Whisper In The Dark (The McKinnon Legends-- The American Men Book One) (34 page)

“Did you get the photos?” Robert asked never taking his eyes off the truck.

“Yes,” the sheriff’s deputy answered from the back seat of a silver van with extra dark tinted windows.

“Good. I’m sure we will need them as evidence against her and whoever she is working with on this.”

To the untrained ear Robert’s comments were totally detached. Chase knew better. Robert cared for Candice on some level, and Chase wondered if he would now let whatever it was between them go. Somehow he felt certain Kate was the victor and would be regardless of this new development with Candi.

“You know she is going to cry hysterically and say she was forced, right?” Chase chimed in knowing his brother’s weakness for the blonde heiress.

“And I would have believed her, too, had I not seen it with my own eyes. This makes me doubt a great many things.”

“About damn time,” Chase said dryly from the driver’s seat as he pulled out of the parking lot merging into traffic. “I just hope Kate can see her way clear on this, Robert.”

“Just drive and don’t let them get out of range. You let me worry about Katherine.” Robert flipped open the laptop and began to follow the tracking device in Candi’s handbag. He had placed it inside the lining to help him should someone try to kidnap her. Little did he know when he planted it he would be using it to track her to lead him to Kate. He tagged the wrong woman, but would use it to his fullest advantage.

They were losing daylight now at an alarming rate, and darkness would soon be their companion. The longer Kate was missing, the less likely they would have a happy ending.

“Keep close,” Robert commanded for the second time in as many minutes.

“Where are those two going?” Robert wondered out loud.

“The old fertilizer plant, maybe?” Chase ventured.

The further they drove out of town the more Robert agreed that the condemned plant would make a perfect hideout. Years ago in the early seventies an explosion rocked it to its foundation. There were a few buildings still standing outside the blast area. Most, however, were flattened in the explosion that was heard for miles around. He thought it might have happened in 1971, but couldn't remember the exact year.

“Drop back a little,” he commanded.

The traffic was thinning and he did not want to be spotted. As long as they were within two miles of Candi's purse, the tracking devise would work.

He felt his gut twist as they allowed the truck to out pace them. Red taillights disappearing from sight, he forced himself to now focus on the little green dot flashing on the screen. He needed a cool head to keep the fear and dread at bay. Kate’s life depended on it. Slowing his breathing, he focused on remaining calm.

Just as he and Chase suspected, the truck pulled off the main highway and headed down a gravel road rutted from years of neglect. Turning off their headlights, they slowly rolled to a stop a quarter of a mile from the old plant's main gate. Pulling out night vision binoculars, Robert watched as the burly man got out of the truck. Unlocking the new master lock holding the new chain on the old rusty gate, he swung the gate wide. Robert watched as Razor jumped back in his truck and pulled through.

Luck was with them. Razor did not bother to lock the gate back behind him pulling right on through and past the main entrance, around a corner, and out of sight.

“Well, looks as if an invitation has been issued,” Chase commented. “Let’s hurry, before he figures out his mistake.”

Robert reached over grabbing Chase’s arm before he could get the door fully open. “No, we wait for reinforcements,” Robert shook his head. It was a very difficult decision, but one he knew was correct.

Chase raised one eyebrow only imagining what Robert must be feeling. However, he saw the logic in keeping a cool head. Rushing forward might be suicide for them and certain death for the hostages. This was now Robert’s detail, and they would proceed together as a team including the local law enforcement officers Maxi insisted come along. They were there not only as back up, but also to keep Robert on this side of the law.

Moments later a dark blue van pulled to a stop just ahead of them. They watched as two men piled silently out of the back after the rear doors opened. Each man dressed in SWAT gear made their number eight counting the driver and passenger.

Robert commanded his best recon team who were silently standing by awaiting orders, “Darkman, you and Sundown go do what you do best, but make it snappy. We are losing time here. Report back at regular five minute intervals.”

“Yes, Sir.”

They turned and hurried into the darkness of the shadows.

