Page 48 of Billion-Dollar Attitudes

I slammed the phone down on the receiver and raced to the door. Swinging it open, I pointed at my secretary. "Get the guys in here. Hurry."

She was startled and nodded her head quickly. I hurried back into the office and dialed Carter's number. It rang several times before someone picked up the call, but it wasn't Carter. "Detective Hower."

"I'm sorry, I was trying to get ahold of Carter, uhm, Detective Brown."

"Who's this, the woman asked?"

"This is Ryder Rhodes. I am…"

She cut me off. "I know who you are. But, Mr. Rhodes, when is the last time you spoke to Carter?"

I shook my head. "Yesterday afternoon, why?"

"Because he didn't report to work this morning, and he's not at his residence."

Fear began to trickle through me. "I know who did it. The killer. The one who's been stalking us. He called me just minutes ago. The creep was talking about a nursery rhyme, but before that, he said that Carter was a nice guy, that he tried really hard."

"Calm down, and breathe. We'll be over to your offices in fifteen minutes."

Guy and Daniel ran in, looking around as if the killer was going to be sitting in the chair in front of me. I looked up at them both.

"It's happening again. The killer is back."

The rest of the day was filled with questions, repeating what the guy had said over and over again. We used our company security to pull the number, but it was traced back to a burner found in the trash right outside of the building. By three, they were done, and so was I.

Guy escorted the detectives out while Daniel sat in the office with me. "I'm sorry this is happening to you now. I know how this feels."

I rubbed my hands over my face. "Yeah, well, he's fucking with the wrong guy. Look, I'm gonna head out, go take a shower and breathe before I have to meet Amber tonight."

Daniel shook his head. "You can reschedule that, man. You've been through hell today."

"I'd rather just get it over with," I replied. "Plus, it'll be a distraction."

Suddenly, Guy burst in, panting. He put his hand out. "I need the key to your garage door."

"Why?"

"We were walking out, and we heard a muffled sound inside. It sounds like someone's in there."

I jumped up and took off with Guy, heading down to the garage. The detective was standing there with her gun drawn, three cops next to her doing the same. She motioned for us to move back, pointing at the pillar. I pulled the key out of my pocket, and when she nodded, I pressed the button, letting the door slide open.

"Don't shoot," the detective yelled. "It's Brown."

I looked at Guy and Daniel, and we stepped out, finding Carter awake, blood trickling down his forehead. He was bound at the wrists and the ankles with electrical tape, and one piece was plastered over his mouth. The other detective put on a glove and carefully removed the tape from his mouth.

"Brown, are you okay?"

He winced. "I was hit in the head. I was up at five for my run this morning, and I stepped outside, and someone hit me from behind. I don't remember anything else."

"There's a piece of paper in his pocket," one of the cops said.

The detective carefully pulled the paper out and opened it. I looked over her shoulder, seeing the January 6th date printed on it. "It's him."

Carter shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ryder. I don't remember anything."

I shook my head. "It's okay. It's not your fault."

They were calling an ambulance, and the detective began removing the tape from his wrists and ankles. Finally, she glanced over at me. "Can you guys pull footage from the parking garage?"

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