Captive Justice: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (A Jake & Annie Lincoln Thriller Book 4) (23 page)

“Jake Lincoln.”

“Such a lovely day for a walk in the forest, don’t you think?”

Jake felt a sudden resurgence of anger. He leaned back in the seat, dropped his head back and closed his eyes. He had to remain calm. Then in a flat, unemotional voice he asked, “Why did you kill Hannah Martin?”

“I’m sorry, Jake, but it was necessary. These punitive measures pain me to no end. It would be lax of me to not take some form of corrective action.”

“Is it necessary for that corrective action to involve murdering innocent victims?”

“No one is innocent, Jake. We all cause harm and offense to others from time to time.”

“I’ve never murdered anyone,” Jake said flatly.

“Oh, but you’d like to, wouldn’t you, my friend. I’m fairly certain you’d like to murder me, isn’t that right, Jake?”

Jake was quiet a moment before saying, “Hannah Martin caused you no harm. Was her death necessary?”

“Jake, Jake, always the same questions and by now, you should know the answers.” A sigh on the line, then, “The noncompliance of those involved necessitated extreme action.”

Jake gritted his teeth. “You’re the one who got the police involved. You abducted Mrs. Martin in front of her house in broad daylight.”

“Ah, yes, but it could’ve stopped there. There was no need for either you or Mr. Martin to involve the police further. Jake, you have such an uncooperative attitude, it’s astounding.”

Jake took another deep breath. “I’ve cooperated with you and your demands every time. You’ve always gotten the money and this time didn’t need to be any different. I’m sure you could’ve found a way.”

“Certainly I could’ve, but that wouldn’t be operating in the spirit of good faith. You see, Jake, I’m a dealmaker, but it takes two to make a deal. And though we had a bargain, your insubordination and disregard for our bargain speaks otherwise. That cannot and will not be allowed.”

Jake raised his voice. “You can’t put this on me. You’re the one who’s murdering innocent victims.”

“I’m an entrepreneur, Jake.”

“An entrepreneur? Is that what you call yourself?”

“What would you call it? Never mind. We’ve been over this enough and I can anticipate your answer.” A pause, breathing on the line and then, “I’ve already had the pleasure of conversing with our mutual friend, Lisa Krunk, and she has agreed to oblige me once more.”

“In what way?”

“She’ll warn the public to be careful, but if an unfortunate circumstance should befall them, they should not be defiant. Follow the rules and everyone’s happy.”

“When will this stop?” Jake shouted.

“Calm down, my friend. I can’t say when it’ll stop. Perhaps soon. Perhaps never. I’m having too good a time to put an end to it now. Aren’t you having fun, Jake?”

Jake pounded the steering wheel with his fist and said nothing. He knew there was no sense in arguing any further with this psychopath.

“We’ll try again tomorrow, Jake. I’m hoping this time we’ll have more favorable circumstances. And next time, please try to adhere to the rules of our contract and urge others to do likewise.”

Jake sighed. “I’ll do my part and do my best to convince them, but they must make up their own minds.”

“Thank you, Jake. Please see to it you do. And now, I must bid you a good day and may the rest of your weekend be as pleasant as today.”

The line went dead. Jake tossed the phone onto the seat and sat still awhile. He renewed his vow not to sleep until this was over. He owed that much to all the victims and their families.

He started the engine and pulled carefully back onto the road, heading for home.

Chapter 50

Saturday, September 3rd, 1:44 PM

JAKE HAD TOLD ANNIE about the morning’s events and as she mulled it all over in her mind, she was struck with the callousness with which the kidnappers treated human life. It seemed they looked for any excuse to kill and the money was only secondary.

She set her thoughts aside as she heard Jake come in the front door. In a moment, he appeared in the living room where Annie was settled in a comfortable chair, her legs tucked underneath herself.

Jake dropped the vest, holster, and what appeared to be a money bag on the floor beside the couch. He went to Annie, leaned over and gave her a hug before dropping onto the sofa. He looked somewhat dejected and weary.

“Hank’ll be here shortly,” Jake said. “He has to go by Eli Martin’s first and give him the news. I don’t envy him that task.”

“You must be hungry,” Annie said.

Jake nodded and stretched out on the couch. “I could use something.”

