by Tori Carson
A sign caught her eye. Rest stop one quarter mile ahead. Please, God, keep Teague safe. Tears poured from her eyes. This was a huge gamble. She felt like she was abandoning him. Every cell in her body demanded that she continue following the van. It was almost impossible to force the bike off the freeway. As she pulled onto the sidewalk beside the phone, Chantel realized that she had no purse. No money. She patted her jeans and found she was wearing Teague’s sweatpants. No pockets, no money. Oh, God. Panic set in. She cried with abandon. She’d never catch them now. What had she done?
Don’t panic, you can do this. She could call nine-one-one, but didn’t dare. She could call collect. The old-fashioned way. She pressed zero. The operator came on the line almost immediately. Chantel recited her father’s private cell phone number as calmly as she could. Seconds ticked by before the operator came back on the line advising her that this was a restricted number and did not accept collect calls. Her brain was slow and sluggish, fighting to function through her fear for Teague. “Please try one more number for me,” she pleaded, then recited his home number.
Please, Dad, pick up. Don’t go to the machine, Chantel silently begged.
“Who should I say is calling?” the operator asked politely.
“Chantel. Chantel Donley.”
“Your party will speak with you, Ms. Donley, thank you for using—” Blah, blah, blah.
She didn’t wait for the operator to finish. “Dad, it’s Chantel. I need your help!”
“Chantel, it’s Ed. Your dad is working. How can I help?”
“Ed, call him on his cell. Please, he has to send help. Teague was kidnapped. He’s in a van. A white van. Write this down. The license plate number is…” She pushed her shirtsleeve up to see the number scratched into her arm. It was starting to fade, but she could still read it. “WXP one-three-nine.” She told him everything she could think of, their location and direction.
“I’ve got it, Chantel. I’ll let him know immediately. Now, where are you?”
“I’m on I-40 near Flagstaff. What should I do?” She didn’t trust her judgment. She was too conflicted. All she wanted to do was rush after Teague.
“Head for home, Chantel. I’ll call your dad and let him know everything you’ve told me then I’ll head out to get you. Let’s meet at that rest stop with the pretty outlook area you like so much.”
She could breathe again. Ed would get help. “Okay, but call Dad now, please, Ed,” she implored him, desperate to get Teague help.
“You got it.” The entry door slammed shut as he put the phone back into the cradle.
* * * *
“Who was that, Ed?” Donley asked, crumpling down into his desk chair.
“Wrong number. Any word on Chantel?” Ed looked at Donley, assessing his mood.
“Nothing new. I’ve got men searching the area near the cell tower her phone last connected with. We’ll have her soon enough. Go ahead with your plans.”
“If you’re sure you won’t need me.”
“No, it’s handled.”
Ed smirked as he went out of the door. And to think his application had been turned down and this asshole had been promoted to Chief of Staff.
They’d see in time.
Their brains were no match for mine.
That’s the way the monkey goes.
Pop! goes the weasel!
* * * *
“You sold me out,” Teague accused Foster.
“Time and time again. My three car garage and pool were all courtesy of you.”
Teague considered knocking what was left of Foster’s teeth out, but he was only grateful that Donley wasn’t a part of it. He had been worried about Channy. “Looks like it didn’t pay off too well this time.”
Foster lashed out with his feet, causing the ties to cut further into his skin. “Bastard!”
Ignoring Foster, he focused on the one in the passenger seat. He was obviously in charge and, from what Teague could tell, the most dangerous. Teague watched him pull out his cell phone.
“G., it’s Sammy. I’ve acquired the package. We’re en route.”
Ballsy, taking all the credit when he had two men with him. Teague listened closely. Knowledge was power and right now he needed every advantage.
“You got it.” Sammy closed the phone. “Flip a bitch, Marco, G.’s headed to Rio Rico.”
“He’s sick of being up to his ass in snow,” Marco snickered.
Sammy snorted.
