The One That Got Away (28 page)

Jared hit play. The camera’s angle wasn’t the best. It was close enough to pick up the action, but too far away to make out faces. Zoë’s takedown was fast, efficient, and reckless.

“Damn,” Greening said.

Jared laughed. “I know, right? That self-defense shit she does really works.”

Greening looked at the report, then at the figure on the screen. He might not have been able to make out Porter’s face, but he could make out his size. He was skinny and wasn’t much bigger than Zoë. That didn’t jive with Jarocki’s six-foot-plus estimate.

“How big was this guy?”

“Not big. Five-eight at the most.”

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t our guy. He’s too small. Fuck it!” Greening tossed the report away.

“What’s going on?”

“The Tally Man has taken Zoë.”

“Oh my God,” Jared said. “I can’t believe it.”

“We have a witness. He said the Tally Man is a strong guy that’s six-one or six-two. He also said Zoë’s last words before he took her were, ‘You. Mall. Phone Thief.’ ”

Jared snatched up the report. He scanned it, then pounded a line with his finger. “This guy. The victim. He was over six feet.”

Greening took the report back. It said that Brad Ellis had been the victim, complete with a Walnut Creek address.

Jared forwarded through the feed. He stopped at the post-melee footage and tapped the screen. “That guy. That’s Brad Ellis.”

“Can you improve that image, or do you have another shot of him? A close-up or something?”

“I can’t do much with the feeds, but I may have him on another camera. You should also talk to the local news. They were here. ABC, I think. They did a piece on it.”

Greening pulled out his cell and called Ogawa. “Forget Porter. He’s the wrong guy. It’s not the phone thief. It’s the victim. His name is Brad Ellis, and I have his address.”

Zoë had gotten what she wanted—a stay of execution. She estimated they’d been on the road for a couple hours now. Each extra minute on the road was a minute in her favor. It was all good news, but she was relying entirely on luck. Luck that a passing cop would come their way. Luck that they’d run into another motorist or trucker. Luck that he’d pick up a flat and someone would see her while he changed a wheel. Luck wasn’t proving to be a reliable friend.

She’d listened for passing cars and trucks and heard very few. It was in the early hours of the morning, after all, which just went to show that luck couldn’t be depended on. She’d considered screaming when a vehicle passed but thought better of it. The chances were the motorist wouldn’t hear her from their vehicle, considering engine noises, two sets of windows, and the speed they would be passing each other. Screaming was a one-shot deal. She could use it only when she knew for sure that it would bring help. Squander that chance, and Beck would either chloroform her again or renege on his promise to take her to Holli’s grave. Neither outcome was acceptable.

She’d love for luck to take a hand in her rescue, but she knew it was down to her to save herself. Luck would step in only when she did something to invite it.

Beck slowed down the SUV. A spike of adrenaline went through her. This was either the opportunity she’d been waiting for or they’d reached their final destination and she’d blown her chance.

“Have we arrived?”

“No.” He stopped the SUV, came to the rear, and opened the tailgate.

The sudden rush of night air excited her. She looked past him at the world behind him. They were in a town. Streetlights lit sidewalks and storefronts. She looked for people and saw none.

“I need gas, and I need you to be quiet.”

He held his chloroform rag in one hand. She kicked and bucked. Brando barked and snarled.

Yeah, bark, you son of a bitch
, she thought.
Wake the neighbors
.

He pinned her in place with one hand to her chest. She opened her mouth to scream, and he smothered it with the rag. She inhaled in reflex and blacked out.

When she came to, the SUV was on the road again. She kicked out in frustration at having missed her chance.

“Zoë, don’t be stupid. Not now that we have an understanding.”

Screw you
, she thought. She hated that he had all the angles covered. Then again, maybe he didn’t. Finally, luck had presented itself. The edge of the blanket he’d covered her with was trapped in the latch of the tailgate, keeping it from fully closing. It shuddered with each bump in the road.

Carefully, she rolled over so she faced the tailgate. Could she get it open? Yes. With a bit of contortionism, she could pop it and roll out onto the road. It would probably cost her a couple of broken bones and a concussion at the very least, but it would be worth it if it stopped traffic.

Would it work, though? They were on a fast road, judging by their speed and the lack of stops for lights, but it wasn’t a freeway or she’d hear more noise from other traffic. When she really thought about it, she hadn’t heard the sound of another vehicle since she’d woken up. If she jumped out, he’d simply stop and put her back in.

She tried not to let the despair creep in. She’d bide her time and simply wait for traffic to build up. She spent twenty minutes repositioning herself without alerting Beck or his dog. When the chance came, she’d be ready.

The miles went by. Beck never reduced speed or stopped. Zoë had the dreadful feeling that he’d never slow down. Her fate was to ride in the back of his damn car until the end of time.

Then her body lurched forward under the weight of the SUV braking. This was her chance. She inched her way up to the tailgate. She grabbed the blanket with her bound hands and pulled. She felt it slip through the lock, which meant the latch wasn’t quite engaged. Just as she felt the SUV turn, she tugged on the blanket and slammed her back into the door, causing it to pop open.

Please, please, can I have a soft landing?
she thought, closed her eyes, prayed, and rolled out. She hit the road hard, crashing down on her shoulder. The momentum carried her forward faster than she’d expected. She balled herself up as best she could to protect her head but managed to bang every square inch of her body.

