Wrong Exit: Nick Stryker Series, Book Four Read online

  Kevin asked, “Do you know where Sharon is?”

  “She’s supposed to be with you.”

  Kevin winced as he yanked another bandage from his neck. “She never showed.”

  Chester motioned Kevin to follow him back to his office.

  Chester pulled a file from his cabinet and said, “Let’s call her.”

  “She’s not answering.”

  Chester closed the file and frowned. “I don’t like this. She was very excited to meet you. She told me you were letting her help with a story. I watched her run out of the building.”

  Kevin rested his arms on Chester’s desk. “The last time I talked to her she said she was on her way and should be there in about ten minutes.”

  Chester opened Sharon’s file. “She lives with her grandmother. Maybe something has happened.” Chester dialed Sharon’s grandmother’s number and waited for her to answer. “Mrs. Perez? Is Sharon there with you?”

  Chester shook his head at Kevin, said goodbye to Mrs. Perez and started tapping his pen on the folder. “Let’s start calling hospitals.”

  ******

  Wayne pulled up in front of Peter’s house. By now he was furious. He hadn’t been able to reach Dolly or Cynthia by phone and neither were home. He decided to surprise Peter with a visit. He walked up Peter’s steps and rang the doorbell.

  Peter answered right away. “You’re one of the detectives from this morning aren’t you?”

  Wayne answered, “Yes. We need to talk.”

  Peter nodded and said, “Sure. The other gals are here, too. We think we’ve figured out what’s happening and it isn’t good.”

  Wayne’s heart sunk. How bad could this day get?

  Peter said, “I’m being told to shoot the Mayor.”

  Wayne walked in and listened to them explain Cynthia’s shooting of the painting, how they were all taking the Mandarin program and how Darla had watched the last transmission on Peter’s laptop.

  Wayne rubbed his temples and dialed the department geek used for cybercrimes. After a long muffled conversation in the dining room Wayne returned to the others. He was carrying Peter’s laptop.

  He looked at Darla. “Give me your notes from this video you watched. I need all of your phones and I need you all to meet me at the station. Our tech will download this information, we’ll take statements and then you can go home.” He raised his voice. “Then leave your friggin’ phones on! If I need to find you and can’t, I’ll slam your asses in jail. Got it?”

  Darla unzipped her purse and asked, “You want my phone too? I never even took that class.” Wayne nodded and Darla dumped her purse on the couch to find her phone. Cynthia and Dolly’s guns dropped out and Wayne drew his pistol.

  “Do not move!”

  C H A P T E R 10

  Nick and Jen were within two blocks of the GPS signal on Marvin’s rental car. They had passed the last habitable home two blocks back. Next, was a full block of boarded up houses, then vacant lots. The street ended two blocks from where they were. A red brick three story building sat vacant with partially boarded over windows. A large Conrail sign hung precariously from one corner on the broken chain link fence to the vast parking lot beyond. The railroad had vacated the building decades ago but still owned the property. Ghostly remnants of the cargo warehouse buildings gallantly fought to remain upright. The evolution of their surrender to gravity littering the tangle of terminal tracks. Only the weeds and shrubs breaking through the cracks in the pavement prospered in this neighborhood.

  Nick pointed to the building that capped the end of the street. “Bet the car is behind that building.”

  Jen unfastened her seat belt and took one last glance at the GPS map on Nick’s laptop. “We’ve come a long way from the Waldorf.” She closed the lid of the laptop and slipped it into its bracket under the dash. “It would take a while for patrol to find anything back here.”

  Nick drove their car through the opened gate and around to the back of the building. A black GMC Terrain SUV with rental plates sat at the edge of the lot facing the back fence. Right next to it sat a silver Honda. Neither car showed signs of vandalism yet. A row of seven vehicles, not so lucky, lined the back of the building. The isolated parking lot had become a junk yard.

