Deadly Pursuit

by Irene Hannon

  He liked that. There wasn’t much thrill in subduing someone docile.

  Carefully, he lowered himself to the tailgate. Still holding her, he slid off and walked a few steps away from the truck, where he dumped her onto a clear patch in the overgrown two-track path that had once been a road.

  Her muffled groan was satisfying.

  He watched as she tried to right herself, aiming a few kicks her direction to thwart her. Finally, panting, she quit struggling. He smiled as he stood over her. Shoving Nicole around had always given him a sense of power.

  This did too.

  And this was the perfect place to do it. He knew rural Jefferson County from his younger days. He and his friends had spent some wild times in this neck of the woods. Drinking, partying, causing trouble. The area had built up a lot, but he hadn’t had any problem finding a spot that suited his needs during his scouting expedition. Posted with a no trespassing sign, the overgrown lane had been blocked off with a rusted chain that had quickly succumbed to Chuck’s metal cutters. Most of these places were unoccupied. Probably owned by rich guys who were holding the land, waiting to make a profit.

  Daryl didn’t know if the owner of this piece of property would profit from it.

  But he intended to.

  Taking his time, he crossed to Alison, then crouched beside her. She tried to push herself away, but he grabbed her good leg. The other one didn’t seem to be working too well, and he doubted it would cause him any trouble.

  The daylight was gone now, the sky faded from ominous gray to black. Most of the stars were hidden, but the full moon hadn’t yet been obscured by the dark clouds that were beginning to mass overhead. Only the sound of Alison’s ragged breathing broke the stillness as he unclasped one of her open-toed sandals.

  “Nice polish.” He ran his fingers across her toes. “Pink suits you.”

  A distressed sound came from deep in her throat, and she tried to tug her foot free. He tightened his grip and continued to work the shoe off.

  Once he had it unclasped, he let it drop to the ground and stroked a finger over her instep.

  “Nice feet too.”

  He continued to play with her toes for a few minutes, enjoying her struggle and obvious distress.

  Tiring of that game, he slid his hand up her leg, to the hem of her Capri pants. For an instant she stiffened. Then she redoubled her efforts to pull out of his grasp. This time using both legs.

  So there was some life in the bad leg after all. Not a problem.

  Grasping both her ankles, he straddled her in one quick movement and sat on the lower half of her legs. Pinning her in place. Rendering her helpless. The moonlight illuminated her face just enough for him to see her fear.

  Yeah. This felt real good.

  Now to ratchet up the terror a notch.

  Reaching forward, he slid a finger inside the waistband of her slacks.

  Once again, she reacted exactly as he’d hoped.

  She writhed beneath him. Tried to buck him off. And was incapable of doing either.

  “Are you liking this, Alison?” Slowly he ran his finger back and forth.

  She made a sound in her throat. Like a growl.

  It was too bad she looked so bloody and busted up. Otherwise, he might have been tempted to take this further. But he didn’t have the stomach for gore. Never had. He’d have to content himself with tormenting her.

  And that was okay. Because terrifying someone, having them completely helpless and in your power, was about the biggest rush he could imagine.

  Mitch cut the siren and the light bars half a mile from Bev’s apartment. Taking her by surprise would work to their advantage.

  After parking a block away, he slid out of the car and waited for Cole to join him. His colleague was moving even slower now, and his face was pinched with pain.

  Officer Sarah Kaufmann was waiting for them at the entrance to the parking lot, materializing out of the shadows as they approached.

  “Any activity?” Mitch looked past her toward the front door of the building.

  “No. Are you thinking the person who dropped the car is still in the area?”

  “That’s a strong possibility. She has an apartment here, and we think she might have returned to . . .”

  The door of the building opened, and a woman with short black hair, carrying a shopping bag and a purse, cast a furtive glance around. Apparently reassured by the quiet parking lot, she hurried down the walk.

  Heading straight for Alison’s car.

