Death Row

Chapter 29

Baxter and Mike were both still in his office. Since Baxter had made the “Burger Bliss” breakthrough, they hadn’t paused for a moment.

“Got it,” Mike announced, slamming down the phone. “They’re going to fax over a list of top executives and managers-everyone who had access to their private dining room.”

“At this time of night?” Baxter was hunched over a short bookcase she had turned into a makeshift desk in the corner. “Nice work. How’d you manage that?”

“No biggie. Just proves what my ex-wife taught me.”

“Hard work pays off in the end?”

Mike shook his head. “If you yell loud enough, you usually get what you want.”

The fax machine in the hallway began to hum. Mike started toward it.

“Not only compliant, but expeditious. You gotta love it. I’ll make a copy of the list and-”

“Mike!”

He stopped just inside the doorway. “Yeah?”

“Isn’t Peter Rothko the guy who started Burger Bliss? And now he’s like the third richest man on earth?”

“Yeah. So?”

She raised her head out of a mess of papers. “I was just reviewing the list you got from the marina. Out at Grand Lake, where Sheila Knight was killed.”

“And?”

“Peter Rothko owns a cabin just a short piece down the lake from her.” She paused. “And he owns a boat.”

Mike stared at her, his eyes widening.

“He could’ve motored the boat from his cabin to hers,” Mike said quietly. “Approached from the rear. That’s why we never saw him.”

“Hell, at this distance, he could’ve rowed it over. We wouldn’t have heard a thing. Couldn’t’ve.” She stared at Mike intensely. “Of course, that doesn’t prove anything. Could be a coincidence.”

“Wanna hear another coincidence? I talked to Ben just a while ago. Rothko was in his office today. Volunteering information that incriminated Chris Hubbard.”

Baxter’s brow creased. “Why would he want to-” She stopped short.

Not another word was necessary. In the space of a breath they both had their coats and were halfway to the elevators.

Gabriel Aravena sat at an empty booth in the dark, trying not to think about what lay just beyond that door, not twenty feet away from him. It was a treasure beyond compare, one that only a few weeks ago he would have consumed with relish. Final vengeance against the woman who had tormented him, had pried into every intimate detail of his personal and private life. His sex life. His dreams and fantasies. The woman who had administered that hideous experimental drug. The satisfaction of taking what he had lusted after for so long. It would be so sweet…

He tried to turn his mind to other things. But nothing worked.

His palms were sweating. He was breathing in deep heavy gulps, like a man fighting nausea. He tried singing songs, reciting verse. No use. All he could think about was how wonderful it would be to take her as she was, chained down on the floor, to rip off her clothes, get what he wanted. She would scream and that would make it all the more delicious. It would be a sweet ecstasy, a rare delight-

He pounded his fists against his forehead. Stop it! he told himself. You are not a monster!

What was it Dr. Bennett had said? You can be whoever you want to be. How well she knew him, from all those sessions. How well she understood. She knew exactly how to get to him, to send him into turmoil. How clever she was. How much she deserved to be taken like an animal, to be hurt like-

“Stop!” he screamed.

He covered his mouth with his hand. He had not meant to speak out loud. Not that anyone could possibly hear him. But talking to himself-screaming to himself, actually-that was the sure sign of a madman, wasn’t it? That was proof that he had totally lost what little control he had ever had. That he would not be able to resist-

He could just leave. Rothko was gone and wouldn’t return for at least half an hour. But how far could he go? Rothko had found him before; he would simply do it again. And the consequences could be horrible. Rothko had said that if he failed to obey, didn’t do every single horrible thing he was told to do-

Then Rothko would reveal all the previous horrible things Aravena had done. He would tell the police, even.

Just as Aravena was finally achieving some measure of freedom, it would be snatched away from him. For something he had done so long ago. For a crime committed when he was sick, when he had all those urges he couldn’t control.

But was he any better now? Or did he just like to think so? Here he was, once again, thinking the same old twisted thoughts. Thinking hard. Desperately wanting to open the door and-

And why not? Why the hell not? In this world of sinners, why must he be a saint? Why couldn’t he do it? Just do it and do it and do it and-

His head fell, banging against the smooth Formica finish. He was so confused. Tears actually trickled out of his eyes, running down his cheeks and washing his face.

