Kidnap Inc.

By J.T. Lewis

Detective Nick Behr is called back from an extended stay in the Nevada desert. A woman has been murdered, and there are no leads except a single word written on the wall in her own blood.

Unfortunately, the murder isn’t the only thing he has to work through. He has a mental condition, his stay in the desert a medical retreat. What he has going on in his head may be tougher to solve than the murder!

Includes a preview of Falcon's Pray, the next in the Nick Behr Mystery series that released in January, 2015. Also includes a preview of J.T. Lewis' Adventures of Gabriel Celtic novel...The Book of Gabriel!

One of the funnest mysteries I've read in quite some time. I sure hope to read more of Nick Behr's adventures. Please Nick, return the calls!!!!~ Author Sandy Wolters
kidNAP Inc, is a great, fast-paced murder mystery with lots of great twists and turns. Another must-read by J.T. Lewis!~ Author Jenna Hodge

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.T. Lewis
• Release date: Apr 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310048937

J.T. Lewis

Mystery abounds in the books of Amazon Best Selling Author J.T. Lewis.Living in Southeast Indiana with his wife, J.T. has always loved a mystery. Striving to bring readers a story packed full of action, adventure, and suspense has led to his current selection of titles.His first full length novel, Murder! Too Close To Home, was the beginning of the acclaimed Adventures of Gabriel Celtic series, and was voted #1 on Goodreads Best Debut Mystery Series list. The thriller/adventure series continued with Gabriel's Revenge,followed closely by In Case of Death as well as The Book of Gabriel in 2014. The Adventures of Gabriel Celtic is as series about the life of Gabriel Celtic...an ordinary man caught up in extraordinary adventures!Another new series, The Nick Behr Mysteries, starts with the story Kidnap Inc., where we get to meet Nick Behr...as well as all of the people that have crowded into his head! Fighting against the craziness of his life while trying to solve the murders of the current case sometimes leads the story to veer off-kilter a little. This unexpected result has caused the story to be labeled, "One of the funnest mysteries I've read in quite some time!"Also added to J.T. Lewis' series list this year...The Artifact Hunter! Jesse Flanagan is just a guy who enjoys making a profit from the antiquities he buys and sells. When one of his discoveries suddenly puts him in the cross-hairs of assassins, he must change his whole life as he goes underground to try and reclaim his life!An electrician by trade, at night JT Lewis morphs into a fictional detective with a keyboard, a transition that suits his need for creating exciting stories for his ever-growing audience.Find and follow JT Lewis @:http://jt-lewis.blogspot.com/https://www.facebook.com/JTLewis.Authorhttps://twitter.com/JTLewis_Bookshttp://www.wattpad.com/user/JTLewisAuthorhttp://pinterest.com/jtlewisbooks/https://www.facebook.com/Murdr.Too.Close.To.Homehttps://www.facebook.com/gabriels.revengehttps://www.facebook.com/ThePepperAndLongstreetMysterySeries

Book preview

kidNAP Inc.

by

J.T. Lewis

A Nick Behr Mystery

kidNAP Inc.

By

J.T. Lewis

Cover Art by Susan Lewis & JT Lewis

Copyright 2014 and Beyond by J.T. Lewis

(aka JT Lewis)

Published by Medlevian Press

Smashwords Edition

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com or any other vender and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

kidNAP Inc.

Acknowledgements

kidNAP Inc.

Wednesday, April 3

She can hear her heartbeat… she is still alive.

She wills herself to take a breath.

She is only eighteen. She thinks this to herself as she stares at the ceiling. Her luxurious blonde hair is surrounding her head like a halo as her firm breasts move up and down with every strained breath. If it wasn’t for the deep red patch on her shirt, one might find her current disposition very captivating.

She can hear the blood dripping off of her elbow into the puddle beneath it. She thinks about that for a few moments as if it is happening to someone else.

Remembering to take another breath, she realizes that it doesn’t hurt quite as much to breathe. She is not sure whether to take that as a good sign.

She thinks about what went wrong, and then thinks about how very rational a thought that was for this moment. She had always been very rational in her thinking.

It would seem that had not turned out to be such a good thing.

She forces herself to take another breath.

It had been a mistake to back out…she could see that now. She should have stuck to the deal.

She again thinks about how very rational she had been when she made the decision.

