Thrills

by K. T. Tomb

  Chapter Twelve

  Mary, Ira, and Zack sat in her living room and Ira began to paint a sordid and sad picture of life with his son.

  Mary sucked in some air as she fought to contain herself. The wind moaned outside her window, clinking the wind chimes. Her daughter was out there somewhere, and she was with the son of the stinky, fat, old man sitting across from her.

  Please let her be alive.

  “Dr. Rabb, why do you think your son did this?” Zack asked.

  “Yes, please tell us!” There was a shrill sound to Mary’s voice. Then again, there had been a shrillness and tension in her voice for days, whenever she hadn’t lost her voice from screaming or crying. It seemed that she had been speaking, crying, screaming, chain-smoking nonstop since the day her daughter had disappeared. Police, friends, reporters, calling her daughter’s name, endless prayers. As she sat across the table from the old man, there was a different edge to her voice. Rabb sensed it and he knew she wasn’t someone to take lightly.

  “It’s a long story,” he sighed, barely able to look up at her.

  “Make it a short one,” she snapped.

  “Mary,” Zack warned. “Please don’t go off on Ira. He wants to help.”

  “Yeah, now he does, after he tried to get me to leave here without you to go get her.”

  “I know that was foolish thinking,” Ira admitted. He sighed. “Bobby has done this before.”

  She sucked in air. Not a lot of air, just enough to fill up her cheeks. She let it out through her nose. Something blossomed in her. Hope, mixed with a sick fear.

  Maybe this man does have answers.

  “You mean he’s kidnapped kids before?” Zack clarified.

  “Two that I know of. There may be more.”

  “Does he hurt the kids?”

  “Not…intentionally.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Rabb looked increasingly uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat, and the chair creaked warningly. He didn’t answer. Mary realized that the man in front of her had come to help, but that his answers would not come easily.

  She tried a different angle. Before she asked the question she most feared, she held her breath, prepared herself and listened to the thundering sound of her heartbeat. She realized that she was already beginning to believe the man; the crazy-looking, foul-smelling man with sad eyes that was sitting across from her. She had descended to the very depths of desperation if she was willing to believe someone like him.

  “Are the children dead?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Yes.”

  Her lungs collapsed. At least, that was how it felt. All the air whooshed out, as if she had been socked in the gut. He reached out and took her hand.

  “He did not hurt them, not that I can tell.”

  “Then how the hell did they end up dead?”

  “The first was his own child, a boy. He had epilepsy. They think he choked on his own tongue during a seizure, but Bobby had kidnapped him from his ex-wife, the custodial parent.”

  “Why didn’t he have the rights to see his own child after the divorce?” Zack asked.

  “He has a personality disorder. Several, in fact. And his ex-wife had a good lawyer.”

  “And the second child?” Mary asked. “What happened to her?”

  “She was hit by a car.”

  “His car?” Zack asked.

  “No, a stranger’s, a sixteen-year-old kid who will be traumatized for life that he hit a kid.”

  Mary let the words sink in a moment before she asked the next question.

  “The second child—she was not his kid and he kidnapped her?”

  She waited. Rabb looked away. His eyes, impossibly large, hidden snugly behind folds of cheek flesh, had allowed the brimming tears to fall free and make wet lines down his dirty face.

  “Yes, she was kidnapped by him.”

  “A random kidnapping?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s weird,” Mary said, “because what’s the motivation there, since you say he isn’t a sexual predator?”

  “He said he wanted to save them from the city. Like, it was polluted and dangerous, cancerous,” Ira said.

  “Oh, that’s good,” Zack said.

  “What do you mean?” Mary asked.

  “Well, if he ‘saved’ Cassidy from city life, he’s going to treat her well, hopefully.”

  “He can be vindictive, too,” Ira warned. “He is unbalanced and it would not be beyond Bobby to try and hurt someone through their child.”

