Sealing Fate Page 12

  Bob moved around cautiously and quickly determined that he was all alone in a small cabin. There was a small living room with an oversized couch and chair, unused in some time as they were both covered with sheets, which in turn were covered with dust. There was a potbellied fireplace and a small window, through which only a wooded area comprised of tall pines was visible. He noted that there were no paintings, pictures, or personal touches of any kind in the room.

  Bob walked from the small living room into an even smaller kitchen, consisting of a dated yellow countertop with inlaid sink, a few scattered cupboards, and a half-size refrigerator. He opened the refrigerator door and found it empty. He opened the cupboards and found a few old, stained glasses and mugs. There was no sign of occupancy or recent use.

  Bob moved from the kitchen into a small bedroom. He saw a double bed without linen and a nightstand. The room was otherwise empty. From there, he moved slowly into the bathroom. A toilet, sink, and a small shower were the only items in the room. The medicine cabinet was empty—no toothbrush, shampoo, or shaving equipment. Bob knew it was no coincidence that there were no trails for him to follow in identifying who had abducted him. He rubbed at his sore arm and wondered how long he had been here. He had no idea.

  Until he peered out through the living room window, he hadn't even known whether it was day or night. He made his way to the bedroom window and looked out at the front of the cabin. There were no cars. He could see nothing but a flat patch of dirt leading into woods less than twenty feet away.

  Bob slowly made his way out the front door. He had been left alone. Out front, he could see that the cabin was well isolated, a lake on one side and woods on the other three. He saw no neighbors. He walked around the side of the cabin and found tire tracks that led through the woods and the makeshift road that led away from the cabin. The road was his best chance of reconnecting with civilization.

  Bob began to jog in the rut made by a heavily treaded tire. It took him into woods that blocked the sun and made it appear as if twilight had arrived. After about fifteen minutes, he jogged out of the woods and into a clearing. The tire tracks became a real dirt road. He followed it for five minutes and then saw another cabin, a bigger one, in the distance. As he drew closer, Bob could make out cars around the structure. It was a general store. He stopped and put his hands on his knees, trying to regain his breath. Every part of his body ached, but that was just soreness. The pain in his head was excruciating.

  A phone was outside the store. Bob ran inside and saw a willowy, gray-haired man of about sixty behind the counter, talking to a rotund woman who appeared to be in her late thirties.

  Bob looked from one to the other and then spoke to both. “Where am I?” he asked loudly.

  “What?” the man asked incredulously.

  “Where is this place? I need to know where we are.” A desperate quality was in his tone.

  The large woman regarded disheveled clothing and bruised body as she might a visitor from outer space. “Toner Highway at Route Thirty,” the man behind the counter shouted.

  “Thanks,” Bob said and ran out the front door and back to the phone. He called 9-1-1 and immediately got through.

  “9-1-1 emergency,” a woman's placid voice said.

  “I need help,” Bob said, taking a moment to catch his breath.

  “What is it, sir?” the woman said evenly.

  “I've been kidnapped, tied up, and held captive in a closet. I just managed to escape.” Bob said, doing his best to keep calm.

  “What is your name, sir?” the woman asked.

  “Galvin. Robert Galvin.”

  “I have you at Toner Highway, Palmer Lake. Can you verify?”

  “I'm told it's Toner Highway and Route Thirty,” Bob said anxiously, glancing toward the dirt road he had taken from the woods to make sure he hadn't been followed.

  “Okay, sir, you relax. We'll have a car at your location within ten minutes.”

  “Thank you.” Bob then took a deep breath as he put down the phone.

  Immense relief swept over him with the knowledge that he had made good his escape and the police were on the way. He turned to make his way back to one of the seats inside the store, where he could catch his breath as he waited. As he turned, he saw the speeding car coming directly at him. It was within fifteen feet. Bob dove with all the strength left in him. He was flying through the air and then on the hood of the vehicle, rolling into the blackness as he lost consciousness.

