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

by Rayven T. Hill

  “You’re welcome to attend the press conference like anyone else. I can’t promise you any special considerations.” Hank paused. “But I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Thank you, Detective Corning.” Lisa’s smile appeared genuine now; Hank could never tell for sure. He watched her leave and wondered how any one reporter could cause him so many headaches.

  He turned back to his desk, reached to his belt for his ringing phone, and sat in his swivel chair. “Detective Hank Corning.”

  It was the ME, Nancy Pietek.

  “Hank, I’ve finished the external examination of Mrs. Gould’s body. I’ll get my complete report to you ASAP, but I wanted to give you a heads-up on what I found.”

  Hank sat forward and listened intently.

  “I found a note inside the mouth, folded and placed under the tongue. I have someone bringing it over to you now.”

  “What does the note say?”

  “It says, ‘I said no police.’ That’s all that’s written on it.”

  Hank frowned. “Anything else, Nancy?”

  “Not at this point.”

  “Has the lab examined the note?”

  “They have. They found nothing unusual. No fingerprints.”

  “Thanks, Nancy.” Hank hung up the phone. The kidnapper was making his point about police involvement. But they were involved now and he was going to do everything he could to bring this maniac to justice.

  Hank looked up as a young intern approached his desk and handed him an envelope. “This is from the Medical Examiner’s Office.”

  Hank thanked him, took the envelope, and dumped its contents onto his desk as the intern left. The note was in a small plastic bag. He removed it, unfolded it carefully, and examined it. The message was handwritten in block letters on what appeared to be newsprint, probably the corner of a page of a newspaper.

  The writing was stilted and unnatural, written in black ink.

  “I SAID NO POLICE.”

  Hank examined it thoughtfully a moment, then dropped it back into the bag and tucked it into his pocket. He wasn’t sure if it could lead him anywhere; it wasn’t much.

  ~~*~~

  WHEN HANK stepped from the precinct doors, flanked by the captain on his left and King on his right, he saw a crowd of expectant newspeople gathered.

  Lisa Krunk’s newscast had roused up the press from all over the province. Vans with familiar logos clogged the thoroughfare. Traffic was rerouted past the street, and curious onlookers were held back by a handful of police officers.

  The reporters moved in, cameras and recorders poised and ready, as the entourage came down the steps and approached the podium. Lisa had claimed the spot front and center, Don at her side, and Hank caught her eye briefly as he stepped in front of the podium and scanned the crowd.

  He leaned into the mike. The crowd hushed.

  “Thank you all for coming. My name is Detective Hank Corning and I’m the lead detective on this case.”

  They waited.

  “We’ve called this press conference in response to a news story, broadcast earlier today, and the subsequent deluge of questions by reporters.” Hank looked at Lisa and a hint of a frown appeared on his face. “As this is an ongoing investigation, I’ll keep this brief.”

  Hank paused and looked down at his notes before continuing.

  “As you know by now, a woman was kidnapped on Tuesday and held for ransom. The ransom was paid as instructed; however, the victim’s body was found early this morning.

  “I want the public to know we have all available officers following leads and we expect to make an arrest shortly. This murderer will not go unpunished. We’re not taking this threat lightly, and his proclamation will not deter us from tracking him down.

  “I would also like to state for the record, Jake Lincoln is not a suspect in any way. He was merely chosen by the perpetrator to deliver the ransom, which he did, and neither he nor Lincoln Investigations has had further involvement in this case to date.

  “I’ll take any questions now.”

  The newspeople buzzed, their questions cued up and waiting, and they all spoke at once. Hank pointed to a reporter in the second row.

  “Detective, the murderer has stated specifically the police are not to be involved in the future. In fact, he has declared any future victims will be killed if you’re involved. How do you intend to approach that, knowing your involvement could lead to the death of another innocent victim?”

  Hank thought a moment. “I can’t make any statement on possible future victims. At present, we have a dead woman and a distraught husband, and we’re already involved, and he knows we’re involved.”

  Hank avoided Lisa’s upraised hand and pointed to another reporter.

  “Detective, this killer called himself the Merchant of Life and he has stated there’ll be more kidnappings. What’re you doing to prevent that?”

  Hank cleared his throat.

  “This vicious killer would be more aptly named the Merchant of Death. He has promised to take life, not give it, and I object to the self-proclaimed title he has given himself.” Hank paused a moment, then added, “As I said, we’re tracking leads and we’re going all out in a concerted effort to bring him to justice.”

  Another question. “Can you give us some information on what leads you’re following?”

  “Not at this point. We have a number of leads and certain valuable information that can’t be disclosed at this time.”

  And again. “How can members of the public prevent themselves from being victims?”

  “Please take precautions. Use common sense, be vigilant if in secluded places, lock your doors at night and don’t open your door to anyone you don’t know.”

  Someone in the back row spoke up. “And if anyone is kidnapped and becomes a victim, should the police be notified?”

  Hank frowned. “Use precautions and that won’t happen.” He straightened up. “There’ll be no more questions. Thank you.” He turned away and then spun back and added, “I would like to ask you to give Dr. Gould his privacy until he’s willing to speak to you.” Hank motioned toward the captain. “Any and all future contact with the press regarding this case will be handled by me or Captain Diego until further notice.”

