Harry Bronson Box Set

by L C Hayden

  “Hon?” His voice rang with concern.

  “I’m the last person you need to worry about. Bronson needs you. Go to him.” She flashed him a weak smile.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. This is Bronson we’re talking about.”

  “I love you.” Mike turned into her driveway and let the engine idle.

  “Don’t bother getting out.” Ellen opened the car door but then stopped and turned to Mike. “Do what you need to do, just please come back safely to me and bring Bronson back.” Ellen leaned over and kissed Mike. “Go, now.”

  Chapter 58

  Tires squealed when the Raven made a sharp left turn. From there, the smooth ride disappeared. Gravel crunched under the tires, leading Bronson to believe they had turned onto a dirt road.

  As promised, the Raven made the call after she had straightened the truck. Once again, Bronson strained to listen but at best, he could only catch a phrase or word. The bouncing truck made it hard for Bronson to focus.

  “ . . . just made my turn . . . off range . . . depends. If he’s . . . three days at the most . . . kill . . . Ellen, then Hoover . . . calling again.”

  Agonizing silence filled the air. An occasional groan escaped out of Bronson each time the truck bounced over a rougher section of the road. The Astra jabbed his back each time the tires found a pothole.

  After what seemed to be several hours but in reality was only a bit over an hour, the truck came to a stop. So did Bronson’s heart. He heard the Raven open the front truck door then slam it shut. He waited a second.

  Two seconds.

  Three.

  His heart beat wildly and he started breathing through his mouth.

  Four.

  Five.

  The front passenger door opened.

  Bronson lay still, listening.

  The Raven unfastened the leg irons. Bronson stretched his legs.

  “I’m going to take the bag off your head. Then we’ll head to the cabin. Before I do, need I remind you that I’m supposed to make a call to my friend?”

  “I remember.” Bronson’s lips felt dry, and he wet them. He waited for her to remove the bag. He thought he heard her walk away. He waited some more. Nothing.

  He yanked his hands, hoping to release the cuffs. Nothing happened, but he had known that all along. He wished he could remove the bag from his head. But even if he could, he wouldn’t tempt fate.

  She had to make that call.

  The fact that she had plenty of opportunities to kill him, but hadn’t done so, bothered him. That meant she was keeping him alive for some purpose, a complicated ritual they both needed to follow. She had killed before, and she would do it again.

  *****

  Knowing Bronson, Mike expected his ex-partner would leave a trail of hints for him to follow. Mike had picked up on the one about leaving the car parked on Vulcan Avenue. He’d begin there. Someone must have seen something, heard something, or knew something.

  Cannady had followed up on the Camry. She knew who owned the car. He would call her. As he reached for his cell, it rang. He didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  “Is this Mike Hoover?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Detective Joe Randig from the Pittsburgh Police Department. Bronson called and left me a message. He said he’s been kidnapped? He gave me your contact information. What can you tell me?”

  “Some woman known as the Raven told Bronson she had two shooters. One aimed at me, the other one at my ex-wife. To prove it, the Raven sent a picture of my ex to Bronson. Next to her was the blond headed man we’ve been following. To keep us safe, Bronson willingly left with the Raven.”

  “Is your ex-wife okay?”

  “God, I hope so.” He massaged his forehead. “I drove her home.”

  “I’ll send a patrol unit to make sure she’s all right. What’s the address?”

  “I appreciate that.” Mike gave him the address. “There’s something else that needs to be done.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Bronson’s cell is equipped with a GPS. Do you have his cell number?”

  “My caller I.D. does. Besides, Cannady gave it to me. I’ll get someone to start tracking him. Can you hang on?”

  “Sure.” Mike waited a few seconds then heard Joe pick up the phone.

  “Where are you?” Joe asked.

  “Bronson and I were setting a trap for a Camry that had been following us. We were going to meet at the corner of Hercules and Diana. Before we could do that, Bronson got the picture text. He said he was leaving the rental parked somewhere on Vulcan Avenue and would head toward the Camry where the Raven told him to meet her.”

