Hart To Hart (23 page)

“Grainger.”

“His name is Darryl Grainger. Please call me back.”

Sharon opened the changing room stall and rushed out. “We need to get back to the office.”

“Right.” Instead of taking the time to buy the clothes, she left them at the check-in counter. “Can you hold them? I’ll be back.”

They ran out. The next half hour was the longest thirty minutes Ellie had ever experienced. She wanted to yell at Sharon to drive faster, but the poor woman looked possessed by the devil as it was.

When they reached Vic’s office, Sharon slammed the car into park, jumped out, and ran to the door. Ellie was right behind her. “Locked. Vic must have gone out.” Sharon fished around in her purse for the key and finally got the door open.

Ellie rushed passed her. “Vic?” No answer. “I’ll check his office.” Her stomach tumbled at the thought something bad might have happened to Vic. He never would have put his phone on vibrate.

She ran down the hallway to the darkened room. He wasn’t there, but maybe she could learn where he’d gone. She flicked on the light and her gaze shot straight to the brightly colored object on his desk.

No. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Ellie screamed.

Chapter Twenty-One

S
haron practically ran
into Ellie as she rushed in. “What is it?”

With as much control as she could muster, Ellie stutter-stepped over to Vic’s desk and picked up the dark pink Gerbera daisy. “It’s him. My stalker.” A sob escaped. “He was here. He wants me to know.” Her hand shook so hard, Ellie had to set down the flower, and then fisted her hand.

Sharon moved next to her. “What does he want?”

She faced her new friend. “I don’t know, but Darryl might have Vic.” Just because Vic wasn’t in the office didn’t mean something bad happened, but her gut told her it had.

“Oh, fuck.” Sharon’s jaw tightened and her eyes darkened, almost as if she was preparing for battle. “I’ll check out back and see if your car’s still there.”

Thank God, one of them was thinking clearly. All Ellie could do was nod. The blood in her body had turned to a heavy sludge that made thinking and everything else next to impossible. The back door opened and then slammed shut. A long minute later, footsteps pounded.

Slightly out of breath, Sharon ran in. “Car’s still here, but there’s blood on the snow next to the driver’s side door.” She leaned over and planted her palms on her knees. “I’m so sorry.”

Vomit rolled up Ellie’s mouth; she sped to the trashcan and threw up. “Oh God.”

Sharon rubbed her back then handed her a tissue from Vic’s desk. “It’s okay, sweetie. I know Vic. He’ll be okay.”

“I hope so.” She had to find him.

*     *     *

Trent had every
available RHPD officer ready to take down Vic’s attacker. He’d sent ten men to block all main park exits. The problem was that the woods bordered a vast National Park that would be impossible to monitor if this man chose to go out on foot.

He and fellow detective, Thad Dalton, rode together because, not only were they friends with Vic, Trent needed a sounding board, and Thad was as level headed as they came.

The picnic area sat along the riverbank about a mile into the park. The long drive added to their vulnerability. No telling if this crazy man would be waiting in a different spot hoping to attack Vic, or expecting the cops to come. When Trent arrived, the lot was vacant. A sign said the area was closed until the spring, but someone’s vehicle should be there.

“Where are they?” Thad asked.

Trent’s sixth sense shot into overdrive. “Something’s off. We couldn’t have beaten Vic here. He left his office before we took off, and his place is closer.”

“Maybe he switched locations,” Thad said.

“Anything’s possible.” Trent pulled to a stop.

The rest of the men, all in unmarked cars, drove in behind them. Without a word, they parked in different locations and exited their vehicles, guns ready. They knew what to do. A sniper, along with several other men, had orders to hide on the other side of the river, ready to take out this man on Trent’s signal.

Lieutenant Donovan was technically in charge of the operation, but he was willing to give Trent the temporary command because he was already working on Vic’s case. Donovan and some of his officers were stationed at the various exits.

Static came over Trent’s ear bud. “Have you spotted your target?” Donovan asked.

“Negative. Thad and I are heading down the trail now.”

“Let me know what you find.”

“Roger that.” On high alert, they followed the path toward the tables. Trent pointed to the pristine snow and mouthed “no footprints.”

Thad shook his head as he scanned the area. When the tables came into view, the area was empty. “Shit. Were we duped or did something bad happen?” Trent asked.

Thad shrugged. “Beats me. Want me to call Vic?”

“Let’s not take the chance. He might be lying in wait to see what the guy will do. In case he didn’t turn off his cell, it could give away his location. Trent tapped his mic. “Sir, no one’s here.”

“Damn.”

Trent’s cell vibrated. “Hold on, sir. Incoming call. It might be Vic.” He swiped his cell, but didn’t recognize the caller’s name. “Lawson.”

“Trent, it’s Ellie Hart. Something bad has happened to Vic. I know it.” She choked out the words.

Adrenaline filled his veins. He motioned for Thad to follow him back to their cruiser. “Take a deep breath and just tell me what you know.” He hadn’t spent much time with Vic’s wife, but she’d always appeared strong.

“Darryl Grainger is my stalker.”

“Who’s Darryl Grainger?”

“Does it matter? He has Vic. We saw blood. He’s at—”

“Detective Lawson, this is Sharon, Vic’s secretary. We checked on his GPS and he’s at the McDonald’s old place. We’re heading there now.”

Oh, fuck. “We’re at least forty-minutes away. Don’t do anything when you get there.” His stomach ached. Everyone knew about the hot-headed Sharon Dumont. At least she was good with a gun.

“Hurry.” She then disconnected.

