Held by You

by Cheyenne McCray

  Garrett had, however, tapped Linda’s landline and had bugged her house while she’d been out of town, but so far they’d gotten nothing. They hadn’t been able to track down a cell phone in her name so all they had was her landline. The tap and the bugs didn’t do a damn bit of good since she hadn’t been home.

  The tap and bugs weren’t legal but then Garrett was a PI and used unconventional methods when needed.

  A sense of urgency had John driving over the speed limit until he reached Linda Solomon’s neighborhood. He slowed down before pulling up his truck a couple of houses away from the woman’s home and parking. It was almost dark now and Christmas lights glittered in front of some of the neighborhood homes.

  As John strode toward Linda Solomon’s house, Garrett walked toward him. As usual, he wore a western hat and shirt, jeans, and boots. His surveillance car was parked on the other side of the street facing in the opposite direction.

  “When did she get back?” John asked Garrett when they met in front of the house.

  They fell into step and headed up the sidewalk to the house. Garrett glanced at his watch. “Just over fifteen minutes ago—I called you as soon as she arrived. You made good time.”

  They climbed the porch steps to the door. While Garrett knocked, John stood to one side of the door to avoid being seen. He was in uniform and didn’t want to scare off the woman. She might choose not to open the door with a police officer on her doorstep and no warrant.

  A moment after Garrett knocked, the door opened just wide enough for the woman to look through.

  “What do you want?” came a woman’s voice, scratchy from years of smoking cigarettes.

  “I want to talk with you about Freddy Victors,” Garrett said.

  “Why do you want to talk about Freddy?” The scowl in her voice was clear.

  Garrett shrugged. “He’s in some trouble. Maybe I can help.”

  “I don’t know where he is.” The woman sounded irritated. She started to close the door.

  Garrett stuck his boot in the small space between the door and the frame. “Give me a couple of minutes.” Garrett’s voice was hard.

  “Get your damned foot out of the way,” she snarled.

  John stepped into view. “A few words, ma’am.”

  Linda Solomon looked startled. He’d clearly thrown her off guard.

  “What—?” She looked at Garrett then John. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Where is Freddy, Linda?” John asked.

  “I don’t know.” She said the words emphatically. “I’ve been visiting my sick mother. She lives in Flagstaff.”

  “Do you have any idea where he might be?” John asked. She shook her head and John kept his gaze on her, sizing her up. “It’s in your best interest to let us know where he is. We need to question him in relation to a murder.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Freddy wouldn’t kill no one.” She banged the door against Garrett’s boot. “Get the hell off my porch.”

  Garrett moved his foot and Linda slammed the door shut. He looked at John. “Would you like to join me in the car for a moment?”

  John gave a nod and they headed back down the stairs. It was dark now and Garrett had parked in the shadows, away from the streetlight. When they reached his car, John climbed into the passenger side while Garrett got into the driver’s side.

  Garrett switched on the listening device for the bugs he’d planted in the home.

  “Freddy,” came Linda’s voice, captured by one of the bugs. She wasn’t on the landline. “Two cops were here. They want to talk to you about a murder.”

  The phone call was one-sided. She had to be talking on a cell phone—a prepaid phone or someone else’s phone not in her name.

  A pause then, “I didn’t tell them anything.” Linda sounded irritated. “Where the hell are you? Up in that camper you said you have. Where is it? Groom Creek?”

  Garrett and John looked at each other.

  “You think bugs are planted in my house? I don’t—” She snapped the words as she said, “Yeah, whatever.” A beat later, “Fuck you.”

  They heard something slam and then banging around. Obviously she was pissed. Then came a sound like pots and pans clattering on the stove.

  “Groom Creek,” John said as he thought about the area and the most likely place where Freddy could be hiding in a camper in that area. It wasn’t that far away.

  “It’s too dark to search now,” John said. “I’ll send out the alert and then tomorrow we can comb that area. Right now he’s just wanted for questioning and isn’t considered a suspect since the murder’s been pinned on Hollie.”

