London Carter Boxed Set: Books 4 - 6

by BJ Bourg

  The call abruptly ended. Tricia quickly glanced over her shoulder, staring out the back window first—no one in sight. She glanced right and left, and then across the highway, but everything was deathly quiet. If someone did take Dawn, they were long gone.

  She pressed the button to return London’s call and sat there waiting for him to answer. It rang several times, but finally went to his voicemail. She left him a message saying she had tracked Dawn’s captors to the state highway, but lost them at that point. She told him she would await further instructions, but she was not abandoning the case.

  “Don’t forget, she’s my friend, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get her back alive—except walking away. If there’s anything at all that can be done to save her, I want to be a part of it.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Detective Bureau, Payneville, Louisiana

  It was almost five o’clock in the afternoon and I was still sitting in the dark at my desk, feeling lost and utterly hopeless. I needed to be in Arkansas saving Dawn, but if I left Magnolia Parish they would kill her. I thought about asking Jerry to go to Arkansas in my place and rescue Dawn from her captors, but I’d have to reveal the nature of the ransom. I knew him well enough to know he’d never go along with a plan that involved plotting the assassination of the Vice President of the United States—even though I knew I could never go through with it. I had done a lot of soul searching over the last hour, or so, and I could never take an innocent life to save someone else—even someone I loved as much as Dawn—but I had to make Bruce and his henchmen think I could do it. In order to convince them, I had to talk the talk and walk the walk…right up to trigger time, if necessary.

  If I tried to involve Jerry, he would tell me I wasn’t thinking clearly and that I was too close to Dawn to be involved in the case. He would tell me I couldn’t do any act in furtherance of assassinating the vice president, even if I was working undercover and not actually planning on going through with the killing. He would tell me to go straight to the feds and give them everything I had. He would tell me to let them handle it and just sit back and pray for Dawn’s safe return.

  I scowled, knowing he’d be right. I shouldn’t be contemplating any of this and I should call Spider immediately and tell him everything I knew, but I loved Dawn more than I cared about my own life and I needed to give her a fighting chance. It was clear that this group wouldn’t stop until they found the right person to kill the VP, so it was up to me to stop them once and for all. I hadn’t gone looking for this fight, but it came to me and I was going to put an end to it. But how would I do that while also keeping Dawn safe? One thing was absolutely certain…I was not going to let her die.

  As I attacked the problem from a hundred different angles, a seedling of an idea crept into my mind and began to take hold. As it grew, I began to feel slightly more optimistic.

  “This might actually work,” I said aloud, jumping to my feet and heading for the door. I slipped into my truck and was about to race out of the parking lot when I noticed I’d left my phone in the console. I checked it and a wave of panic hit me when I saw an alert showing I had a missed call.

  Had Bruce called and I’d missed it? I quickly opened the screen and saw that the caller had left a message. I sighed in relief when I saw it was Detective Tricia Clark. I listened to her message as I sped out of the parking lot. She wasn’t happy about me telling her to back off, and I hadn’t expected any less of her. I figured she might be able to help hatch my new plan, so I returned her call.

  When she answered, I asked if she still wanted to help Dawn.

  “I’d do anything for her, London—and you know that.”

  “What’s the nearest airport to your location?”

  When she told me where it was, I asked her if she’d be able to pick up a friend from that airport at a moment’s notice. “It could be as early as tonight or it could be tomorrow. Hell, he might not even agree to come down.”

  “Wait a minute…who are you talking about? And why do I need to pick him up? How will this help Dawn?”

  “All I can say is he’s our best chance at saving Dawn’s life,” I explained. “If he agrees to help, I’ll need you to pick him up whenever he lands and take him to the Luke residence so he can look around for clues. I’ll also need you to tell him where the trail went cold, and then you’ll have to sit tight with Dawn’s family while he goes to work. If the killers return to their house, we need to be ready for them. And you also have to make sure her family doesn’t call the authorities up there.”

  “That’s a lot to do. What about you? What are you going to do to save her?” Tricia’s voice sounded accusatory. “Why don’t you come to Arkansas and help look for her?”

  “All I can say is I can’t. I’m stuck here.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The less you know the better.” I told her I’d be in touch soon, and then I disconnected the call.

  I was glad it was a weekend. Otherwise, I’d have to contend with knock-off traffic. I finally made it to my house and I rushed inside, straight to my gun safe. I worked the spin dial as fast as I could and pulled open the heavy metal door. I sifted through the items on the top shelf until I found an envelope that contained the postcard I’d received nearly two years ago. I pulled it out and turned it over so I could see the back. I didn’t need to read it, because I remembered the message like I’d read it yesterday:

  London Carter,

  As a father, as a man, I had to do what I did. I don’t expect you to understand or to approve. You’re an honorable man. Never lose your way like I did. Once you go down that dark road, there is no coming back.

  If you ever need my services and I happen to still be walking this earth, call the number below and leave a message. I will come if I’m able. I owe you my life, old friend.

