A Killer Past (21 page)

J
ACK
RAN
,
BUT
he wasn’t fast enough to catch the man – or teenager – before the guy reached the black sedan parked behind Mary’s car, got in, and pulled away. Cursing too many beers and hamburgers, along with age, Jack went to his SUV.

By the time he had his Durango in gear, the sedan had turned the
corner at the end of the block. He keyed his radio and put out a call. Jennifer Mendoza responded first. He gave her a quick rundown on what was happening. ‘Car’s a Nissan,’ he said. ‘I only got part of the license plate. Mud covered the rest, but it starts with a ZYK. Get back with me as soon as you have something.’

She promised she would, and he caught sight of the sedan two blocks ahead, as it turned onto Main.

He didn’t stick his light on the roof. He hadn’t seen the girl in the car and didn’t want to panic the guy. ‘Lead me to her,’ he muttered and pulled out his cellphone.

He punched in Mary Harrington’s number, waited through seven rings, then dropped the phone on the passenger’s seat. He could talk to her later. Right now he needed to figure out where the car ahead of him was going and what he wanted to do.

He could pull the car over, tell the driver he was conducting a safety check, but if the car and driver were connected to Shannon Harrington’s disappearance, that might panic the guy. Better to give the driver a little leeway, see where he went.

Again he tried Mary’s number.

Still no answer.

The black car left the downtown area and crossed the river, heading north. Only a few cars were on the road ahead, and Jack eased his Durango farther back. If the sedan’s driver knew he was being followed, he wasn’t in any hurry to get away.

The ring of his cellphone interrupted his concentration. He didn’t recognize the number, but the moment he clicked ‘accept’ he recognized Mary’s voice. ‘Have you got him yet?’ she asked.

‘Not yet, but I’m following him. He’s just up ahead. What did he do to your car?’

‘He left something on the seat. A pin I gave Shannon for her birthday.’

Which meant the bastard had the girl. ‘Any note?’

‘Not exactly.’

He wasn’t in the mood for games. ‘Come on, Mary, what did he leave?’

‘An article. A copy of an old newspaper article. Where are you?’

‘North of town, near the Hill and Dale Vineyard.’ Aptly named
for the rolling hills and valleys where grape vineyards flourished. ‘What’s the article about?’

‘Something that happened in the past.’

‘Your past?’

He noticed the hesitation before she answered. ‘It was a mistake. A terrible mistake.’

‘What kind of a mistake?’ If this guy had left the article in her car, it had to have something to do with her.

‘I can’t tell you.’

‘Dammit, Mary, do you want to find your granddaughter or not?’ He was tired of all her secrets.

‘Yes, I want to find her, but you need to stop following him. Go back to the police station, or home, or wherever you would have gone after leaving my house.’

‘I am not going home.’

‘Are you near the Allegan State Forest?’

‘Yes.’ An occasional sign posted on the trees on his right identified the land as state-owned and open to hunting. ‘Why?’ Even as he asked the question, he knew why she’d asked. ‘Where are you, Mary?’

‘I’m just now turning onto Main.’

‘Turn around and go back home,’ he ordered. He didn’t need a civilian involved in a police chase. ‘Let us take care of this.’

‘This man wants me.’

‘All the more reason for you to go back.’

‘No. Once he has me, I’m sure he’ll let Shannon go.’

‘We’re not making any trades. Whoa!’ Jack slammed on his brakes.

‘What? What’s going on?’

‘A deer just darted out in front of my car. I nearly … Oh, damn.’

‘Now what?’

Jack stared at the empty road ahead. ‘Nothing. Go back home. I’ll call you when I know more.’

He didn’t want to tell her he’d lost the car. Hell, there was no way he could have lost the sedan. He’d been watching it while talking. There was no other traffic, coming or going. No crossroads. He would have seen if the car had turned in at one of the farmhouses
they’d passed, and there was no way the rows of grapevines on his left would conceal a car. The woods on his right were the only alternative. Somehow, somewhere that black sedan had turned into those woods without him seeing it.

He turned on his emergency flashers and kept his speed below twenty. For a half-mile he crept along, looking in all directions; nevertheless, he almost missed the two-track. He drove past it before it registered that the opening between the trees was wider than normal. He stopped the Durango, backed up, and stopped again.

