Garrett dressed, stuffed his phone and wallet into his pockets, and headed out. He had just enough time to make his Monday morning shift at the St. Paul Kitchen where he volunteered, usually peeling vegetables or loading canned goods into boxes. Two hours a week wasn’t much, but he’d been doing volunteer work since he was a kid, and would feel better if he didn’t miss his shift.
The drive over took only ten minutes, and the woman who ran the kitchen greeted him with a hug. “Any word on your mom?”
“Not yet.” They walked back to the food-prep area.
“You don’t have to be here, but I’m glad you are.” She patted his shoulder.
“If I get a call, I may have to leave early.”
“No problem. A high school group will be here in an hour, so you can take off then.”
Relieved for the short shift, he picked up a plastic apron and got to work.
On the way home, he bought coffee and a bagel, and checked his phone again. His father had left a voice mail: “Want to join us for dinner tonight? It would be good for you to get out of the house.” He hated when his dad announced what was good for him, but still, the offer made him smile.
Garrett pulled into the driveway and parked on the far right out of habit. His mother kept her car in the garage, and she needed to be able to back out past his. There was room for both vehicles inside, but he never parked in there. Even with the covered walkway between the buildings, it was too much hassle. His mother’s little car was just sitting in there, waiting for her to come home. He hurried up the wide front steps, picked up the newspaper from the porch, and went inside.
The faint smell of cigarette smoke surprised him. A rush of movement from the living area made him spin left. A stocky man in a ski mask shoved a hand in his face. Garrett ducked and swung wildly, clipping the attacker on the chin. The contact hurt, but it was nothing like the blow to his own nose that followed. The pain vibrated into his eye sockets, and he shouted a curse. Someone gripped his elbows from behind as blood ran from his nostrils. The first man shoved a rag over his mouth, and the medicinal smell made him gag. Dizziness overcame him, and his body went limp.
CHAPTER 35
The young man collapsed like dead weight, and Shawn couldn’t hold him up. Now Garrett was sprawled on the floor.
“Not the plan!” Rocky squatted, obviously irritated. “You only had to keep him upright for a few seconds while I got into place.”
Shawn squatted too. “Let’s just do this quickly.” He put both hands under one of Garrett’s armpits.
Rocky did the same. “Ready? Lift!”
They stood up together, then scrambled to get their arms around the young man’s shoulders and waist—before they dropped him again. Garrett’s head lolled sideways on Shawn’s shoulder, blood dripping from his nose.
“Why did you punch him?” Shawn said. “I’ve got his blood on my jacket now.”
“Reflex. He hit me first.” Rocky steered through the archway and into the kitchen.
They were headed out to the garage, where their van was parked. So far, the abduction was going more smoothly than Shawn had expected. They’d watched Garrett drive away earlier and discussed following him. Rocky had wanted to see where the kid was going and watch for a more secluded spot to make the grab. But Shawn had felt certain Garrett wouldn’t be gone long and that their original plan was still the safest. Rocky’s universal remote had opened the garage, and they’d driven in and closed it again. The neighbors’ line of sight was blocked by tall hedges on either side of the property, and the park directly across the street was empty this early on a Monday morning, so it seemed likely no one had seen them enter. Shawn had bought the used vehicle that morning with cash, so it wasn’t registered to him, and he could easily abandon it if things went badly. He would dump it after the mission anyway.
Inside the house, they had simply waited for the young man to return, then chloroformed him when he walked in. Now they had to get him into the van and secure him before he regained consciousness. Then get the hell out of the garage before anyone else showed up. Max’s informant at the bureau had assured him the local field agents had left the Thorpes’ home days before and that Agent Bailey had returned to DC. So they should be fine. Still, he was eager to be outside the city and on the road east.
Rocky opened the side door, and they lifted their cargo as far into the space as they could reach. Shawn climbed in over the unconscious man and dragged him the rest of the way in. Rocky wrapped rope around Garrett’s legs and a bandanna around his eyes, while Shawn tied their captive’s hands behind his back and duct-taped his mouth, looping it around his head to be sure.
Seeing the young man trussed like that overwhelmed him for a moment. Disgust with the victim for being so easily overpowered. Disgust with himself for participating in such lowlife activities. Then a brief moment of pity for Garrett, who would be terrified when he woke up. But still, he was proud of himself for having the courage to pull it off. He’d come a long way from the timid, nerdy kid who’d been picked on in grade school. He’d proved to himself he wasn’t too effeminate for the dirty work. Too bad he couldn’t brag about it to the people who’d doubted his toughness over the years, especially his cousins who’d laughed when he’d run from dogs and school bullies.
“Do we need to tie a rope between his ankles and hands?” Shawn asked.
“I don’t think so. Let’s go.”
Shawn scooted into the driver’s seat, and Rocky came around the van and got into the passenger’s side. Shawn clicked the universal door opener. Nothing happened. “What the hell?” He clicked it again with the same result.
“It should open manually too.” Rocky looked back at the closed garage door.
“Go find out. And look in the other car for the owner’s door opener.” The setback was annoying, but would be temporary. If necessary, he would gun the engine and bust right through the wooden door.
