Moon over Maalaea Bay (5 page)

Shortly after entering the main entrance, Lee spotted a resort directory on the wall near an elevator. He located the Chapel Wing and took the elevator to the fourth floor.

When he exited the elevator, a sign directed him towards Bertha Renner’s room number. He counted the room numbers up to 414 and stopped. His watch said 10:55 PM when he knocked on her door.

No response. Had he interpreted Ramirez’s note correctly?

He knocked again, louder this time.

Someone was stirring inside. Soon the door moved slightly outward. Someone had pushed against it.

He pulled his engagement picture from his wallet and held it about eighteen inches from the peephole.

An unintelligible exclamation came from inside. The deadbolt clicked and the door swung open.

In the doorway, wrapped in a robe, stood a middle-aged lady wearing a sympathetic expression.

That puzzled him.

“You must be her husband,” the woman said.

Husband? How did she know? The Amber Alert was still in effect. No one should know Jennifer was married.

She was frowning.

He needed to say something. “And your name must be Bertha Renner. But how did you know she had a husband?”

“I’ve been watching the news to see if the police caught those people and freed the girl.”

This was not good. Too much had been leaked to the media. On the other hand, if the goons thought the alert was over and some of the pressure was off, they might try to move Jennifer. If they did, they might get caught in the process because the pressure wasn’t off. It would only intensify, and when Peterson arrived, the pressure would become incredible.

“Young man, I’m talking to you. What’s your name?” The woman’s frown remained.

“Sorry, ma’am. I’m Lee Brandt, and the woman you saw taken is my wife. We were married earlier today, and we’re here on our honeymoon.”

“I am
so
sorry. I’ve been praying for the girl. Now I’ll pray for you both.” She pursed her lips, but the frown was replaced by a warm sympathetic expression.

“Thanks a lot, ma’am. But there is something else you can do that might really help this investigation.”

Her eyes widened. “What’s that? I’ll be glad to help if I can.”

He pulled out his cell and brought up the picture of the two people in the restaurant. He stepped beside her, turned it towards Mrs. Renner, and pointed to the darkly clad man. “Do you recognize him?”

“Oh my. Oh
my
,” She exclaimed in wide-eyed horror. “I recognize them both,”

Both? “Do you mean the girl was involved in the abduction?”

Mrs. Renner nodded. “She stayed in the background while the man in the picture hooked your wife’s throat with his arm. He choked her and, in a few seconds, she fell. A second man helped catch her, and then the two men carried her into the dark parking lot. The girl stayed in the background, like she was watching. She looked right at me once and I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

The choking hold had to be the LVNR, lateral vascular neck restraint, the sleeper hold. Was that what Yagi had neglected to tell him? It was how they took Katie in Seattle. If Yagi had told Lee, it would have provided the first link to the Seattle-area traffickers, their MO. But he shouldn’t fault Yagi. The man was just doing his job and trying to be kind by sparing Lee the ugly details.

“Thanks, ma’am. You’ve really helped this investigation. When we free Jennifer, you’ll get personal thanks from both of us.” He tried to give her a smile, but even this break didn’t alleviate the panic in his heart. But it did send it racing.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Brandt. I’ll be right here if you wish to find me…for the next three wonderful weeks. And I’ll be praying they turn out wonderful for you and your wife.”

“Thanks again.” Lee hurried down the hall and keyed in the number on the card that Detective Ramirez had given him.

This could be the first big break in the case, but how would the police react to it coming from Lee’s personal investigation? They would probably get mad and reprimand him. But would they believe him? Listen to him? If so, how quickly would they respond?

8

For what seemed like hours, Jennifer lay on the floor trying to loosen or break the restraining band around her wrists. She had only succeeded in rubbing her wrists raw. The stinging grew intense and the restraints grew sticky against her wrists. Her wrists…they were bleeding. She’d long since given up on the double restraints around her ankles.

She could see the room in more detail than an hour ago. The edges of the heavy curtains were lined with light. Not direct sunlight, perhaps the light of dawn. But her search of the dark room revealed nothing she could use to cut or abrade the restraints.

