As a unit, they took slow steps toward me. Down off the sidewalk and into the street. Their performance was good, I had to give them that. Bystanders who’d seemed ready to grab them and haul them to the police station—or serve up some Bootleg Justice—watched with wide eyes and open mouths.
I pushed Gibson’s arm off me, disentangling myself from his grasp. I gazed at the two people walking slowly closer. Two people who’d done terrible things to me. So terrible, I’d left my whole life behind and started a new one with a new identity to protect myself from them. And I realized something.
They didn’t have power over me anymore.
“My daughter,” Imogen said, opening her arms. I couldn’t think of her as my mother anymore. She’d given up that privilege a long time ago. “The nightmare is finally over.”
“No,” I said, my voice ringing clear and true. “No, for you, the nightmare is only about to begin.”
They stopped in their tracks and a flash of anger crossed Imogen’s face. A slight tic in her jaw and a twitch of her eye that would have once had me cowering in fear.
Not anymore.
I stepped off the sidewalk. “You did unspeakable things to me. You tortured your own child, trying to break my spirit so I wouldn’t betray your awful secrets. I’m here to tell you something. You failed. You never broke me.”
Her dead eyes narrowed, and her mouth pinched in a thin line.
I turned my gaze to the judge. He wasn’t my father any more than she was my mother. “And you. I know what you’re going to say. When people ask, you’ll claim you never touched me. You never laid a finger on your daughter. And it’s true. You never get your hands dirty. But your hands, and your soul, are mired in filth. You let her do it. You stood by while she hurt me, and you covered it up. Cleaned up her messes.
“I hope that was horrible for you. I hope it took time from your precious career and you’ve secretly harbored searing regret for marrying that monster. I hope it cost you a good chunk of your fortune to hide what she’s done. Not just to me, but to Connie Bodine, too. What did it cost you to cover that up?”
For the first time in my life, I saw fear in Judge Kendall’s eyes.
“You’re finished,” I said. “You tried to find me because you were afraid I’d come back and cause problems for you. You were right. I’m never going to stop until you get everything you deserve. So drop the act. You don’t have to pretend you’re happy to see me, or shocked that I’m not dead. You tried to ruin my life and you failed. But I’m sure as hell about to ruin yours.”
The color drained from the judge’s face. I was vaguely aware of applause on the street, my friends and neighbors cheering for me. But it seemed muffled and far away. I was laser-focused on the people in front of me. I watched with a grim sense of satisfaction as the judge’s fear turned into something much more permanent.
Defeat.
He knew he was done. I’d seen that look in someone’s eyes once before—the only artist I’d ever worked with who had been too damaged for me to help. The judge’s jaw went slack and his shoulders sagged. He was an intelligent man. He knew the kingdom he’d built was already crumbling and there was nothing he could do to save it.
Imogen, however, continued to stare at me with those cold, dead eyes. No emotion crossed her features. But I didn’t think she was capable of feeling anything.
Cassidy stepped past me, and the rest of the street came back into focus. Fanny Sue Tomaschek, deputy sheriff, and Sheriff Tucker were closing in on the Kendalls, one on either side. Whether to keep the rumbling crowd away from them or to take them into custody, I wasn’t sure.
“I’m gonna need y’all to clear out,” Sheriff Tucker said. He approached them warily, one hand twitching like he was ready to pull his sidearm on them if necessary. Cassidy’s body language matched her father’s. “Go on home and stay there. Don’t think about leaving town. We’ll be needing the both of you shortly.”
Gibson stepped in between me and the Kendalls. “Did you say everything you needed to?”
I looked up at his face. At those beautiful blue eyes beneath his furrowed brow. And I smiled. “Yes. I did.”
“Good.” He grabbed my arm and hustled me up the street. “Let’s get out of here.”
I barely noticed Gibson helping me into his truck. The roar of his engine while he drove us out of town. I was in a daze when he hit the brakes in front of his house and ushered me inside.