  “This is it.” Mitch’s pulse took a leap, and he pulled out his Sig Sauer as he spoke to Sarah. “Circle around behind her. And alert the rest of the officers we have a suspect.”

  With a nod, the woman ducked behind some cars, pulled out her radio, and disappeared into the night.

  Beside him, Cole drew his gun as well.

  The man wasn’t in any shape to take part in this arrest. But Mitch wasn’t about to tell him that.

  “Let me take the lead, okay?” He hoped Cole would concede that much, at least.

  “Okay.”

  Relieved, Mitch worked his way closer, using other cars for cover as the woman fumbled with Alison’s key chain. When the automatic locks clicked open, he stood, pointed his gun at her, and chose a position that gave him a clear line of sight.

  “St. Louis County Police. Drop the purse and bag and raise your hands out from your sides, palms back.”

  Startled by the command, the woman swung toward Mitch.

  He repeated the command.

  She turned again, as if contemplating flight. But then Sarah stepped into view, her gun also raised. Three other officers also materialized out of the darkness.

  Slowly she swiveled back to Mitch. Dropped the bag and purse. Raised her hands.

  Sarah moved in and cuffed her hands behind her.

  Holstering his gun, Mitch closed the distance between them in a few long strides, Cole on his heels. The other man retrieved the keys from her hand.

  “You are Bev Parisi, correct?”

  The woman lifted her chin and stared him down. “I’m afraid you have the wrong person.”

  “Is that right?” Mitch snagged her purse off the ground. Pulled out the woman’s wallet. Flipped through to the driver’s license. “If you’re not Bev Parisi, why do you have her license?”

  “Do I look like the woman in that picture?”

  Mitch wasn’t in the mood to play games. Leaning forward, he yanked the wig off.

  She gasped as blonde hair spilled down her shoulders.

  “Now you do. So tell us where Alison Taylor is.”

  She glared at him and clamped her lips shut.

  Behind him, Mitch heard Cole pop the trunk on Alison’s car. He’d done the same many times, never knowing what he’d find. A stash of dope, stolen electronic equipment . . . a body.

  Holding his breath, he called over his shoulder. “Anything?”

  “Not unless you count the decrepit spare I told Alison to replace six months ago.” Cole slammed the trunk with more force than necessary.

  As Cole circled around the car to the passenger doors, Mitch turned his attention back to Bev. Her lips were still pressed together, her stance defiant.

  “Okay. Let’s try one more time. Where is Alison Taylor?”

  “Mitch.”

  At Cole’s hoarse summons, Mitch motioned for Sarah to keep watch on Bev and circled the car. Cole’s gaze was riveted on the front passenger seat.

  As Mitch approached, he understood the man’s reaction. A square piece of cardboard lay facedown on the upholstery.

  And the size and shape were all too familiar.

  Stomach clenching, he dug a quarter out of his pocket, inserted it under the edge of the cardboard, and flipped it over.

  All the squares in the center row of the bingo card were marked off with a skull-and-crossbones stamp.

  Mitch exchanged a look with Cole. “We need answers. Now.”

  “Agreed.”

  He
strode back to Bev, Cole on his heels.

  “She’s asking for a lawyer,” Sarah informed him when they rejoined the duo.

  “She’s going to need one.”

  Mitch leaned close, invading her personal space. He noticed two things immediately—the distinctive smell of her breath and her dilated pupils.

  She’d been using. Very recently. Maybe even tweaking.

  “Still on the meth, I see.”

  She lifted her chin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Think you could pass a drug test?”

  “I want to talk to a lawyer.”

  “Yeah. I’ll bet you do. I would too if I were in your shoes. You have quite a list of charges against you.” Mitch folded his arms across his chest. “Auto theft, possession of an illegal substance, kidnapping. Not to mention murder.”

  Bev narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about? I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “No? Then what’s the bingo card on the front seat all about?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “It’s not mine.”

  “Did Daryl give it to you?”

  “Daryl who?”