  Chapter 17

  At six thirty, Brian drove past 600 Fifth Street. It was one more in a series of ground floor banks with thirty-five floors of offices stacked above. Brian circled the block, studying the building and the driveways leading in and out. He thought about how long it would take to get out of the parking structure and the neighborhood itself. After driving past the building a second time, he drove back toward Ninth Street. When he reached Ninth, he made a right and drove precisely two miles, slowing to take note of his surroundings. An old man in tattered clothing, pushing a shopping cart full of cardboard, cloth, and aluminum cans, walked slowly along the sidewalk. The surrounding buildings had been boarded up, or simply left with broken windows and now served as shelter for the locals. Makeshift fences and barricades had fallen down or been torn down. Trash covered the landscape. Groups of teens and preteens traveled in packs of four or more. It would be here that Brian left the wallet and credit cards for consumption by the unfortunate soul who, for a brief period, would think it was his lucky day.

  Comfortable with the route, Brian drove back to Fifth Street, stopping at a coffee shop three blocks from his destination. It took fifteen minutes to find a metered parking space on the street. He wanted to be sure that no parking lot records would contain an entry bearing his license plate number. Brian put several coins into the meter, saw that it yielded an hour, and went into the coffee shop. There was a red counter fronted by several round backless stools. Only two of the stools were occupied, one by an elderly man with unkempt, greasy hair and a full gray beard and the other by a man in a business suit, sipping a cup of coffee and reading the Wall Street Journal. Neither of them looked in Brian's direction as he entered.

  Brian sat in one of several small booths that bordered the window. He ordered a hamburger and a cup of coffee from a bored-looking server in her late twenties, who stared out the window while she waited for his order. She scribbled the order briefly on a notepad and then walked away without a word.

  When the hamburger arrived, it was just before seven. Plenty of time. His stomach was churning, and he wondered why he had ordered anything to eat. Just looking at the food made him feel queasy. An unshakable feeling of doom was also in the air. He was moving toward the moment when he would do something he never thought himself capable of, when he would end a man's life and forever change his own. He held up his hand and watched it visibly shaking. He knew he had to find some measure of control just to make it through the night that lay ahead.

  At seven thirty, Brian finished his second cup of coffee. He left the hamburger untouched. He put seven dollars on the table and walked to the door without making eye contact with the customers or the server, none of whom paid him the slightest bit of attention.

  Brian moved the car to another metered space a block away from the office building. Many cars were now gone, and it was easier to find a parking space. It took just over a minute to walk casually to the building. Brian planned to return at that same slow pace, so as to avoid attracting attention.

  Arriving at the building, Brian found the three stairways that led down to the underground parking garage. He took the first stairway down to level number five and then looked for the green Lexus. He found two of them on opposite ends of the lot. One was parked near stairwell number one; the other was by stairwell number three. Brian walked each of the stairwells from the fifth level to the street, noting how long it took and where he emerged in relation to where he had parked. Then he returned to level number five, just in time to se
e a tall blonde woman climbing into the Lexus parked adjacent to stairwell number one. His man was parked by stairwell three. Brian checked his watch. It was seven forty-eight. It was too early for Ross to be leaving.

  Brian looked around and found a narrow walkway, formed by the structure wall and a large column, just a few feet from the Lexus. He walked over and leaned behind the column. From there he could watch the car and emerge from the shadows when the time was right. The garage was cool, but Brian was sweating. He told himself to relax. He checked his watch again. It was seven fifty-three.

  * * *

  Barbara sat in the den, thinking about Brian and nervously checking the time. Seven fifty-three. Her eyes frequently traveled between the telephone and her watch. The silence was unbearable, and time dragged. When the doorbell rang, the sudden intrusion into her solitude made her let out a scream. She put a hand to her heart.

  “Shit,” she said, working to slow her pulse.

  As she walked to the door, Barbara wondered who would possibly be showing up now. She was preoccupied and didn't need to entertain tonight.

  When she opened the door, Sergeant Merrick nodded to her. “Good evening, ma'am.”

