Stolen Lives: A Detective Mystery Series SuperBoxset (26 page)

“Mr. Gomez. If you have information, we’d be happy to get you and take you to the station. You’ll be safe there.”

He cut in, quick to set the record straight.
“No deal. You want info, you come out to meet me. And you come alone. I be there.”

With that he hung up, offering nothing else. Miriam held the phone to her ear for a moment, deciding what to tell Keely. He was sure to insist on coming along. He would never let her go alone. And he’d probably be right. The last time Miriam had decided to engage in a secret meeting without her partner, she nearly ended up dead.

But to go against Guillermo was to risk Sarah’s life. She slowly placed her phone in her pocket and approached Keely—who was quick to want answers.

“What was that all about?”

Miriam shrugged with a hint of nonchalance. “It’s no big deal. I have to go pick up Ana now.”

Keely eyed her suspiciously. “Sounded like police business on the phone there.”

She took a step back, feigning indignation. “Were you eavesdropping on my call?”

“Not at all. I was reading your body language.”

“Cute,” she said smiling. She stopped and looked around. “We’ll pick up on this later. Duty calls.”

“What about Sarah? I mean, we can’t very well sleep on this, can we?”

Miriam looked into his eyes. She could tell his concern for the girl matched her own, and hated having to leave him. But what was necessary was necessary.

“I think we both need to step away from this for a few hours,” she said with a hand on his shoulder. “We need to clear our heads.”

Keely looked away, disappointed and surprised by her new attitude.

“Trust me,” she continued. “I wouldn’t even suggest it if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary.”

He nodded and handed her the keys. “You go ahead and take it. I’ll get a ride back to the station from one of the guys.”

She thanked him, said good-bye, and headed toward the elevator, walking at a normal pace that she hoped wouldn’t arouse suspicion. By the time the elevator pinged from the fourth floor and the doors opened up, she was ready to jump inside and sprint as fast as she could to the car.

She reached the first floor and saw the congressman just leaving with his security detail. His wife was standing by the drop-off circle next to a shiny SUV, crying. Sheriff Bork and Vargas were circling back through the lobby, heading in Miriam’s direction. She stopped and threw her back against the nearest pillar, hiding. They walked right past her without taking notice. She breathed a sigh of relief and fled outside, avoiding contact with anyone who looked her way.

As she pulled out of the parking lot, it dawned on her that she needed to check in with Ana before moving on to anything else. She placed a call while turning out of the hospital lot and onto East Riggs Road, which led right to Chandler Heights—a mainly desolate area where few occupied homes or businesses remained.

Any suspicions she had of Guillermo’s intentions subsided when she thought about the fact that she was armed and ready for anything. Just the thought that he could provide information about Sarah’s abductor propelled her forward.

“Mom?”
Ana said on the phone.

“Hey, honey,” Miriam said, holding the phone up on speaker. “How’s it going? Are you at Jessica’s house?”

“Her name’s, Tina, Mom. Geez.”

“I’m sorry,” Miriam said, laughing.

“Yes, I’m at Tina’s. Her mom’s going to make dinner soon. You still want me home by eight?”

Miriam thought to herself. “Better just make it nine. If her mother doesn’t mind, of course.”

She could feel the excitement in Ana’s voice.
“Cool! No, they don’t mind.”

Miriam arched a brow. “You sure about that?”

“Yes, Mom. Okay?”

“I love you, honey, and I’ll see you soon.”

“All right, Mom. Love you, bye!”

Ana hung up, and Miriam set the phone on the middle console. She turned the police radio up a tad to hear the latest. There was some chatter about their suspect at the hospital, but no new reports about Sarah. Miriam looked at the two street signs ahead as she continued down the long, largely rural road, entering desert country.

Guillermo had earned a modicum of trust from her, but she still had her suspicious. With one hand on the wheel, she grabbed her purse and searched for her wallet. His information was most likely going to come with some additional costs.

She turned right onto Chandler Heights, a long, barren stretch of road that seemed to go on to infinity. She passed a closed-down gas station with old-fashioned pumps. The windows were barred. The empty parking lot had weeds growing out of every crack.

