Frozen Past (27 page)

“Dammit, Jaxon! I was on your side until you disappeared for two days and then threatened the media with violence. You’re a cop. You do know you could be brought up on assault?”

“I didn’t draw a weapon.”

“You don’t have a weapon.”

“It worked,” Jaxon said and grinned.

Benton sighed and sat down. “It did, didn’t it? Still, my ass is in a sling because of you and the chief of the NBC affiliate was screaming at me on the phone before you got here.”

“I needed to get moving and they were in my way.”

Benton waved his hand at him dismissing it. “I don’t have anything for you. My hands are tied.”

“I expected a little more from you, chief. A helping hand, you know…stand behind your man and all that stuff.”

Jaxon watched Benton’s face turn red and he knew he’d gone too far.

“You are to vacate these premises effective immediately,” Benton said. “And if you return, I’ll have you thrown in the tank without so much as a fuck you very much. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Jaxon said, turning to leave. He stopped and turned back. “This is on your head. I’ll have my cell on when you change your mind.” Jaxon didn’t wait for a response. He walked from Benton’s office straight out the front door and to his car where he sat fuming, waiting for Victoria.

She followed a few minutes later, a scowl on her face as she strode up to the passenger door and sat in the car. They both stared straight ahead for a few minutes without saying a word and then she finally said, “Well—that was fun.”

Chapter 49

Luke walked into the empty house with Jimmy and John. He stood at the entrance and just listened to the silence for a moment. The last time he had been here everything had been almost perfect. Almost.

He walked upstairs and fired up his computer. Logging onto Facebook, he navigated to Quentin Jenson’s page and clicked on his friends list. His uncle Bodey was number thirty two. He clicked on Bodey Jenson’s face and it took him to his page. Clicking on the info button, he saw he had a website and e-mail listed and surprisingly, a phone number. Jackpot.

“Who’s Bodey Jenson?” Jimmy asked.

“It’s Q’s uncle. He’s the one who gave Q the program to decrypt the website that makes a cell phone number anonymous. That’s how we got Worthington’s cell phone number.”

Luke dialed Bodey Jenson’s number and it started to ring. It was answered on the sixth ring.

“I don’t know you,” the voice said, “You’d better not be selling something because I will make your life miserable. If you hang up now, we’re good.”

“Bodey Jenson?” Luke asked.

“You know me,” Bodey said. “Who is this?”

“My name is Luke Harrison and I’m a friend of Q’s”

Silence on the other line and then Bodey sighed. “Q’s dead.”

“I know sir. It’s probably my fault. I got him to help me and this maniac killed him for it. I’m sorry.”

“My brother, Q’s father, was into all kinds of bad shit,” Bodey said. “I doubt you had anything to do with it. I tried to get Q away from him, but he wouldn’t leave his family. It’s not your fault.”

“You don’t know the whole story,” Luke said.

“Enlighten me.”

Luke spent the next ten minutes explaining everything to him and when he was done Bodey sat quietly for a moment.

“Are you still there?” Luke asked.

“Just in awe my brother. Just in awe. That kid was always willing to help anyone. I told him to be careful who he messed with, but he wouldn’t listen. I can tell you have a lot of guilt over this, but Q was able to make decisions on his own. He made a bad one.”

“He saved a kid’s life that night,” Luke said. “Because of him, we were able to scare Worthington off.”

“I appreciate you telling me all this, Luke, but I don’t think that’s the whole reason your calling. Am I right?”

“Yes sir. I need your help.”

“Is it going to get me killed?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Not too convincing are you. What do you need and I’ll decide if it’s worth the risk.”

Luke told him.

“So your woman, Ellie is it…?”

“Yes.”

“Ellie has been kidnapped by this same guy who killed my brother and his family and you want me to help you find him? Do I have this right?”

“Yes.”

“You’re psycho, dude,” and he chuckled. “Why aren’t the police handling this?”

“Because they suck.”

“Yes—I imagine they do in your eyes. What does this Ellie mean to you?”

“Everything.”

“That epic, huh? You do know you could get yourself killed over this? I don’t think I can live with that.”