He could just barely see the rear end of the car, its dark color blending in with the shadowy tree trunks and brush. It wasn’t more than a few hundred feet off the main road.

Jack pulled his Durango over to the side and off the road, then called Mendoza.

‘Get me some backup,’ he said and gave her his location. ‘State or county, I don’t care.’

He knew he should wait for assistance, but he wasn’t sure where the two-track led. He’d thought he was hanging far enough back not to alert the guy, but maybe the driver realized he was being followed and panicked. If he had the girl with him, he may have decided it was time to get rid of her. In that case, waiting could be a fatal mistake.

Jack grabbed the flashlight he kept in his glove compartment, and took out his Glock. He eased himself out of the warmth of the Durango, and into the cold of the night, slowly closing the SUV’s door so he didn’t make a lot of noise. From the road’s gravel shoulder, he progressed along the two-track, clumps of grass and stunted brush rubbing against his pant legs.

Step by step he neared the car, listening for the slightest noise as he moved deeper into the woods. When he heard the snap of a branch, he quickly turned to his left.

But not in time.

Something solid hit the side of his head.

Mary cussed the car in front of her. ‘The light is green,’ she growled through her windshield. ‘You go when it’s green, so move it, buddy.’

Slowly the car in front of her moved through the intersection.

She didn’t like that Rossini had hung up on her. Something was wrong, and she didn’t think it had anything to do with a deer. She needed to find him, to catch up with the man who had left the pin and article in her car. She had to catch up with Peter Dubois.

He had Shannon, but he wanted her. Wanted Pandora Coye, the woman who murdered his mother. To make sure she understood his message, he’d underlined the end of the article where the six-year-old boy had sworn,
‘Un jour je la trouverai.’
Someday I will find her.

Her cellphone rang just as she crossed the river and headed north out of town. ‘What did you see?’ she demanded.

‘Pan, where are you?’

‘David?’ He was the last person she’d expected to hear from.

‘I just heard your granddaughter’s missing.’

‘He’s here, David. Peter Dubois is here.’

‘I told you I thought he’d find you.’

‘He left a copy of the news article from forty-four years ago in my car … and the Pandora pin.’

‘Again, where are you?’

‘Just leaving town. Sergeant Rossini’s been following Dubois’ car. I know they were as far north as the Allegan State Park, but I haven’t talked to him for the last ten minutes.’

‘All right, keep me posted with what you find. By the way, nice job handling that gang leader.’

‘No thanks to you.’ She wasn’t about to tell him she knew he’d called the police and alerted them to the gang’s invasion.

‘I knew you could do it. Just like I’m sure you’ll find your granddaughter. Once an ADEC assassin, always an assassin. But if you need any help, give me a call.’

‘And what, you’ll fly back from D.C.?’

He chuckled. ‘No, I’m still here in Michigan. You should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to leave until after this Dubois situation was taken care of. Just call this number back if you figure out where Dubois has taken your granddaughter.’

‘And what, you’ll come to my rescue? Her rescue?’

‘I’ll be there.’

He ended the called abruptly, and she dropped the phone onto
the passenger’s seat.
I’ll be there.
Ha. Like he was there when that gang invaded her house?

She glanced in the rear-view mirror. Headlights indicated a car following her.

Maybe he would be there when she found Shannon. If his 911 call earlier that day was any indication, he’d been keeping an eye on her for some time.

‘OK, David,’ she said to the reflection in the mirror, ‘let’s go get ’em.’

Mary clicked on her brights and brought the Chevy up to sixty. She kept her gaze on the road ahead, scanning the edges for deer. Rossini had nearly hit one. She didn’t need to.

Two cars passed, heading the opposite direction, back to Rivershore. The car behind her had dropped back some. Otherwise, there were no cars on the road.

She whizzed by the Hill and Dale Vineyard, passed farmhouses, and fields of grapevines. Clouds covered the moon and stars, her headlights illuminating a limited arc of road and roadside ahead.

She didn’t see the flashing red and blue lights behind her or hear the siren until the car was almost on her tail. A quick glance at the speedometer brought a groan. Sixty-five. Ten miles faster than the speed limit. She didn’t need this. Not now.

