Don't You Dare (Morgan Young Book 3)

by Adam Nicholls

  Just do it.

  The idea made sense, there was no denying that. But could she do it?

  Losing patience fast, Erika shot to her feet and crossed the room in a flash, bursting through the door and into the woods where an icy mist reached up toward the branches. She shivered, rubbing her bare arms and trying to decide if it was better to be cold or deaf.

  Neither. Just kill the damn thing and move on.

  “Shut up,” she mumbled, walking around the cabin to keep warm.

  She could barely hear the baby now, which at least gave her a minute or two to think straight. It was still inside making its noise, but Erika could only hear it if she tried. If anything, it was the voice in her head she wanted to silence now.

  It’ll solve your problems.

  “No, it won’t.”

  I saw a hammer in the toolshed. All you need to do is—

  “Shut up!”

  Erika grabbed her ears again and spun on the spot. She marched up and down in long paces to and from the cabin, mumbling anything she could think of just to drown out the sound of the voice. It was her own voice, but with more malice and less reason. After all, Erika wasn’t just some messed-up serial killer. She actually had thoughts and feelings, only killing when she had to. There was some justification in that, wasn’t there? Sure there was, she thought. Nobody could punish her for covering her tracks.

  But she couldn’t kill a baby.

  Oh no, no way. Although it would make things easier…

  She gave this a little consideration. Why had she taken Robin Young? It was an act of revenge, that much was clear, but did she really intend to keep it? The last few minutes were evidence enough that she had no idea how to take care of a child. She supposed, deep down, that she didn’t want to cross paths with Morgan Young again. A line from one of those dinosaur movies popped into her head: they’d stolen eggs from a velociraptor and were discussing throwing them away. Erika remembered the blue-shirted doctor saying, “What if they catch us without them?” That line had always stood out to her. Now she knew why.

  Who’d have known that a movie from a couple of decades ago could have such an impact on her decision now? Morgan Young would come for his child—no matter how unlikely—and if the baby was dead, then she’d have nothing to bargain with.

  This thought led right into another.

  Robin Young was just a bargaining chip.

  A branch snapped in the woods. Erika spun around, expecting to see an animal, but nothing was there. The direction the sound had come from had only a bunch of trees and a sheet of mist to offer. There was no chance she was going out there to find out what it was.

  What if it’s a cop?

  What if it’s Morgan Young?

  What if—

  “I know you’re out there!” Erika bluffed, mostly just to silence the voice in her head. She licked her cracked lips and waited for a response. None came. “Come any closer and I’ll kill the baby. You hear me, asshole?”

  Was she talking to Morgan or herself? She had no idea, but what she did know was that it was true—no matter how much she told herself it was wrong, if anyone tried to breach the cabin, she’d have no choice but to follow through on her promise. Hurting babies wasn’t among her favorite pastimes, but if she was pushed…

  Erika kept her eye on the woods and went back inside.

  The screaming continued.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Morgan stopped the car at the end of the dirt path, killing the lights. He kept the engine on for a minute longer, keeping them both warm while they considered their options. “You think we should drive all the way up?”

  “No.” Mason doubled over to peer up at the trees through the windshield. “If she really is up there, she might see us coming. She has your kid, so it’s probably not a good idea to rush in without knowing what’s what.”

  “You’re right.”

  They sat in silence, hot air blasting through the vents. Morgan felt it was too much—sweat was already threatening to sink into his collar, and although the heat was partially to blame, the thought of losing his son had something to do with it.

  “How do you want to play this?” Mason asked.

  “No clue. What would you do?”

  Mason chuckled. “You don’t want to do that. We’d be cleaning up blood for months.”

  “Right.” Morgan found no humor in this. Maybe he would at a later time, in a future where Robin was safe and they could all sit around a picnic table talking about that time a psycho bitch was loose in Washington. But right now? “Let’s head up by foot. We’ll take the trees and stay low. No lights, no weapons. Just a look.”

  “Works for me.”

  Morgan led the way, yanking the key from the ignition and exiting the car. They left the doors ajar so as not to alert anyone with the slamming sounds and then they headed into the trees. Morgan stayed in front, crouching down and stepping carefully over rocks and fallen trunks. Brambles and thorns clung to his clothes like captives begging to be rescued. Morgan jerked away, tearing them from his jacket and letting them fall to the ground.

  A little farther up, he felt a groove under his feet that made him stop.

  “What’s wrong?” Mason asked.

  Morgan didn’t say anything. He pulled his phone out and lit up the screen, crouching lower and holding the light toward the ground. What he found filled him with both horror and hope at the same time, and the combination made his gut weaken.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mason said, tapping his shoulder. “The light.”

  “Look at this.” Morgan pointed at the ground.

  Sighing, Mason lowered to a knee and studied the footprint. His face was a picture of the same fear Morgan had felt. He dropped his gaze and turned stiffly, aiming his finger at a discovery of his own. “That must be where she set the bag down for a second.”

