Red Julie (An Olivia Miller Mystery Book 2) (23 page)

Brad stood behind the counter of his bookstore, listening to the bluegrass band play. There was a large crowd that showed up for the event and all the tables were full and people were standing around the edges of the room, enjoying the music and drinking coffees. Brad wished that it was over and that he could talk to Joe. He checked his phone again, which he had been doing every few minutes for the past forty-five.
Where the hell is Joe? Why doesn’t he call?

A customer approached and ordered an espresso. Brad put his phone down and tended to the request. He felt both exhausted and agitated. He wanted nothing more than for everything to be all right.
Why doesn’t Joe call?

Olivia followed the man into a room about the size of a two-car garage. It too was bare walled and had no windows. There were two straight back chairs in the middle of the room. Four beat-up, cushioned chairs were along the far wall. Olivia’s heart beat fast and her hands felt clammy.

The scar-faced man spoke. “Sit,” he said, indicating the hard chairs.

Olivia sat down in the closest one.

The greasy-haired man stood at attention in front of the door where they had entered. Scar-face knocked on a heavy door near the cushioned chairs.

A tall, slender man with eyes like a dead shark entered the room. Olivia’s eyes widened. Her pulse beat like a drum. It was the man from the accident scene, and he was followed by Dmitri Siderov. Siderov sat in one of the chairs by the wall and crossed his legs. His eyes fixed on Olivia for several minutes, his face blank.

He sighed and said, “I believe you have something of mine, Ms. Miller. Two things, actually.”

Olivia knew he must be referring to the necklace, but what was the second thing? She had no idea what he was talking about.

Siderov glanced down and picked at one of his fingernails. “And you won’t leave here until I know where they are.” He looked up at her. “We can make things quite unpleasant for you.” His voice was matter-of-fact. He stood and moved quickly for the door, which the sentry opened for him. “I’ll be back.”

Scar-face and Dead Eyes took positions on either side of the door through which Siderov left. No one spoke and they did not make eye contact with Olivia. Olivia wondered what the hell Siderov thought she had of his.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said. No one looked at her. “I don’t feel well.” The scar-faced man glanced at her.

“Should I just throw up on the floor then?” She coughed.

“Take her.” Dead Eyes indicated to Scar-face.

Scar-face’s eyes narrowed into slits. He waved for Olivia to come to him. He opened the door and pushed her out into the bunker room. He grabbed her arm and moved her along one of the walls until they came to a door. He took hold of the handle and flung it open to reveal a small bathroom. Olivia stepped over the threshold and held her handcuffed hands out from behind her back.

“Just go,” he muttered.

“I need these off to go,” she said.

At first he didn’t move, but then he reached into his pocket and took out the key. He released the handcuffs.

Olivia bent down by the toilet clutching her head. She looked up and said, “Can I have some privacy?”

The guy just stared at her.

She pretended to have dry heaves into the toilet and turned her head to him. “What am I going to do? Walk through a concrete wall to escape?” She stood up and walked over to the door. “Shut it…or I’ll puke on your fancy shoes.”

The guy pushed her back and slammed the bathroom door.

Olivia pretended to have dry heaves again while she looked around the bathroom. No window. No tub. Just a small medicine cabinet with a mirror attached to it and a dirty towel on a towel rack. Olivia pulled the towel off the rack. She coughed and heaved some more for the guy’s benefit. She positioned the towel over the mirror and while she wrenched it off the cabinet she used her foot to push on the handle that flushed the toilet, the flushing noise masking the removal of the mirror.

Part of the mirror came off in her hands and she immediately smashed it on the porcelain sink, shattering the mirror into pieces. She slipped a piece of it into the back pocket of her jeans.

The door of the bathroom flew open. Olivia held out a piece of the mirror wrapped in the towel like a knife in front of her.

The guy halted when he saw the sharp glass of the mirror pointing at him.

“Stupid bitch,” he yelled as Olivia ran at him with the glass, slashing at him like a wild woman.

Olivia managed to cut his hands and face before he had her in a lock hold. He threw her onto the floor outside the bathroom. He swatted the glass out of Olivia’s grasp and he wrapped his massive hands around her throat and choked the air out of her. Olivia’s eyes bulged and she kicked and bucked off the floor, desperate to suck in precious oxygen. As she started to lose her vision, the door to the other room flung open and Shark Eyes shouted, “Enough!” He kicked the strangler in the back.

