William Bernhardt - Death Row

But where was Hayley Bennett?

She slid over the counter and entered the kitchen. So this was where it happened, she thought. The meat, the potatoes, and ten thousand tons of fat. She quickly scanned the grills, the deep-frying apparatuses. There were lots of stainless-steel cabinets, but surely they were too small to conceal a body. A live body anyway.

There was another room in the back. A bathroom? she wondered. A break room for employees? She couldn’t be sure. But at this point, it looked like her best shot. She quickened her pace…

She didn’t see the pot handle extending from the edge of the stove in time. She ran into it, knocking it off the countertop. It clattered to the floor with a sound that was positively ear-shattering. She jumped into the air, startled, then swept up the pot and clamped it to her chest.

Had anyone heard? How could anyone not have heard? If anyone was here, they would now know they were not alone.

She detected a soft rustling sound coming from the back room. Did she dare? She had no idea what she might be getting into. This could be the dumbest thing she had done in her entire life.

No, the dumbest would be taking all these risks and then backing off when it looked as if she might find something. She had to press on.

Slowly, cautiously, she turned the doorknob. The light was off.

She took a deep breath and flicked the switch.

Hayley Bennett was lying on the floor, pinned beneath the sink. And it was clear that she was in great pain.

Christina rushed forward. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Christina McCall. I work with Ben Kincaid.”

Bennett’s face was contorted with agony. “How did you find me?”

“I’ll explain later. First we need to get you out of here.” She gently pulled the woman forward, trying not to hurt her-then saw that she had been handcuffed to the pipe beneath the sink.

“I don’t suppose you know where the key is?” Christina asked.

Bennett shook her head. Tears flew from her cheeks.

“Thought not.”

“Rothko will be back any minute.”

“I figured as much.” Christina examined the pipe. It connected the drain of the basin to the wall. Probably the outside plumbing. It was made of sturdy metal, stainless steel, most likely. But she noticed that the plaster on the wall was flaking.

She pulled on the pipe with all her strength. It gave. Just a bit, but it gave. On close inspection, she saw that the pipe was connected to the wall, not bolted to another pipe. If she could separate the pipe from the wall, it was just possible she could slide the handcuff off the broken end and get Dr. Bennett out of here.

Christina wedged her back against the side wall, then pressed her feet against the pipe. She wished she had her shoes now, but there was no time to go back for them.

“This is probably going to hurt,” she said.

Bennett remained silent, but her eyes spoke volumes. Do it.

Christina pulled back, gritted her teeth, and kicked the pipe with all her might. It moved, but it did not break.

“Do it again,” Bennett said, her eyes and face crunched shut. Christina was certain the impact had caused her considerable pain. “Quickly.”

Christina gave it everything she had. She hit the pipe hard, but it didn’t give any more than it had before.

“Again,” Bennett said, water streaming down her cheeks. “Hit it again.”

Christina started to do just that-but stopped when a creaking sound told her that someone had opened the tiny room’s door.

“Who are you?” growled the man in the doorway. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

Ben, Mike, and Sergeant Baxter stood in the center of what was left of Hayley Bennett’s office. They’d managed to put out the fire, but smoke still filled the small area so densely it was difficult to breathe, and ash and soot permeated the room. Her filing cabinets were incinerated. Even beyond the fire damage, the place looked as if Hurricane Hilda had blown through. Paper littered the floor. A coffee table was broken, a bookshelf was upended, a lamp was smashed.

“Some kind of struggle took place here,” Baxter said, announcing what was already all too plain. “Before the fire.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, “and judging by her absence, Dr. Bennett lost.”

“Not to mention that man we found unconscious in the entryway. I’m guessing he walked in at the wrong time.”

“What about Christina?” Ben asked. The urgency in his voice was unmistakable. “Did Rothko get her, too?”

Mike pondered a moment. “If he had, wouldn’t her car still be outside?”

“Maybe. Unless he did something with it.”

“He hasn’t had time.”

“Do you think she might be with him?” Baxter asked. “Or following him? I know that seems insane, but-”

“I don’t think it sounds insane at all. Knowing Christina, it’s all too possible. Mike, we’ve got to do something. We’ve got to find them.”

“I know,” he said grimly. “But I don’t know where they are. Baxter and I have checked his home, his club, his gym, his office. Even the corporate dining room. We’ve been everywhere he might be expected to be.”

“There must be another place,” Ben said, “that we haven’t thought of yet.”

“Easy to say-but where?”

“I don’t know where!” Ben shouted. “But we can’t waste any more time. We have to find her!”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Baxter held up her hands. “Let’s all stay calm and think about this rationally. If you were Rothko, and you had killed two people-maybe more-and you wanted to kill again, where would you go?”

Mike grabbed a cushion and flung it onto the sofa. “How the hell should I know where he would go? He killed the last two women in their homes-or left them there, anyway. But for some reason, he seems to have taken Dr. Bennett away with him.”

“And there are no signs that she’s dead, either. Maybe he didn’t have time to set it up. Maybe that man we found unconscious intruded. Maybe he needs to keep Bennett alive, at least for a while. Maybe he just needed to stash her somewhere till he had time to kill her.”

“Too many maybes,” Mike said. “This isn’t helping.”

Baxter ignored him. “So he needs a place that’s quiet, secluded. Someplace that can be secured. Someplace no one else would go. But it can’t be too far away. The longer he’s on the road, the more likely he’ll be caught or she’ll get away.”

Ben nodded. “That makes sense.”

“So,” she continued, “we need a place that’s in or near Tulsa, empty or deserted, that Rothko would know about and would able to-”

“I know where he could be,” Mike said suddenly. His eyes were dark and fixed. “In fact, I’d bet on it.”

“Where?” Ben pleaded.

“The last place on earth I want to return to.”

“And that is?”

Mike was already out the door. “We don’t have time for chitchat. I’ll show you.”

“Gabriel,” Dr. Bennett said. Her voice was pleading. “Please don’t hurt her.”

Aravena stared at them, his face stony.

“Gabriel, listen to me. I know you better than anyone. Better than you know yourself.”

“You gave me drugs,” he said. His voice was cold and hollow. “You tried to turn me into something I wasn’t. Something weak and hideous.”

“I tried to help you, Gabriel. I tried to save your life.”

Aravena turned his attention back to Christina. “What are you doing?” he repeated. His fists clenched.

“What does it look like? I’m trying to get her free so we can escape before your pal returns.” Her honesty was a stall for time. As she spoke, she scanned the room for potential weapons. A scrub brush? A toilet plunger? Somehow she didn’t think that was going to do it.