by Cindy Dees
Wes raced into the house and pulled up the phone-finder app on his computer. In a few seconds a message popped up on his screen. “That’s weird. The tracer program says my phone is turned off. I never turn it off.”
“Maybe the battery ran dead,” Joe suggested.
“This tracer program would tell me that. But, instead, it says the phone is powered down.”
“Does that tracer app have the ability to tell you where the phone was last used?”
Wes nodded and typed in the proper command. After a few seconds, a map popped up on the screen with a red dot in the middle of it. “Okay, that’s wrong. It shows my phone being used at the Sapphire Club yesterday morning, late.” The Sapphire Club was one step down from a strip club...one very shallow step, and not a place he routinely hung out.
“I gather you weren’t there?” Joe asked drily.
Wes rolled his eyes at his cousin. “I was here on my tractor, seeding the lower pasture.”
“So then, your theory that your phone was stolen is looking better. When’s the last time you remember using it?”
Wes cast his mind back. “I guess that would have been day before yesterday.”
“Before or after you decided to take on a pack of angry women and got handed your butt in a sling?”
“Before.”
“Have you got any idea where Jessica might have gone off to without telling anyone?” Joe asked soberly.
“You would have to ask her girlfriends.”
“Already did. The only thing they all agreed on was that she wasn’t considering leaving town and had expressed being happy in Sunny Creek. Apparently, it feels like home to her.”
Really? Jess liked life in a tiny town? Frankly, he was shocked at the notion.
“Look,” Joe said, “it’s possible she just left town for a few days without telling anyone. There may be nothing wrong.”
“No, there’s something wrong,” Wes disagreed. “I feel it in my gut.”
Joe grimaced. “Yeah, my gut’s yelling at me, too.”
“Can I help with the search?” Wes asked tersely.
“I wish you could. I’ve got my guys driving all over the county looking for her car, and I’ve notified all the neighboring counties. Tonight, I can officially put out a BOLO on her. Thankfully, that Corvette of hers is super distinctive. If someone sees her, I’ll hear about it.”
Wes nodded. “Yell if you can think of something for me to do. Anything.”
“Okay. Call me if you hear from her. And stick by your landline so I can get in touch with you until you get a replacement cell phone.”
Wes nodded and ushered his cousin outside. As he climbed into his SUV, Joe looked tired with dark smudges under his eyes. He’d obviously pulled an all-nighter last night looking for Jess. Poor guy. “Take care of yourself, Joe. You’re no good to Jessica if you’re dead on your feet.”
“Easy for you to say. You haven’t lost a citizen on your watch. One you promised to keep safe.”
The thing was, Wes had also promised to keep Jessica safe. And he’d failed her. Again.
He went inside his house and paced restlessly for a while, his heart slamming against his ribs in stress. Something was wrong with Jessica. She was in huge trouble. He felt it.
There had to be a way to help her. But what? He felt physically ill with worry before an idea finally occurred to him. Maybe someone at the Sapphire Club would have an idea who might have stolen his phone. It was a long shot, but worth checking out. The local regulars there would be pretty well-known. Folks in these parts all knew each other, so the impulse to steal from one another was pretty small. If a stranger had come to the area, he or she should stand out to the staff of the Sapphire Club.
He drove to the bar and stepped into the dark, smoky interior. Loud music blared and a bored-looking go-go dancer gyrated to the beat on a stage at the back of the joint. Wes headed for the bar and the bartender, a guy he’d gone to high school with.
“Hey, Wes!” the guy shouted over the din. “Long time no see! What brings you in here?”
“I lost my cell phone and a tracker app showed it being last used in here late yesterday morning. You didn’t happen to be working then, did you? Maybe see any strangers?”
“Nope, but Candy was here. She’s the waitress in the red T-shirt.” The bartender flagged her down as she approached with a tray of empty glasses, and she leaned forward to listen to the bartender shout Wes’s question at her.
She nodded at Wes. “An older guy was in here yesterday. Almost bald. He was the only nonregular here during the whole lunch shift. Didn’t look like the criminal type, though. But he was a terrible tipper, now that I think about it.”
And clearly that was tantamount to a crime in her book. Wes smiled and thanked the woman, palming a twenty-dollar bill to her for her troubles. Her eyes lit up and she started to sidle closer to him.
“Sorry, I’m in a hurry tonight, Candy. Thanks for your help.”
“No problem. Come back sometime when you’re not in a hurry. I’ll make sure you have a good time.”
He smiled kindly at her. She was just trying to make a buck, after all. He left the club, his mind racing. An older, almost bald guy? Surely not. Surely George Blankenship wasn’t lurking around Sunny Creek. He would have let Jessica know he was here, and he wouldn’t stalk his own daughter. Would he?
The guy had always walked the razor’s edge between reasonable and unhinged. Most people interpreted his brand of crazy as being a super-gung ho Marine, but Wes knew better. The guy had actually been a bit unbalanced. Had something pushed the Old Man all the way over the edge?
Wes drove back toward downtown Sunny Creek, and the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that the stranger at the Sapphire Club had been George Blankenship. It felt absolutely right in his gut.
