Progression Series 05 Wrong Place Wrong Time Read online

  Simon sighed. He understood Jim's frustration, his determination. But this was hopeless. "Jim," he began, "Just what do you think we're going to find? We can't search this area single-handedly and hope to locate Blair, no matter how good our intentions are."

  The captain's only answer was grim silence. Jim kept driving, staring out through the windshield, glancing off to the sides of the road as he swept the darkened homes for signs of his friend and the three bank robbers. Finally, after several moments, Jim looked over at Simon. "I can't just go back to the hotel and go to bed, Simon. I have to keep looking. I can't give up."

  Simon sighed. He knew there would be no reasoning with Jim--not when it came to Sandburg. "All right, Jim. Pull over. Let's take another look at this map."

  Simon opened the map across his lap as Jim pulled the truck onto the shoulder of the road and flipped on the overhead dome light.

  "We have no starting point," Simon told him, sweeping his hand across the expanse of the map that detailed Deer Creek and the surrounding area. "Nothing here that would indicate where we should begin." Simon folded the map in quarters and handed it to Jim. Looking into his detective's eyes, he shook his head and said, "It's a wild goose chase, Jim. We could search for days and never come close to Blair. Surely you have to realize that."

  Jim held the captain's gaze, silently challenging his reasoning. "There's always the chance that Blair can talk his way out of this, maybe get away and find a way to let us know where he is--"

  "Jim!" Simon barked. "Would you listen to yourself? Cal walked in on that conversation between you and Blair. You think Sandburg's going to be able to talk his way out of the fact that he was on the phone you?"

  "Yes, I want to believe he could."

  "And if he can't? What then, Jim? Do we just keep driving around all night?" Simon sighed deeply and rubbed his hands across his eyes. "Listen, Jim. I'm not going to argue with you about what might have happened, but you have to see that this search is pointless."

  "Pointless? Pointless?" Jim's gaze cut through Simon. "What if it were Darryl out here, sir? Would you want to go back? Would you think it was pointless then?"

  Simon stared over at Jim, saw the desperation in his eyes. Using Darryl as an example was a low blow--a low blow that worked. Scowling, he shook his head. "Let me see that!" he growled, reaching over and grabbing the map from Jim's hand.

  Simon caught the flicker of a smile that formed on Jim's lips and he was just opening his mouth to comment on it when the silence in the truck cab was interrupted by the ringing of Jim's phone.

  "Ellison." Simon watched as Jim held the phone to his ear, fingers wrapped taut around the instrument. The detective mumbled a couple of one-syllable replies, asked if Blair was all right, then hung up. He closed the phone and looked over at Simon.

  "Who was that?"

  "Emily. She didn't have a lot of time to talk and she was very quiet. It was obvious she was sneaking the call in to me."

  "And?" Simon asked as Jim flipped off the dome light and put the truck into gear, but offered no further information.

  "And," Jim replied as he pulled out onto the road, "I know where Blair is."

  /

  /

  /

  Blair lay on the bare mattress, his gaze locked on the ceiling. Cal and Arnie had bound his ankles together, then tethered the rope to the baseboard of the bed. When they were finished with his feet, they had knotted strong cord around each of his wrists, drawn his arms up and out toward the farthest corners of the bed, and tied the cord to the outer posts of the headboard. The gag came last, the cloth knotted tightly at the back of his head, effectively cutting off any cries for help. Blair shifted slightly where he lay, pulling at the bonds that held him pinned flat. There was no give in the rope. He was trapped.

  "I'm sorry, Blair. Sorry we have to leave you like this." Emily's soft voice came from beside the bed. They stood around him, Emily to his right, looking uncomfortable; Cal to his left, checking his handiwork, making sure Blair couldn't get free; and Arnie at the foot of the bed, staring down at the floor, unwilling to meet Blair's angry gaze.

  "Cal says that as soon as we're away I can call your friend and tell him where you are," Emily said, her voice light, as if what they had done to him was really no big deal.

  Blair grunted in pain as Cal tightened the rope around his left wrist. He turned his head and glared up at the man who seemed to be taking great pleasure in his discomfort.

