Game ON (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 2) (Redemption Thriller Series 14)

by John W. Mefford

  Keo: Sure thing. Are you going to tell Denise?

  I thought about that for a second.

  Me: I’m not sure. I don’t want her to fall apart, or get more scared for herself or Mackenzie.

  Keo: There is a possibility that this murder may not be related. Hawaii is not immune to crime.

  Me: Possibly. But likely?

  Keo: My gut tells me it’s related. How, though? To me, it seems too messy to be related to yakuza. Strangulation? They found her body in the back yard. There was an eyewitness. Sounds almost amateur…maybe an act of passion. I wonder if Gwen had any ex-boyfriends, or maybe a stalker???

  Me: Interesting points. I don’t know those answers. Denise might, so there’s another reason the cops will want to talk to her.

  Keo: Might be twenty-four hours or less before they get to Denise.

  Me: I want to take action on this end before they reach out to Denise. Keep me informed please.

  Keo: Roger that.

  I began to feel the cold bite into my skin. It seemed I’d dealt with this latest blow and come back to earth. I was about to slip the phone into my pocket when it buzzed again.

  Keo: U never told me where things stand. Any closer to finding Mackenzie?

  I looked out, off into the distance. The thick clouds had lightened a bit. I could make out a few rolling hills, tree-covered limbs.

  Me: Not yet. We’re thinking she might be in a certain location just north of us. Headed that way shortly.

  Keo: Be careful. Bringing a weapon?

  Damn. I hadn’t even thought about it.

  Me: Not sure. Will first need to buy a coat.

  Keo: Don’t know what those are. Send me a picture. Hawaiian humor.:)

  Me: Will do. Later.

  Keo: Maikaʻi pōmaikaʻi!

  Me: Need a translation??

  Keo: Good luck, my friend.

  Me: Thx

  I grabbed the two cold coffees and the bag of breakfast food. Walking toward our motel room, I was unsure how to approach any of this with Denise.

  26

  The coffee was cold, and the kolaches were cold. I apologized to Denise, and we threw the food away. We grabbed some crackers and soft drinks out of the vending machines downstairs and ate in the car.

  Sitting in the motel parking lot, we actually made a bit of small talk, discussing the advantages of living in a small town and how raising kids in an environment like that might be different than in a big city or even the suburbs. We talked about the pressures of kids growing up in a society with so much technology at their fingertips…the power and enticement that was never more than a click away.

  Yes, that made us both think of Mackenzie. Denise said that Mackenzie, like most kids, was enthralled with devices and their infinite access to information—not all of it factual, of course. We talked about how she’d be ten years old in a few months, and from there, her teenager life would soon follow. I could hear Denise’s regret for not being the kind of parent she’d wanted to be. I only offered hope. There would be so many more opportunities to care for and love Mackenzie, to shape her life, to be there when she was down or needed help with homework—especially in subjects like math. She laughed when I said that.

  The one thing I didn’t discuss with Denise was what I’d learned from Keo—that Gwen had been murdered. No way. Not now. If she hated me for it later, then so be it.

  Our first stop was at Peggy’s Apparel. Denise and I were fitted with hiking boots, jackets, gloves, and hats. It took about an hour and ran us north of five hundred dollars. Thank God Nicole had reopened access to my accounts. If it had been a week earlier, back when I barely had twenty bucks to my name, Denise and I would have been doing our best impression of Bonnie and Clyde. I knew if Nicole happened to be monitoring my charges, she might wonder why I was buying all of this winter gear in a small town in West Virginia. But I was rather certain she knew to let me do my thing without questioning my methods.

  As they packaged up our gear, I noticed a pawn shop across the street. Fred’s Pawn Shop. The business smackdown with Peggy continued.

  I told Denise to wait inside Peggy’s, that I’d be back in a few minutes. I quickly walked across the road. The bell dinged just above my head when I walked in. Two men were examining rifles near a counter against the far wall. I assumed they were not loaded with ammunition. “Can I hep ya?”

  I flipped around and saw a guy who only had one tooth. No kidding. One. Single. Tooth. And his face looked like used sandpaper.

