Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 6) (31 page)

Chapter 18

“W
here are we going?” I said to Carter as we sped down the highway going eighty-five miles an hour.

“Zeb’s apartment.”

“Why?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s planning to skip town with the money, but I don’t think he’s clever enough to have covered his tracks entirely. There might be some clues inside the apartment as to where he’s headed.”

“Why do we care so much about this?” I said. “I mean, if Julian really did murder a woman in cold blood, then he’s not worth the trouble. Good riddance.”

“Julian is beside the point, Sarah. I just don’t like being manipulated.”

I got the gun out of my purse and tucked it inside the waist of my jeans. My little hand-sewn pockets would finally come in handy. 

Carter said, “How does it feel to be packing heat?”

“It’s cold and hard against my skin. Nothing romantic about it.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “Are you mentally prepared to use it?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be mentally prepared to shoot someone. Hopefully, it never comes to that.”

“I suspect Kinlaw called Zeb as soon as we left his house to warn him. Can you grab mine from the glove compartment?”

Carter always keeps a spare gun in the glove compartment, fully loaded. I handed it to him, just as we rounded the corner into the parking lot of Zeb’s apartment building. The red Honda was gone.

“Do me a favor and call James,” he said. “Ask him to meet us here.”

When the detective answered my call, I had a hard time containing my excitement as I explained all we had learned over the last few hours. “Zeb Nichols killed Julian. We just got to his apartment, and his car is gone. Any chance you can set up road blocks? He’s on the run.”

“I’ll do my best. Be there as soon as I can.”

A neighbor poked his head out of the door as we knocked on Zeb’s apartment door. An elderly man with no teeth, said to us, “If you’re looking for Zeb, he cleared outta here ten minutes ago. Must be going on a trip.”

“Did he happen to mention where he was going?” Carter asked.

“Nah, but I don’t think he plans to come back.”

“If he doesn’t plan to return,” I said. “He probably wouldn’t mind if we went inside to take a look around.”

The neighbor laughed. “I don’t think you’ll want to go in there. Trust me.”

As it turned out, the door was open. Once we stepped inside, we understood exactly what the neighbor meant.

Smelled like the sewer had backed up in the bathroom, and I thought I might puke.

“What a class act,” Carter muttered, covering his nose with the shirt. “Let’s work quickly and try to find out where he might be headed.”

How did he expect me to work in these conditions? Dumpster diving would be luxurious compared to this. I wondered if Zeb had intended the toilet to overflow, as a parting sentiment to the landlord, or to law enforcement.

“If you wanna go check out the bedroom, I’ll look through his trash,” Carter said.

I didn’t waste precious time arguing. The sooner we did this, the sooner we could leave.

In the bedroom, there was a pile of dirty laundry; towels, jeans, shirts, socks, underwear. An idea hit me. Jeans pockets. People always leave stuff in pockets, but it would require a hazmat suit which I didn’t have. I had no idea what kind of bodily fluids were encrusted on those towels.

I found a pharmacy receipt on the dresser, half crumpled.

“Take a look at this.” I hurried back to the living room. “He bought a drug called Chloroquine. Any idea what that is?”

“I think it’s used to treat or prevent Malaria. He’s most likely going to Africa. Good job, Sarah. I’ll call and let the detective know he’s planning to get on a plane. Maybe they can flag his name at Logan Airport when he goes through security.”

“Did you check his trash?” I said.

“He emptied the trash before he left, apparently. Maybe he threw it in the dumpster before he took off. Which means, there might be something in there.”

“I’ll go down and check the dumpster. Must be around the building in the back.” I’d come up with any excuse to get out of the apartment. I needed fresh air.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes, too. Can’t take much more of this stench. Or, call me if you find something.”

I descended the outdoor stairs and headed toward the back of the building, taking in a few deep breaths as I went. In the alley, two green dumpsters were overflowing. Chances were good that any trash Zeb had dumped would be on top of the heap.

I grasped the side of the dumpster and hoisted myself up. It smelled like roses compared to the inside of the apartment. I slashed through a few of the plastic bags and rifled through them. No luck.

Just as I got back onto the pavement, I heard footsteps coming from behind me. I turned to see a familiar face, and my breath caught in my throat.

“What’re you doing?” Zeb stood a few feet away, holding some kind of gadget in his hand. I couldn’t see what it was.

“I thought you left,” I said, stepping away from the dumpster and clapping dirt from my hands. “Why’d you come back?”

“I paid Mr. Kruse twenty bucks to call me if someone came sniffing around my apartment. The old geezer actually came through for me.”

I silently cursed myself for trusting nosy neighbors. “It would be easier to turn yourself in at this point. The cops are looking for you.”

He took another step toward me. “Why should I go to jail for a piece of shit like Julian? He’s a murderer. I did everyone a favor.”

I prayed Carter would show up soon. Unfortunately, my cell phone was still in the car along with my purse. There was always the gun in my back waist, and I could always scream. I decided it might be better for me to try and talk him down.

Staring into Zeb’s eyes, I sensed fear and panic. He came back here for a reason. Maybe there was no talking sense into him, but I had to try.

