Captive Justice: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (A Jake & Annie Lincoln Thriller Book 4)

by Rayven T. Hill

  “I’m worried about Dr. Gould,” Annie said.

  Hank said, “I’ve been in contact with the doctor and needless to say, he’s anxious. I’ve convinced him he has to wait, and there’s an officer there with him, but he’s almost out of his mind with worry.”

  “I can understand that.”

  Hank turned to Jake and slipped a notepad from his inner jacket pocket. He flipped it to a blank page and found a pen. “I have to get your statement, every detail.”

  Jake told him everything that had happened while Hank took notes. Finally, Hank folded up his pad and tucked his pen away. “We’ll get your official statement later.”

  Annie leaned forward. “So, the original plan to do the exchange in the park was just a ruse?”

  Hank nodded. “It seems that way. And his instructions had us confused as to which direction Jake was heading.”

  “But how did he know you had men covering the park?”

  “I’m not sure,” Hank replied. “I believe he just assumed we did.”

  “Is it possible there’re more than one of them?” Jake asked. “If he truly was at the park, he wouldn’t have had enough time to get to the drop-off point before I did.”

  “That might explain it,” Hank said. “However, our officers were well hidden in plain sight. Anyone nearby couldn’t have known for sure who they were.”

  “And this guy is careful,” Jake added. “I don’t think he would take that chance.”

  Annie turned as soft footsteps padded down the steps from upstairs and Matty wandered in.

  “Hey, Uncle Hank,” he said, greeting him with a fist bump and then perching on the couch between Hank and Jake. He looked at his father. “What’s going on?”

  “Just working on a case.”

  The doorbell rang and Matty jumped up. “I’ll get it,” he said, charging from the room.

  In a moment, Callaway appeared in the doorway. He held up an evidence bag. “We found a tracker hidden under the rear bumper.” He walked over and handed the bag to Hank.

  Hank inspected the device, squinting thoughtfully. “I presumed we’d find this. We’re not dealing with an amateur here. He had this well planned in advance.” He turned the bag over. “It’s magnetized.” He thought a moment and then handed it back to Callaway. “Get this to the lab and see what they can find out about it.”

  Callaway took the bag and nodded. “Right away.” He turned and was gone.

  Matty found a seat on the floor and leaned back against the wall.

  “I’ve seen those trackers at Techmart,” Jake said.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t bought any yet,” Hank said dryly. “To go along with your pen camera and your baseball cap video recorder.”

  Jake shrugged and gave a half grin. “Haven’t needed one yet, but perhaps I will.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” Annie said. “The kidnapper could have asked for much more money. It seems like a hundred thousand is a small amount compared to what one would expect a ransom to be.”

  “We’ve been over that before,” Hank said.

  Annie spoke slowly, her brows drawn together. “Yes, but I think he’s going to strike again unless we catch him first. He’s not going to be satisfied with that amount, especially if he gets away with it this time.”

  “I’m afraid you might be right.”

  “What do we do now?”

  Hank replied, “We can only wait and see what the officers turn up and wait for the return of Mrs. Gould.”

  Chapter 16

  Thursday, September 1st, 7:15 a.m.

  TRENTON SCOTT’S old pickup truck rattled and rocked as he hugged the steering wheel. He was leaned forward and squinting at the road ahead as he expertly dodged potholes and patches of loose gravel.

  There wasn’t much traffic on the road this time of day. In fact, this backroad didn’t see much traffic at all anymore, with drivers now choosing the new and better roads to the north. Only old farmers like him were apt to be seen along this route.

  He slowed and eased to the right to allow a white van to pass him, coming from the opposite direction. Trenton shook his head. It was traveling much too fast for this old road. Where on God’s green earth could anyone be going in such a hurry?

  He’s liable to blow a wheel bearing, the stupid fool.

  He eased back into the center of the narrow road and picked up a little speed. The missus would be expecting him back for lunch and he wanted to get those parts and have the tractor fixed up and running before noon.

  He drove awhile, humming to himself, working out his plans for the rest of the day.