  "Sorry, Professor," Cal offered insincerely, smirking. "Did I hurt you?"

  Blair twisted his now sore wrist, his breath coming in short, angry pants.

  "Do you have to be so rough?" Emily interceded. "Cal has such a temper." She scowled at her brother before shifting her gaze to Blair.

  He flinched again as Cal made another adjustment to the ropes.

  "Really, Blair, you have to admit that this is better than the chair you were tied to." She smiled down at him sweetly. "It's more comfortable. You could--I don't know, maybe nap or something."

  Is she kidding? Does she really think I can nap trussed up like this? But as Blair stared into her hope-filled eyes, he knew that was exactly what she believed. He returned his gaze to the ceiling.

  The mattress dipped slightly as Emily sat down beside him. Reaching out, she trailed her finger across his face. Blair flinched as she touched the bruising on his cheek, the cut on his temple.

  "Why'd you have to hit him, Cal? He's all bruised now." Leaning down, she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek where her fingers had lingered only a moment before. Ending the kiss, she lay her cheek against Blair's and whispered softly into his ear: "Don't worry. I've called your friend. He knows where you are."

  Blair tensed at the words. She called Jim? Before they left? Is she telling the truth? As she sat up again, her gaze locking with his, he knew that she was. Knew she had defied her brother for him. Knew that Jim was already on his way here. Blair relaxed slightly.

  "C'mon, Emily," Cal snapped. "We've wasted too much time already."

  "I was just saying good-bye," she complained.

  "Go with Arnie and wait for me in the car."

  She looked back down at Blair fondly. And didn't move.

  "Now!" Cal shouted.

  Emily jumped slightly at the barked order and, standing, moved toward Arnie. "Let's go," she said, taking his arm and heading toward the door. She glanced back at Blair one last time before exiting the room.

  And he was left alone with Cal.

  "Well, Mr. Ph.D., I'm betting you don't feel quite so smart now, do you?" Cal laughed out loud, evidently finding the situation highly amusing. Leaning over Blair, he added, "Or should I call you Doctor Ph.D.?"

  Blair stared up at Cal for a long moment, then turned his face away in disgust. He wasn't about to play into this man's ego trip.

  "Hey, I'm talkin' to you, Doctor!" Cal grasped his chin hard and wrenched his head back, forcing Blair to look up at him. The younger man's fingers dug mercilessly into Blair's bruised skin, bringing the sting of tears to his eyes. Cal glared down at him, his fingers digging even deeper, as though he relished Blair's obvious discomfort. "I'm in charge here, and you're going to pay attention."

  Blair hands fisted where they lay pinned against the mattress, frustration winding through him. If only he could talk... he felt sure he could persuade Cal to rethink what he was doing if he didn't have the gag in his mouth. Except that's exactly why you are gagged, Sandburg. He knew it was true. After all, the house they occupied was in the middle of hundreds of other houses just like it--boarded up and abandoned for the winter season. There was no one Blair could call for help. So the gag had been applied for one reason and one reason only--to keep him quiet. Because since this had all begun, he had managed to talk his way into and out of every situation that had come up.

  And Cal didn't want him doing it again.

  Cal released his chin and straightened. He pointed an accusing finger at Blair, poking it painfully into the skin beneath his
collarbone. "You made me look like an idiot," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Well, tell me, Doctor, who's the idiot now?"

  Cal withdrew his hand and turned away from Blair, pacing a few steps away before turning to look at him again. "You thought you were so smart talking about my sister going to school. Well, you know what? You don't know anything about her and what's good for her. I've spent my entire life taking care of her, and I'm not about to let some guy with a fancy title start doing my job for me. She's my sister, and I'll be the one to take care of her." Again, Cal moved closer. "I'll be the one who decides what's best for her," he said, his voice lower, quieter, yet still menacing.

  Reaching down beside the bed, Cal grabbed up Blair's backpack where Emily had left it and swung it effortlessly across one shoulder. "I'll be taking this with me," he spat out. "I think, Professor, that you can probably afford to buy another laptop and cell phone."

