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Retribution
Chapter
Twelve
The
air stirred and another blow knocked Grissom backwards, making him swing in his
restraints. His head spun and pain shot through his body, as each and every
injury he had suffered in the car crash made their presence known.
He
fought to remain calm. The pain, combined with the restraints, was making it
difficult for him to exhale. It would be all too easy for him to asphyxiate in
this position.
He
forced his mind to think clinically. Scientifically. Panic and shortness of
breath could cause arrhythmia, which could in turn lead to cardiac arrest. He’d
seen the effect of torture on victims before.
But
all the knowledge in the world could not seem to slow his heart-rate down or
make him breathe more calmly.
Grissom
heard a new set of footstep entering the room. He had attributed the first set
to a man, but these new ones seemed lighter and, if Grissom had to guess, he’d
say it was probably a woman.
He
was right.
“Finally.
I’m glad you’re awake, Dr. Grissom. I was starting to get bored,” Jill said.
“Graham?”
Grissom
felt someone – Price, he assumed – grab his shirt and rip it open. He
struggled, which achieved nothing except another blow to his head.
“Now,
now, Dr. Grissom. Don’t you want to play?” Jill asked. Her footsteps were
muffled by years of dust as she moved closer to him. “Don’t you and Sara like
to play games?”
“Where
is she?”
“She’s
off chasing rabbits.”
Grissom
heard her mutter something to her partner as they moved across the room. A
chair scraped. Heavy footsteps came back towards him.
“Dr.
Grissom? We haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Graham. Now, this may
hurt. So I want you to feel free to go right ahead and scream if the mood takes
you. No one will hear you. And Jill likes a man who makes a lot of noise.”
The hell I will, thought Grissom
stubbornly.
Agony
like he’d never known before seared through him as scorching heat was pressed
against his exposed chest. He could smell burning flesh as his skin sizzled.
He
couldn’t stop himself.
He
screamed.
---
The
local police had mobilized fast. The State Police had offered the Sheriff’s
Department their assistance and two FBI agents had driven in from
As
they gathered around what passed for a conference table in the small police
station, Sara couldn’t help but think how pissed Grissom would be if he knew
that the FBI was working his case.
But
Sara decided that, if they helped to find Grissom – quickly and alive – then
she would be forever grateful.
The
Sheriff brought them up to speed. Grissom and Sara had been heading south along
the coast road towards Tamales, from a hotel north of Dillon Beach, when the
crash took place. Sara was left unconscious while the kidnappers – presumed to
be Jill Davenport and Graham Price – made off with Grissom in their own
vehicle.
The
kidnappers’ car had been found several miles south of the crash site, just west
of Point Reyes Station. It was in this vicinity that the search for Grissom was
currently taking place. Patrol cars and a helicopter, provided by the State
Police, were scouring the area.
“What’s
in that direction, Sheriff?” Nick asked.
Getting
up from the table, Jacobs went to a map on the wall and began pointing to
landmarks for the benefit of those not from the area.
“The
area is mostly national parkland, a few of small towns, mainly situated along
the bay,” the Sheriff explained. “It’s a lot of ground to cover, and it’s
complicated by the fact that we don’t know what direction they took. They could
be holed up in one of the small bays or wooded areas, or they might have headed
south, back towards
Investigator
McNeal of the State Police spoke up. “If they go south, they’ll run into our
road blocks. We set them up as soon as you contacted us.”
“So,
with luck, we have containment. To this area,” Jacobs said, pointing out the
Point Reyes Parkland on the map. “But like I said, it’s a pretty large area to search,
a lot of isolated areas and vacation homes where they could be hiding out. So
it sure would help to know if our perps have been in the area before, and
where.”
Greg
flipped through his notes. “We did a background search on Jill Davenport
already. She owns property in
“What
about him? Graham Price?”
“Our
colleagues in Vegas are looking into Price now,” Nick said.
“Well,
we’ll be talking to them pretty soon,” Jacobs said. “Hopefully they’ll have
something.”
As
if on cue, the intercom buzzed.
“Yes,
Sheila?”
“We’re
all set for your conference call with the Las Vegas Crime Lab, Sheriff.”
“Thank
you, Sheila. Go ahead.”
A
click, then Catherine’s voice came through the speaker.
“Sheriff
Jacobs? This is Catherine Willows. My colleague, Warrick Brown is here with me.
Any word yet on Grissom?”
“I’m
afraid not, Ms. Willows. We’re doing all we can. I hope you’ve been having
better luck at your end?”
“We’ve
been investigating several missing persons’ cases that may be linked to Graham
Price,” Catherine said. “He boasted about them to one of his victims –
apparently to frighten her into keeping quiet. We’ve been able to cross-reference
some of the dates and names with missing persons’ reports here, and we think
we’ve got some matches.”
Warrick
took up the narrative. “So far we have four possible links to Price. A couple
of girls from the university where he taught. A neighbor. And the boyfriend of
one of his clients.”
“Clients?”
One of the FBI agents, Forbes, wanted to know.
“He’s
a botanist,” Catherine said. “He also did some landscaping for a few, select
clients. Around the time that Price finished designing a Japanese-style garden
for a Jessica Reynolds, her boyfriend, Gavin James, went away to his holiday
home to get it ready for their vacation together. He hasn’t been seen since.”
“Was
Price a suspect at the time?” Agent Forbes asked.
“Apparently
not. But I just spoke to Ms. Reynolds on the phone, and she said that Price
gave her the creeps. Paid too much attention to her, that sort of thing. And
Gavin James had warned Price off.”
Jacobs
frowned as he took notes. “Where was the boyfriend’s vacation home? The one he
disappeared from?”
Paper
rustled at the other end of the line as Warrick looked through the case file. “
“That’s
just across the bay from here,” Sara said.
Nick
frantically started to search through the papers in front of him. “I saw
something in one of these e-mails to Price from Jill.”
Finding
the right page, he smoothed it in front of him and read out loud.
“Glad to hear that he put up a fight. He must
have loved little Jessie a lot. He has earned my respect, and yours, I assume.
They’re always a lot more fun when they struggle against the inevitable.
I hope the Scientist
struggles, when we take him. I hope he screams.
You take the high road,
and I’ll take the low road, and we’ll tear him apart in
Poor little Sara. She’s
run so far from her pain. I look forward to plunging her right back into it
again.
- J.”
Nick
felt Sara stiffen by his side as he read. He wanted to shield her from Jill’s
words but, at the same time, knew that she would not allow it. She was
determined to face down everything that Jill threw at her. Sara would not allow
herself to break.
“
“Let’s
find out if this Price guy owns any property in or around the
As
the police made their plans and talked strategy, Sara felt the nausea she had
experienced while listening to Jill’s e-mail being replaced by something else.
Hope.
The
net was tightening. She didn’t know why, but she knew that they were going in
the right direction. And, for a moment, Sara allowed herself to imagine the
possibility of finding Grissom in time.
---
Pain
was like a light bulb.
A
simple flick of a switch and Grissom was blinded by a white-hot intensity. And
then, like a light going out, he was once again left in the throbbing dark, the
smell of his sweat and burnt flesh assaulting his senses.
He
slumped in his restraints, his body screaming for air. Screaming for relief.
Price would let him rest for a moment before beginning again. Grissom had grown
used to the pattern by now.
He
knew that he couldn’t survive much longer. The pain in his chest grew with
every moment that passed. Part of him was ready to give himself up to death, to
spare himself more suffering. But the rest of him was holding on, still willing
to fight. Fight to survive. Fight to live.
Fight
to see Sara one more time.
In
the darkness of his anguish, he clung to her love.
TBC
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