As Rocky searched for a manual lever, Shawn kept clicking. Suddenly, the door began to rise. Rocky rushed back and jumped into the passenger’s seat. Shawn put the van in reverse and pressed the gas, almost hitting the car parked in the driveway behind him. “Shit!” He slammed on the brakes and took a moment to collect himself. He hoped no neighbors had heard the squeal.
He backed around the Jeep and into the street. No one was watching them, and no police cars were coming their way. He pulled off his ski mask and drove out of the neighborhood, making turns every two blocks to cover his tracks. A few minutes later, he hit the main artery and headed out of town.
On the drive east, Rocky asked, “What happens to the kid when it’s over?”
Shawn had given it some thought. “After I use him to motivate his mother, I’ll let him go. As long as he never sees any of our faces or knows where he is, this shouldn’t come back to bite us.”
“I don’t know about that.” Rocky gave a slow shake of his head. “I think he’ll be trouble. More so than the woman. You might want to rethink leaving any of them as loose ends.”
Shawn knew he was right but couldn’t face that. More important, the pilot had just given him permission to do this ugly but necessary thing. He would apply Rocky’s advice to Rocky first. “I’ll think about it.”
“What about the woman? Is she going to produce the material?”
“I think so.”
“How long?”
“Three more days.” Shawn felt confident Dana would soon hand over a usable sample and formula that his engineers could replicate and scale up. Just knowing he had Garrett and might hurt him would motivate her. When it was over, he would drop Dana and her kid off at the edge of Seattle somewhere, leaving them blindfolded.
They were on I-90, surrounded by fields that turned to forests in the distance. Shawn watched for a side road to turn down.
“What happens with the North Korean?” Rocky asked.
Shawn
laughed. “I’ll think I’ll adopt him.”
He was keeping Nam in a separate basement room, because the coder didn’t need any lab equipment and Shawn didn’t want him to know about the others. Nam didn’t seem to mind his predicament and had offered to trade his skills for new identification and a real job somewhere. He wanted to defect and start over in the United States. Once the others were gone, Shawn would work something out with Lee Nam.
The road climbed slowly, and the fields disappeared entirely. An occasional orchard appeared between thickets of oak and pine, then the fruit trees phased out. Garrett had woken up in the back, so they’d had to stop talking. Rocky put on earphones to listen to music, and Shawn was glad for that. He needed some emotional distance to get this done. He’d already been through the guilt phase, then Rocky had given him permission, so Shawn felt calm and ready. He glanced over his shoulder at their passenger. He’d shifted positions again, but didn’t seem to be making any moves to free himself.
Shawn spotted a turnoff, then passed it, because it had sign markers indicating camping spots. Five miles later, another side road appeared. He slowed and made the exit.
“Piss stop?” Rocky asked.
“Yep.” After a short uphill drive, Shawn pulled off onto a dirt road and coasted a hundred yards into the woods. He turned off the engine and touched the gun under his jacket. He’d never fired it at a person before. He climbed out and looked over at Rocky. “You coming?”
“I’m good.”
Shawn walked up the road a few feet into the trees and relieved himself. It was even better to shoot Rocky in the car. He wanted his blood on the seat so Harlan would believe that he’d carried Rocky to the car after the kid had shot him during the kidnapping. He had his story all worked out. He would say he planned to drive Rocky to a hospital, but then he died very quickly. Then he’d wanted to bring him back to the property near the mine so they could have a service and bury him, but the risk had been too great. What if they got stopped? Or one of the miners spotted the grave? No, he’d had to dump him in the woods, and it broke his heart. Harlan would buy that. He would tell Jia something else entirely.
Shawn zipped his pants and walked back to the van. As he neared, he moved toward Rocky’s side, smiling as if he had something funny to share. When he was near parallel with the door, he slid the gun out and clicked off the safety, keeping his movements below Rocky’s line of sight through the truck window. With his free hand, Shawn gestured for him to step out of the truck. “Hey, you’ve got to see this.” Would Rocky see how hard his heart was pounding?
Shawn hesitated. He hadn’t known Rocky long and didn’t have a real emotional connection to him. But still, to shoot a man at close range. He had no choice. His financier thought it was necessary to protect them all. Rocky would understand that.
The pilot looked annoyed, but opened the door and started to climb out. “What is it?”
He hadn’t thought that through. “Some kind of animal bones. Maybe a mountain lion.” Shawn nodded toward the trees where he’d just been and took a step back, hoping to keep the blood off his clothes.
Rocky closed the truck door. “I’ve seen it all, but I decided to piss anyway.” He looked up at Shawn, noticing the gun.
Shawn swung it into position and fired two shots into Rocky’s chest. His mouth opened to speak, but only blood came out. Rocky staggered forward two steps, then collapsed.
Good god. He’d just taken a man’s life. Before he could get overwhelmed, Shawn locked his emotions away, sending them deep into the vault. It was all for the best. Rocky didn’t want to end up in jail, and Shawn’s own plans were too important to sacrifice. He looked past the dead man at Garrett in the back of the van. The kid had rolled up against the side and was shaking. At least he would take him seriously now and make his mother do her job.
