Gone The Next Read online

  This was good news. Not the bullshit about him not knowing Pierce, but the fact that he wasn’t going to shoot me. All I had to do was be cool.

  “I hadn’t been on that stretch of road for years,” I said. “And I sure don’t have any reason to go back. My client has already closed the case.”

  “If you go back there, I can promise that you will regret it. Immediately.”

  “I won’t be going back.”

  Long pause. He was trying to think of any other questions he should ask or threats he should make. Evidently he decided that he wasn’t quite done.

  “You report this and you’re gonna wish you hadn’t. Got me? But if you let it go — look at it as a learning experience — then you and I won’t have any further problems. Sound reasonable?”

  “Hey, that’s fine by me. You’re just doing your job.”

  “Okay, in the back, on the floor.”

  I didn’t have much choice. Again, he steered me with a rough hand on my arm. I went to my knees in the rear of the van, behind the bench seat.

  “All the way down.”

  He laid me flat, my arms still cuffed behind me.

  “I’m going to remove the mask. If you want to make the biggest mistake of your life, try to get a look at me. You understand what I’m saying?”

  “I do.”

  He pulled the mask off my head and it felt good. I hadn’t realized how sweaty my head had gotten. It was dark enough in the van that I couldn’t have gotten a good look at the guy even if I’d tried. But I didn’t try. I kept my nose to the carpet. Why blow it now?

  “Now I’m gonna take the cuffs off. Do not move. Do not get off the floor. I want you to stay right where you are for ten minutes. If you move before that, there’s a real good chance I’ll be standing right outside watching you. Then again I might be gone. Much better for you if you wait the ten minutes. Comprende?”

  “Yep.”

  He popped the cuffs off and that felt even better than having the hood removed. By then, my arms and shoulders were throbbing.

  “Ten minutes,” he repeated. “Your keys will be a hundred yards down the road.”

  I felt the van shifting as he made his way to the open door and exited. Then it was still again. I’m not positive, but now I thought I could hear an engine idling somewhere not too far away. His ride, waiting for him. Somebody had followed us out here. Which meant there was at least one other person working with him. Assuming I really was hearing an engine, and now I wasn’t so sure.

  I waited one minute, then pushed myself off the floor of the van. I didn’t get shot, Tasered, clubbed, smacked, or otherwise assaulted.

  Looking out the rear window, I got my bearings quickly. There was just enough fading light to see that the van was parked in a cul-de-sac. No houses to be seen anywhere. Just oak and cedar trees, and faraway hills turning gray in the twilight. Ten feet from the van, a wooden stake with bright-orange surveyor’s tape tied around the top was driven into the dirt. Smart. He had driven us down into an empty neighborhood. The roads had been put in, but nothing had been built yet. Nobody would be poking around here after dark.

  I quickly checked all my gear, and it appeared that nothing was missing. My Glock was still in the hidden compartment. I exited the van and started walking, using a flashlight as I went. The keys were right in the middle of the road, about one hundred yards away. The man was a damn humanitarian.

  23

  First thing the next morning, Mia called to say she’d put a great deal of thought into it, and she had decided that she’d like to be my partner. I literally had to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “Well, you might change your mind in a minute.”

  “Why?”

  I gave her a quick summary of what had happened to me last night. Just the highlights.

  “Jesus, Roy, that’s nuts. Did you report him?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  I could tell she was angry that someone had treated me that way, which made me feel sort of good.

  “Think about it. First I reported that I saw Tracy Turner, or some other little girl, at Pierce’s place. The cops plainly didn’t believe me, and given my history, I’m not sure I would’ve believed me either, and, in fact, I’m not sure I did see anything. Okay, so now I’m going to report that an unknown assailant blasted me with a Taser, threatened to shoot me, then hauled me off to the boondocks for questioning? But I have no evidence? And I can’t describe the guy? Man, they would think I’ve totally lost it, or that I’m still trying to make them believe my first report. No way I’m putting myself through that. Waste of time.”

  She said nothing for a few seconds. Then: “You know what?”

  “What?”

  “I’m coming over. We need to talk about this.”

  She arrived thirty minutes later with hot coffee and a fresh bag of glazed donuts, which reaffirmed her potential as an excellent partner.

  She set them on the coffee table and gave me a concerned stare. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. It wasn’t like he beat me with a rubber hose.”

  “Yeah, but a Taser...”

  “Thanks, really, but I’m fine.”

  “Let me see where he got you.”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “Stand up, Roy. Let me see.”

  I stood, as I was told, and rolled up my left sleeve to show her my biceps. “I’m sure you’ll notice that I’ve been working out.”

  She studied my upper arm.

  I said, “If you can find a mark, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.”

  “You’re right. I don’t see anything. You said he zapped you twice.”

  I turned my back and pulled my t-shirt up and over my head. “Control yourself,” I said.

  She placed one hand against my lower back — sort of a “stay right there” gesture. Truth is, it felt nice. Really nice. Was that because it was Mia? Or would I have liked the touch of any beautiful woman’s hand at that moment?

