Stranger's Game

by Colleen Coble

  A scream ripped from her throat, and she plummeted as the ground rose to meet her.

  * * *

  Joe turned back to keep his vigil by the propulsion device and heard something on the wind. It reminded him of the shriek of a crow—until it came again. It was a woman’s cry. Torie!

  He ran for the path from the beach and headed for the tree house. “Torie! Hailey!”

  Tourists were already gathering over by the tree house area, and dread coated his tongue and accelerated his heart rate. He pushed his way through the small group of people and saw the shattered remains of the tree house. Every stick, every board had tumbled to the ground and lay in a twisted mass.

  He spotted Torie’s purse and picked it up. Her phone was smashed inside, but the other belongings seemed intact.

  Where was his daughter and Torie? He called for them again before he turned to the closest spectators. “Did you see a tall woman with dark-brown hair and a little girl with red hair?”

  “They went off with that guy.” A woman pointed toward the road. “That way. He got them in his four-wheeler to take them to urgent care.”

  A guy. A helpful tourist or someone more sinister? Hailey knew better than to go off with a stranger, but she might have followed Torie’s lead.

  “Were they conscious?” The woman hesitated, and he quickly added, “The little girl is my daughter, and the woman is a good friend.”

  “The woman was unconscious, and the little girl kept saying she had to get her daddy, but the guy told her they had to go or the woman would die. So she went with him.”

  “You didn’t object or try to intervene? Some stranger just took my daughter!”

  “The woman’s head was bloody. She needed medical attention right away.”

  Pain pulsed behind his eyes, and he turned to run for his truck.

  Chapter 35

  Joe found it hard to plan with fear paralyzing his thoughts while Anton organized searchers.

  Hailey was out there somewhere with a stranger. And was Torie even alive? After seeing the wreckage of the tree house, he couldn’t be sure of it. She’d been unconscious when the guy took her, maybe worse. Anton had called all the hospitals around, and none of them had Hailey or Torie.

  “Joe, over here,” Anton barked.

  The older man wore a grim expression, and Craig, standing a few feet away with a grid map, mirrored Anton. Joe stepped over to join them.

  Craig jabbed a finger south of where they stood. “We have reports of a loud ATV barreling past the shopping center and turning toward the causeway. It’s possible he took them off island.”

  Joe didn’t want to believe it. Jekyll Island’s 5,700 acres would be much easier to search than to have to expand out into Georgia and Florida. “Anyone see them go by? Maybe tourists at Dairy Queen?”

  “No other eyewitness that I’ve heard about, but I have troopers going door to door and asking.”

  Which might or might not do any good. Tourists would be out and about, not lingering around hotel rooms and condos. And there were day trippers who were often gone by now. He fought against the discouragement threatening to swamp him.

  They’d find them both, alive and well. They had to.

  “It’s already getting dark,” Anton said. “We’re wasting time here. Let’s get out there looking. With all the volunteers we have, we could cover all the roads and search for any ATV we see. We’re burning daylight, people!”

  Joe nodded. “My truck can handle unpaved roads. I’ll start up north and make my way down.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Anton said. “I don’t have a vehicle, but I’ve got sharp eyes.”

  “I’m parked over here.” Joe led the way to his pickup.

  Anton had little to say as he craned his neck to look out into the twilight. Joe turned onto the first dirt track, and the truck bounced along the rutted pathway. Here in the shelter of the trees, it was even hard to see through the murky gloom. His headlamps only went so far, and they saw no sign of an ATV or the girls.

  Over the next three hours Joe turned the truck into any area that looked passable by ATV, but it was a futile search as nightfall obscured anything more than a few feet from the truck. There wasn’t even moonlight to reveal a track or any movement. The only light he had during the night was a half hour of fireworks going off by Driftwood Beach after dinner.

  At one point Genevieve tracked him down, and he handed over the rest of the glass globes even though he thought her timing was poor. Her focus was always the hotel.

  The clock on the dash read 11:14 p.m. Joe gripped the wheel with both hands and stifled a groan. His daughter was out there in the black night with a murderer, and Torie could be dead. He couldn’t wrap his head around something so horrible.

  Think, man, think.

  He knew this island as well as his own skin. Where could someone take them and feel confident they would stay hidden? There were a few remote places inaccessible to tourists, but others were looking there too.

  He braked at the main road and pounded the steering wheel with his fists. “We have to find them! Why is this happening?” The last question was flung at God, not Anton.

  Joe’d had to watch his wife die in front of his eyes. He couldn’t handle another loss like that.

  Anton lowered his window, and the scent of marsh, night air, and mud rushed in. “I thought about what you asked me—about enemies. I wrote down a list of three men who might hate me for their banks failing.” He passed a paper to Joe.

  Joe flipped on the light and read it under the dim illumination. None of the names meant anything to him. “Have you contacted any of them?”

  “Not yet, but I plan to hire a private investigator to see what they’re up to.”

  “You haven’t seen any of them on the island, right?”

  “No, I haven’t, but you asked so I wanted to do what I could to help figure this out.”

  Joe handed back the useless piece of paper. He supposed Anton felt the need to do something, even if it didn’t illuminate what was going on.

