Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 05 - Family is Murder

by Carolyn Arnold

  “I hate to say this, but pretty good.”

  “All right, then.” Jimmy stepped to the side.

  Detective Larson twisted the handle first. His face was flushed when he looked at Jimmy. “It’s unlocked.”

  “What you waiting for?” Jimmy buried his feelings under the implied directive. Until he could find Sean and Sara he wouldn’t be at the top of his game, yet he feared if he wasn’t, it would mean their lives. He had to get it together. He had to view the situation as a spectator, detach, as the term goes in law enforcement.

  Larson drew his weapon and so did Jimmy. He let his detective lead the way.

  “Albany PD,” Larson cried out.

  Nothing. Not even the smooth hum of a furnace. But the smell of fried bacon and potato filled the air.

  The house was huge, almost palatial in scale. In the entry, two staircases wound up the outside walls to the second floor, where a balcony overlooked the space—really, what could be termed a lobby—below. A couple of white leather couches and end tables were set up there. The floors were maple and the ceiling, a good three stories high. There was a hallway beneath the arch of the balcony. Jimmy wagered that it went into the kitchen. Two rooms came off the left and right, pulling from an earlier era that would see a cigar room and a parlor—one for the men and one for the women.

  “You go left and I’ll go right. Hopefully it all comes back around to meet. Then we’ll go upstairs.”

  “Got it, boss.” Larson set out as directed, his gun held at the ready as he called out ahead of himself.

  Jimmy mirrored his man and went into a room of dark wood trim and large windows. A piano, more a work of art, was in the corner. He sensed this would be Sara’s favorite room.

  No sign of anyone. Still no noise.

  He went into the kitchen. Breakfast had been made but left untouched. There was no sign of a struggle.

  He continued through it to the back side where it opened up to a hallway, which, no doubt, led to some bedrooms. He kept creeping through their house, just hoping that in a week’s time, he’d be back for their party. He had to make sure that he saved them. He could never live with himself otherwise.

  His cell chimed. It was probably the email that Adam guy was sending over. He took a few more steps and then the phone rang. He lifted it, while cautiously paying attention to his surroundings.

  “Voigt.”

  “We’ve got McBride’s place surrounded. There’s a car in the driveway registered to a Brent Anderson, but Summers’s rental car is showing through the garage windows,” Detective Mills spoke, and there was a barking dog yapping in the background.

  “Probable cause. Get in there!” Jimmy’s blood pressure rocketed.

  “We’re on it, boss.” Mills hung up and left Jimmy with a sick feeling.

  Where were they? Had McBride taken them from the house only to kill them?

  Both men stepped into the master bedroom and spotted the hole immediately—it would have come from a bullet.

  Jimmy was going to be a sick. This only meant one thing—their killer was getting desperate. On the plus side, at least there wasn’t any sign of blood.

  “Well, besides this, the place is clean.”

  Hearing his detective speak the words, he knew their next step and was ashamed he hadn’t thought of it earlier.

  “What’s taking him so long?” Elisha was fidgeting in the back.

  Sara thought it best not to answer, the question lending itself to the rhetorical. She didn’t like the nervous energy in the car. Elisha’s impatience was reaching another level and making Sara fear that she’d preemptively react. They could still see Sean. He had kept to her directions.

  For the time being, her concern shifted from Sean to Leslie. He was trained, and so was she, to deal with stressful situations. But what about Leslie? Thoughts assaulted her—was Leslie her mother? She’d have to wait even longer to find out, and that was based on the assumption she’d survive this.

  She watched inside as the clerk, who had been with Sean, headed back toward him. She had a smile on her face and a bag in her hand. Sean would be back shortly and then, hopefully, at least Elisha would let him go. She couldn’t contemplate living her life without him. She stung with remorse for even mentioning the term belonging—she already had that with him. She knew in her heart that he was aware of that, but if only she had thought to tell him before he went into the bank.

