by Lisa Jackson
“Don’t beat yourself up.”
“But it’s because of me.” She blinked hard, fought the rush of tears, tried to stiffen her spine and square her shoulders. Travis was right. She couldn’t fight the monster by falling apart, by doing exactly what he’d hoped. And yet, it seemed impossible to pull herself together, to fight the way she always had all her life.
Whoever was doing this had known how to hurt her, had wanted to cut deep to the heart of her, to see her twist in the worst pain imaginable. She swallowed and sniffed, clutching his shirt so that it was wrinkled and wet, trying to draw strength from this man, Dani’s father, the only person on the planet who was wounded by this more than she.
“We have to find her,” she said, lifting her head back to stare at him through the sheen of tears. “We have to do every damned thing we can to get her back.”
“We will. We are,” he said, his voice gruff, his own eyes shining. But beneath the fear, lying under the surface of his pain, was a visible resolve. His jaw was set, his muscles rigid, his nostrils flared as if for battle. “First, you need to go upstairs, to bed. Rest. Pull yourself together. I’ll call Paterno. They’ll take the tape and dissect it. Maybe they’ll find fingerprints, or break down the sound to listen for other noises on the tape, noises disguised or hidden by Dani’s voice.”
“He won’t have slipped up,” she said, not daring to believe.
“Everyone does. Now, come on, let me help you upstairs—”
“No…I’ll be all right. I…um, just give me a second to clean up.” She couldn’t have him taking care of her like some frail, weepy, pathetic woman, even if she was acting like one. She pushed herself away from him and nearly crumpled when he let his arms fall away. “Call Paterno, have him come back here for the tape and to check over the truck or whatever he wants. He can tear this place apart for all I care. I just need a minute…to…wash up.”
“You should rest,” he said, “you’re still recovering.”
“Aren’t we all, Travis? Just give me a minute. I didn’t mean to break down, it’s just that…Oh, damn it all…hearing her voice…”
“I know.” He reached for her again, pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. His breath ruffled the hairs on her crown, caused a small tingle of anticipation to run through her blood.
She thought about pushing away from him, of breaking this unlikely embrace, but she couldn’t. It was as if they needed to hold each other tight to reaffirm their dedication to their cause, to find their child. Not his kid. Not her daughter. But their child.
She looked up at him, found his eyes staring down at her and a heartbeat seemed to stretch to infinity. Here was a man she could love, she thought fleetingly, a single man whose life was dedicated to his child.
Her throat thick, she pressed a quick kiss to the side of his face and smelled a hint of aftershave as she felt the prickle of beard stubble against her lips. “I’ll be down in five. Use my phone if you want.”
And then, before she did anything so foolish as to sweep her mouth over his, she hurried to the stairs, barely feeling any of her injuries as she climbed up. At her bed, she paused and walked to the nightstand where she picked up the picture of Dani Settler. Tears again threatened her eyes as she thought of the desperate words, aimed at her, that had been coerced from her daughter’s throat. “Don’t worry, honey,” she said, tracing the curve of Dani’s jaw with her finger. “I’m coming…your momma’s coming.”
It was now or never. The Beast had been gone for nearly an hour and she wasn’t going to be tricked by trusting that he would be back as soon as he said.
Even if he hadn’t lied, Dani couldn’t stand it one more second in this stinky, hot room with the crummy cot and no windows. She’d already lost some time as it was, had planned to leave earlier, but circumstances had prevented her escape. She knew things were changing. He was getting desperate. She could tell by how erratic he was, how angry all the time, how restless. And he wouldn’t have forced her to make that tape pleading for her mother to save her unless he was planning to get rid of her soon.
She had no illusions.
To stay was to die.
She had to take her chances.
She was ready. She’d put on all her clothes, filthy as they were, and now, with the nail in hand, she walked to the door that was the gate to freedom.
She was jumpy, her nerves thin and stretched as she slid the nail into the crack between the door and frame and slowly and steadily lifted upward. She felt resistance as the nail encountered the hook that held her door closed, but she pushed upward.