  Garrett nodded. “I’ve got a guy who’ll be here soon and can take over for me in case she says anything else. I need to get home to Ricki as soon as he gets here.”

  John clapped Garrett on the shoulder. “Thanks, bro.”

  Garrett gave him a nod. “We’ll find the bastard and get Hollie off the hook.”

  “I intend to do exactly that,” John said before climbing out of the car. He shut the door behind him and headed down the street to his truck. He stayed to the darkness the best he could as he passed her house on the opposite side of the street in case she was looking out the window.

  Christmas lights glittered, some blinking on and off as he passed. One home had blow-up decorations including Disney characters and a mini Christmas merry-go-round. He wished he and Hollie were sharing a simple, carefree holiday. His insides warmed at the fact he was going home to her.

  When John reached his truck, he climbed in, started the vehicle, and headed home.

  Fifteen minutes later, John held his keys in one hand as he headed to the front door of his own house and he smiled. He’d been waiting all day to see Hollie. Thanks to Garrett, they’d now made some headway. John was certain that as soon as they found Freddy, they’d be able to prove he was the one who’d murdered Carl Whitfield.

  Through the curtained window, John saw the Christmas tree’s colorful lights winking. The cold air chilled his face but he barely noticed it. It would be good to be inside, warming up with Hollie in his arms.

  The moment he stuck the key in the lock, he knew something was off. Call it cop-sense, call it intuition, call it a bad feeling crawling up the back of his spine… Whatever it was, he knew something was wrong.

  With one hand hovering over his service weapon, he turned the key with his other and opened the door. “Hollie?” he called out.

  Silence.

  He stepped into the house and called out again. “Hollie?”

  The house was warm and smelled of an over-baked casserole. The moment he stepped over the threshold, into the house, his heart started to pound against his breastbone. One of the living room lamps was smashed on the floor. Ornaments lay in shards near the tree.

  Hollie!

  His heart lurched and his skin crawled as he drew out his service weapon with one hand while pulling out his cell phone with his other. He called for backup before stuffing his phone back into its holster. He proceeded to hold his weapon in a two-handed grip as he checked every room for signs of Hollie.

  Nothing. He found her purse sitting on an end table in the living room. Her jacket was hanging on a hook by the back door in the kitchen, not a good sign. It was too damned cold to be outside on a night like this without some kind of protection. Her phone was gone so he tried calling it but the call went straight to voicemail.

  The wail of sirens sounded in the distance. In moments the sirens were cut and he heard vehicles coming to a stop outside the house, red and blue lights flashing through the curtains.

  John opened the door and stepped onto the porch. One of the vehicles that had arrived was Reese’s. He got out and started toward the house when he looked down. He frowned and gestured to John who met him on the sidewalk.

  “You’re sure Hollie’s been kidnapped?” Reese asked with a grim expression.

  “Positive.” John gave a sharp nod. “There are signs of a struggle and her coat a
nd purse are still in the house.”

  Reese nodded to the ground. “Can you tell if that’s her cell phone?”

  John’s skin chilled and it had nothing to do with the weather. He crouched and looked at what remained of Hollie’s phone. “Yeah, I believe it is.”

  Reese got out an evidence bag and a pulled on a latex glove before dropping the phone and its pieces into the bag. He straightened and looked at John. “Tell me everything.”

  Without going into detail about Garrett’s phone tap on Linda Solomon’s phone, John told Reese that Garrett had come up with a lead. They believed Freddy might be hiding out in a camper in Groom Creek. Reese knew his brother, Garrett, used unconventional methods to obtain information and that did not need to be discussed.

  “Groom Creek?” Reese said. “Shit. It’s not going to be easy tracking her down in that area, much less at night.”

