See Tom Run (26 page)

“Okay. But please hurry!”

The operator disconnected and Tom started to shut
down the phone. Then a thought occurred to him.

He clicked on the button for contacts and saw that
there was one solitary listing …

Tracy’s cell phone number!

Excitedly, he pressed the send button. He brought the
phone to his ear and heard it ring once. Then twice. A third
time—

Suddenly, he heard Tracy’s hushed voice, muffled and
weak.

“The campus bee—”

There was a rustling noise and what sounded like a
struggle as the line suddenly went deadly silent.

“Tracy! Can you hear me? It’s Tom!”

No reply. Suddenly a message appeared on the tiny
screen: “call disconnected.”

Tom hit “send” again. After a single ring, he got
Tracy’s voicemail.

Shit!

Tom closed the phone and repeated her words. “The
campus bee”

What the hell had she started to say? Bee-fricking
what? She was apparently giving her location. But what started with
“bee?”

The other mystery was which campus she was referring
to. Ohio State University was almost exclusively the college
referred to whenever the term “campus” was used in Columbus. But
there was also the slim possibility that she could have meant the
Capital State College campus. After all, she was a student there
and he taught there. It was one of the few things they had in
common, in fact.

Tom strained to think of any bars,
restaurants or other popular venues that began with
“bee”
on either campus.
He couldn’t come up with much—in fact, he couldn’t come up with
anything at all. It was frustrating because every second he sat
there doing nothing, Tracy was getting closer to god only knew what
kind of trouble—

He had to go now. Screw the cops. There was no way he
was going to just sit here with his finger up his ass while Tracy
was clearly in imminent danger.

Especially now that he had something to go on.

He stuffed the phone into his coat pocket and headed
for the door.

CHAPTER 22

As Tom drove along High Street, he was relieved to
see that there were some lights on in the businesses lining
Columbus’s main artery. This was little solace, though, because he
still felt as desperate and alone as he had in his dream. He
actually considered calling Peg just to hear her voice, but
immediately dismissed the idea. That would only compound his
problems.

Since Ohio State University was nearest Tracy’s
apartment, he had decided to begin his search there. Cruising south
along the snow-covered thoroughfare, he kept his eyes peeled for
any businesses beginning with “bee” on either side of the road. The
snow had tapered off to flurries and traffic was understandably
light.

He went as far south as Fifth Avenue and turned east,
opting to make a sweep up Fourth Street until he was at Lane again.
There were only a few businesses along the way—much of this area
was comprised of off-campus apartment rentals.

He reached Lane, took a left and headed south on
Summit Street. There were a few more businesses among the rental
properties but nothing that started with “bee.” He checked the
dashboard clock and realized that he had been cruising the streets
for nearly fifteen minutes. He wondered what might have happened to
Tracy in all of this time—if she were even alive now. The feelings
of frustration and remorse were palpable as he determined to wrap
up his search on OSU’s west campus before heading downtown to
Capital State.

He checked his fuel gauge and realized he would have
to refuel soon if he was going to keep this up any longer. He
spotted a BP station, pulled up beside a pump and fished through
his wallet for a credit card.

As he watched the pump’s numbers flicker by at a
staggering speed, he questioned whether he had made the right
decision leaving Tracy’s apartment instead of waiting for the
police. There probably would have been a much better chance of
finding her with the cops on his side, he conceded with regret. His
sudden impulse to go on this fishing expedition by himself had been
a foolish move.

Screw this, he thought. He needed to get back to
Tracy’s apartment pronto and let the cops do their job.

He jammed the fuel nozzle back into the pump, screwed
on the gas cap and tore off his receipt. Then something on the pump
caught his attention.

BP.

This was a campus Bee-Pee gas
station. The
only
campus BP gas station he knew of.

Could this be what Tracy had referred to?

Tom looked around at the rundown housing in the area
and hopped back into the Jeep. He sped out onto Summit Street and
peeled his eyes for a gold colored Taurus along the street and in
the driveways.

He didn’t have to look very far.

He spotted the old Ford just a few houses down from
the station, parked in front of a two-story house in poor
repair.

Tracy is in there right now!
he thought.

His heart pumping hard, he drove past the house until
he found a parking space a few doors down and parked the Jeep. He
killed the engine and sat for a moment, wondering what to do next.
He considered calling the cops, but refrained—he needed to act now,
and the sooner the better.

He grabbed the flashlight, got out and walked swiftly
down the sidewalk toward the house. As he neared the Taurus, he
shone the light on the front bumper, noting that the car had Ohio
plates. He slowed down his pace until he came to a narrow walk
leading up to the house. He could see a light in one of the second
floor windows but the first floor looked dark as pitch.

Not a good sign.

Tom stood there in the darkness a full thirty
seconds, not sure what to do next. He could create a distraction of
some kind, which might force Tracy’s abductor to think twice about
what he was doing or was about to do at least for a moment or two.
And then what? Bust into the house like Dog the Bounty Hunter and
force the guy to surrender wielding a mini-flashlight as a
weapon?

Not.

The cops. He simply had to call them in on this. And
pronto.

Tom pulled Tracy’s cell phone out of his coat pocket
and punched in 911. Before the operator had time to answer, he
heard a scream.

Tracy’s scream—

He crammed the phone back into his pocket and ran
along the side of the house, looking for a possible side entrance
to the place. There was none. He sprinted to the rear of the house,
jumped the three-foot wire fence and approached the back porch. He
saw light coming through a small window in the door. Then he heard
Tracy scream again, more faintly this time.

She must be on the second floor, he thought. Facing
the street.