Cash greeted us, all barks and licks and excited tail-wagging. I giggled, crouching down to love on the silly one-eyed dog. And then I grabbed Gibson’s hand and dragged him to his bedroom. Slid into his bed and pulled him in with me.
He wrapped me in his strong embrace. I felt safe. Whole. And loved. So loved I felt like I could do anything. I’d faced my demons and won. If Gibson asked me to, I was pretty sure I could fly.
42
GIBSON
The sound of my phone ringing woke me with a start. Callie stirred, making a sweet little sleepy noise when I pulled my arm out from under her. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. But my poor girl had been exhausted, and the feel of her slow breathing while I held her had made me drift right off.
I found my phone on the floor and answered, my voice hoarse. “Yeah?”
“You two all right?” Bowie asked.
“Fine, yeah. What’s goin’ on?”
“I have good news and bad news,” he said, and didn’t wait for me to pick which one I wanted to hear first. “The good news is, FBI rolled into town and took the judge into custody.”
“Thank fuck. What’s the bad news?”
“Mrs. Kendall is missing.”
I sat bolt upright. “What?”
“Sheriff had two people watching their house so they wouldn’t leave. FBI showed up and the judge surrendered without a fuss. But his wife wasn’t there. Not only that, the judge had a big bruise on his forehead. Looks like she knocked him out and got away, but we don’t know how she got past the deputies.”
“How long has she been missing?”
“Not sure,” he said. “Cass just found out and called to tell me. The sheriff escorted them to their house himself. She went inside with the judge and that was the last anyone saw her. But that was hours ago.”
Callie lifted herself onto her elbow, the sheet pulled up over her chest. She watched me with concern on her face.
I glanced at the window. The curtain was closed, but no light peeked in around the edges. It was dark.
“Fuck,” I said.
“Sheriff’s gonna send a deputy out to your place shortly. Just sit tight. And maybe stay inside.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“Be careful, Gibs,” he said. “I’m serious, man, I don’t feel good about this.”
“We will.”
“I’ll call you if I hear anything.”
I hung up and tossed my phone on the bed. “Fuck.”
“What’s wrong?” Callie asked.
Cash woke up from his nap at the end of the bed, his ears twitching.
“The judge was taken in by the FBI, but his wife wasn’t there. No one knows where she is.”
Callie’s face went white and she swallowed hard. “What do we do?”
I paused for a second, thinking it through. We could wait here. It was possible Mrs. Kendall had gone somewhere else. Skipped town to avoid the authorities. But if she was coming after Callie…
“Did your parents keep a gun in the house?”
“Yes. They did. Said it was for home defense. The summer I was fifteen, Imogen took it out and left it sitting on the dining table for two days to scare me.”
That did it. We were getting out of here. “Bowie said to stay here and wait it out. Sheriff’s sending someone. But I don’t want to sit around while an insane woman who wants you dead is on the loose. Let’s toss some stuff in the truck and get out of town. We’ll call my family when we’re safe and let them know we’ll be back when that psycho is behind bars.”
“Okay,”
she said with a definitive nod.
We got up and started packing. Threw some things in a couple of bags, for us and for Cash. My mind was busy concocting a plan. Where we’d go. How we’d get out of town without being seen. I wished I had my Charger back from the shop. It guzzled gas like a beast, but it was fucking fast and cornered better than my truck.
Callie’s rental car was an option. Although we’d long since returned her motel key from the little place she’d rented in Hayridge, she’d wanted to keep the car for a while so she had transportation, and she’d insisted the expense wasn’t a problem. But I knew my truck like the back of my hand. And I could take it off-road if it came to that.
I dropped the bags by the front door. Callie was in the kitchen stuffing a paper grocery bag with dog food and treats. I went to the front window and pushed the curtain over a few inches to peek outside.
It was dark. Quiet. My truck was parked out front, Callie’s rental car next to it. I did a double-take. There was another truck out there, parked in front of my workshop. Lights were off, and in the darkness, I couldn’t see if anyone was inside. From here it looked like Rocky Tobias’s big pickup.
