MULTIPLE MOTIVES (The Kate Huntington mystery series Book 1) (27 page)

Shit!

For one moment of excruciating temptation he held that open bottle of tainted water. He could almost feel the wetness sliding over his dry tongue and down his parched throat.

If he drank it, he would be totally helpless. The killer could do whatever he wanted to him.

Or whatever she wants
….

He shuddered. “No!” he roared and threw the bottle across the room. It rolled under the cot, most of its contents spilling out on the floor.

Okay, I’ve got to get out of here. Now!

He stumbled over to the shelves and frantically went over them again. He found a bolt that was a little loose. Awkwardly, he struggled to unscrew it with his left hand. It took awhile but he finally got it out, freeing one end of the brace. He bent the brace back and forth repeatedly, stopping a few times to rest. Eventually the metal snapped at the other end.

Eureka!

If he couldn’t get the door open, he might pretend he was asleep and, when his captor came in, use this as a weapon. With a Plan A and a Plan B, he felt better.

Back at the door, he attempted to jimmy the lock with the makeshift tool. No success. He jammed the metal strip between the door and frame. Working it around in the narrow space, he tried to get some leverage against the frame. He listened for a cracking noise that meant the weak wood was starting to give.

It didn’t happen. He paused to catch his breath, then tried again. Nothing.

He kept at it for five, ten minutes at a time, stopping when his starved and thirsty muscles began to quiver. Then he would rest and try again. At one point, he thought he felt the wood beginning to give. He renewed his efforts.

The strip of metal broke, one half still between the door and its frame, the other stubby, useless end in his hand. He leaned his forehead against the doorjamb. He didn’t even have the energy to swear.

Stumbling back over to the cot, he laid down. The cramping in his abdomen was now a constant companion. He turned over on his stomach, hoping to find a position that would ease the pain in his gut. His left hand dangled off the side of the cot and connected with the plastic bottle lying on the floor.

Despair and temptation joined forces. Lifting the bottle carefully, he rolled over and poured the few remaining tablespoons of liquid into his dry mouth.

Sighing, he stared at the ceiling, his mind empty. Eventually he drifted off to sleep, wondering if he would wake up again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

When Kate woke up in Shelley’s bed on Saturday morning, she wasn’t sure if it
was
Saturday. She sure hoped it was because she’d only had Pauline reschedule her clients until the end of this week, or last week if they had somehow managed to slip into the next week. Okay, now she was
really
confused.

She realized she didn’t really give a damn if a client was sitting at the center waiting for her. Sally and Pauline would just have to deal with it. Her priority was finding Rob.

A wave of fear washed over her. She stared at the ceiling, her heart thudding in her chest. It had been more than three days. With every passing minute the chances of finding him alive diminished. Fear morphed to terror. Adrenaline shot through her system, making her want to jump out of bed and run around the room, screaming.

She made herself take a deep breath. Running and screaming wouldn’t help. She needed to think. She started mentally reviewing everything they’d tried so far. Was there something they’d missed?

The Williams lead. Fran had confirmed that he’d been on probation for almost three months, but at the times when most of the earlier incidents had occurred, he’d been working. On Memorial Day, when Mary was attacked, he’d been at a family reunion in Ocean City, on the opposite side of the Chesapeake Bay. Rose and Skip had spent part of the previous day verifying those alibis, and a computer search had revealed a mundane life with no apparent connections to their other suspects. The young lawyer had been bumped down their suspect list.

Yesterday afternoon, after checking Kate’s house for new notes from the kidnapper, Rose and the others had extended their canvassing to a five-block radius around the office building, hoping to stumble on someone who had seen something helpful. They hadn’t.

The previous day she’d finished re-reading the likelies files while Liz probed cyberspace for information on their top suspects. They’d downgraded a couple cases and eliminated a few others. The likelies pile was now down to six cases, and they had current addresses on all but one of them. He was one of their strongest suspects. She intended to send Mac out today to track him down.

