Deadly Pursuit (33 page)

Cole eased into the passenger seat as Mitch started the engine. “You know, when you suggested a connection between Bev and Alison's stalker, I wasn't convinced. Now I am.”

“It makes sense. Barnes served time for dealing meth. Bev is a user. So was Lon Samuels—where a blonde matching Bev's description was also seen. Meth is the connection among all these players.”

As Mitch turned on the flashing light bars mounted on the front and back windows and sped out of the storage unit lot, Cole grabbed the dash to steady himself. “You think Bev was the one in the car with Barnes in the mall parking lot?”

“Yes.”

“But she has long blonde hair.”

“A wig can change that. So can dye and a haircut.”

Cole tucked his injured arm closer to his body as Mitch took a sharp corner. “Why would she go along with a scheme like this? Doing drugs is one thing; kidnapping is a whole different ball game.”

“We'll have to ask her that when we find her.” Mitch hit the siren as they swung onto the main road, clearing the path for them as he floored the gas pedal.

“It's possible she just dumped the car there.”

“True. But if she's in disguise, she might have figured this was her chance to clear out her stuff without being noticed.” Swerving around a car that didn't get out of the way fast enough to suit him, Mitch pressed harder on the accelerator. Trying to eke a few more rpms out of his Taurus.

“That would be stupid.”

“No more stupid than participating in a kidnapping. Or using meth.”

“Good point. But even if she was involved, it doesn't mean she knows where Barnes took Alison.”

That was also true.

But as they sped toward Bev Parisi's apartment, Mitch was resolute on one point. If they did get their hands on the elusive blonde, he was going to pull out all the stops to persuade her to tell them every single thing she knew about Daryl Barnes and his plans for Alison.

A distant rumble of thunder shook the ground, and Daryl grinned as he popped another beer and watched Alison, cowered below him in the open cage, her eyes wide with terror. She'd been shaking like a leaf since he cut the rope around her ankles. Hard enough to rattle the cage.

That was what he'd been after.

Taking a swig of beer, he prowled around her like a stalking animal. Knowing she was thinking exactly what he wanted her to think gave him almost as much of a rush as the meth did. It made him feel powerful. In control. Invincible.

And very, very good.

The truth was, he had no intention of touching her in the way she feared. She repulsed him, with all that blood smeared across her face. But she didn't know that. And he intended to keep it that way. Right up to the end.

In the meantime, though, he was going to have a lot of fun.

He set the beer on the bed of the truck and moved over to the cage. “Stand up.”

She burrowed deeper into the corner.

Leaning down, he grabbed her arm and yanked her up. She swayed, and he kept a firm grip on her until she steadied. Maybe she did have a bad leg. That scar had been for real. A smile twitched at his lips as he considered that nice bonus. Limited mobility would work to his advantage.

In one swift movement, he bent and slung her over his shoulder. She was a little thing. Couldn't weigh much more than 110, 115. Kind of like Nicole. But she was a lot more feisty. Even trussed up and injured, she was wiggling like a worm on a hook.

He liked that. There wasn't much thrill in subduing someone docile.

Carefully, he lowered himself to the tailgate. Still holding her, he slid off and walked a few steps away from the truck, where he dumped her onto a clear patch in the overgrown two-track path that had once been a road.

Her muffled groan was satisfying.

He watched as she tried to right herself, aiming a few kicks her direction to thwart her. Finally, panting, she quit struggling. He smiled as he stood over her. Shoving Nicole around had always given him a sense of power.

This did too.

And this was the perfect place to do it. He knew rural Jefferson County from his younger days. He and his friends had spent some wild times in this neck of the woods. Drinking, partying, causing trouble. The area had built up a lot, but he hadn't had any problem finding a spot that suited his needs during his scouting expedition. Posted with a no trespassing sign, the overgrown lane had been blocked off with a rusted chain that had quickly succumbed to Chuck's metal cutters. Most of these places were unoccupied. Probably owned by rich guys who were holding the land, waiting to make a profit.

Daryl didn't know if the owner of this piece of property would profit from it.

But he intended to.

Taking his time, he crossed to Alison, then crouched beside her. She tried to push herself away, but he grabbed her good leg. The other one didn't seem to be working too well, and he doubted it would cause him any trouble.

