Deadly Pursuit (27 page)

As Bev walked away from the car, Daryl tugged on a pair of latex gloves. Patted his pocket to reassure himself the 9mm Smith & Wesson handgun he'd borrowed from Chuck's stash was in place. Picked up the folded newspaper from the seat beside him.

Resettling the sunglasses on his nose, he grasped the door handle, preparing to move. Timing was critical at this stage. Every second counted—and he didn't intend to waste a single one.

Her attention still focused on the contents of her handbag, Bev slowed a bit as she passed the back of Alison's car. That delay gave Alison a chance to get closer to the small island containing a single tree, which separated the row of parking spots from the drive that ran in front of the mall.

Then, just as Alison passed the tree, Bev picked up her pace. Feigned a stumble. And scattered the contents of her purse behind the social worker, all over the mulch-covered island.

Daryl was impressed. Bev's timing had been impeccable.

“Oh, goodness!”

Through his cracked door, he could hear Bev's expression of dismay as she surveyed the items littering the island. As he'd expected, Alison hesitated and looked toward her. The social worker was a do-gooder, after all. She wouldn't walk away from someone who needed help.

“My heel must have gotten caught in the pavement.” Bev threw the comment over her shoulder as she bent and began to retrieve the items. “What a mess!”

Turning her back to Daryl, Alison set her briefcase beside her and began to help Bev gather up the contents of the overloaded purse.

This was his cue.

Easing the door open, he slid out, quietly clicked it shut, and headed toward the two women.

“I did this not long ago myself, at the grocery store.” Alison's voice floated his direction as he approached them. “I had to practically crawl under the checkout stand to find half my stuff.”

Bev laughed. “That sounds like the kind of thing I'd do.” She cast a quick sidelong glance toward him as he approached. “Did we miss something over there?” She pointed to a spot in the center of the small island, distracting Alison as he drew close.

Give the lady a gold star.

Feeling more confident by the minute, Daryl retrieved the gun from his pocket, concealing it behind the newspaper as he did a final sweep of the parking lot. For once, the gods had smiled on him. No one was close enough to hear their conversation or suspect anything out of the ordinary was happening. From a distance, it was going to look like nothing more than a pleasant conversation. As long as Bev continued her great acting job.

And if she did, in less than five minutes they'd be out of here.

“I don't see anything else. I think we got it all.” Alison readjusted her shoulder purse, picked up her car keys from the curb around the island, and used the concrete edge to help leverage herself to her feet. She'd definitely sat too many hours in one position today. It would take awhile for the stiffness in her left leg to dissipate.

The other woman stood too—just as a lanky man in a cowboy hat and sunglasses joined them.

“Do you ladies need some assistance?”

Alison lifted her briefcase and took an involuntary step back. There was an odd, nervous energy radiating from the man.

“No, thanks. I dropped my purse, but we got everything.” The brunette gave him a perky smile.

The man moved close. Too close. Before Alison could react, he flipped the newspaper aside so she and the other woman could see his hand.

It held a gun.

And it was pointed at them.

The breath lodged in Alison's throat.

Grabbing the other woman's arm, the man shoved the gun into her side. Near her heart. It was hidden behind the newspaper again, but Alison knew it was there.

“If either of you does anything to attract attention, this little lady will die.” He tugged the brunette closer. “Are we clear on that?”

The brunette nodded. Her eyes had gone glassy, and she was shaking.

“Do you understand me too?”

As he stared at her, Alison nodded as well.

“Okay. You do what you're told, no one gets hurt.” He gestured toward the keys in Alison's hand. “Open your car.”

When she didn't comply at once, he jabbed the gun harder into the brunette's side. The woman gasped and sent her a pleading look.

Alison pressed the automatic door opener. The muffled but distinctive click of doors unlocking came from her car, one empty spot away.

“Let's all get in, nice and easy. I want you behind the wheel. Your friend and I will sit in the backseat. You do one thing wrong—one thing—and she dies. Let's move.”

“Look . . . if you want money, or my car, why don't you just take them and leave us here?” Alison held her ground, clenching her keys in her fist. She knew what she was supposed to do in a situation like this. Her brothers had drummed it into her head since her college days. Scream. Attract attention. Take your chances out in the open. Do not, under any circumstances, get in a car. Even under gunpoint.

But what were you supposed to do when the gun was aimed at someone else?

“Why don't you just keep your mouth shut and do what I say?”

Alison couldn't see the man's eyes behind the dark glasses, but she heard the anger nipping at his words. Watched his fingers crimp the newspaper. Sensed he was getting more jittery.

None of that was reassuring, considering he was holding a gun next to the other woman's heart.

Hard as she tried to think of some way out of this, she couldn't come up with one that wouldn't put the brunette's life at risk. If the man had accosted her, she'd have followed her brothers' advice. But how could she endanger someone else?

