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

by Rayven T. Hill

  She stroked a hand through her hair. It was a mess, stringy, grimy. She felt dirty all over.

  The lock rattled and the door swung open. Her abductor stood in the doorway, one hand on his hip, the other holding a paper bag, scrutinizing her. She looked up at him, hoping he’d come to free her, but knowing he hadn’t.

  He tossed the bag her way. “Breakfast time.”

  She opened the bag and peered inside. Looked like a sandwich of some kind. She was hungry but in no mood to eat. She set the bag in her lap and looked up at him. “When … when will you let me go?”

  He laughed. “It’ll soon be over. Not too long now.”

  Had her husband paid the ransom? She knew he had the money and she hoped he would pay soon. She just wanted to go home.

  “Has the ransom been paid?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I expect it’ll be paid today. At least, that’s what the plans are.”

  Her voice became hopeful. “And then you’ll let me go home?”

  “I expect so. It’s up to the boss when you get out of here. He makes all the decisions; I just do what he asks and get paid. That’s all I care about.”

  With that he spun around and left. The door slammed shut and the lock rattled in the darkness.

  Chapter 46

  Saturday, September 3rd, 10:30 a.m.

  JAKE ADJUSTED the bulletproof vest. He didn’t think he could ever get used to wearing this thing. It hampered his freedom of movement so much he’d considered leaving it behind. But Annie had insisted, so that was that.

  He fastened the shoulder holster in place and then removed the Smith & Wesson from the drawer and snapped the magazine in, making sure the safety was on. It felt good in his hand, comfortable, like it was designed especially for him.

  He put the weapon in its holster, adjusted the vest again, and put on a button-down shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, concealing the weapon at his side.

  He picked up his cell phone and hit speed dial. Hank answered on the first ring.

  “All ready at your end?” Jake asked.

  “All set. Everyone’s in place and we’re watching every move. Nothing’s going to happen in that plaza without us knowing it.”

  “I’m just about to leave,” Jake said. “First I have to swing by Eli Martin’s and pick up the money. I’ll be there before eleven.”

  He hung up the phone and went into the kitchen, where Annie was sitting at the table with Matty, helping him with his homework—some kind of math problem. She looked up when he entered.

  “You have the vest on?” she asked.

  Jake pounded a fist on his chest. “It’s under here.”

  Annie glanced at Matty and then back at Jake. “And the … other thing?”

  Jake grinned. “It’s under here too.”

  She swung around on her chair, stood up, and put her arms around him, looking into his eyes. “Be careful,” she said, a hint of worry on her face.

  “Always.” He gave her a quick kiss and caressed her cheek. “And now, I have to go.”

  Matty looked up, twirling a pencil in his hand. “Where you going, Dad?”

  “Just have to make a quick delivery. I should be home soon.”

  Matty turned back to his homework, satisfied.

  Jake picked Annie’s car keys from a wicker basket on the counter and grabbed a couple bottles of water from the fridge. He headed out to Annie’s Ford Escort, parked in the driveway, jumped inside, and pushed the seat all the way back. Callaway had installed a tracker somewhere inside and they would painstakingly follow his route.

  In ten minutes, he pulled up in front of Eli Martin’s house. He’d called earlier to be sure the money was ready. It was, and Martin met him at the door and handed him a cloth bag, tightened by a drawstring and knotted.

  “Mr. Lincoln,” Martin said. “Fifty thousand is a small price to pay for my wife’s safety, but …” He paused a moment and his lower lip trembled. He drew a deep breath. “Please make sure nothing goes wrong.”

  “I hate to say this, Mr. Martin, but it’s out of my hands. I’ll do all I can and leave the rest up to the police.”

  Martin nodded slowly and Jake went back to the car. He climbed in, tossed the bag of money onto the passenger seat, and glanced at the house. Martin was standing in the doorway, watching him, an anxious look on his face.

  Next stop, Midtown Plaza.

