Witness Chase (Nick Teffinger Thriller) (37 page)

He grinned, insane looking.

“Now run! This is your chance! Run!”

Chapter Fifty-Three

Day Twelve - April 27

Friday Night

_________

THEY WERE ON THE GROUND IN VAIL,
waiting out the storm when Teffinger got the phone call. Thirty minutes ago, just after dusk, a hiker spotted a man chasing a half-naked woman with her arms tied behind her back. This was at the old mining site just northwest of Idaho Springs.

He found the pilot inside the hanger sipping coffee, and said, “We got to go, now!” Moments later they were swooping up into a turret of rain, into a dark and ominous sky, directly into the meat of the storm.

Teffinger put both armrests into a death grip and stared straight ahead.

Lighting exploded around them, so close that the sky actually shook.

Teffinger expected a direct hit at any second.

One that would take them down to a fiery death.

After what seemed like a long time, Sydney shouted, “Look!”

Teffinger forced himself to look out the window.

“What?”

“There, the car.”

Then he saw it; a white car, sideways on an old mining road, apparently stuck in mud, illuminated by the chopper’s searchlight.

“Get us down there!”

They let the chopper touch all the way down this time before jumping out. The pilot kept it on the ground, blocking the car, just in case.

Teffinger ran over to it, weapon drawn, with Heatherwood two steps behind. No one was in the car. The keys were gone. He saw the trunk up and ran back there to look. No one was there. He ran up front and shot both of the tires, startling Heatherwood who didn’t expect it.

He fought his way through the rain over to the helicopter.

“Get off the ground, I don’t want him using this thing as an escape vehicle. Keep your spotlight off us. Call for backup.”

The chopper lifted off and everything turned instantly black

A lightning bolt ripped across the sky.

Teffinger saw mounds of mine tailings everywhere.

“Watch your step,” he warned Sydney, getting his voice up so she could hear it over the pounding of the rain. “If you fall in one of those bastards you can kiss your ass goodbye.”

Suddenly something whizzed by his head.

A rock.

It must have been going a hundred miles an hour.

He whirled around but didn’t see a thing.

Damned rain.

Then suddenly something blacker than the night struck him. The gun flew out of his hand, and he landed so hard on the ground that the breath flew out of his lungs. Fists of iron pounded on his head and face from out of nowhere.

A gun fired.

It was Heatherwood, not firing at them, but using the gun as a light.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The barrel flashed each time, like a slow, eerie strobe light. Shapes came into focus. Before she could fire again, the force pounding the life out of Teffinger jumped off and disappeared into the night.

Heatherwood fired in that direction.

Bam!

Bam!

Bam!

They didn’t hear anything.

Seconds passed.

Then more.

Then more.

Then, from out of the blackness, they heard a scream.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Day Twelve - April 27

Friday Night

_________

GANJON, TO HIS UTTER DISBELIEF,
found himself pinned in a shaft, at least twenty feet down. Both arms were locked immobile at his side. He tried to move, desperate, and realized decisively that that was not going to happen. Blood poured into his eyes. He tried to shake his head, to get it to change course but it did no good. He was in water up to his chest.

He called out for help, in a panic.

It felt like his right knee was broken. The pain was terrible, shooting up his spine and straight into his brain.

He called and called and called.

Then something happened.

He heard a man’s voice, far above and faint, but definitely a human voice.

“Where is Kelly Ravenfield?”

He shouted back, “She escaped. She’s safe somewhere. Get me out of here.”

“Where is Megan Bennett?” the voice questioned.

He slipped down further in the hole, bringing the water even closer to his head. He could hear the rain wash down the sides of the shaft.

“Where is Megan Bennett?”

“She escaped.”

“Bullshit! Where is she?”

“She escaped, that’s the goddamned truth!”

No more shouting came from above.

“Hey, are you up there?”

No answer.

He called, again and again and again.

For at least two minutes.

Still no answer.

The water was definitely rising. He was certain of that now and struggled with all his might to free his body.

Damned rock!

Then a voice came from above. “Here’s the deal. You’re going to tell me where Megan Bennett is. Then I’m going to send someone out there to verify it. If we find her and she’s alive, then I’m going to call a rescue team in here to get you out. If you don’t tell me where she is, or if she’s dead, then you can rot in there. My report’s going to say you ran off into the night and we had no idea where you went.”

He screamed.

“Get me out of here!”

TEFFINGER PACED ABOVE THE HOLE,
then kicked rocks into it.

He got on his hands and knees and shouted in, “Last chance, asshole. You tell me where Megan Bennett is, right this second, before I start dropping rocks on your goddamn head!”

A pause.

“Get me out first. That’s the deal.”

He picked up a rock the size of a golf ball and threw it down with all his might.

“There’s your deal!” he said. “How do you like it, huh? Is that good enough for you?”

“Nick, stop!” The words came from Heatherwood, who shoved him hard in the chest. “Don’t do it! He’s not worth it.”

Teffinger knew she was right but didn’t care.

He pushed her to the ground, picked up another rock and threw it so hard that his arm hurt.

“Talk!” he shouted into the hole. “Where is Megan Bennett? Where is Megan Bennett? Where is Megan Bennett? Do you hear me? Where is Megan Bennett?”

