Racing Through Darkness Read online

  “Catherine? Adalina?” My voice was barely even a whisper. Just because there were four seasons didn’t mean there were only four guys, and calling out could be a death sentence. No response.

  Reaching for the next doorknob, Mr. Computer’s chair scooted across the floor. Freezing in place, I pulled my gun. Not moving or even breathing, I waited. The guy stretched. There was a Glock on the desk next to him, and I wasn’t sure if it was there before. Glancing at the monitor, one of the sentries was approaching the hangar door. Shit. Time was running out.

  Quickly, I turned the other knob. It appeared to be a makeshift bedroom, but there was no sign of the girls. With no time left, I needed a way out. The back door opened, and I ducked into the bedroom and shut the door. Now what? Scanning the room for alternative exits, the only thing I found was an air vent. It wasn’t very large and didn’t look particularly sturdy. Heavy footsteps were outside the room.

  “What was it?” a voice asked.

  “Some drunk drove his car into the pole. He saw the runway lights and thought they were calling to him. Guy was a complete whack. He got out of his car and wandered off.”

  “Do you think the cops will roll in?”

  “Nah,” the footsteps stopped outside the door, and I swallowed, “who’s out here to report it besides us?”

  “I don’t like it.” Neither did I. “Get Spring and Summer and we’ll make the call. No reason to take unnecessary risks.” The footsteps walked away from the room, and I was torn between opening the door and hiding under the bed. If I planned to move, now was the time to do it. Listening, I couldn’t be sure, but there was a good chance the back door opened, and the second man was gone.

  Cracking the door, I peered out. Mr. Computer was busy setting up his anti-identity protocols, so I crawled out of the room and scurried in a crouch to the other end of the hangar. The other three rooms were empty. The girls weren’t here. A chorus of expletives screamed through my subconscious as I went to the back door, took a breath, opened it as soundlessly as possible, and ran swiftly away from the hangar and back to my abandoned vehicle.

  The last thing I wanted to do was leave, but I couldn’t take down the kidnappers alone. I needed help. Mercer’s help. Managing to open my car door, I slid behind the wheel and tried to calm my racing heart so a plan could be formulated. My escapade left me jittery as adrenaline coursed through my veins. My hands were shaking, and I gulped down air. I was out of practice. Taking a final deep breath, I started the engine and hit the highway.

  Holding the phone with my shoulder, I looped the hangar. “Mercer, there’s no sign of the hostages. Two of the bastards are inside. Maybe we should phone it in and let the police get a location for the girls.”

  “Negative. Estes just called. Instructions have been given. My car’s been wiped and totaled. Pick me up.”

  Slowing to a stop on the shoulder, Julian climbed inside my car without another word. I turned and stared at him, waiting for an elaboration on the incident and an attack strategy. Instead, he jerked his chin at the windshield.

  “We have to go back in. Even if the girls aren’t there, at least two of the kidnappers are. We can question them for answers. We have to find the location,” I protested.

  “No.”

  “No?” I screeched, flabbergasted by his single word response. “They have Catherine somewhere. I have to get her back. This is a lead. A fucking lead.”

  “Drive. Now.” He glowered at me. “Unless you’ve done this before and know precisely what you’re getting yourself into, I suggest you drive this bloody car far away from here. I have a scheduled meet, and if there is any chance of a positive recovery, I can’t miss it.”

  “But–”

  “If you go back in now, it’s a guarantee they’ll kill the hostages and scatter. Make a choice.” I inhaled, unsure what to do. “We don’t have time for this. Go. Now.”

  Shifting into drive, I sped away from the hangar, hoping I made the right call.

  * * *

  Julian Mercer liked to do everything in triplicate. He had a few burner phones and a few rental cars at his disposal. Although no obvious indication was ever provided, I suspected he had a few safe houses set up in addition to his weekly rental. Mercer went to meet with the Estes family to have a face-to-face concerning what would happen at the exchange. This time, I wasn’t invited.

