Chapter 56
This was the opportunity to strike.
JD and I both drew our weapons at the same time. In a flash, I took out Frank, while Jack blasted at the other armed goon.
Muzzle flash flickered from my barrel, and bullets streaked through the air, pelting Frank in the face before he could squeeze the trigger.
The bullets drilled through his brain and blasted out the back of his skull, painting the helicopter with crimson.
Frank fell to the ground as I took aim at the other thug as he drew his pistol. Two more shots hammered against my palm and drilled into his chest with a wet thud. He staggered back against the fuselage, then fell down to the skids.
The pilot didn't want anything to do with this. He adjusted the controls and lifted off the ground.
Frank's assistant shuffled into the craft and pulled the cargo door shut. The craft ascended into the snowy sky. The pilot banked the helicopter around, and I opened fire, trying to put as many bullets into the engine as I could. The thump of rotor blades vanished into the night.
The snow came down heavily now.
I called the sheriff and updated him on the situation. I told him to put a BOLO out on the helicopter and informed him that Paris had been kidnapped. I had no idea where she was being held.
JD and I checked vitals on the dirtbags.
They had all transitioned to the afterlife.
I didn't envy where they were going.
After digging through Frank's coat pocket, I found his cell phone.
There wasn't much of his face left, and facial recognition was of no use.
Presented with a security screen, I started punching in random six-digit passcodes, starting with the most common combinations.
I found his wallet in his pocket and used his date of birth from his driver's license in various permutations.
That finally gave me access to the device.
After scrolling through his recent texts, I came across the clip that Paris’s kidnappers had sent him. It was a long shot, but I texted them back: [Let the reporter go. Everything's been taken care of.]
There was no response.
I hoped they hadn't already killed her.
I sent the video clip to Isabella to analyze, along with their cell number to track.
She called me back a few minutes later. “That clip was sent by a burner phone from a warehouse on Commerce Street.”
I called the sheriff and had him send patrol units.
By the time Daniels arrived at Spice Key, there was an inch of snow on the ground, with plenty more on the way.
He told me, “I sent Rawlings and Dempsey to check out the abandoned warehouse. There was nobody there, and no sign of anything.”
I took that to mean no obvious fresh blood. Perhaps Paris was still alive. I tried calling her cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail. That sense of dread knotted my stomach.
Brenda and her crew examined the remains, and Dietrich snapped photos.
By the time we wrapped up on the island, the satellites had de-orbited and were beginning to reenter the atmosphere.
They streaked across the stratosphere, burning up on reentry, providing the most wondrous light show.
All across the night sky, the satellites blazed with fury, leaving long glowing tales of fire. What a sight to see.