Taken - Before her very Eyes Read online

  “There’s conspiracy to traffic drugs,” Nate said from the doorway. “Assault and battery. Attempted murder of a police officer. The list goes on and on. If you think what happened with your friend back in the cell was bad, you wait until the prison guards find out what you’re in for. They’ll make this beating seem like a kiss from your grandmother.”

  Without removing his eyes from Summer, John Scott said, “Which one of you guys is the good cop and which one is the bad cop. If you ask me, you’re fucking up the whole routine.”

  “We’re asking you for the name of your boss.” Nate stepped forward, unable to contain himself. “Tell us who he is and where to find him and we’ll make you a deal.”

  “Deal?” John Scott laughed. “I tried to cut a deal last night and look where it got me.”

  “And what kind of deal were you looking to cut?” Summer paced to the back of the room unable to stand being so close to him. “Give some names and get out of jail.”

  John Scott sat there quietly waiting for Summer to make an offer.

  “Cause if you cooperate and tell us who you work for and where they took my daughter, then you’ll be free to go.” She turned and met his gaze. “You have my word on it.”

  “I still don’t know what you’re talking about. So I make modifications to merchandise. That’s my business. What other people do with the shit isn’t my concern. I have a job to do and that all.”

  “Fine.” Nate motioned for Summer to come to the door. “If you’re not willing to talk, maybe we’ll send in your old cellmate to keep you company.”

  Nate waited until Summer passed through then let the door slam shut. He glanced at his watch. “I thought he’d be anxious to get out. We’re nearing the ransom deadline, but he’s acting like he has no clue.”

  “Well,” Chief Dickson said popping out of the adjoining room. “That went about as good as Detective Grimshaw’s interrogation. He’s still not saying anything, is he?”

  Summer shook her head. “We still have over an hour before he needs to be released. There’s no sense in letting him go one second before the deadline.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” Chief Dickson asked. “I mean, really sure that’s the best way to attack this situation.”

  “I have no choice. I’d love to see him locked away for the rest of his life, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing we do now will change what happened in the past. Sure I’m angry and could use some good old fashioned revenge right about now, but for the last five months that’s exactly what’s been holding me back, preventing me from getting better. I’ve been counting the days, praying that he’d be caught so I could get some satisfaction out of the system, but I realize now that just being alive is the best thing I’ve got going on right now. What if I’d died back in that ditch?” Summer turned to face Nate. “What if instead of finding me staggering beside the road, cold, naked and half dead, you had to drag my lifeless body from the cold stagnant water and bury me in the earth. Isn’t this better? After all, I’m still alive.”

  Nate nodded. “You’re right. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t alive. It would’ve ripped me apart, sent me off on a hunting mission for that bastard and probably destroyed the rest of my life.”

  “Come on, let’s go to my office and get you two some coffee.” Chief Dickson led the way down the hall, past the curious eyes in the station. “They’ve got your phone charging in there and we’ll take a break and plan our next step.”

  Chief Dickson paused outside the office door and turned to the nearest officer. “Get the sketch artist over to the hospital right away. I want a composite as soon as Mr. Demure is able.”

  When he turned and closed the door on the buzz of noise in the main station, the silence seemed to surround Summer, smothering her and crushing her under its weight.

  Chapter 8

  With the effects of the anaesthetic wearing off, and the shot of morphine kicking in, dulling the aching pain in his stomach, Dean slowly climbed from the bed and gathered his clothing from the locker. Everything was there except for his shirt. The paramedics had cut that completely off when he was lying in the ambulance.

  After struggling to slip on his pants without falling over, Dean withdrew the IV line from his arm then systematically removed the series of wires from his body while deactivating the alarms that would alert the nurse about his flat lining pulse.

  There was no way he could stay in the hospital while Sabrina was still in danger. The doctors had patched him up enough, but now he needed to act, not rest. He knew exactly where to go. He had to pay Gavin Stone a little visit and find out what the hell was going on. All fingers were pointing in Gavin’s direction. After all, he was the one with the criminal past. The one most likely to have connections with dangerous people. He might even be the cause of all of this—Or maybe the solution.

  Glancing out the door, the hallway was quiet. The nurse on duty had just disappeared into the next room with a tray, so Dean quickly slipped out and headed down the hall in the opposite direction with his hospital gown flowing down over his bloodstained jeans. He dipped into the supply closet at the end of the hall, beside the stairway, and traded his gown for a less noticeable green smock then dashed into the stairwell.

  Fifteen seconds later, he was standing in the bright morning sunlight, shivering as the early morning chill hung in the autumn air. Luck seemed to be on his side. A taxi was sitting, waiting at the front of the hospital and he was in need of a lift.

  “29 Chestnut Street,” Dean said, easing himself into the backseat, suddenly aware of how painful the stab wound was.

  “You all right, buddy?” The cab driver was watching Dean’s facial expressions in the mirror. “Looks like you should be going to the hospital instead of leaving it.”

  “Never mind.” Dean groaned. “I’ll live.”

  “If you say so?”