“He’s after me anyway. If you want to look at it as self preservation, you can add that to the fact I’d rather be dead than live without Ellie.”

“You’re kind of young to be this into one girl.”

“You don’t know her.”

“You’re right,” Bodey said. “I don’t. You know, you sound a little older than your real age.”

“I’ve had to grow up a lot in the past few days.”

“True that,” Bodey said. “Double true. Give me your e-mail and I’ll walk you through it.”

Luke sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Jenson. You don’t know what this means.”

“It’s Bodey, since we’re so intimate now, and I think I know all too well what this means. Don’t get yourself killed kid.”

“I’ve got help.”

“I think you’re going to need it. E-mail?”

Luke gave it to him and a few minutes later he had the program installed on his computer. Bodey walked him through how to work it. It took a few minutes because it was not very user friendly, but he eventually got the hang of it.

“How are you going to get him to call you?” Bodey asked.

“I’ll send him a message on Facebook he can’t ignore. He has a huge ego and I’m going to bruise it. He’ll respond.”

“Got it. If you can’t get it to work right, call me back. I give tech support.”

Luke actually laughed. “Thank you, sir—uh—Bodey. You’re awesome!”

“Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

“I will.” He hung up.

Chapter 50

Ellie woke to find her father standing over her.

“Get up,” he said. “Time to move.”

She rose slowly, shakily. She didn’t know how much time had passed since the video incident and she hadn’t had anything else to eat. She still stunk of urine despite washing herself off and dunking her clothes in the soapy water. She had put them back on wet and lay down on the concrete shivering. She hadn’t wanted him to see her naked. Even if he was her father.

She eventually fell asleep and now he was back.

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace new.”

“I thought you wanted Jaxon to find me,” she said.

“I don’t want to make it easy for him,” and he grinned. “He has to prove he’s worthy.”

“Worthy of what?”

Her father didn’t answer. He told her to turn around and he bound her wrists behind her and then he marched her up the stairs. They emerged into a dingy room with a cot, a chair, a small table, and a hot plate, but nothing else. It had one window and Ellie could see it was dark outside. She felt confused because in her mind she thought it was morning. Her internal clock was all off balance and she had no idea what time it was or even what day.

He pushed her down a hallway and out a door to what looked like a back yard. It was overgrown with weeds as high as her shoulder. Further back, in the dim moonlight, she could see what she thought looked like a small outhouse nestled against a tree. The light was so dim it was hard to tell. A black or brown car was parked by it and he nudged her along toward it.

“No noise, now,” he whispered.

He went to the passenger side and pushed her in. Shutting the door he came around, sat in the driver’s seat, and reached around behind him grabbing a small bottle and a rag. She knew what was going to happen.

“Please,” she said. “I’ll be good. You don’t have to knock me out.”

“Yes I do,” he said, soaking the rag with the fluid. A strong astringent odor filled the car and he rolled down the window. “Just hold still and let it do its work. You’ll be fine in no time.”

She started to cry, but didn’t fight him. The rag was pressed to her face and she held her breath.

“You’ll have to breathe eventually,” he said. “Might as well do it now.”

She took a breath and then another and soon the world started spinning. His grinning face, lit only by the moonlight, was what followed her into the blackness. She dreamed for what seemed an eternity, her father’s angry voice shouting a single word over and over again: ‘Read!’ No matter what she tried, she could not find where the voice was coming from. His low, deep, booming cry seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. In the dream, she was free to move around and she ran from the command, but she could never get away. It followed her into the darkness, where she finally slept deeply and awakened, stiff and cold on a concrete floor, a thin wool blanket covering her legs.

She sat up shakily and looked around. She was in a basement again, but someplace new. Another chair was sitting in the middle of the room, pushed up close to a folding card table. A Styrofoam cooler sat against one wall next to a door which stood partially open. It was dark beyond the opening and she could not see into it. If she had to guess, she was pretty sure it was another ‘bathroom.’