  “Looking for a pistol.” I swung my head around. I knew basically nothing about guns, other than a couple I’d seen presented in cases at the courthouse.

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place.” He walked like one leg was shorter than the other and got behind a small counter. “Hell, it’s really the only place in Elkins to buy firearms and ammunition and a host of other weapons, depending on what you’re huntin’.”

  I nodded, walked closer to the display case.

  “So,” he said with his palms flat on the glass, “what you huntin’?”

  I looked up and studied his eyes. He seemed to be studying mine even more.

  “Well…” I started walking and then mumbled something. I had no idea what was in season. I couldn’t say, “Oh, I’m hunting these lunatics who kidnapped my daughter, who I didn’t know existed until just a few days ago.”

  Yeah, I knew, even for this old-timer, that would get me nowhere. I’d be kicked out, and we’d be forced to search the compound with no weapon to protect us.

  “Sorry, my hearing’s a little off,” he said, pulling up near me as he wiggled a finger in his ear. Didn’t I know.

  I glanced up and saw stuffed animals affixed to the side of the walls.

  “Must be bobcat you huntin’, huh?”

  He’d followed my gaze.

  I spotted his nametag. Oliver. Didn’t really fit his look, but I went with it. “You’re very observant, Oliver.”

  “Folks call me Ollie.”

  Bobcats? The thought that we might run into a bobcat made me question the whole plan, especially the part with Denise tagging along. “I think you just happened to catch me looking around.” I shifted my sights to three stuffed animal heads. “I’m looking to have a little fun with something that’s not as dangerous to my health.”

  “Ah, beaver. Good choice. We got a shitload o’ beaver in these parts. Would do us some good to lower that population some.”

  “Cool.”

  Before I said another word, he’d laid out two rifles and three pistols on a board covered with red velvet, which looked like it had been pasted on by a preschooler. He showed his one-tooth smile, and I stepped forward and eyed each weapon. He then went through the pluses and minuses of each gun. He knew his stuff, without a doubt.

  I didn’t understand what he was talking about or really even cared, but I nodded plenty.

  “Tough choice, ain’t it?”

  “I’m kind of stuck between this one,” I put my had on one of the rifles, “and this one.” I shifted my hand to the pistol with a grip that looked like it would fit my hand.

  Without saying a word, one-tooth Ollie checked to make sure there was no ammo in it. Then he gave me the gun and told me to aim at a target at the opposite end of the store. He walked through a scenario of finding a beaver alongside a stream and then told me to pull the trigger. After we completed the exercise with both guns, I scratched my chin.

  “You struggling with this choice, huh?”

  “Well, Ollie, here’s the deal. I got this chick across the street, and she said if I can prove to her that I’m a real man—and by that I mean killing one beaver or something like that within two hours—then she’ll give me the best blowjob I could possibly imagine.”

  He froze.

  I wondered if I’d taken it too far. I snapped my fingers in front of his face. He quaked back to attention. “Sorry, I was stuck on an old memory. But I wanna hep ya out. Problem is, background checks and all will take a w
hile.”

  I leaned closer. “I’ll give you a hundred-dollar tip if you submit the background check and just let me walk.”

  He narrowed his eyes so much it was hard to tell he had an iris. “You some mole brought in by the Feds, see if we’re followin’ the letter of the law?”

  “Me? I hate the Feds. Just a waste of taxpayer money.”

  He nodded once, but he was back in study mode.

  “Dude, I can bring the girl over, but then she’d know I don’t know a whole lot about guns or hunting.”

  “So you’re here strictly to get the girl to go down on you.”

  I shrugged. “I’m a guy. What can I say?”

  “Make it two hundred.”

  “Deal.”

  He gave me ammunition for the Walther P22, packaged it up, and threw it into a backpack. Perfect. He opened the door for me on the way out.

  “Good luck. Or should I say, ‘good luck gettin’ lucky’?”

  I smirked and walked out. But I didn’t cross the street to Peggy’s. I walked to the car and got in. I opened the map app on my phone and studied it for a second; then I typed in a text to Denise.

