"Don't you know? You should." The snarl in his voice ramped up her terror at least three levels. "You reported my family. You caused all sorts of pain. Should have minded your own business, bitch."
Still trying to stall, hoping the noise she'd made with the horn would provoke a call to 911, she said, "Gabe, Ray will know you grabbed me. Things will be worse for you and your family." She kept her eyes on the gun, which was about twelve inches from her face.
"First, they'll have to find your body. Turn around." When she did, he pushed her to the ground.
Sophia kicked, connecting with his ankle, provoking a sharp kick in return. Her continued struggles were fruitless. Gabe overpowered her every move as if he anticipated it.
She bucked and screamed. "Help. Help. Fire! Fire!"
A zip tie cinched around her wrists.
He dragged her to her feet, then shoved her against the car and slapped her face. "Shut up, bitch."
The zip tie gave a bit. He hadn't applied it so the teeth caught. Lacing her fingers together and acting as if the restraint was in place, she thought, perhaps, she could use his mistake to her advantage. It was her last thought before she felt a crushing blow to her head.
CHAPTER 35
Ray
Ray's cell buzzed a few minutes after seven on Saturday morning. "Detective Stone." He barked his all-purpose phone greeting.
"Ray, this is Connie, Sophia's friend from the hospital. She didn't show up for work. The ED charge nurse called her cell, but Sophia didn't answer. They called me, wanting to know if I had another number."
"She left here at six-thirty. I'm going to drive her route." He was worried and his dark thoughts from earlier that morning settled around him. He feared something had happened and didn't want to contemplate a life without Sophia.
Ray grabbed his service weapon and badge, put Roxy in her crate, and sprinted toward the front door. Less than two minutes later, he pulled up behind Sophia's MINI Cooper sitting on the side of the road with the driver's door standing open. He shuddered when he saw the smashed window and the scrapes and dents along the left side. Further inspection revealed dings and gouges in the bumper.
He called it in, asking for the crime scene techs. Time was of the essence. Someone had grabbed Sophia. Of that, he was sure. As he waited for help to arrive, he studied the car. Traces of black paint visible in the dents told him that not only was the assailant's car black, but the MINI had been hit with considerable force and multiple times. The crime lab would identify the type of paint, which would be a clue to the vehicle.
There were several options. The most likely was the driver of the black car was Sophia's stalker. If he had to guess, he'd say it was Gabe. But he also needed to consider that her kidnapper—yes, that was the word—was someone she'd encountered in the emergency department. A patient had stalked her before. It was one of the reasons ED staff didn't have their last names on their badges.
It could also be someone who carried a grudge against him. While not the most likely option, it was possible. Detectives often made lifelong enemies, and it wasn't hard for someone to discover his relationship with Sophia and take action. He only hoped they wanted something from him in return for her safety. He dug through his mental files looking for a possibility.
The arrival of the techs pulled him from his thoughts. "I'd like you to go over this car and find something to identify Sophia's assailant."
"Okay." Sherri, a tech Ray worked with often, walked around the MINI. She stopped next to the driver's side door and squatted. "Looks like blood."
Ray pushed aside the wave of worry and anguish the comment produced. "I think the car might be a black sports car." He thought for a moment, connecting various fragments of information. "Maybe it's the Camaro that's been around and is registered to Gabriel Silebi." Silebi, Dyer, Dyer's assistant Gabe. His mind drew a schematic. It made perfect sense. "It hasn't been long since he grabbed her." He checked his watch. "An hour at the most."
"Stone, I'll call your cell if we find anything useful."
Ray got back into the S2000. The first thing he did was call Deg. "Meet me at the department."
Deg said, "I'm already here. What's happening?"
Ray told him. "I think Gabriel Silebi might be the kidnapper. While you're waiting for me, find information on him and his black Camaro, then put out a BOLO on it."
"Why do you think he's the guy?"