Thinking about the dripping, she removes her hand from the hole below her ribs and reaches down to the floor. Bringing her hand back up, she can see the deep red blood pooled on the tips of her fingers.

She remembers to breathe.

As she gazes at her hand, her rational brain comes up with a sudden thought.

She should warn somebody.

Reaching for the wall beside her, she runs her fingers down the wall. Her hand drops once more into the puddle, and she immediately brings it back up to make another line.

She wonders why her task is so hard, then remembers to take another breath before dropping her hand once again.

Her energy is waning as she nears the end, but she is determined to finish the task. When her willpower finally leaves her however, she stares at the incomplete warning with regret.

She realizes that she can’t hear her heart any more, her time is running short. With every last ounce of effort she has, she raises her hand one more time. All she can manage this time however is to slap her hand weakly against the wall before it falls once more to the floor.

She has forgotten to breathe.

The eyes linger, but they no longer see as a single tear winds its way down her cheek.

Thursday, April 11

Cambridge, Indiana

The cool but welcomed spring air is rushing into the open windows of the truck as I drive down US 50. The southern Indiana countryside sliding by is alive with the newness of spring as it breaks away from its winter doldrums.

I am grudgingly enjoying the change of climate…and that pisses me off.

Having spent the last four days on the road, I am now a long way from where I had started my trek in Nevada’s Mohave Desert. I had been roaming that area for the last six months, but now I’m headed home.

Not by choice mind you…at least not by my choice.

Sheriff Brunner had been rather insistent that I shorten my sabbatical. There had been a brutal murder, and he wanted all hands on deck. Of course, he had mentioned the possibility of my losing my position if I didn’t return. That would also include the cushy medical benefits that had allowed me to live as a lone desert rat these last few months.

I hear snoring coming from the passenger seat. Turning my head, I see that Trucker is crammed into the corner, his Stetson low over his eyes as he loudly saws logs.

Must you do that? I ask with a sigh.

Trucker is instantly awake, leaning forward as he pushes his hat up out of his eyes.

Whatsa matter? he asks as his dark eyes scan the road ahead. Seeing nothing threatening, he looks at me quizzically. Want me to drive or something?

I shake my head at the absurdity. No I don’t want you to drive! How would that even work?

Shrugging, Trucker tucks his shoulder back into the door and again pulls the brim of his hat over his eyes. His Sam Elliot handlebar mustache wiggles a little as he settles himself in.

"What do you want then Nick?"

I give the question a few seconds of thought. If you must know…I’d kinda like to be alone.

Glancing again to my right, I find that the seat is now empty.

Eyes back on the road, I breathe a sigh of relief. I like being alone…truly alone. I know that trucker will be back…he always comes back…he’s a part of my affliction.

You see, I’m damaged goods, a defective detective. The sheriff really didn’t want me here, any more than I wanted to return. Unfortunately for both of us, murder is what I do the best.

Well, it’s what I used to do the best. We’ll have to see if I still have what it takes.

My name is Nikolas Behr, and I’m a detective on the Cambridge County’s Sheriff’s Department. Known as Nick to the few people I can call friends, I had been saddled with the handle Neurotic Nick by most of the department before I finally left for the arid desert.

I think I mentioned before that I was damaged?

It hadn’t been my fault really, it was strictly job related. I had been brained while on a case…a TBI, or Traumatic Brain Injury. Learning about TBI’s has taught me a couple of things.

The first is that even a normal bump on the head can greatly affect someone’s outlook on things.

The second thing I learned would seem to be that your head connecting with a baseball bat…swung by a deranged drug dealer while high on PCP…well, lets just say it can change your life in ways one can’t even imagine.

***

It’s four in the afternoon when I finally arrive. Too late to start anything today, so I just drive around a little before heading to the apartment.

Everything is the same. Everything is always the same in Cambridge. Folks around here are so boring that they couldn’t even be bothered thinking up a different name for the county seat. Cambridge City, shortened to just Cambridge a hundred years ago is the county seat of Cambridge County. Mostly it was easier for everything to be Cambridge I guess, but sometimes it’s confusing…especially to outsiders. Even the locals can be mystified however, and it is common practice to add the phrase, the city, when they are referring to the town and not the county.

Cambridge…the city.

I catch myself as these thoughts wind through my brain. It seems kinda crazy, so I stop thinking about it. I have enough crazy to deal with.

