Authors: E. H. Reinhard
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Police Procedurals, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Murder, #Serial Killers, #Thrillers
“Upstairs at the back. The bar area that leads out to the pool has a tile floor—easy clean up if we need to.”
Callie screamed into the tape.
Viktor snapped his fingers at her. “I’ll give you a reason to scream in a second.” Viktor turned his attention to the wine selections. He pulled two bottles from the shelf. “Grab the bitch and lead the way.”
Ray scooped her up from the ground and tossed her over his shoulder. She tried to squirm free. She couldn’t break his grasp. Her hands and feet were still bound. She wouldn’t be able to break his grip even if they weren’t. Viktor followed them to the back bar. Ray sat her on a barstool.
“Get something to tie her to that otherwise she’ll keep falling off.”
Ray disappeared.
Viktor pulled a glass from the back of the bar and uncorked the wine.
Callie’s eyes locked on him.
“You took something very important from us. Did you think I wouldn’t come looking for it?”
She mumbled something.
Viktor walked over and pulled the tape from her mouth. She jerked her head away from his touch.
“How did you find me?”
“You can thank Bob Cross for that. One of our associates caught a photo of you on the news. Once we had a name, it was only a matter of time until we found you.”
Callie went quiet.
“Now, the case. Where is it?”
Callie said nothing.
“You don’t have the ability to do anything with what was inside. You don’t know who to get into contact with to sell it. Just tell me.”
“I tossed it in a dumpster months ago.”
Viktor smiled. “No you didn’t. If you were smart enough to steal it, you are smart enough to not get rid of it. You got the case open and saw what was inside. The contents were priceless.”
Ray returned with one of the tie down straps from the boat in the garage. He wrapped it around Callie’s waist and the bar stool. She jerked around in protest.
“Get your hands off of me you piece of shit!”
Ray grabbed her by the throat. His hand engulfed her entire neck. His fingers almost touched in the back. “I’ll put my hands wherever I want.”
“Ray!” Viktor snapped. “You’ll have your chance.”
Ray stepped back. “She’s not going to tell us Viktor. Let’s just kill the bitch and start over.”
“We need the plates.”
Viktor scooped the corkscrew from the top of the bar and walked to Callie. “I'm going to ask you again and then it’s going to get ugly. Do you know how easy it is to remove an eye? Now, where is the case?”
She remained quiet.
“Alright, last chance.” Viktor removed his suit jacket and tossed it on the bar. He rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt and went back to Callie tied to the barstool. He dug the corkscrew into the side of her eye socket. “Do you think I won’t?” He applied more pressure.
“Wait.”
Viktor eased the corkscrew from her eye. “Tell me.”
“It’s at my house. Your jerk off brother was two feet away from it last night.”
Ray cocked his fist to punch her. A quick sideways glance from Viktor made him stop.
“Where in the house?”
“It doesn’t matter. You won’t get in,” Callie said.
“Why?”
“The call I made was to my boyfriend. He’s a cop. He knows that I’m missing. I’m sure the police are at my house. I’m sure they are looking for me.”
Viktor’s eyes darted to Ray. “You let her call a cop?”
“I don’t know who she called. Like I said, she got the call off before I had a chance to get to her.”
“Where is the phone?” Viktor took a step toward Ray.
“I have it in the kitchen.”
“Were you at least smart enough to pull the battery?”
“Of course, Viktor.”
“Go get it.”
Ray retrieved the phone from the kitchen. He handed it to Viktor. Victor powered it on and pulled up the cell phone’s call log. The last call was to an LT. Kane. He smashed it on the tile floor. The phone burst into pieces.
“Lieutenant Kane? You idiot, Andrei.” Viktor clenched his fists.
“It wasn’t my fault. She already dialed before I got to her.”
“What did she say?”
“I have no idea.”
Viktor went to Callie. He talked inches from her face. “What did you say? Did you talk to him?”
She remained quiet.
Viktor slapped her. “What the hell did you say?”
“I told him your name. I bet he’s looking for you right now.”
Viktor arm flexed. He backhanded her. The blow sent her, and the chair she was bound to, careening to the ground. Her head bounced off the tile. She was out.
He grabbed Ray by the throat and pushed him into the bar.
“I have a new job for you brother.” Viktor pushed Ray harder. His feet barely touched the ground.
