4 Big Easy Hunter (14 page)

I was a little more reserved than they were. The fire put a damper on my cheerfulness, and chatting with Mick in the late afternoon had left me lonely and aching for him. The unease of the psychic’s reading, the printing plate, and the man with the knife had surfaced again.

Inside Pat O’Brien’s, Mom made her way to the front of the piano bar and scored a table for us which had just been vacated. It didn’t take long for her, Nate, and Darby to be on their feet singing along to Cheeseburger in Paradise. There was no way mom knew the lyrics, and I was pretty sure she was making up new ones. Dad ordered Hurricanes for everyone, and my head started to pound.

I leaned over to Dad and said, “I’m going to run to the restroom.” He nodded.

After washing my hands and splashing cold water on my face, I slipped out the front door to stand on the sidewalk and take a few deep breaths. I wanted a few minutes to myself to shake my blahs and decide if I was going to go back in and have a good time with everyone, or excuse myself and walk back to the hotel.

As I was standing there trying to make my decision, I noticed Ferg coming down the street. He saw me, too, raised a hand to wave, and flashed a big smile at me. I waved, but I turned to go back into the bar.

“Susan!” he yelled as he broke into a run to meet me. “Wait a minute!”

“Hi, Ferg. Are you coming inside?” I asked him. “I can’t stay out here much longer; my family is waiting for me.”

“This won’t take long,” he said with a mischievous smile. “I have something to show you for the wedding.”

His exuberance and smile made it seem like something fun. I followed him down to the corner where his Hummer was parked. He opened the hatch, and as I leaned to peer in, a hand was clapped across my mouth from behind, and I was dragged to an SUV around the corner. I kicked, and I tried to scream against the hand, but it was dark, and there was no one to see or hear my abduction. I was shoved inside the car, the door slammed, and the vehicle sped off.

There was only one other passenger in the back seat with me – the Spanish guy from the bar!

It only took a few seconds to gather my wits about me and reach for the door handle. I was going to launch myself out onto the road if necessary, but the handle and the locks were on childproof setting, and I had no control over them.

The Spanish guy laughed and said through a thick accent, “Relax. I have question for you.”

“Me? What could you possibly want to ask me?” I asked trying to hold my voice steady. My mind was starting to whirl. Was I really being abducted? Or was this a quick once around the block thing? Was I in danger? Did Ferg do this to me on purpose?

“Where is the printing plate?” he asked softly.

I answered quickly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You name is Susan, yes?” he asked. “You call me Rico. We will be best friends until you tell me where is the plate.”

“What plate? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insisted. I tried to put on a brave front, but the fear was growing exponentially.

Rico snapped his fingers and the driver turned on the car’s video system. A moment later I was watching black and white surveillance video of me and Bogart in the basement room at LeBlond Plantation. It was clearly evident I had taken one of the $50 plates and shoved it into my purse. I was devastated my lie was so obvious, and I had no idea what Rico might do to get the plate back.

“I don’t have it,” I told him weakly. Tears were welling up, and I was very close to breaking down in front of him.

“Where is it?” he asked calmly.

“I don’t have it,” I whispered. “I don’t know where it is.” It was a truthful statement.

The driver turned down a narrow alley and pulled to a stop behind a building. Rico startled me by grabbing my hair and pulling me to him. He held a knife to my throat, and I started to let out a scream. He pulled my hair harder and pressed the knife tighter against my neck while hissing, “Shut up!”

The car door opened, and I was jerked from the seat. A hand across my mouth kept my screams from being heard. My struggling was pointless as two men dragged me down steps to under, what I presumed to be, the bar near the post office.

A dimly lit room with a table and a few chairs awaited me. The driver pushed me into a chair and watched as the two men tied my hands behind my back and my ankles to the chair legs. All three men left, and I was alone. Tears started to stream down my face.

A few minutes later Ferg entered the room. My mouth fell open at the sight of him. How could he do this to me? What would Scotty and Dell think of him? If he hurt me, he would never get away with it and would probably go to jail for the rest of his life.

“Ferg! What’s going on?” I asked desperately. “Help me!”

He pulled a chair close to me and talked low as though he didn’t want anyone to overhear. “Susan, I’m sorry,” he said with anguish in his voice. “It was a terrible mistake that you found the printing plates and took off with one. These men are going to kill us both if I don’t get it back. They’ve been blackmailing me to print money for them, and if I don’t get the last shipment done by morning, they’ll kill me. Please tell me where the plate is.” His own desperation was apparent across his face and in his voice.

My mouth fell open, and although I tried, no words would come out. My throat felt like it closed up, my chest tightened, and I couldn’t breathe. I was near a full-blown panic attack now.

Before I could tell Ferg what happened to the plate, Rico and a few other men entered the room. He was still holding the knife, and it was the only thing I could focus on. If my voice would only work, I would scream.

“Where is the plate?” Rico asked the question calmly but I could see his hand was clenching the knife tightly. A glance at his face showed a muscle in his jaw was twitching.

“I don’t know,” I whispered with real fear in my voice. “It’s the truth. I don’t know where it is.”

He was quick on his feet and had my hair in his grasp again with the knife pressed to my neck. Terror filled me, and I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out; instead, I started to cry.

“Tell me where is the plate. This is your last chance if you no want to die!” There was no longer any calmness to Rico.

I knew deep in my soul I couldn’t tell him what I had done with the plate. If I did, Ferg and I would be killed on the spot. “I don’t know where it is,” I blubbered.

The vein in Rico’s temple started to pulsate; his anger was visible. His eyes exuded hatred. He looked at the driver and said, “There is time no more. Other arrangements must be made. We no need her. Do as we discussed.”