Slowly she circled toward the driver's side of her car, favoring her leg. Opening the door, she slid in and set her purse and briefcase on the seat beside her. Behind her, she heard the woman and their abductor join her from the passenger side.

“Close your door.” The man barked out the order as he pulled his own shut.

She complied.

“Now, start the car and go south on Lindbergh.”

It took her two tries to fit the key into the ignition. As she turned it and the engine sprang to life, her cell phone began to ring inside her purse.

“Ignore that.”

The order came from the backseat.

Alison glanced in the rearview mirror. The man had his left arm linked with the woman's right arm. The gun was now visible. He was holding it low, and it was still aimed at her side.

The phone continued to ring.

It had to be Mitch or Cole, returning her call.

Alison choked back a sob, berating herself for her lack of patience. If only she'd waited a few more minutes.

But there was irony here too.

For while her brothers and Mitch had been focused on protecting her from a stalker, this situation didn't seem to have a thing to do with bingo man.

As Alison's cell phone rolled to voice mail, Mitch frowned. He'd gotten the same result when he'd tried her office number.

Why wasn't she answering?

Turning his back on the bustle at the ER desk behind him, he called his unit supervisor. Cole's cell and home numbers were stored on his phone, but that did him a fat lot of good. His boss would have both numbers on hand, though.

As Paul answered, Mitch reached for a pen and paper from the desk.

“Sarge, it's Mitch. Sorry to bother you, but I need a couple of phone numbers.” He gave the man a cursory briefing, then jotted down the numbers as the man dictated them.

“If you need the department to get involved, let me know.”

“Thanks. I hope it doesn't come to that.”

Severing the connection, he waited for the dial tone and tapped in Cole's home number. Maybe Alison had gotten tired of waiting and gone on ahead. If she'd left her purse in a different room, she might not hear her cell ringing.

But no one answered at the apartment either.

Doing his best to quell his burgeoning worry, Mitch punched in Cole's cell number. If the man was like him, he kept his phone close at hand.

Usually.

Disgusted, Mitch blew out a breath. He could count on one hand the occasions in the past few years when he'd been without his cell phone.

Too bad tonight was one of them.

Just when he thought he was going to strike out again, Cole answered. Still sounding a bit out of it.

“Cole, it's Mitch.”

“Sorry it took me so long to pick up. I've been in the bathroom trying to clean up. Man, I've got blood all over me. Not a pretty sight to accompany Chinese food, let me—”

“Cole.” Mitch cut him off. The pain meds must be powerful to make a cut-to-the-chase kind of guy garrulous. “Is Alison there?”

His question was met with dead silence.

“Cole?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, and Mitch suspected he was also trying to clear his head. “What do you mean, is Alison here? I thought you were going to follow her home. What time is it?”

“It's seven minutes after six. And that was the plan. But my father was rushed to the ER this afternoon with chest pains and I lost track of time. I've called her office and cell, but she's not answering. I thought she might have gotten tired of waiting for me and gone to your place.”

“She's not here.” All traces of grogginess had vanished from Cole's voice. “I did a circuit of the apartment and checked through the window for her car while we've been talking. Is your dad okay?”

“Yeah. He's fine.”

“Okay. Let me see if she left a message on my home phone.”

Mitch could hear the sound of movement as Cole walked through the apartment.

“The light's blinking. Hold on while I replay it.”

A disembodied voice announced, “Tuesday, 5:26 p.m.” And then Alison spoke.

“Hi, Cole. I guess you're still knocked out from the pain meds, and I'm sorry to bother you. But Mitch hasn't called or shown up. I've left messages on his cell and home phones, but I haven't heard back. I assume something major distracted him. I know you're not in any condition to drive, and I'm not crazy about taking a cab and leaving my car here all night. So I was going to suggest I call you on my cell as I leave and talk to you while I walk to my car. That way you'd know I was safely locked in and I could drive home. I'll wait until quarter to six to see if either of you calls. If not, I'll follow the same routine I did this morning. Don't worry. I'll be fine. See you soon.”

The line went dead.

“How come you didn't answer your cell?” Cole was back in his normal get-to-the-point mode.

“In all the excitement, I left my phone at the house. In the charger.”

Two paramedics pushing a gurney brushed past him. A young woman lay on the stretcher. Her eyes were closed. She looked dead.

Mitch turned away. Took a steadying breath. “I'm not liking this whole situation. If she was in her car, she'd have answered my call.”

“Agreed. Where are you?”

“Still at the hospital, but getting ready to leave.”

“I'll call dispatch and have them send a couple of patrol officers to cruise through Alison's parking lot. See if they can spot her car.”

“I'm going to drop my father at home and pick up my phone. I'll call you as soon as I get there. Less than thirty minutes.”

