The hesitant look on his face when he looks up at me confirms that this man is still having difficulty trusting me. He can’t expect me to go into this unarmed, though. “I need a weapon. Give me a pocketknife. Anything.”
With a quick sigh, Robert reaches in the bag and does me one better. He hands me a switchblade and my own 9mm pistol.
I nod my thanks to him, putting the switchblade in my pocket and checking the slide on the gun to get a feel for it before loading a bullet into the chamber. Robert hands me two extra magazines before taking his own extra ammo.
I’m feeling empowered now. Having a gun back in my hand and this hatred and adrenaline pulsing through me creates exactly the internal drive I need in this search. It’s fueling me, willing my body to get in there and do whatever it takes to find something to lead us to Morgan.
Robert closes the trunk. “Let’s go.”
Though I’ve shared multiple meals with this man and lived in his house for over a day, this is the first time I feel like an equal to Robert. I’m no longer the dangerous criminal and he’s no longer the law-abiding detective. We’re just two men on a desperate search to find the missing piece of our lives, the most important piece, the only piece that matters.
I take the lead up the empty sidewalk, approaching the entrance to the industrial building with my gun trained ahead of me. Upon reaching the hollow metal door, I find that it’s locked but the handle jiggles slightly in my grasp. It’s loose, making the door less secure.
“Stand back,” I warn Robert.
We both back up a few steps before I plunge forward, kicking my foot into the door. It doesn’t budge at first, but with each successive kick it starts to give way. With one final blow against it, the door swings open and crashes loudly as it hits the wall inside.
Moving quickly and quietly, I enter the room where Russo’s doorman greeted us. The room is dark despite the daylight trickling in from the clouded windows and the open door. The hallway we’re about to walk down is even darker.
Robert touches my shoulder from behind, handing me a small pocket flashlight that, despite its tiny size, emits plenty of light from its LEDs. I grab the flashlight in my fist to shine the light in front of us and help steady the aim of the gun in my other hand.
I stop to check some doors as we move down the hallway, but the rooms are all empty, dark, and silent. It’s becoming clear to me that there is no one here, which is as I expected but still causes some disappointment within me. At the very least we need to find some evidence of where everyone could have gone from here or where they could be now.
I think back to two days ago when I was last here, to the path the doorman took us on to get to the office where everything went down. It doesn’t take long for me to find it. I open the door cautiously, more afraid of the memories that wait for me behind it than the threat of someone actually being there to attack us.
After I flick on the light, I find the familiar metal desk and chairs in the middle of the otherwise empty concrete space. I see exactly where I had been sitting with Morgan on my lap, where she made her statement of loyalty and devotion to me by showing the other men in the room that she was mine alone just before she was asked to join Russo on the other side of the desk.
I never should have let her go. I should have returned her loyalty by insisting that she stay by my side, by showing everyone in the room that I wasn’t about to share her with any of them and that she was indeed mine.
I move around the desk and get a perfect view of where Russo threw Morgan back into the waiting arms of his men. I remember the moment of panic I felt at seeing this, the relief I experienced when I realized a fake kidnapping was all part of the escape plan, and the absolute terror that seized me when I figured out there was nothing fake about it. I relive with vivid detail the moment that Mark’s own men grabbed me and held me back while Morgan screamed and cried.
And then I remember her disappearing through the door, and I start to lose it.
Bracing myself on the desk, I hold my other arm up to my forehead and squeeze my eyes shut. With a couple deep breaths and a shake of my head, I emerge from the memories and am back in the moment.
“You okay?” Robert asks with concern.
I give him a look that betrays what I’m about to say. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
I ignore Robert’s comment and move toward the door where they took Morgan. We’re heading into new territory now. I have no memory of what happened after she disappeared from my view. All I remember is the heartache and fury and being injected with a sedative, then I woke up on Robert’s doorstep.
Shining the light around the floor and down the dark hallway on the other side of the door gives me nothing. This part of the building looks just as abandoned as the rest of it. It’s clear that this was never Russo’s place. It was just a meet-up point, a venue for Mark’s betrayal of me to run its course.
We have the option to go left or right down the hallway with nothing to guide us except a lit red exit sign. They would have taken Morgan out a more discreet way than we came in, of that I’m sure.
We follow the exit signs to a side door leading out of the building into an alleyway. For a moment I feel blinded by the sunlight radiating from above and by the realization that we have so little to go on to find Morgan. I turn around and walk in circles, frustrated and losing patience by the second.
“Calm down, Leo,” I hear Robert call from just outside the door.
He’s bent down inspecting the pavement, taking in a faint but fresh set of tire tracks there. He pulls out his phone and takes pictures of them from multiple angles and distances above the ground.
He stands up and looks at me, slightly hopeful. “It’s not much, but it’s something. We might be able to trace the tires to a vehicle type, and then trace the vehicle to an owner.”
I try to remain positive, but a set of tire tracks is not what I was hoping to walk away with from this place.
4
Her Resilience
∞
In what she faced,
others would have fallen.
