Sully worried when he didn’t see Clarisse sitting next to Mac’s bed, but figured she’d gone to use the restroom because her purse still sat on the floor under his bed where she usually left it. He stood in the cubicle doorway with Jason and kept his gaze focused on the bathrooms. When she still didn’t return, he walked down the hall. The ladies’ room was a single bathroom, no stalls, like the men’s room.
He tried the knob and found it unlocked and unoccupied.
Fear twisted his gut. She wouldn’t have left without him or without telling him where she went.
Without her purse.
He returned to the cubicle. Jason stared at him. “What’s wrong?”
Sully shook his head and looked around for Mac’s nurse. “Have you seen Clarisse?”
“Yeah, she left a little after you did. She was talking with a lab tech.”
“Lab tech?” Jason and Sully exchanged a glance. To comfort himself more than anything, he walked over to Mac’s side.
That’s when he spotted the envelope. On the front was printed one word: Nicoletto.
Adrenaline spiked his system. His hand trembled as he reached for it. He exchanged another glance with Jason. Fuck protocol, he knew who left it. Fingerprints be damned. The note was printed on a computer.
If you know what’s good for you, you’ll sit tight and wait for me to get in touch with you. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt her. Much. Play this lone wolf or you’ll never find her body. I’ll contact you later. Be ready with one hundred grand in cash if you want her back in one piece. You know the drill. Don’t forget, I do too.
Color drained from Sully’s face as he handed it to Jason.
Jason scanned it. “Fuck!” He reached for his radio but Sully put a hand over his and shook his head. He grabbed Jason and dragged him from the room into a conference room where he closed and locked the door behind them.
“You can’t call in help!”
“Sully, you know the rules. I have to get an alert out on this!”
“He’ll kill her.”
“He’ll kill her regardless! We’re wasting time! He’s out for blood.
He damn near killed Mac!”
“He will kill her, Jayce. He’s probably already out of the hospital with her.” His hands shook as he sat in one of the chairs. “We can’t report this.”
“Listen to yourself! This isn’t one of your fucking books! You can’t seriously think you can handle this.”
“You’ll help me.”
Jason slowly shook his head. “You’re not thinking straight, Sul.
We have to go by the numbers.”
Sully’s jaw clenched. “You’re two years past vested. What are they going to do, fire you? You can retire. You were going to in a couple of years anyway. You’ll still get your pension and bennies.
You and me, we can catch this son of a bitch.”
“Um, yeah, then the fucker gets off at trial and you and I are cellmates in Raiford with some of our past collars. Great fucking plan.
No thanks.”
Sully turned a hard gaze on Jason. “There won’t be a trial.”
“Listen to yourself! You’re a cop, man! You’re sworn to protect and to serve, not play Dirty Harry!”
“Either help me or stay the fuck out of my way, Jayce. There are no alternatives. This guy is a cop, he knows what we know, but we have the advantage of home turf. We can take him out and you know he fucking deserves it. It’s not a question of needing DNA for a sure conviction. If we go through channels, we lose time and maneuverability and he’ll kill her anyway. He knows he’s going down, and he’s willing to take as many of us with him as he can.”
“Fuck!” Jason paced, running a hand through his hair. He stood for a long moment at the far end of the room, then turned on Sully.
“You’re asking a lot.”
“I’m not asking anything. Help me, or forget you know anything.
You won’t hurt my feelings unless you get in my fucking way.”
He studied Sully’s face, knew the look well, the resolute determination.
Sagging, he nodded. “I’ll help, only because I don’t want to be a pallbearer at your funeral.”
Sully stood. “Then let’s go. We’ll need your vest.”
Clarisse huddled in the passenger seat. She refused to cry, refused to sniffle or beg or plead. He’d gone totally shithouse rat crazy. She sensed if she lost her composure it would only egg him on and get her killed faster.
When she shifted position, her feet bumped against several empty beer bottles littering the floor of the front seat. Great, he was drinking again, too. She didn’t know where he picked up the beater car with Virginia plates, but it sounded like it wasn’t too far from its final date with a junkyard. He wove through traffic in downtown St. Pete. She thought he might take I-275, but he stuck to secondary roads, constantly checking his mirrors. He didn’t speak and she didn’t bother trying to reason with him.
He headed north, to an old motor court-style motel two blocks west of Alternate U.S. 19, in Palm Harbor, south of Tarpon. He pulled into a parking space in front of the room on the far end and looked at her.
“Nice and easy. Get out and wait for me, then follow me. I will shoot you and drive off if you don’t. Then I will go kill your boyfriend.”
She slowly opened the door under his watchful eye and stood waiting beside the car after closing the door. He grabbed a tote bag from the car and she followed him to the very last room where a Do Not Disturb sign was hung on the door.
He locked the door behind them and drew the gun from the lab coat pocket. “Empty your pockets.” He put her cell phone on the dresser.
She couldn’t delay. Slowly, she pulled out a couple of bills and change. She’d left her rings at home as she usually did before a boat trip, locked in the gun safe, not wanting to risk losing them or getting them caught on something.
Thank God she had.
“That’s it?”
She nodded.
He grabbed a chair from the small table and dragged it to the back of the room, near the bathroom. He waved the gun at it. “Sit.”
She did.
He used a roll of duct tape to secure her legs and arms to the chair.
She felt marginally relieved that he wasn’t going to rape her, at least not right then.
If he tried to touch her like that, she would fight him. No one touched her like that except her men. Even under risk of death she wouldn’t let him do that to her.
When he was satisfied with her bonds, he reached out and slapped her, hard, across the face. “You stupid fucking cunt. You had to go crying to everyone that I hurt you.”
He studied the venom in her eyes when she didn’t respond, didn’t cry. He slapped her again, harder. “What the fuck? You go stupid and forget how to talk?”
It stung, and if he used his fists on her, she didn’t doubt she would cry. But considering his slap didn’t hurt nearly as much as Sully’s riding crop on her ass, she’d be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“I bet you’ll be saying a lot if I’m cutting your fingers off one at a time while your asshole friend is listening.” He grabbed a beer, cracked it open, and took a long, deep swallow from it. Then he reached for her cell phone.
Sully kept hitting refresh on the tracking software as Jason hovered over his shoulder. Dammit, the bastard must have shut her cell off. Once he had a location, depending on what cell towers her phone hit, it should get him close, at least within a few blocks of her location if the phone could firmly lock on the satellite signal for the GPS coordinates.
Then the first ping as the system found the phone. Not her exact location, he’d have to call her to triangulate. But he had too many programs and windows open on his laptop, and it froze before it could pick up the signal.