by J. A. Jance
As soon as Cami’s pounding heart stilled, she caught her breath and resumed her desperate life-or-death flight. Every movement was excruciating. The rough ground pulverized her bare hands. Every creep forward threatened to dislodge the makeshift duct-tape belt anchoring Harvey’s oversize pants to her body, and after every tiny advance she had to pause long enough to pull up the pants and drag along the bedroll. By now, however, she realized that bringing the bedroll with her was an absolute necessity. It may have been early April, but here in the high desert, it was bitingly cold.
Once more she heard a vehicle coming her way. This time it seemed to be traveling more slowly. She froze in her tracks and again pulled the bedroll over her body. Forcing herself to lie perfectly still beneath it, she held her breath and listened for what she feared most—the dreaded sound of a closing car door, because if Harvey McCluskey found her here, Cami Lee knew she was dead.
|CHAPTER 30|
PRESCOTT NATIONAL FOREST, ARIZONA
As Harvey McCluskey drove along, he was pleased with himself. He had bagged the snotty little bitch with no trouble at all. If it hadn’t been for that blasted dog, the whole thing would have been perfect, but even so he’d made it work. He took I-17 south and then turned off at Cordes Junction. At Mayer he turned south again before merging onto Pine Flat Road.
He was confident that at this hour of the night no one would be out and about on this lonely stretch of roadway, giving him plenty of time and plenty of privacy to do whatever he wanted to that feisty little piece of cargo he had trapped in the bed of his truck. Sheer anticipation at being able to wring the breath out of her tiny body physically aroused him, and it made him almost giddy to know there was life in the old guy yet.
It turned out the road was worse now than he remembered, making for slower going in several places than he’d expected. Finally, several miles into the wilderness, he pulled off at a wide spot in the road, cut the lights, and climbed out of the cab.
“Come-to-Daddy time,” he muttered under his breath as he walked toward the tailgate. When he saw the broken window, he stared at it in shocked amazement. With a sinking heart, he searched inside the canopy. When Princess was nowhere to be found, he was furious. Where the hell did she go? How long had she been gone? How did she get out?
Racing back to the cab, Harvey jumped inside, started the engine, and pulled an immediate U-turn. He would find Princess if it was the last thing he did, and once he found her, he would by God make her pay—in spades.
|CHAPTER 31|
PRESCOTT NATIONAL FOREST, ARIZONA
As Cami inched along, each foot of forward movement required supreme physical effort. Each squirm of her body sent new waves of pain shooting through her injured leg. She worried she might go into shock before finding shelter, but she struggled on. Beads of perspiration poured down her forehead and stung her eyes, but still she endured, dragging the now impossibly cumbersome bedroll behind her. She understood that once she stopped moving, her sweat-dampened clothing would instantly turn to ice. At that point she’d need the bedroll more than ever. She’d been cold just riding under the unheated canopy. Out here in the open, it was infinitely worse.
When Cami heard another approaching vehicle, she glanced back over her shoulder. The headlights were moving much more slowly. This time she was sure it was McCluskey, searching for her. Once again she pulled the bedroll over her and dropped to the ground, only this time when she stretched out, her bleeding fingers encountered something hard and round in the dirt next to her—a branch of some kind. Closing her hand around it, she pulled it close and felt a tiny glimmer of hope. Maybe she could use the stick to create a makeshift splint that would help stabilize her leg.
McCluskey went past without stopping. Perhaps he thought she would stick close to the roadway in hopes of covering more ground. When he was gone once more, Cami emerged from under the bedroll and examined her new prize—a slightly crooked hunk of dry mesquite.
All through this agonizing ordeal, the roll of duct tape had remained on her wrist, and now was the time to use it. Feeling along the length of her lower leg, she found a distinct bow that indicated the location of the break. Suspecting she needed to straighten it in order to keep from further damaging the leg, Cami gritted her teeth and pulled it as straight as she could manage. Despite her best effort to remain silent, a howl of agony escaped her lips. Fortunately for her, only nearby forest creatures heard the racket.
