Girl in Trouble (An Alex Mercer Thriller Book 1)

by Stacy Claflin

  Had Flynn taken the bait?

  The footsteps slowed as they neared the office.

  Alex shoved the book back into place and scooted closer to the desk, hiding from view. He felt his pockets for weapons. If he'd have been thinking straight, he would have brought his pistol, but he kept it at the shooting range and hadn't thought to bring it. All he had was an oversized pocketknife. It would do the job if he needed to use it—assuming of course that the other guy didn't have a gun.

  The footsteps stopped.

  Alex's heart nearly did, too. He wrapped his fingers around the knife, ready to pull out the blade at a moment's notice.

  "Someone in here?" asked a male voice with a southern accent.

  Flynn didn't have an accent.

  "Huh. Thought I heard something. Guess not." Footsteps sounded again, this time growing quieter.

  Alex leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. He crept over to the door and poked his head out.

  A janitor walked down the hall, sweeping as he went.

  That had been close. But not enough to sway Alex. He went back to the shelf and feathered through each book and manual, finding nothing. Not even a stray pencil mark.

  It was time to go through the desk. The top drawer was locked—that had to be where the good stuff was located. Alex didn't have anything on him to pick the lock. His only hope was that Flynn had been careless and left the key somewhere.

  He opened the next drawer, finding only pens and pads of paper. The next one had basic office supplies—staples, paper clips, and a three-hole punch. The next one had mail. Alex went through it quickly, still finding nothing.

  It would appear that Flynn was careful. But nobody was perfect. He had to have slipped up somewhere, and if it was in the office, Alex was determined to find it. He opened another and—

  His cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

  Alex swore under his breath and pulled it out.

  Blocked number, of course.

  You have exactly thirty seconds to get out of my office.

  Dread washed through Alex, but then he smiled. He'd gotten a reaction from Flynn. He raised his hand high into the air and gave him the one-finger salute. He spun in a circle to make sure that no matter where the hidden camera was, it caught the gesture.

  Alex then returned his phone to the pocket and dug through the drawer he'd just opened.

  Something beeped behind him. It continued in a rhythmic pattern.

  Slowly, he turned around. A small red light blinked in time with the beeping from inside a cabinet. The light shone through the crack in between the doors.

  Flynn wouldn't have planted a bomb in his office? Or would he? He might just be crazy enough to do just that—especially if he had evidence of his crimes in there.

  His phone buzzed again.

  The beeping sped up.

  Alex glanced back and forth between the red light and the open drawer. He couldn't risk his life before finding Ariana.

  He burst into a run, sliding on the hardwood floor. His hands flew out and he knocked a frame off the wall. It crashed to the floor and the glass broke.

  "Who's there?" the janitor called.

  Alex swore again and ran toward the stairs. He burst through the door and flew downstairs as fast as he could without stumbling again.

  An alarm wailed somewhere.

  All this trouble, and he hadn't found anything. The only proof he'd gotten was that Flynn Myer was possibly the most boring guy alive—which he knew was a cover-up. The man was crazy. Who set up a bomb in their office? Clearly, someone who had something to hide.

  Alex made his way down the staircase to the bottom level. He ran back into the main entrance. The alarm grew louder. Alex ran for the entrance.

  "You, stop!" someone called.

  He sped up and ran out the door, not stopping until he came to his car. It was tempting to race away, but that would only gain him a speeding ticket. He forced himself to drive a normal pace through town that wouldn't gain him any extra attention.

  Alex took deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. He squeezed the steering wheel. If only he'd gotten some kind of proof that Flynn had Ariana or had taken any of the other girls.

  Sirens sounded behind him. Alex glanced in the rear-view mirror. A police cruiser wasn't far behind, lights flashing.

  He swore and slowed, hoping it would pass him. It didn't.

  Alex pulled over to the side. The cop car did, too.

