Web of Justice (14 page)

It was hard to tell how long she’d been unconscious, and as her mind cleared, she became aware of a rocking motion. She was in a car. He’d dumped her into the trunk of his vehicle.

Her breathing became rapid and shallow as panic filled her. She wanted to scream, but she was unable to take a deep breath. She tried to calm herself down, to control her shaking, to think. Where was he taking her? What was he going to do to her?

She put a trembling hand to her throat. Whatever had almost choked the life from her earlier was gone. Perhaps he wasn’t trying to kill her. At least, not yet.

Her heart raced. She was sweating and felt dizzy. Not from the close air inside the trunk, but from fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what she might face at the end of the journey.

She took a deep gasping breath and held it, closing her eyes against the blackness of her surroundings, exerting all her willpower to force herself to calm down.

As she fought to control her panic, she scrambled to find something to protect herself with. He must’ve planned this with care; the trunk was empty. She lay on her back, trying to come up with a plan as the car continued on, taking several turns, speeding up and slowing down. After a few minutes, the vehicle came to a stop, then backed up and stopped again, and the engine died.

The car door opened and footsteps sounded beside the vehicle. A metal door scraped open behind the car. He’d backed up to a building somewhere.

The trunk swung open and she looked up, unable to move as renewed trembling filled her body.

He reached out a hand. “Let’s go.”

She lay still and turned her eyes away, clasping her hands in front of herself, unable to move, speak, or scream.

He grasped her under the arms and dragged her from the trunk, forcing her to her feet.

With a sudden burst of courage she spun around to run, stopped short by his grasp on her hair. He tugged her toward him and pointed to the doorway.

“In there,” he said.

Overcome with rage, Tanya swung her free hand and raked his face with her fingernails. He stepped aside, grasped her wrists, and turned her around, wrapping his arms about her chest.

She was helpless—clamped in his grip as he propelled her toward the waiting door. She’d done her best and was determined to not give up, never to succumb.

He pushed her through the doorway, stepped inside, and slammed the door behind him.

“Downstairs,” he said, panting to catch his breath.

He twisted her arm behind her back, his other hand around her throat, and prodded her down a concrete stairway.

Her ankle gave out and she stumbled. He lost his grip, and she fell down the last half dozen steps and lay on her back. He glared at her, his face twisted into a sneer as he came down the stairs toward her.

She rolled, staggered to her feet, and limped across the floor, glancing around the concrete-walled room. There were no windows, and no doors except one—the one at the top of the stairs.

He stood back and watched her, his arms folded, as she looked frantically around for a weapon. Her eyes widened at the sight of a cot along the far wall. It was covered with a white sheet, a pillow at one end, and she recoiled in horror when she realized what it meant.

He was going to rape her.

She spun to face him, terrified and unable to breathe.

He laughed, a low guttural, mocking sound. “It’s not what you think,” he said, dabbing at his injured face with the palm of one hand. He looked at the blood, gave a short chuckle, and raised his face toward her. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Tanya narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “Touch me again and you’ll get even worse.”

His smirk vanished. “Turn around. Don’t look at me again.”

She didn’t move.

He went to a table in one corner, his eyes on her face as he moved. He picked up a knife, stroked a finger across the blade, then held it up.

“Turn around or I’ll take your eyes.”

She glanced around the room, then at the knife, her eyes frozen on the sharp tip of the blade. Her bravery vanished as he twirled it in his hand, leering at her. Her shoulders slumped, and she turned around slowly, defeated, her head down.

He stepped behind her and she felt the tip of the knife on the back of her neck.

“Lie down.”

Tanya moved to the bed and lay on her back, turning her head to watch as he went to the table and picked something up. She averted her eyes when he spun back and came toward her.

“Put your hands beside you.”

She trembled and laid her arms at her sides, careful not to look at his face.

He fastened a cable tie around each of her wrists and secured them to the side rails of the bed. Then he bound her feet with a rope, ran it off the end of the cot, and tied it to the frame.

He stood back a few feet, mumbled something to himself, and then gave a low chuckle.