  The drive across the city was never so painful. They seemed to hit each and every bump on the way and Dean had to bite his lip so hard to keep from screaming out, that he actually drew blood. When the taxi finally came to a stop outside Gavin’s home, Dean was never so happy. He slid so slowly across the seat that the driver came around to offer him a hand, but froze when his eyes locked on Dean’s bloodstained pants.

  “Just a little knife accident.” Dean grabbed the side of the door and pulled himself out, fighting to keep from screaming in pain. “Slipped and cut myself. It’s nothing serious, just painful.”

  The driver nodded. “Oh…”

  Dean could tell he wasn’t buying it so he withdrew his wallet and gave him two twenties. “Keep the change.”

  Standing on the sidewalk, Dean drew a deep breath and concentrated on walking a straight line to the front door. The last thing he needed right now was to have the cops show up while he was breaking into Gavin’s home.

  When the taxi was a safe distance down the road, he rang the bell, knowing Gavin would be down at the office working away or off dealing with a customer. Dean had to wonder if one of those customers was behind all this. And the only way to find out was to get inside and search this place.

  With no answer, Dean tried the front door. It was locked. He checked the usual hiding spots for a spare key but found none and decided to follow the pathway around the house, into the side yard. With large bushes and shrubs hiding him from view, Dean grabbed a small rock and smashed the lower pane of glass on the side door then reached inside and flipped the lock.

  Taking a quick glance back down the pathway, making sure nobody was coming, he slipped through the door and stood in Gavin’s kitchen. It wasn’t anything fancy. Your run of the mill starter home, but after living in prison for the last eight years, Dean guessed anything was better than a 10x10 cell.

  Dean made his way straight to the bathroom medicine cabinet and rummaged through the contents for some painkillers. The morphine shot was beginning to wear off. His whole stomach felt like it was on fire, burning away at the flesh and muscle.


  There were plenty of prescription bottles of pills to choose from, more than the average person would have in a life time and Dean wondered if a doctor had prescribed all these narcotics or if Gavin had picked them up off the street corner. Either way Dean was glad for the selection. He plucked a bottle of Percocet from the cabinet and after popping the lid, swallowed two, then pocketed the bottle for later.

  Dean headed straight for the work area in the living room. It seemed to be the most logical place that Gavin would keep any secrets about who his business associates were. “There’s got to be something here that’ll make sense of this whole mess.”

  Rummaging through the stacks of papers on the desk, Dean came up empty handed. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. Everything was laid out nice and neat, well organized considering Gavin’s office at work. That place was a complete mess and Dean wondered how he found anything in the pile of trash stacked on the desk.

  Dean searched through each drawer, feeling for any false bottoms, but came up empty again. He’d given up his search and was replacing the contents of the middle drawer when he felt the coldness of steel on the back of his hand. After removing the drawer, Dean bent down and carefully removed the handgun and magazine from the clip mounted under the desk.

  “Gavin, Gavin, Gavin. How many times have they told you, never play with guns?” Dean made sure the chamber was empty then dropped the magazine into his pocket and placed the gun in his waistband at his back.

  The sound of a car door closing made Dean jump, which in turn caused the pain in his stomach to re-ignite. Could the taxi driver have called the cops? Dean hoped not, but the other option was even worse.

  Quickly he replaced the drawer and hurried as fast as his body would allow across the living room to the big picture window. After pulling the drapes back an inch, he spotted Gavin’s car sitting in the driveway.

  What’s he doing home right now? Dean huddled in the corner of the living room, next to the front door, hoping to make his escape if Gavin headed for the kitchen or the upstairs.

  It wasn’t until Dean spotted the flashing red control box mounted behind the desk that he realized exactly why Gavin was home. It must be some kind of security alarm, motion sensor by the look of it. How could he have been so stupid? Sure Gavin would have an alarm installed in his house, but why not have it call the cops? Why have it alert only him?

  Dean backed further into the corner and felt the bulge of the gun in his back. The cold steel had never felt so good as it did now. Quickly he removed the magazine from his pocket and quietly snapped it into the gun. He knew exactly why Gavin didn’t alert the cops. He couldn’t afford them finding a gun in his possession and sending him back to prison.

  Dean listened as Gavin opened the front door, then watched his shadow move slowly along the far wall as he cautiously entered his own home. Dean prayed that he wasn’t armed, because he’d hate to take a bullet so soon after taking a knife to the stomach.

  Gavin’s shadow was moving closer, getting near the corner of the living room and Dean felt the blood pulsating under the newly stitched hole in his stomach. He had always marvelled at the stories that Summer recounted of being a police officer. How cool and collected she remained during confrontations, but he knew he’d never make a very good cop. The rush of adrenaline was too much for him and he knew he could never get used to it. Some people thrived on the rush, but not him. Especially not right now.

  “The police are on their way. I suggest you hurry and get the fuck out of my house before they arrive!” Gavin stuck his shaved head around the corner, scanning the room from the far side, where the desk was located, all the way to the corner where Dean was pointing the gun at his head.

  “Then I suggest you call the cops and tell them it’s a false alarm, otherwise they’ll take your gun and toss your ass in prison.”

