Deadly News: A Thriller Read online

  “Definitely,” Fe confirmed. “The way he spoke”—she shook her head—“it was just weird, his intonation. Didn’t make much sense either, what he was saying.”

  “If he’s crazy,” Masterson said, “don’t get too wrapped up in his words. Most are going to be bullshit.”

  There was a silence, and they looked expectantly at the lieutenant. Even Masterson pivoted his large frame toward her.

  “We don’t have a hell of a lot to go on here. No fingerprints in Sellwood’s car. No blood. Nothing in his apartment, which I’ll probably get shit for getting a warrant for.” She ceased leaning on the back of her chair, and paced behind her desk.

  “I have an idea,” Abby said. She was tired of waiting for Fe to bring it up. Fe had procedure to worry about, upsetting her boss. Abby did not.

  The lieutenant looked at her. “Okay. What is it?”

  “Use me.”

  She stared at Abby. “Ms Melcer, I don’t like ciphers. Can you please be a bit more verbose in your ideas?”

  “They want me, yeah? Well, give them me.”

  “Give them you. So, you want us to just say, ‘Hey guys, that woman you wanted? Here she is, do what you like with her. No, no, we don’t want anything in return.’”

  Abby was silent. She clenched her jaw once, then, “That’s not what I meant. You could bug me, then you’d know where they were.”

  “Do you realize how dangerous that is?” Masterson asked.

  Delano was shaking his head. “We’re not going to give you to the bad guys, this isn’t some kids’ game. Things don’t always turn out okay in the real world.”

  “Do any of you have better ideas?” She looked at each of them. None looked happy, but they all remained silent.

  “Just because,” the lieutenant began, “we can’t think of anything else, doesn’t mean your idea is a good one.”

  “Look, he’s calling me. They followed me to Ecks’s, then kidnapped him. They know where I’m staying—”

  “You don’t know that,” Delano interrupted.

  “No,” Abby agreed, “but we don’t know they don’t. It’s possible they do. I don’t want to underestimate them.”

  “And yet you want to give yourself over to them?” Masterson asked. “That seems like a damn big underestimate.”

  Abby looked at her hands. “All I’m saying”—she looked up—“is that they know where I am. They’re capable of being careful when they commit crimes, which means they have experience. And now my friend has been kidnapped because of me. I got him involved.” She waved a hand. “Soren, I mean, yeah, I’m worried about him too, but I didn’t get him involved in this.”

  “Other way around,” the lieutenant said.

  Abby shrugged. “I guess. He couldn’t have known though.”

  “He knew something. I’m damn interested in knowing just what was in that folder.”

  “I’ve given you all I remember.” She paused. “What about that name?”

  Masterson pressed his lips together and shook his head. “No, nothing. It’s a common name, some are in the system around the area, but wrong initials.” He frowned. “Surprisingly, none for kidnapping. You’d think at least one of these guys would have, what with how many there were.”

  “So you guys have nothing.” She paused. “I’m your best choice.”

  Again, silence as Abby looked around at the faces.

  The lieutenant pinched the bridge of her nose. “We’re not handing you over. That’s idiotic. No offense.”

  Abby began to object, but the lieutenant stopped her.

  “But, we can bug your phone, see if we can get anything that way. Maybe set up a meet. A fake meet, maybe. I don’t know, these things are delicate. If they want to try to ransom your friend—”

  “Friends,” Abby said, uncrossing her legs, then bobbing the right up and down on the ball of her foot.

  “Right, if they have both. Hell, at this point, we don’t have any evidence that the have either.”

  “The footage—”

  “Showing them doing exactly shit-all that’s illegal.”

  “Actually,” Masterson said, “the front bumped looked to be about half an inch in the red.”

  “Well that’s good, at least we’ll have something to charge them with if we can’t find any other evidence. Should be good for one, two hours in the big bad traffic court.”

  “We should hurry. How long will getting my phone bugged take?”

  “Not long.”

  “Well, come on, what are we waiting for?”

  “You’re in a hurry all of a sudden,” the lieutenant said.

  “Someone wouldn’t let me make a stop before we got here,” Abby said, staring her down.

  “A stop?” the lieutenant asked.

  “Yeah, remember, straight to your office.”

  “Oh my God,” Fe said, “you were serious.”

  “Deadly.”

  She laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t know. Come on, I’ll show you where it is.” They headed for the door.

  “Melcer,” the lieutenant called.

  They stopped and turned. Abby was having a hard time thinking now; standing had made it worse.

  “Leave your phone.”

  “Oh.” She withdrew it from her purse, and handed it to Masterson, who had walked up to take it from her. Then she was led to the bathroom, and relief.

  Abby’s phone was duplicated and returned to her. The next time ‘They’ called, the police would be able to record it, which might give them something or might give them nothing, but would be better than what they had now.

  …

  The call came the next day, while Abby and Fe were spending their third day in a rapidly deteriorating hotel room. Abby had wanted to go somewhere else, but was shot down. She guessed the police didn’t believe anyone was watching them there. Fe had only caught the end of the conversation, so only Abby had heard him suggest he could see them. And even, then, it was indirect. She only had a sense he could see them. He had known Fe was with her, but that didn’t mean he could actually see them; there were other ways he could have gotten such information.