  His heart sunk. He'd been going slow enough, so this had to be about being in Flynn's office building. Excuses ran through his mind. He slid off his hat and flung it in the back.

  The cop tapped on his door. Alex took a deep breath and rolled down the window. "Can I help you, officer?"

  Arrest

  Nick stared at Alex with a disapproving glare from outside the car window. "Tell me you weren't just in Flynn Myer's office."

  His friend wouldn't make eye contact. "I wasn't just in Flynn Myer's office," Alex parroted, his tone flat.

  "Why?" Nick exclaimed.

  Alex looked at him. "I had to do something!"

  "You do realize that's breaking and entering."

  "I didn't break in—I walked in!"

  "To a secure building?"

  "The door was open. I'm sure they have a video of that."

  Nick frowned. "You realize I have to arrest you."

  Alex's mouth formed a straight line. "How's that going to help us find Ariana?"

  "It's not, but you don't leave me much of a choice. Especially not when a man matching your description tried to get into Flynn's gated neighborhood just a little while ago. What were you thinking?"

  "Do I really need to explain that to you?"

  "You have to stay within the bounds of the law! Harassing the suspect doesn't fall into that category. Did you find what you were looking for at least?"

  "I didn't have enough time."

  "You leave me no other choice, but I need you to step out of the car."

  "You're going to arrest me?" Alex exclaimed.

  Nick stepped back. "I was supposed to be doing something else—trying to help find your daughter—but I insisted on this."

  Alex grumbled, but got out of his vehicle. "So, we're just going to leave my car here?"

  "I'll make sure it's impounded to the lot closest to the station."

  "Let me guess, that's on my dime."

  "That's the way it goes." Nick sighed. "This is the part where I'm supposed to read you your rights. Turn around."

  Alex glared at him and then did as he was told. Nick cuffed him, recited his rights, and leaned close. "I know a few good attorneys. Hopefully, we can get you released without much fuss. Will you work with them and me? I want you there when we find Ariana."

  "Still waiting on Sanchez to give up her location?"

  "You and I both know that's a distraction. In fact, when I heard about your stunt, I was in the middle of nailing a connection between him and Flynn."

  "What?" Alex asked.

  Nick led him to the cruiser. "I don't know, because I'm here and not back at the station. And we can't talk about it in the car."

  "Is it tapped or something?"

  "Cameras inside and out. I'm probably going to be questioned as to why this arrest is taking so long." He helped Alex into the back of the car.

  They drove in silence for a while before Alex spoke up. "He did it, you know. Flynn—he's the kidnapper."

  "Do you have evidence?" Nick asked.

  "Other than having seen him take my daughter? It was him!"

  Nick took a deep breath. Alex was speaking to the cameras, not that it would do him much good. Not until there was any solid evidence against the man who somehow had the ability to be in two places at once, or at least knew how to make it look like he'd been.

  "I saw his face. Flynn Myer took Ariana. I don't care about his alibi. He did it!"

  Nick focused on the road while Alex continued going on about Flynn. Just before the
y reached the station, he called in to have Alex's car brought in. Then he parked outside the jail and escorted Alex inside.

  "I hope we can get these charges reversed," he whispered. "I'll do my best to get one of those lawyers I was talking about. Can you do your part and be an ideal inmate?"

  "Inmate? You make it sound like I'm in prison."

  "You're going to be in a holding cell. Just be on your best behavior. You can do that, right?"

  "Sure."

  "Don't try to convince anyone about Myer's guilt. I'm going to work on that while trying to get you out. Just sit quietly until your attorney arrives. Then you need to work with him. Got it?"

  "Fine."

  "Hey, I'm serious. I'm trying to help you."

  "Okay. I'll be good. I swear."

  Nick shook his head. It was like everyone was trying to make his job more difficult. He took Alex to one of the officers. "Book him and put him in his own cell if there's room. His attorney will be here shortly."

  The officer nodded and took Alex by the arm.

