Stoking the Embers (New Adult Romantic Suspense): The Complete Series (42 page)

Another officer speaks into his shoulder mike. “Suspect at large. Armed and dangerous…” he describes the guy and the manhunt begins.

To Mike, I ask, “Can I check him?” I nod at the man Gage took out.

“No need,” Mike says, but walks in the direction anyway. “Morgan did a quick check. He was dead before he hit the ground.”

I kneel down and press my fingers to his neck. Either Gage is a great shot, or, as they say here in Vegas, ‘better lucky than good’. It was a perfect shot with only the slightest trickle of blood beside the wound. I know the real gore would be at the exit wound, but don’t turn him over. The blood coming from under his body would quickly run out of the exit wound, gravity doing what his blown apart heart couldn’t.

“Which of you took the shot?” Mike asks.

“I did,” Gage volunteers, his face a tense mask. “He was sneaking up behind us and appeared to be ready to shoot.”

“And this guy?” He is looking at bandana boy, who is being cuffed and hauled up none too gently to his feet.

I raise a hand. “I hit him to keep him down while we dealt with the shooter.” I wish I’d kicked him the balls while I was at it.

Officer Morgan approaches us and says, “The detectives will be here soon, the ones following your case. My understanding is, this is part of a pretty big picture.”

I look at him. “You have no idea.”

He claps me on the back. “Sorry to hear that. Hope they get it all settled soon. We’ve called a tow truck for both the perp’s car and your truck.”

“You’re towing me?” I felt slapped.

“Crime scene shit, Ken,” Mike said. “Twenty-four hours max, then you can haul it off to get it fixed.”

Morgan says, “More bad news. We’ll need to take Mr. Larson in for official questioning. Standard protocol.” He looks at me. “We’d have to take you in too, but Flores said to leave you to the feds.”

“Any word if they spotted the guy with the rifle?”

Morgan shakes his head. “Not yet. They’re searching hard.”

“I heard you all were tied up with a bomb threat over at the mall? Anything come of it?”

Morgan blew out a breath. “Are you kidding? Guy called in saying he’s going to off his ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend in the mall and take down as many others as he could with him. Gave details on the device, trigger, shit like that.”

“Did 911 get the number they called from?” I ask.

“Yeah. Disposable cell phone.”

I walk over to the Impala. Mike yells, “Don’t touch nothin’.”

“I won’t.” I peer into the still open door, careful to keep my fingers to myself. A cell phone sits in the cup holder. “Can you get someone to call the bomb number?”

Mike speaks into his shoulder mike and we wait. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty.

Circus music comes from the phone in the car.

I turn to Mike. “Looks like you can close the books on that one.”

Chapter 12 - Steph

“Babe, go sit down. We need to talk.”

Shock makes me obedient. I stagger to the couch and follow his instructions, grateful to sink into its depths. I just can’t get the sound of Beth’s screams to stop ringing in my head. The sound of her being slapped. The sound of her fear.

“You’re doing great, babe,” Jerome says. “I really want to help you save Beth, but you have to cooperate with me first.”

I nearly laugh into the phone, but shut my lips before the sound bursts forth. Yeah, right. Help. My hero.

“Don’t believe me?”

How does he see me? He knew I was at the door. He knows I nearly laughed. What else has he seen? Recorded? Stored for future distribution? We were assured that Ken’s apartment was safe. I guess they were wrong.

“You really need to pay attention. Concentrate. Can you do that for me?”

I nod, unable to answer verbally.

“Good girl.”

“Are you going to continue to be a good girl, Steph?”

I nod again.

“Speak!” I nearly yelp in surprise when he yells at me.

“Y… yes.” I hate myself for stuttering.

“Perfect.” His soothing voice is back.

“Listen carefully. In order for you to help Beth, I need you to leave the apartment by the back balcony. At the bottom of the steps, turn right and follow the sidewalk to a black van. Are you with me so far?”

“Yes.” My voice is firmer; the quaver is gone.

“You are not to speak to anyone. Look at anyone. If you attempt to call for help, I will know and Beth will be punished for your failures.”

I close my eyes.

“Is this understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl. And Steph? You have five minutes to make your decision and have your sweet little ass sitting in that black van. Don’t be late.”

