Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 03 - Thrilled to Death (30 page)

Schak made a strange noise. Jackson glanced sideways.

His partner’s eyes were wide, his face flushed bright red, and his weapon shook in his hands.

Oh shit
.

Chapter 28

As Goodbe started toward the wall, Schak made a moaning, strangling sound.

The woman emerged from the stairwell. She was young and pretty and wearing the same jeans-and-white-sweater getup as Goodbe. “You again,” she said with a sneer.

It was Brooke Durham.

Before Jackson could process what she was doing here, he felt, rather than saw, Schak go down. As his partner hit the floor, Schak’s weapon shot out of his hand and slid across the smooth wood planks.

For a surreal moment, they all froze in place.

Brooke lunged for the gun. A split second later, Jackson lunged for Brooke.

He rammed her shoulder with his knee and managed to send her sprawling just as she clutched the gun in her hand. Before she could make a move, Jackson lurched forward again and stomped down on her wrist.

“Oww! You fucker!”

Jackson squatted and pried the weapon from her hand. Once he had it, he looked up to see if Goodbe was barreling down on him.

Goodbe was not in sight and Schak lay unmoving on the floor.

Jackson shoved the weapon in the back of his pants, pivoted, and dropped one knee on Brooke’s back. He cuffed her as she stopped struggling and began to sob.

Jackson took stock of the situation. He had the wrong person in custody, his suspect was on the move, and his partner lay dead or dying. Jackson fumbled for his cell phone as he rushed over to Schak. He pressed redial, knowing the call would go to the Florence dispatcher.

“Florence Police.”

“Officer down. I need an ambulance and back up now. Get every available unit down to the marina. My suspect is on the run. Male, late fifties, gray hair, six-foot-one, and lean build. Wearing jeans and a white sweater. Call for the ambulance first. I think my partner had a heart attack. We’re on the Sweet New Hope in slot 53.” Jackson hung up before she could ask questions.

Keeping one eye on Brooke, Jackson kneeled down and pressed two fingers against Schak’s throat.

He felt nothing.

He pulled Schak’s arms to his sides and rolled his partner over on his back. Schak’s eyes were closed, his face had lost the red flush, and his chest did not move with the comforting rhythm of life.

Shit. Shit. Shit
. What to do first? Lungs or heart? He’d taken a CPR class years ago, but his brain wouldn’t locate and recall the information.

Jackson began compressions, thinking he had to rotate and do both. The number thirty popped into his head. Thirty compressions, then mouth-to-mouth, was that it?

“Come on, Schak,” Jackson said softly as he worked the man’s heart.

Every few pushes, he glanced over at the woman in handcuffs. Brooke now sat cross-legged on the floor, hands cuffed behind her back, silently watching him. After thirty compressions, Jackson scooted left and arched Schak’s head so his chin jutted in the air. Pinch the nose, he remembered. Jackson breathed into his partner’s mouth, counted to three, then breathed again.

Back to compressions. He had no idea if the pattern was right, but he stayed with it. “Come on Schak, you gotta fight for it.”

Time stood still. Only the sound of seagulls broke through, reminding him life went on around him.

“You’re pounding a dead man,” Brooke called out after what seemed like forever.

Jackson ignored her and continued pressing with the heel of his palm.

Finally, the sweet sound of sirens filled the air. Thank God. Tears built up behind his eyes. Jackson kept compressing.

A uniform officer came through the door first with her weapon drawn.

“Get this suspect into the back of a locked patrol unit and direct the medics down here,” Jackson called out, nodding toward Brooke.

The young officer moved quickly without asking questions and pushed Brooke toward door.

A moment later, two paramedics burst through the door carrying a portable defibrillator. Jackson got out of their way. One of the men ripped open Schak’s button-up shirt and pressed the paddles to his chest.

Nobody bothered to yell ‘clear.’

After the third shock, the medic with the paddles said, “We have a pulse.”

A surge of joy flushed through Jackson’s chest. The medics lifted Schak from the floor to the carry-gurney and started out.

“Where are you taking him?”

“Peace Harbor Hospital, unless they tell us otherwise.”

