by Jo Chambliss
This woman has no idea how much of a hero she is, but I do. I have to make her see it, to remove the look of self-doubt from her face.
When her eyes meet mine, I know in an instant what she needs. She needs reassurance that she did all she could. That she didn’t fail her daughter. In this moment, nothing on earth could stop me from going to her.
In less than a second, I close the distance between us and take her hand in mine. If the brave woman is surprised by my touch, she doesn’t show it. Not only does she not pull her hand away, I feel the slightest squeeze on my fingers.
Not calling attention to our connection, Mike proceeds to ask her several questions about the man, his voice, his looks, and the inside of the van. As I listen, I study her turquoise eyes, her high cheeks, and button of a nose. Even with the dark circles under her eyes, any idiot could see that she’s beautiful. Not even the numerous bandages littering her tan skin detract from her beauty. In a way, they add to it by showing how strong she is.
When Mike speaks again, his words sit like lead in my stomach. The question he asks Willa tells me a lot about what he’s found and indicates that this case has taken a dark turn. “Is there anyone you can think of that would wish to cause you harm? Anyone at all that might be holding a grudge against you for any reason?”
“No. Why? You don’t think someone we know did this to us, do you? This has to be some random attack. It’s not like he could have known I was going to be at the grocery store that late. Hell, I didn’t even know I would be at the grocery store that late. The guy was even talking crazy. He thought I was his mother or step-mother and that Ari was a girl named Suzy.”
The look on Mike’s face has me tensing up. Mike opens his mouth to deliver what will surely be bad news when another knock at the door interrupts the conversation. All three of us turn to look as a doctor walks in, looking bright and cheerful. He introduces himself as a plastic surgeon and offers a hand to the sheriff.
“Ms. Castle. I hope you don’t mind, but the sheriff’s office called in your name to us earlier this morning. We wanted to see if you had any medical history in our system. You know, in case you had any allergies or anything. I’d like to go over how we treated your injuries, but I’ll first ask these gentlemen to leave for your privacy.”
Responding to the doctor, Willa says, “Before you do that…” She turns to look at Mike. “Was I… still tied to a chair when you found me?” Hell. She’s asking if there’s a chance she was raped. I hold my breath, hoping for a good answer. “Yes.” That must have been the answer she was hoping for as her relief is plainly visible on her face.
She blows out a breath and addresses the doctor again, “That means I was not sexually assaulted, so these men can stay.”
“Understood. Since your injuries were not life threatening, I was called in to manage the treatment of your skin. Most of the lacerations you sustained were shallow, but due to the sheer number of them, over four dozen, you lost a fair amount of blood. Not enough for a transfusion, but enough that you’ll feel fatigued for a while until your volume is regenerated. Out of all fifty-three lacerations, only four needed stitches. The rest were glued.”
The doctor glances at the Mike quickly before continuing. “This may sound odd, but fortunately, the knife used on you was extremely sharp. Because of this, you’ll have minimal scarring except for the cuts that needed stitches.
“We also did a series of x-rays and screened you for incapacitating drugs, but all those tests were negative. Now that you’re awake, I can do a few final evaluations. If you pass those, we can let you go home.”
If I’m not mistaken, her face briefly shows alarm at going home. I suppose that’s understandable. It’ll probably be a long while before she feels safe again.
“Ok,” is all she says.
The doctor checks her eyes, asks if she has any headache, nausea, or confusion. He then checks her recall and reflexes. Satisfied with his exam, the doctor delivers his prognosis, “Other than the lacerations, you’re in good health, and I don’t see a reason to keep you here any longer. I’ll go give the nurses the discharge orders.”
The older doctor offers Willa a smile and pats the hand that I’m not holding. As he turns to leave, he glances at Ari and back to the sheriff. “I heard about the little girl. You go catch the bastard that did this.” Mike tips his chin in promise, fury darkening his face once more.
As soon as the door closes behind the doc, Mike puts away his pad and pen and looks me in the eye. Oh shit. I know that look… we haven’t heard the worst of it yet.