Nothing.
The hook didn’t so much as budge.
No, oh, no! Her plan couldn’t fail. She had to escape. The thought of leaving this creep behind was all that had kept her from dissolving into a million pieces when faced with being alone with him. Her scheme had kept her going and she wasn’t going to abandon it because of some stupid, dumb latch that seemed hell-bent on staying put.
She tried again. Slipped the nail into position. Forced it upward. It hit the thin metal hook again. “Here we go,” she said, pushing the nail upward, trying to get more leverage, imagining how the hook was bent so that it wouldn’t easily unlatch.
She failed.
“Damn it!” she muttered, then cringed at the sound of her own swearing. She couldn’t give in to anger. She had to focus. Remember her lessons from tae kwon do and Master Kim. She took a deep breath. Calmed herself. Stretched out the muscles of her neck, all the while aware that precious minutes were slipping by, that at any second the Beast could return to do his perverted regimen in front of the fire.
She held the nail in both hands, best as she could. Sliding the spike into the crack, she concentrated, then slowly but steadily moved the nail upward. Closing her mind to anything but visualizing the latch lifting upward, the hook sliding out of its eye, the door creaking open. She felt resistance. Ignored it. Kept up the pressure. Breathed evenly. Imagined her escape. Her fingers began to hurt, the muscles of her forearms shaking. She ignored the pain, thought only of the metal pressing against metal. Open, open, open, she thought, a personal mantra. Open, open, open…
She felt a twinge. Something was giving, the hook moving slightly. Her heart leapt, but she kept up the pressure, forced her mind to remain centered on the movement of the latch.
In an instant, it loosened. The hook swung upward, the latch gave way and Dani nearly tumbled into the living area.
She wasted no time. Grabbing the knife and fire-starter from the mantel, she found the flashlight he kept in a box by the rickety chair, then stuffed the picture of her mother—the woman with the curly reddish hair and green eyes had to have borne her—into her pocket. All these things had his fingerprints on them. She’d witnessed him touching each item, so she had to be careful not to smudge or disturb them. She still had the cigarette butt that had his DNA on it, but fingerprints would be easier to trace if he was in the database, at least that’s what she’d gathered from watching all those crime/detective shows on TV. But she didn’t have time for any contemplation right now. She had to get moving.
Quick as lightning, Dani slipped out the back door.
The night was dark, a smattering of stars and a piece of the moon the only light in these mountains. She thought of predators, of rattlesnakes and cougars, porcupines and bats, but nothing, no animal on the planet, was as frightening or as deadly as the beast she’d just left.
And he’d be pissed. When he found out that she’d gotten the better of him, he’d be pissed as hell. She had to make good her escape or die trying. That was all there was to it.
With the thin beam of the flashlight leading her way, she followed what had to have been a deer trail as fast as she could run without tripping. She was certain he’d be able to track her, she had to be leaving impressions in the dust, but as soon as she could figure out a way to veer from the path she would. Right now, she just needed as much distance from him as she could get.
S
he headed downhill, thinking that there might be a stream at the bottom and she knew that if she splashed through the water of a brook, he wouldn’t be able to find her footprints and, if the old movies were to be believed, even tracking dogs, bloodhounds would be confused. The good news was that he didn’t have a dog. The bad news was that in a summer as dry and hot as this one, most streams would be little more than dry creek beds.
Nonetheless she needed to stick with her plan.
Such as it was.
Focus, she told herself. Focus, focus, focus!
“This is your daughter’s voice. For sure?” Paterno asked. He and Rossi had returned after receiving Travis’s request and were now standing in Shannon’s living room, listening to the tape.
“I know Dani’s voice, Detective,” Travis snapped. “And that other sound you hear, the rushing rumble, we think it’s the crackle of flames, that whoever the bastard is who has my kid is holding her next to fire to make a point with us.”
Paterno’s face grew even grimmer. He listened hard, then nodded his agreement. “You’re right.”
