The dark knee-high socks and black rubber beach sandals were certainly touristy, combined with a pair of shorts and T-shirt that read, “Lovin’ the Sun in Sarasota.” The cheap flowered beach tote concealed the .38 he picked up near the airport after renting the car. He topped the ensemble with a Florida Devil Rays baseball cap and examined the results with a satisfied eye. It probably wouldn’t fool a cop for long, but all he needed to do was get close to Mitch and Ed.
He undressed and showered before getting into bed. He knew he had to bide his time. As much as he wanted to take them immediately, he forced himself to wait. He was glad he’d decided to go back to Pasco after leaving the Carrollwood house. John despised loose ends, and Mitch was the last one.
Getting rid of Ed would be a bonus.
After the cab driver dropped him at the Cayman Airways ticket area, John had carried his luggage down to arrivals and waited for a rental car shuttle. Alamo was the first to arrive, so they were the lucky contestant on “Hide the Fugitive.” With his ID labeling him John Tyne left in a garbage can at the ticketing area at TIA, he was now “Kyle Roberts.”
Kyle Roberts rented a Chevy Cavalier and drove to Pasco, purchasing the stolen .38 on the way. His intuition that Mitch and Ed would disappear for a few days was valid, and he figured that taking them out on the road would be easier than in the armed encampment that Ed’s house had become.
He watched Sam Caster coordinating deputies and saw Ed and Mitch, bags packed, climb into the cruiser and depart. The thought did cross John’s mind that he might have to shoot the deputy as well if their destination turned out to be TIA, but that proved unnecessary when they turned into the Ford dealership.
The cops would expect him to either retaliate immediately or run. If it came up, the cab driver would say he dropped a man fitting John’s description at Cayman Airways. A little more misdirection to buy time.
He finally drifted off to sleep debating whether to kill Mitch outright or let her watch Ed die first.
* * * *
Mitch’s funk returned at breakfast. Ed finally gave up trying to lighten her mood. They ate in silence, Ed worried about her state of mind and Mitch brooding about Jenna’s death and John’s unknown whereabouts. Ed called Sam before they went to breakfast and found out about the cab driver dropping John at TIA, but even this didn’t cheer her.
Ed didn’t blame her. He still felt they were being watched, and although he didn’t tell Mitch, he thought some of her unease was brought on from the same feeling.
They checked out of the hotel and took their time winding through Sarasota. Ed decided on a side trip and headed over the Ringling Causeway to the St. Armand’s Circle shopping district.
Mitch perked up enough to inquire what they were doing.
“Relaxing, that’s what.” He parked the SUV and they started meandering around the circle. An hour later, he found the store he wanted and stepped inside the air-conditioned showroom, leading Mitch in by the hand. It took her a minute to register what they were there for, but Ed sat her down in one of the provided chairs and told her not to move.
* * * *
On a normal day, Mitch might have taken slight umbrage at that, but she felt too tired to resist, and sat looking at the glass display cases.
Ed’s back was turned to Mitch while he conferred with the clerk. She saw him pull out his wallet and hand a credit card to the clerk, who returned a minute later with a sales receipt and pen. He signed it and walked over to Mitch.
It finally dawned on her what was happening when he got down on one knee and took her left hand in his.
“Ed—”
“Shhh,” he quieted her, “This is my moment.” He slipped the ring, a beautiful round-cut solitaire, on her finger. “Mitch, we’ve known each other a lot of years. I’ve spent the past couple of them scared to tell you how I feel because I was afraid you’d laugh at me. I’m tired of wasting our time together. Will you please marry me?”
She stared at the ring then looked into his eyes. She nodded her head and he swept her into his arms as the clerk looked on.
“Congratulations,” the clerk said.
Ed led Mitch out of the shop and kissed her long and passionately.
“It’s beautiful, Ed,” she whispered. “But it’s got to be expensive.”
