It took nearly half an hour, but eventually he spotted Kyle’s car parked by the side of an old house he hadn’t known was there. The paint on the house was chipped off almost to nonexistence, and ivy tangled its way on the south wall. Weeds were growing all around it. Months of weeds, maybe years. But they’d been trampled on recently in a path from Kyle’s car to the front door. He called the office again. There was still no one there. He couldn’t even raise Frank on the public number. Bloody hell. Someone was supposed to answer that 24-7. He took out the radio and reported in, but no one replied. The officers could all be in the middle of something, but where the hell was Frank?
Given the state of the place, he’d love to know if anyone owned it. If Kyle was squatting, then entering wouldn’t be trespassing, and it wouldn’t require a warrant. He wanted inside but knew Marisa’s vision about Jerry wouldn’t constitute a reason to enter without papers to a judge. He wasn’t sure why it was sufficient for him, but that reasoning would have to wait for another time.
There were windows, however. He could have a peek in. He sidled up to one but couldn’t make out anything except that the living room wasn’t furnished. No one was living there. He moved around to the back and found another window, this one leading into a kitchen. There wasn’t a fridge, but there was an old stove. Nolan doubted it would work. Crouching, he continued his way around the perimeter. His legs were getting itchy, probably from bugs that lived in the tall weeds.
On the east side, he found a window barely above ground level. He almost didn’t see it because of the weeds, which meant he’d have perfect cover if he crouched down as he looked in. He resigned himself to more bug bites.
Bingo. The room was dark, since it wasn’t getting any light to speak of from outside, but a few candles had been lit, and there was an electric camp lantern on. Jerry was tied up in a chair. Kyle was sitting on the floor, a shotgun on his lap. There were stacks of clear plastic bags on the floor. He couldn’t see what was in them, but he was guessing drugs. And there was another young man in a sleeping bag, probably the other guy he’d seen on the gas station video. From the wiggling he was doing, it looked as if he was trying to get some sleep. Nolan had more than enough now to justify breaking and entering, although he needed to get backup first, especially given that shotgun. Overwhelming force was the way to make sure no one got hurt. He reached for his radio, about to step away to use it when the kid in the sleeping bag turned. In the light of the camp lantern, Nolan could actually get a good look at his face.
Aaron Mercer, Frank Mercer’s kid. No wonder he looked familiar, even from behind.
“Put your hands up nice and slow, Nolan,” said a familiar voice from behind him. “Sorry it had to end this way. We were trying to make this bloodless. Figured if we got Jerry hooked, we could turn him. But somehow I think we’re probably going to have to shoot you.”
From the sound of Frank’s voice, Nolan guessed the man was close. Five feet. Frank used to practice at the shooting range, and he was a horrible shot. At five feet it wouldn’t matter.
“Frank.” Nolan didn’t turn around but slowly put up one hand. “I take it the chief isn’t ever going to get my message.”
If you want to threaten a man into submission, never tell him you’re going to kill him anyway
. Frank wanted a way out. Nolan didn’t think he could give him one, but maybe he could take advantage of the man’s hesitation.
“Nope. I’m afraid not.”
There was no way he could get his pistol out, thumb the safety off, turn around, and shoot Frank before he got shot. But he did manage to flick the radio on. He knocked it off his belt to the ground. Then he raised his other hand and turned around slowly.
Frank was standing there, glaring. Frank looked down at the radio. Nolan took one step forward and then aimed a kick for the man’s ribs. He didn’t trust himself to kick the gun, and kicking Frank in the crotch, while satisfying, wouldn’t move him as much. Ribs were a nice, big target. Nolan didn’t hold anything back.
Foot hit flesh with a bone-breaking crunch. Frank stumbled backward. The kick had succeeded too well, and Nolan was thrown off balance for a moment. Frank coughed, seemingly stunned.
Maybe I punctured a lung or something
. Nolan stumbled forward and aimed another kick, this one at Frank’s head. Frank raised the pistol. Nolan knew he wasn’t going to be fast enough to stop him from getting the shot off, so he tried to twist as he kicked.
