BAD TIME TO BE IN IT

by David Burnsworth

  Pelton said, “Wait a minute.”

  Crome caught what the kid had seen as well. There was a man in the store who followed Maureen out.

  Wilson asked the woman, whose name was Marge, if she could load the footage from the other cameras.

  She gave a nod, glanced at Brack with big eyes, and said, “Anything to help our local police force. I tell ya, you guys have a tough job.”

  Pelton put a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks, Marge. You don’t know how much we appreciate what you’re doing.”

  It might be a stretch to call it impersonating an officer, but Crome got the impression Marge thought they were all on the job. And none of them seemed to want to clarify anything.

  She loaded another video, this one taken from a different angle in the store. It showed Maureen walk down an aisle, stop, and remove something from the shelf. It also showed a man tracking her from the aisle behind the one she was in. In the video, Crome couldn’t tell if he was the same man from the marina video. He also couldn’t tell if Maureen sensed the man behind her or not. Normal people were typically not suspicious of those around them. Maureen could have just assumed it was another shopper in the store and dismissed him.

  After she made her selection, Crome watched the man track Maureen to the counter, hanging back. He said, “That’s got to be the bastard.”

  Marge said, “You’re saying the man did something to the woman?”

  “Not in the store,” Wilson said. “But we suspect that he might have accosted her outside. Can we see the footage of the parking lot?”

  “Um,” Marge began.

  “No one here’s in trouble,” Wilson said, reassuringly. “The woman’s missing and we’re trying to figure out who took her.”

  “That’s terrible,” Marge said, a hand to her mouth. She returned her hand to the mouse and loaded another view.

  The three of them watched Maureen exit the store, opening the bag as she walked. Her focus was on the package and she didn’t notice the man following ten feet behind. This view was better and in it Crome recognized the man as the same one from the marina video. In this scene, the man caught up with Maureen as she slipped a bottle of pills in her purse and opened her car door. He popped her in the face. If it hadn’t been his girlfriend, Crome might have been somewhat impressed with the speed with which the assailant moved.

  Marge said, “Oh my God.”

  As Maureen fell, the man caught her in his arms, picked her up and loaded her in the car, over the center console and onto the passenger seat. It took less than ten seconds.

  The man picked up a set of keys that she dropped, got in the driver’s seat, and drove away. No one else saw what had happened except the camera. Crome thought the kidnapper was betting on no one viewing the footage of his assault.

  “That poor woman,” Marge said.

  Wilson said, “Thank you so much for your cooperation. We may need copies of that if you can get them for us.”

  Crome walked out of the office, through the store, and out the exit. Outside, he pulled out his vaporizer and took a few hits. He’d kept his mind as blank as he could while watching what happened to Maureen and now thoughts of vengeance flooded in.

  Who in the hell was this guy?

  The automatic door opened and Pelton exited. He came over to Crome. “You know the guy?”

  “No, but at least now we know Maureen and Harmony are linked.”

  “Something like that happened to Darcy a few years ago,” Pelton said. “I shot the man who took her four times.”

  “He die?” Crome asked.

  “He’s doing life upstate. It was Patricia’s thirty-two and I hit him in the chest.”

  “Shoulda aimed for the head,” Crome said.

  “You’re telling me.” The kid looked away, not miffed. More like he was thinking. “At least we have a picture of him.”

  “Maureen didn’t have a chance.” And it really burned Crome up inside.

  “She’s a good person,” Pelton said. “From what I hear, she’s also a strong woman. We’ll find her.”

  At the moment, it was exactly what Crome needed to hear, although he wouldn’t admit it.

  Wilson came out, held up a jump drive, and said, “Marge hooked us up. Let’s roll.”

  Friday, noon

  To Harmony, Blu said, “Can you talk?”

  Meaning, did someone have a gun to her head.

  Harmony said, “Um, I wanted to let you know that I’m okay.”

  “Is Maureen with you?”

  There was a hesitation in her voice when she said, “I’ve got a good view of things.”

  That didn’t make sense, but Blu guessed it was code and he’d figure it out later. “What did you call to tell me?”

  “I-I have a message for you,” she said.

  “Yes?” He pointed to a pen and paper and Paige quickly handed them to him.

  “There’s more coming.”

  “Yes?” Blu asked, not understanding.

  “That’s all.”

  He needed to keep her talking. “We all miss you.”

  As if in a hurry, she rattled off, “I miss shots by PC’s sister.”

  Again, he’d figure out what that meant later. “When are you coming home?”

  Her voice broke. “I don’t—”

  The call ended.

  Friday, noon

  In the Charger, Crome stayed quiet.

  Pelton asked Wilson, “So how’d you find the car?”

  “When you called, I put out an APB. One of our units came across it. The lots don’t ever empty completely so it didn’t really stand out.”

  “Damn,” Crome said.

  “What?” Wilson asked.

  “We forgot to check out the video from the other parking lot cameras,” he said. “We might have the guy’s plate number.”

