Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [classic children's novels txt] 📗

bother cuffing him. Right then what I most wanted in the world was for him to take a swing at me. My face was an inch from his, and I snarled, “Where is she, you son of a bitch? Where is she?”

He looked terrified.

“Who?”

They had every door on the vehicle open. They were searching the floor, under the seats, and in the glove compartments. There was nothing.

I lowered my voice so only he could hear me, “I swear to you, if you have harmed a hair, if you have hurt her in any way… Tell me where she is, or I will not answer for what I do next…”

There was an icy wind coming in off the river, but he was sweating and I could feel his legs trembling. “Look, I am on my way to pick up my family because we’re going away for the weekend. I have no idea who you’re looking for, or why you think I have her. You’ve made some kind of mistake…”

Even through my rage, I could see something was wrong. I asked him, “Where have you come from?”

“I… um…”

“Where were you before you drove here?”

“The pharmacy…”

“Rite Aid? On Storey and Croes?”

“Yeah…”

“Shit!”

Right at the back of the station, with a large parking lot. She had been there—right there!—in the lot, while I was on the phone to Bernie, talking to the captain. I got on the ground, lay on my back, and crawled under the van. It took me two minutes to find it. It was stuck with duct tape to the bottom of the chassis, by the side door.

I scrambled out, stood up, and looked at it. My heart was pounding. I wasn’t close to panic. I was panicking. The screen displayed a timer. It was set to go off in three hours. I peeled off the tape and put it in an evidence bag. I gave it to one of the patrolmen. “Take this to the lab. It is absolute priority. Detective Dehan has three hours, then she dies. You understand me? See if they can get any prints off it. Do it now.”

They ran and the car took off with sirens wailing. I returned to the driver. I showed him my badge and told him my name. “I need you to think real hard. Did you see anything—anything—that struck you as odd or out of place near your vehicle? Anyone standing nearby?”

He shook his head.

“Who was parked next to you?”

“I don’t know, Detective. They were cars, just normal cars. There was nothing out of the ordinary.” He hesitated. “About…” He closed his eyes, counting in his mind, his right hand held out, positioning to the vehicle in his mind. “Four cars down, opposite, an old, beat-up Cherokee Jeep. Dark green. It stood out because it was old. Maybe early ’90s. But that is all.”

My cell rang. It was the captain.

I said to the guy, “Listen. I’m sorry. Give your details to the sergeant. We may need to talk to you again.” I walked back to my car, answering the phone. “He is playing us like a fucking violin. He had Dehan’s phone taped to the underside of this guy’s chassis…”

“Stone, listen to me.”

“What?”

“It’s Zak.”

“What about him?” Before he could answer, I went on, “Captain, when I recovered the phone, it was set on a timer. It’s set for three hours. We all know what that means. He is going to kill her in three hours, at six p.m. Zak is the bureau’s headache. I haven’t got time for…”

“Shut up, Stone.”

He said it quietly, so I did.

“What?”

“Couple of days ago, a neighbor reported to the Cumberland County sheriff that there seemed to be people at the Hellfire Club again. They sent over a deputy. Zak was there and the deputy tried to arrest him. He shot the deputy and fled. The deputy managed to radio for help, but by the time they got there, Zak was long gone.”

“Why are you telling me this, Captain?”

“Because you need to know. Now just shut up, John, and listen to me.”

“Okay.”

“The deputy said he was not driving a bike. He drove away in an old model Cherokee. Looked like a ’95 model. Green.” He paused. My head was spinning. I had a flash in my mind of arriving at the club. Bikes. A Land Rover. A green Cherokee. The captain was saying, “Now, I am half-inclined to hand this over to somebody else, John…”

“Don’t do that, Captain.”

“Can you hold it together?”

“Yes.”

“One of your neighbors called in earlier today. The message did not get to you because it was left on your desk, and you have barely been at the station house.”

“What did the message say?”

“There had been a suspicious-looking man, looked like a Hell’s Angel, banging on your door. He left driving a green, early-model Cherokee.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“We put out an APB. The car has been spotted.”

“He was parked behind the precinct. In the Rite Aid parking lot.”

“Today?”

“When Dehan was abducted. Near the car where her phone was taped. Where is the Jeep now?”

He heaved a huge sigh. “At an old, abandoned church, at Jones Point, on the river. It’s opposite Peekskill…”

“I know where it is. I’m on my way there.”

“John, do not go. The bureau has this.”

“Fuck the bureau!”

“What?”

“I said I trust the bureau. You’re breaking up, Captain. Gotta go.”

I hung up and switched off my phone.

Nineteen

I took East 222nd across to the River Bronx Expressway. Then I broke the speed limit all the way to Elmsford. There I took I-287 across the Tappan Zee Bridge and scorched through Nyack onto the Palisades Interstate Parkway. I came off at Stony Point. After that I had to slow down, because the