“If her car isn't in the lot, I'll have a BOLO alert issued. There could be a simple explanation—like maybe her cell phone battery died—but I'm not taking any chances.”

“I'm with you. I'll be back in touch ASAP.”

The line clicked, and Mitch headed back to the treatment room, prepared to hustle his father out the door—and use his badge to light a fire under hospital personnel, if necessary, to make that happen.

Because much as he hoped this was a false alarm, his gut told him Alison was in danger.

And to make matters worse, it was his fault.

The ten-minute ride had been silent, except when their kidnapper issued directions. As he did now.

“Make a right at the next driveway.”

Alison scanned the dilapidated—and seemingly deserted—storage-unit facility to her right. A cold band of fear squeezed the breath from her lungs, and she eased back on the accelerator.

“Why are you slowing down?” The sharp question held more than a hint of agitation. “You want your friend to die?”

The woman behind her gasped, and Alison looked in the rearview mirror. Their abductor still had the gun pointed at her, and as the brunette's frightened gaze connected with hers, a tear trickled down her cheek.

“Please.”

The woman's terrified plea, no more than a broken whisper, left Alison with no choice.

She turned into the entrance.

“Drive around the back.”

Doing her best to avoid the potholes that pockmarked the crumbling asphalt, Alison followed his directions, her panic escalating. The facility was on a road spur in an industrial/wholesale area of South County. She hadn't seen a single car since they'd turned onto the narrow access lane. And it was well past normal quitting time.

But the main road was only a couple of blocks away. Close enough for the traffic to be audible. That road was also lined with retail businesses, where customers would still be shopping. Surely a few of them would hear two women screaming as they worked together to try and overpower an abductor.

And that's what she and the brunette had to do.

Even if one of them got shot.

Once they were out of the car, Alison would try to communicate that plan to the other woman through body language. Or with her eyes.

Because if they didn't attempt to get free, Alison had a feeling neither of them would live to see another morning.

The phone was ringing in his father's house as Mitch ushered the older man in. He'd made far better time than he'd expected—thanks to a heavy foot on the gas pedal.

“You go get that, son. I'm fine. You need to find that young lady.”

His father shooed him toward the phone, but Mitch didn't need any urging. He snatched it off the hook on the third ring, an instant before the answering machine would have kicked in.

“Hello.”

“I thought you were going to call me as soon as you got back?”

At the grim undertones in Cole's accusatory question, Mitch's pulse accelerated. “I just walked in the door. What do you have?”

“The patrol officers did a sweep of the lot. There's no sign of Alison's car.”

“Did anybody see her leave?” Mitch jogged for his bedroom.

“They're canvassing the adjacent businesses as we speak.”

He yanked his cell phone out of its holder and slid it onto his belt. “What about security video at her office? That would establish her time of departure.”

“I checked. The building doesn't have any outdoor video.”

“Great.” Mitch put his father's remote phone on speaker and set it on top of his dresser as he exchanged the compact Glock for his duty weapon. “Okay. Alison said in her message to you that she'd hang around until 5:45. I think we can assume she did. Can anyone in her office corroborate that?”

“The office manager is making some calls. You want to head down there? He said he'd meet us on-site in case we have any questions.”

“Yeah. I'll run by the precinct to get my duty car and pick you up in fifteen minutes.”

“I can meet you there.”

“The doctor said no driving for twenty-four hours.”

“I'm fine.”

Mitch blew out an annoyed breath. “And you claim Alison is stubborn? Just sit tight, okay? It's not going to help anyone if you get lightheaded from blood loss or pain meds and run into a tree.”

“Fine.” The acquiescence came through gritted teeth. “I'll be waiting.”

The phone slammed in Mitch's ear.

Cringing, he hit the off button and carried the portable back to the kitchen. Cole had given in too fast. Leading Mitch to the obvious conclusion: his colleague was feeling a lot worse than he'd let on.

But he wasn't going to convince Alison's brother to sit back and let him handle this. Protective as he and Jake were about their kid sister, they'd have to be on their deathbed not to throw themselves into any effort to find her.

Not that he blamed them. If he was the one injured, he'd react the same way Cole had. And he'd be motivated by the same emotion.

Except the kind of love he was beginning to feel for the lovely social worker could by no stretch of the imagination be called brotherly.

A fact he intended to make very clear to Alison as soon as they found her.

And they would find her.

Failure wasn't an option.

“Park next to the truck.”

Hands trembling, Alison eased the car beside the dark pickup.

“Turn off the engine.”

She twisted the key.

“Now sit tight while we get out of the car. And remember . . . I have a gun in your friend's ribs. You make one wrong move, she's history.”

Alison's heart began to thump harder as the two people in the backseat exited. Time was running out. She didn't know what their abductor had in mind, but she had to assume it was far worse than robbery. If all he'd wanted was their money, he'd have taken that back in the parking lot.

They had to make a move.