The daylight was gone now, the sky faded from ominous gray to black. Most of the stars were hidden, but the full moon hadn't yet been obscured by the dark clouds that were beginning to mass overhead. Only the sound of Alison's ragged breathing broke the stillness as he unclasped one of her open-toed sandals.

“Nice polish.” He ran his fingers across her toes. “Pink suits you.”

A distressed sound came from deep in her throat, and she tried to tug her foot free. He tightened his grip and continued to work the shoe off.

Once he had it unclasped, he let it drop to the ground and stroked a finger over her instep.

“Nice feet too.”

He continued to play with her toes for a few minutes, enjoying her struggle and obvious distress.

Tiring of that game, he slid his hand up her leg, to the hem of her Capri pants. For an instant she stiffened. Then she redoubled her efforts to pull out of his grasp. This time using both legs.

So there was some life in the bad leg after all. Not a problem.

Grasping both her ankles, he straddled her in one quick movement and sat on the lower half of her legs. Pinning her in place. Rendering her helpless. The moonlight illuminated her face just enough for him to see her fear.

Yeah. This felt real good.

Now to ratchet up the terror a notch.

Reaching forward, he slid a finger inside the waistband of her slacks.

Once again, she reacted exactly as he'd hoped.

She writhed beneath him. Tried to buck him off. And was incapable of doing either.

“Are you liking this, Alison?” Slowly he ran his finger back and forth.

She made a sound in her throat. Like a growl.

It was too bad she looked so bloody and busted up. Otherwise, he might have been tempted to take this further. But he didn't have the stomach for gore. Never had. He'd have to content himself with tormenting her.

And that was okay. Because terrifying someone, having them completely helpless and in your power, was about the biggest rush he could imagine.

Mitch cut the siren and the light bars half a mile from Bev's apartment. Taking her by surprise would work to their advantage.

After parking a block away, he slid out of the car and waited for Cole to join him. His colleague was moving even slower now, and his face was pinched with pain.

Officer Sarah Kaufmann was waiting for them at the entrance to the parking lot, materializing out of the shadows as they approached.

“Any activity?” Mitch looked past her toward the front door of the building.

“No. Are you thinking the person who dropped the car is still in the area?”

“That's a strong possibility. She has an apartment here, and we think she might have returned to . . .”

The door of the building opened, and a woman with short black hair, carrying a shopping bag and a purse, cast a furtive glance around. Apparently reassured by the quiet parking lot, she hurried down the walk.

Heading straight for Alison's car.

“This is it.” Mitch's pulse took a leap, and he pulled out his Sig Sauer as he spoke to Sarah. “Circle around behind her. And alert the rest of the officers we have a suspect.”

With a nod, the woman ducked behind some cars, pulled out her radio, and disappeared into the night.

Beside him, Cole drew his gun as well.

The man wasn't in any shape to take part in this arrest. But Mitch wasn't about to tell him that.

“Let me take the lead, okay?” He hoped Cole would concede that much, at least.

“Okay.”

Relieved, Mitch worked his way closer, using other cars for cover as the woman fumbled with Alison's key chain. When the automatic locks clicked open, he stood, pointed his gun at her, and chose a position that gave him a clear line of sight.

“St. Louis County Police. Drop the purse and bag and raise your hands out from your sides, palms back.”

Startled by the command, the woman swung toward Mitch.

He repeated the command.

She turned again, as if contemplating flight. But then Sarah stepped into view, her gun also raised. Three other officers also materialized out of the darkness.

Slowly she swiveled back to Mitch. Dropped the bag and purse. Raised her hands.

Sarah moved in and cuffed her hands behind her.

Holstering his gun, Mitch closed the distance between them in a few long strides, Cole on his heels. The other man retrieved the keys from her hand.

“You are Bev Parisi, correct?”

The woman lifted her chin and stared him down. “I'm afraid you have the wrong person.”

“Is that right?” Mitch snagged her purse off the ground. Pulled out the woman's wallet. Flipped through to the driver's license. “If you're not Bev Parisi, why do you have her license?”

“Do I look like the woman in that picture?”

Mitch wasn't in the mood to play games. Leaning forward, he yanked the wig off.

She gasped as blonde hair spilled down her shoulders.

“Now you do. So tell us where Alison Taylor is.”

She glared at him and clamped her lips shut.