  Fighting to control his anger, Mitch took a deep breath and spoke in a cold, terse voice. “Okay, Bev. Let me give this to you straight. We know you and Daryl abducted Alison Taylor. We found your car in the parking lot at her office. Daryl’s prints were inside, and a witness saw you both there. We also investigated a report of a woman screaming at an abandoned storage-unit facility. Two sets of tire tracks were identified—one of which I guarantee will match Ms. Taylor’s car. A K-9 unit dog verified her presence there.

  “What we don’t know is where Daryl took her. And time is running out. If he kills her, you will be charged as an accessory to murder and spend the rest of your life in prison. I will personally see to that.” He enunciated each word. “If, however, you tell us what you know, I will be sure the appropriate authorities are aware of your cooperation.”

  Once more he leaned in, his eyes inches from hers. “So here’s the deal. You can tell us what you know now, and maybe we’ll find Ms. Taylor in time to rescue her. Or you can wait until we take you in and book you and find you a lawyer. By then, Ms. Taylor could be dead—and I won’t be able to do a thing to help you. It’s your choice.”

  For several long seconds, Bev searched his eyes while he held his breath. He’d done everything he could do to convince her to talk, and he prayed it was enough.

  As he watched, some of the light went out of the woman’s face. Her posture also underwent a subtle shift, her shoulders rounding, her stance transitioning from confident to defeated.

  “I guess the show’s over.”

  Mitch didn’t understand her comment, but he’d learned to read nuances. And Bev had caved.

  Thank you, God.

  “Do you know where Daryl took Alison?”

  “No, but he promised he’d let her go. He said he just wanted to teach her a lesson.”

  “There was blood on the ground at the storage facility.”

  “Yeah.” She frowned and tossed her head as a sudden gust of wind whipped her hair across her face. “See, I pretended like I was being kidnapped too. That’s how Daryl got her to go with us. He said he’d kill me if she didn’t. So at that warehouse place, she asked me to help her rush him and get the gun away. When she tried, Daryl hit her. What else could he do?”

  Cole had let him handle the questioning so far, but now he joined in.

  “How badly was she hurt?”

  Transferring her attention to him, Bev inspected his bandaged arm.

  “I don’t know. She fell backward, and I guess she hit her head. I thought she was dead, but Daryl showed me she was breathing. He said she’d be okay.”

  Mitch exchanged another glance with Cole, feeling as grim as the other man looked. A head injury with loss of consciousness was bad news.

  And there was no telling what Daryl had done to her since.

  Fighting back a wave of panic, Mitch drew a steadying breath. “Do you have any idea where he took her?”

  “No.”

  “Is there anyone else who might?”

  She hesitated. “I don’t think so.”

  “Whose truck was he driving?” Cole asked.

  Biting her lip, she gave them an uncertain look. “I can’t tell you. I’ll get in big trouble if I do.”

  “Trust me. You’ll be in bigger trouble if you don’t.” Mitch pinned her with the most intimidating scowl he could muster.

  She studied him for a moment. Moistened her lips. Gave a sigh of capitulation. “Chuck Warren. Me and Daryl have been staying with him.”

  “Where does he live?”

  Cole jotted down the address as she dictated it, then spoke to Sarah over her shoulder. “Have one of the guys do an NCIC search on Warren. And get his plates.”

  “They won’t match the ones on the truck.”

  At Bev’s comment, Mitch refocused on her. “What do you mean?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “Chuck changes plates all the time. He put different ones on the truck again yesterday.”

  “Run them anyway,” Mitch told Sarah. “Okay, Bev. Back to Daryl. Is he using meth?”

  “Not at first. But he is now.”

  “How recently?”

  “About noon, I guess. He had more with him too.”

  Bad news. If the guy was tweaking, he’d be even more volatile.

  Leaning closer, Mitch invaded Bev’s personal space again. “Before we take you to the station, I want you to think once more about anything Daryl said while you were with him that might give us a clue about where he was going.”