“I’ll be back,” he said. His footsteps sounded on the stairs, the outer door slammed, and Tanya was alone. Alone and terrified.

Chapter 23

DAY 4 - Thursday, 7:35 a.m.

HANK PUT HIS breakfast dishes into the sink, ran some warm water over them, and glanced out of his apartment window. He had hoped to be awakened in the night with the news of Izzy Wilde’s capture. No news had come, and he was now facing another day with Wilde on the loose.

The evening before, Callaway had installed the software on Carter Wilde’s cell phone, and the landline tap was in place. Every call would be recorded and monitored live at the precinct. Hank had left notice to contact him at once if Izzy called his brother.

It might be a long shot, but it could break things wide open if the plan worked.

He checked his service weapon, grabbed his briefcase, and left his apartment. On his way to the precinct, he gave King a call. The detective was still at home, but he was expecting to leave shortly.

Hank’s heart sank when he neared the precinct. A postal delivery truck was pulled up in front of the building. He looked at his watch. It was much too early for mail delivery. He parked his vehicle and strode around to the front and up the steps, fearing the worst.

Hank stepped inside and glanced toward Diego’s office. Luke Rushton was leaned forward in a chair, carrying on a conversation with the captain. The detective’s fears intensified when he spied a familiar-looking box on Diego’s desk, the lid flipped up. From where Hank stood, he saw bold red handwriting on the outside of the package.

He went to Diego’s office and stepped inside without knocking. Even before looking into the box, the look on the captain’s face told Hank what the package contained.

A glance confirmed his suspicion. It was a lock of long black hair nestled in white tissue paper.

Diego leaned back in his chair and gave a long drawn-out sigh before speaking. “It appears we might have another victim, Hank.”

Hank glanced at Rushton. The postman was hunched forward in his chair, his cap in his hand, his eyes darting back and forth between Hank and the captain.

“Was it in the same mailbox?” Hank asked him.

Rushton turned toward the detective and shook his head. “Same area. Different box.”

Hank looked at the captain. “And no fingerprints on the carton?”

Diego shrugged one shoulder. “Just Luke’s.”

Hank gave a slow nod, his eyes unfocused, his mind turning to the events of the day before. Wilde had promised there would be more victims, and the box on Diego’s desk showed the butcher hadn’t been frightened out of carrying on with his horrific plan.

Diego broke the silence. “Luke, how far was this mailbox from the other one?”

Rushton scratched his head. “A couple blocks away.”

“How many mailbox locations in the area?”

“One about every couple of blocks on the main streets. Less in the residential areas.”

Diego looked at Hank. “I want officers to watch every mailbox in the area for as long as it takes.”

Hank nodded. It wouldn’t be hard to find a few officers willing to pull all-nighters. They could always use the overtime pay. “I’ll get on it, Captain.”

“It’s early, but nobody’s called in a homicide yet,” Diego said. “It’d be great if you could find this guy before that happens, Hank. In the meantime, I’ll get this down to the lab and see if they can tell us anything. It’s possible this is another lock from the first victim.”

“I’ll do my best,” Hank said, but knew in his heart his best wouldn’t be enough to save what he suspected was another victim. He nodded at Rushton and made his way to his desk.

~*~

ANNIE WENT INTO the office and pulled up to the desk. She had a single-minded determination—to find Izzy Wilde before he struck again.

The fugitive’s victims seemed to fit a specific profile, but Annie didn’t want to take any chances. In the past, she and her family had been targeted by the very ones they’d been trying to track down.

Jake had taken Matty and Kyle to school. It was only a couple of blocks from the house, but Jake had gotten into the habit of dropping the boys off each day if they were working on a case like the current one. Once inside the school, they would be safe. The building was locked down during school hours, and visitors were screened before entry was allowed.

As her iMac whirred to life, she heard the Firebird in the driveway. In a couple of minutes, Jake poked his head into the office.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he said.

Annie shrugged. “We have a job to do.”

“Any ideas?” Jake pulled up the guest chair, eased into it, and slouched back.

Annie shook her head. “We know who we’re looking for. Our problem is in figuring out where he is.”

