Swan Song (Julie O'Hara Mystery Series) (25 page)

“Hi, Tina,” he said, coughing loudly. “It’s Hal. I hate to bother you, but do you have any Nyquil or cold medicine like that? I’m so sick, I haven’t slept all night and I hate to drive ‘cause I can hardly stand up.”

“Oh, honey. You poor thing…sure I do. I’ll bring it right over.”

It only took a couple of minutes for her to go out her front door and knock on his. Hal called out from the bedroom for her to come in. That way, she could see that he was sick in bed and no one else was there. He thanked her profusely, and asked her to please close the blinds for him because he was going to try to sleep.

The moment Tina Mae
left, he ducked out the back door, got in the car and took off.

* * * * * 

Chapter
61

J
oe had received a call from Detective McPhee. He was at Johnson’s apartment in College Park. Hal had played sick for his neighbor and his boss, but he wasn’t at home and no one knew where he was. Confirming Joe’s worst fear, Julie was nowhere to be found, either.

Joe arrived at her condo at half-past ten, keyed her code into the front door lock and headed straight for her computer. Sol rubbed back and forth across his legs as he sat at Julie’s desk waiting impatiently for it to boot up.

All Joe’s important information was stored on his Blackberry and he had a GPS application to track it in case the smartphone ever got lost. He had convinced Julie to do the same. If she had her phone -
and if it was on
– he could find her. When he got on the internet, he pulled up Julie’s GPS app and entered her password, a play on words about her cat:

Soladude#1

“Invalid Password”

Soladude1

“Invalid Password”

Joe searched his memory. “
I thought I was your number one dude,”
he’d said.

He tried again, reversing it.

#1Soladude

“Please wait…”

Joe held his breath and waited.

And there it was, flashing on a map.

A map of the Ocala National Forest.

Oh, God. It’s an hour away, and he’s still moving!

And then Joe thought of someone who knew that area inside out. Someone who had loved Dianna Wieland. Someone Joe trusted, who could get to Julie fast.

* * * * * 

Chapter
62

L
incoln Tyler tore up the swerving, infrequently used trail at breakneck speed, whipping the big chestnut stallion over fallen trees and around palmettos. From Joe Garrett’s description he knew
exactly
where Dianna’s killer was taking Julie O’Hara. It scared him to think about it. Linc knew that time was of the essence without Joe’s warning. The guy was headed down a long dirt road that dead-ended deep in the forest, about as far as a car could get coming from that direction. And there was nothing there… which pretty much told Linc what the bastard had in mind.

The trail soon intersected the narrow dirt road lined with pines. Linc pulled the blowing and dancing horse up short, leaning over, inspecting the ground. The afternoon rains had softened the hard clay and the fresh tire tracks were easy to see. Linc kicked the horse and took off down the road.

In moments he could see the SUV up ahead. The prick was standing in back of it, opening up the rear. He heard Lincoln coming and slammed it shut.

“Uh…hi,” he said, obviously astounded to find himself face-to-face with a man on horseback…and staring down the barrel of a gun.

Linc dismounted and looped the horse’s reins on a branch by the side of the road.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Uh…uh…I was just taking a drive.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Linc.

“I like to get out in the woods every once in awhile,” said Hal, desperately.

Then Linc heard the muffled sounds coming from inside the SUV.

“I don’t think so,” he said, swinging the gun with all his might into the side of Hal’s head.

Linc was shaking. He wanted nothing more than to shoot Dianna’s bleeding, unconscious killer then and there. It took all his will to stick the gun back in his belt and pick up the keys lying next to the bastard.

But he swiftly grabbed them and opened up the back of the SUV. He pulled aside the blanket and there was Julie O’Hara, cruelly bound behind her back, wrist to ankle, like a hog-tied calf. Her eyes were wild with terror and pain. Quickly, he tore away the gag.

“AHH!” she cried, tears running down her face.
“My hands! Get them loose!”

