Oh, God…Oh, God. That was as far as Meredith could get with a prayer.
The salesman released Meredith’s arm, then drew a tablet and pen from under his jacket and slapped them onto the table in front of her.
“You’re going to write a letter to Glen,” he informed her. “I’ll tell you what to say. Date it two weeks ago. Top right corner.”
Meredith couldn’t remember what month it was, let alone what the date had been two weeks ago. She picked up the pen, shaking so badly she wasn’t sure she would be able to write, not to mention that the light was so poor she doubted she’d be able to see. “It’s May twenty-second now,” the salesman snarled at her. “Date it May eighth.”
The tip of the pen quivered against the paper, making the letters she wrote look as if they’d been fashioned by someone with palsy.
“Damn you! Do it right, or I’ll blow your kid’s brains out.”
Meredith gulped and took a ragged breath, willing her hand to be steady.
After she’d written the date as he’d instructed, the man said, “Now write, ‘Dear Glen.’”
As Meredith wrote Glen’s name, the horror of what was happening began to sink in. A loud ringing started in her ears. Numbly, she wrote the letter exactly as she was told, informing Glen that she had decided Tamara should be in his custody. Money was tight, she was ordered to say. It was impossible for her to properly support her daughter, and she had concluded that the child would be better off and far happier living with her grandfather. She was instructed to end the letter by asking Glen to please make arrangements to come for Tamara as quickly as possible.
“Very good,” the swarthy man said, retrieving the tablet and putting it back inside his jacket. “Now, get up.”
Meredith pushed to her feet, her gaze clinging to her terrified child. She yearned to circle the table and gather Sammy into her arms, to tell her not to be afraid, that everything would be all right. Only, of course, that would be a lie.
The salesman thrust the gun against Meredith’s spine, shoving her along in front of him as he moved from the kitchen to the living room. Meredith craned her neck to see what the other man was doing to Sammy until the dividing wall blocked her view. Sammy immediately began to scream. The child’s cries nearly broke Meredith’s heart.
“Left!” the man barked at her, giving her a hard shove.
Meredith turned, dimly registering that he was taking her to her bedroom. “Wh—What are you going to do?”
He just kept shoving her along ahead of him. When her legs connected with the mattress, he planted a hand in the center of her back and pushed her face down on the bed. Then he wrenched her hands behind her back and bound her wrists. Next he bound her feet. All the while, Meredith could hear Sammy screaming.
“Please, my little girl. Don’t frighten her like this, please.”
Even in the near darkness, the salesman’s teeth gleamed eerily as he smiled. He drew something from his jacket pocket. Squinting, Meredith saw it was a syringe.
“You’re going to take a little nap,” he informed her in a voice that made icy rivulets trickle down her spine. “After you’re asleep, we’ll untie you and make a few adjustments on your gas furnace so the pilot light goes out. Then we’ll turn on the gas valve.”
Meredith stared up at him. They’re going to kill me, she thought stupidly.
“By the time your boyfriend stops by to check on you, you’ll be in never-never land.” He unsheathed the hypodermic needle, pointed it upward, and slightly depressed the plunger until a bit of clear liquid spurted. “It’ll look like an accident. People will think you got chilly, turned on the furnace, and fell asleep without smelling the gas.”
The chill of dread along her spine radiated outward to form knots in her stomach. Glen had found a way to kill two birds with one stone, she realized. He would not only get permanent custody of his granddaughter by killing her only surviving parent, but he would eliminate the threat Meredith represented because she knew too much.
“You’re crazy! You’ll never get away with this.”
She tried to wrench her wrists free, realizing as she struggled that he’d bound her with velvet cord. Horror seeped into her brain. These men had thought of everything. Velvet wouldn’t abrade her skin as noticeably as regular rope.
The man leaned over her, the needle poised near her upper arm. “This won’t hurt,” he assured her. “You’ll just feel a little prick.”