And then, as if the tears had washed away the turmoil, in a moment of brilliant clarity, he knew. He rose to his feet, excited, determined, resolved.

He knew what he was going to do. And he was looking forward to it.

“Are you sure you don’t have any idea where he might be?” Mike barked into his cell phone.

“Sorry,” Ben answered on the other end. “I don’t.”

“What about Christina? She’s usually more on top of things than you, anyway.”

“She’s not around to ask. She’s disappeared. Told Jones she wanted to talk to the shrink. Dr. Bennett.”

“Blast.” Mike pounded his steering wheel. He and Baxter had been driving all over town, looking for Peter Rothko, everywhere they could think that he might be. They’d been to the corporate headquarters, his regional office, his palatial home near Philbrook. He was nowhere to be found. “Did he say anything when he was there? Give any indication of his plans?”

“Not that I recall. He left in kind of a hurry, actually.”

“He did? Why?”

“I don’t know.” Ben pondered. “He did ask me a few questions about Dr. Bennett, though, now that I think about it. Where she worked.”

“How does he even know the woman?”

Ben considered. “I don’t think he did.”

“Then why in the hell-” Mike tried not to get agitated, but it was hard. Be it instinct or premonition, he was getting the distinct feeling that something bad was about to happen. Again. “Why did he say he was leaving? What were his exact words?”

“I think…” Ben closed his eyes. “He said he wasn’t sure, but he was afraid a problem had just arisen. And he was going to have to eliminate it.”

The silence on the phone line was deafening.

“You don’t suppose…”

“What if he went to her office? Christina was going there, too.”

Mike grabbed the detachable siren from behind his seat, slapped it on top of the Trans Am, and turned it on. “Give me Bennett’s address.” Ben did. “I’ll call you as soon as we get there.”

“Don’t bother. I’m on my way.”

Christina crept up to the darkened restaurant and flattened herself against the side wall. This was quite possibly the stupidest thing she had ever done, and she had a pretty good list of contenders. Certainly Ben would think so, were he here, which unfortunately he was not. She was on her own, and even though she did not understand fully what was going on, she understood enough to know that it was stupid to go in there. When she was by herself.

But then, so was Hayley Bennett.

Two men were victimizing a woman, just as they had probably done to at least two others. It was time for that to stop.

And there were two things of which she was certain. First, that Hayley Bennett had been hurt and that her life was in danger. And second, that the tallish man with the red hair who she had seen drive away would be back soon. She hadn’t gotten a clear look at his face, but given his general appearance, and given where they were, she had her suspicions.

And she didn’t like them.

If she was going to help, she had to act fast.

She could run, go for help. But how much time did Bennett have? If she could just slip in there and get the good doctor out before the man returned…

She was relieved to see that he had left the door unlocked. Christina knew this joint had been closed, so they probably weren’t expecting any traffic. Especially not this time of night. But this also told Christina that the man was certain Bennett could not escape. Which meant she must be restrained or incapacitated. Or worse.

The door squeaked a little when she opened it. Just a little, but in this pitch-dark silence, it seemed thunderous. She had seen two men back at Dr. Bennett’s office, but had only seen one leave. She wasn’t sure what happened to the other. He might’ve already been in the car waiting; she might’ve just not seen him. She had been watching many ways at once, and a man on his own moves a lot faster than a woman who’s being dragged against her will. She could’ve missed him.

But it was also possible that he had remained behind.

She removed her shoes so that she could slide across the tile floor, all but soundlessly. Her heart was practically beating its way out of her chest. She couldn’t think of a time when she’d been so scared. What a combination: the darkness, the silence, the horror of knowing she was in the vicinity of people who had committed murder, maybe several times over. Being here, on this site of tragedy. Her sweat glands were doing double time and her mouth couldn’t be drier if she had just scaled Black Mesa.

But she kept on moving.

This was the sort of thing Ben was always warning her against. Don’t be so impulsive, he would tell her. Think before you act. Of course, he was the Prince of Think Before You Act. Sometimes she wondered if he would ever act, he was so busy thinking about it. Christina, on the other hand… wasn’t. For good or ill, she was not the contemplative sort. She liked to get started and get done. She hated to see opportunities get away from her. If she wanted to do something, she did it. And that drove Ben insane. Maybe that was why he had never-

But she didn’t need to distract herself with that kind of thinking now. She had to concentrate on what she was doing. On not getting killed.

