Down the Darkest Road

by Kylie Brant

  And he’d enjoy it, Cady thought. He liked to watch. The terror and agony and, yes, the life ebbing from his victim. The family had escaped him for five long years. His thirst for revenge would be paramount. “I’ll summon a state patrol aerial assist unit and have them look for Tina’s car. They can focus on roads east of here, since we’ll have a Watauga County unit on the rental near Boone.”

  “What do we do in the meantime?” Miguel asked. He was prowling the area in quick strides, tension apparent in every step.

  “We wait.”

  Chapter 72

  Dylan lay on the couch, kept awake by the man’s snoring on the mattress across the room. The only one in the place, T had told him when they arrived. They’d dragged it from a bedroom to the middle of the living room. Because he didn’t trust Dylan not to go out another window, he’d sniped.

  Where the hell would I go? he’d wanted to ask. He’d never been to Marion before. They’d driven almost forty-five minutes to get to what he could tell—even in the dark—was a shitty house with an equally shabby attached garage that practically leaned against the home. It’d belonged to T’s dad, he’d said. He’d died a few months ago.

  Dylan thought that maybe this was where T had been living, but once they got inside, he realized his mistake. The place was caked with dust and cobwebs. When he’d tried to snap on a light, T said the utilities and water had been shut off. Discovering that actually made Dylan feel better. Like they wouldn’t be staying long. How the hell could they, without heat or working toilets?

  He didn’t know how T could sleep when he hadn’t heard from Dylan’s mom again. He’d caught him making a call in the kitchen. One that must have gone unanswered. But when he asked, T just kept repeating that she’d get there when she got there.

  Swinging his legs over the edge of the couch, he sat up. Not for the first time, a hard edge of resentment formed inside him. He didn’t even know his mom’s freaking cell number. He couldn’t call her himself and ask her what was going on. If she was all right.

  She had to be. Dylan told himself that and tried to believe it. She was the one who’d found out about Forrester being around. She’d said she was calling the SBI, so she was probably helping them find him. Maybe the agents wouldn’t let her leave their custody.

  But the nerves jittering in his gut made it hard to believe.

  He dug in his pocket for the cell Grace had given him. Sure enough, there were half a dozen messages from her.

  Hey, I’m home. How bout u?

  Everything ok?

  Dylan, text me!

  Now I’m worried. Let me know what’s going on.

  Ok ur probly asleep. But I’m sorta freaking here.

  And then a voice mail, saying pretty much the same thing.

  Sorry, he texted back. Fell asleep. All ok.

  But it wasn’t okay. The paranoia he’d lived with for years was back, stronger than ever. Forrester had found them again. And there was no way Dylan could sleep while wondering who’d be the next to die.

  Chapter 73

  Unconsciousness approached and receded like a ragged wave. Tina tried to rise and rapped her head on something above her. Groaning, she fell back. She was rocking side to side, jolting over bumps. She was in a car.

  The trunk. Memory glimmered. Forrester in her house. In her car. She bit back a cry when she recalled the way he’d made her pull over on that gravel road. Emptied the trunk and forced her to her knees with the barrel of his gun against her temple.

  Where’s the kid? Dammit, bitch, where is your kid?

  When she hadn’t told him, he’d pistol-whipped her. Beaten her within an inch of her life. Even if she could get free, Tina didn’t think she’d get more than a few feet before keeling over.

  Her head was foggy. She couldn’t think clearly. But she’d gotten Dylan to safety. She hadn’t told Forrester where he was, even with the beating.

  They hit a rut that had her body bouncing. Tina didn’t know where he was taking her. But she knew what awaited her when the car stopped. She could almost feel the rope cutting into her neck.

  She just hoped she died before giving up her son’s whereabouts.

  Chapter 74

  Although Cady had suggested the others go home while they awaited word on Forrester’s whereabouts, they’d all accompanied her back to the hospital to linger in a shadowy waiting room. Her cell sounded, and seeing the Buncombe County sheriff’s office on the screen, she answered quickly. “Maddix.”

