by June Faver
“No!” He slammed his fist down on her desk, scattering papers with his force. “You wanted it. You and that friend of yours, Maryanne. You were both ripe for it.”
Angered, Leah stood up, drawing herself to her full height. “We were little girls. We did not ask to be raped.” As she said the word, she saw Sara Beth flinch.
Something flared in Caine’s eyes. He leaned across the desk and backhanded her with such force she landed against the metal filing cabinets and sank into a heap on the floor. Dazed, she raised her hand to her throbbing cheek.
Caine bent over Sara Beth. “What are you looking at, little one? You want some of this?”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head vigorously.
He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Pretty little thing.”
Leah’s protective nature surged to the forefront. “How did you get out, Caine? I thought you were back in jail after you showed up at my apartment in Oklahoma.”
He turned to her, skirting around the desk. “Funny you should ask. I have you to thank for that. When you split, you failed to make an official statement to the police, and they charged it off to a domestic disturbance.” He loomed over her, his fingers rhythmically clenching into fists and straightening.
She vividly remembered those same fingers clasped around her throat. “How—how did you find me?”
“That was a bit more difficult. I couldn’t find hide nor hair of you, so I looked up your girlfriend back in Hobart. Little Maryanne Harris grew up real nice. She was still living with her mama, but after we had us a little talk, she remembered you had grandparents with a ranch somewhere near Langston, Texas, and you used to go visit them every summer.”
Leah stifled a shiver. “She told you that?”
“That she did.” He leaned close, his breath falling on her face. “After a little persuasion,” he said, his voice almost crooning. “And she gave me her car. That was real nice of her, ’specially since she had no use for it anymore.”
“What do you mean? What did you do to Maryanne?” Leah heard the ragged edge to her own voice and tried to control it. “Is she dead?”
He laughed, a loud guffaw that ricocheted off the hard surfaces like a gunshot. “Well, she might be, considering I buried her behind a little shed in her mama’s yard. And I used her car and credit card to get me all the way here.”
Sara Beth let out a squeak, covering her mouth with both hands.
Chapter 15
Big Jim Garrett grabbed his phone the second time it rang. “Hello,” he said.
“Is this the gentleman who came to my classroom to inquire about Gracie Benson?”
Big Jim could immediately envision the vibrant woman on the other end of the line. “Why, yes, Miss Diaz, it is. Is everything okay with Gracie?”
Miss Diaz huffed out a breath. “She’s fine, only her mother didn’t come to pick her up. She called and talked to Gracie last night and said she would be here right on time today…but she hasn’t arrived.”
A spiral of fear coiled down Big Jim’s spine. “Well, her grandmother is here at my house. We can come get Gracie right now, if you’ll release her to us.”
Another deep sigh. “I couldn’t reach her other contact either, Tyler Garrett. I suppose there’s some relationship here?”
“My son.”
“I’ll release Grace to you and her grandmother, but I’m deeply concerned. If this continues, I’ll have to contact the child protective services.”
“No, I mean, yes. I understand. We’ll be right there.” He hung up and tried to reach Ty on his cell phone, but it went straight to message. Damn! Where is that boy?
Hurriedly, he located Fern Davis and loaded her into his truck. He may have exceeded the speed limit on the way to Langston, but he figured he had a damned good reason.
When he reached the town and headed to the school, he made another call to Tyler. This time, he answered.
“Where is everyone? I just got my horse in the stable and washed myself up.”
By the time they reached the schoolhouse, Big Jim had brought him up to speed. He was striding down the hallway of the school, Fern Davis in his wake.
“You need to find out why Leah isn’t here to pick Gracie up herself.”
“Damn,” Ty exclaimed. “Did you check the law offices? That’s where I left her.”
“Not yet,” Big Jim said. “We’re here for Gracie, and then I’ll drive over there.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’m on my way.” Ty disconnected.
Big Jim stopped at the open doorway to the third-grade class. He reflected that this was the least-strained father-son conversation they had shared in months. He tucked the phone in his pocket. Fern Davis had caught up and scrambled around him.
“Where is my Gracie?” she demanded.
The pretty, little dark-haired teacher sat at her desk, and Gracie was right in front of her. Good. Front row seat. Teacher’s pet. He nodded to the teacher. “Miss Diaz.”
She looked him over from his face down to his boots. A smile spread across her face. “Mr. Garrett.”
Yeah, I’m looking a little better than the last time you saw me. “Folks around here generally call me Big Jim.”
Dimples flashed in her cheeks as she gave him an impudent grin. “They do, huh?”
Gran was busy gathering Gracie’s things and fussing over her. She hustled Gracie out, and they were walking down the hall toward the truck.
Big Jim took a moment to return Miss Diaz’s thorough inspection. He liked what he saw.
Miss Diaz picked up her purse and keys and headed to where Big Jim was standing. “Well, Big Jim, folks around here”—she gestured to the empty seats in her classroom—“they call me Miss Diaz.” She put her hand in the middle of his chest and backed him out into the hall. “But you can call me Celia.”