He kissed her again. When he finally broke the kiss he looked into her eyes. “I don’t care how much it costs. I love you.”
* * * *
John followed them all morning. When they emerged from the jewelry shop, he watched them kissing on the sidewalk.
They wouldn’t be doing that if they knew who was watching, he thought with glee. It was almost enough to motivate him to take them then, so he could relish the tragic surprise on their faces as he ended their lives. Problem was, it was too damn risky to take them in public. He’d have to wait until he could get them alone somehow, even if that meant tailing them all the way down to the Keys.
He followed them around the circle all morning, watching them walk hand in hand, two oblivious lovers wrapped up in their emotions and ignoring the danger shadowing them. John constantly revised his mental plan. So far, his favorite was kidnapping them both, taking them someplace remote, tying up Ed and letting him watch while he raped Mitch, then killing Ed before Mitch’s eyes. Inflicting the deepest hurt possible upon both of them for destroying the life he’d built.
So much for gratitude. I kept Mitch in a good quality of life while we were together, and this is the thanks I get.
“You should have left well enough alone, Mitch,” he muttered under his breath.
* * * *
Mitch looked up from the dessert menu, startled. The outdoor cafe with its delicious smells had been too tempting for the couple to resist.
Ed studied her, pushing away the rest of his sandwich. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “I’m telling you, I got a severe case of the wiggins. It’s like there’s a pair of eyes watching our every move.”
Ed tried to deflect her fears despite his own suspicions. Mitch seemed to finally be making progress, and that was more important to him than any threat from John Tyne. If John was stupid enough to show his face, Ed would rearrange it for him.
“Mitch, it’s okay. You’re understandably nervous.” Surreptitiously he patted the comforting bulk of the 9mm in its holster in the back waistband of his shorts. Despite the warm day, he wore a light jacket over his T-shirt to hide the gun.
Mitch wasn’t the only one with a concealed carry permit. And as jumpy as she was, it was probably better she didn’t carry the gun.
She turned her head, studying the crowds, looking for something out of place. Ed silently cursed John Tyne. Mitch looked like a deer ready to bolt.
“Hon, why don’t we pay the bill and get on the road again? We can make Islamorada by dark.” Ed couldn’t deny his own case of the heebie-jeebies, and he didn’t know how much longer he could successfully conceal his unease from Mitch.
“That sounds like a good idea,” she agreed, her eyes still searching.
* * * *
John watched Ed motion for the check and wait impatiently while the waitress brought their change. When the couple left the cafe, they changed direction and made a beeline back to the parking lot where their SUV sat.
Taking a chance, he cut back between two buildings and broke into a run once he turned off the main street. Only slightly winded, he made it back to their vehicle before they were in sight.
Quickly glancing through the tinted windows, he didn’t see any sign of an alarm system. The lack of electronic locks supported his theory. He tried the driver’s door handle.
Locked.
Watching for any sign of them, he tried all the doors with the same result. Finally, he tried the back hatch and it opened for him. He rolled into the cargo area and slid over the backseat before they rounded the corner at a fast walk. As they approached, he ducked down and tightly gripped the pistol.
He heard voices. He
waited until he heard the passenger door unlock and open, then close again. Ed, the eternal gentleman, had just given him his opening.
* * * *
Ed walked around the front of the SUV, constantly glancing around him. When he unlocked the driver’s door, he was unprepared for the look of terror on Mitch’s face.
He reached behind him but stopped when John pointed the gun at Mitch’s temple. “Hello, Ed. Long time no see.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“Now, that’s not polite.” John laughed, forcing Mitch’s head to the side with the barrel of the gun. “Why don’t you just drop those keys right there on the driver’s seat and back away. Unless you want her brains splattered all over this nice upholstery.”
Ed’s mind raced, trying to pick his options. His eyes shifted from John’s cold, crazy ones to Mitch’s terrified panic. He had no options. He let the keys drop onto the seat.
