by R Weir
“He is here to help,” she said to her father.
“Good thing I was, or you’d be dead. Should have gone for the gun right off the bat.”
“I thought you were one of them coming back to hurt her.”
“No. I was sent here by Hunter Divine and Detective Scanlon. From what your daughter told me you’re both in danger. We need to bring the police in here now and get statements.”
“They said they’d kill us both if we talked?”
“Dad please listen to him. I trust him. He says they may kill us anyway.”
Cameryn nodded convincingly. “She’s right. They’ve killed several already, even those who’ve been cooperative. Members of their own team. Your best bet is to get them locked away for good.”
McNair looked at his daughter, tears were in her eyes. He hugged her for a long time, before turning his head towards Cameryn and nodded.
“Good. Tell me what you know about The Train Man.”
Chapter 47
The reunion, or rather half-reunion, was a good one. Paige and Jose hugged Deion, not wanting to let go. An embrace he’d shied away from in recent years, but not today. He was thrilled to be home, but unhappy his sister wasn’t here to share the love. The house would feel a tad empty without her.
For Athena, her happiness at being back was tempered, with the thought of Olivia and now Hunter being held captive, with no idea where to search for them. She did her best to explain to Paige and Jose what had happened and how they had been given no choice. It wasn’t what they had hoped for, a fact they found difficult to understand, rage displayed in her direction. Not being in control was an emotion Athena didn’t enjoy and neither did the parents. The helplessness she felt, seated beside the lack of control, the couple laughing at her like a pair of twin bullies.
It was early evening, with Scanlon now joining her and Shen, there to discuss what he’d learned at the autopsies the day before. Quinnell’s death looking less like an overdose and more like a murder. And then news about the call he got earlier in the day, about the ballistics, helping to tie events together.
“The lab says the bullet that killed Jacob was the same that killed one of the men in the house fire,” explained Scanlon. “The same man we believe was the one Hunter shot on the attempted kidnapping here at the house.”
“Then they’re linked,” replied Athena. “What info has the housekeeper provided?”
“Nothing,” grumbled Scanlon. “It would appear she gets loose lipped when drinking. Jacob used that to get inside info out of her, which he then passed onto our kidnappers.”
“Then it would appear they didn’t need him anymore and closed the loop on his life,” added Shen.
“Exactly. DNA will tell us for certain it’s him. But for now, with the car registration, we’re convinced. He hasn’t shown up at home or to gamble in Cripple Creek, which is another clue he’s the dead man.”
“What did you do with Marlis?” inquired Athena.
“Released for now. We don’t believe she is involved. Though I’m certain she is out of a job, looking at the mess this house is in.”
Athena nodded. The dirty dishes on the kitchen counter, dust on the furniture and lack of food in the kitchen was a clue. Which was never the case when Marlis was working. Cleaning, shopping and cooking weren’t a chore the Hawkins family had done for a long time.
“I’m not sure Paige and Jose have made a final decision,” proclaimed Athena. “They wanted her to stay away until the matter with the kids is resolved and then they’ll make a verdict. Though it will be hard to trust her in the future.”
“Paige and Jose are also considering full-time security from now on,” declared Shen. “Even asked me if I was interested. Though tempting, I still have a business in Arizona to run.”
“Can’t blame them after what has happened,” stated Scanlon. “I’d be tempted if it weren’t for my pension. I’ll be fully invested in a couple years and don’t want to lose it.”
“Lance and Reggie would be good,” noted Athena. “Lance from what it sounds like is a tough guy. Once he’s healed up, he’d be an excellent choice.”
Shen nodded, commenting he’d suggested as much. Still the current case was still ongoing, with no ending in sight. The talk turned to food, especially Athena who’d had only a couple cookies and a few chips. Pizza and pasta seemed to be the consensus, when Cameryn walked in the room.
“How did it go with the pilot?” questioned Shen, not knowing what had happened.
“You hadn’t filled them in?” asked Cameryn of Scanlon.
“No. Been too busy filling in the blanks on other facts in this case. Too many items to keep straight. It’s giving me a headache.”
“Agreed.” Cameryn went to the fridge to grab an orange juice, finding only a couple left. “Time to restock. Food staples are looking bare around here.” He held out the plastic bottle and smiled.
“We may have to do our own shopping for a while,” declared Shen.
Cameryn walked over and patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks for volunteering, shorty. Don’t skimp and get the good stuff.”
Shen grumbled, while the others chuckled. He should have known he would get elected. He was the short straw, so to speak, in the group.
“For now, we can order pizza,” interjected Athena. “Scanlon we three need to talk for a minute. Can you see what type the Hawkins want and have them order from whoever they want that is good. Hopefully not one of the chains. I believe pepperoni and black olives works for us.”
“I can do that on my way out,” replied Scanlon. “I need to head back to the office. I have loads of paperwork still to file.”
The three nodded at him, as he walked away. Athena had the three other members of her team sit down at the center island in the kitchen.
“Give us the scoop on the pilot?” she asked.
Cameryn took another swallow, the juice refreshing, resting his tall figure on the stool, which groaned at his mass. He then went through the entire tale of McNair and his daughter, and the threats made to them.
