Nancy Bush's Nowhere Bundle: Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide & Nowhere Safe. Nancy Bush

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      Chapter 9

      In the dark Detective August Rafferty tested the twine wrapped around the bedposts and debated his next move. She’d tied him fairly tightly, but he believed, if he tried hard enough, he could work himself free. After all, she was an amateur at this; he’d known that from the first moment she’d waggled that gun at him, staring at him through hollow, hazel eyes, her face white, drawn and horror-filled, as if she’d seen the devil himself.

      He’d known who she was. Olivia Margaux Dugan. Employed by Zuma Software. Missing since she’d found the bodies after her lunch break.

      He’d been instructed by his boss, Lieutenant D’Annibal of the Laurelton Police Department, to cruise by her address and check if she was home. While cruising, he’d seen her lam out on foot, carrying a backpack, scurrying down the street and into a café. He’d reported to D’Annibal that he was following her, then had driven past the bistro for a quick reconnoiter, and was circling back when he saw her suddenly exit the bistro, dart across the street, and enter the coffee shop. He’d cranked the Jeep around, but of course, there’d been no place to park. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he’d driven slowly down the street, momentarily double-parking with an eye on his rearview, then had driven farther, jockeyed around, turned back and, lo and behold, a spot had opened up right in front of the place.

      Lucky.

      He called D’Annibal again right before his cell quit on him and said he was going to tail her and that he would phone again when he could. Then he cruised right into Bean There, Done That and ordered up a coffee. His quarry was in line ahead of him, jittery, but trying hard to conceal it. She got her drink and sat down and after he got his, he strolled out toward his car, head turned about forty-five degrees, keeping her in his peripheral vision.

      And then suddenly she was right there. He pretended to be getting into his vehicle and she suddenly slid into the passenger seat, with a gun, and ordered him to drive.

      Wow. So he let her take him “hostage.” Seemed like a good way to keep tabs on her.

      Now, he was wondering about the wisdom of those actions. He hadn’t been able to contact D’Annibal again, and the department had since put Liv’s picture on television. An expected move by the police, he supposed, because no one, not even D’Annibal, knew he’d connected so tightly with her.

      He sighed, staring up at the ceiling. If he catalogued his exploits since being a detective, this move might be number one in the lame-brained column. Sure, he was open, brash, full of piss and vinegar, as his older sister, July, was wont to say, and burdened with oodles of arrogance that had gotten him into more than a few scrapes as a kid and had helped him develop a serious hero complex as an adult—and had been the ruin of several romantic relationships—but he was generally sane. Generally able to make good choices.

      He shook his head at himself. Maybe it was because he’d just gotten off a long-term, joint drug-and-gang task force with the Portland PD and had been happy to move out of his fake address—the house where he’d been living under his alias, Alan Reagan—and hopefully back to his own home. He’d been at the fake house for nearly a year while he’d infiltrated a really nasty, homegrown drug czar’s clutch. Geraldo “Jerry” Cordova was a pain-in-the-ass small-time dealer who’d connected with a couple of Portland gangs and thought he was Scarface now. Auggie had helped root him out, along with some seriously bad dudes, and as soon as that had come down he’d beat feet as Alan Reagan, planning to pick up his possessions at the house, such as they were, and get out. Then D’Annibal had called as he was checking on his duplex on the outskirts of Laurelton. (He was in the process of evicting the tenants on the other side as he was the owner of the building and they were young, loud and had a tendency to leave the tail end of one monstrous truck or another over his driveway. Pissed him off, no end.)

      D’Annibal had explained about the lovely Ms. Dugan and, as Auggie headed over to her apartment for some further reconnaissance, she suddenly appeared, backpack СКАЧАТЬ