For The Love Of Laurel (17 page)

“Chicken all right?”

“What?” She looked up at him.

“Chicken. I saw a take-out chicken place a couple of miles down the road.”

“Oh. Sure. That’s fine.”

“I’ll borrow some money from you if that’s okay.” He snickered.

“Be my guest.” She couldn’t keep the nasty irony out of her tone.

He appeared not to notice. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t bother to scream for help. If I come back and see the cops here, your secretary and maid are toast. Got it?”

“Got it.”

She waited until she heard the door close, and then began to pull on the pipe as hard as she could. All she did was succeed in hurting her wrists.

This is going to be the longest weekend of my life
.

Chapter 25

Dylan drove through a crowded parking lot at the mall in El Cajon. He spotted Laurel’s car parked far enough away from the stores that there were no other vehicles around it.

He parked two rows away and eased out of his SUV, hand on his gun. The car looked empty. As he got closer, he could see that, indeed, no one was in it. He took out the spare key, which he had taken when she bought the car.

Donning gloves, he unlocked the driver’s side and stuck his head inside. Nothing seemed amiss. He went to the passenger side and opened the glove compartment, which contained her registration and insurance information, a map of San Diego, a couple of fast food coupons, and a half-empty pack of wintergreen Tic Tacs. Nothing else.

He inspected the floor looking for anything she or the unsub might have dropped. Next he checked the back seat and the floor. Finally, he opened the trunk—empty except for the spare tire and a jack.

He closed everything back up and locked the car, and then took a stroll around the perimeter of the vehicle just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. As he walked back toward his SUV, something bothered him. He turned to look at her car again. What was it? He stood there, staring at the car, letting his mind wander.

Then he saw it. He’d been so intent on the interior, he hadn’t noticed the slight change to the exterior.

The license plate. It wasn’t hers, but the key worked, so the car was.

The unsub must have switched plates with another car, and probably too recently for the victim to have noticed. Or he had switched them with his own plates.
Is anybody that stupid?
Either way, it was now officially a kidnapping. For ransom. A ransom the guy expected her to pay herself on Monday. Laurel would be his prisoner at least for the weekend. What might she have to suffer?

Dylan called the El Cajon police and was put through to Lieutenant Len Boswell. He knew Boswell, having worked with him on a drug bust several years ago. After explaining the situation, he asked Boswell to run the plate. Within a few minutes, he had his answer.

William Steadman.
Who the hell is he?

Boswell said he didn’t have a record. “Probably doesn’t know his plates were stolen. We’ll talk to him.”

“I’d consider it a favor if you’d let me call him. I promise to keep you in the loop. Meantime, will you get an APB out on Ms. Avidon’s plates? I can’t be sure the perp used them, but I want to cover that base. What kind of car does Steadman have?”

“A white, ‘ninety Ford pickup.”

“It might be his truck or not. I don’t know what kind of car we’re looking for, or where they might be.”

“They could be anywhere,” Boswell pointed out.

“Something tells me he won’t go far until Monday. If he’s the guy who took her, he may even have taken her to his place.”

“Okay, I’ll take care of things from this end. If you reach him, you’ll need backup. Don’t forget to call me.” Dylan could hear a warning note in his voice. He gave Dylan Steadman’s last known address and phone number before hanging up.

The phone was not in service. Not encouraging, but these days people were opting to use only mobile phones and canceling their landlines.
Hardly a reason to be concerned
. He made the short drive to La Mesa and parked across the street from a small apartment complex.

There were eight apartments. He glanced at the mailboxes just inside the door. Steadman was in apartment number three.

He knocked on the door and waited. There was no answer. He put on his gloves and picked the lock. Opening the door slowly, he pulled out his gun. He closed the door and went through the rooms, gun drawn. When he was satisfied he was alone, he holstered the weapon and began a systematic search.

The place was untidy but not filthy.

He opened the refrigerator, which contained two six packs of Coors. The freezer was half-full of frozen dinners. “The bane of bachelors,” he muttered, thinking how similar it was to his own fridge.

In the bedroom, he checked the dresser. There were six drawers. The first five contained neatly folded underwear, socks, and jeans. The last drawer at the bottom held a bunch of papers.

He sat on the floor and took the papers out one at a time. Mostly they were rent receipts and bank statements. He scanned the bank statements. Though they covered several years, many were missing. Dylan wondered why he only kept certain ones. They all had a few notations written by hand, but none of them made any sense to him.