The waiting was killing him. It had just been a short period of time and not that long ago he had seen the men disappear into the evening shadows. Yet, it felt like an eternity.

“Sundown, do you copy?” Chase spoke softly waiting for the radio to crackle to life.

“Copy. There are three vehicles, Sir. The truck we were following, a white BMW, and a black late model Thunderbird. I see no exterior guards or dogs.”

Darkman came on the line concurring with his teammate. “Copy that. I have seen nothing either in the way of potential exterior resistance.”

“Copy,” Chase acknowledged.

This was going to be a very small party, Robert thought. However, he was not about to become overconfident.

“Sundown, can you get close enough to see if we can determine exactly which building they may be in?” Robert asked, surveying the remaining building and knowing which one he would choose if he were going to hold hostages.

“On it.”

He heard the radio go silent.

With the high-powered listening devices they should be able to safely and quickly determine the approximate location of the driver of the truck. He was curious to know who else was behind those rusty corrugated metal walls. The infrared detectors aided them in seeing through walls, but only to a point.

Sheriff Maxwell had told him Lawrence Rosario’s cell mate at Ft. Leavenworth was Santiago Booth. All the random pieces had fallen into place once he had that piece of information. It explained a lot.

He would bet his entire stock portfolio Tony was behind this. Tony was the grandson of the Golden Circle’s longtime housekeeper, Rosa. Being Rosa’s grandson, he would have known about the legend. He also had gambling debts having been banned from any Las Vegas casino for counting cards. Perhaps he had hopes of uncovering the gold in an effort to get his sorry hide out of some kind of trouble. He surely fit the bill, Robert thought. Certain that Tony was involved, killing Kyle had to be an accident. In spite of his encouraging Kyle to steer clear of the man, Tony and Kyle had been friends all their lives. Robert was not sure if it made him feel better or not. Perhaps Tony would spare Kate for sentimental reasons. However, if he got even the slightest whiff Tony had harmed one hair on Kate’s head, he would personally kill him. If Kyle’s death had not been purposeful, then perhaps Kate had a chance as long as the driver of the truck did not get his hands on her again.

Robert saw Lawrence Rosario’s rap sheet. He went by Razor, and the nickname was not a derivative of his last name as one might think. He had a sick fetish, possessing a sadistic streak where women were concerned. He served time for assault among other charges. However, because of a technicality they had not been able to bring him to trial for a string of murders that he actually confessed to committing. He had not been Mirandized before he confessed. That being the case, the judge tossed out the confession. Unfortunately, the district attorney had nothing else to pin the murders to him, so as a result he walked away scot-free. The details were gory to say the least. Each time he used a straight razor on his victims, slowly cutting them into small pieces while they were still alive. Death would come slowly and very painfully, the victim usually dying of massive infection and blood loss.

Perhaps Tony would buffer her from such a monster. However, he had to be realistic. Even if Tony would not allow Razor to kill her, it did not necessarily mean he would not rape or torture her.

Tony had served time for crimes just as violent. The man had serious issues, and he had no doubts it may have been Razor who beat Kyle, but Tony was the brains driving it forward.

If either one laid a single finger on her, he would tear him limb from limb. He pushed aside the urge to hit something out of pure frustration and deep-seated fear for Kate’s safety.

“Sir, I hear shouting. It’s a woman, Sir.”

The whisper over the radio brought him back to the present.

“What’s she saying? Can you make it out?”

“Yeah, something about ‘not today, ass hole’.”

Robert smiled. That had to be Kate. “Can you determine what building?” He let the switch of the radio go.

“Roger, Sir. I’ve narrowed it to the building at your one o’clock. I’m almost there.”

“Okay boys, it’s time.” Chase gave the word to the remaining two standing by. The four of them would proceed. He just prayed they would be in time. Kate had now been missing ten hours.

Kate moved slowly, otherwise the world went into a tailspin. Her head pounded behind her ear where she had taken the blow that knocked her off the ATV. Gingerly touching the spot, she could feel it freshly stitched. She did not remember seeing a doctor. Frankly, she did not remember anything after she hopped on the ATV to go back to Robert’s house.

