And it was really dark. Too dark, in fact…
Tom slowed down and glanced at the windows of the houses he passed by. No lights on. The streetlights weren’t even lit.
The frigging power was off!
Deja vu swept over him and Tom began to panic. Suddenly, he felt like he was re-living his dream. Deep snow, no traffic and no power. The sudden impulse to scream was strong, but his curiosity was even stronger.
He flipped opened the cell phone.
It was as dead as a doornail.
The battery had totally died.
With his heart in his throat, he slowed down to a crawl and began looking for Tracy’s apartment building. It should have been easy enough to find, but the street was shrouded in darkness and the houses were set back far from the street. He finally reached the intersection of Holmes Road and spotted Tracy’s apartment building on the corner. He pulled onto Holmes to access the building’s parking lot located behind in the ally.
As he was about to pull into the ally, a car suddenly sped out in front of him and fishtailed wildly before straightening out and flying down Holmes. Tom hit the brakes hard to avoid smacking into the careening car, sending the Jeep into a slide before it came to rest against the curb.
Tom’s first reaction to the near-collision car was shock, which gave way to momentary relief It meant he wasn’t the only person alive, which was a good thing.
Tom backed away from the curb and drove the short distance to the parking lot. He noticed Tracy’s car parked near the end and pulled up beside it.
She must be home now! he thought triumphantly.
Grabbing his coat, he stepped out onto the virgin snow. In the weak light, he noticed that Tracy’s car was cleared of snow and the windshield was wiped clean, indicating that she had arrived home quite recently. He stepped past her car and headed for the rear stairway of the apartment building, then froze in his tracks There were no footprints leading away from Tracy’s car. Nor were there any prints leading to the stairway from the parking lot.
Tom turned and backtracked to Tracy’s car. When he reached the driver’s side, he saw what appeared to be two sets of footprints outside the door. But the tracks appeared to begin and end there, which was impossible.
Tom tried Tracy’s car door handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. He opened the door and felt heat escape from inside. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since she had gotten out A cold jolt of fear hit Tom like a sledgehammer. He whirled around, slung open the passenger side door of the Jeep and reached inside the glove compartment for the flashlight. He switched it on and trained the beam on the ground between the two vehicles. He suddenly realized why the footprints appeared to lead nowhere when he spotted the second set of car tracks running parallel to the Jeep’s.
Another car had been parked beside Tracy’s just before he had arrived here. And Tracy had gotten into that car.
By her own will, or had she been forced?
The two sets of footprints implied the latter That car he had just seen fly out of the ally-he had seen it before!
He hadn’t realized it at the time, but Tom was now certain that it was the same car that had dumped the raped girl into the ally that night!
Sh it! And now the bastard has snatched Tracy right out of her car!
Tom ran around the Jeep to the driver’s side and got in, started it up and spun out of the parking lot in reverse. Switching on his high beams, he followed the tire tracks of the car onto Holmes Road and drove east.
Tom’s mind was racing as he followed the trail to the intersection of North Fourth Street. How had this happened? How had the rapist found Tracy in the first place? For that matter, did he even know that she had witnessed his dumping of the girl’s body? Tom was certain that the man hadn’t seen either of them that night. Or at least it had seemed that way.
But even if the man had spotted Tracy and Tom watching him from the shadows, why would he wait until now to abduct Tracy? Hell, how did he know that she lived here-that she would be at this particular place on this particular night? It didn’t make sense Unless…
Tom pulled north onto Fourth Street. He realized that there was at least a half-dozen sets of tire tracks running along the well traveled street as he headed toward the light on Hudson. When he reached the intersection, he strained his eyes to see where the maze of tracks led.
The thought returned as he mulled over which way to turn at the light…
What if the man had been shadowing Tracy all this time since that night, just waiting for the perfect time to nab her? And now he was going to see to it that she never told the police what she had witnessed?
Tom grimaced. In the true spirit of his unabashed selfishness, he had essentially allowed Tracy Adams to become an open target to a brutal rapist. By going his merry way to avoid the muck and mire of any potential life-ruining consequences, he had left the poor girl alone and vulnerable to one uber-scary son of a bitch.
Nice going, Tom, you lowlife prick…
And now there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it. There were crisscrossing sets of tracks leading in all three directions beyond the light: straight-ahead, to the left and to the right.
Got a coin? he asked himself in desperation.
Aware that the odds were against his catching up with Tracy’s abductor, he resolved to do what he should have done in the first place.
Call the cops.
He reached for his cell phone, flipped it open and saw that it was still as dead as it was before. Swearing to himself, he turned left and headed toward Summit Street again. He drove too fast and nearly rear-ended a car as he pulled up to the same pay phone he had used to call 911 the night of the crime. He jumped out and fumbled in his pocket for a quarter, grabbed the handset and dropped in the coin. There was no dial tone, just utter silence.
Shit!
