After spotting Courtney in bed he stepped into the room. “Are you sick?” His voice remained flat, like this was nothing but a bother.
“No. Just tired. Isabelle is keeping me company.”
Seth fired a glance at Isabelle still standing at the door. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. After Peter left, I came back to check on Courtney.” Isabelle grinned at him. “I was about to come back and see you.”
If his locked jaw were any indication, Seth wasn’t buying it. Not this time. He turned back to Courtney. “Lunch is ready. Why don’t you both come down and eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” Courtney said.
“Courtney—” he began.
“Seth,” Isabelle said, “we had a late breakfast while you and Mary Beth were out.” She held the door open a little wider. The universal signal for get the hell out.
“Fine. We’ll save you some.”
“Thank you,” Isabelle said.
When he left, she shut the door and went to the closet to retrieve Courtney’s duffle. Her own bag sat on the floor packed and ready to go. She had never bothered taking the things out of it after switching rooms. Peter’s things! She wouldn’t be able to carry it all. He’d have to come back for them.
“Okay,” she said. “Peter is on his way. Billy too.”
“Who’s Billy?” Courtney threw the covers back.
Oh, right. She didn’t know about Billy. “I’ll explain later.”
She dialed Sampson. Peter had told her to hold off, but she needed something to do while waiting. Voice mail. Figures. She left a message that Courtney was willing to talk and they were leaving. Maybe they could sneak out without Seth knowing. They’d have to be quiet though.
The distinctive grind of a key sliding into a lock sounded and Isabelle ran back to the door and pulled just as the lock engaged. No.
“Rich boy’s room,” Courtney said, her voice a hissing whisper.
Isabelle shoved open the pocket door only to find Seth pulling the bedroom door closed.
“No!”
“Yes,” he said from the other side of the door as he flipped the lock. “I’ll be back for you after lunch and we’ll finish what we started.”
She slammed her open hand against the door. “Unlock this. Now!”
He laughed. “Be ready for me, Isabelle.”
“Seth, open this door or I’ll call 9-1-1.”
“No you won’t,” he said, his voice fading as if he were walking away. “Courtney has a lot to lose if you do.”
“Seth!”
No answer. That rat bastard locked them up. The press of tight air closed in and she spun to face the window. Sealed. She gripped the doorknob behind her and concentrated on the cold metal.
“He locked us in,” Courtney said from the bathroom.
Isabelle snapped her head around. “Don’t worry.”
“Well, that’s kind of tough since we can’t get out.”
“Yes, we can.” Isabelle pushed by her and went to her suitcase where Peter had sewn lock-picking tools into the lining. She tore open the lining, pulled out what he called a tension wrench and the pick and held them up. “Pray I can do this.”
“What’s that?”
“Peter taught me how to pick a lock. If I can do this, we’re out of here.”
Her phone rang. Peter. She moved to the far corner of the room in case anyone with big ears was in the hall. Still, she’d keep her voice low.
“Are you here?”
“Two miles out. Get moving.”
“That might be a problem. Seth locked us in.”
“What?”
“I’m going to try and pick the lock, but if I can’t do it, you’ll have to get us out of here.”
“I’ll kill that son of a bitch. Forget the lock. I’ll kick in the door when I get there. You’re done, Izzy. Time to pack it up.”
“No, Peter. If I can get the door open, we’ll try and sneak out. It’ll give us a head start and, hopefully, by the time Seth comes back, we’ll be long gone. Let me work on this lock and I’ll call you back. If you don’t hear from me, expect us to come tearing out the front door in the next few minutes.”
She hung up, shoved her phone in her pocket and breathed in to let the oxygen clear her rioting mind.
Concentrate.
Imagining Peter standing next to her, instructing her as he’d done at the motel, Isabelle inserted the tension wrench into the lower part of the keyhole. She turned the wrench counterclockwise and it stopped. Wrong way. She turned it the other way and the cylinder gave a little. That’s it. Clockwise. She inserted the pick to the top of the lock.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Courtney asked.
“I’m trying to think here. Remember clockwise.”
“Why?”
“Just remember it.”
She focused on the pick, felt something on the end and assumed she’d hit what Peter called the pins in the lock. She needed to push the upper pin out of the cylinder before moving on to the next pin. A barely audible click sounded and the shock of actually succeeding hit her.
“That’s one,” she said. “I need to do the rest.”
After repeating the process for each pin, she glanced at Courtney. “Clockwise?”
Courtney nodded.
Isabelle turned the cylinder clockwise, hoping she was right or she’d have to start over.
The cylinder turned.
Tools still in hand, Isabelle jumped backward and waved her arms. She picked the lock. Not wanting to waste any more time, she turned to Courtney. “We’re going down the stairs and right out the front door. Don’t stop for anything. Can you carry your bag?”
Courtney nodded. “Let’s go.”
