Stolen Lives: A Detective Mystery Series SuperBoxset (10 page)

Her shoes hit the pavement, and she turned around. The building remained ominously quiet and dark, but as she approached, she saw a door ajar at the side of the box office. She pulled her pistol out in one hand and looked at her phone in the other. A breeze swept through, a cold chill that pushed the creaking door closed.

Miriam stayed low and hurried toward the building with her eyes intense and focused. As she approached the empty box office, a note taped to the window caught her eye—the handwriting eerily similar to the note left on her kitchen table.

Miriam, come on in. The water’s fine.

It was all the confirmation she needed. She put her cell phone in her pocket and held the pistol with both hands and backed against the concrete wall, inching closer to the door. Glass from broken beer bottles littered the ground, shards crunching with every step. The metal door hadn’t shut completely. Her hand went to the door handle and she pulled it open slightly. She peeked inside and only saw darkness.

“Ana?” she said softly. There was no response.

She steadied her shaking hand and tried to remain calm, despite her heart’s rapid thumping. The only thing left to do was to go inside the darkened lobby. She slipped inside with her police instincts sharp and alert. Her eyes adjusted a bit to the low street light seeping inside, and she moved cautiously, but with the quickness born of experience. There was an empty snack bar across the faded green carpet. Anyone could be hiding anywhere. She backed against the wall to her left and called out for Phillip, ready to face him.

There was no movement from behind the snack bar and no response. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed a double-door entrance to the theater directly across from her. Both doors were opened a crack, and she could see a flicker of light beckoning her closer. She looked around, holding her pistol up and then moved across the room in a swift rush.

The crack revealed a line of candles positioned down the aisle. She pulled one door open and looked inside. There were rows of empty vinyl seats. In front was a large stage with the curtain open.

“Who’s there?” she called out before entering.

There was no answer.

“Enough games already. Where’s my daughter?” she asked with as forceful a tone as she could muster. The silence was frightening. She held her Beretta tightly and moved down the aisle, alongside the candles whose flames wavered as she passed. A man dressed in black suddenly stepped out onstage left, startling her.

He was slim, with long hair past his shoulders and empty, sunken eyes. Miriam took a step back and raised her pistol. Amused, he smiled exposing crooked teeth.

“’Bout time you showed up,” he said, looking at his wristwatch. It wasn’t Phillip Anderson, it was someone else. A man she had never seen before.

“Where is she?” she asked with the pistol aimed ten feet from the stage.

The man put his hand up in a halting gesture. “Let’s not do anything rash here. I have the girl as promised. Please lower your gun.”

He didn’t appear to be armed, but Miriam wouldn’t put anything past them. “You work for Anderson?” she asked, searching the stage for anyone else. “Is he here?”

“I do,” he said. “And no, he’s not here, but that’s of little concern. Now lower the gun.”

She brought the pistol down but maintained a tight grip. “Okay.” She looked behind her, just to be sure. There were only empty seats and candles dripping wax onto both aisles. She turned back to the man. “I came here to get my daughter. That’s all I want. I’ve been more than cooperative.” In vain, she tried to keep from pleading.

“We know that. It’s just… there have been some complications.”

Miriam felt both rage and fear at the man’s stalling. Though she thought it best to play dumb. “What
complications
?”

The man smiled and rubbed his chin. “Surely you’ve heard by now. All that time on the road to yourself. You must have flipped on the radio and heard the news.”

Miriam stared ahead with a blank expression. “I didn’t hear anything. Where’s is my daughter?”

“I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans.”

Miriam’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

The man’s cold eyes indicated nothing beyond his demands. “Put your gun on the floor first.”

Miriam took a few more steps back, scanning the area. “Why would I do that?”

The man looked to his side backstage as though someone was there. He then turned back to Miriam, displaying concern. “Frankly, I don’t want to get shot. And neither does your daughter.”

Miriam shook her head and then crouched to the ground, placing the pistol at her feet. She stood up and held her arms out with a shrug.

“That’s better,” the man said. He turned and signaled to the backstage area. “Go ahead and bring her out!”