Linc pulled out his pocket knife and cut the nylon straps. Her wrists were raw and bloody.

He helped her straighten up and get out, crying and wincing, pain etched on her face. He took her in his arms.

“
Shh. It’s all right Julie. It’s over…it’s all right.”

“J-Joe…where’s Joe?” she asked, crying.

“He’s coming. He’ll be here. The police are coming, too.”

The prick on the ground started to moan and move.

Linc looked at the oversized nylon ties he’d just cut off Julie’s wrists and ankles.

“Hold this gun on him,” Linc said, handing it to her. “Shoot him in the leg if he gets up.”

Linc could see relief and anger replacing Julie’s fear as she took the gun from his hand.

Quickly, he searched the car. He found a stun gun in the glove compartment. The cable tie gun was on the floor in back of the front seat. In short order, the two of them had the killer in the back of his own SUV, trussed up the same way he’d done to Julie. He was crying and his head was bleeding profusely. Linc didn’t give a shit; he slammed the door on him.

“Where’s your cell phone? That’s how Joe tracked you.”

Julie unzipped the side seam of her top, pulled out the phone and speed-dialed Joe.

“Joe? It’s me…”

Lincoln could hear Joe’s reply from a foot away.

“Julie! Oh, baby, I’m so glad to hear your voice!”

Clearly not as glad as she was to hear his…

Linc’s horse, Applejack, was tethered too tightly to the tree on the side of the dirt road. Jack was pawing the ground anxiously and Lincoln stepped away to untie him and give Julie some privacy at the same time.

When she finished, he walked over to her, the horse trailing behind.

“I can’t stay…you know that, Julie. You’ll be all right now, won’t you?”

She grabbed him and hugged him tight.

“Oh, God, yes! I’ll be fine, Linc.
Go!
Thank you.
I’ll
never
forget what you did.”

Lincoln swung up into the saddle and took off without looking back. The tension he’d been feeling melted away as he and Jack hooked a right onto the narrow horse trail and cantered off, deep into the woods where cars could not follow.

He felt good. There was no longer any bitterness, anger or frustration.

Linc saw Dianna’s face…and she was smiling.

* * * * * 

Chapter 63

E
velyn Hoag was almost finished getting ready for work. She was in her large, carpeted bathroom, which doubled as a dressing room. Because she lived alone, most mornings she turned on the television - either in her adjoining bedroom or in the kitchen – for the illusion of company. The mention of Julie O’Hara’s name caught her attention. She walked into her bedroom, the mascara wand in her hand.

The reporter was standing on a dirt road surrounded by trees and scrub brush.

“The body language expert, well known by Central Florida law enforcement as ‘Merlin’, had a harrowing experience yesterday, John. She was kidnapped, bound hand and foot, and taken here to the Ocala National Forest by an Orlando Park Service employee, Hal Johnson, a man who, according to the Marion County Sheriff’s office, is a suspect in the death of Dianna Wieland. You may remember, John, that she was the real estate agent from southwest Orlando whose body was discovered in a Lake
Eola swan boat last January. My sources in the Orlando Police Department tell me that there was a small blood sample, previously undisclosed and different from the victim’s, taken from that paddle boat. So, perhaps there will be some resolution in that particular case stemming from this arrest. Back to you, John…”

Evelyn sat on the bottom of her bed, the forgotten mascara wand resting in her lap, rivulets of dark tears staining her cheeks.

* * * * * 

Chapter
64

T
he Ocala Observer was the only newspaper that focused on the “mysterious cowboy” angle of the thwarted abduction in the Ocala National Forest:

LONE RANGER RIDES AGAIN

By Frank Maxwell

Was it one of Ocala’s own? Most of the local residents think the mysterious cowboy-hero that saved a kidnapped Orlando woman in the 382,000 acre Ocala National Forest last week came from one of our local horse farms. There is no doubt, according to the Marion County Sheriff’s department that, had the man not happened along at that exact moment, Julie O’Hara might well have been killed.