The moonlight seeping through the windows was not strong, but there did not appear to be anyone in the seating area. At least no one she could see. All the booths and tables were empty. As they should be.

But where was Hayley Bennett?

She slid over the counter and entered the kitchen. So this was where it happened, she thought. The meat, the potatoes, and ten thousand tons of fat. She quickly scanned the grills, the deep-frying apparatuses. There were lots of stainless-steel cabinets, but surely they were too small to conceal a body. A live body anyway.

There was another room in the back. A bathroom? she wondered. A break room for employees? She couldn’t be sure. But at this point, it looked like her best shot. She quickened her pace…

She didn’t see the pot handle extending from the edge of the stove in time. She ran into it, knocking it off the countertop. It clattered to the floor with a sound that was positively ear-shattering. She jumped into the air, startled, then swept up the pot and clamped it to her chest.

Had anyone heard? How could anyone not have heard? If anyone was here, they would now know they were not alone.

She detected a soft rustling sound coming from the back room. Did she dare? She had no idea what she might be getting into. This could be the dumbest thing she had done in her entire life.

No, the dumbest would be taking all these risks and then backing off when it looked as if she might find something. She had to press on.

Slowly, cautiously, she turned the doorknob. The light was off.

She took a deep breath and flicked the switch.

Hayley Bennett was lying on the floor, pinned beneath the sink. And it was clear that she was in great pain.

Christina rushed forward. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Christina McCall. I work with Ben Kincaid.”

Bennett’s face was contorted with agony. “How did you find me?”

“I’ll explain later. First we need to get you out of here.” She gently pulled the woman forward, trying not to hurt her-then saw that she had been handcuffed to the pipe beneath the sink.

“I don’t suppose you know where the key is?” Christina asked.

Bennett shook her head. Tears flew from her cheeks.

“Thought not.”

“Rothko will be back any minute.”

“I figured as much.” Christina examined the pipe. It connected the drain of the basin to the wall. Probably the outside plumbing. It was made of sturdy metal, stainless steel, most likely. But she noticed that the plaster on the wall was flaking.

She pulled on the pipe with all her strength. It gave. Just a bit, but it gave. On close inspection, she saw that the pipe was connected to the wall, not bolted to another pipe. If she could separate the pipe from the wall, it was just possible she could slide the handcuff off the broken end and get Dr. Bennett out of here.

Christina wedged her back against the side wall, then pressed her feet against the pipe. She wished she had her shoes now, but there was no time to go back for them.

“This is probably going to hurt,” she said.

Bennett remained silent, but her eyes spoke volumes. Do it.

Christina pulled back, gritted her teeth, and kicked the pipe with all her might. It moved, but it did not break.

“Do it again,” Bennett said, her eyes and face crunched shut. Christina was certain the impact had caused her considerable pain. “Quickly.”

Christina gave it everything she had. She hit the pipe hard, but it didn’t give any more than it had before.

“Again,” Bennett said, water streaming down her cheeks. “Hit it again.”

Christina started to do just that-but stopped when a creaking sound told her that someone had opened the tiny room’s door.

“Who are you?” growled the man in the doorway. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

Ben, Mike, and Sergeant Baxter stood in the center of what was left of Hayley Bennett’s office. They’d managed to put out the fire, but smoke still filled the small area so densely it was difficult to breathe, and ash and soot permeated the room. Her filing cabinets were incinerated. Even beyond the fire damage, the place looked as if Hurricane Hilda had blown through. Paper littered the floor. A coffee table was broken, a bookshelf was upended, a lamp was smashed.

“Some kind of struggle took place here,” Baxter said, announcing what was already all too plain. “Before the fire.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, “and judging by her absence, Dr. Bennett lost.”

“Not to mention that man we found unconscious in the entryway. I’m guessing he walked in at the wrong time.”

“What about Christina?” Ben asked. The urgency in his voice was unmistakable. “Did Rothko get her, too?”

Mike pondered a moment. “If he had, wouldn’t her car still be outside?”

“Maybe. Unless he did something with it.”

“He hasn’t had time.”

“Do you think she might be with him?” Baxter asked. “Or following him? I know that seems insane, but-”

“I don’t think it sounds insane at all. Knowing Christina, it’s all too possible. Mike, we’ve got to do something. We’ve got to find them.”