  Whatever caused the change in Mercer’s disposition between the insults and me picking him up, he decided I was trustworthy and competent enough to be left alone in his apartment. There was a good chance the place was under surveillance, but it didn’t stop me from rummaging through everything, looking for some undivulged secret. Unfortunately, besides dozens of aerial maps of different locations, blueprints of hangars, warehouses, and docking bays, and a few photos of Adalina and Catherine, he didn’t have any clue what was going on either.

  “Parker,” I answered the buzzing in my pocket.

  “The plates belong to an aviation company out of Tulsa. They have branches all across the country. Small time stuff. Crop dusting, tourist attractions, small charter companies. Nothing seems sinister, but,” Thompson was still annoyed, “it might be easier to find something out of the ordinary if I knew what to look for.”

  “Deadline’s approaching.” It was all I could say. “I’ll keep you apprised of new developments.”

  “Ha. Yeah, right.” He hung up, and I wished there was something more to tell him.

  Mercer wanted to go in hot, and I had been in enough firefights to know this was a suicide mission. There would be at least four guys and two hostages. Maybe the money would be delivered, and we could have a nice civil exchange. If not, I would prefer having ESU outside or a tactical team from the OIO or FBI busting down the door.

  It was a little after two a.m. when Mercer returned. The two Secret Service wannabes accompanied him. Four of us did help to even the playing field. Mercer barely acknowledged my presence as he hefted a large duffel bag over his shoulder. Gold didn’t travel well in duffel bags. Maybe he stopped at one of those gold for cash exchange places on his way here, unless the Estes family has more accessible money than I was aware of. The possibility of an insurance policy crossed my mind, but I filed it away. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on such things.

  “Barr and Keener, you’re transporting the money to the exchange. Follow my lead and stay on my six.” Mercer glanced my way. “Parker represents the Cale girl. She’s a non-player tonight.” Non-player, my ass. “Think you can follow us without getting lost?” he asked me.

  “I’ll find some way to manage. Maybe we should chain the vehicles together, just to be on the safe side.” If I ever saw him again after this, it’d be too soon.

  Driving in a convoy, we were instructed to wait under an overpass a half a mile away from the hangar I infiltrated earlier. It was late, and the moving shadows created by the headlights from cars overhead put me on edge. As I waited, my phone rang.

  “Are you prepared to return fire if things go sideways?” Mercer asked.

  “Yes.” My response was curt. The silence filled the air space, and finally, I added, “try not to step in front of me. It’d be a shame if you took friendly fire.”

  “Cheeky sod.” He chuckled. It was an unexpected sound. Something about the prospect of an impending standoff put him at ease and in a better mood. Sick fucker. “If there’s an opening to get the girls and get out, do it.”

  “Okay.” We disconnected, and I went back to waiting in the darkness.

  The sky turned a pale blue, but the sun didn’t break over the horizon yet. We’d been waiting all night. Finally, a black, windowless van pulled to a stop on the other side of the underpass. I sat up straight and did an automatic check on my clip. Mercer was out of his vehicle, and the rest of us waited.

  A man dressed all in black, complete with face paint, exited the passenger’s side of the vehicle. Some words were exchanged, and then Mercer signaled to Barr and Keener, the Secret Service impersonators. One o
f them carried the duffel to Mercer.

  As I watched, a second cloaked figure emerged from the van and opened the side door. Slowly, I opened my car door. There was no reason to spook them, but half a second could be the difference between life and death. Mercer walked the duffel to the man, who unzipped the bag, checked the contents, and re-zipped the bag. He nodded to the second guy, who pulled a hooded individual from the back. My assumption was it must be Adalina. But where was Catherine?

  The first figure climbed into the driver’s side, securing the duffel. The second man yelled something to Mercer, which I couldn’t hear, and opened fire. Mercer scrambled behind his car as Barr and Keener returned fire. I was on the ground, crouching behind my door and taking aim.

  “Hold your fire,” Mercer yelled.