Rico stepped back. Two menacing men moved toward me. I opened my mouth to scream yet again, but a cloth-covered hand clamped over my mouth from behind. Everything quickly went dark.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The pain in my head was intense. It hurt to raise my hands to rub my temples. Whatever had happened to me was obviously over, and I was probably in my room at the hotel. I opened my eyes slightly and was met with total darkness. It only took a second for me to realize I wasn’t in my hotel room, and I was blind. Panic washed over me. I stood up and tried to move with my arms outstretched in front of me, but I quickly fell over something on the ground.

I felt around and picked up objects. It wasn’t until I had a skull in my hand, that I realized I was in a tomb. The screaming came easily now.

After the screaming, came the sobbing. When the crying subsided, the pain in my head was a hundred times worse. There was a metallic taste in my mouth, and I knew I had most likely been chloroformed. I forced myself to feel along the walls to find a broken spot where I could attempt to break free from my prison, but it was useless. I couldn’t even find the place in the wall where the door would be located.

My finger slipped into a small hole. I leaned down to peer through it with one eye and could barely see a little sliver of light in the distance. Hysterical laughter broke out, and I couldn’t control it. The relief at knowing I wasn’t blind was overwhelming.

When the laughter finally stopped, I leaned down by the little hole and started a steady stream of yelling. If I would have counted the number of times I yelled, “Help” before my voice gave out, it would have probably been 2,347,001.

I sat down in the dirt and allowed the tears to flow down my cheeks again. I couldn’t have stopped them if I tried. I felt as if I would go mad there in the tomb. The psychic had seen this, and I knew I was going to die here. No one knew where I was. She had seen the knife and the tomb; it was all true. My heart nearly burst when I thought of how frightened my parents and Darby and Nate would be that I disappeared. They would go through the rest of their lives never knowing what happened to me on that hot August night. Mick would have a broken heart, but he would get over it and probably hook up with some sexy redhead and get married again and forget all about me. How could he forget about me so quickly like that? My heart was broken, and a fresh wave of sobbing washed over me.

I was delusional.

The crazy thoughts came and went for hours. I dozed. I was awake. I tried to scream and yell for help, but my vocal cords were broken, and my throat was raw. I eventually dropped off into a fitful sleep.

When I woke, there were slivers of sunlight coming through the cracks of the tomb. I couldn’t move. The smell was nauseating. It was dank and made me sick to my stomach. I tried to stand, but my leg muscles felt strange and wouldn’t hold me up. I assumed they were atrophying, and I would soon be part of the dead.

Then a new terror came. The door of the tomb was forced open. The sunshine poured in and the light blinded me. I could see a human form in the doorway, and I knew Rico had come to kill me. I opened my mouth to scream again, but nothing came out. I threw my hands in front of me to ward off the knife that was surely coming for me.

My hands were simply knocked away, and I was scooped up into strong arms. A soft voice whispered into my ear, “Susan,” as he carried me out into the sunshine.

It was Mick. He was holding me and tears were streaming down his face. His emotions had taken over at the sight of me, and he lost control. I tried to put my hand up to his face and whisper, “Thank you,” but no words came out.

He tried to set me down, but when he saw I wasn’t capable of standing on my own, he carried me to a waiting police cruiser and helped me into the back seat. He climbed in after me and held me tightly in his arms. I buried my face in his neck and breathed deeply. The familiar scent would have brought tears if I had any more to give. It erased the dank odor of the tomb from my nostrils and had the much-loved calming effect on me it always did.

It was only then I looked around and was aware of the numerous police officers in the area, as well as a half-dozen guys from the security company – including the guy who had scared me in the bar.

“Susan Hunter, I’m going to start billing you for my time.”

I was stunned to look across Mick and out the open door of the cruiser to see Detective Bentley squatted down beside the car door to chastise me.

I wanted to say, “Susan Raines. I’m Susan Raines,” but my voice was completely gone.

“I thought I might pull my hair out when I got your package in the mail,” he said. “I wasn’t going to wait for you to come home. I know how you operate, and if you had your hands on a counterfeit printing plate, I knew you were knee-deep in trouble down here. I called the local authorities, and they didn’t have a clue what I was talking about.”

I couldn’t talk to him, so I made a couple of hand motions to let him know I wanted to write. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen and a small tablet. I simply wrote, “Ferg?”

“Ferg’s ok,” he said. “He was picked up a few hours ago. He’s down at the local station giving a statement.” He looked at Mick and said, “Mick, she needs to go to the hospital. We can’t take her statement until she’s been checked out.”

He nodded and the detective moved on to talk with the security guys. I glanced down and saw blood on my blouse. I frowned at Mick and pointed to the blood with a questioning look.

“You have a small cut on your neck. It must have bled quite a bit,” he said while pulling me closer to him and holding me tight.

The knife. The knife must have cut me when it was against my throat. I thought there were no more, but I couldn’t help the few tears which slipped out.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“ . . . and when I came to, I was in the tomb,” I whispered.

We were at the police station, and Mick, Detective Bentley, several police officers, and a few of the security guys were patiently listening while I gave my version of events. It was labor intensive and had taken a considerable amount of time, because I could only whisper. The doctor at the emergency room had given me a shot of cortisone and a spray to soothe my vocal cords, but all I could muster was a soft whisper. I told them everything from my adventure with Bogart to when they found me in the tomb.

When I was finished, they told me what happened on their side of things.

“Susan, you messed with a group of illegal arms dealers,” Detective Bentley said. “They heard of Ferg’s master printing abilities and provided the plates for him to print money. Of course, he refused, but after they showed him a news article of what happened to the last guy who refused, he didn’t have much choice. The money was going to fund a large shipment of guns coming into the Port of New Orleans this morning.”