Oh, Ellie. Please, don’t...let’s just keep going.
“No,” she said, wobbling forward. She pushed the screen and it clattered over, folding in on itself before hitting the floor.
Please, Ellie. We need to go now.
More blood. Cast-off patterns crisscrossed along the walls. Gravitational splatters surrounded the... “What is that?” She breathed it out, shaking her head, trying to find her bearings.
It took her a few seconds to understand what was in front of her. What it was used for. She stepped forward, drawn closer by the horror of what she was seeing instead of repelled. It was a breeding stand, stained with blood and... other things.
“They shit and piss themselves sometimes while I’m doing it... Rachel did.”
The voice behind her came from the open doorway and she froze, bound hands clasped together in what felt like prayer.
Wait, Ellie. Not yet.
“She screamed and cried. Begged me to stop...” He stepped into the room, his shadow swaying in the light that spilled across the floor in front of her. “She didn’t get it. What I was trying to do for her—none of them did.”
Wait...
“And what’s that?” she said softly, trying to draw him closer. “What were you trying to do?”
“What was I...” He let out an impatient huff. “I gave them a chance to deserve what they’d been given. I gave them a chance to prove that they were worthy,” he said, moving closer. “The same chance I’m giving you now.”
Wait...
Her fingers laced around themselves, clenched so tight they were starting to ache. “A chance?” She shook her head, eyes fixed on the shadow that swayed around her feet. “You’re sick.”
Wait...
“I’m sick?” He laughed at her. “You have no idea what I am, Elena.”
“Then tell me,” she said softly, pulling him closer. “Explain it to me. Make me understand.”
Wait...
“I’m a miracle—just like you.” He was standing over her now, close enough to touch her if he wanted to. “It was supposed to be you that night. Rachel was going to get it too but it was you he wanted,” he said quietly, his breath brushing against her nape. “He had such plans for you, Elena, but God intervened. He saved you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Her hands twisted, fingers clenched together. “What did he save me for?”
“He saved you for me.”
NOW!
She spun, exploding back, giving her arms room to swing up and out. Her hands, fisted together, caught him under his chin, the force of them crashing his teeth together, snapping his head back even as he fell.
He went down hard, skull bouncing off the concrete floor he’d been standing on just seconds before. He was stunned but still conscious, face painted bright red with blood.
Don’t just stand there, Ellie. Run!
77
“Call my partner. Tell her what’s going on—Santos too,” she said to Alvarez before tossing a glance at Vega. “And take him home. Stick with him until I call you.”
Before either of them could launch a protest, she moved, crossing the kitchen to head for the front door before any of them could stop her.
That’s right, Darlin. You just keep on goin’. You don’t need any of them. Not when you have me.
“Wait—” the front door slammed behind her, cutting off the person following her but she didn’t stop, kept walking at a fast clip down the driveway. She needed to get the hell out of there before she completely lost it.
The door opened and slammed again. “I’m pregnant,” Val huffed behind her as she followed her across the street. “You’re really gonna make me run?”
Goddamnit.
She stopped long enough to dig her car keys out of her pocket. Long enough for Val to land a hand on her shoulder and spin her around. “Just stop for a second,” she said, her dark eyes shiny with tears. “Nothing? You’ve got nothing to say to me?”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “Ms. Hernandez—”
“Oh, don’t you dare,” Val hissed at her, the hand on her shoulder slipping down to clamp around her wrist. “Don’t you dare do that to me, Sabrina.” She whispered her name, the tail of it catching on a stifled sob. “You can’t just pretend—”
I know where she is. I know where he took Ellie.
Wade’s words echoed in her head. He sounded nearly as desperate as she felt. “I don’t believe you,” she said, fully aware she sounded crazy. “I can’t trust anything you say.”
“Sabrina?” Instead of pushing her away, her insane outburst drew Val closer. “What are you talking about?”
I’ve never lied to you. You think about that. About all the times I’ve helped you. Showed you the way. I’ll do it again but it’s gotta be now, Darlin’.
“He has Ellie,” she said, twisting herself from Val’s grip. “I don’t have time for this. She doesn’t have time for this.”
Val’s hand flew to her mouth, her head shaking. She knew what her friend was thinking. What she was remembering. Not so long ago, it’d been Val who’d been taken. David Song had taken her and it’d been her fault, just like it was her fault now.
“He almost took you once—Wade,” she said, watching as he words leeched the color from her friend’s face. “He wrote about it. About how you flirted with him over cherry pie and the only thing that stopped him was the fact that he had other, more pressing matters to attend to.”
“Andy Shepard,” Val breathed, her hand dropping away from her face. Shepard had been the boy Wade stabbed to death in a gas station bathroom before severing his hand. He’d done it because Shepard had hit on her. Grabbed her ass.
He shoulda kept his hands off what didn’t belong to him. He’d still be alive if he’d minded his manners.
She turned again, using the key fob to unlock the car. “You should’ve stayed in San Francisco,” she said, sliding into the drivers’ seat before reaching out to snag the door, slamming it closed between them.
78
Run.