  “We’ve got to find her.” John felt like his head was going to explode. “The longer we wait, the greater the chance—” His throat closed off. He could barely hold in the fear or the rage that he felt at that moment. If anything happened to Hollie, he would hunt down Freddy Victors and kill him.

  “We’ll find her.” Reese put his hand on John’s shoulder. “Lock up and let’s go.”

  Two officers set about going door-to-door to see if the neighbors had seen anything unusual, such as an unfamiliar vehicle or strangers to the neighborhood.

  It wasn’t long before John was on his way to Groom Creek with backup from the Prescott Police Department. Deputies from the sheriff’s department were on their way, too.

  John bit back the emotion cutting off his throat. He hadn’t felt like this since he was a kid and his mother had passed away.

  “Hold on, Hollie,” he said aloud. “I’m coming.”

  Chapter 23

  Hollie shuddered from the cold as her body pressed against the ground beneath the camper. Freddy’s jacket helped, but it wasn’t enough. If she didn’t find help soon, she might fall victim to hypothermia.

  But where could she go? Freddy and Dickey both had headed toward the highway, each taking either side of the road.

  She stuck her hands in the pockets of Freddy’s jacket to warm her hands and froze when her fingers met cold metal in both pockets. Freddy’s pistol was in one pocket.

  A set of keys was in the other pocket. Her heart lurched. Could one of the keys go to the car?

  She waited until she couldn’t see Freddy or Dickey anymore before she scrambled out from beneath the camper. She was injured and she was freezing cold. So very cold that she had a hard time moving as she stumbled toward the car.

  When she reached the old, faded yellow car, she grabbed the ice-cold door handle and jerked the door open. She climbed inside, biting the inside of her cheek from the never-ending pain in her body. Her hands shook as she searched the key ring for the right key for the old car.

  It was dark in the car but there was the light glow coming from the light shining through the camper windows. She raised the keys up to look at them in the dim light. The key ring was full and she had to sort through the keys. Her fingers trembled and she dropped the key ring. It clattered as it hit the floorboard.

  She snatched them up again and glanced over her shoulder to see if either of the men was coming back to the camper. When she turned back she went through the keys. She found two that looked like they went to older vehicles. She jammed the first key into the ignition and to her relief it fit.

  Heart beating like crazy, she started to put her foot on the brake pedal and discovered the car was a manual, not an automatic. She hadn’t driven a manual since she was a teenager and even then she hadn’t driven one more than a few times before the old truck had totally quit on them.

  Damn, damn, damn!

  She sorted through her memories. She needed to use the clutch and shift and—

  Dear God, she wasn’t entirely sure.

  I can do this, she told herself. I have to! She put her hand on the gearshift. The interior wasn’t well lit and she had a hard time telling where First and Reverse were.

  She pressed in the clutch with her left foot and put her right on the accelerator as she turned the key in the ignition.

  The car started on the second try. The gears ground when she put the car into what she thought was reverse. She was so terrified that she let out the clutch too quickly and the car lurched forward and stalled. Forward, not reverse.

  She tried again, shifting so that she hoped she was now in reverse. This time she eased off the clutch. The car lurched backward but didn’t stall.

  With her stomach in knots, she backed up, the car jerking as she did. A crunch and a jolt and the car came to a sudden stop and died as she realized she’d just backed into a tree. If Dickey and Freddy hadn’t heard her start the car, they likely had heard that.

  She started the car and shifted again, this time into what she was pretty sure was first. Again the car lurched and jerked, the engine threatening to die. She stepped on the clutch then pressed the accelerator. The engine revved before she let out the clutch all the way.

  As she started to drive away from the camper, she found herself staring into darkness. The headlights weren’t on and forest was devoid of light, not even the moon was shining.

  Panicked, she searched for a way to turn on the headlights. Relief went through her as she turned a knob and the lights came on.

  She screamed when she saw Freddy and Dickey in the headlights.