“I said stop, you idiot!”

The hands came off Olivia’s throat and she gulped air into her lungs with a horrible wheezing noise. Her hands, bloody from breaking the mirror, clutched at her neck, smearing blood all over her skin.

“Get up,” Shark Eyes ordered.

She rolled onto her knees and attempted to stand. Scar-Face grabbed her under her arm and hoisted her to her feet. She bent at the waist, still trying to suck more air.

“Go get cleaned up, you fool,” Shark Eyes sneered at Scar-face. “
You
don’t decide when she dies.”

Shark Eyes dragged Olivia back to the room and pushed her into one of the chairs, where she continued to wheeze and gasp.

Brad couldn’t stand it anymore. He punched Joe’s number into his cell and listened to it ring…and ring. Joe’s voice mail message came on. Brad hit the counter with his hand.
Where is he? Now what?
Brad tried to remember if Joe had taken his phone with him when they parted ways earlier. He was sure Joe had it in his pocket when he left him.
Why doesn’t he answer? Everyone carries a phone but no one can pick the hell up.
Brad looked around the room. Some of the patrons had left and the band was wrapping up with its last song. Brad had been looking forward to hosting this event but now he was counting the seconds until it was over.

Siderov burst into the room, banging the door against the wall. He glared at Olivia. She had managed to catch her breath, but her throat was tight and constricted. Her right hand was bleeding freely from the shards of the mirror and she had wrapped the bottom of her shirt around it. Her neck was smeared with blood and her shirt and pants had patches of blood on them. Siderov’s eyes shot daggers at each of the men in turn.

Scar-face, who had attempted to strangle Olivia, entered the room from the other door. Siderov gave him an icy stare.

“Get out,” Siderov hissed. The man backed out and closed the door.

“Get Alexei down here,” Siderov barked to no one in particular.

He wheeled on the greasy-haired man and ordered, “Bring in the woman.”

In a matter of minutes, the greasy-haired man was dragging a woman into the room. It was the same woman who had been at Martin Andersen’s house when Olivia was tricked into going there. Olivia recognized her as the woman who had tried to run from the van the night she was washing her paintbrushes in the shop’s sink.

The woman was pushed into the chair next to Olivia and sat slumped there with her left hand resting in her lap. The hand was wrapped in gauze and blood was seeping through the bandages. Siderov moved closer to the two women.

“One of you has two items of mine,” Siderov said. “Things I want returned. And the other of you has information that I require.”

The woman remained slumped and silent.

Olivia said, “What makes you think we have what you want?”

“Unless you are relaying the whereabouts of the objects, then keep your mouth shut,” Siderov told Olivia. He cleared his throat. “As I said, one of you has objects that belong to me.” He glared at Olivia. “I want them back.”

“What are they?” Olivia asked.

Siderov smacked Olivia across the face, nearly knocking her out of her chair. The woman lifted her eyes to peer at Olivia without moving her head.

“We will be back in fifteen minutes. Both of you better have the answers I desire.” Siderov gave them each a look of menace. “Or things will become unpleasant.”

He turned his face to the other woman. “More unpleasant than losing an appendage.” He stormed out of the room with his two goons trotting after him. Olivia and the woman were alone, but Olivia suspected they were being watched.

“Are you okay?” Olivia whispered. The woman made an almost imperceptible nod.

“I’m Olivia,” she said. There was no response.

“What’s your name?” Olivia asked. The woman shook her head.

“Look, they’ll be back soon. Please talk to me,” Olivia told her. “I need to figure out what to do.”

The woman raised her head. Her eyes were empty. “Do? What can you possibly do? We’re already dead.”

Olivia whispered, “I’m not going to believe that. Do you know what Siderov thinks I have?” Olivia asked. “What he wants back?”

The woman shook her head. Olivia didn’t know whether or not to believe her and she wanted to ask more questions, but decided what Siderov was looking for probably wasn’t going to assist them in escaping.

“You can’t give up. There are two of us. I’ll think of something,” Olivia said. “Can you tell me what you know about them…this place?”

“I don’t know anything,” the woman said.

Olivia glanced at the door. “We’re running out of time. I need to think…make a plan.”