  Gavin let out his breath and closed his dark eyes, allowing the redness in his cheeks to drain away, leaving only the dark glow of his natural bronze colour behind. He actually looked relieved to see Dean hiding in the corner of his living room.

  “What the fuck are you doing in here?” Gavin said as the vein on his forehead continued to pulse with each syllable. “And where the fuck did you get that gun?”

  “Don’t play stupid with me, Gavin. It’s your gun.” Dean waved him into the room, still training the gun on his head. “You know exactly where it was hidden.”

  “Will you put that fucking thing away! You know I’m not allowed to have a gun in my possession.”

  Dean raised an eyebrow. “The cops?”

  “They’re not coming.” Gavin walked across the room and stood before his desk. “How fucking stupid do I look?”

  “Stupid enough to have a gun in your house while on probation.”

  “So, what? I feel better knowing that I have protection against break-ins.”

  “It’s working very well, now isn’t it?”

  “Dean, will you please put that fucking thing away. Look at you. You’re barely able to stand. The last thing I want is for you to accidentally shoot me. Hell, I didn’t do eight years of hard time just to get shot by you.”

  “Sit over there.” Dean pointed the gun to the corner chair as he walked to the desk and propped himself on the corner. “Who took Sabrina?”

  There was a look of confusion on Gavin’s face and Dean didn’t think he was acting.

  “What are you talking about? Sabrina’s probably with Summer, or that old lady she gets to sit for her.”

  Dean stared long and hard into Gavin’s eyes. Although they were the same colour, there was something different. Something untrustworthy about the way they looked through you. “You know as well as I do that Sabrina’s been kidnapped!”

  “Kidnapped? What the fuck’s wrong with you? You think I’d kidnap your daughter. You’re totally fucked up! How dare you break into my house then have the balls to accuse me of something like that!”

  Dean grimaced as he slid back onto the desk, knocking the stack of books to the floor. “I know you’re behind this. You didn’t think I’d figure it out.”

  “Come on, Dean, you’re not making sense right now. Look at you, you’re bleeding and it looks like your pants were borrowed from some menstruating bitch. What the fuck happened to you?”

  “Seth Millar.”

  Gavin shrugged his shoulders, but couldn’t keep from swallowing.

  “The cops conveniently picked him up last night, only hours after that fucker, John Scott had been jailed.”

  “So?”

  “So, he’s a friend of yours isn’t he?”

  Gavin nodded. “An acquaintance, that’s all.”

  “And he just happened to get arrested only hours after they pull that piece of shit, John Scott off the streets.”

  “Coincidences happen.”

  “So tell me, why would your friend want to harm John Scott?”

  Gavin leaned forward, staring down at his clenched hands. His clean shaven cheeks were moving fast as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

  “Listen. I fucking did it for you. Seth Millar owes me everything. I met him when he was a junky and I got him off the shit. He’s been waiting to pay me back anyway he could, so when I heard that the cops had picked up Summer’s attacker, I gave him a call.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “I told him that I owed you a great deal for helping me out after prison, when nobody else would. I told him what that fucker did to Summer and he was more than willing to do it.”

  “So you did this for Summer? For the person who’d put you behind bars in the first place.”

  Gavin nodded. “For her and for you. How many times have you said you’d like to kill that fucker?”

  “A lot.” Dean saw the gun tremble slightly. “But I didn’t mean it.”

  “Didn’t you? Cause I know that if it were me, I’d want fucking front row seats for the event. I’d want to watch the fucker snivel and beg for his life before
I blew his fucking head right off his shoulders.”

  Dean shook his head. He thought of Sabrina’s kidnapper and knew he would have no trouble pulling the trigger for her.

  “Tell me who’s behind Sabrina’s kidnapping.”

  “Honestly, I have no fucking clue. Maybe it’s John Scott’s partner? You said there was someone else involved in that crash. Maybe they’re working together?”

  Dean glared at Gavin who slid back, settling into the chair. It was almost impossible to tell if Gavin was telling the truth or not. His face seldom gave away anything more than general dislike for most people.

  “He was waiting on the street when I dropped Sabrina off.” Dean slid back onto the desk and lowered the gun. “Then he stabbed me and took off with my car and Sabrina.”

  “Then maybe it was just a jacking?” Gavin glanced up and met Dean’s gaze. “Maybe he’s dropped her somewhere?”

  Dean shook his head. He knew by the look in the kidnappers eyes that it had all been well planned out. Everything from the opening line about Summer’s pregnancy right down to the way he’d stuck the knife inside his belly. “If only it was just about the car. I could care less what he did to my Mercedes.”

  “Listen. I’m here for you. Even though you broke into my pad and made a mess out of my living room, I’m still here for you. Whatever you need, just ask. I’ve already put the hurt on that fucker in jail, but I can ask around and see if anybody’s heard about Sabrina.”

  Dean stood and gave Gavin a questioning look. “You still have connections?”

  “After eight years in prison I’ve got better fucking connections than I had before your wife sent me away.”

  Dean waved the gun back in Gavin’s direction. “It was your own fault that you went to prison, not Summer’s.”

  “I know.” Gavin stood and paced the floor. “I was into some pretty messed up shit back then and I guess I got a little sloppy.”