“Wise choice, buddy. Now say bye-bye to Mitch, because her and I are going for a ride. You don’t mind if I go for a ride with my wife, do you?”
Ed had to hand it to her. Despite her fear she still stood up to John. “I’m not your wife, you bastard.”
“Oh, I think the State of Florida would differ with you on that one if you tried to marry ole Eddie here before our divorce went through. I do believe they’d toss you in jail for bigamy. But that is a nice new rock you’re sporting on your left hand. Now slowly pick up those keys. Ed, wave bye-bye and close the door, carefully. If you try anything stupid like shooting the tires out, she’s dead.”
Ed’s voice cracked, his testicles felt like icy marbles shrunken against his stomach. “I’ll get you out of this somehow, Mitch. I love you.”
She nodded, trembling. “I love you, too.”
“Oh, how bravely touching. Not to mention stupid. Now take the keys, bitch. Ed, close that fucking door.”
Ed shut the door and stepped away from the vehicle. John forced Mitch over into the driver’s seat and, the gun still at her temple, ordered her to drive.
* * * *
When the Explorer turned the corner, Ed sprinted after it. He watched the direction it headed and ran back toward the main circle just as a Sarasota County Sheriff’s cruiser turned the corner. Without thinking, he ran directly into its path, waving his arms. When the deputy screeched to a halt, Ed ran up and breathlessly explained the situation. The deputy motioned Ed into the passenger-side seat and took off almost before Ed had the door closed. While they tried to locate the Explorer, the deputy got on the radio and called the situation into dispatch. Less than a minute later, the cell phone in Ed’s pocket rang. Ed immediately recognized Sam Caster’s voice.
“Ed! What the hell happened?”
Ed explained John’s carjacking and where he was now. “Okay,” Sam said. “Stay with me, Ed. Don’t hang up. We’ve got Sarasota and Manatee Counties and FHP rolling on this one. We’ll get her back.”
Ed fought back his tears. Somehow, he wasn’t sure if they would.
* * * *
Mitch tried to concentrate on her driving, praying Ed remembered to tell the police her cell phone was equipped with a GPS tracker. John kept his left hand around the back of her seat and clutched her throat while his right kept the pistol pressed against her temple.
“John, this is stupid. There’s no reason for you to do this.”
“Shut up. You have no idea what you’re talking about. Maybe you don’t fully recognize the magnitude of the situation. I know Jenna called you about what happened with Melody Matthews. But she didn’t know the half of it.”
“John, I—”
“Shut up!” he screamed. “Do not interrupt me again! Just head for the interstate.”
Traffic was unusually light for that time of day, and they made better than average time to I-75 despite Mitch’s best efforts to stall. At one point while they were stopped for a light, she remembered to put her seat belt on, something she usually did automatically. She kept looking in the mirrors, trying to spot any sign of Ed. A couple of times she thought she saw a Sarasota County deputy behind them, but she couldn’t be sure.
All she could do was pray.
“Mitch, you and I are going to have a final party together. We’re heading north, if you needed to ask. I want us to take a little boat ride together.”
“I take it we’re both not coming back.”
He laughed, a cold, chilling sound that sent shivers down her spine. “You always were a smart woman. One of the reasons I kept you around.”
Perhaps there was hope. If he meant they were heading for the Sun Run, she might still have a chance to kill him. He had no clue how to operate a boat, and she had almost limitless choices of potential weapons to choose from if John simply took his eyes off her for a second.
“You see, Mitch, I know you saw the picture of the Emmerand. And I’m sure you suspected I was connected. I still can’t believe of all people to find that damn boat it had to be you. You have cost me more money than you can ever imagine.
“And God, I can’t believe Jenna contacted you. It was stupid of me to miss that ID.” He finally eased up and let go of her throat, but still held the gun close to her head.