Shannon, as she had each time she’d heard the recording, died all over again. Hearing the sound of the word Mommy coming from the daughter she’d never met brought her to tears. Almost literally to her knees.
“But your wife, her mother, is dead.”
“I know that!”
Shannon cut in, “Obviously this was meant for me. Left in my truck with my cell phone. Whoever forced my daugh—Dani into saying those words did it to get back at me.”
“Same with the fire in the shed and your sister-in-law’s death?” Paterno asked, even though, she suspected, he was way ahead of them. He was just testing Travis and her with his questions, plodding along, watching their reactions. They were all standing, she near the windows, the men in front of the stereo located in a low cabinet pushed against the wall.
“You said I was the center of it all,” Shannon said, staring outside, seeing her own ghostlike reflection in the glass. “The number six in the middle of that damned odd-shaped star.”
“You believe that now?”
Folding her arms over her chest, she said, “Like you said, I’m the sixth-born in my family. Today I overheard a conversation between my brothers…”
“About?” Paterno nudged but Shannon hesitated, feeling as if she was incriminating her own kin, the men who had constantly looked out for her. As Aaron was fond of saying, “Don’t worry, Shannon. I’ve got your back.” Had he? What did their conversation she’d overheard on their mother’s back porch mean? Anything? And even if she was pointing her fingers at her brothers, was it wrong? A child, her child, was in danger. One woman had been killed. “I just don’t get what the whole birth-order thing means.”
“What is the birth order?” Paterno asked and, in the reflection, she saw him staring at her, pen in hand.
“You know,” she said.
“I just want to make sure I don’t miss anything.”
She doubted Paterno missed much. “Aaron’s the oldest, just turned forty, then Robert’s thirty-nine, they’re only a little over a year apart, then, um, Shea…He’s next and I think he’s thirty-seven, not quite thirty-eight. Oliver’s a year and a half older than me at thirty-four.”
“And you’re thirty-three?”
“That’s right.”
“What about your brother Neville?”
“He was…Oliver’s twin. Thirty-four.”
“You keep referring to him in the past tense.”
She closed her eyes. “I guess there’s a part of me that assumes he’s dead,” she said quietly. She’d never admitted as much before, always been the one who had told her mother, “He’ll return, you just wait and see. When he’s good and ready, Neville will walk right through your front door.” But now she realized she’d been lying, kidding herself. Deep inside she’d believed her youngest brother was dead. Turning from the window, she stared at the detective, noticed Travis, standing to one side watching her. “If he’s alive, then where is he? Why is he hiding? Does he have some kind of secret identity, or amnesia, or is he in the witness protection program or…What?”
“Maybe he wants to stay hidden.”
“Why?”
“Maybe he’s a criminal,” Paterno posed. “Maybe he did something so bad, he can’t come back.”
“Like what?” she asked, then realized what he was getting at. “You think he killed Ryan? Because Neville left shortly after Ryan’s death?” She was incredulous, shaking her head. Her voice had risen and Khan, once again relegated to his rug in the kitchen, growled. “Shhh!” she commanded as the puppy then let out a whimper. For the moment, she ignored the animals. “No, it wasn’t—isn’t—in Neville’s nature. I don’t believe it.”
“You mentioned a conversation between your brothers?”
As Rossi bagged the tape, she explained what she’d overheard. “I don’t know what it meant, and probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but one of them, and I can’t really say which one, mentioned ‘birth order,’ another one said something about ‘it,’ whatever ‘it’ is, being Dad’s fault.” She saw the question forming on his lips and she said, “I don’t know. I really can’t even speculate what they were talking about, okay? You’ll have to ask them.”
“You got it,” Paterno said, wrapping it up. The two officers gathered their things and started heading toward the door. Before they left, Paterno alerted Shannon that the FBI would be out in the morning as this was a kidnapping case. He also said that he would analyze the tape and let her know what he found, and that her truck was being towed into town to the police garage where it would be searched minutely, examined for any evidence left by whoever had delivered her the tape.