"I believe he could be dangerous if provoked. Sophia provoked the family with her accusations of abuse."
Ray shifted into first gear and headed west, deciding to take a circuitous route to the station. Maybe he'd get lucky and find Gabe's car and his Sophia. When he pulled into the police department lot empty handed, Deg stood next to his Taurus. Ray ground the Honda to a stop, slammed the transmission into reverse, and pulled the emergency brake. He scrambled from the vehicle and into Deg's unmarked.
"The car?" Ray said.
Deg recited the tag number. "I've already sent a patrol car to the house. The Camaro is not there, and neither is Gabriel. The mother, by the way, denies any knowledge of his whereabouts. Says he hasn't been home since his release from jail."
"The pieces are stacking up."
"Looks that way." Deg said. "Now what?"
"He had to take her somewhere. Given the damage to his car, it has to be close. He works and lives in the area, so I'd guess he prepared a place."
"Let's start in the industrial park." Deg headed north and crossed Sample Road into the area, which was filled with warehouses, businesses in sprawling buildings, repair shops, and more storage facilities.
In a methodical fashion, they drove each road, parking lot, and alley, finding nothing. Ray identified other similar neighborhoods, and they continued the search.
Ray said, "I hope we don't have to wait for him to initiate contact."
"Keep in mind, it may not be him." Deg's voice sounded cautious.
"True enough, but it's my best guess at the moment. My only guess. Meanwhile, I've been racking my brain for other possibilities."
"It makes sense to me, too. For sure, that kid didn't want to be busted. Angry young man."
They looked in every conceivable place. Finally, they returned to the police department. They needed the resources there to continue.
Captain Garcia met them at the door of the detective unit and followed them to their work area. "First, Stone, you are not running this investigation. Since Lewis is already involved, he's primary. You are to stand down and wait for results." He raised his voice. "O'Connor, get over here."
While O'Connor, a new detective with a baby face and flaming red hair, made his way across the room, Garcia returned his focus to Ray. "You can support the search from your desk, and you can observe while Lewis questions Franco Silebi. Got that?"
Ray glared at him, but nodded his consent. His concern for Sophia was stronger than his deductive skills at that moment. He knew Deg would keep him in the loop.
Deg said, "Do we have anything from the crime lab?"
"A couple of things." Garcia pulled a note from his shirt pocket. "Only Sophia Burgess's fingerprints are identifiable in the car, even around the passenger window. The assailant wore gloves. It's too early to identify the paint. Sherri thought to call the hospital for Sophia's blood type. They had it, and it matches the blood on the ground at the scene."
Ray felt the color drain from his face.
"Stone," Garcia said. "Cool it. There wasn't a lot of blood there, a few drops at most. There were also a couple of hairs that are most likely hers. We think she was hit on the head because of the hair and the fact that head wounds bleed so much."
"Seems a stretch." Ray fought to contain the sinking feeling in his gut.
"Further, based on the marks in the dirt, there was a fight. It appears she resisted the attack, which means she survived the battering with the other car."
Ray nodded. That much he'd assumed given the open door and the missing driver. He'd missed the blood and the
evidence of an altercation, which proved the captain's point about him being too close to the victim to be effective.
Looking determined, Deg said, nodding to O'Connor. "Let's see what we can find out from Franco, then I want to look at the scene. I'll fill in the gaps for you on the way."
"Got it." O'Connor, Deg's temporary partner, headed to lockup and Franco Silebi, whom he escorted to an interrogation room with an observation window on the second floor of the station.
Ray stepped up to the window as Deg and O'Connor began their work.
"Franco," Deg said, "Do you want to reconsider your confession?"
"No." Franco's voice was hoarse, his clothing wrinkled, and his face and eyes puffy.
Deg waited a full minute. "I don't think you're into killing old people. I think you're protecting someone, probably Gabriel."
"You don't know anything."
"Furthermore, in my opinion, if you hated your in-laws living in your house that much, you'd have sent them somewhere else. You have the means to do so, and you told them you would if it didn't work out."