  Got done quicker than I thought. I’m off to get gas. I’ll swing by in a few minutes.

  I’d made it two blocks when she replied.

  Why not take me? Whatever. Make it snappy. I’m getting itchy.

  I huffed out a breath, knowing what I was about to do would piss her off to no end. I spotted a gas station and headed that way, but I didn’t get gas for the car. I ran inside, found a packaged yellow raincoat—it was the only coat they had. My new cold-weather gear was still with Denise. I bought the raincoat, jumped back in the car, and took off. I reached the highway and headed north on 219.

  Two minutes later, my phone rattled in the cup holder.

  After wrestling with everything I’d learned from Keo and even Brook, I had made a unilateral decision back in the pawn shop. There was no way I was going to risk Denise’s life on this mission. It wasn’t as though she were trained in the martial arts. Ensuring she stayed out of harm’s way, in my mind, would only take my focus away from finding Mackenzie. I didn’t know if I’d walk into a gunfight or a fight with a bobcat. Or no fight at all. Really, I could trust only myself.

  Brook, of course, would beg to differ. I thought long and hard about getting this Nick guy involved. But again, I couldn’t take the risk. The kidnappers had been clear: if I brought in law enforcement, they’d kill Mackenzie.

  I picked up the phone and read a string of cuss words in a text from Denise.

  With one eye on the road, I typed in the following: Sorry. I’ll let you know when I have her.

  And then I shut off my phone and drove to Camp Israel.

  27

  Buicks were not meant to be driven in the snow. Certainly not snowdrifts. I learned this the hard way. First, I approached the gate just off the main road to Camp Israel. I got out of my car, noticed the gate had multiple chains with padlocks, and surveyed the area, looking for a break in the fence. I thought I noticed such a break just beyond a row of thick trees. I got in my car, drove down about a hundred yards or so, and saw what looked like another dirt road covered by snow. I didn’t see any tire tracks, but it had to be passable if it was an open path into the compound.

  I was wrong. Big time. Not twenty feet off the main road, the car sank about four feet and didn’t budge. I revved the engine, throwing it into reverse gear, and then back into drive. It barely moved an inch. I was screwed. I crawled through the window, trudged through the snow in my running shoes—all the winter gear was back with Denise at Peggy’s Apparel, where she undoubtedly was so pissed she might have lit the place on fire. I made my way up to the tree line, pushed my way through thick foliage where mounds of snow fell inside my shirt, and found a barbed-wire fence. Not just any barbed-wire fence, but one that stood eight feet high and had that rolling razor wire you’d find on prison fences.

  I didn’t mind taking a few cuts to get to Mackenzie, but I also knew I’d be no good if I tried to climb over the fence and found my skin skewered by the barbed wire like a fly in a spider’s web.

  I retraced my steps and climbed onto the road, where there was only a thin layer of packed snow, and looked down to the main gate. I asked myself how the kidnappers would have entered the compound. There were no fresh tire tracks, and the place was on lockdown.

  Betty and Carol, my besties from the donut shop, had said the Feds had seized the property. But I also recalled something else Betty had mentioned. Her son Earl had said there was a scalable fence on the northeast corner of the property.

  Hmmm. I knew the property was about fifty acres. I glanced in a northeasterly direction, and all I could see were the snow-covered tips of trees. I had no choice. It was the only path I knew to take. I raced back to the car, pulled out my raincoat, stuck the pistol in my back waistband, and walked east along the road until the fence ended. I then plunged back into the deep snow and began the hike, moving north along the east side of the fence—my running shoes completely soaked. Within a couple of minutes, I couldn’t feel my toes. The blanket of trees, however, did reduce the wind velocity.

  Small victories.

  In certain spots, the snow was above my waist, and I momentarily wondered what it would be like to find myself stuck in a snowdrift so deep that I suffocated. That thought only made my breathing more labored.