  Jen walked slowly around the rental SUV while Nick entered the security code to unlock the doors. A pop sound preceded the back hatch door slowly rising. Two suitcases and a small carry-on bag decorated with the Disney ‘Frozen’ characters of Elsa and Anna waited within.

  Nick put on his latex gloves and pulled the Frozen case forward and unzipped it. A wardrobe of little girl’s clothing was neatly rolled and stacked, predominately pink. A small zip bag was half full with hair accessories. A children’s book titled, “Let’s Love Each Other” was tucked in a side pocket and a small change purse held a variety of coins and a tiny tooth wrapped in foil. Nick zipped the bag closed again and walked to the driver’s door.

  Nick’s set jaw and silence spoke volumes. He was fighting to keep his temper from taking over. Jen understood all too well, she wasn’t a rookie. She had seen a lot of horror as a homicide detective, but that little girl’s suitcase, packed for a vacation with her parents, tore her heart open.

  Jen dialed Central Control to get a Crime Scene Unit dispatched there. Nick had been looking over the driver’s area and found a phone lodged between the driver’s seat and the console. The last call on the phone had been from Elizabeth. A slip of paper was peeking from under the passenger seat. Nick pulled it out and saw someone had penned directions to the Science Museum. The rest of the interior looked clean except for a small puddle on the backseat that looked like vomit.

  Jen was writing down the VIN number on the silver Honda. Nick walked over. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Probably.” Jen called in the numbers and then began writing on her notepad. “Go to our database and see if we have an employer for her.” Nick read Jen’s scribbles. Sharon Perez. Birthdate, address and insurance company. Jen said thank you and hung up. “She works at the Tribune. Isn’t that where Kevin works? Maybe he knows her.”

  Nick had Kevin’s cell number in his phone. He tapped the call-button and waited for Kevin to pick up.

  Kevin answered, “Nick?”

  Nick asked, “I know this is a long shot but do you know a Sharon Perez that works at the Tribune?”

  Kevin nearly shouted. “Yes! I’m in her boss’s office now. We’ve been trying to find her. She was supposed to meet me at the brewery to help with the story.”

  Nick had considered the fact that Sharon’s car being dumped next to Marvin’s car may mean they had crossed paths with the same people. Criminals were creatures of habit. Finding a good location to dump cars often meant it was used many times before being discovered. It seemed unlikely that there was a reasonable explanation for Sharon to leave her car at this location.

  Nick said, “We found her car.”

  Kevin’s heart sunk. “You found her car? Where?” Kevin’s thoughts were colliding. Why wouldn’t Sharon have been with her car?

  Nick didn’t want Kevin inserting himself into his investigation. “How well do you know her?”

  Kevin sighed, “I was hoping to get to know her better. I invited her to help me with the brewery story, she wants to be a reporter. The last time I spoke to her she was on her way to meet me.” Kevin paused and then said, “Homicide wouldn’t be following up on a stolen car. What aren’t you telling me?” Kevin felt a wave of fear wash through his mind. “Look, you know that I can be trusted. Tell me where you found her car.”

  Nick said, “You can’t get to it right now. We have C.S.U. coming and it will probably be taken to impound.”

  Kevin’s heart began to pound. “C.S.U.? Why? Is…is there blood in it or something?”

  Nick told Kevin the address where Sharon’s car was found and said, “If you can think of any reason she would be over this way, I need to know.”

  Kevin could picture the neighborh
ood Nick was talking about. Nothing would have drawn Sharon there. “There’s no reason Sharon would have gone there. You still haven’t explained why you called C.S.U.”

  “Her car was dumped next to the rental car that was used by the brewery family.”

  Kevin’s voice cracked when he asked, “So you think whoever dumped her car, also dumped the brewery family car. Do I have this right?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Oh my God. What if she’s been kidnapped?” Kevin didn’t wait for an answer. “The grey van! The asshole that shot at me…what if…”

  Nick interrupted, “We’re on it. None of this can hit the paper Kevin. I need time. Sharon needs time.”

