Justice Returns: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (A Jake & Annie Lincoln Thriller Book 6)

by Rayven T. Hill

  She crept up the stairs, a step at a time, stopping on each tread to listen. Finally, she reached the top and peered into the apartment. All was quiet. She poked her head around the frame. The bicycle was gone. A clock ticked on the wall. She breathed carefully, slowly, constantly listening for any sound indicating the presence of someone inside.

  The living room was empty, no one in the kitchen. That left the bathroom and the bedroom. She took a careful step forward. She could see the bathroom, and the light was off. No one there. Now, for the bedroom.

  She tiptoed down the hallway and stopped. She could she a rumpled bed, a clock on a small nightstand, bare walls above. One more step and she breathed a sigh of relief. The room was empty. She moved inside the doorway and looked around.

  She gasped and her heart pounded. The room was not empty; there was a body on the floor. It was Uriah, and he lay in an unnatural position, one leg curled under, his eyes staring at the ceiling.

  Dead. He had to be dead.

  Annie crept a little closer, her body trembling, her breath quickening. Two more steps and she stood over him, staring down through unbelieving eyes.

  He was dead. There was no doubt.

  She immediately realized Jeremy couldn’t have been the killer. Uriah appeared to have been strangled, with darkening bruises on his throat, his mouth halfway open as if gasping for air. Jeremy wasn’t big enough or strong enough to do this. The little man would’ve shot him, not choked him to death with his bare hands.

  A baseball bat lay against one wall. Uriah must have tried unsuccessfully to defend himself. Only a huge bundle of bone and muscle could’ve wrestled it from his grasp.

  It had to have been Moses Thacker.

  And he may be close by.

  She spun around and listened, ready to dive under the bed or into the closet. There was no sound, and she held her breath as she stole silently from the room, down the hallway to the living room, and then to the doorway. She looked up and down the empty corridor before easing downstairs and out the back door.

  She called 9-1-1, gave her name, and reported the murder of Uriah Hubert. She would give her statement later, but first, she was anxious to see if Jake caught Jeremy.

  She hurried to the sidewalk where they’d parted and was disappointed to see Jake coming across the street, empty-handed.

  Jeremy eluded them again.

  Chapter 50

  Friday, 11:04 AM

  JEREMY SQUEEZED through the gap in the fence, dragged the bicycle in behind him, and wheeled it around to the back door of the shop where he and Moe were hiding out.

  It was a close call but he evaded Jake. He subconsciously touched the revolver behind his belt and glanced around. They hadn’t often seen anyone on the streets in this area, but he was determined to be careful as they came and went from their hideout.

  He pushed the bike inside the building, leaned it against an inner wall, and called, “Moe? Are you here?” He was relieved to hear an answer, coming from the office.

  “In here, Little Buddy.”

  Jeremy hurried to join Moe. His friend had spread out the blanket on the improvised cardboard bed and lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. He sat up and crossed his legs at the ankles when Jeremy entered the room.

  “We may be in trouble, Moe. I had a run-in with Jake Lincoln.”

  “But you got away,” Moe said.

  “Yes, Moe, I got away, but if I didn’t have the gun he would’ve caught me. He surely would’ve.”

  Moe tilted his head slightly to one side. “Maybe we should leave this area. Go somewhere safe.”

  Jeremy sat on the end of the bed and looked at his friend. “I had a spill on the bike and I think the frame is bent. It doesn’t ride very smooth now. It might not last much longer and won’t support both of us.”

  Moe squinted as if trying to absorb that information. Then his tiny eyes brightened and he sat up. “We could get Uriah’s motorcycle. He won’t need it anymore.”

  “No, he surely won’t, but it might be dangerous to go there again. We would have to go into the apartment to get the keys.”

  “I can stay outside,” Moe said. “Make sure nobody comes while you go in.” He shrugged. “Nobody knows he’s dead anyway. Uriah doesn’t have any other friends and no one ever came to see him while we were there.”