  An hour or so into the hike, I thought I saw the northerly edge of the fence. I picked up my pace—it felt as though I was plodding on a pair of wooden stilts. Branches smacked against my face; it was so numb I hardly cared. I was almost there. I trudged forward, moved past a cluster of trees, and then stopped. The fence had not ended. It was still eight feet high and covered in razor wire. I momentarily considered trying to climb one of the many trees and do my own little high-wire act to reach the other side. But the type of trees just didn’t give me that option. They were either tall and thin—so tall they looked like they touched the clouds—or they were evergreens, shaped like Christmas trees, with none of the branches strong enough to hold my weight.

  Onward I marched. Thankfully, at the top of the second hill, I hit pay dirt—the end of the fence.

  Again, small victories. Earl had been right. Just at the corner, there was a break in the fence. The wires had all been cut. They probably thought very few people would know to walk this far and stumble upon this opening. I turned sideways and slid through without a scrape.

  I began moving west and slightly south. The snow wasn’t as deep, and there were fewer trees, as if someone had spent some time clearing out the area. The wind had picked back up. I touched my face and realized I had snot frozen to my nose and cheeks. The wind chill must have been in the teens, and here I was, wearing a raincoat. A yellow one at that. If any type of sniper was searching for me, I’d be an easy target. Ollie might say, “Like shootin’ ducks out of a barrel. And you’d be the dead duck.”

  As I moved closer, I considered ditching the raincoat. I could practically feel a laser target on my chest. The terrain sloped downward, and it felt like I was moving at a quicker pace.

  Something bolted out from behind a tree. My heart nearly split my chest open, and I fell backward. I looked up and saw a deer—a damn big one. Thankfully, he ignored me. I felt the thud of his hooves through the frozen ground. And he disappeared off into the woods.

  I got to my feet, brushed myself off. One heart attack avoided.

  My eyes, every available sense, were on high alert, not just for Mackenzie or any other person, but also deer. Oh yeah, I couldn’t forget about bobcats. I reached behind my back and touched the grip of the pistol. I considered holding the gun in my hand, but I didn’t want to accidentally pull the trigger—that would give away my location. Maybe I’d consider it once I was closer. My running assumption was that they had her in one of the buildings I’d seen from the map app.

  And not thirty seconds later, I saw the edge of the large L-shaped building. I hun
ched down behind a log and scanned the place. The other building, square in shape, sat about fifty yards next to it. Behind both of them, I noticed a small, shed-looking building and another smaller building. I thought I saw a partial rooftop of a barn way on the other side, but I couldn’t be certain.

  The real question was: where did they have her? And were they watching me right now? For a moment, I looked into the trees around me, searching for cameras. I saw nothing but snow and a handful of birds. A cardinal seemed to be staring at me. Then, just like that, he fluttered away, sailing in the direction of the buildings.

  I was envious of both his speed and his elusiveness. I briefly recalled dreams of flying when I was a kid. Who didn’t, right? Well, I’d actually had the same types of dreams—flying through the air like one of Robin Hood’s arrows—when I first got married to Nicole. Never told anyone. People would think I was crazy.

  Like now. I wondered if my brain was beginning to freeze over. I began moving again, making my way down the rocky terrain, looking for spots behind a tree or large boulder to pause and look for any sign of human life. Four separate times, I stopped. Each time I saw nothing. On the last stop, I was close enough to see the windows of the L-shaped building. Some were covered. For the ones that weren’t, I saw no movement, nothing inside, although the day’s glare didn’t help.

  As an owl hooted above me in a tree somewhere, I scooted to the edge of the first building—the square one with two stories. Part of me wondered if I should simply shout out: “I’m here, I’m here.” Would a man walk outside with Mackenzie at his side?

  My mind went back to the uncertainty of this entire pursuit. Not knowing who had her and, just as importantly, not knowing why or what they wanted was eating a hole in my stomach. Literally. I’d never had an ulcer, but right now it felt like acid was leaking into my body cavity.

  I edged around the building, shooting quick glances at the uncovered windows. A few pieces of furniture, but it looked uninhabited. She could be on the second floor. Onward. Around the next corner, I found a large metal door. I pulled on the handle. It didn’t budge. I cupped my hands against the thin vertical window. I saw a long hallway with a few chairs tossed on their sides.