Meredith rolled to evade the injection. “I’m telling you, they’ll know it’s murder!”
He gripped her shoulder to hold her still. “Relax, Mary. You’ll just go to sleep.”
Meredith threw her head and kicked with her bound feet, striking him across the knees. “Goddammit, be still! I told you, it ain’t gonna hurt!”
That her death would be painless was little consolation. Sammy. She couldn’t die and leave her little girl. Not with a man like Glen. Please, God, not with Glen.
Just as the needle started to prick Meredith’s skin, the man in the kitchen yelled, “Delgado, come quick! The kid’s getting away!”
Delgado swore, tossed the full syringe onto the bed, and raced from the room.
The men’s footsteps echoed through the house. A door crashed against a wall, the sound cutting through the air like a rifle shot. Terrified for her daughter, Meredith jerked her arms and twisted at the waist, trying to free her wrists. Her struggles sent her toppling, the corner of the nightstand jabbing her shoulder as she fell. She landed on her side, her stomach convulsing with nausea that surged in hot waves up her throat.
Trying not to vomit, she lay there panting. In the stillness of the twilight, she could hear the men’s angry curses from outdoors. Run, baby, run. Never in all her life had she felt so horribly helpless.
“Heath! Help us! Heath!”
Even as Meredith cried his name, she knew it was useless. He was still at the sheriff’s department. He couldn’t possibly hear her. If only he could.
Chapter 18
Trying to ignore Goliath’s continuous pacing and whining, Heath stared at the computer screen. He didn’t want to believe what he was seeing. Pay dirt. He had found his man. Or, in this case, his woman. Mary Calendri, kidnapper extraordinaire.
Except for the facial structure, the photo of her scarcely resembled the Meredith he knew. Shoulder-length honey-colored hair, streaked with blond. Big, blue eyes, just like Sammy’s. She’d done an incredible job of altering her appearance. He’d give her that much.
Acid indigestion rolled up the back of his throat like liquid fire as he scanned the file on her. Holy shit. There was no way to whitewash this. In defiance of a court order, she had removed her child from the state of New York while a custody suit was pending. The charges against her were mind-boggling. No penny ante stuff for this lady. Abducting a child and then crossing the state line was a serious crime.
No wonder she’d gotten so upset when he’d started calling her Merry. Merry and Mary, exact soundalikes. The first time he’d used the shortened version of her alias, it must have scared the hell out of her.
Heath’s initial reaction was rage. Jabbing the arrow keys on the keyboard with a rigid finger, he scrolled back and forth through the information. Talk about being made to look like a fool! How could he have been so blind? From the first, all the signs had been there, and he had ignored them, so taken in by her big brown eyes and vulnerable mouth that he had refused to consider she might be wanted by the law.
And she had realized, damn her. She had known he was falling in love with her, and she had allowed it to happen.
Even as he thought that, he knew it wasn’t fair. One thing he couldn’t accuse Meredith of was leading him on. Everything about her had screamed, “Don’t touch.” She’d never given him any signals that she wanted to get more friendly. If anything, she’d done the opposite, always shying away when he got too close.
After rereading the file, Heath turned to pick up the telephone, intending to collect on a few favors
and get more information, not necessarily official. In his experience, a law officer could learn a lot more from scuttlebutt than official reports. He didn’t know any cops in New York, but he knew a cop who did. By working through that contact, he’d be able to connect with officers who could tell him what he wanted in the know.
Why had Meredith run with her child? That was the first question he intended to ask. If her husband was dead, how in the hell had she ended up in court, fighting for custody? Who had filed suit against her? A relative? If so, how was that person related to Sammy, and what had been the motivating factor? As far as Heath could tell, Meredith was a wonderful mother. Why on earth would anyone want to take her child?
As Heath started to dial the phone, Goliath hurled himself against the office door, coming dangerously close to connecting with the window glass in the top half.
