by Lisa Jackson
“I know where that is,” Nate said, glancing up at Travis. “It’s not that far. Ten, maybe twelve miles north of here.”
Travis was already moving toward his truck, ignoring a reporter stepping from the news van. “Let’s go.”
“We need a dog.” Nate whistled sharply, repeatedly. He turned to the firefighter. “Call Paterno, tell him everything you heard here, especially about the cabin. Tell him about the trestle bridge, the nearest town is Holcomb, I think, the closest landmark is Stinson Peak. There’s a road that runs parallel to that section of the railroad…It’s…hell…what is it?”
“Johnson Creek Road,” the firefighter supplied.
“Right.”
Nate nodded quickly as Atlas, the huge shepherd, bounded from the shadows. The big dog, despite the fire, made a beeline for Santana.
The firefighter was already reaching for her cell phone.
The flames were dying, but the air was still thick with wet ash and smoke. Travis said to Dani, “I assume he brought you here in a vehicle.”
“A truck,” she affirmed. “I got him, though.”
“Got him?” Travis said and her lips pursed.
“With a nail. I jammed it into his face. I tried to get his eyes but I don’t think I did.” She looked up at her father. Tears shimmered in her eyes, reflecting the gold flames of the dying fire. “I wanted to kill him…”
“It’s okay,” he said as she blinked. “You’re safe.”
“But she isn’t. He’s going to kill her, Dad. I know it.” Guilt riddled her expression.
With one arm he pulled her tight against him. “Not if I have anything to say about it. And it’s not your fault, Dani. None of this is your fault.”
“But if I didn’t go online, if I didn’t start searching for her, she would be safe. I wouldn’t have been kidnapped.”
“Don’t think like that. Okay? We’ve got to go after that son of a bitch.”
She nodded rapidly.
“Good. Now, can you tell me where he parked his truck?”
“Over there.” Without hesitation she pointed through the trucks parked haphazardly in the driveway and past the fence behind Shannon’s house. “On the other side of those fields,” she said, indicating the subdivision. “In a back alley.”
“Let’s go. You show us the way,” Travis told his daughter.
The female firefighter snapped off her phone. “Paterno’s on his way.”
“Good.” Travis and Dani were already hurrying with Nate to Nate’s truck.
“Hey wait.” Travis glanced over his shoulder as Nate threw open a door. Beneath her helmet, disapproval twisted the woman’s features. “Your daughter should stay and wait for the police.”
Travis wasn’t listening to anyone. “We don’t have time,” he said as Nate fired the engine. Travis and Dani piled in and Nate stepped hard on the throttle, shooting past a worried-looking reporter who was motioning to a cameraman. Nate picked up speed, tearing down the driveway as sirens wailed in the distance.
Fear clawed at Travis. He had his daughter back, yes, but now Shannon was missing, caught by the same horrid psycho who had held his daughter.
He had to get to her.
Before it was too late.
Chapter 33
Shannon’s eyes fluttered open.
She coughed, her nostrils burning.
Where the hell was she?
She tried to move but couldn’t. As her head cleared and her eyes adjusted to the half-light, she realized she was in a small cabin of sorts. It was dark, the only illumination an eerie, blood-red glow from coals in an old, decrepit fireplace.
She coughed again at the acrid smell that permeated her nose and lungs.
Gasoline!
Instantly her brain snapped into gear. She struggled. Tried to stand. But she was tied to a chair. Her hands were bound behind her. Her feet were lashed to each of the front legs of the chair.
“No!” she yelled, her own voice startling her.
Images flashed through her mind. The fire in the stables. Her daughter tied to a stake. A ring of fire. A dark, hooded man swooping down on her.
Terror grabbed her by the throat.
This was wrong…so wrong.
“Awake?” a deep, evil voice asked.
She froze.
The voice was familiar. Hideous.
A ripple of disgust and fear swept over her skin. She was mistaken. She had to be. No way could the terrifying voice from her past be here…no…oh, God, no!