  The large plaza on Main Street was buzzing at this time of day. Most of the shoppers seemed to be favoring the Walmart store looming at the near end; however, the row of smaller shops and services were also getting their regular Saturday morning business, with people jockeying for parking spots as close to the storefronts as possible.

  The north end of the parking lot was furthest from the action and there were several available spots along the row bordering the sidewalk. Jake picked a slot empty on either side, backed the Escort in, and shut down the engine.

  He glanced around the lot. He knew the police were here somewhere, probably hiding in plain sight, but among the many shoppers coming and going, he couldn’t pick out who they might be. A sniper might be on the roof of one of the shops. Maybe other officers waited in unmarked cars close by. Or perhaps some were across the street, waiting to follow anyone who came to pick up the money.

  Wherever they were, they had it completely under control.

  Jake looked at the clock on the dash. It was 10:54. Almost time. He watched the digital numbers click over several times and then his phone rang.

  “Jake Lincoln.”

  “Hello, Jake. It’s a lovely day.”

  “Yes, it’s a lovely day, now where are you? I’m sure you already know, I’m waiting for you in the plaza.”

  The caller laughed. “You didn’t actually think I was going to show up there, did you?”

  “I was hoping.”

  “With all the police watching? Sorry to disappoint you, my friend, but that wouldn’t be expedient of me, now would it?”

  Jake was hoping the kidnapper would show up in person, or at least send someone else, but he didn’t expect it. And now he was going to get the runaround. “I have the money,” he said.

  “Excellent. Now please start the car, Jake.”

  Jake sighed, felt for the pistol at his side, and keyed the engine. Here we go.

  “As you know, Jake, it’s not safe to be talking on a cell phone while driving. Someone could get hurt, so please be careful.”

  “That’s the least of my worries. I’m waiting for your instructions.”

  There was an unearthly chuckle on the line. “We must go now. Hannah Martin is waiting and I’m sure Eli is anxious. Please exit the plaza onto Main Street and turn north.”

  Jake pulled the shifter into gear, eased from the spot, took a last look around the plaza for telltale signs of undercover cops, and pulled onto Main Street. He didn’t know if any unmarked cars might be following him, but he knew Callaway would be aware of his every movement.

  “Are you heading north, Jake?”

  “I am.”

  “Excellent. Keep driving and when you come to the last set of lights north of town, let me know.”

  Traffic was light, the morning rush of workers now past, and in a couple of minutes he saw a set of traffic lights ahead. Cherry Street. The lights were green and he zoomed on through.

  “I’m past the lights,” he said.

  “Wonderful. Keep the speedometer at fifty.”

  Jake touched the gas slightly and increased the speed of the vehicle. There was silence on the line for several minutes and then the kidnapper spoke. “You should be approaching County Road 12, Jake. I assume you know where that is?”

  “I do. It’s just ahead.”

  “Turn left when you reach it.”

  Jake slowed the vehicle and made a left turn. Soon, he was crawling along County Road 12, the Escort bumping over potholes and old pavement.

  The disguised voice came from the phone, “Do you know where the old Spencer residence is?”

/>   Jake was familiar with that place. “I do,” he said.

  “About a quarter mile past there, but on your right, you’ll see a small laneway. Let me know when you reach it.”

  Jake drove carefully down the seldom-used road. He glanced to his left as the Spencer house came into view. It was now empty and boarded up, the old barn set away from the house, unused and likely to stay that way for a long time to come.

  He slowed the vehicle as he approached the laneway to the right, almost hidden behind a row of trees.

  “I’m at the laneway,” Jake said.

  “Pull to the side of the road and stop.”

  Jake did.

  “Get out of the vehicle.”

  Jake felt under his shirt for his weapon and then grabbed the bag of money and climbed from the vehicle. “What’s next?” he asked.

  “Walk down the lane.”