“I know,” he said grimly. “But I don’t know where they are. Baxter and I have checked his home, his club, his gym, his office. Even the corporate dining room. We’ve been everywhere he might be expected to be.”

“There must be another place,” Ben said, “that we haven’t thought of yet.”

“Easy to say-but where?”

“I don’t know where!” Ben shouted. “But we can’t waste any more time. We have to find her!”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Baxter held up her hands. “Let’s all stay calm and think about this rationally. If you were Rothko, and you had killed two people-maybe more-and you wanted to kill again, where would you go?”

Mike grabbed a cushion and flung it onto the sofa. “How the hell should I know where he would go? He killed the last two women in their homes-or left them there, anyway. But for some reason, he seems to have taken Dr. Bennett away with him.”

“And there are no signs that she’s dead, either. Maybe he didn’t have time to set it up. Maybe that man we found unconscious intruded. Maybe he needs to keep Bennett alive, at least for a while. Maybe he just needed to stash her somewhere till he had time to kill her.”

“Too many maybes,” Mike said. “This isn’t helping.”

Baxter ignored him. “So he needs a place that’s quiet, secluded. Someplace that can be secured. Someplace no one else would go. But it can’t be too far away. The longer he’s on the road, the more likely he’ll be caught or she’ll get away.”

Ben nodded. “That makes sense.”

“So,” she continued, “we need a place that’s in or near Tulsa, empty or deserted, that Rothko would know about and would able to-”

“I know where he could be,” Mike said suddenly. His eyes were dark and fixed. “In fact, I’d bet on it.”

“Where?” Ben pleaded.

“The last place on earth I want to return to.”

“And that is?”

Mike was already out the door. “We don’t have time for chitchat. I’ll show you.”

“Gabriel,” Dr. Bennett said. Her voice was pleading. “Please don’t hurt her.”

Aravena stared at them, his face stony.

“Gabriel, listen to me. I know you better than anyone. Better than you know yourself.”

“You gave me drugs,” he said. His voice was cold and hollow. “You tried to turn me into something I wasn’t. Something weak and hideous.”

“I tried to help you, Gabriel. I tried to save your life.”

Aravena turned his attention back to Christina. “What are you doing?” he repeated. His fists clenched.

“What does it look like? I’m trying to get her free so we can escape before your pal returns.” Her honesty was a stall for time. As she spoke, she scanned the room for potential weapons. A scrub brush? A toilet plunger? Somehow she didn’t think that was going to do it.

“He will be back very soon,” Aravena said.

“I’m hip to that, thank you. So what are you, his personal pet monster?”

She could tell the words stung. His face twitched. “You will never be able to break that pipe.”

Christina frowned. “I was beginning to get that idea. But-”

“But I can.” Aravena took a step forward.

Christina flinched. Her entire body tensed.

“I will not harm you,” Aravena said. He looked at the pipe beneath the basin. “May I?”

Christina didn’t understand any of this, but she figured this was not the time for a lengthy cross-examination. She scooted out of the way, letting Aravena slide in.

Aravena crouched beneath the sink and took the pipe in both of his powerful hands. And pulled.

His face turned white with effort. He grunted, sweated, twisted. His muscled arms trembled. And in less than thirty seconds, he had removed the pipe from the wall.

Water began to spew out. Aravena slid the handcuff off the end of the pipe, freeing Dr. Bennett.

“I am sorry I hurt you,” he said quietly.

Bennett pushed herself to her feet. It was evident she was in great pain, but she forced herself to move. “We need to get out of here.”

“I will help you.” Aravena shut off the overhead light, then poked his head out the door. Once he had ascertained that the coast was clear, he waved for them to follow.

They tiptoed through the kitchen, following the path Christina had blazed to get here. First Aravena, then the women, slid across the countertop. Only a few more steps, Christina told herself. Only ten more feet and we’ll be out of this hamburger house of horrors. She could call Ben and Mike and get the police out after Rothko and everything would be-

“Where do you think you’re going?”

All three froze in their tracks. Christina felt her heart sink.

It was him. Rothko. And he was pointing a gun at them.

“Don’t leave the party so soon, my friends,” he said, smiling. “I haven’t served the cake and ice cream yet.”