Justice Mission. Lynette EasonЧитать онлайн книгу.
who was she to say it was a bad idea? He was right. They were different people with different lives, but she’d been ten years old when their mother had left and she’d taken on the role of mother figure for Trey. For the past fourteen years, he’d looked at her that way. And now he wanted her to just step aside while he made an important decision without discussing it? A small part of her reminded herself that he was technically an adult.
“But I’m the one who attended the parent/teacher conferences when Dad couldn’t get off work,” she muttered. “I’m the one who fixed his snacks and washed his clothes and held him when he got his heart broken by the girl who dumped him his sophomore year of high school.”
Stop it. Let it go for now and do your job.
Sophie removed the black tablecloth from the supply closet in the hallway, then hurried back toward the auditorium, her mind tuned in to the graduation details now.
She pushed through the auditorium door to the right of the stage and stumbled to a halt. A man in a baseball cap and sunglasses stood next to the podium with Chief Jameson’s red remarks folder open.
“Excuse me, what are you doing?” Sophie asked. He’d frozen for a slight second when she entered but closed the folder as she strode toward him. Her low heels clicked on the wooden steps and rang through the empty room. She approached him, intent on rescuing Jordan’s notes if need be. “The ceremony doesn’t start for another forty-five minutes. Did you need help with something?”
“Ah. No.” He turned toward her. “Thanks, but—” He kept his head lowered and she couldn’t make out a thing about his features.
A little niggle of fear curled in her belly and she remembered the loud noise, the feeling of someone watching her. She stopped so suddenly, she actually slid a couple more inches on the wood floor. Had he been in the auditorium the whole time? Watching her? Waiting for her to leave so he could look through Jordan’s folder?
No, of course not. She was being silly.
“But?” She encouraged him to finish his statement even while she could feel his laser-like stare shooting at her from behind the dark glasses. “Were you looking for something in the folder? It’s just notes for a speech.”
Once again unease shook her. Maybe she wasn’t being so silly after all. Something wasn’t right with this.
Get away from him.
Goose bumps pebbled her arms, and she turned to run. His left hand shot out and closed around her right bicep as his right hand came up, fingers wrapped around the grip of a gun. Sophie screamed when he placed the barrel of the weapon against her head. “Shut up,” he hissed. “Cooperate, and I might let you live.”
A gun. He had a gun pointed at her temple. “What are you doing? Why are you doing this? I don’t have any money on me.” Her shaky voice tumbled from trembling lips. She clamped them down, fighting for control.
His grip tightened. “Go.”
Go? “Where?”
“Out the side door and to the parking lot. Now.”
“Why don’t you go, and I’ll forget this ever happened?”
“Too late for that. You’re coming with me. Now, move!”
“You’re kidnapping me?” She squeezed the words out, trying to breathe through her terror.
“I said shut up! I’m not going to prison because of you!”
Still keeping his fingers tight around her upper arm, he gave her a hard shove and Sophie stumbled down the steps of the podium, his grip the only thing that kept her from landing on her face.
Her captor aimed her toward the door, and she had no choice but to follow. Heart thundering in her chest, her gaze jerked around the empty room. No help there. Maybe someone would be in the parking lot?
He pushed the silver bar and the steel door swung out. The gun moved from her head to dig into the center of her back, propelling her out onto the asphalt. His other hand snagged the loose bun at the nape of her neck, yanking her head sideways.
She cried out even while she squinted against the glare of the bright morning sun. Normally, her penchant for being early averted a lot of things that could go wrong and usurp her daily schedule. Today, it had placed her in the hands of a dangerous man—and an empty parking lot in Jackson Heights. Where was everyone?
Think, Sophie, think!
A K-9 SUV turned in and she caught a glimpse of the driver. Officer Luke Hathaway sat behind the wheel of the SUV. “Luke!”
“Shut up!” Her captor jerked her toward a brown sedan with a glance over his shoulder. His grip didn’t loosen until he got to the driver’s side of the vehicle. “Open the door!”
No way. With a burst of strength, she jabbed back with her left elbow. A yell burst from him along with a string of curses. She slipped from his grip for a brief second until he slammed his weapon against the side of her head.
She screamed as pain raced through her and stars danced, threatening to send her into the approaching blackness. Her captor opened the door and shoved her inside before she could gather her wits. She landed halfway on the middle console and halfway in the passenger seat with the gearshift digging into her hip. Head pounding, heart thudding, the blackness faded and she cried out once again as he gave her another hard push, forcing her awkwardly into the passenger seat.
The door slammed.
“Sophie!”
She heard Luke call her name and tried to ignore the nausea climbing into the back of her throat as she grabbed for the passenger-door handle. Her captor shot out a hand and grasped her by the hair. “Stay still, or I’ll shoot you now.”
The car roared to life and spun out of the lot.
* * *
Luke stared in horror as he realized he’d just witnessed Sophie being kidnapped. He pressed the gas and the SUV shot after the fleeing sedan.
Bruno, his K-9 partner seated safely in his spot in the back, barked. “I know, boy,” Luke murmured to the German shepherd. “I’m going after her.” Luke grabbed his radio. “Officer needs backup. I have 207 in progress. Repeat, kidnapping in progress. Sophie Walters, Chief Jameson’s assistant, is the victim. In pursuit of a brown Buick sedan, license plate Eddie-Larry-Peter-four-seven-five-eight. Closing in on pursuit position.” He gave his location and kept a watch for other cars and innocent bystanders.
Unfortunately, Sophie’s kidnapper didn’t have any such concern. The man swerved to the right and around a parked car, then up on the sidewalk. People scattered like ants. A trash can bounced off the windshield and Luke yanked the wheel to the left to avoid it. Two police cruisers fell in behind him.
Bruno barked again. Luke knew how the dog felt. “Going as fast as I can, buddy.” He lifted the radio once again. “Just hit Ninety-Fourth, heading straight for Roosevelt Avenue. Need someone to head him off.” Luke wanted to gun the engine, but he didn’t dare. The streets weren’t packed, but enough innocent people were there to keep him careful.
In and out of traffic, the man drove, even in the wrong lane several times. Luke stayed with him. Backup stayed behind Luke. “He just took a right on Broadway. I’m guessing he’s heading for the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. Repeat, he’s heading toward the BQE.”
Luke received confirmation that officers were en route to that area. “Come on, come on. Slow down. Run out of gas. Anything.”
But the man kept going. Fortunately, Luke’s siren caught people’s attention so that they moved out of the way. Sure enough, the man merged from Broadway onto the BQE. “Heading in the direction of the Triborough Bridge. Somebody stop this guy, but be careful, he’s got a kidnapping victim with him. Sophie Walters. Civilian employee of the NYPD.”
“Copy