Authors: Iris Johansen
“I don’t want to know. What did you do to her?”
“Why, I spent the past twenty-four hours preparing her, and now she’s waiting for it to happen.” He paused. “But probably not patiently. She fought me to the very end. She didn’t want me to tell you how hard she had to struggle.”
“Did you hurt her?”
“Yes, not in the way I hurt Stokes, but the mental torment was considerably worse.”
“You son of a bitch.”
“You mustn’t speak to me like that. I’m complimenting your Beth. I actually grew to admire her.”
“Then let her go.”
“Oh, no, you’ll have to go and get her. But we both realize there’s a time restraint, and I’ve put a small obstacle in your path.”
“Tell me where she is.”
“Suppose I show you. I’ve grown so fond of all these computer bells and whistles that Northrup installed for me. A picture tells more than a thousand words. Do you have your computer?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you would. Turn it on.”
She switched on the computer. “You’re wasting time. Stop stalling and—”
The picture came in clear and bright.
“Dear God, what are you doing?”
Water. Water gushing. Flooding the floor, lapping against the walls and the shelves and the first rungs of the metal embalming table where Beth lay bound.
“You can see what I’m doing. I made sure of that. I kept Beth in the dark so that she would be disoriented but I wanted you to know instantly what was going on.”
“You’re going to drown her.”
“Yes, some people say that drowning is an easy death. I don’t agree. Particularly when you’re expecting the suffocation and lung failure. I made certain that Beth would know what to expect.”
She closed her eyes as the horror hit home. Then she forced herself to open them and look back at the video. “How long does she have?”
“Perhaps the forty-five minutes I gave you.”
“How do I know she’s not already dead, like Stokes was?”
“I never promised that the Detective Stokes show was a live broadcast. Trust me, I want you to see your friend die as it happens.”
She believed him. Colby was just that sick.
“But give me a number, and I’ll have our Beth hold up the same number of fingers so you can have your proof of life.”
“Four,” Kendra said.
After a few seconds, Beth flashed two peace signs from her restrained hands.
“There you are,” Colby said. “But I guarantee you, as clever as your Sam Zackoff may be, I’ve made sure he won’t have time to trace this webcast. Good-bye for now, Kendra. This is the last time we will speak for a while.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re wasting time. Good-bye.”
He cut the connection.
On her laptop, Kendra watched as Colby waded through the shin-deep water toward Beth. He leaned over her and said something inaudible.
“What in the hell is he doing?” Kendra said.
Colby pinned what appeared to be a rolled-up freezer bag to Beth’s sweater. Then he stepped out of the frame.
Kendra’s cell phone rang again. She answered it on speaker, this time it really was Sam.
“He called you, didn’t he?” Sam asked.
“How did you know?”
“I’m watching it here. I cloned your computer, remember? I’m forwarding it through my server to the FBI and the police. They’re in the City Heights area, so now they’ll have a description of the clothing he’s wearing.”
“Providing he doesn’t change clothes. Colby thinks of those details.”
“But they’re also looking for his van. Put them both together and—”
“That’s one advantage we do have,” Lynch said. “He doesn’t know we have the name he’s using, or the make and license-plate number of the vehicle he’s—”
“None of that is going to do any good if we can’t get to Beth in time,” Kendra interrupted. “He’s
killing
her.” She added unsteadily, “Sam, you have to find him. He was so sure that even you wouldn’t be able to trace him in time to save her.”
“Then I have to prove him wrong, don’t I? Because we have to find her.” He paused. “But I was thinking while the bastard was spouting off that we may have a third advantage. In the years since Colby went away to jail, much of San Diego County went from water company meter readers … to a central-office networked-based system.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning … there’s another possibility. I’ll call you back.” He hung up.
“Another possibility,” Kendra repeated. “Let’s hope it’s a good one. Colby was so sure.”
“He’s an egomaniac. Of course, he’s sure,” Lynch said. “That doesn’t mean he won’t be wrong.”