She should have been destroyed.
Remained silent.
All hope lost.
But she stared into the eyes of evil
and held their gaze
with fire,
with voracity.
Her beautiful resilience.
∞
After leaving Russo’s fake headquarters, about a million different ideas flowed through my head for what to do next, but none of them involved sitting idly in a nearby diner while Robert did his detective thing.
I’ve been antsy since the moment we sat down. Robert ordered sandwiches for both of us even though I told him I wasn’t hungry. He’s been using his laptop and the free Wi-Fi in the restaurant to research the tire tracks he found, fully immersed in what he’s doing while I sip anxiously at a cup of coffee.
We’re both about halfway through our sandwiches before he finally speaks to me. “I think this is it, and it’s even better than I could have hoped.” He flips the laptop toward me. There’s a blocky-looking pickup truck on the screen. “The tread marks match some really old tires. They stopped making them years ago. They were designed for Chevy trucks from the early eighties.”
I let some of Robert’s optimism seep into me. “Can you search registration records for this kind of truck?”
“Already on it. We’ll still have a lot of results to sort through, but the pool of potentials will be less than if the tracks belonged to tires for a more modern vehicle.”
My mind lingers on how long it will take to get through such a list of vehicles and locations when the waitress shows up with our check. The wisdom of an older woman hides within her eyes, but she maintains a youthful look behind her long blond waves of hair and the vibrant smile on her face.
While Robert fishes cash out of his wallet, I decide to do a little research of my own. I turn the laptop toward the waitress.
“Have you seen this truck model around the diner before?”
The smile on her face fades slightly. She remains composed, but I can tell I’ve made her uncomfortable with my question. “Sorry, haven’t seen one of those around here.”
She grabs the cash from Robert’s hand before he has even offered it to her and turns on her heel to walk away from us.
“Wait! Please,” I call out desperately, standing up to reach for her arm and grabbing hold of her in two long strides. She’s terrified as she looks at me, and I quickly realize I’m holding on to her more tightly than I intended. “Sorry,” I whisper as I let go of her arm, and by some miracle she doesn’t run from me or call for help. “My girlfriend was taken by someone in a truck like that two days ago. The guy’s name is Tony Russo. If you know anything that could help me find her…”
The waitress looks around uneasily, as if she’s watching her back for who might be listening to this conversation. The diner is mostly empty, the lunchtime rush having already passed.
“I know of Mr. Russo,” she says quietly. “He stops by here occasionally with his guys when he’s conducting business in the building down the street.”
My heart just about leaps out of my chest at her admission. I don’t dare say a word, allowing her all the space she needs to keep talking to me.
“I sometimes listen to their conversations,” she continues. “His men sure know how to complain. They always talk about the noise of the trains.” She looks around her again, a new wave of fright evident in her eyes. “That’s all I can tell you. I’m sorry.”
I nod at her vigorously, taking her hands, money and all, between mine. “That’s plenty. Thank you.”
She barely manages a smile before turning away from me. When I sit back down at the table, I lean forward to Robert excitedly. “Train tracks. We’re looking for a place very close to a train route.”
“Well done,” Robert praises as he turns the laptop to face him.
I devour the rest of my sandwich, using it as a distraction to keep me from swiping the laptop to do my own research about this new piece of information. Remaining idle in this diner for a moment longer is going to kill me.
“I’ve narrowed it down to one area with buildings near the train tracks on the outskirts of town.”
Before Robert even finishes speaking, I’m already to standing beside the table. “I’m ready.”
He hands me his keys before closing the laptop and collecting it under his arm. “You drive. I’ll navigate.”
With a quick nod, I lead the way out of the diner and back to the car.
It takes less than ten minutes to get to the more industrial area of town. I can see the train tracks far in the distance running parallel to the line of large brick buildings. The tracks quickly come closer to the buildings the further we drive.
When I see someone standing outside one of the buildings in the distance, I slam on the brakes.
Robert looks at me questioningly. “What is it?”
I nod ahead. “We can’t just invite ourselves in.” My options play out quickly in my mind. I turn to Robert. “Can you trust me to do this part on my own? I can sneak in, but it’ll be too difficult to have you with me. No offense.”
An annoyed look crosses Robert’s face. “I’ve been a cop for over twenty years. I’m more than capable of coming with you.”
I hate the thought of bringing Robert with me and something bad happening to him, but there seems to be no room for negotiation in his eyes. “Okay. We’ll go together.”
I pull the car off the road down a parking lot a few buildings away from our destination. We quickly get out of the vehicle and arm up from the trunk. As we sneak our way from building to building, I feel myself starting to get used to this little partnership I have going on with Robert.
We catch sight of someone guarding the back door of the target building and immediately stop, taking cover behind a dumpster. It’s too open of a space to attempt to take him down to enter through the back of the building, and we can’t risk blowing our element of surprise by shooting our way in. The front entrance is still our best shot, but it’s about a twenty-foot run in full view of this guard to get around the corner where we need to go.