The phone on the seat beside me trills, and I bring the phone up to my face. I see it is the sheriff.

Shit.

Nick, I said, trying to sound professional.

You in town yet Behr? he screams into the phone. The sheriff always sounds like he is screaming.

Not quite yet, I lie before I glance in the rearview mirror.

Shit

He is right behind me.

I mean, not mentally anyway. It comes out of my mouth smooth, like I was going to say that anyway.

I don’t have time for your mamby pamby little mental issues right now Behr. Head on over to the office and I’ll fill you in.

The phone clicks off as I hear the siren start up behind me. Powering past me in his Expedition, I know I am expected to fall in behind him. That’s the way Sheriff Brunner does everything. He powers through it, leading the way, and you were to follow close behind.

Shit.

***

Double N! You back?

Sam Redhawk is grinning at me like I am his long lost brother.

I’m not of course, but at least he is a smiling face. Sam is one of the few I can still tolerate on the force. Our county has one very large family of Native Americans living within its confines, and he is their lone representative in the department.

For that matter, they have no other representation anywhere else in the local government. Sam is an outstanding lawman however, and the fact that his minority status helped him get here is a small point of contention to only the assholiest assholes that he works with.

Good to see you Sam, I mumble as I extend my hand to him before heading into the Sheriff’s office.

You too Nick, I hear behind me as I walk away.

I smile when I hear my name. Many of my fellow officers had shortened my neurotic nickname to Double N. Calling one of your coworkers neurotic was, after all, a little crazy, and probably not politically correct. I hadn’t actually heard anyone call me by Nick in this building for quite awhile.

Close the door, the sheriff shouts as I enter his office. You get better yet? he continues as I push the door shut.

I cringe inwardly. He is of course referring to my current mental issues, and to the luxurious six month hiatus I have been enjoying.

I had kinda been enjoying it, but mainly because I had been away from the human race. It still took a herculean effort to be around other people, something Sheriff Brunner wouldn’t be able to fathom if he lived to be a hundred.

In his mind, you could either do the job, or you couldn’t. If my injury hadn’t happened on the job, and the County Attorney hadn’t warned of potential lawsuits, I would have been kicked off the force long ago.

I’ve made some headway, I say as I approach the empty chair across from Sheriff Brunner.

He cautiously looks around the room, Is there…anyone else here with us?

I make a show of glancing around the room. I notice her sitting at the end of the table; a smirk crossing her face when she sees that I’ve noticed her.

I turn back toward the sheriff, pasting on a smile that says don’t be ridiculous.

No one here but you and me Sheriff.

Good! the sheriff shouts. We need all the help we can get on this one Behr. And it’s the kind of case you always excelled at…you know…before.

I nod, accepting the left-handed compliment with all the grace I can muster.

Flopping open the Murder Book, the sheriff pulls out his glasses and sets them on his red, bulbous nose.

Patricia Eckstein! he announces loudly, reminding me of someone announcing the winner of a beauty contest. Known as Polly to most of the people around here, was found dead in an upstairs apartment over on 4th Street last Thursday. Someone had stuck her with a knife and let her bleed out, probably not the best way to go in my book.

Sheriff Brunner took a lot of stock of things in his ‘book’. He probably had a real book somewhere that actually held all of his thoughts, but I had never actually seen one. I’m pretty sure I would never want to.

We have any clues? I ask as he slides the book across the table to me.

Not much, he replies loudly. Guy took his knife with him. Only prints were hers and the landlord’s. No one will admit they saw anything, you know how that goes. Hell, no one even knew Polly was back in town!

The name of the victim is ringing a bell in my head, but I haven’t yet placed it.

How do I know that name? I ask as I read through the crime scene description.

Oh, you remember. She’d been kidnapped a little over a year ago. No one could figure out why. She’s Darnel and Kathy Eckstein’s kid. They’re poorer than a couple of church mice, so money sure wasn’t the thing. Good looking girl though. Kidnapper held her for two weeks and then let her go. She’d been raped and beat up pretty bad. According to her deposition, she had been blindfolded the whole time, couldn’t identify the man that took her.

The girl at the end of the table clicks her tongue, drawing my eyes momentarily toward her. A little S&M never hurt anybody, she grins.

I avert my eyes back to the book in front of me, hopeful the sheriff hadn’t noticed.

