Captive Justice: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (A Jake & Annie Lincoln Thriller Book 4) (26 page)

“Why was he trying to kill me?” Rosemary asked.

Jake glanced at her. “That’s what I don’t know. I assume it’s because you can identify his partner, and if he’s found, he’ll probably turn on Martin.”

They roared over a knoll, his stomach dropped, and the front tires left the road for a brief moment. The performance shocks cushioned the landing; the rear springs doing their job well as Rosemary clung to the dashboard.

“But I already identified him,” Rosemary said. “Apparently, they know exactly who his partner is. A guy named Antony Miflan.”

Jake nodded. “Better known as Mouse. But Mouse hasn’t been found and Martin might’ve gotten rid of him already.”

“You mean . . . killed his partner?”

Jake shrugged. “Why not?”

They reached a long stretch of straight road and saw the SUV ahead. A long ways off, but they were gaining. He didn’t have a plan as to what he would do when he caught up to Martin. He would have to decide that when the time came.

“Does he have a gun?” Jake asked.

“I don’t think so. If he did, he would’ve used it on me.”

“So he had no weapon? Not even a knife?”

He had one of those wire things, with handles on the end. He tried to choke me with it.”

“A garrote.”

She nodded.

“That’s what he used on the other victims,” Jake said.

She shuddered. “And he almost used it on me.” She paused. “Do you have a gun?”

“Nope. Not allowed to carry one.”

He checked the gas gauge. Lots of gas. He had topped it up yesterday. It didn’t matter how far Martin went, he couldn’t get away this time. The Firebird was tuned to perfection and its sixteen-gallon tank should outlast the SUV unless Martin had a full tank, and that wasn’t likely.

He felt her gaze on him and he moved his eyes from the road for a second and glanced at her.

“Aren’t you afraid?” she asked.

Jake thought a moment. “Not really,” he said. “I’m more angry than afraid.”

“You don’t look it.”

He grinned. “You’ll have to trust me on that one.”

Yes, he was angry, but he was trying to keep a cool head. He glanced at her again. “What about you?”

The SUV rounded a curve, out of sight, and the Firebird followed.

She shrugged. “I’ve been through a lot the last few days.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I think I’m more angry than afraid now too.” She paused. “Besides, I’m with you, and you look pretty capable.”

She had broken the tension and he chuckled. “So far, I’ve been lucky I guess.”

“I hope your luck holds for another day.”

The vehicle came out of the curve and Jake’s mouth dropped open. “He’s gone.”

Rosemary peered through the window. “He must’ve pulled off somewhere.”

Jake touched the brake and pulled to the shoulder. He looked in the rearview mirror. “He couldn’t have gone far.”

Rosemary twisted around in the seat. “I saw a laneway just back there,” she said. “Perhaps that’s where he pulled off.”

“Let’s find out,” Jake said.

Chapter 56

Saturday, September 3rd, 4:29 PM

AFTER ANNIE HAD called Jake, she was still confused about Eli Martin’s involvement in the murder of his own wife, what part he had in it, and the possible whereabouts of the man named Mouse.

She stepped over to the back of the building and peered into the window. The mechanic was still under the vehicle, concentrating on the repairs. She retrieved her lock-picking tools again and went to work on the door she suspected led down into the bowels of the building. In a moment, the door swung open and she peeked inside.

A set of wooden steps led down into a brightly lit basement. She listened a moment and then tugged the door open and stepped over the threshold onto the first step.

What was she looking for? She wasn’t sure, but she carefully took each step until she landed at the foot of the stairs. She looked around. It appeared this room was used for storage of parts and equipment.

She checked in a cardboard box on the shelf and flipped through old business records, receipts, and bills covering the last couple of years. Other boxes held clamps, bolts, and a variety of fasteners.

A chair sat near one wall, beside a makeshift table covered with magazines, an ashtray, and empty coffee cups. Someone had spent some time down here.

Across the room, another set of steps led up, likely into the main part of the building. A door on the wall to the right was closed, probably leading into another room. She went closer to the door and examined it. There was a sliding bolt lock on it, pulled back. She twisted the knob and gently pushed the door open.