  Nick made eye contact with Alex. They exchanged a glance, both understanding that Nick would do his part, but Alex needed to do his. At least he hoped Alex understood. That would make life a lot easier for the both of them if he did.

  History

  Click. Click. Click.

  Ariana woke up and pressed herself against the corner of the wall in the plain white room, sitting taller. The knob turned slowly after the quick unlocking of the three deadbolts. Her heart raced and her stomach roared. She felt dizzy and wasn't sure if she should be scared or hopeful. Was there any chance he'd changed his mind and decided to be nice again?

  The door opened just as slowly and Lloyd finally appeared. "It won't be much longer."

  "What won't be?"

  He glared at her. "Do I really have to explain it to you?"

  "I d-don't know what you're doing."

  "How can you not know?" he demanded.

  She jumped. "I just don't. You haven't told me."

  "We've been through this enough times. You know what happens when you don't play by the rules. That's why we've moved to this wretched shack. It's why I have to spend all my time building. You know all of this!"

  Shaking, Ariana shook her head. "I don't know."

  He slammed the door, making her jump. "What are you trying to do?"

  "I don't know why you're doing any of this."

  Lloyd's eyes narrowed, and he paced, breathing heavily.

  Ariana continued to shake. Her teeth chattered, but she kept them from touching and making any noise. "Please just tell me."

  He stopped and stared at her. "I've already explained all this to you. Over and over again—for the last thirty years! You really don't get it yet?"

  Eyes wide, she shook her head.

  "It's no wonder we can't get this right." He paced quicker now and released a string of profanities. "Everything went horribly wrong that night. You shouldn't have died, but you did. I've spent every single Halloween since then trying to undo it. Every one! Something always goes wrong—each time. This time, I thought we'd nailed it." He paused and let his gaze rest on her. "But then you ran away."

  She gulped.

  "Now we're back to square one. We're going to have to relive the horrible night one more time, Jan. It's not going to go any better than any of the other times."

  "Can't we try to make it better?"

  "Try?" he bellowed. "I've done nothing other than try! Three decades, and we still can't get it right. It's not easy trying to undo history. Do you realize that? It's damn near impossible—maybe it is impossible. I don't know anymore. My hopes were up high this time. I thought I'd finally have you back and then we could get Mom after Halloween. I thought I'd even found her. Guess I was wrong. Again."

  Ariana bit her lower lip. "What if I try harder? Can I promise not to run off like that again?"

  Lloyd frowned. "It's too late."

  "It doesn't have to be."

  "It is." His pacing grew more erratic.

  Ariana shook uncontrollably. She didn't want to find out what he had planned, and she really didn't want to know what all the hammering and other noise was about. "Please."

  "I have to try again next year."

  "What's it going to take to make everything right?"

  He stopped pacing again and stared at her. "For you not to drown, but just like that one fateful night, you already snuck out of the house. All these years, and you still haven't learned. We'll never have our family back. Not you, not Mom. Everything was so nice before, you know? Mom didn't blame me for your death before you died. She was at home, not institutionalized. Before she killed herself. Dad never liked me much before that, but after you and Mom died…" He glanced up and shook his head. "Do you know what it was like to live with him after that? With someone who hated you for ruining the family? Who blamed you for the deaths of his favorite family members? Someone who was drunk and mean like that?"

  Ariana shook her head. "It sounds awful."

  Lloyd broke into a pace again. "You have no idea. None! Be glad about that. The mental anguish—torture, really. Nothing I could do helped. I couldn't make anything right, and I couldn't make them care about me. After you died, I lost everything. My entire world crumbled, Jan. I need everything to go back to the way it was. To have you back, to have Mom back." He paused. "For Dad to stop looking at me like he wanted me dead instead of you guys. For… for… our whole family to be back together. No one dying, no one running away, no one hating anyone else."

  She watched him pacing. "It sounds like it was really hard."