Then he found one with a familiar name. Steadman had deposited a check for five-thousand dollars several years before. After it was the handwritten notation
Carruthers, first pmt.

Dylan cocked his head to one side and drew his brows together.
Carruthers? As in Ben? What the hell is this all about?
Laurel’s disappearance was starting to make sense. He perused the other statements, but there were no more entries like that. Had Ben contracted Steadman for a job and never paid him for it? What kind of job? Did it involve Laurel or Gerald?

He returned all the papers to the drawer and let himself out of the apartment. As he walked to his SUV, he dialed a number and asked for Carruther’s phone number.

When Ben answered, Dylan identified himself, and then said, “What the fuck did you do?”

Chapter 26

Laurel glanced at her watch. Steadman had only been gone for ten minutes, but it seemed like hours. Her rear end was beginning to hurt from sitting on the bathroom tile. She tried to shift her position and finally managed to get her body prone, balancing her weight evenly on the hard floor.

She knew she would have to change positions again before long. As she lay there, she wondered what Dylan was doing. Did he know she was missing? Her mind ran through all the possible ways she might contact him, which added up to zero. A sudden thought made her shudder. What if Steadman got in a fatal accident? How long would it be before somebody found her? At least until maid service, assuming the motel even had that
. Don’t be such a pessimist, Laurel. He’ll be back.

She passed the time trying to think of anything she could do to get out of her present situation. It wasn’t likely he’d let her get close enough to bring him down with a well-placed kick. She finally decided her only option was to find a way to get hold of Dylan. Her captor didn’t seem like a Mensa candidate. There had to be a way.

At last, she heard the front door open. Never had she imagined she’d be so glad to see him again.

She could smell the chicken and realized she was hungry. She heard him put something on the table. Dinner, she hoped.

He came into the bathroom and looked at her, supine on the floor. He hurried to open the cuffs.

“Sorry to be gone so long. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.

She got up and made a big deal out of massaging her wrists. “Maybe if you have to leave again, you could find someplace better to cuff me to.”

“Maybe. Anyway, there’s food and beer.” He walked out of the bathroom to the small table and sat down. She followed and sat opposite him.

“So tell me again why I’m here,” she said after swallowing a bite of chicken.

“I told you.”

“My father had Ben Carruthers hire you to threaten to rape me so I would stop my
slutty behavior
. That about right?”

“That’s exactly right.” He tipped his head back and chugged his beer.

“Why’d he pick you?”

“I’ve asked myself that a hundred . . . hundred times. I don’t have a clue how he even knew I existed, but men like your daddy have resources most of us peons lack.”

“Um-hm.” She thought about that as she picked up a piece of chicken. “Do you think you’re being fair, upping the ante so much?”

“Who gives a shit? I figure I deserve compensation for the unexpected injury I got when you made that karate move in the alley that night.”

“Tae Kwon Do. Where’d I get you? In the balls?”

He made a sudden move toward her and she jumped. “Jes’ shut up. If it wasn’t that you’re the key to my payoff, I might just off you for the fun of it, you and yer big mouth.”

But you won’t, you dumb ape. You might hold the gun, but I hold all the cards
.

She looked at her watch. “Uh-oh. We have another problem.”

“What’s that?” He had relaxed enough to concentrate on his mashed potatoes and gravy.

“My housekeeper.”

“What about her?” He took another spoonful of potatoes and gravy.

“I was having company for dinner. If I don’t call her to cancel, she’ll know something is wrong. She’s a mother hen and most likely will call the cops. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“So? They can’t find us.”

“Maybe not, but can you take that chance? Think about it. What you don’t know is that I have a GPS in my car and my bodyguard can trace it. If he does and finds it in the mall, he’ll know the license plates are wrong, so he’ll have them checked. Since you switched them with yours, guess whose name will come up.”

He gave a dismissive shrug, but Laurel could tell he was starting to get nervous. She waited while he considered his options.

“Okay,” he said at last. “Call her, but if you alert her in any way . . .”

“She’s toast. Got it. My phone’s in my purse. Can I get it?”

“I’ll get it. You stay put.”

After a few moments, he handed her the phone and went back to eating his dinner.

Keeping an eye on him, she dialed and nearly cried with happiness when a familiar, deep voice said, “Kraft.”

“Oh, hi, Mari. I know I told you I was having guests for dinner, but I’m going to have to cancel. I’ve been unexpectedly held up.”

