by BJ Bourg
“Go for help?” Dawn grunted, shaking her head. “I’m not going anywhere. As soon as we reach my Jeep, I’ll get my pistol and put an end to whatever it is that these bastards are doing out here.”
“You can’t do that. They’ve all got guns and they outnumber you.”
“That’s just a normal day at the office for me,” Dawn said, heading out along the ledge, careful not to step out into empty space. She felt better knowing the wall was between them and the bad guys, but she didn’t know if any of the men had made it up the wall and through the crack behind them yet. If one of them had, it would only be a matter of time before he caught up to them, because her dad was struggling.
“What if they’ve already searched your Jeep and found your pistol?” Evan asked. “What will you do then? Surely you won’t go up against three armed men with your bare hands. Please, it would kill your mother if something bad happened to you.”
A flash of anger came over Dawn as she realized he was trying to guilt her into inaction, but she realized he was doing it from a place of love and concern, so she just kept quiet and pushed forward.
CHAPTER 20
Sunday, June 1
Somewhere near the mouth of Dead Man’s Canyon
“If we’re going to make a move,” Dawn whispered to her dad, “we’ve got to go now.”
They had made their way stealthily toward the mouth of the canyon—with Dawn trying her cell phone every couple dozen yards along the way, but to no avail—and had reached their current spot about two hours ago. They had waited and listened, but hadn’t heard a sound since getting there. “Once the sun starts coming up, we’ll be exposed.”
“I heard their leader—the fellow named Bruce—tell one of them to watch the Jeep earlier.”
“That was Lenny,” Dawn explained. “He went back to the campsite when Bruce shot Abel and I don’t think anyone ever came back here.”
After a long moment of silence, Evan sighed. “Okay, rat, I think you’re right. We haven’t heard anything since getting here, so they must still be hunting for us on the rocks.”
Dawn started to move, but Evan grabbed her arm. “Before we go out there,” he said, “can you at least tell me what’s going on? Is this about your ex or is it something else? I mean, do these men want to hurt you or are they just trying to scare you?”
“I really have no clue, Dad—not at all. I thought it was Abel trying to stalk me, but, since they shot him, I just don’t know anymore.”
“Do you think Abel’s dead?” Evan asked hesitantly.
Dawn considered his question. Abel had been hollering pretty good when he got shot and that was a good sign, because it meant he was still alert. However, he could’ve lost a lot of blood during the night. “I don’t know,” she finally said, “but it’s time to move.”
Holding her remote lock in her hand and moving centimeters at a time, Dawn slowly rose to her knees and paused. She scanned the clearing in front of her—just as she’d done a thousand times over the last couple of hours—but nothing moved and there was not even the whisper of a sound.
When she was confident her move hadn’t set off any alarm bells, she stood to her feet, wincing when her right knee popped. The sound was deafening in the still morning air, but it was all she heard. She waved for Evan to stand up, too, and he did. Keeping her head on a swivel, she inched her way out into the opening and moved one step at a time toward her Jeep. She held the keys out in front of her, ready to hit the unlock button as soon as she got close enough to open the door.
She knew time would be of the essence. She would have to get in as fast as she could, get the key into the ignition, start it up, and speed away before those bad guys would have the time to reach the mouth of the canyon and start shooting at them. Of course, she would be armed at that point and could—
Damn it! Dawn was within twenty yards of her Jeep now and she could clearly see that the back, driver’s side of the soft top had been cut from top to bottom and the driver’s door was slightly ajar. I’m sure they found my pistol.
As she continued to move forward, a wave of panic swept over her and she stopped in her tracks, slowly scanning her surroundings. What if they cut my battery cables and I can’t start my Jeep? This could all be a trap.
Evan bumped into her from behind and let out a muffled gasp. “What’s going on?” he whispered.
“We need to go back,” Dawn hissed, turning to head back toward the rock wall. “I think this is a trap—”
The words had barely left her mouth when she and Evan were blinded by headlights from her Jeep and a second vehicle that was parked beside it. Not a word was spoken from that area, but she heard boots pounding against the rocks, drawing nearer.
“Run, Dad!” she screamed, pushing him toward their hiding spot. Evan tried to turn, but, in his haste, twisted his ankle and fell to the ground. Dawn lurched to a stop and bent to help him up. Sweat dripped from her forehead and into her eyes, blinding her. “Come on, get up! We have to get out of here!”
The boots were closing in on them and she knew they wouldn’t be able to get away, so she whirled around to meet the threat head-on. Holding her key like a blade, she turned and faced the headlights. She lifted her left arm to shield her eyes, but it was futile. A blur of movement appeared in front of the light and something impacted her abdomen with such force that it doubled her over and cut her wind.
“Dawn!”
As she crumbled to the ground, Dawn caught site of her dad scrambling to his feet. He stared wildly about with his hands balled into fists, looking for something to hit. A shadow appeared behind him. Dawn forcibly sucked air into her lungs and was just about to scream for him to look out when a strange look came over his face and he collapsed to the ground, blood oozing down the side of his face.
