Confer, Lorelei - Deadly Deception (Siren Publishing Classic) (12 page)

Dave also called in a few other favors before he reached the park. Scanning the area with a trained eye, he noticed only a few kids playing on the equipment and parents sitting at a picnic table. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

Driving around the park in his unmarked car, he waved to the parents and they waved back. A bungled-up heap of a van turned into the park as he prepared to pull out onto the street. He watched in his rearview mirror as the van parked in an isolated area. After a minute or so, two adults, a man and a woman, peered out the van’s slightly open doors before getting out.

Dave, not born yesterday and suspicious by nature, thought it a little odd—a run-down van at the park, no kids, with a
New York
license plate. He wrote down the license plate number and asked one of the area patrolmen to check it out closer.

* * * *

Joe watched as Amanda entered her assigned area of the woods. He had turned to begin combing his area when he heard another vehicle on the gravel of the park’s parking lot. He looked in the general direction of the sound and saw a cop car coming to a stop behind the van. He waited and watched to see if it was simply a routine check or if the cop had been tipped off somehow. The cop walked around the van, looking into all the windows.

When he saw the cop look toward the woods in his direction, he instantly got flat on the ground. Boss had given him specific instructions last night to shoot or be shot, whatever it took, to get the girl to him by midnight Tuesday night, and time was soon running out.

Cautiously lifting his head Joe watched the cop look around the park, and then walk back to his car. Joe thought the cop would probably call in the tag number, find out the van was stolen, and impound it, and he wouldn’t have any wheels to get to
Norfolk
or anywhere. And that just wouldn’t work for him.

The cop sat in his car while Joe waited and watched. Wondering what was taking so long, Joe decided to stay in the woods. Maybe the cop would leave and he could finish the search. A minute or so later, Joe watched as the cop got out of the car while talking on his radio. He would have to act fast. Soon there would be fifteen cop cars all over the place, maybe with search dogs. He wanted no part of that.

He drew his gun out of the waistband of his drooping pants, wincing as some skin came along with the gun.
Son of a bitch that hurt!
From now on he would have to keep his gun in the back of his pants, where his skin wasn’t quite so sensitive.

He held up his gun with both hands, took aim at the cop’s head, and pulled the trigger. Bull’s-eye!

He ran, low to the ground, looking around for any witnesses, toward the cop, at the ready to shoot again. But he had been accurate on the first shot with a neat bullet hole in the left temple. Joe leaned over the cop. A small amount of blood seeped out and dripped onto the ground. Joe picked up his arms and dragged him the short distance into the woods.

Then he had an idea. Very proud of himself, he imagined a cop would be able to open the door at the big house nearby and maybe even get his foot in the door. Maybe even get to search the house for the girl or get the truth outta the guy there. So why couldn’t
he
be the cop and conduct a search for the girl? And since he and the dead cop were about the same size, the plan should work.

He quickly undressed himself and the cop and re-dressed himself in the cop uniform. Without a care in the world, he walked out of the woods expecting to see Amanda at any minute. Out of the left corner of his eye, he thought he caught a slight movement, but when he looked closer, he didn’t see anything or anyone. He calmly walked to the cruiser, got in, and drove away.

* * * *

Amanda soon became tired of zigzagging back and forth through the bushes and brambles—too much area to cover. She tried to walk softly, quiet, but every sound she made seemed to echo over and over again. She sat down to catch her breath.

She listened for sounds of anyone else moving around, thinking how great it would be if she were the one to find the girl. But Amanda only heard the slight rustle of the wind in the tree branches and a bird twittering nearby. She wanted Isabella to walk right up to her and beg for help. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. They had to find this girl so she could get back to her life.

Tired and worn out, she got up and began her search again. She made a circle in what she perceived to be the middle of the section assigned to her. She had just started making her way back to the van when she heard what sounded to her like a gunshot. She didn’t have a gun—but Joe did.

She raced to the edge of the woods, stopped, and looked around, frantically trying to find the source of the loud sound. A quiet early afternoon like today brought little traffic to the street, and no one was at the park. No one around. Not at the picnic table or on the jungle gym.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a movement by the van and noticed a police cruiser parked behind it—Joe leaning over a cop lying nearby on the ground.

Oh my God! Joe shot a police officer! He said no one would get hurt.

In the other jobs she’d worked with him no one got hurt. But no one had ever escaped either, making Joe as desperate as he’d become.

Amanda shrank back to the edge of the woods and sank to the ground behind a tree. Peeking out around the tree, she watched as Joe dragged the cop into the nearby woods. A few minutes later, she looked over to where Joe had gone into the woods. Now she saw a cop walking out. Joe hadn’t shot him after all. The cop walked over to the police car, got in, backed out, and onto the street.

What happened to Joe?

* * * *

Joe thought he would make a respectful neighborly patrol visit to fancy big house just in case the girl was hiding there. He figured there would be extra patrols in the area anyway. But he knew he needed the neat appearance of a cop, which meant shaving and fixing his hair, so he drove back to the house for a quick makeover.

* * * *

Amanda shook her head, clearing her vision. Leaning on a tree, she sank to the ground trying to absorb everything she had just witnessed.

She’d better go see if Joe was okay. She alternated between walking and running to the spot where she saw Joe drag the cop into the woods, her eyes darting around in search any movement anywhere. She scanned the area, and then entered the woods where Joe had dragged the cop.

“Holy shit!” She turned in circles, covering her mouth. “He’s lost it. He’s gone nuts.”

This guy wasn’t Joe. It was another man in his underwear. Joe must have changed clothes with the cop and that was who she had seen get into the car. Joe dressed as a cop. He shot a police officer, a cop. No one, no one, especially a cop, was supposed to get hurt.

