Jack Stone - Wild Justice (14 page)

He resisted the temptation to look out along the street. Just stood with his back against the wall, breathing steadily, perfectly calm, everything that was about to happen rehearsed in his mind so the actions would be automatic.

Shuffling feet came closer and then suddenly stopped. Not just one man. More. He heard voices; men’s voices that were slurred and made rowdy with alcohol. He heard the jangle of car keys and then suddenly one of the men growled, “What the fuck?”

There was a brief silence. Stone heard the sound of more movement out on the street, then a loud thump – the sound of a fist being slammed against metal.

“I think they’ve been slashed!” A voice said. “Every one of ‘em!”

Stone stepped out onto the street.

The two men were standing on the sidewalk. One had his hands on his head in a pose of exasperation. The other was crouched beside him, inspecting the front passenger-side tire of the SUV.

Stone smiled. “Looks like you boys have some car trouble.”

The two men turned, ten feet away. The crouching man got to his feet and snarled.

In Jack Stone’s experience, bar fights and street fights like this one always followed a convention – an established order of events that wasn’t written down anywhere, but somehow always followed.

First would come the stand-off. Both parties would keep their distance, assessing the opponent. This might last a minute, sometimes a little less as threats were exchanged and the energy built. Then, finally, one of the protagonists would begin the fight, usually urged on by a bystander in the crowd.

But Jack Stone didn’t follow convention.

The two guys shaped up. Exchanged glances.

Stone went for them.

And he was angry.

At the diner, he had put both men down because he
had wanted to be left alone. He had used just enough violence to negate the threat. But that was then. Now Jack Stone wanted answers, and the safety switch that controlled his rage was turned off.

He hit the closest man with a straight right punch that struck him on the line of his jaw. It was the shorter one – the guy who had pulled the gun at the bar earlier in the day. Stone wanted to take him out first. The punch wasn’t his best – he didn’t have his feet planted because he was still on the move. The blow sent the man staggering backwards and he fell to the ground
.

Instantly Stone turned on the other man. He was the one with the sticking plaster across his nose. Stone
turned, ducked under a roundhouse punch, and stayed low. Counter punched from a crouch. Put all his energy into the strike that had every ounce of his weight and muscle behind it. The punch smashed into the guy’s unprotected ribs. Stone heard the distinct crack of bone. The guy seemed to fold forward like a heavy sack of cement. As he did, Stone came up from his crouch and lifted his knee into the man’s face. He flew backwards, arms out flung and his body crumpled against the side of the SUV. Stone wasn’t finished. He went after the guy. Caught him by his shirt front and held him up. Snapped his head forward, cracking the broad boned expanse of his forehead down across the man’s nose in a classic head-butt. The man went limp. He dropped to the ground. Didn’t move.

The second guy was on his feet, reeling away. Stone lunged for him. The man let out a painful groan. Stone raised his arm and used the point of his elbow. Drove the bone right into the man’s face. Blood gushed. Stone heard teeth snapping. The man began to fall sideways and Stone had to hold him up.

He threw the man face-first over the hood of the SUV. Reached under his coat and found the gun. Tossed it across the road, then took the man’s wallet and stuffed it into his own pocket.

He grabbed the man by the hair at the back of his head and drove it down against the vehicle.

“What are you doing in Windswept?” Stone growled. His voice was low and menacing but measured and controlled. “What are you here for?”

He lifted the man’s face up. The guy’s eyes were wide and wild with pain. His chin and
shirt-front were red and sticky. He spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground. He was shaking, maybe going into shock. Stone smashed the man’s head onto the hood again. Heaved his head back up and stared into his face.

“Don’t make me angry,” Stone warned. “And don’t make me ask again.”

The man was gasping, choking on his own blood. Stone lined the man up with a right, cocking his fist beside his ear like it was a hammer. The guy threw up his hands in a feeble attempt to protect his broken face.

“We’re visiting Dodd,” the man groaned.

“You’ve been staying at his house?”

The man nodded.

“Why?”

The man started to sag at the knees, becoming heavy and limp, like his body was starting to shut down. Stone shook him. The man’s eyes fluttered, came open again, streaming tears.

“Girls,” the guy said, the word slurred through broken teeth. “We wanted to buy a couple of girls.”

Stone’s face grew bleak and merciless. “The girls who are missing, right?”

The guy nodded.

“
From Dodd?”

The man shook his head.
“Not Dodd. He doesn’t have them.”

Stone frowned. He shook the man hard. “Who does? Who has the girls?”

The man shook his head. “Don’t know. We’re waiting.”

Stone let the man fall. Kicked him when he hit the ground. Drove the heel of his boot down into the man’s ribs. The guy rolled under the front of the SUV and Stone left him.

The second man was crumpled in the gutter, his back against the door panel of the SUV. Stone crouched down and put his face an inch from the guy’s.

“You came her
e to buy the two girls that were kidnapped, right?”

The guy balked. He wasn’t totally inert. His eyes started moving like he was looking desperately for an escape. Stone slapped him hard across the face.

“Right?”

The guy nodded.

“You’re buying them from Hank Dodd, right?”

The guy frowned. It was instant, and responsive. Not a reaction that could be faked in the circumstances.

He shook his head. “We’re waiting at Dodd’s,” the man said.

“Where are the girls?”

The man shook his head. Stone raised his fist, lined up the punch, threw it, but deliberately aimed wide. Punched a dent into the SUV’s door panel the size of a grapefruit. The man flinched and let out a gasp of fear.

“Tell me the truth. It’s your last chance. Where are the two girls? Where is he keeping them?”

