Chapter Twenty-Two
Declan sat by Angel’s bedside above Bar-None.
Mickey had insisted on taking the smaller guest room so the Kid could sleep in the main bedroom.
Declan knew the guest room was actually a storage cupboard that Mickey would probably set a cot up in.
His kindness knew no limits when it came to the Kids who helped out at the bar.
As for Angel’s safety, Declan was convinced that the boy was in no further danger. The attack on Angel was a message for the detective himself. What the full meaning of the message was, however, remained a mystery.
After Angel fell asleep, Mickey got up and said, “I should probably get back to work.”
Declan rose from his chair. “I really appreciate what you’ve done for him.”
Mickey smiled as he looked over at the sleeping Angel. “He’s like family. You do it for family. They’re the only thing of real value that any of us have.”
Declan gave Mickey a hug then made his way to his van. He pulled out of the parking lot and started to drive back to the office. His phone buzzed with a text. He looked at the time. It was just after ten-thirty p.m.
Must be Charlie looking for babysitting tips.
Declan glanced at the number. He didn’t recognise it, but when he saw the message, he nearly drove off the road.
If you call the police, call anyone, or tell anyone about this text, someone will die. I’m tracking your phone. Reply YES if you understand. This text will be deleted after ten seconds.
Declan quickly pulled over and replied as instructed.
His phone buzzed again.
Another message appeared with an address in the Northwest part of Calgary. Declan barely had time to scribble down the information before it disappeared.
A third text appeared briefly, then vanished.
Come for me.
Declan pulled out from the curb, nearly hitting a passing car, and sped toward the address. He knew that soon he would be meeting the person who had been creating all the chaos in his life. But who was it that might die if he didn’t do what he was told? Then a terrible thought hit him.
Charlie!
He went to call Charlie, then paused. What if the person was actually tracking the use of his phone and saw he had tried to call Charlie?
Could someone even do that? This was something Charlie would know, but Declan had no clue.
His rage burned inside of him. He pounded the steering wheel and drove as fast as he could.
By the time Declan arrived, the sun had long set and the neighbourhood was lit only by streetlamps. He slowly drove past the address he’d been given. It was a raised bungalow, one up from the corner with a tall wooden fence and several pine trees that concealed much of it from the street.
Declan parked a block away. He checked his phone. No further texts.
What would Charlie do?
Declan grabbed his phone, ensuring it was still on, and put it in the glove box. If anything went wrong, he knew someone would be able to track its location.
He took a deep breath, got out of the van and hurried along the roadway to the edge of the property. Most of the neighbouring houses were dark. People had either gone to bed or were hunkered down in their basements watching TV.
Declan entered the side yard through a gate.
He closed it most of the way shut, carefully listening for any sign of a dog that might be out in the yard…
silence. He latched the gate and crept to the back of the house.
There was no sign of any movement. The only light came from a main-floor window overlooking the backyard.
Declan crept to the back door and tried the knob.
It was unlocked, as if someone was expecting a guest. He silently made his way in, exploring the main floor.
He paused outside each room, then gently opened the doors.
The rooms were all vacant, even the one with the light on.
Declan’s only remaining option was to check the basement.
He quietly snuck down the stairs. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark.
Some light from the street leaked in through the basement windows and dimly lit the main room.
It was carpeted and furnished with a couch, a few chairs and a television set.
There were several doors off this room. Declan paused.
Which door should he try? It was like the old TV show Let’s Make a Deal.
Behind two of the doors there might be nothing of interest, but behind the third door, the grand prize…
perhaps something he didn’t want to find.
Or worse, perhaps there was something horrible behind all the doors.
But which should he choose first—door number one, door number two, or door number three?
A mechanical noise broke the silence and he felt air blowing on him. It was the furnace fan kicking in. He followed the whir of the motor which led him to the door along the wall on his right.
Why not?
He carefully turned the knob, eased the door open, then slid his body into what appeared to be a concrete-floored utility room.
A dull night-light plugged into a wall socket cast a dim glow.
He scanned the room, but at first glance there was no one there other than him, and no apparent place to hide.
Near the far corner stood the furnace. Between it and the concrete block wall he spied a gap. A gap wide enough…
He moved his way to the opening and spotted the silhouette of a body. It was bound and gagged. Declan recognised Jules, whose eyes were wide with terror. She let out muffled sounds of desperation.
* * * *
The Attercop left his hiding spot and crept down the stairs. He had practised this manoeuvre time and time again, fixing every tread that squeaked. Declan would not hear him coming.
At the base of the stairs, he paused and listened. He controlled his breathing and moved slowly toward the only open door. The one to the furnace room.
The Attercop held his weapon in front of him, gripping it with both hands. He knew that the moment the detective found Jules, and was in the right position, the three small LED sensor lights for the furnace would be blocked from The Attercop’s view and that would be his cue to fire.
He watched Declan’s frame move into position. The Attercop pulled the trigger on the Taser. The compressed nitrogen cartridge sent the two darts at fifty-five metres per second toward Hunt’s back. If they missed their target, he wouldn’t have a second chance and Hunt would take him down.
The Attercop gasped with delight as the darts successfully penetrated the detective’s tight T-shirt and delivered a high-voltage charge. Declan toppled like a felled tree, landing face down.
