Chapter Thirteen --
“’Oh, geez?’ That doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s not. I’ve got to get over there. I’ll call you.”
“Hey!” It was too late. Will had hung up. Well, the hell with this, I thought to myself. I asked the receptionist for a brochure for 1423, telling her I was interested in Phase Two. She reluctantly went to a display counter and pulled one out of a drawer, offering it to me like I was a contagious leper.
“Anything else?” Again with the attitude. I decided she must be someone’s kid, maybe even Kevin Frist’s.
“No, thanks. You’ve been so helpful. Toodle-loo,” I tossed over my shoulder as I pushed the button for the elevator.
“Whatever.”
Even as I left the building, I was punching the addresses into my Smartphone for directions. At every intersection, whenever the traffic slowed to a halt, I did my best to memorize the map of 1423. Where were the entrances to the complex? Where was the Phase One building? Where should I park? Worry raced through my head like a rat in a lab maze trying to find the all-important cheese. My fears flamed up as I became consumed with the image of Annette alone at the new condos with her boss. I tried to calm myself. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I was just overreacting. She’s probably fine. Then again, maybe Annette was in real danger. At least Will was already on his way. If anyone could mobilize an emergency response, it was he. I could count on him, couldn’t I? I tried hard to shove those doubts out of my head as I closed in on my destination. I was almost there. I was so close. Another few turns and it would be over. I would know Annette’s fate, one way or another.
I expected the parking lot to be filled with cars, trucks, and heavy equipment when I arrived at 1423. I expected the sound of hammers and power tools throughout the complex. I expected to see workmen coming and going as they moved materials in or rubble out. Instead, there was an almost eerie calm. The deserted development was devoid of any signs that it was an active building site. This was Friday afternoon. Where was everyone? Had that teenage receptionist got her information wrong? Was Annette already back at the office? I tried her cell phone again. She was still not answering. I checked the map again. I was close to the Phase One building. Pulling the Toyota into a slot, I parked. Once the engine was off, I unlocked the glove compartment and pulled out my Glock. Lock and load time. No one was going to get the jump on me. Where the hell was Will? Shouldn’t he have been here by now? At the very least, he should have sent someone to make sure Annette was okay.
As I got out of the car and headed towards the building in the center of the complex, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong. What was it giving me the heebie jeebies? It wasn’t just the long, uninterrupted silence. It was the feeling that I wasn’t alone. There was someone else here, someone dangerous. A watcher. I went back over my thoughts again, sifting through. No other cars on a Friday afternoon. What time was quitting time? We were coming up on four. It was possible they left early. But where was Nettie? I had her car. How did she get here? Did Kevin Frist give her a ride? If so, where was his car? Was there another way into the development? I didn’t see one on the brochure.
And then I saw it. A furtive movement on the second floor, third window from the right. A brief glimpse of a face and then it was gone. There it was again, this time in another unit. I could see a man systematically working his way through the building. What was he doing? Had he seen me? I didn’t think so, because he was still visible, still going through the condos. Logic suggested that if Nettie was here, she was most likely to be in one of the first places he stopped, if she was still alive and in danger. I headed for the door to my right, realizing as I went that in a place like this, especially on the weekend, there should have been a security guard. Considering the amount of construction materials here, especially if they were using copper piping on the plumbing, Frist and Company stood to lose a lot of money, should they be robbed. With Phase One almost completed and the next two phases just about ready to start, there should have been at least one guard, if not more.
I let myself in through the side door, pausing long enough to listen hard for sounds of activity. There was nothing. I could have been on the moon, for all the distance I felt between me and the next guy on the planet.
The first two condos were unlocked and unoccupied. They appeared to be mirror images of each other. The third was incomplete, still without a functional kitchen and baths. The fourth was pay dirt. I needed only to step into the room and I knew this was the place. How did I know? Annette’s perfume. It clung to the air with a desperation borne of fear. Where was she? The combination living and dining room was empty, as was the kitchen. The master bedroom was empty, too. The second bedroom didn’t have a door yet. It was here that I got the strongest impression that Nettie was just out of reach.
“Annette?” I kept my voice low. “Are you here?”
The thud was barely discernible. Enough to capture my attention. Not enough to direct me. Where could she be? I had checked every room, even the bathrooms. What hadn’t I checked? I went back over the condo, looking for the mechanical room. It was just off the kitchen, with a couple of hook-ups for a laundry center. Where else could she be hidden? The master bedroom’s walk-in closet revealed nothing. Dead end.
“Nettie? I can’t seem to find you. Can you bang again?”
Sure enough, this time I heard the sound more clearly. It sounded like it came from that second bedroom. I gazed around the big, empty room.
“Nothing,” I grumbled to myself. Where was she? The last place to look was the closet. “Nettie, are you in here?”
Even as I slid the door open, I could see the shoes. Attractive leopard print three-inch heels. Stockings on the legs. Skirt cut just above the knee. Gag across the mouth. She was sitting on the floor in the dark, hands behind her. I started to remove the duct tape, wondering why the gag. After all, there was no one around. And then I knew. I could see it in Annette’s eyes. She was terrified. He must be behind me. Even as I leaned across with one hand to help her, I was reaching for my Glock with the other. Flipping off the safety, I whirled around, just barely catching him unaware.
“Hands in the air!” I bellowed in my best law enforcement voice. “Now!”