Without thinking, Tom threw open the storm door and
frantically tried the inner door handle. It was locked. Without
hesitation, he held the flashlight like a knife and stabbed at the
small window- pane in the door. The glass shattered but barely made
a sound. Poking his hand through the opening, Tom groped around
until he located the deadbolt and turned it. He used his other hand
to turn the doorknob and pushed the door open with his
shoulder.

He stepped into a dimly lit kitchen and began looking
around for a weapon of some kind. Suddenly, a wall phone rang and
his heart nearly burst out of his chest. He heard a loud thump come
from upstairs as the phone rang a second time then ceased.

A man’s voice, muffled and barely audible, came from
the direction of the front of the house. Tom continued searching
for a weapon, relieved that Tracy’s captor apparently considered
the call important enough to stop whatever he had been doing at
that moment.

Having rifled through a couple of drawers and finding
nothing but silverware and kitchen items, Tom crept through the
tiny dining room into the living room, the floor boards creaking
loudly with nearly every step he took. He shone the flashlight
around the room. With the exception of a big flat screen TV, an
enormous stereo system and a cheap sofa, the living room was void
of furnishings.

Tom spotted the stairs across the room in a foyer and
crept toward them, stopping dead in his tracks each time the floor
creaked, half expecting the voice on the phone to stop mid-sentence
after realizing there was an intruder downstairs.

As he neared the staircase, Tom could make out the
voice more clearly. He noticed that the stairs were carpeted and
felt grateful for the dampening effect the carpet would have on the
inevitably creaky wooden stairs.

Tom ascended the staircase as quietly as possible. As
he neared the top, he could clearly make out what the man was
saying.

“I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

Tom reached the top and stopped, then carefully
peered around the corner down the hallway. He saw three rooms, two
with their doors closed. The man was in a room adjacent to the one
furthest away. Judging by the sound of his voice reverberating off
the walls, he was in a bathroom.

“We’ll be holding down the fort until then.”

Tom noticed that the furthest door was barely ajar.
His guess was that Tracy was inside and the man had left her there
long enough to answer the phone and take a leak. He wondered why
Tracy wasn’t making any sound now as his heart filled with
dread.

Was she unconscious? Or had he already killed
her?

Something had silenced her—that much was sure.

Tom knew he had to move quickly if he was to have any
chance of saving Tracy. The man could walk out into the hall any
moment and head for the stairs. Then Tom would be screwed.

He took a deep breath, peeked around the corner again
and stepped quietly toward the nearest room. He put his ear to the
door and didn’t hear a sound. He opened the door quietly, stepped
inside then heard a beep as the man ended his call.

Tom stood frozen just inside the doorway, half
expecting the man to pass by the room and see him there. Then he
heard the sound of a creaky door open.

He had gone back in with Tracy!

Nervously, Tom shone the light around the room and
saw what appeared to be a second bedroom. There was an unmade twin
bed, a beat-up chest of drawers and a mismatched nightstand beside
the bed.

No potential weapons in sight—

Except for a brass lamp.

Tom went over, snatched up the lamp and tore off the
plastic shade. Grasping the heavy lamp by its base, he turned
around and headed toward the door.

With his heart nearly bursting out of his chest, he
stepped into the hall and headed directly toward the room where
Tracy and the man were. He was just about to reach for the knob
when the door suddenly swung open and revealed a man standing in
the doorway, staring at him in utter surprise and disbelief.

“Who the hell—”

With all of his strength, Tom swung the lamp and hit
the man square in his face, making a sickening dull thud sound. The
man’s eyes were wide-open in absolute shock and pain as his body
slumped down to the floor, blood gushing out of his smashed-in
nose.

Tom stepped over the body when a second man suddenly
appeared in the doorway, aiming a pistol directly at Tom’s head. It
was the same man he and Tracy had seen dumping off the body of the
black woman.

“Hold it right there, asshole!” the man
commanded.

Tom froze in his tracks.

“Drop it or I’ll make mincemeat out of that
pretty-boy face of yours.”

Tom dropped the lamp.

“Back up.”

Tom took a few steps backward, certain that the next
thing he heard would be the sound of a gunshot that would signal
the end.

“Keep moving. Into that room,” the man ordered,
motioning toward the second bedroom with his gun.

Tom turned around, stumbled across the hall to the
room and lurched inside.

“On the bed,” he barked.

Tom hesitated a moment before stepping over and
standing beside the bed

“Now, sit down and close your eyes.”

“What are you going to do?” Tom asked fearfully.

“You’ll see in a minute. Just
fucking
do it!”

Tom sat down slowly. He stared anxiously at the man
who was now standing directly over him, feeling a cold sweat break
out on his brow, trying to accept the grim reality that he was
about to be executed.

“Sweet dreams,” the man said.

And the next thing Tom knew, the whole world turned
black.

CHAPTER 23

As he regained consciousness, Tom couldn’t make out
where he was in the darkness or how he had gotten there. He was in
a room that was cold and damp, possibly a basement, lying flat on
his back on a concrete floor, his head feeling like it might
explode from the excruciating pain. Instinctively, he tried to
touch where it hurt and discovered that his hands were bound
together. They weren’t tied behind his back though, so he raised up
his arms far enough to feel his head with his wrists. There was a
lump not quite the size of a golf ball.

He tried to stand up but his legs were also bound
together. He reached down and felt several layers of duct tape
wrapped tightly around his ankles.

It was at that moment that he recalled what had
happened. He had been knocked unconscious by the man with the gun
and was apparently being held captive somewhere in the house. He
gazed at the luminous dial of his wristwatch, wondering how long
ago he’d been out. To his surprise, it hadn’t been for much more
than an hour.

Then it hit him:
Tracy! He had to find Tracy!

Tom’s eyes adjusted to the darkness as he looked
around at his surroundings. To his right, he made out a rectangle
of dim light in the wall near the ceiling. There was another
rectangle on the opposite wall.