Midnight Rambler: A Novel of Suspense

The bullet popped Perez in the ass, and he flew through the air like someone doing the triple jump, then landed on the front lawn, holding his buttocks and screaming in pain. Half the kids ran away, while the rest simply ran around him.

I went down the path and frisked Perez. He was clean, and I retrieved his gun off the lawn. Cheever came down the path covered in blood.

“Lie down before you bleed to death,” I told him.

“I'm okay,” Cheever said.

“You don't look okay.”

“They're flesh wounds. Go find Melinda. I'll watch this little shit.”

I tossed him Perez's gun and went inside the house. Theis lay on the floor inside the doorway with his eyes shut. He had taken a bullet in the side of the neck. Linderman was pressing a towel to the wound while talking Theis through it.

“Did you call 911?” I asked.

“Yes. Is Perez dead?”

“Shot him in the ass.”

Linderman glared at me. I wanted to tell him not to worry; I was never trying out for the FBI. Instead, I went looking for Melinda.

The back of the house felt like a crash pad, not a place anyone had spent much time in. There were two cramped bedrooms, each with a mattress on the floor and a small electric fan beside it. Walking down a hallway, I came to a closed door.

I twisted the knob and entered. The room had no furniture, save for a video camera and tripod in the room's center and a boom box on the floor. The camera was pointed at a closed closet door. I opened it expecting to find Melinda. Instead, I let out a startled cry.

Hanging from a metal pole was a naked young woman I'd never seen before. A purple rag was stuck in her mouth to keep her from screaming. Everything about her looked dead, except for her face. There was a trace of pink in both cheeks, and I pulled the rag free and untied her wrists. She fell limply into my arms, and I gently laid her down on the floor.

“Wake up. Come on, you can do it,” I said.

At first she did not respond. Then a cough escaped her throat.

It was a tiny sound, like a dead car battery with a spark of life.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she started to breath normally. She stared at me without lifting her head off the floor.

“You're not Skell, are you?” she asked.

I shook my head, and she started to cry.

“I was a present for Skell,” she said.

“Did they tell you that?”

“Yes. Over and over.”

“There's an ambulance coming,” I said. “Everything is going to be all right.”

She was eighteen if she was a day, and conscious that she was lying naked in front of a stranger. I went to the bathroom, grabbed two bath towels, and used them to cover her. If one thing defined the gang's victims, it was their beauty. Every one of them was a feast for the eyes. Even in her distressed state, she was no exception, and I watched her hand slip out from beneath a towel and encircle my wrist.

“What's your name?” she asked.

“Jack Carpenter.”

“One of my kidnappers talked about you,” she said. “He showed your picture to the others. He said if you showed up, they should kill you because you'd kill them. It wasn't a very good picture, though.”

I did everything I could not to laugh.

“You're a brave young woman,” I said. “I need to ask you a question.”

“Sure,” she said.

“There was another young woman the gang was holding. Her name is Melinda. Do you know where she is?”

“She was in one of the other bedrooms. I heard her cry a couple of times. I think they took her away.”

“When?”

“Early this morning, while it was still dark.”

“Did they say where they were taking her?”

She thought about it.

“If they did, I didn't hear them.”

“Did they take her in a car?”

She shook her head. Her fingers tightened around my wrist.

“Would you do me a favor, Mr. Carpenter?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Would you lend me your cell phone, so I can call my mother?”

I took out my cell phone and slipped it into her hand. Then I rose from the floor. I needed to go stick my gun in Jonny Perez's face and find out where he'd taken Melinda. Based upon what the girl had told me, I didn't think it was very far.

“I'll be right back,” I said.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

“Jack, Jack, get in here! Hurry!”

I ran through the house. Linderman was still tending to Theis, who lay on his back by the open front door. Linderman pointed outside.

“Perez is making a run for it,” the FBI agent said.

I drew my Colt and stuck my head through the door. Cheever lay on the grass with a pocketknife stuck in his leg, while Jonny Perez hobbled down the sidewalk clutching the handgun I'd taken from him. Linderman slapped my leg.

“Finish the job, Jack.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

I hurried down the front path. Elementary school kids filled the street, riding bikes and skateboards, kicking and throwing balls. The neighborhood had a lot of crime, and I guessed the kids had seen their share of bloodshed. As I passed Cheever he spoke.

“God, am I fucking stupid,” he said.