  “It’s Haskell. I checked the DMV for Bandy’s plate number like you said. That Corolla she was driving tonight isn’t registered to her. Only car in her name is a blue 2006 Impala.”

  She frowned, shooting a look across the waiting room at Agent Rebedeau. She had her head tipped back against the wall, her mouth slightly open as she slept. “And it wasn’t Forrester’s vehicle, because you followed her driving it to her house.” What the hell? Her mind raced. Maybe the Corolla belonged to a friend.

  “That’s not all.” A note of excitement entered the deputy’s voice. “I checked Bandy’s garage to see if the Impala was in there. It wasn’t. But I found a vehicle parked behind it. A black Malibu.”

  “Forrester’s car.” The waitress at Yay-hoos had ID’d it.

  “It’s registered to a Ted Akins of Wilmington. Address is bogus.”

  Of course it is, she thought grimly and scrubbed a hand over her face. “We found a couple of fake IDs in Forrester’s things. That’s probably another one.” It would explain why they’d had no luck running the names on the IDs they’d found. He hadn’t been using them. “Okay. Get me a list of the owners in the state of older-model brown Toyota Corollas.”

  “Way ahead of you. I’m sending the list to your email.”

  Everyone was awake now, eyeing her impatiently. “Thanks, Brett.” She disconnected the call and updated the others as she opened the email the deputy had sent. Scanned the names on it. There were fewer than a dozen, unsurprising given the age of the car. None was in Asheville or the surrounding area.

  Cady took another look at the list the deputy had sent. There was something niggling at the back of her mind. Something familiar, but she couldn’t quite lay her finger on it. Lack of sleep was making her brain fuzzy. She stood. She’d go out to the car and get her computer. Look through the additions to the digital file.

  Silently, Ryder fell into step beside her as she left the room. As they headed to the elevator, Cady wondered where Dylan was hiding. How far away Forrester had gotten.

  Picturing grains of sand sifting through an hourglass, she had the sensation of time running out.

  Chapter 75

  Apparently, only one of them was going to sleep tonight. Dylan couldn’t turn his mind off. The longer the hours stretched, the more worried he got for his mom. She wasn’t great at communication. He kept reminding himself of that. She might’ve thought, since Dylan and T were safe, she could focus on . . . what? There, he always drew a blank. She should be with SBI by now. And it’d be safe to call T.

  If she was able to.

  Driven to move, he rose and walked quietly through the house. There wasn’t much to it. It was even smaller than the one he lived in. Dylan went to the kitchen and looked around for a basement door and didn’t find one. Again, just like their rental.

  Moving to the front door, he looked out the window. Moonlight slanted through the scraggly yard showing patchy weeds at least a foot high. They’d parked in the graveled drive, which was weird because there was a crappy garage attached to the house. Why hadn’t they parked inside it? He retraced his steps to the kitchen and found a door. He tried to peer out the grimy window but could see nothing in the shadows. He unlocked it and quietly inched his way down the two steps to the cracked concrete floor. It was dark as pitch in here. Dylan pulled out Grace’s cell and pressed “On” so he could see with the lit screen. There was a hulking shape in the center of the building. Something covered with a patchy tan tarp. He went toward it, tapping the phone
again when the screen dimmed. Hooking one edge of the tarp in his fingers, he pulled it up and back. Uncovered a wheel.

  He sent a cautious gaze over his shoulder. If T woke up and discovered him gone, he’d freak, and it was in Dylan’s best interests to keep the man calm.

  But he still had the muscle relaxants in his system. They couldn’t be all the way worn off. Dylan pulled harder on the tarp, removing it so he could see what was beneath. It was a vehicle of some sort. Probably in as bad a shape as the rest of the property. He held up the lit screen to get a closer look. Then stumbled back in shock, a wall of panic flooding through him.

  An old green pickup with a rusted-out wheel well. One he’d seen before. At least twice.

  Holy shit. With shaking hands, he held up the cell and stared in horror at the truck. The same pickup he’d seen in town before Ethan was murdered. The same one Dylan had reported sighting before Bahlman was killed. Forrester had been at the wheel both times. He’d seen him. Had T brought him here to deliver him to the man? Were they working together?