Once Cami could breathe again, she set about creating the splint. Fastening it directly to her leg wasn’t an option. Instead she positioned the branch against the leg of the sweats and then used strips of duct tape to lock it in place. Being relatively still for the time it took to make the splint had chilled her. Now both hands shook with the cold, and her teeth chattered. She needed to get moving again. Once she did, with the splint in place, it was marginally easier than before.
The moonlight was brighter now. Just ahead of her she spotted a thicket of low-growing shrubbery. As the sound of the approaching pickup assailed her ears once more, she made for the undergrowth. It turned out to be a thick clump of manzanita that looked as though it might provide reasonably good cover. There was just enough room between the bottom branches and the ground for her to scramble underneath. As she did so, some small creature—a bunny, most likely—scampered past her and out into the open.
With the very last of her strength, Cami managed to encase herself in the bedroll. The ground might have been cold and rock hard beneath her, but for the first time since tumbling out of the truck she felt sheltered and somewhat safe. Cocooned in the welcome warmth of the down-filled bedroll, Camille Lee surprised herself and immediately fell into an exhausted and dreamless sleep.
|CHAPTER 32|
PRESCOTT NATIONAL FOREST, ARIZONA
As the night wore on, Harvey grew increasingly angry, to say nothing of desperate. He had to find Princess. If she somehow made it back to civilization and could identify him before he made good his escape, he was in deep trouble. An hour into his search, he drove into Mayer and located an all-night minimart, where he filled the gas tank. Inside he picked up a cup of coffee, a couple of premade sandwiches, some chips, and a flashlight.
Then he drove back out to Pine Flat Road and searched some more. The rough gravel surface of the road didn’t lend itself to leaving behind any kind of prints. Several times he stopped the truck and went tramping off through the woods to search some more, but it was no good. Princess had vanished into thin air.
Finally, about two o’clock in the morning, Harvey was forced to give up. It was a good four-hour trip from here to the All-American Canal. He needed to drive there and ditch his truck before daylight. Once he’d staged his suicide, he’d hitchhike as far as Calexico and be across the border before anyone knew he was gone.
With that in mind, Harvey turned his back on the Prescott National Forest and headed east toward I-17. He was beyond angry, but he was scared as well. That tiny demon of a girl had outsmarted him and gotten away, and that made Harvey McCluskey mad as hell.
|CHAPTER 33|
SEDONA, ARIZONA
B. and Ali enjoyed a wonderfully quiet Sunday. Alonzo had taken the day off to visit friends and family in Phoenix, which meant they had the house completely to themselves, and they reveled in it. Late in the afternoon, B. had fired up the Weber and barbecued a pair of rib eyes. In the evening they had settled in to watch a few episodes of Longmire on Netflix. By the time the day was over, they felt as though they’d been on a tiny vacation.
They were both still asleep early Monday morning when B.’s phone rang on his bedside table. “Stu,” he said as he picked it up. “Whatever’s wrong?” After a slight pause, he added, “Yes, Ali’s right here. I’ll put the phone on speaker. Now, what’s going on?”
Stu’s anxious voice came through the phone. “Cami was supposed to relieve Lance at six o’clock this morning. She didn’t show up, didn’t call in, and isn’t responding to calls or texts. Lauren was on duty,
so Lance asked her to stop by Cami’s place and do a welfare check.”
Everyone at High Noon Enterprises knew that Yavapai County deputy Lauren Harper was now Lance Tucker’s main squeeze. Lauren was Sedona born and bred, and she credited Ali’s daughter-in-law, Athena, with inspiring her and getting her back on track during her high school years. Shortly after signing on with the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Department under the old administration, Deputy Harper had gotten crosswise with her first partner, Tom Doyle, a chauvinistic old-school guy who specialized in sexually objectionable hazing and bullying. When Lauren pushed back, Doyle succeeded in having her sidelined to a lowly desk job at the Oak Creek Village Substation. That was where Ali had first encountered Lauren, when she’d provided invaluable help in handling fingerprint evidence from a break-in attempt at High Noon.