* * *
Ty was in his truck and speeding toward Langston before he’d even disconnected from his dad’s call. It felt as though his insides were clamped in a vise. There was no way Leah would have failed to be right there, waiting to pick Gracie up immediately after school, unless she was in some kind of trouble.
When he arrived at the law office, he found his dad’s truck parked in front beside a sporty looking Mustang, but Leah’s old beater was nowhere to be seen. He rolled to a stop and jumped out.
Big Jim climbed out of his vehicle, leaving Gran and Gracie inside. “I called Breck at home, and he said he thought Leah should still be here until five.”
“Something’s wrong,” Ty said. “She wouldn’t have left without good reason, and she wouldn’t have failed to pick up Gracie.”
Ty stepped to the door of the law office. The big beveled glass inset didn’t boast the clock-face sign that was always in place after hours. He put his hands up to shade his eyes from the glare and peeked inside. There was still a light on, and it appeared to be business as usual. He twisted the knob, and the door opened inward.
A deep sense of foreboding washed over Ty. “Hello?” he called.
Big Jim pushed the door farther open.
There was a bentwood coat-tree behind the door that had been knocked down. The only other sign of disorder was a batch of papers scattered on the floor near Leah’s desk.
“Leah?” Ty’s voice sounded hollow within the confines of the tomb-like offices.
He heard a soft moan from the far side of the room and rushed toward the sound. Spying a form crumpled on the floor behind the table she used for sorting, he called out, “Leah.”
Ty knelt and gently turned her over, seeing it wasn’t Leah. He helped the young woman to sit up as she made little sputtering noises.
She touched her throat gingerly. “He…he choked me,” she said in a raspy voice.
Ty noted the bruises on her face and throat. “Who?”
Big Jim called the s
heriff and then fetched a cup of water from the water cooler against the wall. “Here, little lady. Drink this.”
She accepted it gratefully, taking several tentative sips, “The man…he was someone Leah knew. Someone from Oklahoma.” She swallowed hard as a rush of tears rolled down her cheeks. “Leah tried to help me escape, but he came after me and choked me. I thought I was going to die… I guess I passed out.”
The sheriff and a deputy entered through the open door and took charge of the scene. Big Jim immediately took charge of the sheriff and told him what they had learned.
The sheriff called for an ambulance and then came to squat beside Ty. He regarded the victim, who was crying and holding her throat. “Sara Beth? Are you okay?”
Ty supported Sara Beth, who seemed likely to collapse again. “Where is Leah? Did the man take her?”
The young woman turned her horrified gaze to him. “Oh no! I hope not. He admitted to killing some woman in Oklahoma. Just matter-of-fact like. He said he had been in jail and it was because of Leah.”
“Caine!” Ty said.
* * *
“Hurry up!”
Leah tightened her damp hands around the steering wheel, her fingers cramping with the effort. “I’m already going over the speed limit. You don’t want me to get stopped by the highway patrol, do you?”
“Hah! I been up and down this road a dozen times and I never saw a cop car.”
Leah said a silent prayer there was one coming to her rescue at that moment. “My friend…the woman who was in my office. Is she all right?”
“It depends on your definition of all right.” His lips twitched in derision. “I would say she was resting peacefully when I left her.”
“She’s okay? You didn’t hurt her?”
“Naw! She’s just a little bit dead. I choked her until she turned blue.”
“No!” Leah howled. “You didn’t have to do that. She—she was my friend.”
“It wasn’t my fault. You were the one who was sittin’ all cozy like, gossipin’ with your girl. I couldn’t leave her to tell the tale, now could I?”
Leah stared blindly out the windshield. Struggling with a combination of anger and terror, she cast about for some way to get free…to turn the tables on Caine, but other than running the car in the ditch, she came up blank.
“My boyfriend is going to come looking for me. He’s expecting me to be home by now.”
“Now don’t you go lyin’ again. I met up with your boyfriend this last week and I smashed his face in. Ugliest sumbitch I ever did see.” Caine slouched back against the door, regarding her through half-closed eyes.
Leah swallowed against the bile rising in the back of her throat. She saw him shaking with laughter out of the corner of her eye but refused to look at him.
“An’ then I took some rusty old shears he had on him and cut him good. He looks even uglier now.”
She sucked in a shaky breath.
“Aww, what’s the matter? Are you gonna cry for your poor dead boyfriend?”
“That was not my boyfriend,” she said as calmly as possible.
“Liar,” he said. “What would that guy be doing at your place? He was working on the fence when I come up on him.”
“No, he was cutting the fence. He was someone who had been bothering my grandmother for a long time.”
He tilted his head to one side as if he hadn’t made up his mind whether to believe her or not.
“Turn off right up here,” he directed, pointing to the farm-to-market road to her grandmother’s house.
She slowed the vehicle. “Where are we going?”
He snorted. “Why, we’re going home.”
* * *
Ty paced the length of the law office and back again. His dad and the sheriff were talking in low tones. Sara Beth had been removed by ambulance to the hospital over in Amarillo.
He couldn’t believe this guy, Caine, had come out of the woodwork to kidnap Leah. Where would he take her? What would he do to her?
