ARRESTED: A Stepbrother Cop Romance (13 page)

17

CORY

CCTV footage from campus plays across a monitor at the
police station. After examining Allyson's room, Simons and I requisitioned the
footage from the security office. The longer it took for them to hand it over
the more anger simmered inside me.

Anger at myself.

I should have been the one to drive her back to the
dorm. I would have stayed with her as long as she let me. If I'd been involved
from the start like I wanted maybe Allyson wouldn't be missing.

Anger at my superiors for preventing me from doing
what I knew in my heart was right.

Despite my sergeant's insistence that I'm too close to
the case I now sit with Detective Jameson going through the CCTV footage. I
pause, fast forward, rewind and pause again. I know the security footage is
going to give us the clue we need to find Allyson, just like I know without a
doubt that Drew took her. My hatred for the guy threatens to take over but I
push down my anger so I can concentrate on what matters. Clues to what happened
to Allyson.

Hours of footage later, fast forwarded to about the
time Allyson returned to the dorm with Rachel, something snags my attention. I
almost miss it because there's nothing particularly out of the ordinary about
it. I watch as Rachel leaves the building, pausing at the bottom of the steps
to look back to the lobby. A man wearing a cap hovers nearby with his head
down, his back to Rachel. She pays him no attention as she walks from the lobby
and down the sidewalk, back to a parking lot I assume.

The man walks past the lobby door and off camera. I
keep watching the door not knowing how soon Allyson was taken after Rachel
left.

Shortly after, a dark blue pickup truck pulls up in
front of the dorm. That alone doesn't put my instincts on alert but when the
guy gets out of the truck wearing a thick dark coat and a cap that hides part
of his face, I pay a lot more attention. The same guy from before but this time
he walks up toward the doors. He pauses, looking at his phone until someone
exits the building. Just before the door can close behind them he snakes out
his hand to stop the lock from catching and ducks inside.

I swear under my breath. "That's him. It's got to
be him."

"A likely suspect, but let's see what happens
before we jump to conclusions," Jameson says.

It wasn't a huge jump. Suspicious behavior like that
doesn’t lead to nothing. What possible reason could the guy have for loitering
in front of Allyson's dorm, waiting for Rachel to drive away? The guy would
know Allyson was alone.

We continue to watch the footage. A few minutes later
the man exits the building, gets back in his truck and drives away. I slam my
hands down on the desk in frustration. The sting of the impact barely
registers. If that’s Drew, where the hell is Allyson? A twinge of uncertainty
gnaws at the back of my brain. I'm not wrong about the guy's identity but he's
not carrying an unconscious Allyson in his arms and loading her into the truck.

I'm missing something still. If there are no clues
there we need a concrete lead. "Rewind it to just before he pulls
away," I say.

The operator nods, clicks the mouse and the footage
reverses in quickly. He clicks the mouse again to play the footage.
 
Both Detective Jameson and I lean in closer.
I can't read the license plate number. Instinct tells me running that plate
will help. Instinct and maybe a little wishful thinking. I hate thinking about
Allyson alone with Drew. What he'll do to her. My hands fist at my sides, anger
and impatience fusing into a dangerous combination.

"Can you get in closer? I need to read that
plate."

"I can try."

"I need a better look at his face too. Can you
get a clearer shot of it?"

The operator clicks a few more times with the mouse
attempting to enhance the picture. The picture is a little larger, slightly
pixelated but with more detail than we had before.

"That's the best I can do on the plate," he
says.

Mud obscures some of the numbers, whether by normal
driving on muddy roads or on purpose for nefarious means. I'm not sure but I
have a pretty good idea. I jot down the numbers I can see hoping that they’ll
be good enough to get a hit in the database.

"Try his face now," I say.

The operator nods again and changes the zoom on the
screen to focus on the man's face. He zooms in too much making everything a
blur of dark pixels interspersed with lighter colors. He zooms out a little
bringing the face back into focus and a little larger than before but not too
distorted.

I recognize the man immediately. He's the guy from the
party. The one that held Allyson's wrist too tight. The one who sent all the
pictures around.

“That’s him,” I say. “That fucking asshole.”

I stand up quickly, shooting the chair back on its
wheels to hit the wall on the other side of the office. All eyes turn to stare
at me. Jameson raises an eyebrow, looks at my chair and nods slightly. I
retrieve the chair, park it near the desk and sit again. Outbursts like that
will convince my sergeant that he's right about me being too close to the case.
I force myself to calm down and think rationally. Allyson needs me right now
and I can't let my anger interfere. I can’t let her down again.

I have no idea what the bastard will do with her. What
he could be doing with her right now. I know approximately how long he's had
her. Every second is too long. We need to find her and we need to find her now.

From the stories she related back to us in the interview
room, the guy sounded like a complete jerk. Now I’m wondering if he’s the full
ticket.

I clench my fists at my sides, the urge to punch the
guy's lights out overwhelming, but first we have to find him.

"I don't think this can give us much more
information," I say.

Now we have to do the real police work. The running
information through databases, sifting through known associates. Turning over
every stone until we find her and bring her back safely.

I regret so many things.

I wish I could tell her everything I'm feeling. That I
don't regret sleeping with her, even though she dashed my hopes afterward. That
she’s done nothing wrong apart from trust the wrong man. I could see the shame
in her eyes when she was telling her story. I felt so damn angry about it all
that I didn’t get the chance to say what really mattered.

I pull out my phone and punch in a number. Someone in
the department who owes me a favor and will run the partial plate even though
the case is off limits to me. My contact answers on the third ring. I don't
have time for chit chat so when he starts to tell me about his last poker game
I cut him off.