Miriam’s heart stopped. She wanted to leap onto the stage, take Ana into her arms, and run out of the theater without looking back. She was close. Two armed men, dressed all in black, appeared from the shadows backstage escorting a child in between them. Miriam gasped. The child’s head was covered by a burlap sack.

“Take that bag off her head!” she shouted.

The man raised his arm, brushing away her protests. “Calm down. It’s only necessary.” Miriam grew incensed at the sight of the AR-15 rifles in both men’s hands. “Let her go, you bastards!”

The two men stopped in the center of the stage near the talker, with the hooded girl between them wearing a pink Hello Kitty shirt and blue jeans.

The talker clapped his hands together and rocked back and forth on his heels. “You’ll be reunited with your daughter soon enough, but in light of recent events, Mr. Anderson has changed the terms.”

Miriam scowled. “I’m not interested. Enough games! I came here for one thing—”

“He has invited you to be a guest at his safe house. Both you and Ana,” the man said.

She shook her head in disbelief. “That’s not happening.” She looked beyond the men to where his armed buddies stood. “Ana. Come here now. We’re leaving.”

The girl stepped forward. The men grabbed her arms and pulled her back.

“Don’t touch her!” Miriam shouted, falling to her knees. “How much is he paying you? Don’t any of you have families? Children?”

The talker shook his head, not responding. He turned around and signaled for the men to take the girl away. As they began to pull her, Miriam leapt to her feet.

“Wait!” she shouted.

The men halted, maintaining their grip on the frightened girl’s arms.

The talker continued. “He expected that news of this new arrangement wouldn’t go over too well, but this is what you need to understand.” He stopped speaking and took a few steps forward. “His brother, Greg, was attacked by angry locals. Murdered in cold blood.”

Miriam’s eyes widened as she maintained her bluff that all of this was news to her.

“His parents were taken back to the station. Walter and Jake are in protective custody as well. This is not what Mr. Anderson wanted.”

As her eyes welled up, she tried her best to hold back tears. “What does any of this have to do with me and my daughter?”

“Mr. Anderson is very concerned. As a result, he would like to discuss his options with you. He needs an insider. Someone he can strategize with.”

Miriam attempted to look beyond the man and get a better look at her daughter. She glanced down at the pistol at her feet. Given the right moment, she felt confident that she could take out the three men on stage without endangering Ana.

“This is really for the best,” the talker said. “He needs you. Now step away from your gun and go ahead and come on stage. No one has to get hurt.”

Miriam paused as the room went silent.

“You can come willingly, or we’ll have to use force. The choice is yours,” he said.

Miriam looked down at her feet. It was her last chance.

“Deal?” he asked.

Miriam did the math in her head: three men total, possibly more. The risks were numerous, but she also knew that by surrendering herself, she and Ana were probably as good as dead.

“Yes,” she said. “But on one condition…”

She paused. The talker put his hands on his hips, waiting.

Miriam pointed past him. “Take that bag off her head.”

He smiled and then turned his head slightly toward the back of the stage—just the opportunity she needed. Miriam fell on one knee, grabbed the pistol, and aimed ahead at the first armed man to Ana’s left.

She fired one shot into his neck. The blast was loud and alarming. The first gunman hit the floor—gurgling and holding his throat as blood rushed down his black shirt.

The long-haired talker stumbled back, wide eyed and astonished. At the moment their eyes met, Miriam fired two shots, blowing holes in his chest. He collapsed against the stage as the remaining bearded gunman pushed Ana to the ground, raised his rifle, and fired toward the auditorium.

Miriam hit the ground as bullets zipped by over her head, turning the vinyl seats into Swiss cheese. She fell flat on her stomach and rolled to the front of the stage, out of sight.

“You gonna die, you crazy bitch!” he shouted, stampeding toward her firing multiple shots all around. Hunched down, Miriam could see shell casings gathered at her feet. Each blast was louder than the other. Her legs were shaking. The man was close. For one second, his firing stopped, and she knew exactly what to do.

With the adrenaline of a locomotive, Miriam jumped up and fired one clean shot straight through his forehead. He jolted back and then hit the stage with a violent thud. Miriam spun around, looking to see if there were any more shooters. Everything was quiet, except for the muffled cries of a petrified girl.

