Текст книги "Personal Justice"

Автор книги: Rayven T. Hill

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Chapter 47

Friday, 10:49 a.m.

ANNIE GRIPPED THE wheel wrench firmly in both hands as she waited for the trunk lid to open. During the long ride to wherever they were now, the heavy bar was the only thing she could find that made a suitable weapon, and she planned on giving it her best shot.

She hadn’t considered Tammy to be the ruthless killer she turned out to be. And all because of money. She hoped Geekly had understood her message and Jake and the police were searching for her. She had no idea where she was, but if the building they were in was connected to Tammy, the police might be able to put the pieces together. She hoped they’d figure it out before it was too late.

The car stopped and she heard the unmistakable hum of an overhead garage door, then the vehicle moved ahead several feet.

She heard the same hum as the door closed, and then the car engine died. A vehicle door opened, slammed, and then footsteps came closer. She gripped the wheel wrench, readied herself, and waited.

The trunk lid popped up and her only chance of attack faded. Tammy stood well away from the trunk, the pistol in her hand.

“I thought you might try something like that,” the abductor said. “You can drop it now.”

Annie considered her situation for a brief moment before letting the iron slip from her hands. It made a dull thud as it hit the floor of the trunk.

Tammy stepped back and waved her weapon. “You’ll be happy to hear we’ve arrived at our destination. You can get out now.”

Annie swung one leg over, then the other, climbing from the trunk. She stood upright and glanced around. They appeared to be in a garage attached to a residential house. The usual items that could be seen in most any garage were scattered about. Shelves contained a variety of containers, clutter, and cast-offs. Garden tools occupied a bin on the floor. The rafters held more junk.

To her left, a door led into the house. Directly in front of her was an outside door. What were her odds?

Probably nil.

“Don’t try anything stupid,” Tammy said. “I could as easily shoot you right now, but if you’re careful, you might live a little longer.”

Annie crossed her arms and glared. “You aren’t going to get away with this, so you might as well shoot me now. What’re you waiting for?”

Tammy shrugged and gave a fake smile. “I haven’t figured out how you’re going to fit into my plans. So you might be pleased to learn, until I do, you’re safe with me.” She laughed. “As long as you’re a good girl.”

“What is this place?” Annie asked.

“You don’t need to know that. Just do as you’re told.” Tammy pulled a ring of keys from her pocket, selected one, and then moved to the door leading into the house. She unlocked it and pushed it open, then stepped back and made a sweeping motion toward the doorway. “Inside.”

Annie glared at the heartless killer a moment longer, and then took the two steps up, through the doorway, and entered a small foyer. She felt the cold steel of the pistol at her back and knew making a run for it was out of the question. Tammy wasn’t taking any chances and neither was she.

The house had the feel of being lived in. She saw a kitchen off to her left, a short hallway leading to the front room to her right. Except for the pounding of her heart, the house was still and quiet.

“Open the door in front of you,” Tammy said from behind.

Annie looked straight ahead. She knew where the doorway must lead—most certainly down to the basement.

It did. When she opened the door, she saw a flight of wooden steps leading into darkness.

Tammy reached to the wall beside the doorway and flicked a switch, flooding the basement with light. The pistol prodded Annie forward.

“Downstairs. Move it.”

Annie took the first step cautiously, her mind whirling in an attempt to devise a way out of this deadly situation. But Tammy was cautious. The woman stayed well back as Annie descended the stairs, the gun now prodding the back of her head.

Thirteen steps down and Annie touched the cold concrete floor. She looked around. The basement was almost empty, as though its owners had just moved out, or perhaps new ones about to move in. A furnace sat silently in the far corner, waiting for winter. An empty set of shelves stood to her right, more to her left.

Across the room, near a darkened window, sat a lone chair, remnants of yellow, nylon rope still clinging to the wooden arms, another short piece kicked to one side. Still more was coiled into a ball.

Someone had been tied to that chair recently and Annie knew who it was. Tammy Norton’s own husband was surely held in this very room until the unfeeling woman saw fit to work him into her plans, resulting in his brutal death. And then the scheming woman planted a piece of the rope in Rocky Shaft’s vehicle along with blood from the victim.

And now, Annie was headed for that same fate, one she was determined not to submit to.

The killer pushed Annie forward, then stepped aside and pointed to the chair. “Sit there,” she demanded.

Annie sat, her arms on the armrests, looking up at the unfeeling woman.

“It’ll soon be over,” Tammy said, a smirk on her face.