Mike clears his throat before soberly addressing Willa again. “Ms. Castle, after Ari gave us a description of the grocery store where you were abducted, my deputies checked yesterday’s security footage from the parking lot. The white van that was used in your abduction was spotted twice. Of course, it was caught when you were abducted, but it was also seen when you were there earlier in the day. The van pulled in shortly after you arrived and left moments after you drove away. The driver never got out.” Mike glances at me, then back at Willa. “Willa, this was no random attack. You and your daughter were targeted.”
The grip Willa has on my hand tightens. Holy mother of god.
I look over to Ari, barely containing my rage over these girls being The Hunted. Just then, as if she sensed my gaze on her, Ari looks up at me, gives me a little wave, and returns to her movie. As warmth spreads through my chest, I thank everything holy that I was in the right place at the right time to save that little girl.
Feeling Willa tremble, I look back at her. She’s somewhere between staring blankly and questioningly back and forth from Mike and me. Finally, she asks, “But, why?”
“That’s what I plan to find out, but for now, we have to consider the possibility that you and your daughter are still in danger… Maybe even more so since you escaped.”
If I thought about it, I’d know what he’s trying hard not to say, but too much emotion is in my way to think clearly, causing me to lash out at Mike. “What does that mean, even more so?” My friend tosses me a warning glare, and I shut my mouth. “This was obviously a premeditated attack. Given the specificity of the MO, it feels like a serial perpetrator. I’ve got my team searching the violent crime database for similar crimes, and I’ve already got a call into the FBI serial division. If this is a serial, he’s not going to be happy that you got away.”
If Willa was afraid before, the bruising grip she has on my hand shows that she’s petrified now.
“Do you have any family away from here where you could stay? Is there someone I can call?” the sheriff asks her.
Willa shakes her head sadly. “No. I’m an only child, and my father is in a nursing home after having a stroke last year. He doesn’t have very many good days, so I don’t want him contacted at all.”
“Any friends from Richmond? Anyone at all you could stay with?” I prod her.
“I haven’t spoken to anyone from Richmond in nine years, and I never had any friends in Bethesda while I was married to Jonathan.”
Watching Willa continue answering Mike’s questions, it would be easy for someone to pity her lack of connections, but I don’t. There’s nothing wrong about coming from a small family or being a private person. Besides my parents, I don’t have any connections outside of my team. However, her situation does make me wonder about her married years and why she didn’t have any friends in Maryland.
There could be numerous explanations for this, but I keep going back to the husband. Was he the quiet, stay-at-home type, the type to go out on the town and leave her alone, or was he the controlling my-wife-is-my-slave type that never let her out? Any of these could explain her private lifestyle, but which one is it?
Too curious now to keep quiet, I ask her, “What about your ex-husband? Given the situation, would he take you in, even if just for the sake of his child?”
Again, she shakes her head. “He’s probably forgotten all about us.”
So, he’s most likely
the selfish, left-her-at-home type.
Mike rubs his chin. “As much as I’d like to, I won’t be able to convince the US Marshals to put you in witness protection unless the FBI rules this a serial. If Lydia had its own force, I could request 24/7 protection. Hell, I’d do it anyway, but I don’t have that kind of manpower.”
He scratches his chin and shoves a hand in his pocket. “You and Ariel can stay with Michele and me. We live close enough to the city center that the house has near-constant surveillance. It’d be tight, but you’d be safe.”
I don’t even know the woman, but I can guess what her answer will be. “I can’t do that, Sheriff. Ari and I will just get out of town for a while.”
That’ll never work. Mike evidently is thinking the same thing as he shakes his head.
Without hesitation, my mouth opens. “My cabin’s empty.”
Two sets of eyes swing my way. One set shows shame and maybe a little suspicion, the other is in complete disbelief. Mike doesn’t recover from his shock quick enough for me, so I challenge him. “What? She has no connection to me, so no one would look for her there. The security is top-notch, and the place is invisible from the road. As long as they stay around the house, no one will ever find them.”