Shawn knew he should drag the body into the woods, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. With one hand, he smeared some of Rocky’s blood on the passenger seat so Harlan would see it. After that, he would clean it up, then dump the vehicle somewhere. Before leaving, Shawn bent down and closed the man’s eyes, relieved it was over.
CHAPTER 36
Monday, March 23, 12:17 p.m., Seattle, Washington
The plane touched down, and Bailey woke from a restless sleep. She was finally back in Washington State! This investigation had pushed her to her limits. Traveling wasn’t as much fun as it used to be. It was time to do whatever it took to get the promotion to run the Critical Incident Response Group. It was the only position that would give her the constant excitement she craved without forcing her to travel or do undercover work. She wanted to be on the SWAT team but was too lazy to do the training. Resolving the North Korean incident would put her in the running if Lennard moved up, but she also had to make a connection soon with the assistant director, or maybe even the director.
By the time she rented a car and got on the road, she’d worked out a plan to ingratiate herself with the AD and make him see her as the only logical choice for the CIRG position. She considered, briefly, staying in a hotel for the professionalism of it, then laughed at the idea. Garrett Thorpe was a possible victim who needed protecting, so staying there was the right thing to do. Fortunately, it suited her personally too. She wanted more time with Garrett and had no reason to deny herself the pleasure. He was an adult who made his own decisions. It wasn’t her responsibility to protect him from emotional harm. Yet the thought of hurting him when she walked away made her uncomfortable—a new experience.
When she pulled into the Thorpes’ driveway and parked behind Garrett’s Jeep, she noticed the garage door was open. That was odd. The garage had never been open before. Garrett parked in the driveway, and Dana Thorpe wasn’t here to drive her car. A bad vibe rolled up her spine. Bailey jumped out of the rental and ran into the garage. Nothing seemed out of place. She stepped toward the covered walkway leading into the house. Was that a drop of blood on the cement floor? Bailey knelt down and looked more closely. Maybe. The dab of dark liquid had mostly dried, so it was hard to tell.
If it was blood, Garrett had likely hurt himself in the garage and gone into the house to get a bandage. That would explain why the overhead door had been left open. Occam’s razor. The simplest explanation was likely true. She hurried into the house anyway, watching for more blood, just in case she was dealing with a crime scene. She spotted another drop in the kitchen, a dark spot on an otherwise clean white-tile floor. Bailey took a picture with her phone to preserve the record. Where was Garrett? He must have heard her come in.
“Garrett!” She called his name as she trotted from room to room, looking for him.
He was gone. But his Jeep was in the driveway. She repressed a shiver of panic, forcing herself to work through it logically. There was blood, but very little, so he hadn’t been shot or stabbed. There was no sign of a struggle, so maybe he’d only scratched himself or had a nosebleed. He could have left with a friend or gone out for a walk. But why was the garage door open? She called his phone, and after seven rings, heard his voice mail greeting. Bailey hung up, not knowing where he might be receiving the call and not willing to leave her name.
Had the kidnappers taken him? Considering the previous events and his mother’s circumstances, she calculated the odds were pretty high, maybe 70 percent. But why? Garrett wasn’t a scientist or a tech expert. He was only useful to them as leverage. A way to make Dana Thorpe do what they wanted. Oh hell. Anger and worry settled in her heart, and indecision bounced around in her head. The anxiety was annoying, so she focused on making a decision. She had a solid lead for the general area where she might find all the victims, and she might as well drive there now.
Without any proof a crime had been committed, there was no point in reporting Garrett missing to the Seattle police. A young man could have simply left his house on foot, accidentally leaving the garage door open. But she had obligations to the bureau, and
those were a little stickier. Reporting the incident directly to her boss wasn’t an option. She’d been ordered to discontinue her investigation and let the local field agents handle the kidnappings.
She would hedge her bets and split the decision down the middle. Bailey grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and a box of crackers from the cupboard, saving herself a stop at a store. She hurried back out through the garage, leaving the front door locked and the garage door open, as she’d found both.
Once she’d made it through Seattle’s traffic and was on I-90 headed southeast, she called Agent Thorpe. “Bailey here. I was just at your son’s home. The garage door was open and Garrett was gone, but his Jeep is still in the driveway. I thought you’d like to know.”
“You don’t sound worried.”
She rarely did. “I called Garrett and he didn’t answer. There’s a drop of blood, but no sign of a struggle, so I’m not sure what to think.” No longer true.
“I’ll head over there now. Let me know if anything develops.”
“I’m on my way to central Washington. I have an idea about where Dana might be held, and I’m following up on it.”
“What lead?”
Bailey told him about the pharmacy robbery in Ellensburg and the sale of the Palisades Mine. “It just came together for me today.”
“What does a drugstore have to do with this case?”
He didn’t know about his ex-wife’s epilepsy, and she wasn’t supposed to tell him. “Dana needs medication, and I think the kidnapper was getting it for her.”
Thorpe hesitated, then scoffed. “That’s pretty tenuous.”
“I know. That’s why I’m not asking any local agents to spend their time on it until I know more.”
Point of Control Page 19