  They had ordered room service, again, and Abby was eating something like vegetarian lasagna, when her phone rang. She glanced at the screen as she forked a large piece into her mouth. Unknown number.

  She spit out the food and grabbed the phone, then halted. “Do I just answer it?” She asked Fe, who also was eating sitting on her bed. “Him? Yeah, yeah yeah, answer. On speak—” But then the phone was to Abby’s ear and Fe cut herself off.

  “Hello?” Abby said.

  “Abby Melcer. Enjoying your food?”

  Abby’s vision went black. The painting of a ship on the wall in front of her was the only thing that was visible, and then only a single letter on the side, part of its name, E.

  A chuckle. “Oh, don’t look so surprised.”

  She couldn’t speak. Her head was throbbing with blood, her lips and tongue tingled. “What do you want?” she stumbled out.

  “Haven’t we been over this? We don’t like repeating myself.”

  “Then why’d you call?”

  “I want you, Abby. I want you to stand in your window.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you don’t, I’m going to inject your friend Ecks here with something that won’t be very pleasant. He may not survive.”

  “You have him? Let me talk to him!”

  “No. Not until you do as we say?” It was almost a question. Almost.

  “Why would I believe you?” Though she did.

  “It’s up to you. Your belief won’t change the facts. Now stand in the window, or… well, you already know.”

  Abby stood. Her legs felt numb. She walked to the window, pulled the curtains aside, and looked out. It was a floor-to-ceiling window, so the view was good: the park below, the other buildings towering above, the busy streets.

  Fe was near, but Abby couldn’t focus on her. She had been expecting a bullet, or s
omething horrible to happen. Now she didn’t know what to do. “Okay, now what? I’m here.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “You just wanted to confirm? You seemed to know—” she stopped herself. She shouldn’t be volunteering anything. He should be the one talking.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  “What?” Abby was more confused than anything.

  “You heard me. If you are still wearing anything in the next ten seconds, you know what will happen.”

  “No!”

  “Seven seconds.”

  Abby spared a glance at Fe. “Fuck!” She kicked her shoes off, then fumbled with her pants. Goddamn they were tight; a sock came off as she removed them. She dropped the phone as she reached back to unclasp her bra. How long had that taken? The bra fell next to the phone, and she picked the latter up. “All right, you creep. Is this what you wanted?”

  “Ten,” he said. “Ah, Abby, you failed.”

  “No! I’m fucking naked, I have nothing else to take off.” But even as she said this, she felt the sock still on her foot.

  “Your foot, it is covered.”

  “Please.” She was surprised at how calm her voice sounded.

  “Since you ask so nicely, maybe we can work something out.”

  After a silence, Abby said, “Like what?”

  “Look down and to your left. Do you see that bench, in the park?”

  “I think so. I see a bench in a park.”

  “That’s the one, I’m sure. In twenty-two minutes, we are going to place your friend Ecks here, there.” A pause. “It’s up to you whether he’s alive when we do.”

  “He’s with you? Let me talk to him.” Abby couldn’t believe it. It had to be a lie, why would they give him back so easy?

  “If you want him alive, then you are going to do exactly as I say.”

  Of course, it wouldn’t be easy, and at the same time, it would be so simple.

  “What a freak,” the thirteen-year-old says. She shudders. “So he was just some perv.”

  “No,” Abby says. “I don’t think so. I don’t think that was the point. You’ll see what I mean when I tell you the rest, what they had other people do, how the things connected to other events in those people’s lives. How they used anything awful to their advantage.”

  “So he just had you,” the man with the suit jacket asks, then pauses. He continues, “Stand in the window? Like, I don’t know. That seems weird.”

  “No shit,” the scruffy man says. “Haven’t you been listening to the story? Everything about this guy is weird. Man, just describing the way he talks.” He cringes. “I had to deal with people like that.”

  Everyone turns their attention toward him, including you. Even the doctor looks alert now.

  “Why?” the champagne bottle woman asks.

  He licks his lips. The room is very hot, but not humid at all. “I was an orderly, at a mental hospital.”

  “You worked with crazy people?” The thirteen-year-old laughs. She’s had far too much to drink, you think. She shouldn’t even be drinking.

  At this thought, you wonder why everyone let her, why no one even tried to stop her. It hadn’t seemed so odd, you suppose, not until you think about it.

  “Crazy’s not a polite term,” he replies. He sighs. “But yes, I did. We didn’t have many criminals, but we did have a few. Mostly psychopaths. Their recidivism rate is almost one hundred percent, you know, so once caught they’re basically under care for life.”

  “So this guy, he was a psychopath?” the thirteen-year-old asks Abby.

  The doctor responds, “He does sound like he could be. Detached response. But most psychopaths, if they have a personality at all, are charming.”

  “Nothing charming about this guy,” the girl says. “He did get your clothes off though!” She laughs, far too loud and with too much enthusiasm.

  Abby doesn’t seem upset by this. “I don’t know what he was. I’ll probably never know. I’m okay with that. If I never have to hear his voice again, never have to—”

  Everyone’s looking at her.

