She's an Easy Target, page 8
part #2 of Quinton Target Series
“There’s somebody watching us from that house,” QT said, on high alert.
The lieutenant and Rasputin snickered but didn’t say anything.
“Did I say something funny?”
“No, it’s an inside joke,” Lieutenant Mad said. “That’s our neighbor. We call her Betty Busybody. She’s always spying on us. I don’t think the woman ever goes to sleep and I’ve never seen her leave her house.”
“L. Ron suspects she’s harboring alien visitors,” Rasputin said.
“Maybe she saw who broke into Dr. Bit’s house.”
“Possibly,” the lieutenant said.
“We should talk with her tomorrow.”
“Over the years, Dr. Bit has tried to establish a rapport with her but whenever he knocks on her door, she pretends she’s not at home. He inherited his home from his parents. When he was a little boy, Betty and her husband were always happy-go-lucky. They loved talking with the children. They didn’t have any of their own. After Betty’s husband died, she became reclusive.”
“It happens. My dad hasn’t been the same since my mom passed a couple of years ago,” QT said.
Rather than taking I-64 West to Crozet, Quinton opted to drive to the UVA campus, take a right at the Ivy Road intersection, and follow 250 West to Crozet. It was almost two in the morning and there were no signs of any other cars when QT reached the intersection. Friday nights and Saturday nights would be a lot busier once the students returned for the Fall semester.
“I’ve been thinking about the break-in at Dr. Bit’s,” Quinton said as he made the turn. “Have you noticed anyone that looked out of place in your neighborhood during the past couple of weeks?”
“Dr. Bit thinks I’m crazy, but I’ve seen a guy walking his dog and hanging around our home. I saw the same guy near Miller’s tonight.”
“Was he a slightly-built man with a paunch and a pitted face.”
“Yes,” the lieutenant said excitedly. “That’s the man. Do you know him?”
“I sort of met him tonight. He’s Blaire’s boss at the NSA.”
“Do you think he was the one who broke in?” the lieutenant asked.
“Could be, but that doesn’t explain why Blaire was nearby.”
“They could’ve done it together,” Rasputin said.
“True, but you told me she was alone when you saw her before the kidnapping.”
Rasputin grunted and said, “Yeah, she was alone.”
All three of them fell silent, lost in their own thoughts about the situation. QT had sobered up from his drinks at Miller’s, but it had been a long day and he was tired. He glanced at the lieutenant. Her eyelids closed involuntarily. She twitched herself awake when her chin started to drop. Rasputin was in his normal state, calm and relaxed. They were quiet for most of the twenty-minute drive along route 250.
As he veered right onto Three Notched Road, QT said, “This road brings us into Crozet. My GPS tracker says that Blaire’s phone is two miles ahead at Crozet Self Storage. It’ll be on the right side of the road across the street from the Starr Hill Brewery.
“I don’t want to think about anything related to beer,” the lieutenant said. “I had too much to drink at Miller’s.”
“I remember you telling me you don’t drink very often,” QT said.
“We had wine together on the night I told you that,” she said and they both smiled to themselves while remembering the way the evening ended. “Bad things happen when I drink.”
“Not always bad things,” QT said.
“OK, unexpected things happen when I drink.”
It was a serene drive up the curvy and hilly road that led into Crozet. After the first mile, the road flattened out and there were lighted areas next to entrances to the subdivisions they passed. The speed limit changed to twenty-five miles per hour as they approached their destination.
“There it is,” QT said and pointed to the office building with tan siding and a business sign in front of it.
He turned into the entrance. Behind and to the left of the office building there were at least a dozen marked parking spaces. All were empty except for one.
“That’s Blaire’s car,” he said as he parked in the space next to it and turned off his ignition.
Rasputin got out of QT’s SUV first. He scanned the perimeter with the scope of his gun. “It’s clear,” he said, but continued searching the area for danger.
QT checked the front door of Blaire’s BMW. It was unlocked. Her keys were lying on the console. He picked them up and pressed the button to unlock the trunk. His heartbeat quickened as he moved to the back of the car.
“What’s that smell?” Lieutenant Mad said. Nobody said it out loud but all three of them recognized the odor.
Rasputin joined them to get a view of the trunk. QT opened the lid. A dead body was twisted around to make it small enough to squeeze into the space. It was lying face down with a bullet hole in the spine and one in the back of the head. Quinton cupped one hand over his nose to block the aroma while inspecting the man’s body.
“Looks like a professional hit,” Rasputin said. “A kill shot and an extra to make sure.”
“There’s nothing we can do for him,” Quinton said as he closed the trunk. “Let’s find Blaire’s phone.”
They returned to the car and drove fifty yards to the access card reader. QT slid in the master keycard provided by Dr. Bit. The four-foot-high, steel gate in front of and to the right of them slid open sideways. They slowly rolled through the entrance. A short distance below them they could see the metal buildings that contained the storage units. They were painted green to blend with the surroundings. In the distance, the Blueridge Mountains were visible in the moonlight.
