Abducted (24 page)

Bam!
The door to the van slammed shut.

Diondre struggled to sit up, spitting out blood. He’d bitten his tongue when the Ugly Dude shoved him in the van.
He never even said what it was he wanted.

Next to him, Rojo cursed. On the other side of him, Crusher sobbed; Diondre could tell by the smell that he’d wet his pants. The Ugly Dude was Crusher’s friend, his new supplier, so this was his fault, and Rojo swore at him.

“Crush,” Diondre said when Rojo finished. The van moved, jerking Diondre into his friend. “Come on, man. We got to get out of this. What does this guy want?”

“Us dead,” Rojo hissed with heat.

Diondre ignored him. “Crush, talk to me.” As he spoke, he tried to loosen his hands and felt the plastic cuffs cut into his wrists.

Crusher sniffled. “I don’t know, man. He told me he had stuff for us to move—lots of stuff. He gave me the money for the TV. I swear I thought he was on the level. I don’t know why he’s trippin’.”

“What did Trey say?” Diondre asked about their boss, the OG of the gang. Tough and smart, Trey would be outraged that three of his homeboys were being treated this way.

“Didn’t tell him.”

This brought more curses from Rojo, and fear erupted anew in Diondre. If Trey didn’t know where they were, they were as good as dead. He pushed himself up a bit so he could lean against the side of the van, fighting for control as panic threatened. He thought about what his friend Londy had said to him earlier in the day.

“Man, the gang life ain’t no life. It’s just going get you sent to jail—or worse, dead.”

Londy used to roll with the Ninjas, but no more. He’d been trying to get Diondre out of the gang. Diondre wanted out when he was with Londy, but when Rojo and Crusher came calling, he wanted to be with them. And now he was going to die.

“God is there if you call.”
Londy’s words rang in Diondre’s thoughts as loud as if Londy were in the van with him. Diondre squeezed his eyes shut and focused on everything Londy had told him about God. He prayed all the words he remembered, trying hard not to cry.

“You praying, D.?”

Opening his eyes, he saw Crusher looking at him, face dirty with smeared tears.

“Yeah, as best I can, man. As best I can.”

“Pray for me too, will you?”

Diondre nodded as Rojo cursed them both in Spanish. The van came to a stop, and the side door whipped open. Moist, foggy air that smelled like the ocean assaulted his nostrils. Diondre hoped they weren’t at the ocean. He hated the ocean because he couldn’t swim.

But there wasn’t time to consider where they were because the Ugly Dude and his two friends were at the door and they all had guns. Diondre hoped Londy was as right about God as he had been about the gang life.

• • •

Carly and Joe stepped out of the Las Playas police station and headed to the rear parking lot. It was a mild, hazy summer night, the kind of hazy that developed into thick fog as the night wore on. A familiar voice sounded from her left.

“Officer Edwards, Officer King.”

Carly turned, and both she and Joe stopped.

“Hey, G-man, Agent Wiley, how are you?” Carly held her hand out to a man in a dark suit, the stereotypical picture of an FBI agent, a man who had helped with the investigation into the kidnapping and rescue of Joe’s son. Wiley shook both their hands.

“Good, busy.” He turned to Joe. “How’s A.J.?”

“Absolutely great and getting bigger every day.”

“Glad to hear it. Do you mind if I have a word with your partner?” He nodded toward Carly.

“Not a problem. I’ll get us a sled while you talk,” Joe said to Carly. He left her with Agent Wiley.

Carly set her kit down and spread her arms. “Well, I knew you’d catch me sooner or later. And I hid the bodies so well.”

Wiley cracked a hint of a smile, which was about the most he ever did. “Why don’t we have a seat?” He motioned to some break tables on the back patio.

“What’s up?” Carly asked as they sat.

“I’m here to talk to you.”

“Then I’m all ears.”

“I’m heading up a federal task force. We’re pulling in good officers from agencies all over Southern California.”

“Mission?”

“Homeland security. Under that umbrella we’ll work on a lot of different things. There will be travel involved; it’ll be exciting, always changing, and infinitely challenging.”

“I’m happy for you. But why are you telling me?”

“Because I want you to join us. It’s been cleared with your chief, should you decide to hop on board.”

Carly stared at Wiley across the table as bursts of blue, red, and amber flashed intermittently when officers checked their vehicle light bars. The sounds of graveyard shift beginning were swirling around them—cops swapping stories, Ford engines roaring to life, and the occasional short blast as a siren was tested.

“Talk about out of proverbial left field. I don’t know what to say.” The question
What would Nick say?
shot through her mind as she tried to predict her husband’s reaction. He thought she needed a change. That a federal task force would be change was an understatement. It would afford her investigative opportunities she’d never see in small Las Playas. But it would also take her away from home a lot.

“I didn’t expect you to answer right now.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flash drive. “Here, take this; study it. It has all the pertinent information about the job. I’ll be in town for a while.”

Carly took the flash drive and closed her fist around it even as the gravity of what Wiley just offered her sank in and excitement started to swell. This was a huge honor.

“This will take some thought,” she said, working to keep her tone noncommittal.

Wiley stood and Carly followed suit.

“You’ve got two weeks. I’m hoping you’ll decide soon, but don’t rush,” he said. “You know where to find me when you’ve made a decision.” Wiley shook her hand once, then turned and left her standing by the table.

Carly stared at the flash drive for a minute, the rush of such a challenging assignment biting hard. She couldn’t suppress the grin as she slipped the drive into her pocket.