Mike closes his gaping mouth and asks, “What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
Willa’s troubled face threatens to be my undoing. “I can’t put you out of your home.”
“You’re not. My house is in Virginia Beach. Besides that, I have to report back to base in four days anyway.”
“Probably sooner if you want to have your bike fixed.” Dammit, Mike. Why’d you have to say that?
“Oh my god. Your crashed bike. I’m so sorry. I’ll pay to fix it.”
“The hell you will. You didn’t do this. We’ll find this guy, and I’ll take it out of his ass.”
“Ass is a bad word, Fish.”
As one, we all turn to see Ari standing in front of her chair. “I have to go potty.”
Fortunately, there’s an attached bathroom in Willa’s room. As Ari takes my hand and pulls, I look back to the concerned mom. “Not another word about the motorcycle.”
I lead the girl to the opposite end of the room, open the bathroom door, and turn on the light. “You got this, Tadpole?”
“I got it.”
Ari closes the door, and I return to Willa’s bedside. “So, what’s it gonna be?”
Willa starts to ask, “Are you su…?”
“He’s sure,” Mike cuts her off.
Soon after, Ari comes out of the bathroom. “Mama, I wanna go home.”
I walk over and pick her up. “You and your mama are going to go on a vacation.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’re going to stay in my cabin in the mountains.” Her little face lights up just before I realize I’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t have told her it was my place. “Are you coming too?”
Oh shit. “No, I have to go back to work.” When her eyes turn downward, I feel like a heel. “But I’m going to go with you to help you settle in. I’ll show you around and even let you help me chop some wood.”
“Cool. Can we have a fire and roast marshmallows?”
“Absolutely.”
The nurse comes in then with Willa’s discharge papers and a wheelchair. Willa’s face turns bright red as she looks at the flimsy hospital gown she’s wearing. “Oh… I don’t have any clothes.”
Damn. Looking around me, I realize my stuff is still at the sheriff’s station. “I don’t have my bag, or I’d give you something.”
The nurse cheerfully offers to bring in some scrubs she can wear, and the rest of us clear out to give Willa some privacy. Ten minutes later, Willa has dressed, been given her discharge instructions, and is being wheeled out of the room.
Chapter 6
Chris
It’s an awkward walk through the hospital lobby with our ragtag little crew. As Ari and I follow the nurse pushing Willa’s wheelchair, we draw several odd looks from everyone we pass.
People gawk at Ari, who’s in pajamas; the fins of her fish slippers flapping around as she walks. Willa gets curious stares due to the numerous red cuts on her exposed arms. I draw the most ire from the curious crowd. Those we pass assume I’m responsible for Willa’s injuries and look at me with scorn.
Fortunately, Willa doesn’t seem to notice the attention we’re getting. Ari is oblivious to those around us, and I just don’t give a rat’s ass about what people think.
When we arrive at the main entrance, Mike’s already outside, waiting by his cruiser, having gone ahead to bring the car around. He steps forward when he sees us, which causes the automatic doors to open, letting in a blast of icy-cold air.
Besides Mike, none of us have coats, and Willa doesn’t even have shoes. I wrap Ari in the blanket she’s holding and carry her outside to the waiting car. Mike takes off his coat and places it on Willa to offer her the warmth that the thin scrubs can’t.
Within seconds, we’re all in the car and heading toward Lydia. During the ride, each of us is lost to our own thoughts, even Ari. Normally, the quiet doesn’t bother me, but I know Willa is worrying herself to death, and I have to do something to stop it. “Mike, can you have one of your deputies go get some of Willa’s clothes and things from her house?”
He would have already thought about that. I’m just trying to give Willa something to focus on besides her self-doubt.
“We can manage that. Willa, we kept your keys to have access to your car. If it’s all right with you, I’ll send someone now.”
“Yes, please.”
Mike picks up his radio. “Anna, who’s around Lydia right now?”
