In Self Defense (Winchester, Tn. Book 1)

by Debra Webb

  He grunted. “Maybe I picked the wrong girl to kidnap. The sheriff might not care if he gets you back.”

  She shrugged. “You could be right.”

  He aimed his weapon at her head. “In that case, you’re of no value to me.”

  The air stalled in Audrey’s lungs but she didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. She would not allow this scumbag to see her fear.

  “Except—” he lowered his weapon “—I saw the way he kissed you outside your house. A man kisses a woman like that, he cares. He’ll come and he’ll bring whatever he has to in order to get you back.”

  “If I’m lucky.” She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. “But you know he won’t make it easy for you to get away. If I were you I’d cut my losses and head back to Chicago. Two of your guys are dead already. A third is probably in custody if he isn’t dead, too. I’m sure your father would be very upset if you ended up that way.”

  “If I go back empty-handed, he’ll kill me himself.”

  Audrey thought of the story she’d heard about his sister. “The way he did Sophia?”

  Fury lit in his dark gaze. “Don’t piss me off, lady. Unlike my father, I take no pleasure in watching another human suffer. But I’ll do what I have to. My sister made her own choices and she paid the price. I’m not responsible for what happened to her.”

  Audrey thought about that for a moment. “What about your friend Thomas Bateman? You plan to watch him suffer, don’t you? And you will be responsible.”

  “Thomas made his own choice long ago. I’m just here to clean up the mess he made. What happens to him next is not up to me.”

  “But you know your father will kill him, maybe after torturing him. Thomas has children. He has a wife. They count on him.”

  “He knew what he was doing when he went to the Feds about my family.”

  “So you do like to watch others suffer.”

  He stood, moved closer to her, forcing her to tilt her head back as far as possible to maintain eye contact. “Are you trying to annoy me?”

  “No. Just stating the facts. I’m a reporter, that’s what I do.”

  He backed up a step, settled onto the desk once more. “Yeah. I looked you up on the internet. You were a hotshot reporter until that jerkoff lied about what he’d really seen in that shack in the woods.”

  And therein lay the rub. A man had murdered his whole family before turning the gun on himself. Her informant had claimed to be the man’s best friend. He alleged he’d been in the room when the murders happened. He’d run, too afraid to face the police after what he’d witnessed. But he’d lied. He hadn’t watched a damned thing.

  It was a rookie mistake to go with his account even with an impossible deadline.

  “Sometimes you screw up. You make a mistake.” She held his gaze a moment. “But this is a massive screwup, L.J. You will not walk away from this.”

  The man was closer to fifty than forty. He couldn’t be this shortsighted.

  “Let me show you a few things.” He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her around behind the desk. “Look under the desk.”

  She leaned down. There was something under the desk but it was too dark to be certain of what the object was. But every instinct she possessed warned it was an explosive.

  “I can’t see anything. It’s too dark.”

  He crouched down next to her and turned on the flashlight app again. “See that?”

  Her heart stumbled in her chest, then sank to her knees, nearly dragging her down with it. “I see it.”

  He grabbed her arm and hauled her back to the crate, then pushed her down onto it. He checked his watch again. “In ten minutes I’ll call and tell your sheriff where to bring Sauder and the evidence. Once he brings him inside, the whole place goes up in smoke. I’ll be waiting just up the road, on that hill, so I can watch the fireworks. One push of the right button and boom! The evidence and Bateman will be history.”

  “You get to go back home with proof that Daddy can trust you to step into his shoes when he retires.”

  “You really are starting to annoy me, Ms. Anderson. How about you shut up now?”

  She pinched her lips together and watched him check his Rolex again. He was anxious. Maybe even a little nervous.

  A dozen ways to attempt disabling him ran through her brain. She could charge him the next time he checked his watch. She could wait until he made the phone call to Colt and charge him while he was distracted with the call. He was so full of himself that he hadn’t bothered to restrain her. She could use that to her advantage. All she had to do was stay alert. React quickly and make whatever she did count.

  “Here we go.” He stood.

  Audrey’s heart lunged into her throat.

  “Nice meeting you, Audrey Anderson. Too bad it was only for a short time. Hope you’ve been good, otherwise I’ll probably be seeing you in hell one day.”

  He leveled the weapon at her and the air evacuated her lungs. He backed toward the door. When he stood squarely in the doorway, he flipped a metal latch on the door. A hasp. When the door was closed the hasp would fit over the eye loop; the insertion of a padlock would secure the door.

  He was going to lock her in.

  She pushed to her feet before she realized her brain had given the order to stand.

  He shook his head, waved the gun at her. “Sit down and stay calm. You’ll have about twenty minutes to contemplate all the things you should have said and done before you die.”

  One hand dipped into a jacket pocket and pulled out a padlock. He closed the door. She heard the hasp slide onto the eye loop and then the padlock snap shut. Then she heard him talking.

  She pressed against the door to hear what he said.

  He provided the location and a deadline. Twenty minutes. Colt was to show up for the trade in twenty minutes or she died. He was to bring Bateman and his evidence to this gas station. He would leave Bateman and the evidence inside and walk out with Audrey. As long as they drove away without any trouble all would be good.

