Chapter Thirty-Two

 

Damon regained consciousness, slowly becoming aware that he was no longer in the trunk of a car. He was lying flat on hard concrete, bound and blindfolded. He tried to reorient himself. He’d lost all sense of time. Was it day or night? The rough material pulled tight over his eyes either blocked out all light, or it was dark. Where was he? The wind had an eerie echo like he was in a tunnel or tower. Dampness hung in the air. He smelled mildew and heard waves hitting rocks. He breathed in salt air. All right, he was in a round structure somewhere along the miles of coastline. His first guess was a lighthouse, but that was impossible, wasn’t it? Those places were under the control and protection of the coast guard.

He shifted and tried to loosen the rope that cut painfully into his wrists and discovered his legs were still bound as well. He tried to call for help, but only a muffled ummm sound escaped.

Was anyone looking for him?

An image flashed in his mind. A woman staring into a bonfire, her features soft and womanly in the flickering light. He remembered wanting to take her in his arms … then taking her in his arms. For a moment, she stepped back, then slithered out of her bikini bottom and shimmied it down her shapely legs with the speed of an eel. Damon felt a heart-constricting emotion that rocked his senses. Were they in love? Was she looking for him?

Suddenly the image changed. That intriguing creature was glaring at him, and her words hit his mind like a Mack truck. The woman you just made love to is gone…forever. Reed-the-cop is in charge now. Get used to it.

Cop? He couldn’t get his mind around the conflicting scenes. One thing was for sure, she didn’t feel about him the way he somehow believed he felt about her. He was in big trouble. Someone glaring at him like that wouldn’t be looking for him. He had to get himself out of this. The duct tape across his mouth itched like hell. If he could scrape it off, he could yell, and maybe someone would hear him. When his face got raw, he concentrated on scraping his wrists up and down across the concrete.

There was a slight creak behind him that gave him the impression of a door opening, followed by a humid breeze hitting the sweat trickling down his back. Then a door slammed, and heavy footsteps thudded toward him. He froze and waited. Only wind whistled around him.

****

Malia cruised the Aina Haina area, looking for blue Altimas, concentrating on small deadend streets and beachpark areas, then found herself back at the shopping center where the kids had heard something in the trunk. She pulled into a parking space in front of McDonald’s and tried to absorb any vibes that might lead her in the right direction. The only thing that drifted into her mind was the image of Damon making love to her. She recalled his salty-fresh scent from their dip in the bay and his smooth deep voice and smoldering eyes. Longing and desperation erupted so fast that tears rushed to her eyes.

She had to find him. She rested her head back against the seat headrest for a moment, trying to clear her mind. It was getting more difficult every minute to wait like a puppet for some evil force to yank on her strings and give her direction. Damon was running out of time. She swallowed to moisten her dry throat. For a moment she sat stiffly, her fingers cramping on the steering wheel, the pain in her throat so terrible she could scarcely breathe. Would she never see the lights of mocking laughter in his eyes again … never feel the warmth of his touch? She had committed to memory every look between them, every caress. She rubbed her aching head with rigid fingers. She couldn’t just sit here.

Okay. This was Damon’s last known whereabouts. The Altima had come from town, and it was likely that the driver continued heading east. There were so many places to dispose of a body, especially after dark. The fact that the killer had called a while ago and offered to exchange Damon for her, gave Malia hope to cling to – that Damon was still alive. If – l no, I have to think positive – when the killer contacted her again, she was ready to give him what he wanted.

She found herself concentrating more and more on Al Lee. When they were young, she and Al had snuck, on foot, into the Bellows campground a number of times. Al loved it there because of the shade trees that lined the beach and protected his white skin from the sun. But after 9-11, security at the grounds had tightened. Now there was no way in except through a barracade and a guarded gate. He’d have to have stolen an ID card. Even if he managed that, passing security with a body in the trunk was risky as hell. What if the guards decided to search the trunk? Would he take such a crazy chance? She had to be wrong about the location. Trying to hole up inside a military campground was insane. But wasn’t this killer known for taking risks and somehow accomplishing what a reasonable person would never try?

She recalled that deep within the acres of overgrown terrain and a forest of pine there were a few isolated cabins scheduled for refurbishing and left vacant until the work could be completed. An unoccupied cabin would make a great hideout.

****

Heavy, decisive footsteps thudded across the concrete toward Damon. He sensed someone staring at him, drilling holes into him with menacing eyes.

The kidnapper didn’t speak for what seemed like an eternity. “She had her chance,” a cold, husky voice finally said. “But she passed it up. Asked me why I thought she’d trade herself for you.”

Good, Damon thought. He didn’t want any woman exchanging herself for him. And if it was the woman in his visions, he sure as hell didn’t.

“Guess your little cop playmate isn’t as sweet on you as I thought.” The voice laughed coarsely. “You’re not doing so good in the woman department, are you? Your hot-pants wife didn’t think much of you either.”

Wife? Good grief, am I married? He didn’t feel married, but cop playmate matched his visions. Was he dating a cop? Was he the kind of guy who would cheat on his wife? He wished this SOB would remove the gag from his mouth so he could ask some of the questions whirling in his brain. Then it hit him. Maybe the killer didn’t know about his memory loss. Would asking a bunch of questions work for or against him? He got the impression that, in his attempt to flush out a killer, he’d screwed up and ended up the bait.

“See this reunion announcement?” The laugh that followed echoed with insanity. “No of course you don’t. You’re blindfolded. Anyway, stroking it keeps me focused. I imagine it dripping with blood. Malia’s blood.”

Damon winced. The name Malia struck a deep emotional chord he didn’t fully understand. He strained at his bindings, wanting to crush this creep who threatened to harm her.