Now.

The man stopped beside her door and motioned her to get out.

She wiped her palms on her Capri slacks, leaving a damp swath on the beige material. Then she opened the door and stood, steadying herself on the side of the car as her bad leg protested the sudden weight.

For the first time, she took a close look at the man who'd abducted them. Despite the dark glasses and cowboy hat, he seemed familiar. Why?

As her brain struggled to place him, he jerked his head toward the back of the truck. “Move.”

For a brief second, Alison locked gazes with the woman beside him, grasping at an idea that had just occurred to her.

“I have a bad leg. It's hard for me to walk after I've been sitting.”

Twin furrows appeared on his brow. “You're lying.”

“No, I'm not. I was in a car accident a year ago.” She hated the tremor that shook her words, but she couldn't control it. “I had to have a metal rod put in my leg.” She inched her pants leg higher, revealing the end of her long scar.

After a cursory inspection, the man shoved the brunette her direction. “Lean on her.”

The other woman joined her, and Alison put her arm around her shoulders. Feigning more of a limp than necessity demanded, Alison leaned into the woman and breathed, more than spoke, her plan, never turning her head.

“We have to rush him. It's our only chance. I'll figure out a way to distract him.”

“No. He'll shoot us.”

“He'll shoot us anyway. Work with me.”

“Are you two talking?” The man erased the gap between them. He was close enough for Alison to feel the heat of his body.

She repressed a shudder.

“No.” The brunette aimed the response over her shoulder.

“You better not be. Stand behind the truck.”

As they shuffled into position, Alison took another surreptitious peek at the woman beside her, hoping to see agreement in her eyes—and conviction. But the brunette refused to look at her. Out of fear? Or opposition to the plan? Alison hoped it was the former. She needed her fellow victim to join forces with her when the time came. If she took the initiative, maybe the other woman would find the courage to join her. She hoped.

Because it would take both of them to pull this off.

“You.” Their abductor motioned to the brunette. “Get the rope out of the back of the truck.”

He was going to tie them up.

Alison's pulse skittered. They couldn't let that happen. Once trussed up, they'd be totally at his mercy.

As the woman started to turn toward the truck, Alison went with the first idea that occurred to her.

Feigning a startled gasp, she looked over his shoulder as if she'd seen something frightening. Praying he'd fall for the bait.

He did.

As he jerked his head around to check out the scene behind him, the gun shifted. It was no longer pointing straight at them.

Grabbing the brunette's hand, she pulled her along and rushed their abductor. “You take his left side.”

The man was only six feet away, and she was on him in four steps. Alison launched herself at his chest with her right shoulder, grabbing his wrist with both hands, shoving the gun back.

With a muttered curse, the man swung toward them. Staggered back at the impact.

But he didn't fall.

Alison kneed him in the groin, hoping the other woman was doing her part to topple him too.

The man doubled over but remained upright.

Then, all at once, Alison felt her hair being grabbed. Her head was yanked back. She lost her grip on the man's wrist.

The next thing she knew she was lying flat on the ground, her elbow scraped raw from a slide across the coarse asphalt.

Panting, she stared up at the man looming over her—and into the barrel of the gun.

“That wasn't smart at all, Alison. You'll be sorry you did that.”

Alison.

He knew her name.

Turning her head slightly, she searched for the brunette. She was standing off to the side, watching the scene. The man was paying no attention to her.

The hard truth slammed into Alison.

The other woman was in on this. This whole scenario in the parking lot had been a setup.

She'd been duped.

A wave of nausea rolled over her. But close on its heels came questions. Was this bingo man? If so, how was the other woman involved?
Why
was she involved?

None of it made sense.

“Who are you?”

Instead of responding to her shaky question, the man leaned down, grabbed her arm below her short-sleeved blouse, and yanked her to her feet. When she swayed, he tightened his grip, squeezing hard. Harder. Harder still.

She gasped in pain, and he jerked her close to his face, shaking her until her teeth rattled.

“You and me are about to have some real fun, baby. It's beach time.”

Alison had no idea what that meant. But she knew it was something bad. She also knew her chances of getting away had plummeted. Though the man was lanky, his grip was like a vise. Plus, he still had a gun—and a partner who would back him up.

But if she couldn't physically overpower her captors, she could at least use her lungs to try and send a plea for help. He might shoot her—but she suspected he was going to do that anyway, and she'd rather die now, before he carried out whatever else he had in store for her.

Praying for courage, she stamped hard on his foot. He cursed, loosening his grip just enough for her to jerk away. She took off for the front of the building as fast as her limp would allow, screaming all the way.

She didn't expect to get far. All she wanted to do was buy herself a few seconds to send a loud signal for help.

And that was all she got. Within moments, he was on her. Grabbing her arm, he jerked her toward him.

The last thing she remembered was a fist heading directly for her face.