He parked at the sheriff’s office and went inside. “Is Joe here?”
“Nope, he’s out cruising, looking for your girlfriend. Can I help you?” one of the other deputies said.
“I was just at the Sapphire Club, and I think Jessica’s father is in the area.”
“He’s probably looking for his daughter, too.”
Wes shook his head in the negative. “I don’t think so...”
When he was done laying out his suspicions, the deputy started to type on his computer while he said, “I’m going to run an occupancy and credit card search for this Blankenship guy and see if anything pops in this area.”
Thank goodness the deputy believed him. Maybe, with the help of the sheriff’s department, George could be located. The general’s presence in the local area all tied in with his missing phone and Jessica somehow. He was sure of it.
Wes sank into a seat beside the deputy’s desk. “Mind if I wait to see what you find on George?”
The guy shrugged. “It’s an ongoing investigation, and we’re not supposed to share information with the public.”
“I know her well, and I know the area. I can help you guys,” Wes pleaded. “I’m the closest thing to family Jessica has in Sunny Creek.”
Huh. That was actually the truth. Even though they’d been on the outs for a while, they still shared a connection to each other. At least he hoped they did. No, they did. He was still totally hooked on Jessica, and there was no way her feelings for him had completely crumbled in the past several weeks.
Whatever they’d been fighting about before fell away to complete unimportance in the face of her disappearance. She had to be safe. She had to be.
The deputy responded slowly, “Joe thinks you’re a stand-up guy. And if you’re close to her, you might as well know what’s going on.”
Wes nodded tersely.
The computer beeped only a few seconds later. The deputy read aloud from the screen. “G. Blankenship’s first purchase was in Billings, a full month ago, and then
there’s a list of gas and grocery bills here. He stayed at a motel there for two weeks.”
“Any idea where he is now?”
“Last transaction I have is for a rental cabin at White Pine Forest State Park for one night about two weeks back. Is your guy a fan of camping?”
Wes shrugged. “He is a retired Marine. He would certainly know how to camp. Although he didn’t strike me as the back-to-nature type.”
“That’s all I’ve got on him. He hasn’t made any credit card purchases in the state of Montana since then. Maybe he left the state.”
“Why would he do that without at least saying hello to his daughter?” Wes speculated. “And maybe he hasn’t left. Maybe he has simply gone off-the-grid. He would know how to do that, too. If he’s paying for stuff in cash, he wouldn’t be leaving an electronic trail for you to find.”
“True. But that sounds pretty paranoid.”
Wes snorted at the deputy. “You haven’t met George. Paranoid is his middle name.”
The deputy was typing again. “Any idea what kind of vehicle he drives?”
“Assuming he hasn’t rented a car to throw us off the trail, he owns a black Land Rover. It has Virginia license plates.”
The deputy looked surprised at the detailed knowledge he had of George, but Wes didn’t feel like explaining that he’d worked for the guy. Not now, when Jessica was in danger and every minute counted. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that George had something to do with her disappearance. The general had always been a control freak where she was concerned. According to her, the man was known to obsess over her and even confused her for her mother sometimes. Talk about creepy.
Wes announced, “I’m going to run up to White Pine and ask the ranger if he knows anything about where George might have gone. If you’d let Joe know about all of this, I’d be mighty grateful.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll get on the radio with him and relay it all.”
“Perfect. Thanks, man.”
The deputy grinned. “It would, in fact, be my job to help.”
Wes nodded tersely over his shoulder but was already moving rapidly toward the door. Hang on, Jessica. I’m coming for you.
* * *
The next time Jessica made the slow swim toward consciousness, she actually made it all the way to full wakefulness. She had a raging headache and was thirsty again, and her stomach growled demandingly. As if she’d missed several meals. What in the world?
The room that took shape around her in the dark was Spartan. Linoleum floor. Raw wood planks on the walls and ceiling. Screens over the windows with mosquitoes and june bugs banging at them. A lantern sat on a small table beyond the foot of the bed, its light and steady hissing noise the only disturbances in the night and silence.
Outside, crickets and frogs made a deafeningly loud chorus. A whip-poor-will’s distinctive call split the night outside, startling her.
She tried to sit up and was startled to realize her wrists were bound over her head and her ankles were tied to the footboard. The bed she lay in was made of logs and looked ridiculously sturdy. Panic surged through her. Had she been raped?
She took inventory and didn’t feel any different. Plus, she was fully clothed. Whew. Had she been kidnapped, then? By whom? Why? Her memory was full of black, frustrating holes at the moment.
Recollection of multiple sharp pains in her arms came back to her. Injections. She’d been drugged! For how long? It was night now, and she recalled waking up to go to the bathroom twice. Maybe a day and a half? Or had it been even longer?
She appeared to be alone in the cabin, but there were two closed doors across the room. One was probably a bathroom. The other, she guessed, was a second bedroom. Was her captor in the cabin with her?
How in the world did this stuff keep happening to her? She was just trying to live a quiet life in a quiet town, for crying out loud. Was that too much to ask? An urge to cry tightened her throat and made her eyes fill with tears.