The victim, a respected body language expert, has described the horseman as “tall and dark, possibly Hispanic”. The sheriff’s office was unable to get a clear description from Hal Johnson, the alleged kidnapper, who said the man “was riding a huge horse and had a gun”. Apparently, the mysterious cowboy pistol-whipped the alleged abductor.

The article went on to quote several people from some of the twelve hundred horse farms in the area, none of whom had an inkling of who the man was, although it was widely speculated that he might be an illegal immigrant.

* * * * * 

Epilogue

T
hey were a family of four visiting Orlando for the first time, two teenage daughters with their mom and dad. Laughing, they helped each other climb out of the Lake Eola swan boats in the warm midday sun.

Julie,
in a white halter top and khaki shorts, sipped her iced tea and watched them from the patio of the lakeside restaurant. Joe sat across from her, looking comfortable in a faded blue tee shirt and jeans.

Eleven months had passed since the arrest of Hal Johnson.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Joe.

“Dianna. It seems surreal that she could have fled here… died here.”

“I’m sure she’s at peace now, Merlin.”

“Yes. I feel that she is.”

Julie went back to her lunch, musing.

In retrospect, it was easy to see why the crime scene investigators thought Dianna had been alone on the boat dock. All the footprints in her blood had been accounted for, including those of the two Park Service employees who had come upon the scene at the start of their shift… and “blundered” onto the dock, to quote the defense.

Hal Johnson’s single drop of blood on the neck of the swan - which had been drifting out in the middle of the lake - turned out to be the one piece of evidence his attorney couldn’t overcome.

The Silver Swan,

when
death approached,

unlocked
her silent throat…

“You know, Joe, I believe we’re all connected in a cosmic way that transcends time. Think about it… that fortune teller who nearly predicted Dianna’s flight to the swan boat… and the madrigal, written so long ago, calling out to Dr. Jordan.”

Joe leaned across the table. “Funny you should mention that,” he said, lifting a lock of coppery-brown hair, his hand lingering on her bare shoulder. “I was just thinking about being connected…”

“Ah,” said Julie, smiling. “An afternoon delight?”

Joe stood up, holding out his hand.

“I promise to make it cosmic…”

* * * * *

* * *

*

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1
,  
Chapter 2
,  
Chapter 3
,  
Chapter 4
,  
Chapter 5
,  
Chapter 6
,  
Chapter 7
,  
Chapter 8
,  
Chapter 9
,  
Chapter 10
,  
Chapter 11
,  
Chapter 12
,  
Chapter 13
,  
Chapter 14
,  
Chapter 15
,  
Chapter 16
,  
Chapter 17
,  
Chapter 18
,  
Chapter 19
,  
Chapter 20
,  
Chapter 21
,  
Chapter 22
,  
Chapter 23
,  
Chapter 24
,  
Chapter 25
,  
Chapter 26
,  
Chapter 27
,  
Chapter 28
,  
Chapter 29
,  
Chapter 30
,  
Chapter 31
,  
Chapter 32
,  
Chapter 33
,  
Chapter 34
,  
Chapter 35
,  
Chapter 36
,  
Chapter 37
,  
Chapter 38
,  
Chapter 39
,  
Chapter 40
,  
Chapter 41
,  
Chapter 42
,  
Chapter 43
,  
Chapter 44
,  
Chapter 45
,  
Chapter 46
,  
Chapter 47
,  
Chapter 48
,  
Chapter 49
,  
Chapter 50
,  
Chapter 51
,  
Chapter 52
,  
Chapter 53
,  
Chapter 54
,  
Chapter 55
,  
Chapter 56
,  
Chapter 57
,  
Chapter 58
,  
Chapter 59
,  
Chapter 60
,  
Chapter 61
,  
Chapter 62
,  
Chapter 63
,  
Chapter 64