The story is coming back to me now. I hadn’t been involved in the investigation because I had been in the hospital, fighting for my life…as well as my sanity.

I make a show of nodding at the sheriff’s last statement. You say she’s been out of town?

Sheriff Brunner nods. Started doing interviews and such; got on Dr. Phil and Oprah, all the usual post-kidnapping tripe. Then she headed out to Hollywood, California. I’m sure you’ve seen her on TV since then.

He had pronounced it Cal-lee-forn-i-a

Wasn’t a lot of TV out in the desert, I mention as clarification.

The sheriff waves off my answer like he is shooing a pesky gnat.

Whatever, something must have happened out there, something she didn’t like. She moved back here a few days before she got herself killed. Hell, her parents didn’t even know she was back in town!

I mull over the sheriff’s pronouncements as I leaf through the Murder Book. The girl had lived a rough life. Starting out poor, she then moved up to being kidnapped, raped, and beaten. I wouldn’t blame her for taking advantage of her newfound fame to go after a better life.

But why had she come back?

You got any indication that she was here to stay for awhile? I ask.

Signed a year’s lease. the sheriff exclaims. Her landlord is plenty pissed at having to find another renter so quick, not to mention cleaning up all of the blood before he can even show it. Wanted us to foot the bill for cleaning the apartment, can you imagine? I told him to pound sand, fuck’im if he can’t take a joke.

The sheriff’s baby kissing days are apparently now over I guess, having almost served out the maximum time allowed in his office. Not that he was ever a soft-spoken politician, but at least he would hold some of his opinions close to the vest when the votes still counted.

Turn the page, I hear through my reverie.

What? I finally manage when I realize he is talking to me.

Turn the page God dammit. I want to show you something!

I turn the page, and am greeted by a gruesome picture from the crime scene.

She wrote that with her own blood! the sheriff shouts. Damndest thing I ever saw!

You sure the killer didn’t do it? I question as I take in the scene.

Absofuckinglutely! he replies like I had questioned his manhood. Lab guys confirmed it was her that wrote it.

She was trying to tell us something, I mumble offhandedly.

"You really are a detective! The sheriff smirks as he leans forward. Listen Behr, all kidding aside, I need your best work on this. We’re short handed, and I got no budget left. The average Joe citizen is out there screaming at me to make the streets safe again for their families and I ain’t got a clue. I need you to put all of your neurotic bullshit aside for the duration and solve this for me. After that, I don’t give a flying fuck where you head off to. You can launch yourself to the moon as far as I’m concerned!"

Psychotic, I state.

Psychotic what? the sheriff asks, showing his exasperation.

"Psychotic bullshit, I need to put my psychotic bullshit aside for the duration."

That’s what I said!

Right, I reply, wanting to get away from the man before he drove me crazy…or crazier.

I need to see the scene.

Sam’s got the keys. He’ll go with you.

I should probably work the case alone sheriff, I reply quietly.

Sam is the most touchy-feely cop I got. He’ll bring you up to speed on the scene, then you can go play with yourself for awhile.

Right, I say as I stand up. I’ll get going then.

"There is one more little thing," the sheriff says offhandedly.

I brace for whatever he is going to say, going over the available puns or putdowns available in his repertoire of good old boy wisdom from his ‘book’.

Yeah? I question.

Amanda wants to see you.

Shit.

I glance up at the sheriff’s unblinking face, he is totally serious.

Awesome! I hear from the end of the table.

***

This is really a nice apartment, Sam Redhawk says as he works the key into the lock. I think I’m going to let my niece know about it. She’s been looking for a place.

I am already fighting my mind to stay focused on the case when Sam mentions fixing his niece up in a murder apartment.

I think my mind might have locked up for a few moments, but I do manage a weak nod to acknowledge his statement.

Here we go! Sam grins as he pushes through the door. My senses are immediately inundated with the coppery smell of death that emanates from within the apartment.

Smells like someone butchered a deer in there.

I glance to my right and watch Trucker enter confidently through the doorway ahead of me.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly enter the scene. The apartment is indeed how Sam had described it. Overall it is very clean looking. Hardwood floors run throughout the space, in only slight need of refinishing. I catch a faint whiff of fresh paint in the background, even through the overpowering smell of the blood.

I take in the furnishings, which