“Nobody, Sheriff, but Harry just came on.”
“Good. Have him take Ms. Castle’s keys and… better yet, you put him at your desk, and you take his cruiser to Ms. Castle’s house. I want you to gather clothes, shoes, soaps, and… stuff. Bring it back to the station when you’re done.”
“You got it, Sheriff.”
Looking at our passengers in his mirror, Mike asks, “Willa, are there any medications or special things you’ll need?”
“No. Thank you.”
He gives her a nod and glances briefly at me. “Chris, I’ve got to check on some things as soon as I get back. To save me some time, I’ll need you to get your bike when we stop at the station. We’ll follow you to the cabin. That way, I can just drop Willa and Ari off and won’t have to wait around to give you a ride back into town.”
“That sounds good.”
Mike makes eye contact with Willa again. “I’ll have Michele come by later with some food and things.”
“Thank you,” she meekly says again.
When we finally arrive at the small county station, Mike drives around back and parks right beside my bike. Damn. I bite my tongue as I get a look at Betty for the first time. The left side is chewed up pretty bad. The saddlebag is busted, the handlebar grip is destroyed, the mirror is gone, and the tip of the brake handle is broken off. Thankfully, the crash bars I installed protected the engine and tank… and my leg.
As much as it’ll cost to fix Betty, the damage doesn’t upset me like I expected. It was either Betty or Ari. Seeing the carnage inflicted on the bike has me taking stock of my own body for the first time since this started. My armored jeans definitely took a beating. I’m sure my jacket did as well, but since I have no idea where it is, I can’t check.
All I know is that I’m glad I took the time to change into proper gear when all I wanted to do was race up here. I guess that’s why real riders always say, Dress for the slide, not for the ride.
While I’m looking me and the bike over, Mike walks up, holding my helmet, which is no longer a pristine, glossy black. He hands me my jacket and keys as well. Yep, the left arm of the armored jacket shows quite a bit of abuse. I can’t even imagine what shape I’d be in if I hadn’t been wearing the protective gear.
Standing next
to me looking at the damage, Mike lets out a low whistle. “Betty deserves a purple heart for this.” I slowly turn my head to see the biggest grin on his face. “Jackass,” I say with a smile of my own.
Just then, the station’s back door opens, and Thomas walks out carrying two large suitcases. The station secretary, dispatcher, and mother-figure-to-all-in-uniform, Anna, is following with three smaller totes. While they load the bags in the back of the cruiser, I don my jacket and helmet, then climb on the bike. Just before I crank Betty’s engine, I lean down and pat her tank, whispering, “You did good, girl.”
Without waiting for Mike, I pull out of the station lot and take the direct route to the cabin through Lydia instead of the winding mountain road I took last night.
Three miles into the trip, my phone is ringing. I glance at the phone mounted on the handlebars and sigh. Commander O’Reilly. Shit. My Bluetooth system auto answers the call. “Lieutenant Hill.”
“Lieutenant, I need you back at Little Creek. How soon can you be here?” Dammit. Not now!
“Five hours, sir.”
“Can you make it sooner?”
“At minimum, I have four hours of driving, and I haven’t been able to shower since Turkey.”
“Damn, Fish. What have you gotten into?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Well, make it four, and I’ll hand out gas masks. We found the Vlastvuy, and I want her taken while she’s loaded.”
“Four hours, Commander.” Dammit! If that isn’t shit for timing, I don’t know what is. Gunning the bike’s engine, I speed the rest of the way to the cabin.
Pulling in the tree-lined driveway, I sigh as I come to a stop. This cabin is my solace. Where I go to escape the rest of the world. It’s smaller than my house in Virginia Beach, but it’s quiet and private, and I love it.
I’ve put a lot of work into it over the years. The kitchen and bathrooms aren’t ultra-modern, but they have been updated. The rest is stone, glass, and timber. The roof of the front patio is supported by tree trunk columns that I can’t reach around. The entire right side is glass to view the mountain and stream that curve around the property.
