Page 95 of Night Prey
C’mon. C’mon. C’mon. Where are you?
Londyn approached the intersection.
Ian brought up the address of Flagg’s new house in a map program on his phone. He zoomed in on a photo of the Flagg’s new place that was on Junior’s closet wall. “Junior wrote the date on the pictures he’d taken of his parents’ new house. They were dated just a few days before he died. All the walls are framed, but only the front is sheathed. No approach from the back due to a steep hill and trees.”
“Then he’s likely watching for us to come after him from the only way in,” Londyn said.
“He might even have security cameras on the property and get alerts on his phone when anyone gets near. We’ll have to be careful of that.”
“I’ll call for backup and tell them to hold at a distance until we give them the signal to move in. Don’t want them spooking Flagg.” Ian made the call and gave specific instructions.
After he ended the call, Londyn glanced at him. “Any rear access? Could we surprise him if we came from that direction?”
“Not with the steep hill. We would need heavy equipment to lift us up to the house.” He enlarged the picture even more. “There’s an articulating boom lift below the house. It can reach the house and might still be there.”
She flashed him a wide-eyed look. “You’re not thinking of going up in that, are you?”
“Absolutely. If there’s someone on site with keys or even forgot the keys in the machine.” Ian considered the plan and believed it was their best chance in saving Malone. He glanced at his watch. “The workers would’ve likely just gotten off work so maybe someone is still there.”
“Wouldn’t Flagg hear the boom?”
“There’s an off chance that he might hear the diesel startup, but he won’t hear the boom since it’s much quieter. He shouldn’t hear it. Especially in this downpour.” At least, Ian hoped that with his limited experience with these kinds of booms that his opinion was right.
Please. Please, let me be making the right decision. Malone’s life depends on me, and I can’t lose her. I just can’t.
Malone kicked and scratched as Flagg hauled her from his truck up the steps of his giant new house. Rain pummeled them, and heavy Oregon clay soil sucked at their feet. But Flagg kept his footing, even with her fight. She gave up for a moment to catch her breath and noticed four houses were being built on this new street, all in various stages of construction. The street had one temporary light pole, but the houses were dark and silent. The workers would’ve just gone home for the day.
Flagg could kill her and dispose of her body. The foundation was already in place, but he could pour a concrete patio. Maybe his other victims were buried in concrete in his prior homes. If she got free, she would make sure Ian searched the properties.
Ifshe got free.That was the obstacle. Her hands were tied in front of her, the end of the long rope in Flagg’s hands. His eyes glazed with a craziness she’d never witnessed, not even in crazed fathers and husbands who wanted their wives back. Never in her wildest dreams did she guess Junior’s father was a serial killer.
He dragged her across the plywood floor to the back of the house, where the framing had been completed but was still open to the elements. A large patio abutting the house was also framed with two-by-fours. Rebar crisscrossed half of the area just waiting for the concrete pour. The other half still needed the rebar.
Flagg spun to look at her, a gleam in his eyes. “What do you think of this as a resting place? You’ll be overlooking the Portland skyline, and there are glorious sunrises and beautiful sunny days.”
She could easily imagine him digging a hole there, dumping her in, and covering her up. Workers would rebar over her, and the concrete would seal her grave.
She shuddered, and tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry to manage it.
His eyes narrowed. “Not that it matters much to me what you think. It’s whatIthink that’s important. Always has been. Always will be.”
She searched the darkness for a way to escape, but she found only a sharper ravine than the one her car had plunged over. Scrub, bushes, and trees covered the steep drop-off just beyond the patio. She could hurl herself over the framing, but that would mean certain death. Remaining where she was standing meant certain death too.
The only question she needed to contemplate now was which way she wanted to die?
22
Ian grabbed his rifle and earbuds from the glove box so he could keep in contact with Londyn as she put on the brakes at the small clearing by the boom lift. He burst out of the car, ignored the rain and lifted his rifle to search the back of the house. A man and woman were standing there. Their backs were to Ian, so he couldn’t identify them, but he had to assume it was Flagg and Malone. His heart soared at seeing her alive. He’d arrived on time.
Maybe.
Ian had to act now. He couldn’t just shoot the man. A police officer’s job was to maintain life at all times, even if the life he was maintaining was a serial killer’s.
Ian had to get up there and fast.
He spotted a truck parked in the clearing. A man sat behind the wheel, the light from his phone glowing on his face. Ian dug out his credentials and charged for the vehicle. The guy was so involved in his phone he didn’t look up. Ian pounded on the window, and the man startled. Ian held out his creds, and the man lowered his window.
“Do you have a key for that boom lift? Do you know how to operate it?” Ian’s words tumbled out fast as he took in the name Vern embroidered on the man’s denim shirt.
