Authors: Terry Odell
*****
Randy thudded around the high school track.
He forced his mind into the trance that running created for him.
One foot in front of the other. Concentrate on breathing. Let go.
There was nothing but the run. After the first mile, he knew it
wasn't working. All he could see was the innocent face of Amanda
Brooks. All he could think of was her likely fate. No ransom demand
yet. Odds were whoever took her didn't do it for cash. Rage surged
through him again, and he realized he was running too fast.
Keep it steady. Let the endorphins kick in.
Nothing but the run. Brick by brick, he began erecting the wall to
keep the horror out of his private life. Work on one side.
Everything else on the other. Sarah. He'd hurt her tonight. He
hadn't come home like this since they'd been married. She'd wanted
to help, and he'd pushed her away.
Would she understand how searching for
Amanda had brought everything back to the time Sarah went missing,
and he had no clue where to find her? He'd felt totally helpless
and useless. He fought to push those thoughts to the other side of
his wall. Concentrate on the run. Nothing but the run.
His heart jumped when the ring of his cell
phone pulled him from his mental torture. He slowed to a trot and
pressed the button to take the call.
"Where are you?" came the voice of his
partner.
"High school. Running laps."
"Get your ass over here. I think we've found
the bastard."
"On my way." Randy was already speeding
toward his truck, fresh adrenaline surging through his system.
"What do we have?" Randy asked, panting, as
he flew into his office. Kovak stood in front of his desk,
telephone to his ear. He motioned Randy to wait.
"Got it," Kovak said. He hung up the phone
and gave Randy a quick once-over. "You sure you're all right? I
don't need a partner who doesn't have it all together. I can get
someone else to go with me."
"I'm fine," Randy snarled. He started toward
the parking lot. "Let's do it. Where are we going?"
"The old Cranford place. Caller said he
thought he saw a man using the building over the last couple of
days."
"How does it connect?"
"Guy drives a green Subaru."
Randy's pulse tripped. "Matching the one
sighted near the elementary school?"
"One of at least five suspicious vehicles
reported by the good citizens of Pine Hills. But this one came back
registered to a George Watson, and his last known address was
Portland."
Randy slowed his breathing, concentrated on
getting behind his wall. He noticed that Kovak clenched and
unclenched his fists as they drove. His adrenaline would be
flowing, too.
Fifteen minutes later, they left the highway
for the dirt road that led to the old building. The driveway
swerved off to the left, and as he completed the turn, the edifice
loomed at the top of the rise before them. The Cranfords had built
their mansion in the mid-1800's, but no one had lived here for at
least fifty years. There had been talk of restoration, or turning
it into a museum, but it was too far outside of Pine Hills to
interest anyone, and it remained, dying a slow, lingering
death.
Randy stopped the truck about twenty-five
yards in front of the building, under a copse of trees. Weeds and
native scrub had taken over what once would have been a stately
lawn. The county kept things trimmed back as a fire prevention
measure, and it looked as though they had come through
recently.
"Shit," Kovak said. "No cover." He pointed
to the dirty green Subaru parked near the corner of the front porch
of the mansion. "There's the car. Call for backup. Lab techs, too."
Randy picked up the radio and called Dispatch.
"You see something move up there?" Kovak
asked. "Second floor, to the right? The one window that isn't
boarded up."
Randy tried to see something behind the
grime-coated glass. "Maybe a curtain. There's a breeze, and there
are enough holes in the roof to let the wind blow through."
"Maybe you're right. But if our guy is in
there, I want him. You know anything about the layout of the place?
Ever been here?"
"Only once, on a dare, as a kid on Halloween
night. Scared the shit out of me. I do know the porch goes all the
way around, and there's nothing but woods in back."
A high pitched whine brought both men to
full attention. "You hear that?" Kovak asked. He drew his
weapon.
"It could have been the wind. Tree branch.
Or a bird."
"Or it could be he's got the kid in there.
Let's do it."
Randy grabbed his Maglite, and both men
approached the house, guns drawn, stopping behind the Subaru for
cover.
Randy stared at their target before moving.
