“She’s the one who what, Mr. Douglas?”
“She knew all about the pills and stuff. She must have. She did all the scheduling and routing. She always made sure certain boys did certain pickups and deliveries. Besides, she told me something that didn’t mean nothing to me at the time, but now I get it.”
“What did she tell you?”
“One day we were in my office. She liked to bring me coffee, you know. Flirt a little. Like the girls always do.”
I rolled my eyes.
The voice said, “Yes, and?”
“So we’re in there. I’m drinking the coffee and she’s kind of bending over a little so I can see down her blouse and all. I mean, come on. I’m human. I’m gonna look, you know?”
“Yes. Please continue.”
“So while she’s flirting she mentions that she’s got something big going on. Something that’ll set her up for life. I wasn’t really paying attention, but she seemed really excited about it. Something about all the evidence she’d ever need. Files on disk and hardcopy, she said. All the information she would need if things took a turn.”
“Did she explain what she meant?”
“No.”
“And you didn’t ask?” The voice sounded vaguely incredulous.
“Nah. Hell, I never know what the hell girls are going on about. Just pointless shit mostly, in my experience.”
“But now you think she was talking about this illegal prescription delivery enterprise?”
“Yeah, yeah I do. I bet she was keeping records of everything. She was always taking notes. Not the best employee, but she did keep track of things real well. So I figure she had all this info about what was going on. And I bet she’d use it to blackmail whoever. Get some extra money when she was ready to get out of the game.”
I wanted to punch him through the screen. “Okay, I get it. Turn it off,” I said to Fabian.
He pressed a button and Mitchell’s face was frozen in front of me. “The Slug” was too nice a name for that piece of garbage. I hated him with a burning passion. He’d caused all of this. And tried to pin it on me.
“So you see, Carly. Mr. Douglas there seems quite sure you’ve got some information to give me.”
“You’re kidding, right? That lying sack of shit? He’s clearly just trying to blame someone else, get off for what he did. Come on. You guys are working with him. You know the rest of that is a lie, why believe that I have this documentation?”
“Because,” Fabian said, leaning over me. “We found traces of it on one of the computers from the office. I snagged it from the evidence room myself. It wasn’t complete, but our computer geek said it was enough. Someone was keeping records. Someone tracked and wrote down every delivery. Every person involved.”
“But it couldn’t have been me?”
“Why not?”
“Because I had no idea any of this was going on until that day on the tape.”
“Really? Smart girl like you never suspected?”
I sighed. “No. Look, I knew Mitchell was scum. And I figured he was probably embezzling or something. But I had no idea about the drugs. I swear.”
“So then who did it? Who had the evidence? One of the messengers?”
“Maybe. I have no idea. But it wasn’t me.”
Fabian crossed his arms and sighed. “I’d like to believe you, Carly.”
“I swear I’m telling you the truth.”
He looked into my eyes for a long time. “You know, I think you might be. But it really doesn’t matter now.”
“What? Why?”
“If you had the stuff maybe we could make an arrangement. But if you don’t, there’s no choice, really. We’re gonna have to do everything possible to make you talk.”
I knew what that meant. “But you can’t. There’s nothing to know. Nothing to say.”
“It’s the only way we know for sure.”
“But you do know. You’re a cop, right? You can tell I’m not lying.”
“I’m not in charge here, Carly.”
“Then who is? Let me talk to him or her or whoever.”
“Maybe. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as he left the room. The door stayed cracked open a bit so I could hear him making a phone call. I couldn’t hear everything, but he said something about a second option and then was quiet for a long time.
While I had a few minutes to myself I spent it thinking about the situation. None of it made sense. Whoever was in charge of this operation had to be smart enough to know what a spineless idiot Mitchell was. And that he’d say anything to save his own worthless hide.
It seemed impossible that they’d go to so much trouble to abduct me, terrorize me, hurt my friends just for evidence that didn’t exist. A twinge in my shoulder reminded me how far they were willing to go to get…something. It couldn’t just be about files. There had to be more to it, but I had no idea what.
Chapter Seven
Fabian walked back into the room, somewhat deflated. Obviously his conversation hadn’t gone the way he hoped.
“Well? What next? Are you going to take me to the torture room next?”
He chuckled. “No need. We can get what we need from you anywhere.”
“Whatever. Just get on with it already.”
“No more begging and pleading?”
I shook my head, wincing from the pain it caused. “Something about this while situation stinks. You keep saying that I’m lying, but I think you know I’m not. There’s something else going on here. And since it seems to involve me being alive, I’ll just assume you can’t kill me.”
He leaned against the wall, eyeing me. “Interesting. You really are quite perceptive. But don’t bother asking. I’m not letting you go and I’m not going to explain everything. That only happens in the movies.”
“Fine. So, back to my cell?”
He nodded. “Can you make it or shall I carry you.”
“Don’t touch me,” I replied gruffly. Standing up was hard and dizzying, but I took my time, desperate to avoid showing any sign of weakness. For some reason my bitchy attitude seemed to relax Fabian. He wasn’t standing as close or being as careful as before. If I was going to have any shot at escaping, I needed him lax.