“I’m sorry Viktor but…”
Viktor squeezed Ray’s throat and cut off his words. “You’re going to bring me that cop.”
“I don’t understand.”
Viktor let go. Ray pulled at the collar of his shirt with his finger.
“That cop is going to be our ticket into the house. Find out where he is and bring him back here alive. Can you do that Andrei? Should I bring up someone from Miami that can handle the responsibility instead?”
“I can do it Viktor. Trust me.”
Reevis and I spent two hours looking over every single scrap of airport footage. We had nothing showing the Bentley in question. The paperwork for BizJet’s surveillance footage was pushed though, and the warrant was delivered to me at the airport. I stuck it in the smug concierge’s face. It didn’t matter. After another hour of searching their place and surveillance footage, we were no further ahead. We spotted the Bentley in the footage from one of the front cameras—a Flying Spur as I expected. A man I assumed was Viktor Azarov got into the back of the car. The Bentley drove from the hangar. The angle of the video didn’t allow us to get a license plate.
I got back to the station a little after six o’clock and dug back into the Azarov file. Hank gave my office door a knock and walked in.
“Get anything that can help?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Got the Bentley leaving the airport, but couldn’t get a plate. You?”
“I dumped a pile of video footage on the Tech Department. I told them needed to find the same vehicle at both locations and also to keep their eyes open for a Bentley. They’re going to call me if they find anything. What’s the plan?”
I flipped the file closed. “I’m going to call in Faust.”
Captain Bostok walked in. “Get anything from the airport?”
“Other than he came in on a BizJet charter flight and got picked up in a black Bentley, no.”
“Did you put out a BOLO on the car?” Bostok asked.
I looked to Hank.
“Yeah. Nothing so far,” Hank said.
“Are you ready to call the Feds?” the captain asked.
I nodded. I knew full well what the statistics were when someone went missing. Things weren’t looking good. I had next to nothing and was out of time. The Feds needed to take over.
“After you make that call, we’re out of the loop. It’s in their hands,” Hank said.
“I don’t care, I need her found. We’re not getting anywhere.”
“Come on Rawlings. Let’s leave him to it.” Captain Bostok motioned for Hank to follow him from my office.
I let out a long breath and dialed Faust.
“Agent Faust.”
“Hey, it’s Kane. We’ll need you guys on this. I’m not coming up with anything.”
“You want us to consult or take the case and run?”
If I asked them to just consult, I’d get twenty-five percent of their effort at the most. “I want you guys to take over. Do whatever you can to find her.”
“Do you have a file together?”
“I’ll get you everything I have. When can you be over to pick it up?”
“I can be there in a half hour, maybe forty-five minutes. Does that give you enough time?”
“That’s fine.”
“OK, I’ll see you then.” He hung up.
I went to the copier and duplicated the entire file I received from Harrington in Miami. I took the copies back to my office. Everything was tossed in a folder. I wrote down every note that I’d scribbled into my notepad and included the files from Jenny Cartwright. The file from the double homicide in the freezer was also added to the folder. I stared at the clock waiting for Faust to arrive. Every minute that passed was another that Callie was in danger. A knock came on my office door right at seven o’clock.
“Come in.”
“Hey, Kane.” Faust grabbed a seat at my desk. He wore a white button up shirt, black slacks and light blue tie. His kept his salt and pepper colored hair short.
I slid the folder I put together over to him.
He rubbed at his graying goatee. “Is this everything?”
“It’s everything, and more.”
He thumbed through the file. “We’ll get on it right away. You need to be prepared though.”
“Prepared?”
“There is a good chance we’ll find these Azarov brothers before we find her. From what I have found out, these two aren’t the kind of people who abduct women and hold them.” Faust searched for the right words to use. “I guess I don’t know any other way to say it. Just prepare for the worst and hope for the best.”
Faust wouldn’t come out and say that there was a chance the Callie was dead, but I knew what he meant. I refused to prepare for that scenario.
“Can you call me if you get anything?”
“I won’t be the lead on this. I’m going to keep tabs on the progress, but we’ll have twenty plus people working it on multiple shifts.”
“Whatever you can do to keep me in the loop. She’s pregnant.”
He rubbed at his eyes. He had concern on his face. “Yours?”
