as soon as Boo-Boo comes back with the cash and everyone else is on the road, I’ll come down here and leave a knife just out of your reach. It’ll take you a while to grab it and cut the zip ties, but it’s doable. Your squad car is in the machine shed. I’ll put the keys in the wheel well and the rest of your shit in the trunk. Then you can get home to your angel.”

  “Thanks, man.” Wally’s tone was sincere. “I appreciate the briefing.” He again wondered at the guy’s behavior and motivation.

  “Your father wouldn’t be stupid enough to involve the cops, would he?” Tin pushed himself off the workbench and crouched so he was eye to eye with Wally. “As you just witnessed up close and personal, Boo-Boo isn’t the sharpest tool in the chest, and if something unplanned happens, that boy will panic and someone will surely get hurt.”

  “Dad won’t bring in the police.” Wally’s lips quirked upward. “He’s way too Texas for that.” Wally stared at Tin. “But if he pays and I don’t get home safe and sound, he’ll hunt you until his dying breath. And he has enough juice to call in a lot of favors.” Wally didn’t blink. “He’d have the Rangers here in a heartbeat, and the Texas Rangers always get their man. Remember Bonnie and Clyde.”

  “In other words, a deal is a deal?” Tin grinned. “I can dig that.”

  With that declaration, the gang member bounded up the stairs, and between catnaps, Wally worked on freeing himself from the zip ties around his wrists. Unfortunately, all of his previous progress had been lost when Tin had put on the new set after Wally had eaten.

  He must have finally fallen into a deep sleep because Wally was jerked awake the next morning when someone started hammering on the door between the kitchen and basement. The pummeling turned into kicking, and then whoever was trying to get to him howled his frustration and threw something heavy at the door.

  Wally’s pulse raced and he prayed the old wooden door would remain intact until Tin discovered what was going on. Judging from the loud voices, the bikers had begun to emerge from whatever shithole they’d crawled into after the party, so he hoped Tin would be up, too.

  The hangovers must have been intense, because Wally had recognized Veep’s voice when he’d yelled, “Squirrel. Get away from the damn door. Everyone else shut your pie holes until I tell you to open �
��em.” There was a pause, then he’d ordered, “Boo-Boo, make the coffee.”

  After the commotion, the ensuing silence had been soothing, and Wally had rolled his neck and squinted at the sun peeking around the cardboard window coverings. From the amount of light, it had to be midmorning.

  Last night had been the first time Wally had slept away from Skye since they’d gotten married. And even if he’d been in a feather bed, he wouldn’t have liked it. He’d ached to hold her in his arms again.

  Sighing, he’d gone back to work on the zip ties. They were tighter than before, but the pointed end was longer than on the previous set. He’d just managed to get it between his fingers and into the locking slot when he’d heard Veep give Tin permission to speak.

  “All of you!” Tin shouted. “Take a seat and get some java and food down you. Everything in this house and in the machine shed needs to be loaded in the trailers by five o’clock.” Tin’s voice hardened. “I ain’t tolerating any excuses or slackers. You all got me?”

  There were grunts and an occasional, “yeah, man,” then the sound of chairs scraping on old linoleum as Veep ordered, “Squirrel, since you’re so wide-awake and bushy-tailed, you cook.”

  As the smell of coffee and frying bacon had drifted down the stairs and Wally continued to work the pointed end of the zip tie in the tab, his stomach growled. All he’d had in the past twenty-four hours had been two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

  Granted, beyond getting the snot beaten out of him—twice—he hadn’t done much to burn calories, but he’d still been starving. Would Tin bring him any more food? Probably not. He’d noticed that the gang member did stuff like that only when no one else was around.

  After the bikers had finished their breakfast, Wally had heard them moving around upstairs. He’d assumed they were packing up their possessions and hauling everything outside.

  They’d been at it a couple of hours or more, and Wally thought it was around one or two in the afternoon, when he realized that the upstairs was now silent.

  Wally listened intently. They must have finished with the house and moved on to loading the stolen goods stored in the machine shed. This was his chance to escape.

  Working feverishly on the zip ties, he managed to loosen them, but not enough to free his hands. He needed something sharp to cut through them.

  Wally scooted his chair toward the worktable and turned his back to the bench. Wally had noticed that the metal edges were jagged and now that he didn’t need to worry about being quiet, he laid his wrists across the edge and sawed at the plastic. The ties cut into his flesh and he could feel blood dripping down his arms, but he continued.

  One way or the other, he was getting out of here. There was no way he was trusting his life to an outlaw biker. Even one that seemed as decent as Tin.

  Chapter 16

  “That’s all right,” said the Stork, who was flying along beside them. “I always like to help anyone in trouble. But I must go now, for my babies are waiting in the nest for me. I hope you will find the Emerald City and that Oz will help you.”

  When Skye and Carson left the Fine Foods factory, she suddenly felt woozy. Clutching her father-in-law’s arm, she managed to get to the Hummer without passing out, but Carson insisted they return to the motor home where she could eat some lunch and lie down.

  After a bowl of soup and a power nap, Skye felt much better, and she was determined to get back to the Lyons murder investigation. It felt as if she were playing hide-and-seek with Billie, a game she’d always hated to lose.

  Fed and rested, Skye and Carson drove to the police station. Impatient to resume working on the case, Skye marched in ahead of her father-in-law. She rushed through the lobby, then using her key to let them into the back of the station, she headed to the dispatcher’s office.

