THIRTY-TWO

I couldn’t see through the car’s tinted windows, but when Gravely opened the door behind the driver’s seat and shoved me toward it, I smelled the cloying scent that traveled with Tucker Tisdale. Funeral flowers? Embalming fluid? No long sleeves hid his arms today, and the sight of his peeling skin sickened me. I shuddered in fear and revulsion. In the next moment, I saw the gun in his right hand, the duct tape in his left hand, a coil of clothesline on the floor.

“Good afternoon, Bailey.” Tisdale’s falsetto voice chilled me. “How about a pleasure ride?”

I clenched my teeth and backed away until I felt the prod of Gravely’s gun. Run! Run! My mind screamed the order, but my legs balked. Three kids on mopeds zoomed into the parking lot. I shouted. Their boom box blared hard rock. They didn’t hear me. Free approached his shop window to watch the mopeders, but before I could call again for help, Gravely jabbed me with his gun.

“Get in the car. Now.”

“Where are you taking me?” Again, I tried to back away. “Shut up. Get in.” He pressed against me, shoved me.

I slid onto the seat beside Tisdale. Gravely slammed the door. Once a captor forces you inside his car, you have little chance of escape. You’re facing death—a violent death. The safety lecture replayed through my mind, but if it had contained a solution for surviving, I couldn’t remember it.

“Shall I tie her up?” Tisdale’s voice squeaked. He kicked the rope with his toe.

“Not yet,” Gravely said. “Too risky. We need privacy. Keep your gun on her.”

Gravely started the car, and the door locks clicked as we moved forward. He inched toward an exit. I looked over my shoulder at the Phrame Shop. No one in sight. Pausing only a moment at a stop sign, Gravely eased closer to the highway, waiting to nose the car into the stream of traffic.

My last chance of escape. Go! Now! I leaned forward. But no. Tisdale dropped the duct tape onto the coiled rope and grabbed my arm, restraining me. I eyed the door lock. Could I jerk free and yank up that button? Open the door? Run? Tisdale’s grip tightened.

“Don’t even think about it.” He leered at me, following my gaze. “You’re not going anywhere, Bailey. We’ve too much to lose to let you escape.”

Too much to lose? What was he talking about! “Where are you taking me?”

“Be patient and all will soon be revealed to you,” Tisdale squeaked.

A kind motorist slowed enough to allow Gravely to enter the stream of traffic. We were on our way.

“Where are we going?” I demanded. “Where are you taking me? You’re not getting away with this. My friends will miss me and come searching.”

Silence.

“Zack’s waiting for me. We have an appointment. He’s expecting me and I’m already late. He’ll be looking for me.”

“Save your breath, babe.” Tisdale’s laugh carried menace and now that we were moving in heavy traffic, he released my arm. “We’re whisking you to a secret place, a place where Zack’ll never find you. Zack nor anyone else.”

Suddenly, car horns blared. Brakes screamed. Drivers shouted and flipped road-rage salutes to a mopeder who cut in front of a Bone Island shuttle, narrowly escaping injury. A wreck, I thought. Please God, let there be a wreck. Let traffic back up for miles and stop us. But traffic paused only an instant and then flowed ahead.

Gravely drove beside the bay, where white-sailed boats skimmed across the water. Closer at hand, joggers ran along the sidewalk two abreast. Three kids on skateboards defied the law of gravity, jumping over cracks in the concrete. When we arrived at the turnoff to Old Town, Gravely hung a right and we passed Garrison Bight and the docks where fishing party boats would soon be arriving with their day’s catch.

I guessed Gravely’s destination—the marina. What better way to get rid of me than to force me aboard his boat, bind me, and drop me overboard? Would he tie a concrete block to my feet to be sure my body would sink quickly? I imagined the scene, imagined sharks and ’cudas snapping off my toes and fingers, arms and legs.

Could these men get by with another murder? Now I felt sure they had murdered Francine to keep her from opening a homeless shelter in their elegant neighborhood. I felt sure they had murdered Wizard. But why? I couldn’t figure out the why of that one. And me? Why did they need to get rid of me? None of this made sense.

Gravely turned onto Grinnell Street, where a motorist braked suddenly, undecided about making a left turn into the parking ramp. Behind us horns blared. Tisdale leaned forward.

“Pass him. Pass him!”

Gravely had no room to pass and traffic behind us screeched to a stop.

Now! Now’s your chance!

Catching Tisdale by surprise, I yanked up on the lock button, opened the car door, jumped into the street. The jolt from car to concrete made my leg throb. So what! Better a bum leg than a dead body. I ran, expecting a bullet to slam into my back.

Run! Run! Now what? Clear thinking eluded me, yet I knew I couldn’t depend on the goodness of a stranger for help. If I stopped running to approach a car, Gravely would be on my tail. Doctor Gravely. I imagined him identifying himself in sonorous tones and flashing his medical I.D., confident that strangers would give it immediate respect.

How easy for Gravely to call me a crazy who had wandered from his clinic, a mentally ill patient in need—a creature to be pitied. How easy for him to lovingly tuck me into the safety of his car. Few people argue with a doctor. Parents ingrain such deference in their offspring from childhood.

I ran in the only direction open to me—into the parking ramp. I dashed past the elevator on my right. If Gravely left his car and gave chase, he could follow me, trap me in there. Ha! I wouldn’t give him that chance. The throbbing in my leg worsened and my lungs burned. I gasped for air, ignoring all pain. I ran for my life.

