Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (136 page)

Sobs tore at my chest. This wasn’t just about the fear I felt clawing at me—it was about mourning the loss of my safety, the belief that nothing like this would ever happen to me.

CHAPTER NINE

THE POLICE ARRIVED TWENTY-FIVE minutes later, which was exceptionally fast for them. They probably recognized my name. I knew several of the homicide detectives, but not many in small crime.

Detective Ross came with his partner, Detective Monroe. They were professional and thorough, asking me everything about the driver, the man I’d seen in the basement, and all the other details I noticed. Detective Ross kept clearing his throat, as if he had allergies or was nervous. His eyes were full of compassion, though, and he was patient with me as I slowly told them everything I could remember.

Halfway through the interview, I called a locksmith. The kidnappers had access to my keys—I needed new locks and I wanted them in before the detectives left. Luckily, I got ahold of one who was available and he was over within the hour with a new handle and deadbolt. I wished he had installed two deadbolts, but I knew that was overkill.

I also texted Mandy:
I need you. Please come.

“I hope you understand the need for discretion,” I said as Ross filled out the report form.

Ross took off his glasses and ran his hand over his dark goatee. He had olive skin and a full head of black hair. I figured him to be an ex-football player, maybe even for Boise State … Ross … I scanned my memory, trying to remember if I’d ever met him, but came up blank.

“This is a high-profile case and any leak of this kind would start a media frenzy,” I said. “And if there’s a leak, my boss wants to be the one to start it.”

“I understand, Miss Steele. Has anything else happened to you that might have to do with this case?” Detective Ross looked up over the top of his reading glasses with dark, brooding eyes.

I shrugged. “There have been phone calls with no one on the other line, but I can’t say that’s out of the ordinary.”

He wrote something down. “I’ll check your phone history,” he said. He tapped his pen on the paper. “Their threat was very specific. They said it was Williams who was going to kill you—”

“Yes,” I said slowly, not understanding the question.

“It’s just interesting,” he said.

Monroe came up beside me and put his knuckles on the table. “I want you to be careful,” he said. “No late nights out alone, change your phone number, and maybe stay with a friend for a month or two.”

“Come on,” I objected. “I’m not going to stop living my life for this guy. He’s behind bars.”

Ross sighed and leaned back in his chair, which groaned in protest. “Fine, Miss Steele, but you might look into getting some mace. And do you own a gun?”

The question caught me off guard. “Uh … yes.”

It was a Lady Glock, a gift from my father before his premature death. He’d taught me how to load it and clean it. I’d shot a few rabbits when I was younger, but I hadn’t done much with it since then. But I kept it close, in a drawer in my bedroom table.

“Do you know how to use it?” Monroe asked.

“Well ...” I’d shot it recently when I went camping with Mandy and Rick, but that was it.

“I know a guy,” Monroe said. “He can put you through a safety course and get you to the top of the list for a concealed weapons permit. I think it might be a good idea in your line of work. Times are not getting better. But you need to know how to use it, how to be safe. The worst thing is an untrained person with a gun.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this,” I said.

“Why?” Monroe said, standing straighter. “Because I’m a cop? Look, the more people out there—good people—who carry, the better off we’ll all be.”

I eyed him like he was crazy. If I was hearing right, it sounded like he was encouraging people to carry.

“If every house had a gun and people knew how to use them, imagine the change in the crime rate.”

“What about accidental shootings, kids getting ahold of their dad’s gun?” I asked.

“Most accidental shootings happen when people aren’t trained. If you know what a gun is, how to clean and fire it, you won’t shoot yourself or anyone else by accident. Most people just don’t know—don’t
want
to know—so when they come in contact with a weapon, they’re more prone to hurt themselves. I had a gun by the time I was ten years old. I never came close to shooting myself because my dad taught us kids how to respect and use weapons.”

I imagined a much-shorter version of Monroe toddling around with guns at his belt. The thought of knowing how to use a gun was certainly appealing at the moment. I slouched and hugged myself, thinking about the possibility of those men coming back.

“I’ll look into it—if you think I should.”

“I do.” Monroe handed me a piece of paper with a name and a phone number. “Call him—he’ll hook you up.”

I nodded and stood. This was not what I was expecting. I’d dealt with the police before, but most of the time it was a representative or someone higher up, not the guy on the ground.

I looked at the phone number and the name written on the torn paper.

Solomon
.

Next, they took pictures of the cut and the bruise on my face. The only part of the story I’d left out was the last thing I’d seen. I wouldn’t tell them—I couldn’t even believe it myself. It was ridiculous. After all, I’d just seen Hank Williams in handcuffs that morning.

The detectives left, handing me their cards and promising they’d get results. It was a kind thing to say, but I knew they didn’t have much to go on. The men were still out there, and unless they attacked again, there wasn’t much the police could do about it. The creepiest part was that I’d be in the most danger after I won the case.

I looked in the bathroom mirror and winced as I dabbed the small cut above my eye. After I cleaned it, I saw that it wasn’t much, but I could feel a bruise forming underneath. Nothing some foundation couldn’t cover—I had to be in court in the morning.

Someone pounded on the door. I jumped, my heart in my throat, but then I realized it must be Mandy. Creeping down the hall, I looked through the peephole and saw my best friend’s shock of red hair and signature black leather jacket.

“What happened?” Mandy asked when I opened the door. “If that creep Dan did anything to you, so help me—” She stopped when she saw my face.

At the sight of her, my bottom lip trembled. Taking a shaky breath, I tried to get ahold of myself. She followed me inside, her face pale—even paler than it usually was.

“Who did that to you?”