Travis stayed with her as the tow truck, carrying her pickup, rumbled down the drive, and finally they were alone.
“Now what?” she asked.
“You need rest.” He placed a finger gently on her cheek where the last of her abrasions was still healing. “I’ll take care of dinner.”
“You can cook at a time like this?”
“No.” His lips twisted. “But I think we need to regroup.” He tried to appear calm, in control, but a little tic beneath his eye belied his pent-up energy. “We’ll talk it out over pizza. They deliver here?”
“Gino’s does, but the delivery charge is about the cost of a round-trip ticket to Europe.”
“I’ll buy.”
She realized he didn’t want to leave her. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“Looks like it.”
He shrugged. “Okay, first of all, you’re trapped here since the police took your vehicle, and secondly this seems to be the center of it all. And I’m not just talking about the six in the middle of a star, but this place is where he strikes.”
“So you’re either hanging around to be my bodyguard, or because you think you can catch him here?”
“A little of both, I guess,” he admitted.
“Should I be flattered? Or pissed off?”
He lifted a shoulder. Blue eyes glinted. “A little of both, I guess,” he repeated. “Now go, get into ‘something more comfortable.’ Doctor’s orders.”
“Who’s the doctor?”
“Me.” His smile was faint.
“Yeah, right.”
“Wanna play?” he asked.
“What? Doctor?” Shannon gazed at him in surprise.
He snorted. “Okay, bad joke. I just thought maybe we should lighten up.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
“I’ve been so focused, so…tense and single-minded, I haven’t been able to step away from what’s going on and look at it with a broader scope.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t get me wrong, my sole purpose here is to find my daughter and get her back safely. But I think because I’ve been so tunnel-visioned, I may have missed the big picture and that larger view might help me locate Dani.
“And you’re involve
d,” he went on. “The center…”
His mind was working in new circles, gears turning, ideas running through his head quickly. Shannon saw it in his eyes.
“Look, whether we like it or not, you and I, we’re in this together. He’s forcing us to work as a team and I think we shouldn’t fight it.”
“Have you been?”
“Hell, yes. I wanted to rush in here all full of myself, with a sense of fatherly duty and determination. I wanted to find my kid myself. I was sick to death of the police and FBI and waiting around for the abductor to make a move. I was friggin’ John Wayne! But it hasn’t worked out that way and it’s probably because the bastard who took my kid is counting on me acting just like that. In a way, I’ve been playing into his hands…And you have, too. So we have to keep at it, but with cool heads, look at this thing with a hard, new eye, be one step ahead instead of behind.
“It’s hard. Damned hard. This is my kid we’re talking about. The son of a bitch has dropped me to my knees and I have to wonder why. It’s not about me, I don’t think, but it is about you. So that’s the angle we have to examine.” He sobered. “I’m not going to kid you, Shannon, this part is going to be rough.”
“Like it’s been a picnic so far.”
His eyes held hers and all of his attempts at lightheartedness drained away. “I hate to say it, but you could be right, maybe what we’ve gone through, what Dani’s endured, is a picnic compared to what he has planned for us from here on in.”
He followed his quarry from a distance.
Ever vigilant.
Ever wary.
No one could catch him, not yet, not when he was so close to his ultimate goal. Parking his truck several blocks away, he jogged through the night, then waited in the shadows, hidden by the shrubbery that surrounded the old mission. The groundskeeper had watered and the smell of damp earth reached his nostrils, a welcome scent on this hot, dry night. His every muscle was taut, his nerve endings singing in anticipation, and he felt an edgy little worry as well. The girl…Something was up with that damned kid. He sensed it and because of her, the little brat, his enjoyment of the night wasn’t as heightened as usual. He couldn’t savor this ritual, one he’d been planning for years, as much as he would have liked. It angered him. Having the kid around was getting to him. The kid gave him the creeps—the way she mutely stared at him, studied his every move, and when she did talk, the questions.