  Patrick Stanger

  At the bottom of the postcard was a phone number. While I remembered the note well, I couldn’t remember the number, because I never planned on using it. Had I called it, I would’ve felt compelled to track Patrick down and bring him in for his crimes. But that was two years ago and this was now. I needed his help to save Dawn. He was the only person I knew who could fly under the radar and who would do whatever it took to save Dawn. While I didn’t agree with his methods, he was the only person to whom I could turn. I would worry about his criminal behavior later.

  I pulled out my phone and—with a hesitant finger—punched in the ten digits. Before I hit the call button, I stopped and cancelled it. What if Bruce was telling the truth when he said he had people everywhere? Was it possible they had my phone wiretapped? I cursed silently to myself as I wondered if he’d heard what I told Tricia. As I went over it in my head, I realized I hadn’t given away anything about Patrick, but I needed to find a different place for him to land.

  Rushing outside, I drove up my street and travelled down the highway until I reached the first convenience store I could find. I hurried inside and showed the cashier my badge. “I need to use your landline. It’s a police emergency.”

  The kid—a wiry fellow who looked stoned—nodded and pointed to the back door that had a sticker reading, Employees Only. “Help yourself, officer. The phone’s on the desk. Just dial nine to get an outside line.”

  I hurried into the office and slammed the door. I picked up the handset and dialed the number then slowly put the phone to my ear. As I waited, I half expected to hear an automated message telling me the number was disconnected. It rang six times and then clicked. It was an automated message, but it was Patrick’s voice, and it was addressed to me.

  “London, if you’re calling, I know you need my help. Leave a message and, if I haven’t punched out of this life yet, I’ll come running.”

  I swallowed hard, and then left a message. It was brief and cryptic, because I didn’t know if he would even get it. While Bruce might have people on the inside of law enforcement and other circles, he had no clue Patrick existed.

  After
I hung up the handset, I leaned back in the chair and waited. I checked my cell phone, but I hadn’t received any calls. Just as I began to wonder how long it would take to hear back from Patrick, the phone rang. I snatched it up, but I wasn’t fast enough.

  The kid had answered first and was going through his introductory spiel. “Hey, kid,” I said, interrupting him and not knowing for sure if it was Patrick, but not wanting this kid to screw anything up. “It’s for me.”

  “Oh, sorry, officer.”

  Once the line clicked to indicate he’d hung up on his end, I paused for a second. When the person on the other line didn’t say a word, I asked, “Do you know who I am?”

  In response, the man on the other end let out a guttural laugh. “Do I know you? The last time we met, you told me to get the hell out of your town. And now you’re calling me for help. I don’t know how to take that. I check the mail every day and twice on Saturdays, but I never get a postcard or a letter to see how I’ve been. I just don’t know how I feel about you calling only when you need help.”

  “Believe me when I tell you I’m out of options,” I said flatly. “I never planned on calling you, but I need your help. You’re my last resort.”

  “That’s odd.” He clucked into the phone. “You never planned on calling me, but you kept my number for—how long has it been again? Two years?”

  “It’s Dawn.” I didn’t have time to waste. “She’s been kidnapped and they’re going to murder her unless I kill the vice president.”

  “Do you mean the vice president of some company?” The playfulness was gone from his voice and he was suddenly all business. “Please tell me you’re not talking about the Vice President of the United States of America.”

  “That’s exactly who I’m talking about.”

  “Jesus, Carter, what on earth have you gotten yourself into?”

  CHAPTER 31

  5:00 a.m., Monday, June 2

  Fort Smith Regional Airport, Arkansas

  Patrick Stanger stepped off the sidewalk and strode across the paved parking lot toward the white four-by-four truck that sat parked all alone in the shadows. He went straight to the rear passenger’s door and pulled it open. Dropping his drag bag from one shoulder and his rucksack from the other, he tossed both bags onto the back seat and then slipped into the front seat. It was only then that he glanced at the woman behind the steering wheel. She was beautiful and, although she was sitting, he could tell she had a nice body.

  Suddenly feeling self-conscious about his appearance, Patrick ran his hands through his slick dark hair and smoothed out his goatee. He then smiled and held out a hand. “The name’s Patrick Stanger. It’s quite a pleasure to meet you. What’s your name?”

  “Tricia,” the detective said bluntly. “Evan Luke’s house is an hour from here, so buckle up…it’s going to be a rough ride.”

  Patrick shook his head and settled back in his seat. “I don’t buckle up. If we crash, I’ll get what’s coming to me.”

  As Tricia drove, Patrick stared out the window and wondered if he could fulfill his promise to London. He owed London his life and he was willing to lay it down for him, but it would be meaningless if he couldn’t save the one person London loved. Patrick knew how it felt to lose someone that he loved more than his own life, and he didn’t want London to have to endure that pain. He sneered and shook his head. From what London had told him about the characters he was hunting, it might already be too late for Dawn anyway—

  “How’d you catch a plane ride to Fort Smith on such short notice?” Tricia asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  “I know a guy who knows a guy,” was all Patrick said. “Tell me what you know about Dawn’s family.”