  Wilson said, “I got it all. Let’s go to my office.”

  Pelton pulled out his phone and answered a call.

  Crome halfway listened until the kid said, “What?”

  Then he focused in and heard him say, “You heard from Harmony? What about Maureen?”

  There was a pause as Pelton listened.

  Then he said, “We’ve got video of Maureen’s abduction. We’re on our way back to the Myrtle Beach PD to see if we can get a license plate number off his car.”

  The call ended. Blu had put it on speaker so Tess and Paige could hear what Pelton had to say.

  Paige said, “Thank God Brack and Crome are okay.”

  It hadn’t occurred to Blu to worry about their well being. He looked at what he’d written down from his conversation with Harmony.

  She’s okay.

  She said she’s got a good view of things.

  There’s more coming.

  She misses shots by PC’s sister.

  She doesn’t – call ended.

  He said, “I think she’s telling us she’s with Maureen.”

  “But who is PC’s sister?”

  “I don’t know,” Blu said, “but I’m thinking she went off script because he cut her off after that.”

  Tess sank in her chair.

  Blu asked, “You don’t know anyone with the initials PC who has a sister?”

  She did a slow shake of her head as if still racking her brain to solve the puzzle.

  “Maybe it isn’t a person,” Blu said.

  “PC?” Tess asked. “PC…Yes!”

  Blu caught on.

  In unison they said, “Pirate’s Cove.”

  Blu said, “The other bar on Kiawah. What’s it called?”

  Paige said, “Reggie’s Shipwreck.”

  “We’ve got to go there,” Blu said. “And I’ve got to call Pelton.”

  Tess dug out her phone. “I’m on it.”

&nb
sp; Unlike the Pirate’s Cove, Brack’s second bar was not ocean front. It was a two-story, all-wood pub across the street from the beach. Blu walked in with Tess and felt as if nothing was wrong and they were missing something.

  Because Kiawah was upscale, Paige and Brack had transformed what used to be a vacant family restaurant into a very nice place. It had a big, mahogany bar in the middle of the place like in the TV show Cheers. The floor was hardwood and the walls were white and trimmed in wood. The ceiling was high and had exposed rafters and braces. And from what Pelton had said, the souvenir shop made almost as much money as liquor sales.

  The clientele was older and richer than at the other bar and everyone seemed to be couples.

  It took a few moments, and then Blu was ready to leave.

  Tess said, “She didn’t mention inside the bar. Maybe there’s something outside?”

  “Shots by PC’s sister,” Blu said.

  They stepped outside and looked around. Across the street were two ocean front bars. And to the right of them was—

  Blu took off running.

  Tess screamed at him but he didn’t stop.

  He took the steps down to the dock of the Kiawah Marina two at a time and felt more than heard Tess on his heels.

  Slowing to a stop, he put a hand out to stop Tess from continuing.

  “You don’t think?” Tess asked.

  “It’s got to be where the mayor’s boat is. But we need the police on this.”

  He called Powers.

  Blu and Tess watched as the Kiawah Police department roped off the area around the mayor’s boat. They were also getting a warrant to view any of the footage of the security cameras in the vicinity.

  Powers called Blu.

  He said, “Good work on finding the boat.”

  “It was Harmony.” Blu said. “They find anything? No one’s talking to us here.”

  “I know,” Powers said. “That’s why I’m calling.”

  “Well?”

  “As far as they can tell, the boat got wiped down, i.e. no prints.”

  Blu said, “Figures.”

  “After that,” Powers said, “they tore the boat apart looking for anything. All they found was that someone had written “MLM ECO” in red lipstick on the bottom of one of the cushions. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Blu couldn’t think of anything. He asked Tess, who shook her head.

  Powers said, “They’ll keep looking. You guys should come back to Charleston. If the police there find anything, they’ll call me. Also, I need the number. We’ll see if we can track the call.”

  Blu gave him his number and the number Harmony called in on. He also told Powers where he was when he received the call. Powers thanked him and hung up.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Friday, early afternoon

  Crome watched from an empty chair in the next cubicle as Wilson ran the plate in the police database. It came back to a stolen car, the same make and model as the Toyota Camry the man had gotten out of at the drug store. And the car was still missing.

  It also didn’t help that the picture sent to Crome was from the hotel in Charleston, meaning the man had transported Maureen from Myrtle Beach.

  Crome leaned against Pelton’s Mustang outside of the Myrtle Beach Police Headquarters deep in thought. The man must have already reserved the room in Charleston before he abducted Maureen. That required some serious planning as did stealing the car.

  The Camry had a Myrtle Beach address. Wilson wanted to check it out next but Crome could tell he didn’t want their help.

  Pelton, either not sensing the same thing or not caring, tried to strong arm Wilson into letting them go with him but he didn’t budge. Crome had to step between them and that surprised him. Normally he’d have been the hothead getting in the cop’s face. But Pelton needed to be refereed. He stood nearby, fuming.