  “I’m really sorry you had to see that, boy.”

  Dylan jumped and spun around at T’s voice. Could barely make out his shadow in the doorway.

  “You’da been a whole lot better off if you hadn’t gone snooping around.”

  Chapter 76

  Sometimes his temper got the better of him. Bruce Forrester squatted next to the Corolla’s open trunk and slapped Tina Bandy’s cheek un-gently. She’d been out for a long time, and he didn’t think she was faking it. He picked up her limp arm and twisted it hard. She groaned, but her eyes never opened.

  Well, shit. He saw headlights a moment before a vehicle flew by on the gravel, leaving a plume of dust in its wake. But he’d parked on a secluded farm drive out of sight of the road and the darkened house beyond them. He wasn’t concerned about being seen. He was worried about the woman waking up.

  He’d dumped Bandy’s purse, and her gun was in his pocket. She’d had a small bottle of water in the bag and a little makeup case. Bruce had both with him now. He unscrewed the cap and dumped the water in her face, grabbing her chin when she would have moved away from the stream. “Wake the hell up. I ain’t got all night.”

  Her eyelids fluttered. She was coming around. He dumped some more water in her face and reached for the makeup case. Took out the nail clippers and thumbed the nail file to point forward. A person could inflict a lot of pain with a metal file, regardless of its size.

  Tina Bandy was about to find that out.

  Chapter 77

  “You don’t have to keep me tied up.” Dylan’s voice was almost steady. “I don’t know where you think I’m going to go.”

  “You fucking sneak away every chance you get.” T stopped his pacing to come over to the couch where Dylan sat and gave it a vicious kick. Then another. “You’re a huge pain in the ass, you know that?”

  And what are you? The words almost burst from Dylan. But he wasn’t sure he could handle the answer. Imagining it was bad enough. The SBI had said that his description of the pickup he’d seen prior to the shootings matched one Forrester used to have. The one sitting outside in the garage. So how else had T ended up with the truck if he wasn’t working with Forrester?

  The thoughts spun around and around in his head like a whirlpool. T stormed off into another room, but Dylan saw the glow of his cell. He was making another call. And maybe it wasn’t to Tina, like he kept saying. Maybe he’d been calling Forrester all those times since they got here. The man might already be on his way over.

  Despite the chill in the house, his skin went clammy. His heart began to gallop. Dylan fought against the bonds on his wrists and ankles, but the twine held strong. He forced himself to think. He had only T’s word that Mom had told him to get him out of town. What if he’d been colluding with Forrester the whole time? Keeping tabs on where their family went, then letting the other man know? It made an awful sort of sense.

  T came back into the room. And Dylan could tell just from his stride that he was still hyped up. “I know things look bad, but it’s gonna be okay. You just need to keep calm.”

  Straining against the bonds on his wrists, Dylan said, “Maybe you should tell me what’s going on.”

  “You’re a kid,” the other man snapped. “That’s the problem. Kids don’t see things adults do. You can’t understand. Like that night in Hope Mills. You. Don’t. Get. It.”

  “What?” But the man was already turning away. “What don’t I get?”

  “I need to buy some beer.” And T was gone, leaving Dylan alone in the darkened home.

  Alcohol probably wasn’t going to make the man less volatile, but that was the least of Dylan’s worries at the moment. What had T been talking about? He hadn’t been in the woods that night. What did he know?

  What might Forrester have told him?

  He went still, for once trying to summon the scene from that night instead of dodging it. Him and Trev sneaking up to peer into the clearing. The excitement in his friend’s voice when he spied that rope swing. The men looking up and over to their hiding place. Getting chased. The old panic crept into his chest, sending his pulse into overdrive. Images, like movie clips flashing across his mind. Trev and him in that hollowed-out log, hiding. It was their go-to spot. They rarely went to the creek without first crawling into it. He could see Trev there with him, plain as day, both of them scared and shaking. But they hadn’t gone to the creek that night. Had they?