Tom slammed the phone down onto the hook so violently that his whole arm hurt. Then a weak smile came to his face as an idea came to him. He headed back to Tracy’s apartment building, got out and ran up the rear stairway. Outside her door, he knelt down and ran his fingers along the bottom of the threshold until he felt a seam in the siding. He pulled out on the seam and groped around until he felt the key wedged between the siding and the wood. He withdrew the key and plunged it into the keyhole.
Tom had learned about Tracy’s secret hiding place for the spare key the night they had gotten drunk at a local club. They had returned to her apartment only to discover that she had locked herself out. He could still see the sly grin on her lovely face as she produced the key and giggled so hard that she could hardly get it into the keyhole.
Tom opened the door and stepped inside. He cursed to himself as he realized he should have brought his flashlight. He headed blindly toward the kitchen in the darkness, picking his way from memory. He reached the kitchen, located the gas stove and turned on one of the burners. In the pale blue light, he fished though all of the drawers until he found a flashlight.
He turned on the light and saw the wall phone mounted near the doorway. He picked up the phone and started to dial 911, glancing at the “things to do” dry erase board mounted beside the phone. Tom’s heart skipped a beat as he read Tracy’s even handwriting:
Columbus P.D. 4:30. Detective Collins.
So that’s what had happened, Tom thought. Tracy must have made an appointment with the cops to give her statement on the crime earlier today. And somehow the perp found out and came after her!
Tom pressed in the three numbers. The phone was dead.
Of course.
He replaced the phone and debated what to do. He could drive to the nearest police station, but wasn’t even sure where it was located. Then another idea came to him.
He recalled that Tracy had a second cell phone that she had planned on giving her grandmother the next time she visited her. He could only hope she hadn’t yet made the trip to the nursing home in Toledo. If he could find that phone and it was charged up, he
would be in luck.
Tom dashed out of the kitchen and entered the living room. The last time he had seen the phone, it was plugged into the wall near the entertainment center. He walked over and shone the flashlight around but didn’t see it. He opened one of the drawers and spotted the phone lying on top of the clutter. He nearly cried out in joy.
He pulled it out and pressed the power button. There was a brief pause before he heard the welcome chime and saw the LCD screen glow brightly.
After it booted up, he observed the battery status bar. Fully charged. And he had three bars of reception.
Tom punched in 911 and held his breath. After two rings, there was a connection.
“What is your emergency?” a woman’s voice said.
” I want to report an abduction.”
“When did this abduction occur and who was abducted?”
“It was just a few minutes ago,” Tom replied. He hesitated before continuing, realizing that he was about to spill all of the beans. He no longer cared.
“Tracy Adams.”
“And what is your relationship to the victim?”
Tom nearly hung up, but knew he couldn’t. He was just going to have to go all the way with this. “I am a friend of hers.”
“And your name, sir?”
“Tom. Tom Grayson.”
“Where did the crime occur?”
“Just outside Tracy’s apartment. It’s on Summit Street. Please, you have to send a cop before it’s too late!”
“I will, sir-just a few more questions. Do you know the make and model of the abductor’s vehicle?”
“Yes, it was a late model gold-colored Ford Taurus. It had Ohio plates.”
“Did you happen to get the plate number?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Can you give me a description of Ms. Adam’s abductor?
Tom recalled the man he had seen the night of the original crime. “White, tall and lanky. About 6 feet. Medium build.”
“Hair and clothing?”
“He had really short dark hair, like a burr cut. I didn’t see what he was wearing. Please hurry and get the cops over here!”
“I’ve already radioed the police and they are on their way. You are at 2342 Summit Street, correct?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Did you see which way the vehicle was headed when it fled?”
“East toward North Fourth on Holmes. Then it had to go north on Fourth since it’s a one-way street. I’m not sure where it went from there.”
“Fine, sir. Please stay where you are until the police arrive.”
“Okay. But please hurry!”
The operator disconnected and Tom started to shut down the phone. Then a thought occurred to him.
He clicked on the button for contacts and saw that there was one solitary listing…
Tracy’s cell phone number!
Excitedly, he pressed the send button. He brought the phone to his ear and heard it ring once. Then twice. A third time Suddenly, he heard Tracy’s hushed voice, muffled and weak.
“The campus bee-”
There was a rustling noise and what sounded like a struggle as the line suddenly went deadly silent.
“Tracy! Can you hear me? It’s Tom!”
No reply. Suddenly a message appeared on the tiny screen: “call disconnected.”
Tom hit “send” again. After a single ring, he got Tracy’s voicemail.
Shit!
Tom closed the phone and repeated her words. “The campus bee”
What the hell had she started to say? Bee-fricking what? She was apparently giving her location. But what started with “bee?”
The other mystery was which campus she was referring to. Ohio State University was almost exclusively the college referred to whenever the term “campus” was used in Columbus. But there was also the slim possibility that she could have meant the Capital State College campus. After all, she was a student there and he taught there. It was one of the few things they had in common, in fact.