He heard the report of the gun but stayed focused as he drove his foot into Frank’s head. Frank went down and didn’t move again. Nolan reached for his own gun, but his side hurt like hell. He touched his hand to his side, and it came back wet. He didn’t have to look to know why. He needed backup. Still. He bent at the knees to pick up the radio and heard the front door open. He remembered the shotgun Kyle had. He could probably shoot whoever was coming before they acted, but he’d rather not kill any more people than he had to. Especially kids, even if they were legally adults. So he moved to the side of the house, flattened himself against it, and waited.
Breathing hurt, but he was getting enough air. He took shallow, quiet breaths, and waited. He felt decidedly wobbly.
Maybe I’m losing too much blood. Fuck.
Kyle came around the corner, carrying the shotgun, and saw Frank lying there. The man hadn’t moved. “Oh my God. Someone shot him. Oh my God.”
“Drop the gun and put your hands behind your back, Kyle, or I’ll have to shoot you too.”
Kyle dropped the gun as if it were red-hot and first started to raise his hands, then put them behind his back. Nolan snapped his handcuffs on the kid and then leaned back against the wall. Even with handcuffs, Kyle could do a number on him if he lost consciousness. And he still hadn’t summoned backup. He picked up the radio.
“I need backup. Suspects are armed and holed up in an abandoned house, and they have a hostage. Off Tyler Road, near the Sampson farm, off a side road from their access road. I’ll need an ambulance too. I’ve been hit.”
“Roger that. It’s already on its way.” The chief’s voice.
“Huh?”
“Miss Clarke called, said she sensed you were in danger. Couldn’t find Frank, but played back your call.”
“Roger. Hurry.” Did Marisa really sense that? Or was she making a worried and fortunate guess?”
Kyle turned and looked at him, a sly look in his eye.
“What?” Nolan asked.
“You didn’t read me my rights.”
“I didn’t arrest you, either.” Nolan growled. “Keep your mouth shut, and I won’t shoot you.”
Kyle shut up. Nolan sat down. He still had Aaron to worry about, and he couldn’t very well go charging into rescue Jerry in this condition. On the other hand, he now knew that the door squeaked. If Aaron came for him, he’d have plenty of warning.
He heard the door a few minutes later. Aaron had probably wondered why Kyle didn’t come back. He expected him to come around the corner, possibly armed. Instead Aaron ran down the road as fast as he could go.
“That fucking coward,” said Kyle.
Nolan let Aaron go. He didn’t have another pair of handcuffs on him, and they’d be able to catch Aaron eventually anyway. Nolan knew that a doctor would say he ought to stay still, but he didn’t. He moved on his butt over to the window and then peered inside. Jerry was still there, still breathing, still tied up. And alone. Good enough. He settled back against the wall and waited for backup. He could hear the sirens faintly in the distance.
He clicked on the radio. “Suspect escaping, Aaron Mercer, age twenty, muscular with short black hair. Don’t know if he’s armed. Pick him up if it doesn’t slow you down, but get here fast.”
It wouldn’t do to pass out. Nolan knew he was getting weaker by the minute. He was losing a lot of blood, and there wasn’t much he could do about it. He jammed his shirt up around the wound and hoped for the best.
He suspected that even if he passed out, Kyle would make a run for it. Even if the kid couldn’t hear the sirens, he knew from the radio conversation that help was on its way and that he wouldn’t be helping his case if he killed a wounded police officer. But people weren’t always rational, and Kyle’s situation didn’t look so good no matter how you sliced it. Kidnapping. Drugs. Whatever else he and the Mercers had been up to.
He managed to stay awake until the last patrol car came up. “Jerry. Inside. Tied up,” he said to McSweeney when the man reached him. Then he passed out.
* * * *
He dreamed Marisa was there whispering to him. Holding his hand. He knew they had given him painkillers of some sort. They probably wanted him to rest. He wanted to see her, and that gave him the strength to wake up.
But Marisa wasn’t there. The room was empty. He called out for her.
A nurse came through. She checked the monitor, and then she left. A few minutes later a familiar figure appeared at the door.
“Welcome to the land of the living,” said the chief.
“Oh, man.” Nolan closed his eyes. Maybe he could go back to sleep. He knew that eventually there would be lots of questions. Papers to fill out. Days to appear in court. But that wasn’t what he’d woken up for.
“That little woman’s been mighty worried about you. She’s been staying with you almost all the time. And trying to get the nurses to let her light candles.”