“Stop!” Gravely shouted. “I see you. Make it easy on yourself. Give yourself up.”

Where was he? I needed time. I’d hoped it’d take him longer to escape the traffic snarl. Did he really see me? Could he? His voice echoed eerily, bouncing off the concrete walls. Had he shouted through his open car window? Or had he given chase on foot? My heart revved to a hard tom-tom thumping. I had to rest. I needed to recover my sense of direction and place—to recover my sense of his direction and place.

I ducked behind a salt-encrusted SUV, panting for breath. For a few moments I heard only my own breathing, the street traffic, the screech of distant gulls. Where had my captors gone? Then, peeking around the back of the SUV, I saw Gravely’s car nose up the parking ramp, turn into an empty slot a few cars below me, and stop. I ducked from sight. Two car doors slammed and footsteps grated against concrete. Both men pounded toward my hiding place.

“Come on out, Bailey.” Tisdale tried to entice me from behind the SUV.

“Save us all a lot of time and trouble,” Gravely added. “Speak up. Where are you?”

Where, I wondered, was the parking attendant? Coffee break? Or maybe the kiosk where he sat was soundproof. I waited. The only way to run was up, and I heard Gravely and Tisdale coming closer. If I stayed put, they’d soon see me. If I ran, they’d soon see me. I’d been a fool to jump to freedom. I’d have been a fool to stay in their car.

Trying for silence, I eased around to the hood of the SUV, slumped down, and crammed my body between the car’s grill and the retaining wall. I raised my feet in case they looked beneath the cars, and for a few moments I suspended myself between SUV and concrete. My breath came in thready gasps, noisy gasps. I held my breath when I heard them approaching.

“Bailey,” Gravely called again. “We see you. Come on out.”

I knew neither captor had seen me, and I inhaled again once they passed the SUV. I had a few moments of respite while they trudged on toward the top of the ramp. Would I have extra moments of freedom while they paused to enjoy a panoramic view of their surroundings? No. A view of the city would be last on their current list of things to see and do in Paradise.

I toyed with the idea of retreating back down the ramp and hiding nearby until they left the area. I’d noticed scrub palms, crotons, hibiscus bushes. Then I had a better idea. At least it seemed better at the moment. I walked down the ramp to Gravely’s car, unscrewed the valve cap from his right front tire, pressed the stem. Some child-like urge made me want to giggle while the air hissed out. I squelched that urge. Had they heard me? Detecting no noise from them, I scurried around the car and began flattening the other front tire.

“Hey!” Tisdale shouted. “Listen! She’s letting the air out of our tires! Hear it?”

“She won’t get away from us,” Gravely said. “She has to be close.”

Right. Too close. I hunched over, too near to them for my own well-being. Then I saw an open convertible only three slots from Gravely’s car. In a moment I jumped inside it and ducked from sight, silently thanking a person so trusting he’d left his convertible top down.

“I saw her,” Gravely shouted. “She’s in that rag-top.”

In moments they held me captive again.

“You bitch!” Gravely spat the words at me. “Come with us if you want to live.”

“Can it,” Tisdale said to Gravely. “Someone’s coming.”

True. Someone was coming, but by the time they took their parking ticket from the machine and reached us, Gravely had shoved me at gunpoint back into his car, and Tisdale sat smiling at me as if we were long-lost friends. The car passed us without its occupants looking in our direction.

“What do we do about the tires?” Tisdale asked.

“I’ll call Monroe Tire & Auto,” Gravely said. “You take her for a walk. Keep her out of sight until we’re mobile again.”

“No way,” Tisdale said. “She said Zack’s looking for her. I’m not going to be the one he catches holding her captive.”

“Okay,” Gravely said. “Bad thinking on my part. Stay here. Keep your pistol trained on her and don’t say a word.”

Capture. Escape. Recapture. Exhaustion and terror left me limp and my leg throbbed. I wished Tisdale had agreed to take me for a walk. I might have yelled for help if Gravely hadn’t been present to call me insane. But now Gravely pulled out his cell phone and keyed in the service garage. After a long wait, a tow truck arrived. Even with the windows rolled up, I could hear Gravely explaining to the serviceman that kids had let the air out of the tires.

“Yeah, kids.” The mechanic shrugged and inflated the tires. “Lucky they didn’t slash them. Slashing’s one of their favorite tricks.”

Gravely signed some papers, the serviceman left, and we were off again. Gravely paid the parking attendant and we left the ramp.

“Think you’re smart, don’t you?” Gravely glanced over his shoulder at me. “Well, all you did was cause yourself a lot of trouble. You’re no better off than you were.”

Tisdale scowled and nudged me with his gun. “And now you’ve made us mad.”

I wondered if Zack had missed me. Maybe he was searching for me right this minute. I live in possibility.

“Where are you taking me?” I didn’t expect an answer, but there was a remote chance they might reveal something. There was a slight chance that if I knew our destination, I could do something to change it, to thwart their plans. I felt almost sure they were heading toward the marina where Gravely kept his speedboat, but instead of turning in that direction, he drove to Whitehead Street, turned on Eaton and drove slowly until we reached the turnoff to Eden Palms. What a round-about route they’d taken. Maybe they’d been making sure they weren’t followed.