  ******

  J.T. drove his rental car from the Indianapolis airport to a gun shop owned by a friend. He went to the back room and got his pistol and silencer from a locked safe he kept there. The gun shop owner nodded to him as he grabbed a few clips for his gun and left. The afternoon traffic was heavy and by the time he arrived at his company’s satellite office it was nearly four o’clock. J.T. took the elevator to his second floor office and buzzed Matt, his most trusted associate.

  Matt entered the office with an opened notepad anticipating a new project order.

  J.T. motioned for Matt to take a seat and said, “I’m going to buy a software program that is parasite to any host program that requires long term visual contact with the user and multiple sessions of use. Right now it is running on a language tutorial program; ‘Learn to speak Mandarin’.” Matt took notes as J.T. continued. “The parasite allows user information to be extracted, classified into special groups, and targeted by specialized messaging depending on the program administrator’s instructions. The majority of the users are simply learning Mandarin. The groups that are getting special messages are tracked by the system and classified as ‘ready’ when they have completed the hypnotic process and open to a dissociative suggestion.”

  J.T. smiled at the puzzled expression on Matt’s face. “This will make sense in a minute. These ‘special’ classification users are sent hypnotic messages while using the program. The messages become so imbedded in the user’s minds that the program can trigger the user to view an instruction video and obey it while in a dissociative state. The user will have no knowledge of why they did what they did. Once the user has received the dissociative task assignment the message program separates from the host program and disappears from the user’s devices without trace.”

  Matt leaned back. “Can you give me an example?”

  J.T. told him of the three subjects that walked into a homicide office and confessed to a murder they didn’t commit.

  Matt smiled. “When will you have it?”

  “I need you to meet with the developer and get everything we need. It’ll be soon.”

  Matt nodded and stood. “Sounds great.”

  J. T. watched Matt walk from the office and shut the door behind him. He could tell from Matt’s reaction that he wasn’t convinced the program could be used to their benefit. J.T. was certain. In fact, the more he thought about the possibilities the more he wanted it.

  Today was a perfect example. He had received a notification from his phone that $300,000.00 had been wired to his account this morning. The job was in Indy. His agreement with the international organized crime Family was that he would be paid in advance for his hit services. It was troublesome enough to worry that someday law enforcement would find a way to trace those payments to him. It was a constant struggle to keep money hidden. His security company was legit; his clients weren’t.

  For years he had provided specialized ‘hit’ services to the Family as a side line to the security services. His access to data ensured few surprises and he enjoyed the killing. Time was not on his side. Sooner or later something would go wrong. Law enforcement was increasingly utilizing technology making each new hit riskier. Derrick’s program would solve the problem of him being tied to any future hit. He would soon own the perfect alibi.

  J.T.’s deal with the Family meant that he could return the money or accept the hit order. While he had the option to refuse an order, he was very aware that doing so would damage his relationship. J.T. was an unpopular necessity for the Family. Someone had to be capable of protecting their secrets from Government devices. The reality of his position was that because he was the Family secret keeper, nobody trusted him.

  He dialed his Family contact. “Send me the order.”

  A few moments passed before J.T.’s screen displayed a picture and bio. J.T. hit print and watched as the e-mail erased itself from his computer. He grabbed the page from his printer. J.T. recognized the picture and bio. Nelson Peaks. An Indianapolis politician that had been making noise about ridding the city of unsavory influences. In reality, Mr. Peaks, was the worst of the lot. He viewed his new high profile celebrity as protection from the Family. Months ago he simply began refusing to pay the Family’ their fair share of his receipts from his restaurant businesses.

  Nelson Peaks was a pig. A smart pig, but a pig just the same. It would be a pleasure putting a bullet in his brain.

  ******

  Derrick had left the office in such a rush that Jason was convinced something sinister was happening. Derrick was a programming genius and his background in psychology practically guaranteed that the parasite program would work as designed. It didn’t take a genius to see the commercial value of Derrick’s program. Jason felt a surge of power thinking about controlling unsuspecting subjects and ordering them to do his bidding. Was that what Derrick was doing? Or had Derrick sold the program to someone else?

