Back Before Dark (10 page)

H
e sat in the darkness of his parked Toyota Camry and watched the kid. He’d looked forward to coming here all day. Just to relive the whole thing. The brilliance of it all. The kidnapping was clean. Perfectly planned. Perfectly executed. Bold. Gutsy. And sure to prove to the police that all their methods weren’t a match for his mind. They still hadn’t found the minivan—and they wouldn’t. Not until he was ready. He’d give Detective Hammer a few more gray hairs on this one. Maybe he’d lose his detective status. A demotion back to patrolman would be nice. He’d love to drive by and see Hammer directing traffic somewhere. And it could happen. So far everything else was going just as he’d imagined.

But he hadn’t predicted this. The boy knelt on the grass—holding a baseball bat. He knew exactly who the kid was. The kid had passed close enough to a streetlight to confirm it without a doubt. The one who had nearly caught up to the van.

The kid chasing him on his bike turned out to be a bonus. A total rush. He wished he’d thought to mount a mini-cam to the rear bumper. That’s a tape he’d have enjoyed watching. To see the kid’s face. See him reaching out—soooo close. To hear him scream for his friend.

And now the kid was back. Oh, this
was
an unexpected treat.
He sat up a little taller in the seat, careful not to let his head rise above the headrest even for an instant. He didn’t want to do anything to attract attention. But if the police happened to cruise by and question him, he had an explanation.

He was always prepared. Always in control. Always two steps—no make that
ten
steps—ahead of the police. He would never be caught. He was too smart. And too careful. He would drive Hammer crazy.

Was this a trap? Had the boy been sent here? From the shadows of the car, he gave the lot a careful once-over. He inspected the rooftops of the nearby buildings. Nothing. No, this boy was working on his own. He’d sent
himself.

What
was this kid thinking? Praying for a miracle? He chuckled quietly. This was an interesting twist.

Something surged up inside him. A sudden compulsion to grab the kid. Stuff him in the trunk. Imagine how stupid the police would look then. Two abductions in the same week. In the same spot. It was madness. But a sweet, delicious madness.

Impulsiveness breeds mistakes. He knew that. And he was too smart to make a mistake, which meant that tonight he would do nothing but watch. The idea of pulling off a double kidnapping intrigued him, though. It would gain national attention. Hammer would think he had a serial kidnapper on his hands. But that’s where he’d make a critical mistake. Their profile would be way off.

It would be
so
easy. The FBI would be called in. Then he’d prove he was smarter than even the big guys. He’d take their pride down a peg or two. Especially Hammer. That man had enough pride and arrogance for the whole force.

A double kidnapping. The kid was begging for it. He watched the boy stand, take a careful look around, then head toward his bike. He had to hand it to the kid. Scared or not, he had guts.

Thinking about a second abduction made goose bumps rise on his arms. The police clearly hadn’t found the minivan. They likely figured he’d left the area. But a second kidnapping would show
how wrong they were. How stupid they were. It would prove he had never left. Hammer would want to crawl into a hole somewhere. His hotshot reputation wouldn’t be so hot anymore. Just shot.

This would take careful strategizing. And it would mean he’d have to keep the boy in the basement a little longer than he’d planned. Two kidnappings in less than a week. Who would expect that? Who could
top
that?

It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud. But he had more self-control than that.

Two kidnappings. He
had
to do this. Not tonight, of course. But this was a golden opportunity. Careful preparation was the key.

The whole thing gave him an appetite. He’d have to stop at the Jewel to find something on the way home. Something to fuel him while he mapped out his next moves.

The boy picked up his bike and swung a leg over. The kid would be back. He knew it. Could feel it. Now that the kid had done it once, he’d be back here again. He sized him up. Not as tall as the boy he’d already taken. And the bat wouldn’t be a problem. Not with the taser. Or would he come up with a different way to grab this one? That would take some thinking.

The boy looked to the left. The right. Behind him.

“You’re scared, aren’t you boy?” He felt the boy’s fear. Sensed it. As real as the steering wheel in front of him.

With one more look behind him, the boy pushed off and pedaled fast down the narrow passage between the building and the fence.

“Oh, you
are
scared.” He smiled at the thought. “And you should be.”

