Elizabeth Stewart - Harm’s Way

A couple more minutes went by and Harm checked his watch again. Why the hell did women always take so long in the bathroom?

Jan appeared at the other table but didn’t sit down. Instead, she threw Harm a panicked glance and tilted her head ever so slightly toward the rest rooms. Picking up her jacket, she moved back down the hall. After waiting a few seconds, he stood, stretched and followed her, trying to appear casual and unhurried.

He found her just around the corner, pretending to use the pay phone.

“She’s gone,” Jan blurted out, anxiety and fear making her voice a harsh whisper.

Harm felt his heart miss a beat and his blood go cold.

“What do you mean, ‘She’s gone’?” he growled, leaning down into the smaller agent’s face.

The young woman flinched and went pale.

“She…she called the waitress over,” the woman managed to stammer, “paid the check, got up and came down here. I thought she’d gone to the ladies’ room so I waited a few seconds and then followed her. I didn’t want to make her suspicious. When I got there, the door to one of the two stalls was closed so I went in the other one and pretended to use the toilet. When I came out, it was some other woman.

“I got back out here as quickly as I could and then realized there’s an exit up there, just before the ladies’ room door. It leads to the side of the building. Nate’s out checking the parking lot and the woods now. The trees come up to within about fifty feet of the door.”

“Okay,” Harm breathed, trying to think, “she can’t have gone far. Go on out the front and scout the street. Make like you’re window-shopping or something.

“I’ll go out and help Nate. We’ll meet back at my car in five minutes. My radio and cell phone are packed in my bags. She didn’t want me to bring them and I couldn’t take a chance of her spotting them. If you see anything, contact Nate on his radio. Now get going.”

Jan scurried away and Harm almost ran down the narrow hall to the door, opening about midway down the side of the building. On his left, down near the rear corner, sat two big, green dumpsters, one open, one closed. To his right, part of the gravel parking lot and the road beyond. Directly in front of him and curving as far as he could see, a stand of tall pines against a pale blue sky.

It would be so easy he thought. Pretend to be coming or going to the men’s room, hanging by the side door. A gun jammed in her back, a hand clamped over her mouth, “make a sound and I’ll kill you,” a car parked just outside the door. Gone in a matter of seconds.

But how could this have happened? He’d watched the road and had seen nothing; there hadn’t been a car parked here when they’d pulled up. He was sure of that. No one could have known where they were going, where they’d stop.

A figure emerging out of the trees riveted his attention, bringing his hand instinctively to his shoulder holster before his brain remembered that too sat in the SUV, packed in his bags. But it didn’t matter because he recognized Nate, jogging quickly toward him.

“Nothing,” he said simply, panting to catch his breath.

“It wouldn’t make any sense, anyway. He’s not going to drag her into the woods to do whatever he’s got in mind. He’d want his own place, his own sweet time.” Harm wiped his hand across his dry mouth and tried to reason rationally but all that came to his mind were terrified eyes and a cruel, victorious smirk.

“You want me to call for reinforcements?” Nate asked cautiously.

“No, not yet. Let’s see what we can find out first. Jan’s gone to check out the street. Go back to your car, get on the radio and notify everyone we’ve got on the road, behind and ahead, to keep an eye out for her. He’s probably got her in the front passenger seat so he can gloat. Tell her all the romantic things he’s got planned for her. He won’t be expecting us to have people posted so we might get lucky. I’ll meet you and Jan at my car in about three minutes.”

Nate nodded and hurried toward the street.

Acid and adrenaline pumped into Harm’s already overcrowded stomach and churned with his breakfast, knotting his insides. He felt a stab of pain but he pushed it out of his mind. There couldn’t be anything in his brain except Elgin. Especially not the pictures trying to seep around his mental barricades…images of what this maniac would no doubt do should he slip through their fingers once more.

Pushing everything away but the search, he waited a few more seconds and then followed Nate, rounding the corner and striding toward the sidewalk.

Jan strolled casually down the street about a block up to his right, a slightly bored tourist lady killing some time but actually scanning cars, license plates, people and store interiors. After a half-hour walk through this sleepy little burg, Harm knew she would be able to draw a detailed map of the place including the location and description of every car and person she saw.

On the other side of the parking lot from his car, Nate sat in a blue minivan, the back crammed with what looked like camping gear, speaking on a cell phone. The windows were up and the casual observer would think, from the calm expression on his face the call nothing more than checking road conditions or conversing with a friend. After all, even in a small place like this, a cell phone would not bring any undue attention.

The only other activity he could see centered at the gas station to his left, a national brand, big and modern for such a small town but where two men were filling up their vehicles, a big new pick up and an older, dark green sedan. He couldn’t see anyone else in the vehicles.

Keeping his pace normal and even, Harm walked toward the station. The pickup, on the far side of the island, faced the direction they’d come from. It didn’t seem reasonable that a man would throw his kidnap victim in the back of an open truck but he couldn’t take the chance.

Coming up to the island, he pulled a couple of paper towels from the dispenser, leaning over slightly so he could peer into the truck bed, empty except for a spare tire. The driver glanced questioningly at him and Harm smiled a little, bringing the towels to his shirt and pretending to rub.

“Breakfast,” he explained sheepishly. “Nice truck.”

“Thanks,” the man replied and turned back to the pump.

From where he stood, Harm could also see into the sedan, empty too. But he had no way of knowing what…or who…might be in the trunk. The driver stood in the station paying for his gas and Harm couldn’t get a good look at him through the glare of the sun shining through the window.

Tossing the towels in the trashcan, he circled behind the car, noting make, model and license plate. He bent down, as if to look at something on the ground and listened carefully for any noise coming from the trunk, but he heard nothing..

Inside, the man signed his credit card slip. Good , Harm thought, it will give us a name and address should we need it. He also had two bottles of soda and six assorted candy bars.

Harm moved to a rack of maps and guidebooks just inside the door and began scanning them as if looking for something. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the man as the clerk put his purchases in a brown paper bag. Medium height, broad shoulders, Butch-cut brown hair, light blue, short-sleeved tee shirt, faded light blue jeans.

As he reached the door, Harm moved slightly, bumping his back into the other man’s chest. Immediately, he turned to the other man’s face, just inches from his own. Long, horse face, dull eyes the color of his jeans, no more than twenty-five he guessed.

“Sorry,” Harm told him.