“No,” Kendra said. “But it tends to shake the confidence.” Her hand was trembling as she reached for her phone again. “I have to call Griffin and make sure he noticed that video shows that Beth is being held in a cellar. I couldn’t tell before in the other videos because he only had close-ups. But this time he wanted me to see how helpless she was and the rising water, so he panned around the place. The walls are tarred and there were stairs leading upward. It’s a cellar. It will make a difference. We’re looking for a house with a cellar.”
“Griffin will probably have noticed,” Lynch said quietly.
“I have to be certain.” She started dialing. “I’m not as confident as Colby. Nothing else must go wrong.” But it might go terribly wrong if Sam or Griffin didn’t come through for Beth. “Get me to City Heights. I’ll ask Griffin to give me addresses of all houses in the area with cellars and eliminate searching any of the others.”
* * *
SAM PUT DOWN THE PHONE AFTER
talking to Kendra and turned to Eve. “Evidently I’m about to be brilliant.” He added soberly, “Good wishes and prayers will be appreciated.”
“Good. And you’ll have them. But I can’t stay here and just spin my wheels, Sam.” She picked up Kendra’s remote key fob from the desk. “Kendra left her car here for me to use. I’m going to City Heights. If that’s where Beth is, that’s where I need to be.”
Sam unplugged his laptop. “Me, too. Let’s go. I’ll work in the car.”
A few minutes later, Eve was driving away from the Lynch house and glanced at Sam in the seat beside her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You can drive as fast as legally or illegally possible to get us to City Heights.” His head was bent over his computer. “And let me concentrate on finding one of those houses in the area that’s registering a hell of a lot of water pouring out of the pipes into it.”
“You can do that?” She made a face. “What am I thinking? Of course you can do it. You’re going to hack into the Department of Water and Power usage.”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to wait and try to cut through red tape in that bureaucracy.” He was rapidly typing into the computer. “It could take days…”
And they had only minutes, Eve thought. It had terrified her when she had seen Beth bound on that table when they had watched Colby’s video to Kendra. Beth had looked so … helpless.
It was still terrifying her.
She drove slowly, watching the GPS, waiting for Sam to say something.
Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She swerved onto the shoulder of the congested I-15 freeway and glanced over at Sam. “Anything?”
He angled his laptop screen out of the sun’s glare. “Hacking into the Department of Water site was no problem, but there are seven possibilities in the immediate area. Six of them are probably swimming pools being filled.”
“Welcome to Southern California,” Eve said.
“Right. But the seventh has to be Beth, wherever she is.” His fingers flew over the keyboard. “I’m checking each of these addresses against Google Earth. That’ll give me an overhead satellite shot and show if there’s a pool on the property. So far I’m two for two.”
The car shook as they rolled over raised reflector strips on the shoulder.
“Sorry,” Eve said. “El Cajon Boulevard is just ahead. Should I still get off there?”
“Yes, and turn right.” He squinted at the screen. “Three for three.”
His phone rang. “Kendra.” He tapped his headset to answer. “Kendra, I know I told you I’d call you back. I got distracted. Where are you?”
“Where do you think I am? Heading for City Heights. Sam, Beth’s not got much—”
“I’m working on it. I’m getting near the area now. Stand by for an address. Shit! Another pool.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Look, I’ve tapped into the water-usage meters, and I’m eliminating the swimming pools. And … I’m now five for five. Why can’t we get a break? I hope I’m right about this being the right neighborhood.”
“You’d better be. Half of the police department and all of FBI’s local tactical response team are there breaking down doors.”
“Damn. It seems like they’re all pools. Only two to go. Cross your fingers. We’re running out of options. I don’t know where we can possibly go after—” He stopped. “Oh, my God.”
“Sam?”
“This has to be it! It’s a small two-story commercial building. I think it used to be a bakery, with maybe an apartment above.”
“Where?” Kendra asked.
“At 4276 Euclid Avenue, just south of El Cajon. Tell the cops—4276 Euclid. We’re almost there.”
“Five minutes.” Kendra hung up.
“I’ve got it.” Eve gunned the engine.
