He drove too fast across town but had to slow down on Country Club Road, named after the golf course across the street from the department. A group of men were on the green, and he had a flash of guilt. The golfers had to hate it when officers discharged their weapons in the traps outside the building. It could ruin a guy’s swing, for sure.
Schak was already in the conference room, wolfing down a sloppy sandwich. “I had to eat,” he said between bites. “Sorry I didn’t get you anything.”
“I’m fine.” Coffee and stress had killed his appetite. “Have you heard from Quince?”
“Not yet.” Schak put down his meal. “Evans called and said she plans to make the meeting. She wants to help.”
Jackson hadn’t let himself think about Evans since leaving the hospital. It was too confusing. “That’s crazy. She needed help standing up this morning. We can’t let her work.”
“You can’t stop her either.” Schak took his last bite and talked with his mouth full. “Give her phone calls to make. Something sedentary.”
“All right.” He didn’t want to see Evans yet, but it was inevitable. They would have to work through this. Whatever it was.
Quince came in, looking sunburned and carrying a huge paper cup. “Man, it’s hot out there. I forgot what it’s like to be outside for hours in late summer.”
“I thought you were a cycler.”
“I go early in the morning.” Quince took a seat and glanced over at Schak’s sandwich wrapper. “You didn’t think I’d be hungry too?”
“I’m not your mother.” Schak rolled the trash into a ball and made a basketball shot to the can in the corner. “I should’ve eaten faster.”
“Let’s get started,” Jackson said. “We have to nail this guy before he tries again or gets the hell out of town.” Too hyper to sit, he took the board and summed up the subpoena situation. “It doesn’t help us find him, but it gives us leverage when we do.”
“I don’t think the car was a rental,” Schak said. “Five small-size black sedans were rented out yesterday. Two from the airport. But Wagner’s name wasn’t on any of them, and only one of the rentals went to a middle-aged couple.” He looked at his notes and read their names. “I called and the couple is booked into the Hilton, so I stopped by. They’re both forty-something, athletic, and don’t match your description of the Wagners.”
Jackson wasn’t surprised. A rental was too easy to trace.
“He might have used his own car,” Quince offered. “Can we find out what he owns?”
“I’ve made the calls. And Sergeant Chadwell is trying to find someone in the Utah state office who can access the vehicle database.” It worried him that Quince hadn’t offered any new information. “Any luck with witnesses?”
“Yes and no.” Quince’s pink forehead was sweating. “A woman down the street noticed the black car sitting there, but she didn’t get a license number and has no idea what the make or model was.”
“What about the driver?”
“She said he looked tall.”
“We knew that.” Exasperated, Jackson paced the room. “I wish Derrick or Katie had gotten a plate number.”
“They were fighting off an abduction,” Schak reminded him.
“I know.” Jackson tried to plan their next moves. “We need a profile on this guy. He’s obsessive about getting his son back, and he was audacious enough to try to abduct him from a police officer’s home. So he must be ready to disappear with the boy and start over somewhere.”
“How does his wife fit in?” Quince asked.
“I don’t know. It could be her baby too, so she may be an accomplice.”
“Andra stole their child?” Schak’s tone held disgust. “That’s damn cold. I kind of feel sorry for them.” Schak had an adult son, but he didn’t talk about him much.
“We don’t know that,” Quince argued. “The boy may not be related to the wife. Sometimes they use the surrogate mother’s egg because the wife can’t produce viable embryos.”
Schak stared at Quince, mouth open. For once, he didn’t say anything.
Quince continued. “If Andra is the biological mother, she might not have been able to give up the baby after it was born. The court sometimes sides with the surrogate.”
Schak wasn’t buying it. “But if Benjie is Wagner’s kid, then isn’t he entitled to custody too? Especially if he paid her? Don’t fathers have rights?”
Jackson stepped in. “If he killed Andra, Wagner gave up his right to be Benjie’s father. He should have taken her to court.”