  “Where?” Morgan shot up and leaned over him, directing the phone’s light right at the patch. There was a rectangular imprint about the same size as Robin’s baby bag and beside it was a scrape. Maybe from the strap’s buckle, he thought. “Oh.”

  Mason stood. “Come on. We’re close.”

  “Yeah.”

  Switching off the phone light, Morgan stood and fell in behind Mason, who had found his way into leading the expedition. It didn’t matter much to him—his mind was occupied by all the nightmares an imagination could dream up, each horrific thought worse than the last. He didn’t really consider himself reliable enough to stay in front. Besides, at least this way a path was being cleared for him, and he wouldn’t have to get scratched up by thorns again.

  A little farther up, a cabin came into view. The lights were on inside, and there was a small spotlight that lit up a picnic area littered with dead leaves. They both stopped, waiting. Morgan saw a silhouette pass by the window. Faintness breezed through him.

  “Don’t move,” Mason said.

  The front door swung open, and Morgan realized he didn’t need the advice. If anything, he found himself paralyzed by what he saw: Erika Givens stepping outside and rubbing her arms. For the briefest second, he heard the screams of a baby from inside the cabin.

  Until the door slammed shut.

  “Robin’s in there,” he whispered.

  “Shh.” Mason flapped his arms and scowled.

  Beside the cabin, Erika took a stroll. Morgan’s spirits lifted, and he considered the possibility that he could rush in and grab his child right now. If it weren’t for Mason’s arm swinging out to stop him, he would have. Instead, he frowned at Mason and then turned back to Erika, who had disappeared behind the cabin.

  “Where did she go?” Mason asked.

  “Let’s check it out.”

  Once more, Morgan took over. They kept their cover behind the trees, navigating in the darkness and praying they didn’t encounter a wild animal. The woods looped around the grounds of the cabin, and they crept quietly until Erika was in clear view again. She had her ears covered and lu
nged from one area of the grounds to the other, her lips moving but her voice inaudible. That was the downside to keeping a safe distance.

  “What’s she doing?” Morgan whispered.

  “Damned if I know.”

  Intrigued, Morgan took one step closer.

  One wrong step was all it took.

  A branch broke underfoot, snapping in two. The sound echoed through the woods, carrying across the open air and causing Erika to spin around. Morgan ducked behind the nearest tree, probably making more noise by doing it. Sweat covered his forehead, and he kept still. Mason stared at him from the cover of another tree. Anger filled his face.

  “I know you’re out there!”

  The voice was tormented and shrill. It sounded to Morgan like someone who had totally lost her mind, demanding to fight her wildest fears by screaming as loud as she could.

  “Come any closer and I’ll kill the baby. You hear me, asshole?”

  Morgan exchanged horrified glances with Mason. They held their position, although Morgan had never been so tempted to dash toward someone and rip their head clean off. It was one thing to threaten him or Rachel, but to harm their son? That was asking for trouble, and Morgan had no problem delivering it.

  They waited behind cover until they heard the door slam. Morgan knew it was safe to come out, and Mason hurried to his side. “Don’t let that get to you,” he said.

  “Hard not to.” Morgan watched the silhouette move back and forth by the window again, this time with a baby-sized shape bobbing up and down in her arms. The image twisted his guts, making him weak and dizzy.

  “We can’t do anything,” Mason said.

  “Not right now, no.”

  “Let’s go make a plan.”

  Mason went back the way they came, and Morgan followed. It ached to know that his son was in the hands of some mentally ill woman and he was leaving the scene, but there was one thing he had to remind himself, no matter how bad it got.

  They would think this through and come back.

  That much was a promise.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  They’d headed west until they came to a diner. With the night as bitterly cold as it was, the warm interior of the twenty-four-hour venue was more than welcome. Morgan took a seat by the door—far enough not to suffer the breeze from every entering customer.

  The waitress introduced herself and filled their coffee cups from a pot. Morgan sat in silence until she left, which was when he addressed the big question that’d hung over him like a dark cloud. “How are we going to tackle this?”

  Mason sipped his coffee and smiled. It wasn’t unpleasant, just surprising. “That’s entirely up to you. You saw what it was like up there; it doesn’t matter how fast we move, she’d see us coming and your little boy would be a goner.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean?”

  “Do we involve the cops or not?” Morgan asked this, but he’d already made a call to Gary, and he was on his way. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t make the decision now and reveal it to Gary later—he would understand.

  Mason grinned, closing his eyes to sniff the coffee. He took another sip. “Personally? I wouldn’t. But I guess you thought as much from studying my background. Anyway, you’re not the only one who’s called in some help.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Doesn’t matter. The point is, whatever you want to do, you’ll have three good people here waiting on your every command.” He shivered. “Damn, it’s cold in here.”

  Morgan hadn’t noticed, but he was wearing significantly more than present company: a sweater, jacket, and a coat on top. He slid the latter off and handed it over, but Mason refused.

  “Thanks, but not my style. No offense.”

  None taken, Morgan thought with a bout of sarcasm. He placed it on the chair beside him. “Look, I don’t think the MPD will be of any use here. I’ve had more than enough dealings with them to know they can be hit or miss. But this? This is my son on the line. I can’t risk that. Besides, I made a promise to Rachel.”