  Joe remained quiet for a few seconds. “Looked it up. Vulcan is a very long street. Any chance of you narrowing it down a bit more? Do you have a name of a cross street?”

  “Bronson said he was about a ten minute drive from the corner of Diana and Hercules. That gives us a narrower range to focus on.”

  “I’m on my way,” Joe said. “In the meantime, fill me in and focus on all the details.”

  Chapter 59

  Fresh air never felt so good. Bronson swallowed large gulps of it.

  “Really, Bronson, was it that bad?” The Raven still held the canvas bag she had just removed from his head. “You’re to put your boots back on and head toward the house.” She raised her hand, revealing a Glock. She pointed it at Bronson’s head. “Just a friendly reminder. I’m supposed to report within the next five minutes. If I don’t, the twins know what to do, and you definitely don’t want that kind of death for Hoover and Ellen. Besides, if I get even the smallest of a whiff that you’re considering doing anything stupid, I’ll shoot. I won’t hesitate.”

  Bronson believed her.

  The Raven locked her eyes on him and stepped away, a safe distance from his reach.

  Bronson wiggled his way to a sitting position and assessed his situation. He could feel the Astra rubbing against the small of his back. Why hadn’t she frisked him?

  He put his boots on but without the use of his hands, he couldn’t lace them. As he slid his foot in, he felt for the hidden compartment. The Raven hadn’t found the knife. He scooted out of the truck, making sure he kept his balance.

  The single room cabin nestled into a shadowy stretch of the woods. Creature sounds surrounded Bronson, but somehow they seemed more guttural. Unreal. Menacing. The vast woodlands seemed to swallow him whole.

  “Get moving.” The Raven jerked the gun, letting Bronson know he better do as told.

  Bronson headed toward the cabin. As he neared the door, he noticed a baseball bat and ball resting against the wall close to the entry way. The bat might be a possible weapon, if he could convince the Raven to uncuff him. Not that he thought she would.

  He stepped in, his gaze searching, his mind memorizing every detail. Off to his right a single bed and a dresser represented an entire bedroom. Nothing there. An opened doorway revealed a compact bathroom. A dining table, large enough to accommodate four comfortably, sat directly in front of him. Behind that—

  A flashing pain exploded in his head. Bronson attempted to focus, but everything around him whirled at great speed. He felt his knees buckle and saw the floor rushing up at his face. He collapsed like a rag doll.

  His world turned gray, then solid black.

  *****

  Mike and Joe located not only Bronson’s Cruze, but the Camry as well. Joe radioed dispatch to get the cars towed to headquarters and processed for fingerprints and other evidence.

  Wearing the latex gloves Joe had provided, Mike felt under the Cruze’s seats for anything Bronson might have left behind. He found the bug. He tried to remember if they had said anything important. He couldn’t think of anything, but at that point, all that they discussed was important.

  He opened the glove compartment, found the note, and read it.

  Twins. It made sense. One to be with Ellen, the other, to follow them.


  Joe’s cell went off and Mike looked up. He saw Joe talk briefly on the phone and disconnect. From the look on his face, Mike knew the call had brought bad news.

  Joe headed toward Mike. “We can’t pick up Bronson’s signal. He must have turned his phone off.”

  “Bronson wouldn’t do that. He knows better. He must be in a dead zone. Anyway we can locate those?”

  “Oh sure. In our tiny city of Pittsburgh, there are only a million dead zones. Add another million if you include drivable distances outside the city limits. How would you suggest we tackle this task?” Joe flashed him a wide-eye look.

  Mike semi-smiled. Tacky, but cute. “We’ll have better luck canvassing the neighborhood. Someone had to have seen something or heard something.” Mike indicated the buildings to his right. “I’ll start with these.”

  “Good idea.” Joe nodded. “I’ll do those on the left, but first, I’m calling Cannady. She might be able to shed some light onto this.”