Annie glared defiantly. “It’ll soon be over—for you.”

The woman laughed. “I doubt if you’ll be so brave when the end comes.” She picked up the coil of rope and peeled off several feet, being careful to stand well back from her captive, the gun never wavering. “Wrap your arms behind the chair.”

Annie did as she was told, and the woman moved behind, tying the cord firmly to both wrists, and then to the chair. The cord bit into Annie’s wrists and made her shoulders ache.

Tammy wrapped the stout cord around Annie’s chest and the back of the chair several times, tying it in a solid knot to each armrest.

The ball of rope rolled and spun, unraveling from the coil as Annie’s ankles were tied firmly to the chair legs. The rest of the cord was wrapped around and around, until finally, Tammy knotted the tail and stood back, smugly admiring her work. “That should hold you long enough.”

“It should hold me until the police come,” Annie said. “And then you’ll be the prisoner.”

Tammy gave a short laugh. “I admire your pluck, but unfortunately you’re dead wrong. The police have no clue what’s going on. All their efforts are aimed toward that poor sap, Rocky Shaft.”

“We’ll see,” Annie said.

“Oh. And I sent your husband a text message before I trashed your phone. I assume he was happy to hear you were fine and on the way home.”

Annie’s face flushed with anger. The woman was devious and covering herself well.

Tammy took a step back. “You can scream all you want once I’m gone. Nobody will hear you.” She stepped to the bottom of the stairs and turned back, her foot on the first step. “I shouldn’t be long, and you’ll be safe here until I return.”

Annie watched the woman climb the steps and the door at the top of the stairs closed. A lock slid into place and she was alone.

The room was still, and only the sound of Annie’s breathing disturbed the deathly quiet that surrounded her.

Chapter 48

Friday, 11:15 a.m.

JAKE STOOD IN the living room of Tammy Norton’s house and stared out the front window, deep in tortured thought. All around him, investigators studied, photographed, and documented every detail of the house. Everything would be closely scrutinized and examined.

Hank and King were undertaking a thorough search in other rooms, hunting for evidence pointing to the location of the fugitive. City wide, patrol officers kept a watch for all dark-blue 1996 Ford Probes in an effort to apprehend the kidnapper.

Tammy’s face would be shown on every news broadcast, part of the exhaustive search now underway.

The woman would be caught. Jake had no doubt about that, but with Annie as a hostage, he was in anguish over the possible outcome.

Jake turned from the window as Hank came into the room. The cop’s face was somber as he shook his head slowly. “Nothing turned up,” he said. “King is still searching.”

Unsure what to say, Jake took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“I’m convinced Rocky Shaft is connected to this somewhere,” Hank said. “I’m going to the precinct, and I’ll give him a good grilling. He might know where Tammy Norton is headed.”

Jake nodded. It seemed like a long shot, but at least it was something.

Hank touched Jake’s arm. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I think I’ll stay here. See if I can come up with an idea.”

Hank turned to leave. “I’ll let you know if I get something solid.”

“Thanks,” Jake said, as Hank hurried toward the door. The cop disappeared outside. Jake turned back to the window and watched as Hank ran to his vehicle, jumped in, and sat the portable flashing lights on the roof of the car. The siren sounded as he pulled from the curb and sped up the street.

Jake rubbed his hands through his hair and sat on the edge of the couch. If Tammy had fled and taken Annie with her, then his wife was probably still alive, and would be as long as the abductor found her useful. Jake shuddered to think what might happen at that point, but he was hopeful of finding her in time.

But time is useless without a plan, and Jake found it difficult to come up with a clue as to where to start looking first. He felt helpless in a hopeless situation.

King was in the living room now, rummaging through the papers in a desk beside the fireplace. Jake went over and stood beside the desk, watching.

“Just looking for any idea where Mrs. Norton is,” King said without looking up. “She might be holding Annie hostage somewhere.” He pulled out a drawer and examined some file folders closely, then rifled around in the top drawer, filled with pens, paper clips, and knickknacks.

“But if she doesn’t know we’re onto her,” Jake said. “She might not be so careful. I hope she has no idea they’re looking for her vehicle.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” King said, as he closed the final drawer and straightened his back. “There doesn’t seem to be anything helpful here.”

Jake left the room and went into the hallway. Investigators worked in the kitchen, the bathroom, and the bedroom, their faces grim as they went about their painstaking task.

Jake’s cell phone rang and his heart missed a beat. It was Annie! “Where are you?” he almost shouted.

