chloroform. That would do the trick if he could just get close enough.
Her condo was set off the road. Four stories high with three units on each floor. She had the bottom corner, which, with all the extra windows, he figured to be one of the nicer units. Her parking space was next to the walkway that led to her front door. A Jeep Wrangler, parked an aisle back, was her personal vehicle. He’d found it on a Web site site listing vehicles in Florida. It was backed into the slot, like a cop would do it, and covered by a corrugated aluminum roof that ran in each direction over the second parking space for each unit.
Just as he turned the corner again to drive past her building, Dremmel saw her unmarked police SUV pull into the spot in front of the condo.
She got out, walked around, and pulled bags of groceries from the passenger side, leaving the door open for her next trip back.
Dremmel beamed at the setup. This was just perfect.
Patty Levine struggled with just under half of the grocery bags in the car, tilting her small frame back to balance the load as her house key dangled from her right hand. She knew she should’ve given Tony Mazzetti a firm time of when to show up so she wouldn’t rush like this, but she liked the thrill of just being surprised.
She’d given up trying to reach John Stallings. That was just like him, ignoring anyone who was concerned about him. In a way she was happy he had some time to see his family. She knew that tomorrow they’d have a long talk and work out whatever was going on with his supposed contact with the TV station. Tonight was about getting her own life on track.
She felt herself smiling, just thinking about the break from work and the chance to start a new romance. This was always the best time of a relationship. You had an idea where it was going, were attracted to the person, and you hadn’t spent enough time with them for their little quirks to annoy the crap out of you. She wished she could freeze a moment like this. Simple, fun, and perfect.
Patty hurried back out to her Freestyle, grabbed the remaining bags, then started her awkward tilted walk back toward her condo’s open door. It was cool enough out that she wasn’t worried about mosquitoes or other flying pests invading the condo in the thirty seconds she left the door open.
She had made it though the doorway, kicked the heavy wooden door shut with her foot, and started toward the kitchen when she thought she heard something move behind her. Before she turned to see if it was her cat Cornelia, she noticed the plump feline on her regular perch next to her TV.
Then she froze as she felt someone step up behind her. Her heart skipped a beat as she prepared for Tony Mazzetti’s muscular arms to envelop her. She didn’t move to set down the bags as she briefly saw a hand reach around from behind her, then clamp down over her mouth and nose.
Instinctively she dropped the groceries and struggled to turn and face the person behind her, but her vision faded quickly as she became light-headed and unsteady. She vaguely heard a man say, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” as everything faded to black.
Forty
John Stallings’s head pounded as soon as he opened his eyes to the rising sun peeping through the window nearest his side of the bed. Out of habit he reached over to feel Maria next to him. His hand brushed her naked thigh and a smile crept across his face not only because she was safe in bed with him but because she had the most beautiful legs he’d ever seen, and touching them was a thrill he didn’t take for granted.
He had almost thirty minutes before getting the kids up and making breakfast. It was the rare quiet moments like this that he’d avoided over the last few years. Time to think about what he had lost and how he had staggered to this place in his life. Time to reason out how to protect Lauren and Charlie from the devastation of addiction. He had considered divorce, not because he didn’t love Maria-he did-but for the sake of the kids and their sanity. Every family has hard choices to make at some point, but his seemed harder than most. Maybe his father did play a larger role in his life than he wanted to admit.
For now his quiet time was spent thinking about the Bag Man and what he could’ve done differently to stop him. This line of reflection also encompassed his transfer back to missing persons. His stomach turned at the thought of Ronald Bell. The I.A. weasel wouldn’t fabricate evidence, so that left him back where he started until it hit him all at once: his friend Rick Ellis used his phone that day, purportedly to call his captain.
Stallings now knew his first task for the day.
Tony Mazzetti blinked hard a couple of times at the harsh light hitting him in the face and waking him up. Instantly he remembered Patty and sat up straight. How long had he been dozing? He looked over at his clock and saw it wasn’t even eight yet. Plenty of time. He relaxed, surprised at how stiff he was from a ten-minute nap on the side of his bed. Then he realized what the light that had awakened him was-the sun. He grabbed the small alarm clock and looked closely. It was eight in the fucking morning. Oh shit.
He jumped up and rushed to the bathroom, brushing his teeth while he used the toilet. Then he washed his face furiously before he slowed his pace and then just stopped, staring down into the sink’s basin. He was twelve hours late. She didn’t want to see him now.
He padded back to his bedroom and checked his phone. No one had called since Lieutenant Hester the night before. He’d blown it, and he knew it. The condoms mocked him from the dresser.
He thought about calling her but didn’t know what he’d say. He did know saying something was better than saying nothing. He listened as her phone rang, imagining her looking at the number, shaking her head, and throwing her phone across the room.
Then Patty’s prerecorded sweet voice came on, telling him to leave a message.
“Hey, it’s, um, me. Call me when you get this. I’m sorry. It was just a mistake. I’ll explain when we talk.” He cut off the call and plopped back onto the bed. For a guy who just slept twelve hours he didn’t feel rested at all.
Patty felt her eyes open, but her vision wasn’t clear. It felt as if she was wearing someone else’s glasses and nothing was in focus. She had no idea what had happened. Maybe she fainted, or the exhaustion caught up with her.
When she tried to move she couldn’t. She wasn’t paralyzed. Someone had restrained her. Patty’s first thought was that she’d had a seizure and this was some special hospital unit. Turning her head she saw a figure across the room in a bed, but her vision was still burry.
Panic rose in her throat as she considered how scared her mom must be or if anyone had even notified her yet. She tested the restraints and wiggled under the cover. She was naked, that much she could tell. The restraints were like handcuffs and her hands were suspended above her head. That wasn’t like a hospital. Something was terribly wrong.
Patty struggled harder and croaked out a scream from her dry throat. “Hey. Anyone.” She couldn’t manage much more than that.
The door creaked open, letting in natural light. She then realized one floor lamp had provided all the light in the room. A man’s figure waited at the door, looking at her. Then he said, “I’m not quite ready for you yet.”
“Ready for what? Who are you? Where am I?” She had more questions but lost them in the crackling dust of her throat.
The man moved toward her with something in his hand. As he got closer her eyes focused and she realized she knew the man from somewhere. He bent down and placed a soft cloth over her face.
Patty tried to bite him but also recognized him. This was the guy from the pharmacy. She had specific questions, but before she could ask, everything turned blurry, then dark again.
John Stallings sat in his Impala near the intersection of Atlantic Boulevard and South University just east of the St. Johns River. He knew where there’d been increasing complaints of speeders and media reports of needless accidents. He listened carefully to his handheld radio as the traffic unit called out speeders to other patrolmen down the road. It was an efficient net to slow people down and cost a few drivers points on their license as well as increased insurance premiums.
His phone had been quiet this morning. Patty had apparently taken the hint and the others had enough class not to call him. That was fine. He didn’t want to talk to anyone until he had proof that he was owed an apology and got another chance to clear his conscience and catch the Bag Man.