Two right turns and two minutes later, Sam and Eve were approaching the former bakery, which was already surrounded by police cars with flashers blazing.
“Dear God,” Eve whispered.
She was looking at the water pouring over the sidewalk from the two-story building. She jammed her foot on the brake.
Sam threw open his door. “It doesn’t mean anything. We can’t give up. I know it looks bad but … Come on!”
Sam and Eve ran down the narrow side alley to a door that had obviously just been rammed open by the police officers. Water was rushing from the open doorway.
Eve pushed past the half dozen cops. Two of whom tried to stop her.
One officer said, “You can’t go in there, ma’am.”
“The hell I can’t. My sister’s in there.”
Another one of the officers grabbed her arm and shined his flashlight toward a descending cellar stairway that was already entirely underwater.
“It’s too late,” he said gently. “That water was rushing too fast and filled up that stairwell in just seconds.”
Eve tried to break free. “No. We have to bring her up.”
“I’m sorry. We need to wait for—”
“Let me go!”
“Ma’am, we’ve just radioed for the dive team. They’re on their way.”
“And we’re supposed to wait? How long? Ten minutes? Twenty? It’ll be too late, dammit.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late now.”
Eve tried to wrench herself free as more police officers restrained her. She desperately exchanged a quick glance with Sam, and her eyes narrowed.
He understood.
He glanced toward the open cellar door, then gave her a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
Eve yelled hysterically, and swung her arm. The rest of the police officers joined the fray, trying to restrain her. She threw herself back, giving Sam just the opening he needed.
He took a deep breath and dove into the water!
Sam heard the cops yelling behind him as he kicked his way down into the darkness of the submerged cellar. A couple of them splashed on the top couple of steps, but none followed.
They weren’t crazy. Not like he clearly was.
The water was
cold
. It was now completely dark, and he couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face. It was then he realized he had no orientation of the strange place, not even a clue of which direction Beth and that embalming table might lie.
Wait!
He fished in his pocket and pulled out his keys. A tiny, flat xenon flashlight was on the ring, useful for seeing door locks at night and computer motherboards in dim corners of his workshop.
And it just might save his life.
He squeezed the flashlight between his thumb and forefinger, and a wide-angle beam illuminated the ceiling and side wall.
Bizarre. In just a few seconds, he’d already become disoriented to the point that he couldn’t tell up from down. He spun around, trying to keep a fix on where the stairs were. He couldn’t let himself lose track of how to get the hell out of there.
If he ever got out. His lungs were already aching.
He went deeper and kicked, looking for some sign of the embalming table he’d seen in Colby’s videos. Again he’d become disoriented, finding himself almost face-to-face with one of the black-as-coal walls.
Where in the hell was—?
He turned around and saw her. Only inches from him, facing him.
Beth
.
No!
Beth’s eyes were closed, and she was floating upright, her feet still strapped to the table. Her wrists were now free of restraints, but Beth’s struggle had left bruises and scrapes all over her lower arms.
She’d never had a chance. She was motionless, and her long hair floated around her beautiful face.
Oh, God.
Beth.
I’m sorry, Beth. I should have worked faster, found you sooner …
His oxygen-starved lungs burned … Could he even make it out of here?
I won’t leave you. I’ll get you out of this awful place, Beth. I won’t leave without you …
He dove down and saw that her ankle restraints were buckled underneath the table. No way she could’ve reached them, he realized. He released the buckles, then gripped her arms and yanked her free of the table.
He held her tight as he kicked toward the stairway. He could feel her long hair brush, cling, to his face.
I’ve got you. You’re getting out of here, Beth. I won’t leave you in this pit where he put you to die.
His chest was throbbing, about to explode. He was getting light-headed.
Where were those damned stairs? Was he even on the right side of the room?
He touched the wall with his fingertips and kicked harder.
There. There were the stairs.
He gripped Beth tighter and kicked upward. Then, finally, he could see light from the doorway. Several flashlight beams speared downward.
Kick harder. Just a few more yards.
God, I’m sorry, Beth. Forgive me. Someone else should have been here for you. I failed you. I should have been faster …