Jennifer’s stomach growled, and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Food and water. She would have to steel herself against the deprivation of both. Her captors were anything but compassionate people.

Footsteps sounded outside the room. Jennifer shot a prayer for strength heavenward, and prepared for something unpleasant…or worse.

Two strong-looking men entered. The one in front brandished a large knife, and he carried it like he meant to use it. Probably for intimidation. That’s how she preferred to interpret his posture and his grip on the knife.

The overhead lights came on. She squinted to shield her eyes against the brightness. Then she smelled the food. The second man carried a plate with some kind of a meal and a glass of water. So they meant to keep her alive. That meant they would probably—she shoved the disquieting thought from her mind.

“Looks like our million-dollar baby is awake,” the man with the big knife remarked while his eyes studied her body.

Mack…Mack the knife.
That’s what she would call him.

The second man set the plate on a dresser. “Let’s see if she likes my cooking, Mack.”

Mack…with a knife. She almost laughed.
I’m getting good at this.
Guessing her captors names—it was something she had no desire to do, let alone excel at.

The cook. She named him
Cook
and hoped he deserved his name.

“Just a minute,” Mack said. “I need to tell her the rules.” He sneered at her. “And the penalty for breaking them.”

Jennifer lay on her side on the floor and prepared for intimidation of the worst sort.

Mack bent down and pushed the point of the knife to her throat near her jugular vein. “I’m going to remove the tape from your mouth.” He paused, then swiveled and knelt behind her.

The knife also moved. Its point pricked the skin on her lower back. She felt pressure, then a burning pain.

Mack spoke. “That was only a sample. If you speak or make any sound above a whisper, this knife will sever your spinal cord. And you’ll be…frankly, a worthless piece of sub-human flesh.” His voice rose in volume and intensity. “Do you understand?”

Jennifer nodded. This guy was good at intimidation. He was also making her angry. She stifled the anger before it could bring her more trouble.

“Good,” Mack said. “Now this will probably hurt. Cowboy up, baby, and be quiet.”

Cowboy up?
She filed the regional phrase away for future reference.

Mack ripped the tape from her mouth.

The sting felt like he’d ripped the skin from her face. She gasped and clamped her mouth shut to protect her stinging lips. Jennifer lay on the floor, clenching her jaw and breathing hard through her nose. As the pain subsided, she opened her mouth to breathe more fully.

“Look at those lips. The rest of her face, too,” Cook said.

“Cool it, Cookie. You can’t have her. Now, million-dollar baby, you look old enough to feed yourself, so I’m going to cut your hands loose…on two conditions. Rather, one condition with two penalties. The condition, you use your hands only to feed yourself. The knife stays on your spine. One wrong move and I push it.” He paused. “Oh, yes. The other penalty. We’ll take your blonde-haired princess and sell her to the people who originally ordered her. They’re still waiting for delivery.”

Jennifer’s head involuntarily jerked around, and she glared at Mack, biting her tongue to keep from painting him slime green with a dozen or more choice words that popped into her mind. How did they know about Katie? They wouldn’t have unless they were the customers with the shopping list that, six weeks ago had Katie on it. A shopping list for people. Girls. Age, height, hair and eye colors, weight… Jennifer had to quit before she vomited.

“I see a rebellious spirit in this one, Cookie.” He put pressure on the knife.

Jennifer winced at the pain. She tried to stop the tears but her eyes brimmed with them. She managed to keep her mouth clamped shut. Right now, her mouth could get her in a lot of trouble, and she had just the words to incite it.

“Do you understand the penalties?”

Jennifer took a breath and nodded.

“Let me hear it, baby.”

Though it galled her, she would comply “Yes, I understand,” she whispered. “But how did you know about—”

“Shut up!”

She winced again from the stinging on her back when the knife pressed hard. So hard she expected it to enter her body at any moment.

“Let’s just say we do our homework…thoroughly. Now eat, drink, and be mute.”

Mack thinks he’s clever.
Maybe he would get a little too clever and slip up.

Mack sliced through the bands around her wrists, pulled her to her feet, and sat her in a chair. The knife returned to its place against her spine.

