“What the hell?” she mumbled through cracked and bleeding lips. Pushing to sitting, Bridgette’s head collided with a solid wall, and she slumped onto her stomach again. The aching in her head intensified, and she touched her scalp. Her fingers found a patch that was wet and sticky.
She was bleeding.
What had happened? And, more important, where was she?
Bridgette tried to think and remember. Memories came to her in bursts, like the flash of a camera. The walk. Julia’s arrival. The folder full of papers, along with a promise of more information about the cancer cases. Then there was the attack—brutal and brief.
Drawing a lungful of hot air, Bridgette counted to ten and then exhaled. The pain in her head lessened, creating room for her thoughts. First, she knew that she wasn’t in a room, but rather the trunk of a car. The rumble of the engine and the jostling of the wheels as they turned were unmistakable.
Which meant that Bridgette had been abducted while unconscious. She knew very little about how to survive a kidnapping other than what she learned in a self-defense class taken in college. Then again, the little bit she remembered might be enough.
The inside of every trunk was equipped with a safety release installed for just such emergencies. Flipping to her back, her hand danced along the lid. She found a plastic handle and pulled.
The latch opened. Blinding and bright, light struck Bridgette in the face. The tires kicked up a rooster tail of dust as the car rumbled down a dirt road. Bridgette didn’t waste time with thoughts that might make her lose her nerve. Rising to her knees, she rolled out of the car.
She hit the hard ground at the same moment the car skidded to a stop.
Bridgette’s shoulder hurt. Her forearm was scraped and raw. Blood dripped from the side of her hand, and her ankle throbbed with each beat of her heart.
As she struggled to stand, Bridgette cursed. She should have taken a moment to find the car’s tire iron. At least then she’d have a weapon, a way to fight back.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She recognized Julia’s voice and began to run. Bridgette’s ankle collapsed. A tremor of pain ran up her leg as she tumbled to the ground. Julia stalked toward her.
She held the tire iron in her hand, and Bridgette realized she would have searched in vain for it.
“Come back here, you bitch,” the other woman said.
Scrabbling backward, Bridgette asked, “Why are you doing this?”
“You know,” Julia said.
She was right, Bridgette knew. “Luke,” she said.
“You should have just left him alone. I tried to warn you, but you stayed and stayed and stayed.” Her face twitched with each word. Foam clung to the corner of her mouth; the tire iron hung in her grip. “He loved me. We were perfect together and you ruined everything.”
It was then that Bridgette understood. Julia was more than immature and committed to being bothersome. The other woman was truly obsessed. The life she lived, including her feelings for Luke, had not been rooted in reality. That fact made her dangerous and deadly.
Bridgette knew one thing. She was too injured to fight off another attack. If she wanted to survive, she needed to use her wits. “I’m leaving for Wichita on Monday,” she said. “After recusing myself from the Braxville cancer case, I’ll be gone. Luke’s mad at me. Why don’t you just leave me here and go. I won’t say anything about what happened.”
Julia paused, considering the offer.
Bridgette exhaled a breath she didn’t recall holding. Had her argument worked? Had she gotten through to the rational part of Julia’s mind?
Then the other woman’s face hardened, storm clouds covering a blue sky. “No,” she said, her eyes turning black. “It’s too late.”
“Too late,” Bridgette began, as terror gripped Bridgette’s throat and her words came out as a squeak. “Too late for what?”
“Too late to let you live.”
Grabbing Bridgette by the arm, the other woman pulled her to her feet.
Bridgette’s vision exploded in a flash of white. The pain from her head injury made it hard to breathe and harder still to think. Yet, she had to get away from Julia.
Marshaling all her strength in her shoulder, she swung her arm in a wide arc. Her fist connected with the side of Julia’s head. The impact sent the other woman staggering back and her grasp faltered.
Bridgette didn’t take in her surroundings and began to run.
A road led through a heavily wooded area. She clambered over a rotted tree trunk. In a flash of memory, she recalled Luke jumping over the very same log. That meant they were in the woods near her family’s lake house.
Pain radiated through every part of Bridgette’s body. She shoved all her discomfort aside and forced her legs to move faster. Bushes and shrubs on either side of the trail passed as a blur.
Ahead, Julia stepped out from behind a tree. Her dark hair was wild, and tendrils obscured her pale face. Her shoulders were hunched forward. In her hand was the tire iron. Bridgette slowed, spun and began to run the other way.
Sweat streamed down Bridgette’s face, stinging her eyes and blurring her vision.
Then a pain exploded in the back of her head. She knew she’d been hit once again while stumbling forward. As she fell, the forest floor disappeared and a bottomless chasm opened. Bridgette continued to fall, surrounded by nothingness.
She tried to scream but could make no sound.
Her eyes were heavy and her limbs were weary, aching all the way to her bones. Sleep called to her with a siren’s song.
Yet, if she gave into the desire for rest, she would never wake again. Forcing her eyes to open, she saw the sky and dappled sunlight streaming through the treetops that towered above. There were hands under her arms. The ground was rough at her back as she rolled over twigs and stones.
