INK: Vanishing Point (Book 2) (32 page)

Walking through the parking lot, I think
it’s weird that Cecil hasn’t come up on his golf cart to
make sure I make it to my car okay. The parking lot takes on an eerie
feeling because it’s so empty, and I slow my pace, taking in my
surroundings, looking for creepers. When I get to my car, I notice a
Camaro in the next aisle. “Shit, is that Shay’s car?”

I put my stuff in the driver’s
seat of my car and walk over to hers. I let out a blood-curdling
scream when I see Cecil slumped over in the seat with blood staining
his shirt. I try the door, but it’s locked.

I start banging on the window, but he’s
not responding. Fuck, what do I do? Fuck! I bang harder and scream
his name. “Fuck you, you old bastard, wake up!”

I kick my shoes off and run back to my
car to get my phone, and I dial 9-1-1.

Eli

When I walk in I immediately notice my
house no longer smells like the Swamp Thing. I will say one thing for
McNab’s crew, they know how to clean up…whatever the
hell that was.

McNab is at the breakfast bar working on
his laptop. “Hey, honey, how was work?”

“Fine.” Smart-ass. I put my
briefcase on the kitchen island.

“Dinner is in the oven; it’s
got about another ten minutes.” He doesn’t look up from
the computer.

“You know, you make being an
asshole look effortless,” I tell him, taking a drink from a
bottle of water.

“For you, dear, it is.”

This is fruitless. “Have you heard
from her today?”

“Yes actually, she sent me an
email. She didn’t go into the office because of some phone
interviews. But she’s going to meet me after work.”

“McNab, seriously, I don’t
like this. That Bailey kid is stalking her, and that’s enough
for me to be concerned, never mind having just got her back from
a…a…”

“Void, it was a void, Eli.”
He fills in the blank for me.

“Yeah, whatever. But she’s
not acting like herself. I’m worried and want to see her.”
My head droops. “I miss her.”

“It’s really better like
this, Eli. If she comes back to you voluntarily, it will be on her
terms, and that’s what she needs.” McNab and his fucking
wisdom, I’ve had about enough of it.

“I’m still not comfortable
with it.” I look him in the eye.

“Look, we’re going to be
bugging out of here tomorrow. The guys are packing the equipment, and
I’m heading back to L.A.”

“Really? You’re done?”
I can’t believe he’s just going to leave.

“Yeah, I need to get some of this
stuff back to the lab in order to really determine the origins.
There’s also not much I can do here at this point, and I have a
job and bills to pay, so I can’t stand around here watching
Dawson’s Creek play out daily. Shay doesn’t need a
babysitter, and neither do you,” he says, closing his laptop, a
disappointed look on his face.

“Okay, will you at least tell me
where she is so I can check on her?” I ask. Surely he has to
understand the importance of that. “Or if you won’t tell
me, tell Harry. She’s his daughter for Christ’s sake.”

“It’s up to her.” His
tone takes a turn for the snappy.

“Whoa, I was just asking.”

“Nah, she just canceled. I need to
get those drawings that were delivered before I leave.” He puts
the laptop in its bag. “You ready for dinner, big boy?”

My phone rings. “Fuck, it’s
Trish.” I answer it, but she’s totally incoherent. McNab
can obviously hear her voice coming through the phone. He’s
looking at me with a concerned expression.

“What is it?” he mouths.

Carl comes in the room as if he knows
something’s wrong.

“Trish, calm down. Breathe.”
I continue to try to sooth her so I can figure out what the hell
she’s saying. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

She starts screaming again, and I can
only make out a few expletives strung together. “Trish.”

“Eli?” A man’s voice
comes on the line.

“Yeah, who’s this? What’s
going on?”

“It’s Raphael, and we really
don’t know what’s happening, but Trish found the security
guard dead in Shay’s car.” His voice is panicked.

McNab and Carl are already on their way
out the door. McNab says, “I’ll call you from the road.”

“Wait, I’m coming with you.”

“No, I need you to get with Harry
and serve as a home base. I have a feeling that if we hear anything
it’s going be here,” McNab says as he’s leaving.
Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Are you there?” Raphael
brings my attention back to the call.

“Yeah, I’m here. Was there
any sign of her there?”