"You're very well informed. So make up your own mind. Meanwhile, I think it's time I called my lawyer."
"Okay. Your choice. There is something else I want to ask you about," Deg said.
"What?"
"Stone's fiancée, Sophia Burgess, has disappeared."
"Should I know her?'
"Probably only as Sophia," Deg said. "She took care of your father-in-law in the hospital and is the one your wife accused of reporting your family to the state for elder abuse."
"She probably ran away to hide her head in shame."
"No. Someone grabbed her while she was on her way to work this morning."
"I didn't do it. I was here." Franco smirked.
"Perhaps your son did. What do you think of that?" Deg posed the question in a tone that implied he knew the answer.
Franco's face paled, and he stared straight ahead. "I don't know anything about it."
"You won't be able to take this rap for him, since you are here." Deg's short laugh sounded forced. "You'd better hope we find her before your son gets totally stupid."
CHAPTER 36
Sophia
Sophia's head felt like it was squeezed under the tire of a small truck. She didn't know how long she was knocked out. She struggled to consciousness, pulling herself along. Then she sat up and collected her thoughts, remembering the car and the subsequent fight. Gabe had no doubt clobbered her with something heavy, maybe his big gun. Better than shooting her with it, she supposed.
Trying to get her bearings, she looked around the space. A single dim bulb burned overhead and illuminated what appeared to be a large, unused storage room. The rows of brackets and holes on the walls implied the previous existence of shelving. A soiled mattress lay on the floor against the far wall, and a bucket—maybe for bodily functions—stood in the corner nearest the door. There was a high window as well, but it was narrow. She assumed it was a vent. The little bit of light coming through the dirty glass told her it was daytime.
It all suggested Gabe planned the snatch. She didn't imagine he pulled it all together after knocking her on the head, leading her to assume he was her stalker, too. But why? Revenge? Anger? A bargaining chip with Ray?
Her arms ached from being behind her back. Then she remembered the zip tie. She wiggled her hands, and they came free. Sure enough, when he applied the tie in the dark, he'd done it wrong.
Using both hands, she examined her head. The bump over her left ear was huge and painful to the touch, and her fingers came away bloody. She felt lucky to be alive and awake.
Anticipating Gabe might return before she could escape, she thought she'd better be ready to play the captive role to the hilt. She fashioned the zip tie to keep it on her left wrist, leaving a loop to slide her right hand through in a hurry if needed. Then she examined the contents of her pockets for a possible weapon. He'd taken all of her nursing tools—scissors, hemostat, pen-on-a-rope, and stethoscope—her phone, and keys. However, she soon discovered he must not have known about the lower-leg pocket of her cargo scrubs. Her Sig was there. She left it where it was for the moment.
Her stomach growled, making her aware of gnawing hunger and intense thirst. Her clothing wasn't soiled beyond being dirty from the floor and their scuffle in the road, and, of course, the splash of blood on her left shoulder. Therefore, she hadn't wet herself, and her bladder was full. Another piece of evidence about the amount of time passed. She concluded it was late in the day, but the same day he took her.
After using the bucket, she slipped on the zip tie. "Hello. Help. Let me out."
Nothing.
She kicked the door and yelled louder, then stood back. When there still wasn't a response, she decided to make noise at intervals. Maybe someone walking by might hear and call for help. But she didn't know if the building was anywhere someone could walk by.
Through the small window, she watched day turn to night. She knew her boss and coworkers would have missed her at work and someone would have discovered her car. She hoped Ray knew. He had to know, she thought, her desperation increasing.
After what felt like hours, the door opened, a bag of fast food hit the center of the room, followed by a couple of bottles of water. The door slammed, and the lock engaged. She didn't see a face, not even the hand.
She wondered how Gabe expected her to handle the bag with her hands tied, but then decided she didn't really care. She freed her hands and tore into the cold burger and soggy fries, washing it all down with lukewarm water.