Schak held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right. And he’s obviously unstable. Benjie is better off without him.”
“Society is better off without him,” Quince added.
The door opened and Evans hobbled into the room. “You’re not going to believe what I just discovered.”
CHAPTER 35
Saturday, September 7, 12:32 p.m.
She was so bored. Now that Benjie was gone and Dad was working as usual, the house felt empty and she had nothing to do. Katie picked up her phone and texted Trevor, her sort-of-boyfriend: hey. what r u doing? I gotta get out of here.
While she waited to hear from him, Katie took a shower, changed into shorts, then played Angry Birds on her phone.
Uncle Derrick knocked on her bedroom door. “Want to watch a movie with me? Or play cards?”
He was trying to be nice, or maybe just trying to keep her entertained so she didn’t leave, but she didn’t know Derrick that well. For most of her life, he and her dad hadn’t spoken to each other, even though Derrick had only lived a mile away. She’d heard they’d had a falling out over this house after their parents were murdered. She and Dad had moved in here after selling her childhood home—which still pissed her off—and she’d started to get to know Uncle Derrick. Then her mother had been killed, and everything spun out of control.
Finally, she answered, “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Was that rude? Sometimes she sounded unfriendly when she didn’t mean to. It just took too much time to find pleasant ways of saying everything.
“I’ll make popcorn,” Derrick called out. “Come join me if you change your mind.”
Popcorn? Oh, please. How old did he think she was? She opened the door and grinned. “Got any beer?”
“No. I don’t drink much these days.”
“Dad made you feel guilty about it, didn’t he?” She made a mocking sound. “Don’t let him turn you into a prude too.”
Derrick looked a little sheepish. “I finally found a decent job, so being sober most of the time is working out for me.”
She wanted to say Whatever but decided to be nice. “Glad to hear it.” She didn’t believe for a second that she was an alcoholic who could never drink again. That was manipulative crap. But she had to control it or she’d end up in jail. So she’d laid off the hard stuff and only drank beer now—and not every day. Just to prove to herself that she didn’t need it. But she sure wanted a brew right now. This morning had been stressful.
Her phone beeped. “I gotta get that.” She smiled at Derrick until he walked away.
The text was from Trevor: Last weekend before school. Drink a beer by the river?
She texted back: Hell yes! Then added: Pick me up at Sundance in 30.
Relieved to have a plan, Katie gathered up her clothes and makeup and shoved it into her backpack. The money in her pocket gave her a twinge of guilt. She’d promised Dad she would stay for another day. What difference did it make if she left now or later? She didn’t live here anymore and he couldn’t make her.
She heard the shower come on and decided it made sense to leave while Uncle Derrick was occupied. On the way out, she left the fifty bucks on the kitchen table. She wasn’t a cheat. A moment later, she turned back and picked up the ten-dollar bill. If Dad were here, he’d loan her the money for food. He
always did.
Outside, the blue-sky summer day brightened her mood. But only for a moment. The memory of the black car and the masked man made her shiver. He’d only wanted Benjie because the boy was his, and she couldn’t really blame him for that. But he was still creepy. It was also kind of weird that her dad had brought the boy home from a crime scene. But his motives were always good. She gave him credit for that, even though having a cop for a father had turned out to be a pain in the ass.
As she started down the street, Katie glanced around. No black cars, no lurking strangers. Sheesh! Her dad was paranoid. But she kept up a good pace on her way to the market. She would get there before Trevor did, but that was fine. It was great to be outside. And in charge of her own life again. The only downside to her situation was lack of money. She planned to get a part-time job to fix that soon. Maybe in a clothing store or a movie theater.
She crossed Potter Street and decided to cut through the park, which took up an entire city block and had been her favorite place as a kid. Mom had brought her there all the time in the summer. Her mother had often sat and read—and drank, Katie realized later—while she played on the swings, but at least her mother had taken her. Today the gorgeous green open space was empty. Summer was mostly over and classes hadn’t started yet. Everyone was in transition—out clothes shopping, registering for classes, or taking some last-minute vacation trip.