She was being dragged. But where was she being taken?
A beam of light caught her in the face. The light seared her pupils and she screwed her eyes shut. She tried to pry her lids open. It didn’t work.
Then she was falling again.
This time she didn’t care.
The blackness was inviting and seductive. It was the open and waiting arms of a lover. She longed to be lost in the oblivion it offered.
Then for a moment Bridgette went cold. She felt a breeze on her face. She was weightless and out of control.
She landed on her back.
Icy water slapped her in the face. All the air was driven from her lungs. Her mouth filled with cold and slimy debris. She began to cough. Her arms and legs swung out in wild arcs.
It was then that all of Bridgette’s faculties returned.
She was at the bottom of a well, the same one she had loved as a child. This time there was no magic to save her. She was trapped. The walls were covered in slick black slime, making climbing out impossible.
Treading water, Bridgette looked up. The sky, a blue disk, was visible at the mouth of the well. The opening was less than a dozen feet away—it might as well have been miles.
Standing in the sunlight and looking down was Luke’s ex—Julia. With a smile, the other woman flipped the metal door closed. It hit the well’s stone lip with a clang, surrounding Bridgette in darkness.
Important life moments rushed by. Luke’s face filled those memories more than once. His was the touch she craved, and his voice was the one she longed to hear. Sure, she’d only been back in Braxville for little more than a week. But she’d known from the beginning that she and Luke were meant for one another.
How could Bridgette have let his love slip away for a second time?
Paddling her feet, she treaded water to stay afloat. Her arms ached and her legs were heavy. She could feel the cold water pulling her down.
Nobody knew where she’d gone—or maybe even susp
ected that she was missing. It was here, at the bottom of this well, that she was going to die.
* * *
Luke pressed his foot on the accelerator as the speedometer climbed to seventy miles per hour. Eighty. Ninety. He completed the half-hour drive to Lake Kanopolis in less than fifteen minutes.
Swerving onto the short drive leading to the Colton fishing cabin, he slammed on the breaks, the grille of his truck inches from the wall. With the engine still running, he leaped from his truck and sprinted to the door. He turned the handle—it didn’t budge. Lifting his foot, he made ready to kick in the lock. His phone rang. Standing upright, Luke removed the phone from his jacket and checked the caller’s ID.
It was Elise. The reception was lousy, with only a single bar of coverage.
Swiping the call open, he said, “Tell me you have Bridgette with you.”
“No, that’s why I’m calling. Where are you two?” she said, her words filled with static. “The festival has started, and we need our chairperson.”
“You have to take care of this without me,” he said. “I’m at the Coltons’ cabin.”
“Did you just say the Colton lake house?” she asked. “What? Why?”
Luke took only the briefest moment to tell her about finding the shelter dog on the street along with the suspicions that his ex-girlfriend had something to do with Bridgette’s disappearance. He ended the story with, “I had a feeling that Julia brought Bridgette out this way, but it doesn’t look like anyone has been at the house since we left last week.”
“Lake Kanopolis is huge,” said Elise. “Bridgette could be anywhere.”
Luke searched the expanse of water. A veil of fog hung over the surface, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was hidden in the depths. Yet Julia wouldn’t have simply taken Bridgette someplace random. That was why the fishing cabin had come to mind. It was a special place for Bridgette and Luke’s relationship.
“I’m not leaving until I have a chance to look around,” he said. “You’ll take care of the Boo-fest for me?”
“Of course, and I’ll find Jordana. We’ll get the police looking for both Julia and Bridgette in case either one is still in town.”
Luke didn’t bother thanking the mayor or even ending the call. He turned off the truck’s ignition and began to run. Frantic barking jerked him to a stop. He didn’t have time to deal with an animal. Then again Pocco might be able to help. Retracing his steps, he opened the passenger door.
Jumping to the ground, the dog began to snuffle.
“Do you have her scent, boy?” he asked, picking up the lead that still trailed from the dog’s collar.
Pulling on his leash, the animal forced Luke to run in order to keep pace. By the time they reached the well, Luke’s breath came in ragged gasps. The metal door was closed, but the rusty chain had been shattered, and pieces were scattered on the ground.
Pulling free of the leash, Pocco began to whimper and paw at the ground around the well.
Luke raced forward and lifted the heavy metal door.
There, looking up from the gloom, was Bridgette Colton.
* * *
Holding tight to the webbed fabric, Luke dangled Pocco’s lead into the well. Bending at the waist, he stretched down. Bridgette reached upward, her fingertips grazing the leash.
“You can do it,” he said. “Just a little higher.”
“I can’t,” she said, batting at the handle. Her touch sent the leash into a lazy circle.
Dammit. Bridgette was right. She was reaching up as far as she could. If he bent down farther, they’d both end up in the water. He had rope in his truck, but he dared not leave her alone.
It was then that Luke realized he didn’t need a rope—only something strong that could make the leash a bit longer.
“Hold on a second,” he said. “I know what to do.”
Bridgette looked up. Her wide eyes were filled with terror but also hope. “You aren’t leaving me here, are you?”
“I’ll be right here the whole time. I promise.”
