Chapter 21
Monday Morning
“Like I toldyou last night, you’re to stay off that leg for at least twenty-four hours,” Major Phillip Bryant, MD, USMC pronounced. “Except for walking to the bathroom, don’t even think about doing anything else.”
“But–”
“I mean it, Lieutenant Tyler. We both may be retired, but I still outrank you. So, keep your ass in a chair. Got it?” Bryant’s expression dared Griff to argue.
“Yes, sir,” Griff said, slumping in his chair at the dining table. “I guess I can finish my research.”
“As long as you’re sitting down, you can re-invent the wheel,” Bryant said. “Think about trying something, I’ll call Hank Patterson and you can talk to him about it.”
“I understand,” Griff said quickly. Hank Patterson was adamant about those who served in BP not taking unnecessary risks while in the field. Falling off a stool while reaching for a tin of cookies wasn’t quite the same thing, but he was still stuck in a chair for at least another twelve hours.
And his knee hurt like hell. Only good thing was waking up this morning with Elaine beside him this morning.
“Then I’ll leave you to whatever you can figure out,” Bryant said. “Call me if you need me. Danton.” He nodded at Patrick. “Ms. Prescott.”
He let himself out. The door had barely closed behind him when Griff shouted an oath he’d learned in Central America, most of it foul and very nearly profane.
“Do I get a translation of that?” Elaine called from the kitchen where she was making fresh coffee.
“No, ma’am,” Griff grumped. “You’d be washing my mouth out with soap if I told you.”
“That would be interesting to watch.” Patrick grinned from his place next to Griff. “I’ll bet we could sell tickets to that.”
“Shut-up, Danton,” Griff growled as Elaine returned with three cups and put them on the table. Handing one to Griff, she asked, “So what are we going to do today?”
“I guess consolidate everything we know from the lists Aunt Sally sent.” Griff ran a hand over his face in thought. “Call Marty and see if he’s remembered anything? I don’t know.”
“Let’s wait until this afternoon to do that,” Elaine suggested. “I’ll bet he and his family were up half the night still talking and celebrating.”
“You’re right,” Griff admitted. “I think I’ll call Aunt Sally later instead of texting. Human voice contact, you know?”
From the bedroom, Elaine’s phone trilled. “Early start,” she said and headed that way.
“Not so early,” Patrick corrected, looking after her. “It’s past nine o’clock.” He turned his head to stare at Griff. “It’s serious, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Griff admitted. “And I’ve got no idea what I’m going to do about it when this is over.”
“Elizabeth, please don’t cry. Slow down. I can barely understand you.” Elaine returned, phone to her ear, wide-eyed and all color gone from her face. “Yes, of course, I’ll come after you. No, not him, but a friend of his. St. Nicholas’ Church at ten o’clock? We’ll be there.”
Her hands visibly trembling, she shoved the phone into her trouser pocket. “That was Elizabeth Burke. She’s had a phone call from a friend who said her pimp is in town looking for her. We have to go get her.”
“Not you,” she added as Griff struggled to stand. “You’re going to sit right here and call your Aunt Sally, look at some more pedophile groups or something. Patrick and I can go get her. We’ll be back in half an hour or less. C’mon, Patrick.”
“Wait!” Griff shouted. “At least put on the locket, will you?”
“I don’t think anything is going–”
“Do it,” Griff ordered, ignoring Patrick’s low-throated chuckle.
She shrugged, returned to her room, and came back wearing it. “Satisfied?” she asked, holding it up.
“I just love seeing you lovebirds fight,” Patrick laughed.
“Shut up, Patrick,” they said simultaneously but their friend only laughed harder.
“We’ll text you when we we’ve got her,” Patrick said, going to the closet and taking out his and Elaine’s jackets.
“Thanks,” Griff said dryly. His own phone beeped and looking at the screen, hit respond and said, “Hey, Aunt Sally. Yeah, this is a good time. What did you–”
Elaine’s quick kiss stopped his question. Then she hurried to the door where Patrick was waiting. She waved in farewell and they were gone.
His question for his aunt was brief but succinct and she promised to get the addresses of short-term rentals, when, where and who had rented them and for how long.
They ended the call, and Griff took up his mug again and stared into its contents. I could have sat in the back seat. It would only be a few steps to the garage and the car. It’s not really like walking.