“The detective is on his way here, now. You can’t escape. Just turn yourself in. I’m guessing if you cooperate, things won’t be so bad. You’re right. Julian was a bastard. He probably killed his first wife. But we don’t actually have proof of that.”

Zeb checked his watch. “Damn it, you’re gonna make me late for my flight now. Why did you have to come here? I don’t want to hurt you, Sarah.”

For a second, I thought he might step aside and let me go. He seemed unsure of what to do next, and I decided to take advantage of that.

“There’s no way you’re getting out of Boston, or any airport for that matter. If you run, they will find you. If you turn yourself in, I believe they will show mercy. I can put in a good word for you.”

He glanced at his watch again. Apparently, time was running out, and I sensed he was about to lose his temper with me. Since he had me cornered in the alley, my only defense was the gun. I decided it was time to play my last card, if only to scare him off.

Before I had a chance to reach behind for my gun, he lunged toward me, arm outstretched. A jolt of electricity ripped through my body. Unlike any other pain I’d ever experienced, I couldn’t control the convulsions, and my legs gave way underneath me. As I crumpled to the ground, helpless, I noticed, too late, it was a Taser gun he held in his hand.

Chapter 19

W
hen I came to, it was dark, and I could barely breathe. It took a few seconds for me to realize that I was inside the trunk of a car.

How much time had passed? Where was Zeb taking me? What did he plan to do once we got there?

I had underestimated Zeb’s intentions with me in the alley, and I felt like an idiot for that. Why hadn’t I tried to defend myself? I was the one with the gun, and yet, here I was, in the trunk of a car.

I felt around for my gun and almost cried with joy when I felt it sticking into my back, safe and sound. Zeb hadn’t found it when he dragged my body into the trunk of his car, assuming that’s where I was. Any criminal with a half a brain cell would have checked my body for a hidden weapon. He obviously hadn’t done that. Perhaps
he
had underestimated
me
.

I knew I had roughly three or four bullets. I’d have to use them wisely.

It was pitch black inside my tomb, but I used my hands to feel around inside. Modern cars have a safety release trunk latch, but Zeb’s car was old. There was no safety release. I kicked at one of the headlights, and with mounting dread, realized it would not be so easy to bust them out. In the movies, they make it look so easy. I could shoot at one, but that would be too risky. I didn’t want to accidentally shoot some poor sap driving behind us on the road. Plus, Zeb would know I had a gun and the element of surprise would be gone.

By the feel of it, I surmised we were on a highway, going at least sixty miles an hour. Even if I could bust out of the trunk, I couldn’t jump from the vehicle at that speed without causing serious damage. My only logical option was to wait.

Wait for what?

It seemed obvious to me that Zeb had panicked and decided to take me hostage. My only consolation at this point was that Carter would be on top of it. An APB on Zeb’s vehicle was surely in the works.

I had to remind myself I was still alive, and since I had no intention of letting that status change, it was in my best interest to stay calm.

The car took a sharp turn to the right and slowed down. Within a few minutes, we came to a stop. I braced myself as I waited for the trunk to open, gun secure in my grasp, ready to fire if necessary.

I could hear the car door open and close. Open and close, again. Zeb was talking to someone but I couldn’t hear anyone else’s voice. He must be on the phone. I listened intently, trying to make out his words. The only words I caught did not give me hope, specifically:
just let me shoot her in the head and be done with it.

Not
the words I wanted to hear.

It was stifling in the trunk. Thank God it was dark out. When he opened the trunk, my eyes would already be acclimated, unless, of course, he had a flashlight shining directly into my eyes.

My heartbeat reverberated through my head as I waited and listened. I expected the trunk to open at any second. Knowing that Zeb had a gun and that he intended to use it, gave me more resolve to shoot the bastard without remorse, and ask questions later.

Where the heck were we? Somewhere right off the highway, I presumed. Who was Zeb planning to meet here? Mr. Kinlaw? Or someone else who is helping Zeb leave the country?

Then the sound of an engine, loud and ominous, like that of an aircraft. Then it occurred to me; we must be at an airstrip. Mr. Kinlaw probably had his own private jet, and that’s how he planned to get Zeb out of the country.

The engine noise drowned out any conversation that might be going on between Zeb and the pilot. Were they discussing how best to kill me and dispose of my body?

I could understand why Mr. Kinlaw wanted Julian Pike dead, but I didn’t peg him as a sociopathic killer. Which is why I couldn’t imagine he’d be okay with this scenario. Then again, desperate people will take desperate measures. I couldn’t count on his higher conscience to get me out of this jam.

My neck and back were beginning to cramp up, and my head felt like it was about to split open. My hands were sweating, and if I wasn’t careful, the gun could slip out of my hands. If ever there was a time to practice meditative breathing, this was it. I had to keep my cool and think rationally.

Finally, I heard a click, and the trunk popped open. I waited for Zeb’s face to appear, but all I could see was an unobstructed view of the dark sky and a crescent moon shrouded in clouds.

“You can get out if you want to.”