Annie went into the kitchen to fix him a sandwich. It seemed to her this business of being private investigators wasn’t like a nine to five job. But it was challenging. There was no doubt about that. Probably not like being a cop. Cops don’t get to pick and choose their cases, but it gave her a better idea of what Hank was up against on a daily basis.

She brought Jake’s lunch into the living room and sat it on the coffee table. He sat up and devoured the meal in silence. He needed to be alone with his thoughts and she didn’t interrupt.

When the doorbell rang, she went to the front door. It was Hank. She swung the door open and led him into the front room. He sat his briefcase on the floor and sat on the other end of the couch, laying his arm across the back.

Jake had finished his meal. He pushed back the plate and faced Hank. “I guess you want my statement.”

Hank nodded, picked up his briefcase and snapped it open. He removed a large pad and pen and set it on his lap.

“Start at the beginning,” Hank said.

Jake relayed the events that had transpired since he left the house that morning, including the call he’d received on the way home. Hank wrote it all down, stopping occasionally to ask a question or to get clarity on a certain point. When he’d finished, he motioned toward the money bag on the floor.

“Do you want me to return that?”

“I’ll do it,” Jake said. “I’m responsible for it, besides I need to talk to Mr. Martin.”

Hank nodded. “And the gun?”

“I’ll lock it up. Don’t worry. It appears I might need it again.”

“How’s Eli Martin?” Annie asked.

Hank shrugged. “As best as he can be, considering the circumstances. He broke down and wept for a few minutes.” He paused and gave a sigh. “It was pretty hard to watch, and something I’ll never get used to.”

“I’ve been thinking about the victims,” Annie said, “and what they have in common. I didn’t come up with much. They’re all women, and though Rosemary Coleman survived, I believe she would’ve been killed as well.”

“I believe so too,” Hank said. “And that’s why we’re keeping a close guard on her.”

“The relatively small amount of ransom money strikes me as odd,” Jake said. “Like it’s just an afterthought and not important.”

Hank agreed. “And that raises the question. Is this for sport? It doesn’t seem to be for money. Certainly it’s not a get-rich-quick scheme.”

“He called himself an entrepreneur,” Jake added. “But why are they killing? And how do they pick their victims?”

“Officers have been pounding the streets asking questions,” Hank said. “King has contacted all of his CIs, but still no sign of Mouse. It appears he’s not known among the criminal elements in this town. And he’s keeping well out of sight.”

Jake turned to Hank. “How do you think they would have known about the police involvement?”

“They might have just assumed we were involved. However, with the first victim, Linda Gould, had they been watching the house they would’ve seen the police there. That would be a dead giveaway. With Rosemary Coleman, it’s uncertain if they actually knew.”

“And with Hannah Martin,” Annie added. “They must’ve known because it seemed like they purposely wanted a witness, which leads me to believe, they’re nothing but killers.”

She believed that might be the key to the whole thing. It didn’t appear to be about the money, but it wasn’t just the killing either. If they wanted to kill to satisfy their deranged craving for victims, then why stage a kidnapping?

Maybe it was all about show. About making an unforgettable spectacle. Or did someone have a vendetta against the police and a desire to make them a laughingstock?

Maybe someone had it in for Lincoln Investigations. But who? And why?

Hank had stood and was pacing the floor. He stopped and turned to Jake. “They’re being rather bold about their intentions. They’ve promised another abduction tomorrow and there’ll always be some who won’t heed our warnings. When you’re determined, victims aren’t hard to find.”

Hank stopped talking abruptly and grabbed his briefcase. “I need to get down to the precinct. I want to have a chat with Callaway and run a few thoughts past him. Maybe he can come up with something.” He headed for the door. “I’ll talk to you guys later. In the meantime, let me know if you come up with any ideas. We’re running out of time.”

Chapter 51

Saturday, September 3rd, 2:21 PM

ANNIE WAS IN the office going over what they knew so far about the kidnappers and it wasn’t much. She’d been concerned about Dr. Gould and had given him a call. He was hanging in there, had gone back to work and was pouring himself into his work, taking care of his patients. But she could sense an emptiness in his voice, a feeling of being beaten down and she had no good news for him regarding their progress.