The Mobil sign looked faded, and if that wasn’t enough, the pumps had yellow bags over them. She looked ahead, scanning for any kind of park. A quarter mile farther, she came upon a poorly maintained baseball field surrounded by a chain-link fence. She was close. Past the baseball field, in the distance, there was an empty dirt lot with an unoccupied playground and a nearby run-down restroom building.

She slowed to a halt on the side of the road and picked up her cell phone, calling G’s number. Beyond the dirt lot, a crooked sign hanging on the fence read Heights Park. There was an old slide, swing set, and merry-go-round in view. Her Beretta fit snugly in her side holster, and she was prepared to use it if anything seemed out of the ordinary. The phone rang a few times before G finally answered.

“Are you here?” she asked.

“Si. You alone?”
he asked. His voice sounded distant, as though he were a million miles away.

“Yes,” she said. “Are you?”

“I am,”
he said.

“How did you get out here?”

Exhaust spewed from the back of her idling car as she waited, fully prepared to flee at a moment’s notice. Already something didn’t seem right about the meet-up.

“I have my ways. And I’m not here to play games.”

“I want to believe you, Guillermo, but this whole thing seems shady.” Her need for answers had blinded her, but just when she was ready to put the car in drive, she saw G walk out from behind the small building and toward the swing set, holding a cell phone.

“You see me?”

“I do. But I need assurances that you’re alone.”

He sat on the first swing and rocked back and forth, watching her from about a hundred feet away. “
You come here to ask the same questions, or you want to talk about the girl?”

“I need more than ultimatums. How about you meet me in my car and we talk?”

“Trust is a two-way street. If you can’t trust me, then our conversation is done here,”
he said flatly. He hung up on her, calling her bluff. With the cell phone in hand, he continued to swing, beckoning her to get out of the car as if he was dangling a carrot.

Angered, Miriam shifted into drive but didn’t press the gas. Sarah entered her mind again. She called G back, but he wouldn’t answer. A few words came to mind, asshole being one of them. She put her head down and shifted back into park, turning the ignition off. Whatever game he was playing, she hoped that it would be worth it.

She got out of the car and immediately went for her pistol. Rusty swing chains squeaked as G swayed back and forth. Miriam scanned the area around her and kept a careful eye on her man. Dust collected on her shoes as she walked across the dirt lot, nearing the swing set.

“Heck of a place to meet,” she said, approaching the fence that divided the lot from the playground. He would lure her no farther. He remained on the swing in an act of defiance.

“What do you have for me?” she asked.

He stopped swinging and gestured to the empty swing next to him.

“This is where we meet halfway,” she replied. “You familiar with that concept?” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill, waving it from behind the fence.

G looked rolled his eyes. “That supposed to get me running over there? Thought you had more respect for me.”

She pushed the twenty back into her pocket and gripped the fence with her hand. “What I don’t have is time for this. You said you have some information. I came. I’m only offering something for your time.”

“Women always look at me like I’m a piece of dirt. I see the same look in your eyes now.”

“What are you talking about? Guillermo,
you
called
me
. Remember that. It’s very clear why I came.”

“You want to hear about the girl?” he asked, shifting gears.

“Yes,” she responded.

He hopped off the swing. His knees creaked as his shoes dug into the dirt. “You have the wrong man,” he said, dusting himself off and approaching her.

“You said that on the phone,” she said.

“I know. Lots of people on the streets are talking about it.”

“You had mentioned a man with burns. Is that the guy?”

“Could be,” he said. “You should have listened to me the first time.” He stopped inches away from her.

“I’m listening now. Tell me who it is,” she said, her eagerness getting the upper hand.

He glanced behind her. “He’s right here. You can meet him yourself.”

She whipped around with her gun pointed as two bean-bag rounds launched into her chest like rockets, throwing her into the fence and knocking the air completely out of her. She collapsed to the ground with intense pain shooting through her body. She couldn’t breathe. She could barely move.

Standing in the dirt only a few feet away, she saw a pair of boots that began casually walking toward her. She lifted her head as tears streamed down her cheeks. A man in a black robe strolled closer, holding a shotgun pointed in her direction.