  Hank turned away again and he, King, and the captain headed up the steps to the precinct while the gathered crowd continued to shout questions—unanswerable questions that Hank himself wanted answers for.

  Chapter 24

  Thursday, September 1st, 3:15 p.m.

  IT WAS A gorgeous summer afternoon, a bit warm to take a long jog, but Rosemary Coleman never went a day without a good afternoon run.

  She’d finished up the invoicing, contacted a client or two and paid some bills online, and her work was done for the day. She would let the answering machine take care of any stray afternoon calls.

  Walter would be home not long after five o’clock, so after a jog and then a quick shower, she would still have plenty of time to prepare the special dinner she had planned.

  She enjoyed the freedom of being able to work at home, taking care of clients and overseeing the day-to-day operations of the successful landscaping business she and her husband had built. She saw it as the best of both worlds—a rewarding and undemanding job, along with the ability to take care of their home and her husband.

  His recent infidelity was forgiven and forgotten, and to Rosemary, their five-year marriage was back on track. She planned to do everything she could to keep it that way.

  She donned a t-shirt, jogging pants, and running shoes, and slipped out the side door of their sprawling bungalow, located out where the suburbs led into the adjoining countryside.

  Her route took her down a narrow sidewalk, past the last couple of houses, then a quick cut across a large vacant lot to a pathway leading into an overgrown forest.

  It wasn’t a large area; it covered maybe a few acres or so. Not enough to attract any wildlife other than squirrels and the continually chirping happy bi
rds nestled in the overhead greenery, but it was pleasant, away from the city, and Rosemary loved it.

  Leaves rustled beneath her feet as she ran. The air was refreshing and she breathed in the light pungent scent of decaying foliage mixed with the faint smell of pine sap.

  She’d been through here almost every day and considered this path her own, and she was surprised when a figure cut in front of her less than twenty yards away. Even more surprising, the man was wearing a ski mask, his face completely covered, which was more than unusual at any time and especially on this warm summer day.

  She stopped short, her breath caught in her throat, and her instincts warned her of danger.

  She wasn’t going to stick around and ask him what his plans were.

  She spun around to head back the way she came but was halted in her path by a second man who stepped from behind a large maple, cutting off her retreat.

  She froze a moment, now fearful something was dreadfully wrong. Her assailant stepped closer and as he was about to seize her, she dropped to the ground, rolled and managed to scramble to her feet and stumble from the path into the thick forest.

  With her arms in front of her face for protection, spidery branches scratched at her as she ran. A fallen tree barred her way, but a leap brought her over. She held her footing and continued her frantic flight, panic beginning to overtake her.

  A hand touched her shoulder. It gripped, but she managed to pull free and spun to her right.

  Her freedom was short-lived as again she was grasped, this time with a firm hold on her shirt, wrenching her off balance. She fell backwards and landed heavily on one shoulder.

  She looked up at the masked figure and cried out, “I have no money.”

  A muffled voice, “We don’t want your money.”

  They were going to rape her. She wouldn’t stand a chance against the two of them. Not a chance.

  “Please … please don’t hurt me. I’ll give you what you want.”

  She continued to struggle as he straddled her, her breathing coming fast, her heart beating even faster.

  She pleaded again, “Please.” Then a gloved hand was clamped to her mouth, cutting off her air.

  “Be quiet.”

  She saw her other attacker approach from the side and stand over her, his arms crossed. “Keep her quiet,” she heard him say.

  “Are you going to shut up?”

  She forced her head to nod, her eyes unblinking with fear.

  The hand was removed and she was rolled over. A cable tie zipped as her wrists were bound behind her back. She lay on her stomach, the once pleasant smell of decaying greenery now tasting foul on her tongue. A rag was tied about her mouth and she lay still, unable to move, helpless and shaking with fear.

  They dragged her to her feet and though she tried, she was unable to work free from the strong hand that gripped her arm. She stared back and forth at her captors. One was a little shorter than the other, but both were of average weight and she couldn’t see any of their features.

  She had no idea who they could possibly be or what they wanted. She only feared the worst. Were they going to kill her?

  “Give me the bag.”

  The shorter man produced a black bag from his back pocket and tossed it to his partner. It was pulled over her head and a drawstring tightened, cutting off all light, but at least she could breathe.

  Whoever they were, they didn’t want her to be able to identify them. And wherever they were going, they didn’t want her to know. That was the only thing that gave her some hope; they might not kill her after all.

  With the grip still on her arm, she was prodded and pushed through the wooded area, occasionally tripping over fallen branches, half-stumbling. Her foot caught on something and she fell to her knees, was held by the grasp on her arm, then wrenched upright again.

  She felt herself going down an incline, then gravel under her feet.

  A vehicle door slid open, probably a van, and she was prodded inside and lay trembling.

  The door screeched shut with a bang and in a moment, the front doors opened and slammed. She heard the engine start and the whine of the tires as they picked up speed.

