Solid as Steele (13 page)

“Hunter and Brady are already on their way. They're coming by chopper. You can talk to them soon.”

Hunter Kelley and Brady Lockwood, two of Light Street's best men.

“Thanks,” he answered. “Meanwhile, you can get started on the research end. The information's in a file called Gaptown. You can download it, and you'll have almost everything I know. That and the information from Jamie's mom.”

“Will do. But I wish you could hold off on the gas station thing until Hunter and Brady arrive.”

Mack sighed. “That would make sense from a tactical point of view. Except that by then it will be too late. Jamie's got to be my first priority.”

“It's probably a trap.”

“I know. I'll be careful.”

“What do you want us to do if you're out of commission by the time we get to Gaptown?” Sam asked.

“That's a nice way to put it.”

“Just trying to be realistic.”

“I guess you add me to the search list.”

He clicked off, knowing that he was taking a chance, but he simply couldn't proceed any other way.

Jamie's life was at stake.

 

H
ENRY WALKED TO A HIDDEN
door and stepped through to a flight of stairs that led to the first floor. Too bad
he'd had to make such drastic alterations in this grand old house. But somebody else could pay for the restoration job later.

If he'd wanted to stay here, he could have done the reno himself. Ironically, he'd acquired plenty of money while he was in prison. At first he'd sat around being angry with Helen and all the other people who had taken his son away. Then he'd decided that was getting him nowhere. Instead, he'd turned his attention back to some of the inventions he'd been perfecting when his bitch of a wife had run away with his son.

He couldn't work with actual models, but he had a good mind for abstract thinking. He'd contacted a firm that was interested in his ideas for modifications to standard telephones. They'd bought some of his plans for a good price. Through his lawyer, he'd invested the money and done well, partly by pulling out of the market at the right time.

He climbed the stairs to the second floor of the house, where he'd fixed himself a comfortable media room so he could relax while he waited for his victims to wake up. He liked the contrast. They were on a hard bunk in a cold, musty basement cell. He was up here with all the comforts of home.

After stepping inside and closing the door, he checked his watch. Plenty of time before the show began. Humming softly to himself, he opened the small refrigerator he'd installed for convenience and got out a soft drink. After taking a couple of sips, he settled himself in a comfortable easy chair.

The routine was soothing. It allowed him to forget about his anger for a while. He was almost done with this phase of his life. After he'd taken his revenge, he was going to use his money for another purpose—to find his son.

He'd let Helen get comfortable. Probably she thought he was never going to find her, and she was safe. Which meant she'd probably let down her guard, and she wouldn't be so hard to find.

He'd kill her in a way that would look like an accident. He'd spent a lot of time thinking about what that would be exactly. Maybe a hit and run, like with Craig Shepherd. Only he'd have to make sure Billy wasn't with her.

Then he'd show up, the concerned father come to rescue his child. He'd take Billy away, and the two of them could live together. He hoped Helen hadn't said too much about him. Probably she hadn't because she didn't want him to be a bad influence on the boy. But even if she'd blabbed about him every day, he'd get back that special relationship he and Billy had once had. He knew he could do it.

As he sipped his drink, he looked at the bank of monitors on the opposite wall. Some showed the hallways of the funhouse. One showed Jamie's cell.

He watched her sleeping, then switched to a camera at a remote site, the back parking lot of the gas station.

Settling back in his chair, he waited for Mack Steele to show up.

Would the guy take a chance on declining the invitation? Henry thought not. He was betting that Steele would come because he didn't want to be responsible for getting Jamie Shepherd killed.

Not yet, anyway.

 

P
RAYING THAT IT WASN'T
too late, Mack headed for the meeting place, trying not to speed since he didn't want to get stopped by the cops and have to come up with an explanation.

He slowed as he approached the corner, which was in a seedy part of town where a lot of the businesses were
closed. He drove slowly past the service station, wondering what Fried expected—and what he should expect from Fried.

Probably the guy thought he'd arrive by car. Instead, Mack parked down the block and walked cautiously toward the empty parking lot of the station.

The windows were boarded up and the pumps were gone. So where was Fried hiding? Or was he across the street?

Mack turned to scan the other side of the street. He saw a row of low commercial buildings. One had been a flower shop, another an insurance agency. There were lights in the window of a beauty parlor, but he didn't see anyone inside. Nor did he see any cars. Had Fried come on foot, too?