He turned to Thad. “Someone by the name of Darryl Grainger has Vic. He’s at the abandoned McDonald place.” The name Grainger rattled in his brain as they both dashed back to the car. As soon as he hopped in the driver’s seat, the first name registered. “Ed Hanson had a stepson by the name of Darryl. Could be him.” He wished he’d asked Ellie Hart for more information.

Thad yanked out his phone. “I’ll contact Hartwick to see if he can scrounge up some information on the guy.”

“Good thinking.” Trent told Lieutenant Donovan what he’d learned, and then turned on the siren. He sped down the park lane toward town. Forty-minutes would be an eternity. If Sharon and Ms. Hart got there first, no telling how many casualties Rock Hard might have.

*     *     *

Vic cracked open
his eyes, the pounding in his head worse than he’d ever experienced in his life, and that included the beating last year that had nearly killed him. After the car accident and now this, brain damage was a real possibility.

The putrid smell hit him first. It was a mixture of hay and rotting flesh. He hoped the second odor wasn’t coming off his body. Light streamed in through a crack in the wall across from him. Vic was sprawled on the floor of an old barn. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was in back in Hanson’s warehouse—a structure that no longer existed.

He tried to look around but moving his head increased the pain to an unbearable level. Something dark crossed in front of him.

“I see you’re awake.”

Vic didn’t recognize the man’s voice, so revealing anything about himself would be stupid. “Kind of.”

Vic tried to rub his face, only to find his hands tied. Fucker. He wiggled his wrists. When the clank of metal didn’t sound, he inwardly smiled. Plastic ties could be broken if one used quick, hard force. Right now, he didn’t have the energy.

“You aren’t going to ask who I am?” The stranger’s voice was laced with irritation.

Vic tried to focus but couldn’t. “Sure. Who are you?”

“I’m Ed Hanson’s stepson.”

As if someone poured a bucket of ice water on his body, he pushed up on his bad arm and winced. “His son? Oh, yeah. Darryl.” Vic couldn’t recall the man’s last name, but he’d discounted him since he had no record and worked at a good job as a banker—in Virginia. Fuck. “What do you want?”

The man moved closer, and only then did Vic spot a gun in Grainger’s hand. “I want to see you suffer like I’ve suffered.”

The concussion must be messing with his head. “I never hurt you.”

Darryl moved quicker than a scared jackrabbit. The kick to the ribs came from someone a hellava lot stronger than a bunny, though. “You ruined a man I cared for.”

Shit. Vic’s ribs ached and the contents of his stomach threatened to come up. Thank God for the vest or they’d be broken for sure. He debated whether to go with the truth or try to placate his abductor. It probably wouldn’t be wise to engage him in a conversation he didn’t want to hear but too bad. Vic’s nice filter had disintegrated.

“Your father not only had me beaten and set on fire, he was a terrorist, ready to take down hundreds of innocent lives because he didn’t like something our government was doing.”

The feet edge closer and Vic tightened his muscles to steal against the next blow. “My. Father. Was. Innocent.” Darryl spit on the ground.

Don’t egg him on.
“I wasn’t the one to point the finger at him. The FBI arrested your dad.”

“You testified.”

“To pickpocketing a flash drive that incriminated your father. I was not on the jury. His peers were.”

Darryl’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a lie. All of it. My father was an upstanding citizen and a good man.”

This wasn’t getting him anywhere. Darryl was clearly delusional. Vic pushed up again and this time succeeded in sitting up, but his ribs violently protested the movement. “Then appeal. Gather the facts to prove he wasn’t involved. Your dad admitted to letting a group of men use his warehouse. Perhaps the terrorists lied to him about what they were doing.”

Not a chance in hell
.

Vic wasn’t going to mention that the FBI had found a stockpile of guns in Hanson’s house as well as payments from his bank accounts to many of the known terrorists. Hanson was their leader. Of that, Vic was certain.

“My father took in my mother when no one else would. He also built homes for needy people.” He inhaled. “If it hadn’t been for your snooping, my mother wouldn’t have left him.”

Imagine walking out on a paragon of virtue
. Vic suspected Hanson’s acts of kindness were all for show. As for the mother, he applauded her good sense. “Have you spoken with him since the trial?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

“Did he say I framed him?”

Darryl paced. This argument seemed to be getting to him. “Not exactly, but you brought the FBI down on him.”

“I did not.” That was the truth. “I was in a coma in the hospital. Ask your dad.” Darryl’s eyes flickered. “Didn’t know that, did you?”

“I see you got burned, but that didn’t mean Dad was involved.”

Vic would never be able to convince Darryl his father was anything other than a good man, but the longer he kept him talking, the more time Vic had to recover. “Someone gave the orders to beat me, dump me in your father’s warehouse, and set the building on fire.”

“It wasn’t him. If you had the flash drive, they had to take you out.”

Was he now on the side of the terrorists? Was he one of them, too? Vic didn’t think so. Darryl was confused and hurt. “Possibly, but if your father was innocent, he had nothing to worry about that flash drive.” Darryl’s arm hung by his side as he paced in front of Vic. While he appeared somewhat distracted, Vic wanted to ask him if he was the one who shot at Charlotte and stalked El. “You live in Virginia, right?”

He stopped moving and clenched his hand. “Used to. How did you know?”

To bluff or not to bluff? “Actually, you said you visited your dad in Washington. It was a guess. What do you do for a living?” Vic wanted confirmation that his sources were correct.

“I’m a banker. Or at least I was until they let me go. I spent too much time at dad’s trial so they gave me the pink slip. The real truth was that the fuckers just didn’t want a banker around who had a father in jail.”