“Hello?” came an unknown voice from the phone.

Jake’s heart dropped. It was a man’s voice, speaking low and hoarse.

“Who’s this?” Jake asked.

“It’s Bob. Bob Langley,” the gravelly voice said. “I saw someone toss this phone into a dumpster.”

“A dumpster?”

“I was going to keep it. It looks to be in good shape, but I got to thinking, so I called the first speed dial number and here you are.”

Jake’s mind whirled. “Where are you?”

“Just off Main Street, near Lexington.”

“Stay where you are. I’ll be right there,” Jake said, as he raced for the front door. “Can you do that?”

“Sure. I guess so.”

“I’ll meet you on the corner of Main and Lexington.”

“Okay. I’ll be there,” the man said.

Jake hung up and jumped into the Firebird. He had no idea if this would lead anywhere, but it was something at least, and he had to pursue it.

Lexington was about a mile north of his current location, in the heart of the suburbs. As he approached the intersection, he saw a man leaning against a light post. That had to be him. He ground the Firebird to a stop and wound down his window. “Bob Langley?”

The man nodded. “You the guy on the phone?”

“Yes. Show me where you found the cell?”

The man shrugged and pointed down the street. “Big blue dumpster behind that building.”

“Which way did the car go after?”

“Back toward Main,” Bob said. “I didn’t see which way it turned after that.”

“I need the phone,” Jake said, holding out a hand.

Bob handed it over. “Any reward?”

Jake dug out his wallet and pulled out a twenty. “Here you go,” he said, handing the bill to Bob.

Bob took it, folded it once, and tucked it into his shirt pocket. He smiled and stepped back. “You take care now.”

Jake pulled from the curb, turned down Lexington, and spun in behind the first building. A big blue dumpster stood against the building wall.

Was Annie close by, or did the woman dump the phone and continue north? That was a question he couldn’t answer.

He jumped from the car, ran to the dumpster, and looked inside. It was almost empty.

Jake jumped back in the car and drove up and down the surrounding streets, straining his eyes, looking for Tammy’s car. Eventually, he gave up in disappointment. It could be anywhere in the city—or miles away by now.

He sat off Main Street for a few minutes and watched the cars go by, hoping he would see Tammy’s vehicle, but knowing in his heart it was long gone.

Jake gave Hank a call. The cop answered, still in the middle of questioning Rocky Shaft. Hank wasn’t ready to drop the charges against Shaft yet; they still had no hard proof against Tammy, but in light of the latest events, both Shaft and his lawyer were more accommodating.

“Shaft still denies involvement in the robbery,” Hank told Jake. “But he admits he went to Tammy after the death of his brother, confronted her about the money, and claimed Michael Norton had killed his brother. He assumes that’s when Tammy got the idea to frame him.”

“If he wasn’t involved in the robbery, then who was the third person?” Jake asked. “Maybe Tammy herself?”

“It’s starting to look that way,” Hank said. “According to Harland Eastwood, who I believe was present at the time, the gunmen wore masks.”

“My only concern right now is Annie,” Jake said. “Does Shaft have any idea where Tammy could’ve taken her?”

“He claims not to know and I believe him,” Hank said. “He wants Tammy Norton found as badly as we do. That’s the fastest way, and maybe the only way, to prove his innocence. I’ll keep on him awhile longer and see if he knows anything else. In the meantime, cops all over the city are looking for Tammy’s vehicle.” Hank paused. “Hang in there, Jake. We’ll find her.”

Jake hung up the phone. He hoped Hank was right, because right now, he didn’t know what else he could do to find his wife.

Chapter 49

Friday, 11:57 a.m.

ANNIE SAT QUIETLY in the chair, listening to the sound of her own breathing. She heard Tammy upstairs, her footsteps playing a soft staccato on the floor above as she moved about.

The woman must be planning something, or perhaps she was on the phone. Annie couldn’t be sure, but thought she heard a raised voice on occasion, but now, only silence came from above.

Then a muffled car engine sounded, probably from the garage. In a few moments, the rumble faded away.

Tammy was gone and Annie was alone.

It had been necessary to wait until her abductor left, and now was the chance Annie hoped for.

When Tammy had prodded her into the basement earlier, Annie had spied the coil of rope on the floor beside the chair and knew what it meant.

When the kidnapper wrapped the rope around her chest, Annie held her breath as deeply as possible, tightened her shoulder and chest muscles, arched her back, and hunched her shoulders forward. It was difficult to maintain that position, but she persevered.