  Sean got up and shook hands with the lady, but he wasn’t leaving.

  “What’s he doing? I swear I will kill you.” Elisha wrapped her one hand around to secure Sara’s chest, the other held the gun pointed on her. Sara felt the pressure of the barrel bulging against her seat.

  “Just wait a minute.”

  “I’ve been waiting for twenty-five minutes, sitting like a fool. He was going to turn me in this whole time.”

  “He’d never leave me.”

  “Well, you better be hoping that’s the—”

  The bank clerk came back to Sean, a coffee cup in her hand. He nodded his head and went to leave the bank.

  Sean came out of the bank, hoping that his gait would exude confidence, while inside he was flaking apart. There was no way he could let Sara leave with this woman. If something happened to her, how could he forgive himself?

  He got behind the wheel, giving Sara a look before tossing the money into the back seat. “All five hundred thousand.”

  Elisha’s eyes widened as she began digging into the bag. Her face lit into a smile when she touched the cash, pulling out a bundle.

  The gun was out of her hands, but still too close to her reach. There was no way he could try something without the risk of it firing and hitting one of them.

  “And here, darling, I got you a coffee. You might want to blow on it, though. It’s very hot.”

  Sara took it from him, her eyes not leaving his as they made the exchange. She nodded to him, slight enough that likely only he caught the move.

  “That was so thoughtful.” She smiled at him and he hoped that his message had been received. It was a shot in the dark, but might prove to be all that was needed.

  Elisha closed up the bag and raised the gun on him. “This is where you get out of the car.”

  Sean squeezed Sara’s hand.

  “You do as I say, Mr. McKinley, or your wife is dead.”

  While Sean was growing tired of hearing the threat, he didn’t need the situation to escalate—and the threat to become a fulfilled promise. “I’m leaving now.” He gave Sara one more glimpse, hoping that she did, in fact, get the message.

  “Sara, you get into the driver’s seat.”

  “Elisha, we don’t have to do this,” Sean said.

  She thrust the barrel forward a few inches. “You know the deal. I’m taking your wife some place and will send you further instructions for more money. Once that has come through, I’ll return her and Leslie to you, safe and sound.”

  Adrenaline twisted his gut, knotting it up, and stirring the acid into fire. His solar plexus heated, but he had to move. Elisha’s eyes revealed the truth—she was willing to kill them. He had to trust Sara to take care of herself.

  Jimmy called in for Crime Scene to process the bullet and for officers to watch over the McKinleys’ house and he and Larson got back into the SUV. They had made a call to technical forensics. They would be tracking the GPS in both Sean’s and Sara’s phones.

  Jimmy’s cell rang. He placed it on speaker. “Hit me.”

  With the verbalized statement, he realized how apt it was. This situation had struck him as a blow.

  “We can’t pick up either McKinley’s phone.”

  There was that feeling that threatened to suffocate him.

  The technician continued. “But we were able to track down McBride’s. She must have disabled the other two and didn’t think about her own.”

  “Where is she?”

  He spoke off the address, but Jimmy’s tires were already kicking up stones and dust in their wak
e.

  “That’s Bank of America.”

  She had actually pulled it off. To think, five hundred thousand was in her hands—cold, hard cash. She only wished she had somebody to celebrate the accomplishment with. She pulled out her cell phone, her mind wandering to social media, but no, there was no one. The cops could be on to her, with that Jimmy guy calling, and the last thing she needed to do was brag about her newfound wealth.

  Reward enough was that she’d be free of Brent and his stupid dog.

  She did give herself credit for calling a bluff and winning. The McKinleys had a private jet. It would take her to the destination of her choosing, a country without an extradition agreement. Once she set up her untraceable bank account, she’d send the information to Sean. When the rest of the money came through, she’d let the lady go. But not until everything aligned perfectly as planned.