“Ana!” Miriam said. “I’ll be right there, baby!” She climbed onto the stage and sprinted forward, past the bodies and to the center of the stage where the girl stood, frozen.

“Everything is going to be all right. I’m here now.” She touched the girl’s shoulders and squeezed. The girl flinched, her shoulders shaking. The sack was tied at her neck. Miriam’s hands went for the string, tugging at it. “I’m going to take this off now,” said Miriam. “Don’t worry.”

She yanked it loose and then carefully lifted the bag up. A mass of blond hair fell into the girl’s sobbing face. Confused, Miriam pulled her closer. Ana didn’t have blonde hair. Her hair was black. She parted the girl’s hair and saw a face that wasn’t her daughter’s. Miriam froze as her heart sank. The girl’s blue eyes were red with tears. Her face was dirty, and her clothes—on closer inspection—were torn and dirty. The surreal sight had Miriam at a loss, struck with disappointment and anguish. Nonetheless, she crouched down, pulled the girl close, and spoke to her gently and reassuringly.

“It’s going to be okay.”

She pulled back and held the girl by the shoulders, examining her. “What’s your name?”

“Allison,” the girl said meekly.

“Allison, I’m going to take you out of here.” She stood up and took the girl by the hand. “Follow me. We’ll get you home. Where do you live?”

“Miami,” the girl answered with a vapid stare. They began walking as Miriam urged her not to look at the ground. Just as they passed the talker’s body, his cell phone started ringing in his suit jacket.

Miriam stopped. “Wait one minute, honey. Just stand right here for me and don’t look at any of the men.” She turned Allison to the wall, stage right, and moved swiftly over to where the long-haired talker lay, another fresh corpse who died a pointless death. She winced as she reached into his blood-soaked pants pocket to retrieve a small flip phone. There was a number displayed—indicating a Lee County area code. It was a long shot, but she had little recourse.

She opened the phone and held it to her ear, saying nothing.

“What’s the story? You bring her back here yet?”
a voice—ominous and familiar—asked.

Miriam didn’t respond.

“Cat got your tongue? Gimme an update,”
he asked.

“They’re dead,” she answered.

A pause, and then a halting response from the other end.

“Miriam?”

“You lied to me,” she said. “Where is my daughter?”

Clearly taken off guard, Phillip stumbled over his words.
“How—what happened there? Where’s Milo?”

“If this is his phone, I shot him. Who is Allison, and where’s Ana?”

Phillip sighed.
“That’s too bad. I was hoping you’d play ball.”

“I had nothing to do with what happened to your brother. Give me Ana, and you’ll never have to deal with me again.”

“Oh, Miriam. What kind of leverage do you think you have here?”

“Where are you?” she asked.

He laughed again.
“You had a chance to find out, but you’d rather shoot my friends instead. There’s going to be a price to pay for that.”

Desperate, Miriam couldn’t suppress her anguish no longer. “Give her back, you son of a bitch!”

“Tell you what. You want Ana so bad, come and get her. I want to see what a good cop you really were. You have twenty-four hours.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start. Enough!” she shouted.

“Start at the beginning, and go from there. I’ve escaped you twice, Miriam. Let’s see if you’re up for it this time
.”

An avalanche of tears rushed down her face. “Please don’t do this. I’m not…”

“You’re not what?”
he asked.

“I’m not a good cop. I’m nobody. All I have left is Ana, and you can’t take her—”

“You’ve ruined my life, Miriam, and it’s only fair that I repay the favor.”
He stopped, letting out another sigh.
“But I’m giving you a chance here. Everyone deserves a chance. Even you.”

Miriam held the phone away from her ear and examined the number again. She then looked to Allison, who stood facing the wall. “What happens when I find you?”

“Then we can talk about where to go from there. Who knows, maybe you’ll learn that I’m not such a bad guy after all.”

He ended the call abruptly, without any final words or directives. The dial tone sounded. Miriam held the phone away from her ear again, examining the screen. There had to be something she was missing. She needed a clue. Some kind of hint. Lou’s words about going at it alone came back to her. He was right.