Teague cringed. Rio Rico. He eased the weight off his legs and arms. Four hours was a long time to ride bound. He couldn’t afford to cut the ties and give away his advantage. He wanted them lulled into a false sense of security. Slowly, so as not to draw attention, he worked his fingers and feet, keeping the circulation flowing without adding to his wounds.
The van pitched wildly, throwing Teague into Foster. His left ankle gushed with fresh blood as he tried to remain seated.
“You asshole.” Sammy smacked Marco upside the head. The sound of flesh hitting flesh was loud in the enclosed van. “We aren’t supposed to draw attention.”
“Sorry, man.”
These clowns were beyond pathetic. They had no training, just street smarts and not much of those. It wouldn’t do to be too cocky, though. He was walking into hell—Rio Rico was their southwest headquarters. Tunnels crisscrossed underneath the border allowing easy entry for weapons, drugs and their latest commodity—humans.
It’s what had kept him in this intolerable position for so long. The idea of children being sold into prostitution made his situation pale in comparison. Using his computer skills, he’d made a dent in G.’s business, closing several houses and ‘training centers’. Bile rose every time he thought about it too closely.
* * * *
Chantel pulled off at the rest stop, desperate for news on Teague. She paced back and forth waiting for Ed or one of her father’s men. Hopefully, it would be Ed. He would tell her what was happening. Not to mention that she was afraid to get into the vehicle with someone she didn’t know. She tried to sound brave when she was really scared to death about the Weasel. Those pictures were forever engraved in her mind.
Why would anyone mutilate women then sew them back together? It was too sick to fathom. And that verse he put with each corpse…
You may try to sew and sew,
And never make something regal.
So roll it up and let it go.
Pop! goes the weasel!
What was the point? What did he mean by it? She tried to put the thoughts out of her head, but every time she looked in the direction of the parking lot, she imagined that each vehicle was driven by the Weasel.
She needed Teague. Needed to know he was safe. The thought of blood trickling down his face brought fresh tears to her eyes and self-doubt to her heart. She should have stayed behind the van and watched over him.
“Oh!” A squeak of glee escaped as she saw Ed’s SUV pulling into the lot. She jumped up and down, waving her arms though he could clearly see her.
He’d barely stopped the vehicle before she rushed to the passenger side and pulled the door open.
“Ed, thank God. Did you let my dad know? Have they stopped the van? Is Teague okay?” Her questions rushed out.
“Slow down, Chantel.” He walked around to the passenger seat, leaned in and pulled the seatbelt across her lap. After locking it in place, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a long, shiny, tubular object then jabbed it painfully into her leg.
Before she could register what had happened, her body grew warm and the world grew dark.
Ed pulled a pillow from the back seat and rested it between her head and the window. The seatbelt did the rest. Anyone looking into the vehicle would assume that she was catching a catnap.
He got back onto the highway and drove a few miles before turning off. This area was perfect. He’d planned to acquire her in town, but this was better. In northern Arizona, winters were tough. Few realized that the area received more snow th
an most mid-western states. The jobs were scarce, keeping the population low. Yet, hunters frequented the area enough that locals didn’t pay much attention to strangers.
The turn-off he wanted was just up ahead. Over the years, he’d perfected his technique. Hiding out in the open worked best. The monkeys were too busy looking for bananas to look twice at him.
He turned off the highway and followed the back roads deep into the forest, taking rarely used trails until he was sure he’d be undisturbed. He pulled over and waited, listening, and using his binoculars to ensure that he was alone. Minutes ticked by as he grew accustomed to the sounds of the area.
Quietly, he moved around the back and pulled out his all-terrain cooler. Times had certainly changed since Jasmine had forced his hand. He remembered how bulky the box had been with her inside it as he’d carried it to his basement. The excitement had been intense. He felt a stirring in his cock just remembering it. Would the cardboard rip out? Would she wake early and struggle? Maybe the old ways had been better.
No. Times had changed. Techniques had advanced. He needed to stay one step ahead of the monkeys. Being privy to all the latest crime fighting techniques certainly helped. It was laughable how easy it was to garner any ‘need to know’ information.