  Crome respected the kid even more after that.

  “You believe that crap?” Pelton asked.

  “Yep.”

  Pelton leaned against his car next to Crome and sighed.

  “Don’t take it personal, Brack,” Crome said. “He’s just doing his job.”

  “He’s got the hottest case in town now thanks to us and he cuts us out.”

  Crome said, “Didn’t you tell me the last time you two went out on a mission together he lost his job?”

  He couldn’t tell for sure, but Crome thought Pelton might have let his chin drop a bit but then recovered.

  “You know what we need to ask Wilson, don’t you?” Crome said.

  Pelton pushed away from the car. “No.”

  “Where was the car stolen from and when?”

  “Because,” Pelton said, finishing Crome’s thought for him, “if it’s a business, we can check the security cameras there, too.”

  “Yep.”

  Reaching into his pocket and retrieving his phone, Pelton said, “Hot damn.”

  The lot to the large retail store where the Camry was stolen was not too far from the drug store where Maureen was snatched. Wilson said the owner had left the car, and its AC, running with their dog in it and came out to find the Camry and Fido gone.

  The dog, a Yorkie, wouldn’t have put up much of a fight as the owner had said it was friendly. Fortunately for everyone involved, animal control picked up the chipped pooch and, after a gladly paid fine, returned him to his owners.

  This time, there was no friendly Marge to shortcut the legal system and allow them carte blanche access to the security camera footage. The manager of the retail store, a pleasant man named George, explained that he would honor any court order request.

  That didn’t help them. But sharing space next door to the big box store in the shopping center strip mall was a locally-owned Chinese restaurant. The owners also had security cameras including one with an exceptional view of the parking lot.

  And they were big fans of the police department. Apparently an off-duty officer stopped vandals from defacing their storefront the previous year and the owners were forever grateful.

  They had a teenage son who worked the computer system for Crome, Wilson, and Pelton. The video, grainier than the system Marge worked with, panned a good portion of the lot.

  Crome pointed at the screen. “Is that our Camry?”

  “By golly you’re right,” Wilson said. To the teenager, he said, “Can you go back to when the car first parks?”

  The restaurant owner’s son, David, moved the mouse and made a few clicks. He timed it just right and hit play seconds before the car pulled in and parked.

  A woman, David’s mother, brought in a tray of egg rolls for them. Pelton offered to pay but she vehemently refused, saying they were honored to help.

  Crome munched on an egg roll covered in hot mustard and watched the driver of the car park, get out, lock the door with a key, and walk into the store. They had told the police they left the car running, so they must have had a second set of keys.

  The dog could be seen peeking through the window.

  Five minutes passed and then someone else—the man they’d observed kidnapping Maureen—approached the car, looked around, popped the lock, let the dog out, and drove off.

  Crome watched the dog, now obviously confused, wander around the lot, narrowly avoiding getting run over more than once. It was a miracle the pooch made it out alive.

  Pelton said, “At least the dog survived.”

  “No kidding,” Wilson said.

  After another five minutes, the dog no longer in the picture, the car owner returned to find his car gone. They watched him look around panic stricken, take out his phone, and make a call.

  Crome had a hunch the car owner wasn’t involved and now he was convinced of it. No real dog lover would do what was done to the Yorkie, letting it roam free in a busy parking lot.

>   Wilson asked, “Did you guys see where the man showed up from?”

  They didn’t, and had David rerun the footage several times before giving up. The man had come from the side and they could not determine how he got there or from which car.

  Wilson asked David, “Are you friends with any of the other business owners here?”

  “We know a few of them,” David said. “You want me to see if they have any cameras set up?”

  It was a good thought. Maybe they could trace the man back to his car from another section of the lot. He couldn’t be that far away since he’d have to know the Camry’s engine was running. He’d have to be close enough to hear it.

  Two doors down was an electronics store. David, with his glasses and teenage acne, was a regular shopper there. It was this relationship, above all the others, that gave Crome, and by extension Blu, the break they needed. The abductor had parked directly in front of this store. The camera system, given that the store sold electronics, was better than Marge’s. The video was crystal clear, and viewed on the thirty-two-inch flatscreen in the manager’s office, gave them a perfect shot of the license plate.

  Wilson said, “Gotcha.”

  Crome could taste the blood of his enemy.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Friday afternoon

  Blu put his phone on speaker while Pelton rattled off what they’d found. Of course Crome wouldn’t make the call. He was probably too busy contemplating the many different ways he was going to disembowel the individual who started this whole mess. At least Pelton and Crome were back in the Mustang and on their way home.

  The detective that Pelton and Crome had worked with had been very helpful. Following his new protocol of working with the police, Blu shared his information first with Powers. Pelton had emailed a name and plate number.

  In the long stretch in the middle of the Francis Marion National Forest, Crome awoke from a nap and found Pelton cruising at a hundred and ten miles an hour, the car’s V-8 burbling along.