Luke straightened and unbuckled his leather belt. He wrapped it through the leash’s grip, creating a loop that Bridgette could grab. He lowered the lead and Bridgette took hold of the belt. He began to pull.
Bridgette rose from the water. She pushed her feet into the wall of the well, transferring some of her weight and helping her ascent.
Upward she rose, inch by inch. Stone bit into Luke’s middle. White-hot pain filled his shoulder. His legs trembled with fatigue. He ignored the pain and continued to pull.
Bridgette was mere inches from Luke. He reached to her. Her fingers interlocked with his. With all his strength, Luke hauled her out of the well. He toppled back and Bridgette landed on his stomach. She was cold and wet. Her body trembled, not solely from the chill.
“I thought I was going to die,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “How did you find me?”
“I found him,” said Luke. After helping Bridgette to sit up, he hooked his thumb toward the dog. Head down and eyes up, the dog approached. Reaching out, Luke ruffled Pocco’s ear. “He was alone on the street. That’s when I knew something had happened to you. I saw a fresh oil stain on the ground, just like we saw in the woods. I figured Julia was involved. I had a hunch that she’d come to the lake.”
“Thank goodness you listened to your instincts.” She drew in a deep breath. “It was Julia. She said she had information about the cancer cluster and how Colton Construction wasn’t involved. It was all a ruse. She told me that she worked in the mail annex—had been hiding there while the offices were closed—and had found some paperwork. She even had a Colton Construction folder and everything. I wanted to believe and didn’t worry about being careful.”
Luke’s phone began to ring. He glanced at the screen. “It’s your sister,” he said, handing over the phone.
“I still can’t believe you have coverage all the way out here,” Bridgette said, swiping the call open. For a moment, she spoke, giving her sister the details of what had happened. It was hard for Luke to listen. He never should have left Bridgette alone, especially since he knew that Julia was dangerous.
She ended the call just as the sounds of sirens could be heard in the distance. “Yvette said she called the ambulance.”
“That must be them,” said Luke, helping her to stand. He held her close until the EMTs arrived and Bridgette was moved to the rear of the ambulance, where she was evaluated.
He stepped away and placed a call to Reese Carpenter. Pocco ambled next to Luke and sat as the phone began to ring.
“Luke,” he said. “What’s up?”
“I have Bridgette with me, but Julia needs to be found before anyone else gets hurt.”
“Every police officer in the state is looking for Julia right now.”
“Bridgette mentioned that she’d been hiding in the mail room at Colton Construction for the past week. It’s a trailer located at the rear of the property.”
“I’ll check it out now.”
“Thanks, man,” said Luke. “I appreciate it.”
After ending the call, he approached the ambulance. Bridgette sat on a stretcher in the rear cabin with the back door open. “What’d the EMTs say?” he asked.
“I need to be evaluated further at the hospital,” she said. “I’ll call you once I know anything.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” he asked.
“Today is the Braxville Boo-fest. You’ve worked hard to make it successful. Certainly, you want to be there. It’s important.”
“You are important to me, Bridgette.” He paused. “If you want me leave you alone, tell me. Otherwise—I’m going to be with you now and later.”
“Luke, I...”
Before she could continue, one of the EMTs approached. “Excuse me, sir,” the other man said, slamming the door shut. “We hav
e to take the patient to the hospital.”
Lights strobing and siren wailing, the ambulance sped away.
Luke watched as the ambulance rumbled over the woodland track. Were the police on the way, ready to search the woods and the lake for Julia? Or would they come to the well and collect evidence? He assumed so, but for now, it was silent.
Birdsong filtered through the woods. The sun climbed higher, warming the morning and promising that it was going to be a perfect fall day. Luke had confessed that he wanted a future with Bridgette. What would she have said if they hadn’t been interrupted?
The dog leaned into his leg, giving a contented sigh. “What do you think, boy?” Luke asked. “Should we go after her?”
Pocco looked up as Luke spoke.
“I agree completely,” he said to the dog. “We can’t give up now.”
Chapter 20
Julia had no place else to go and returned to the mail annex. Her brow was covered in sweat and her pulse resonated in her skull. She sat in the corner, her knees pulled up to her chin, and wondered how long she would feel sick.
Was this a fleeting sensation?
Or would Julia be overwhelmed with guilt for the rest of her days.
She hadn’t meant to kill Bridgette and that was a fact.
Yet, there was another fact, one that Julia couldn’t avoid. The other woman was most certainly dead by now.
And dead was dead. There were no do-overs.
For the first time in months, the scars on Julia’s wrist began to itch.
She scratched, her nails leaving red welts on her skin.
“Julia Jones, this is Detective Reese Carpenter with the Braxville Police. Come out of the trailer with your hands up.” The voice boomed through a PA system.
Dammit. She should have left her car at the old warehouse and not driven back to Colton Construction.
“Julia,” he said again. “You have to come out or I will come in and get you.”
She crawled across the floor, careful to stay below the windows. There, on the shelves, was a box cutter. Still on her knees, she reached up and grabbed the knife.
Colton's Secret History Page 21