He tugged on the ramp and wheeled the cooler to the passenger side. As he pulled the door open, Chantel’s head slid out, her body slumped against the seatbelt. “You’ve been a naughty girl, Chantel.” He fisted her hair and pulled her back into the SUV. “Just like my Jasmine. Allowing another man to touch what belongs to me. Soon you’ll be washed in the blood. One way or another. Then you’ll be mine. Fresh as the day you were born.”
She had his smell all over her. Teague. That’s what she called him. To Ed, he was simply the next monkey to die.
With great care, he loaded her inside the cooler and firmly latched the lid. If she woke early, there would be no arm pushing through the folds of cardboard trying to alert the monkeys. Cheryl had done that. Naughty girl. He rubbed his dick remembering her lessons. She’d learned. It had taken a long time. His cock jerked to attention. Sweet memories. Now it’s time to make some more.
Up and down the City Road,
In and out the Eagle.
That’s the way the money goes.
Pop! goes the weasel!
He hummed the tune as he loaded Chantel into the back of the SUV and headed into the city.
* * * *
“Sir, I think we’ve retrieved the cell phone Chantel used to call you. So far, there’s no sign of her.”
“Put out an APB on Reese McCormick and Chantel.” It was a gamble. The cartel had fingers in every pie. If they made the connection between Reese and four-six-two, he might be putting Chantel in even greater danger and writing a death warrant for Teague. “Make it clear, they’re wanted for questioning. Questioning only. Concerning a kidnapping. I don’t want anyone getting trigger happy.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it.”
“I pushed her to do this, didn’t I?” Donley couldn’t help but feel that this was his fault.
“Sir?”
“She’s in love with him. I know that look. Her mother had it for me, though I never deserved it.”
Sid looked terribly uncomfortable. He probably didn’t have any idea what to say. Not that it mattered—Donley talked because the silence was screaming at him.
“Her family was loaded and I didn’t have a penny to my name. I was in the service and damn glad to be there.”
The chief stared at the wall, reliving the past. Sid stayed behind the desk, looking over Donley’s right shoulder.
“Her sorority was sponsoring some charity drive, for the local kids, I think. Ed and I had just finished SERE—survival, escape, resistance and evasion—training. God, it was tough, but we made it. We thought we could save the world. Just the two of us. We could take on anything. And just like that—” He snapped his fingers. “We were felled by two sorority girls.” He smirked.
“Shannon’s parents owned half of the Carolinas. They were furious when they found out. I couldn’t blame them. I wasn’t a good bet. Aside from the vast differences in our financial situations, I was an adrenaline junkie back then. I volunteered for every mission. The more the odds were stacked against the operation, the quicker I’d sign on.”
“I’ll never forget when Dorothy, Shannon’s mother, showed up on the base demanding to see me. I’d asked Shannon to marry me the night before.” He remembered it like it was yesterday. “I was sure Dorothy was there to try and scare me off.” He shook his head. “She was a tough old bird, full of piss and vinegar. By the time she left, I’d asked my CO for a transfer to MP training. She said her daughter wasn’t going to be a camp follower and if I was going to be with their daughter, I had to settle my ass down and grow roots.”
“I never quite managed that, but we stayed in the States. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out Dorothy had been behind the Bureau’s knocking on my door. She was an amazing woman. As far as I know, she never tried to knock sense into Shannon. She voiced her concerns and, honestly, they were valid. But she never laid down the law.”
He hung his head. “She knew better than to butt into our affairs. The old lady would have boxed my ears for trying it with Chantel. Hell, I knew better when I was doing it. What was I thinking? Of course she would run to him. Shannon would have done the same thing, and Dorothy knew it.”
Sid tapped his fingers on the desk. “So, you and Ed were in the military together?”
The sound of Sid’s voice pulled Donley from his memories. “Yeah, we went through boot camp together. I wouldn’t have made my silver wing without him. Damn night jumps.” He ran a hand through his hair. Worry was eating him alive. “You ever jump out of a plane at night, Sid?”