  His text notification sounded, and he grabbed his phone while praying it was good news. The message from Craig was short. Nothing here. Any luck on your end?

  No, he texted back. What now?

  We’re wasting our time looking in the dark. I’m calling the search for now. We’ll start again at daybreak. In the meantime I have a roadblock on the causeway.

  Joe’s eyes burned, and a lump formed in his throat. Calling the search? How could they call the search when his daughter and Torie were still missing?

  “Was that the state trooper?”

  “Yes. They’re abandoning the search until daylight. He’s monitoring traffic on the exit, but if they’re already off island, that won’t do any good.”

  “You think he already got away?”

  Did he? Joe examined what he knew, then shook his head. “No. This guy is playing a game of some kind, and none of us know the rules. He’s not going to go far enough to miss out on the fun of seeing our reactions.”

  Anton’s face was pale in the sickly overhead light. “You think it’s someone we know?”

  “I don’t see any other explanation. Someone is yanking our chains and laughing behind our backs.”

  “Maybe that means he hasn’t hurt them.”

  “I hope that’s true.” Joe bit back the reminder that Torie was already injured. The guy didn’t have to hurt her—he only had to withhold medical care.

  But that was something no father wanted to hear. And Joe didn’t either when he already cared about her so much.

  * * *

  The stench of marsh water came to Torie’s senses first, followed by a child’s soft sobs.

  She opened her eyes and blinked in the darkness. The support beneath her was hard and damp. Her head felt like someone had used it for a soccer ball, and her arms and legs throbbed and burned. She ran her bound fingertips over her thighs and felt something matted on the fabric of her pants. Blood? She was lucky sh
e hadn’t broken anything, but her fall had been broken by some branches on the way down.

  She struggled to remember what had happened. And who was crying? She blinked and tried to see through the murky depths of the blackness surrounding her.

  “W-Who’s there?” Her voice was a whispered quaver.

  “Torie, you’re not dead!”

  In moments a small hand touched Torie’s cheek. Hailey. It was Hailey. Torie struggled to sit up, and nausea clenched her stomach as the pain in her head became excruciating. She forced bile down. The pain eased back enough for her to try to organize her thoughts and sensations.

  “I’m here, honey.” She pressed Hailey’s hand. “Can you help me try to sit up? My head is pounding.”

  Hanging on to Hailey’s hand, she managed to get to a seated position. “Where are we?”

  “Somewhere in the marsh. The man brought us here on a four-wheeler, but you didn’t wake up.”

  Torie’s stomach rebelled again, and she took several deep breaths. “What man? Did you recognize him?”

  “He had a bandana over his nose and mouth, and he wore sunglasses. He’s got brown hair.”

  Very nonspecific. Torie could think of several men she knew matching that description. She fingered a goose egg on her temple and felt dried blood. All the aches in her arms and legs were likely from tumbling to the ground accompanied by boards and nails.

  “Are we in a cabin?” She felt the floor of the space, but it almost seemed to be canvas, which made no sense.

  “No, we’re in a tent.”

  “Did you try to get out? And why is it so dark?”

  “I couldn’t move the zipper on the doorway. It’s nighttime. You haven’t been awake for hours.”

  Torie’s mouth was so dry it was hard to talk. “Is there any water?”

  “The man left bottles of water and peanut butter sandwiches. I’ll get you some water.”

  Hailey’s hand left Torie’s, and a few moments later, she felt the plastic of a warm bottle. “Thank you.” She uncapped it and swigged much of it down.

  Torie flexed her legs. Maybe she could stand. “Can you help me stand? Maybe I can get us out of here.”

  With the little girl’s assistance, she managed to get to her feet, but she swayed and her knees buckled. She reached out in the dark and grasped Hailey’s shoulder to steady herself.

  Hailey turned her to the left. “The opening is that way. You can hang on to me.”

  “Okay. Go slow.” Feeling her way with bare feet, she inched across the rough canvas until her outstretched hand touched the side of the tent. Her groping fingers felt the cold metal of the zipper, and she followed it to one end. No tab, so she moved to the other side. Still no tab.

  “He’s done something to it so the tab is outside and not in here. It can’t be unzipped. When it was light, did you see anything I could use to cut the tent?”

  “There’s only the water and sandwiches. Oh, and the potty pan. I didn’t see anything else.”

  But maybe Hailey was too upset to notice something Torie could use. If only she had a flashlight or lantern. Hands in front of her, she began to map the room with her right hand and feet, but the only thing her stumbling feet found was the pile of water and sandwiches. Nothing else in the space at all.

  Hurting all over, she made her way back to the walls of the tent and began to search for another way out. If there was even the slightest rip, she might be able to pull it apart. Her fingers found only smooth canvas that felt stiff and new. That was a clue by itself. Canvas tents cost more but were also more durable, usually lasting many years with good care. The person who’d brought them here had enough money to afford something like this and hadn’t opted for a cheap nylon one.

