Chapter Eleven

The house was tucked away behind a thatch of trees that obviously were brought in from elsewhere. A long narrow stone path led from the driveway to the house. Deep burgundy curtains hung in the large glass windows, paling the beige of the siding on the house.

Carlos cautiously surveyed his surroundings. If he were Taylor Biggins he would also choose to hide his house away in thick patches of trees, and no neighbors for half a mile in either direction. Taylor Biggins could get away with pretty much anything he wanted to in the middle of nowhere. Carlos carefully approached the front door, reaching for the brass knob on the large dark green door. His fingers nearly had the knob in his grasp when the door burst open, nearly pulling him inside with it. The large man filling the doorway smiled at Carlos' surprise.

"Lose someone, Detective?" the burly man said. Carlos could say nothing. The man was nearly as tall as the door itself, and he took up almost the entire door frame. He would hate to be the poor idiot that would ever call Taylor Biggins fat. He would probably squeeze his head like a grapefruit. "Or should I say, ex-detective." He stepped out onto the porch.

"Sorry," Carlos said backing away from the large man. "I thought that this house was on the market,"

"Not so fast." He struck out quickly with one of his beefy hands, grabbing a fist full of Carlos' shirt. "There's someone inside who'd like to see you." He pulled Carlos through the front door and slammed it shut. Shoving Carlos hard to the floor he said, "You could call it wake of sorts."

"What in the hell are you rambling about?" he asked trying to get his bearings. That was one strong man.

"I think you know what I'm talking about." He reached down and jerked Carlos to his feet. Harshly he pushed the smaller man up the staircase to the second floor. Carlos did the best he could to keep his balance when ascending the stairs, but having a hand constantly pushing him up them was difficult.

At the top of the stairs a short hallway stretched out before him. Biggins pushed him to the end of it. He wanted to run, but he could not. Biggins placed one of his large hands on the back of Carlos' neck to make sure that would not happen. His other hand opened the door to a small, scantily furnished room with badly peeling wallpaper. There was a single wire frame bed tossed against the far wall, its mattress beaten and ugly. Biggins dragged Carlos inside. He quickly relieved him of his weapon and handcuffs. He handcuffed Carlos to the bed with the speed and agility one would not expect from someone as muscular as Biggins.

"Wait!" Carlos yelled after him. "You said that there was someone who'd like to see me."

"There is," he said nodding his head. "You can see him after an expected guest arrives." He left the room closing the door behind him.

Carlos' heart sank when he heard it being locked. There was no way out. There were no trees close enough to the house to climb of the second story window, and that would only be if he remember to bring his keys with him. Nope, left them in the car. He sank to the dirty old bed and tried to figure out how to get out of this. Then he remembered the inside pocket of his jacket. There tucked safely away was his cell phone. Of course it would have to be on the same side of the jacket as his free hand. Carefully he slipped his free arm from his jacket and retrieved the phone.

Hastily he punched in Trent's number.

"I know that you quit the hero thing, but I need you right now." Carlos said before anyone on the other end had a chance to respond to answering the phone.

"What are you taking about?" Trent asked tired.

"Biggins has me. I went to his house, the one that he held Gage in."

"You what?" His tone was hard and even.

"I told Walker to meet me here. I don't know if he got the message. But when I went exploring someone found me. And he insisted on inviting me to stay." He pulled against the cuffs.

"Where's Walker" Trent could feel his mind breaking free of the trance he had been in since Tommy. . . Damn Carlos.

"Don't know. Walker wasn't here when I got here."

"Just sit tight. I'll bring the calvary for you," he said almost laughing.

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Carlos always did have quiet a knack for getting himself into trouble, getting out was another story all together. Trent hated the way Carlos could make him want to fight the good fight no matter how badly beaten he was. How did he do that? He felt bad, now, for walking away from the case without finishing it. Now he was going to finish it. He had to, for Tommy. He could not let Tommy be buried without justice for his senseless slaughter.

"Walker," said a voice that Trent had not truly heard in a couple of days.

"Did you get Carlos' message?"

"No."

"He just called. He's at Biggins' house. You were supposed to meet him there."

"I'll be by to pick you up on five."