Click.

The moment the phone goes dead, I jump to my feet, but find myself turning in circles. I’ve got to pull it together. I’ve got to calm down. I’ve got to think.

The encrypted phone!

Maybe I can call for help, or at least open up a line so the detectives could have me followed. As casually as I can, I grab my purse and head into the bathroom. I pull the phone from my purse, hit the programmed button and press it against my ear.

“Miss Vonnegut? What’s your emergency?”

“I need help,” I whisper. “My friend, Beth. They’ve kidnapped her. They said I have five minutes to go out the back and get into a black van. What should I do?”

The man I’m speaking to must have covered his phone, his voice is muffled. I can tell he’s talking to someone else.

“Miss Vonnegut, do you trust us?”

Do I? “Yes.”

“Then we need you to follow their instructions.”

I gasp. “What?”

“Follow their instructions. Go down the back steps like they said and get in the van. We will follow you from there. Take this phone with you, the disposable one as well. Place this phone in a pocket, keep the other in your hand. They will likely request your phone; give them the disposable if they do. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. Go to the van. Don’t look around. Don’t try to look for us, but know that we’ll be there. We will only call this number if it is urgent. Answer it if you are able.”

“I understand.”

“Good luck, Miss Vonnegut. This is a very brave thing you’re doing. We’re here for you.”

I hang up the phone and stuff it in the pocket of my cargo shorts. I grab the disposable and a sweater, unsure if I should take anything else. Nearly a minute goes by as I stand in the kitchen, a statue of indecision.

I’ve got to go.

Ken knew I’d been worried about his backdoor, even though I’d never admitted it. He’s installed a second lock and a security chain and purchased one of those little single door alarms that raise hell if a door is open. He’s even propped a chair under the handle for good measure.

I pull away the chair and disengage the locks and alarm. My breath is coming so quickly, the far edges of my vision begins to grey. I force myself to breathe in fully, then exhale the same way.

Out onto the balcony, I skip down the steps, turn right and see the black van sitting at the end of the sidewalk. I almost lose my courage.

Beth.

I have to save Beth.

At the side of the van, I don’t hesitate; I pull open the door, jump in and slide it closed. I don’t look back. I don’t look around.

The interior is icy and there are two men sitting in the front cabin seats. At least I think they’re men. The ski masks make it hard to tell.

Pulling away from the sidewalk, we’re soon in traffic and heading out of the city. I’m desperate to turn around, desperate to see if my protectors are following. I don’t dare, I just stare straight ahead. I look down at my hands and realize I’m still holding the disposable phone. They didn’t take it. They didn’t search me. Strange.

I’ve been in the van for nearly ten minutes when I decide to speak to my captives, make myself seem more human. Engage them. Isn’t that like a Hostage 101 thing?

“Where are we going?”

Silence.

“Is my friend okay?”

Silence.

“When will we be there?”

Silence.

“I’m really scared. Could you at least speak to me?”

Silence.

I never realized silence could be so terrifying.

Brrr. Brrr. Brrr.

The phone! Not the one in my hand, but the one in my pocket. I ease my hand down and slide it out, using slow movements, trying to be covert. It continues to vibrate in my hands as I draw it to me. The men in the front don’t seem to notice.

I press the answer button and slowly lift it to my ear. I don’t say a word. I don’t dare draw attention.

I wait. And wait. I clear my throat, hoping the agents understand the sound as an equivalent of ‘hello’.

“Hi, babe.”

The way he says ‘babe’ sends a shudder through me that’s so violent, the phone is nearly wrenched from my hand. I try to speak. I try to make a sound. This is the encrypted phone. The safe phone. The phone that was supposed to be my lifeline.

“Enjoying the drive?” Jerome’s voice is conversational. “It’s beautiful this time of night, isn’t it? A perfect night for our reunion. See you soon.”

The phone goes dead in my hand.

Chapter 13 - Ken

I watch as they put Gage into the black and white. At least they didn’t cuff him; professional courtesy has a few advantages. He’s being taken in for questioning. They want to record his testimony immediately, get it on video, and also swab his hands for gun residue.

“We want to do this by the book,” Flores says to all the officers milling about. “Not one loophole. We do this right. Tight.”