Jennifer looked at her wrists. They were raw and bleeding. She massaged them gingerly, avoiding the open abrasions.

“You keep trying that with your hands and you’ll cut’em off,” Cook said, laughing softly.

“You’d better listen to Cookie,” Mack said. “Or I’ll cut them off for you. Now eat.”

She had felt twinges of hunger until the last exchange with Mack. Now the bacon, eggs, and toast made her swallow hard to keep from vomiting.

But Mack had given the order to eat and he’d threatened Katie. Jennifer couldn’t let anything happen to the precious, beautiful young lady soon to be her daughter. And Lee’s. The two men might be bluffing about Katie, but she wouldn’t take that chance.

Jennifer took the fork, then a bite of egg, all the time fighting the urge to throw it back up. After a couple of bites of toast, the nausea eased. She took a few more bites of egg and downed a piece of bacon.

Suddenly, she was ravenous. So hungry she felt guilty that the threat to Katie no longer made her sick. That was idiotic. She needed her strength.

She drank the water while Cook leered at her. She couldn’t read his disgusting thoughts, but realizing he had them, her nausea returned. Jennifer locked gazes with Cook and glared at him, trying to look brave. But she prayed she would not be left alone in a room with him. Not unless her hands and feet were free.

Mack stepped in front of the chair, snatched the plate, and handed it to Cook. The knife was at her throat now.

“That’s enough. Can’t have our million-dollar baby losing her million-dollar figure, can we?” He sneered at her. “Hands behind your back and keep quiet.”

Slowly she complied, dreading the raw burning the plastic restraints would soon produce. The knife moved away from her throat.

She gasped, as pain shot through her trembling hands when Mack pulled the restraints even tighter than before. The man thrived on cruelty.

“No more games, baby.” The knife stung as it pricked her back again. “Since you like those lips, Cookie, maybe you should be the one to cover them up with the tape, you know, to remove the temptation.”

“Emotionally incontinent goon.” Had she uttered those words or just thought them?

“What did you just mutter, baby?” Mack asked, the edge on his voice as sharp as the knife pressing into her back.

She paused, searching for words that wouldn’t be inflammatory.

“I asked you a question.” Mack pushed harder on the knife.

“I…I called Cookie…emotionally incontinent.” She pursed her lips and waited for something extremely unpleasant.

A loud, mirthless laughing noise came from Mack’s mouth. “She has quite a vocabulary, Cookie.” He laughed again, like the staccato barking of a dog. “And she’s got your number. But
sexually
incontinent would be more accurate.”

Cookie traced her lips with his finger, then slapped a piece of duct tape over her mouth, smoothing it out on her cheeks.

“You can play doctor now, if you’d like, Cookie.” Mack’s voice became soft and pleasant. He was mocking Cook.

Cook reached for a small container on the dresser. He opened it and pulled out a syringe. After filling it, he moved towards her.

Not this again. Drugs were something she could not fight.

“Wait a minute. We can’t have her falling and getting hurt. Not this million-dollar baby.”

Mack put down his knife, picked her up, and laid her on the floor. “Roll onto your stomach.”

When she complied, Jennifer felt helpless, hopeless. Tears filled her eyes. More drugs were coming. She had missed her opportunity to escape.

Cook plunged the needle deep into the back of her shoulder. The sting intensified as his pressure blasted the solution into her muscle tissue.

In a few seconds, her thoughts became slow, difficult, at the mercy of the drugs.

I’m so sorry, Lee. I tried to escape. I tried so hard…

9

A measure of hope returned as Lee realized the potential of the information he had stumbled upon. A quick response by the police could bring the result he prayed for, Jennifer’s safe return.

Standing outside of the Grand Wailea Resort, he keyed in Detective Ramirez’s number, pressed the send icon, and waited.

Ramirez answered on the second ring.

“Ramirez, this is Lee Brandt. I’ve found the goons who took Jennifer.”

Silence.

“Look, Brandt, we have a multi-organizational operation going here. I don’t have time for amateur det—”

“Ramirez!” The name exploded from Lee’s pent-up emotions. “Maybe I should be calling you the amateur. I have a positive ID on two of the perps, and I know approximately where they are.”