L
unk finished scooping cement into the hollow wiffle-ball bat through the freshly-drilled hole at the knob. He tapped the floor with the tip of the bat to make sure all the air pockets were filled. The thing had some real weight to it now. He propped the bat upright, with the grip up, against the basement wall, and he smiled. It would be rock-solid in the morning.

“Neal, Honey. What are you still doing up? It’s after midnight.”

“Be right up, Ma.” He wiped the wet cement off the sides of the bat so it looked like new, then thumped up the stairs.

His mom waited for him in the kitchen, shaking the plastic carton of milk. “Milk shake?”

When he was a kid, that was the only kind of milk shake he knew. The only kind they could afford. She took a glass from the cupboard without waiting for his answer.

He could see right through her. Always could. She wanted to talk. Rather, wanted
him
to talk. Something was on her mind.

She motioned for him to sit at the table, and sat down across from him. The milk had a nice head of foam.

“How are you doing, Neal?” Her eyes searched his.

Of course. This had to do with Gordy. He thought about his
friendship with Gordy and Hiro. “I’m okay. We weren’t close, not like I am to Coop.” Though they had been getting closer.

“But you haven’t stopped looking for him. You hardly slept last night. Are you doing this because of Cooper?”

She had him pegged. “Cooper stuck his neck out for me. And the second time he saved my life.” His mind dragged him back to the walk-in freezer at Frank’n Stein’s. “And that was right after I’d skinned my knuckles on his face.”

Everything had changed since then. No, that wasn’t exactly right. He was changing. Neal Lunquist. He knew how to be a bully. He could teach a class on it. But being a
friend
was new. Coop could teach
that
class, no doubt.

Truth was, he’d never had a friend before. Besides Mom. What made Coop bother with him? After the way Lunk had treated him, Gordy, and Hiro? Lunk didn’t get it.

One thing he knew for sure. He would be there for Coop.

Look out for yourself.
He knew all about that.
Take care of your mom.
He understood that, too. Especially protecting her from Dad. But Coop and Gordy were different. He’d never seen that kind of dedication for a friend.

He sipped the foam off the top of the milk. Why had Coop tried so hard to be nice? All Lunk had done was give him grief.

“You like living here, don’t you?” his mom asked. She picked up the milk cap and acted like it interested her somehow. Probably so he couldn’t read her eyes.

She wasn’t asking a question. More like stating a fact.

“Yeah, I do.” A total switch for him. Usually, he was happy to move. Every other time he’d seen it as a chance to find something new. Or escape. And they’d moved a lot. His mom would pull up stakes for a new job or a chance to get farther away from his dad. The more miles the better.

But the fact that she’d asked the question sounded an alarm. “Do we
have
to move?” He tried to sound like he didn’t care one way or another.

She capped the milk and sighed. “I’m not sure.”

Lunk clenched his jaw. It had been over six months since his dad strolled through. He knew where they lived and could show up again whenever he wanted. “If this is because of Dad, I can handle him now. He’ll never hurt you again.”

She smiled at him. A sad smile. Like she knew he forced himself to eat man-sized portions of food to bulk up. Like she knew he hit the weights almost every day—so he’d be big enough and strong enough to protect her from the monster she’d married and divorced.

“You’ve always been my protector, Neal. It’s not supposed to be that way, you know.”

Neal nodded. Lots of things weren’t the way they were supposed to be. That was another problem he had with God—if he existed.

“The problem is money this time.”

He knew money was tight. He took every work hour Frank Mustacci would give him at Frank’n Stein’s. But at his age, there were restrictions on how many hours he could work. Every penny of it went for rent. “How much are we short?”

“It’s not us. I mean it’s tight, but I’ve actually squirreled away over $250 since Christmas.”

Not bad for just over four months. That meant she’d replaced all the savings they gave Dad when he skulked into town last Halloween. His dad seemed to know when he could hit them up for traveling money. Anything to keep him traveling right back out of town. “So where’s the problem?”

“The landlord.” Her eyes flashed his way for a moment, then dropped to her hands. “The bank may foreclose on him.”

That didn’t make sense. “We haven’t been late on our rent—or short either. Not one month.”

“That’s about what
I
said. But he’s been using our rent to pay the mortgage on his own home. He hasn’t paid a dime on this house in months.”

