He dialed Hank’s number, ran to the kitchen for his car keys, and was in the garage before the cop answered the phone. “Annie’s in trouble,” he said into the phone as he jumped in the car and started the engine. He gave Hank a quick version of the story while he waited impatiently for the garage door to open.
“I’ll send a pair of cruisers immediately and meet you there,” Hank said. “But don’t go near the house until the officers get there.”
“I’ll be careful,” Jake said, and hung up.
The Firebird roared from the garage and spun onto the street. He didn’t know what he would find at the Norton house—maybe nothing at all, but he was determined to find out ASAP.
As he neared the house, he expected to see Annie’s vehicle parked at the road. It wasn’t there.
He pulled into the empty driveway, raced from the vehicle, and went to the side of the garage. He peeked through a small window in the outside door. His heart jumped when he saw Annie’s vehicle inside. That was a dead giveaway. Something was definitely wrong.
It was a single car garage, and Tammy Norton’s dark-blue Ford was nowhere to be seen. Tammy was gone. But where was his wife?
He hurried to the front door and banged furiously as two police cruisers pulled to the curb. Four officers streamed from the vehicles. Jake knew what their instructions would be. Enter the premises by force, if necessary, find Annie, and apprehend Tammy Norton.
As two officers ran to the back of the building, Jake stepped away from the front door as the other two cops raced to the front porch.
“Police. Open the door.”
The door remained closed, and then burst inward as the second cop hit it with a battering ram. The officers moved in cautiously, their weapons drawn, ready to bring them into use at a moment’s notice.
Jake turned as Hank pulled into the driveway behind the Firebird and jumped out. “Is she here?” Hank called.
“It doesn’t look like it.” Jake shook his head grimly. “The officers are inside, but I think both women are gone.”
“Stay back,” Hank said, as he drew his handgun and stepped into the house.
Jake followed Hank and stood in the foyer. The officers were busy, clearing the house, room by room. Before long they approached Hank. “No one’s here,” one of the cops said. “And there’s no sign of a struggle.”
Hank’s face was grim as he pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll get a BOLO out on Tammy Norton’s car immediately.”
Jake raced frantically around the rooms, through the kitchen, the living room, and finally to the garage. He pulled on the door handle of Annie’s car. It was unlocked, and the keys were in the ignition. He checked on the floor, the back seat, and the front seat, but nothing appeared to be out of place.
As far as he could tell, Tammy Norton had kidnapped his wife. He had to do whatever it took to find Annie. He prayed she was still alive.
If what he assumed about Tammy was correct—that she was a cold-blooded killer, he knew there would be no negotiations, no ransom, and no mercy shown.
Chapter 47
Friday, 10:49 a.m.
ANNIE GRIPPED THE wheel wrench firmly in both hands as she waited for the trunk lid to open. During the long ride to wherever they were now, the heavy bar was the only thing she could find that made a suitable weapon, and she planned on giving it her best shot.
She hadn’t considered Tammy to be the ruthless killer she turned out to be. And all because of money. She hoped Geekly had understood her message and Jake and the police were searching for her. She had no idea where she was, but if the building they were in was connected to Tammy, the police might be able to put the pieces together. She hoped they’d figure it out before it was too late.
The car stopped and she heard the unmistakable hum of an overhead garage door, then the vehicle moved ahead several feet.
She heard the same hum as the door closed, and then the car engine died. A vehicle door opened, slammed, and then footsteps came closer. She gripped the wheel wrench, readied herself, and waited.
The trunk lid popped up and her only chance of attack faded. Tammy stood well away from the trunk, the pistol in her hand.
“I thought you might try something like that,” the abductor said. “You can drop it now.”
Annie considered her situation for a brief moment before letting the iron slip from her hands. It made a dull thud as it hit the floor of the trunk.
Tammy stepped back and waved her weapon. “You’ll be happy to hear we’ve arrived at our destination. You can get out now.”
Annie swung one leg over, then the other, climbing from the trunk. She stood upright and glanced around. They appeared to be in a garage attached to a residential house. The usual items that could be seen in most any garage were scattered about. Shelves contained a variety of containers, clutter, and cast-offs. Garden tools occupied a bin on the floor. The rafters held more junk.
To her left, a door led into the house. Directly in front of her was an outside door. What were her odds?
Probably nil.
“Don’t try anything stupid,” Tammy said. “I could as easily shoot you right now, but if you’re careful, you might live a little longer.”
Annie crossed her arms and glared. “You aren’t going to get away with this, so you might as well shoot me now. What’re you waiting for?”
Tammy shrugged and gave a fake smile. “I haven’t figured out how you’re going to fit into my plans. So you might be pleased to learn, until I do, you’re safe with me.” She laughed. “As long as you’re a good girl.”
“What is this place?” Annie asked.
“You don’t need to know that. Just do as you’re told.” Tammy pulled a ring of keys from her pocket, selected one, and then moved to the door leading into the house. She unlocked it and pushed it open, then stepped back and made a sweeping motion toward the doorway. “Inside.”
Annie glared at the heartless killer a moment longer, and then took the two steps up, through the doorway, and entered a small foyer. She felt the cold steel of the pistol at her back and knew making a run for it was out of the question. Tammy wasn’t taking any chances and neither was she.
The house had the feel of being lived in. She saw a kitchen off to her left, a short hallway leading to the front room to her right. Except for the pounding of her heart, the house was still and quiet.
“Open the door in front of you,” Tammy said from behind.
Annie looked straight ahead. She knew where the doorway must lead—most certainly down to the basement.
It did. When she opened the door, she saw a flight of wooden steps leading into darkness.
Tammy reached to the wall beside the doorway and flicked a switch, flooding the basement with light. The pistol prodded Annie forward.
“Downstairs. Move it.”
Annie took the first step cautiously, her mind whirling in an attempt to devise a way out of this deadly situation. But Tammy was cautious. The woman stayed well back as Annie descended the stairs, the gun now prodding the back of her head.
Thirteen steps down and Annie touched the cold concrete floor. She looked around. The basement was almost empty, as though its owners had just moved out, or perhaps new ones about to move in. A furnace sat silently in the far corner, waiting for winter. An empty set of shelves stood to her right, more to her left.
Across the room, near a darkened window, sat a lone chair, remnants of yellow, nylon rope still clinging to the wooden arms, another short piece kicked to one side. Still more was coiled into a ball.
Someone had been tied to that chair recently and Annie knew who it was. Tammy Norton’s own husband was surely held in this very room until the unfeeling woman saw fit to work him into her plans, resulting in his brutal death. And then the scheming woman planted a piece of the rope in Rocky Shaft’s vehicle along with blood from the victim.