  “I don’t know much. I met Dawn while she was working a case that involved a family from Mountainburg and we kept in touch afterward. She never really spoke about her family, except to tell me her mom had battled cancer, her dad used to be abusive to her mom, and her brother named his daughter after her. Mostly, we talk about our jobs and the cases we work—oh, and about London.”

  “Anything juicy?”

  “Nothing I’d share with a stranger I just picked up from the airport.”

  Patrick nodded his understanding. “What did London tell you about me?”

  “Nothing at all, except that you’re some kind of expert at something.”

  Patrick didn’t respond, and he noticed Tricia glancing sideways at him.

  “Well, what kind of expert are you?” she asked.

  “It’s not something I’d share with a stranger who just picked me up from an airport,” Patrick said coolly.

  Tricia laughed. “I deserved that.”

  Patrick grinned. He liked her sense of humor and she seemed smart. Too bad there was a wedding ring on her hand. He hadn’t been with a woman in about six months and he was starting to think he’d never meet another who would put up with his lifestyle. Since killing that man in Magnolia two years ago, he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep. He thought it would bring him peace, but, instead, it tormented him. It was the first time he’d committed murder and it cut sideways against his grain. While he kept telling himself the man deserved to die, it didn’t silence the demons in his head and it had done nothing to quell the nightmares he’d been having over the past two years. He’d killed a lot of men on duty, but he slept good knowing he had been justified to take each and every one of those lives. But that one face kept haunting his dreams. Hell, he would even see it sometimes when he was awake.

  About six months back, when he was in a bathroom stall in Salt Lake City, he had looked up from washing his hands to see the man standing behind him, bleeding from a hole in his head. He had spun around as fast as he could, but the man had already disappeared. If he would’ve been a weaker man, he might’ve thought about ending it all right then and there, but he wasn’t weak and he knew he’d never see his son again if he committed suicide. So, he continued plodding forward, selling his services to the highest bidder, and doing what he could to right some of the injustices in the world along the way.

  Transitioning from lawman to vigilante had taken some time and extreme motivation. However, once he’d taken the life of a man who posed no immediate threat to anyone—in essence, committed murder—there was no turning back. The evolution to assassin was as natural a progression as a baby going from crawling to walking.

  “At least everyone I dusted deserved to die,” Patrick mumbled quietly to himself. “Maybe if I rid this world of enough bad people, God will let me spend some time with my boy before sending me to hell for my sins.”

  “What’s that?” Tricia asked from beside him.

  “Nothing,” Patrick said quickly. “Do you have the exact coordinates for where Dawn’s trail went cold in the mountains?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got a map in the dash that marks the trail I followed and the exact spot where it went cold.”

  Patrick opened the glove compartment and sifted through some loose papers before finding a folded-up map. He unfolded it and flipped the sun visor down, aiming the visor light at the map. His brows furrowed as he studied the route. “Is this a creek down near the bottom of the map?”

  “Yeah,” Tricia said. “It’s dried up. They used the creek bed to cover their escape, which is why I think someone familiar with the area is involved. I’ve been there many times and I didn’t know the creek was dried up enough to drive on, so it’s got to be someone from the immediate area. Dawn’s brother might be able to tell us if she has any friends from there.”

  Patrick nodded. The more he talked to Tricia, the more he liked her. He caught himself wondering if that ring on her finger was cosmetic or if it really meant something. As soon as I rescue Dawn, he thought, I’ll have to hit you up and see if you’re down to—

  “The house is at the top of the hill.” Tricia nodded toward a steep driveway up ahead. “Dawn’s mom and brother are home. I contacted them earlier and told them not to say a word to anyone and to stay here until we arr
ive.”

  “Do they know Dawn and her dad have been taken?”

  “They were starting to suspect something was going on when Dawn and Evan didn’t return home last night, but I don’t think a kidnapping ever crossed their minds.”

  “Good thing, because they can’t know what’s going on,” Patrick said. “We can’t risk them running their mouths to someone about it.”

  “Agreed.”

  CHAPTER 32

  The Chism Home, Western Arkansas

  It was dark in the cabin, but Dawn could see a shadow moving toward where she was lying on the floor in the corner of a small bedroom that was void of any furniture. Bruce and Lenny had removed the ropes from her wrists and ankles and replaced them with hand cuffs and leg irons. They had then chained the cuffs and irons to two different shackles that were bolted to the hardwood floor, one near her head and one near her feet. The restraints kept her stretched out, so she couldn’t bring her feet and hands together. Hell, she couldn’t even scratch her nose when it itched.

  As the shadow drew closer, she tried to position herself so she could attack with an elbow or head butt. It was early in the morning and the sun hadn’t risen yet, so there was no good reason for one of those men to be approaching her in the dark. The man moved in front of the window and she was able to make out a shape and she sighed inwardly when she realized it was Abel. She could handle him even if she was chained up.

  The floor suddenly creaked and she heard Abel suck in his breath and stop in mid-step. He listened for a few moments and, when there was no movement from the living room area, he continued toward her. She could hear his heavy breathing and knew he was in pain. One of their captors had tied a bandage around his bullet wound earlier and told him to “walk it off”, but blood had continued to ooze through the gauze. If he didn’t get medical attention, he was going to die.