“I called Scanlon and he had an Arapahoe County Sheriff come by and take their statements. They plan to lay low and be on their guard for anyone coming after them. I believe for now they’re safe. As long as word doesn’t get out that they talked.”
“And what about The Train Man?”
“They knew a little info about him, but not a whole lot. Never had meet the man. Connection came from another trusted party. When he got the call for the job, it was always via a different phone number. And not always the same voice, even occasionally being a female calling.”
“Might have been the lady working with him at the hobby store?” noted Shen.
Cameryn took another sip. “Possibly. It appears The Train Man takes great measures to protect and isolate himself. Probably why he’s never been arrested.”
“Then we need to grab him and make him talk,” declared Shen. “Go straight to the source and bend his will.” Shen put up his hands and snapped his wrists as if breaking a stick.
“Which is what we’ll do tomorrow,” agreed Cameryn. “Both you and I will twist him for information. We need to have some idea where Hunter and Olivia are being held.”
“What did you learn from Deion?” queried Shen.
Athena shrugged. “Not a whole lot. He did mention a design on a plate he saw and how it was much colder where they were staying. I suspect they might be in Canada. Though that is a hunch.”
Paige, Jose and Deion walked in.
“Pizza has been ordered and should arrive soon,” proclaimed Paige. “I’m sorry we don’t have much food in the house. That was Marlis’ job and I’m not ready to have her back working here.”
“Perfectly understandable,” replied Cameryn. “Shen was the first to step forward to be your gopher.”
Shen mouthed “Fuck you, you big oaf” to Cameryn, who threw a kiss back his way. It was a light-hearted banter to break a little of the tension.
&nbs
p; “Do you have a tablet or portable computer I can browse on?” wondered Athena. She hated researching on a small phone screen.
Paige nodded instructing Jose to grab her iPad from her office. He returned quickly handing it to Paige, who unlocked it, before handing it to Athena.
“What did you need it for?” questioned Paige.
Athena made a few taps and swipes, bringing up a browser before typing in the search window “Current Canadian License Plates”. She found a few pictures and turned the screen to where Deion could see it.
“Scroll through this list and see if any look like the one you saw at the place you were being held.”
Deion grabbed the large tablet and began scrolling. He saw one, stopping a minute, before going down further. He then latched onto another and his eyes lit up. He expanded the picture to full screen, before turning it around and pointing to it.
“This one right here,” he said with a huge grin.
“Are you positive?” asked Athena.
“One hundred percent. I couldn’t tell for sure about the symbol between the plate number. But this is definitely the one now that I see it larger.”
Athena looked at it and then showed it to everyone else. It was a plate with a white background with green lettering, like Deion had said initially. Between the six digits was three wheat sheaves, the symbol he couldn’t remember for certain. Beneath that the slogan “Land of Living Skies”, up above the province name.
“It would appear Hunter and Olivia are in Saskatchewan,” announced Athena to the room.
It was information for them to work with, though not much. For that was a huge 22,900 square mile province. And they had no idea where to start looking.
Chapter 48
Morning light trickled into the chilly room via a small window that was covered in metal bars. The room heater barely keeping the space warm, the flannel sheets and thick quilt the only items preventing Hunter from freezing. The room was small, with only a twin bed, bathroom and no TV or entertainment options of any kind. No lamps and no bulb in the receptacle in the ceiling. Leaving it dark at night, beyond any moonlight filtering via the tiny window. He had been left since arriving yesterday afternoon, with only his thoughts to entertain him.
Valerie and her men said little before locking him away. Only once had they dropped by with a plain turkey sandwich and one bottle of water, left on a plastic tray. Only brief warnings not to try and escape. They had Olivia as leverage and would harm her. He wished they would get on with what they wanted him for. His mind racking over possibilities, none of them solidly clinging to his brain as a motive. He’d made many enemies in his days as a US Marshal and working as an independent troubleshooter. To go to such lengths—kidnapping two children from a woman he’d not seen in over sixteen years, seemed illogical. But it was logical to those who incarcerated him, which for the moment was all that mattered.
He pulled himself out from under the covers, shivering once the chill hit him, the same coveralls they’d made him change into providing little protection. He went to the bathroom, his breath evident in the air, then back into the warmth of the bed. He’d have killed for good reading material of some kind. An Alex Cross, Easy Rawlins or Charlotte Justice book would aid in passing the time. Those investigators always found a solution to whatever case they were working, no matter how dire the situation they were facing. Hunter could use a little of their inspiration right now.
He thought about where he was located, the ride on the jet providing little in the way of clues. They were too far up in the air to tell the direction they went in. Once they landed, he was blindfolded and taken to a vehicle, then driven for about twenty minutes. The vehicle was warm, the heater running, but outside was chilly, probably in the fifties and windy. He used his nose to see if it gave him a clue, but it added nothing concrete. His ears scanned for sounds, but only heard normal traffic noises, though smaller in numbers than in a larger city. They were travelling fast, likely on a highway. When they stopped, he was escorted out, his eyes still covered, until he reached the room. He was freed from the blinders and the handcuffs, his nose noticing the smell of a farm. The one window was high up, but he could reach it from the bed. Looking out the small rectangle window he saw farmland, with some traces of snow still in the distance. His conclusion they were still in Montana or somewhere north of there. But it did him little good even if he could pinpoint his location. He had no way of getting a hold of anyone to reveal his whereabouts.
