Identity Crisis, page 14
“A Hispanic guy by the name of Gerald Maas. Interestingly he’s a former city councilman himself.” Gage took a deep sip of his coffee, capturing her gaze over the rim. “I figure anyone opposing Eric Holden is a friend of ours. My plan is to find Gerald Maas and see what, if anything, he knows about all this.”
She had to admit, it was a good plan. They finished their breakfast and she found it difficult to tear her gaze from Gage’s face. Even with the scruffy growth of his beard, he was very attractive. He’d asked for a second chance, and right now, she was willing to give him one. Would she feel differently when her memory returned? It was hard to imagine.
When they left the motel on foot, Alyssa wanted to weep at the pain that zinged up her leg. She ground her teeth together, determined to tough it out. Gage had enough to worry about without her adding to it by whining.
“Dan’s truck!” he said abruptly, snapping his fingers. “Why didn’t I think of that sooner?”
“Dan’s truck?” Maybe it was lack of sleep combined with only one cup of coffee, but she wasn’t following him. “What about Dan’s truck?”
“I have a key.” Gage dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out his wallet. “I’m sure Dan’s truck is parked down by our offices.”
Since Gage’s office building was on the other side of town, she didn’t consider this revelation particularly good news. “It will take all day to walk there,” she protested. “We have to figure out some way to find Gerald Maas.”
Gage sent her a sidelong glance. “And you think I don’t have faith?” he asked dryly. “The newspaper listed his campaign headquarters, and since the election is tomorrow, I’m sure someone will be there, maybe even Gerald himself.”
She blushed and realized he was right. She was tired, crabby and in pain, but that was no excuse to lose faith. “Brilliant idea, Gage. Although I’m almost afraid to ask where the campaign office is located.”
“Not to worry. We can take the number ten bus downtown, pick up Dan’s truck and then go to the campaign office. Piece of cake.”
Gage’s good mood was contagious. She admired him for putting his fear for his father aside, at least on the surface. She found herself thinking she was very lucky to have Gage at her side during all this. She couldn’t imagine what she’d have done without him.
Cautiously, they made their way past the convenience store without incident. “Guess the clerk didn’t recognize you after all,” she murmured.
“I hope not, but regardless, once we have Dan’s truck, I think we’ll come back here, get our stuff and find a new place to stay for the night.” Gage’s expression turned grim. “No sense in pushing our luck.”
She had to agree. They found the bus stop and had to wait only a few minutes for the bus to arrive. With her red hair and Gage’s darkly shadowed jaw, she didn’t think they’d look too much like the photos on the news. But she kept her head down and avoided direct eye contact with other passengers as she slid into a seat in the back of the bus.
The ride downtown took longer than she expected, as the bus stopped many times along the way. But once they reached the end of the line, she was grateful they weren’t far from the parking garage. “Where do you think he parked?” she asked.
“He has a white truck. There, it’s the third one from the end.”
The thought of actually driving from point A to point B was enough to pick up her mood. She’d never been so happy to see a vehicle in her life. Gage slid behind the wheel and started up the truck with a twist of the key.
Riding to Gerald Maas’s campaign headquarters took less than ten minutes to cover a distance that would have taken at least an hour or more to walk.
Inside, the place was busy with people picking up fliers for one last campaign push. “Can I help you?” a harried, rather buxom woman with blond-streaked hair asked when she saw them standing there.
She noticed Gage put on his most charming smile. “Good morning, ma’am. We’re both huge supporters of Gerald Maas. Would you happen to know where he is?”
“Supporters?” her brown eyes gleamed. “How would you like to canvass some neighborhoods for us?”
“We’d love to!” Alyssa blinked when Gage readily took a handful of Maas for Mayor fliers. “But we really need to talk to Gerald, first. Is he swinging by here soon?”
“No. If I know Gerald he’s down on the river, fixing up that old railroad property of his.”
“Railroad property?” she echoed, glancing over at Gage. He shrugged, indicating he had no idea what the woman meant.
“You know where the old Milwaukee railroad used to cross the river?” When Gage shook his head no, she went on, “Right across the street from the south end of the Summerfest grounds. The old brick building used to be the control tower for the railroad bridge. It’s not in use now, of course, but the building is still there. Would make a nice little place for a restaurant or deli. Any property on the water is worth something these days.”
Yeah, like Jefferson’s condos overlooking the river. “Oh, yes, of course,” Gage said. “I know exactly where it is. Thanks so much.”
Back out in the truck, she glanced at him. “How did you know where she was talking about?” she asked.
“Because I know the downtown area pretty well.” He pulled out into traffic, and once again she was thrilled not to be walking. “It’s actually not far from here.”
Five minutes later he pulled off and parked the white truck. As they approached, she noticed the two-story narrow brick building with large windows on three of the four sides overlooking the Milwaukee River. It was cute, too small for condos, but as the woman mentioned, perfect for a small restaurant or deli.
“There he is,” Gage murmured.
She followed his gaze. There was a small concrete patio in the back of the control tower building, overlooking the water. Two plastic chairs were back there, and a middle-aged man, with black hair liberally sprinkled with gray, sat pensively looking out over the water.