The small room was dark so she found her flashlight, flicked it on and shone it around. The walls of the empty chamber were concrete like the rest of the basement. There was no window in the room and the ceiling was solid with heavy beams.

She shone the light on the floor, frowned, and crouched down. A dark patch had caught her eye. It was dried blood, now soaked into the concrete and staining the porous floor a reddish-brown shade.

Annie shuddered. Is this the place where Hannah Martin was held? Judging by the stains on the floor, perhaps she’d been murdered in this very spot.

She’d seen enough.

As she backed into the main room and closed the door behind her, she heard the outside door at the top of the steps open. She spun around, darted to the far side of the room and ducked down behind a wooden barrel.

Footsteps clomped on the stairs, one at a time, until the newcomer reached the floor. She held her breath. Hopefully, he wouldn’t stay.

What had she gotten herself into?

She dug in her handbag, removed the container of pepper spray, put her finger on the nozzle and waited.

Annie heard him moving across the floor and then a sigh as he dropped into the chair. A magazine rustled, a lighter flicked and the distinct smell of cigarette smoke filled the air.

It appeared he was here to stay and she couldn’t hide for long.

She took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the barrel. She stood six feet from Mouse, between him and the steps, and held the container of spray at arm’s length in front of her.

Mouse’s eyes widened, his mouth dropped open and the magazine fluttered to the floor.

“Stay still or I’ll spray you.”

“Who . . . who’re you?” he demanded, as he recovered from the surprise and leaned forward in the chair.

She threatened him by swinging the container to the side as she tapped the nozzle lightly. A fine mist shot out. “Don’t move. This is pepper spray and you’ll be sorry if I use it on you.”

He frowned and sat back. “What do you want?”

“I want to know who killed Hannah Martin.”

His eyes narrowed. “Who’s Hannah Martin?”

“I think you know.”

He glared at her a moment, then at the can of spray. “I don’t know who killed her.”

Annie waved the spray and repeated, “Who killed Hannah Martin?”

“Who’re you?” he asked.

“I’m Annie Lincoln. Now talk or I spray.”

His mouth dropped open again. “Are you Jake Lincoln’s wife?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re not a cop and you have no reason to be here.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Annie pointed to the container and tightened her finger on the nozzle. “I don’t need a reason.”

Mouse held up his hands. “I’ll tell you if you let me go. It . . . it wasn’t me. I didn’t kill nobody.”

“Then who did?”

He hesitated, then, “It was Eli Martin. He does all the killing. I just do as I’m told and don’t ask no questions.”

“And who dumped her body in the forest?”

He shrugged. “I did. But she was already dead. I swear, I didn’t kill her.”

“And what about Mrs. Gould?”

“Same thing. Eli Martin killed her and I just dumped her body by the road.”

Annie pointed up the stairs. “And is that the van out there you used?”

He nodded.

“Where’s Eli Martin now?”

“I . . . I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me where he goes. He just goes. I don’t ask.”

Annie glared at Mouse, the pepper spray never wavering in her hand. “We know you were the one who robbed Walter Coleman at the bank.”

He glared. “I just did what I was told.”

Annie waved the spray. “Stand up,” she ordered.

“Why?”

She raised her voice. “Stand up?”

He stood and she motioned toward the room. “In there.”

He shook his head and said nothing.

“Now. Get in there or I spray.”

He moved reluctantly toward the room, glancing at her over his shoulder. He stopped at the door and turned around. “Can I have my cigarettes?”

“You don’t need them.”

“Please?”

She hesitated and then waved the can at him. “Go inside the room and I’ll get them.”

He turned, opened the door and stepped inside. “It’s dark in here.”

“That didn’t seem to matter to you when Hannah Martin was in there.”

No answer.

She shut the door, stepped back to the chair and picked up the package of cigarettes and lighter. She returned, opened the door, tossed them inside and shut the door again, securing the bolt in place.

That would hold him until the police arrived.

