Stone Cold Page 23

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Kathryn gasped, one hand raised as though she could somehow stop the bullet.

  ‘Me?’ Dale asked rhetorically, his teeth gritted against his pain. ‘I’m not going to do anything, Kathryn. You are.’

  Dale knelt down on one knee alongside her. Kathryn recoiled from him and a fresh bolt of agony surged through her leg.

  ‘Best you don’t move,’ Dale grinned coldly. ‘In fact, let me help you with that.’

  He moved far too quickly for Kathryn to stop him. She barely had time to register the syringe he pulled from his pocket before it plunged into her neck. She gasped and squirmed as a bitterly cold fluid was injected into her, and the words Pancuronium bromide flashed through her mind.

  Dale yanked the syringe out and stood up, towering over her. His wounded eye was weeping tears of blood like some bizarre and hellish vision of evil.

  ‘What have you done to her?’ Sheila asked.

  Kathryn felt a new fear flood cold and clammy through her as she felt her hands and feet tingling. Despite the pain soaring through her leg she realised that she could no longer move it. Within moments she realised that her arms had fallen limp by her sides where she lay.

  ‘What have you done t….’

  Kathryn’s voice trailed off as her head slowly sank onto the cold floor. She was conscious and could feel everything, but was utterly unable to even blink her eyes.

  ‘Pancuronium bromide,’ Dale said, his hand back over his bloodied eye again. ‘A sedative, strong enough to still every nerve and muscle in the body for an hour or two, not strong enough to stop the heart.’

  Kathryn watched, trying to ignore her throbbing ankle as Dale squatted down alongside her once again. But this time, he cleaned the pistol on her blouse before turning it and placing in in her unresisting hand.

  Sheila’s face blanched and she shook her head. ‘Please, no!’

  Kathryn saw her yanking at her bonds, trying to escape the chair as Dale positioned himself behind Kathryn and lifted her hand in his, the gun clasped painfully within it.

  ‘Dale, please don’t!’

  Kathryn saw Sheila’s tears spill down her cheeks, saw more fluids spill down her legs as she thrashed and tore at her bonds with her free hand. Dale looked at her, and for a brief moment Kathryn heard something of the man she had once known in his voice.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sheila,’ he said. ‘Really I am.’

  Then Dale’s fingers squeezed Kathryn’s painfully hard.

  The gunshot was deafening in the tiny storage unit. Kathryn smelled a whiff of smoke as her vision cleared and she saw Sheila slumped in the seat. Her long blonde hair was draped across her face, which hung sideways on her neck. In the centre of her chest was a dark red stain that spread slowly as it soaked into her blouse.

  Kathryn, her body limp, felt tears trickle down her face as she lay on her side and stared at Sheila’s corpse, still strapped to the seat.

  Behind her, she heard Dale stand up. He carefully took the pistol from her limp hands and dropped it into a plastic bag that he sealed. Then he walked across to Sheila’s side, and from his pocket he produced a small flick–knife. As Kathryn watched, Dale sliced a lock of Sheila’s hair from her head and slipped it into his pocket. Then, he returned to Kathryn’s side and squatted down before her.

  The calm, quiet expression on his features did nothing to calm Kathryn’s nerves. If anything, she felt even more afraid.

  ‘Now, Kathryn,’ Dale said. ‘The police will be here soon. They will find Sheila’s body and they will immediately assume that you have killed her. Of course, I could leave you here with Sheila. It would be the perfect crime scene, wouldn’t it? I could use the same pistol to put a bullet in your head, stage your suicide. A woman on the edge, a cry for help, all that psychological crap that you enjoy so much.’ He shook his head. ‘But no. It would all be too perfect, too arranged, you know? Things need to look a little messier, a little more like you were totally deranged.’

  Dale smiled. Kathryn felt her guts turn to slime within her.

  Dale stood up and with a cloth carefully wiped the floor in front of her. It took her a few moments to realise that he was attempting to remove the gunpowder residue from the shot that had killed his wife. The low angle suggested by any residue might be considered suspect when firearms specialists examined the scene.