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Callie asked. “Do you see something?”
“Either Rocky Tobias decided to pay us a very unexpected visit, or…”
“Or she’s here,” Callie finished for me.
“Could have stolen his truck.” I let the curtain drop. My eyes went to the scar on Callie’s face. At the evidence of the depth of Imogen Kendall’s crazy.
I’d never seen true evil before today. But when I’d looked at that woman in the street, it had been like staring into the eyes of the devil himself.
Damn it all to hell, I’d been sleeping. A truck had pulled up and I hadn’t heard it. I had no idea how long she’d been here.
“Call the sheriff,” she said. “Didn’t Bowie say a deputy is coming? We’ll wait inside and they’ll find—”
A crash of breaking glass filled the air and the front curtains billowed backward. Cash barked and I jumped in front of Callie. Grabbing her, I turned my back on the window, shielding her with my body.
Glass tinkled as shards broke free and fell. I glanced over my shoulder, still keeping Callie tucked safely beneath me. The curtains shifted, the breeze coming in through the broken window. I had to act, and I had to act fast.
“When I say go, we run for the truck. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Get in and get down on the floor.”
She nodded against me. Her body was tense, but she wasn’t shivering with fear. I could feel her strength. Her resolve. Her survivor’s spirit shining through.
“Call for Cash to come,” she said.
“I will. Ready?” I loosened my hold on her. “Go.”
I sprang into motion and shouted for Cash to come. Callie was already on her feet. I spun her in front of me and we rushed for the door.
She threw the lock and jerked it open. The truck was right there, my keys already in my hands. I just had to get it open and get her inside.
“Callie Dawn.”
That voice sent a chill down my spine, but I didn’t falter. Kept myself between Callie and danger while I slid my key in the lock, my hand steady as anything.
“Callie Dawn, you’ve been a very bad girl,” Imogen said, her voice flat. “You always were. I told you what would happen if I didn’t punish you, and now look.”
I turned the key and the lock popped up. Cash growled and I unlatched the door. Didn’t risk looking back.
“You betrayed us. That Bodine woman was going to betray us, too. She thought she was doing me a favor. Isn’t that sweet? Bringing the news that you were alive to your poor, sad mother. So she had to die, just like you do now.”
I shoved Callie inside and Cash jumped in after her. Slammed the door shut. “Get down.”
With my heart beating so hard I thought it might burst, I ran around to the driver’s side. Callie had already unlocked the door. I threw it open, jumped in, shoved the key in the ignition, and started the engine.
A shot rang out and I heard the bullet pierce metal. Callie hunkered down on the floor, covering her head. I hunched as low as I could, threw the truck into first, and hit the gas. Goddamn, I’d never been shot at before.
This was fucked up.
The tires skidded through the gravel as I whipped around in a circle. I flinched at another gunshot, glass shattering everywhere. Same fucking window Misty Lynn broke.
“Damn it. Not again.”
I pressed on the gas, and we raced down my half-mile dive toward the road. Headlights flashed behind us.
“Stay down.”
I whipped around the turn onto the road and gunned it to go faster, my foot lead on the gas pedal. Taking the corners as fast as I dared, I headed down. Up the mountain didn’t lead anywhere. We’d wind up stuck on some dead-end dirt road in the middle of nowhere with a fucking psycho killer. Not smart.
So I raced toward town, the wind whipping through the cab, but the nutjob behind us matched my speed. She pulled up on a straight stretch, close enough to nudge my bumper. I held the steering wheel in a tight grip, keeping control. My eyes darted between the dark road and my rear-view mirror. I couldn’t outrun her. My truck was sturdy and reliable, but not fast. Rocky’s truck had me on speed, and Imogen drove with the limitless aggression of an evil psychopath.
“Brace yourself.”