Fear leaped inside him as a new thought surfaced. Was this all just a distraction so that Fried could finish off Jamie without interference?

Mack wanted to dash into the parking lot and find Fried. But he wasn't a complete fool. He knew this could be some kind of trap.

The gas station was separated from the next property by a six-foot-high wooden board fence.

Instead of heading straight there, Mack walked quietly along the other side of the fence. When he was far enough from the street, he climbed into the low branches of a tree and looked over at the vacant establishment.

It was evening now, and he probed the shadows, wishing he had night-vision goggles. But he hadn't considered that kind of equipment when he'd planned his trip to Gaptown.

He climbed farther into the tree, then along a branch that hung over the fence. When he was on the other side,
he eased down to the oil-stained parking lot. Again he waited, wondering when Fried would show up.

Mack had crossed about six feet of concrete, heading for the back of the station when he thought he heard a door open.

He went still, turning quietly toward the sound, and saw that the men's room door was now flapping back and forth. It shouldn't be unlocked. Not when anybody could walk right in and vandalize the place.

Unsure of what to do, he stopped short, listening.

Maybe this wasn't such a great idea, after all. Maybe he should have waited for the Light Street men. But he hadn't been able to do it. Not when Fried had threatened Jamie's life.

Mack heard nothing. After long moments, he took a step closer, then another.

“Fried?” he called out.

Nobody answered.

“Jamie?” he tried, hoping against hope that somehow she was in there.

Again, nothing.

What the hell was the guy up to? Had Fried done something to the door, or had it come unlatched on its own?

Not likely. This was a setup, all right. But suppose Jamie was in there?

He'd almost reached the door when a stream of vapor shot from inside the little room.

Mack's reflexes were good. He jumped instantly back, but it was a split-second too late. His head began to spin, and he dropped to the hard concrete as the lights went out around him.

Henry drove slowly up the block toward the gas station. He hadn't wanted to risk being there in person when the smart-ass detective arrived. Better to stay safe until his special equipment had done its work.

Still, he approached with caution. No use taking any unnecessary chances.

He spotted the guy's car down the block and laughed. Fat lot of good that tricky move had done him.

At the darkened property, he opened his window and shined a powerful light into the parking area, where he saw Steele lying on the ground. He was near the door to the men's room, and he wasn't moving. The same place where Henry had last seen him on the TV monitor. There hadn't been any sound, but the picture had told the story.

He gunned the engine of the SUV and plowed forward. He could have run over the guy, but what fun would that be? Just another dead detective lying on the pavement. No entertainment value in that. Like with Craig Shepherd. He'd have taken Shepherd to the funhouse, if he'd been able to, but the place hadn't been finished yet. He'd opted to get Shepherd out of the way before he could start messing around in the case again. Too bad his wife and Steele had picked it up again. What were they doing, he thought, checking out Shepherd's old cases?

After waiting several moments, he got out of his car and approached the man sprawled on the pavement.

Anyone awake would have jumped up and gotten out of the way when he heard the car bearing down on him. Steele hadn't moved.

Henry walked over and kicked the guy in the ribs. He didn't respond. Apparently he'd hit his head when he went down. It was still bleeding.

Too bad for him.

He kept staring at the guy, knowing they'd met before. At that rib and crabcake restaurant. He hadn't realized at the time who it was. But when he'd gone back over Jamie's contacts, he'd seen Steele's photo.

Well, he had the bastard now.

The booby trap at the gas station had worked perfectly, the way he'd known it would. Every piece of equipment he designed worked perfectly. And there was no need to worry about somebody stumbling in here. He'd rigged some spooky effects in this parking lot. Like ghostly rattlings and moans at random times. There weren't many people who'd risk coming in here after dark.

 

J
AMIE WOKE WITH A
pounding headache. Where was she?

Not in the hotel room where she'd been with Mack. She was lying on a narrow cot in a dank, windowless room. Above her a dull light shone from a bulb shielded by a wire cage.

When she sat up, she had to fight a wave of nausea. Even as she grappled with her body's reaction, horrible memories assaulted her.

Mom had called. She'd rushed over there, and then she'd burst in and found her mother tied up in the bedroom.

She gasped, as the past few hours rushed back.

He had her. Fried. The killer. He'd tricked her into going to her mother's, and he'd ordered her out of the house at gunpoint. Then he must have taken her here.

To the funhouse. She knew that was where she had to be.