Stone cocked his fist again. His knuckles were bleeding, skin grazed red raw.

“We don’t know,” the man said. “He doesn’t have them yet. That’s why we’re waiting.”

Stone snarled his anger and frustration. “Who is Harper?” he snapped.

The guy shook his head. “Never heard of him.”

Stone hauled the man to his feet. Ripped his wallet from his back pocket, then smashed his elbow through the passenger side window of the SUV. The window imploded, spraying tiny shards of glass through the interior. Stone reached in, unlocked the door.

“Get in.”

He heaved the man into the vehicle, then went and dragged the first man from under the front wheels. “Get in the car.”

The guy had the keys, but his hands were shaking and slick with his own blood. Stone put his elbow through the window, sending a hail of glass across the guy slumped in the passenger seat. He flung the driver-side door open and bundled the man in.

There was blood everywhere. It was over the upholstery, leaking down from their broken faces and over their clothes.

Stone held the door open and leaned in close, his words just a menacing whisper.

“Get out of town,” he said. “Go now, and don’t ever come back.”

He took their wallets from his pocket. Tore out their
drivers licenses. He held them up.

“I’m keeping these,” Stone said. “So now I know where you live. And let me tell you right now, one day I’m going to come and pay you both a visit. It might be next week. It might be next month, or maybe next year. You’ll never know. And you boys had better not be involved in anything to do with sex slaves or young girls when I show up on your doorstep. Because if you are, I’m really going to hurt you,” he said it like he meant it. “Understand?”

The two guys nodded.

Stone gave them one last, long dangerous look, and then walked away. Walked back to the Chevy and gunned the engine. Drove back to Lilley Pond’s house with
only half the answers he wanted, and even more questions.

Where were the two missing girls?

And if Hank Dodd wasn’t holding them, who was?

Twenty-Two.

He arrived on Lilley’s doorstep with his t-shirt soaked in blood. And there was more blood on his fists and arms, and on his forehead.

Lilley’s face was pale and white with shock.

“It’s not my blood,” Ston
e said. He headed to the empty room where he had left his knapsack. Found another pair of jeans and a fresh shirt.

“Hank Dodd’s blood?” Lilley’s voice was a tremulous little whisper of utter disbelief.

“No. Not yet,” Stone said grimly. He headed for the bathroom, stripped off his clothes. Bundled them up and threw them in the bin under the washbasin. “I went to Hank Dodd’s property and broke down his door,” Stone said. “I found nothing. Nothing at all. This is from the two guys who were at the diner yesterday. I met them outside the bar tonight. They ran into my fists – a lot.”

He
turned on the shower. Stepped under the stinging hot needles of spray, sluicing himself clean quickly. As he washed, he filled Lilley in on the events of the night. She leaned in the doorway, her face a mask of shock.

“You did that to them?”

“Yes,” Stone said.

“Was it worth it?”

“Yes.” Stone said. “And it was satisfying.”

He shut off the water. Lilley pulled a towel from the rack and held it out for him as he came from the shower recess in a cloud of grey steam. “They confessed,” Stone explained. “They told me they were waiting at Hank Dodd’s property. They said they were waiting to buy the girls
, Lilley. The two girls who were kidnapped.”

“From Hank Dodd?”

Stone shook his head and dressed quickly. “No. They said they were waiting at Dodd’s property, but he wasn’t the one holding the girls. There is another man involved.”

Lilley’s eyes went wide. “Who?”

“They didn’t say,” Stone frowned. “That’s what we need to work out.”

Lilley lowered her head, seemingly lost in
a fog of her own thoughts. “What happened to those two men? Where are they now?”

Stone’s face was hard as granite. “
They’re gone, Lilley. They’ve left town. They’ll never come back.”

She frowned
and then nodded, her face a confused mixture of emotions. “So Hank Dodd is involved – but he’s not the man you are after.”

Stone shook his head. “Dodd
is
involved, and I am going after him. But there is another man involved here. Someone we don’t know. Someone who is holding the girls. He is the one behind the whole kidnapping. Dodd just kept the buyers at his property because it was quiet and isolated from townsfolk. That’s why I couldn’t find the SUV.”

“So who are we looking for?”

“We?”

Lilley
made a face. “I am involved in this now Jack, whether I want to be or not.”

Stone no
dded. “And I’m sorry about that,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

“I’m not upset about it,” Lilley shook her head
with a gesture of defiance. “I want those girls found. Now – tell me. Who are we looking for?”

“A guy,” St
one shrugged. “Someone who knows Hank Dodd, obviously.”

“Well that narrows it down to a couple of thousand people.”

Stone frowned. Thought hard. “He would have to be someone who didn’t live right here in town. I couldn’t imagine anyone being able to smuggle two young girls into their home and keep them hostage for days without neighbors noticing. There doesn’t seem to be a lot happening in Windswept. Anything suspicious in a local street would be noticed and commented on. So it would have to be someone who has a place that’s quiet and discreet.”

“Like Hank Dodd.”

Stone nodded.

Lil
ley sighed. “That doesn’t help much. It narrows it down to a few hundred people, at least.”

Stone shrugged. Kept thinking. “It would have to be someone who could keep an eye on the girls. If he has them in his house, or in a barn or a shed, he would need to keep them doped up constantly with drugs to
make sure they stay pliant. He’s probably training them as sex slaves, and that means he would need to be around them a lot, either to give them drugs, or to manhandle them until they learn to obey instructions. That’s why they’re still here somewhere. They haven’t reached the point of no-resistance. It’s why those two guys were frustrated. They’ve been waiting for the man we are after to get the girls to the point where they could take them.”