The door slammed closed and Jackson’s shoulders unclenched. He wanted to follow them out. He was desperate to get off this hateful boat and anxious to join the search for Goodbe. He needed another minute though. His job here wasn’t done.

He headed for the stairwell leading to the lower part of the boat. Brooke’s presence here, presumably as Goodbe’s lover, left Jackson with little hope of finding Danette. Still, he had to search the ship. There could be a massive shipment of illegal firearms in the cargo hold for all he knew.

Brooke Durham as Goodbe’s lover
. Jackson tried to make sense of the connection. Goodbe was at least thirty years older than Brook, but Elle Durham knew Elias Goodbe and made contributions to the outreach center. Had Brooke met Goodbe at the center? Had Elle unknowingly introduced her daughter to a predator? Jackson still didn’t know what Goodbe was or how he figured into any of this mess.

At the bottom of the stairs was a skinny hallway. To the left, a door stood open and Jackson entered a low-ceilinged bedroom suite. An unmade bed took up much of the space. A narrow door in the corner indicated the presence of a bathroom. Jackson’s kidneys responded with urgency. He ignored them and forced himself to keep looking. He glanced into the bathroom, opened a tall wardrobe, and finally stepped back out into the hall.

The second door was locked. Jackson tried his handy credit card trick, but it didn’t work. This room was locked with a key from the outside, instead of from a latch on the inside.

Could he bust the door open? It was much harder than they made it seem in the movies. He needed a sledgehammer. The pressure in his kidneys became unbearable. He bolted for the master bathroom and relieved himself.

He started to make a call to the Florence dispatcher, stopped, clicked the phone shut. On the wall next to the toilet was a seven-foot mirror that reached to the floor. A mirror the size and shape of a door.

Jackson grabbed the edge and tugged. Nothing happened. He tried the other side, and the mirror opened like a medicine cabinet. A dark entry loomed. Jackson automatically pulled his weapon. With his free hand, he felt along the edge of the wall for a light switch. He found one, flipped it, and a dull yellow light filled the next room. Jackson stepped through the opening into a musty ten-by-ten space. A bunk bed against the wall held a person on each mattress. As he rushed forward, it became obvious they were women, each strapped to the bed frame and unconscious.

Jackson holstered his gun, pulled out his cell phone, and hit redial.

“I need another ambulance. I’m still on the boat, and I’ve got two unconscious women.”

“Good Lord. Are they wounded?”

Jackson leaned over the woman on the bottom mattress. Danette’s eyes were closed and her face looked thin, but she was breathing. Dressed in gray sweatpants and a t-shirt, she had no apparent wounds.

“I think they might only be drugged.”

“Another ambulance will be there shortly.”

Jackson clicked off the phone and began to release Danette’s bindings. In his mind, he saw the joy on Kera’s face when she heard the news.

Chapter 29

Danette gained consciousness as paramedics rolled her through the parking lot to the ambulance. She sat up, saw Jackson walking alongside, and began to cry. The medics stopped, ready to respond to her needs.

“Jackson, you found me. Thank God. How is Micah?” Danette wept so hard she could barely get the words out.

Jackson put an arm around her and squeezed. “Your baby’s fine. Kera’s taking good care of him. You’re safe now too.”

“I thought I would never see him again.”

“You’ll see him soon.”

“I want to go home.” Danette swung her feet down to the wet asphalt and stood up.

One of the medics stepped toward her, ready to catch her if she fell. “You should go to the hospital and get checked out. You’re dehydrated.”

“I’ll drink some water.”

The other medic, a woman, said, “If you were assaulted, it’s important to be examined.”

“I wasn’t.” Danette turned to Jackson. “Can I ride with you?”

“Of course.” Jackson understood her need to get home to her family. Kera was a nurse; she’d take good care of Danette. “Bring the blanket with you.”

After helping Danette get settled in the front of his car, Jackson jogged over to the uniform officer who had Brooke in the back of her unit. It would be a little odd to transport a victim in the front seat and a suspect in the back, but it would not be the first time.

“Thanks. I’ll take her from here.”

The officer popped the locks. Jackson opened the door, stepped back. After Brooke’s sudden move on Schak’s gun, he was prepared for anything from her. The young woman was subdued as Jackson walked her to the car, hands still cuffed behind her back.