  Dale then slid his arms beneath her body and lifted her off the floor. Agony surged through her ankle but she could not even scream, her breathing fearfully light and her vision fading in and out as she struggled to remain conscious.

  Dale opened the shutter doors and carried her out into the rain. He shut the doors behind them and carried Kathryn across the parking lot toward her car. Kathryn saw from her awkward position in his arms that the CCTV cameras were still all twisted to one side, pointing in useless directions away from the lot.

  Dale hefted her in his grasp and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, blocking her view of the parking lot. She heard him open the trunk of her car, and then he lowered her into the trunk. Dale then reached out and picked up a small, mahogany lock–box laying alongside Kathryn inside the trunk. He reverentially opened it with a key, and then with one hand he fished the flick–knife and the lock of Sheila’s hair and placed them in the box before locking it once more.

  ‘This won’t take long, Kathryn. I promise it will all be over very soon.’

  Kathryn, staring up at Dale, watched as he slammed the trunk of her car closed and she was plunged into absolute blackness.

  ***

  40

  Griffin walked out of the restaurant with Angela on his arm, feeling a little lighter on his feet than he probably should as they strolled into the lobby.

  The waitress went to fetch their coats as they stood and held each other, surrounded by the blue lights and with the sound of whispering water from the restaurant display tinkling behind them.

  ‘That,’ Angela said, ‘was the best night out I’ve had in a long time.’

  ‘Me too,’ Griffin said. ‘That waterfall keeps making me want to pee though.’

  ‘Ever the romantic.’

  ‘Poet, romantic,’ Griffin said. ‘Where do my talents end?’

  ‘We’ll discuss that in the morning,’ Angela said with a sideways glance and a playful smile.

  The concierge returned with their coats, and as Griffin slipped Angela’s coat over her shoulders and shrugged his own jacket on, his gaze alighted on the photographs filling the wall near the reception desk.

  ‘Looks like they all had good nights too,’ Angela said, catching his gaze.

  ‘Yeah, looks like a lot of people enjoy coming here,’ Griffin smiled. ‘Maybe we should do the same and have our… photo… taken…’

  Griffin’s voice caught in his throat as his gaze settled on one of the images. A woman and a man, holding each other in a tight embrace, bright smiles painted onto their features as a slightly drunk cameraman or woman had taken the shot of them, the entire restaurant behind them smiling and clapping.

  Griffin edged closer to the photograph.

  ‘What is it?’ Angela asked.

  Griffin stared at the image for a moment longer and then his voice returned as the heady fusion of happiness surging through his veins was suddenly shut off.

  ‘Oh shit.’

  Griffin stared at the image of Kathryn Stone, held in the arms of Dale McKenzie.

  ‘We’ve got to go,’ he said as he yanked his cell phone from his pocket and dialled Maietta’s number. ‘Now!’

  Griffin hit the street and the cold night air as Maietta answered the phone. He was talking even before she had the chance to ask what he wanted.

  ‘It’s McKenzie!’ Griffin yelled. ‘Call the DA and have them issue a subpoena for his financials, everything you can get! And then find out what life insurance company Kathryn Stone uses.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just do it!’

  ***

  41

>   Maietta yanked the wheel of the pool car over as it pulled into the apartment block parking lot, the tyres screeching on the asphalt as two marked vehicles pursued her, their lights flashing like nightclub strobes in the darkness.

  They leaped out into the rain, weapons already drawn as Maietta led four uniformed officers up to Kathryn Stone’s apartment. Maietta rapped her knuckles on the front door hard.

  ‘Police, open up!’

  The rain splattered down in cold squalls from the black sky above, but she could hear nothing from inside. The uniformed officer beside her shook his head, and she turned to another of the uniforms who hefted an iron ram under his arm.

  ‘Hit it!’

  The officer hauled the ram up the steps and swung it twice before launching it at a spot alongside the door handle. The ram crashed into the wood and the door splintered around the handle, but it did not break. A second swing and the door burst open as the handle and locks scattered to the ground.

  ‘Police, stay still!’

  Maietta lurched into the apartment, her pistol cupped in her hands before her above a flashlight. The white beam swept the apartment, but nothing and nobody moved.