  She guessed the size to be around ten by ten or maybe a bit bigger in one direction. It was hard to estimate while wandering in the dark. The man hadn’t harmed them. She touched the lump on her head—at least not since bringing them here. So what was the purpose? It had to be the same guy who’d been stalking her. His motive seemed to be to scare her off of investigating Lisbeth’s death, and so far, he hadn’t shot at her or tried to kill her.

  What did that mean?

  Her aching legs buckled again, and this time Hailey wasn’t nearby. She tumbled down, and her cheek hit the floor of the tent and her left arm screamed in pain. Clutching it to her chest, she lay curled up for a long moment inhaling the smell of the treated canvas before she pushed herself to a seated position.

  “Torie, are you all right? Where are you?”

  Torie turned toward the little girl’s quavering voice. “I’m right here, honey. I fell but I’m okay. Walk toward my voice.”

  In a few moments Hailey was beside her and had climbed into her lap. Torie smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. “Are you hungry? We could have a sandwich.”

  “I want my daddy.”

  “So do I, but I don’t think we can get out until the man comes back. This is a very expensive and sturdy tent.”

  A roar came from outside the tent, and Hailey grabbed her tightly around the neck. “What was that?”

  “An alligator. I don’t think he can get in here any easier than we can get out.”

  And it told her they were probably near Horton Pond for alligators to be so near. Near enough to the nature trails?

  “I’m going to call for help. You too. Help!” Torie yelled at the top of her lungs.

  Hailey joined her in shouting for help, but no one came. Maybe it was too late for anyone to be out. She’d have to try again at daylight.

  Chapter 36

  Every muscle in her body ached.

  Torie stifled a moan and rolled over on the hard tent floor. Hailey’s even in-and-out breaths beside her revealed deep, peaceful sleep. Good. As long as the little girl slept, she wouldn’t be fearful. Once the light of day came, they’d be faced with whatever fate the kidnapper had planned.

  Torie couldn’t sit back and let anything happen to Hailey. Surely there would be an opportunity to arm herself, even if only with a tree branch or rock. She reached out, and her fingers grazed the case of water, partially gone now. Maybe she could use it as a bludgeon. The full bottles would be weighty.

  It was something at least.

  She closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but her mind buzzed like a thousand flies. Every plan seemed impossible with them trapped inside this tent. In the blackness of the night, it all seemed hopeless, but she wasn’t the kind of person to give up. Not when Hailey’s life was on the line. There had to be something she could do.

  It seemed an eternity before light began to creep into the tent. It never got as bright as outside, but at least she could see the parameters of the interior. She fumbled to her feet and walked around the space to find any kind of weapon. There was a metal potty chair in the corner, but it would be lightweight, and she doubted she was strong enough to do much damage with it. The case of water still seemed to be her best hope.

  Hailey stirred and sat up. “Torie?”

  The thread of panic in the little girl’s voice sent Torie hurrying to her side. “I’m right here, honey. How about a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast?”

  “Okay. I’m thirsty.”

  Torie fetched them both a sandwich and a bottle of water. “Here you go.”

  They munched down their food in silence. Torie wanted Hailey settled and strong enough to help when the time came. “Better?”

  “I want my daddy.” She began to weep, a hopeless sound that pierced Torie’s heart.

  She pulled Hailey onto her lap. “I know, I know. But I have a plan.”

  Hailey lifted her head. “A plan?”

  “Yes, and I’ll need your help. The guy who put us here is bound to come back and make sure we haven’t escaped. I need you to distract him when he first comes in. I’m going to stand off to one side with the case of water, and I’ll crash it down on his head when he steps inside. If he’s focused on you, I’ll be able to take him by surprise.
”

  “Okay, I can do that. So I just talk to him or something like that?”

  “Maybe yell for your dad. Cry and let him see how upset you are. Most people have at least a little sympathy for a kid.”

  “I cried all the way here, and he kept telling me to shut up or he’d kill you. So I had to be quiet and sniffle into my arm.”

  Poor kid. Torie hugged her. “Let me swing this case around in a trial run of our plan.”

  Hailey scooted off her lap, and Torie rose to grab the plastic end of the case of water where several bottles had been removed. She hefted it up, and though the muscles in her arms protested, she managed to swing it around and pretend to hit someone with the heavy weight of it.

  It would have to do.

  She set down the water and went to the zipper again to examine it in the light. Her fingers had told the truth last night—there was no tab for the zipper inside. Maybe she could rip it at the seam. She grasped each side of it and tugged as hard as she could, but it didn’t give even a little. The tent seemed to be new and very well built.

  If only she had a sharp edge of some kind. Her gaze fell on the toilet, but all the metal on it was smooth and round. No help there.

  They’d have to wait.

  The minutes ticked into hours as they sat in the dimness. The food ran out sometime in the afternoon, but they conserved as much water as possible.

  When she thought it would never come, she heard the rumble of an ATV motor. She moved back to the side of the zipper and grabbed the water again. Her arms tired of the weight almost at once, and she prayed the guy would move quickly.

  Footsteps came toward the tent, and a guy whistled the tune to the old country song, “Sixteen Tons.” It had been playing in her cottage that time he’d broken in.

  Her pulse sped to a patter in her chest, and she braced herself for the coming confrontation. She nodded to Hailey, who moved into position and began to cry.