  “And yet, you swear he never hurt these kids,” Zack said.

  “That’s how it appears. I can’t vouch for his fragile mental condition or moods, which can turn on a dime.”

  Zack cleared his throat, thinking.

  That wasn’t good enough, but what else could she say? Mary sucked in some air and fought back the urge to lay into the man. He was evidently pretty torn up over it all. He had struggled to provide the information that he had given her. She was struggling to decide whether or not to believe it.

  “Are you hungry, Mrs. Gordon?” Ira asked.

  Her answer was automatic. “No.”

  In truth, she could not recall the last time she had eaten, nor did she care. She looked horrible, she knew, rapidly losing weight since Cassidy had been kidnapped, and she didn’t have much weight to spare.

  “You look like you should eat.”

  Her stomach rumbled, but she was too queasy to eat, too sick with worry and fear. Could she trust Ira Rabb? She knew that she should eat and she wanted to uncover every tiny bit of information the man might be able to provide for her.

  “Do you promise he won’t hurt her?”

  Rabb reached across the table and took her hand. He winced, and she realized he was in pain from the cigarette burn.

  “I can’t promise your baby is all right. But I pray that she is. She might be my granddaughter, for God’s sake. I care.”

  “I believe you,” Zack said. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

  Ira suddenly paled. “I need to get horizontal. I think Mary broke my jaw. Or cracked it. My mouth doesn’t close right and it hurts so much.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “My God, Mary. Did you hit him with a brick?” Zack asked after he covered up the shivering Ira with a crocheted afghan from the back of the couch.

  Ira was splayed out on her living room couch, half-napping with an ice pack over his bruised jaw from Mary’s knockout punch. Every once in a while, he moaned.

  “No, just my fist.”

  “You must have a right hook like a mule’s kick.”

  “I didn’t mean to hit him that hard. If it makes you feel any better, my hand hurts from punching him and my thumb feels dislocated.”

  “That’s because when you punch someone, you should tuck in your thumb first,” Ira chimed in from the couch.

  She shook her head in disbelief at what she was becoming.

  “You could have killed him. He’s pretty sick, physically,” Zack said. “And he’s old.”

  “I don’t care. I felt no regret at knocking him out. He possibly aided and abetted this whole situation.”

  “I can’t disagree, though his degree of involvement is uncertain. But he’s our best lead. I lean more toward him as an enabler, rather than a co-conspirator. And he did come to you, to help. That counts for something.”

  “I can hear you,” Ira said.

  Zack ignored him. “Listen, I’m going to run for a touchdown with Ira Rabb in tow. And you, too, Mary, because you’re the Cassidy wrangler. When I get her back, I don’t want her to run from me. She’ll go right to you when she sees you. When that happens, get her to the vehicle and lock yourself in. I’ll cover you with my gun.”

  “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away. So, I have a question.”

  “What?” Zack said.

  “Why haven’t you told your office what’s going on?” Mary asked.

  Zack put his hands on his slim
hips. “Have you ever worked at a place where some of your team is just really sort of clueless? I mean, they do mean well, but they are a little slow and the job takes longer with more people, than with one person who knows all the facts?”

  “Say no more,” she said. “I once had a job at Motor Vehicles.”

  “There you go.” Zack smiled wryly and shook his head. By now, he had perused all of the documents in Ira Rabb’s briefcase, emptied the ammunition from his gun, and made some notes on his tablet. He had also taken away Ira’s phone and car keys.

  Ira’s BMW was parked on the street. It wasn’t as if old, sick Ira could outrun Zack. And he wasn’t going to. He had already picked what was behind door number two…and he was stunned with the news of a possible grandchild. That alone should motivate Ira to stick with the case until recovery. If he didn’t keel over first.

  “I’m packed for the road trip,” Mary said. “Can we go now? I want to get Cassidy back before it’s too late.”

  “There’s just one thing left to do before we head out, and it’s important,” Zack said to Mary.