Stunned, she lay sprawled in the road, her hands and feet still bound. She’d hoped her fall would break the cable ties, but luck wasn’t with her again. If she needed any more evidence of that, instead of finding a slew of motorists on hand that had witnessed her tumbling from a moving vehicle, she was alone on a tree-lined, two-lane highway. Alone, except for the Tally Man.

He stopped the SUV in the middle of the turn, hopped out, and pounded toward her. She didn’t bother making a run for it. There was no escape while she was still bound. She resigned herself to her recapture and waited for him, taking in the clear sky and fresh night air. It was probably the last night sky she’d ever see.

“That was very stupid, Zoë.” He gathered her up in his arms and carried her back to the SUV. “How long have you been planning that little stunt? Just as I think I can trust you, you prove me wrong.”

He dropped her in the back of the SUV, to the backdrop of Brando’s earsplitting barking.

“You’ve insulted me for the last time.”

All Zoë could think about was how she’d screwed up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’re still taking me to see Holli, right? Please.”

“Oh yes, I wouldn’t deny either of us of that.”

He brought out a hypodermic needle and jammed it in her shoulder. The effect was immediate. She tried looking at him, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling back in her head.

“Time to sleep, Zoë.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Greening stood in front of the Walnut Creek house, while SWAT and Walnut Creek PD officers teemed all over the place. It had all been a bust. They’d woken up a whole neighborhood for nothing.

Ogawa emerged from the house with the SWAT commander. He left the commander behind and crossed the front lawn over to Greening.

“The place is a short sale. It’s been vacant for months,” Ogawa said.

Greening shook his head. He should have seen this coming as soon as the cell phone proved to be a burner with no ownership record. Even the guy’s name, Brad Ellis, was bogus. No such person existed in the Bay Area, at least not matching his description.

Ogawa held up a couple of letters. “These were inside.”

Greening took the letters. They were both from the Richmond Police Department. They were follow-ups on the Tally Man’s cell phone–theft case. They were the icing on the cake.

“He choreographed this stunt to get to Zoë,” Greening said.

“And it’s costing him. Until now, we’ve learned almost nothing about him because he works so anonymously, but going after Zoë has exposed him. Now we have a description and an alias. They will lead somewhere. It may not feel like it, but we’re closing in. We
are
going to catch this guy.”

It was a good pep talk. Ogawa was right. After weeks of shining a flashlight into the dark, they finally knew who they were going after. Under normal circumstances, he’d be excited, but not this time.

“But are we going to get to him before he kills Zoë?” Greening said.

Ogawa didn’t have an answer.

Greening’s cell rang. It was ABC7.

“Inspector Greening, this is Thom Futrell. We spoke earlier. We went through the tape for that news piece, and we do have a headshot of the person who had their phone stolen. We didn’t have much on him as he didn’t want to be interviewed, but we did catch him on camera. I’m texting it to you now.”

Greening needed some hope, and this was it. His phone beeped a few seconds later, and he opened the attached screen capture. It wasn’t the perfect photo. The man had turned his head away from the camera, but it was still a three-quarter face shot of him. If anyone knew him, they’d recognize him. He appeared to be in his late thirties, with a good head of blond hair. His face was blocky with a weak chin. So, this was the face of the Tally Man.

“Who do I have to talk to to get this broadcast?” he asked.

A sudden jolt awoke Zoë. The SUV was bouncing over an uneven surface. She forced herself upright. Out the back window, she saw the main highway. Ahead was an unpaved dirt road.

“You’ve come around at the right time,” Marshall Beck said. “We’ve arrived.”

Beck hadn’t lied. They had arrived. He drove down a dirt road for a couple of minutes at a slow speed. She estimated that at the speed he was doing, they traveled a quarter mile before he stopped. Zoë bookmarked the distance in her mind. She wasn’t far from the real world, if she managed to make a break for it.

He popped the tailgate and hoisted her over his shoulder. Dawn was showing itself, and the sky was turning blue. It meant they had been driving for hours. They had to be way outside the Bay Area. How far could he have gotten in a night—Oregon, Nevada, Southern California? She scanned the horizon, hoping to see a feature, a hill or mountain she’d recognize. It was all alien to her.

She’d asked to be brought here, but this wasn’t the place she’d imagined. The morning light illuminated a stable of some kind. There were also two paddocks and a house. It was easy to see the place was no longer active. It wasn’t derelict by any means, just ignored. The grass in the paddocks was high, and the stable was empty. It had probably been pretty once and could be again, with a little work. It was idyllic and seemed a million miles from the real world. Her thoughts soured. Holli was buried here.

Brando bounded from the SUV and ran in an excited circle.

“Where is this place?”

“This is where I grew up and learned the difference between right and wrong. Where I learned respect.”

Beck carried her toward the stable. Zoë’s heart quickened. She knew how this story ended. There were numerals carved into her flesh to prove it. She bucked in his grasp.

“Enough, Zoë,” he barked and continued walking. “You knew this was happening. You made this bargain.”

“Yes, and you need to hold up your end of it.”

He stopped and lowered her to her feet. He had over a foot in height on her. Brando padded around them in slow circles.

“I have. We’re here.”

“You said you’d take me to where you buried Holli.”