• • •

Joe drove their patrol car out to the old marina, where the pier with a boarded-up Walt’s restaurant would stay until an environmental impact study could be prepared, outlining the ramifications of its removal. From Walt’s north a beautiful new seaside shopping plaza was taking shape. It would be connected to the inland Apex shopping complex by a pedestrian bridge over Seaside Boulevard. Carly told Joe about Wiley’s offer as they got out of the car.

“Wow, what an opportunity,” Joe said. “You’d learn a lot and you’d get to do a lot.” He cocked his head. “Be great experience for a promotion.”

Carly rubbed her face. “I don’t know that I want to promote, but I’d love the challenge of a task force like that.” Her mind raced with everything the job would entail. Homeland security—protecting the nation, not just Las Playas.

“I’d hate to give up our partnership,” she said, turning Joe’s way. “That’s the part that stinks. But maybe I do need a change.”

He met her gaze and smiled. “I’d hate to lose it too. But nothing lasts forever, and I would never try to talk you out of a gig like that. To be honest, if it were me, I’d jump on it. Jobs like that don’t grow on trees.”

“What would Christy say?”

Joe shrugged. “She’d probably be happy to have me out of the car. She worries that uniformed police officers are easy targets.”

“If you traveled a lot, that wouldn’t bother her?”

He shot her a sideways glance. “Are you afraid of what Nick will say?”

“Not afraid, exactly. Just not sure.” She stopped as they reached the stairway leading up to the pedestrian bridge. “I—”

Bang.

A sharp, distinct gunshot, close by, cut her off.

Her hand went to her gun.

Bang.
Another sounded and before she could speak, a third.

She looked at Joe, intently peering into the darkness. Carly pulled out her radio to advise dispatch. “Can you tell where they came from?” she asked before she keyed her mike. “You think some nut out here has a gun?”

Joe shook his head. “Sound echoes here, but I think that came from farther out, near the Catalina dock.”

Carly keyed the radio. “1-Adam-7, we heard what sounded like three gunshots, possibly from the Catalina dock area. We’ll be investigating. Please advise if you get any calls regarding possible gunshots.”

“10-4, Adam-7. Be advised, we’re getting a call now. Stand by.”

They hurried back to the black-and-white. Joe started the unit and turned for the gate. By the time Carly pushed the gate open, dispatch advised that they had one call about possible shots, a complaining party who lived in the old marina. The CP also thought the shots came from Catalina Shores.

They weren’t that far away. The new Catalina Shores terminal was attached to the north end of the marina complex but on the other side of Shoreline Park. There was also a large hotel, the Bluestone, between them and the park. It was encircled by construction fencing for the marina renovation and was dark and unoccupied at the moment.

“The CP called from a cell phone.” Carly read more information sent from dispatch on the computer screen as Joe made the turn north on Seaside. “From a marina employee. It’s Jarvis; he lives aboard a boat. Says he heard three distinct gunshots”

“I know Jarvis,” Joe said, making a face. He slowed as they rolled past the park. “He sleeps at work during the day. Why doesn’t it surprise me that he’s up at this time of morning?”

A longtime marina patrol officer, Jarvis had a well-earned reputation as a slug.

“He doesn’t want contact, just called to make sure the beat car checks it out,” she read.

Joe sighed.

They passed the Bluestone; the next ramp would be Marina Access Way. They were on the water now and the haze became thick patches of fog hanging in the air. The streetlights gave off the yellow glow of fog lights and the smell of salt water wafted into the car. But other than the hum of the black-and-white and the sound of the water in the distance, the night was quiet.

Carly’s gaze roamed and her ears strained for any noise out of the ordinary. When Joe turned left onto the ramp, Carly unsnapped her holster.

Marina Access Way ended at the Catalina Shores parking structure and dock, a business that ferried people back and forth to Catalina, twenty-four miles across the channel. This was the only part of the renovation that had finished early.

Carly picked up the radio to announce that she and Joe were 10-97, on scene. Besides police cars, Carly had seen no other traffic or headlights anywhere. They reached the parking structure attached to the Catalina Shores pier, and again Joe slowed so they could listen. During business hours a parking arm would be down and parkers would have to pull a ticket to get in. At this time of the early morning the arm was up, and from what Carly could see, the lot empty. She knew that a section of the lot on top was marked off for long-term parking, for those people leaving their cars to spend more than a day on Catalina and for Catalina residents who wanted to keep their cars on the mainland. She couldn’t see up there at the moment.

The yellow fog lights illuminated a good deal of the area in spite of the haze. Joe cruised slowly. Both he and Carly had their windows down and heavy, foggy salt air swirled in. Joe brought the unit to a stop at the drop-off area as Carly advised dispatch they would be out of the car.

After sliding her nightstick into its ring, Carly waited for Joe to meet her on the passenger side of the car. They both carried flashlights but didn’t need to turn them on as they walked up the steps to the ticket offices. Then Carly saw the foot.

Hand out, she stopped Joe. “Here.” Sliding the flashlight into her sap pocket, she drew her weapon. The foot stuck out from behind a stone bench.

“Hello?” Carly called as she and Joe separated slightly to come at the person from different angles.

There was no response to her hails.

And as she made her way around the bench, she saw that there wouldn’t be.

Three bodies lay partially hidden behind the bench, facedown, hands secured behind their backs. They’d been shot execution style.