The morning passed on, as he got out of bed to exercise. Twenty minutes of stretching, followed by a hundred plus pushups, and two hundred plus sit-ups. He was building his strength, while keeping himself limber. Creating warmth was a bonus. He was finishing when he heard keys in the lock and the door opening. Travis and the other man walked in, Travis pointing his large 9mm, while the other man tossed handcuffs to Hunter.
“Put them on. We’re going for a walk.”
Hunter contemplated the situation but knew there wasn’t much he could do so long as they had Olivia to hold over him. Doing as he was told Hunter put the shackles on, before standing up and walking outside, feeling a little more warmth once he was in the sun. He was led to the main house structure, up a staircase and into a room where there were clothes laid out for him. The second man removed the handcuffs and stepped out of the room.
“Strip and shower quickly,” ordered Travis, his gun still pointed. “Then you can change into these clothes.”
“Am I allowed privacy while I do this?”
“No. And don’t dawdle. Believe me I get no kicks out of watching you.”
“Unlike Valerie,” stated Hunter while removing his clothes.
Travis remained silent, while Hunter shaved and showered, enjoying the hot water feeling more refreshed. Once finished and dried off, he looked over the clothes, finding they were all in his size. Striped boxers, a V-neck white t-shirt, wool socks, a dark blue sweatshirt and blue jeans. All fitting as if he’d bought them himself. From there he was escorted back to the main level to a dining room, where a man was sitting, along with Valerie. They both stood up, Hunter smirking at Valerie, before taking a chair at the end of the table.
“I’m sure you’re famished,” announced the man, who had sat down and then rang a bell for service.
A white woman in her forties wearing a red apron walked in, carrying two plates of food. She sat them in the center of the table, one plate with cooked meats, the other with potatoes. The woman walked out and then returned with another plate of baked bread, before speaking to the man in a foreign language, possibly German, before leaving again.
“I hope you like pork chops, garlic mashed potatoes and baked cheese bread,” stated the man. “I’m certain you’re famished.”
“My last meal?” inquired Hunter.
“Not if you cooperate. If you don’t, the damage will happen to the lovely young lady we’re holding. I’m sure it won’t come to that, being you’re a man of honor.”
Hunter found the whole scene perplexing. “Are you going to tell me why I’m here, since I have no idea who you are?”
“After we eat. I have dramatic entertainment for you to enjoy and then a special guest will arrive. A person you met recently.”
“What should I call you in the meantime?”
The man smiled. “You may call me Brushstroke.”
Hunter looked at him as if he were insane. “You’ve got to be kidding. Sounds like a villain name from a comic book.”
“Not at all, though it would be cool showing up in the literary world. It’s a penname so to speak. I love painting landscapes and people in oil on canvas. Maybe you’ll pose for me one day.”
He’d love to throw the food back at Brushstroke at the thought, but Hunter knew he needed to eat to keep up his strength, never knowing when the meals would end. He reached for one of the plates, grabbing two pieces of bread, one he immediately took a bite out of. Followed by a couple of the chops and a heaping mound of potatoes. To drink there was
water and white wine in two crystal glasses.
“Keep in mind—Hunter—that Travis is watching your every move,” declared Valerie firmly. “Don’t try to stow away any silverware to take back with you. If you try, he will be forced to take action and hurt you.”
“Not to mention, consequences for the young lady as well,” added Brushstroke. “How is the food?”
Hunter glared at him but didn’t respond while chewing his food. The pale white face looked familiar, though somehow different. His teeth sparkled as if polished daily. The thick graying shoulder length hair was combed perfectly straight back, cheeks and chin tight to the bone structure, the lightly tanned face smooth and wrinkle free for a man who appeared to be in his fifties. A sublimely pressed blue smock was buttoned over a white collared shirt closed at the neck. Racking his brain Hunter swore he knew the man, but for the life of him couldn’t come up with his real name. For now, he enjoyed the food, fueling him for what lie before him.
When he finished the plates were taken away, the silverware counted. More wine was offered, but Hunter declined, sticking with the water that had a plain, filtered taste, but was cold. Chocolate pudding with whipped cream on top was brought out for dessert in a crystal cup. It was light, fluffy and tasty. He thought about licking the cup when he was done but decided to remain classy.
“Is Olivia not allowed to eat with us?” wondered Hunter.
“For now, I wanted us adults to chat about adult matters,” replied Brushstroke, while wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin.
“I won’t do anything you ask until I know she is unharmed.”
“I understand. And we’ll pay her a visit shortly.”
Brushstroke reached into the pocket of his smock and pulled out a cigar. He clipped off the end, lighting it with a gold lighter, before taking a long puff, the smoke floating in the air.
“Where are my manners,” he proclaimed. “Would you care for one? They’re Arnold Andre cigars. Made in Germany. Excellent brand.”