  Jeremy thought about Moe’s suggestion. They needed some form of transportation, and the motorcycle would be perfect. The Lincolns, however, were a problem. They might be still hanging about. If they went to get the bike, they would have to be doubly careful. No doubt.

  He knew if he were to continue with his mission, the police, as well as the Lincolns, were always going to pursue them no matter where they went.

  Yes, the motorcycle would be ideal, and perhaps he could see if Uriah had any more money in his wallet, and grab some food from the fridge. After all, it wasn’t wrong to steal from dead people. He’d done it before and his conscience hadn’t bothered him.

  Moe fidgeted with his hands, a troubled look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out as he rocked slowly back and forth.

  “What is it, Moe?” Jeremy asked. “What’s troubling you?”

  Moe looked away a moment, then dropped his eyes, staring at his hands. “Jeremy, I’m sorry I killed Uriah. I don’t know why. Sometimes I can’t control what happens when I get angry.” He raised his eyes, pleading, “I’m sorry. I did a wrong thing.”

  Jeremy took a deep breath and leaned in. He spoke softly. “Moe, saying sorry isn’t going to help this time. He’s dead and sorry won’t bring him back.”

  Moe dropped his head and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I know that.”

  Jeremy touched his friend’s knee. “It’s all right, Moe. It really is. It wasn’t your fault.”

  Moe’s face brightened. “Then you forgive me?”

  “I forgive you.”

  Moe really was getting hard to control, but Jeremy was determined to stick it out. His friend needed someone to keep him on the straight and narrow, and Jeremy was the only one who cared enough to watch over the big lug. The problem was, they were both wanted men, the hounds hard on their heels, and he didn’t see things getting any easier.

  It didn’t appear Annie Lincoln was doing much by way of finding out who killed his parents. Instead, she was spending her time searching for Moe and him. He’d kept his promise and told her where Joey was buried, and he was severely disappointed she hadn’t honored her word. He’d trusted her.

  Maybe she was a liar and no better than the rest.

  He considered Moe’s suggestion they move to another city—one where they weren’t known, and where people would leave them alone.

  He decided that may be the answer.

  He stood and beckoned to Moe. “Let’s go get the motorcycle before it’s too late.” After they returned with the bike he would be able to relax and figure out their plans.

  Moe made it to his feet and lumbered from the room, following his friend’s lead. Jeremy stopped at the door, removed the pistol from his waist, and spun the cylinder. It was still fully loaded, with lots of bullets in his pocket. The revolver was a trusted friend now—it saved him from getting caught by Jake Lincoln, and he wouldn’t hesitate to use it if necessary.

  He pointed to a length of chain, about four feet long, tossed up against one wall. He’d noticed it earlier and never thought much about it until now. “Grab that chain, Moe. I only have one gun, and that may help protect you.”

  Moe moved to the wall and picked up the chain, examined it a moment, wrapped one end in a big fist, and swung it over his head. He grinned. “This should stop anybody.”

  Jeremy watched Moe ball up the chain and work it into his pocket. He turned toward the door. He felt much safer inside the building, but they needed the bike. He pulled his cap low, opened the door and peeked outside, surprised now he was getting so paranoid.

  No one was in sight. They walked carefully to the front of the building and moved
to the gap in the fence. He looked up and down the sidewalk, then prodded Moe back out of sight as a pickup truck rolled past.

  Moe followed him through the fence and they hurried up the sidewalk toward Uriah’s apartment, watching carefully on all sides lest they be seen. The chain in Moe’s pocket gave a rattle with each step.

  They crossed the parking lots, hopped the fences behind the buildings, and approached the back door. Uriah’s old Suzuki was still in place, chained to a post by the rear door.

  “Stay here, Moe,” Jeremy directed. “Keep out of sight while I go in.” He pointed to the big blue bin. “If anyone comes, hide behind there.”

  Moe nodded eagerly.

  Jeremy continued, “If it’s anyone you don’t know, don’t try to stop them. But if it’s Jake or Annie Lincoln, you have to do whatever you can to keep them out.”

  Moe nodded again and pulled the chain from his pocket. He swung it in the air a couple of times and then stood beside the door, ready to keep guard.

