Skin and Bones (6 page)

It was a small white cardboard disk, rimmed with metal, with the number 5773 printed on the front and the numbers 14-7-38-5-9 on the back. A small hole was punched through the top of the disk.

Joe scooped it up and jammed it into his front pocket. He inched on around until he reached a rough ladder made of wooden planks bolted into the wall.

Please don't creak, he thought as he stepped onto the lowest plank. There was no sound, so he continued climbing up toward the sliver of light coming from around the edge of the deck door.

Joe reached the last step and a landing next to the door. He could feel the chill of the fog as it wound in the opening and around him. Carefully, he scrambled
up and onto the platform. With his back hugging the wall, he peered out through the narrow opening to the deck.

Outside, two people, both dressed in dark clothes, were struggling in a sort of slow-motion wrestling match. The whistling vibration of an approaching windmill sail penetrated the air. Joe strained to get a good view of what was happening before he took any action. Then he heard the young woman cry out. “Let go of me—now!”

Joe jumped into the action. “Hey,” he yelled, slamming open the door. He stepped onto the deck, holding the plank high. He could see only the dark-jacketed back of one of the two people. That person whirled around. Joe's pounding heart nearly drowned out the sound of the approaching windmill sail.

The man facing Joe wore a ski mask. In an instant, he had lifted the young woman up and was holding her out, across the railing. He didn't speak, but his gaze dared Joe to come closer.

Joe looked at the woman in the dark purple windsuit. He was stunned when he recognized her. “Deb?” he said. “Is that you?”

Her reply caught in her throat and came out as half gasp, half sob.

Startled, the man glanced around. Then he suddenly dropped Deb and raced off.

When he let go of her, Deb was half sitting, half lying on the deck railing. The sudden release made her lose her balance. She flailed her arms, trying desperately to keep from rolling over the railing and onto the walkway below.

Joe rushed toward her, but he knew he couldn't make it in time. The adrenaline pumped through his veins as he yelled, “The sail... grab a sail.”

Deb flung her arms toward the sail inches away. Her fingertips connected, and she hooked them through the gridwork that edged the wooden sail.

With a huge burst of energy, Joe lunged toward her, throwing himself at her toes as she was pulled up from the deck. Her slick leather shoes slid right through his fingers.

Deb stared down at Joe in terror as she disappeared into the misty cloud curling around the top of the windmill. Her scream seemed to blast the fog right into his face.

7 Busting Out

Deb's scream drilled into Joe's brain. His temples thundered as he saw her clinging to the windmill sail, rising higher and higher into the fog. As the sail moved, her legs swung wildly.

“Try to hold still, Deb!” Joe called. “And don't look down. Just hold tight. You'll be back around soon and I'll bring you in.” In the distance he could see the man with the ski mask disappear into the woods.

The windmill sails were huge, but they creaked and shook as they carried their accidental passenger. They inched around, slowing to a crawl. For a moment Joe's breath stopped as he thought the windmill might halt completely, with Deb dangling far out of his reach.
But the crisscrossed wood kept moving, drawing its
X
in a huge circle.

“I'm still here, Deb,” Joe called. “I'm waiting for you. You'll be off that thing soon. Just hold on.”

As the sail moved, Deb's position changed. At first she was hanging off the bottom end of the sail, straight down. When it drew up so that it was horizontal to the ground, she dangled at a right angle to the sail.

“I can't do it,” she yelled. She sounded very frightened. “I can't hang on.”

“Yes, you can,” Joe urged. “It's scariest right now, while the sail is horizontal. Soon you'll be hanging from the top of the sail, and you'll feel more support from it.”

The sail carrying Deb moved toward the top of its arc. Joe could barely see her through the fog—she was so high, far above the treetops. The sails slowed to a crawl, then a stuttering halt. But with a shuddering tremor, they began moving again.

At last Deb was coming back down, moving around the circle. As she neared Joe, his pulse quickened. He knew he had only a few moments to rescue her. If he missed the opportunity, she'd have to go through the whole circuit again.

