Taken - Before her very Eyes (12 page)

Nate stormed across the room,
stopping an inch from Grimshaw’s face. “You wanna fly? Hey, I’ll take you to
the fucking roof myself and we’ll see how many times your arms flap before you
hit the pavement.”

“Officer Long, you never
disappoint me.” Grimshaw brushed past Nate and stood beside Summer, staring
down at Chief Dickson. “I’ve told Miss Demure that we won’t negotiate with the
kidnapper. We’ll wait for his call and I’ll discuss the terms of the girl’s
release.”

“The girl’s release!” Summer
stood and faced the detective. “Do you even know her name? It’s Sabrina. I
should know cause I’m her mother.” Summer crossed her twitching arms and stared
into Grimshaw’s beady black eyes. “
And
if I say that John Scott is
innocent, then that should be good enough for you.”

“But he’s not. The preliminary
samples from John Scott match the data in the case file.”

Nate came to Summer’s side. “Who
authorized those tests?”

“I’m the lead officer in this
case and I can authorize anything I want. It won’t take long before the lab has
a definite DNA match to link him securely as the perpetrator of the crime. And
when they do, I’ll have him locked up for the rest of his life.”

“Please,” Summer begged, “don’t
do this detective. I have to let him go. Sabrina’s life depends on it. Besides,
he won’t get far. And once Sabrina’s safe, you can put him away for as long as
you want because I’m never letting Sabrina out of my arms again.”

“That all sound fine and dandy,
but what if he gets away? What if he skips the county and we never find him
again?”

Summer drew a shaky breath and
wiped the tears from her eyes. “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

Grimshaw snatched the cell phone
from the desk. “Well, I’m not.” He attempted to slip the phone into his pocket,
but Nate was too fast. He grabbed the detective’s wrist with his large hand, and
by the look on Grimshaw’s face Nate was squeezing with all his might.

“Officer Long,” Grimshaw said,
gritting his teeth and fighting to pull his arm free. “You’re interfering with
a police investigation.”

“Correction,” Nate began twisting
Grimshaw’s wrist until his knees buckled and he dropped to the floor. “I’m
apprehending a thief right now and if you continue to resist, I will be forced
to use alternative measures to subdue you.”

“Fine!” Grimshaw opened his hand
and let Nate take the phone. “But this is far from over.”

“By my calculations,” Nate said,
grinning from ear to ear. “It should be over in about forty-five minutes.”

Grimshaw turned, flexed his right
hand repeatedly and fixed Nate with a look of pure hatred before storming to
the office door. He trained those beady black eyes on Summer. “If you go ahead
with your plan and release John Scott, you’ll live to regret it.”

“May I remind you, detective,”
Summer said, getting to her feet and walking halfway across the room. “That
it’s because of you that my daughter is out there right now in the hands of a
madman.”

Grimshaw arched an eyebrow,
turned and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind.

“I was hoping that he would’ve
just stayed out of this,” Chief Dickson said, rounding the desk and standing
next to Nate. “But I’m glad you’ve still got those vise-like hands.”

“Comes in handy for opening
bottles, too.” Nate walked to Summer’s side and placed an arm around her
shoulder. “Or for snapping John Scott’s neck if need be.”

“Those hands could explain why
you don’t have a girl friend. Women love a tender caress,” Summer felt his hand
tighten on her shoulder, “not a bone crunching massage.”

There was a knock on the door and
a second later, Jones stepped inside. His thin face was flushed and his
clothing covered in dirt and mud. It looked like he’d just come from a day on
the farm.

“Stephens and Malroy sent me back,
said I was getting in their way, but I don’t think I was. I was only trying to
help. They’re still busy dusting for prints and searching the farmhouse for
clues. Also, we’ve towed Officer Demure’s car and placed it inside the service
bay.”

“Very good, Jones.” Chief Dickson
walked to the doorway and glanced out into the station. “And how’s the crowd
control coming along?”

“It’s getting worse. News vans
keep pulling in every few minutes. It’s like a circus out there.”

