Twenty One

Arnault’s car drove smoothly for the first block or so. After that, it began to wobble, the wheels making thumping sounds, as if he was driving over boulders. He stopped, got out, and used the flashlight to inspect the tires. With a sinking heart, he saw that that all of them, front and rear, were completely flat. That the car was his would have been obvious to the kidnappers. It was the only one in the no-parking zone on the narrow street. They must have noticed it and slashed the tires in case he escaped from the basement. It occurred to him that Nicole must have driven up here, but he didn’t see her car. Perhaps she’d parked on the street above the house. But he couldn’t waste time looking for it.

He sighed. He’d told Stephanie he’d be back in a few minutes, but finding a phone signal was going to take longer—perhaps a lot longer. He was glad he had the tree branch to take his weight off his injured ankle. He’d have to keep going until he found a spot where his cell would connect. If he reached Laurel Canyon and still couldn’t call, he might be able to flag down a motorist who’d drive him down to Sunset, which was well populated with phone towers. Meanwhile, he had no way to let Stephanie know where he was.

Arnault slowly made his way down the steep grade of Kirkwood Drive. Even with the walking stick, the pain in his ankle was hard to ignore. He figured it must be a sprain. Logic told him that if his ankle was broken, he wouldn’t have been able to walk at all. He began to hop along, using the walking stick to avoid putting his foot down. But this was exhausting. His pace was slow, and he stopped once in a while to check his phone. It was a good half hour before he finally reached Laurel Canyon Boulevard, and the phone still didn’t work. Nor were any cars in sight. The houses along the winding road were dark. He figured his only choice was to turn right and head down toward Sunset Boulevard.

After a few blocks, he sensed a light behind him and turned to see a car coming down the hill. He stepped out into the approaching vehicle’s path and waved his arms. Without slowing, the car veered around him. The driver leaned on the horn and roared his engine as he passed, as if enraged that someone would have the nerve to try to delay him.

Arnault started walking again. When he couldn’t go any farther, he hobbled to the side of the road and sat on the curb. He leaned back on his elbows and closed his eyes. He dozed for a bit. When he woke, he had no idea how much time had passed. He got up and began limping downhill again. A block passed, then another, and he kept going. At last he spotted headlights in the distance. This vehicle was heading up the hill from Sunset. As it drew closer, he stepped into the road and waved his arms. The car skidded to a stop a few feet away.

The driver lowered his window a couple of inches and shouted, “What the hell, dude? You trying to commit suicide? I almost ran you down.”

By now Arnault was holding his badge up. “Police,” he said. “I had to leave a seriously injured woman up the hill. I need you to drive me to where I can pick up a phone signal and call an ambulance.”

The man put on his safety blinkers and hopped out of the car. Only when he came into the glare of the headlights did Arnault see this was one of the kidnappers, the same one who’d shoved him down the stairs. He was holding a gun that Arnault recognized as his own.

Ryan grabbed Arnault’s walking stick and tossed it away. Then he forced Arnault around to the back of the vehicle, making him climb into the rear seat with his hands behind his back. Ryan tied his hands together. He gave Arnault a thump on the side of his head with the gun. “Lie on your stomach,” he commanded.

Arnault did as he said. Before he realized what was happening, his ankles were tied tightly together, compounding the pain in the injured one. The back door of the SUV was slammed shut, and the vehicle started up again.

They went a short distance before Ryan parked. He untied Arnault and pulled him out of the car. Only now did Arnault see they’d returned to the house where he’d left Stephanie and were parked on the street above the back entrance. Arnault was forced into the house at gunpoint. When Ryan opened the door to the basement, Arnault tensed up, expecting to be shoved down the stairs again. Instead, Ryan used his flashlight to light the way, allowing Arnault to limp down slowly, leaning on the railing.

Ryan descended just far enough to be sure Stephanie was still there. He climbed back up, closed the door and relocked it. He located a hammer and nails in a laundry room cupboard and nailed the the basement door shut again. Satisfied that this would keep the cop contained, he tossed the hammer aside. He picked up Nicole’s purse from the hall floor, where he’d dropped it earlier. Mission accomplished, he left, slamming the back door without bothering to lock it.