“Where is she now?” he asked. He imagined not in earshot, because he didn’t figure the chief could get away calling her “that little woman” if she was.
“Sleeping. She’ll be back. She’s a flake, isn’t she? Sorry if I saddled you with her, but I’m sure you can shake her eventually.”
Nolan clenched his fist around the bedrail. “She is not a flake. She’s a very unique person with special qualities.”
Jacobsen put his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry. It’s clear that she cares about you. Anyway, she’ll be back.”
Nolan smiled and relaxed. For some reason knowing she was coming back, and that she cared, made him feel very good, in spite of the pain he was in.
“We picked up Aaron on the road,” the chief said. “Jerry’s in the hospital for observation, but he’s going to be okay. He’s gonna make a good witness too. He saw a drug deal going down, and that’s apparently why he was kidnapped. Kyle and Aaron have been talking. Kyle claims that Frank and Aaron were part of a gang, and his story matches up with Jerry’s. Aaron claims that he and his dad were there to assist you.”
He couldn’t let that slide. “Aaron is full of shit.”
“I figured. I think he was hoping you wouldn’t make it. We got the bullet that hit you, and it came from Frank’s gun.”
“How’s Frank doing?”
“Dead. Rib punctured his lung. Another almost perforated his heart. Doc says a single blunt-force trauma broke several ribs.”
“That was me.”
Jacobsen nodded. “All right, then. Anything else you want to know?”
Nolan’s mind was beginning to clear. He thought about what had led him to Kyle and Aaron in the first place. Some of it had been good old-fashioned detective work, but the rest had been Marisa. But what had she really told him? That Jerry had seen something, and maybe he had, but that happened before he called her, so maybe he clued her in then somehow. That he was afraid. That didn’t take Sherlock Holmes, either, given that he was missing. That there were people with Jerry who were on edge. Well, accurate, but if he’d been running away, he would have probably been in crowded bus stations, and the people there would have had their own worries. She’d said one more thing, though, that was specific. Testable.
“Cookies. Were there cookies in the house?” He looked at Jacobsen.
Jacobsen chuckled. “That’s what you want to know? Yeah, in fact. There were a ton of them. Seems that’s the worst thing they did to Jerry, other than the coke they were making him snort. They fed him nothing but cookies the entire time they had him.”
Ugh. That was it, then. Marisa was a witch. That was the one detail she couldn’t guess. “Every kid’s dream, nothing but Oreos, but yeah, that would make you pretty sick.”
“Oreos? Nah. Nilla Wafers and lemon cremes.”
Nolan had no idea what to make of that. The drugs in his body were winning again, making it hard for him to care. Maybe Marisa would bring him cookies. That would be nice. Yeah.
He fell back asleep.
* * * *
When he woke up again, Marisa was there. He stayed still for a moment. She was holding his hand in hers, but his hand was a lot bigger. He needed to think for a moment. He’d been dreaming of her. He wanted her there more than anything. He just hadn’t gotten it sorted out yet. He still didn’t know what to make of all this witch stuff, but she’d been helpful in finding Jerry. And in finding the girl. Hell, if he was her, maybe he’d believe it all too.
And that aside, she was perfect for him. Smart enough to challenge him. Independent enough outside the bedroom to hold her own in any conversation. Hell, probably smarter than him, given what she could do with computers. Submissive sexually. He enjoyed her company, even if they did see the world differently.
He moved his hand to enfold her small hand in his large paw. It fit better that way.
“You’re awake.”
He wasn’t sure what to say, so he squeezed her hand again. He hated being drugged. It took him out of control. But the sound of her voice was like that of an angel. Maybe she’d keep talking. He looked at her. She was wearing a dark flower-print dress with a black background broken by pink roses and green leaves. She looked good all dressed up, even if her eyes had dark circles underneath them. Better than he did, that was certain.
“They tell me they’ll let you go soon if you can stay awake,” she said. “They’ve given you a blood transfusion.”
“I could stay awake if they quit pumping me full of drugs.”
“You got shot. I hear that hurts.”
“Not right now it doesn’t.”
She had the good sense not to tell him that was because of the drugs. He knew that, but he’d rather have the pain. There was an awkward silence until she spoke again.
“I told them I was your girlfriend,” she said. “It was the only way they’d let me stay. I wanted to be here for you.”