  ‘Lights!’

  The lights in the apartment blossomed into life, illuminating the living room as Maietta swept through the apartment and lowered her weapon.

  ‘Clear!’

  The officers joined her in the kitchen. ‘Long gone, both of them,’ one of them said.

  ‘Shit,’ Maietta growled. ‘Search for evidence of a struggle or blood, then have forensics tear this place apart. We need to find them, both of them.’

  The uniforms began hunting carefully through the various rooms, not moving anything as they searched. Maietta slipped on her gloves and walked into the bedroom. She saw the laptop on the bed and carefully opened it. A document awaited her.

  Stephen: a meditation on…

  A commotion at the front door alerted her in time to see Griffin burst in. Beneath his rain coat he wore a smart looking suit, his shoes were highly polished and his hair parted cleanly.

  ‘Thanks for coming, Capone,’ Maietta said.

  The gag fell silent as Angela Griffin followed Griffin in, her coat huddled around her shoulders over her entirely too thin black dress as a uniformed officer accompanied her.

  ‘You got her yet?’ Griffin asked Maietta, his face pinched with concern.

  ‘She’s gone,’ Maietta replied. ‘So is McKenzie, hasn’t been in contact with us for hours.’

  ‘Looks like his concern for his wife’s well–being has evaporated real fast,’ Griffin said. ‘How long since anybody heard from Kathryn?’

  ‘We’re trying to figure that out right now,’ Maietta said. ‘A couple of hours?’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘I tried to call you when we realised that Dale McKenzie was missing,’ Maietta insisted. ‘We didn’t know you were….’

  Maietta glanced apologetically at Angela Griffin. Her husband nodded and waved Maietta down.

  ‘Yeah, I know, doesn’t happen much. My cell was in my pocket.’

  Maietta watched as Griffin turned to his wife. ‘Honey, I’m sorry, but if we don’t find her she could be…’

  Angela moved to Griffin’s side and then up on tip–toe to kiss him. ‘I know. Go do what you do, I’ll wait. Call me, okay?’

  Maietta saw Griffin nod and hug Angela tightly. ‘I will,’ he said, and then to the uniforms. ‘Get her home safe, will you? We’ve got things here.’

  As Angela was driven away in a patrol car, Maietta brought Griffin up to speed and she showed him the laptop, the tablet and the empty wardrobes.

  ‘Check this out,’ she said, and gestured to the laptop. ‘I’ll see your laptop and raise you a tablet registered to one Stephen Hollister.’

  Griffin looked at the tablet screen as Maietta held it out to him.

  ‘“You’re not as smart as you think you are”,’ Griffin echoed the words written on the screen. ‘Looks like our girl knew he was up to something,’ he said. ‘Makes me wonder just how much.’

  ‘Either way, she was doing something about it,’ Maietta said as she gestured to the empty wardrobes.

  ‘Yeah, and probably getting herself into more trouble than she bargained for. And he either took her before she could leave or he’s pursued her. We got her license plate out with traffic?’

  ‘Everyone’s watching,’ Maietta said. ‘But they could be a long way from here by now.’

  Griffin looked up and down the bedroom, and then saw something half way down one wall. He moved closer, and squatted down by the wall.

  ‘Blood,’ he said. ‘Not much.’

  ‘Maybe a punch?’ Maietta hazarded.

  ‘They fight,’ Griffin imagined out loud, ‘she leaves. Is her car here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So either she fled or he caught her and took her with him.’

  ‘Why do all of this though?’ Maietta asked. ‘Leaving him messages on his computer? She could have just left, gone to friends, whatever?’

  ‘You ever hear that phrase?’ Griffin asked her. ‘Hell hath no fury?’

  ‘Like a woman scorned,’ Maietta nodded. ‘All of Stephen Hollister’s bank accounts were recently cleared out.’

  ‘The modern day equivalent of cutting his ties in half and daubing his car with paint,’ Griffin replied. ‘She’s getting revenge. She knew that he was involved with another woman.’