Lunk slammed down his glass harder than he meant to. “That’s not right. Things are just beginning to come together—” he cut himself short. Mom didn’t need to feel any worse than she already did. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So what do we do?”

He didn’t want to move away. Not now. And the way things were looking, not ever. Cooper needed him. He needed Coop. They were friends. And a friend doesn’t bail out on a friend.

“We wait. See what happens.”

Lunk walked over to her side of the table. Taking her by both hands he helped her to her feet, then wrapped his arms around her. “I love you, Mom,” he whispered. He towered over her but leaned in close. “We still have each other.” But he wanted more. He wanted real friends.

“That’s right,” she said. “We stick together, and we do okay.”

Lunk could picture Coop saying that. Or Hiro.

His mom crossed her fingers. “We just need a little luck.”

Lunk pictured Hiro saying,
“We just need to pray.”

G
ordy had no idea what time it was. Somebody could offer him a million bucks if he guessed within an hour of the right time, and he’d definitely lose. All he knew was, whenever he flicked off the flashlight, the basement was as dark as a grave. He couldn’t tell if it was day or night.
This must be what if feels like to be buried alive.
Or lost in a cave.

“HEY!” he shouted. “GET ME OUT OF HERE!” Why he still shouted out like that, every so often, was beyond him. Maybe the silence was getting to him. Nobody ever answered. Either the insulation was that good, the man was ignoring him, or nobody was close enough to hear.

One thing he knew for sure. His voice was giving out. Raspy and hoarse. A little more yelling and he’d lose his voice completely. And what if he really needed some volume later? What would he do? He had to use his head. So no more calling for help.

His whole jaw hurt from chewing at the nylon tie cinched around his wrists. Not that it had done him any good. They might as well have been steel handcuffs. Maybe the ties had been developed for NASA like Velcro. Right now he felt like an astronaut. Cut off from every other human being on Earth. Lost somewhere in the blackness of deep space. The ties dug into the swollen skin,
making every movement torture. The shackle on his ankle wasn’t any better.

Gordy studied the lock connecting the shackle to the chain. The lock was heavy and looked really old. And it only had a slot for a key—no combination dial. He guessed Taser-man didn’t want to take a chance that Gordy might get lucky and stumble on the right combination.

The guy had thought of everything. And he hadn’t left a single thing that might help Gordy escape. Did he empty the basement, or was it this way all along? Gordy had the layout of the basement and everything in it locked in his memory. Washer. Dryer. Sump pump. Slop sink. Hot water heater. Furnace. Toilet. All the comforts of home. Right.

The cardboard box was empty now, and so was his stomach. The Twinkies and peanut butter crackers were long gone. So was the water.

The guy didn’t leave anything Gordy could use to cut through the nylon ties. Or did he? Gordy stared at the toilet. Grabbing the chain so it wouldn’t pull on his leg shackle, he shuffled over to the porcelain fixture. Holding the flashlight in his mouth, he picked up the tank lid and let it drop to the concrete floor.

The lid shattered into sharp pieces of all sizes. Hands trembling, Gordy selected a long shard, sat on the toilet seat, and gripped the sharp piece between his knees.

Back and forth he worked the tie across the edge, sometimes slicing his skin in the process. But it was working. He could feel it. Swallowing wasn’t easy with the flashlight stuck in his mouth, but he frantically kept sawing, afraid the man would show up before he could get free.

He pressed harder. Changed the angle, careful to keep the makeshift blade in the groove. The entire edge of the porcelain gleamed red. Suddenly, the zip tie broke loose.

He sat frozen for a moment. Staring at his wrists. Moving them in small circles to work out the stiffness. The ties left deep
indentations in his skin. Combined with the swelling and the blood, his hands looked like they had been sewn on. Like the Frankenstein mascot at the diner.

But his hands were free.

He took the flashlight out of his mouth and inspected one wrist, then the other. Slices, swelling, bruises, blood. Nothing that wouldn’t heal. And he didn’t mind the blood. At least he was still alive.

Gordy studied the jagged piece of porcelain. It would make a good weapon. He slipped it into the cargo pocket of his shorts and stood. His hands were free and he had a weapon. Progress. Now if he could only figure out a way to get rid of the chain shackled to his leg.