“I was kidnapped,” I said. Mandy gasped. “My driver tranquilized me, and I woke up in a basement…” I told her the rest of the story as I made us some tea. Thoughts and emotions were so strong inside me, I couldn’t sit still.

“And then I charged him. Rammed him with my head,” I said as I poured honey into my cup of green tea.

Mandy grabbed me by the shoulders, speechless, which was rare for her. She just looked me in the eye. I looked back, taking in all the love and concern and sympathy she sent through her expression. There were no words—I knew that. I didn’t need words. I just needed her there.

My phone buzzed.

“Could that be them?” she asked quickly.

“What? No,” I said automatically, and then realized that it actually
could
be. But it turned out to be Dan, calling for the ninth time. “I better get this,” I said.

The moment I answered, he began yelling. “Where are you, Sarah? Do you know what kind of hole you’ve dug for yourself? You know everyone’s working late and you’re a no-show. I’m taking you off this case and putting—”

I interrupted him. “I was kidnapped, Dan.”

Silence.

“You were not.”

“I was,” I said gravely, and then took a sip of tea.

“I’ll be right over,” he said.

“No!” I almost shouted. “Don’t come. The police just left and I have my best friend with me now.”

“It was Williams, wasn’t it?” he said.

“It was Williams,” I said. “Some guys took me to a basement and threatened me. And then they knocked me out and I woke up in my apartment.”

“Tell me everything,” Dan said. I’d rarely heard him sound so serious.

I recounted the story again, this time with less nervous energy. The facts had settled and I could talk about them with objectivity.

After I finished, Dan heaved a deep sigh. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “That shouldn’t have happened to you.” I was surprised at how genuine he sounded. And sad. He usually didn’t get involved, no matter what. “If you want off the case, I completely understand.”

“No, Dan,” I said. “I’m more devoted to it than ever.”

Without missing a beat, he said, “Then will you give a statement to a reporter friend of mine about your experience and how far Williams is willing to go to win?”

I should have known he’d have an angle. “Of course,” I said.

“Good. I’ll send him to your place tomorrow morning.”

“No,” I objected. The thought of more people knowing where I lived was uncomfortable. “I’ll meet him at the office. I need to go in early anyway. Like you said, I’m in a hole.”

Dan paused. “We’ll get him.”

I couldn’t speak—I just nodded.

Mandy had set out my pajamas and turned down my covers as if I were at a hotel or something. This was a side of her people rarely saw. She was a brilliant architect and computer engineer who owned her own business—she even got contract work with the police department. She rode a huge Chopper, and frequented drag races on the weekends. Her past was rough—she’d even been in prison once for hacking a bank’s security system while in college. She’d calmed down a lot since she met Rick, her boyfriend of eight years. But this was the Mandy I knew—a growling fox to the rest of the world and a mother hen to those she loved.

After a cold shower and pulling back my hair in a pony, I felt like a new person. I had a few sensitive spots on one rib and the middle of my back. Nothing showed, but I felt it nonetheless.

Mandy and I finished the rest of our tea. I asked about her day and listened as she told of a computer account she’d saved for a panicked employee. It was good to get my mind off what had happened. She talked about a fight she’d had with Rick, and then I blushed when she told me how they made up.

Pulling me in close, she gave me a quick hug. “It’s going to be okay,” she said.

I nodded, starting to believe her words.

“You need something more in your life than just work,” she said. “Did you hear about the new club that opened up?”

I shook my head at her, bemused. “A club is not what’s missing in my life. A loud, writhing mass of people is the exact opposite of what I need.” Her face fell and I said quickly, “What’s it called?”

“The Ru.”

“That is a lame name for a club.”

“Maybe, but it’s a fifty-dollar cover and they have a dress code.”

I whistled. Most of the clubs in Boise didn’t even have a cover, or if they did, it was like five bucks and only for the guys. “So what’s so special about this one?”

“Well, you have to be on a list and you have to sign up online and consent to a background check—that way you know that not just anyone can get in. And they have three floors—one with a private room where you can sit on beds and talk or hang out and the other for a restaurant and lounge. It sounds so cool, and who knows what’s on the third floor.”

“You should sign up. See if you and Rick can get in.”

“Already did, and—” she hesitated, and then spit it out. “I signed you up, too. We’re approved.”

“Mandy!”

“Hey, you need to get out, stop working so much. This really has me worried. Not only are you always busy, but now your job is getting dangerous. It isn’t worth your life. I don’t like it. I want something more for you.” I could tell she meant it, mostly because she was a really bad liar. “We’re going there Saturday night and I won’t take no for an answer. You need to get away.”

“No,” I said bluntly. This case
was
my life—I didn’t need another. Especially not one with dancing and drunk men.

She tilted her head at me, full of concern.

Okay, so I did miss being with her. I did miss having days off where all I got done was reading and sleeping. I did miss going on dates and meeting new people. There was still a part of me that wanted that.

“Okay,” I said. She broke into a grin. “But not until this case is over.” She groaned. “I have dozens of things—
big
things—to get done and I can’t take any time off.”

“Even on Saturday night?” she asked with eyebrows raised, as if she seriously doubted the direction I was taking with my life.

“Even on Saturday night,” I confirmed.

“Then let’s get this freak behind bars for the rest of his life so you can have yours back.”

I smiled and nodded. There was nothing I’d like more.

She slept on the couch. I kept the hallway light on because I kept seeing shadows outside my door that weren’t there.

My gun was only a few feet away from me, but did I have what it took to point it at a man’s face and shoot?

Yes … no …
maybe
. I didn’t know. When I thought about what was in my heart, the dark side of my heart, I knew there was something deep inside that would pull that trigger without even thinking. But then what? I couldn’t live that life. I was an attorney, for goodness’ sake; I was supposed to be against violence of any kind.