“Are you with Steadman?”

“Yes, that’s right. I’m so sorry to hit you with this at the last minute.”

“Is he with you now?”

“Of course. I’ll try to tell you sooner next time. I won’t be home tonight.” Steadman glared a warning at her. She put her hand over the phone. “I have to tell her something.”

“Watch yourself,” he whispered.

“I’m having a bit of car trouble, so while it’s being checked out, I’m going to the Asemal. They’re having a limited engagement of
Psycho
.”

“Psycho? The Bates Motel. Are you in a motel?”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

“What’s Asemal?”

“Tell my guests I’m sorry I had to go
back
on my word. I’ll make it up to them.”

“Back on your word? Which word?”

“You know it, Mari.”

“Asemal? Ah. La Mesa? Hold on. I’ll find you.”

“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow if my new phone stays charged.”

“That’s enough,” Steadman said.

She hung up, hoping Dylan got it all
. Dylan, if ever you could figure out code, let it be now.

Dylan ran the conversation through his mind a couple of times, just to be certain he hadn’t misinterpreted anything.
She’s with Steadman at a motel in La Mesa. New phone? Is she finally using the phone I got her? If so, I can find her. Thank God for small favors.

He debated calling Boswell but called someone higher up instead. He wanted Steadman all to himself. After that, it would be Carruther’s turn to experience his wrath.

Chapter 27

An unfamiliar sound woke Laurel. Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings. Through a crack in the drapes, she could see it was still dark outside. She wondered what time it was and what had awakened her. Somebody using the ice machine maybe. Or someone just checking in. Her head ached, and she felt hung over
. He must have put something in my water because I don’t remember much after I called Dylan.

Dylan. Where is he? I was so sure he doctored that cell phone he got me. But he must not have or he’d be here by now.
She had just begun using it two days before when her old one quit working. She grabbed the one he gave her until she had time to buy one she could count on not to be traceable. Because she was so certain of his deceitful ways, she even told him she had the phone so he could locate her. It brought home just how paranoid she really was when it came to him. Not to mention he was probably going crazy not knowing anything other than she was in a motel in La Mesa. How many motels did they have?

She tried to sit up, but something restrained her right arm: a handcuff. She pulled and Steadman grunted. He sat on the floor beside the bed. He’d pulled a pillow to the edge so he could put it under his head to sleep. One arm was on the bed, attached to the other cuff. The gun was on the floor near his other hand. She wished she could hit him over the head, but nothing was handy.

She heard the sound again. Right outside the door. Was somebody trying to break in? Dylan?

Heart pounding, she lay still. If it was Dylan, she didn’t want to tip off Steadman. If it wasn’t, well, did it make much difference?

She watched the door ease open, a shaft of light from the motel’s sign widening and creeping along the carpet. She held her breath, praying the person whose shadow slowly appeared was Dylan’s.

The overhead light came on as the switch near the door was flipped, Steadman pulled Laurel off the bed and onto his lap, and Dylan and Steadman both raised their guns at each other simultaneously.

Laurel sat frozen. Her glance darted from Dylan to the floor. Maybe she could surprise Steadman by hitting his gun hand and rolling off him at the same time. Dylan gave her a warning look, so she stayed put.

Steadman put his cuffed arm around her waist. She hoped it put him at a disadvantage, but there was still the matter of the gun in his other hand. She couldn’t do anything because her right hand was cuffed to his left hand, so it was already across her midriff. Maybe a left elbow to his ribs, but he was holding her too close for that.

“Put your weapon down,” Steadman said. He pushed Laurel off his lap and stood, forcing her to stand, too. He went to the table and sat down, leaving Laurel standing, still cuffed to him.

Dylan complied.

“Any more?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’d better stop being a smartass and sit on that chair. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Dylan sat and ignored Laurel, keeping his concentration on Steadman.

“You FBI?”

“Nope.”

“If you’re government, now would be a good time to show me your I.D.”

“And if I’m not?”

“If you’re not, what are you doing here?”

“I’m supposed to look out for her ass. Daddy’s orders.”

“Daddy’s dead. I can read the papers.” He stood and started toward Dylan then apparently thought better of it.

Laurel almost laughed. Even with Dylan unarmed and seated, the two-bit hood didn’t want to get too close.

“Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean his estate stops paying the hired help.”

Steadman seated himself in another chair across the table from Dylan, making certain he was back far enough to be out of Dylan’s reach.

“You working with Carruthers?”

