Dead Hunt dffi-5

by Beverly Connor

  Diane filled up the gas tank while Kingsley went in for food. When the tank was full she moved the vehicle to the side of the store and went in to pay. Kingsley had two bags full of food—junk food, from the glimpse she caught of the contents of one of his bags.

  ‘‘I got us some of those dip dogs,’’ he said.

  ‘‘Some what?’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Corn dogs, you may call them,’’ he said, grinning as he went out the door.

  There were few people in the small store, so Diane was able to pay quickly and grab a Coke and a bag of peanuts. She paid for the gas and snacks and slipped the peanuts in her pocket.

  She walked out to the SUV and fingered the UNLOCK button on the key chain. A bottle of water rolled from behind the SUV and bumped into her foot. She turned to look and everything went black.

  Chapter 48

  Diane heard a groan coming through the pain and fog in her head.

  ‘‘What the hell?’’ It was Kingsley.

  She opened her eyes and tried to move. Her hands were bound behind her back and her ankles were tied together. She stayed still a moment and breathed deeply, assessing her situation.

  They were in the rear compartment of a minivan with its backseats stripped out. It was new by the look of it. The windows were dark but she could see out the front. It was still daylight. The driver was young. She could see his cheek and his blond hair. The kid. The one who drugged them at the restaurant and the one who was renting an apartment in her building. It had to be him. Hell, has he been following us— from Rosewood?

  She looked at Kingsley. He was equally bound and apparently equally dazed. Their eyes met and Diane motioned with hers for him to look at the driver.

  Kingsley glanced over his shoulder at the kid and looked back at Diane.

  ‘‘Is he...?Kingsley whispered.

  Diane nodded. ‘‘Bobby Banks? I think so.’’ ‘‘Hey, kid,’’ said Kingsley. ‘‘Have you been following us? You’re really good. I didn’t see you and I’m pretty good at spotting a tail.’’

  ‘‘Just keep quiet,’’ the kid said.

  ‘‘Where are we going?’’ said Kingsley.

  ‘‘Don’t make me mad,’’ he said.

  While they spoke, Diane tugged at the ropes that held her. Kingsley was doing the same. They were tight but Diane thought if she tried she could bring her arms down and around her butt and legs to get her hands in front of her. As quietly as she could, she wiggled and maneuvered until her hands were in front where she could reach the rope with her teeth.

  Kingsley was trying to do the same but with less success. He wasn’t quite as flexible or as slim as Diane. She was almost loose when the van stopped abruptly. The kid looked around, then grabbed something beside his seat and rushed back. Kingsley tripped him with his feet and the kid went flying on top of him.

  ‘‘You bastard,’’ the kid screamed. He had a temper.

  Diane reached around to grab his neck, trying to pull him off. Suddenly there was a loud pop, and a cry came from Kingsley.

  Diane pulled at the kid. He whipped around and punched her hard on the side of her head.

  ‘‘See what you made me do?’’

  Diane tried to shake the stars out of her head. She looked over at Kingsley and called to him. She could see blood on his shirt inside his coat. He was shot somewhere in the upper left chest, near the shoulder. She glanced at the gun in the kid’s hand. It wasn’t Kingsley’s gun, which the kid surely had taken from him. It was a small caliber; that was good. With Kingsley’s gun the wound would have been so much worse.

  ‘‘I need to see about him,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Well, see about him. You did this. I didn’t.’’ He went back up to the front. ‘‘I’m watching you. I can see you in the mirror. If you try anything funny again, I’ll pop you,’’ he said. He made the motion of shooting her with the gun in his hand before he turned around and put the van in gear and stepped on the gas.

  Suddenly the van rocked back and forth. Diane could see they were driving onto the back of a ferry. They were going to cross the water. Great. Kingsley was shot and now they were really cut off.

  ‘‘I have to drive the ferry, but I can see you. If you try to move out of the van, I’ll pop you good. Bambam-bam.’’

  He hadn’t retied Diane’s hands behind her. She was grateful for that. He felt cocky and secure because he had shot someone, she thought. Maybe that was good.

  The van rocked again but more gently as the ferry started out over the water. Her head throbbed and she felt sick.

  Just focus.

  Her hands were still tied, but with them in front she could at least look after Kingsley. She squirmed her way to him, bound as she was, and opened his coat and shirt to look at the wound. It was bleeding freely.

  ‘‘Can you turn and let me see the exit wound?’’ she said.

  Even with both of them trying, she couldn’t get his coat moved so that she could see the wound.

  ‘‘I think it’s a through shot,’’ she said to him. ‘‘From the placement, I don’t think it hit your shoulder girdle,’’ she said. ‘‘Wiggle your fingers.’’

  She watched as he obeyed her.

  ‘‘Can you move your shoulder?’’ she asked.

  He shrugged and moved it back and forth. ‘‘Hurts like hell,’’ he said.

  ‘‘Doesn’t seem to have broken any bones,’’ she said. ‘‘That’s good.’’