  Palmer silently removed his hat and gave a nod.

  “May we speak with your husband for a few minutes?” Merrick asked.

  “I'm sorry. He's not home at the moment.”

  “Really?” Merrick asked with a raised eyebrow. “And where would he be?”

  Barbara scowled. “He had a business meeting tonight. Not that there's any reason I should have to tell you where he is.”

  “I didn't mean to upset you, Mrs. Madsen, but we need to talk to him. Do you know where his meeting is?”

  “No, not specifically.”

  They regarded her with curiosity.

  “The meeting is over on the west side somewhere. I know that,” Barbara said with a sigh.

  “When do you expect him home?”

  “I'm sorry. I'm not sure.” She thought about how this conversation subverted their plan to say she and Brian had been at home watching videos. She had no way of getting word to him.

  Merrick nodded. “Please tell him we stopped by, will you?”

  “I will,” Barbara said.

  Merrick gave her a nod, and the men turned and walked toward their car. Barbara watched for a moment and then closed the door, wishing she had some way to communicate with Brian.

  Chapter 18

  Walking down the path toward the street, Merrick and Palmer heard Barbara close the door behind them.

  As they approached the car, Palmer was the first to speak. “Is she lying, or doesn't she know where he is?”

  “Not sure,” Merrick said. “Even if she's lying about where he is, could be she just doesn't think it's our business. She got pretty indignant.”

  “Could be.” Palmer paused and then said, “Maybe we should have told her where he is right now to watch the reaction. Then maybe she could tell us what he's up to.”

  Merrick shook his head. “No, we'll wait until we get a report about what he does from here. Then we'll see if he lies about where he was.”

  “You really think this guy killed her?”

  “I don't know,” said Merrick. “We know he's lying about how well he knew her, but that could be just because he doesn't want the missus to know he was screwing around.”

  Palmer nodded.

  “We'll watch him some more, and maybe he'll show us,” Merrick said.

  “I think the son of a bitch did it,” Palmer said as he climbed behind the wheel of the car.

  Merrick slid into the passenger seat, and the car moved away from the curb. “This is Merrick. Patch me through to Bellows,” he said into the car radio.

  “One second, Sergeant.”

  The line crackled for several seconds. Then a deep voice came on the line.

  “This is Bellows.”

  “What's he up to?” Merrick asked.

  “We don't have him in sight at the moment, Sergeant.”

  “What the fuck happened?” Merrick asked incredulously. “You lost him?”

  “Just temporarily, Sergeant. We'll find him again.”

  Merrick waited for an explanation, suppressing his anger.

  “We followed him to a coffee shop downtown. He came out twenty minutes ago and started driving around town. We lost him a few minutes ago, but he couldn't have gone far. We've got units watching the freeway ramps and major arteries out of the downtown area. We know he's still right around here.”

  “That's fucking great.” Then Merrick drew a breath and took a moment to calm himself before continuing. “At this point we have to assume that he was he onto you, so approach cautiously.”

  “We'll find him,” Bellows said with confidence Merrick didn't share.

  “Get help if you need it, but find him. Then call me back.” Merrick picked up the phone and looked at Palmer. “Those guys could fuck up a wet dream.”

  Palmer nodded and then accelerated toward downtown.

  Chapter 19

  It was eight ten when a man emerged from the parking structure elevator. The footfalls grew louder as he approached and moved into the light, giving Brian a view of his features. Brian watched him move directly toward the green Lexus, now the only car in the area. There was no doubt: six foot two, close-cropped brown hair, and mustache. It was him, the man Brian was to kill without ever knowing.

  Brian stepped quietly out of the shadows and raised the gun. He was within fifteen feet from Jason Ross and slightly to the right of the spot he would cross as he walked straight for the car. His attention was cast toward the car and then to the ground in front of him. Brian pointed the gun directly at him. He held it with both hands, trying unsuccessfully to keep it steady.