Rasputin said, “Let me out. I’ll walk behind you and surveil the area.”
While they were stopped, QT handed his phone to the lieutenant and said, “Let me know when the GPS indicates we’ve reached the right storage unit.”
The car crawled toward the position where the GPS led them. Rasputin diligently searched the area, alternating using his scope to check the roofs of the buildings for snipers and searching without the scope to look along the sides of the units. No danger appeared imminent, but there was tension in the air since discovering the body in the car.
“Stop,” the lieutenant said. “This should be the location.”
The entrance to the unit was a door that lifted like a garage door. QT and Lieutenant Mad approached the unit with their guns out, ready for action. Rasputin was a short distance behind them protecting them from any attack from the rear. QT holstered his gun while he inserted the access card and lifted the door. The lieutenant stood beside him with her gun pointed toward the opening.
There were no lights turned on inside the unit, but there was enough illumination from the outside lights near the storage units to reveal a woman slumped in a chair. She had blonde hair, which was soaked with perspiration. Her hair had fallen forward when she’d gone limp and it covered her face.
Quinton moved toward her. “Blaire, can you hear me?”
She lifted her head with her hair still covering her face. “QT?” she said in a scratchy voice. “Is that you?”
“It’s me. Close your eyes. I’m going to turn on the light and untie you from the chair. It might take a while for eyes to adjust to the brightness.”
“No, no!” she screamed. “Don’t turn on the light. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Like what?” He touched her hair in an attempt to move it away.
She began shaking her head wildly and screaming, “No, don’t look at me. I’m hideous.” She sobbed uncontrollably.
He removed his hand from her hair. “It’s OK. I won’t turn on the light. I’ll use my phone flashlight. I need to be able to see to cut your restraints.”
“Hand me my phone,” he said to the lieutenant.
“Here you go,” she said.
“Who’s that with you?” Blaire said.
“Lieutenant Mad and Rasputin.”
“Are they here to kill me?” she said calmly.
“No, they came to help you.”
“I don’t care if they kill me,” she said. “I’m better off dead.”
“Don’t say that. You’re delirious from lack of fluids. We’ll call an ambulance after I get you freed.”
“I’m not delirious.”
QT took out his pocketknife and cut the straps that were holding her to the chair. She pushed at him to keep him from getting too close to her.
“What’s that odor?” QT asked.
“... It’s my flesh rotting ... He threw acid in my face,” she said, sobbing again.
“What?” he said, confused.
He stood up and went to the table where Blaire’s phone was resting and picked up the container next to it. First, he smelled through the open top and then inserted his index finger to remove a small amount of the liquid. He brought his finger to his nose and sniffed it. After setting the container back on the table, he returned to Blaire. He cradled her head against him. She buried her face into his waist and held him tightly.
“It isn’t acid,” he said. “It’s vinegar.”
“What?” she said. “No, you’re wrong. I felt it burn my eyes and I can feel my face throbbing.”
“Let me look,” he said softly. “Please. I’ll turn the flashlight away if there are any acid burns. I promise.”
Reluctantly, she loosened her grip and pulled her head away from his waist. Her body was shaking as he carefully pushed her hair behind her ears and pointed the light at her face.
He gently touched her cheeks and said, “Does that hurt?”
“It’s tender and it burns.”
He wiped his finger along her chin and removed a sticky clump of something. “It’s dried vinegar, not flesh,” he said. “Your face is red in places and you have bruises near your eyes.”
“He hit me in the face and eyes,” she said.
“I can see bruising on your neck, too.”
“He nearly choked me to death.”
“But there are no signs of acid burns.”
She softly whimpered. “Oh my God, I’m not disfigured?” she said as the reality hit her.
“You’re as beautiful as ever,” he said. “You’re going to have a couple of black eyes and temporary bruising on your face and neck, but I don’t see anything that would cause a permanent scar. We need to get you to the hospital for a through check-up. Let’s get you out of here and into my SUV. There’s no climate control in this storage unit.”
QT lifted her out of the chair and carried her in his arms like she was a child who’d fallen asleep and needed to be put to bed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest while he guided her toward his vehicle.
“I’m not ugly,” she said, as if she were in a state of disbelief, “but I smell bad.”
Chapter 14
After getting Blaire settled into the passenger seat, QT started the SUV and turned on the A/C. He gave her a bottled water and said, “You must be dehydrated from being locked in that sweat box. Drink this. Adjust the A/C if you get too cold.”
“It feels good right now.”
“I’m going to call 911 to get an ambulance for you.”
“I don’t need a doctor. I want to go home and sleep in my own bed.”
“You’ve been beaten and tortured. You’re going to the hospital. I insist.”
“Will you come with me?”
“Of course. I’ll follow you there.”
“Good.”
“I need to talk with the lieutenant and Rasputin for a minute. You sit here and relax.” He put his hand on her leg and patted it. “Everything’s going to be alright. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.” She forced a smile in response but didn’t seem convinced that he or anybody else could keep her safe.
QT joined the lieutenant and Rasputin, who were talking quietly. He closed and locked the storage unit door.