By process of elimination, Cheryl had risen toward the top of the suspect list. With Lou recovered enough to return to duty, she’d assigned Ben–the only one of them whom Cheryl wasn’t likely to recognize–to tail her.

Kate had toyed with the idea of calling Cheryl to see if she could probe a bit, under the guise of checking on her client while she was out sick. But she’d decided against it. If one of Cheryl’s alters was the perpetrator, such a call might alert that alter to their suspicions and spook her, which could have disastrous repercussions. Surveillance was the better way to go. So far, however, Cheryl had only gone back and forth between work and home.

Grandpa had been bumped down the list a bit for now. Mac had been watching him water his garden, ten miles beyond Hagerstown, around the time Rob was kidnapped. Skip had pointed out that the old man could have hired someone to do his dirty work while he stayed home to establish an alibi. Liz was going to do some digging today to see if he had the means to hire a hit man.

Rumbling in her stomach was followed by a wave of mild nausea. Better feed the baby in her belly soon or she would be sick. She dressed quickly and went downstairs to gather everyone for a war council over breakfast.

Liz had risen early and had already been at her computer for a couple hours. While they fueled up on the bagels and fruit she’d laid out on the table, she filled them in on Grandpa’s finances. “He’s living on Social Security and regular withdrawals from a savings account. But I found another account, at a bank near where his daughter lives. It was opened thirteen years ago in his and the granddaughters’ names.”

“A college fund maybe,” Kate said.

“Probably. Over the years he added money to it until it totaled almost ten thousand dollars. After the oldest granddaughter’s death, he closed the account and transferred eight thousand into his regular savings account. It’s still there. But I found no trace of the other two thousand dollars.”

“You can hire muscle on the street for a couple grand,” Skip said. “But it’s not enough for a professional hit man, someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

“This guy’s a control freak,” Kate said. “I don’t see him hiring some lowlifes on the street and then staying home, trusting them to do the job right. He’d be there supervising. However, he’s got a strong motive, so I think we’ll keep him at the bottom of the likelies pile for now.”

“Is it time to try John’s hotline idea?” Liz asked.

Kate wasn’t sure. She turned to Rose.

“Maybe,” the young woman said. “It’s been long enough now that the perp would be feeling more confident. Going to the press to ask people to call with info would likely be seen as an act of desperation.”

Kate grimaced.
That’s because it is.

“I agree,” Skip said. “Perp’s probably congratulating himself, or herself, that they’ve gotten away with it. They’d see Rob’s partner setting up the hotline as a sign that we’ve lost all confidence in the police.”

This time Kate gave voice to her thought. “Because we have.”

“I’ll call John and set it up.” Liz got up from the table, her breakfast half eaten.

“Ask their staff to call here with anything that sounds promising,” Kate said. “If we agree it’s worth pursuing, we’ll pass the lead on to you all in the field.”

Rose and Skip both nodded.

When the others had finished their breakfast, Kate sent them off to the closets again for fresh clothes. Mac returned in a few minutes wearing a shirt two sizes too big. Kate handed him a sheet of paper. “Here’s all Liz could find on this guy. See if you can track him down?” She gave Mac a quick summary of the case.

Richard Wagner was a sexual abuser who’d gone to prison a few years ago, but was now out on parole. When Kate’s client had gotten up the nerve to turn in her former high-school softball coach for molesting her, Rob had met with her to give her an idea of what would happen when she testified in court. Then he’d gone with her to meet with the police.

After the press got wind of the case, several other young women had also come forward with similar stories. Nonetheless, Wagner had blamed all his problems on the “damn shrink” who’d supposedly planted ideas in his former star player’s head, and the “shyster lawyer” who’d encouraged her to report him. He had vowed vengeance on them for ruining his life.

“I’m on it.” Mac headed for the slider, as the others returned in fresh clothes that more or less fit them.

“Rose, we’ve got addresses on Lennox and Marshall,” Kate said. “Maybe you and Skip should check them out this morning.”

Rose thought for a moment. “They weren’t super strong suspects as I recall, were they?”