She remembered thinking she would pack her things and leave. The next thing she remembered was waking up inside this dark room.

It was night. She knew that much from looking at the small hole in the metal roof, for the stars were twinkling brightly. However, she could not tell how long she had been unconscious or how long she had been here. She suspected not more than a few hours, but now she needed to relieve herself. Feeling her way around the room, she found the door and tried the lock, yet it held fast. She was not getting out easily and began with her boot to bang on the only opening she found.

“Hey!” she shouted waiting for an answer.

“Hey!” she shouted again. “Let me out of here! Anybody? Hey, I need to go to the bathroom!” she said pounding on the corroded paint of the thick, sliding door watching pieces of the paint fall like snow at her feet illuminated by the small light filtering in under the door.

“Use zee corner. Zat ezz what I do,” the disembodied voice with a heavy French accent answered softly.

She was not alone. She gasped as the lighter burst into flame illuminating the darkened room.

“Who’s there?” Katherine scrambled backwards until she hit the compartment door with her back.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I was zee one to stitch you up. Lawrence has a tendency to become over zealous. If you gave him a tranquilizer gun, he would use it twice when once would do zee trick,” he sighed.

“Who the hell are you?” she asked desperately trying to get her fear under control.

Fear was her enemy.

A cool head was her friend. Fear would consume her. A cool head would set her free and she was getting out of here.

“I am zee doctor.”

He spoke with such a thick accent that she had difficulty understanding him and the room's echo only made it more challenging.

This gaunt, little man was totally creeping her out. And it was creeping her out even more knowing she had been unconscious when he had stitched her up. What else had he done to her? At lightning speed she took inventory of her person and clothing. All were in order just as she had seen them last right down to her shirt being tucked down into the waistband of her panties. He had not molested her. That was a relief leaving her to focus on other more pressing matters.

“Too bad you aren’t Houdini. Where are we, anyway? Do you know?” she asked already exploring for any sign of weakness in her cell.

“I believe zee old fertilizer plant. It is no use, mademoiselle,” he said as he watched her methodically make her way around the room again. “I have already looked for a way out. And as you have pointed out, I am not Houdini.”

“How long have you been in here?” she asked shaking a panel she found with several nails missing.

“How long has Kyle been dead?” he asked in return.

“Forty-one days.” She stopped and looked at her cellmate.

“Zhen zhere you have it, Cherie’, forty-one days,” he said eloquently.

“No offense, but I guess that explains the smell.” She went back to her explorations. Then she stopped. “How do you know about Kyle? I’ve never laid eyes on you before.”

“I am truly sorry for his death, Katherine. I had no idea he was taking a cold remedy. It was an accident.”

“What do you mean, it was an accident? That was no accident! And you would know it was no accident if you had seen his body. Someone beat the crap out of him and left him to die, and if I ever get the chance I’ll tie them down in the middle of a fire ant bed, cover them with honey, and leave them for dead just like they left my brother,” she ranted in grief on the edge of despair.

“Oui, he was beaten, but zat did not kill him.”

Katherine was stunned at his confession. He shared with her that it was the combination of Kyle’s cold remedy and the drug he had injected into him to extract the truth about the treasure that had been Kyle’s ultimate demise.

“I beg your forgiveness, and I have lain on my own bed of ants for some time now.”

She was face to face with one of the men responsible for killing Kyle, and all she could do was stare. This eighty-year-old man was responsible for a life cut short.

She stood towering over him as he sat unmoving on the concrete floor.

Her voice was just above a whisper.

“You want me to absolve you of any responsibility in the act of killing my brother? You want me to forgive you Kyle’s death so you can feel better? Is that it?” Katherine asked unbelieving.

“Yes, I am an old man.”

“No, you are not an old man. You are a monster and an instrument of death. You figure you can throw a few stitches into me, and then I’m supposed to be so grateful that I will release you of the burden of killing an innocent man?”