She wanted to scream, but she thought he might be watching her, and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was terrified.

Cautiously, she let her gaze search the room and found the camera high up on the wall. When she looked down, she saw something on the ground just inside the door. At first she couldn't figure out what it was.

Then she gasped.

“Mack.”

He was curled in a heap at the other side of the cell, and he didn't move when she called his name.

Her heart in her throat, she heaved herself off the bed and wavered on unsteady legs toward him.

 

F
ROM HIS COMFORTABLE REFUGE
, Henry watched the tender scene in the basement cell. Maybe Jamie Shepherd thought her boyfriend was dead. She'd find out soon enough that he was only damaged.

He watched her push off the bed and stagger across the room. She was just a woman. Weak like all women. But there was something about her that made him nervous. He kept thinking that he'd seen her in some unexpected context. Not in the restaurant with Steele. She hadn't been there.

But where?

He shuddered. It wasn't just that he'd seen her. He couldn't shake the conviction that she'd been watching him.

But that was impossible. He hadn't had any previous
personal contact with her except the time he'd tried to shove her into the SUV. She'd gotten away then, but he had her now, and he wasn't going to let any strange thoughts interfere with his enjoyment of this drama.

This was the final act. As soon as the man and woman down there in the cell were dead, he'd clear out of Gaptown and start looking for his son. Maybe he wouldn't even take the time to dump the bodies. He could just leave them here to rot until someone came into the house.

Yeah, maybe that was the best thing to do at this stage of the game. Probably the cops were crawling all over town by now. Of course, they'd never find this place in time. It was too well hidden—in plain sight. But he'd better not press his luck.

His gaze flicked back to the woman, trying to figure out where he'd seen her before. He shook his head, as a logical explanation came to him. He'd studied her picture like he'd studied Steele's. He knew exactly who she was. That was why she looked so familiar.

The explanation made sense. But he'd had plenty of pictures of the other victims, too, and he didn't have the same spooky feeling about them.

 

J
AMIE KNELT ON THE
floor.

“Mack,” she said again in a broken voice. She'd thought that maybe he could rescue her. Apparently he'd come looking for her and ended up in the same cell with her.

He was lying on his back, and she saw that blood had caked in his hair. Either he'd hit his head, or Fried had hit him with something.

“Mack. Are you all right, Mack?” she cried.

He made a moaning sound and stirred.

Remembering where the camera was, she leaned over him, blocking Fried's view of them.

“Mack, wake up,” she whispered. “But don't let him know you're awake. I'm between you and the camera, so he can't see your face. Okay?”

She waited for long, tense moments.

His eyes blinked open, and he stared up at her. When he started to speak, she pressed her fingers to his mouth. “Don't let him know you're awake,” she whispered again.

“Okay,” he answered in a barely audible voice.

She reached for his hand and meshed her fingers with his. For long moments, neither of them spoke. Then his face took on a mixture of anger and regret. “I got caught.”

“What happened?”

“He called and said he'd kill you if I didn't meet him. So I went to the gas station where I thought he was waiting. He'd booby-trapped the place.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and whispered, “I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

Gingerly, she touched his forehead. “You're bleeding.”

“I fell on my face when the gas hit me.”

“I'm sorry,” she said again. “I shouldn't have rushed over to my mom's.”

Sitting up straighter, she looked around the room. There was a sink and a toilet in one corner, and a rack with a towel.

“I'm going to wash your forehead,” she whispered.

Scrambling up, she went to the sink and wet the towel, then returned to Mack where she blocked the view of the camera again and washed the blood off his forehead.

“I guess I look like hell,” Mack said in a low voice.

“Yeah.”

“Come closer.”

When she bent over him, he whispered, “The police are on the case. Also the Light Street men.”

“Okay,” she mouthed, wondering if any of that would help.

Before she could say anything else, a voice boomed from a hidden speaker. “I know you're awake, Steele. If you keep playing possum, you could end up dead for real.”

Neither of them moved.

“I'll give you a chance to get out of here. All you have to do is find the right door.”

“He's lying,” Jamie mouthed.

Mack answered with a small nod, then winced, and she knew it must hurt his head to move it.

The door clicked.

“Go out and explore your new environment,” Fried's voice boomed. “It's a funhouse. Like for Halloween.”

“A funhouse,” Jamie murmured, like she didn't already know. “What if we don't go out there?”