  “Yeah, okay,” she said. “Nothing back here either. I figured it would leave a burn mark or a pair of red welts or something.”

  I realized that I wasn’t making a move to pull my shirt back on. And Mia’s hand was still on my back. She slid it around on my skin for a bit, as if feeling for a lump or a bump. It felt warm and smooth and believe me when I say I could imagine it running over other parts of my anatomy.

  “You have goose bumps,” she said, almost in a whisper.

  I still didn’t move. Her hand didn’t either.

  “What man wouldn’t?” I said.

  Something was happening. I wondered if we were about to cross a self-imposed boundary I’m pretty sure we both have considered crossing at some point. Or was I imagining it? Mia was the type to express concern by touching you.

  Regardless, she pulled her hand away, and the moment — if there was one — was broken.

  “I need a donut,” she said.

  “So where had he taken you?”

  I was on one end of the couch now. Mia was on the other end, sitting cross-legged, facing me. She was eating a donut, as promised, which included occasionally licking her fingers. I could charge admission for that show.

  “Out 290, past Nutty Brown Road. A new neighborhood off to the left. No homes yet.”

  “Why there?”

  “Good a place as any.”

  “You think he knows the area?” She finished her donut and wiped her hands with a paper napkin.

  “More likely he scouted for a spot in advance, just for that purpose. Him or the person working with him. I’m almost positive I heard an engine idling somewhere nearby.”

  “Yeah, I can’t imagine he’d drive you all the way out there and then walk back.”

  “I didn’t see anybody on my way out, but it would’ve been easy enough for him to duck into the woods.”

  I sipped some coffee, then gave in and grabbed a donut for myself.

  Mia s
aid, “Think it was Pierce?”

  “I guess it’s possible, but I really don’t think it was. This guy sounded older — maybe forties — and not from around here. He had a Boston accent like Matt Damon did in that movie about the math genius. Not quite that harsh, but similar.”

  “Think he knows Pierce?”

  “He claimed he didn’t, and that he was working security for someone who lived around there. But that was a weak cover. If he was under the impression that I thought he knew Pierce, but he really didn’t, wouldn’t he want to leave me with my mistaken impression? Why would he offer up any information at all? It seemed obvious that he was trying to steer me away from the truth. So, yeah, I’d say he’s connected to Pierce.”

  “Let’s assume so. Then the question is: Why would he be working security for a 26-year-old dishwasher?”

  “Man, I have no idea.”

  “Something weird there.”

  “Oh, I agree totally. We’re missing a big piece of the puzzle. At least one piece.”

  Mia seemed to be enjoying our conversation — the speculation, the mystery, the unanswered questions — quite a bit.

  So I said, “You realize that this sort of thing is completely out of the norm. Most of what I do, and what you would be doing, is pretty damn boring. You know that already.”

  “Yes, I do know that, and I notice that you said ‘would.’”

  “Yeah?”

  “You should be saying ‘will.’”

  “You still want to do it, huh? Be my partner?”

  “Can’t be any more dangerous than working at the bar. You know how often I have to fend off creeps in the parking lot?”

  “Where else am I supposed to wait for you?”

  She smiled for a second.

  I said, “Here’s the other problem. This thing with Brian Pierce — whatever it is — it isn’t actually a case now. Heidi pulled the plug. What that means is, ain’t no money coming our way for it.”

  “So?”

  “So if you really want to be my partner — and I’m glad you do — why not wait until the next case comes in? Then we’ll jump right in.”

  “Nope.”

  “Nope?”

  “Somebody mistreated my friend Roy, and they aren’t getting away with it.”

  Frankly, I was touched. “That’s, uh — ”

  “Sweet?”

  “Really dumb. Working for nothing?”

  “You’re an ass. Let’s go over it again. Repeat the entire conversation. Word for word, if you can remember.”

  So I did, as best as I could recall. Mia listened quietly until I got to the part where the guy asked about the dryer in the driveway. I was starting to think of him as “The Guy.”

  “Wait a sec,” she said. “What about the camera?”

  “What about it?”

  “Why would he mention the dryer rather than the camera?”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “If you admitted to me that you’d been watching Pierce, I’d say, ‘Oh, so you’re the one who hid the super-secret spy camera beside his driveway.’ But, instead, he asked about the dryer.”

  I thought about it. “Well, since I’d admitted that I was watching Pierce, it was obvious the camera was mine, whereas the dryer could’ve been dumped by anybody. He was probably just curious. Tying up loose ends.”

  “Maybe, or maybe he never found the camera.”

  “But I asked him about it. I asked if I was gonna get my camera back.”

  “Wasn’t that when he was in the back of your van, pawing through all your equipment? He might’ve thought you were talking about one of the cameras you keep in the van.”

  That stopped me for a second.

  She continued. “Did you say ‘camera’ or ‘rock camera’?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “How did he respond when you asked about getting it back?”

  “He told me to shut up.”

  “So you’ve just been assuming he found the rock camera, but maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was the dryer that made him suspicious. Did you reach the cedar tree before he zapped you? Did you get a chance to see if the camera was there?”