  Mike handed Joe Bronson’s note. Joe read it. “So we’re dealing with twins. That may work to our benefit. Twins often attract attention. Let’s hope someone saw the twins.”

  Chapter 60

  Bronson opened his eyes and wished he hadn’t. The pounding inside his head crashed like waves against a sea wall. His hands, now free from the cuffs, fumbled toward his head. Maybe if he helped support it, the dizziness would evaporate.

  The Raven stood, looking down at Bronson. “You’re finally awake. I was getting worried. Thought maybe that the baseball bat did real damage.”

  So that’s what happened. He tried to sit up, but the spinning sensation forced him to stay on the floor.

  “I have extra strength aspirin. Here’s the pills. The bottle is unopened so you won’t think I’m trying to poison you.” She set a glass of water and the bottle of aspirins on the floor next to Bronson. She stepped away.

  Bronson looked at them. He could see two, three glasses and bottles. He closed his eyes and tightened them, hoping to clear his vision. The pain volleyed in his head. He had to get his faculties back. He reached for the aspirins. His fingers felt like lead pegs. He gave up trying to open it.

  The Raven smiled and removed the protective wrap, unscrewed the lid, and took two pills out. “You’re going to spoil my plan if you don’t clear your head. I need you wide awake and alert.” She handed him the aspirins and the water.

  Some of the water dribbled out on his chin and onto his shirt as Bronson gagged and swallowed the pills. He too wanted to be wide awake and alert. His life depended on it. A silver bolt of pain attacked his head, forcing Bronson to throw his head back and grind his teeth.

  Still, the pain persisted. He gave in to it. He closed his eyes.

  *****

  “Yeah, I saw someone suspicious,” the comic book store owner said. “This blond headed dude right out there.” He pointed to the outside of the store. “Used the store’s columns as though he were hiding. Creeped me out. I was about to call the pigs—oops, excuse me—the police, when the dude in that Chevy—” He indicated the Cruze Bronson had rented. “—steps out. He heads that way.” He tilted his head to his right, showing Mike the direction Bronson had headed. “Soon as the guy walks away from the car, the blond dude is all over it. Seems he picked up something from the car. Not sure what. He makes a call then heads the same direction as that dude.” He shrugged. “I lost interest. Besides, a customer came in. Bought two-hundred dollars worth of comic books. That made me real happy.”

  “If you saw the blond man again, would you be able to recognize him?”

  “Yeah, sure. He was creeping me out. I remember him.”

  “I’ll have Detective Randig come talk to you. He might want you to go to headquarters and do a sketch or maybe even go through some pictures for possible identification.”

  “Really, man?” He combed his thinning hair with his fingers. “I got a store to run, you know.”

  “We appreciate your co-operation.”

  “Don’t mind co-operating as long as it doesn’t mess up my business, you know?”

  Mike nodded and walked out. He looked for Joe and found him talking to a man across the street. While he waited for him to finish, he’d call Devono.

  Chapter 61

  Through pain-blurred eyes, Bronson could make out a shape of someone fluttering back and forth through the tiny kitchen area like a bird trapped indoors, her movements deliberate and precise. Who was she? He closed his eyes, remembering.

  The Raven had whacked him on the head. He had passed out twice, if he recalled correctly. He snapped his eyes open as the memories rushed in.

  “It’s supper time.” The Raven approached, but stood several feet away from him. “You wasted most of the day sleeping.”

  Bronson still lay on the floor where he had fallen. He moaned as he sat up. His head still bounced with pain, but at least now if he didn’t move too fast, he could function. “You got any more aspirin?”

  “Sure do.” She headed back toward the sink, filled a glass with water, and grabbed the bottle of aspirin.

  Bronson looked at his feet. While he’d been out, the Raven had removed his boots and placed the leg irons back on. A heavy chain no more than eight inches long connected the two. It would be difficult to walk. Worse, another thick chain connected the leg irons to a ring bolt on the wall. He could only go maybe fifteen or twenty feet.

