Cross the Line, page 30
He wasn’t going to like the answer to his question, but there was only one place I could think to go to get more information.
“Hope’s apartment.”
36
Jordan scanned the encroaching shadows for threats as we huddled on Hope’s patio.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Holly.”
I wasn’t sure it was a good idea either, but after finding the message on the whiteboard, what other option was there?
I reached between the bars and pounded on Hope’s apartment door with the side of my fist. “If Hope really does need help, then maybe we can find answers here. Sally might be able to tell us something.”
The babysitter was supposed to bring Tyler home so he could play with his own toys and sleep in his own bed, so she should be here.
“I know you don’t think I should trust Hope, but I have to follow my instincts,” I said.
“She helped a man try to kidnap you two hours ago, so no, I don’t think you should trust her.”
“She left a message asking for help.”
“We don’t know who wrote that note on the whiteboard.”
“She calls me Nancy Drew, and she addressed the message to Nancy.”
Jordan sighed. “Even if she did leave that message, if she truly needed help, why not say something when she came to the agency afterward?”
“I don’t know.” The possibilities flitted through my head until a detail I had glossed over at the Agency sharpened. “The phone.”
“What phone?”
“When she came to tell me to back off the case, she had a phone in her hand, but she left hers in the hospital trash can.”
“She picked up a burner.”
“Or he called her at the hospital, told her to toss her phone, and had her meet him somewhere so he could give her a phone he could monitor.”
Jordan couldn’t hide the skepticism from his voice. “If she’s not complicit, why would he give her a phone at all?”
“So he could listen in. When we were talking in the lobby of the agency, there was someone outside walking their dog. I heard it bark. And then I heard the exact bark again, but faint like . . . an echo.”
Thought lines creased his forehead. “An echo like what comes through the phone speaker when a caller is close by.”
“Yes. I think he was on the other end of the line, listening to make sure she didn’t say anything he didn’t want her to. And considering I could hear the dog from the lobby and coming through her phone . . .”
“The person on the other end was right outside the agency.” Jordan bit back a curse at the realization.
“I don’t think she was leading me into a trap, Jordan. I think when she failed to convince me to drop the case, and I followed her, he followed me. And then I saw the van he’s been driving, the bullet holes linking him to Dorina’s attempted kidnapping, the license plate.”
“But what could he be holding over her to force her to help him?”
Both of our gazes drifted to the smashed sucker on the sidewalk, and I said, “The safety of the person she cares for more than anything in this world.”
Concern rippled across Jordan’s face. He’d been performing magic tricks for that little boy hours ago, delighting in his laughter and wonder. He hammered on the door with the side of his fist, mindless of any complaints it would draw at this hour, while I squeezed between the bushes and the building to peek through the window.
I squinted through slatted blinds at the dim interior, my breath fogging the glass. The place was tidy, except the glass of spilled milk on the floor.
“Jordan.”
I leaned, straining to see more, and spotted a handful of scattered orange slices. Jordan crunched through the mulch and peered over my head, tension threading through his voice. “We need to call the police.”
“For spilled food?” I wedged my fingers under the windowpane and heaved, but it didn’t budge.
“They can do a wellness check.”
“We’re doing a wellness check right now. I’m not waiting for them.” I stumbled out of the bushes and back to the front door, wiggling the knob. Locked. “I’m going around back.”
I jogged through the alley toward the back of the building, puddles splashing around my feet. I rounded the building and found the back door that led into the kitchen. Also locked.
I slapped the door in frustration. Something was wrong—I could feel it in the pit of my stomach—but I couldn’t get inside. I backed away from the door, and something crinkled beneath my shoe. I lifted my foot off the tangle of plastic wrap, tape, and cardboard.
Was that a plastic-wrapped pizza box?
My gaze darted to the hole in the kitchen wall. Someone had ripped through Hope’s makeshift covering and dragged it into the alley, leaving an opening into the apartment.
She’d been worried it would leave her vulnerable to another burglary, but I had a feeling something much worse than a burglary had happened here.
“Crap,” Jordan breathed, when he saw the uncovered hole. He pulled out his phone to report the break-in.
An overturned bucket had been pushed up against the building to use as a step stool, and I climbed up to see into the kitchen. Except for a nightlight in the hallway, darkness consumed the interior.
“Hello!” I shouted.
A muffled sound drifted back to me as Jordan explained the situation to the dispatcher. It might’ve been a cry, but it was nearly drowned by ambient noise.
“I think someone might be hurt.” I planted my hands on the boards that had been used to frame in the window and hefted myself up, ignoring the twinge in my wrist.
“Holly, you can’t go in there.” Jordan motioned me out of the opening. “Hop down.”
I tucked my legs into my chest and then swung them out the other side, dropping into the kitchen. When Jordan released a frustrated sigh, I replied, “You said hop down.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
I ignored his exasperation as I wiped my hands on my puffy coat and then searched for the light switch. He ended the call with the dispatcher and pulled himself up into the window frame, contorting to fit through the narrow passage.