“Then guess what? I’m appointing
you Circus Master, in charge of all three rings.”

Jones gave the chief a queer
look, then turned to leave. “Oh, I almost forgot. They said the sketch artist
went to see Mr. Demure at the hospital, but he wasn’t there.”

“Wasn’t there?” Summer felt the
pressure building in her head. “But he has to be there.”

“No, they’re sure he’s not. They
said he must’ve slipped out the back door. The whole hospital is in a panic.
They say Mr. Demure isn’t in any condition to be out walking around and they
want him brought back in as soon as we see him.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.”
Summer felt terrible at the way she’d left Dean back at the hospital and knew
she was partly responsible for him taking off. How could she blame him for
leaving? After all, she’d have done the same thing if put in his position.
Summer prayed that he’d be all right, because the last thing she needed right
now was to be worrying over him, too. “Cause if he’s got something on his mind
then there’s nothing you or I can say that will stop him.”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “What
about the loss of blood?”

Summer rolled her eyes. “We’ll
just have to hope the doctors did a good job patching him up then, won’t we?”

Jones took out his note pad. “But
where would he take off to?”

“Probably home or the office.”
Summer let Nate escort her out into the main area of the station. “Or searching
the entire city door by door.”

Summer watched as Jones tracked
more muddy footprints back across the white floor, toward the front glass
doors. He stopped, holding the door open and noticed the mess he’d just made in
the station.

“Oh, crap, Chief. I’m sorry. I’ll
clean that up when I get back.”

“Just go.” Chief Dickson shook
his head. “Someone else will take care of it. You’ve got a job to do right
now.”

Jones nodded and disappeared out
into the sea of reporters.

“That,” Nate said, hitching his
thumb at Jones’s disappearing act, “is why you’ve gotta get better and come
back to work. I heard the chief talking about partnering me up with him, and
you know that’ll never work. I’ll kill him. Not because I don’t like the kid,
just because he irritates the hell right out of me.”

Chief Dickson stared through the
small glass window at the slouching form behind the desk, then turned around
and saw every eye in the station was watching him. He had a bad feeling about
what he was about to do and would have given anything to wipe this whole mess
clean.

After running his fingers through
what was left of his short white hair and tugging the tails of his jacket down,
Chief Dickson exhaled as he turned the knob and stepped inside the
interrogation room.

“Mr. Scott.” He paused, waiting
for the prisoner to acknowledge him, but like normal, John Scott refused to be
even the least bit cooperative. “I have some good news.”

John Scott gave a bored sigh and
slipped a little lower in the chair.

“You’re free to go.”

It took John Scott a few seconds
before he responded. He cocked his head and slowly lifted his chin until his
swollen, slitted eyes were peering at Chief Dickson. He appeared to be waiting
for the punch line to be delivered, and why wouldn’t he. He knew he was guilty
and that they had him dead to rights, but still there must have been something
in the way the chief had said those words because a pained toothless smile spread
across John Scott’s face.

“What the fuck’s going on?” He
tipped his chin in the chief’s direction. “You jerking my chain?”

“No, I wish I was.” Chief Dickson
felt his stomach churn at the thought of what this man had done to Summer, and
who knows what else he was guilty of, and now he was about to be set free. It
went against everything he pledged to do for the community, but how could he
not? If something happened to Sabrina because of his decision, he didn’t know
how he’d go on living. This one was for Summer.

“We’ve made a mistake and you’re
free to go.”

John Scott sat up in the chair
and strained to open his blackened, swollen eyelids as wide as possible. “Just
like that?” He glanced from Chief Dickson to the open door behind. “I can walk
right out that door and nobody’s going to stop me?”

Chief Dickson nodded and stood
back, making the pathway to the door wider. “There’s not enough evidence to
hold you on, so we’re forced to release you, but please, don’t leave the
country. We may need to ask you some further questions as the case progresses.”

John Scott slid the chair back
and his smile widened, splitting his lip and sending a trickle of blood from
the crusted corner of his mouth. He raised his hand and waved it around his
face. “This is why you’re letting me go. You don’t want me to report this to
anybody.”

