“You better hope we find her. C’mon Sam.”
Not finished, the woman runs after us in her bathrobe. “Hey! I’m not the monster, here. She was never around growing up and now she expects me to be her nanny.”
I feel sorry for her but that don’t make it right.
Chapter 16
Sam
At the local grocery store, we ask a kid stocking the shelves to find us the manager. Moments later, a man removes his blood-stained white apron and motions us to a small closet-like room in the back. After downloading the security footage, he plays it on an old tube monitor.
“There. Bring it back.” Acid burns my stomach as the video plays out again.
Mrs. Rossini was forced into a black Buick in broad daylight.
Suds calls nine-one-one while I Skype Jason.
After the first ringtone, the handsome avatar pops onto my screen. “Hello Samantha. What can I do for you today?”
“Martha Rossini has been kidnapped and I need your help to find her. I’m sending you a video feed now.” I press the speaker icon and hold out my phone.
Jason disappears, on hold music plays, then Google Maps displays an address in the Hamptons. “I have tracked the suspected kidnapper to the tip of Long Island. I deduce, with eighty percent probability, you will find her here.”
“Forward everything to the police.”Maybe, with a little luck, we’ll get to her in time.
Jason blinks and frowns. “I cannot send everything. I can only send the video. The rest of the information I have obtained illegally. However, I will aid the FBI in their investigation once they have the proper warrants.”
“Shit.” My partner grabs my hand and speaks into my cell phone.
“Jason, update Doctor Jones of the situation. Tell her we’ll call when we get there.” Grabbing my hand, we race to his SUV, jump in, and buckle up.
“Do you think she’s still alive?” I brace my feet on the mat as he peels out.
Stopping at the first red light, his jaw muscles unclench. “It depends. If he wants information and she told him, it’s unlikely.”
On the Belt Parkway, he ups his speed to ninety and for almost an hour, I let him focus and drive. Finally, with the ocean lapping at both sides of the road, the Google lady announces, “You have arrived.”
“There.” I point out the Cadillac, push redial, and talk fast. “Jason. Call the FBI. The Cadillac that kidnapped Mrs. Rossini is here.
“Please rephrase. A car cannot kidnap anyone.”
“Shit. I know. I’m trying to say we found the car Mrs. Rossini was forced into. It’s at my GPS coordinates.”
“I understand. Processing.”
Suds nudges me and points to where a curtain moves in an upstairs window. “Someone may have seen us. We need to take cover.”
We’re ducking behind our vehicle when a huge man exits the beach house with a rolled up carpet on his shoulder.
“Dammit. We’re too late.” I picture the dear old woman as we last saw her and pray her death was swift.
Mouth tight, Suds grips his revolver and stands. “We need to follow. The currents will pull her out to sea. They’ll never find her body.”
Following the man over the dunes, we struggle down to the ocean’s edge. The sand bites our skin and the wind fights our every step. Ahead, facing the ocean, the kidnapper stops and drops the rug into the ocean.
My mouth drops open as Suds leaps, shoulder forward, and tackles the man into the ocean. While they struggle and splash, I rush into the foamy sea. Seconds later, I can’t feel my fingers or my toes and the rug is still a foot away.
Behind me, Suds shouts. “Watch out!”