They reached the cruiser and Jackson opened the back door.

“Who is that?” Brooke stared at Danette through the plexiglass that separated the seat compartments.

Jackson nudged her into the vehicle and locked the back doors.
Did she really not know?

As Jackson pulled out of the marina, he felt a surge of relief. He couldn’t believe he was headed home with Danette. He wished he had Goodbe in custody too, but given a choice, this was a better outcome. Schak would pull through. He had to.

Three blocks away, an ambulance and a patrol car blocked a side street. Jackson glanced over and saw a dark green Scion and next to it a small redheaded woman talking to a police officer.
Was that Sophie Speranza?

Jackson yanked the cruiser off the street and into a no-parking zone. “Sorry, Danette, but I have to check this out. It’ll only take a moment.”

He jogged up to the scene as paramedics lifted a man from the pavement onto a gurney. The injured man was wearing jeans and a white sweater. Ignoring the officer who yelled at him to stay back, Jackson rushed up.

Elias Goodbe was unconscious and bleeding from a serious leg injury.

Jackson spun around to the officer who was now right behind him. “I’m with the Eugene Police. This injured man is under arrest for kidnapping. I want him strapped down and a police officer by his side. I want him taken to North McKenzie Hospital in Eugene.”

One of the paramedics argued, “Peace Harbor is closer. He needs immediate medical attention.”

“Give it to him on the way there. I want him in Eugene.”

Jackson looked over to see Sophie standing next to his cruiser. He ran toward her. Danette was not ready for a reporter.

Sophie was just observing and taking notes.

He resisted the urge to grab her arm and spin her away. Instead he stepped between her and the car. Sophie looked a little sheepish, an expression he’d never seen on her before.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Following a story. I got a tip this morning.”

“You followed me here?”

“I said I got a tip. Don’t be mad. I helped you get the bad guy.”

“You chased him?”

“I saw him run from the marina with a cop after him, so I followed the action. Then I lost everybody, so I was headed back. As I came around a corner, this guy darted out in front of my car and I couldn’t stop in time.” Sophie shrugged and gave him the tiniest wink.

Jackson was speechless. Her audacity was unlimited, and her knack for getting to the heart of a case was impressive. It almost shamed him. “Go home, Sophie.”

“We’ll talk later.” She turned, notepad in hand, and trotted back to her car.

Jackson checked to make sure Goodbe was under a watchful eye, then climbed into his cruiser.

For the first few minutes on the road, Jackson kept glancing in the rearview mirror at Brooke. She was locked in a confined space and handcuffed, but he was still a little worried. He had no idea what her role was in any of this, and he suspected she might be just another of Goodbe’s victims. Still, Brooke had gone for the gun, forcing him to respond and let Goodbe get away. Would she have shot him to protect her lover? Or had the move just been a diversion?

Jackson kept glancing over at Danette too. She was curled up under the blanket and seemed to be praying. The traffic was heavier now than it had been this morning and he tried to stay focused on driving. He hoped she would tell him something before he dropped her off at Kera’s. Eventually Danette would have to come in to the department and make a statement, but he would give her some time.

“I’m going to call Kera and tell her you’re okay. Do you want to talk to her?”

“Yes.”

Once he had Kera on the phone, Jackson’s throat felt tight and he struggled for the right words. Finally, he said, “I have surprise for you.” He handed the phone to Danette. It was cowardly, he knew, but he was afraid Kera would start crying and he couldn’t handle that right now. He had almost lost it over Schak this morning and he couldn’t afford to be emotional. Too many questions were still unanswered. Such as who was the other young woman he’d found on the boat? Jackson had taken her picture before she was loaded into the ambulance, and he had to get that photo to the media to help identify her. He had to hear these young women’s stories.

Danette’s conversation with Kera was short, then she handed him the phone. “Me again,” he said. “I love you and I’ll see in a while.”

Danette was sitting up now, looking more alert. Finally she said, “They kidnapped me by accident. I heard the big guy scream at the little guy and call him an idiot. Can you believe that? It was all a mistake.” Her voice shook.

“I actually figured that part out, but I don’t understand why they kept you. Do you know?”