  He didn’t expect her to offer anything more. Most likely Daryl hadn’t revealed his destination. All he could hope was that this Chuck Warren knew something Bev didn’t.

  But she surprised him.

  “You know . . . he did make one comment that was kind of weird.” She pursed her lips, and parallel creases appeared on her brow. “I didn’t understand it. He said he and Alison were going to have some beach time.”

  Perplexed, Mitch checked with Cole. The term meant nothing to him, referred to no slang he was aware of. Cole appeared to be equally at a loss.

  “Is that all he said?” Mitch tried once more.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. But if you remember anything else—anything—tell someone to get in touch with me.” He made sure Sarah and the other officers heard that instruction as well. “The more you help us, the better the outcome will be for you.” He motioned toward Sarah. “Mirandize her, then take her in and book her.”

  As Sarah approached, Bev indicated the shopping bag at her feet. “What about my stuff?”

  Mitch picked it up and glanced inside. A worn teddy bear lay on top.

  “My mother’s locket is in there. I don’t want anything to happen to it.” The woman’s voice caught, and her eyes grew moist. It was the first real emotion she’d shown.

  “I’ll see it’s taken care of.”

  With a nod, she let Sarah lead her toward the squad car.

  Tipping the bag toward Cole, Mitch shook his head as the other man looked in. “She cares about a locket and a teddy bear but helps a guy kidnap a woman and stands by while he beats her up.”

  Disgust contorted Cole’s features. “Don’t even try to figure it out.”

  “Yeah.” Motioning to one of the officers, Mitch handed the bag over to him. “She was high as a kite too.”

  “I noticed.”

  “We need to assume Daryl is tweaking.” A muscle clenched in Mitch’s jaw as he exchanged glances with Cole. They both knew that was the most dangerous state of meth use. While a tweaker needed little provocation to behave aggressively, confrontation increased the chances of a violent reaction—the very outcome liable to occur if they got a lead on Daryl’s location.

  “I agree. Unfortunately.” Cole held up the notebook with Chuck’s address. “You want to pay this guy a visit?”

  �
��Yeah. And let’s get a couple of the drug guys to go with us. I think they might find it worthwhile.”

  As Alison stared up at the night sky from her prone position on the ground, choking back fear and revulsion, she tried not to hyperventilate. Daryl had finally risen and left her for a moment. To light up another cigarette or open another beer or think up some other torture to add to her nightmare, she assumed. She’d run if she could, but he’d sat on her legs for so long, pinning them to the ground with his weight, that she could no longer feel them.

  Maybe that was why he’d left her alone. He knew she wouldn’t be able to move.

  Tears welled in her eyes. Never had she felt this helpless. This vulnerable. This powerless.

  And she was certain that was the precise effect Daryl had been after.

  He’d said as much as he’d touched her. As he watched her thrash. As he threatened her with the glowing tip of his cigarette, bringing it so close to her cheek she could feel the heat.

  But he hadn’t burned her. And even though he’d opened her blouse—one button at a time, sipping beer or smoking between each one, stretching it out until her nerves were taut as a bowstring—his touches hadn’t escalated to anything worse.

  Yet.

  She knew it was only a matter of time before they did, though. When he tired of tormenting her, he’d—

  Alison jerked at a sudden, cold tap on her forehead. Followed by a similar tap on her bare midriff. Then more, in rapid succession, beating a tattoo against her skin.

  It was raining.

  A dark shadow loomed over her, and behind the glow from his cigarette, Alison saw Daryl’s face. He took a long drag and flicked the ash her direction, laughing when she recoiled.

  The rain intensified.

  Tossing his cigarette aside, he leaned over and yanked her upright. But she had no feeling in her legs and collapsed against him.

  With a grunt, he bent and once more slung her over his shoulders. Striding back to the truck, he sat on the tailgate and swung around, leveraging himself to a standing position. After lowering her into the cage, he secured the top and tucked the canvas around himself, creating a makeshift tent.