“Goliath!” Heath lunged across the office, catching hold of the dog’s collar barely in the nick of time to keep him from jumping again. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
Goliath barked and threw his head. For the second time that evening, Heath was reminded of the first night Goliath had ever seen Sammy. The dog was in the same sort of frenzy now. It was almost as if the child were in the next room and in grave danger.
The hair on Heath’s nape prickled. He’d learned a long time ago never to ignore Goliath when he behaved this way. The one time Heath had, he’d found himself staring into the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun a few seconds later.
Tugging Goliath along, Heath returned to his desk and dialed Meredith’s number. The phone rang endlessly.
“Dammit.” He slammed the receiver back in its cradle, his sense of uneasiness increasing. Turning his gaze back to the dog, Heath stood there for a moment, his rational side at war with his instincts. “You’re trying your best to tell me something’s wrong, aren’t you, buddy?”
The dog lunged against Heath’s hold, trying to reach the door.
Heath sighed. “Give me a break, Goliath. I’m in the middle of some important stuff, here. And Sammy’s ten miles away.”
Emitting a ferocious growl, Goliath reared up to plant his large front feet on Heath’s chest. Heath glanced back at the phone. Meredith wasn’t answering at her end, and that wasn’t like her. Chances were that she had hightailed it. But just to be on the safe side, it wouldn’t take him all that long to drive home.
“All right. If you say something’s up, let’s go check it out.”
En route to the door, Goliath circled Heath’s legs. Once they gained the outer office, the Rottweiler made a beeline for the front exit, sideswiping a deputy.
When Heath got outside, he shook his head at the way the dog jumped at the Bronco’s doors. Even so, the dog’s sense of urgency was contagious. Heath picked up his pace. Goliath never acted like this without a reason. At the door of the vehicle, Heath dropped his car keys and had to search for them in the dim light of the parking lot, an endeavor made all the more frustrating by the Rottweiler bumping against him.
By the time Heath got into the Bronco, his patience with the dog was wearing dangerously thin, and so was his patience with himself. Admit it, man. The real reason you’re dragging your feet is because you dread having to face her. His duty was clearly defined. Meredith was wanted on criminal charges, and if he saw her again, he would have to arrest her. No ifs, ands, or buts.
For the first time, the thought of having to do his job made him cringe.
Terror. The taste of it was metallic at the back of Meredith’s tongue. Full darkness had descended now, and the rest of the house was as black and silent as a tomb. Faint shimmers of moonlight came through the window above her, providing the only light. Shadows shifted and reached toward her. She strained to listen. Had Sammy gotten away? On the one hand, Meredith prayed she had. On the other, she feared for the child’s safety. Had she slipped under the pasture fence? Was she hiding out there in the field, even now, her small body concealed by the tall grass?
Oh, God. There were snakes out there, and those half-wild range cows. She didn’t know which was worse, the creatures who might harm her child, or the men who were chasing her. Either way, Sammy was in terrible trouble. And Meredith couldn’t help her. Trussed like a calf for branding, she couldn’t even help herself.
Thrashing and twisting to free her wrists, Meredith rolled onto her side, grinding her cheek against the floor. Something got in her mouth. She sputtered and pushed at it with her tongue, then tried to spit it out. Goliath hair. A sob tore up her throat and tears filled her eyes, for thinking of the dog made her yearn for Heath as well. The phone had rung a few minutes ago. Had it been Heath calling?
Oh, God, please, let him realize something’s wrong.
Not knowing what was happening to her daughter was torturous. Meredith lost all sense of time. How long had Sammy been out there? Ten minutes? Twenty? She imagined her little girl, alone somewhere in the dark, frightened and sobbing.
Suddenly the house erupted with noise. Doors slammed and footsteps resounded. Barely audible above the din, a shrill mewling trailed eerily through the rooms. Sammy. Heartsick, Meredith realized the child was crying, “G’liath! G’liath!” Over and over again, the summons tolled in the darkness, a futile invocation. The dog wasn’t going to hear, and he wasn’t going to come. Not this time.