  Jason began to methodically copy every file of Derrick’s new program. It was like an octopus. Tendrils reached from the main program to hypnotic message screens to videos to report notifications. Derrick was more skilled than he thought. Select groups had even been vetted through the FBI’s data bases undetected.

  He was convinced that the cell number he had found on Derrick’s phone belonged to Derrick’s potential buyer. If Derrick or his buyer somehow screwed up and led the authorities to their company, Jason was confident he had covered his tracks. He had been meticulously careful to only run their ‘legal’ businesses on his office computer. His other activities had always been done on a third office server using Derrick’s security I.D. codes. Jason wasn’t going back to jail.

  As he watched the progress bar of the download, he couldn’t help but daydream about the new riches that would be his from this gold mine. His imagination raced with prospective buyers; good guys, bad guys, governments, terrorist groups. The possibilities were endless. It would take very few programming changes to make this his own. All he had to do was remain careful.

  ******

  Derrick let himself into Heather’s apartment, mumbled a greeting to her private nurse and opened Heather’s bedroom door. Her eyes were closed and her skin pallor was grey. For a moment he feared she had passed. The dialysis machine pumped away next to her bed. Each beep of the machine costing Derrick a hundred dollars.

  He sat on the metal chair next to her bed. He wanted so badly to tell her he had the money for her surgery. He was close. So close. Heather opened her eyes and smiled.

  “Dad. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

  Derrick swallowed and tried to keep his voice from shaking. Heather sounded so weak. “I came to tell you that any day now we can schedule your surgery.”

  Heather smiled, “Thank you, Dad.” She knew her father was in financial ruin from her medical bills. She suspected he was merely trying to keep her spirits up in hopes that a donor would surface. In any event, she was at peace with her probable fate. Her only fear was how her dad would survive.

  ******

  J.T. parked across from the Blue Bistro and watched as a steady stream of people entered the restaurant. Business was good. Nelson Peaks should have stuck to his deal. Getting greedy gets you dead. J.T. twisted the silencer to his pistol and tucked it under his car seat. He dialed the number for Nelson and wa
ited.

  “Hello?”

  “Nelson? This is J.T. I’m told your memory is giving you problems.”

  There was a long pause and then Nelson said, “Look, ain’t nothin’ wrong with my memory but I got some information you might want. When can you come to Indy?”

  J.T. smiled as he watched Nelson exit the side door, his phone tight to his head.

  “Look to your right. I’m in the black sedan.”

  Nelson nearly pissed himself. He whipped his head around and saw J.T. smiling at him from across the street. Could he run? Nelson’s heart started pounding and his breathing labored just thinking about running. He couldn’t run fifteen feet. He started to slowly walk towards J.T.’s car. His only hope was to cut a deal.

  He sat in the passenger seat and mentally prepared his speech. J.T. reached under his seat for his pistol and pointed it at Nelson. “Give me your piece. Slowly.”

  Nelson held both palms up releasing the pungent odor of sweat from his arm pits. “I don’t carry, J.T.”

  J.T. kept his pistol pointed at Nelson as he pulled the car from the curb and steered it around the corner.

  “Bad decision number two.”

  They rode several blocks before Nelson blurted, “I know something you’ll find very valuable.”

  J.T. pulled the car into the parking lot of the city’s largest green space park. “Talk.”

  Nelson took his first normal breath. J.T. seemed willing to deal. “I want your word that if you like what I tell ya, you’ll square things for me with the family.”

  J.T. lowered the pistol to his lap and smiled, “Let’s hear what you have.”

  “Lucas. Lucas Costellano. He wants the family to give him Chicago and cut you out.”

  It was well known that J.T. and Lucas were not friends. J.T. shook his head, “You call that news? No wonder you’re on the wrong list.”

  “Listen! Just listen…please. Lucas told some crazy professor to hook you into buying some computer program that hypnotizes people. Does this sound right so far?”