Witness Chase (Nick Teffinger Thriller) (17 page)

The office was filled with a variety of meters and pumps, plugged into outlets to keep charged. The space also had a wall of reference books, computers, printers, and five or six desks covered with papers. There was a dartboard on the north wall, two darts sticking in the wall, and a hockey stick leaning up in the back corner. It was clearly a place for work and not for impressing clients.

“We’ve all been interviewed over the phone, by someone called . . . Sydney . . . I think,” Andrews told Teffinger.

“Detective Heatherwood,” he said. “I’m aware of that and in fact have read her reports word for word. We appreciate your cooperation. What I’d like to do at this point is look through Megan’s desk, and her computer, just to see if there’s anything that might be of help.”

The young man nodded towards the last desk in the back.

“That’s hers,” he said.

Teffinger walked over to it and looked around while the young man booted up Megan’s computer. Everything on the desktop and in her drawers appeared to be work-related. Nothing struck him as important to her disappearance.

“No pictures of guys,” he said, looking at the young man. “Was she seeing anyone that you know of?”

Andrews shook his head.

“She met some guy on the 16th Street Mall last week that she got a little excited about but they never exchanged numbers or anything. She’s had some bad experiences with guys,” he explained. “It seems to take her some time to warm up. And by the time she does, the guy’s moving down the road. I keep telling her that guys don’t like waiting around for it.”

Teffinger understood perfectly.

“I used to have a three-date rule,” he confessed. “If they hadn’t put out by the third date, poof, I was gone.” Then, “Of course, I don’t do that anymore, I’m a lot more mature now.”

The young man looked interested.

“So now how many dates does it take now before the big poof?”

For some reason he thought of Kelly, her slightly crooked smile, so damn nice. Was she the next woman he’d make a serious play for? Yes, she was. He just realized that this second. The thought almost startled him, as if it had been thrust on him by some outside force, and he really hadn’t had much say in the matter one way or the other.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m still managing to do fairly well early on.”

The young man laughed. “So as far as the three-date rule being gone, what you’re saying is that it’s gone in theory.”

“No, it’s gone for real,” Teffinger replied. “I just haven’t had the opportunity to prove it yet.”

“Someone get me a shovel, please.”

On Megan Bennett’s computer, they pulled up her directory and read the file names. Only one appeared to be of any interest, titled Personal, but all the sub-files dealt with taxes, recipes and other equally unhelpful stuff. Then they logged onto the Internet and read her e-mails. There was nothing of help there either.

He plopped down in the swivel chair and tried to think.

Now what?

Finally he said, “The guy she met on the mall last week, what was his name?”

“She never said.”

“Mmm.” Teffinger cocked his head, thought about a few other things, then found himself coming back to it. “What’d she say about this guy?”

The young man seemed to retreat to wherever it was that that memory was stored. “Let’s see, they were both eating lunch near each other and somehow they started talking. He was an FBI agent, which impressed her.”

Teffinger raised an eyebrow.

“An FBI agent?”

“Yes,” Andrews confirmed. “Oh, right, now I remember. Somehow she mentioned that she went to Ohio State University. It turns out that this man actually worked on a case of an OSU woman who was murdered back when Megan went to school there. It was a pretty famous case on campus. I guess he told her there were two other OSU women who disappeared and were never found and were believed to have been killed by the same person who killed the first one.”

“Really?”

The young man nodded. “That freaked her out. Anyway, this guy made an impression on her but, like I said, it was a one-shot deal.”

“Did she describe this guy, physically that is?”

“No. She just said he was nice.” Then, “She would most definitely have gone out with him, if he asked.”

Teffinger looked at him. “Would that have bothered you?”

The young man laughed. “Me? Dude, I’m gay. I thought you knew that and that’s why you’ve been hitting on me.”

Teffinger must have had a look on his face.

The young man laughed and said, “Dude, relax, I’m just messing with you.”

SUDDENLY HIS CELL PHONE RANG.
Baxter’s voice came through. “Nick, where are you?”

She sounded panicked.

He knew immediately why she called. The press conference had been scheduled for eleven o’clock. He looked at his watch, 10:50. “Shit,” he said. “I’m on my way.” Then, as he was running out of the office and down the stairs, “Do me a favor and get the number of the FBI office that covers Columbus, Ohio.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

Chapter Eighteen

Day Five - April 20

Friday Morning

___________

YESTERDAY HAD BEEN A MAJOR BITCH.
Megan Bennett, during her great escape attempt out there in the goddamn rainstorm, managed to bury the front end of the Camry right down to the axle. It took two filthy hours out of Ganjon’s life to undo that little trick.

Plus the sex with the woman yesterday had been disappointing. It’d been like screwing a Raggedy Ann doll. The way he’d build it up in his mind over the past few weeks, she’d be fighting him off like crazy. The lack of resistance was a major frustration.

Afterwards she said, “Hope you like Hepatitis C, asshole.”

That was yesterday.

Today, at least so far, was a hundred percent better. Megan Bennett admitted that she had just been jerking him around with the Hepatitis C comment. Also, she was the one to actually initiate the sex this morning, after he showered her. No more limp noodle. Obviously, the whole thing was just a desperate attempt to try to ingratiate herself on the hopes that he’d be stupid enough to think that she actually liked him.