As the surge of glucose hit, more organized thoughts crossed her mind. First, she wondered if Gabe intended to kill her. If he did, why did he feed her? Why was she still alive? On the other hand, she knew he was capable of murder, being firmly convinced he'd dropped his grandmother down the stairs and pushed Ralph. Perhaps he didn't value the lives of older people but had second thoughts when it came to someone near his own age.
She made a giant leap and wondered if he was the man who beat Millie to death as well. From what Ray told her, the money trail led to Silebi's firm. She knew Dyer had an alibi, as did Franco. She also knew from her conversations with Millie that Dyer had assigned her account to a young man she didn't like. Poser had confirmed Millie told him the same thing. Was that young man Gabe? He was capable of violence and didn't like his goals thwarted. And, following her earlier suppositions, Gabe didn't value elder lives.
Perhaps she had an opportunity to escape. She'd been fed without his offering to untie her hands. She loosened the zip tie from her left wrist, glad she'd wrapped it around itself rather than using its mechanism to secure it. Then she grabbed the Sig from her pocket, chambered a round, and released the safety.
Sophia took several deep breaths, focused on what she intended to do, then banged on the door. "Hey, Gabe. Thanks for the food. Would you undo my hands so I can eat it, please? I'm starved."
She waited for several minutes, her panic level rising. "Gabe. Please, I'm hungry."
She heard the scrape of the lock mechanism moving.
She slipped to the side of the door. When it swung inward, she hoped he'd keep his hand on the knob and turn his back in her direction.
The door eased open, and he presented her his left shoulder as he entered the room.
She stepped up behind him and put the gun to his back. "Gabe, I have a gun. It's loaded."
"Bitch."
"I want you to move into the room. Then I'm leaving after I lock you in here."
He responded faster than she thought possible, turning into her right arm and shoving her gun away.
Not knowing what else to do, she raised a knee and grazed his groin but didn't do any damage.
He grabbed her right hand—her gun hand—in a crushing grip, then made a fist with his right, drawing back to hit her—she guessed he didn't have his gun with him.
Sophia straightened the fingers on her left hand, lurched forward, and struck at his eye. She made
contact.
Gabe cursed and covered his eye with a hand, then smacked her across the face with his other forearm. "Bitch. I'm going to kill you."
She crashed to the floor and kicked wildly at his legs. Then she realized he was no longer restraining her right hand. She pointed the gun in his direction and fired, hitting him in the left thigh. An instant later, blood spurted. She had hit the artery.
Gabe grabbed his leg and dropped, howling in pain as he hit the floor.
As much as she hated him, Sophia didn't want to be a killer, become that which she truly despised. However, she also didn't want him to recover enough to kill her either. She pushed him onto his side, then used the discarded zip tie to secure his hands behind his back. She rechecked the tie to be sure she'd fastened it properly.
"I'm going to bleed to death. Call 911. Please. Help me."
He was wearing a belt, which she unbuckled, tugged free, wrapped around his leg above the wound, and pulled tight. The blood flow slowed to a trickle. Having nothing to place over the wound, she let it be.
"Where's my phone?" she said.
"I threw it in the canal."
"Where's yours?"
"In my car. It's parked in the service bay." He pointed his chin toward the door.
She walked through her prison door into what looked like a working auto repair shop. Gabe's car sat in front of a large, closed door. In the car, she found her nursing supplies, his phone, and his weapon. To be safe, she removed the magazine and checked to be sure there wasn't a round chambered.
Time was of the essence, but she took a minute to look at his phone anyway. The thought that Gabe was Millie's killer stayed with her. She remembered reading an article recently that explained how to find a person's recent whereabouts on their iPhone.
Sophia closed her eyes to visualize the article, then tapped settings, privacy, location services. She thought for a moment before hitting system services. Then she scrolled down to frequent locations. He hadn't shut the feature off.
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