Rough hands grabbed her by the arms and started to jerk her to her feet. Not one to go down easy, Dawn spun and shot an elbow toward the man who had grabbed her. Nothing was there and she fell off balance. Before she could right herself, a heavy fist smashed into her face and she felt her knees buckle. She punched out blindly, but missed with each shot. She heard someone laugh to her left and she shot a side kick toward the sound. She gave a gratifying grunt when she made contact with a human target and she heard a man curse in pain. She didn’t recognize his voice, but she could see his shadow in the light and nodded when he dropped to his knees.
There was movement from her right and she turned quickly to face it, but something smashed into her nose and sent her head snapping back. Her eyes smarted and she could taste blood at the back of her throat. Operating off of instinct, she lifted her hands to cover up her face as more blows rained down on her. A punch slipped through her guard and caught her on the jaw. Her teeth rattled in her head and she collapsed in a heap on the ground, the lights from the vehicles fading in and out.
Fighting to maintain consciousness, Dawn pushed up to her hands and knees. She could hear her dad cursing at the men for hitting her and it sounded like he was straining to get away from something, but he seemed okay otherwise. Whoever these men were, their intentions were bad and she knew she needed to stop them, but resistance would be futile. They were outgunned and outnumbered, and it was clear she and her dad were going to be taken or killed.
Remembering what London had told her about leaving bread crumbs for him to follow in case she got lost, and while the men were busy with her dad, she stealthily pulled her cell phone from her front pocket and slipped it down the front of her pants, inside her panties. It felt uncomfortable having a hard rectangular object resting there, but the cell phone would be her lifeline to London.
Heavy footsteps approached from behind and she quickly dipped her head to lock in on them. Her right arm blocked the headlights and she was able to see the legs of the man as he drew nearer. Just as he got to within a few feet of her, she struck out with her right leg and smashed the heel of her boot against his knee. The man cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground, cursing and threat
ening to kill her.
Dawn whirled around and, although she was wobbly, made it to her feet. Standing on shaky legs, she backed toward her Jeep and took in the scene around her. She had dropped one man and he was still writhing in pain, clutching at his knee. Another man had an arm around her dad’s throat and he was reaching for his beltline. A third man was walking coolly toward her with an evil grin on his face.
“Feisty little shit, aren’t you?” said the third man, whose voice she recognized as Bruce’s.
As she swayed on her feet, Dawn remembered the flashlight in her back pocket and eased her hand toward it. When Bruce got close enough, she would break the flashlight across his temple and then go after the man who was holding her dad. Just a little closer…
Bruce stopped and pointed a finger toward the man holding her dad. “Lenny, if this bitch so much as spits at me, cut her old man’s head off.”
Dawn’s eyes shifted to her dad and she gasped out loud when she saw an enormous blade pressed up against Evan’s throat. His eyes were squeezed shut in pain and horror. She slowly lifted both hands and nodded her surrender. “It’s over. There won’t be any trouble from me. Just please don’t hurt my dad.”
“Just please don’t hurt my dad,” Lenny mimicked, an ugly sneer spreading across his face. “I promise, I’ll do it so fast he won’t feel a thing.”
“What do you want?” Dawn asked. “Why are you doing this?”
Bruce continued approaching her and didn’t stop until he was nose-to-nose with her. When he spoke, she could smell the tobacco on his breath. “I want you to lie down and be still.”
“Excuse—?”
Dawn’s legs went limp and she collapsed to the ground when—in one swift motion—Bruce reached behind her and snatched the flashlight from her pocket, clobbering her across the head with it.
CHAPTER 21
Gracetown, LA
I pulled into the parking lot at Bestman’s Market at six-thirty, which was half an hour before the dayshift manager was supposed to arrive for duty. As it turned out, I was in luck. When I asked for her, the girl behind the counter pointed to a corner table, where a middle-aged woman with dark hair and a dark tan was having her morning coffee with the local newspaper. She wore a red company shirt and dark blue pants. Her nametag said she was Emily and that she was the dayshift team leader.
She lifted her head when I approached her table and looked me up and down. “I guess I’m going to work early.”
“I can wait,” I said, smiling.
She folded up her paper and put it aside. “No, if you got here early to see me, it must be important, and I’m guessing it has something to do with surveillance tapes.”
“It does. How’d you know?”
“Because it’s all you cops ever want from me—and I don’t even get a meal out of it.” She laughed and stood, waving for me to follow her around the counter and down a hallway. She led me into a cramped office and pointed to one of the chairs near the counter that housed the surveillance system and monitors. “Do you have a date and ballpark time?”
“Sometime between eight in the evening and midnight on Thursday. I’m looking for a red SUV, an Escalade.”
She jotted down what I’d said and began working the system. As she searched for the right file, I heard my phone ding to indicate I’d received a text message. I pulled it out and sighed in relief when I saw Dawn’s name appear. I wasn’t expecting to hear from her until later tonight, but they must’ve decided to leave the mountains early.
I swiped my thumb across the screen and opened the message. It was a picture of her Jeep against the backdrop of the mountains. It looked awesome. I wrote a quick response, telling her I would call as soon as I was done looking at some surveillance videos. I also wrote that she needed to be on the look-out for anyone acting suspicious or following her.