He landed beside me with a grunt and rolled his shoulder. “If a man came in and out this way, he can’t be very big.”
“If it was my would-be kidnapper, he’s not. He’s bigger than me, but Sam could flick him off his feet.”
“That could be why he had so much trouble subduing you and Dorina.” He drew his gun, keeping it trained on the floor. “Anyone in here?”
A muffled whimper came from deeper inside the apartment.
“Stay behind me,” Jordan said, quashing my urge to dart past him and help whoever was in need. He took the lead with me on his heels.
The desperate plea led us to the bathroom door, and Jordan rested a hand on the knob. Bracing for any threats that might be inside, he flung it open.
My heart skipped at the sight.
A woman lay on her side on the floor, arms behind her back, duct tape wound around her head and ankles.
I tried to slip past Jordan to help her, but he nudged me back. Stepping around the bound woman, he trained his gun on the closed shower curtain, and then whipped it open.
Empty.
“Okay.” He stepped out of the bathroom so I could squeeze in.
I dropped to my knees beside the babysitter. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna try to get you free, okay?”
Fear and relief glittered in her liquid brown eyes as I rummaged through my knapsack for my box cutter. I pushed out the blade, locking it in place.
“I’m gonna check the rest of the apartment. Shout if you need me,” Jordan said. He disappeared from the doorway, his footsteps almost silent as he moved from room to room.
I doubted he was going to find Tyler nestled beneath his blankets, hugging a stuffed dinosaur.
I readjusted on my knees. “Try to stay still.”
I pulled at the tape in her hair, loosening it so I could slice through it with the blade. When the last fiber gave, I peeled it from her face, wincing as I ripped out strands of her hair.
She sucked in a breath before releasing a sob.
I leaned over her to find plastic binding her wrists behind her back. Nausea pooled in the pit of my stomach, and sweat slicked my palms. The memory of sawing through my own restraints with a pair of scissors pushed to the front of my mind.
But I couldn’t let myself fall into that memory and leave this woman in this position. Wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans, I began cutting at the zip tie, careful not to nick her wrists.
“Who did this to you? Did he hurt you?”
She released another trembling breath. “He was wearing a mask. I was in the bathroom when I heard a noise. I thought it was Tyler messing around in the kitchen, but when I opened the door to come out, there was a man. He shoved me back inside and tied me up at knifepoint.” She whimpered and stretched her wrists as I went to work on her feet. “We were only back from the hospital for a couple of hours before he broke in.”
That meant she’d been lying here, tied up, for about four hours.
A sound came from behind me, and I whirled toward the doorway with the box cutter.
Jordan held up his hands. “There’s no one else here.” His gaze dipped to the mutilated zip tie on the floor, and his eyes shimmered with compassion when he looked back at me. “We’re good.”
I tucked away my tiny blade, heartbeat staggering back to a normal rhythm. “Tyler?”
Jordan’s jaw hardened. “Gone.”
Sally pushed herself into a sitting position against the vanity cabinet, rubbing at her raw wrists. “He took him. He grabbed the Benadryl from the medicine cabinet, and I think he put some in Tyler’s Kool-Aid. They hung around for fifteen minutes or so, and I heard Tyler say he was sleepy.”
The man could easily maneuver Tyler out the kitchen opening and into his van if the boy was half-asleep from Benadryl.
Fresh tears dripped down Sally’s face. “Why did he take him? What am I gonna tell Hope?”
I suspected Hope already knew. She’d been at the hospital when this man broke in and took her son, and it was around that time that she received the call from Cami’s number. I could imagine the caller informing her that he had her child, a terrifying revelation that would spur Hope to do whatever was necessary to save her little boy.
. . . .
I sat on the couch beside Sally, gripping one of her hands in mine. The poor girl was a wreck and working her way through an entire travel pack of tissues.
Officers milled around the apartment, speaking in hushed tones as they searched for evidence to point them in the man’s direction. Jordan had led an officer around back to explain our part.
Chamberlin stepped through the open front door. The expression on his face when he saw me on the couch was hard to read, but there may have been a sliver of exasperation.
The man had known me for half a day, and I was already on his last, sleep-deprived nerve.
He motioned for me to join him, and I had a feeling I was about to be scolded for interfering or trespassing or some other lecture-worthy offense. I released Sally’s hand and rose to meet the detective by the front door.
He scratched at the bristles on his chin. “While I appreciate you helping that young lady over there, you are not a cop, and you walked into a potentially dangerous situation.”
“Actually, we sorta fell into it. Through the hole where the window used to . . .” I trailed off when he stared at me with an unamused expression. I cleared my throat and folded my arms. “Sorry if we complicated anything.”
“We can work around it this time. But it’s best if civilians leave the police work to the police, simply because we’re better equipped to handle it. Your best plan of action in situations like this is to call 911 and wait somewhere far from danger.”
“Tried that,” Jordan said as he returned.