  She let Sara drive, leaving Sean to stand on the curb outside the bank. There were two things that would keep him from attempting something stupid—pride and love for his wife. It didn’t matter in which order they existed. It mattered what it meant, and what it meant was everyone would stick to the plan.

  Unexpected News

  THE SIRENS WAILED AND JIMMY thrust the SUV into overdrive. His foot flat to the floor, there wasn’t one second to waste.

  The forensic technician came over the speaker. “Update. They are on the move. Heading westbound on…”

  Jimmy made a sharp U-turn, resulting in honked horns and raised fists from other drivers. He didn’t pay them much attention. His determination was fueled by adrenaline. He would save Sean and Sara if it was the last thing he did.

  Detective Larson’s phone rang and he answered. Jimmy glanced over.

  Larson hung up seconds after answering.

  “They have Leslie Summers. She was locked in the basement. She’s going to be fine,” Larson said. “Brent Anderson claims he had no idea what was going on. Apparently he didn’t even know she was down there.”

  “Not buying it. Put him in holding. And while Summers may be fine, that’s more than I can say for McBride once we catch up to her.” Jimmy looked to the console, as if making a visual connection with the tech. “There’s only one thing I can think of out that way.” He glanced at Larson.

  “Yeah, the airport.”

  “She’s planning on hopping a flight out of the country.” Jimmy’s foot, if even possible, went a little heavier to the floor. “Have back-up meet us at the airport. Find the closest car in the area and get them out there. Tell them to be careful. McBride is armed and has two hostages.”

  Sean had made the call to have the jet readied for take-off. He told the pilot, Samuel Reynolds, he was to take the two women wherever they told him to go. While Sean could tell he wasn’t happy with the vagueness of the request, something about the course of the plane needing to be charted out and customs paperwork put in place, he would do as requested of him. Sean told him to take his sweet time.

  If Sara was going to survive this, he had no choice but to follow this woman’s instructions.

  He was left on the sidewalk outside of the bank. The clerk who had helped him kept peeking out the window at him and finally hitched a brow. She made a step toward the door and that’s when Sean walked down the street and around the corner.

  He felt so utterly helpless. He had to do something to help his woman, but one call to PD, Sara would be killed. He thought of calling his pilot back, but if the man panicked or Elisha smelled fear, she’d realize he had been tipped off. Sean just hoped the paperwork delay would be enough.

  He hailed the next taxi that went by and directed them to the airport.

  Sara knew the outcome of this was up to her, and she found irony in the fact that they were in this position because of her. If it hadn’t been for her stupidity in believing she and Sean could handle any situation, maybe they would have locked Elisha out of their house the day she showed up. They shouldn’t have been so proud as to not contact Jimmy. While he had put his foot down, they shouldn’t have let his attitude deter them. Her thoughts took her in a circle, though. Elisha would have assumed her power sooner.

  Sara snuck in sideways glances to Elisha. She had moved into the front passenger seat and was obsessed with the bag of money in her lap. The gun was set to the side, near her far knee.

  Sara went for the coffee and it had Elisha lifting the gun on her.

  “I’m just—” Sara pretended to take a sip. Sean was right. The coffee was hot, almost scalding through the cup.

  She knew with certainty now what Sean had been trying to communicate. The trick was pulling it off without getting shot in the process—but there was no way she’d be boarding the jet with Elisha.

  She lifted her foot slightly, slowing the speed of the sedan. The thought going through her mind bordered on ludicrous, but it just might work. First she had to wait for Elisha to settle back in with the money.

  After watching Sara lower her cup, Elisha put the gun back on her lap, her eyes on the money.

  The time had come to do something crazy, and it was do or die.

  The SUV angled sharply into the airport lot. While Jimmy had become aware that the McKinleys had a jet, he didn’t know what it looked like, but he’d wager it was the silver one, lettered with the words Believe All Things are Possible.

  The staircase on the jet was down and he prayed that meant they made it on time.

