Option to Kill (Nathan McBride 3) (9 page)

That’s when he saw it, directly ahead: the black sedan, its wrecked rear end unmistakable. It cruised past the main driveway from right to left and braked to a stop.

Had the driver seen them? Even though the sedan was several hundred feet away and their immediate area wasn’t well lit, he wasn’t sure. How could that sedan be here? There was no way the driver could possibly know they were in this hotel complex…unless he had a police scanner. Someone from the trolley station could have seen them cross the river and reported it, but if that were true, where were the police?

He grabbed Lauren’s hand and backtracked along the landscaped path with the white benches. “Stay close.”

“What are we doing?”

“The guy who took you is back.”

“How does he know where we are?”

Nathan watched the brake lights wink out as the sedan moved out of his line of sight. He took Lauren off the path into a dark area of landscaping where he could watch the parking lot.

“I’m scared.”

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “He can’t see us.”

Bleed light from the sedan’s headlights grew brighter as it cruised down the opposite side of the U-shaped parking lot. It slowly rounded the corner like a predatory cat.

“Lauren, don’t make a sound.” He crouched next to her, reached into his pocket, and pulled the SIG. Forty feet away, the sedan rolled to a stop.

Chapter 10

Lauren leaned against him.

The tinted passenger window rolled down, revealing a pale smile.

Nathan sensed a malevolent presence reach for them. He squinted and held perfectly still.

The driver stared, also unmoving. When he spoke, it sent a shiver across Nathan’s shoulders.

“You can’t hide forever, sweet Lauren. I’ll find you, and when I do, we’re going to party all…night…long…”

The window rolled back up, and the sedan pulled away.

Nathan put an arm around her. “I won’t let him hurt you, Lauren. Don’t be afraid.”

“How did he find us?”

A sound — the sharp crackle of a police radio — shattered the night silence from somewhere behind. Nathan thought it might have come from the water-feature area. A flashlight beam sweeping the concrete walkway confirmed it.

“Shh…don’t say anything,” he whispered. “Stay close.” They hugged the wall of the building and worked their way deeper into the landscaping. The officer from the trolley station must’ve followed them into the hotel complex.

They couldn’t go out to the parking lot. Lauren’s kidnapper could still be lurking, and he’d already demonstrated his disregard for collateral damage. The approaching cop became Nathan’s immediate concern. From their current position, they were discoverable. They needed to find solid visual cover in a big hurry. A flashlight beam would easily penetrate the landscaping and nail them.

Scanning his surroundings, Nathan saw an opportunity, but it involved some risk. The flashlight came nearer. No choice. He took Lauren’s hand and led her toward the entrance to a restaurant. If the cop swept his flashlight in their direction, they’d be seen. All they needed was a few more seconds.

Just as they reached the restaurant’s entrance, the cop’s radio crackled again. Nathan thought the narrowness of the walkway offered them some visual cover. He looked over his shoulder and pulled the door open.

They passed an empty hostess station. Just ahead, he saw an exit out to a pool area. He hoped they’d find a way over to the registration desk by going that direction. Nathan felt a slight case of claustrophobia; he didn’t like being surrounded by structures. Single-story hotel rooms lined both sides of the pool. He angled toward the far side and picked up their pace a little.

They entered the hotel lobby to find a few people standing in line at the registration desk. He took Lauren out the front door and saw a parked taxi, but its driver was gone. Back inside, Nathan saw a clean-cut man who might fit the bill. Wearing a Chargers ball cap, he sat in a chair near the entrance.

“Is that your cab out front?” Nathan asked in Arabic.

The man’s expression betrayed surprise. Nathan wondered if the reaction was from seeing the scars on his face or from his knowledge of Arabic. Probably both.

Nathan pulled out his wallet and removed a $100 bill. He continued in Arabic, “We need a ride.”

The driver responded in kind. “I’m not available. I’m waiting for someone.”

Nathan pulled two more bills and handed all three to the diver. “We don’t need change
.
”

The driver nodded and took the money.

Outside, Nathan skimmed the immediate area again but didn’t see the sedan. The siren he’d heard earlier was louder and seemed to be coming from the direction of the mall. He knew the police had a description of the sedan from the drive-by shooting. Nathan also believed Lauren’s kidnapper had to know that every cop in the area was looking for a dark sedan with a smashed rear end. Even if the presence of police in the area didn’t concern the guy, the bullet wound to his leg had to be distressing at best and downright life-threatening at worst. Nathan didn’t think Lauren’s kidnapper would hang around the area, but that was what he’d believed earlier, just before they were nearly gunned down on Friars Road.

They slid into the cab, and Nathan thought they just might make it out of here in one piece. Lauren sat close as the cabbie turned the meter on. Nathan saw a small Garmin or TomTom navigation unit attached the windshield but couldn’t tell which brand.

“What language is that?” Lauren asked.

“Arabic.”

“You speak Arabic?”

“Yes. Please head for La Jolla,” he told the driver. “Take eight west to five north.”

He removed the utility belt he’d taken from the security guard. Nathan craned his neck and looked behind as the cabbie pulled onto Hotel Circle North. All clear. No sign of the sedan.