  “Now what?” she replied.

  “I made you a mug shot book in a pdf file.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will. I want you to pick out your rapist from among all of the pictures of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed men in it. And a big hint. None of them have a neck tattoo in these photos. The ones who did, I faded them out, so as not to influence you.”

  “Now? Are you freaking kidding me?”

  “I’m serious. If the man you pick isn’t Ira Rabb’s son, then Ira Rabb is full of shit.”

  “I heard that,” Ira called from the living room.

  “Quiet, Ira, and sit tight in there with that ice pack on your jaw.” Zack looked at Mary. “I will not waste time on a wild goose chase after someone who is not the rapist. We already know that Cassidy’s biological father was in your house, so he has to be the same person as Robert Rabb. Or this whole branch of the investigation becomes moot.”

  “It was years ago. It was dark. He knocked me out.”

  “Look at the mug shot book I made. I have it up on my laptop. They are older photos, not recent. Click the PDF icon on the desktop.”

  She walked to Zack’s computer and did as he said. “Wow, they all look similar. Blonde jocks and frat boys.”

  “That’s correct.”

  She looked at each photo carefully. “There are no names here.”

  “That’s also correct. I have a key file that has that info.”

  She sighed and kept looking at all of the photos again and again.

  “Well?” he said.

  “This is frustrating. There are two of them and I can’t make up my mind which one he is.”

  “Which two?”

  She pointed to one photo on one page and one on another page.

  “Congratulations, Mary. You just picked Robert Rabb in both photos. He has a different hairstyle in each. One is a football team photo and the other was his graduation photo.”

  “Oh, my God. Seriously?”

  “Yes! Good eye!” He hugged her impulsively and then blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hug you. I’m just so excited. This is such a huge break in the case.”

  He called into the living room. “Ira, get off the couch. You’re on, man. You ride shotgun. Mary, you ride in the back seat where it’s safer.”

  “Oh, my God. We’re going to get Cassidy!” Tears squirted from her eyes. “I hope she’s alive!”

  “Think positive. Come on!” Zach said.

  She ran to the couch and hugged the big stinky man. “I’m sorry I hit you so hard. It was a move from a karate class. I didn’t know it was so powerful.”

  “I think you cracked my jaw. It doesn’t close right and it hurts a lot.”

  “Road trip first. X-rays later,” Zack said and led the way out the front door.

  Ira said, “Well done, Mary. And apology accepted. Let’s go get your daughter…my granddaughter.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I need sleep.

  The insistence of Emily Graves and the forces of nature combined to compel Eric Calder into his motel room. He tossed his suit jacket onto the chair, kicked off his shoes and pulled off his gun holster. He sat on the edge of the bed and went on autopilot, switching on the TV as he tugged at his tie, pulled it free, and loosened the top button on his shirt. His body had reached the end of its rope and he no longer had control over it.

  He thought of how wonderful it would feel to have a hot shower and shake some of the cobwebs from his head. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he felt the energy completely drain from his body. The walk to the bathroom seemed like a mile in the desert. He fluffed up the pillows, reached for the remote and flipped through several channels until he found a nature channel. The program was about some sort of bird and the narration was rather quiet and soothing. The twittering and quiet movements mesmerized him and he leaned back for a moment, intending to give his body a chance to gather some strength before he took a shower.

  He didn’t make it to the shower.

  The loud pounding on the door snatched him away from a deep sleep and made him sit up with a start and reach for his weapon. His hand came back empty and he glanced over at the weapon still in its holster on the table. The pounding was followed by the muffled voice of Emily Graves. He became more alert and looked at the clock. It read a quarter after nine. He’d slept most of the day.

  Shit, now I’ll never get a full night’s sleep!

  He hated it when he slept during the day and then, he couldn’t sleep at night. It screwed up his entire system.

  He got up and went to the door. He turned the deadbolt and opened the door.