The old wooden house stood three stories high, wrapped by a bare
wooden porch. Not even a broken-down rocking chair remained. Parts
of the roof had caved in, scattering pieces of slate across the
porch and yard. About two thirds of the windows were boarded up.
The rest were so filthy that Randy didn't think anything more than
fleeting shadows could penetrate them.
Randy felt the adrenaline surge as he and
Kovak covered the distance to the structure. He crouched as low as
his frame would allow, and took the stairs in one stride, right
behind his partner. Kovak reached out and tried the knob. It turned
with a rusty squeak. Randy held his breath, strained to hear
anything from inside. Silence.
Kovak pushed the door open six inches. More
silence. Randy peered through the opening. A damp and musty odor
filled his nostrils. He suppressed a cough and waited for his eyes
to adapt to the dim light of the room inside. A faint moan came
from upstairs.
"There," Kovak whispered. "You hear it?"
Kovak was already on his way to the stairwell.
Randy followed. The stairs opened onto a
dark, narrow hallway. Kovak hugged the wall, opened doors, and
cleared each room. At the third door, Kovak disappeared inside.
Randy waited in the hallway, every sense alert to the possibility
that their dirtbag was somewhere in the house.
"It's Amanda." Kovak shouted. "She's
alive."
Randy called for paramedics. Kovak knelt on
the floor, stroking Amanda's hair. Her eyes were closed, and Kovak
had spread his jacket over her.
"Easy, sweetheart. We're going to help you.
Everything will be all right," Kovak whispered over and over. Even
in the fading light, Randy could see the glistening in Kovak's
eyes. His daughter was about the same age as this girl.
"What can you tell?" Randy asked.
"She's barely conscious. But her pulse seems
strong."
"Backup should be here in a couple of
minutes. Grady and Mac," Randy said. "I'm going downstairs to see
if I can find anything." Not much point in being quiet anymore. He
and Kovak had certainly revealed their presence. He began working
his way through the downstairs rooms. Pizza boxes and beer cans in
the kitchen. Mouse droppings in the pantry. He glanced through a
couple of small rooms, perhaps a parlor and servants' quarters. He
went back to the living room, where he'd entered the house. In the
far corner, a thin mattress, stuffing protruding through rips in
the ticking, sat on the floor, a filthy blanket crumpled beside
it.
Randy crossed the room to examine it more
closely when he sensed a presence behind him. He twisted around
toward the porch and for a moment, all he could see was a
silhouetted figure standing just inside the doorway, and the light
glinting off the barrel of a shotgun.
"I think I've got the bigger gun here. How
about you put yours down, cop?" a gravelly voice said.
Shadowed or not, there was no mistaking the
man's size. Although he was shorter than Randy by a good eight
inches, he must have outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. The
guy was a goddamn refrigerator, solid muscle, his belly flat
above the belt of his jeans. Randy held his gun away from his body,
started to lower his arm.
"That's better," the man said. "Nice and
slow. Hands where I can see them."
"Yeah, I'm a cop," Randy said, "and you're
George Watson. You should know I'm not alone. Cops don't like it
when other cops get hurt, so back off."
"Maybe that's a risk I'll have to take." He
inched toward Randy, his shotgun still leveled at Randy's
midsection.
Randy stood his ground, heart pounding. Once
the man was close enough, Randy offered his gun. "I guess you're
right. Here. Take it." He held the weapon by the barrel and
extended it up and out to Watson's left.
Watson released his left hand from the
shotgun and reached for Randy's gun. As he stepped in, he let the
shotgun drop just enough to give Randy the opening he needed. Randy
closed the distance between them and shoved the shotgun's barrel
aside, wrenching it from Watson's grasp. Watson ignored the guns
and swung his fist towards Randy's head. Randy blocked it and
stepped in close. He sent his elbow into Watson's face and grabbed
his shoulder.
Randy forced his elbow into Watson's throat.