“If he buys another car, he’s gotta be smart enough not to use the same method. But just in case, the police are monitoring all the local ads for anyone matching Wilde’s description.”

“He might steal the next one,” Annie said. “One thing we know—he needs some transportation.”

“He might’ve hung on to the gray sedan,” Jake suggested.

“With the police on the lookout for it?”

Jake grinned. “He’s not the brightest guy we’ve come up against.”

Annie leaned forward, dropped her elbows on the desk, and cupped her hands under her chin. “So, if you were Izzy Wilde, what would you do? Where would you go?”

Jake frowned. “Are you calling me dumb?”

Annie chuckled. “Not at all. But try to think simple for a couple of minutes.”

Jake laid his head back, looked at the ceiling a moment, then said, “I’d have to find a woman with black hair and dark brown eyes.”

“Where?”

Jake shrugged. “The supermarket. Library. Maybe at the mall.”

“Too much light,” Annie said. “Chances are, he’d stalk his victims somewhere where he wouldn’t be recognized.”

“How about a restaurant or a bar?”

Annie snapped her fingers. “I think you might’ve hit it.”

“A restaurant?”

“No. A bar.”

“Phil’s is a restaurant,” Jake said. “That’s where he found Olivia Bragg.”

“It’s also a bar,” Annie said.

“It’s early morning. Even if you’re right, he won’t be on the prowl right now.”

“No, but perhaps this evening. I’ll suggest it to Hank. He has enough manpower to cover every bar in the area.”

Jake pursed his lips. “Where does he hang out during the daytime?”

“One thing I know,” Annie said. “When he tried to kidnap Lindy Metz, he had every intention to kill her. That means he had a place lined up to do it.”

“If he intended to shave her head, he’d need a place with electricity.” Jake crossed his arms. “Unless he used scissors.”

“According to Hank, her head appeared to be shaved with a razor. It could have been cordless, already charged.”

“Okay, then, where would he be?”

“That’s the question,” Annie said.

Jake leaned forward, a deep frown on his brow. “Wait a second.”

“What is it?”

He jumped to his feet. “Grab your bag. I have an idea.”

Whatever Jake’s idea was, it seemed urgent; he was already halfway out the front door. Annie dashed to the kitchen, grabbed her handbag off the counter, and followed him out.

The passenger-side door of the Firebird was hanging open, and Jake revved up the engine, waiting impatiently for her.

Annie locked the house door, raced down the sidewalk, and jumped into the vehicle. “Where’re we going?” she asked as she fastened her seat belt.

The Firebird roared from the driveway and turned left. “Carter Wilde’s.”

Annie was puzzled. Wilde might be unpredictable, but he wasn’t foolish enough to visit his brother. She looked at Jake. “I asked you to think simple. This might be a little too simple.”

Jake laughed. “Not Carter’s apartment. But I think Izzy might be somewhere in the building.”

“How’d you come to that conclusion?”

Jake spun the steering wheel and the car shot onto Main Street. He glanced in the rearview mirror, curved around a slow vehicle, then took a left turn down a side street before answering.

“Remember the day I saw him there? I’ve been mulling it over, and I don’t think he was going to visit his brother. I know the guy’s a bit of a dimwit, but I doubt he’d show up there unannounced. If we can believe Carter, his brother never contacted him. And anyway, Carter wasn’t home at the time.” Jake paused and glanced at Annie. “I think he had another reason to go there.”

Annie hung onto the dash as the vehicle took another sudden turn. “You think he’s using one of the apartments?”

Jake glanced at her and grinned. “Nope. That would be too obvious, and any disturbance might be heard by the tenants.” He hugged the steering wheel and peered through the windshield. “Hold on. We’re almost there.”

“You think he might be using the basement?” Annie asked.

Jake whipped past a line of parked cars and eased down Red Ridge Street. “Either the basement, or another room nobody uses. His brother’s the superintendent, so Izzy could obtain access if he wanted to.”

Annie added, “And since Carter has a bad leg, he doesn’t get around so well. He might never go to the basement.”