  ‘Maybe she knew it was Sheila McKenzie,’ Maietta hazarded. ‘She could have maybe seen the incident board at the precinct, identified Stephen Hollister as Dale McKenzie.’

  ‘Or maybe not,’ Griffin countered. ‘Either way, if McKenzie has a hold of her he’ll have to finish the game now. He’s already abducted his wife.’

  ‘He had an alibi for that,’ Maietta reminded Griffin.

  ‘Yeah, so everybody keeps sayin’,’ Griffin shot back. ‘That’s something we’ll have to look more closely at. Either way, we may as well presume that she’s long dead. That means that Kathryn is a loose end he won’t want to keep a hold of…’

  Maietta did not say anything, both of them knowing that it could not end well. ‘Did you get the insurance details for Stone?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Maietta said as she yanked a folded piece of paper from her pocket. ‘Turns out she’s on the same policy as Sheila McKenzie. It’s handled by an agent, by the name of…’

  ‘Stephen Hollister,’ Griffin said as he looked down at the paper, ‘of Hollister Insurance Incorporated. I’ll be damned, that’s how he moved money.’

  ‘He’s been using the Internet and acting as a sub–contracted legal agent for a non–existent claims company,’ Maietta said. ‘It’s registered to a Postal Box in Sacramento. Zero physical presence, essentially a front company. He represents dead clients and organises their insurance pay–outs to Hollister Insurance, then launders the money out for his own use. A real neat little package, and by targeting orphans there’s nobody to act in their defence. Everything’s tied off via phone and e–mail.’

  ‘Son of a bitch,’ Griffin uttered.

  ‘We got something!’

  Griffin turned as a uniformed officer dashed up the steps outside to the apartment door and yelled inside.

  ‘The hospital just called. Sheila McKenzie’s been found after reports of shots fired out on the east side!’

  Maietta dashed after Griffin as he ran from the apartment.

  ***

  42

  ‘She’s right this way, detective.’

  Griffin hurried along behind the nurse as she waved for him to follow her. As he walked he tried Kathryn on his cell phone again, but he couldn’t get a signal inside the hospital. He cursed as he slipped the cell back into his pocket and followed the nurse through a door into a private room.

  Sheila McKenzie was lying on a bed, her chest a mass of medical dressing. A ventilator sat near her bed, no longer active, and Griffin could see where they had intubated into her neck to keep her breathi
ng and into her side to drain her ruined lung of blood. Her eyes were underscored with dark rings of bruised sclera as though she had been beaten half to death, but one of the eyes had opened wearily as Griffin entered the room.

  ‘She’s exhausted,’ the nurse said, ‘and has been prepared for surgery. Make it brief, detectives.’

  Griffin nodded as he approached the side of Sheila’s bed, Maietta beside him. Despite Sheila’s injuries Griffin could tell that she was an attractive woman and he knew her to be both successful and determined in life. It made him wonder again what the hell she had seen in someone like Dale McKenzie, and why the hell she hadn’t seen through his lies and deceptions. Then he remembered that Kathryn had likely been duped too.

  ‘Been lookin’ for you, Sheila,’ he said softly with a smile that he hoped was sincere enough for her.

  Sheila watched him through her bleary eye for a moment before replying in a voice that sounded rough as sandpaper.

  ‘I think you missed the bus, detectives.’

  Griffin’s smile turned tight on his face and he nodded. ‘By far too long,’ he admitted. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Sheila broke eye contact with Griffin and stared up at the ceiling. Griffin slipped his notebook from his pocket and pulled up a chair from nearby.

  ‘Look, I know that this is a bad time, but we really need to ask you a few questions about what happened. Can you do that for me?’

  Sheila swallowed thickly, winced at the pain, but Griffin saw her nod once.

  ‘That’s great Sheila, this won’t take long I promise. Can you tell me what happened to you when you were first abducted?’

  Sheila’s voice croaked weakly as she replied.

  ‘Somebody got into the house and hit me from behind. I didn’t get a look at them.’

  ‘No sounds at all, no hints as to who they might be?’

  Sheila shook her head slowly. ‘Too fast, covered up in black mask and a big coat. They put a sack over my head.’