  It was nearly three o’clock, which meant May shouldn’t have been on duty yet, but Skye wasn’t surprised to find her mother already behind the desk. In fact, Skye had counted on it, knowing she’d better check in with her mom before she did anything else.

  May was on the phone, but when Skye paused in the office doorway, May motioned for her to come inside. Holding up a finger indicating she’d be free to talk in a minute, she turned her attention back to her telephone conversation.

  As Skye waited, she glanced at her father-in-law. She had been astonished at how quiet he’d been during the interviews with Jared Fine and Abe Bandar. Actually, she couldn’t recall him saying a single word when she was questioning the head accountant. And now, without fussing at her to hurry or offering suggestions, he took out his phone and leaned against the opposite wall.

  Carson was more like his son than Wally realized. It appeared that the only time her father-in-law took charge was if he felt Skye was endangering herself or the baby. Carson was a lot easier to be with than she’d expected, and for that she was exceedingly grateful.

  “Where have you two been?” May demanded as she placed the receiver back in the base unit. “You weren’t home at noon when I stopped by the motor coach, and you haven’t been answering your cell. Is there any news about Wally?”

  “I haven’t heard anything since Roy briefed me this morning.” Skye shoved down the desire to blurt out that Wally had been kidnapped. Her chest tightened as she was reminded that right now his only hope was the ransom. “Didn’t the sergeant bring you up to date when you took over the dispatcher’s desk from Thea?”

  “No. Thea wasn’t feeling well and asked me to come in early.” May wrinkled her brow and confided, “You know she’s got the diabetes and this stress makes it act up.” Skye’s mom shook her head, then said, “Anyway, a few minutes after I got here, Roy was called out to a settle a dispute, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to him.”

  What in the world would anyone argue about so soon after a third of the town was destroyed? Hard as it was to believe with all that had happened since the tornadoes had touched down, it had been less than forty-eight hours since the twisters had blown through town.

  Refocusing, Skye asked, “What kind of dispute?”

  “A semitruck landed nose first on the roof of some house and the owner took exception at the folks stopping to take pictures.” May cocked her head. “I believe a rifle was involved and a couple of the tires on the looky-loo’s vehicle were flattened by a stray bullet or two.”

  “I see.” Skye blinked at the image.

  May repeated her original question. “So what’s going on and why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

  Skye passed on what Sergeant Quirk had reported to her about the search for Wally. After that, she explained that she and Carson thought it was possible Zeke Lyons’s murder was connected to Wally’s disappearance and relayed to her mother what they had accomplished in their search for the killer.

  She felt guilty that she couldn’t share the information about Wally’s kidnapping with May, but her husband’s safety was more important than keeping her mother in the loop. Suddenly, it hit her again that Wally was being held by a criminal who could easily decide to kill him. Her heart hurt at the thought of what he was likely going through and what might very well happen to him.

  Sighing, Skye blinked back a tear. She didn’t have time for a breakdown. The only thing she could do for her husband was figure out who murdered Zeke Lyons and pray that person would lead them to Wally’s location.

  Before Skye could turn to go, May put an arm around her and said, “They’ll find him and he’ll be fine.” Skye nodded and her mother added, “I started a novena to St. Anthony last night.” Carson raised a brow and May explained, “He’s the patron saint of missing people.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Skye cleared her throat. “How are you and Dad doing? Are you still staying with Aunt Minnie? How are Vince, Loretta, and the baby?”

  “Your brother and his family are all fine, but their road is still blocked.” May frowned. “Jed bought a
generator at Farm and Fleet in Kankakee, so we’re back at home.” She sighed. “It’s pretty small, but we can run the pump and a few lights. He won’t let me put on the air-conditioning though, and the satellite is still out, so no TV.”

  “The heat and humidity are pretty bad today, and tomorrow is supposed to be worse.” Skye wrinkled her brow. “Maybe you and Dad ought to stay with Aunt Minnie again. Since her daughters’ houses are okay and they both have generators, she has plenty of room. You and she can visit so you don’t get so bored without television.”

  “Jed won’t go because of the darn dog.” May pouted. “The pen was destroyed and he’s got that beast living in our utility room. I couldn’t possibly ask Minnie to put up with that dirty creature.”

  Although Skye’s aunt wasn’t as animal-phobic as May, Jed’s pooch wasn’t housebroken. And Skye’s dad used the pinball dog training method. He let Chocolate run wild, then every once in a while, when he got annoyed, he would hit the poor thing on the rear with a rolled up newspaper. Skye had given her dad several books on positive reinforcement and behavior management, but Jed just thanked her, then stacked them next to his chair without reading them.

  “I suppose expecting Aunt Minnie to put up with such a rowdy dog would be pushing the boundaries of hospitality and sibling affection,” Skye murmured.

  “If Jed would just board Chocolate until we get the pen rebuilt,” May grumbled. “Linc Quillen’s offering to lodge all animals displaced by the tornadoes free of charge at his veterinary clinic.”

  “Linc is a sweet guy to help out like that,” Skye said.

  Which reminded her, she needed to give Frannie a generous check for pet sitting Bingo. Thank goodness she’d been willing to take care of the cat until Skye’s life calmed down. But Frannie and Justin would be heading back to college on Monday, so she had only a few more days to get herself together before taking back responsibility for her kitty’s well-being.