Air entered her lungs. She screamed out in pain, struggling to regain her balance. The dual blast had immobilized her.

“Sorry,
señorita
,” G said from behind her. “You just got a little too close to the flame.”

She couldn’t muster the strength to turn around. Her pistol lay just out of reach. She held her arm out, but the effort caused excruciating pain. Her fingers trembled inches from the pistol handle. A boot came down in front of her face and kicked the pistol away.

She cried out again, looking up to see the man pointing his shotgun in her face. A gloved hand went up to the hood, which hid his face. When he pulled it down, he exposed deeply burned features so scarred it was hard to look at him. Nothing about him looked familiar except his startling blue eyes.

“Hello, Miriam. Nice to see you again,” he said with a twisted smile.

Holding Cell

Miriam woke in a darkened room, lying on a single, bare mattress. The air was stale, and there wasn’t a window or any light except from a dim, battery-operated lantern sitting in the far corner across from her. Her chest throbbed with pain. Her left arm felt heavy, and when she moved it, she felt a metal clamp around her wrist and a heavy chain hooked into the wall.

She had little memory of what had happened or how she had gotten there. But a sickened feeling in her gut told her that she was in the worst kind of trouble.

It still hurt to move. Then a rush of memory came back to her. She had been shot, and for a moment, she wondered if she was dead. She felt her chest. Her ribs were sore and her breasts hurt, but she wasn’t bleeding.

There were no gunshot wounds—amazing when she recalled feeling the pelt of a shotgun blast. Whoever was behind the trigger must have used bean bag rounds. She was familiar with those types of rounds, which were traditionally used in riot control.

Suddenly a voice spoke to her from the shadows.

“The problem today is that it’s hard to find someone to trust.”

“Who’s there?” she said in a hoarse, desperate voice.

The man continued. “But something I’ve learned from experience is that everyone has a price.”

The man got up and approached her from the corner, then came into view—bald and stripped of his eyebrows and facial hair. His pinkish face was leathery and scarred. He wore a black robe with the hood tossed back. Phillip Anderson stood before her, disfigured, but recognizable enough. His mere presence shocked her.

“So, that’s my question to you, Miriam. What’s your price?” he continued.

“What are you doing here?” she asked between labored breaths.

“I’m the man you’re looking for,” he answered. “The one Guillermo told you about.”

She yanked on her chain and tried to sit up, but the pain was too much. “And you have Sarah?” she asked, eyes darting around the room.

“I do. The congressman’s daughter will make a nice addition to my collection.”

Miriam gasped in fear. Her desire to find the kidnapping madman had led her straight to Phillip Anderson and back into the recurring nightmare she could not wake up from.

“What collection?” she asked, not fully prepared to find out.

“I’m glad you asked,” Phillip said, kneeling down next to a single bucket in the otherwise empty room. He reached inside and pulled out a decapitated head.

Miriam gasped at the horror of it. She squinted, trying to see more clearly in the darkened room. When her eyes adjusted a bit more, she could see that it was not the head of just any man—it was Guillermo.

She recoiled against the wall and closed her eyes as Phillip stepped forward, dangling the head in the air close to her face, taunting her.

“I’m surprised at you, Miriam. I thought you’d be happy. He betrayed you, so I decided to repay the favor.”

She opened her eyes and stared back at him with absolute contempt. “I always knew you were a sick man, but a full-blown psychopath?”

“Not entirely. I’ve been very patient.” He lowered the head back into the bucket, where it emitted a stomach-churning dunking sound. Miriam was relieved that she didn’t have to look at it anymore.

“You followed me here? All the way to Arizona?” she asked, stunned.

“Of course,” he answered. He sauntered in her direction in the same laid-back, casual stroll he had exhibited after shooting her with the bean bag rounds.

“You must be in some
real
pain right now,” he continued, pointing to her chest. “But I had no choice. I know you’re a quick draw, and I had to immobilize you somehow.” He tilted his mutilated face back and laughed. “That would be the
second
time I got the drop on you. Imagine that.”