  She felt a wave of nausea sweep over her.

  ‘‘You sick?’’ he whispered.

  ‘‘I’m fine. How about you?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘I’m a good sailor,’’ he said. ‘‘No nausea. Just a bullet hole in me. I’m sorry . . . we should have stayed in Beaufort.’’

  ‘‘I’m not sure what happened. Was he following us all this time?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘I don’t know,’’ he said.

  She needed to bandage his wound. What with? She would use her jacket, but she couldn’t get it off. She looked around the van. There were plastic grocery sacks. She emptied them onto the floor. Nothing useful, no paper towels, just cakes, nuts and fruit. Just the snacks. Okay. She stuffed the nuts and a couple of bananas in her pocket.

  It was then she realized she felt her cell phone in the front inside pocket of her jacket. Why didn’t he take it? He must have felt for weapons and would know it was there. He took Kingsley’s Beretta. Why didn’t he take the phone? Because he didn’t need to. No towers, no signal—no service.

  She had an idea about the phone. Not one that would get them out of the immediate situation, but one that might help in the long run.

  Okay, think. She ignored the throbbing in her head and the queasiness of her stomach and tried to look at all the resources they had.

  ‘‘How do you feel?’’ she asked.

  ‘‘All right, considering,’’ he said, smiling.

  She scrambled down to his feet and took off his shoes and socks. She took the time to put the shoes back on before she continued. She didn’t want to take the chance that the kid would suddenly decide to dump them somewhere and Kingsley would be without shoes.

  ‘‘What are you doing?’’ Kingsley whispered.

  ‘‘Your socks are the only thing I can get at right now to dress your wound,’’ she said.

  ‘‘You know, I don’t really like the sound of that,’’ he said. ‘‘My socks?’’

  Diane smiled briefly. At least he was alert and not focused too much on pain. She thought it was a good sign. She folded one of the socks and put it next to the wound. She folded the other one.

  ‘‘I’m going to have to try and scoot my hands up your jacket and shirt to put this in place,’’ she said. She rolled him over.

  I’m an idiot, she thought. Letting myself get in a situation like this. I should have my PhD revoked. Then, Keep alert. Forget about the pain in your head. While he was on his stomach, she untied his ropes.

  ‘‘I’m watching you,’’ said the kid.
/>   She looked up front. He had popped his head inside the window and was pointing a gun at her.

  Diane froze. ‘‘I know,’’ she said with all the calm she could muster, ‘‘but I have to dress his wounds. He’s too injured to do anything. If he dies, you are going to be in a great deal of trouble. I think you know that. And I am still tied up and you still have two guns.’’

  ‘‘Tie him back up when you finish. If you don’t, I’ll shoot you too. Then where will you be? I’ll tell you where, in the water, that’s where, feeding the fishes.’’ He laughed as if he had just told a terribly funny joke.

  ‘‘I understand. Just let me tend his wound and I’ll tie him back up,’’ she said. God, he’s a little maniac, unpredictable and with a temper, thought Diane. Her hands shook as she reached for Kingsley’s jacket. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm, she kept telling herself.

  ‘‘You’d better. Remember, I’m watching,’’ he said, grinning at her and pretended to shoot, mimicking an explosion noise before he disappeared from the window.

  The ferry rocked back and forth on the water and Diane felt sick. She concentrated on breathing evenly.

  Kingsley helped her take off his jacket and shirt, wincing at the effort. Blood was running from the entrance and exit wounds, but they were small and Kingsley could move his arms and shoulders. It was painful, but it was possible. She used strips of his shirt to fashion bandages. She put his jacket back on. She untied and retied his feet, then she tied his hands in front of him.

  ‘‘I’ve tucked the end of the rope under the loops here where it’s hidden,’’ she said, her mouth close to his ear. ‘‘If he checks your hands, he’ll see that the ropes are tight. But if you pull on this loop here, free the rope and pull on it, it will come undone,’’ she whispered.

  ‘‘That’s right, you know your knots.’’ He grinned.

  Diane thought he looked pale.

  ‘‘I did your feet the same way,’’ she said.

  She got busy and untied her feet and retied them in the same manner as she watched their captor at the helm of the small flatbed ferry.

  ‘‘I want you to look very sick whenever he sees you,’’ said Diane. ‘‘That way he won’t consider you a threat.’’

  ‘‘Yes, ma’am,’’ he said. ‘‘That won’t be too hard.’’

  ‘‘Now we need to eat this food,’’ she said.

  ‘‘Okay, I was following you up until that point. Why do we need to eat the food?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘Because I don’t know when the marshals will get here or when we can escape. I think we both know we are going to Clymene’s house. Do you want to eat or drink anything she prepares?’’

  ‘‘Oh, good point,’’ he said. She gave him a banana.

  Diane hoped she could keep hers down. Just focus on the goal, she thought, and breathe slowly and deeply.

  They were quietly eating the food when the kid peeked in.

  ‘‘What are you doing?’’ he asked, pointing the gun.

