“Go where?”
“To finish what I started in D.C. I thought dissolving those pills in that bit of orange juice you had in your fridge would take care of things, but you managed to survive. Too bad. Overdosing wouldn’t have been such a bad way to die.”
“Look, Jordyn—”
“You look, Chloe. I played second fiddle to you for years, knowing that eventually Adam would come back to me. He did. Just as he was supposed to. Then you ruined everything. I’m sure guilt is eating you alive. It’s time to put an end to your misery. And mine.”
“Whatever you’re planning won’t work. I already told the police that I thought you or James might be responsible for everything that’s been happening.”
“But you’re crazy, Chloe. Everyone in D.C. knows it. Since Adam’s death, it’s obvious the trauma was too much for you to deal with. All those night terrors in the hospital, your insistence that someone was after you. It was only a matter of time before you cracked.”
“Things are different here.”
“Are they? You think that because you’ve got some good-looking pastor hanging around and a sheriff who seems to be taking you seriously that no one will believe it when your suicide note is found? I’ve got news for you, Chloe, people believe whatever is easiest. Get in the car.”
“There’ll be an investigation, Jordyn, and you’ll be one of the top suspects.”
“I doubt it, but even if I am, they won’t be able to prove anything. They’ll have your suicide note, but no body. No evidence to link the two of us together. Nothing that a prosecutor would be willing to bring to trial, anyway. Do you know how many killers are free because there’s simply no evidence to link them to the crime? Now get in the car. We’ve got places to go.”
No way. Gun or no gun, Chloe wasn’t getting in the car, she pivoted, the sharp movement sending pain shooting up her thigh. Her leg collapsed out from under her and she stumbled, tried to right herself. Something slammed into her head, stars burst in front of her eyes and she was falling into darkness and into the nightmare.
* * *
Chloe wasn’t answering the door and she hadn’t answered her phone. It was possible she was in the apartment, caught up in the investigation and oblivious to the world. Ben had seen her in action, watched her fingers fly across the keyboard. Doing so had been a surprise and revelation, had told him a lot more than Chloe’s words just how much she needed to be back at her work.
Maybe she was working now, bent over the computer, intent, focused. Maybe. But he didn’t think so. What he thought was that Chloe was gone. The fact that her car was still parked in the driveway could only mean one thing—trouble.
He dialed Jake’s number as he strode back outside, praying that he was wrong, knowing that he was right and hoping that he and Jake would be able to find Chloe in time.
* * *
Chloe woke to icy terror and throbbing pain, water filling her nose and throat. The urge to gasp for breath, to suck in liquid in hopes of finding air nearly overwhelmed her. Darkness beneath, darkness above, something tied to her legs and pulling her down. She fought against it, pushing upward, out of the water, gasping for air, sucking in huge heaving breaths, the sickening pain in her head worsening with the movement.
She blinked, trying to clear her vision, caught a glimpse of wood, an oar. Saw Jordyn staring down at her, watching through glassy eyes.
“You just won’t die will you?” She lifted the oar, swinging hard.
Chloe ducked back under the water, the weight on her legs dragging her down farther than she expected. She tried to keep her buoyancy, but sank deep, the darkness of the water profound, her lungs screaming in protest.
More fighting, more struggling, until finally she broke the surface of the water again. The boat was farther away now, the quiet slap of the oar hitting the water the only sound Chloe could hear. It was near dark, the hazy purple of dusk deepening to blue-black, the crisp day turning frigid with night. Chloe shivered, sank back under the water again, choking. Gasping. Sliding into darkness. She flailed, the cold and the weight on her legs sapping her energy, stealing her strength. She struggled back up again, tried to swim toward shore and sank again.
If you want to live, you’d better stop panicking and think, Chloe.
The thought pierced through her terror. Think or die. It was as simple as that.
She let herself sink into the water, reaching down to feel whatever it was that was dragging her down. Thick rope wrapped her ankles together, pulled taut by something. What? A weight? An anchor? She pulled hard on the rope, yanking the object up until she was holding what felt like a cinder block. Then she pushed to the surface again, just managing to suck in a breath of air before she sank beneath the water again. Her vision swam, her stomach heaved and she almost lost her grip on the weight and on consciousness. She bit the inside of her cheek, the pain clearing her head as she struggled back out of the water again.
Where was the shore? Where was safety?
In the dim light the shore looked too far away, the house in the distance tiny and insubstantial. To the left, the lake stretched as far as Chloe could see. To the right, trees shot up at the shoreline, distant and unreachable. Still, if her legs were free, she could swim to safety easily enough.
If.
* * *
Jake hopped out of his car and strode toward Ben, his stride long and stiff, his face grim. “Any sign of her?”
“No, but I found her puppy hiding under her car.”
“Not good.” The sympathy and worry in Jake’s gaze was obvious. “When was the last time you spoke to her?”
“Around noon.” Ben ran a hand over his jaw, forcing himself to think clearly, to stay focused. “I’ve already walked the perimeter of the house twice. The earth’s too dry to hold prints.”