“No. I actually considered bumping them down to the possibilities pile.”

“Then let’s save them for this afternoon. First, I want to check your house, see if the kidnapper’s left any more notes. Then I think we should canvas around your office building again. Workaholics who’re in their offices on a Saturday morning might have been working late on Tuesday. I also want to talk again with any of Rob’s staff who’re in today. Sometimes people remember something later that turns out to be significant.”

Skip nodded his agreement. “Somebody else may have seen something in the parking lot or around the building Tuesday. I’d love to get a lead on that vehicle.”

That sounded like a long shot to Kate, but she didn’t say anything.

Skip guessed her thoughts. “You’d be surprised how stupid criminals are. This bozo may very well be driving his own truck or van, with his own plates on it, and his address is listed big as you please down at the MVA.”

Rose’s eyes lit up. She turned to him. “You were you on the job, weren’t you?”

“Eleven years. State trooper.”

The tightness in Kate’s chest–a constant companion for the last few days–loosened a bit. With two trained police officers looking for clues, there was a glimmer of hope that they might just find Rob, before it was too late.

“Mr. O’Donnell,” Rose said, “it would really be better if you stayed here today. Skip and I can move faster on our own.”

He opened his mouth, then seemed to reconsider. After a beat, he said, “Maybe I could go help Ben. Keep me eye on this Shirley gal so he can get a bit a rest?”

Kate turned to Rose. “Should be okay,” the latter said. “If you stay in the car with Ben. I’ll take you over and swing by for you later.”

Kate had a short internal debate. She’d been toying with putting her father on guard duty today here at the house and sending Lou to watch Grandpa. But Ben hadn’t had any relief in over twenty-four hours and Cheryl was one of their strongest suspects. If he fell asleep and she got away from him, Rob could end up dead because they’d missed that opportunity to follow her to him.

Suddenly the burden of command weighed heavy. “Okay,” she finally said. “Be careful.”

After they left, Kate sat down hard in a chair at the table, struggling to keep the fear at bay. A wrong decision could cost her dearest friend his life. He would be wiped off the face of the earth–as Eddie had been–lost to her and his family forever. She fought the urge to sob hysterically, to shriek at the ceiling. She was afraid if she started, she would never stop.

Liz was watching her from across the table, concern in her eyes. Kate struggled to pull herself together. She had to
do
something.

She had planned to spend today re-reading the possibilities files, to make sure nothing had been overlooked. But first she pulled the sheet labeled
Joe
from one of the boxes under the table. “Liz, can you find out if this guy has any arrests or complaints against him for violence?” She gave her Jim’s real name and some background information on him.

“This could take awhile. Rose could probably get the info in minutes, but I’ll have to go into the police records in all the counties and Baltimore City.” Then Liz shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do at the moment.” She pushed up from the table and hobbled across the room to her computer.

That can’t be good for her healing bones
.

Physical action had more appeal than reading right now, so she set out to find Liz’s crutches. She was only able to locate one of them, behind the family room sofa.

As she leaned it against the computer desk, Liz murmured, “Thanks,” then went back to scrolling down her screen.

After bumping several files down to the unlikelies pile, Kate’s eyes were starting to cross from reading. Deciding to check on the troops, she went over and dropped onto the sofa. The phone rang just as she reached for it.

It was Fran. “Got something that sounds promising, or at least should probably be checked out. This woman wouldn’t give her name, but she said she saw a guy who looked like Rob down in Mt. Vernon, walking with another man, near the monument.”

“Okay, I’ll pass that on. Has that been the only call?” Kate hoped she’d managed to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“Heck, no. Phones have been ringing fairly steady the last half hour, since the noon news. But most are totally off the wall. Either so vague or so crazy, they aren’t helpful. Like the guy who said he saw Rob being abducted by an alien spaceship Wednesday morning, from a field in Carroll County.”

Kate snorted, then asked, “How vague is vague?”

“Very, as in they don’t really know anything. They just want to be part of the excitement and feel important.”