“Who?”

“The limo driver for Avidon.”

“I’ve been the limo driver for many years. That’s why I’m here. Ms. Avidon doesn’t know it, but she has a tracking device on her cell. Her housekeeper called me and said her car was out of commission and she needed a ride.”

“You’re lying. I heard what she said to the woman. She didn’t ask for a ride.”

“Women have a sixth-sense about these things, what can I say.”

Laurel pretended to show little interest in either man or the conversation, but she could tell Dylan was in what she thought of as his cobra mode. He’d strike when the time was right and Steadman would never know what hit him. She just wished he’d hurry.

“I’m just the errand boy,” Dylan continued. “What is it you want from Ms. Avidon?”

“Nothing you can get for me. Nothing she can, either. Until Monday. So we stay here until then. I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

“Who are you? I’m Dylan Kraft.”

“None of your business,” Steadman snarled.

“William Steadman,” Laurel said as she smirked at Steadman. She doubted the name meant anything to Dylan.

Steadman yanked on Laurel’s handcuffed arm. “Shut up, bitch.”

Laurel saw Dylan’s forehead twitch and she knew he was holding onto his emotions by a hair. She gave a miniscule shake of her head.

“Mr. Steadman did a job for Daddy once, and didn’t get paid. Or so he claims.”

“I told you to shut up!” He tensed as though to hit her, but neither hand was free.

She knew he wouldn’t seriously harm her, at least until he got his money. Dylan, on the other hand, was fair game, especially if Steadman had a silencer for his gun.

“What kind of job?” Dylan said. Laurel wondered how he could sound so casual.

Steadman glared at him. “What’s it to you?”

“I drove for him and did other things too. I didn’t know he hired anyone else. He was a real son-of-a-bitch, but he paid top dollar. If you did a job for him, it’s hard to believe he didn’t pay you.”

“I think Avidon did pay me, through Carruthers. I just think Carruthers kept it. I’ve been biding my time. Avidon had lots of resources. I figured if I went to him, he’d accuse me of lying about not getting paid, and have me killed. Once I saw he’d died . . .”

“Wise move. She’s a lot easier to handle than her father. She’s just a woman, and a rather puny one at that. I never would have stayed on after Avidon bought it, but I couldn’t turn down the money.”

“I assure you, you won’t be staying on any longer. You’re fired,” Laurel said, putting all the anger in her tone that she could find within her and hoping Steadman thought she meant it.

Dylan screwed up his mouth in disgust. “Whatever you say. Hey, Steadman, need a partner?”

“No. I’m sure you’ll find work.”

“Assuming you let me live.”

“Don’t give me a reason to shoot you and you will. Her too.”

Casually, he swung his gun around to indicate Laurel, who was still standing beside him, and then brought it back in front of him.

When the gun was pointed halfway between Dylan and Laurel, Dylan sprang just like the coiled snake Laurel had imagined, hitting the edge of the table and pushing it toward the seated Steadman. Steadman’s chair tipped backward, and he yelled as he hit the floor, still seated, his legs in the air.

Laurel screamed as she went down with him. “The gun!” She reached for it with her free hand, but Steadman had a firm grip on it. The most she could do was keep him from pointing it at Dylan as he flew over the table head first, momentum carrying him just beyond where Steadman lay. His hands broke his fall.

Laurel screamed again, fearing Dylan had hurt himself. She knew she couldn’t maintain her grip on Steadman’s shooting arm much longer.

Dylan leapt up and grabbed Steadman’s arm. He twisted it until, with a howl of pain, Steadman dropped the gun. Dylan bent Steadman’s fingers back not quite to the point of breaking them. Steadman yelled.

“The keys. Where are they?”

“Right front pocket,” Steadman gasped. “Let go of me.”

Dylan ignored him and searched his pocket, coming out with a key to the handcuffs. He handed it to Laurel.

Her hands shook and she dropped it but retrieved it quickly and unlocked the cuffs. Dylan took them, and then righted the chair.

Laurel handed him the key. Her wrist was red and sore, and she grimaced as she rubbed it.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No. I knew he wouldn’t until he got his money.”

Dylan pulled Steadman to a standing position, and then pointed to the chair. “Sit.”

Steadman did as he was told with a sullen expression.

Dylan sat across from him. Laurel sat on the bed.

“Okay, let’s have it. What did Avidon hire you for?”

Steadman didn’t answer. Dylan kicked the leg of his chair, startling Steadman.