“I have to get her on the first try,” he mumbled, pumping himself up with anticipation. “I don't think she can take another go-round.”

“My fingers are numb,” she called down to him. “I don't know how much longer I can hold on.”

“Long enough,” he yelled back. “You can hang on long enough to get back down here. I'll take it from there.”

Joe went over the possibilities in his mind. He could have her start swinging her body toward the deck railing as soon as she got near enough. That way, he'd have several chances to grab her. He was bound to make good on one of them. But what if she didn't have the strength left to do her part?

He could wait until she was right in front of him, less than a couple of feet away. Then he could reach out, grab her under her arms, and hoist her inside the railing. But he'd have only one shot.

He could reach out for her legs as soon she came close enough, then, holding tight, fling her back across his shoulder like a large sack. But if she fell backward when he grabbed her instead of forward toward his shoulder, he could be pulled off balance and they would both crash to the ground.

None of the plans was perfect. Even worse, they all depended on Deb's trusting him enough to let go of the sail. Joe decided to try all three. One of them has to work, he told himself.

He tried to picture how the rescue would work.
As Deb approached, he'd ask her to swing toward him so he could catch her. If she didn't have the strength for that, he'd try to grab her legs and swing her over his shoulder. If that didn't work, he'd grab her under the arms when she was directly in front of him. And if that failed, he'd have one more chance to grab her legs as she started back up again.

“I'm slipping,” Deb called, her voice shaky. Her anxious call brought him back to the present. “Here I come,” she said. “Are you ready?”

“Absolutely,” Joe answered. Deb's sail was horizontal and she dangled dangerously from the end. “I'm going to get you off there, Deb. Just do what I say, okay?”

“Whatever it takes,” she said. She sounded determined. “Tell me what to do.”

“When I give the word, you swing toward me. Give it everything you've got. I know you're tired, but try hard. We're almost there now.” In spite of the adrenaline barreling through him, he managed a half smile in her direction.

As the sail carrying Deb grew nearer, Joe got ready. He planted his feet solidly on the deck and leaned against the railing for extra support. He watched for the perfect moment, then his voice exploded. “Now!” he yelled. “Swing toward me.”

“Mmmmmmumph.” Her breath came out in a whoosh. Still clinging tightly to the sail, she swung her body toward the railing. Joe reached out for her but grabbed only air.

“Again!” he yelled. “Now!” As Deb swung in, Joe reached out. With perfect timing, he caught her around the hips and held tightly. He felt the pull of the sail as it continued to move, still holding its cargo.

“Let go, Deb,” Joe said, bracing himself. “Let go of the sail. I've got you.”

With a “Yiiieee,” Deb released her grip. The shift in momentum yanked Joe forward. But he was prepared. With a surge of strength, he pulled back, stumbling a little. He kept his balance and dropped Deb gently to her feet.

“Man, that was some ride,” Joe said, smiling. Deb looked pale and shaky but otherwise okay.

“I don't recommend it,” she said, her voice low. “Thanks,” she said, flexing her fingers. “You saved my life—from the windmill and from the creep who forced me here in the first place.”

“No problem,” Joe said. “What happened exactly?”

“I got a call at the shop from someone who said he had information for Cody about Mike Brando. I was to tell Cody to meet this guy alone at the Polo Field.”

“So did you?”

“Well, you know what Cody's been through over the last couple of days,” Deb said with a small smile. “I figured he's just going to give him some information. Where's the danger?”

“So you decided to meet him yourself,” Joe concluded. “I'm sure you didn't even mention it to Cody.”

“You're right,” Deb said, nodding.

“But how did you end up here?” Joe asked.

“I took a cab to the Polo Field and walked to the spot where we were to meet,” Deb explained. “Someone came up behind me, stuck a gun in my back, and told me to walk to the parking lot.”

“Did you see the gun?” Joe asked.

“Not really,” Deb said, “but I felt something, and I didn't want to argue about it.”

“Smart move, actually,” Joe agreed. “Did you recognize the person's voice?”

“Not really,” she said. “He talked in muffled grunts—didn't say much.”