I nodded.
“Geez. I’m sorry. I’ll make sure they keep me updated and I’ll forward you whatever we get.”
“Thanks. If you hear anything, call me. It doesn’t matter what time.”
“I will.”
Faust left. I sat alone in my office. The lights in the captain’s office were out. He’d left. It was after eight. I stared out my office window toward Hank’s desk. He’d left as well. I had nothing to do. No leads to follow up on. I couldn’t sit by and do nothing. I needed to find that car. There couldn’t be more than a handful of them on the streets. I thought about contacting the local dealerships and see if they’d give me a list of customers. The more I thought about it, the more the idea withered away. With a little research, I found the car had been in production for eight years. I wasn’t sure if the car even had Florida tags. It would be a never ending chase that would lead me nowhere.
There was one thing I could look into. I could check and see if the car was hired. A number of chauffeur services in Tampa offered high-dollar luxury cars to clients. I started to put a list together when I caught the time on my laptop. It was inching up on nine o’clock and I hadn’t fed Butch his dinner. I grabbed my computer and locked my office. I’d continue at home.
Wind whipped through the station’s parking structure. The night air was cool on my face. The overhead lights in the building flickered as I walked to the car. I clicked the button on my key fob to unlock it. I slid in the driver’s seat and fired the motor. The cars exhaust rumbled the building. I backed out and drove for my house.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I slid it out. The caller I.D. said it was Samantha. A part of me wanted to answer and blame her for me not getting the call from Callie. It was because of her that I turned my phone off. I wanted to, but wouldn’t. It wasn’t her fault. I tossed my phone on the passenger seat. It lit up and buzzed again. I looked over at the screen expecting it to be her again. It wasn’t. It was Melissa. I’d forgotten to call her back. Though, if I did remember, I still wouldn’t have called. I answered.
“Hi, Mel.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Why?”
“You never called me back. That’s just rude.”
“I’ve been busy. A lot of stuff is going on.” I wouldn’t fill her in on the details.
“Like what?”
“I can’t talk about it now. Let me call you in a few days.”
“Whatever, fine, don’t tell me then. I talked to Sam for a few hours today. I think you guys need to get together and sort some things out.”
“There is something wrong with my sister siding with my ex-wife.”
“I’m not siding with her. I just think you guys should give it another chance.”
“Absolutely not.” I made a left a block away from my condo.
“Just think about it.”
“Mel, would you give Jeff another chance if he cheated on you, immediately moved in and married the guy, and then wanted you back?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
“Exactly. I’ll talk to you soon. I have to go.”
“Carl, don’t you hang up on m…”
I hung up and swung a right in front of my building. I pulled up to the keypad and plugged in the code. The gates parted to allow me into the underground parking.
Ray spent the afternoon getting to know his target. On the Tampa Police website, the lieutenant had a full page biography. He was a celebrated detective working out of the TPD headquarters downtown. Lieutenant Carl Kane got the credit for bringing the notorious serial killer, Bob Cross, to justice. Most recently, he solved a string of bludgeoning deaths. The website boasted him as a local hero. Ray didn’t care. The cop had solved his last case if he didn’t cooperate.
He got all of Lieutenant Kane’s information from a family friend at the Miami PD—Officer Ivan Blok. Ray received Kane’s address, his two phone numbers and registered vehicle—a white Corvette. Officer Blok even furnished Ray with addresses for the lieutenant’s out of state family members in case they needed to be visited.
Ray walked through the police station’s parking structure. He’d passed three separate officers. None of the three bothered to give him a second glance. He walked from the first floor up to the third where he spotted the lieutenant’s Corvette. He was still working.
Ray walked from the parking structure back to his car. He pulled Kane’s home address up on the Lexus’ GPS screen. It was a mile away. Ray started the car and pulled away from the police station.
The lieutenant’s home was on the top floor of the twenty unit condo complex on West Bay Street—a few feet off Bayshore Boulevard. Ray parked at the curb and let himself through the gate into the underground parking. Fluorescent overhead lights kept the parking area well lit. Ray’s eyes darted left and right. No cameras, but also, no place for him to hide. He walked out the way he came and got back into his car parked at the curb. He’d wait for the lieutenant from behind the car’s tinted glass. Ray checked the time—a few minutes after eight o’clock.