  Anger pulsed through Blair at the thought of this clown taking his stuff. "Don't!" he tried to yell past the cloth in his mouth but the word came out muffled, useless. He struggled against the ropes, tried again to talk around the gag in his mouth. None of it worked. He could not get free. Could not stop this man.

  Perfect! This is just perfect!

  Blair ceased his struggles; it was useless and he knew it. Cal chuckled and moved toward the door.

  Blair watched him go, his muscles taut, his body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. I guess it could be worse, he thought, relaxing back against the mattress. At least Jim knows where I am and I won't be stuck like this for long.

  Cal had reached the bedroom door but did not immediately leave. Instead, he stood there, staring down at the lone candle that burned atop the dresser by the door. Blair tensed.

  Go! Just leave me here and go!

  Cal stared at the candle for a moment longer, then glanced over his shoulder at the man he had imprisoned on the bed--and Blair could see that something had changed. Cal's gaze had turned cold. A determination blazed in his eyes, as though a decision had been made and now it was only a matter of bringing that decision to fruition. He turned back to the candle.

  A hard knot of fear twisted in Blair's stomach. No! He wouldn't!

  Casually, Cal reached up and ran the tip of his index finger down the length of the burning wax pillar.

  "No!" Blair managed around the gag. He began to fight his bonds again, pulling hard on his wrists, his ankles. The ropes held tight, keeping him pinned, trapped. Helpless.

  A feral smile touched Cal's lips as he watched Blair's panic. Then--casually--he reached into Blair's backpack and retrieved the color brochure announcing the conference at WSU. Cal touched the corner of the pamphlet to the flame, his smile widening as the paper caught fire.

  He won't do it. He won't! He's just trying to scare me. The thoughts did nothing to calm Blair's pounding heart, to stop his useless struggles. Because somewhere deep inside himself, in a far corner of his mind, he knew the words were not true.

  Cal wanted him dead.

  The brochure was blazing now, the fire rapidly racing across the paper, consuming the printed words. Cal watched it burn for another few seconds, then lay the flaming brochure on the dresser. Straightening, he readjusted Blair's pack on his shoulder and, without saying another word, walked out.

  /

  /

  /

  Simon splayed his hands against the dashboard of the Ford truck and braced himself as Jim sped toward the Pike Road exit. "Jim, you won't do Sandburg a bit of good if you get us both killed before we can get to him!"

  The detective glanced over at his captain then turned his gaze back to the darkened road before him. Jaw clenched in stubborn determination, he kept up his breakneck speed.

  "And we really should contact the state cops and Sheriff Kendall while we're at it," Simon continued. "After all, this area is their jurisdiction."

  "I don't care about jurisdiction, Simon," Jim bit out, steering the truck up the ramp that led to Pike Road. "They aren't concerned about Blair. All they want is to capture the people who robbed that bank. I don't want them coming in and starting some gun battle that could compromise Blair's safety."

  "I don't think there would be a gun battle, Jim," Simon said, trying to placate his angry detective. "I think if the State Patrol arrived and surrounded the place, the robbers would give themselves up. Sandburg told you they're only kids. If they had any common sense at all, they'd know it was all over."

  "If they had any common sense, they wouldn't have robbed that bank to begin with," Jim countered. Turning right on Pike Road, Ellison glanced over at his captain again. "I'm sorry, Simon. It's just that I don't think we're dealing with rational people here. And you didn't hear that girl on the phone, sir. She was talking in hushed tones, so it was obvious she had to sneak the call to me. Whatever's going on, that little trio is falling apart. And I personally don't think Cal would listen to reason if it hit him in the face."

  "All right, all right," Simon acquiesced. "So we go in alone." Leaning back against the seat, the captain muttered, "And face the music later."

  Simon's muttering ceased abruptly. He was suddenly jerked forward as Jim braked the truck hard, then shifted it into reverse, turning the truck in the road until it was facing in the direction from which the two men had just come. "Jim! What are you doing?"

  "I'm at the end of Pike. I missed the street sign for Willow." The detective pushed down hard on the accelerator, causing the truck's tires to squeal in protest as he again sped down Pike Road. The two men rode in silence for several minutes until, clearly frustrated, Jim slammed the palm of his hand against the steering wheel. "I can't believe this! Where is that turnoff?"