He sends the officers off to question neighbors and record their versions of the story. A teenager had videotaped almost the entire thing and gave his phone over more willingly than anyone had expected.

Watching the video is surreal, like an out-of-body experience. As I watch the replay of everything, I can’t believe how close that dude came to shooting me in the back.

I look at the teenager and say, “Next time, can you put the phone down to shout out a little warning?”

The teen has the grace to blush and then snarks, “Didn’t want to ruin the audio, dude.” Then he smiles and nods. “Kiddin’. I’ll remember that the next time I’m hidin’ behind a tree witnessing a throw down.”

I rumble his long hair. “Hope that’s not anytime soon.”

He pulls away and shakes his head, whipping the brown strands back in places. “You a fireman?”

I nod. “Training to also be a paramedic.”

“That’s cool. My brother and me, we used to drive our mom crazy lighting fires in the fire pit and then rushing around with the fire hose and putting it out.”

I smile. I can remember doing that. “How old are you?”

His chin tilts up. “Fourteen.”

I pull a business card from my wallet and hand it to him. “When you turn fifteen, we have an explorer program that you can join, check things out, see if the idea of running into fires is as exciting as it used to be.”

“Is it lame?”

I laugh. “Describe lame.”

“You know, sitting around talking about how oxygen feeds fire and water puts it out. Kid’s stuff.”

I go to rumple his hair again and he pulls back, giving me the ‘dude, don’t’ look. I hope no kid of mine ever wears his hair so long his eyelashes get caught in the stuff.

Kid? Mine? Did I just use those two words in the same sentence?

I avoid that question and instead focus on the kid in front of me. “A little of that, but mostly you learn fire-fighting skills, how to work a hose, ladder techniques, breathing apparatus use, how not to cut your foot off with an axe.”

A part of me expects the kid to yawn any second, but instead, he looks more interested as I go down the list. He even pushes his hair back from his face and, for the first time, I can see his eyes. They’re a clear and intelligent looking hazel.

“After you graduate from the program, you can do ride alongs’. Ride with us to fires, car wrecks, medical emergencies, stuff like that.”

“So, I could help?” I can see the little boy he was just a few years ago shining in his face.

“Yep. A little at first and more as you get older. You won’t be leaping into a burning building for a few years, but I think you’ll like it.”

The boy looks around as a tow truck pulls up to begin lifting my truck. “Do all fireman get into gun battles? That was GTA stuff that went down.”

“You play Grand Theft Auto?” I start walking in the direction of my truck, thinking I could save some of the non-perishable stuff. I jump in the bed and begin handing bags to the kid, who doesn’t even hesitate. He just grabs them and sits them on the sidewalk. He’s fully engaged, talking about the cars he’s designed, the races he’s won, the trophies he’s gotten in the virtual world.

“You’re staying out of the strip clubs, right?”

“Uh, yeah… right.” He smirks.

“That’s what I thought.” I think about how sexually aggressive video games are these day. It makes me think of my sister.

I look down at the kid. “Treat women right. Be respectful.”

The kid doesn’t blow me off. He looks right back at me, his face solemn. “Yeah, I know. My big sister, she…” he takes another couple bags and sets them with the others “was
disrespected
a couple months ago. She ain’t been the same since.”

I wince then feel the familiar rage. I swallow it. “She getting help? Talking to a therapist or anything?”

“Naw. I’m not even supposed to know. I heard her crying one night and talking to her friend over the phone.”

I remember Steph telling me about what happened to Beth a couple years ago. How she hadn’t reported her rape, hadn’t wanted to endure a second assault in the court room. I realize I don’t know what to say to this kid.

I jump down from the truck and put a hand on his shoulder. “A long time ago, something bad happened to my big sister and she never told anyone either. It ate at her and she started making really bad choices.
Bad
choices. You get my meaning?”

The kid nods.

“That doesn’t mean it will happen to your sister. I know another girl who was raped,” the kid flinches at the word “and she came out stronger. Take down the world kind of strong. Another woman I know, a woman I love actually, was physically abused by an ex-boyfriend. Emotionally abused too. She’s the best, sweetest, most wonderful person I know.”