  His temples started to throb. Soon the fog would crowd into his mind, making it hard to think. Hard to remember. But he needed to. What didn’t he have right about that night?

  Trev running beside him. A backpack swinging from his hand. Trev pressing something into Dylan’s palm. Something small with sharp edges. A key?

  But even as he reached for them, the memories receded, like a tide rolling out. Instead he saw the pictures his imagination had supplied. Of Ethan and Bahlman bloody and motionless. Of Trev, eyes wide and staring in the creek bed. And the light of the remote-controlled boat flitting back and forth like a firefly as the boat bounced off rocks in the water.

  Nausea surged as the pounding in his head intensified. Dylan squeezed his eyes shut. Scrabbled for that positive association the doctor had talked about. The vision he’d manufactured of him and Trev, swinging out over the creek, both of them at once this time clinging to the rope swing.

  But the picture refused to form. He just kept seeing that boat, hidden in the darkness save for the light. Bumping and careening down the creek until it was lost from sight.

  Chapter 78

  “You’re quiet.” Ryder bumped Cady’s shoulder companionably as they walked out of the hospital cafeteria. “You need to eat something, even if the fare in the vending machines leaves a lot to be desired.” He’d redirected her there after she’d retrieved her laptop from the Jeep. He’d bought enough sandwiches and chips to feed a small village, stuffing them into bags he snagged from behind the cafeteria’s counter by the cash register.

  The thought of food made Cady’s stomach churn. “My mom called several hours ago. With everything going on, I let it go to voice mail.” She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

  “Did you listen to it?”

  Cady shook her head. “Later.” Later, when her mind stopped avoiding the details Hannah had revealed yesterday morning. The wounds were too fresh, too raw, to examine right now. The thoughts and emotions clawing for release wouldn’t be put off indefinitely. She knew from experience that they’d wait till she slept to spill across her consciousness, forming a nightmarish new montage to torment her.

  She wasn’t a coward. Cady realized she had to confront her truth or risk being devoured by it. That, too, she’d learned from experience.

  “Do you want to discuss it?”

  She didn’t even pretend not to know what Ryder was alluding to. “It’s been a lot to process. I need to sort it out on my own.”

  He set the bags o
n the floor in the empty hallway, and then his arms encircled her, his chin coming to rest lightly upon her hair. “Okay. I’ll be here when you do.”

  She steadied her chin before it could tremble. Even a week ago, she would have maintained that sympathy made a person weak. Pity made them pathetic.

  Cady let herself lean a bit against his chest. Waited for an inner alarm that didn’t sound. Because she knew he would be there, with an understanding no one else could share. She’d never let anyone close enough to do so. It was a measure of her state of mind that the admission didn’t scare the hell out of her.

  Cady brought up the digital file and scrolled through the most recent updates while the others devoured the food Ryder had laid out. When she got to ATF Gabe Pearson’s information, she slowed. Read more closely. “John Teeter.”

  Miguel looked up. “Who’s that?”

  She picked up her phone and double-checked the email Haskell had sent listing owners of older brown Corollas in the state. There. Cady stared at the name, then lifted her gaze. “Gabe has been talking to all the former employees of the gun range where the weapon was stolen from. The rifle used to shoot at me. He’s tried to contact Teeter but can’t find him at home in Fayetteville.”

  “And?” Miguel asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

  “And John Teeter also has a 2008 brown Toyota Corolla registered in his name.” She had everyone’s attention now. “The same make and model Tina Bandy was driving when she left her home and the deputy behind.”

  Chapter 79

  When T returned with the beer, Dylan pretended he had to take a leak so the man would have to untie his ankles and retie his hands in front of him. After the quick trip outside, though, T had bound his feet again and pushed him down on the couch. But at least now he could reach the pocket of his hoodie. Could use the phone, maybe. And dial who? an inner voice jeered. He still didn’t know what part of T’s account was truth and how much was lies. If Tina had really asked him to get Dylan away, he didn’t want to screw something up for her.