“Report it if you want,” Chief
Dickson said. “I’ve already talked to the guard on duty and steps have been
taken to prevent another such incidence.”

“Incident. It wasn’t an incident
and you know it! There were plenty of empty cells, but that guard put that
sadistic fucker in with me.”

“What can I say? We’re not used
to getting this many visitors in our jail at one time. Besides, why dirty two
holding cells when one is more than adequate?”

John Scott stood and stared out
the door into the crowded station. He seemed to be contemplating whether to
leave or stay and Chief Dickson couldn’t believe that he was still lingering
around, considering what he’d done and how much evidence they had against him. If
it was him, Chief Dickson would’ve run as fast as he could and never stopped
until he was outside the Chatham line.

“Well, are you ready to go?”
Chief Dickson glanced at his watch, noting how close time was running. “We can
gather your belongings at the admissions counter and you can be on your way in
no time.”

John Scott dropped back into his
chair. “And what if I don’t want to leave?”

Chief Dickson couldn’t believe
what he was hearing. “What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t you want to
leave?”

“I’m just saying, what if I want
to stick around and press charges against the guard who let this happen to me?”

“That’s not going to happen. You
go out and find yourself a nice lawyer and then come back and we’ll discuss
what happened with him. But,” Chief Dickson stepped to the side of the table
and leaned down, placing his palms on the surface, “this is a limited time
offer. You either get up and walk out this door with me right now, or I’ll send
you away for the rest of your fucking life!”

John Scott leaned back in the
chair and crossed his arms. “I thought you didn’t have the evidence to keep
me?”

“I’ll get it one way or the
other. I don’t care if I have to frame you for the crimes, because I know what
you did to my officer and I’ll make you pay for that.” Chief Dickson stood and
walked to the door. “It’s now nine forty-five. You have exactly five minutes to
come out of this room, gather your shit and get the fuck out of my life, or
this door will be closed and you’ll only leave when they transfer you to the prison
or,” Chief Dickson lowered his voice, “cart your lifeless body out in a bag. Do
you understand me?”

John Scott seemed to be weighing
his options. There was little doubt of his guilt, and he had to have known they
would gather enough evidence to put him away for a long time. But still there
was a look of trepidation on his face and that look troubled Chief Dickson.
There was something he was hiding.

Slowly John Scott rose to his
feet, cautiously making his way across the room. He stopped at the doorway,
staring out into the sea of reporters gathered in the parking lot and the sight
seemed to brighten his day.

Chief Dickson realized at that
moment that John Scott was planning on playing the assault to the media, hoping
to create such a stir that if they tried to convict him again, a jury would
take it into consideration while sentencing him. But somehow Chief Dickson
didn’t see this guy waiting around to be picked up a second time. That’s
exactly why they would have to keep him on a short leash and not let him get
out of their sights.

The second John Scott stepped out
into the main room of the police station, a blinding surge of lights began
flashing from every window. Normally Chief Dickson would’ve ordered the
barricades to be backed to the edge of the road, forcing the reporters to work
harder for a good shot, but the truth of the matter was he’d never seen this
many reporters in one place in all his career.

Chief Dickson glanced over at
Summer who was frantically tapping her watch with her finger. He held up a hand
to John Scott, stopping him just outside the door of the interrogation room.
“Follow me. We’ll finalize the paperwork over here. This shouldn’t take too
long.”

Ten more minutes was all he had
to stall for then the reporters would do the rest, keeping John Scott busy with
all their questions. Chief Dickson knew everything would fall apart if John
Scott wasn’t close by when the kidnapper called to confirm his release.

They walked across the station,
then down the short hall to the admissions counter where Chief Dickson
disappeared through the door and met John Scott at the window opening. He knew
exactly where John Scott’s belongings were, but he fumbled through the filing
cabinet, digging through old log sheets and forms, pretending he was searching
for his file.

After stalling for a few minutes,
he turned back but John Scott wasn’t at the window anymore.