  Except she and Colt wouldn’t be walking out of here any more than Bateman would. They would all be blown to smithereens.

  She started to scream his name. As loud as she could, she screamed for him to stay away. When she could no longer hear Cicero talking she understood that he had walked out of the gas station. Now he would go to his lookout position—probably the church at the top of the hill where he’d have a bird’s-eye view—and watch. When Colt arrived...

  She couldn’t let that happen.

  He’d told Colt to be here in twenty minutes. She had to do something to make sure he never set foot in or near this building.

  She had to get out.

  Pushing with all her strength, she tried to force open the door. Wouldn’t budge. No windows. The walls were some sort of wood panels, so there was no kicking her way through.

  With no other options, she looked up.

  The ceiling was a grid of old dropped ceiling tiles. All she had to do was get up there and she would find a way out of the building via the attic space.

  But first she had to get up there. She grabbed the crate she’d been sitting on and stacked it on the desk. Then she climbed up onto the desk and then onto the crate. She could reach the tiles. Stretching, she pushed one out of the way. The grid didn’t exactly look particularly sturdy. She needed to be closer to the wall rather than in the center of the room. It made sense that the metal grid would be anchored along the walls. She stepped off the crate and then jumped off the desk.

  Holding her breath and praying the explosives wouldn’t somehow ignite, she pushed the desk against the wall. She climbed back on top and scooted the crate against the wall and stepped onto it. This time when she moved a tile, she spotted the place where the grid framework mounted to the wall. She reached for it and slowly but surely pulled hersel
f into the attic. It took three attempts and her arms felt like limp noodles by the time she made it, but she was in the attic.

  Damn, she should have thought to bring the light. She stared down at the thing. No way was she going back down after it. Pulling herself up here a second time might not be possible. Besides, time was running out. She had no choice but to feel her way around. On one end she could see light filtering in through the attic vent of the building. There wasn’t much of a moon tonight. Had to be the streetlamp on that end. She headed in that direction. It was the end opposite the church so the bastard wouldn’t be able to see her from his vantage point. Of course she couldn’t be sure he would park at the church, but it would give him the best vantage point so she was going with that scenario.

  She cut her hand on something metal. She winced. Maybe an electrical box of some sort. Maybe something stored up here. She tried to think when she’d last had a tetanus vaccine. A tetanus shot would be the least of her worries if she didn’t make it out of here.

  Finally, she reached the end of the building. She sat for a moment to slow the pounding in her chest. Then she took another precious minute to get her bearings. There was no reason for Cicero to be watching this end of the building. He would be watching the road coming from Winchester and the parking lot out front.

  With a deep breath, she started pushing on the vent, hoping like hell the nails or screws or whatever was holding it attached to the wood siding were either rusted or broken. She just needed them to give way.

  The vent pitched forward. Audrey grabbed on to the edge of the wood siding before she plummeted to the ground the way the vent had. Giving herself another few seconds to steady herself, she calculated the distance to the ground. At least ten to twelve feet. If she lowered her body feetfirst out through the hole, holding on to the bottom of the two-by-four framed opening, her feet would be dangling approximately five or six feet off the ground. She could manage that drop, hopefully without breaking anything.

  “Big breath.”

  She drew in, let it go.

  Slowly, she edged out of the hole, allowing her lower body to slip out first. Seconds later she was hanging by her hands. She hoped there was nothing—like a protruding nail—sticking out of the siding or it could rip open her skin, put out an eye.

  “Just let go, Rey.”

  Holding her breath, she relaxed her fingers and her body dropped.

  She landed on her feet first and then on her back. The impact vibrated her bones, made her teeth clack together.

  Her head was okay. Neck, she stretched it this way and that; her shoulders, arms, back and legs were okay. No pain, just that freshly jarred sensation. She rolled over onto all fours. If she stood and moved, he might spot her. So she crawled around to the back side of the building. She didn’t have her cell so she couldn’t call Colt.

  If she ran out into the street to try to stop him when he arrived, Cicero would likely shoot at her or at Colt.

  “Think, Audrey,” she muttered.

  If she could make it to the nearest house before Colt arrived, she could borrow a phone. But there couldn’t possibly be much time left. He would likely be here any minute. She couldn’t take the risk.

  There was only one option. She had to find a hiding place and wait until he drove up. Then she’d have to call out to him to drive away.

  That could work...if he would listen to her.

  Colt Tanner was as hardheaded as she was. Talking him into driving away and leaving her would be like convincing a leopard to change its spots.

  Not going to happen.

  She needed a better plan.

  Colt would be coming from Winchester. There was only one way into this old part of Belvidere from that direction. He would pass the church before reaching the gas station. She could make her way through the woods, slip around behind the church and onto the other side of the rise. She could catch Colt before he topped the hill and stop him there.

  Even as the idea occurred to her she saw headlights coming over the hill beyond the church.

  “Damn it.” Too late.

  She flattened on the broken asphalt and low crawled toward the front corner of the building. Sure enough, it was Colt’s truck. He slowed and made the turn into the parking lot.