  Jake stepped ahead a few feet, stopped, and gazed down the laneway that led into a darkened forest. It was little more than a trail, a few weeds struggling through the hardened soil, a rut or two caused by the occasional vehicle, tangled shrubs and wild berries bordering the pathway.

  He switched the bag of money to his left hand and reached under his shirt with his right. He worked the pistol from its holster but kept the weapon hidden beneath his shirt, ready, just in case.

  He walked slowly down the lane, listening intently, hearing nothing but the rustle of leaves overhead as a breeze rippled through the trees. The chattering of squirrels at play sounded somewhere far away, a chorus of birds chirping off to his right.

  The bright sky disappeared under a canopy of trees as he entered the edge of the darkened forest. The phone was silent except for a faint breathing on the line that told him the kidnapper was still there.

  He kept walking and in a minute, a small clearing appeared, rays of light leaking through the treetops, a rare patch of grass flourishing, a slight rise in the terrain, over a knoll, and then—

  Jake fell to his knees as the phone went silent and the caller was gone. He dropped his head into his hands and took a deep breath before finally raising his head and looking at the cold, lifeless body of Hannah Martin.

  Chapter 47

  Saturday, September 3rd, 11:35 a.m.

  POLICE CARS and emergency vehicles lined both shoulders of the narrow country road. Officers leaned against their cruisers talking in groups of two or three. An ambulance had parked near the spot where the laneway touched the road, waiting for its burden. The forensics van was parked just ahead.

  Hank pulled over at the end of the line, stepped from his car, and made his way forward.

  Jake was leaned against the hood of his car watching the proceedings. He turned, shaking his head as Hank approached. “He said someone would pay, but I never expected this.”

  “Nor I,” Hank said and noticed the bag of money lying on the hood of the car. “I take it you had no instructions to deliver the ransom?”

  Jake shook his head. “It appears the only purpose of this trip was to lead me to the body. I don’t think he had any intention to pick up the money.”

  “I’d better take a look,” Hank said. “And you’d better lock that money up.”

  Jake grabbed the money bag, tossed it onto the passenger seat, and locked the car doors.

  He joined Hank and they followed the path back to the scene. Tape was stretched from tree to tree, cordoning off the area. Rod Jameson and the forensics crew had finished documenting every aspect of the scene, taking pictures, making detailed notes, and gathering trace evidence. They were packing up their equipment. Physical examinations, laboratory tests, and a complete diagnosis would come later.

  As they stepped to the top of the knoll they saw the body of Mrs. Martin. It was twisted halfway onto its side, mostly on its back, the legs bent underneath the body like a rag doll tossed aside. By the position of the body, it appeared it had been rolled down the grade and left where it landed.

  Jameson stood to one side talking with an investigator. Hank approached him and interrupted. “Anything I should know about?” he asked.

  Jameson looked at Hank and shook his head. “Nothing stands out. Once we process everything we have, I’ll let you know, but right now ...” Jameson shrugged. “There’s nothing blatantly obvious about who did this one.”

  “Thanks, Rod,” Hank said. “But put a rush on this, will you? This guy moves fast and we want this to be his last victim.”

  “Will do, Hank,” Rod said and turned back to the investigator.

  Nancy Pietek had finished her preliminary inspection of the body and was crouched over, making some notes, when Hank and Jake came down the knoll and approached.

  “Hello, Nancy,” Hank said as he bent over and took a closer look. He saw the marks on Mrs. Martin’s neck, the same marks he had seen just days ago on the body of another victim.

  “Hi, Hank,” Nancy said. “This looks like the work of the same killer.” She pointed to the wounds. “Same marks, the only visible signs of injury, presumably caused by a garrote. Perhaps the same one. No signs of defensive wounds at this point.”

  “Time of death?” Hank asked.

  “Likely two to three hours ago. No way to tell where she was killed, but certainly not here.”

  “Check under her tongue,” Hank said, pointing.

