The Night Monster_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [42]
Linderman returned to the line. “His name is Officer Marc Georgian.”
“Thanks. I’ll call you right back.”
I folded the phone and slipped it into my left pocket while drawing my Colt from my right. I stepped into the first floor of the garage with Buster glued to my leg. A sharp breeze was coming off the ocean and tiny particles of sand tore into my skin.
“Officer Georgian!” I called out.
“Yes,” the voice replied weakly.
“My name’s Jack Carpenter, and I’m an ex-cop. Are you hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me where you are?”
“Between two cars.”
“I can’t see you. Can you signal to me where you are?”
“I can’t move.”
“Before I come in there, I need to ask you a question. What’s your first name?”
“Marc.”
“All right. I’m sending my dog ahead of me. His name is Buster.”
“Okay.”
I nudged Buster with my knee. “Go find the policeman.”
Nose to the ground, Buster cautiously entered the garage, and did a serpentine route around the cars, then suddenly darted between a Malibu and a station wagon. I followed him with my Colt clutched in front of my body. The sound of the ocean was magnified inside the garage, and the sound of crashing waves echoed around me.
I entered the space between the Malibu and the station wagon. Officer Georgian lay face up on the pavement, a tanned, muscular guy dressed in the familiar blue shorts and bright white shirt of the Hollywood bicycle cops. His face was battered, his eyes swollen and blackened. I knelt beside him.
“Who did this?” I asked.
“I don’t know. He jumped me from behind.”
Georgian was bleeding from the nose and mouth and his voice was weak. Placing my Colt on the ground, I pulled out my cell phone, and started to dial 911.
“No cell service inside the garage,” Georgian whispered.
Picking up my Colt, I stood up.
“I’ll be right back.”
Georgian blinked, saying nothing. He was going into shock, and would die if I didn’t act fast. Buster was lying beside him with a concerned look on his face. I told my dog to stay, then ran out of the garage, and made the call from the sidewalk. An automated operator answered, and put me on hold.
A shadow appeared above my head, blocking out the sun. I looked straight up. A vending machine was falling from the second floor of the garage, the words Everything Goes Better With Coke! rushing down at me. I dove into the grass.
The machine hit the spot where I’d been standing with an enormous crash, then toppled over. Brown liquid poured out of the cracked front glass like blood. I stared at the spot where I’d just been standing, seeing my after-image lying broken and dying on the pavement. I’d been spared again.
Tires screeched inside the garage, snapping me back to reality. A vehicle was racing down from one of the upper levels. Sara’s abductors were making their escape.
My call went through. I tried to give the operator the address. My voice was trembling, and I heard the operator tell me to take a deep breath, and calm down. She was trying to be nice, but it had the opposite effect. I couldn’t have calmed down if my life had depended on it. Folding my phone, I ran back into the garage.
On the first floor, a few cars away from where Officer Georgian lay, I positioned myself in front of the exit, and went into a crouch, holding my gun in both hands. The concrete was vibrating, the roar of the getaway vehicle’s engine drawing closer. In a matter of seconds it would be on top of me.
I debated my plan of action. I could shoot out a tire as the vehicle came into range, only there was a chance the driver—who I assumed was Mouse—would lose control and crash. That would be a disaster, for Sara Long would certainly be hurt.
Or I could shoot, miss the tire, and hit Sara. Another disaster.
I lowered the gun.
Shit.
The sound of squealing brakes ripped through the garage. The vehicle had reached ground level, its muffler roaring. It came around the corner, a multicolored Volkswagen van with giant Peace symbols painted on the sides. Mouse was behind the wheel, and I had to give him credit. It was the last kind of vehicle I would have expected