“Then I'll flood the room with tear gas. You'll have to leave, and you won't be in such good shape to appreciate the games I've prepared for you.”

Mack heaved himself up, staggering a little and grabbing the wall to steady himself.

“I'm not so good on my feet,” he called out.

“Too bad.”

“Give me a minute. I need a drink of water.”

“Why should I let you?”

“Because it won't be as much fun running me through your maze like a lab rat if I'm half dead.”

 

I
T WAS DAWN WHEN
the helicopter landed in a field outside of town. Sam had called ahead and arranged for a car to
meet Hunter and Brady, and also the additional agents who were on their way.

When the two lean, dark-haired men climbed out of the chopper, their ride was waiting for them.

“Thanks for the quick service,” Brady said as he paid the driver.

“When will the other chopper arrive?”

“They're about twenty minutes behind us with Jed Prentiss and Max Dakota.”

“We'll be waiting.”

As soon as they roared away, Hunter got out his cell phone and computer and dialed Mack's number. There was no answer.

He looked at Brady. “Bad news. Mack's off the air.”

“We'll start at his last known location. The gas station.”

While they drove, Hunter called Sam Lassiter back at the office.

“What have you got for me?” he asked.

“I have the location of properties that have been sold or rented in the past twelve months.”

“You think that's far enough back?” Hunter asked.

“I hope so. The list should already be in your inbox.”

As Brady drove toward town, Hunter accessed his mail.

“According to Mack's notes, the house is most likely in an isolated location.”

“Okay, we'll get that information to the police,” Brady said as they drove slowly toward the gas station. On the street half a block away, they found Mack's car. It was empty.

After checking it out, they cautiously approached his last known location. The parking lot was also empty, but
near the open door to the men's room, they found a small pool of blood.

Brady cursed as they cautiously approached the open door.

Inside was a some kind of mechanism that looked like it was designed to spray gas at someone outside the door.

Brady cursed again. “I guess that's how the bastard nailed him.”

Hunter looked at the blood. “Did he shoot him?”

“No way of knowing. He could have hit his head when he went down.”

“We've got to assume Fried's got him and Jamie.”

 

J
AMIE WAITED FOR THE
answer with her breath shallow.

“True,” their captor answered. “You can have a few more minutes in your cell.”

Mack gave her a victorious look. It wasn't much of a victory, but it bought them a little time, and it proved that Fried wanted a certain kind of experience.

Mack kept his hand on the wall as he moved to the sink, and she watched him with anxiety. He looked like he could barely walk, but maybe he was putting on a show for Fried, so he'd think it would be easy to come down into the funhouse to finish off his victims.

She shuddered. That wasn't going to happen to her and Mack. There were two of them, and only one of him.

Still, she knew from the way she'd been handled that Fried was a man who hated to take chances. He'd make sure the odds were tipped in his favor.

She watched Mack check his pockets and find that they were all empty.

Of course Fried wouldn't allow him to keep anything like a cell phone that could help him.

When he'd finished searching, he cupped his hands
under the faucet and lifted them to his lips, repeating the process several times. Then he splashed cold water on his face and shook his head.

“You, too,” he said. “Take a drink.”

She also drank, then looked at Mack. She wanted to talk to him, but if she did, Fried would hear her. She wanted to remind him that she knew this place better than their captor could imagine. That had to give her an advantage, she hoped.

“Better get going,” the voice boomed.

 

W
ITH NO OTHER OPTIONS
, Brady and Hunter started checking properties around the Gaptown area. The first ten were too small.

Then they found a large house that looked like it could fit the description.

But as they drew closer, Brady's eyes narrowed. Although it was still early in the morning, a boy and girl who appeared to be about three or four were riding tricycles up and down the driveway. Another three children were playing on a jungle gym. And two women were giving the two men in the car long looks.

After a quick conversation, one of them walked toward the vehicle but stopped a few yards away.

“Can I help you?” she asked, eyeing them with suspicion. Which was the right thing to do when a couple of strange men were hanging around a house with a bunch of kids.

“We were looking for a man who bought a large, old house in the Gaptown area,” he said, knowing the explanation sounded lame.

“Well, this is the Kiddy Care Day Care Center,” the woman said.

“And you purchased this house within the past year?” Brady asked.

“Listen, mister, if you don't leave here right away, I'm going to call the police.”

“Sorry, ma'am,” Brady said.

Hunter pulled away, and they drove to the end of the street and made a U-turn.