  Nancy reached over and eased the victim’s mouth open. She reached in with a gloved finger and worked out a folded piece of paper. She unfolded the newsprint carefully and held it so Hank could read it.

  Handwritten in block letters, the message read, “I SAID NO POLICE.”

  Hank studied it thoughtfully and then nodded. Nancy tucked the note into an evidence bag and labeled it.

  Hank stood and glanced at Jake, standing back a few feet, gazing at the body, his face grim, his eyes smoldering. He was taking this one personally, no doubt about it.

  The detective went over to Jake and put his hand on his arm. “You okay?”

  Jake looked at him and nodded.

  “You’re not responsible for this, you know,” Hank said.

  Jake was silent.

  “There’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent this. None of us saw it coming.”

  Jake moved his eyes back to the body of Mrs. Martin. “I know,” he said quietly, almost in a whisper, as they turned and climbed back up the knoll.

  They stopped as they saw Detective King coming down the laneway toward them. The scruffy detective wandered over to where Hank and Jake stood.

  “Caught this on the radio,” King said. “I assume the vic is Hannah Martin?”

  Hank nodded. “Yes, and she’s going to be the last victim.”

  King cocked his head. “How can you be sure of that?”

  “Because I’m not going to sleep until this scumbag is caught.” Hank narrowed his eyes and glared at King. “And neither are you.”

  “Yeah, we’ll get him,” King agreed. He glanced around the scene and then stepped over to the edge of the knoll and looked down at the corpse for a few seconds before turning back to Hank. “Sure is a shame,” he said and then added, “Want me to tell her husband?”

  Hank shook his head adamantly. He didn’t want the insensitive King involved in such a sensitive task. “I’ll do it,” he said.

  King shrugged. “Whatever. I got other stuff to do anyway.”

  “Find anything out yet?” Hank asked.

  “Not yet. I’m working on it,” King said as he turned away.

  “Keep me posted.” Hank turned to Jake. “I expect you’ll be getting a phone call soon.”

  Chapter 48

  Saturday, September 3rd, 12:18 p.m.

  LISA KRUNK was on the other side of the city and when the report came over her police scanner regarding the body which had been discovered, she dropped what she was doing, hustled Don into the Channel 7 Action News van, and hurried to the spot along County Road 12.

  As Don pulled the van up behind the last cruiser, she saw they had arrived late. The forensics
van was just pulling away and the doors to the ambulance were being closed.

  They jumped from their van and she hurried over to where the center of activity seemed to be. Don followed behind, his camera ready at a moment’s notice. Whatever had happened here seemed to be down a laneway off the main road.

  An officer stopped her short when she attempted to access the pathway. “You can’t go down there,” he said.

  She poked the microphone at him. “What happened here, officer?”

  “You’ll have to speak to someone else about that. I’m not at liberty to say anything.”

  Lisa glanced down the laneway. At a distance, she could barely see the telltale yellow of crime scene tape and the movement of several officers in the area.

  She was certain this was connected to the recent abductions and was disappointed she hadn’t gotten another call from the kidnapper. She was convinced her name was on the lips of everyone in the city, heralding her as the greatest journalist this crappy little town had ever seen. Maybe the greatest in the country, but if not, that title would soon be hers.

  Someone in plain clothes was coming her way from down the laneway. “Get ready, Don.” As the figure drew closer, she recognized him as the recent arrival to the force, Detective King. She made it her business to know names. Her livelihood depended on it.

  As King drew closer, she took a couple of steps his way but stopped when the officer gave her a warning look. She held the mike ready and in a moment, King had reached the spot where she stood.

  “Detective King,” she said. “It’s good to see you again.”

  He nodded at her as the camera rolled.

  “Detective,” Lisa said. “Can you tell me what happened here?”

  King scratched his head. “I can’t tell you a whole lot. A body has been discovered here and we’re in the middle of investigating.”

  “Who’s the victim?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”