  "We'll find it, Jim. Just calm down. What did the girl tell you?"

  "She told me to take Pike Road and turn right on Willow Run. But there is no Willow Run." Jim pulled the truck to the side of the road and grabbed the map. Quickly, he scanned the area around Pike Road, searching for Willow Run.

  "Didn't she tell you that Sandburg was fine?" Simon interjected. "That we just had to pick him up?"

  "Yes," Jim ground out, his gaze scanning down the map.

  "Then relax."

  Jim shot his captain a scathing look. "I'll relax when I have Blair back with me. Not until then."

  Jim studied the map a moment longer, then slapped it down onto the seat with a muffled curse. "We passed Willow Run back there. Either there's no street sign or Emily's directions are horrible."

  "Or she was lying."

  Jim shook his head. "No, I would have known if she were. She was telling the truth; I'm just hoping she got her streets right."

  "I'm sure we'll find it," Simon said. "Just drive a little slower this time, all right?"

  Jim pulled back out onto the tree-lined road, executed a U-turn and headed toward the area where the map indicated they would find Willow Run. Simon leaned back against the seat again and peered out the side window. He was thankful for the slower speed; maybe we'll find that road this time--we have to.

  Lost in his task of trying to locate an unmarked road or a sign reading Willow Run, Simon was unprepared for the sudden stop that Jim made in the middle of Pike Road. Looking over, he saw that the detective had rolled his window down halfway. Jim's head was inclined upward, as though he was tracking something. "Jim? What is it? Do you see the road?"

  Without answering, Jim suddenly accelerated, speeding again toward the area where the men hoped to find Willow Run. "No, but we've got to find that road this time, Simon." He glanced over at the captain, worry lining his features. "I smell smoke."

  /

  /

  /

  Blair couldn't breathe.

  It had been difficult enough to draw air past the gag in his mouth, but now, with the smoke that was quickly filling the room around him, he found that breathing was becoming almost impossible.

  The entire dresser was ablaze and the flames were licking up the walls, slowly engulfing the room. Moving closer and clos
er to Blair. He closed his eyes and willed himself to take shallow breaths, to ignore the burning in his throat and eyes. The increasingly intense heat of the fire.

  Jim? Where are you, man?

  Emily had whispered that she'd called him. Had she been lying? Had he misunderstood what she had said? He remembered the look in her eyes--no, Blair didn't think she had lied to him.

  He pulled again at his wrists, straining hard against the bonds that held him trapped on the bed. The rope didn't give at all, only rubbed an even deeper bruise in his already tender flesh.

  Suddenly, time stood still as a sound drew his attention. His gaze jerked toward the window. Was it Cal? Had he come back to see if the fire had killed him? Or maybe Emily? Maybe she'd discovered what Cal had done and had come back to set him free...

  He blinked rapidly, his eyes tearing from the thick, acrid smoke. A dark shape moved beyond the glass. He cried out through the cloth in his mouth... and sucked in more smoke. Coughing and choking, he desperately tried to draw more oxygen into his lungs. Panic seized him as he realized he couldn't.

  I can't breathe! I can't breathe!

  He thrashed against the bonds holding him in place, gasping for air that would not come.

  Suddenly, strong hands caught his shoulders, stilled his frantic movements. "Easy, Chief, easy." Jim's voice was close, next to his ear. Then he felt Jim's hands against his face, working at the cloth until the gag slipped from between his teeth. Blair sucked in air... and coughed harder. "Can't... breathe," he rasped out.

  "I know, buddy, but we're gonna get you out of here. Just hang on for me, okay?"

  Blair blinked up at Jim, a shadowy, welcome figure in the darkness of the smoke-filled room. He felt Jim's hand in his jeans' pocket, knew he was going for his knife. Seconds later, his right wrist came free as Jim cut the rope that bound him to the bedpost. Immediately, he covered his mouth and nose with his hand, rolling to one side, hoping to regain some control over his breathing. His left wrist came free, then his ankles.

  He felt Jim slipping his arms around him, then he was hauled up from the bed. Jim's strong arm came around his waist and he leaned heavily into his partner's side as the detective half dragged, half carried him from the burning room.