He felt his cell phone vibrate and removed it from his pocket. It was Harvey.

“Sierra charlie.”

“Understood,” Harv said.

“Ten minutes.”

“You got it.”

Nathan ended the call.

“What does that mean?” Lauren asked.

He lowered his voice and looked around for the black sedan. “I’ll tell you later. Do you have anything in your pockets? Anything electronic?”

“No, just a piece of paper. My mom told me to take it from my stepdad’s office. It was hidden. She told me where to find it.”

“Let me see it.”

Nathan unfolded it and held it up in the bleed light from the streetlamps. Below a single name, a list of numbers stared back at him.

“This was in your stepdad’s office?”

“Yes.”

“When did you take this?”

She looked at the driver.

“Last night?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“After the forklift business?”

She nodded.

“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

“I don’t know. I forgot.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you have any idea what these numbers mean?”

“No.”

He studied it a moment longer and came to only the most rudimentary conclusions. The left column was arranged in ascending order, but the other three weren’t. The left-middle column ranged from eighty-five to ninety-five and didn’t seem to have any discernible pattern. The right-middle column started at fifty and increased in value, with one exception — the third row. And the fourth column’s parenthetical numbers looked completely random.

“Where are we going?” Lauren asked.

“My Clairemont house.”

“Can we get something to eat first?”

“Yes.”

Nathan knew a break in conversation would give Lauren a chance to process some of tonight’s action. It had to be tearing her up. She’d seen a crazy amount of violence over the last twenty-four hours.

He thought back to her abductor. The tone of his voice had given Nathan a chill — not an easy thing to do. The guy had sounded like embodied evil. The reference to partying with Lauren “
all night long
” couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than his intent to sexually assault her. That would fit at least part of the MO of a serial killer like the one who’d been murdering the girls. But serial killers tended to be careful control freaks, more prone to ambushes using overwhelming power than to public confrontation. What kind of serial killer would face down his victim
and
her protector? Much less bring along armed backup? No, this guy might be a sick creep, but he had a larger agenda than simply assaulting and killing Lauren.

The cabbie drove the speed limit as he took the I-5 northbound onramp. Nathan checked again and didn’t see any sign of a tail. The closest vehicle was a white Nissan or Toyota, and there weren’t any dark sedans in sight.

“Nobody is following us,” the driver said in English.

“Where are you from?”

“Lebanon.”

“Is your family here?”

“No, my wife and daughters are still there. They’re living with my parents. I’m saving money to bring them all over. It is very expensive.”

“No doubt. I admire what you’re doing. I hope you’re reunited with them soon.”

“I miss my girls. Your daughter’s very beautiful. She has your eyes.”

“Thank you. That’s kind of you to say. Please take the Clairemont Drive exit and head east.”

The driver nodded.

If the driver’s compliment had embarrassed Lauren or made her feel uneasy, she didn’t show it.

“There’s a grocery store about a mile off the freeway on the right,” Nathan said to Lauren. “We’ll grab a sandwich and some other stuff we might need.”

“Can we get pastrami?”

“Absolutely.”

The cab pulled into the retail center, and Nathan asked him to park in the middle of the lot and wait — he didn’t want any other vehicles near their cab.

“Give us five minutes,” he told the cabbie. “Would you like anything?”

“Black coffee, please.”

Nathan looked around the parking lot as they walked toward the entrance. “My house isn’t far from here. We’ll head over there next.” Thinking ahead, he’d ask their driver to drop them off several blocks away. He didn’t like the idea of taking the cab all the way to his front door. Nathan owned two homes in San Diego, one in Clairemont, where he spent the majority of his time, the other in La Jolla, where he’d received Lauren’s text. He felt more comfortable in the Clairemont residence’s low-key environment.

The deli was closed, but they found a refrigerator with premade sandwiches and grabbed a pastrami. Lauren seemed rather subdued. The reality of her situation was probably sinking in. She had to be exhausted, mentally and physically. Overall, he had no complaints about her and again wondered how many kids her age would be as resilient. Before the cab driver had mentioned her eyes, Nathan hadn’t noticed the similarity to his own. But now, as he looked at her, he had to admit they did look eerily identical. He didn’t know how many people with Asian lineage had blue eyes but believed it to be extremely rare. He couldn’t recall seeing anyone like Lauren before, but if he had, he would’ve remembered. Without a doubt, Lauren was beautiful.

As uncomfortable as the thought was, he had to consider the possibility that Lauren could be his daughter. The similarity of their eyes couldn’t be dismissed. He thought back thirteen years, trying to recall if he’d been with any Asian women, and came up blank. At that point in his life, he’d still been recovering from the botched mission that had resulted in his capture and subsequent torture. He hadn’t slept with
any
women during that turbulent time. In fact, he hadn’t slept much at all. He’d been heavily medicated, drifting in and out of chronic depression and despair. There was simply no way Lauren could be his. None. Besides, he didn’t think she was tall enough. He hadn’t been around many kids her age, but if she’d inherited half his genes, she ought to be taller.

Figuring they needed more than just a sandwich, he went back to the registers and grabbed a handheld shopping basket. Lauren asked for an apple juice, saying it was her favorite drink.