The word rang in her head, pushing her forward, blind and panicked. Through the door and down the hall she’d just traveled. She realized, too late, she was heading in the wrong direction. The way out was behind her—blocked by the man she’d just knocked down.
“Where,” she said. “Which way?”
Keep going, don’t look back.
Ellie kept pushing forward, hands and wrist aching. Head pulsating with every footfall. She felt her knees unhinge, pitching her forward. She staggered to the side, her temple scraping against the rough block wall. It stung, the pain thin and bright compared to her head and hands but it didn’t matter. She was still standing. Still moving.
You have to move faster, Ellie. You have to run.
Behind her, she heard him. Hands and feet gripping and scrambling across the floor, her name an angry bellow that chased her down the corridor. She moved faster though she wasn’t sure how. Every step she took threatened to topple her over but somehow, she kept moving. Kept herself from falling.
The corridor ended, splitting into a T and invisible hands pushed her, guiding her left instead of right. “Is there another way out?” she said, breathless with the effort of running, hands outstretched in front of her to keep her balance.
No. there’s no way out now. Here, quick, he’s coming.
Another door. This one closed. She could hear him behind her, still talking—whether it was to her or the person who was with him, she didn’t know. Throwing her shoulder against the door, she turned the knob, pushing it open, and was instantly repelled by the stench of rotting flesh. This room was just as dark, just as small as the others but this one wasn’t empty.
You have to hide.
There were bodies. Naked and rotting, tossed into the corner, as far from the door as he could them. A haphazard pile of decomposing limbs and mottled flesh. She started to gag, shaking her head from side to side, refusing to take another step. “No, no, no...”
The voice pushe
d her inside and she turned, shutting the door just as he reached the top of the corridor. She leaned against the door and listened, sure that he’d come barreling down the hallway, throw the door open and drag her back to that room—but he didn’t. He turned right instead of left, drawing further and further away until the sound of him faded almost completely.
She reached for the doorknob. She’d sneak back out, make a run for it.
No, Ellie. You can’t outrun him.
She was right. If she tried now, he’d hear her. She might make the desert but he’d just run her down like he did Maggie Travers. She didn’t stand a chance. Her head was spinning. Her vision wavering and blurry. She had a severe concussion. The bones at the back of her head felt loose, they crackled every time she moved. She nodded, leaning her forehead against the door for a moment, her eyes slipping closed. She was tired. So tired...
“Help me,” she whispered it, her lips brushing against the cold metal of the door. “Tell me what to do.” Even as she said it, she knew. She knew what she had to do. Ellie turned, facing the room. The tangle of foul, broken bodies shoved into its corner.
You have to hide.
79
Take the next exit.
Sabrina did it; taking a soft right at the off-ramp marked Castle Dome Mine Rd. She’d been driving for almost twenty minutes with no other direction other than, head north on the 95.
The two-lane blacktop wound through low-lying mountains and she followed it past a sign marked CASTLE DOME AIRPORT. Past what looked like an industrial complex plunked down in the middle of nowhere.
None of this was here when I found it. I’d been here for a few days, driving around looking for a place you and I could be alone. Not sure what made me come this way. Must’ve been divine intervention.
She was about fifty miles outside the city. Wherever she was going, it was remote.
Still clingin’ to the belief I’m not real. Still think your subconscious is coughing up suppressed memories or some kinda shit. I thought we were past that, Darlin’.
Her phone rang in the seat beside her and she reached for it.
Church.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you didn’t like me, Kitten,” she said as soon as she answered. “It hurts.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, surprised she actually meant it. “Vega called and I—”
“I know, Alvarez filled me in,” Church said. “He and Vega are at Vega’s with Santos, trying to sort through twenty-years’ worth of Tela Novella bullshit.”
“And Val?” She’d be foolish to think Church was unaware that Val was in Yuma. She’d probably known she was here the second her plane touched down. “Her mom?”
“I’m on my way to them now.” Church gave her a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll pick them up and take them back to the station. Get them settled in to wait this out.”
Relief washed over her. As long as they were with Church, they were safe.
“What do you need?” Church said. “Tell me where you are and I’ll—”
This is a private party. You’re little friend ain’t invited, Darlin’.
“I can’t.” she said carefully. “I can’t tell you where I am.”
“Okay.” She sounded concerned but she didn’t argue. “Call me when it’s over.”
Any other partner would have been screaming at her to not go in alone, demanding to know where she was. Not Church. Whether it was because she was confident in her ability to make it out alive or because Church was tired of chasing her around, she didn’t know. “Courtney—”
“Ahhh, my first name again.” Church laughed but the sound of it rang hollow. “This oughta be good.”
“Thank you,” she said. “For not doing your job.”
“You’re a terrible influence on me, Kitten.” Church said. “Be careful.” And then she was gone. Sabrina held the phone for a moment before tucking it into the front pocket of her slacks.
Stop the car.
She pulled over, the car tires sliding into the soft shoulder of the road before coming to a stop. She killed the engine and waited.
Get out.
Popping the driver side door, Sabrina climbed out of the car. As she did, her phone rang again.