She reached the sidewalk on the other side and turned right. Sundance was another five blocks, on the corner of a busy street. It was a cool store where she liked to buy trail mix from the bulk bins. And Trevor lived not far away on Alder. She’d met him last spring in the store, where he had a part-time job. But they hadn’t hooked up until recently.
Katie passed under a big oak tree that shaded the sidewalk and cooled the air. Parked nearby was a bright-yellow Volkswagen van. The rainbow on the side made her smile. Eugene was such a hippie town. She was dying to go to the Oregon Country Fair someday—hippies, art, music, beer, and pot—what more could you ask for?
The van’s side door clanged open and she glanced over, expecting to see someone with dreadlocks.
The tall man with a mask rushed at her. As she opened her mouth to scream, his hand clamped over it. The cloth in his palm smelled like medicine. Katie grabbed his wrist with both hands, but she had no strength. She couldn’t even think straight. Her mind clouded over and went dark.
CHAPTER 36
He lifted the girl and laid her in the cargo van. He would duct-tape her hands and wrists in a moment, but he had to get the hell away first, in case someone had witnessed the incident. He shut the sliding door and glanced around. A cyclist was coming down the street, but no one else seemed to be out and about. Still, some snoopy old lady could be watching from behind closed curtains in any of the houses on the block. He jumped in the driver’s seat, fired up the engine, and got rolling. He’d stolen the van earlier from the little hippie market and had parked in an alley, watching and waiting.
When he cleared the neighborhood, he pulled off his ski mask, which would only draw attention to him at this point. For a few minutes, he drove west in a zigzag pattern, pushing the speed limit and making sudden turns. Now that he’d fooled the girl with the goofy van, he had to ditch it as soon as he could. The bright yellow was like a neon sign. First he had to make sure the girl wasn’t going anywhere when she came to.
He pulled into an alley between two streets and spotted only a couple of houses on the gravel lane. The town seemed to have a bunch of these little tucked-away places. He parked, climbed into the back of the van, and grabbed the duct tape from his overnight bag. The girl was still unconscious, her pretty, pale face sprinkled with freckles. She’d better be Jackson’s daughter. Otherwise, she wasn’t much of a bargaining chip. For three years, ever since that cunt had stolen little Ben from the hospital, he’d searched and longed for his son. Now that he’d found the boy, he couldn’t just give up and let someone else have him. The older Ben got, the less likely the boy would bond with him when they were reunited. It was now or never. He had to believe God had intervened and brought Ben back into his life.
Working quickly, he bound the girl’s hands and ankles with duct tape, gave her another dose of chloroform, then stuck tape over her mouth. If she woke up, she could still be trouble, but he had to keep moving and get out of this damn neon van.
A few minutes later, he reached the alley where he’d left the green Tahoe he’d stolen from the airport. He’d grabbed the little black sedan just for the kidnapping, then abandoned it shortly after the botched attempt. Fuck! It had looked like it would be so easy. He’d watched Jackson drive away, then not long after, the teenage girl and his precious boy had come down the sidewalk, saving him the trouble of a home invasion. Then the other man had come out of nowhere. He hadn’t expected another adult male to be in the house and was pissed at himself for not doing enough surveillance. But that was the past, and now he was doing the only thing he could to salvage the situation.
He transferred the limp girl into the backseat of the Tahoe and drove two blocks to a nearby motel. The low building stretched along a side street, looking dingy and neglected in the harsh sunlight. He’d used a phony name and paid cash for one night. The clerk, a washed-up man in his late forties, didn’t even ask for ID.
He hurried into the sleazy motel room and grabbed a blanket. He wrapped it around the girl, leaving just her face showing, and pulled the tape off her mouth. Now she looked like a sleeping child, being carried into the room by her father. Or so he hoped.