“Ryan?” she whispered, terror freezing her veins.
“So you do remember?”
Oh, please, God, no!
Like a wraith, he moved out of the shadows. He was naked, his body gleaming in the weird glow, as if he’d spent time anointing every inch of his skin with oil.
She gazed in disbelief. Blood ran down one side of his face. He was wounded near his eye which was purpling and swelling. This had to be a horrid, twisted nightmare.
His smile, white teeth and thin lips were the embodiment of evil. “So you haven’t forgotten me.”
“But you…you…”
“I’m supposed to be dead, aren’t I?” He walked closer. Taut, strident muscles moved beneath skin stretched tight, as if he’d worked out every day since she’d last seen him. Revulsion and panic stormed through her. Think, Shannon, think. Don’t let him win. You have to fight. She closed her eyes for a second, tried and failed to get her bearings.
“Surprise, surprise.” His voice was silky and smug.
“I don’t understand.” She opened her eyes. Stared at the face she’d once loved and now despised. He was aberrant, a sick, demented freak. Somehow, someway, she had to save herself.
Outside it was dark as pitch, the windows showing nothing but blackness. Wherever they were it was remote. She couldn’t expect any help. The cavalry wouldn’t be riding up.
Don’t give up. Do not let this bastard win!
“Of course you don’t understand,” he said, walking in a broad circle around her, not getting close. She saw his back, hideously scarred and she shivered. “But then you never understood me, wifey, now did you?”
The gas! Where the hell was the gas? Heart thudding with fear, Shannon searched the shadows, saw no sign of a can…had he poured it out? It was too dark to see, but in the fire’s reflection she noticed dark lines on the floor. What was that? He hadn’t poured the gas out, had he? And why did it burn her nostrils? As if it were…oh, God, she looked down at her clothes. Surely he hadn’t…
“The trouble was, Shannon, you were never as smart as you liked to pretend. You thought you’d gotten away with it, didn’t you? The perfect murder?”
“What are you talking about?” She needed to keep him engaged in the conversation. She needed a way out, an escape route. But her clothes! Had he soaked her clothes in gasoline? Was that why he was naked and she was still dressed? “Wha–what murder? You know I didn’t try to kill you. What did you do, stage it? Why? Did you want to disappear?” She had trouble concentrating. Fear spread through her like a plague and sweat slid down her spine.
“I had to. You know it. You were behind it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play innocent with me!” he said, snapping. “Your brothers, ever your protectors, decided to get rid of me. Your brothers. My in-laws.” He hooked a thumb at his naked chest. “My coworkers, supposedly my goddamned friends. All their dirty little secrets.”
“What secrets?” she asked, but she knew it had something to do with the star, something to do with the acronym.
“Don’t play dumb! ARSONS…Aaron, Robert, Shea, Oliver, Neville and finally Shannon,” he said, spitting her name as he circled her. He was worked up. His hands were waving now. She tried to keep his face in her eyesight, watch for any indication of what he was going to do.
But she knew, didn’t she? The smell of gas warned her of her certain, painful death.
“Can’t you drive any f
aster?” Travis demanded as the truck barreled up the narrow, winding logging road. Outside it was black as death, the headlights of Nate’s truck cutting through the thick darkness.
“You want us to get there alive, don’t you?” Santana growled, but he punched it and the wheels of his truck spun wildly, digging in.
“There it is!” Dani said as a narrow bridge came into view. “This is where he was parked.”
Travis’s heart nosedived as he imagined his daughter with the madman who now had Shannon.
They’d driven steadily through these forested hills and with each minute elapsing he was going out of his mind. He prayed that Shannon was still alive and that they would find her, that Dani was right and he had taken her back to his lair.
Wherever that was.
Otherwise he might never see her alive again.
Fear congealed his blood and he held fast to his daughter.
Let her be alive, he silently prayed. Let us find her…oh, Jesus, please!
Shannon pulled at her restraints so hard her wrists ached.
Ryan was pacing. Explaining. Obviously glad to unburden himself.