A pause, then, “Okay, stop, I’ll tell you . . .”

“Tell me now!”

“Okay, calm down, she’s south of Denver . . .”

Teffinger got Katie Baxter on the phone and fed her the directions, staying on the line as she tore down I-25 at well over a hundred miles an hour.

“How you doing?” he questioned.

“Two miles to the turnoff,” she said. A short time later, “Okay, I’m getting off.”

“Good,” he said. “Head east for about two miles . . . you should see a gravel road on your left . . .”

“What marks it?”

“Nothing . . . it’s just a road . . .”

“Got it,” she said.

“Two hundred yards, on your right, a metal building . . .”

“Bingo, there it is!”

The vehicle slid to a stop in the gravel, so loud that Teffinger could hear the wheels locking. “The back door should be open,” he said.

“I’m heading around.” Then, after a moment, “Oh my God!”

“What?”

Baxter’s voice disappeared, and Teffinger could tell she was running, then the phone clanked, as if she dropped it on the ground.

“She’s strapped down to a table,” Baxter shouted. “There’s something on her head, a helmet or something . . . she’s moving! She hears me! Come on baby, hold on, let’s get this thing off . . .”

Seconds passed.

Someone gasped for air and choked, as if they’d just broken the surface of the water.

“You’re okay baby, breathe!”

More gasping.

“Nick, we got her,” Baxter said. “She seems okay . . .”

Teffinger slapped his hand on his thigh.

“We got her!” he told Heatherwood.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Day Thirteen - April 28

Saturday Morning

____________

TEFFINGER AND A TEAM
of ten other people, armed with flashlights, frantically searched the area all night long. The rain never let up, not a bit, and instead just got colder and heavier. Then the wind kicked up and pushed it sideways, keeping the chopper planted even more firmly on the ground. Kelly didn’t show up anywhere.

They found her skirt and her panties but not her.

The prevailing theory was that she went down a mineshaft, either at Ganjon’s hands or at her own misfortune trying to escape.

Then he found her, just after daybreak, way off the beaten path.

She was in a sheer walled pit about thirty feet deep and ten feet wide, more bloodied and bruised than he’d ever seen anyone in his life.

He waved until he got the attention of one of the other men and then jumped down, splashing into chilly water about a foot deep.

He untied her hands, took her in his arms, gently, and held her.

“Baby, you’re okay now,” he said. “We’re going to get you to the hospital.”

She cried.

For a long time, neither of them said anything. Then she said, “It was so horrible. I jumped in, because I knew he couldn’t follow, but he threw rocks at me. Every time he threw one, he told me exactly where it would hit.”

Teffinger held her, picturing it.

“I couldn’t protect myself.” A pause, “Then he left. He could have killed me but wanted me to rot to death instead. He knew no one would ever find me in here.”

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about him, he won’t be bothering you anymore.”

They held each other, there in the water, while the paramedics scrambled above, rigging up a stretcher and ropes.

Then, at one point, she moved ever so slightly, and said, “What about Megan Bennett?”

“We got her,” Teffinger said. “She’s at Lutheran Medical Center right now, which is where we’re going to take you. Maybe you two can be roommates.”

She squeezed his hand.

“That would be nice.”

Chapter Fifty-Six

Day Forty-Three

(One Month Later)

Thursday Evening

____________

“GET READY FOR THE BEST FIVE MINUTES
of film ever made,” Teffinger said, sitting up straighter on the couch. “Courtesy of Brian de Palma.”

Kelly sat next to him, a glass of wine dangling from left hand and a transcript of today’s trial testimony sitting next to her, unread and unmarked. She hadn’t touched it since Teffinger put Body Double in the DVD player forty-five minutes ago. She’d never seen the movie and was hypnotized by it, especially the haunting music.

“You’re a bad influence,” she said.

“Yeah but that was in the fine print when you signed up.”

“Who said I signed up?”

“Hold on,” he said. “Here we go.”

The Frankie Goes to Hollywood song—“Relax”—poured out of the surround sound speakers and Teffinger cranked up the volume and sang along. “Relax, don’t do it . . . ”

A heartbeat after the scene ended his cell phone rang. “Told you,” he said to Kelly as he picked up the phone. “Best five minutes ever, period.”

“If you like weird stuff,” she said.

The person calling turned out to be Jeannie Dannenberg, who he hadn’t spoken to for over two weeks. “Nick, I need to talk to you, right away,” she said.

Bar sounds filled the background.

“Why, what’s up?”

“You’ll see. I’m down at B.T.’s, on duty tonight. Can you come down?”

He looked at his watch, 9:42 p.m.

“I don’t know . . .”

THIRTY MINUTES LATER HE PAID
his six bucks at the door and pushed his way into the strip-club. The place was mobbed, something he didn’t expect on a Thursday, until he realized it was amateur night. Jeannie Dannenberg—Oasis—was working one of the stages, stripped down to a barely-there thong and spreading her strong, tanned legs. Teffinger looked for an empty chair at the stage, found none, stood there until he got her attention, threw a five-dollar bill by her feet and wandered over to the bar for a beer.

Jeannie came straight over as soon as she finished her set and gave him a warm, sweaty hug; then a wet kiss on the lips.

“Thanks for coming,” she said.