“This time, Nelson, put the little shit in the bathroom and keep her there until I finish with the woman!”
The salesman’s voice, she thought, then wondered why she continued to think of him as a salesman. If the man peddled anything, it was death. She glanced at the hypodermic needle that awaited her on the bed. Then she heard footsteps coming toward her room. He’d kill her now. Was she just going to lie here and accept that?
No. Why make it easy for them? In the darkness, maybe she could hide.
She looked wildly around. The moonlight seemed brighter now, reaching farther into the room to pool like molten silver. Even if she rolled into a corner, they’d see her.
The bed. She wasn’t sure she could fit under it with her arms tied behind her back and adding extra thickness to her torso. She rolled onto her stomach and flattened herself against the floor. By pushing with her feet and rocking her shoulders, she wiggled under the bed frame, barely getting her legs out of sight before Delgado burst through the doorway. She heard him stop. Silence. Then heavy breathing.
“God damn it! Now the woman’s gone!”
The bed frame shook. She guessed that he’d kicked it. Furniture scraped the floor. Then she heard the closet door swing open and crash against the wall.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Wasn’t she tied up?” Nelson asked from somewhere near the doorway.
“Hell, yes! What d’ya think I am, stupid?”
Yes, Meredith thought. The first place she would have looked was under the bed. She bit her lip to hold back panicked laughter. She heard them searching the other rooms, kicking in doors, shoving aside furniture. Their angry curses rang through the house. Then she heard them coming back toward her room.
“She’s gotta be here. I tied her up good, I tell you! She couldn’t have gone far.”
The other man, Nelson, said, “Delgado, if we screw this up, the boss is gonna have our heads. How hard can it be for two men to handle a woman and a kid?”
“Shut your trap! It’s not my fault you let the kid get loose!”
“She bit me!”
“Oh, my heart bleeds.”
Meredith couldn’t imagine Sammy fighting back that way. She had bitten the man? Good for you, Sammy! Good for you! Not so very long ago, the child would have huddled in a corner, frozen in terror. Meredith knew whom she had to thank for the change. Tears stung her eyes again. Heath. And, of course, Goliath. The two of them made an incredible duo, and they’d given Sammy things Meredith had been unable to provide, namely a sense of security and the inner strength that came with it.
Meredith only wished they were here now. So powerful was the yearning that she nea
rly began sobbing Heath and Goliath’s names as she’d heard Sammy doing.
“You check under the bed?” Nelson asked.
Silence. Then, “Hell!” The next second, a dark hand shot under the dust ruffle. Meredith shrank away, trying to evade the groping fingers. No chance. The man closed his hand over her arm and grunted with satisfaction. “Got her!”
The next second, Meredith’s shoulder exploded with pain as she was dragged from under the bed. Her left arm scraped the underside of the frame. Good. She was glad for the pain. They had hoped to make her death look like an accident. Well, they could think again. Bruises would be a dead giveaway to the coroner.
“Don’t rough her up!” Nelson cried, almost as if he’d read her mind.
In his anger, Delgado flung Meredith onto the mattress with such force that she bounced. Something clattered onto the floor.
“Shit! The syringe!”
Like foraging rats, the two men began scurrying around the room. On the one hand, Meredith prayed they wouldn’t find the needle. On the other, though, she wondered how they might kill her if they didn’t. At least going to sleep was painless.
Light suddenly flooded the room, a bright, blinding glare that swung in a wide arc over the walls. For a second, Meredith thought that one of the men had turned on a flashlight. But then she heard the squeak of automobile brakes.
“Fuck! It’s a car!”
The two men dashed to the window to look out. Meredith took advantage of their distraction to roll off the bed again, not caring and scarcely feeling the pain when she collided with the nightstand a second time. Heath. Who else would be pulling into her driveway? Terrified that he would walk into a trap, Meredith screamed to warn him.
“Heath, be careful! Be care—”
Forever After Page 25
