MATT DUGGAN - DETECTIVE SERIES

Part VII

“Whoa, take a look at this,” Delia called out, pointing to the address on the office desktop. “This is Sutton’s last known residence out of three per our new location software I installed a few months ago.”

“I see it,” Matt said. Standing behind his assistant and leaning toward the computer screen, his gaze grew more pensive. He took a step back. “Hmm, imagine that.”

Delia turned her head. “Yeah, really … what a co-incidence,” she uttered in a cynical tone. “His current address is only a few miles from the Barton Shipping Main Offices.”

“Along with a group of warehouses used as a primary distribution center, located on the opposite side and down the road a mile or so,” Matt added.

Delia pushed her chair back and stood. “Are you considering that he might … ”

“I believe the cliche is: ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’” Matt interjected.

Delia made a cynical face before continuing: “be using an empty Barton shipping depot to warehouse a kidnapped Holland?”

Matt pressed his lips together and nodded.

“Then you and I are tuned in to the same pondering channel."

Matt smiled. “Let’s gather what we need and set-up surveillance on Sutton. Go ahead and upload his residential address into your iPhone and confirm routing.”

Delia tapped in the information, hit enter, waited a moment, then looked at Matt. “We’re good.”

***

“Hurry-up,” Sutton shouted, standing behind Lundsten and Shyner, both pushing wheelchairs containing their abducted captives through a warehouse side door and into the darkened storage facility after removing both from an unmarked medical transport van.

“I can’t see a damn thing,” Shyner complained, his eyes unable to navigate the musty darkness.

“Hold on,” Sutton replied, taking the lead and lighting the way using his cell phone as a flashlight. “There’s a vacant office about fifty feet ahead on the left. Follow me inside with these two,” he directed, nodding at Melissa and Holland. “C’mon, you schmucks,” he bellowed. “Get them inside and flip the light switch on by the door.”

“Then what?” Shyner asked.

“We wait until they wake-up.” Sutton grabbed Lundsten by the shirt collar and shoved him toward Melissa and Holland. “Prop them up as best you can in those chairs,” he ordered. Lighting a cigarette, he took a long drag before turning and blowing the smoke in Shyner's puffy face. “I’m getting tired of waiting for miss prissy and her chauffeur to finish their nap.”

"Talk to Lundsten — that’s above my pay grade.”

“So is being a lawyer,” Sutton retorted.

Lundsten turned around. “It could be hours before they’re fully conscious,” he said in a muffled tone, his face and jaw still throbbing from the earlier blow to the face.

Sutton opened a medical bag brought from the hospital. He reached inside and grabbed several vials of sodium amytal and syringes his partner-in-crime had been forced to bring along. He laid them out on a desk in the abandoned office.

“This is a mistake,” Lundsten pleaded. “What you’re planning to do could kill them. Even when they come around they’ll be groggy and confused, with residual amounts of the previous sedative in their system. Using that drug could prove fatal.”

Sutton growled menacingly at Lundsten. “Shut-up, doc, unless you want the right side of your face to match the left side.”

“Everyone settle down,” Shyner hollered, fighting the urge to yawn. “It’s three in the morning,” he pointed out, tapping his watch. “All I can say is that something better happen … and soon, or by the time they wake-up the three of us will be asleep.”

Sutton gave an angry kick to the side of the desk. A moment later he wheeled around, a sinister grin appearing. “Hold on a minute,” he mused, snapping his fingers. “I’m going back to my apartment. I just remembered I have something there I believe will counter their sedation. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

***

Driving along the metro thoroughfare toward the western side of the city, Matt gave Delia a sideways glance. “What’s your GPS telling you regarding time of arrival to Sutton’s address?”

Delia peeked at her iPhone. “Twenty-two minutes, barring any interruptions along the way.”

“We’ll scout the area for a good place to position ourselves, then sit and wait. As far as anyone knows, he’s not employed, so his in and out of the home pit stops should be more frequent.”

“Yeah, makes sense.”

“Once we spot him exiting his crib, we’ll be on him like a duck on a June bug.”

“Crib?” Delia repeated, laughing. “Where did you pick-up that bit of back-street vernacular?”

“Should I have said, ‘digs or pad?’”

“Maybe you should pick-up a copy of Emily Post and read the chapter on the use of proper residential etiquette.”

Matt snorted a chuckle. “You mean for residential criminals?”

Delia continued to laugh.

Matt pressed down on the accelerator pedal. “Speaking of pit stops, if Sutton is responsible for Holland’s disappearance, his next … and his last pit stop will be the big house.”


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