  The Raven set down the water and aspirins on the floor within his reach.

  Bronson grasped the opportunity to look past the aspirin bottle and toward his boots. She had obviously jerked them off his feet and discarded them. If luck was his companion, the knife would still be there. He had no way of knowing. He opened the aspirin bottle and swallowed two pills.

  “I saw you admiring your new ankle bracelets. I’m sure they’re not very comfortable, but they’re ideal for me. You won’t be going anywhere in a hurry.”

  “Not that I planned to.”

  “Are you saying you want to be the perfect guest?”

  “Of course.”

  “The ideal guest would never bring an Astra to the dinner table. So I took the liberty of relieving you of your gun. You are a naughty boy.”

  “Can’t blame a person for tryin’.”

  The Raven smiled. “You’re going to be a formidable opponent. I’m looking forward to our game.”

  “And what game is that?”

  “I made us supper. Can you stand? I’ll explain the game as we eat.”

  Getting up posed no problem, other than his head still feeling like a lead ball. Walking, on the other hand, proved to be a major dilemma. The heavy chain clanked with each step he took. He was as quiet as a two year old turned loose in a room filled with drums.

  It took him twenty baby steps—he counted them—to reach the table. Under normal circumstances, he would have made it in five. He sat down and stared at his plate. The chicken looked and smelled delicious. The potato casserole looked interesting. The vegetables, not so appetizing, but he never really cared for them. He ate them only because Carol insisted.

  Carol.

  He felt a hallow space in his chest.

  The Raven opened the oven and took out some freshly made dinner rolls. She placed them on the table. “If you want yours buttered, let me know, and I’ll do it for you. I don’t quite trust you with knives.”

  Bronson thought of his boots. There had to be some kind of irony there. “Plain is fine. Less fattenin’. You get to live longer.”

  “Only if you survive.” The Raven opened the refrigerator. “I have lemonade, tea, or Coke. Which would you prefer?”

  What? No coffee? What kind of a last supper was this? “What kind of tea?”

  “Peach.”

  “I’ll take that.”

  She poured them each a glass and set Bronson’s in front of him. She sat down at the opposite end of the table. “Ground rules of our game.”

  Bronson nodded. Ate some chicken. Delicious.

  “Tomorrow morning, I o
pen the door, and you walk out.”

  Bronson tore his dinner roll in half and took a bite. Nothing like fresh-baked bread. “And the catch is?”

  “An hour later, I walk out. I’ll have my guns and my tracking gear. When I find you, I will shoot you in the gut. That won’t kill you, but if you’re real lucky, a black bear or a pack of wild dogs will finish you off. I will sit with you until close to nightfall. This way, I can watch you squirm with pain. Right before leaving you for the night, I’ll set up a video camera so I can continue to watch you. I’d stay, except that I don’t want to spook the bears or wolves away. Oh, and one more thing, before we part for the night, I will shoot you two more times. Once in each knee. At the very most, you might be able to drag yourself, but I doubt it. None of the others before you have been able to. But then again, you are a worthy opponent—something none of them were.” She took a large piece of chicken and ripped it with her teeth. She wet her lips and outlined them with the tip of her index finger. She smiled at him in a way that under normal circumstances would have made a man salivate.

  Bronson continued to eat as though unaffected by her revelations. “What if I manage to drag myself?”

  “That means you’ll be a few feet away from where I left you. You won’t be able to get away. That’s for sure. I’ll be back in the morning. I’ll bring my bat with me and use you as a ball. I am very handy with it, don’t you think?”

  Bronson’s head still pounded with explosive bolts of pain. “Adequate, I’d say.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

  “I have a question, if I may.”

  The Raven set down her fork. “Ask away.”

  “You’re callin’ your friends on a regular basis, and that’s keepin’ Mike and Ellen safe.”

  “You are correct.”

  “Tomorrow, when you release me, what happens when the hunter becomes the hunted and you can no longer call?”