Mary eased her foot off the accelerator, ready to pull over to the side of the road. Her mind raced for excuses. Sergeant Rossini had asked her to come? To hurry? She didn’t realize how fast she was going?

That was the truth.

She thought …

The need for an excuse ended the moment the sheriff’s car flew past her, lights flashing and siren blaring. A sickening sensation invaded Mary’s stomach as she watched the patrol car speed on ahead. Something had happened. Something bad.

To Rossini?

To Shannon?

Again, Mary stepped on the gas, following the lights of the patrol car and praying the Sheriff’s Department had been called out for something totally unrelated.

Wishful thinking, she realized, the moment she saw Rossini’s Durango by the side of the road, the sheriff’s car – lights still flashing – pulled up behind it.

She stopped next to Rossini’s SUV and rolled down the passenger window to see into the car.

‘Keep going,’ a deputy yelled, getting out of his cruiser.

‘What happened?’ she yelled back.

‘Keep going,’ the deputy repeated, coming up between her car and Rossini’s.

‘I was talking to him just minutes ago,’ she said. ‘He was trailing a car.’

‘Ma’am, either move your car or I’m going to arrest you.’

She moved her car.

Mary pulled over in front of Rossini’s SUV, but she left the Chevy’s engine running. The moment the deputy realized she’d gotten out of her car, he switched the beam of his flashlight from the interior of Rossini’s Durango to her face. ‘Ma’am, I told you to keep moving. Get back in your car.’

She shielded her eyes with her arm and glanced at the Durango, and then to her left at the woods.

Another car passed, heading north. For a moment she thought it was David, but the car traveled on. And it wasn’t a white Impala.

‘Ma’am, are you listening?’

She looked back at the woods. Though she couldn’t see clearly, the distance between the trees was wide enough for a driveway. A two-track? Had Rossini stopped because the black sedan pulled in there?

‘Ma’am!’

Her gaze went back to the deputy. His stern look and posture reminded her of a cartoon character. She could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears.

‘No sign of him in the car?’ she asked, keeping her voice as calm as possible.

‘This is the last time I warn you,’ he growled, but he switched the beam of the flashlight to the Durango’s interior, as if assuring himself no one was in the SUV.

‘We need to look for them in there,’ she said and started for the
two-track that led into the woods.

‘In where?’ The deputy swung his light beam toward the trees. ‘Ma’am, come back here.’

Mary ignored his demand and hurried down the barely discernible driveway. She was actually pleased the deputy ran after her. His flashlight gave her enough illumination to see where she was going and after less than a minute, to know neither Rossini nor Dubois were ahead of her. The way the grass was pressed flat, both going forward and slightly off to the side, told the story of a car that had gone down the two-track only so far and then backed up.

‘They’re not here,’ she said, stopping abruptly.

The deputy ran into her, nearly knocking her down. ‘Ma’am,’ he repeated, stumbling to catch his balance.

Mary had a feeling the deputy might try to arrest her, or at least detain her. To make sure he did neither, she side-swiped his legs, completely taking him off balance and dropping him to the ground.

‘Sorry,’ she said, already heading back to the road. ‘I’ve got to find them.’

By the time the deputy caught up with her, she’d slid back behind the steering wheel of the Chevy. He reached for her door handle as she stepped on the gas. Gravel kicked out from under her tires, and though the flashing lights of his patrol car made it difficult to see, she had a feeling he gave her the one-finger salute.

‘Damn you, Dubois,’ she muttered as she drove away from Rossini’s SUV.

At least she hadn’t seen a body lying along the two-track, but she hadn’t spent enough time looking to be sure Dubois hadn’t stashed Rossini’s body in the woods. She didn’t want anything to have happened to the sergeant. He was a nosy pest, but a concerned pest. A nice guy. She never meant to get him involved in this mess. Never meant to get her granddaughter involved.

Mary blinked back tears and slowed her car.

Where to now? How was she supposed to find Dubois? The note he left in her car didn’t give a clue. The only thing she knew was the man drove a black sedan and was last seen heading down this road. Could be he knew Rossini was following him and came this way simply to trap the sergeant. Once he eliminated Rossini, Dubois
could have doubled back, could have gone a different direction.