He took the off-balance man down with a well placed kick to his
right leg and heard a satisfying thwack as Watson's head hit the
floor. He kept control of Watson's right arm and slid the shotgun
across the floor, well out of reach. Randy put his left knee to the
man's neck. His right leg pinned his torso to the ground. Randy
switched pistol for cuffs and secured Watson's wrists. He removed a
knife from a sheath on Watson's belt and sent it to join the
shotgun. Randy kicked Watson over onto his back, stuck his knee on
the man's chest and pointed his weapon at Watson's head. "Okay,
mister. My little gun beats your no gun."
"You all right down there?" Kovak's voice
said from the radio at Randy's belt.
"Just fine. Got him."
Randy looked up as Grady and Mac entered the
room. "Watch this sleazebag," he commanded. He keyed his radio to
speak to Kovak. "Mac and Grady are here now. You want me to send
Mac up? A woman might make her feel safer."
Kovak agreed. "Besides, I want to see that
scumbag."
Randy turned and found Grady standing over
Watson's inert form. Colleen MacDonald had secured the weapons and
was leaning against the wall.
"Mac, Kovak's with another kid upstairs. Why
don't you stay with her until the paramedics get here, okay?"
She nodded and headed for the stairs. Within
seconds, Kovak had stormed into the room.
"Wake up, creep." Kovak nudged the man in
the ribs, not all that gently. Watson groaned, but his eyes
remained closed.
Kovak ran his light across the stunned man.
Randy took in the short-cropped brown hair, straight nose, tanned
skin, clean-shaven. Not at all scary looking. He could believe a
child might trust him.
Watson moaned and opened his eyes. Deep
blue, almost friendly. He squinted against the light, then blinked.
"You better let me go, cop," he said.
"Give me one good reason, slimebag," Randy
said.
Any semblance of humanity
fell away from Watson's face. The eyes grew cold, his lips
tightened into a thin line.
That
was a face that would scare little children.
Grown-up cops, too. "Because if you don't, I won't tell you where
the other one is," the man snapped.
Randy's heart jumped to his throat. "What
other one?" he demanded.
"That one was part of a set." He motioned
upstairs with his head. "The other one's waiting for me. She should
be all right for a while longer." His sneer chilled Randy's blood
to ice.
"You gonna tell us where she is, or do we
have to play rough?" Kovak asked Watson. He helped Grady pull the
man to his feet.
Watson smirked. "You can't touch me. That's
police brutality."
"Grady," Randy said. "I think you should go
check out this creep's story, and see if the ambulance is here
yet."
The office grunted and left the house.
"What do you mean, brutality?" Randy turned
his attention to Watson. He squeezed the man's arm. "You mean if my
flashlight accidentally fell against your knee? Would that be
brutality, Kovak?"
"You know I hate this part. I think maybe
I'll go out with Grady," Kovak said. He turned away and took two
steps toward the front door.
Watson sneered. "What about my rights? Don't
you gotta read me something?"
"You watch too much television. Let me tell
you something, creep. We've got you cold on Amanda—that's the
little girl you left upstairs. Frankly, I don't think it makes one
bit of difference if we violate any of your rights on the other
child. You're going down."
Watson scowled and looked at the floor. He
struggled, but Randy simply bore down harder.
Grady's voice came over the radio. "The
creep's telling the truth. Another child reported missing."
Randy put his hand around Watson's neck and
began squeezing. "You gonna talk now, or what?"
A glimmer of fear appeared in Watson's eyes.
"I'll have to show you. She's in the woods. Hidden. I couldn't
describe it."
"Let's go. Just remember I have a gun on
you. Nothing funny. The paperwork's a bitch, but in this case, it
would be worth it." Randy shoved the man toward the door and
arranged for Grady to wait for the lab techs and the ambulance.
"C'mon partner. Let's see how helpful Mr. Watson really is."
The three of them headed toward the woods.
Watson took the lead, with Randy half a step behind him, holding
onto the cuffs. Kovak followed a few paces behind, illuminating the
trail with his flashlight.
"You trust this guy?" Randy asked. "Think
he's really going to show us where she is?"
"Not for a second," Kovak said.
"There's a pretty big side trail, here,"
Kovak called to Randy. "Looks like it's been used recently. I think
maybe I should take a quick detour."
"Go for it," Randy said. "Watson and I will
wait in that clearing ten feet up."