"Sorry man, this is urgent. Can you run something
for me?"

The heavy sigh on the other end tells me the poker
game went well and John wants to brag about how much he won. "Sure.
Whatcha got?"

"You can tell me all about the game over beers
later," I say. That seems to appease him.

"You know me too well, dude. What do you want me
to run?"

I rattle off the partial plate. I hear the clicking of
keys on the other end as John types in the information.

"Big database and not even full information. This
could take a while," he says.

I feel the muscle in my jaw twitch. I reign in my
anger. It's not John's fault we don't have more to go on. He can't make the
technology work any faster. If I'd been standing I would be pacing the small
office. Jameson and the tech guy stare at me waiting for the information.

"I'll wait," I say with a shrug at the
officers watching me.

There's a pause on the other end and I can hear him
breathing into the phone. I imagine his mouth open about to say something but
no sound comes out. There's no talking me out of it when I make up my mind. I
don't want to hang up and risk not hearing the call when John does have
information to give me.

"Your dime, dude."

I hear papers being shuffled on the other end. More
clicking of keys on a keyboard.

"Are you typing something else? Can you do that
while a search is in progress?"

"Relax. Two systems. We can multi-task these
days. You should try it. What's this car been involved in?" he asks.

I know he's just trying to pass the time, the awkward
silence that happens when you're waiting for technology to catch up so you can
tell someone something, begs to be filled. But it still annoys me. Everything
about this whole situation has me boiling.

"Possible kidnapping," I say.

Kidnapping. Once the word is out of my mouth there's
no taking it back. No one has said it up until now. I should have called her
mother but I figure my dad will take care of that. Someone should tell Rachel
as well. We’ll need to get her in to make a statement.

I've never had anyone I know be the victim of a crime
and I hate how helpless it makes me feel. I hate the fact that I know that in
cases like this, where the perpetrator is moving up the scale of seriousness
with each crime they are committing, that things can escalate very quickly.

If he does anything else to her, I swear I'll kill
him.

John clears his throat. "We have a winner!"

"Tell me."

I have my notebook and pen ready.

"The truck belongs to one Drew
Hollingswood."

"Thanks, John. Beers are on me this week."

I disconnect the call and tell everyone in the room
that the truck does indeed below to Allyson’s ex.
 

"And how the hell do you know that?" my
sergeant asks from behind me.

I turn around in the chair.

"You're not supposed to be working the case. Do I
need to remind you exactly what I already told you?"

"I have to do something, Sarge. I can't just sit
here and twiddle my thumbs." I stand up so I can look him in the eye.
"You have to let me work the case. I have to be doing something."

He frowns and I'm sure he's going to shoot me down
again but he says, "Fine, but only if you work with Detective
Jameson."

I look over at Jameson who gives a slight nod in
agreement. I look back at my sergeant. "Done."

18

ALLYSON

Unconsciousness slowly drifts away and I wake up
wondering when I blacked out again. My head is fuzzy and the room is still cast
in shadows. I blink, trying to focus on the wall of black that surrounds me.
How long have I been out this time? The chemical smell is so strong now that I
wonder if that’s what Drew’s using to make me sleep.

This waking up is different. I'm still tied to the bed
but now I feel a gag over my mouth that sucks the moisture away from my lips
and tongue. My mouth is dry and I desperately want some water, even a sip to
take the dryness away. In a moment of panic, I gag against the cloth in my
mouth. My stomach lurches but I swallow it down, taking deep breaths as fear
that I'll choke on my own vomit makes my heart race. I need to get the gag off
my mouth.
 

I try to move again. A futile attempt but I can't just
lie here and do nothing. The rope digs into my skin but I keep tugging, hoping
I'll be able to slip at least one hand out. One hand is all I need to get the
gag off and maybe loosen my other binds. I yank my arms again and pain tingles
at my wrists. The rope rubs against the skin making deeper, raw welts. Though I
know it probably won't help, I tug at the ropes around my ankles too in the
faint hope they're looser now, but Drew's knots hold strong.

I feel so hopeless that I growl against the gag.
Struggling isn’t working, and he didn’t listen to anything I had to say. This
time, the last thing I remember is Drew telling me he's going to give me what I
want. And then him touching my thighs. Anything after that is a gone. Panic
slices through me again and I try to take a mental note as to the state of the
rest of my body.

My arms and feet are still held tightly but I move
them as much as I can to determine how the rest of my body feels. Did he do
something to me while I was unconscious? A tear forms in the corner of my eye and
drops to the pillow still cradling my head. I realize that I'm not sore between
my legs. My inner thighs feel fine, too. I don't feel like anything has been
done to me. I feel stupid for feeling relief because he didn’t violate me while
I was out cold when he could come back at any second and do any of the things
he’s intending.

I try to spit out the gag, pushing it with my tongue
and my lips but he's tied it too tightly around my mouth.

With the gag around my mouth, I know I’ve lost one of
my only hopes against Drew. If I could keep him talking, then maybe I could
convince him to let me go or give someone enough time to realize I’m missing.

Cory. I think of his serious eyes and sob again. Is he
looking for me? Does anyone even know I’m missing? The thought that no one is
coming to my rescue deflates my small bubble of hope and makes me cry harder. I
rub my tears on the pillow to dry them, realizing I don't have any early
classes today. No one was expecting me anywhere, except Rachel who was going to
come back past my dorm after her shift. Maybe she’ll call my mom if she can’t
get hold of me. Will she notice anything’s wrong? My phone is at the station so
she won’t be expecting to get through to me that way.