  ‘‘Eating,’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘Oh, okay,’’ he said and went back to the helm.

  Diane wondered if Kingsley could swim. If she could get loose she would swim back and get help, but she could do nothing with her hands tied up. She looked at him. He really did look sick. She began trying to untie her rope with her teeth. She was making progress when she saw the kid coming back.

  ‘‘We’re about to dock. There will be a little jolt, but that’s all.’’ He grinned at them. ‘‘How we doing back there?’’

  ‘‘Just fine,’’ she said.

  They felt a small bump and saw him get down to secure the ferry. She tried to hurry and finish untying her hands, but the kid was quicker than she was. He climbed in the van, walked over to Diane, and put his gun to her temple.

  ‘‘I don’t want any trouble. None.’’ His voice was very quiet. ‘‘You understand, don’t you?’’

  ‘‘Yes,’’ whispered Diane. Her voice shook as she spoke, and he laughed.

  ‘‘Good. I will shoot you.’’ He shoved the muzzle of the gun into her temple until she winced in pain. ‘‘You know I will.’’

  He hit Kingsley in the shoulder with his fist and went back to the driver’s seat as Kingsley yelled in pain. Diane could see his eyes in the mirror. He looked amused.

  ‘‘Arrested development,’’ whispered Kingsley. ‘‘I think Rosewood is as far as this kid had ever been before now. God, that hurt. Damn little bastard.’’

  Diane watched out the front window as they drove along a winding dirt road. When the house came into view she was startled. She expected a rundown old mansion past its prime and falling into decay, with hanging vines and huge trees overrunning the place. What she saw was beautiful. The winding paved driveway led up to an oversized freshly painted Greek revival house with large white columns. The front gardens were filled with bed after bed of roses, lilies, and irises in full bloom. A black jaguar was parked in front.

  The kid took an offshoot road, drove to the back of the house, and stopped in front of a rock building that looked like it might have been lifted out of Wuthering Heights.

  ‘‘Here we are. It ain’t home, but who the hell cares,’’ he said, laughing. ‘‘You can untie your legs now.’’

  Diane made it look as if it was an effort to untie the rope as she pulled the end of the loop, releasing the bonds on Kingsley’s legs. She did the same with hers. Bobby Banks didn’t watch closely. He kept looking up at the house as if something up there worried him. When their legs were free he led them to the building, locked them in, and left them alone in the dark.

  Little light seeped in past the shuttered windows. Diane tried the door but it was bolted shut from the outside.

  ‘‘Don’t undo your bonds yet,’’ she said. ‘‘Wait until you have somewhere to run to.’’

  ‘‘I do still have some wits about me,’’ Kingsley said. But it wasn’t a defensive comment, Diane noticed.

  She and Kingsley tried the windows. All were nailed shut. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness. It was too much to hope that he had put them in a tool shed. It looked like Daniel Boone’s bedroom. There was a twin bed with a gray wool bedspread, rough-hewn furniture. It was some kind of rustic one-room guesthouse with no bathroom.

  ‘‘What is this, a playhouse?’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘I don’t know,’’ said Kingsley.

  ‘‘Why don’t you lie down on the bed?’’ said Diane.

  ‘‘We need to get out of here,’’ he said.

  ‘‘Yes, but you need rest and it would be good for them to think you’re worse off than you are,’’ she said. ‘‘If someone comes, they need to find you lying down.’’

  Diane led him to the bed and made him lie down. He was just settled when she heard voices outside that sounded like they were coming their way. She took her phone from her pocket and checked the signal bars. No service, as she suspected. She put it on mute anyway and quickly put it under the chest of drawers, display side down, and stood up to meet whoever was coming to get them.

  Chapter 49

  Diane was sitting on the bed with Kingsley when the door opened. She could see that it was two people but the light behind them kept her from seeing anything but silhouettes. She waited as they walked in. One was the kid; the other was a woman. The woman turned on a battery-operated lantern and put it on the table. It was a dim light, but Diane could see them clearly. Clymene.

  She looked at Diane and Kingsley as if they were interesting specimens and nothing more.

  ‘‘And why did you bring them here?’’

  She was dressed in a simple white cotton sundress with a small embroidered jacket. Banks carried a bucket that he set down on the floor. Diane saw that it had toilet paper and a bottle of something in it.

  ‘‘I saw him,’’ Banks said. ‘‘I was going to Jeeters and there he was coming out the door. I couldn’t believe it. I had to do something.’’

  Damn, it was an accident of fate, thought Di
ane.

  ‘‘Why did you bring them here?’’ she repeated calmly.

  ‘‘I didn’t know what else to do. Now he’s shot. It wasn’t my fault; it was theirs. Do you think she’ll get mad at me?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘Let me tell her about this, okay?’’ she said.

  Listening to their conversation, it suddenly occurred to Diane that this was not Clymene. The ‘‘her’’ they were talking about was Clymene. ‘‘Are you Lily or Rose?’’ she said.

  The woman looked startled.