Don was waiting when Will and Lonnie strode into the detective section. Will had explained his worry about a bug to Lonnie on their way into the building, and he quickly explained it to Don.
“So what have you got?” he said.
Don laid out a key ring with a fob tracker, a chain with a St. Christopher medallion, and a pair of shoe inserts.
“These.” Will picked up the inserts and sat down to remove his shoes.
“Shoe inserts?” Lonnie said.
“Developed to keep track of dementia patients, but it works for undercover work, too,” Don said.
“I can’t keep up with technology.” Lonnie shook his head. “But why not go with all of it? That way if he tumbles to the key ring or the medallion, he might think that’s all you got.”
“Good idea.” Will pulled his key ring out of his pocket and tossed it to Don. “Do me a favor and transfer my car keys to that ring.”
Lonnie stepped out of the room to get the tracker for the car. By the time Will had the inserts in his shoes and the shoes back on his feet, Don had transferred the keys. He handed the medallion and key ring to Will just as Lonnie stepped back into the room.
“The bird’s on your car,” Lonnie said, using the department’s nickname for the tracker. “You ready to make the call? We can record and track it and maybe we’ll get lucky—”
“No. I’m not making it from a department phone.”
“Come on, Anderson,” Lonnie started to protest, but Will cut him off.
“I know you’re clueless on technology, but even you have to know that the number calling shows up on all phones nowadays. Don’t you think Artie will recognize the department’s number?”
“Well, yeah, sure, but wouldn’t he expect you to at least try to trace it?”
“Maybe, maybe not. I’m not taking the chance. I’m calling from my cell, and I’m calling from my car.”
He started for the door, but Lonnie jumped in front of him.
“Wait a sec. You can’t just walk out of here—”
“I can and I am. The tracker’s on my car, I’ve got my phone and key fob in my pocket, a medallion on my neck, and trackers in my shoes. So track me but not too close. Okay?”
They stared at each other for several seconds before Lonnie sighed and stepped out of Will’s way.
“I guess it will have to be, won’t it?” he said.
CHAPTER 54
Jen snapped awake as the world fell silent. The car had stopped and the motor had shut off. She shifted position to try to get the kinks out of her body, amazed that she had dozed off. A combination of the head blow and the hum of the engine, she guessed, hoping her falling asleep wasn’t an indication that her head injury was serious. Wasn’t a person with a concussion supposed to stay awake, and if the person didn’t, wasn’t that a bad sign?
Although, she thought, a concussion is probably the least of my worries now. If I don’t get away, dying from a head injury might be a blessing.
But she wasn’t going to die yet, period. She had to get those thoughts out of her mind. She had to live for Brandon, and she had to live to put an end to the monster who had killed all those women and probably killed Ada.
She heard the creak of a car door hinge that needed greasing, and a few seconds later she heard the door shut. She rolled onto her side, facing the back of the car. After she’d worked the cuffs over her feet and around to the front of her body, she’d slipped her pumps back on, wishing she were wearing athletic shoes or boots or steel-toed work shoes. If she’d had an inkling she’d be trying to kick a killer in the face, girly shoes would not have been her first choice. But it was too late for a wardrobe change now.
She heard a clicking sound as her abductor hit the trunk release on his remote. The trunk lid started moving up, and she squinted her eyes against the sunlight. As the gap widened, she saw tan chinos first, then a brown leather belt with a brass buckle, and as the bottom of a blue plaid shirt came into view, she pulled her right knee closer to her chin. At the same time she stretched her left leg out as far as she could and pressed her left foot into the side of the trunk for stability. Her aim would have to be good the first time because she wasn’t likely to get a second chance. Her first choice would be a kick to the face or throat, but even a hard kick to the chest might give her enough time to get out of the trunk where she could try to do more damage. She’d already eliminated the idea of running, at least at first. Unless her abductor was incapacitated, he’d catch her quickly. She had to hurt him bad enough to slow him down.
As the lid continued upward, the question of who it would be flickered through her mind. Was it the creepy coroner’s assistant, Larry Adams, or the red-Corvette-driving Steve Cochran? Or was it someone they hadn’t even suspected—a customer or employee of BodyFit or someone who prowled The Factory or someone Judy and Carla and Vicki and Trish had crossed paths with at the supermarket? The only positive to the situation in which she now found herself was that she’d finally know. She just had to live long enough to tell someone.
The lid moved the rest of the way up, and her eyes widened in spite of the