The Attercop worked quickly to truss him up, cuffing his hands behind his back and tying Hunt’s feet together. Then he tied the feet to the hands. He had to work fast. The Taser’s batteries lasted only thirty seconds. Unless he had him under control by then, Declan could get loose.
The Attercop reached into his pocket and pulled out a glass bottle wrapped in a cloth handkerchief.
He got the top open, and managed to douse the handkerchief with fluid, but in the excitement of the moment, dropped the bottle.
There was the sound of breaking glass and the sweet smell of isoflurane filled the air.
Declan began to thrash madly. “Show me who you are,” he yelled.
The Attercop straddled Hunt’s back. At any other time, he would have enjoyed this, but he would have to save his enjoyment for later.
Declan was trying to roll over. If he managed to do that, it would be harder to control his head and knock him out with the isoflurane which, thanks to his own increased respiratory rate, was starting to make him feel a bit dizzy and make his eyes sting.
The Attercop managed to get the cloth over Declan’s face and held it there. “That’s a good boy. It’s time to take a nice long nap.”
Declan’s body grew still and The Attercop smiled.
He flicked a switch, which turned on the fluorescent ceiling lights, and assessed the situation.
When the bottle had shattered, glass had gone everywhere.
It couldn’t be helped. He picked up as many pieces as he could, then mopped up the remaining isoflurane and placed the rags in a plastic bag.
Some of those rags might come in handy later.
Next, he searched Declan’s pockets. He found his keys, a wallet and some crumpled papers.
Where was the fucking phone? The Attercop might have exaggerated when he’d texted Declan and told him that he could track it, but that didn’t mean that Charlie or the police couldn’t.
The fumes from the isoflurane were fogging his brain.
He needed to get out of there quickly. The Attercop made a choice.
Even if Declan had left his phone where they could locate it, The Attercop would never be coming back to this place again.
He turned his attention to Jules. He undid the gag from her mouth and indicated that she should be quiet. He gently stroked the side of her face.
“Now, we’re all going to have some fun.”
The Attercop guessed that he had thirty to forty-five minutes before Declan came back around. He was feeling woozy. He needed some air, and he wasn’t the only one—Jules was beginning to slump. He took her outside, leaning her against the wall of the house.
“Stay here and don’t try to move,” he ordered.
She slowly nodded. She had obviously taken in more of the isoflurane than he had.
The Attercop opened the back gate to the rear lane where he had parked his van.
He got all the doors open and came back for Jules, moving her inside the vehicle and strapping her in.
She didn’t make a sound, although her eyes were open.
He needed Jules to be awake. This was an important part of the plan.
The Attercop headed back downstairs, pulling a small black cloth sack out of his pocket and fitting it over Declan’s head, tying it around his neck.
If the detective did manage to wake too soon, The Attercop wanted to ensure that Declan couldn’t see anything.
The grand reveal had to be done at a precise moment.
His first attempt to hoist Declan into a fireman’s carry failed.
Hogtying his hands and feet made Declan impossible to wrap around his shoulders.
He cut the rope and prayed that the eighty-five kilos of muscle didn’t wake before there was a chance to resecure him.
Then there was the difficulty of moving the man up a flight of stairs.
The Attercop drew on all his strength and, in two short bursts, managed to get Declan safely stowed away.
He tied him back up, then took another fresh-air break before closing the rear door of the house and returning to the vehicle. He drove away.
The Attercop seriously hoped the chemical didn’t do any permanent damage to Declan, although it might be to his advantage if the isoflurane had killed off some of Hunt’s brain cells. It might make him easier to control.
By the time The Attercop pulled up at his destination, Declan had started to rally. He weakly struggled at his bonds. His muffled cries seeped through the face mask.
I should have taken the time to gag him. The sooner he got him inside, the better, although there was no one around to hear the detective’s cursing. Just in case though, The Attercop reached for the plastic bag, pulled out a rag, and placed it over the hood on Declan’s face. He slumped once more.
“You’re a monster. Too much of something like that might kill him,” Jules said.
The Attercop glared at her. “I just have to keep him under control. If he’s fully conscious and not properly restrained, he’ll be a beast. Now be a good girl and help me get him inside. And if you help me, you will be properly rewarded.”
She scowled at him, then cautiously got up and out of the van and met him at its back door. The two of them managed to get Declan out, and carried him the short distance along the alleyway, through the door and down the stairs to the basement.
“We’ll set him there,” The Attercop instructed.
He positioned Declan on a wheeled table, then removed the temporary bindings from the detective and clamped his ankles and wrists to the wooden surface.
“You’ve really come prepared. Do this often?” Jules asked, then moved to a spot on a nearby bed and lay down. He could see that her eyes were still glazed. The Attercop would let her rest for a moment. First, he needed to tend to Declan.
He removed the sack that covered the detective’s face.
Declan was out cold. The Attercop filled a bowl with warm water and took out a clean cloth from a cupboard under a nearby sink.
He gently wiped the blood away from the injuries where Declan had struggled when his hands and feet were tied together.
The Attercop gently kissed him on the forehead.
“I’m going to take good care of you, don’t you worry.
Before you die, I’m going to let you experience something that goes far beyond what you ever dreamed was possible. ”