The woman said, “We
are
out of time.”

“We can’t just give up and die here.”

“I’m already dead,” the woman said. She made eye contact with Olivia. Her face was ashen.

Olivia looked at the woman’s hand. “What happened to you?”

The woman lifted her hand from her lap and turned her blank eyes to Olivia. “They cut off my ring finger.”

Bile rose in Olivia’s throat.
The finger on the dining table at the Sullivan’s.
“Why?” she asked softly.

The woman snorted. “They want my husband. They cut my finger off to bring to him. So he could see it. My wedding ring. My finger. To prove they have me here.” Her shoulders slumped and she looked down.

“My God,” Olivia breathed. She swallowed. “You’re Liz Sullivan. Mike’s wife.”

Liz’s face crumpled. She closed her eyes and nodded.

“They want my husband. They’re going to punish him.”

“Why?” Olivia questioned.

“He came to do some work here the other day. He called me from his car. He was running away. He saw something here. They shot him in the shoulder. But he got to his truck. He told me to hide.”

Olivia’s heart sank into her stomach and ice flowed through her veins.

Liz went on, “They said…,” her face contorted, “they’re going to kill our son. If I don’t tell them where Mike is.” Tears poured from her eyes. “They have our son here.” She choked on the words.

“Mikey?” Olivia said.

Liz’s eyes bored into Olivia.

“Mikey’s not here. I saw Mikey.” Olivia lowered her voice. “He’s with your sister now. I saw your husband, too. He’s hurt but he’s alive. He’s in the hospital. The police are watching out for them. They’re safe.”

Liz tilted her head, considering. “What?”

“It’s true. My friends and I found them. Well, it was more like Mikey found us. But they’re okay. They’re safe.”

Liz stared at Olivia. “They told you to tell me this. To get me on your side. To trick me.”

“No, Liz. They’re okay. I’m not trying to trick you.”

“I don’t believe you,” Liz whispered.

The door banged open. Alexei strode in with a Doberman Pinscher on a leash. The dog lunged at the women, yanking against the leash, and it snapped the air, gnashing its teeth. Alexei ordered the dog to sit.

“You have my father’s property,” he said to Olivia. “And you,” he said to Liz, “you need to tell us where to locate your husband.”

Olivia and Liz stared at him.

“The dog can be very persuasive,” Alexei said.

A light went off in Olivia’s head. She turned to Liz and looked her in the eye while telling Alexei, “Don’t call him ‘the dog’. Dogs are particular about what they like to be called. Especially, Lassie. Right, Liz?”

Liz looked confused but after a few seconds her eyes widened and the corners of her mouth twitched up. Her lower lip was trembling and she bit it to keep from crying.
Mikey. Mikey said those very words about Lassie all the time. Olivia had met Mikey. Mikey was safe.

“What did you say?” Alexei questioned Olivia.

Olivia’s lip turned up in a sneer. “I said the dog is particular.”

Alexei wasn’t sure what she meant and his face turned stony. He brought the dog closer to the women and allowed it to bark and snap at them. Olivia jumped out of her chair and stood behind it.

“Get out of here, Alexei.”

Snarling and growling, the dog leaped at Liz. It smacked against the chair and knocked her to the ground. Olivia lifted her chair and pushed it at the dog to get him away from Liz. The dog lunged at Olivia with such force that the strain on the leash nearly knocked Alexei off his feet. The Doberman clenched onto Olivia’s arm and she screamed and kicked, falling backwards. Liz jumped from the floor but was at a loss for what to do and stood there gaping, cradling her bandaged hand. Alexei had to pull on the leash with all of his strength to move the dog back.

“You bastard,” Olivia hissed, clutching her arm.

Siderov and two of his men burst into the room.

Fury blazed in Siderov’s eyes as he boomed at Alexei, “Who gave you permission to enter this room?” He barked orders in Russian and Alexei and the dog retreated to the far wall.

Liz hooked her good hand under Olivia’s arm and helped her to her feet.

“Sit!” Siderov screamed at the women. “Tie them to the chairs,” he barked at the men, who rushed forward and roped Olivia and Liz to their seats.

Olivia assumed that things weren’t going according to Siderov’s plan and that he seemed like a man who did not like to appear to be losing control of a situation. She knew he was going to take it out on them.