“Did you talk to her neighbors?”
“I tried. They weren’t home.” Ben surveyed the area, urgency pounding through him, demanding action. “Something’s happened to her.”
“I’ve called in all my off-duty officers. We’ll work a grid from here to the lake and the road. If she’s here, we’ll find her.”
“And if she’s not?”
“We’ll contact media, get her picture out there. Pray that somebody’s seen her.”
“I’ve been doing that. Now I want to act.”
“Understood, but we go traipsing around without a plan and we’ll waste time, maybe destroy evidence.” Jake’s phone rang and he answered, his jaw tight, his words terse. “Reed, here. Yeah. I’ll check it out. Thanks.”
“What’s up?”
“Guy a half a mile from here was walking his dog and found a boat washed up in the reeds near his house. He said there’s some stuff inside of it. A purse. Flowers. It seemed strange so he called it in.”
“Let’s go.”
“Maybe I should take this one myself.”
“Maybe not. Let’s go.” Ben strode toward the cruiser, fear a hard knot in his chest. Chloe was somewhere nearby. He felt that as surely as he felt that she was in danger. They had to find her. Soon.
They took the cruiser, racing the half mile to a long tree-lined driveway and a two-story home that looked out over the lake. The man who met them seemed shaken as he led them down to the water. There was no dock, just thick weed-choked grass and slick rocks. A boat bobbed in the water, white lilies on its water-logged bottom, a purse lying on its side, the contents spilling out.
“When did you first notice this?” Jake spoke as he moved toward the boat.
“Just a few minutes ago. I saw it when I let the dog out. It wasn’t here when I got home an hour ago.”
“And did you see anyone out here? Hear anything?”
“Nothing. It’s just been a regular day.” The man ran a hand
over sparse hair. “I might not have thought that much about the boat, but the flowers and purse worried me.”
“They worry me, too. I’m glad you called.” Jake pulled on gloves, grabbed the bow of the boat and dragged it up over the rocks and onto shore. “There’s a paper here. Looks like a note.” He picked it up, holding it gingerly, his face hardening as he read. “We’ve got a problem.”
“We already had one.”
“It’s just gotten worse.” He gestured Ben over, holding the note out for him to see. The words were smudged but easy to read.
“A suicide note.”
“Chloe’s suicide note.”
“Written by someone else.” Ben shoved the boat back toward the water.
“We need to get other transportation. That boat could contain evidence.”
“We don’t have time to find another boat.” Ben gritted his teeth and stared his friend down. He was going out on the lake, with or without Jake. With or without his approval.
Finally, Jake nodded. “Let’s go.”
* * *
A few minutes of swimming with the cinder block in her arm convinced Chloe that she’d be better off expending her energy in another way. First she tried feeling for the ends of the rope, hoping she might be able to untie it, but each time she stopped paddling with her free arm, she dipped under the water.
“That’s not going to work, Chloe. Come up with something else.” She spoke out loud, the words sputtering and gasping into air and water, her teeth chattering. “Lord, if there’s some way out of this, I hope you’ll show me quickly because I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
But there didn’t seem to be a way out, just one painful stroke after another toward a way-too-distant shore. Chloe’s head throbbed with each movement, her body telling her to quit while her mind screamed for her to keep going. She slipped under the water, choking and gagging as she surfaced again, the rope wrapping around her wrist and sliding over her skin.
Sliding over her skin.
The thought worked its way past her pain and fatigue, and she reached down, tried to shove the rope past her jeans. It moved. Not much, but enough to give her hope. One handed wasn’t going to work though. She’d have to let go of the cinder block. Use both hands to shove the rope down. Once she did that, she’d be pulled back down toward the bottom of the lake. If she failed, she didn’t know if she’d be able to fight her way back up again.
Unfortunately, her choices were limited and so was her time.
“Lord, I trust You. Whatever happens, I know You’re with me.” With that, she let go of the cement block, grabbed the rope that was wrapped around her legs and started to push it down as she sank deeper into the water. The rope pulled tight, so tight she couldn’t get her fingers between it and her legs. Panic speared through her, but she forced it back, trying again, feeling fingernails bend and skin tear as she finally made room between rope and denim. Pull. Tug. Push. Yank. Muscles quivering. Head pounding. Fear like she’d only ever known once before. The nightmare, but different. Not fire and hot metal. Water and burning lungs. Blackness outside and inside. Alone.
But not alone.
God had not abandoned her. Would not abandon her.
The rope moved, inching down toward her ankles, scraping past her jeans. She yanked the fabric up with one hand, shoving the rope down, feeling it give. Then she was free, floating up toward the surface, her lungs ready to explode, the desperate need for oxygen making her want to gasp and breathe and hope for the best.
She broke the surface of the lake, coughing and gasping, her body trembling with fatigue and with cold. She had to swim, but her movements were clumsy, her efforts weak.
She wasn’t going to give up, though. She wasn’t going to quit. She was going to get out of the lake and she was going to make sure Jordyn was arrested for her crimes.