  He stopped and turned to stare at her. "It was worse than hard! If only you hadn't snuck away and gotten yourself killed, then none of this would've happened. But it did, and I have to make it right."

  "Maybe you should try something else."

  "What?"

  Ariana swallowed. "Well, you've tried the same thing for so long. Maybe it'll never work. You might have to do something different."

  "Like what?" he demanded. "What else can I do to make it right?"

  "What if you can't?"

  "Now you're starting to sound like the doctors. I refuse to accept what they call the truth. Their truth is a lie! Once I get it right, everything will go back to the way it was, and then we can all have the life we were supposed to have. I just have to get it right. It was so close this time—so close! I'll bet next time, we'll nail it."

  "It's not Halloween yet. We can try again. Start over. You can take me back to the—my bedroom. We can have more nice meals together. Another movie night. It'll all be just right again."

  Lloyd paused, like he was considering it. "It won't work. You tried to run away again. You snuck out just like that night you got killed the first time. Why do you think I have to lock you up? It never seems to work, though. What did I do wrong?"

  Her mouth gaped. What was she supposed to say? Was there anything that could convince him to let her go? Or at least get out of this horrible room?

  "You got nothing? It doesn't matter. I have the boat rebuilt. It gets faster each time. I could almost do it in my sleep at this point. I'll try to get to the overturned boat in time. I'm going to try to save you, but it won't work. It never does."

  A jingle sounded. Lloyd pulled his phone out from his pocket and looked at the screen. He swore and then turned to Ariana. "I've got to go."

  Tour

  Nick pulled Anderson into his office.

  "What's going on, Captain?"

  "Myer has agreed to another interview." Nick pulled on his jacket.

  "Even though he's accused Mercer of stalking and harassment?" Anderson arched a brow.

  "He's eager to clear his name—again."

  Anderson shrugged. "Okay. Gives me an excuse to put off the pile of papers on my desk, anyway."

  Nick glanced at his own stack. "I hear ya."

  "What exactly are we expecting to accomplish?"

  "Hopefully more than Williams is getting fr
om Sanchez."

  Anderson raked his fingers through his hair. "I don't know if I can take another fake lead."

  "Then come with me."

  "Let me grab my things." Anderson left and came back a few minutes later. "I'm all set."

  They went out into the parking lot, and Nick headed straight for his Mustang. Anderson complained about the focus on Sanchez.

  "You know I agree," Nick said. "I planted a seed in some of the other agents about the serial killer I told you about."

  "And you really think that's a possibility?" Anderson asked.

  "Seems to be our most likely option at this point. Other than our girl being a little younger than the others, it's a perfect fit."

  "We need to bring in the other departments," Anderson said. "How long did you say this has been going on?"

  "Could be three decades."

  Anderson swore. "And nobody has ever linked the cases before?"

  "Not that I can tell. He moves around a lot and only does this once a year."

  "What a sick bastard."

  Nick nodded and slowed as they came to the gated community. "And we might be about to see the perpetrator."

  "What are we looking for?" Anderson asked. "To link him to the other cases, I mean."

  "Anything we can find." Nick pulled out his badge and showed the guard. "Here to see Flynn Myer."

  "Popular guy. Yeah, he already told me. Go on in." The guard stepped inside his little building. A moment later, the gate slowly opened.

  Nick waved, rolled up his window, and drove in.

  "But we found nothing last time," Anderson said. "What do you think we'll discover now that he's had more time to hide evidence?"

  "Just keep your eyes open." Nick didn't want to admit that he believed Alex's theory of a hidden room. It was something usually reserved for television, but someone crazy enough to kill girls every Halloween for thirty years had to have something like that—some way to keep everything hidden from the rest of the world. And a house as big as Flynn's had to have plenty of space for that, especially given that he lived alone in a home big enough for a dozen people.

  Nick parked in front of the large house and paused, paying particular attention to the woods behind the house.