Turning to her left, a wall of cubbies stood stark and empty against a wall that had a window high up near the roof. The glass was painted black but she could see light leaking around the sill. At least she could tell it was daylight. It was too high for her to reach even if she stood on the table. Maybe if she put the chair up on the table and stood on it she thought it might be within reach. She’d have to try when she wasn’t so weak.

Standing slowly, her legs shaking beneath her, she wobbled around the rest of the space finding nothing of interest or value. A set of creaky stairs led to a locked, solid feeling door that echoed when she rapped on it. No one came to answer. Holding the railing as she slowly descended back down, the room started to spin and she lost her footing. Falling the last couple of steps, she twisted her ankle and cried out in pain as she landed hard on the concrete floor. She sat there holding it and crying, the despair she felt magnified by her weakened and now injured body. Nobody was going to find her here and no one was coming to save her.

After a few minutes she got herself under control and tried to stand. She limped and hopped over to the Styrofoam cooler and looked inside. There were a few bottles of water, some snacks, and a sandwich nestled in some ice. She grabbed a handful of the cubes and held them to her swelling ankle. Hopefully she’d be able to keep it from swelling too much and stiffening up.

Grabbing the sandwich, she opened it warily and smelled. This one seemed ok and checking the date on it did no good because she had no idea what day it was. She took a tentative bite and chewed slowly. It was glorious. She swallowed whole mouthfuls without even chewing and even though she knew she needed to slow down, she couldn’t help herself. She was famished.

Chugging some water after devouring one half of the sandwich, her stomach revolted and she threw everything back up all over the floor. She started sobbing again, angry at herself for being so foolish and loathing the man who put her in this position. Sitting on the cold floor, vomit in front of her, her ankle on ice and continuing to swell, a complete feeling of hopelessness washed over her and she actually started to believe she might not live through this. Her despair was a living thing crawling around inside her. She moaned aloud in the quiet room, trying desperately to push everything but Luke from her mind. The ache she felt slowly subsided as she closed her eyes and envisioned him in front of her, reaching for her and taking her into his arms. The room grew warmer and the stench of her clothes and vomit faded into the background as she lost herself in the vision.

The tears dried up and she felt a little better. The strength she received from Luke amazed her and she clung to his image like an overboard passenger at sea, hanging to a life preserver. He was her life preserver and she would never let go. Never let go. Never let go…

Chapter 51

Jaxon watched Victoria talk to Holt on the phone. They had driven to the Hoover building and were now in her office expecting to look over the uncut version of the video Worthington had sent to the networks. Jaxon was rogue now, and they had to be careful. No one seemed to care at the moment who Victoria brought into the building, but if Benton or Holt knew he was here, they would probably arrest him and her too. They had to be careful, but they had to have information too. They were walking a fine line between investigators and criminals.

“Yes. I know,” Victoria said. “I won’t let that happen. Dammit Emory! You know I’m the most informed of any one on this case besides Jaxon.” A pause. “You can’t!” She hung her head and then picked it up again, angrier. “I will not have what is between us endanger this little girl’s life! Can you live with your decision to pull me off of this case? If she dies, I will blame you for the rest of my life!” Silence for a few seconds as Jaxon tried in vain to hear Holt’s side of the conversation, but all he heard was noise. “Yes.” She looked relieved. “I can live with that. Twenty four hours is plenty.” She was about to hang up when he must have said something else. She nodded to herself and then said, “Thank you,” and hung up.

“That didn’t sound too good,” Jaxon said.

“It didn’t start very good, but I got what I need. He gave me twenty four hours to produce some results or he’s pulling me off.” She stood. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

“Where too?”

“Quantico,” she said. “They’re analyzing the tape there and they have some footage we need to see.”

“What is it?”

“Apparently there is a picture that flashes up briefly in the video. Invisible to the naked eye, but they were able to freeze it.”

“Did they say what the picture is?”

She nodded. “It’s a house.”

An hour later they were in a room at Quantico and the man talking to Victoria held a manila envelope in his hand as he chewed the fat with her. He didn’t seem to feel the urgency that Jaxon was feeling and it was getting to him. His head throbbed from the drinking binge and though he had taken a handful of aspirin, it remained a distracting spot of pain just behind his eyes.