  Jeremy pulled open the fire escape door and peered inside. “I’ll be back right away,” he said, as he stepped inside the building. The door scraped closed behind him, and he hurried up the stairs to Uriah’s apartment.

  Chapter 51

  Friday, 11:19 AM

  JAKE LOOKED AT his watch, expecting the police and emergency vehicles would arrive soon. This wasn’t exactly an emergency; Uriah Hubert was already dead and beyond human help, but what concerned him most was the presence of Jeremy Spencer in the neighborhood. If the bicycle was all he had for transportation, he wouldn’t get far, but time was wasting. The sooner the police got on his trail, the better.

  Jake had called Hank and given him a rundown on what they discovered. The detective was on the other side of the city at the time, but was now on his way. A massive roadblock would be set up shortly, encompassing a multi-block perimeter surrounding the neighborhood, watching any and all possible escape routes.

  An extensive and thorough search would then commence. Vehicles would be stopped, the drivers questioned and examined, door-to-door canvassing would begin, and any and all conceivable hiding places would be scrutinized.

  Jake turned to Annie who was pacing up and down the sidewalk. He could almost see her mind at work as she walked, her head down, her brow in an intense line.

  She stopped pacing and looked at Jake. “He’s close by,” she said. “I’m sure Moses Thacker killed Hubert, yet you ran into Jeremy and he was alone. Unless they went their separate ways—which is doubtful—they have to meet up eventually.” She made a sweeping motion with one arm. “They’re around here somewhere.”

  “Perhaps we should get the car and patrol the streets until the police come,” Jake said, with a shrug. “It’s only a couple of blocks away, and it’s better than standing around doing nothing.”

  Annie agreed. “I’ll get the car,” she said. “You can stay here and wait until the police arrive.” Without pausing for an answer, she set off on a quick march in the direction of the vehicle, digging in her handbag for the car keys as she went.

  Jake watched Annie leave before heading toward the apartment building. She’d said Uriah Hubert was strangled, and if the killer was indeed Moses Thacker, then they were looking for not one, but two, cold-blooded murderers. He knew Spencer was armed, but wasn’t sure about Thacker. The big thug had used Jeremy’s weapon for the robbery, so it seemed unlikely.

  Jake crossed the lawn and nodded at one of the two women lounged outside the building. She waved a hand and leered at him as he walked by. The second one was taking a siesta, her head flopped sideways at an awkward angle. Probably passed out, and by the looks of it, the other one would soon follow.

  He pulled open the door and went inside the small lobby in time to see the rear door swinging closed. Someone was just leaving and what little he could see of the person’s back, he recognized who he saw.

  It was that little creep, Jeremy Spencer, and he wasn’t going to get away this time.

  With half a dozen long strides, Jake made it to the door, pulled it open, and leaped out to the rear parking lot. Spencer was ten feet away and must’ve seen him from the corner of his eye. Jeremy’s hand reached to his belt as Jake dove forward, took two long strides, and bore him to the ground.

  Spencer landed heavily onto his back, struggling uselessly as Jake’s full weight straddled him and pinned his arms.

  And then the slimeball smiled. At first, a hint of humor appeared on his face, and then a full smile, and then finally, a laugh—crazy, like a lunatic.

  In the next moment, a pair of massive hands were around Jake’s throat and he was dragged bodily to one side, and then yanked upright. He struggled to breathe and brought his hands up as huge fingers dug into his neck, his unknown assailant emitting a deep maniacal growl in his ear.

  Jake’s head felt light. Through dimming eyes, he saw Spencer clamor to his feet, brush himself off, and then cross his arms and smirk as Jake worked at the powerful hands cutting off his life.

  With a final effort, Jake was able to wrap a fist around one of the vice-like fingers. He brought his hands together, summoned his remaining strength, gritted his teeth, pulled, twisted, and prayed. His biceps bulged and he heard a sickening snap.

  His assailant’s growl turned to a screech of agony, the death-grip was released, and Jake gasped for air.

  Spencer screamed, “Hang onto him, Moe.”