  They drove for what seemed like fifteen minutes, maybe more, and then the vehicle stopped and the motor died.

  She was dragged from the van and again pushed forward, up a set of steps, across a floor. A door squeaked open and she was led down a set of stairs and across a hard floor, then pushed into a chair.

  She blinked at the blinding light when the bag was pulled away. She looked up at her captors, her eyes appealing to them. She tried to talk, but with the rag in her mouth, her words were muffled, unintelligible.

  A musty smell hung in the air. She was in a basement somewhere, dirty and old, with the taste of mildew.

  More cable ties were produced and her legs were fastened to the chair. Her hands were cut free and she rubbed her wrists and arms to increase the circulation. Her shoulders ached from having her hands tied behind her back. Her freedom didn’t last long as more ties zipped and her wrists were again bound, this time fastened to the arms of the chair.

  She struggled as a yellow nylon rope was wrapped around her chest and tied to the back of the chair. Her struggling soon stopped and she was helpless, unable to move.

  “Smile for the camera.”

  She looked up as her picture was taken.

  The tall man spoke. “You’ll be okay. We’ll be back.”

  Their footsteps died away as they climbed the stairs, then the door at the top slammed and she was alone. Alone and afraid, tears running down her face as she shivered under the bright overhead light.

  Chapter 25

  Thursday, September 1st, 5:16 p.m.

  JAKE WAS EXHAUSTED. He’d spent the last hour in the basement, pushing his body to the max, working out his anger and frustration on the exercise equipment. He finished with the bench press, racked the weights, and lay still.

  His stress had evaporated. His frustration with Annie’s mother and his anger at the kidnapper was lessened. All he needed now was a long shower and he’d be good to go again.

  He made his way upstairs, turned the shower on, and stepped into the hot downpour. As the water eased his aching muscles, he thought about how much he wanted to nail this guy. He was determined to do all he could but wasn’t sure where to start. His role in this case seemed to be limited to serving as a pawn in the kidnapper’s evil game.

  He stepped from the shower and toweled off before making his way to the bedroom. He donned a t-shirt and track pants and went downstairs to the kitchen, where Annie was preparing dinner.

  She turned from the counter as he entered. “Feel better?”

  “Much.” He peered through the window by the sink to the large backyard where Matty and Kyle tossed a baseball back and forth. “Have you heard from Hank?”

  Annie shook her head. “Not since the press conference. I’m sure if they’d found anything substantial he would’ve let us know.”

  “The meatloaf smells good,” Jake said as he popped the oven door open and peeked inside. As his cell phone rang, he turned and picked it from a wicker basket on the table.

  “Jake Lincoln.”

  “Mr. Lincoln,” he heard. “My name is Walter Coleman. My … my wife has been kidnapped and I … I was told to call you.”

  Jake sank into a chair and shook his head slowly. Another one. He put the phone on speaker and glanced at Annie. “Yes, Mr. Coleman,” he said.

  Annie sat and leaned forward, facing him, her brow lined with concern.

  “I got home from work just after five o’clock. My wife wasn’t here. I thought it was a bit unusual, but didn’t think a lot of it until … until he called. He said he’s holding her and demands fifty thousand dollars for her return. And then he said to call you. He wants you to deliver the money.”

  “Try to relax, Mr. Coleman. I’ll do everything I can to get your wife back safely.”

  “He said not to call the police or
my wife would die. I … I don’t know what to do.”

  “We’ll come and see you right away. Don’t call the police until we talk to you.”

  Jake wrote down the Coleman address, hung up the phone, and leaned back. Annie was already on her feet.

  “I guess we’ll have to put dinner on hold for now,” she said. “I’ll just get Chrissy to watch Matty and then we’ll go.”

  ~~*~~

  THE COLEMAN residence was a few minutes away, out on the edge of town, and Jake pulled the Firebird to a stop in front of the double-width lot.

  They climbed from the vehicle, walked up the wide driveway to the front door, and rang the bell. Mr. Coleman answered the door immediately, worry on his face.

  “We’re Jake and Annie Lincoln,” Jake said.

  He ushered them into an immaculate front room. A large fireplace took up much of one wall, the opposite being mostly windows, with an abundance of houseplants and greenery filling the air with a pleasant scent.

  Coleman motioned toward a couch under the window. Jake sat at one end, while Annie chose the other and watched Coleman pace back and forth on the hardwood floor. His hands were clasped behind his back, his head down, his brow ridged in worry and thought.

  Annie spoke first, choosing her words carefully. “Mr. Coleman, it’s our duty to inform you to call the police. The final decision is up to you, of course, but we’re concerned about getting your wife back safely.”

  Coleman stopped pacing and faced Annie. “So what do you suggest?”

  Jake spoke. “We think it’s best if you don’t involve the police until after your wife has been returned.”

  “Why is that?”

  Annie exchanged a look with Jake and said, “Have you heard about the abduction of Linda Gould earlier this week?”

  “Yes … I did hear something about that.”

  “We believe it’s the same kidnapper. Are you aware the police were involved and Mrs. Gould … well, she wasn’t released?”