This was a campus Bee-Pee gas station. The only campus BP gas station he knew of.
Could this be what Tracy had referred to?
Tom looked around at the rundown housing in the area and hopped back into the Jeep. He sped out onto Summit Street and peeled his eyes for a gold colored Taurus along the street and in the driveways.
He didn’t have to look very far.
He spotted the old Ford just a few houses down from the station, parked in front of a two-story house in poor repair.
Tracy is in there right now! he thought.
His heart pumping hard, he drove past the house until he found a parking space a few doors down and parked the Jeep. He killed the engine and sat for a moment, wondering what to do next. He considered calling the cops, but refrained-he needed to act now, and the sooner the better.
He grabbed the flashlight, got out and walked swiftly down the sidewalk toward the house. As he neared the Taurus, he shone the light on the front bumper, noting that the car had Ohio plates. He slowed down his pace until he came to a narrow walk leading up to the house. He could see a light in one of the second floor windows but the first floor looked dark as pitch.
Not a good sign.
Tom stood there in the darkness a full thirty seconds, not sure what to do next. He could create a distraction of some kind, which might force Tracy’s abductor to think twice about what he was doing or was about to do at least for a moment or two. And then what? Bust into the house like Dog the Bounty Hunter and force the guy to surrender wielding a mini-flashlight as a weapon?
Not.
The cops. He simply had to call them in on this. And pronto.
Tom pulled Tracy’s cell phone out of his coat pocket and punched in 911. Before the operator had time to answer, he heard a scream.
Tracy’s scream He crammed the phone back into his pocket and ran along the side of the house, looking for a possible side entrance to the place. There was none. He sprinted to the rear of the house, jumped the three-foot wire fence and approached the back porch. He saw light coming through a small window in the door. Then he heard Tracy scream again, more faintly this time.
She must be on the second floor, he thought. Facing the street.
Without thinking, Tom threw open the storm door and frantically tried the inner door handle. It was locked. Without hesitation, he held the flashlight like a knife and stabbed at the small window- pane in the door. The glass shattered but barely made a sound. Poking his hand through the opening, Tom groped around until he located the deadbolt and turned it. He used his other hand to turn the doorknob and pushed the door open with his shoulder.
He stepped into a dimly lit kitchen and began looking around for a weapon of some kind. Suddenly, a wall phone rang and his heart nearly burst out of his chest. He heard a loud thump come from upstairs as the phone rang a second time then ceased.
A man’s voice, muffled and barely audible, came from the direction of the front of the house. Tom continued searching for a weapon, relieved that Tracy’s captor apparently considered the call important enough to stop whatever he had been doing at that moment.
Having rifled through a couple of drawers and finding nothing but silverware and kitchen items, Tom crept through the tiny dining room into the living room, the floor boards creaking loudly with nearly every step he took. He shone the flashlight around the room. With the exception of a big flat screen TV, an enormous stereo system and a cheap sofa, the living room was void of furnishings.
Tom spotted the stairs across the room in a foyer and crept toward them, stopping dead in his tracks each time the floor creaked, half expecting the voice on the phone to stop mid-sentence after realizing there was an intruder downstairs.
As he neared the staircase, Tom could make out the voice more clearly. He noticed that the stairs were carpeted and felt grateful for the dampening effect the carpet would have on the inevitably creaky wooden stairs.
Tom ascended the staircase as quietly as possible. As he neared the top, he could clearly make out what the man was saying.
“I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
Tom reached the top and stopped, then carefully peered around the corner down the hallway. He saw three rooms, two with their doors closed. The man was in a room adjacent to the one furthest away. Judging by the sound of his voice reverberating off the walls, he was in a bathroom.
“We’ll be holding down the fort until then.”
Tom noticed that the furthest door was barely ajar. His guess was that Tracy was inside and the man had left her there long enough to answer the phone and take a leak. He wondered why Tracy wasn’t making any sound now as his heart filled with dread.
Was she unconscious? Or had he already killed her?
Something had silenced her-that much was sure.
Tom knew he had to move quickly if he was to have any chance of saving Tracy. The man could walk out into the hall any moment and head for the stairs. Then Tom would be screwed.
He took a deep breath, peeked around the corner again and stepped quietly toward the nearest room. He put his ear to the door and didn’t hear a sound. He opened the door quietly, stepped inside then heard a beep as the man ended his call.
Tom stood frozen just inside the doorway, half expecting the man to pass by the room and see him there. Then he heard the sound of a creaky door open.
He had gone back in with Tracy!
Nervously, Tom shone the light around the room and saw what appeared to be a second bedroom. There was an unmade twin bed, a beat-up chest of drawers and a mismatched nightstand beside the bed.
No potential weapons in sight Except for a brass lamp.
Tom went over, snatched up the lamp and tore off the plastic shade. Grasping the heavy lamp by its base, he turned around and headed toward the door.
With his heart nearly bursting out of his chest, he stepped into the hall and headed directly toward the room where Tracy and the man were. He was just about to reach for the knob when the door suddenly swung open and revealed a man standing in the doorway, staring at him in utter surprise and disbelief.
“Who the hell-”
With all of his strength, Tom swung the lamp and hit the man square in his face, making a sickening dull thud sound. The man’s eyes were wide-open in absolute shock and pain as his body slumped down to the floor, blood gushing out of his smashed-in nose.
Tom stepped over the body when a second man suddenly appeared in the doorway, aiming a pistol directly at Tom’s head. It was the same man he and Tracy had seen dumping off the body of the black woman.
“Hold it right there, asshole!” the man commanded.
Tom froze in his tracks.
“Drop it or I’ll make mincemeat out of that pretty-boy face of yours.”
Tom dropped the lamp.
“Back up.”
Tom took a few steps backward, certain that the next thing he heard would be the sound of a gunshot that would signal the end.
“Keep moving. Into that room,” the man ordered, motioning toward the second bedroom with his gun.
Tom turned around, stumbled across the hall to the room and lurched inside.
“On the bed,” he barked.
Tom hesitated a moment before stepping over and standing beside the bed
“Now, sit down and close your eyes.”
“What are you going to do?” Tom asked fearfully.
“You’ll see in a minute. Just fucking do it!”
Tom sat down slowly. He stared anxiously at the man who was now standing directly over him, feeling a cold sweat break out on his brow, trying to accept the grim reality that he was about to be executed.
“Sweet dreams,” the man said.
And the next thing Tom knew, the whole world turned black.