  Whichever hostage was in front of us could easily be hit by a stray bullet, so Barr and Keener stopped shooting. The man dragged the hooded girl back into the side door of the van as the wheels spun gravel into the air. Aiming for the driver, I fired, but the glass was bulletproof. Emptying my clip at the fleeing van, it was apparent we lost them.

  “Goddammit,” I cursed.

  Mercer said something to the two men who got back into their vehicle and took off. “I told you not to fire,” he berated.

  “Fuck you.” It came out a snarl. “You let them get away. If Catherine dies, there isn’t a goddamn place you can go where I won’t find you and kill you.”

  “Now, now.” He looked mildly amused. “Is that any way to talk to the man who put a tracking device in the money bag? They wouldn’t take Catherine to this drop. So say thank you for the help in getting a location to rescue your abductee.”

  My blood boiled, and I bit my tongue. It was bad when your enemy double-crossed you; it was worse when your ally stabbed you in the back. “This better work because you might have just signed her death warrant and yours too.”

  “Hollow threats, bird. Hollow threats.”

  Eleven

  My eyes didn’t leave the single red blip on the monitor. After the failed exchange, we went back to Mercer’s to ascertain the location. The money bag was still in motion and heading for the docks. Maybe the girls weren’t moved from the original location. If they ended up where Nick had been shot, I’d feel particularly stupid for not realizing the base of operations didn’t change. Instead, the blip careened off toward the warehouse district.

  “How do you know we’ll get to them in time?” It made no sense why we were waiting in Mercer’s apartment for the kidnappers to get such a blatant head start.

  “Barr and Keener are in pursuit. Mobile version of the tracker is connected to their GPS.” As soon as the blip slowed, I grabbed my keys. It was time to end this.

  Violating ever traffic law, I made it to the warehouse in record time. If Guinness World Records has an entry for cross city driving, I was sure to be named champ. Barr and Keener were already inside, and drawing my gun, I went in silently. There was no reason to wait for permission. My singular goal was to get Catherine and get out. Instead, I found two bewildered Secret Service impersonators.

  “Where are they?”

  “When we arrived, the place was empty,” Keener offered. Sweeping the area, the duffel was tossed on the floor with its contents still inside.

  “They knew,” I mumbled. Dialing Evelyn and Peter Cale, it was time they made a decision. Nick was my friend, but it wasn’t his kid.

  “What’s happened?” Peter answered, sounding frenzied and resigned at the same time.

  “Catherine hasn’t been located. We made an attempt earlier to find her, but they discovered the tracker. The girls have been moved. There could be an incoming ransom demand made, or,” my voice dropped, “I don’t know.”

  “What should we do?” Evelyn picked up the extension, and they were both on the line, looking for answers. For hope.

  “O’Connell won’t agree with this, but honestly, I’d like to call it in. Maybe the police or FBI can find some evidence or a lead. Anything. They are trained in these matters, but if you believe your chances are better without involving them…” The unstated implication hung in the air.

  “Make the call. We want our daughter back,” Peter said firmly. I waited for Evelyn to agree before disconnecting and calling Thompson.

  “Here’s the location.” I gave him the address and told him everything I knew of the situation and my encounter at the hangar with two of the alleged kidnappers. “They’re gone. The girls are gone, and this moron K&R specialist is a piece of work.”

  Just as I hung up, Mercer arrived. What took him so long? Didn’t he care about completing his mission, collecting his paycheck, and moving on to whatever clandestine, illegal crap he did on a daily basis?

  “Where are they?” he asked.

  “You need to find a new line of work.” I got in my car, noting the flashing lights and sirens fast approaching. Thompson was a miracle worker. That and everyone on the job was out for blood when it came to protecting one of their own.

  “You rang the coppers?” The surprise was evident on his face.

  “It’s a cop’s niece. You do the math.”

  I spotted Officer Taylor pulling up in a cruiser, and I nodded to her, putting my car in reverse. Mercer would be occupied for the foreseeable future, so at least he wouldn’t be able to do anyone else any harm. I had to get to the hospital and tell O’Connell the new plan. I owed him that much.

  * * *

  “You promised,” Nick bellowed. “How could you do this?”