“We just need him to look the other way,” I say to myself, looking all around for an answer to our problem. A decent-sized rock next to my foot catches my eye. I grab it and look to Robert. “You ready to run, old man?”
Robert’s eyes narrow at me. I can’t help smiling.
I launch the rock as far as I can throw it past the guard. The sound of it hitting the pavement echoes between the buildings, and the guard instantly pulls his gun and turns toward it.
We don’t waste a second. Robert and I run silently around the corner until we’re safely against the wall of our target building and out of the guard’s line of sight. It wasn’t a long run, but we’re both breathing hard from the sheer adrenaline of it. I take just a moment with my back against the wall to calm my breathing before slinking toward the front of the building.
When we reach the corner, I peek around it, gauging the distance to the front guard. He’s less than fifteen feet away from us, in some ways much closer than I would have hoped, though it may play to our advantage.
I pull the switchblade from my pocket and reduce my voice to a whisper. “I’m going to rush him. Just watch my back.”
With a quick nod, Robert readies his gun in front of him.
I take two deep breaths and glance around the corner one more time before bolting out from behind it, running quietly in long strides directly at the guard. He sees me within a second of my emergence from hiding and goes for the gun tucked in his pants, but I grab him from behind and hold my knife to his throat before he can get a grip on the weapon.
“Not a word,” I warn, nudging the blade of the knife closer to his skin.
“Fuck you,” the man growls as Robert removes the firearm from the guy’s waistband.
“You’re going to lead us in to Russo,” I instruct. “No yelling. No talking. You’ll just take us to Russo and that’s it. Got it?”
He doesn’t move or otherwise acknowledge what I’ve said. I tighten my grip on him and touch the blade of the knife to his neck, drawing blood.
He lets out a groan. “Okay. Fuck, I got it.”
“Good. Now lead the way.”
We enter into a wide-open space that appears to be an old laundry facility. It looks to have been closed down for a while but still reeks of chemicals and fresh linens.
I keep the knife at the man’s neck as he leads us into the building. I make careful note of the turns and staircases we take, memorizing our exit route as we go along.
We finally arrive at a large wooden door, and the man in my grasp stops and looks at me. “Russo’s in there. Satisfied?”
“How many men?” I demand.
“A whole fucking army.” He stares at me blankly, and I stare right back. “I was outside. How the hell should I know?”
I put the switchblade away and grab my gun instead, pointing it directly at the man’s temple. “How many men?” I say, emphasizing each word.
He rolls his eyes at me. “Probably no more than three guards.”
I give him a quick smile before smacking him over the back of the head with the gun, rendering him unconscious. I help ease his limp body silently to the floor.
Three guys and Russo. Not ideal, but not impossible.
I turn to Robert to discuss tactics, but he’s already working on fishing something out of his pocket. He pulls out a stun grenade.
“You really did pack an arsenal, didn’t you?”
He grins at me. “I always come prepared.”
With a quick laugh, I return my focus to the situation at hand. “I’ll open the door and you throw. Let me go in first. I’ll grab Russo. You stay close to the door.”
Robert nods. With a quick, silent countdown, I swing the door open as Robert pulls the pin and throws the flashbang into the room. I clo
se the door, and we both look away as it explodes.
Within seconds I’m in the room, quickly orienting myself with my surroundings of the office and scanning the two men recovering from the flashbang on the floor. My eyes settle on a third man doubled over in a large leather chair. It’s Russo, his dark skin and black hair perfectly complementing his casual but business-like attire just like they did the last time I saw him.
I rush behind the chair and yank Russo’s head up by the roots of his hair until his temple meets the tip of the gun in my other hand. He struggles against me for only a moment before realizing his situation.
“Russo,” I growl in his ear. “Remember me?” I bring my head around just enough for the man to see me.
“Leo. You little shit.”
I dig the barrel of the gun further into Russo’s skin. “Nice to see you again, too, asshole.”
The other two men are just about fully recovered, but Robert has a gun in both hands with a bullet ready for each one of them. They return to standing but don’t otherwise move.
“Guns over here,” I call out to them. “Now!”
They both carefully reach for their weapons and toss them on the floor toward me.
“Good. Now we can have a little discussion,” I say, twisting the gun around as if to burrow it down into Russo’s skull. “Where is Morgan? Where did Mark take her?”
Russo bursts into laughter, and it only makes me to want to pierce the man’s skull even more. “You’re going after that little whore? Wow. I know she was your woman, but I didn’t think you actually had feelings for that girl.”
I bring my head down close to his ear and release his hair to compress his neck in a chokehold, crushing his trachea with the strength of my forearm. “She is not a whore,” I say through gritted teeth as Russo gasps for breath. “Where the fuck is she?”
I hold him there for a moment longer before reluctantly letting go. If I didn’t need the man conscious and able to speak to tell me where Morgan is, I’d have kept him that way until he was blue in the face.
Beyond Revenge (The Ransom Series) Page 3