As they closed the distance, he spoke without turning around. “Nice day for fishing isn’t it?”
“Uh, yes sir.” Gage took the lead, coming up to stand beside the former councilman. “My name is Gage Drummond and this is Alyssa Roth. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”
Gerald narrowed his gaze suspiciously. “You reporters?”
“No!” she exclaimed. “We’re not Eric Holden fans, and we’re concerned about what will happen to the city if he wins this election.”
The older man looked between them and then nodded slowly. “All right, then, please sit down.” He indicated the plastic chair next to him.
She glanced at Gage, silently asking where they should start. He cleared his throat and turned toward the former councilman. “Mr. Maas, we know that Hugh Jefferson is financially supporting Eric Holden’s election, and that greatly concerns us. We have reason to believe Jefferson is dangerous.”
Maas slowly nodded. “Councilman Schaefer said the same thing to me about a couple of weeks ago. And now he’s dead.”
She sucked in a harsh breath. “Why?”
Maas lifted one shoulder. “Schaefer took the lead in voting against giving him a permit. But in the end, the rest of the group was swayed in favor of granting the permit because of the additional tax revenue, ignoring Jefferson’s shady business deals. And you’re right, Holden will likely win this election. I’m trying my best, but I don’t have the clout that Jefferson has.”
“We need to stop him,” she urged, leaning forward. “Help us stop him.”
Maas lifted tired brown eyes to hers. “Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do. No one is listening to me. If you have any sort of proof regarding Jefferson, you should take it directly to the police.”
“We can’t,” she protested softly. “He has officers, at least one for sure that we know of, working for him.”
“If we had concrete proof, we could take it to the FBI,” Gage offered. “Do you know anything that can help us?”
Maas was silent for a moment. “I have my suspicions of course, just like others do. But I couldn’t find any proof to support my theory.”
She frowned and exchanged a look with Gage. “What theory?”
“That the previous mayor, Tony Flynn, was murdered.”
* * *
Flynn murdered? Stunned, Gage stared at Maas. “I thought the autopsy proved he died of a heart attack?”
Maas’s tone was bitter. “Pretty convenient heart attack, if you ask me. I don’t believe it. Flynn was disgustingly healthy, ran marathons on a regular basis. He didn’t have a family history of heart trouble. And he was found crumpled over his desk after a late meeting with Holden.”
“Anyone can have sudden death from a heart attack,” Alyssa protested. “Even a marathon runner.”
Maas waved a finger at her. “I know what you’re saying, missy, but I still don’t believe it. Mayor Flynn wasn’t one to fold under pressure. Are you really going to sit there and tell me that there isn’t something that can be given to a person that mimics a heart attack, even on autopsy?”
“The only thing I know of is potassium chloride,” she whispered, looking stricken. “An injection of potassium chloride would mimic a heart attack, and the higher levels of potassium in the bloodstream would be associated with the actual event itself.”
Gage was shocked. “But it can’t be easy to get your hands on potassium chloride,” he protested.
“Not easy,” Alyssa acknowledged. “Every hospital in the country keeps the stuff secured in the pharmacy. No vials are allowed up on the nursing units. But still, nothing is impossible.”
Maas grimaced. “So now you know why I can’t help you with proof. They’re too good at covering their tracks.”
Gage hated to admit failure, but after asking a few more questions, he realized Maas couldn’t help them any further. “Thanks for your time, sir. And I hope you win this election.”
“I hope so, too.” Gerald Maas set down his fishing pole to stand and shake their hands. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.” He cupped Alyssa’s elbow in his hand, offering her support as they made their way back to Dan’s truck. He could tell by the way she was walking that her ankle still bothered her. He wished he had thought about Dan’s truck sooner.
“So now what?” she asked when they reached the truck. “Maas didn’t help much, except to reinforce our suspicions.”
“I know, but somehow it makes me feel better to know we have at least one ally.” Gage drummed his fingers on the edge of the steering wheel. “Let’s run back to the motel, pick up our stuff and find a new place to stay for tonight.”
“Sounds good.” She sat back against the seat with a sigh. “Thanks, Gage.”
He lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “For what?”
A small smile tugged the corner of her mouth. “For being here with me through all this. I’m so glad to have your support.”
He was humbled by her words. He didn’t deserve her gratitude—he still felt responsible for her current state. Still, she was right in that they had a lot to be thankful for. “You’re welcome, but you need to know, the feeling is mutual.”
She reached over and put her hand on his. He clasped her small hand in his, wishing he had the right to pull her into his arms and kiss her. He tried to keep his concentration on the road, but he was all too aware of Alyssa beside him.
“Um, Gage?” The underlying fear in her voice cut through his thoughts. “There’s a squad car behind us.”
He glanced up at the rearview mirror, and his gut tightened with fear. Almost instantly, the red and blue lights went on, and the squad car came up right behind them, practically touching their rear bumper, indicating they needed to pull over. “Can you tell if the driver is Crane?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see past the sun glare.” She twisted in her seat and then glanced at him. “There’s too much traffic. We’ll never be able to lose him.”