When I looked up, I saw that Emily had pulled up the view toward the front of the store and was fast-forwarding through Thursday night’s footage. It was about eleven o’clock on the monitor when I saw a red SUV pull up to one of the pumps in fast motion and a man jump out and go into the store.
Just as I was about to point it out, Emily stopped the video and backed it up. She played it in normal speed and we watched the red Escalade drive up to the pumps in regular speed. The driver was wearing sunglasses and it was hard to make out any facial features, even when she zoomed in on his face.
“I’ve never seen that guy around before,” she commented, allowing the video to continue playing.
We watched the man enter the store from the outside camera, and then she switched to the indoor cameras and followed him around the store. He went to the auto repair aisle, which didn’t have a huge selection of items, and instantly picked up a red gasoline can. He then walked to the counter and pulled a wallet out of the back, right pocket of his coveralls. When he flipped it open, he began digging out cash.
I pushed back from the counter and crossed my arms, grumbling.
“Almost everyone who comes through here pays with a debit card, credit card, or food stamp card,” Emily said. “Who even carries cash anymore?”
“Someone who doesn’t want me tracking him down,” I said flatly.
“Well, I haven’t seen a paper bill in years,” she joked. “I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I got it.”
I smiled in agreement and watched idly as the stranger topped off the fuel tank on the SUV—I guessed he really wanted it to go up in a blaze—and then filled up the red can. I figured I could try and fingerprint the handle on the fuel hose just in case I got lucky, but I knew my chances of recovering his print were next to nothing.
When the man was done, he returned the hose handle to its proper place and got into the SUV. As he drove away, I asked Emily to pause it when the license plate came into view. She did and I called Headquarters and asked the dispatcher who answered to run the plate.
After a short pause, she came back on and—in an excited voice—said, “It’s stolen from out of—”
“Chitimacha Parish Thursday morning,” I interrupted, giving Emily the go-ahead to keep running the video.
“Wait, how’d you know?” asked the dispatcher.
I began explaining about the VIN from last night and how I was only verifying the plate, when something caught my eye in the camera. “I have to go,” I said quickly and ended the call. “Back it up.”
Sensing the urgency in my voice, Emily quickly stopped the camera and began reversing it. “What’d you see?”
I waited until she backed it up to the point where the red SUV was about to get onto the highway. I leaned forward and stuck my finger on the upper, right corner of the monitor. “You see that white truck about to pull out?”
Emily leaned closer, squinting to see better. “I mean, I guess it could be a white truck.”
“Do you have a better angle?”
She frowned and shook her head. “That’s all I’ve got. Why?”
“It looks like the white truck is letting the SUV out, and we have evidence that a white truck was working with the SUV.” I drummed my fingers on the desk, trying to remember the positions of every building surrounding Bestman’s Market and whether or not they had surveillance cameras. I snapped my finger when it occurred to me. “Betty Jo’s Fried Chicken has a camera facing the highway!”
CHAPTER 22
After asking Emily to burn the video to a disc for me, I stepped outside and strode across the adjoining parking lots—stopping briefly to avoid a passing car—and stepped up onto the sidewalk of Betty Jo’s. Before going inside, I glanced at the First Gold Bank next door. I’d resolved a hostage situation at the bank about three years ago, and it was the last time I’d been inside the building. Stopping now to glance through the large glass wall that made up the southern side of the structure, I didn’t recognize anything about the place—inside or out.
Anytime something tragic happens inside a building, there seems to be a need to change the face of the place in order to
wipe out the memory. While I understood the rationale behind it, I didn’t agree. I preferred to keep things around that might serve as a reminder of what could go wrong, especially when it came to terroristic activities and workplace violence. All too often after a violent event occurs, time will pass, life will return to normal, and people will forget. Once that happens, they become less vigilant and let their guards down, opening themselves up to future acts of violence.
And law enforcement was no different. For as long as I’d been a cop, I could predict how my fellow officers would act immediately following an officer-involved shooting. Those who didn’t wear a ballistic vest would suddenly start wearing their body armor. Officers who didn’t have back-up weapons would immediately go out and purchase one. They handled traffic stops with more caution and care. They searched buildings with their weapon in hand, not in its holster. They sat with their backs to the wall and they faced the door. On and on, they took precaution after precaution, as though they’d been reborn, but it was always short-lived.
I’d see these same officers a month later bending down to frisk a suspect while leaving themselves vulnerable to being disarmed, or writing a ticket while sitting in their car and not watching the violator, or standing flatfooted while handcuffing a suspect. It was exhausting to remain alert 100% of the time, but it was necessary if we expected to make it to the end of every day. I grunted in amusement as I realized my chances of survival were much better than most of the cops I knew, because I’d avoided the most dangerous activity of them all—marriage.
“Table for one?” asked a waitress who had walked up when I stepped inside of Betty Jo’s. “Our special for today is—”
I interrupted her and told her why I was there and asked if she could pull some surveillance footage for me. She scowled in thought, then lifted a finger and disappeared into the kitchen. I stepped back to where I could see through the double doors. She was on the phone and waving her hands as she spoke. Once she returned the handset to the cradle on the wall, she came back to the lobby and exhaled forcefully.