He wasn’t that obtuse but still it was nice. He was already thinking about tonight. Maybe he’d look around in the kitchen and see if he could find some candles.

THEY HAD CEREAL AND MILK FOR BREAKFAST.
Then, after she promised to behave herself, he tied her hands behind her back and took her out for a walk in the foothills to get some exercise. The sky was one of the brightest blues he’d ever seen. Sunlight washed over everything and the temperature couldn’t have been more perfect.

As they walked he kept a close eye on her.

With her hands tied she wouldn’t be able to pick up a rock or a stick or anything, or be able to climb a tree.

He didn’t think she’d be stupid enough to try to make a run for it. They both knew he was faster, even without her hands tied.

Screaming for help was something she might try.

But it was unlikely that they’d come across anyone and even less likely that she would actually see them, with her glasses long gone. And even if she did shout, he could knock her head off within a second. If some stupid fool actually did hear her and came over to investigate, he’d handle that too, with pleasure.

They followed the stream for more than a mile and ended up sitting on a boulder. She was quiet, keeping her face pointed away from him, staring at the movement of the water. After a time she said, “I have to use the facilities.”

Ganjon immediately pictured some grand escape plan. If he untied her, what could she do? He looked around, couldn’t think of anything obvious, but still didn’t like the idea.

“Wait until we get back.”

She shook her head and her eyes pleaded with him.

“I’ve already been holding it. I’m ready to bust, honest to God.”

She really did have a desperate look on her face.

Damn it.

He stood up, grabbed her under the arm and pulled her up, then walked her over to the base of a Cottonwood, in an area where there was some brush cover. He reached under her oversized T-shirt, pulled her panties down to her ankles, and held her steady while she stepped out of them.

“Thanks,” she said.

He waited, a few steps away, looking the other way but keeping her in his peripheral vision.

“That’s better,” she said, afterwards.

“No problem.”

Then she let out a nervous laugh.

“I’ve never done that in front of a man before.”

For some reason that registered with him on some emotional level.

“Yeah, well, me too.” Then, “Time to head back.”

Her eyes looked into his and he could see the fear in them. “What are we going to do, when we get back?” she asked him.

That was a good question and he knew why she asked. She was trying to find out if he was going to kill her this afternoon, in which case this might be her last good chance to escape, in which case she’d have to try something now no matter how unlikely the outcome.

He didn’t need that.

“I’m not sure yet,” he said.

She seemed petrified and he grabbed her arm above the elbow, just as a precaution.

THEY WALKED IN SILENCE, A TENSE SILENCE.
“I’ll do anything you want,” she said after they started getting closer to the farmhouse. Her voice trembled. “Anything, anything at all. You just say what you want and I’ll do it. There’s no need to kill me.”

Another two hundred yards and they’d be back.

He felt like the king of the world, listening to this beautifully broken woman who now cowered in his presence. He had become her God, her universe, and for the first time she’d acknowledged it in no uncertain terms.

“I thought maybe we’d exercise,” he suggested nonchalantly, meaning her God had spared her life, at least for the moment.

She looked at him and he could read the doubt in her eyes.

“Exercise?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I have a whole routine I do when I can’t get to the gym. You don’t need any equipment.”

She nodded, demurely. “That sounds good.”

“You take good care of yourself,” he said. “I’ll bet you work out four or five times a week. Am I right?”

She nodded. “When I can.”

“See?” he questioned. Then he changed the subject. “Anything? You’d do anything? You really mean that?”

She couldn’t agree fast enough.

“Anything you want. Whatever you say.”

He nodded.

“We’ll see.”

They were almost at the house.

She must have felt like she was getting a toehold on him, because she said, “If you let me go, I swear to God I’ll never say a word to anyone. You won’t have to worry about me, I promise.”

He felt like a cat with a mouse.

“You promise, huh?”

“On my mother’s grave.”

He frowned.

“But you’ve seen my face,” he observed.

It was a huge fact.

They both knew it.

She looked like two cold hands had just picked her up and shaken her. “But I won’t ever tell anyone what you look like.”

“And you’ve figured out that I’m the person who killed those women at Ohio State,” he added.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He put on an inquisitive college professor look, and said, “So let’s see if I have this straight. You want me to let you go. And then when you’re in a police room somewhere, totally safe and sound, with no chance in the world of me getting to you again, not in this or any other lifetime, and the dedicated and concerned little homicide cops and FBI agents ask you all their little questions, you’re not going to say a single word, because you made a promise to me.” He looked at her. “Do I have it right?”

She looked frantic.

“I won’t say a word and that’s the truth. I would owe you that, if you let me go.”

“But,” Ganjon said, as if at a high school debate, “you’d have to tell them, otherwise I’d just do the same thing to some other poor woman, and you couldn’t have that on your conscience now, could you?”

He expected her to say something but she didn’t.

She just looked beaten.

They were at the house now. “Well, we’ll see,” he said. Then, thoughtfully, “Maybe we’ll be able to work something out. Who knows?”

HE OPENED THE BACK DOOR QUIETLY,
stuck his head inside and listed for sounds. Nothing. Then he pulled her around to the front of the house to see if there were any cars or other signs of life.

Nothing.

Nothing but a gorgeous spring afternoon in Colorado.