Page 57 of The Attercop

He turned his attention to Jules. He undid the gag from her mouth and indicated that she should be quiet. He gently stroked the side of her face.

“Now, we’re all going to have some fun.”

The Attercop guessed that he had thirty to forty-five minutes before Declan came back around. He was feeling woozy. He needed some air, and he wasn’t the only one—Jules was beginning to slump. He took her outside, leaning her against the wall of the house.

“Stay here and don’t try to move,” he ordered.

She slowly nodded. She had obviously taken in more of the isoflurane than he had.

The Attercop opened the back gate to the rear lane where he had parked his van. He got all the doors open and came back for Jules, moving her inside the vehicle and strapping her in. She didn’t make a sound, although her eyes were open. He needed Jules to be awake. This was an important part of the plan.

The Attercop headed back downstairs, pulling a small black cloth sack out of his pocket and fitting it over Declan’s head, tying it around his neck. If the detective did manage to wake too soon, The Attercop wanted to ensure that Declan couldn’t see anything. The grand reveal had to be done at a precise moment.

His first attempt to hoist Declan into a fireman’s carry failed. Hogtying his hands and feet made Declan impossible to wrap around his shoulders. He cut the rope and prayed that the eighty-five kilos of muscle didn’t wake before there was a chance to resecure him. Then there was the difficulty of moving the man up a flight of stairs. The Attercop drew on all his strength and, in two short bursts, managed to get Declan safely stowed away. He tied him back up, then took another fresh-air break before closing the rear door of the house and returning to the vehicle. He drove away.

The Attercop seriously hoped the chemical didn’t do any permanent damage to Declan, although it might be to his advantage if the isoflurane had killed off some of Hunt’s brain cells. It might make him easier to control.

By the time The Attercop pulled up at his destination, Declan had started to rally. He weakly struggled at his bonds. His muffled cries seeped through the face mask.

I should have taken the time to gag him. The sooner he got him inside, the better, although there was no one around to hear the detective’s cursing. Just in case though, The Attercop reached for the plastic bag, pulled out a rag, and placed it over the hood on Declan’s face. He slumped once more.

“You’re a monster. Too much of something like that might kill him,” Jules said.

The Attercop glared at her. “I just have to keep him under control. If he’s fully conscious and not properly restrained, he’ll be a beast. Now be a good girl and help me get him inside. And if you help me, you will be properly rewarded.”

She scowled at him, then cautiously got up and out of the van and met him at its back door. The two of them managed to get Declan out, and carried him the short distance along the alleyway, through the door and down the stairs to the basement.

“We’ll set him there,” The Attercop instructed.

He positioned Declan on a wheeled table, then removed the temporary bindings from the detective and clamped his ankles and wrists to the wooden surface.

“You’ve really come prepared. Do this often?” Jules asked, then moved to a spot on a nearby bed and lay down. He could see that her eyes were still glazed. The Attercop would let her rest for a moment. First, he needed to tend to Declan.

He removed the sack that covered the detective’s face. Declan was out cold. The Attercop filled a bowl with warm water and took out a clean cloth from a cupboard under a nearby sink. He gently wiped the blood away from the injuries where Declan had struggled when his hands and feet were tied together. The Attercop gently kissed him on the forehead. “I’m going to take good care of you, don’t you worry. Before you die, I’m going to let you experience something that goes far beyond what you ever dreamed was possible.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Charlie had spent over an hour trying to determine if anyone had seen Jules leave the bar. Neither the doorman or the bartender had seen her depart, but there were several possible exits, and the place was crowded so it would have been easy for someone to take her.

Charlie was losing valuable time so he decided to head back to the office. He jumped in his car and raced home. When he got back, everything was quiet, the lights were off, and the upstairs apartment was empty. Maybe Declan had stayed late at Bar-None for a few drinks after he’d visited with Mickey and Angel.

Charlie checked his voicemail from the office phone in case Jules had tried to reach him, but there were no messages.

He called Declan’s cell.

Please answer. Please!

It went to voicemail so he left a brief message. “Hi, Declan. It’s me. Call me. I need your help.”

He drummed his fingers on his desk then punched in another number on the phone.

On the fourth ring, Mickey answered. “Bar-None.”

“Mickey. It’s me, Charlie.”

“Hey, Charlie. What can I do for you?”

“By any chance is Declan still there?”