Velocity (Karen Vail #3)(11)

“The train sounds the whistle at crossings, and when it leaves the station,” Brix said. “That might help narrow it.” He turned back to Merilynn. “What happened after you were kidnapped? How long did he hold you?”

“I’m—I’m not sure. I think Ray said we were gone two days, but I can’t remember. I didn’t really want to talk about it.” She stared off at the wall, as if reliving the ordeal. “He kept us in a dark place. I couldn’t tell if it was morning or night. We were blindfolded and gagged most of the time.”

Vail scooted her chair closer, then leaned toward Merilynn. “Mrs. Lugo, I’m truly sorry you had to go through that. But . . . what did Ray do? Did he report it? Did the St. Helena PD go searching for you?”

“Ray got a phone call from the man—from this guy you’re calling John Mayfield. He said he had taken us and if Ray cooperated, he’d return us unharmed. But if Ray didn’t, and if he tried to find us or told anyone—anyone—about this, he’d kill us immediately. And it wouldn’t be pleasant.”

Vail looked at Brix.

“Ray never reported anything to anyone,” Brix said. “If he had, St. Helena PD would’ve brought us in. Something like that is a major crimes task force deal, and way beyond St. Helena’s capabilities.”

Merilynn said, “Mayfield told Ray that if he ever told detectives about him, he’d know. And he’d find us again, when we were out shopping or at day care. Or at school. He knew a lot about us. His point was there was no way to escape him. There’d be no safe place.”

Dixon sighed long and hard, then said, “But Mayfield returned you unharmed.”

Vail glanced at Dixon, then shook her head. “Wait a minute. You said that if Ray cooperated, he’d release you. What did Mayfield want Ray to do?”

Merilynn sat back, folded her arms, then looked at Vail, then at Dixon, then at Brix. “If you want to know, get me and my son protection.”

Vail brought a hand to her forehead and rubbed vigorously, as if doing so could calm the building anger. The lack of sleep had weakened her internal checks and balances, and her frustration was threatening to bubble over. “Mrs. Lugo,” she said firmly. “Someone I care about a great deal is missing. John Mayfield may have taken him. He may have him blindfolded and gagged in that same dark place, just like he did to you and Mario. But even if we get to talk to Mayfield, I doubt he’s going to be a good citizen and tell us what we want to know. If that’s the case, my friend—a cop, like Ray—might not have much longer to live. Without food, water—”

Merilynn squared her jaw. “I’m sorry. But I have to think of my son. I will help you. If you help me first.”

Vail rose from her chair, spun around, and stormed out of the task force conference room. She walked down the hall, then stopped, leaned against the wall, and slunk down to the ground. She sat there, her forehead leaning against her knees. Vail was being totally honest with Merilynn: she had no sway over who was accepted into the witness protection program. The Justice Department decided that. And based on what Merilynn had told them, Vail doubted she was a candidate. While it might comfort Merilynn and support her parental instincts, there did not appear to be a clear threat that would require protection.

A moment later, Dixon left the conference room and located Vail down the corridor. She sat down beside her but remained quiet.

Finally Dixon said, “That thing you said about Robby in there. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I didn’t either. It just kind of came out. And then it hit me. Hard. When she wouldn’t budge, I had to leave before I said something we’d all regret.”

“We need to mobilize NSIB,” Dixon said, referring to the Napa Special Investigations Bureau. “We can sketch out the radius on Bing maps and get them canvassing the area ASAP, see if we can locate Mayfield’s hideout.”

Vail got up suddenly. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Mayfield. I want to see him.”





8


Dixon tried discouraging Vail from making the hospital visit, but Vail would have nothing of it. En route to the medical center, Dixon called Brix and informed him where they were headed—and asked him to map out the area Merilynn Lugo had described and to engage NSIB assistance with the canvass.

They made their way into the ICU of the Napa Valley Medical Center. I can’t believe it was only yesterday that Mayfield was brought here after his arrest. Yesterday that Robby went missing.

They pushed through the doors into ICU. An open and spacious nursing station occupied the center of the floor, with individual patient rooms lining the periphery. Large sliding glass doors sat sandwiched between translucent walls that could be curtained off by powder blue full-length drapes.

Vail and Dixon showed their credentials to the nurse sitting closest to them. Her name tag read “Helen.”

“John Mayfield,” Vail said. “How’s he doing?”

Helen, a fifty-something woman whose chestnut hair was due for a dye session, consulted a chart, flipped a page, and said, “Looks like he’s in pretty grave condition.”

“Which room’s he in?” Dixon asked.

Helen chuckled. “I’m afraid he’s not in any condition to talk. They’ve induced a coma to stabilize him and increase his chance of recovery.”