  The car stalled—in her hurry she’d let out the clutch too fast. The men ran toward her as she turned the key in the ignition and let out the clutch a little slower. The car leapt toward the men and they scattered to either side of the car as she pressed on the accelerator.

  Her heart was beating so hard she felt as if it was going to leap out of her chest. She barely heard Freddy’s and Dickey’s shouts as they ran alongside the car and tried to reach for the door handles. She pressed harder on the accelerator and away from the men.

  She drove the car out of the clearing and onto the rough road that had to lead to the highway. The road was narrow and jolted the car so that she bounced with every pothole it hit. She gritted her teeth as the rough ride caused pain to course through her chest.

  The dirt road seemed to go on forever. The heater had come on when she started the car. At first it blew cold air, but soon the air began to warm up. Her fingers tingled as they started to thaw.

  Lights appeared in her rearview mirror, the high beams nearly blinding her. Freddy and Dickey were chasing her in Dickey’s truck.

  She was afraid to go faster—she could barely tell where the road was in her own headlights. But she had to get out of here.

  The rear window shattered and she screamed. They were shooting at her.

  She stomped on the accelerator. She was so terrified that she almost ceased to feel the pain in her body as the car jolted along the dirt road.

  In front of her the road twisted around trees and bushes. She heard the sound of bullets hitting metal and knew she couldn’t stop. If she did, they would kill her the moment they caught her.

  Prickles ran over her body. Was that the highway ahead? Did her headlights just flash over asphalt?

  Another shot from behind her. Her right front tire blew out.

  She screamed as she lost control of the car. The engine revved as she hit the accelerator instead of the brake.

  The car bucked off the dirt road. Metal crunched as the car slammed into a tree. There was no airbag in the old car to protect her and her head hit the steering wheel.

  The world spun and then everything went black.

  John drove like the devil was chasing him. His truck ate up the distance toward Groom Creek. It wasn’t too far out of town, but it could be too late for Hollie if he didn’t get there fast enough.

  No. He refused to think that way. She was alive, damn it. He’d know if she wasn’t. Wouldn’t he?

  As he drove, his phone rang and he saw that it was Reese.
He answered it. “What do you have?”

  “One of the neighbors saw a vehicle that he’d never seen in the neighborhood,” Reese said. “The old guy said he thought it was a yellow 1970 Plymouth Duster. He was a mechanic for forty-five years before he retired and he owned one of those cars himself. He only saw the car.”

  “Mr. Rasmussen.” John gripped the steering wheel. “He knows his vehicles. Anything else?”

  “Nope,” Reese said. “We’re headed in your direction now.”

  The truck didn’t move fast enough to suit John. He finally reached the Groom Creek area and he slowed. His gut twisted as he looked to either side of him. In the dark it was impossible to tell what road Freddy’s camper might be on. They’d have to split up and check all of them.

  John raised his cell phone to communicate with Garrett who drove directly behind him. John hit the speed dial number for his stepbrother.

  Something to the side of the highway caught John’s attention when it glinted in his headlights. He lowered the phone without responding to Garrett’s voice as he answered the call.

  John slammed on the brakes and came to a hard stop. He frowned and narrowed his gaze. His high beams had caught a glimpse of a car that had crashed into a tree. The hood was crumpled and the tree the car had hit was gouged and leaning as if it might fall to the forest floor.

  That had to be the car that the neighbor said had been parked in front of John’s house. He guided his truck to the side of the road. He’d barely parked when he grabbed a flashlight, jumped out of the truck, and jogged toward the car. The three police cars and Garrett’s vehicle that had been following behind John’s truck came to a stop.

  Garrett was out of his vehicle almost as fast as John left his truck. John held his flashlight high in one fist, shining the light down on a faded yellow Plymouth car.

  John’s gut tightened as he hurried to the driver’s side door that hung wide open. He shined the flashlight into the front seat. In the glow, John saw blood on the steering wheel. The keys were still in the ignition. He shined the light in the back seat and leaned over to check the floorboards in the back, too.