It was Croft.
“Is she there,” she said by way of greeting. “Did you find her?”
“You need to work on your people skills, you know that?”
“Croft, I—”
“I know, I know—don’t have time for my bullshit.” He sighed. “Yeah, I found her.”
“Well,” she said, reaching into the car to pop the trunk before slamming the door closed. “What did she say?”
“She said, get off my property, I’m calling the police,” Croft said. “And my personal favorite, I have a gun.”
Bitter disappointment coated her throat. “So, she wouldn’t talk to you?” she said, reaching into trunk to pull out the duffle Church had put there when they arrived. Inside were a collection of handguns, knives. Maps and flashlights. Clothes and boots.
What does it matter, Darlin’. You’re gonna find out who he is soon enough.
It matters to me. Pulling out a pair of cargos, she checked the tag. Her size. Tucked inside one of its legs was a T-shirt and FSS-issue Kevlar tank. If Church were here, she’d kiss her. She started to strip, hands flying over buttons and buckles.
“No... but after a few hours of threats and bullying, mostly on her part,” Croft said, sounding smug, “She finally agreed to talk to you.”
She paused for a second, listening to Croft’s cell phone be transferred from one hand to another. She put the phone on speaker and set it on the edge of the trunk before yanking the cargos up her hips, fastening them quickly. “Hello?”
“You’re the FBI agent? The one who was a Paul’s house when...” Graciella let her words trail off. “I found Rachel.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she replied. “My name is Agent Claire Vance.” The lie stuck in her throat. She yanked the tank on over her head. “I know Paul didn’t hurt Rachel when he was a boy and he didn’t kill her.” Next came the T-shirt. Suddenly, she felt like herself again. Reaching into the pocket of her discarded slacks, she pulled out the knife she'd been carrying with her since she left Montana.
Graciella let out a heavy sigh. “It was his brother.”
Sabrina slipped the knife into the front pocket of her cargos. “Who is he, Mrs. Lopez?” She didn’t have time to explain. What mattered was that the old woman believed that the man who’d come to her, claiming to be her nephew, was telling the truth. That’s why she’d helped him. Kept his secrets. Protected him all these years. “He needs help. I can’t help him if I don’t know who he is.” Dressed, she reached into the duffle again to pull out a police-issue Maglite. Clicking it on, she aimed the beam into the desert.
“He’s so angry. Hateful,” Graciella said, her tone full of remorse. “When he found me, I was sure I could help him—be the family he needed, but...” she cleared her throat. “I don’t think he can be helped anymore. I think he’s damned.”
Wade’s laughter rang in her head.
Damned? Ain’t we all, Darlin’—ain’t we all?
80
Toss your phone in the trunk.
That’d been the direction as soon as she hung up with Graciella Lopez. Rental cars came equipped with GPS. It’d take about thirty seconds to tap into the rental company’s database and locate the car. If she ditched her phone, there’d be no way for Church to find her beyond this point.
That’s the idea, Darlin’. You’re wasting time little Ellie don’t have.
She tossed the phone on top of the duffle inside the trunk and slammed the lid. “Now what?” she said, aiming her gaze into the desert.
Start walking.
She struck out at a light jog, pushing herself deeper and deeper into the desert terrain that hugged the base of the Tank Mountains. About fifteen miles to the west of her, the Colorado River flowed and churned, winding its way through
the dark. She wanted to move faster, needed to move faster but the ground beneath her feet was unpredictable and thanks to an old injury, she wasn’t as nimble as she once was.
The beam of her flashlight caught on something, the shine of it bouncing back to her, nearly blinding her. It was a reflective sign, wired to chain link fence that had to be at least ten feet high. She tilted it downward, aiming it at the dirt, letting the glow of it illuminate it.
YUMA PROVING GROUND
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED
“What now?”
Up and over, Darlin’ and don’t get caught.
She hesitated again, this time not because of her leg or the terrain that stretched in front of her. If she was caught trespassing on a military installation she’d be arrested. Her FBI credentials wouldn’t protect her here. They’d run her through facial recognition software. Livingston Shaw would know the second her picture was scanned into the system. And then he’d come for her.
Like I said, don’t get caught.
She clicked the flashlight off, tucking it into the long pocket of her cargos before digging the toe of her boot into the diamond-shaped hole in the chain link. Cresting the top of the fence, she swung over. Letting go, she dropped to the ground, landing in a crouch, the impact pulling at her damaged thigh.
How is that leg of yours holding up, Darlin’?
Her leg. Wade’d been the one to shoot her, sending bullet fragments scattering through her thigh. It’d taken years to rehab it and it still ached from time to time. Her days of running a five-minute mile were long gone but she could hold her own when she had to.
“Better than your face, asshole.”
He laughed at her, the sound of it ringing in her ears.
That’s only because you shot me in it.
She stood slowly, half expecting a swarm of camo-painted Humvees to descend, soldiers piling out, barking orders, waving guns. Nothing happened.
“Now what?” she said quietly, still half believing she was on the verge of getting caught.
The Sabrina Vaughn series Set 2 Page 65