“Your brothers, they went through this big, ridiculous ceremony…standing at points of a star in the woods, like they were part of a secret society, and one by one, they pledged to kill me. Can you imagine?” He leaned closer, his nose an inch from hers. “Because of you. Because they wanted to protect you, from me. And I was your husband! Your husband! You were supposed to love me! Honor me! Obey me! You remember those vows, bitch?” he raved. His hand lifted as if to strike her.
She stared up at him fiercely, her heart pounding, her nerves strung tight. Silently, she dared him to do it. As he had in the past. His face twisted in fury, his swollen eye making him look like the madman he was.
“I would have died that night if it wasn’t for Oliver and his conscience. He told me. Let me in on the secret. Explained what was going to happen. Begged me to leave town.”
“But you didn’t.”
“You know me, Shannon, I don’t run.” He sneered. “I get even. It was simple really. Neville was about my size. He didn’t suspect a thing.”
“Neville?” she whispered, bracing for the truth.
“The reason no one knew that I survived that night is because I became Neville. I abducted him, interrogated him and found out that his crazy twin was telling the truth. Then I traded places with him, wearing his stupid disguise and arriving at the meeting in the woods to find out that it was true. All of your brothers were planning to kill me. They had this big show, and the leader, Shea, according to Neville, though no one was supposed to know, mapped it out. They all vowed to murder Ryan Carlyle that night, you get it?” he demanded, still circling, his rage emanating from him, the smell of gasoline nauseating. “I just beat them to it. I left my wallet with Neville. Buried it out of range of the fire but close enough to find. I figured Neville’s body would be burned beyond recognition. Lucky for me, your family wanted to keep some secrets themselves. They identified Neville’s remains as mine.”
“They wouldn’t do that. They wouldn’t lie about Neville.”
“Yeah? Maybe they didn’t know for sure. But nobody wanted to look at dear, old Neville’s dead body too closely. No autopsy. No DNA testing. Just identify it as Ryan Carlyle and everybody leaves happy.”
Shannon wouldn’t believe it. She tried to close her ears, think only of escape.
“That’s when this happened,” he jerked a thumb at his back. “I tripped getting away, and slid into the fire myself. But I managed to get out. Neville didn’t.”
Shannon shrank away from both the real vision of Ryan’s scars and the mental vision of Neville’s burning death.
“Had to treat it myself…But it’s been a good reminder. It’s kept me focused. Helped me never forget that I had to return. Payback time.”
Shannon’s body jerked as she remembered Travis telling her about the bloody words scrawled in Blanche Johnson’s house.
Travis…
Please God keep him and Dani safe, away from this maniac.
Shannon’s insides shredded as she realized that it was because of her actions that they’d been put in danger.
“That’s right, wifey, payback time, for that bitch that gave me away and for you and your family. And mine…”
“Mary Beth?” Shannon whispered, realizing he must mean his cousin.
“Turncoat bitch. She was supposed to defend me! But your lawyer twisted her words around, confused her.” His nostrils flared. “She was always stupid.”
“So you killed her.”
“It was more than that,” he said, pleased with himself. “I wanted Robert to feel the pain, to know he was behind her death, that because of his womanizing, he wasn’t there to save his wife.” His eyes narrowed and he said smugly, “I think it worked, don’t you?”
Ryan glared at the woman, his prisoner, who had once been his whole life. She, like the others, was a traitor and deserved the fate he was about to mete out.
Everyone had turned on him. Especially this bitch seated on the chair, tied and restrained. She was scared; he could see it in her eyes, the way she watched him, but more than that she was defiant. As always. She’d never had the sense to cower from him, to let him have his way.
Stupid woman.
Worse yet, she was still beautiful. Heart-stoppingly so. He’d always loved her wild hair, her big eyes, her sexy smile. That smile had been his undoing.
He studied her. If he had the time, he’d fuck her first, remind her that he was her husband, leave her sore and aching, making certain she understood that he was the one in command. Afterward, while she was still panting and bruised, he’d kill her.