  “It wasn’t your call. Evelyn and Peter made the decision, and I passed the message along to Thompson. You know they will work around the clock to find her.”

  “Get out.” He was livid, but I didn’t move. “Get out!” The monitors on the back wall went crazy, and a nurse came in to make sure he wasn’t going into cardiac arrest. He was irate, but the only one in danger of dying was me.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, escaping the room and bumping into Jen.

  “Alexis?” She judged my appearance.

  “Tell Nick it’s for the best. Thompson will do all he can. The entire force will do all they can. He has to know that.” Leaving Jen standing there stunned, I left the hospital and went home.

  My mind was a jumble. Did I fail? Did Mercer? Was Catherine still alive? Why didn’t the exchange go down seamlessly? At least then, Adalina could have been rescued. Maybe she would know where Catherine was. Glancing up, Heathcliff was leaning against my front door.

  “Hey,” he greeted, holding up a bottle of bourbon, “I thought you could use this.”

  “It’s ten a.m.”

  “My shift just ended, so time of day loses its relevance.” I unlocked the door, and he came inside. “Thompson caught me up. Then he called again with O’Connell’s version. I stopped by the warehouse on my way here. It doesn’t look promising. Captain Moretti’s called over to the Bureau and asked if they are willing to work this as a joint venture. We’re not turning over jurisdiction, but it’s O’Connell. All the help we can get, right?”

  “He should have said something sooner.” Busying myself with taking off my holster, I screwed my eyes shut. “Maybe I should have said something sooner. Done something more.” Opening my eyes, Heathcliff grabbed two coffee mugs from the drain board and started pouring. “I don’t know.”

  “Drink.” He held the mug out, and I took it. “You did all you could.” It wasn’t a question. It was his firmly held belief.

  “How would you know? I might have been sitting here, catching up on my soaps and fucking everything else up.”

  “It’s you. You did all you could.” He swallowed the contents of his mug and poured another shot’s worth into both our cups.

  “O’Connell doesn’t think so.”

  “Yes, he does, but right now, he’s scared shitless. He’s not thinking, so ease up on him.” He poured another. “Ease up on yourself.”

  Half a bottle later, I was lying in my bed as the room continued to spin out of con
trol. Heathcliff was passed out on my couch, and as far as I was concerned, there was no reason to surface from this misery unless someone decided they needed me to screw something else up. Obviously, I wasn’t equipped to deal with hostage negotiations or rescue kidnapped girls. Self-pity and loathing were difficult to shake, especially when the depressant effects of alcohol only exacerbated the situation. Eventually, the spinning blurred into nothingness.

  When I awoke, Heathcliff was gone. The remainder of the bottle was on my kitchen counter, and I had the worst hangover imaginable. Somehow, it was fitting to experience physical wretchedness to accompany the psychological torment. Taking a few aspirins and drinking a glass or water, I got in the shower. As I was getting out, the ringing phone threatened to make my brain rupture.

  “Parker,” I whispered, carefully considering how rude it would be to vomit while on the phone.

  “Ms. Parker,” Guillot sounded surprised that I answered, “Mr. Martin has informed me of your friend’s condition. Please take as much time away from work as you need.”

  “Thanks.” My alcohol-addled brain couldn’t determine the reason for the call. “Is that it?”

  He hedged. “We need to schedule a final check of the new protocols to make sure everything runs smoothly,” he added after a time.

  “I’ll be by later to work on details.” Hanging up without another word, I found comfort in the cold porcelain. Later was a vague term, and after managing to get off the bathroom floor and back to some semblance of human dignity, I noted the time. It was after working hours. Tomorrow, I’d stop by MT and do whatever my corporate job required. The police would be calling or knocking soon enough for official statements, whereabouts, and alibis.

  Attempting another glass of water and a few more aspirin, I searched inside my purse for my MT identification card. Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be found. The last time I saw it was Wednesday afternoon in Martin’s kitchen. Unable to stay home any longer and currently too frayed to work on a feasible lead to find Catherine, I drove to Martin’s.