Gritting my teeth as my eyes watered from the pain, I stomped downstairs ahead of him and walked back to the room I’d woken up in. On the way I caught a glimpse of another closed door, and a dim passageway that must have been the tunnel he’d mentioned. I filed those pieces of information away, hoping they’d be useful soon.
“So,” I said once I was back inside the boiler room. “Tell me about your boss. Is he a big mob guy? Drug kingpin?”
Fabian grinned. “None of your business. All you need to know is he’s a powerful man with connections and resources you can’t even imagine.”
“Seems strange that he’d waste so much time on a now-unemployed office assistant, don’t you think?”
He shrugged and put his hands in the front pockets of his pants. “I don’t ask those kinds of questions. I do my job and collect my pay. That’s the smartest and safest way to live.”
“Your job is to protect and serve, Detective Fabian.”
He snorted. “You don’t know shit, girl. You think you can shame me? Try again.”
“No. I don’t think I can shame you. I think you’ve lost all sense of honor. Carrying a badge and moonlighting as a hired thug? That’s pathetic.”
Face twisting into a snarl, he came at me quickly. “Watch how you talk to me. I’m not Sam.”
I gulped, but managed not to back down.
“Man, you’ve got it bad for that idiot, don’t you? Does all his talk about justice and overcoming adversity do it for you?”
“He doesn’t talk about that. He lives it. Sam came from nothing and has dedicated his life to protecting people. Helping. Trying to make this shit hole of a city better. He’s a hero.”
“Hero? Yeah. That and a buck w
on’t buy you a cup of coffee. I came from the same place he did. Went through what he did. But I wised up. Accepted the truth. Good guys never win. There’s always someone bigger and badder who’ll do anything to win. Life ain’t a fair fight. You either learn to play the game or die a chump. That won’t be me.”
“No,” I said lowly. “You’ll die a dirty cop. A disgrace.”
“I won’t care. I’ll have lived a long life, made a ton of money and done what I wanted.”
“You’re disgusting.”
He flashed a wide smile. “Maybe. But I’m right. And I think you know it. Sam told me a little about your past. You know the world isn’t all candy and flowers.”
“Yeah, I do know that. But I also know what matters is that we fight it. As long as there are good people like Sam in the world it’s worth saving. Worth fighting for.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that working out for you lately? Where did fighting get you?”
My hands curled into fists, but I held back my rage, and the deep down fear that he was right. “Whatever,” I spat out. “Is this it? Your whole diabolical plan is to talk me to death? So far so good.”
Fabian walked over and stood right in front of me, crowding into my personal space. “Nah, we’re just killing time, honey. Getting to know each other.”
“Killing time for what?”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Until it gets late enough.”
“Late enough for what?”
“For your little boyfriend to be ready to do what he needs to.”
“Sam? What does he have to do with this.”
Fabian just shook his head. “It’s just about time. I’m gonna go check on him. Stay put.”
I glared and he laughed, turning to leave the room.
“Oh, by the way, don’t worry if you hear screaming. We won’t hurt him much.”
“Wait,” I shouted, but it was too late. He was gone. I heard the door lock behind him and was alone again.
“Shit.” Screaming, he’d said. Which meant Sam was close. Maybe even behind that door down the hall. If I could get out maybe I could reach him. Distract Fabian and get us both out of here. Sam had saved me too often to count. It was time I returned the favor.
But before I could even consider it, I had to find a way out of this locked room. Trying to be careful of my shoulder, I started searching the dark, dusty corners for something – anything – to help me. Half disintegrated boxes held nothing useful. Old, yellowed paper and some fabric. But over by the massive boiler I hit paydirt. The huge metal thing wasn’t operational. The building had probably been upgraded years ago, but it was cheaper to leave it there than remove it. In a wooden crate beneath it I found a set of rusty tools I couldn’t identify. And at the bottom, one I could. A crowbar.
I was covered in dust and sweat from the search, but it was worth it. I pulled the crowbar out with my good arm and smiled. A rush of adrenalin went through me, dulling the pain that throbbed from my shoulder.
Not wanting to waste a second, I went back over to the door and put my ear against it, listening. Nothing but silence. I wedged the bar in the gap next to the doorknob, figuring I could use the leverage to force it open. But after two minutes I gave up on that plan. The door itself was old and groaning, but the lock was solid metal and I thought the crowbar and wall might give out first.
I leaned against the door to catch my breath and come up with another plan. I thought back to all the movies and television shows I’d seen of similar situations. Sam had teased me for thinking real life was like fiction, but it’s all I had to go on. An idea flickered. Some distant memory about hinges on old doors.
Squinting in the gloom I saw the door was attached on two sets, one at the top and another near the bottom. They were painted over, but peeling, the rusty-looking metal showing through quite a bit. That seemed promising.
I braced myself, wedged the bar into the crack just below the bottom hinge and pushed with all my strength, bent double to lean into it. Jagged shards of pain shot down my arm, but instead of screaming I pushed harder, putting all my weight into it. For a long time nothing happened. The door didn’t budge and my agony intensified. But still I pushed harder, channeling the pain and frustration and fear and anger. And finally, after an eternity, something cracked.
