The Darkness of Evil (Karen Vail #7)(79)

A man in his thirties turned and gave Curtis a nod.

“I need the video feed from the parking lot, the past hour.”

Richie put his coffee mug down and hobbled over to the window. “Parking lot?”

“Officer was abducted. Move fast, Richie. Her life depends on it. We’re coming around. Jane,” Curtis said to the closest PCA, “let us in.”

When Curtis and Hurdle entered the horseshoe-shaped administrative space, Richie was clicking his keyboard and downloading the footage to a flash drive.

“Pull it up on that screen,” Curtis said, gesturing at the one closest to him and Hurdle. “Can I have the mouse?”

Richie handed it to Curtis, who began fast-forwarding, watching the seconds cascade by until it got to within fifteen minutes of the current time. Then he slowed it down and hit “play” when he reached the spot he wanted. They watched as Vail, barely visible in the distance, exited the Marshals’ RV.

“Okay, so she’s walking toward the camera,” Hurdle said.

“Toward her car. We parked in the first row of spots.”

“She disappeared.” Hurdle turned to Richie. “Camera lost her. We have another angle?”

“I can check.”

“Don’t need it,” Curtis said. “She’s back in the camera’s field of view. Walking away from her car. And the folder’s under her arm.”

They watched Vail’s back another few seconds as she headed toward the task force command post—but veered to her right, the spot where they found her phone.

“Fuck me,” Curtis said under his breath.

“What? What do you see?”

“Just a sec.”

Curtis pulled out his pad and jotted down a note as Hurdle took over the mouse.

They watched as Vail bent over to look inside the car window—and a large male figure with a ball cap pulled low on his forehead emerged from the row of trees that stood along the parking lot’s perimeter.

He struck Vail from behind, her head hit the door, they struggled, and then he slammed her into the car again. She dropped—but the man caught her before she struck the ground. He pulled open the back door and pushed her inside.

Curtis shifted position. “This is tough to watch.”

“He’s doing something—taking her Glock. Of course. And …” Hurdle tilted his head as he studied the screen. “Looks like he’s tying her up.”

The assailant got into the front seat and drove out of the lot.

“Hold it.” Curtis stabbed at the monitor. “Back it up.”

Hurdle clicked pause and the image froze, rewound frame by frame.

“There,” he said, pointing at the best view they had of the man’s face, behind the glare of the windshield as he started the car.

“Richie, I need that cleaned up. See if you can get us a decent still image of that *’s face.”

“Doubt it, too far away. But I’ll do my best.”

“And get a screen grab of the license plate, see who it’s registered to. Probably stolen, but let me know. A cop’s life is on the line. We need everything fast.”

“I’m on it,” Richie said as he picked up a phone on the desk and began dialing.

Curtis removed the USB flash with the downloaded footage and turned to Jane. “Can you tell the sarg I need a BOLO on this car? I think it may be a ’64 Buick.” He pulled out his phone and googled 1964 Buick. Images popped up on his screen. He scrolled and spread his fingers, enlarging the photo. “Affirm, it’s a ’64 Buick LeSabre.” He read her the license plate.

“Got it,” Jane said.

“That what you were talking about earlier?” Hurdle said. “You seemed to realize something.”

They walked briskly back toward the knot of task force members in the lot. “Yeah, that Buick. Vail saw it in the parking lot of the Behavioral Analysis Unit when we left there this morning. Bastard must’ve followed us here.”

“Why was she suspicious of it when she saw it?”

“She wasn’t. It was just a car she knew during her childhood. Brought back some memories.”

“You think it was Marcks?”

Hurdle glanced at Curtis. “I keep hoping it wasn’t—but I’d bet money that it was.”





41


Vail opened her eyes. Everything was blurry. She fought to focus and tried to move—but her hands were bound behind her with rope.

What the hell?

She was lying on her right side, facing the backseat of—Holy shit, I’m in the Buick!

It all now came back to her. She struggled to sit up and saw the back of a head—and the unmistakable face in the rearview mirror—of Roscoe Lee Marcks.

He did not glance back at her, did not divert his eyes from the road, which were scrolling left and right, no doubt looking for law enforcement. He had to know that if you kidnap an FBI agent, there would be an alert put out immediately. Then again, there were already alerts issued for his apprehension.

Vail leaned forward in the seat to ease the pressure on her wrists. “So, Rocky, what do you have planned for me? Gonna slice lines in my stomach and cut off my genitals?”

“You think you’re so smart,” he said. He did not raise his voice. His tone was not one of anger. It was matter of fact. “But you’re f*ckin’ clueless.”