The whereabouts of Antony Miflan, otherwise known as Mouse, was bothering her. If he was just a hired punk and a loose end, then perhaps his body was lying somewhere waiting to be discovered. If not, then he was hiding out in an unknown location. All attempts by the police to roust him out had been unsuccessful. He was nowhere to be found.

But the thing which concerned her most of all was, why are they killing the victims? It was bad for business and not at all necessary.

She sat back in her chair as Jake came into the office, lugging the vest, holster, and the bag of money. He dropped them on the desk.

“We’d better lock this weapon up again,” he said, “and I’ll get this money back to Eli Martin as soon as possible.”

Annie slid open the bottom drawer of the desk and slipped the gun and holster inside. She shut the drawer, turned the key and removed it, dropping it into the wide top drawer of the desk.

Jake tossed the vest onto an unused chair. “No need to lock that up.”

Annie looked at the cloth bag on the desk in front of her. “I’m still trying to figure out why they didn’t want that. It would’ve been easy to have you throw it from the vehicle at some location, just like the first time.” She frowned. “It’s fifty thousand dollars.”

Jake shrugged. “I assume it is. I never counted it. Actually, I never even looked in the bag.”

He fiddled with the knot, got it loose and tugged the bag open. He whistled. “It sure looks like fifty thou, all bundled up nice and neat.”

He pushed it across the desk to Annie and she leaned forward and peeked inside at the stacks of fifties, each wrapped in a paper band and stamped by the bank. She looked at Jake. “Eli Martin had this in his safe, right?”

“That’s what he said.”

She peeked in the bag again, her brow crinkled in thought. “That’s funny,” she said. “When people keep cash at home in a private safe, it’s usually money they’re trying to hide. Cash they’ve picked up somewhere—a job done under the table perhaps. Why is this money bundled up so neatly and stamped by the bank?”

“He must’ve withdrawn it at some point.”

Annie shook her head. “Not likely.” She dropped her elbows on the desk, cupped her hands under her chin and stared at the bag. After a few moments, she asked, “Are you sure you never opened the bag before?”

He shook his head adamantly. “Never. It was tied up when I got it from Martin and I just left it the way it was.”

Suddenly she jumped to her feet and grabbed the bag. “Come with me,” she said, as she hurried into the kitchen.

Jake followed her. “What’s up?”

She tossed the bag onto the table. “Sit down for a second. I’ll be right back.”

She hurried upstairs to the bedroom, opened a box on the vanity and selected a soft makeup brush. She ran it across the palm of her hand. That should do fine.

She ran back downstairs and dropped the brush on the table. Jake looked at her with bewilderment as she scurried into the office. She found an ink pad in the desk drawer along with a magnifying glass and a sheet of white paper.

Returning to the kitchen, she dropped everything on the table, sat down and reached inside the bag of money. She carefully removed three stacks, holding them by the edges. She lined them up in front of her. “I forgot something,” she said.

She went to the cupboard and returned with a jar of dry cocoa and a small plate.

“Is this some kind of experiment?” Jake asked, a perplexed look on his face.

She laughed. “Something like that.”

Jake watched her curiously as she twisted the lid off the cocoa, dumped a small amount onto the plate and then dabbed the brush into the cocoa. She ran the brush lightly across the bands of the three stacks. When she was done, she gently blew off the cocoa and peered closely at her handiwork.

There, on the middle stack, was a fingerprint. Not too clear, but unmistakable.

A light dawned in Jake’s eyes and he chuckled. “I get it,” he said.

She flipped open the ink pad, grabbed one of his big hands and pressed his thumb down onto the pad and then onto the paper. She smiled with satisfaction.

“A perfect thumb print,” she said.

She picked up the magnifying glass and peered through it, studying the prints. “I’m no expert,” she said. “But I think they’re a perfect match.”

“Let me see that,” Jake said, as he grabbed the magnifying glass. He studied the print and whistled. “Son of a gun. You’re right. They’re exactly the same.”

“So you know what that means?” Annie asked.

“I sure do. The money Eli Martin gave me is the same money Dr. Gould and I picked up at the bank. That’s where my prints got on them.” He leaned in and looked closely at the stamp on the band. “The Commerce Bank. It’s the same bank.”