Tom strained to think of any bars, restaurants or other popular venues that began with “bee” on either campus. He couldn’t come up with much-in fact, he couldn’t come up with anything at all. It was frustrating because every second he sat there doing nothing, Tracy was getting closer to god only knew what kind of trouble He had to go now. Screw the cops. There was no way he was going to just sit here with his finger up his ass while Tracy was clearly in imminent danger.
Especially now that he had something to go on.
He stuffed the phone into his coat pocket and headed for the door.
CHAPTER 22
As Tom drove along High Street, he was relieved to see that there were some lights on in the businesses lining Columbus’s main artery. This was little solace, though, because he still felt as desperate and alone as he had in his dream. He actually considered calling Peg just to hear her voice, but immediately dismissed the idea. That would only compound his problems.
Since Ohio State University was nearest Tracy’s apartment, he had decided to begin his search there. Cruising south along the snow-covered thoroughfare, he kept his eyes peeled for any businesses beginning with “bee” on either side of the road. The snow had tapered off to flurries and traffic was understandably light.
He went as far south as Fifth Avenue and turned east, opting to make a sweep up Fourth Street until he was at Lane again. There were only a few businesses along the way-much of this area was comprised of off-campus apartment rentals.
He reached Lane, took a left and headed south on Summit Street. There were a few more businesses among the rental properties but nothing that started with “bee.” He checked the dashboard clock and realized that he had been cruising the streets for nearly fifteen minutes. He wondered what might have happened to Tracy in all of this time-if she were even alive now. The feelings of frustration and remorse were palpable as he determined to wrap up his search on OSU’s west campus before heading downtown to Capital State.
He checked his fuel gauge and realized he would have to refuel soon if he was going to keep this up any longer. He spotted a BP station, pulled up beside a pump and fished through his wallet for a credit card.
As he watched the pump’s numbers flicker by at a staggering speed, he questioned whether he had made the right decision leaving Tracy’s apartment instead of waiting for the police. There probably would have been a much better chance of finding her with the cops on his side, he conceded with regret. His sudden impulse to go on this fishing expedition by himself had been a foolish move.
Screw this, he thought. He needed to get back to Tracy’s apartment pronto and let the cops do their job.
He jammed the fuel nozzle back into the pump, screwed on the gas cap and tore off his receipt. Then something on the pump caught his attention.
BP.
This was a campus Bee-Pee gas station. The only campus BP gas station he knew of.
Could this be what Tracy had referred to?
Tom looked around at the rundown housing in the area and hopped back into the Jeep. He sped out onto Summit Street and peeled his eyes for a gold colored Taurus along the street and in the driveways.
He didn’t have to look very far.
He spotted the old Ford just a few houses down from the station, parked in front of a two-story house in poor repair.
Tracy is in there right now! he thought.
His heart pumping hard, he drove past the house until he found a parking space a few doors down and parked the Jeep. He killed the engine and sat for a moment, wondering what to do next. He considered calling the cops, but refrained-he needed to act now, and the sooner the better.
He grabbed the flashlight, got out and walked swiftly down the sidewalk toward the house. As he neared the Taurus, he shone the light on the front bumper, noting that the car had Ohio plates. He slowed down his pace until he came to a narrow walk leading up to the house. He could see a light in one of the second floor windows but the first f
loor looked dark as pitch.
Not a good sign.
Tom stood there in the darkness a full thirty seconds, not sure what to do next. He could create a distraction of some kind, which might force Tracy’s abductor to think twice about what he was doing or was about to do at least for a moment or two. And then what? Bust into the house like Dog the Bounty Hunter and force the guy to surrender wielding a mini-flashlight as a weapon?
Not.
The cops. He simply had to call them in on this. And pronto.
Tom pulled Tracy’s cell phone out of his coat pocket and punched in 911. Before the operator had time to answer, he heard a scream.
Tracy’s scream He crammed the phone back into his pocket and ran along the side of the house, looking for a possible side entrance to the place. There was none. He sprinted to the rear of the house, jumped the three-foot wire fence and approached the back porch. He saw light coming through a small window in the door. Then he heard Tracy scream again, more faintly this time.
She must be on the second floor, he thought. Facing the street.
Without thinking, Tom threw open the storm door and frantically tried the inner door handle. It was locked. Without hesitation, he held the flashlight like a knife and stabbed at the small window- pane in the door. The glass shattered but barely made a sound. Poking his hand through the opening, Tom groped around until he located the deadbolt and turned it. He used his other hand to turn the doorknob and pushed the door open with his shoulder.
He stepped into a dimly lit kitchen and began looking around for a weapon of some kind. Suddenly, a wall phone rang and his heart nearly burst out of his chest. He heard a loud thump come from upstairs as the phone rang a second time then ceased.
A man’s voice, muffled and barely audible, came from the direction of the front of the house. Tom continued searching for a weapon, relieved that Tracy’s captor apparently considered the call important enough to stop whatever he had been doing at that moment.
See Tom Run Page 19