Three or four seconds of exposure and they were inside. He laid the girl on the bed and cranked up the air-conditioning. After a long drink of water, he searched her backpack and found her phone in an outer pocket. Once he made initial contact with Jackson, he would toss the phone into a moving car as a distraction, then steal another one. Or buy a cheapie. No, that shouldn’t be necessary. There would be no negotiation. Jackson had his kid and he had Jackson’s. The fact that Jackson was a cop didn’t matter. He was a father first, and he would act like a father and do whatever was necessary to get his daughter back.
CHAPTER 37
Jackson couldn’t believe Evans had come to the meeting, but he was eager to hear her news. “Please sit. Can I get you anything?”
She laughed. “I could use about five more pain pills, but I’ll settle for water to wash down the one I have.”
Schak jumped up and hurried from the room, moving fast for someone with a barrel chest and short legs. While they waited for him to return, Evans answered Quince’s questions about her assault. Schak hurried back in, Evans took her pain pill, then started to give her update.
Jackson’s phone beeped, indicating he had a text. Everyone waited while he pulled the phone from his pocket and looked at the ID. “It’s Katie. Just a second.”
He pressed the icon to open the text. Cold fingers of fear dug into his heart as he read the message: You have my son. Now I have your daughter. Let’s trade. No cops. No FBI. No waiting. Just 2 fathers doing the right thing.
“Motherfucker!” He slammed the phone into the table.
His teammates jerked in surprise.
Jackson fought for control, but his chest hurt, and his voice sounded like a dying man. “The perp has Katie. He wants to trade for Benjie.”
“Holy shit!” Schak was on his feet. “Should we get the feds? They have more resources.”
“Not yet.” Jackson wasn’t sure how he would handle it, but instinct told him to keep it simple.
He couldn’t believe he was dealing with this again. Only it was Katie this time. He couldn’t bear to lose her. If he did, he just might become one of those cops who put their gun in their mouth and said good-bye to the pain and darkness.
“What are the instructions?” Evans struggled to stand and move toward him.
“I don’t have any yet.” He handed her the phone, knowing she woul
d want to see the message. They all would. It’s how they did their jobs. Looking for clues, idiosyncrasies, any piece of information that could help. “Why the hell haven’t they found his car yet? Why hasn’t the damn cell phone company called?” He had to blow off some frustration before he could focus.
“He probably switched vehicles. I would have,” Schak said.
“How did he grab her?” Evans passed the phone and its deadly message to her teammates. “I thought she was at your home.”
“She was, and she promised she wouldn’t leave.” Pigheaded girl! Why did she have to be so damn independent? He had to call Derrick and find out what had happened. Jackson pressed speed dial three, and his brother answered. “Hey, Wade. Everything okay?”
Jackson turned away from his crew. “No, everything is not okay! The son of a bitch has Katie. What the hell happened?”
“Oh fuck. I didn’t even know she was gone.”
“How is that possible?” Jackson wanted to berate him, but what was the point? Katie wasn’t his brother’s responsibility. She was his. And he had failed her again. “Never mind.” He hung up.
“What now?” Schak asked.
“Call Wagner’s cell phone provider again. Now that someone has been kidnapped, maybe they’ll locate his phone for us.” It wasn’t typically his nature to be sarcastic, but he didn’t feel like himself right now. Jackson started to pace. “I’ll call our company and get a trace on Katie’s phone. If he’s stupid enough to hang on to it, we might be able to nail him.”
No one said anything.
Quince offered, “I’ll check the logs and see if anyone has reported a vehicle stolen.”
“Good.” Jackson turned to Evans.
She had a peculiar look on her face. “I want to help, but I have a suspect in the interrogation room.”
“What?” Confusion and anger fused with his anguish. “Who is he? Why didn’t you say something?”
Deadly Bonds (A Detective Jackson Mystery) Page 19