  The fresh, smiling face of Emily Graves greeted him. “You look a lot better.”

  “A few hours of sleep will do that for you.”

  He felt the pain of an empty stomach and heard it growl. “I’m kind of hungry, though. Let me grab a shower and we’ll go eat dinner.”

  Emily’s smile broadened and she fought to hold back a laugh.

  “What’s your problem?”

  “Nothing.”

  The fake innocence on her face was revealed in the twinkling of her eyes. “Go take your shower. I’m going to go freshen up and I’ll be back here in fifteen minutes.”

  “Make it ten. I’m starving.”

  “Up to you.”

  He quickly ran his electric razor over the stubble on his face, enjoyed the refreshment of a quick shower, toweled off, and was just finished tying his shoes when Emily pounded on the door again.

  He hopped up, feeling much more refreshed, and opened the door for her.

  “You ready?” She still had that fake innocent grin.

  “Sure, just let me grab my jacket and gun.”

  He slipped the holster over his shoulder and then the jacket and started out the door with Emily. It seemed rather odd that there was a housekeeper’s cart in the hallway. They didn’t typically clean at night. He dismissed it, intent on finding out what hilarious secret Emily was hiding from him.

  “What’s the joke?”

  “Joke?” she asked. “What joke?”

  “The one that has you grinning like a Cheshire cat.”

  “I’m not grinning like a Cheshire cat or any other kind of cat.”

  As they stepped into the elevator, she burst out laughing.

  “What am I missing?”

  “You’ll see,” she replied.

  “Fine.” He looked at her outfit. “You’re not exactly dressed for fine dining. Where do you want to go for dinner?”

  “I can’t say that I packed much evening wear.” Again, that mischievous twinkle.

  “You have something up your sleeve. I’ll get to the bottom of it. You can’t fool me, Graves.”

  “I’m not trying to fool you, Calder. You do a good job of that on your own.”

  Her mockery only made him press further. When they got off the elevator and start
ed across the lobby to the front doors, he studied her intently. They walked through the front doors and then he drew up short. “What the fu…?” He looked at his watch. “It’s daylight. Fucking watch is off.”

  “No, it’s 9:30.”

  “But…” It suddenly hit him. He’d slept for almost 24 hours. “You mean I—?”

  “Slept right through the better part of the day and the whole night. Bet you didn’t even notice the pillow. So, breakfast or lunch?”

  “How about both?”

  When they were seated in the restaurant and had ordered, Calder looked across at Graves, who no longer had the mischievous look on her face. Sleeping for a whole day when he thought he’d only slept for half must have been the joke.

  “All right, you’ve had your fun, Graves. Catch me up on the Cassidy Gordon case.”

  “Dr. Rabb still hasn’t returned home, according to the unit that has been watching his place since yesterday. Rivera did some digging into the background of both of them and came up with some interesting items. Old man Rabb buried his wife when Rabb Junior was about nine years old. He raised Robert alone. Robert was an Eagle Scout and one of California’s most honored members. He had tons of awards.”

  “Blah, blah. Nothing remarkable to a crime case. And?”

  “I’m setting the stage. Sheesh.” She rolled her eyes at him. “He studied at UCLA and transferred to Berkley, where he played football and did tons of research in environmental studies. Eventually, he was in the doctoral program and was working with his dissertation committee when his wife left him. He never finished his PhD. He had been very active in environmental causes all of the way through and gave some pretty inflammatory speeches about poisoning the air and water and the toxic chemicals in food additives and pharmaceuticals. Seems he came under some pretty intense fire from some of the less environmentally elite. And he pissed off a ton of corporations in the process of getting all of his journal articles published in prestigious places. That, along with the separation from his wife, seemed to go together. No one heard much more from him after his divorce, not until he showed up with his dead son in Idaho.”

  “Wait a minute? No one connected him to the little dead girl in front of his old man’s house?” Calder asked.