“Just the car, but the keys are in
it and so is her backpack and phone.” His voice is more
despondent with each answer.

“Thanks Raphael, are the police
there?” I ask him.

“Yes, they are. They’re
dusting the car for prints and asking a ton of questions.”

“Okay, find out who the lead
detective is on scene and text me his information. Do you
understand?” By the tone in his voice, I can tell I’m
starting to lose him.

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” he
answers, half dazed.

“Okay, I’m going to call her
father. Keep me posted.” Fuck, Trish. “Raphael, would you
be able to bring Trish home?”

“I already offered. When we’re
done here, I’m going to bring her home, but she said her
boyfriend was out of town and she didn’t want to be alone.”

Fuck, I don’t need this. “Okay,
tell her she can come here.”

I hang up the phone, and it rings as
soon as I put it down. “What, McNab?”

“What have they found in the car?”
he asks.

“Besides the dead body?”

“Yeah, aside from that.” His
tone is irritated.

“All of her stuff was in there;
keys, backpack, phone,” I tell him.

“Fuck. We can’t track her.”
I hear him bang on something in the car.

“Track her?”

“Yeah, we had a tracker in her
backpack.” That sneaky fucker.

“Well, I’ll get the info to
you as soon as I get it.”

“Harry’s already on it. I
called him and let him know what happened.” McNab thought of
everything.

“We have to find her.” I
slump down into the stool and rest my head on the counter.

“We will.” He hangs up the
phone.

Shay

Oh, my fucking head. What the hell
happened? Every muscle in my body is aching like I ran a marathon,
and my mouth is…there’s something in my mouth. I try to
work it out, but as I regain my senses, I realize that my hands and
feet are tied, and I’m blindfolded and gagged. My breathing and
heart rate instantly race trying to figure out what the hell
happened.

Calm down
.
I try to regulate my breathing, but I’m struggling
involuntarily.
Okay, Shay,
stop moving
. The ropes are
cutting into my wrists and ankles.

“Good morning, sunshine.” I
don’t recognize the voice. I can tell that it’s male, but
he’s disguising it with a gravelly whisper. “You don’t
have to answer, my love.”

I try to scream through the gag, but the
sound is getting trapped in the fabric. My entire body is trembling,
not even in the void was I this frightened.

He inhales deeply. “You smelled
delicious before, but now layered with the smell of fear coming off
you, you are positively intoxicating.” The voice whispers in my
ear. “And now you’re mine.”

He presses his wet tongue against my
cheek and licks all the way up my face. I’m fucking disgusted.
Please, God, somebody save me
.
I struggle away from him, but I can’t go far. The binds are
tight and don’t allow much movement. My screams get trapped in
my mouth.

Cold metal presses up against my bare
arm and slides from my shoulder down to my elbow. More muffled
screams come from within me, paired with every cut he makes on my
skin.

“You can scream all you want.
We’re in the middle of nowhere without another soul within
miles.”

I try to breathe as deeply as possible
and focus on the smell of gasoline and grass clippings. A spark of
hope enters my mind as I think that if I can figure out where I am
I’ll be saved. But reality kicks in. It wouldn’t matter
if I knew my GPS coordinates; if no one else does, there’s no
hope.

The shallow cutting on my skin is slow
and excruciating. I try to zone out, pull myself away from the moment
through breathing or praying that I pass out. After what seems like
hours, I feel him start to carve intricate designs on my stomach. My
barely-there whimpers of “why” don’t stand a chance
against the gag.

He never says another word until he’s
finished. “You are now prepared. Thank you so much; you have no
idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He runs his
hand through my hair, catching a lock and twisting it around his
finger a few times. “Waiting to touch you, smell you.”
His nose presses against my bloodied neck and snorts inward. “You
make me feel things no one,
no
one
, has ever been able to
make me feel. You make me feel alive.”

Please just kill me, get it over with
and kill me. I’m already dead.
My head slumps down with my admission of surrender.

“We are going to have so much fun
together.” He sticks his tongue in my ear. “Gotta go,
time for shift change.”