“Why did you kill that girl?” They were on the interstate now. Mitch definitely recognized the marked cruiser that fell in about a half mile behind them. Hope blossomed. John was too engrossed in his own story to notice. She wondered if Ed was in the cruiser.
“That girl wasn’t the first or last one. She was prey. You wouldn’t understand. You’re not like them at all. I would never have done anything to hurt you if you’d kept your nose out of this. I needed you, believe it or not.”
“You don’t call me walking in on you screwing a bimbo hurting me?”
He waved the gun in the air like it didn’t matter. “That’s different. I got bored, I told you that. I needed new territory. It was nothing personal.”
“So how many people have you killed?”
His grin in the rearview mirror chilled her. “More than you could possibly imagine.”
* * * *
Ed kept Sam apprised with a running play-by on the cell phone. Up ahead, the SUV veered off to the right, the turnoff for the Skyway Bridge.
“We can’t try to take him on the bridge. It’s too dangerous. If he got away, he could easily grab another hostage.”
“Did you hear that, Sam?” Ed asked.
“Yeah, I did. But Pinellas County and the FHP have already been notified and they’re blocking off the bridge. They’re going to let him on and box him in. At least, that’s the way it’s supposed to happen. If he gets off that bridge, we risk losing him. At least the bridge is a confined environment. Besides, the longer he has Mitch, the more of a risk there is that he’ll hurt her.” Ed told the deputy what Sam said and the deputy nodded.
Two more cruisers, one Manatee County and an FHP car, were involved in the pursuit, following Ed and the deputy. Mitch was keeping the Explorer a steady seventy-five miles per hour, only five miles faster than the limit. Apparently, John was oblivious to their presence. Ed sent a silent message to Mitch to hang on.
* * * *
John shoved a dollar bill in Mitch’s face for the toll. “Do not freak on me, or I will kill the toll collector.”
His growl was all she needed to comply. They made it through the toll plaza without incident, although the toll collector seemed to stare at her intently. The cruiser followed about a half mile behind them and before being joined by two other cars. She allowed herself a little hope.
Up ahead, palm trees were pinned back by the stiff twenty-five-plus-knot breeze blowing across the bridge off the Gulf. The high-wind warning lights flashed ahead on the causeway, and Mitch started formulating her plan.
John had eased back a little, still leaning over the back of the seat, but not crowding Mitch quite so closely. Her total compliance to his demands had relaxed him. She tried to keep him talking, keep his mind off his surroundings. It turned her stomach that she’d ever
made love to him, but she kept him rambling about his many kills despite her desire to retch.
Mitch had difficulty keeping one eye on the road and the other on John. By the time they reached the causeway approaching the main span, the cruisers were running their lights.
Ed!
John still hadn’t spotted them. There was a fully loaded car carrier about five lengths behind them. Mitch slowed imperceptibly and slid over into the right-hand lane to let it pass. The draft from its passing combined with the stiff winds buffeted the SUV.
“Why are you slowing down?”
“Because the speed limit’s only sixty on the bridge. I can speed up if you want and risk a ticket.”
“No, just drive.”
She risked another glance in the mirror. The largest vehicle behind her now was a full-size Chevy van.
Her plan was dicey at best, but it was all she could do. They were at the base of the main span now, heading north. She accelerated as she started the ascent, putting two car lengths between her and the van, which now rode in the left-hand lane. For most of the length of the bridge, the travel lanes were divided in the center by a gap, until they met at the main span. There, where the supporting cables were anchored, a low, three-foot-tall berm about ten feet wide separated the travel lanes.
As she crested the top of the span, John’s attention was on the view of the St. Pete peninsula, not her. Timing was everything. She prayed as she jammed the brake pedal to the floor while whipping the wheel around hard to the left across both lanes.
“Son of a—” was all John had time to get out. The gun flew from his hand, crazing the windshield before falling to the passenger side floor while he was vaulted over the seat after it.
Dalton, Tymber - Red Tide (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 25