  Her heart thundering, she held perfectly still while he climbed out of the truck and skirted the hood to the passenger side. He opened the door, and a handcuffed Bateman was ushered out of the seat.

  “Don’t turn around, Colt,” she called out in a stage whisper. She prayed he would hear and understand her words. For all she knew the bastard on the hill had binoculars.

  Colt stilled. Both hands on Bateman.

  “L.J. Cicero is watching. I don’t know how many weapons he has but there’s a bomb inside the gas station. I was able to get out. When you and Sauder—Bateman go in, he’s going to detonate the bomb.”

  For a few seconds no one moved or said a word.

  “Can you run?” Colt asked.

  Audrey didn’t like the question, but in light of their precarious situation, she answered. “Yes.”

  “When I count to three I want you and Bateman to run. Run into the darkness. Run fast. I’ll call out to you, telling you to stop. Ignore me and just keep running.”

  “What about you?” Audrey’s heart was in her throat. She did not want him hurt.

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Audrey started to argue but Colt said, “One. Two.”

  She scrambled to her feet.

  “Three.”

  Bateman ran toward the old general store down the road.

  Audrey headed into the woods between the gas station and the old store.

  When she was deep enough in the woods she glanced back to see if Colt was behind her the way he’d promised.

  Nothing but darkness.

  She opened her mouth to shout his name and an explosion knocked her onto her butt.

  The sound vibrated the air. The ground shook.

  For half a minute she couldn’t hear...couldn’t breathe.

  Finally, she scrambled to her feet. Steadied herself against a tree. Her ears felt as if they were stuffed with cotton. She recognized the feeling. Acoustic trauma.

  Where was Colt?

  Pop, pop, pop echoed in the distance. The sound was muffled and seemed far away, but she recognized it. Gunfire. She started running back the way she’d come. The old gas station was mostly a pile of rubble. Part of the far wall where she’d hidden was still standing.

  She ran faster, toward the church. Halfway up the hill Bateman caught up with her. His hands were no longer cuffed. They reached the church parking lot together. Dozens of vehicles descended upon the area at the same time. Blue lights strobed in the darkness.

  Where was Colt?

  “Colt?”

  Cops were everywhere. She spotted Branch. Saw Chief Brannigan.

  Where was Colt? Fear tightened in her chest as the sound of all those gunshots fired in her mind. What if he’d been shot? She stared back down the hill at the dust rising from the rubble beneath that lone streetlight.

  “Rey!”

  The sound of his voice burst through every defense she had built these eighteen long years. She ran to him. Threw her arms around him and held him so tight she was certain he couldn’t breathe.

  His arms were just as tight around her. “You okay?”

  “I am now.” She drew back, inspected him in the flashing lights. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, ma’am, but I can’t say as much for the guy on the ground over there.”

  Relief rushed through her. She hugged him again. They were okay. They were both okay.

  She stilled.

  But there was still the matter of the bones.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Two weeks later

  March came i
n like a lion, as the old saying went. Audrey’s life felt as if it had been buffeted again and again by the strong winds heralding spring. The district attorney, Marion Steele, had come to the conclusion that Mary Jo Anderson had shot and killed Jack Torrino in self-defense. The disposing of his body was, however, a different matter altogether. Taking into consideration her dementia, he opted not to pursue the matter, concluding that it would be a waste of the court’s time and would not serve any reasonable purpose. In the end, no charges had been levied against Audrey’s mom. DA Steele had further decided that she, being a child at the time of the event, was a victim of circumstance and not responsible for the actions that occurred that night. Her uncle Phillip had been cleared. He’d had no idea about the man buried in the basement.

  Jack Torrino’s remains had been identified and released to his next of kin. Audrey’s attorney had spoken to the family and no civil suit was expected. Thankfully, the man whose body had been buried in the basement hadn’t left a wife or children behind. Audrey had often wondered if there was a wife or kids who had spent all those years searching for him...missing him, but she had never dared to pursue the idea. Torrino’s sister had allayed her worries when she told the attorney that Jack had abandoned his family, her and his brother, when he joined the Cicero crime family.

  Audrey stood on the second-story landing of the newspaper and looked out over the lobby, where children from the elementary school were listening to Brian talk about the history of the Winchester Gazette. She smiled. This truly was where she belonged now. She had needed time to find herself and to come to terms with the past. She had done both in the last few weeks. She smiled, happy, really happy for the first time in a very long time.

  The intercom in her office buzzed and Audrey wandered back to her desk. “Ms. Anderson, there’s a call for you on line one.”

  “Thanks, Tanya.”

  She picked up the receiver. “Audrey Anderson.” Another smile tugged at her lips as she sat down behind the desk that had belonged to her father.

  “Audrey! Wow, you are on fire, lady.”

  Ronald Wisner, her old boss at the Post. “Hey, Ron. Thanks for picking up my article on Jack Torrino and the Cicero family.” She’d been brutally honest in the article about her and her mother’s part in how Torrino met his end. It was time—past time—that secret was fully unearthed.