“I called Dr. Bit. He’s on his way to Crozet to pick up Rasputin and me at the Starr Hill Brewery,” the lieutenant said. “We don’t want to be here when additional FBI agents or the local police show up.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I could’ve brought you home.”
“You need to be with Blaire.”
“At least let me take you over to Starr Hill. I’d rather have the ambulance take Blaire from there anyway.”
“What about the body in Blaire’s car?” Rasputin asked.
“I’ll arrange for it to be examined.”
Lieutenant Mad and Rasputin got into the backseat. Blaire stared straight ahead, trembling. QT turned down the A/C fan. He handed her the FBI jacket that he kept in his SUV.
“Put this over your shoulders,” he said.
After making the short drive across the road, he stopped and dialed 911. “This is FBI Agent Quinton Target,” he said. “I have a medical emergency at the Starr Hill Brewery in Crozet. Dispatch an ambulance. No local police assistance is required.”
A lady’s voice responded, “The Crozet Rescue Squad is less than a mile up the road from you. They’ll be at your location within five minutes.”
“Ask them to lay off the sirens, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
The lieutenant and Rasputin opened their doors to leave.
“Thanks,” QT said. “It was reassuring to have experienced backup with me.”
Rasputin nodded his head once, which Quinton interpreted to mean, you’re welcome.
Lieutenant Mad looked at QT and said, “I’ll see you around.”
***
As predicted by the 911 dispatcher, the Crozet Rescue Squad arrived in less than five minutes. Per QT’s request, lights were flashing, but no sirens were blaring. The attendants helped Blaire from the SUV onto a stretcher and loaded her into the emergency vehicle.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Quinton said as the doors were closed. He watched the ambulance drive away before returning to his SUV. Lieutenant Mad and Rasputin were nowhere to be seen. Either Dr. Bit had picked them up while Blaire was being loaded or they were keeping out of sight somewhere close by until he arrived. If the police happened to drive by and see them in the parking lot, they would most likely assume the two of them were third shift workers taking a break.
The drive to the UVA hospital was a lot less stressful for QT than the one to Crozet. Things had gone as well as he could’ve hoped for but there were still lots of questions to be answered. Even though he’d assured Blaire she was safe now, he knew her life was still in danger until the guilty party was identified and apprehended.
“Call McCoy,” QT said, using the SUV’s handsfree link.”
“Calling Clinton McCoy,” the robotic voice replied.
McCoy answered, “Is that you Quinton?”
“Sorry to wake you up again, boss. I thought you’d want an update.”
“You thought right.”
“I located Blaire at the Crozet Self Storage facility. She’s in an ambulance headed to UVA Medical Center.”
“Is she seriously injured?”
“No life threating injuries, only cuts and bruises.”
“Did she shed any light on what the kidnappers wanted?”
“She was dehydrated and in mild shock. I didn’t have a chance to question her before the rescue squad arrived. I’m following her to the hospital as we speak.”
“You need to get some sleep.”
“I’ll catch a few winks at the hospital. I’ll be in the office late tomorrow morning to start the investigation.”
“Anything you need me to do before you get there, besides informing Colonel Smithers at the JUIAF and notifying the Richmond FBI?”
“There is a complication I could use your help with. While looking for Blaire, I found her BMW parked near the office building at the storage facility. There’s a body in the trunk.”
“Anybody we know?”
“No.”
“Cause of death?”
“He had two bullet holes in him.”
“That’ll do it. Any idea what he has to do with the kidnapping?”
“No, but he must be involved somehow, or he wouldn’t be in Blaire’s car trunk.”
“I’ll call the Albemarle Medical Examiner. Under the circumstances, I’m sure he’ll order an autopsy to be done at the district medical examiner’s office in Richmond.”
“What about the forensic analysis of the car and the storage unit where Blaire was held?”
“I’ll contact the Albemarle County Sheriff’s office. Someone will be assigned from their Investigative Division’s Homicide and Robbery Unit to do the forensics. They’ll take the lead on the murder, but I’ll make sure they coordinate with you since it’s tied into the kidnapping of a federal employee.”
“Thanks, boss. I’m sure glad you got an extension on your retirement.”
“Me too, but I don’t think my wife will miss the late-night calls when I finally do retire.”
Chapter 15
When Lieutenant Mad, Dr. Bit, and Rasputin entered the house, L. Ron was finishing his search for surveillance devices.
“This has been an eventful evening,” Dr. Bit said. “I don’t think I could stand any more excitement today.”
“You were wise to decline Chloe’s invitation to spend the night,” Lieutenant Mad said. “It would’ve tested your endurance.”
“My endurance isn’t a problem, but I am feeling beat up.”
“Does anybody care what I found during my inspection of the house?” L. Ron said.
“Of course, we do,” the lieutenant said. “What did you discover.”
“Nothing.”
They all laughed except L. Ron.
“What did I say that was funny?” he said.
“We were just expecting more than ‘nothing’ since you were anxious to get our attention,” the lieutenant said.