  The gun shook, betraying his nervousness. “Hold it,” Brian heard himself saying.

  The voice caught Jason by surprise. He looked over at Brian with wide eyes, stopped in his tracks, and raised his hands.

  “Don't move,” Brian said, moving to close the distance between them. He wasn't sure why he was moving in so close, whether it was to get a better look at the man, to delay the decision, or just to be sure he wouldn't miss.

  “All right. Just don't shoot,” Jason said with his hands still in the air. “You can have anything you want. My wallet, car keys, anything you want. Just don't shoot.”

  Brian walked closer, stopping five feet from him. For a moment, the men stood staring at one another with neither moving. Brian had reached that point through survival instinct, and Jason was operating on that same instinct now. Brian felt the sweat on his brow as he wondered whether he could go any further when he heard the squeal of tires somewhere behind him. He glanced over his shoulder toward the voice.

  As Brian realized that the structure's acoustics had created the illusion that the distant sound was close behind him, Jason acted in desperation, striking out at Brian with his hand.

  Brian saw the punch coming and jumped back. The blow grazed his shoulder. Brian jabbed into Jason's midsection in an attempt to regain control. Jason doubled over, momentarily subdued, and then suddenly threw himself at Brian. The two hit the cement floor of the garage, and the gun flew from Brian's hand. They wrestled until Brian was pushed backward into a vertical column and fell to the ground.

  Jason then he ran toward Brian, who was halfway between the ground and a standing position. As Jason came at him, Brian saw the gun three feet away and dove for it. Jason saw it too and attempted to kick it away. Jason's kick hit Brian's hand as he grabbed for the gun. Brian felt a sudden surge of pain but held on. He lay on the ground, pointing the weapon at Jason. Brian was no longer shaking. For the first time, he held the gun still.

  Five floors above, Bellows drove his police cruiser into the parking garage. He began to search the sparsely populated structure, level by level, for any sign of Brian. The building-by-building search was taking too damn long. Bellows was cursing himself for letting Brian disappear, seemingly into th
in air. He also knew that Merrick was going to have his ass for this screwup.

  Jason had no fight left in him. His hands stayed up, and he stood still, breathing heavily. He seemed resigned to whatever would come next. Brian looked into Jason's eyes and saw the depth of his fear. It was then that Brian knew he would not kill Jason. There was only one man that he would kill if they could meet him face-to-face, and that man would never face him.

  Brian held the gun on Jason as he said, “I don't want to kill you.” He paused to breathe, still recovering from the exertion of the struggle. “I don't even know you.”

  Jason nodded. “I'll give you anything you want,” he was pleading. “Please don't shoot me.”

  Brian said softly, “I don't want your money.”

  “What do you want?” Gasps punctuated the question as Jason bent slightly forward and held his stomach, trying to regain normal breathing. The look on his face conveyed a combination of fear and bewilderment.

  Brian had a hard time putting what he needed to say into words that made any sense. “I don't want anything of yours. I just need to talk to you.”

  “You want to talk?” Jason asked incredulously. “With a gun in a parking garage?”

  Brian allowed his arm to fall and the gun to rest at his side. “Is there a place we can talk?”

  “Two minutes ago, you were going to shoot me. Now, I'm supposed to invite you up for a chat? Shall I make some coffee?”

  “This is about your safety as well as mine,” Brian said. “You have a much bigger threat than me to worry about.”

  Jason studied Brian's desperate expression closely, assessing. He hesitated and then nodded. “Let's go back to my office.”

  The two walked toward the elevator with Brian still holding the gun at his side. The black-and-white drove onto level five of the structure. Bellows scoured the area in search of Brian. There was no sign. He ran a hand through his brown crew cut and shook his head. His round cheeks, soft features, and the wide eyes of worry made him look substantially younger than his thirty years. Looking young made weather-beaten street cops think you were a rookie even before you made a rookie mistake. He wasn't happy about the reaction this situation would get, and he wasn't looking forward to telling Merrick that Madsen still hadn't been found.