Cash yipped and Callie held on as best she could. Instead of leading this chase through town, I downshifted and yanked on the steering wheel, whipping us around in an almost U-turn onto the highway.
My foot slammed the gas pedal down, the force pushing me back in the seat. For a second, I thought we’d gotten away. She hadn’t made the turn.
Then headlights appeared in my rear-view, closing in on us fast. The road curved and started climbing again. Maybe I could outrun her on the corners. Put enough space between us that I could turn off the highway onto a dirt road. Get into the trees, hit the lights, and she’d drive right by.
My jaw clenched with resolve, I kept my hands tight on the wheel and raced down the highway. Took the first corner so fast that the tires squealed.
We gained a little ground on the next turn, but she caught up when the highway straightened. I adjusted my grip on the steering wheel. Another corner was coming up fast. There were two more right after, a series of hairpin turns before the highway sloped down. This was our chance. I just had to keep us on the road.
I took the first corner, tires screaming. She matched my speed, her bumper right on mine. Leaning hard, I kept my foot on the gas and flew around the second turn, coming close to the guardrail.
Jerking forward, I almost hit my face on the steering wheel. She’d hit us from behind. The tires spun, the truck circling wildly. I fought the force of the impact, wrestling the wheel for control, feeling us spin. If we went over the side, we were dead. Callie was on the floor; she wasn’t even buckled in.
I strained against the steering wheel, against the force of the truck spinning toward the cliff. Gritted my teeth and held on for dear life. For my life and my girl’s.
Especially hers. I wasn’t going to lose her now.
The tires caught traction and we jerked hard in the other direction. I heard a sickening crunch of metal and for half a second, I thought we’d hit the guardrail and were about to go over the side. Everything was dark and spinning, headlights flashing across the trees.
Finally, we stopped. My heart raced, pumping massive amounts of adrenaline through my veins. We hadn’t hit the rail. We were in the middle of the road, facing the way we’d come.
Imogen Kendall’s stolen truck was nowhere to be seen. The guardrail on the cliff-side of the highway was torn open, the metal bent and twisted.
Callie looked up at me from her spot on the floor, her eyes big and wide. She had her body wrapped around Cash, her arms out to brace herself against the cab.
Everything was eerily silent. I looked aro
und in every direction. No sign of the truck. It was like it had been a ghost, or a figment of our imagination, vanishing without a trace.
“Are you okay?” I grabbed for Callie, helping her into the seat. Touched her face, her arms, looking for damage. “Let me look at you. Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so.” She looked out the windows, shifting in the seat to see out the back. “Bruises, maybe. Where is she?”
Cash jumped up in the seat and licked her face. She hugged him against her.
“I don’t know. Stay here.”
I opened the door, straining to hear… anything. An engine. A voice. Some sign of where she’d gone. I was pretty sure I knew, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
Stepping out, I grabbed a flashlight I kept under the seat. Turned it on and swung the beam of light around. The other truck was gone.
There was a gaping hole in the guardrail on the side of the highway. I’d seen it look like this once before. We weren’t far from where my mother had crashed—where Imogen Kendall had driven her off the road.
Taking slow steps, my body tense, I approached the guardrail. The land sloped down dramatically, almost a sheer cliff. I swung the narrow beam from my flashlight down.
Rocky’s truck lay at the bottom, wrapped sideways around a thick tree. The driver’s side was completely caved in, the top smashed like it had rolled several times on the way down.
There was no way anyone could have survived that crash, but I searched the area anyway. A woman like that could have very well made a deal with the devil. I wasn’t taking any chances when it came to Callie.
Nothing. No sign that she’d gotten out of the truck. Besides, the cab was crushed.
I turned back and shook my head at Callie.
She got out and looked around warily.
“Truck went over the side,” I said.
“Is she…”
“I can’t see much, but I don’t think anyone could have survived.”
Cash jumped out and ran to the edge, barking a few times. Callie joined me on the side of the road and looked down at the wrecked truck.
Highball Rush: Bootleg Springs Book 6 Page 33