  What in tarnation is that?

  Trenton pumped the brakes and brought the vehicle to a stop. The gears ground as he worked it into reverse, and then he backed up twenty feet and stopped. He leaned sideways and peered through the dusty passenger-side window.

  Looks like somebody lying in the ditch. Can’t see too good from here, but it shore don’t look natural to me.

  He dropped the transmission into neutral, pulled back on the emergency brake and swung from the vehicle. He headed over to the edge of the road for a better look.

  He stopped short and squinted again.

  “Well, I’ll be darned,” he said out loud. “It’s a woman, I think, and she shore ’nuff looks dead to me.”

  ~~*~~

  HANK GLANCED at the clock above the stove. It was 7:37 a.m. He pushed aside his half-finished coffee and reached for his ringing cell phone. This couldn’t be good news.

  He listened intently a moment and then sighed deeply as he clicked off the phone. The body of a woman had been discovered earlier that morning along County Road 10.

  He finished his coffee in one gulp, dropped the cup into the sink, grabbed his keys, checked his service weapon, and left his apartment.

  He’d been in contact with Dr. Gould a little earlier. The doctor’s wife hadn’t shown up and there had been no word from her. And now the body of a woman had been found.

  As he climbed into his Chevy, he felt a wave of anger come over him. Anger mixed with helplessness. After almost twenty years on this job, he’d seen his fair share of victims. It never got any easier. Whether or not this latest victim was Mrs. Gould, it still incensed him when people preyed on others.

  The body had been found several miles from town and in a few minutes, Hank turned onto County Road 10. In the distance he saw flashing lights as he approached the scene.

  The already narrow road was constricted to one tight lane, with police cars parked on either side of the now busy thoroughfare. Hank pulled in behind a cruiser fifty feet from the center of activity and shut down the engine. In his rearview mirror he saw the forensics van pull in behind him and lead crime scene investigator, Rod Jameson, swing from the passenger seat.

  Hank stepped out and greeted him. “Morning, Rod.”

  Jameson grunted. “You’d think these perps would at least wait until a decent hour.”

  “Yeah, well, you know how it is,” Hank said. “Crime waits for no man.”

  Jameson took another sip of the take-out coffee he was holding. “I guess we best see what this is all about.”

  Hank approached the scene carefully and stopped at the edge of the path adjacent to the body. He pointed to the grass and weeds that lined the shoulder of the road and down into the ditch. “The body was rolled down the grade,” he said. “The grass has been flattened.”

  Jameson nodded and made a note on the clipboard he was carrying.

  A police photographer came over, adjusting the lens of his camera. He got it set up to his satisfaction and began taking shots along the edge of the road. Other investigators had stepped up, combing the ground and bagging potential evidence.

  To avoid disturbing the scene, Hank stepped down the incline at one side, circled around behind the body and crouched down. It was a woman with dark, medium-length hair, dressed in a business suit. She was missing one shoe; it was halfway up the incline and he assumed it had fallen off as th
e body rolled down the grade. He couldn’t see her face as it was turned partly downwards, but from the description, he was sure it was Mrs. Gould.

  The photographer moved down the incline and approached the body from the side. His camera continued to click.

  Hank leaned over, rolled the body back slightly, and examined the gray face. It was Mrs. Gould. No doubt about it.

  Hank stood and looked up the incline. The medical examiner, Nancy Pietek had just arrived and was stepping gingerly down the bank. Hank gave her a grim nod.

  “Hello, Hank,” Nancy said as she approached, pulling on a pair of surgical gloves. She crouched down beside the body and made a preliminary examination.

  “Livor mortis shows she wasn’t likely killed here.” She pointed to a purplish discoloration of the skin on the back of the body. “See how the blood has settled. The body is lying on its side, but the pooling is present on the back. That indicates she was killed elsewhere and then dropped here at a later time, or … if she was killed here, then the body was recently moved.”

  “I’m guessing she was killed elsewhere,” Hank said.