“How did you get to Cody's car?”

“It was weird,” she said. “We were headed toward the parking lot when I spotted Cody's car. The guy told me to stop. I was really surprised to see Cody's car, so I was looking around for him. I don't know, maybe the guy was, too.”

Joe remembered walking around the stands, trying to find the driver of the green car. “I must have been nearby,” he said, “but I never saw you.”

“Anyway,” Deb continued, “he walked me over to Cody's car and ordered me to get in the backseat and put my head between my knees.”

“I saw him pull away, but I didn't see you. No wonder,” Joe said.

“He took me into the windmill and was going to tie me up, but I broke away. He was in front of the door, so I ran up the ladder to the deck. I figured I could yell for help, but he was right behind me.”

“That must have been when I came in,” Joe concluded.

“Yeah—you know the rest.”

Joe pulled the cap he'd found out of his back pocket. “Was the man wearing this?”

“Not when I saw him, he wasn't,” Deb answered. “I never saw him, really, until he came out on the deck. He was always behind me at the Polo Field. And it was so dark inside the windmill.” She shuddered. “Let's get out of here.”

In a few minutes they were out of the windmill and back in the garden. Deb looked up at the sails and shuddered again. “Wow,” she whispered.

“There's Cody's car!” Deb exclaimed. She looked
across the drive as Joe followed her out of the windmill. “And a horse?”

“It's a long story,” Joe said. “Are you really okay? Can you drive Cody's car back to the stables? I'll take the horse and meet you there.”

“Sure,” Deb answered. Joe handed her the keys. As she pulled out on to the street, he mounted the horse and followed.

When they got back to the stables, Joe returned the horse. Then he took the wheel of Cody's car. “Before we go, I'd like to check on something,” he said, pulling away.

Joe drove back to the spot where the green car had been parked. “It's still there,” he said when he spotted it. “I'm pretty sure that's the car your kidnapper abandoned to steal Cody's.”

The green car was locked, but Joe could see from the papers lying on the front seat that it was a rental car. He wrote down the name and phone number of the car rental agency and a description of the car, including the license plate number.

Finally he and Deb left Golden Gate Park, and Joe drove them back to Skin & Bones. In his mind, he was going over his encounter with Deb's kidnapper, making sure he remembered every detail. “I haven't had any lunch,” he finally said, “and it's nearly four
o'clock. Let's pick up some food.” They stopped for burgers and fries—enough for everybody.

Cody greeted them when they arrived and turned the Skin & Bones customers over to his salesclerk. “Let's go,” he said to Joe and Deb. “Frank's upstairs. Wait till you hear what happened to us.”

“Looks like we're going to have some major show-and-tell,” Joe said. They joined Frank, who was sitting at the kitchen table, resting his bandaged ankle on a chair. “We've got our own tale,” Joe added, “one we need to tell the police.”

Frank raised his eyebrows at Cody. “Okay,” Cody said with a resigned sigh. “I guess it's time to let Dad in on all this. Let's call him.”

Deb reported her kidnapping to Sergeant Chang. Then Joe talked to Cody's dad, telling him that he thought the driver of the green car had followed them from his house. He also reported that Cody's car was stolen near where the green car was parked. But he agreed with Sergeant Chang there was no proof the driver of the green car stole the SUV.

“You'll need to speak to the police and give a description to the police artist,” Joe said to Deb when he hung up. “They're sending a cruiser for you now.”

“Okay,” she responded. “But then I'm going home to bed. Today was way more excitement than I
needed. Joe, you fill them in. I'll talk to you all later.” Cody walked her to the door and waited with her until the cruiser arrived.

“Man, these smell good,” Frank said, grabbing a burger. “Cody was just talking about going out to pick something up. We missed lunch.”

“You, too?” Joe said. He reached for some fries, brushing a fly away from the bag. “Okay, you heard most of our story—all but the fun part about Deb and the windmill. I'll tell you about that in a minute. First, what happened to your ankle?” he asked Frank.

Frank told Joe about his encounter with Mike Brando. Cody came back and chimed in with a few angry additions.