“This is bad, real bad, and I don’t want nothin’ to do with it. I hav’ta get out of here and right now,” Amanda muttered herself.

She ran back toward the van only to find the van doors locked and, of course, the keys gone. She glanced around, saw no one, picked up a rock, and hurled it into the back-door window. Punching in the pieces of glass, she reached in and opened the door. She grabbed her purse and backpack and slammed the door closed. She watched for any sign of Joe’s return or anyone else who may have heard the glass breaking or the door slamming. She didn’t see anyone so she took off running toward the house.

As Amanda got closer to the house she saw an empty police car sitting outside. Joe must be there and inside. She thought a few minutes and then took off walking briskly toward the interstate. She had hitchhiked before and probably would again. Right now, she wanted to get back to
Denver
and head to parts unknown. She would change her name and appearance so Boss or Joe wouldn’t be able to find her.

She jogged along the streets. Any time a car passed by she ducked behind whatever was nearby poles, bushes, Dumpsters, sheds, or parked cars. She feared Joe or someone Boss sent would come looking for her when there was nowhere to hide.

* * * *

Joe parked the stolen cop car in front of the house and went inside. He shaved his entire face and smoothed back his hair enough to hide under the hat. When he felt he would pass muster for a police officer he walked back to the park on foot, taking some back streets.

Chapter 18

Wyatt got up from the table and started to clear the breakfast dishes, stacking them in the sink, while Isabella watched him a few seconds before helping him finish up. She stood beside him at the sink, leaning her back against the counter while sipping the last of her coffee. She glanced around the room.

“You know, I never would have thought this to be your kitchen. It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong. Very homey and efficient, but it just, just doesn’t seem like you.”

Wyatt looked around the room at the print border with matching valances and fabric covered doors. “I don’t really care that much about anything else in here except the huge bay window facing outside. When I’m in this room all I see is the picturesque wooded outdoors. My sister, Amy, wanted to decorate it for me, and I let her do what she wanted with one stipulation. She had to leave the window alone and uncovered. I love the woods and wide-open spaces.

“Speaking of the big windows facing the woods,” he cleared his throat, “we’re sitting targets for your abductors. And as much as I love the view, I want us both to be safe, so we need to limit the amount of time we spend in here, especially you. And we better start right now, so I’ll finish up here and meet you downstairs. We can read the Sunday paper in the family room unless you have something else in mind you’d like to do?”

He feasted on her face, settled on her eyes, and licked his lips involuntarily. She stared at him a few seconds, fear crossed her face, replaced with confusion and doubt, not sure exactly what he meant by “something else.” He could see her wariness of him.

He tried to cover for his thoughtlessness. “Well, we can watch TV, maybe find a good movie. I have a pretty good selection of movies as well as books to choose from if you’d like to read something a little deeper or more soul-searching than the local news in the paper.”

Relief covered her face, and her tense lips and shoulders relaxed. She followed his eyes to her chest. Her nipples pierced through the thin fabric of the light shirt as if reporting the weather. In one smooth movement, she raised her arms across her breasts.

“No, no, the paper is just fine.” She turned, fleeing to the sanctuary of the family room downstairs.

Wyatt could have kicked himself. He should have kicked himself. Here is a gorgeous young woman, completely defenseless, in the midst of a traumatic experience, a crisis. Stripped of her identity and all he can think about is how much he wanted to feel her soft breasts in his hands, to lick her nipples until they became hard and erect. He pushed away from the sink when he realized he had become hard. He needed a cold shower before he joined her to read the paper.

Chapter 19

Dave answered his cell phone as he sat down at his desk. Detective Tim Hayes had run a background check on Michael Terrell through the national database and found a hit. Aha! Michael had a rap sheet including a couple arrests for money laundering and numerous offenses for soliciting prostitution. He also had an affiliation with some tough guys.

“Who?”

“Steve Spikerelli, aka Spike from
Denver
, but word is he left a month or so ago. I think you were there, right, Dave?”

“Can you get a current location on both Terrell and Spike?”

“I’m working on it. I also sent a teletype to Denver PD to check for the girl’s car and on her mother, Anna Donnelly. No word so far, but I’ll get back to you whenever I have more info,” Tim said and hung up the phone.

Dave closed his phone and rocked back in his chair, trying to put all the information he had gathered in his head. Some pieces of the puzzle were still missing, which left him perplexed and more convinced than ever that he needed to solve the case.

He wondered if Isabella had told them the truth and everything she remembered. He liked her, her spirit, and Wyatt’s reaction to her. He wanted her to be truthful, as opposed to being an extremely good actor, or possibly a very sick young woman, so he could help her. He wanted to believe her. He just needed to prove it—to be really one hundred percent positive.

He needed to be able to protect Wyatt and to cover his back, like Wyatt had covered his so many times in the past. Wyatt was a wealthy businessman and land developer. He could easily have been set up for ransom, and Dave was certain Wyatt and his father had made some enemies throughout the growth of the business and their careers.

Dave reminisced about when he and Wyatt had first worked together. Those were the good ol’ days. They had been best friends since grade school, then partners on the local police force doing what they wanted to do, fighting crime—until they made the bust on the prostitution ring during which Wyatt’s fiancée, Rachael, had died in the line of duty. After that incident, Wyatt had remained his close friend but only worked a few special cases.

He knew Wyatt so well. He burned the candle at both ends. He got little sleep or rest, always busy until late every night and up early every morning. After Wyatt’s parents died, he had picked up the pieces of his father’s business, had made it bigger, better, and more prosperous than ever before. He owned property and malls all over the country, but he never forgot to give back to the community.