Unfortunately for Deputy Doyle, once Dave Holman took over as sheriff, he knew where all the Doyle bodies were buried. Dave had more or less coerced the man into taking his retirement and going away while Lauren ended up back on patrol. How she and Lance had become an item was open to conjecture at High Noon, but Lance wasn’t talking about it, and neither was Lauren.
“So?” B. was saying urgently into the phone. “What happened? Did Lauren locate her?”
“She did not,” Stu replied. “Cami’s car’s there in the carport with the driver’s-side door open and the key fob still in the cup holder. Cami’s iPad and cell phone were both found inside the vehicle. The house is unlocked. She isn’t there, but her purse is.”
Alarmed now, Ali sat bolt upright in bed. “I can’t imagine Cami going anywhere without her phone. Were there any signs of a struggle?” she asked.
“The open car door is suspicious,” Stu answered, “but other than that the answer is no.”
“So what’s the situation on the ground right now?” B. wanted to know.
“Deputy Harper notified her supervisor of her findings, and they’re apparently treating this as a possible kidnapping. My understanding is that detectives are on their way to Cornville right now. So is Sheriff Holman.”
“And so are we,” Ali asserted. “As soon as we’re dressed, we’ll be headed there, too.”
“What about you?” B. asked.
“Mateo and I are on our way to Cottonwood to relieve Lance.”
“Okay,” B. said. “Be safe.”
Ali and B. were out of the house in five minutes flat. With Alonzo not due home until much later in the day, they brought Bella along for the ride.
“What about all of Cami’s Krav Maga training?” B. remarked as they exited their driveway onto Manzanita Hills Road. “I would have thought she’d be able to defend herself.”
“Not if someone caught her completely off guard,” Ali said grimly. “I’m guessing she was overwhelmed before she had a chance to fight back.”
“But who would do such a thing?” B. wondered.
Ali shook her head. “I have no idea.”
On the trip to Cornville, B. disregarded all suggested speed limits. They arrived at Tuff Cody Trail far sooner than they should have, pulling up next to a cordon of emergency vehicles at the same time newly elected Sheriff Holman arrived in his Interceptor.
Ali was about to begin threading her way through the parked vehicles when Dave stopped her. “This is a crime scene, Ali,” he said. “You can’t go in there.”
“But…” she began.
B. and Ali had supported Dave in his run for office, but at that moment their participation counted for nothing. “No buts,” he told them firmly. “I said no, and I mean no!”
“But someone needs to get a look at Cami’s iPad and cell phone,” Ali argued. “According to Deputy Harper, both were found inside her vehicle. There’s a good chance one or the other may contain important evidence.”
The flash of annoyance on Dave’s face made it clear that he didn’t like hearing information on the case from someone outside his department. “What kind of evidence?” he wanted to know.
“Cami’s car tires were damaged while her vehicle was parked in her carport the night before last, and installing a surveillance system seemed like the prudent thing to do,” Ali explained. “The hardware was installed but not connected on Saturday. We believe she might’ve been working on completing the installation at the time she disappeared. If the system happened to be up and running, it’s possible it may have picked up something. If so, the resulting video might be stored on her iPad.”
“Nobody’s going anywhere near Cami’s vehicle or her iPad until my crime-scene people are done with them,” Dave declared. “Is that clear?”
Ali nodded reluctantly. With that, Sheriff Holman turned his back on them and stalked off. When a frustrated Ali glanced in B.’s direction, however, she saw a thoughtful expression on his face.
“What about her cloud account?” B. asked. “Is there a chance her surveillance video might be stored there?”