  “And rigor mortis has set in,” Nancy continued. “I’d put the approximate time of death at about ten to twelve hours ago.”

  Hank frowned. Twelve hours ago would mean she’d been killed shortly after Jake had delivered the ransom money.

  Nancy pulled back the collar of Mrs. Gould’s jacket, revealing strangulation marks dug into the flesh. “Looks like she was strangled with a garrote.” She leaned in a little closer. “Probably wire.”

  “Any identification on her?” Hank asked.

  “Not that I can find,” Nancy said. “But there is this.” She pulled the collar back a little more, exposing a thin gold necklace with a small diamond in a gold ball pendant.

  Hank pulled out his cell phone and snapped a close-up photo of the pendant. If Dr. Gould recognized that, it would be an almost positive ID. The doctor would have to identify the body later of course, but that would do for now. He wasn’t looking forward to the uncomfortable task of breaking the news.

  Hank would get a full autopsy report as soon as Nancy could get it done, likely later today. He stood, went back up the bank and approached Jameson.

  “Who called this in, do you know?”

  Jameson consulted his clipboard. “A farmer on his way to town. Trenton Scott.”

  Hank glanced around. “Where is he now?”

  “At home. He doesn’t have a cell, so he went home to make the call.” Jameson pointed up the road. “He lives that way with his wife. About three or four miles.” He scribbled on a blank sheet of paper and handed it to Hank. “Here’s his phone number, but I suspect his name’ll be on the mailbox.”

  Hank took the paper, glanced at it, and then folded it and tucked it into his pocket. “Any other witnesses?”

  “Nope. Not that we know of.”

  “I’d better go see him. Do you have anything else for me before I go?”

  Jameson shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it. I’ll give you a call if we find anything that appears real important.”

  “All right,” Hank said as he turned to leave. “And get that forensics report to me ASAP.”

  Chapter 17

  Thursday, September 1st, 8:23 a.m.

  JAKE SET HIS coffee cup down and picked up his ringing cell phone. The caller ID showed it was Hank.

  “Jake here.”

  “Jake, I have some disturbing news.” There was silence on the line a moment. “Mrs. Gould’s body was found along County Road 10 early this morning.”

  Jake jumped to his feet and glanced at Annie. She was leaning with her back to the counter, watching him and frowning. “What is it?” she asked.

  Jake put the phone on speaker. “It’s Mrs. Gould. Dead.”

  Hank continued, “She was strangled with a garrote sometime last evening. A farmer discovered her body. I’m on my way to interview him now.”

  Annie sat and stared open-mouthed at the phone.

  “Then I need to break the news to Dr. Gould,” Hank said. “I’ll call you later, but I wanted to fill you in.”

  Jake hung up the phone and sat at the table. He dropped his head into his hands, feeling physically sick, feeling responsible for her death. He’d recommended Dr. Gould call the police and now … He’d trusted the kidnapper, and he’d been certain Linda Gould would be set free as long as the money was delivered.

  Matty clumped down the steps from upstairs and, in a moment, appeared in the kitchen. He stopped short and looked at his mother, then his father. “Is something wrong?”

  Jake looked up and forced a grin.

  “Just … a setback on a case we’re working on,” Annie said.

  Matty frowned slightly and cocked his head. “You guys look upset.”

  Annie smiled tightly as she stood and retrieved a paper bag from the counter. “Here’s your lunch. You’d better be getting to school.”

  Matty took his lunch and turned a cheek to receive his obligatory kiss. He took a worried look at his father before leaving the kitchen. “I hope everything turns out okay,” he called back over his shoulder.

  Annie sat back down and dropped her hand onto Jake’s. “I know you’re blaming yourself, but it’s not your fault.”

  Jake sat back and sighed. “I know … but there was no reason to kill her. He got his money.”

  Annie nodded. “He didn’t need a reason. He’s a killer and that’s what killers do.”

  ~~*~~

  HANK SQUINTED at the mailbox, touched the brake, and swung the Chevy into the long drive leading to the farmhouse.

