They slowed their pace as they eased quietly up the stairs, guns drawn and ready. Lonnie motioned to one of the uniforms to stay by the front door. The last thing they needed was for a resident to return home while they were creeping up the stairs with their guns in their hands.
Nearing the second floor, Lonnie stopped, and the others followed his example. They listened. A television set played in one of the downstairs apartments, but the second floor was quiet. They continued up the stairs and into the hall.
There were only two apartments on each floor, the doors halfway down the hall. Lonnie eased down the right side of the hall, and Al took the left, the second uniformed officer covering them both from the stairwell. As he moved closer, Lonnie saw that Jen’s door, on the right side of the hall, was ajar. Al moved quickly past it and took up a position on the opposite side. They waited a few seconds, listening, then Lonnie reached out and pushed Jen’s door hard. It swung back, striking the wall, and they dropped into a crouch and waited.
Nothing happened. There was no sound and no movement from inside the apartment. Easing forward slowly, they peered around the edge of the doorframe. They could see most of the living room. It was empty. Moving quickly into it, they checked the coat closet and behind the couch, then moved into the hall. Behind them the uniformed officer moved into the living room and took up position in the doorway, his eyes on the closed door of the apartment opposite Jen’s.
Lonnie and Al moved quickly. The bath was empty, as was the hall closet. The bedroom door on the left was shut; the other was standing open. Lonnie could see a bed and nightstand from his position, as well as pennants celebrating several NFL teams. Apparently it was Brandon’s room. It looked empty, and he opted for checking the room with the closed door first.
They took their positions, one on either side of the door. Al slowly turned the knob until he felt the latch give, then gave the door a push, slamming it against the wall, confirming there was no one waiting behind it. They tensed, but again, nothing happened. A quick search of the room showed it was empty.
They turned to Brandon’s room. It took them only a few seconds to find the old lady. She lay silent and still. On her motionless back was an envelope with a single name on its front. The name was Anderson.
***
During her time in patrol, Jen had learned that it was not unusual for prisoners to get out of handcuffs. It wasn’t that they were Houdinis in disguise. It was just that some people, particularly young women, had small hands and wrists and could easily wiggle out of the bracelets. Even many that couldn’t get out of the cuffs were adept at bringing them from behind by stretching their arms down and around bent legs. She had already wasted valuable seconds cursing the fate that had blessed her with strong and, unfortunately, thick wrists and hands. Now it was time to see how agile she was.
She rolled onto her back, bending her knees and raising her butt into the air until her knees grazed the trunk lid. Rhonda, a coach at the last fitness center she’d belonged to, flashed into her mind—Rhonda dressed in tights and lying in a similar position, exhorting the women in her class to “tighten those buns.” Jen wiggled her arms over her bottom, tightening the cheeks of her butt in an attempt to reduce their mass, and willed her arms to stretch just a little farther. Just when her shoulders were on the verge of dislocating, her hands slipped under her bottom.
The rest was easy, first one leg twisted around until the foot passed through the circle made by her arms and the cuffs, then the other. She relaxed her throbbing shoulders for a few moments before pulling the gag from her mouth, starting to feel a glimmer of hope. Her hands weren’t free, but they were in front of her where they might be of some use. Her feet were free, and her mouth available for screaming—or better yet, biting, since she didn’t think screaming would do much good. No, it would be better to attack first and yell for help later.
***
He felt high with his accomplishment, his blood racing and his heart pounding sharp bursts of pleasure through his body. It had been ridiculously easy. She was his, had always been his, and he had taken her. In his mind, he replayed the scene of her stooped over the old woman, her head bent, like a sacrificial animal waiting for the blow. It had been beautiful.
His plan was moving like clockwork. The trap had been set, and soon the man who had taken his father from him would take the bait. Then the real fun would begin.
CHAPTER 53
Fate had smiled on Will all the way from Indianapolis as he drove twenty, and sometimes thirty, miles over the speed limit without seeing a single police cruiser. He slid into the lot of Jen’s building, praying he hadn’t used up all his good luck. He had to find her, and he had to find her quickly.
Lonnie had called him shortly after he’d left the Indianapolis city limits and told him about finding Ada. He’d also told him about the envelope left with his name on it.
“He’s got her, Will.” Lonnie’s voice had broken, and for second or two, there was silence on the phone. Then Will heard him take a deep breath before he continued. “He’s left a phone number and says you—and only you—have to call it or he’ll kill her.”
Will swerved to the side of the road, bouncing over uneven ground, tires throwing gravel, and fought the wheel till he came
