Fatal Deduction (33 page)

The red shirt climbed in the back, and the driver slammed the door shut. He climbed into the driver’s seat and peeled out of the alley, the one-way street forcing them to drive right past Chloe and Jenna, who stared open-mouthed.

“Stop! Stop! Mom!” Chloe screamed.

As the van sped away, several things happened at once. Tori’s limo pulled up to the curb, and Tori came running out of the lane, looking exceedingly grumpy. Mr. Mowery and his friend came out
to the street, searching for Mrs. Mowery, who was trotting along after Chloe and Jenna at a fairly good shuffle.

“Aunt Tori!” Chloe pointed after the van. “They shot Mom and Mr. Canfield, then kidnapped them!” She could barely get the words out around the fear clogging her throat. Her mom who hadn’t wanted to live in the dangerous city. Her mom who took care of her and loved her. Her mom who might even now be dead. The whole world tilted, and she felt about to slide off.

Before Aunt Tori could respond, Mrs. Mowery wheezed, “They did. I saw the driver’s gun. He shot right from the driver’s seat through the open window. They put both Libby and Drew in that van!” She pointed to the van, caught in traffic at a red light two blocks away. As they watched, the red-shirt man climbed from the back, slammed the door, and raced to climb in the passenger seat before the light changed.

Mr. Mowery and his friend studied the CR-V and the ground around it. “No blood,” Mr. Mowery said.

“None at all,” his friend agreed.

“But I saw a gun,” Mrs. Mowery insisted.

Carl chose that moment to step out of the limo, preparing to open Tori’s door for her.

“Can you follow that van?” Chloe demanded of him. “They took my mom!”

“And my dad!” Jenna had tears running down her cheeks.

The light turned green, and traffic finally began to move.

“They’re getting away!” Chloe sobbed.

Mr. Mowery opened the back door of the limo. “Everybody in.” He made shooing motions with his hand, and everyone climbed in.

Chloe sank into the lush upholstery, but she couldn’t stay seated. She was too nervous and too scared. She knee-walked forward until
she was right behind the driver’s seat so she could see better. She gripped the back of the seat.

“Hurry! We’ll lose them!” she screamed.

Carl threw himself behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb to the bleat of a horn from the car he cut off. He sped down the street, rocking Chloe back on her haunches. If she hadn’t been holding the seat, she’d have gone sprawling. She held on tightly as he took the corner at the light just as oncoming traffic began moving again. They blared at him, but he ignored them.

“Do you see it?” Chloe shouted in his ear so loudly he jumped.

“Easy, kid.” He rubbed the side of his head.

“Well, do you see it?” she repeated, more quietly this time.
Oh, Lord, please let him see it!

“There!” Carl pointed. “Pulling onto Vine.” He hit the gas and made the same turn at a good clip. Chloe felt the pull of centrifugal force as she tumbled sideways into Aunt Tori. She pulled herself back to her knees.

Mrs. Mowery, seated next to Aunt Tori, grabbed her arm. “Sit down and buckle in, Chloe. It won’t do your mother any good if you get hurt.”

She pushed Chloe toward a place beside Jenna on the wraparound seat. Jenna pulled her down next to her.

“Nine-one-one! 911! We’ve got to call 911.” Chloe grabbed for her phone.

“Already done,” Mrs. Mowery said with a pat on Chloe’s hand. Then she switched her attention to the responder on the other end of her call. “A kidnapping. Two people. White panel van. Just turned south on Vine. We are following in a black limousine.” She listened a minute, then looked at everyone. “License number?”

“It was one of those Pennsylvania plates that have the old two-masted
brigantines, the one that’s all beige and white so you can’t read the numbers.” Chloe felt pleased she could offer that much, though it wasn’t much.

Mrs. Mowery relayed the information as they streaked past the Round House, the headquarters of the Philadelphia police, and around the circle. “He’s heading for the Ben Franklin Bridge.”

“Why would someone kidnap your parents?” Mr. Mowery studied Chloe and Jenna.

Chloe shook her head. She probably looked as dazed and scared as Jenna did. She grabbed Jenna’s hand and held on. “I don’t know.”

“Me neither.” Jenna pulled out her shirttail and blotted her tears.

The van swung onto the bridge, crested its arch, and began its descent into New Jersey.

“Don’t get too close,” Mr. Mowery cautioned. “We don’t want them to know we’re behind them.”

“Gotcha.” Carl eased back a bit, letting three cars come between him and the van. “Too bad there aren’t tollbooths heading south anymore. Then he’d have to stop.”

Chloe leaned forward. The car was so long it made her feel she was very, very far from her mom. She was glad to have Mr. and Mrs. Mowery and their friend along. They might be old, but she felt as if she and Jenna weren’t alone.

The van turned off the bridge and plunged into a maze of narrow streets that hadn’t been laid out with limousines in mind. Carl had to slow for corners that were too sharp and cars that were parked too close to intersections.

Mrs. Mowery cocked her head at Aunt Tori like a bright little chirping sparrow. “Does this have something to do with you, dear?” She waited for an answer with the unflinching stare of a raptor.

Aunt Tori shifted in her seat. “Why ever would you think that?”

“Maybe a case of mistaken identity? Maybe something to do with that terrible man you brought on the Fourth?”

“Without food,” Mr. Mowery added.

Aunt Tori didn’t answer.