Colton and Beau came into the office, looking around. “What’s going on?” Colton asked. “First there were messages from Ty and then Dad.”
Ty glowered at them. “A little late to the party.”
“Sorry, man,” Beau said. “We got here as soon as we could. We went over to the school, but it was locked up tight, and we saw Gracie and her grandma out in Dad’s truck.”
“What’s going on here?” Colton demanded.
Ty quickly brought them up to speed, but he was so anxious, their presence was more irritating than comforting.
“I want you boys to drive Miz Fern and Gracie back to the ranch and wait there with them.” Big Jim pointed at Colton. “You make sure they’re safe at the house.”
Colton glanced from Big Jim to Ty but nodded and reached for his keys. “Sure thing.”
Ty released the breath he’d been holding.
Big Jim called him over. “The sheriff just got an update on the Mustang outside. They ran the plates, and the car was stolen from a murder victim in Oklahoma.” He shook his head. “At the murder scene, they matched fingerprints to a convict who violated his parole. The victim’s credit cards have been used here in Langston too.”
Ty reeled as a wave of nausea rose to choke him. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but if there had been anything in his stomach, he would have hurled it right then. “I can’t lose Leah, Dad.”
Big Jim nodded. “The sheriff is on it.”
Ty glanced at the sheriff, who appeared to be punching buttons on his phone. “I see.”
“They’re looking for her car.” Big Jim placed his hand on Ty’s shoulder. “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.” He glanced down and then raised his eyes to meet Ty’s. “I know I let you down in the past, when I didn’t listen to what was important to you, but I’m trying to make it up to you, Son.”
Ty released a breath he hadn’t even been aware he was holding. “I know you are, Dad. Let’s just get through with this. I need to get Leah back.”
“Do you have any idea why this guy targeted Leah?”
Ty nodded. “Yeah. Leah told me about someone she went to school with back in Oklahoma. He—he assaulted her when she was just a kid and went to jail for it. Sara Beth said it was the same man, and he was blaming Leah because he served time. She said he sounded bitter and admitted to murder right in front of her.”
Big Jim nodded. “Maybe that was the woman in Oklahoma. He sounds like a real nutcase.”
Fear coiled around Ty’s spine like a snake. And he’s got Leah.
* * *
Leah drove down the road toward her grandmother’s house. She had no idea what Caine had in mind, but it was clear to her he had no conscience at all.
Leah’s throat was so tight she could hardly breathe. She slowed and turned in at Gran’s drive. She ground the gears into park next to one of the big silver trucks and turned off the motor.
“Whoa!” Caine gazed around suspiciously. “Where did this truck come from?”
Leah had no idea which one of the Garretts it belonged to, nor where they might be situated. She wished they were ready to jump out and save her.
“It belongs to one of my boyfriend’s brothers. He left it here when he went out of town.”
Caine squinted at her, a wariness in his eyes. “Y’don’t say? Well that’s one sweet ride. I might be taking it with me when I leave.”
She swallowed hard. “Now what?”
“Now me and you are going to have some fun.” He pulled the keys out of the ignition and tossed them on the dash. “Get out.”
Leah’s pulse pounded in her ears. I have to get away, but how? She surveyed Caine’s lean, muscular body. She might be able to outrun him, but he appeared to be in excellent shape, and he had overpowered Ray Carter, who had been well over six feet tall and
strong as an ox.
Swallowing hard, she put her hand on the door handle and swung it open. She stepped out into the dry heat of an early dusk. Crickets chirped and cicadas sang. The air felt close and heavy, like walking into a damp blanket.
Caine unfolded himself from the passenger side, then sauntered close to where she stood.
“You must be hungry,” she said.
He straightened his spine and gave her a hard look. “Yeah, I could eat.”
She walked purposely to the house as though she had the right to. Marching up on the porch, she opened the door, letting it swing wide as she strode through. “Sit down. I’ll see what’s in the fridge.”
He followed close behind her, grabbing her shoulder and whirling her to face him. “Okay, but no funny business.”
Leah tried to maintain eye contact without flinching. “Sure.” She turned back to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Let me see. I have chicken and I have ground beef. I can whip you up some mashed potatoes.”
“Yes,” he snarled. “I want chicken. Haven’t had any home cookin’ since they took me to prison.”
“Okay then.” She took the ingredients out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter. “How do you want your chicken? I can bake it or I can fry it.”
He sucked in an audible breath and sank onto one of the chairs to the dinette. “Fried chicken? Yes, fried.”
Leah took out one of her grandmother’s heavy cast-iron skillets and set it on one of the front burners of the stove. She opened the can of Crisco and scooped a generous portion into the pan before lighting the burner under it. She stopped breathing as she reached in a drawer and removed a large and very sharp knife. Without turning around, she began to cut the chicken into serving pieces. The legs and thighs first. Caine didn’t move from the table, and she was afraid to look around lest she alert him. She opened a canister and scooped flour onto the counter, added salt and pepper, and rolled the four pieces in the mixture, then slipped them into the hot grease. She picked up the knife again, this time severing the breast bone. Deftly, she cut apart the rest of the chicken and dredged it in flour. Just act natural. Don’t look nervous.