I pushed even harder, sweat dripping down my back and tears sliding down my face. My jaw ached from how hard my teeth were gritted. Another crack and a splinter. I could barely hear it with the roaring in my ears, but I could see it. The hinge itself separated from the door and dangled from the frame. I was halfway there.
Success provided renewed energy and I reached up to repeat the action on the top hinge. This one was harder to get. Even at my height it was too high for me to have good leverage. But it didn’t matter, and I just focused and went for it. Instead of steady pressure I had to rely on short bursts of increasing strength.
Another age passed, but finally it gave way. Just like the lower one, the hinge disconnected from the door itself. I pushed the crowbar farther into the gap and pulled this time. The door opened a tiny crack. Peering through, I saw the hallway was thankfully empty. With the door open a bit I could hear sounds. Voices coming from down the corridor. I couldn’t tell if they were from the other room or down in the tunnel, but it didn’t matter. No one was coming right that moment, so I had time to do what I needed to.
I propped the crowbar against the wall and stuck my hands in the open back side of the door. Wincing from using my bad arm, my vision grayed a little and then cleared. Knowing my energy reserves were almost depleted, I hurried. With all the strength I could muster, I pulled. Wood groaned and metal squeaked, and as I thanked the gods of late night movies, the door started to open. It wasn’t far, but it was enough. The old wood, already somewhat warped, moved for me. I held it open, grabbed the bar, and started to squeeze through. And, of course, I got stuck. Breasts and butt too big, I shoved and pulled and shimmied and cursed.
Finally, holding my breath and thinking thin thoughts, I managed to slip through. My skin scraped, my shirt ripped and I felt my shoulder wound begin to bleed again, but none of that mattered. I was out of the room and one step closer to finding Sam.
Brandishing the crowbar like a weapon, I crept slowly down the hallway, hugging the wall, looking in every direction as I moved, and listening intently.
When I got to the other door, I looked around again and pressed my ear against it. No voices. Nervous, I moved on, taking a few steps closer to the entrance of the tunnel. I could hear something echoing up from its depths, but nothing close.
“Okay, here we go.” I went back to the closed door and put my hand on the knob. And was shocked to find it turned easily. Wary of what that meant, I opened it slowly, keeping the crowbar at the ready. But what I saw when my eyes adjusted to the darker room made me forget all about the weapon in my hand.
Sam was there, slumped on the floor, seemingly cuffed to something like I was. His head hung low, hair hiding his face, but his bare chest was covered in blood. His legs were splayed open and one ankle was twisted at an impossible angle.
“Oh god,” I gasped and then covered my mouth. But there was no one else in the room. I rushed in and shut the door behind me, terrified. Sam didn’t move even with all the noise I was making and I approached with a wall of dread hanging over me.
I bent over him and was trying to gather the courage to take his pulse when a small sound came out of his mouth. It was something between a whimper and speech, and it broke my heart and made it soar at the same time.
“Sam. Sam, it’s me. I’m here. I’m here.”
He raised his head slowly, blinking at me through the damp tangle of curls hanging in front of his eyes. “Ca…Carly?”
“Hush, don’t talk. I’m here with you.” I fought back tears and concentrated on checking him out. His nose was obviously broken and it seemed most of the blood on him was caused by that injury, as I could find no other wounds except for a huge lump on the
back of his head. He hissed when I barely touched it, so I didn’t want to explore it further.
Sam licked his dry, cracked lips and struggled to speak. “Go. Need to go. Not safe for you.”
“I know. But I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“No,” he said more forcefully. “You go.”
“Not a chance.”
“Please.”
“Shut up.” I looked over his should to see what he was attached to and found a very rusty metal bar. His wrists were bruised and sore and I could see he’d spent a lot of time trying to free himself.
“Be very still, Sam. I’m going to get you out of here.”
“Wait-”
“Hush. Trust me this time.” I didn’t wait for his reply. Instead, I wedged the crowbar between the bar and the wall and shoved. The metal screamed and giant flakes of it fell onto the floor. “Luck for us this place is in horrendous shape,” I said.
Sam let out a weak barking laugh.
I took that as a good sign and went back to levering the bar away from the wall. Eventually it came free, and my hands, slick with sweat, dropped the crowbar. I sat down next to Sam to catch my breath as he maneuvered his arms enough to slide the cuffs away.
I looked down at them and sighed. The thick plastic was tight on his wrists. “I guess a crowbar isn’t going to help get those off.
Sam shook his head. “We’ll get them off later. For now I’m just glad to have my hands free.”
I wasn’t sure why Fabian, or whoever had put him in this room had cuffed him with hands around his side instead of behind his back, but I was happy they did. I reached out a hand to touch the painful-looking redness and winced at the pain in my own arm.
As if he hadn’t noticed before, Sam lifted his connected hands to my shoulder. “What happened.”
“Um…I think I got shot.”
“Holy shit. You’re tossing around crowbars with a bullet wound?” There was real admiration in his voice. It was touching and ridiculous at the same time. Like this was some intentional proof of strength. He was such a cop sometimes.
One Last Night (BBW Romantic Suspense) (One Night of Danger) Page 6