The crazy laugh and talk of blood told Damon he was in the hands of a psycho who wanted to harm someone he obviously cared about.

“The feisty cop is at a disadvantage. I don’t look the same these days. I shaved off my white hair, and I’m not that skinny tube-of-toothpaste anymore. In fact, I’m one fine powerhouse. I bulked up in the last ten years with hours of weightlifting. I’m now what the gals call a hunk.”

Damon heard a waver in the voice that made him wonder if the man was trying to convince him or himself.

“Unlike you, the ladies love me. I’ve got looks, charm, and believe it or not they love the novelty of my milky skin. Your wife was sure hot for my bod.”

Cold hatred shot through Damon. Every cell in his body told him this scum was his enemy on many levels.

“Your wife sent me a special reunion announcement. Asked me to join her and her classmates to renew old ties and taste again my youth. And I came all right.” The nasty voice paused, took a breath and a long exhale, as though trying to manage some inner anger. “So you see, Kiki was responsible for all that has happened.” He paused again. “I wasn’t your wife’s only lover; she had a thing going with Gabriel Rosado and probably half the other bachelors on the island.”

The names Kiki and Rosado sounded familiar. Damon wished he could remember. Try as he might, he couldn’t get his thoughts in order. One thing was for sure, this guy was enjoying the hell out of taunting him.

“Actually, I did you a favor.” A bitter laugh echoed off the walls. “I squashed the surfer-Romeo like a jailhouse roach.”

This psycho talked like he’d done time. And if Damon could believe the egotistical son-of-a bitch, the guy was a mass of muscles. So what else did he know about him? He claimed to know the lovely cop in his visions and his wife. Damon still couldn’t get a handle on the idea of being married. In spite not remembering the marriage, he didn’t like the way the bastard talked about his wife. And he felt very protective toward the cop, Malia. Damon sent up a prayer that she wouldn’t fall into the killer’s trap. He’d rather die than put her in jeopardy. Stay away, Malia. Stay far, far away.

****

She headed east out of the parking lot, her destination Bellows Beach until she got the call on her cell phone. The altered voice was difficult to hear, and she pulled over at the Blowhole Lookout, hoping without the headwind of the moving car she could hear better. The beauty of the vast ocean and frothy fountain spewing into the sky couldn’t take the edge off her jumping nerves.

“Ready to deal yet?” the voice asked.

“Yes,” she said softly. “But only after you let me talk to Damon.”

“I’ll think it over,” the voice said. Then the line went dead.

Had she blown it again? She forced herself to breathe in and out slowly. She had to have faith that he wanted her in his clutches as much as she wanted Damon in hers.

She sat stiffly, clinging to her cell, willing it to ring, barely aware that beyond the hood of her car was a panoramic slate of gloomy gray sky and ocean. She glanced at her watch several times. Had it only been ten minutes?

She flinched when her cell phone finally jangled. She clutched it in a death grip. “I’m here!”

“Malia?”

The familiar deep voice sounded tentative. “Damon. Thank God.” She cleared her contricted throat. “Are you all right?”

“Stay away!” he shouted.

She winced at the sound of fists slamming into bone. Then the killer came on the line. “That outburst should satisfy you that Mr. Stupid is alive. For now,” he said, his voice still electronically altered. “Now let’s get down to business. Where are you now? And don’t lie to me, or the timing won’t work from your location to our meeting place.”

“I’m at the Blowhole.” She was amazed she could keep her voice even.

“Alone?”

“Yes.” She wondered how badly Damon was hurt. His voice had sounded strong at the end, yet when he’d said her name she’d heard uncertainty.

“Since the clock is ticking, I won’t ask what you’re doing there. Keep driving on Highway 72. I’ll estimate how long it’ll take for you to reach our meeting spot. When you’re almost here, I’ll tell you what to do next.”

She felt her patience fraying. Her fingers reflexively tightened on her cell phone. “Just tell me where I’m going and quit playing games.”

“Want Damon alive? Then play it my way!” Then the line disconnected.

Damn. The killer probably got a kick out of cutting her off. Malia eased back into the light traffic and continued on Highway 72. Seconds later, she flipped open her cell phone and briefed Ku.

“You can’t go there alone,” he shouted. “Wait for backup.”

“Like hell. I’m not losing this bastard again. Now get me that backup out here. You know those vacant cabins at Bellows? I think that’s where he’s holding Damon. I’ll confirm when the killer contacts me again. Get some choppers into the windward sky. Have them follow Highway 72.”

“Wait,” Ku said. There’s something you should know. We got a tip that some guy was trying to buy anthrax. He bragged that he wanted to buy enough to provide a very special finale to a class reunion.”

Malia’s throat went dry. “Did he get it?”

“I doubt he’s had time to make a connection. So far, there isn’t any proof there are any terrorists on the island. But according to my snitch, he’s even making certain factions of the underworld uneasy. The crazy S.O.B’s been pretty busy. But if he gets the goods, it could start an epidemic.” Ku paused and cleared his voice. “This isn’t just about killing off classmates anymore. This psycho could take out the population of the whole damn island.”

“And you want me to wait and give him a chance to slip through our fingers again?” She disconnected without waiting for his answer and drove on automatic while the burden of the new information sent chills through her. This killer was so intent on his revenge he was willing to join forces with terrorists. She had to stop him before he followed through with his plan. He might not be aware of the full impact of his actions, including that he could even kill himself.

Dear God, would this never end? Saving Damon was enough reason to throw herself into jeopardy, and now it wasn’t just for him, but for every person on the island, including those she loved. Failing wasn’t an option; she had to neutralize this killer. Fast.