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Adam grunted as he was thrown onto a hard, wooden floor, not so much from the warped board poking him in the back but from the lingering burning of the pepper spray. He’d experienced it before—he’d had to, in order to get licensed to use the stuff back when he was a beat cop. But he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to feel that searing pain and watering eyes ever again.
Despite the mild temperatures, beads of sweat trickled down his back. He focused on the pain, the sweat, the sensations. He needed to stay alert, to wait for any opportunity.
That was what failed him during his last kidnapping. He’d made a rookie mistake, allowing his panic to affect his concentration. Just remembering the “last time” called up images he’d worked hard to forget. Flashes of water cascading on his face, struggling for each breath. The smell of burnt flesh as his captor pressed the hot iron into his side, the sound of shoveled earth being dropped on his sealed coffin.
Adam squinted at his captor, willing his eyes to work. They worked enough for him to see the man was training a gun on him. Adam’s gun. Adam dubbed the man Goldie, from the one gold tooth shining in the other man’s mouth. It was like a distant star blazing through Adam’s bleary vision and the black ski mask on the man’s face.
Goldie saw Adam staring at the gun. “Looks like I got the best of you in more ways than one.”
Adam managed to raise himself to a kneeling position and focused on his breathing to calm his body down and help fight off the reaction to the spray. The last thing he needed right now was to hyperventilate. He managed to croak out, “Who are you and what the hell kind of game are you playing?”
“Twenty questions. Only I’m the one who gets to ask the questions, and you have to give me the answers. Or I’ll start firing slugs into you if I suspect you’re lying. I think I’ll start with the knees.” Goldie grinned and waved the gun in the direction of Adam’s knees.
“What questions?”
“Ah, ah, ah. I ask, you answer. First question. You are indeed Adam Dutton, Detective with the Ironwood Junction PD?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now you’re getting the hang of the game. Question number two. A certain silver bowl was stolen recently. You know the one. The thief was a lady, red-haired, kinda pretty, kinda youngish. And you’re now going to tell me the identity of that woman.”
Adam hoped his training in interrogation and spotting lies would stand him in good stead and help him make up his own story. “If I knew who it was, she’d be in jail right now. My boss is breathing down my neck. The mayor is breathing down my neck. And both want to find that woman. Believe me, I’d gladly have turned her in. Might get me a commendation.”
Goldie stared at him as Adam did his best to stare back through the pepper-induced haze. Goldie nodded. “Okay. Do you have any suspects?”
This one would be a lot harder. Adam was beginning to get a very good idea of how cruel and heartless a man Forsythe was, and he didn’t want that man anywhere near Beverly. Adam was glad it was him kneeling there and not her.
He replied to Goldie’s question, “We have a few suspects. If you’re working for the person I think you are, I’m surprised you aren’t more interested in the woman he says killed his father.”
“That was going to be question number three. But my employer says the two may be the same girl.”
“We’re working that angle, too. My boss and the mayor are having me make up a list of possible suspects.”
“Who you got at the top of that list, Dee-teck-tive Dutton?”
“No one yet. As you say, the first thief was tall with long red hair. The second woman was shorter, heavier, and had curly, brown hair. Maybe it’s some type of burglary ring.” Stall, stall, stall. Adam wasn’t sure how much longer he could play this game.
“Okay, so no numero uno suspects. I got that. Why don’t you tell me who all’s on your list and let me decide who’s the winner?”
“You got something to write it down?”
Goldie grinned. “Nice try, Dutton. Like I’m going to drop this gun here and start writing down names. I’ll remember fine. You just start naming.” Goldie waved the gun toward Adam’s knees again. “Now.”
Adam was starting to see more clearly but kept up the pretense of being half-blinded. He said, “You wouldn’t have any water, would you? I can’t see a thing.”
Goldie laughed. “Got my friend Jimmy Beam in the car. Want some of that thrown in your eyes, Dee-teck-tive?”
It was pretty clear Goldie wasn’t going to stop with the kneecaps, and it didn’t matter whether Adam told Goldie what he wanted or not. It was a fishing expedition that didn’t need any witnesses.
Adam said, “If I turn up dead here in handcuffs, my colleagues won’t stop until they find my killer.”
“They won’t find you in handcuffs, Dee-teck-tive Dutton. I got some high-quality smack in my car. You’re going to be found dead after an overdose here in your little secret hideaway where you come to get high.”
Suddenly, the track marks found on the bodies of Forsythe and Hendrick made more sense. If it wasn’t Goldie who did it, then he must yet be part of that equation somehow.
Adam squinted, gauging the distance between himself and Goldie. The man had put Adam’s handcuffs on in front of him instead of behind his back, thank god. He’d only get one good chance to make this work, so he sagged a bit and bowed his head. He pleaded, “No, please, no, I can’t take any more.”
That made Goldie laugh harder, which is what Adam was hoping for. With a quick upward thrust, he got both knees up off the ground and hurled himself at the other man’s stomach, headbutting him in his groin. He was rewarded with a loud “Oomph” from Goldie, who dropped the gun and staggered backward, moaning in pain.
Adam grabbed the gun with his handcuffed fingers and stood with it pointed at Goldie, whose eyes grew wide with the realization it was Adam who now had the upper hand. Goldie straightened up and started a ragged limping toward the door.
Adam fired a warning shot, but that only made Goldie limp harder and faster, so Adam aimed for his body. He was sure the second shot got Goldie. But with Adam’s eyes still watering and not at a hundred percent and his hand shaky, he wasn’t sure where he’d hit the other man.
Goldie apparently had enough stamina left to open the door and push himself through, making Adam curse. Ordinarily, it would be a cinch to chase the man down, but in Adam’s current state, that task was much more daunting. But damn it all, he’d give it his level best effort or die trying.
Adam made it to the doorway in time to see Goldie’s car roaring off, which made Adam curse some more. And then he saw a woman standing in the yard. Despite the blond hair, extra padding, and beauty mark, he knew it was Beverly Laborde. Goddamn that woman. What the hell was she doing here?