“Talk.”

“I guess the girl,” he inclined his head toward Laurel, “was a pain in the neck and acted like a slut. Avidon didn’t like it. He hired me to teach her a lesson, but I never hurt her. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Laurel saw Dylan’s expression and thought if her father were here right now, Dylan would kill him. What would he do to Steadman?

“If that’s true, why now?”

“I never got full payment.” He looked at Laurel and sneered. “And I bet I really screwed with your mind that night too, didn’t I?”

Laurel jumped up from the bed and put a hand on Dylan’s arm as she saw him tense.

“Think so?” she said casually.

“Yeah, I do. Even though you fought me off, you were scared shitless. You hurt me bad. When I never got the rest of my money, I swore to myself that one day, your daddy would pay for what you did to me. Trouble is, he croaked too soon. Natural thing was to come after you. Should have done that to begin with.”

“How much money are we talking about?” Dylan said.

“Half a million.”

“A hundred thousand is what he told me Daddy offered. He inflated it later,” Laurel said.

“I don’t blame you for that. Avidon could afford it. Here’s the thing, though. I don’t have any proof that you weren’t already paid. Avidon would have paid in cash so there’d be no paper trail.”

“I woulda put it in the bank.”

“Would you? You seem more like the hide-it-under-the-mattress type to me.”

Steadman snarled. “There’s gotta be a record of a withdrawal by Avidon—if he didn’t stiff me.”

“I can find that out easily enough. But there’s another thing you haven’t considered. You’ve gone beyond harassing to kidnapping.”

Laurel, who’d been leaning her rear against the kitchen counter wondering why Dylan hadn’t called the authorities, saw Steadman’s face crumple.

“I didn’t kidnap her. We were just hanging out until her bank opened.”

“Put whatever spin on it that makes you happy, but who do you think told me about you in the first place? The bank manager.”

Steadman gave a nasty laugh. “He wouldn’t have known anything was wrong.”

“No? I found you, didn’t I?”

“Couldn’t have found out from him.” Suddenly, Steadman’s hand hit the table, causing Laurel to jump. He glared at her. “It was you. You made that phone call. It was to this asshole, wasn’t it, bitch?”

Dylan’s arm shot out and his fist connected with Steadman’s jaw. “I’m within an inch of beating you senseless, so watch your mouth.” His tone was deadly. “Hands behind you.”

Steadman complied, albeit slowly.

Dylan put the cuff that had been on Laurel around Steadman’s wrist. He still had the other cuff on. Once he was restrained, Dylan took his cell phone and pushed a button. “All yours,” he said.

The door opened and two men with FBI jackets entered, quickly taking in the scene.

And here I didn’t think he’d called for backup
. Laurel found she was shaking.

“Thanks, Carl,” Dylan said, reaching in his pocket for a tiny recorder, which he handed to Carl. “It should all be there.”

The other agent pulled Steadman to his feet and read him his Miranda rights.

“What’s this about?” Steadman whined.

“Kidnapping for starters,” Carl answered as he watched the other agent escort Steadman out the door. Then he turned his attention to Dylan.

“What about Carruthers?”

“I’ll talk to him again. I called him a few hours ago and he denied knowing anything. At the moment, we have only Steadman’s word that Carruthers was involved.”

“Your call. We’ll want to debrief both of you as soon as possible,” Carl said, looking from Dylan to Laurel.

He handed each of them his card.

Dylan grimaced. “In other words, yesterday.”

“You’ve got it.” He looked at Laurel. “Glad everything worked out and no one was hurt. Good evening, Ms. Avidon, Dylan.” He went out the door, closing it behind him.

“Debrief? Doesn’t he mean question?” she said, staring at the door.

“No. If he meant that, we’d be guests in his unremarkable sedan wearing matching bracelets.”

He looked around the room and headed for the table. “Check to see that you have everything.” With a look of distaste, he gathered the remnants of chicken dinner and stuffed them in the tiny wastebasket.

“I have everything. Let’s get out of here,” she said.

After Laurel’s license plates were removed from Steadman’s pickup and arrangements made to have the truck impounded, Dylan drove her back to the shopping center. Her “thank yous” were profuse, but he shrugged them off as “All part of the job.”

The sky was just beginning to lighten, and Laurel was able to see her breath in the chill as she exited Dylan’s Jeep. She got into her car and sat rubbing her arms to warm up while she waited for Dylan to exchange the plates.