  “Have to what?” the woman who hasn’t spoken asks.

  Abby looks at her, tilts her head, frowning.

  You try to glare at the woman without attracting too much attention, but she doesn’t seem to take notice.

  Abby rubs her eyes. “Nothing.” She falls silent, staring into the dwindling fire.

  Thank God, you think, the fire is going out. “Fire’s finally dying,” you say to fill the silence.

  “Oh,” the man with the suit jacket says, jumping at your words. He quickly glances around, the motion jerky. He then stands, places his jacket on his seat, and leaves the room.

  You stare after him, your mouth slightly open. What is he doing?

  The thirteen-year-old echoes your thought. “Where’s he off to?” She glances around. “Hey, where you going dude?”

  But he’s already out the other door and into the other room.

  You hope this isn’t one of those situations where people start going crazy, like a drowning person drowning their rescuer, or someone stuck in a burning building fighting with the firefighter that’s trying to save them. You wonder if you should go after him. If that’s what’s happening, it’s probably Abby’s story.

  Even if it isn’t, it can’t be helping. It’s even beginning to make you paranoid.

  The man comes back into the room—saving you from having to make a decision—holding a bundle of papers, or books maybe, it’s really dark in here now. That probably is why they started the fire in the first place. Makes more sense than being cold; the dark can be scary.

  He tosses what looks like an old paperback onto the fire. “No jokes,” he says, as it starts to burn.

  “Jokes?” the long-haired man asks from his spot on the ground.

  “Nazi jokes.”

  “Why would we make Nazi jokes?” the champagne woman asks.

  “I’m burning books”—he gestures to himself with his free hand—“I’m German.”

  “Hm,” the doctor’s wife says. “It’s not that obvious.”

  “Come on, blonde hair, blue eyes. My build?” He crumples some sheets of paper and tosses them into the fire.

  The thirteen-year-old squints at him, leaning forward in her seat. “You’re blonde? I like blonde. You don’t look blonde though.”

  “I’m a dirty one.”

  “Me too,” the girl says. You don’t like the suggestion there, but say nothing.

  The man gets the fire roaring before the scruffy man finally stops him. “Jesus brother, don’t gas us.”

  He scowls at the scruffy man, whose face remains blank. He shakes his head and returns to his seat.

  Finally, the scruffy man bursts out laughing. “Oh, your face, priceless, man.”

  The other man sits and places his jacket back in his lap. You notice now that it actually doesn’t match the rest of his attire. In fact, it looks too small to even fit him. There’s a dark patch on one side, surrounding a tear.

  “Now that we can see, finish your story.” The champagne woman says. “All we’re missing is some sand to throw on the fire.”

  “Yeah,” you agree, “it is pretty warm.”

  “Oh, no. I meant, that show.” She looks around the fire, as if for support. “You know, where they meet in the woods, sit around a fire and tell ghost stories?” A look of great concentration comes across her face, then she almost shouts, “Are You Afraid of the Dark?”

  “Oh yeah,” the scruffy man says. “I used to watch that when I was a kid.”

  “That sounds cool,” the thirteen-year-old says.

  “Yeah, I used to love it. I think this is better though.” Then his smile drops. He looks at Abby. “I didn’t mean, you know, it’s bad—” He stops talking.

  Abby shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  The doctor’s wife is examining the now empty bottles, apparently expecting one of them to not be.

>   You’re glad you stopped drinking when you did. The wine that’s in your stomach seems to slosh around inside you.

  “Do you guys want to hear the rest? I think you need to hear what happens, but I can skip—”

  “You’ll skip nothing!” the thirteen-year-old interrupts. “So, you’re standing naked in your window like a rock star. What happens next?”

  Abby smiles. She begins the story again. The smile fades from her face.

  Abby’s Story, Continued

  When Abby didn’t respond, the voice on the phone said, “Are you listening?”

  “Yes. What do you want me to do?”

  “Do you have a pen?”

  “What? I don’t know. Yeah, it’s a hotel.”

  “Write this down—no, have Fe write this down. She looks quite surprised.”

  Abby turned to Fe, who she had forgotten about, and who did indeed look surprised. Giving up any pretense that she was alone for the sake of her mysterious caller, she said to Fe, “Get pen and paper.”

  Fe stared.

  Abby made a shooing motion.

  Fe responded by going to the room’s desk, and grabbing her note book. When she got back, she stood in front of Abby, notebook and pen in hand, ready to write, but looking blank.

  “You can put me on speaker, it will make things easier.”

  Abby did, and he immediately began again before she could even say ‘Okay’. “Fe, you will handcuff Abby, then send her down—no wait. First you will handcuff her, then you will remove her sock, then you can send her down. She will exit the hotel, cross the street against traffic—she will not cross when it is safe, but when it isn’t—then enter the park and lie on the ground next to the park bench.”

  Abby’s stomach dropped as she recognized the scenario.

  “Once on the ground, she will place her handcuffed hands above her head. You will then exit the hotel room when you see she’s completed this.” He recited it like Abby imagined furniture instructions would sound if read out by a bored actor.

  Fe initially had been writing, but she was stopped now.