Her energy and attention were focused on the goal—a distant light that she was sure must be home. What she wasn’t sure about was whether or not she was actually getting any closer to it.
Suddenly the light disappeared, a dark shape appearing in front of Chloe. For a moment, her muddled thoughts conjured a monster rising up from the depth of the lake. Then the truth of what she was seeing registered—a boat.
Jordyn. She was sure it was the same boat. Sure that Jordyn would lean over the edge, raise the oar, slam it down into the water. Or worse. Take out the gun and shoot her.
She turned, trying to swim away, her arms flailing, her muscles giving out. She sank. Surfaced. Sank again.
“Chloe!” The shout carried over the splash and gasp of her frantic attempt to escape.
An arm hooked around her waist and she was pulled back against a hard chest. “Stop struggling, Chloe. I’ve got you.”
Ben.
His voice rumbled in her ear, his body warming her, but doing nothing to ease the shivers that racked her body.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, but her teeth were chattering too hard to get the words out.
“Here she comes, Jake.”
Before Chloe knew what was happening, she was out of Ben’s arms and in a boat, a leather jacket draped around her shoulders, Jake Reed flashing a light in her face. “You hurt anywhere?”
“My head.” The words rasped out as Ben pulled himself into the boat. “Jordyn hit me with something. Maybe her gun.”
“Jordyn Winslow? That’s one of the names you gave me earlier.”
“Yes, Adam’s receptionist.” She was still shivering, her muscles so tight with cold she wasn’t sure she’d ever be warm again.
Ben pulled her toward him, rubbed her arms briskly, the heat he generated speeding through her body. “Better?”
“Yes.” But not because she was warmer. Because he was there, warm, solid, steady.
He ran a hand over the back of her head, probing the tender flesh there. “You’re bleeding. Can you call for an ambulance, Jake?”
“There’s no—”
“There’s no sense arguing. You’re going to the hospital.”
“I’m not much for hospitals. My experiences there haven’t been pleasant.”
“Maybe not in the past, but this time will be different. This time I’ll be with you.” Ben’s words were a warm caress against her ear and Chloe relaxed back into his arms, allowing herself to believe what she hadn’t in a very long time—that she was safe and that everything was going to be all right.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Fifteen stitches does not make me an invalid, Opal.” Chloe smiled as she spoke, accepting the bowl of chicken noodle soup Opal handed her.
“Fifteen stitches and a concussion. The doctor said you should take it easy.”
“And I have been.”
“How does starting back up in computer forensics constitute resting?”
“I haven’t done any work. I’ve just been contacting old clients and letting them know I will be.”
“Yes, well, I still have to decide if I forgive you for that. You were doing so well at Blooming Baskets.”
Chloe would have laughed if she wasn’t sure it would send pain shooting through her head. “Opal, I have as much artistic vision as a rock and you know it.”
“Okay, so flowers weren’t the perfect fit for you.”
“But computers are.”
“Apparently so. And you know that I’m happy if you are. If computers are what you’re meant to do, far be it from me to try to keep you from them.” Opal leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Now, I’ve really got to get home. Checkers is still angry about not being fed on time Saturday night.”
“Maybe if you explained that I was fighting for my life and kind of distracted, he’ll forgive me.”
“Doubt
ful. Call me if you need something.”
“I will.” Chloe started to rise, but froze when Opal sent a searing look in her direction.
“Do not get up from there. At all.”
Before Chloe could respond, a soft knock sounded on the door. “Good. Now I really can leave.” Opal hurried to the door and pulled it open. “You’re late.”
“Two minutes. And I had good reason.” Ben stepped into the room, a white paper bag in his hand. “Apple pie and ice cream from Becky’s.”
“I suppose that’s acceptable. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Thanks for taking over for me.”
“Opal, please tell me you didn’t ask Ben to come babysit me.”
“I did not ask him to babysit you. I asked him to lend a hand. I’ll see you in a bit.” She walked out the door before Chloe could tell her exactly what she thought of her meddling ways.
“Feeling better?” Ben sat on the couch beside her, his gaze taking in everything about her appearance.
Unfortunately, that included scraggly hair, pale skin, swollen hands and, of course, plenty of stitches.
“Now that Jordyn is in custody, I feel better than I have in almost a year. I still can’t believe she went home and was acting like nothing happened. I was sure she’d take off and go into hiding.”
“From what Jake says, she’d convinced herself that no one would suspect her. In her mind, she’d committed the perfect crime.”
“Except I didn’t die.”
“Thank the Lord for that.” Ben ran a hand over his jaw, his eyes shadowed. “I was sure we’d lost you when I saw that suicide note.”
“I guess I’m tougher than you think.”
“I’ve always thought you were tough. I was just afraid whoever had you was tougher.”
“Jordyn did pack a pretty mean punch.” Chloe fingered the bandage at the back of her head. “She really was crazy, Ben. I found e-mails in Adam’s laptop—”
“What were you doing working when you’re supposed to be resting?”
“I just took a quick peek.”
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