  Split-rail fences lined either side of the drive, half a dozen cattle grazed contentedly off to his right, and as Hank drew closer, a rooster strutted his stuff behind a chicken wire enclosure.

  Gravel crunched as he pulled his vehicle to a stop beside an old pickup truck. He climbed out, sniffed the faint scent of manure, and made his way to the back door of the ancient dwelling.

  His knock was answered by a pleasant-looking woman, probably approaching seventy, but as robust as a middle-ager. Probably from fresh air and exercise, Hank thought. Something he could use a little more of.

  The woman smiled, raised her brows, and waited for Hank to speak.

  “I’m Detective Hank Corning,” he said. “Is Trenton Scott available?”

  “Sure is. Wipe your feet there and come on into the kitchen. He’s waiting to see you.”

  Hank did as he was told and stepped inside. The aroma of something newly baked was in the air, mingling with the scent of freshly picked flowers.

  “The police are here to see you,” the woman said.

  Hank glanced toward the focus of the woman’s words. A solid kitchen table took up one end of the large room. A breeze from an open window fluttered the checkered tablecloth, held in place by an array of baked goods.

  An elderly man rose from a chair at the table as Hank glanced his way. A tattered baseball cap was perched high on his head, his teeth arrayed in a welcoming smile. He pointed to a chair. “Have a seat, friend. Maggie’ll rustle you up a cup of coffee and we can talk,” he said as he extended his hand.

  Hank introduced himself and shook the timeworn hand. It was unusually strong, made so by the years of hard work necessary to maintain a livelihood at this dying occupation.

  Hank settled back in his chair and spoke. “Mr. Scott, I understand you were the one who discovered the body a little earlier.”

  The old man nodded. “Yup. It were a shock, I’ll tell you that. Ain’t never seen anything like that in all my years. Maggie and me been running this place nigh on fifty years now and ain’t nothing like that ever sprung up. Least not as I can recall.”

  Hank smiled at the man’s words. It brought back warm memories and reminded him of his own grandfather and of the many pleasant days he’d spent on a farm such as this.

  He turned his head a moment as a kettle whistled on the stove. Maggie was fixing coffee.

 
; “I just have a few questions for you, Mr. Scott. I know you’re busy and I won’t take up too much of your time.”

  “Ain’t no worry. Things’ll wait. I know this is mighty important and all. That poor girl. Did you find out who she is?”

  “We believe we know who she is,” Hank said. “However, we need to keep that quiet until we notify her husband.”

  The old farmer shook his head. “This’ll be bound to rip a hole right through the man’s heart. It ain’t easy finding out your kin’s met with something like that.”

  Maggie set two cups of coffee on the table along with cream and sugar. She bustled back to the counter and returned with two generous portions of some kind of loaf. Hank caught a whiff of the warm snack. Banana bread, covered with a slab of melting butter. “Try that,” she said. “It’s fresh baked. And you can fix up your own coffee and there’s fresh cream, skimmed off the top.”

  Hank thanked her and fixed his coffee, lots of sugar and a generous portion of the thick cream.

  “If you want more, just holler,” Maggie said as she wiped her hands on her apron and turned away.

  Hank assured her he would and spoke again to the old man. “Mr. Scott, when you discovered the body, did you disturb it in any way?”

  The farmer shook his head firmly. “No sir, I surely didn’t. I just raced for home and called you up right quick. I know enough to not touch nothing ’cause I didn’t want to be mixing with the evidence. I know you investigators can find out a lot of stuff these days just by looking at how things are. Me and Maggie watch that CSI on the TV and sometimes they just has to take one quick look and they got the whole thing figured out, just like that.”

  Hank chuckled. “It’s not usually that easy, but we’ve come a long way.” He took a bite of the banana bread and turned to Mrs. Scott, who beamed as he said, “This is delicious.”

  “Mr. Scott,” Hank continued. “Did you see anyone at all in the area?”

  Scott shrugged. “Nope. Weren’t nobody around. Only people you see out here that time of day is just old farmers like me.”