  Jake spun around. The face of his attacker looked even uglier in person than in the mug shot. From five feet away, small eyes glared at him with a burning hatred. The killer had a torso like a wooden barrel, legs like pillars of stone, and except for the broken finger, hands that looked like they could crush solid rock.

  The giant of a man was eye to eye with Jake, but his massive proportions made him seem a foot taller. The monster leaned forward, gauging his opponent, ready to pounce at the first sign of an opening. His muscled arms hung out to his sides like an ape, the broken finger seemingly forgotten as he huffed, puffed, and panted.

  Spencer hopped around eagerly, still screaming, “Get him, Moe. Break his spine.”

  Jake took a step forward and swung an arm toward his adversary. The action was not intended to strike a blow, but rather to gauge the reaction of the ugly stack of flesh and bones standing in front of him. The ape’s response time was slow.

  “Use the chain, Moe.” It was Spencer again.

  Moe grinned and reached his right hand to his side. He raised it a moment later, his fist wrapped around the end of a chain, the links rattling as the weapon uncoiled from his pocket.

  It whistled through the air, singing a deadly song as Moe swung it over his head, around and around.

  “Move in, Moe. Wrap it around his neck.”

  Moe stepped forward. The weapon sang, and Jake ducked.

  As the chain circled again, Jake straightened and took a step back. He spun around, looking for a weapon of any kind—anything that would protect him from the deadly swinging chain. Nothing seemed to fit the purpose. He turned back to face his opponent, keeping a safe distance. If that chain connected once, Jake would be finished.

  The deadly weapon stopped whirling and now hung limp from the monster’s raised fist, ready to be brought into play again at a moment’s notice.

  As Jake slowly circled his opponent, Jeremy stayed behind his friend, well out of danger. With his peripheral vision, Jake saw the little man reach to his waist and pull out a revolver. He held it up and screamed, “Move, Moe. I’ll shoot him.”

  Moe turned his head in reaction to the voice and Jake stepped in. He wrapped his fist around the chain and whipped it backwards. The ape held on. A tug of war began as biceps bulged, leg muscles rooting each combatant in place.

  It was a test of strength, will, and wit.

  Intelligence won the battle.

  Jake released the chain and Moe went sprawling, landing on his back with a whump, still holding the chain.

  Jake kept his distance. He didn’t want to phys
ically tangle with the muscle-bound giant. If he could manage to hold him off until the police arrived, they would take care of him.

  The big lunk lumbered to his feet, his eyes spewing hatred, his face contorted and twisted with rage. He raised his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists in front of his bared teeth. Jake stayed well back—one careless move could be his last.

  A motorcycle roared to life and Spencer shouted, “Moe, get on the bike.”

  The raging maniac glanced toward his friend and his face calmed somewhat. Jeremy eased the bike backwards, the revolver poised in one hand. Jake kept the monster between him and the gun and watched helplessly as Moe climbed on the back of the motorcycle, the chain wrapped in his huge fist.

  Jeremy touched the gas. The bike hopped forward, wobbled, and labored under the heavy load as it gained ground.

  Jake stood helpless and watched as the madmen rode out the driveway and spun onto the road.

  He heard the faint sound of sirens in the distance.

  Chapter 52

  Friday, 11:27 AM

  ANNIE PULLED her vehicle to the curb in front of Uriah Hubert’s apartment building and shut off the engine. It didn’t appear the police had arrived yet, but she was sure she heard sirens coming from somewhere far away.

  Hank should be here before long as well, and she was anxious to get the search underway before it was too late. They couldn’t afford to let Jeremy slip from their grasp this time. Too many lives were at stake. She knew from past experience, Jeremy was impulsive at times, but he was intelligent enough to be more careful after such a close call.

  She spun her head, startled to hear Jake’s bellowing voice. “Start the car.” He dashed across the lawn toward her, waving his arms.

  She reached over and swung open the passenger door and then turned the key. The engine came back to life as Jake hopped in the vehicle.

  He twisted in the seat and pointed ahead. “That way. Quick. Spencer and Thacker just took off on a bike.”