She was no better than the rest of them. Worse even. Hadn’t she vowed to love and obey him until “death do us part.” Well, baby, death was just about to do its thing. With one strike of a match, the gasoline would ignite and she would feel the pain he’d suffered, the heat of the fire, the terror of knowing she was going to be consumed by painful, angry flames…
Shannon had to keep twisting her head, watching him over her shoulder as he circled her. She pulled at her bonds when he wasn’t looking. Weren’t they moving? Wasn’t there the tiniest bit of slack? If she had enough time, worked with them, could she pull her hand through? That’s all she needed: one hand. Just enough of an edge to grab a weapon and kill him.
“Neville didn’t die in the fire,” Shannon reminded him through clenched teeth. “If it wasn’t you, it was someone else, because Neville was seen after the fire.” She was desperate to keep him talking and walking, distracted. She needed time to free herself.
“Correction,” Ryan said, holding up a finger. “Oliver, posing as Neville, was seen.”
“You’re lying!” Shannon gasped. “Oliver would never do anything like that. He loved Neville. Loved God!”
“You can’t believe that poor, pious Oliver would stoop so low as to pretend to be his brother for a couple of weeks?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“He was saving his own hide. Think about it. Did you ever see Neville and Oliver together after my death?”
Shannon’s mind reeled backward to those first horrible days when she was accused of murder, when speculation ran high that she’d killed her husband. Her brothers and parents had been around. But now, with the march of time, the images were blurry. She couldn’t be sure.
“You didn’t see him! No one did. Because Neville was dead. And Oliver was a master at slipping into Neville’s skin, pretending to be his twin, and he hid it from everyone but eventually, he cracked. Again. Poor innocent Oliver couldn’t keep up the pretense and he landed in another loony bin.”
“You don’t know anything!”
“Think again. You know how they say confession is good for the soul? Well, that’s what Oliver did just before he died. In the church basement, he bowed his head and confessed everything to me.”
“You son of a bitch!” she gro
wled, yanking at her arms and legs. Pain screamed through her body. “You sick, psychotic son of a bitch!” she yelled, her head spinning.
“Is that any way to talk to your husband? Your lover?”
Her stomach, already nauseous from the stench of gas, curdled at his endearments for her. Staring up at him, she strained so hard she could feel the cords in her throat stand out. “This is so much crap, Ryan. I don’t believe you. Oliver, if he knew you survived…he would have warned me.”
“He knew I was alive even if the rest of them didn’t. But they all suspected something…they just weren’t sure about Neville because of Oliver’s impersonation.” Ryan leered. “But face it, honey, they all let you twist in the wind for my death. They planned my demise, but they let you go on trial for murder!”
She felt cold inside. Despite the heat.
“Swell guys, your brothers.”
“They couldn’t have known.”
“Oliver sure knew. He didn’t rat me out, even when he found out I was back. When I confronted him in the confessional…you know, the priest-parishioner confidence thing? I reminded him he couldn’t tell or he’d suffer God’s wrath.”
She was stunned. “You used the church…Oliver’s faith…against him?”
“No, bitch,” he said, suddenly angry. “I used his guilt!”
Shannon gazed at this horror who had once been her husband. “You killed them all. Neville, Mary Beth…Oliver,” she said dully, the terrible truth of it sinking in. There was no way out. She, too, was doomed. The smell of gasoline was overpowering. Revolting. Oh, God, please not her clothes…but whatever he had planned, it would be excruciating. He intended to extract every bit of revenge he could and she knew her death was not only imminent, it would be hideous. She had to keep him talking and try to find a way to deceive him, to get a jump on him, to save herself.
“I’m just getting even, wifey,” he pointed out, still circling her but keeping his distance. “I waited a long time for this. Leaving the country then wasn’t as hard as I thought. I’d already gotten myself some fake papers, so it was easy enough to steal a car and drive north. I ditched that truck and bought a junker north of Seattle and just kept driving. It was easy enough to hide in Canada. No one looks for a dead man.”