  “Which was?”

  “That Erika would suffer.”

  “You don’t think jailtime would do that?”

  “Not significantly enough.”

  Mason chortled. “Been there, friend.”

  The door swung open. That cold blast of air surprised Morgan after all. He craned his neck toward the entrance and saw a suited man he didn’t recognize. He was dumpy-looking with a receding hairline and a five-o’clock shadow. A haversack hung from his left hand, but Morgan’s attention drifted toward the man behind him.

  Gary found him and pointed.

  “Oh good.” Mason stood and shook hands with the first man, taking the bag from him. Without another word, he unzipped it and dug his hand inside, rifling through its contents.

  “A change of clothes and your gun,” the man whispered.

  Morgan’s ears pricked at the word. He turned to Gary and whispered, “Who’s this?”

  “I’m Bill Harvey,” the man proffered, holding out his hand.

  “Morgan Young.” He shook it, recalling the name from Mason’s file.

  “I hear you have a kind of personal dilemma,” he said in a loud, clear voice. “As a cop I’m not really a fan of… let’s say vigilante justice… but I’m indebted to Mason, and he’s calling it in. Looks like you made the right friend at the right time.”

  “No kidding.” Morgan looked at Gary and they had a conversation with their eyes that only lifelong friends could. It may have been misread, but the raising of eyebrows and a sharp nod of the head told Morgan this guy was okay.

  Satisfied, Mason finally set down the bag, “Good job. Now that everyone’s here, I say we head back to that motel and haggle for a couple of cheap rooms. We can get a plan together and figure out how best to approach this.”

  Morgan already felt out of place. Not only were there three cops in the room, but every one of them was about to hear about his desire to kill Erika Givens. He was certain he could trust Gary with that information, and he was even getting used to Mason Black. But who exactly was this Bill character? Mason seemed to trust him, and maybe that should’ve been good enough. Still, he couldn’t shake that feeling of being the odd one out.

  “Well?” Mason pressed.

  Taking one last glance at Bill to ensure he didn’t look guilty of something, Morgan leaned over the seat and grabbed his coat. Whatever they were doing, they had to get moving, because there was no telling how long Erika would keep his baby safe.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  They rented two motel rooms at a bargain rate. Morgan had tried to haggle gently, but Mason had been the one to threaten him. He said that he’d report him for working alongside a known killer, and that’d be the end of his business, if not his freedom.

  The clerk had softened then.

  After that, they’d split into their separate groups—Morgan and Gary in one room, Mason and Bill in the other. It didn’t take too long to dump their bags and gather in one room, but Morgan found that fatigue was hitting him hard, grinding away on his conscious mind. And that was before they’d made a plan. Hell, it was before they’d even started.

  “I say we rush her,” Mason offered.

  “And risk her hurting my son?” Morgan brushed past him and went to the window. Pulling aside the curtain, he watched a passing car slow down, linger, and then drive on. They thought better of staying in a seedy motel, he guessed. “We need to be more tactical.”

  “That’s why I suggested two teams of two,” Bill said. “One on each door.”

  Morgan didn’t turn around. “I’m not sure there’s a second door.”

  “I saw one,” from Mason.

  They all fell silent. Gary crossed the room and flopped onto the bed, resting his head on interlaced fingers. The grunt he made sounded like both exhaustion and frustration. “We have three cops, three guns, and the only one who can’t shoot wants to pull th
e trigger.”

  Morgan frowned. Had he really said aloud that he wanted to shoot Erika? Of course he had, but did he mean it? When he’d promised to make her pay, he’d had an arrest and maybe a backhanded slap in mind, but not this. Although it wasn’t as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him—each time he thought of Robin in Erika’s arms, a rage that he could only be described as white-hot took control of him. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “We’ll get to that,” Mason said. “For now, we need to hear from Morgan.”

  “What about me?”

  “Robin is your son. We’re all dying to hear you. Care to weigh in?”

  Sighing, Morgan dropped the curtain and turned around. It wasn’t until now that he felt lucky to have so many people willing to put their jobs and lives on the line for him. It made him feel endlessly grateful, but also a little selfish. He soothed his ego by reminding himself that if it weren’t for Robin, he wouldn’t be accepting such an offer. The fact was, he needed the help.

  “What was it you said about teams of two?”

  Bill stepped forward, tipped a vase of decorative marbles onto the bed by Gary’s feet, and split them apart. “We approach from here. This is you and your friend. This is me and Mason. The cabin is this big blob of blue. What we need to do is breach at the same time. It’ll knock her off guard and should cause a moment of hesitation. That should give us just enough time to take her down.”

  “Should?” Morgan asked. He didn’t like the word.

  “And why are we paired up like that?” Gary said.

  “Because we trust each other more like that.”

  “And I suppose I’m leading with the gun.”

  Bill tossed the last marble onto the bed and held his head. “Don’t be a child.”

  “I’m not being a child. I’m just saying—”

  “And saying it is pointless,” Mason weighed in.