Upon hearing a door close, the
temperature changes in the room. I weep and cry out loud through my
gag. I can hear a hoarseness in my voice.
I
have to get out of here or I’m going to die
is the only thought running through my head. I try to slide my hands
through the ropes, hoping the blood and sweat has made my skin
slippery. I’m not going to give up. I work on the ropes for
another hour before I finally succumb to the exhaustion.

Eli

“What do you mean there’s no
video surveillance in the garage?” Harry’s voice bellows
through the house. “Are you guys just a bunch of fucking
morons?”

Time for me to take over for a few
minutes and calm him down. McNab and I exchange a look. “I got
it,” I say.

“Harry, take it easy. Let me.”
I pry the phone out of his hands, and Carl leads him to the couch.

“This is Eli Walker. We’re
going to need any surveillance videos you have for the last
forty-eight-hour period.”

“Sir, that’s what I was
trying to tell Commissioner Baynes. I’m not being difficult,
I’m telling you there isn’t any. It doesn’t exist.
We had a system failure and all surveillance data has been lost,”
the man says.

“Okay. Well, thank you for your
time.” I hang up and go to Harry, who’s on the couch with
his head in his hands.

“We’re going to find her,
Harry. We are.” I try to reassure him, looking at McNab, hoping
for some backup.

McNab is deep in thought and snaps out
of his trance. He looks at me and makes sure Harry isn’t
looking and shakes his head. He ticks his head toward my office. We
both go in.

“Eli, this is bad. Like, really
bad.” He’s as serious as I’ve ever seen him.

“I know it is. We don’t even
know if she’s still alive.” I wince when I say the words.
Knowing they found a third set of footprints at the scene and her
blood type don’t bode well for a happy resolution.

“She’s alive. But I don’t
know for how much longer.”

“McNab!” Carl calls from the
other room.

“What is it?” McNab reaches
the living room when the doorbell rings.

Pitch is closest, so he opens the door.
A tall slender woman in her early thirties wearing a pantsuit is
standing there. She really is stunning in a
this-woman-might-rip-your-balls-off sort of way.

“That.” Carl points at the
woman.

McNab looks at her, trying to disguise
his disdain. “Miranda.” He says it simply, like a fact.

“McNab.” She walks in the
door.

“The bitch is back.” Pitch
rolls his eyes.

“What are you doing here?”
McNab refocuses his gaze on Harry.

“I’m looking for Harry
Baynes,” she says as she removes her driving gloves.

“I figured.” McNab walks
into the kitchen. I watch him with my brows furrowed, looking for an
inkling of an answer.

Harry perks up when he hears his name
spoken. “What?”

“Mr. Baynes? I’m Miranda
Salvo, your new partner.” She extends her hand to Harry. He
stands and greets her.

“Nice to meet you, Miranda. Call
me Harry.” He’s barely there, not holding it together at
all.

“Partner, or Shadow?” McNab
asks as he comes back into the living room.

“Either way.” She looks at
McNab “Don’t you have a poltergeist to chase? Or a girl
to save?”

“We don’t have time for your
bullshit, Miranda. If you’re not going to be helpful, you
should just turn right back around.” Carl joins with McNab.

“We all have a job to do. I’m
here for Harry.” She smiles sweetly at him.

I head for the kitchen and drag Carl and
McNab with me. “I take it you know her?”

“You could say that,” Carl
spits.

“We have a history.” McNab
confirms my fear.

“Is this going to be a problem?”

“No, it isn’t. I can handle
Miranda,” McNab reassures me, but Carl doesn’t look so
sure.

Glass

It’s been a hell of a day; one of
those rare ones where I’m looking forward to being home. Coming
down the dirt drive, it feels like it’s been days since I’ve
been back. Probably because it has been, at least two since I was
here last. The stale air is one of the worst parts, when it smells
lifeless.

I hang my keys on the rack and pull my
shoes off to put them in the closet. I straighten the picture on the
wall next to the door. In the kitchen, the refrigerator doesn’t
hold a lot of promise, but it’s worth a shot. There are some
leftover wings in there that are probably good. I toss them in the
microwave and pour myself a gin and tonic. I try to find something
decent on TV while I eat the wings, watching highlights on ESPN and
trying not to think too much about anything. That’s enough
winding down. I toss the last bone onto the plate and check the time.