“We’ll get arrested if we pull over.” He swept a frantic glance over the area. To the right there was a road, relatively free of cars, that wound beneath the interstate. “Hang on,” he said as he yanked the steering wheel, making a sharp right.
Unfortunately, the police car followed, red and blue lights still flashing.
“Gage!” Alyssa shouted. “Look out, he has a gun!”
Desperately, he swerved again, but too late. The bullet hit its mark and their rear tire blew, sending the truck sliding out of control. He wrestled with the steering wheel, slamming on the brakes to try to avoid the concrete pillar. He managed to slow the vehicle down, but the front end of the truck still smashed into the pillar with enough force to cause the air bags to deploy.
Instantly, he was pinned in his seat, listening to the shattering glass of the windshield.
“Gage?” The air bags began to deflate, and he felt Alyssa’s hand gripping his arm. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, but we have to get out of here.” He shoved his door open, but a strong hand stopped the door from opening all the way. The ruddy face of Officer Crane loomed before him, a cruel smile twisting his thin lips. The gun he’d used to shoot out their tire was leveled at Gage’s chest.
“Well, well, well. This must be my lucky day.” The deep, mocking drawl made him clench his fingers on the steering wheel in anger. Especially when Crane leaned over to leer at Alyssa. “Did you really think the red hair would fool me?” he asked snidely. “Get out. You’re both under arrest for the murder of Dan Kirkland.”
Gage wanted nothing more than to wipe the satisfied smirk off Crane’s face, but the gun held him immobile. They were trapped. There was no way out of this one. He didn’t doubt that Crane would shoot them both if they tried to run. He couldn’t bear to look at Alyssa as he slid out of the driver’s seat. He couldn’t face how he’d failed her yet again.
“Up against the car, both of you. Hands behind your back.”
Cage stood helplessly against the truck, and Alyssa soon joined him. Crane snapped plastic ties around his wrists, locking them together. From the corner of his eye, he watched Crane place the same type of plastic ties around Alyssa’s wrists.
“This way.” Crane kept the gun in one hand, using it to urge them both to the back of his squad car. He opened the back door and waved the gun, gesturing for them to get in. Gage waited for Alyssa to scoot in first, then slid in beside her. Crane slammed the door behind them.
Crane slid into the driver’s seat, picked up the radio and began speaking. “Dispatch, I’m reporting an abandoned vehicle, a white Chevy pickup, license 555 ERP, registered to a Daniel J. Kirkland, deceased. It’s located under the Marquette interchange. No sign of the driver or any passengers at this time. Send a tow truck to the scene, over.”
“Ten-four,” the radio squawked.
Crane replaced his radio, started the car and then eased into traffic. Dread curled in Gage’s gut. “You’re not taking us to the police station, are you?” he asked.
Crane let out a mirthless laugh. “Ooh, you’re so smart, Drummond. No, we’re not going to the police station.”
Beside him, he heard Alyssa’s sharp gasp.
Defiantly, he met Crane’s gaze through the rearview mirror, refusing to show the man any trace of fear. Crane’s eyes were bright with triumph. “Jefferson has other plans for the two of you.” His evil gaze shifted to include Alyssa. “I can hardly wait for both of you to get what you deserve.”
THIRTEEN
Red dots of fury swam before Gage’s eyes. He strained against the ties binding his wrists, ignoring the increasing pain in his arms. He had to protect Alyssa. To keep Crane from laying one slimy finger on her.
His fault. Once again, this mess was his fault. Why on earth had he picked up Dan’s truck? His stupidity had gotten them captured. For a moment, a wave of helplessness washed over him.
Lord, please help us! Guide us and give us strength to escape Crane!
The silent prayer helped to steady his racing heart.
“Where are you taking us?” Alyssa’s voice held a fine tremor, although the stubborn tilt to her chin was reassuring. Her show of bravery made him even more determined to find a way to escape Crane.
“Anxious to be alone with me, babe?” Crane taunted. The way his leering gaze lingered on Alyssa caused Gage to grit his teeth in frustration. “Maybe we can have a little fun together after I get rid of your boyfriend.”
Gage kept his expression impassive, refusing to let Crane know how much his taunts were getting to him. He forced the red haze of fury away and he stared out the window, making mental notes of which streets Crane took. The only advantage they had at this point was that Crane hadn’t checked their pockets prior to slapping the plastic cuff ties around their wrists. Gage carried a small Boy Scout knife in the front pocket of his jeans, a gift from his father many years ago. With his hands behind his back, the knife wouldn’t be easy to reach, but at least they weren’t completely helpless.
He refused to believe there wouldn’t be a chance to escape. Alyssa told him he needed to put his faith in God, so he would. Help me, Lord. Help me find a way out!
Crane headed west, the opposite direction than Gage had expected. Crane turned on National Avenue and then turned right again, heading under the 35th Street viaduct to a section of the city that once housed many manufacturing plants. Now only old, dilapidated warehouses remained. With a sinking feeling, Gage quickly realized the area looked deserted.