Behind him, Mitch heard Cole pop the trunk on Alison's car. He'd done the same many times, never knowing what he'd find. A stash of dope, stolen electronic equipment . . . a body.

Holding his breath, he called over his shoulder. “Anything?”

“Not unless you count the decrepit spare I told Alison to replace six months ago.” Cole slammed the trunk with more force than necessary.

As Cole circled around the car to the passenger doors, Mitch turned his attention back to Bev. Her lips were still pressed together, her stance defiant.

“Okay. Let's try one more time. Where is Alison Taylor?”

“Mitch.”

At Cole's hoarse summons, Mitch motioned for Sarah to keep watch on Bev and circled the car. Cole's gaze was riveted on the front passenger seat.

As Mitch approached, he understood the man's reaction. A square piece of cardboard lay facedown on the upholstery.

And the size and shape were all too familiar.

Stomach clenching, he dug a quarter out of his pocket, inserted it under the edge of the cardboard, and flipped it over.

All the squares in the center row of the bingo card were marked off with a skull-and-crossbones stamp.

Mitch exchanged a look with Cole. “We need answers. Now.”

“Agreed.”

He strode back to Bev, Cole on his heels.

“She's asking for a lawyer,” Sarah informed him when they rejoined the duo.

“She's going to need one.”

Mitch leaned close, invading her personal space. He noticed two things immediately—the distinctive smell of her breath and her dilated pupils.

She'd been using. Very recently. Maybe even tweaking.

“Still on the meth, I see.”

She lifted her chin. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Think you could pass a drug test?”

“I want to talk to a lawyer.”

“Yeah. I'll bet you do. I would too if I were in your shoes. You have quite a list of charges against you.” Mitch folded his arms across his chest. “Auto theft, possession of an illegal substance, kidnapping. Not to mention murder.”

Bev narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about? I didn't kill anyone.”

“No? Then what's the bingo card on the front seat all about?”

She lifted one shoulder. “It's not mine.”

“Did Daryl give it to you?”

“Daryl who?”

Fighting to control his anger, Mitch took a deep breath and spoke in a cold, terse voice. “Okay, Bev. Let me give this to you straight. We know you and Daryl abducted Alison Taylor. We found your car in the parking lot at her office. Daryl's prints were inside, and a witness saw you both there. We also investigated a report of a woman screaming at an abandoned storage-unit facility. Two sets of tire tracks were identified—one of which I guarantee will match Ms. Taylor's car. A K-9 unit dog verified her presence there.

“What we don't know is where Daryl took her. And time is running out. If he kills her, you will be charged as an accessory to murder and spend the rest of your life in prison. I will personally see to that.” He enunciated each word. “If, however, you tell us what you know, I will be sure the appropriate authorities are aware of your cooperation.”

Once more he leaned in, his eyes inches from hers. “So here's the deal. You can tell us what you know now, and maybe we'll find Ms. Taylor in time to rescue her. Or you can wait until we take you in and book you and find you a lawyer. By then, Ms. Taylor could be dead—and I won't be able to do a thing to help you. It's your choice.”

For several long seconds, Bev searched his eyes while he held his breath. He'd done everything he could do to convince her to talk, and he prayed it was enough.

As he watched, some of the light went out of the woman's face. Her posture also underwent a subtle shift, her shoulders rounding, her stance transitioning from confident to defeated.

“I guess the show's over.”

Mitch didn't understand her comment, but he'd learned to read nuances. And Bev had caved.

Thank you, God.

“Do you know where Daryl took Alison?”

“No, but he promised he'd let her go. He said he just wanted to teach her a lesson.”

“There was blood on the ground at the storage facility.”

“Yeah.” She frowned and tossed her head as a sudden gust of wind whipped her hair across her face. “See, I pretended like I was being kidnapped too. That's how Daryl got her to go with us. He said he'd kill me if she didn't. So at that warehouse place, she asked me to help her rush him and get the gun away. When she tried, Daryl hit her. What else could he do?”

Cole had let him handle the questioning so far, but now he joined in.

“How badly was she hurt?”

Transferring her attention to him, Bev inspected his bandaged arm.

“I don't know. She fell backward, and I guess she hit her head. I thought she was dead, but Daryl showed me she was breathing. He said she'd be okay.”