She put the can of spray back into her handbag and climbed the stairs to the outside. She shut the door behind her, made sure it was left unlocked, and left the lot through the gate. She stepped onto the sidewalk and sat on the grass under a tree.

Retrieving her cell phone, she called Jake’s number. A voice said the caller was unavailable.

That’s strange. Why would he turn his phone off?

The police should’ve been here by now and she wondered if Jake had called Hank yet. She decided to call Hank herself. The van was enough evidence for a warrant to search the building, and when they found Mouse, he would surely live up to his name and tell them all he knew.

Chapter 57

Saturday, September 3rd, 5:22 PM

JAKE WASN’T SURE exactly where Eli Martin had pulled off, but the laneway they’d just passed seemed like the most likely spot.

He spun the Firebird around and eased back the way they’d come. He pulled the vehicle to the shoulder a hundred yards from the laneway, shut down the engine and turned to Rosemary. “You’d better stay here. I’ll go take a look.”

She shook her head adamantly. “No way. I’m going with you.”

Jake watched her a moment, thinking. For someone who’d been through what she had, she had a lot of spunk. But it could be risky and he didn’t want to put her in additional danger.

She interrupted his thoughts by opening the car door and climbing out. She leaned down and looked at him through the open door. “Are you coming?”

Looks like he had no choice. She was coming with him whether he liked it or not.

“Shut your door quietly,” he said, and he climbed from the vehicle and eased his door shut.

They walked up the side of the road to the laneway. Set back from the road, perhaps five hundred feet, a small house—more like a cabin—could be seen. Martin’s SUV was nowhere in sight.

“Stay behind me,” he said, as he turned and headed up the lane.

She paid no mind and stepped up beside him, striding to keep up with his pace.

He frowned down at her, held her by the arm and stopped. “Look, I just want to see what Martin’s up to. With both of us, there’s more chance of being seen.”

“I’ll be careful. You don’t have to worry.” She pulled her arm loose, gave him a quick smile and continued up the laneway.

He sighed and took a couple of long steps to catch up. She was one of the victims and if she was determined to come along, then so be it.

As they drew closer to the cabin, Jake could see the building had known better days. The front yard was overgrown with weeds. A couple of windows were broken, the paint was peeling, and the closed door sagged on its hinges.

Rosemary followed Jake’s lead as he circled around to the far side of the building. If Martin was inside, it was unlikely he could see them from there. They ducked under a single window and continued to the back corner. Jake peered around. From that vantage point they could see that Martin’s SUV was there, but Martin was nowhere to be seen.

“He must be inside,” Rosemary whispered.

Jake nodded. “I’ll take a look.” He crept back and took a quick glance through the dusty window. There were no lights on and Jake doubted if there was any electricity coming to the building. Martin couldn’t be seen in the main room. There were a couple of adjoining rooms but their doors were closed.

He ducked back down. “I don’t think he’s in there.”

“That’s because I’m right here.”

Jake spun around and Rosemary gasped. Eli Martin stood ten feet away, a pistol in his hand, a forced smile curling his mouth.

“Jake, my friend, do you think I’m stupid?”

Jake didn’t answer as he put his arm in front of Rosemary, nudged her back and stood between her and the gunman.

“I was well aware you were following me. I’d recognize that beautiful car of yours anywhere. It is a magnificent machine, Jake.”

Jake glanced at the pistol. He didn’t see any chance of disarming Martin and he didn’t want to take a chance with Rosemary there. It would be too dangerous for both of them.

“You can’t get away with this, Martin,” Jake said. “The police know who you are and they’re on their way now.”

“Oh, is that so? Then why didn’t you wait until they got here before you came barging in?”

Martin had a point.

The kidnapper continued, “No, Jake. Nobody knows you’re here, and now it’s just you, me, and dear Rosemary.”

Jake looked around desperately trying to come up with an idea, some way to get the better of Martin. He knew he could make a dive for the killer and hope for the best. If he was shot at and the shot missed, he could disarm him. If the shot didn’t miss, the vest would stop the bullet, but he would be knocked flat on his back. And then Rosemary would be in more danger.