When her abductor had finished tying her to the chair and stood back, Annie let her breath out carefully, keeping her muscles tensed.

After the kidnapper left, Annie relaxed, drew her shoulders back, and the rope around her chest slacked by almost three inches. Her hands and feet were still tied tightly, but it was a start. And now that her abductor had left the house, Annie was about to see if her scheme would work.

Her plan was to grasp the rope about her chest with her teeth and gnaw her way through like a squirrel, but gravity took over, making the loosened cord loop downward, impossible to reach.

But this was a life or death situation—her life, or her death, and there had to be a way.

She came up with a dangerous plan.

She rocked the chair, back and forth, slowly at first, and then it gained momentum. She held her head forward to lessen the impact when the chair finally toppled backwards. It helped, but the back of her head hit the concrete and stunned her.

She took a few deep breaths and waited for her head to clear, and then heaved her hips upward as far as she could. Gravity again took over, but this time, as she continued the motion, the rope eased its way toward her waiting teeth.

The nylon rope was tough and unyielding, but it was no match for her will. The woven strands broke loose one by one, until finally, the ends fell free.

Still a long way to go.

She listened for any sound from upstairs, but all was quiet.

Her legs were next. They were tied to the chair, but with the rope now slackened, it was an easy task to arch her back and slip them off the end of the chair legs.

She rolled to her side and struggled to her feet, standing at an awkward angle. Her hands were bound to the back of the chair, but now she could move them enough to work at the knots.

The nylon cord clung stubbornly to itself as she fought with it. Then finally something slipped and she got a better grip. She continued her battle with the rope until it fell away, the chair tumbled loose, and she was free.

Almost.

She still needed to get out of this room, the stairs leading up to freedom the only way.

She touched the back of her head and looked at her fingers. There was no blood. She had a mild headache, and the spot that struck the floor was tender to the touch, but she shook it off and concentrated on her escape.

Annie was almost certain Tammy had driven away earlier, but she wouldn’t bet her life on it. She crept up the stairs and sat on the narrow top step, her ear to the door. There was no sound.

She tried the door handle. It turned but the door wouldn’t budge, locked from the other side.

She leaned back and struck the door with her shoulder. It rattled and stayed solid. She held her breath, listening for signs of anyone in the house, but heard nothing.

Her continued effort to break the door down was getting her nowhere. There was no room to stand on the upper step and it was impossible to strike the door at the height of the lock using her shoulder. There must be a better way, and she needed to find that way before Tammy came back to finish what she started.

Annie ran down the stairs and looked around frantically, searching for something she could wedge into the lock, or anything that would serve as a battering ram.

The shelves were flimsy and useless. The other junk lying around wouldn’t help. The only possibility was the chair. She hefted it. It was sturdy and might be of some use, but it would be awkward to handle in the confined space at the top of the steps.

She lifted it over her head and brought it crashing down, again and again, until finally the legs loosened and she wrenched them free.

Then the rungs at the back received the same treatment until she held only the solid seat in her hands.

She raced up the stairs and pounded at the lock with the makeshift battering ram. The frame splintered. She paused to catch her breath before continuing. Finally, the lock gave and the door popped open.

She tossed the seat down the stairs, took the final step into the foyer, and dashed to the kitchen. A phone rested on the counter. She picked up the receiver and put it to her ear.

There was no dial tone; the phone was disconnected.

Annie raced for the back door, flipped the lock, and pulled the sliding door open. She dashed into the bright sunlight, spun around, and saw a house to her left, another to her right.

She went left, ran up the side of the house where she was held prisoner, then jumped a hedge to the front lawn of the neighbor’s house.

She pounded at the door, keeping an eye behind her in case Tammy returned. She had no idea if anyone was home, but she knocked again.

Finally, the door opened a few inches, stopped by a security chain. A wrinkled face sporting a curious look appeared in the crack. The old man had a sparse covering of snow-white hair and he cupped a hand behind his ear. “Whatever is the matter?” he asked.

“I need to use your phone. It’s an emergency,” Annie said, a pleading look on her face.

The man stared a moment, a faint frown taking over his brow. He looked Annie up and down and then closed the door. The chain rattled and the door swung open.

“I guess it’ll be okay,” the old man said, as he stepped back and waved her in. “Martha don’t like anyone tracking about the house, but she ain’t here right now and you sure look like you been through something.”

Annie stepped inside. “Thank you.”

The man pointed down the hallway. “Go on into the kitchen there and help yourself. It’s hangin’ on the wall.”