The middle-aged man was short, fat, bald, and dressed in black. The eyes were void of any surprise or conscience. He looked right through me, like I didn’t exist. Even as he put his hands above his head, he was already planning his next move. The eyes were calculating the distance between us. I knew I only had seconds before he activated the plan. He was a professional killer. I held my weapon steady, knowing he was coming at me.
Seven seconds later, he launched himself at me. He came in low and fast, faster than I expected a man of his physical health and age. Without even thinking about it, I took him out at the knee, aiming my right foot at the vulnerable cap and striking a blow that sent him reeling onto his back. That’s the benefit of having a boyfriend who’s Special Forces. One of Sam’s favorite activities is to practice his kick boxing, and as his occasional sparring partner, I’ve learned a few moves. I closed in with my weapon aimed at his groin as the hit man writhed on the ground.
“Give me a reason,” I warned him. This time, he stayed on his back. Even as my eyes never strayed from his face, I could hear shouting down the hallway.
“Annette!”
“We’re in here,” I shouted. “You bastards are late!”
“We were turning off the gas. It took me this long to get a crew from the gas company to shut off the line from the street. Hello,” said Will, rounding the corner with a motley crew of federal agents. “You’re not alone.”
“No, we’re not,” I replied, still not trusting the human cannonball. His options were quickly diminishing, and that made him even more dangerous. He had nothing to lose. I also learned that from Sam, who dealt with desperate people every day.
You can’t trust them for a second, Gabby. Never let down your guard. They
’re opportunists. They seize the moment, and when they do, they kill. That’s why you always have to make the first move. It has to be preemptive. You come in fast and you come in hard. You establish your control, because if you don’t, you’ll waste valuable time and effort trying to catch up.
“Damn!” one of the other agents moaned. “It’s Frankie Galicchio, the Snuffman!”
“No way!” said another.
“Seriously, it is, man!”
“Are you boys done chatting about the Little League game?” I demanded. “Because if you are, I’d appreciate it if you would apprehend the suspect.”
“Yes, ma’am!” they said with great enthusiasm. As Will supervised, they disarmed the suspect, who was carrying what looked like a Beretta 92A1. More federal agents filled the room. There seemed to be a lot of cheering upon seeing the Snuffman in handcuffs.
Once I holstered my weapon, I reached down to release my cousin from her restraints. As the tape came off her mouth, a long, pain-racked sob escaped from her lips and filled the air with a primitive sound so powerful, the law enforcement people all turned in shock. Will dropped what he was doing, ran to her side, and dropped to his knees.
“You’re okay, Annette. Take a deep breath!” Despite his best efforts, she was going into shock. As scary as the attack on me had been, it didn’t warrant this kind of reaction from her. I was stunned. She was gasping for air. And then I saw the blood spattered across the front of her blouse. How had I missed that?
“Is she injured?” I asked. Will looked at me as I said those words and then looked back at Nettie.
“That’s not her blood!”
“Whose is it?”
“Annette, was someone hurt?” He put his face to hers, barely an inch away. She nodded. “Who?”
“Ke-ke-ke....”
“Kevin?” I suggested helpfully.
“Ye-ye-yes!”
“Where?” All those FBI agents quickly crowded into the opening of the closet, jockeying for position. They were elbowing each other and bitching. Someone actually fell against me as I was hunched over, almost knocking me into my distraught cousin. I gave the bastard a shove backwards. I felt like a wiener drowning in a barrel of sauerkraut. Too much condiment, not enough dog or bun. Annette’s right hand pointed behind them. We all turned to look.
“Bath tub.”
The hunt was on. Two minutes later, the blood-soaked body of Kevin Frist was found down the hall, in the spa tub of the master bedroom of another condo. His limbs had been severed from his trunk with a construction worker’s power saw.
“Holy mother of pearl,” I could hear one of the agents exclaimed aloud. “If that isn’t the epitome of evil, what is?”
There was also the sound of retching as one of the agents was rushed away from the murder scene. A weak stomach was no legitimate excuse for contaminating evidence.
Will and I took Annette to the emergency room. She had a few bruises, but most of her wounds were psychological. She had seen the horror of her boss slaughtered before her eyes and immediately withdrew into herself. It didn’t look like she was coming out anytime soon.
The consulting psychiatrist called to the emergency room was a well-known trauma specialist who had worked with returning vets. When Dr. Rayburn asked for a description of the murder scene, I gave it to him in great detail. Will promised to return after he had finished processing the Snuffman and catching up on the report. That was fine with me. It wasn’t like Annette and I were going anywhere, not given the state she was in. By six, she was admitted for observation.
Just after nine, the medication took effect and she fell sound asleep, knocked out by a powerful tranquilizer cocktail that put her in La-La Land. I curled up for a little shut-eye of my own, dozing fitfully in the chair beside Nettie’s bed.
“Gabby.” A hand touched my shoulder and I bolted up from my seat.
“What?” I shook myself back to consciousness. It was Will.
“How is she?”
“Exhausted. Terrified. Horrified.”
“Damn it.” He patted her hand automatically, as if it would comfort the sleeping patient, and in doing so, him as well. That was the guilt talking. After all, he had reassured us several times that Annette would be safe if she cooperated with the FBI’s investigation. “This whole thing is unbelievable. Who would have guessed?”
“I take it the Snuffman is a big collar.”
“Yeah, that too.” At least he had the good sense not to take delight in leading the team who caught a really bad guy while ruining a truly wonderful woman.
“Meaning?” I could tell there was more to the story.
“Guess who hired Galicchio.”
“I give up. Who?”
“Kevin’s brother.”