“No, sir, I’ve never had the pleasure.”
“Ed loved jumping. Day, night, it didn’t matter. He talked Jasmine into it. On his off time, they’d jump together.” He shook his head. “Crazy.”
“Does he still?” Sid asked.
“No.”
“What happened?”
The chief looked at Sid, debating whether it was his place to divulge personal information about Ed. Donley made the decision.
“I’d already transferred over to the MPs and was talking to the FBI. Ed thought I’d lost my mind. Jasmine loved that Ed was in the military so he stayed put. He went out on another mission.” Donley still carried the guilt of not being there when he had been needed.
“It went bad. He took a bullet in the leg and they flew him back to Bragg.” He felt a helpless impotence every time he thought about the bad turns Ed’s life had taken. “He was about to be released from the hospital when we got the news Jasmine was missing. Her body was found about a month later. It’s still unsolved. No leads, nothing.
Shannon had been devastated. They’d been friends for years. A senseless killing. Like all violent actions, the ripples had affected countless others.
Ed had never been the same. His life had gone down the shitter. He’d taken a hardship discharge. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. He was too fucked up to go out on any missions. He was a danger to himself and others. Several times, he’d talked about eating a bullet. Survivor’s guilt.
Ed had applied for the Bureau, but had failed the psych exam. Not surprising considering everything he’d been through. Donley had urged Ed to try again once he’d gotten his head clear. He wouldn’t. His pride got in the way. Ed couldn’t hold a job. Alcohol became a problem for a while. Eventually, he’d cleaned up, sobered up and had been with Donley ever since.
“You might look over the evidence and see if you can make anything out of it.” Before Sid had been recruited from the FBI, he’d been a cold case guru. His success rate bested some of Donley’s agents with current cases, those with the benefit of fresh evidence and improved investigative techniques. With a few keystrokes on the computer, he sent Sid the information he had access to. Donley knew that Sid had his
own sources. Once set on the trail, he’d find something.
“Sure, Chief. I’ll get right on it.”
“No, Sid. Chantel first. We get her home, then, when you have time, you can look into Jasmine’s case.” He’d love to solve it. Donley hadn’t been much more than a fresh recruit when it had happened. At the time, he hadn’t been privy to the details of the case. Because of his personal interest, the Bureau hadn’t wanted to risk a procedural error or a defense attorney insinuating bias. As the years had gone by, Donley had reviewed the data, but he just couldn’t bring himself to look at the photos. He knew from experience that once seen it would be impossible to ever un-see them.
Ed had needed the closure, though. He had never sustained a relationship since. The chief knew that Ed blamed himself. If he’d settled down, he would have been there for her. Perhaps he could have changed the chain of events leading to her death.
Ed had to let it go. The path of woulda, coulda, shoulda will kill a man. As it was, Ed would disappear for days, sometimes weeks. He’d escape to the mountains and fish or hunt until the demons got off his back.
“Yes, sir.”
Knowing that until Chantel called or they caught a break in the case, there was little to do but wait, Sid opened Jasmine’s case file and began a cursory look at the investigation. Jasmine Duveaux, twenty-three, dark hair and complexion, exotic-looking really. Not at all what he’d expected. Ed was an odd bird, and rough around the edges. Sid had imagined him with a buxom blonde, with generous features, chomping gum and drinking beer from a long neck. Jasmine was ninety pounds soaking wet, refined features and from old money. Her father, Louis Duveaux, was the sole heir to a textile fortune.
It would have made more sense for Ed to have mysteriously disappeared than Jasmine. Sid doubted that Duveaux’s parents had welcomed the match. Maybe he was allowing his own negative feelings toward Ed to color his thoughts. He made a note to investigate Ed’s injury. Was it possible that Duveaux’s parents had been making sure their daughter made a better match? Maybe a double cross had occurred. The parents had been angry at the botched job, had threatened to cause a stink and the would-be hit man had struck back at their daughter. Her injuries were excessive, a brutal punishment. It had taken hours, perhaps longer, for her to die.
