Treasured by Thursday
Page 91
Dennis flipped to the next screen. “Here’s the GPS. I’ll run this with the video and you can see where the problem is, and possibly the location of Gabi.”
His eyes darted back and forth between the video of the car footage and the blip on the map. The second the car crashed, the GPS blinked out. When Gabi was lifted from the car, it blipped again in the same location for ten seconds, then it went dark. When it blipped again, it was a quarter mile down Sunset. It was dark. On the other monitor, bystanders were poking their heads into the car telling Connor an ambulance was on the way.
“I’m going to fast-forward.” Dennis pushed both videos forward.
Hunter heard his own voice frantically calling for Gabi.
“Wait, can you back that up?” Delgado asked.
Dennis pushed a button, only for Hunter to hear his plea again.
“Your driver is saying something.”
Dennis rewound again, turned up the sound.
W-L-H-six-four-nine.
Delgado, Solomon, and Dennis all said, “License plate.”
Delgado turned to his partner. “Run it.”
The other cop turned away and spoke into his radio.
“This is about thirty minutes ago.” Dennis showed the blip on the GPS. It glowed steady for a few seconds, then blinked off.
“And this was ten minutes ago.”
“It’s in the same spot.”
Dennis offered a nod.
Hunter poked a finger on the screen. “Zoom in.”
“Holy crap.”
“That’s two blocks over,” Delgado said.
Hunter stood tall and turned for the stairs.
Delgado stopped him with his arm. “Where you going, Blackwell?”
“To save my wife.”
“Slow down.”
Hunter pulled out of his grip and glared.
“He’s right, Mr. B. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”
“Neil?” Hunter yelled to the phone.
No reply.
Dennis lifted the receiver. “Not here.”
Delgado lifted both hands. “We’ll bring in SWAT, hostage negotiators . . . we do this right and no one gets hurt.”
“Don’t forget your father. We don’t know if he’s in there,” Solomon said.
Delgado stepped forward. “Your father?”
Dennis shrugged. “Hostage number two.”
“Damn it.” Delgado lifted a finger in front of Hunter’s face. “No one goes anywhere. Don’t make me arrest you, Blackwell.” The cop turned and walked up the stairs.
Hunter’s teeth started to ache with all the grinding they were doing. “Now what?”
Dennis offered half a smile and turned back to the monitors. The third one fired up. Another set of GPS blips moved on the screen. “Gabi?”
“Nope.” He pointed to the red blip. “Neil.” Pointed to the green blip. “Rick . . . probably.” They were closing in on the neighborhood fast.
It will all go away if I keep my eyes closed.
She tried, but the need to crash into the real world sucker punched her.
With the light came the pain.
With a mouth full of cotton and her body in a cold sweat, Gabi attempted to focus.
A house. Yeah, she remembered a house.
Her captors left her propped up against a wall and an empty bookshelf.
She wasn’t tied up, but her limbs were difficult to move anyway. All the windows were covered with thick drapes that barely let any light in.
“You’re awake.”
Gabi swung her head, quickly regretted it. He was tied up, arms behind his back, legs together with duct tape. Swollen eye and split lip. He’d put up a struggle, but he wasn’t a young man, and from the condition of his clothes and appearance, didn’t seem fit at all.
“Who are you?” she asked.
He attempted to smile, his good eye crinkled in a familiar way. “Sherman Blackwell.”
“Oh.” Hunter’s father.
“And who are you?”
“Gabriella Blackwell.”
“Ahh, the woman turning my son around.”
She disregarded his words and pulled one of her legs close to her chest, then the other. She looked beyond the entry to the room. “Are they still here?”
Sherman nodded. “Other room. Walk in every ten minutes to see if you’re awake.”
“What time is it?”
Sherman rolled his eyes. “Left my Rolex at home.”
“How long do you think I’ve been here?”
“An hour . . . maybe.”
Gabi ran her good hand over her chest to rub out the ache. She looked down to see a nasty bruise from what she guessed was the seat belt of the car. Her fingers fell across the pendent on her neck.
She bit her lip before lifting the GPS device and kissing it.
Heavy footfalls came from the direction of what looked to be a hall. Gabi shoved the pendent under her shirt and tried to relax against the wall.
“Awake at last, señora.”
She blinked several times. “Who are you?” The familiarity of his face scared her.
He lifted his pants before kneeling at her side. “I’m offended you don’t know.”
“We’ve met?”
“Not formally. I’m surprised your husband did not introduce us.”
“You’re a colleague of Hunter’s?”
“Not that husband . . . your poor departed one. He and I were very close.”
Her ears rang, reminding her of an old saying about how when your ears ring it was a sign of someone in the future walking over your grave. “Diaz,” she whispered.