  He drove out onto the runway. Airport security was going mad around them, officers running and waving their arms and speaking into radios. It didn’t take long for one of their vehicles to pull in behind them, lights flashing.

  Rent-a-cop, Jimmy thought.

  They wouldn’t deter him from his mission.

  He pulled the vehicle to a quick stop and jumped out.

  Taking two stairs at time, he was barred entry by a man, about his age, solid build, and a take-no-nonsense demeanor. Jimmy saw the wings on his uniform.

  “You the pilot?”

  “I am. Who are you?”

  Jimmy held up his badge. “And Sean and Sara’s good friend.”

  Concern swept over the pilot’s features. “I had a feeling something wasn’t right. Sean called, telling me to get things ready. Said that I’d have two passengers, Sara and another woman. I’m to take them wherever they want to go.”

  “Well, this plane isn’t leaving the ground. You got me?”

  The man nodded.

  Detective Larson tapped Jimmy’s shoulder. When he turned to face his detective, he could tell the news wasn’t good.

  “A Taurus was reported stolen yesterday.”

  “Yesterday?”

  “The owner said they saw it from their front window but thought it best to call it in.”

  “Smart move.”

  “Said it was a woman.”

  “McBride.”

  Larson’s face paled further. “But that’s not the worst of it, boss. The Taurus has been involved in an accident.”

  Why was it his luck that he’d found the only law-abiding cab driver in the city?

  “I’ll throw in an extra hundred if you speed it up.” Sean leaned forward, his hand on the front headrest.

  The driver glanced at him in the rearview. “I am driving speed limit.”

  “I will pay you to go faster than that.” He held up the cash. “Heck, here’s another.” He added another hundred dollar bill. He’d pay the guy thousands if he got him to the airport in time to stop Sara from boarding the plane.

  He saw the contemplation in the driver’s eyes. Why was there anything to think about?

  “No, no, I’m sorry. Speed limit.” He was waving his hands.

  “I could walk faster than—” Sean’s words stopped when he noticed the flashing emergency lights ahead. “Let me out.” He reached for the handle. “Now.”

  “Patience, man.” The cabbie finally complied and pulled over to a stop. “That will be—”

  Sean tossed the bills over the seat and got out. Something in
his gut told him this was Sara. He ran to the emergency vehicles. With the landing of each footstep, he felt sicker.

  “Sara!”

  He pushed into a faster run.

  Officer Salone held up his hands.

  “Don’t even think you’re going to stop me.” Sean plowed past him, shaking free of Salone’s efforts to subdue him.

  Sean saw the Taurus. Its front end was crumpled up, but the rest of the body looked okay. Sara wasn’t in the car.

  Sean spun to face Salone.

  “Where is she?”

  “We’re looking for her, Sean. We found the car like this, all the appropriate personnel were called to the scene, but there’s no sign of her.”

  Sean walked toward the car and looked inside. The airbags had deployed, but from the looks of it, they had been shot out. There was a little blood on the airbag on the passenger side. Spilled coffee soaked the interior.

  “Get men out there searching—”

  Salone put a hand on Sean’s shoulder. This time Sean didn’t shrug it off.

  “We don’t even know if they left on foot. They could have gotten into another vehicle.”

  All Sean could think was Sara was alive, but for how long?

  Sean set out in a run into the field. He heard calls from behind him, but only God Himself could stop him now.

  On The Run

  THINGS HAPPENED QUICKLY, AND SARA was still trying to come to grips with everything.

  Elisha had been fixated on the cash when Sara slammed the brakes and accidentally spilled the scalding coffee all over Elisha. What Sara hadn’t counted on was the skid into the pole.

  With Elisha looking up at the last minute, her face had gotten the brunt of the airbag and the way her nose sat off center, Sara knew it had been broken.

  Sara wondered the same about her ribs. Even though prepared for their deployment, the force of the airbag had pushed her back into the seat, her head slamming into the headrest. Now with each breath she took, pain riddled her body.