Everyone at High Noon was encouraged to have both their work and private computers and devices set to back up automatically on a daily basis. Nodding her understanding, Ali reached for her phone and dialed Stu’s number.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“We’re at the scene,” Ali said. “Naturally, they won’t let us anywhere near the action, which means we can’t lay hands on Cami’s iPad. Is it possible for you to access her cloud account to see if any surveillance footage turns up there?”
“I can’t,” Stu said at once, “but I’m pretty sure I know someone who can.”
“I think I do, too,” Ali agreed, “and it’s about time Frigg earned her keep.”
A worried and very tired Lance showed up at the crime scene. He was every bit as anxious as B. and Ali, and even more upset than they were about not being allowed closer to the action. They were in the process of bringing him up to date when Ali’s phone rang with Stu’s face showing on caller ID.
His voice was nothing short of exuberant. “Frigg can’t access the cloud right now,” he said. “That’s going to take some time, but it turns out Cami’s laptop is still at home, and Frigg was able to hack into that.”
“And?” Ali asked breathlessly.
“Cami was working on the surveillance system Sunday afternoon and evening, focusing each of the individual cameras and setting them to automatically upload video files to both her home computer and the cloud.”
Holding her breath, Ali could barely speak. “And?” Ali repeated.
“And several of them got a clear shot of Cami’s attacker,” Stu answered. “He threw what looked like a bedroll over her and then whacked her upside the head, knocking her out cold. Then he picked her up and packed her off.”
“Could you identify him?” Ali asked.
“I sure as hell could,” Stu growled in reply, “and it’s someone we know all too well. Harvey McCluskey.”
Ali sucked in her breath. “Is this because of the eviction?”
No one replied to that question because no one had to. For everyone within earshot—Lance, B., and Stu—the answer was painfully obvious. Of course it was.
“The next order of business,” Ali said, “is to have Frigg go to work on a background check on McCluskey.”
“Ordinary or complete?” Stu asked.
“Both,” Ali replied, “and the sooner the better.”
“Will do,” Stu said. “I’m on it.”
When the call ended, Ali started toward the barrier of police cars.
“Wait,” B. said. “Where are you going?”
“To tell Sheriff Holman that we’ve identified his suspect.” She repeated the same sentence to the hapless deputy who attempted to halt her progress. Something in the set of her jaw must have gotten through to him, because he stepped aside and let her pass.
Dave, catching sight of her as she marched through the parked vehicles, hurried toward her with a thunderous look on his face. “I thought I told you—”
“We’ve identified your suspect,” Ali said.
He stopped
in his tracks. “You have?”
She nodded. “We were able to access Cami’s computer files directly, including her uploaded surveillance footage. We have the attack itself on video. The guy you’re looking for is named Harvey McCluskey. He’s been renting an office from us for the last year or so, but he quit paying rent a couple of months ago. We’re in the process of starting eviction proceedings.”
“So that’s his motive, then?”
“Most likely,” Ali answered, nodding again. “At least that’s how it looks to me.”
“Okay,” Dave said. “We’ll get right on it. I’ll get his vehicle information and post a BOLO. If he’s driving around Arizona, somebody’s LPR is bound to nail him sooner or later.”
Ali knew enough copspeak to understand that LPR stood for “license-plate recognition,” a camera system installed in all police vehicles that registers plate information for every passing vehicle.
“And about earlier,” Dave added after a moment. “I’m sorry.”
“Not to worry,” Ali assured him. “You were only doing your job.”
|CHAPTER 34|
Mateo Vega was sound asleep well before seven when Stu pounded on the door. “Wake up, Mateo,” he said urgently. “We’ve got to go.”
Mateo pulled on yesterday’s clothes and hurried out into the hallway. “What’s wrong?”
“Cami didn’t show up for work this morning. She may have been kidnapped.”
Minutes later, when Mateo scrambled into Stu’s idling pickup, there were two travel mugs full of coffee waiting in the cup holders. “Hope you like it black,” Stu said. “If you’re a cream-and-sugar guy, you’re out of luck.”