Zeb’s voice sounded like it came from the behind me. I didn’t dare sit up. He was playing it safe, staying out of my view, but why? Did he think I planned to defend myself? If he thought I was capable of defending myself, he would have hog tied me before throwing me in his trunk. I decided to play the victim and beg for my life like a pitiful wimpy woman. Maybe then, he’d let his guard down.

“What are you planning to do with me?” I moaned. “Please don’t kill me. I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hurt you.” His voice could barely be heard over the rumbling of the engine noise.

Of course, I didn’t believe him, but I wanted him to think that I was gullible and trusting. “Okay. Then what do you want me to do?”

“Get out of the trunk. Keep your hands on your head.”

“I can’t move,” I lied, keeping the gun hidden under my shirt. “I think my leg might be broken.”

Two seconds later, Zeb’s face appeared in my vision. He looked even more like a vampire with the silver moon reflecting off his pale face as he reached out to grab me, and that’s when I sprung to life, whacking him upside the head with the poised gun in my hand. He stumbled back but didn’t fall down. I had just enough time to eject myself from the trunk, thankfully both legs in working order.

When Zeb saw the gun in my hands, his expression was one of bewilderment. 

“On your knees,” I said to him, in complete control of my emotions. “And hands on your head.”

He just stood there with a smirk forming on his face. “You’re not gonna shoot me.”

“Don’t test me,” I said. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Then, he actually had the audacity to laugh. “Seriously, that gun isn’t loaded. It’s probably not even a real gun. Maybe you should give that to me before you break off one of your nails with it.”

Something inside of me snapped. I wanted nothing more than to teach this weasel a lesson. He had no idea who he was messing with. Maybe three years ago, I would have been that pathetic, whimpering victim but not anymore. I slowly lowered the gun, letting him think that his words had gotten to me, but instead of dropping the weapon, I aimed at his foot and pulled the trigger.

Wish I could have taken a snapshot of his face as the bullet tore into his sneaker. I think it took a second for the pain to register in his brain. He mouthed a bunch of profanity, but no sounds came out of his mouth as he crouched down to assess the damage to his foot.

There was something peculiar about the way he groped at his pant leg, and I realized he wasn’t as concerned about his foot as he was with the gun holster attached to his ankle.

In the next two seconds, time slowed down just like in the movies. My reaction to this new development was met with calm clarity, like I had done this a million times. I raised my pistol with both hands, aimed it directly at Zeb’s chest, and pulled the trigger.

But not before he got off a shot of his own.

Hyped on adrenaline, I didn’t feel a thing. The only reason I knew I’d been shot was the blood dripping onto the ground at my left foot. Checking myself, I noticed the growing blossom of red at my left shoulder region. The pain finally came a few seconds later.

Then, in my peripheral vision, I could see the plane inching away as the engine noise grew louder. The pilot must have witnessed the shootout and wanted no part of it. Before I knew it, the plane was skipping down the runway and in the air in less than a minute.

Zeb was laying on the ground, motionless, but I didn’t trust that he was dead. I approached him cautiously, gun in my right hand. I kicked at his foot to see if he’d flinch. Nothing. Judging by the pool of blood surrounding him, he was a goner.

“Why are you so stupid?” I yelled to the corpse. “Why couldn’t you just turn yourself in?”

Of course, no reply came.

I felt numb inside, but the pain in my left shoulder jolted me to the fact that I was losing a lot of blood myself. I needed to find Zeb’s cell phone, quick. I leaned over his body and searched his pockets.

I was barely able to stand up by the time I found the phone, so I just plopped down on the ground, a few feet from Zeb’s body, and dialed 911.

The GPS on Zeb’s cell phone saved my life.  Otherwise, I would not have been able to tell the dispatcher my exact location, which turned out to be a small town twenty minutes outside of Bridgeport.

My next call was Carter.

“Sarah? Jesus, I’ve been worried sick. Whose phone is this?”

I could hear the tension and worry in his voice so I decided to downplay my predicament. “Zeb came back to the apartment and cornered me in the alley. He zapped me with a Taser gun, threw me in the trunk, and now I’m standing in the middle of an abandoned airfield in Raymond, New Hampshire.”

“Where is Zeb now?”

“He’s dead.”

“What?”

“Look, I can’t talk. I need to rest and let my heart calm down. The ambulance should be here any minute.”

“Wait. Are you injured?”

I’ve never heard Carter so frantic. It wasn’t his style. There was no point in giving him the gory details when there was nothing he could do. “I’ll be fine, but I need to rest.”

“I’m heading out the door now. On my way to you. Stay on the line with me ‘till the ambulance gets there.”

I struggled to keep my eyes open. I just wanted to lie down and go to sleep. The puddle around me was getting bigger. I was losing blood and soon I’d pass out. I could feel it all slipping away. My shoulder didn’t even hurt anymore; not a good sign.

The sound of sirens in the distance gave me a jolt of hope and Carter’s voice in my ear a reminder that I must hang on another minute.

I was barely conscience as the paramedics lifted me up onto the gurney. Two cop cars showed up simultaneously, and one of the officers rode in the ambulance with me on the way to the hospital.