“Vick, we need to get moving,” Jaxon said, finally.

The man stopped in mid-sentence and turned to Jaxon as if seeing him for the first time. Victoria covered. “He’s right, Tom. Sorry, we need to stay on top of the time. We only have…” she looked at her watch. “Twenty two hours.”

“I thought you had three days,” Tom said.

“Three days—twenty two hours—two minutes,” Jaxon said. “What difference does it make? This little girl is in a horrible place and the quicker we get to her the quicker she’ll be away from him. Now, show us the damn picture.”

She glared at him but didn’t say anything.

Tom said, “Alright,” and took the picture out and laid it on the table.

Victoria took a quick breath in and Jaxon felt a jolt run through him as if he had been hit by 110 volts.

“I take it, you two recognize this place?” Tom said.

Jaxon looked at her and she said, “Shit.”

* * *

Luke was in his parents’ room standing in front of the bureau next to the bathroom. John and Jimmy had gone home for a bit while Luke rested. He needed to get moving, but his body wasn’t cooperating. The headache was still going strong and now the dizziness had returned, though not quite as bad as in the hospital.

He had sent Worthington a message on Facebook, but the man had not responded. Luke was worried he may have calculated wrong. Maybe the asshole wasn’t going to be tricked into giving his position away and if that was the case, Luke was hopelessly out of the loop. He didn’t have the resources the police and FBI had. His only ace in the hole had been Bodey Jenson and his software.

Closing his eyes and picturing Ellie in his head only made things worse. He couldn’t seem to think of her without seeing her tied to that chair, reading the message and sobbing uncontrollably. He clenched his fists and opened his eyes. Looking into the mirror that was over the bureau, he stared at his face. What he saw shocked him. He didn’t recognize it at first. His eyes were sunk deep in their sockets and black smudges were visible under them as if he had bruised them. His hair was sticking up in large clumps and his clothes were wrinkled and stained. They had been the clothes he had been wearing the night Ellie was taken.

His mouth was set in a thin line and his brow creased in a permanent scowl. He looked ten years older. The world started to spin again and he grabbed on to the edge of the bureau and steadied himself. It passed in a few seconds and he took a deep breath. Opening his father’s sock drawer, he pushed the black and brown and grey and white socks around until he found what he was looking for. The gun felt huge in his hands, but the weight, pleasantly solid; powerful. He looked at himself in the mirror again as he held the weapon and didn’t like the small grin on his face. He turned away and carried the weapon into his room.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he popped the clip out and checked the ammo. It looked full. His dad had said the Glock held fifteen rounds but he didn’t know if his dad had fired it the other night. The police had returned it to Deana and she had placed it in its hiding place. Everybody knew the gun was there.

He carefully popped out each round and held the small brass cache in his hand. Fifteen exactly. Dad had never gotten a shot off. He pressed the bullets back into the clip and then rammed the clip home. His dad had gone over the gun again with him the night before Worthington had shown up and Luke felt good he had insisted on it. The gun felt foreign in his hands, but not so alien he couldn’t make it do what it was made to do. He just hoped he’d be able to hit something with it. Namely Worthington.

His phone rang and he looked at the caller ID. He answered Jimmy’s call, turning the weapon over in his hands, feeling the weight of the metal. It made him feel powerful.

“Anything yet?” Jimmy asked.

“Nothing.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Nothing we can do,” Luke said. “We’ll have to wait until he gets the message.”

“Do you think he’ll answer?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“He can’t let a kid challenge him like that and not answer. His ego is too big.”

“He’s smart though. He may just keep quiet. You know, like radio silence in a battle.”

“He’ll call.”

“If he doesn’t?”

“He’ll call.”

“I know you called him out, but what did you say exactly?”

“I called him a pussy and said he couldn’t hide from me. I would be coming for her and I wouldn’t stop until he was lying on the ground bleeding and dying while I piss in his face.”

“Damn. Yeah, that’d piss me off.”

“I’m counting on it.”