  I had to think about it. “It’s hard to remember. But now I’m starting to think I didn’t.”

  “So the camera could still be sitting there, and if we’re lucky, maybe it’ll tell us a little more about this guy. Or about Pierce. Or the woman in the Jetta. Or all three.”

  “Damn, you’re good.”

  “Thanks. We should go check it out.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “When?”

  “Right now.”

  We took the van. We could’ve taken her car, but I’ll admit it was a matter of pride. I guess I wanted to prove to myself — or maybe to Mia, or even to The Guy — that I wasn’t afraid to show myself again, as plain as day. Also, on the more practical side, it made sense to keep Mia’s car in our hip pocket, never seen before, in case we needed it later.

  I didn’t bother driving past Pierce’s place and turning around. I simply pulled to the shoulder and stopped not far from the cedar tree. And I immediately liked what I saw.

  “Is it there?” Mia asked.

  She was temporarily crouched down in the back. No sense in letting The Guy know anyone was working with me.

  “Hell, yeah, it is. Back in a sec.”

  “Be careful.”

  Once again, no cars were coming from either direction. Which was why, as I exited the van and made my way toward the rock camera, which was still resting in the same place I’d put it, I carried my Glock by my side, in plain sight.

  It was a strange moment. I wanted to get away cleanly, without any trouble. No question about that. But there was also a small, irrational part of me that wanted The Guy to pop out from behind a tree so I could draw down on him and start to get some payback. Make him lie facedown in the dirt. Plant a foot on the back of his neck. Make him feel helpless and weak.

  But nothing happened.

  I grabbed the rock camera with my left hand and carried it back to the van, glancing behind me only once. I set the camera on the floorboard and tucked the Glock into the glove compartment, then closed the driver’s door and pulled back onto the pavement.

  When I stopped at the intersection with Circle Drive, Mia returned to the passenger seat and buckled in. She didn’t say anything, but she was beaming. I stuck my fist out and she bumped it.

  “Thanks, pardner,” I said.

  24

  Later, I hovered above Mia and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. I said, “Don’t be nervous. It’ll be a learning experience. We’ll take it nice and slow.”

  I could tell that she was excited. Her face was flushed with anticipation. “I don’t want to screw up.”

  “Don’t worry. You won’t. Just follow my instructions and you’ll be great. Start by inserting the SD card into the card reader, then plug it into the USB slot.”

  She was seated in the chair in front of my laptop in my apartment. I was behind her, guiding her through the process.

  I said, “First thing we’ll do is import the video into iMovie. That’ll take a minute or two, but it plays more smoothly directly from the hard drive, and it’s good to have a back-up.”

  When the video had finished copying, I said, “Now go to the File menu and click ‘New Project.’ Okay, good. See there, at the bottom? That means we have a little more than eight minutes of video to review.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Remember, it’s motion-activated. The camera isn’t shooting all the time. So go ahead and hit Play and let’s see what we’ve got.”

  The video began with me backing the van into Pierce’s driveway. I hopped out, opened the rear doors, and unloaded the dryer. I was impressed with how quickly I got it done.

  Mia said, “Shouldn’t you have put the dryer in place first, then the camera, so you wouldn’t have caught yourself on video?”

  “Well, sure, if I was a seasoned pro
fessional and I knew what I was doing.”

  On the screen, I was getting back into the van, just about to drive away.

  “Seriously,” I said, because I didn’t want her to think I was an idiot, “you have a good point. But I figured if anyone noticed me dumping the dryer, I didn’t want them to see me positioning the camera afterward. So, yeah, it wasn’t ideal, but I put the camera in place first.”

  “Makes sense.”

  After I drove away, the dryer was more or less in the center of the screen. To the left of the dryer, several feet out of the shot, was Thomas Springs Road. To the right, visible on the screen, was Brian Pierce’s gate. After a period of inactivity — maybe twenty seconds — the camera turned itself off.

  Nothing happened for the remainder of Saturday.

  At 8:17 A.M. on Sunday morning, the camera activated as the nose of the Jetta entered the screen from the right, coming from Pierce’s house, and stopped at the gate. If I had turned the rock a little bit more clockwise when I had hidden it, we would’ve seen more of the car. But that would’ve meant seeing less of any vehicle that might’ve pulled up on the other side of the gate to enter the property.

  “This is very cool,” Mia said.

  “What, the camera?”

  “The whole thing. I feel like a spy.”

  “That wears off, believe me. Watching normal people go about their daily lives is tremendously boring.”

  “Too bad we can’t make out the license plate.”

  Ten seconds passed. Then twenty. I figured the brown-haired woman who had arrived in the car on Friday was perplexed by what she was seeing in front of her. It was taking her a moment to react. And then she stepped into the frame. She was standing near the front tire of her car, and it appeared that she was holding a cell phone to her left ear. Couldn’t see her face very well at this point. She was wearing different clothes than she had been the previous time I had seen her, which meant she had packed an overnight bag, or she had some clothes at Pierce’s house.