Then, laughing at his own pique, he hobbled to the office, switched on the computer and went to play on the Dark Net.
“What does Elizabeth Burke look like?”Patrick asked as he parked the car in a fifteen-minute spot in front of St. Nicholas.
“Tall and slim, auburn hair and green eyes,” Elaine described. “But you don’t have to come inside. I’ll be back with her as soon as I find her.”
“Nothing doing.” Patrick shut off the engine and turned on the emergency flashers. “There’s a lot of people here today for ten o’clock Mass and it might take time to find her.”
“She said she’d be in one of the confessionals,” Elaine argued. “I just hope no one was in there before she arrived. All I have to do is look inside, though she may have the curtain drawn nearly closed. St. Nicholas is a small church and there are only two–”
“I’m coming with you, Elaine,” Patrick repeated. “We can argue about it later.”
They exited the car together and walked up the steps. Inside, the bustle of street noise gave way to the silence of those in prayer. A robed man was lighting the candles on the altar and on the other side, a man appeared to be preparing a row of chalices. All appeared peaceful but anxiety inched its way over Elaine, leaving a chill behind.
“Where–?” Patrick started to say but Elaine pointed at the covered stalls on the left side of the church. Both their curtains were partially open. “There,” she whispered. “She’ll be in one of those.”
She stepped forward but then put her hand on Patrick’s arm. “Stay here, please,” she pleaded. “Elizabeth hasn’t met you. Let me talk to her first.”
He frowned, then shrugged. “Okay,” was his grudging answer. “But hurry.”
Elaine moved forward, looked inside the first stall and found it empty. “Elizbeth?” she hissed. “Where are you?”
“Here,” came a whisper. “The next one. Come in, would you?”
“Yes, of course,” Elanie muttered, moving to the next stall and stepping inside. A .357 magnum was shoved into her face and exceptionally strong arms grabbed her from behind.
“If you’re as smart as I think you are, you won’t scream,” a man’s voice advised. “You’re gonna to back slowly outside and then we’re gonna take a little ride.”
“Wh-what is this?” Knees trembling, Elaine starred at the woman holding the gun who looked vaguely familiar. “You’re not Elizabeth Burke.”
“Shut up!” the woman snapped. “Do as you’re told but do it slow or I’ll blow your head off.”
“Shut up, Tina,” her companion ordered.
“Tina?” Elaine ground her feet against the stall’s floor. “Tina Paxton from the clinic?”
“Get moving,” the man ordered, and still holding the gun, Tina scrambled out.
“Don’t anyone move!” she screamed as Elaine’s captor dragged her into the church. “I’ll kill anyone who gets close!”
Clutching the gun with both hands, she began firing in every direction. People screamed, ducking behind pews or falling to the floor. Patrick pulled out his weapon, but Tina fired in his direction, and he dove for the floor.
“Patrick!” Elaine screamed but her captor had dragged her to a small hall just behind the confessional stall and then pushed her through an open door of a blue Mini-Cooper Clubman Station Wagon. Tina had barely jumped in before the driver hit the gas and they took off, bouncing against the curb, sending a hubcap flying off. Her captor released Elaine long enough to produce some zip ties from his pocket and bind her wrists behind her.
“We did it, we did it, we did it!” Tina sang from the seat facing Elaine. Someone had customized the car’s interior so that the back seats faced each other. “You gonna go down, Ms. Smarty Pants Prescott!”
A rage colder than her fear shot through Elaine. “You’re Tina from the Wellness Clinic,” she repeated. “You work at the front desk.”
“I work for Big Daddy now and we’re gonna make you pay for all the trouble you’ve caused,” Tina sneered. She peered through the car’s dark interior and pointed at Elaine’s locket. “I like that,” she declared. “Give it to me, Randy.”
“Say my name again, and I’ll shoot you where you sit,” the man warned. His cold, precise diction was more frightening than if he’d shouted. He pulled the locket over Elaine’s head and tossed it at Tina. “Now, keep your mouth shut.”
“Mine now,” Tina sang, swinging it back and forth like a hypnotist’s tool.
“Shut up, Tina,” the man warned again. “If you want to keep working for Big Daddy, you need to keep your mouth shut.”
Pouting, Tina sat back, but put on the locket, stroking the surface, and singing softly to herself.
And then, in the distance, Elaine heard the unmistakable sound of emergency sirens wailing.