Chapter 22
Griff inwardly seethed ashe typed in his response in the chatroom, Loves Little Girls website. He’d hacked into it months ago, using the identity of Charlie, a man who preferred girls between eleven and thirteen years old, “when they’ve got that attitude you can spank into shape.” Writing comments and response like that nearly made him sick, but so far, no one had caught on to what he was doing. Yesterday he’d picked up a trail of two Knoxville men who’d joined the group in the past six months. Just a little more “tunneling” as he liked to call it, and he’d know who–
Two blank-face images, like the ones used by people who don’t want their pictures used on social media, popped up. Both identified as male, stating they preferred young girls and listed their “handles” or on-screen names. The first simply called himself, “Big Guy” and listed his hobbies as painting and gardening.
“Yeah, you’re a real sweetheart,” Griff muttered, moving to the next posted identity. The man, whose hobbies included photography and jogging, listed his handle as “Ape Man” and had posted a photo of a large, snarling primate that would send Satan right back to Hell. Ape Man… Oh my God.
The name. What was it that Anne Hamilton had guessed about the names of the pedophiles involved in snatching her niece and friends. Names. Scrambled names. Anagrams. Fake names….
“Holy crap,” he muttered, forwarding the photo to another website. “Holy crap.”
The photo was identified as that of a large Gibbons, a fierce primate that lived in the dwindling rain forests of places like Thailand, Laos and Malaysia. Gibbons. Monty Gibbons, Elaine’s boss. The pencil slid from Griff’s fingers, hitting the keyboard before falling to the carpeted floor.
“Damn!” He snatched his phone and hit Elaine’s number. It went straight to voicemail, and he heard her message.
“Elaine, I don’t know where the hell you and Patrick are,” he shouted. “But you need to get back here now. I don’t care if you have Elizabeth Burke with you or not. Now, do you hear me?”
But then the wailing screams of what could only be dozens and dozens of emergency vehicles heading downtown rattled the windows. A phone alert from an emergency broadcast service added its alarm and he hit the button.
“There has been a shooting at St. Nicholas’ Catholic Church in downtown Knoxville,” the atonal voice reported. “Witnesses say a woman jumped from the confessional and began firing into the worshipers while a man dragged another woman from the church-”
“By all the devils in hell!” Griff surged to his feet as the door to the suite pushed open and Patrick stumbled in, jacket in hand, as blood seeped through his shirt, his face a mask of anguish and fury.
“Griff,” he gasped. “The bastards grabbed Elaine. They were hiding in the confessional.”
“Elizabeth Burke is a part of this?” Disbelief tore through Griff’s heart. “Are you f’ing serious?”
“No.” Patrick staggered to the sofa and collapsed. “Elaine told me what she looked like, and she wasn’t there. It was some little woman with curly black hair and a big white guy, almost as tall as me. The woman started firing around the church and everyone hit the deck. I pulled my weapon, but she clipped me–”
“What the fu–”Griff roared. “Why the hell aren’t you at the ER?”
“Because she only clipped me,” Patrick said through gritted teeth. Muttering under his breath, he tugged his button-down shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Blood stained his Lady Vols t-shirt he wore underneath. “I called Bryant and he’s on the way,” he said. “I think he’s downstairs but I don’t think it’s not bleeding that much.”
“Is that a fact?” Griff stared at the bloodied shirt. “Could have fooled me.”
“I got out of there before the police arrived and came straight here,” Patrick continued. “But I texted Miller and told him they grabbed Elaine at the church. Don’t know if he went there or is coming here. Damn, I’m starting to bleed on the sofa. Could you get me a washrag or something?”
Griff limped to the bathroom and grabbed a towel, but Bryant was already there when he returned, applying cleanser to Patrick’s shoulder.
“Get those bandages out of my bag, would you please, Tyler?” he asked. “You’re damn lucky, Danton. She did just nick you, like your text said. Park your ass in a chair, Tyler.”
“Don’t feel lucky right now,” Patrick grimaced as Bryant took the bandages from Griff and bound his shoulder. “Who are you calling?”
“The techs who monitor the lockets.” Griff punched his phone’s keypad. “This is exactly why I gave her such a hard time about remembering to wear it. At least this way we can track her movements and go after her–”
“Not without Miller and back-up!” Patrick interrupted. “That’s crazy.”
“I know that!” Griff shouted, holding up his phone. “When and if Miller comes, we’ll put together a plan–yes, hello? This is Lieutenant Griffin A. Tyler. We have an abduction of a subject wearing a BP locket, serial number XO 1017. I need a trace. Subject taken from St. Nicholas’ church in downtown Knoxville within the past hour or less.”
“Monitoring now,” a woman’s voice responded. “Checking. Subject found at 1568 Simon Street. The Wellness Clinic–”
“That can’t be,” Griff argued. “Why would they take her there?”
“Don’t know, Lieutenant Tyler but that’s where the signal is coming from. And our equipment is in perfect working order.”
“Sorry,” Griff said hurriedly “Thanks. Let me know if subject starts to move?”
“You got it,” the woman said and ended the call.
“Why would they take Elaine to the Wellness Clinic?” Griff looked at Patrick and his heart sank. “She wasn’t–”
“Shot? Hell, Tyler, don’t you think I would have told you that?” Fury darkened Patrick’s face and his use of Griff’s last name added to his obvious anger.
“Yeah, I know,” Griff muttered. “Sorry.” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “Why would they take her there if she weren’t hurt? Makes no sense because everyone there knows her and–oh my God.”
“What?” Bryant demanded. “The locket’s signal says she is!”
“What if someone took the locket from her and is at the clinic without her?” Griff suggested. “The tracking device is so small you’d have to break open the locket to find it. The person who has it doesn’t know they’re being traced.”
“And it’s pretty enough, a woman would want to have it.” Patrick growled. “Like the woman in the confessional. “Let’s go see if she’s there.”
Griff pushed up from his chair, stepped forward, but his knee gave way, taking him to the floor.
“I said, ‘park your ass,’” Bryant repeated, helping him to his chair. “Danton can go as long as he has back-up with him.”
“Texting Miller to meet me there,” Patrick said, picking up his jacket and gingerly sliding his arms into its sleeves.
“Hold up,” Griff ordered. He dialed the number Elizabeth Burke had given them and hit the speaker. She picked up immediately and said, “Lieutenant Tyler? What’s going on? Police cars are whizzing all over downtown and–”
“Elizabeth, listen to me,” Griff commanded. “Did you call Elaine earlier today and ask her to meet you at St. Nicholas because someone told you that your old pimp was in town and looking for you?”
“Good Lord, no!” Elizabeth’s voice rose to a near shriek. “I’m at work! I would have called you! Is Elaine–?”
“Don’t leave Carson’s for any reason, Elizabeth,” Griff ordered again. “I’ll be in touch.”
Ending the call, Griff looked up. “That’s how they got her. Someone called Elaine this morning pretended to be Elizabeth and got Elaine to come to the church so they could grab her. And the bastard behind this is her boss, Monty Gibbons.”
“Elaine’s rat bastard of a boss?” Patrick leaned against the doorframe. “How in the hell–never mind, my hacking friend. You can tell me when I get back.”
Bryant shut the door behind him and turned to regard Griff with narrowed eyes.
“You’ve made some very dangerous enemies, Lieutenant Tyler,” he said. “I hope to God you get whoever has taken your friend.”
“So, do I,” Griff said grimly. “At least seven other lives may depend on us finding her.”
No. Make that nine lives. Elaine’s and mine.