No! She had to hold it together. Survival was the priority right now, not feeling sorry for herself. She wasn’t the daughter of a Marine officer for nothing. She knew she had to discipline herself and focus on the crisis at hand.
She tugged at her bindings and grimaced. They were painfully tight and left no room for her to even contemplate wiggling out of them. Worse, they were made of thick leather and didn’t have the slightest bit of give in them.
Her muscles felt stiff and her entire body was sore. Memory of blinding pain, of spasming from head to foot while jolting agony ripped through her came back in a rush. She’d been electrocuted. A Taser, maybe? It had been the most excruciating agony she had ever experienced.
Anger swirled in her belly. Who in the hell had lured her up here, Tasered her then tied her up and drugged her? Surely Wes wasn’t this desperate. Heck, all he had to do to get her back was apologize and promise not to be such a jerk anymore.
She blinked, startled, as the realization hit her. She’d never stopped loving him. No matter how mad she might be at him, her base feelings for him hadn’t changed one bit. Too bad she was just figuring that out now. It would suck rocks if she never got a chance to tell him how she really felt. What if she died and he spent the rest of his life thinking she hated him? The idea of that caused a giant knot to form in her stomach. She had to get out of here and get back to him.
It was hard, but she pushed aside her panic at the idea of never seeing Wes again to concentrate on escaping her current predicament.
Who had kidnapped her? She had a very vague memory of seeing someone when she’d first entered the cabin. C’mon, brain. Who was it?
Maybe, as the drugs continued to clear from her system, full memory would return. In the meantime, she tried to remember the things she’d heard in speeches and discussions around her father’s dinner table with former POWs over the years.
They talked about being stoic. Prepare for a long incarceration but know with certainty that you’ll survive and someday get free. Set a goal in the distant future to focus on. Don’t get too optimistic about a rescue or release soon or else you’ll be disappointed and eventually break emotionally. But keep an eye out for opportunities to escape if they present themselves. Be willing to take the pain to get free.
Okay. She could do this. She might not get free tonight or tomorrow or even next week. But she would a) survive, and b) get loose, somehow. Stoic attitude in place. Check.
Next on the list: a distant goal. She needed a long-term goal.
As soon as she set her mind to it, that one was a no-brainer. She had to make it back to Wes. Tell him she was sorry for walking out on him. Beg him to do the counseling or other emotional work to get past his mental baggage so they could be together forever. Heck, maybe she should propose to him. Now that was a goal worth living for. Check.
What was the last bit? Oh, yes. Be on the lookout for chances to escape and be willing to take the pain to break loose. Heck, this kidnapping business had already hurt a lot. If Wes was the end goal, she could take the pain. All the pain. As much as the kidnapper wanted to dish out.
She didn’t know how long she lay there. Long enough to decide that she was probably here alone. The night settled around her, and she listened idly to nature’s concert outside. Gradually the cobwebs cleared from her brain. She remembered driving to the cabin because she’d gotten an urgent text from Wes. Which obviously hadn’t actually been from Wes.
Who knew her well enough to use him as bait to lure her out here? That narrowed the circle of possible kidnappers by a lot—to someone she knew fairly well, in fact.
All of a sudden, the rest of her memory popped back into her head. One second it was gone, and the next it was there. Disbelief coursed through her as she remembered the face of the man who had met her at the door of the cabin. The man who had Tasered her and knocked her out.
Her. Own. Fath
er.
Terror roared through her. Of all people, she knew how irrational he could be. She had always been afraid of him when he’d been drinking. Not because he got violent but because he got delusional. Had he had some sort of psychotic break when he got kicked out of the Marines? It was the only explanation she could think of for all of this insanity.
There had to be a way to talk him down off that bridge. After all, she was his daughter. He loved her, right?
Maybe love was too strong a word. But he surely considered her to be his responsibility. He expected loyalty from her and gave loyalty to her in return, if not actual love. She couldn’t count how many times he’d said “Blankenships stick together” over the years. She would appeal to that side of him.
Assuming he returned here anytime soon. He hadn’t abandoned her way out in the middle of nowhere, had he? She would give it till morning. If he didn’t show himself by then, she would start screaming her head off. For now, though, she didn’t want to risk waking him up if he was, in fact, asleep in the other room. He always had woken up more sane after sleeping off a good drunken bender.
She would reason with him in the morning, and he would untie her then and let her go. And the two of them would forget that this unfortunate little episode had ever occurred.
Except a frisson of warning somewhere in the back of her mind warned her that it might not be that simple.
The frisson turned into a shiver.
The shiver turned into fear.
And the fear turned into stone-cold terror.
* * *
Wes broke every speed limit between Sunny Creek and White Pine Forest State Park. Thankfully, at this time of the evening, the roads were deserted way out here. He drove up to the ranger’s house with an angry spit of gravel from his tires, leaped out of his truck and knocked on the door urgently.
A gray-haired man of maybe fifty years answered him. “Can I help you? The park’s closed for the night.”
“My name’s Wes Morgan, and a close friend of mine has gone missing. Sheriff Westlake, his men and I are looking for her.”