I rolled my eyes. There was zero chance I would leave an innocent person bound and gagged in terror for another ten or fifteen minutes until the official help arrived.
“I see she’s not easily persuaded,” Chamberlin replied.
“Nope. If there’s even a one percent chance she can save someone in distress, she’ll take it.”
“I suppose it’s a good thing I’m learning what to expect now, since I’m sure our paths will cross in the future,” Chamberlin said, and I had no doubt he was dreading the day our paths crossed again.
“How was he even able to get in through the alley? Wasn’t forensics collecting evidence from where Cami was dumped?” Jordan asked.
“They finished up about thirty minutes before this happened. More than likely, he was waiting for them to clear out so he could find a way in.”
“Hope had nothing to do with this. She was still at the hospital when he broke in,” I pointed out.
“I know. The officer posted on Ms. Chen’s room filled me in on her upsetting phone call and abrupt exit. He thought it was odd that she left, since she’d told him a few minutes before that she planned to stay until Ms. Chen regained consciousness, which, as you know, didn’t happen until after nine p.m.”
“We’re on the same page now, right? Hope is a victim, not an accomplice,” I said.
“With the abduction of her son and the phone call that rattled her, it’s clear this man is pulling the strings,” Chamberlin said.
I narrowed my eyes at his choice of words. That wasn’t the same thing as “she’s innocent.” He was still clinging to his suspicion that she was involved with the kidnapper.
“Can you tell where the call came from?” Jordan asked.
“It originated from the cell towers in this area, and we were able to track Ms. Chen’s phone here, but it hasn’t been—”
“Detective.” A male officer stepped up to the doorway without entering the house and held up an evidence bag with a glittery cell phone in the bottom. “Found it in the dumpster around back.”
Chamberlin grimaced and nodded his thanks. “I suspected as much. He took the boy, made the call, and dumped the phone.”
“What are you gonna do about Tyler?” I asked.
“An AMBER Alert has already been issued, but if the information passed along to me from the officer you spoke with is accurate, then the child’s been missing going on five hours. Finding him won’t be easy.”
“The kidnapper probably used the van. Are you guys still searching for it?” I asked.
“It’s been located. Forensics is scouring it for evidence now. If the boy was in there, we’ll find something. There’s no way he had time to clean it before he dumped it.”
“Where did he dump it?”
Chamberlin stared at me, visibly debating how much he was willing to share. “A patrol officer located it in the driveway of an off-the-market rental property. No one appears to be in the house, so we’re reaching out to the property owners for permission to search the premises.”
Permission? A child had been abducted, and they were waiting around for someone to say they could go in?
“What’s the address?” I asked, as innocently as I could manage.
The first hint of a smile curved Chamberlin’s lips. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. You might drive over there and accidentally fall through another window.”
Jordan tried to hide his smile.
“I appreciate the information you’ve both provided. I’ll follow up if I have questions. You two are free to head home and get some sleep.”
Chamberlin walked over to the couch and sat beside Sally, pulling a travel pouch of tissues from inside his jacket. He offered them to her, and she accepted them with a shaky hand as she crumpled her last tissue in her fist.
I didn’t agree with Chamberlin’s assumptions about Hope, but at least he was kind and patient. Hopefully, he was as good at discovering the truth and solving cases as Marx was.
37
I stared out the passenger window, my thoughts whipping by as fast as the streetlights as we cruised toward my apartment.
I couldn’t wrap my mind around the man in the mask. He had tried to abduct four people, but only succeeded in taking two, and he left Cami in a public alley where she would be found. He had two women incapacitated and at his mercy, but he didn’t abuse either of them.
What was his motivation?
I tapped my fingers on the passenger door in growing frustration.
“You’re trying to work things out in your head, aren’t you?” Jordan’s question drew me from my thoughts.
“How can you tell?”
He pulled his eyes from the road to look at me. “Your lips quirk to one side and you squint, like you’re trying to intimidate your thoughts into obedience.”
Relaxing my face, I admitted, “They’re unfortunately not intimidated. There are so many questions, and I can’t work out the answers.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“In time?”
His expression turned grim. “He hasn’t killed anyone.”
Yet. The word hung unspoken at the end of that statement. Cami had almost died. He may not have intended to kill her, but kidnapping her and leaving her trapped with no access to her medication nearly had.
“The question nagging at me is, what does he want with Hope?” Jordan turned onto another street. “Everyone he’s targeting is someone she’s connected to or cares about, which means this is somehow about her. She’s a single mother with no money, no valuable connections, who works as a prostitute. Why is he so interested in her?”
“Maybe he was one of the guys who paid for her time, and now he’s got some fantasy in his head that they’re something more. Maybe he wants her all to himself.”
He let out a skeptical grunt. “If he wanted to eliminate her friends to have her all to himself, he could’ve killed them. Kidnapping them doesn’t accomplish that.”
“Maybe it’s not about some twisted sense of love. Maybe Hope was wrong when she said she didn’t have any enemies.”