I heard a groan from far away, and it took me a while to realize it was me.

I tried to move, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I flashed on Drew’s terrible scream and fall.
Dear God, have I been shot too?

As my mind cleared a bit more, I knew the answer to my prayer. I hadn’t been shot. I felt limp and disoriented, but there was no site of pain like I’d expect with a bullet. It was more like my whole body feeling heavy, scrambled, unresponsive.

“Libby. Libby, can you hear me?”

But I had been shot. I remembered the pricks on my back and leg. Then the horrendous though short-lived pain. A shock weapon of some kind? A Taser or stun gun?

“Libby.” The whisper was insistent and close.

“Drew?” Relief flooded through me. He was here and he was talking to me. “Are you all right?”

I wasn’t. I was lying on my side with my arms pulled behind me. They were restrained somehow. I tried moving my legs, but they were bound too. I looked around as much as I could and realized I was lying in the back of a panel truck, trussed like a Christmas goose.

“I’m lying right beside you,” he said softly.

I heard movement and felt the floor vibrate. Our captors? I gasped, tensed, and looked toward the front of the van. I felt more vulnerable than I ever imagined because I couldn’t do anything to protect myself.

“Easy. It’s just me,” Drew said on a thread of sound. He came up behind me until his body fit against mine, my back to his chest, my bent knees cupping his bent knees.

I turned my head toward him as much as I could. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.” I felt his breath against my neck.

“When you screamed…” I bit my lower lip. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared, except maybe now.”

“We got tasered, I think. I can’t imagine what else it could be.”

I let my head fall back to the floor and felt him place his forehead against the back of my head. Being curled against him somehow made me feel safer, which was ridiculous since we were both completely at the mercy of our captors.

I could hear the tires singing on the road. “Where are they taking us?” It was a rhetorical question because I knew Drew had no more idea than I.

I heard a sliding noise, like a window shushing on a track.

“They’re awake.” A deep voice came from somewhere beyond my head.

“Check them.” I recognized the voice of the man who had asked me directions to Myrtle Street. Who was he? And where were we being taken?

I held my breath, waiting to see what happened. What if “check them” meant zap us again?
Oh, Lord, please, no!

“We’d rather not shoot you again,” the man called. “And we’d rather not gag you. But we’ll slap a piece of duct tape on you so fast you won’t know what hit you if either of you makes any noise at all. Understand?”

When we didn’t respond, he repeated in a grim voice, “Understand?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Yes,” Drew said.

With a grunt of approval he slapped the window shut, leaving us in our darkness.

“How are your arms?” Drew asked.

“They hurt. At least the shoulders do. This is such an unnatural position.”

“Tell me about it. Are your arms long enough that you can scrunch your bottom and then your legs through your bound hands?”

“I don’t know, but it’s worth a try.” Anything was better than yielding to the fear and helplessness that nibbled at the edges of my mind. I kept thinking that maybe ducks weren’t going to be the end of me, but terror.

He rolled away from me, and I felt very alone without the physical contact.

“Are you still here?” I asked.

There was a rueful little laugh. “Now where would I go?”

“Right.” I turned onto my stomach and stuck my rear in the air. My hands lay in the small of my back. I pulled my knees up as close to my chest as I could get them. I bowed my back like an angry cat and pushed until I thought my shoulders would pop from their sockets. It occurred to me that if the driver and his henchman looked back, they could see us trying to get free.

But
trying was
the operative word. I could not get my arms to stretch as I wanted. I took a long, sobbing breath as I felt despair rearing its head.

The vehicle swerved abruptly to the right, sending me tumbling from my three-point stance of head and knees. I slammed against the side of the van and couldn’t prevent yelping in pain.

The window slapped open.

“They okay, Bud?” asked the driver as the van slowed and stopped.

“You okay?” the second man called. Bud?

“Fine,” I managed. “Just rolled a bit when the van swerved.”

“Fine here too,” Drew said.

“Well, hang on. We’re turning again.” He didn’t close the window this time, though his voice became muted as he turned to face front.

We made several turns, and I imagined city streets as I struggled to sit up. Finally I was able to lean my back against the side of the truck, a more secure position but a very uncomfortable one with my hands behind me. I rested my forehead on my knees and tried to block the pain in my shoulders.

“How are you doing?” I whispered.

“Not so good,” Drew whispered from the other side of the van. I looked up and saw him leaning against that side much as I was doing on my side.

“Hey, there’s a limo behind us,” the driver said. “See it in the side mirror?”

“You think it’s following us?”

“Why else would a limo be in this part of town?”

Carl?
The idea exploded like a bright star in my blackness.

Chloe bit her nails as the van sped off the bridge and Carl followed, zigzagging through the narrow streets of inner-city Camden. All the gory things she’d seen on
CSI
played through her mind, making her feel sick. What if one or more of them was happening to her mother?

Or
24
. She’d seen what guys did to you when they tortured you for information. What happened if you were tortured and you didn’t have anything you could tell when it got really bad?

Oh, Lord, take care of Mom. Keep her safe and I’ll never give her any grief ever again. I promise!

The van screeched to a stop at the red light. Carl hit the brakes and stopped a half block back.

“Quick,” Mr. Mowery ordered. “Put your blinkers on, like you plan to stay here.” He poked Chloe. “And you. Stand up in the sunroof and wave at the house, like you know the people.”

“What?” Chloe was too surprised to move.