“I’m flattered. Too bad I can’t let you live now that you’ve seen my face and know my name. It’s not personal, Gabriella.”
His eyes darted back and forth between the video of the car footage and the blip on the map. The second the car crashed, the GPS blinked out. When Gabi was lifted from the car, it blipped again in the same location for ten seconds, then it went dark. When it blipped again, it was a quarter mile down Sunset. It was dark. On the other monitor, bystanders were poking their heads into the car telling Connor an ambulance was on the way.
“I’m going to fast-forward.” Dennis pushed both videos forward.
Hunter heard his own voice frantically calling for Gabi.
“Wait, can you back that up?” Delgado asked.
Dennis pushed a button, only for Hunter to hear his plea again.
“Your driver is saying something.”
Dennis rewound again, turned up the sound.
W-L-H-six-four-nine.
Delgado, Solomon, and Dennis all said, “License plate.”
Delgado turned to his partner. “Run it.”
The other cop turned away and spoke into his radio.
“This is about thirty minutes ago.” Dennis showed the blip on the GPS. It glowed steady for a few seconds, then blinked off.
“And this was ten minutes ago.”
“It’s in the same spot.”
Dennis offered a nod.
Hunter poked a finger on the screen. “Zoom in.”
“Holy crap.”
“That’s two blocks over,” Delgado said.
Hunter stood tall and turned for the stairs.
Delgado stopped him with his arm. “Where you going, Blackwell?”
“To save my wife.”
“Slow down.”
Hunter pulled out of his grip and glared.
“He’s right, Mr. B. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”
“Neil?” Hunter yelled to the phone.
No reply.
Dennis lifted the receiver. “Not here.”
Delgado lifted both hands. “We’ll bring in SWAT, hostage negotiators . . . we do this right and no one gets hurt.”
“Don’t forget your father. We don’t know if he’s in there,” Solomon said.
Delgado stepped forward. “Your father?”
Dennis shrugged. “Hostage number two.”
“Damn it.” Delgado lifted a finger in front of Hunter’s face. “No one goes anywhere. Don’t make me arrest you, Blackwell.” The cop turned and walked up the stairs.
Hunter’s teeth started to ache with all the grinding they were doing. “Now what?”
Dennis offered half a smile and turned back to the monitors. The third one fired up. Another set of GPS blips moved on the screen. “Gabi?”
“Nope.” He pointed to the red blip. “Neil.” Pointed to the green blip. “Rick . . . probably.” They were closing in on the neighborhood fast.
It will all go away if I keep my eyes closed.
She tried, but the need to crash into the real world sucker punched her.
With the light came the pain.
With a mouth full of cotton and her body in a cold sweat, Gabi attempted to focus.
A house. Yeah, she remembered a house.
Her captors left her propped up against a wall and an empty bookshelf.
She wasn’t tied up, but her limbs were difficult to move anyway. All the windows were covered with thick drapes that barely let any light in.
“You’re awake.”
Gabi swung her head, quickly regretted it. He was tied up, arms behind his back, legs together with duct tape. Swollen eye and split lip. He’d put up a struggle, but he wasn’t a young man, and from the condition of his clothes and appearance, didn’t seem fit at all.
“Who are you?” she asked.
He attempted to smile, his good eye crinkled in a familiar way. “Sherman Blackwell.”
“Oh.” Hunter’s father.
“And who are you?”
“Gabriella Blackwell.”
“Ahh, the woman turning my son around.”
She disregarded his words and pulled one of her legs close to her chest, then the other. She looked beyond the entry to the room. “Are they still here?”
Sherman nodded. “Other room. Walk in every ten minutes to see if you’re awake.”
“What time is it?”
Sherman rolled his eyes. “Left my Rolex at home.”
“How long do you think I’ve been here?”
“An hour . . . maybe.”
Gabi ran her good hand over her chest to rub out the ache. She looked down to see a nasty bruise from what she guessed was the seat belt of the car. Her fingers fell across the pendent on her neck.
She bit her lip before lifting the GPS device and kissing it.
Heavy footfalls came from the direction of what looked to be a hall. Gabi shoved the pendent under her shirt and tried to relax against the wall.
“Awake at last, señora.”
She blinked several times. “Who are you?” The familiarity of his face scared her.
He lifted his pants before kneeling at her side. “I’m offended you don’t know.”
“We’ve met?”
“Not formally. I’m surprised your husband did not introduce us.”
“You’re a colleague of Hunter’s?”
“Not that husband . . . your poor departed one. He and I were very close.”
Her ears rang, reminding her of an old saying about how when your ears ring it was a sign of someone in the future walking over your grave. “Diaz,” she whispered.
“I’m flattered. Too bad I can’t let you live now that you’ve seen my face and know my name. It’s not personal, Gabriella.”