Isabelle opened the door and peeked out. No life. Perfect. With one finger against her lips, she jerked her head for Courtney to follow. “Whatever happens,” she whispered, “don’t stop. I can handle Seth. You just get out to the car.”
They moved down the hall and the sound of voices carried from the first floor. A dish clanged. They must all be in the kitchen at the back of the house. She picked up her pace, but made sure Courtney was still with her.
After inching down the staircase, they stopped at the bottom. To their right was the kitchen, to their left the front door.
“I’ll get it,” Isabelle heard Seth say and she nudged Courtney toward the front door only a few feet away.
Almost there. Please let Peter be pulling up.
Seth stepped from the kitchen, spotted them and froze. “How the hell did you get out?”
Could they not get a break today? Isabelle swung to Courtney. “Go.”
“Hold it,” he said as she darted for the door.
Isabelle jumped between Seth and the younger woman. “I said go!”
“She’s not going anywhere.” He sidestepped and grabbed for Courtney, but Isabelle sent a sharp elbow to his ribs
“Uhhh.” He stumbled back, bumped the staircase and doubled over.
“Courtney, go,” Isabelle shouted, but Courtney stood poleaxed just feet from the door.
Seth sucked a deep breath and stood straight. “You stupid bitch.”
He faked a lunge at Courtney, but instead tackled Isabelle at her waist and they hit the floor with a thwack. Isabelle crashed onto her back, her breath catching with the force of the blow. Seth landed on top of her, recovered and tried to straddle her.
No. She sat up, launched a hard palm punch under his chin. Scrunch. His jaw snapped back like a Pez dispenser. He rolled to the side, shaking his head. Bastard.
Isabelle sprang to her feet, glaring down at him. “I could have broken your neck. Now back off! I beat the crap out of Kendrick and I’ll do the same to you.”
Suddenly Mary Beth came flying from the kitchen. She stopped, glanced down at Seth and slowly retreated.
You’d better go back.
On his knees, Seth slowly raised his head, eyes glowering. “Kendrick was a stupid fuck.” He looked t
o Courtney, then down at her protruding belly before raising his gaze to her face again. “I didn’t let Kendrick go, and I’m not letting you go either.”
Isabelle froze, but her mind raced. What did he mean? She concentrated on the words. I didn’t let Kendrick go. “You…Kendrick?”
Isabelle turned to Courtney. The young girl still stood motionless. What was she waiting for? “Go!”
Jolted, Courtney ran and groped for the doorknob.
Still on his knees, Seth shook his head hard, probably clearing the fog. Like cannon shot he bolted to his feet, lunged past Isabelle and grabbed for Courtney. “No!” He grasped Courtney’s baggy T-shirt and dragged her to one knee.
Isabelle tackled him from behind, chopping at his arm to loosen his grip on Courtney. He let go and they hit the floor again with Izzy’s arms wrapped around his knees.
Take him out. Take him out.
“Run, Courtney.” Isabelle increased her grip on Seth because who knew what he’d do next.
She needed Peter. He should be here by now. Seth wrenched a leg free, kicked her hard in the shoulder. Her vision blurred as the pain exploded into her neck. Releasing her grip, she fell on her back.
Each jagged breath scraped at her throat like tiny slivers of broken glass. Recover. Don’t let him win.
She closed her eyes for a second, letting the fury build. She’d finish this.
“Ow!” Courtney cried.
Isabelle sprang to her knees. Seth had hold of Courtney’s ankle. The bastard would not win this.
Peter tore up the driveway.
Where were they?
He parked, left the car running and hauled ass. When he pushed open the front door, he crashed into Courtney with Seth hanging on to her leg. Whoa! Peter jammed his foot into Seth’s wrist and he howled in agony before rolling to his back.
A large duffel bag and Izzy’s suitcase had been thrown to the floor next to Courtney.
Izzy, on her knees, heaved for breath. Her head was down and he couldn’t see her face as Mary Beth tore around the kitchen doorway with something in her hand.
An iron skillet. Un-friggin’-believable.
He pulled his nine millimeter and lined up his shot. “I wouldn’t.”
She skidded to a stop.
“Good girl.” He jerked his head to Courtney. “Get in the car. Now!”
She snapped to attention and scooted behind him. His gun still on Mary Beth, he stepped forward to help Izzy, but she’d already gotten to her feet, her squinted eyes focused on Seth. She lunged for him, but Peter snaked an arm around her waist, and hauled her backward. “Leave him be. Billy will watch him until the cops get here. Sampson is on his way.”
The rage had gotten to her and his words didn’t penetrate. He knew the feeling.
Izzy pushed against his arm, her breaths coming in fast, hard grunts, and it took a hell of a grip to keep her from breaking away.
Her leg shot out in a wayward kick near Seth’s crotch. “You son of a bitch!”
Too bad she missed.
“Ssshh,” he said dragging her to the door while his arm muscles strained against her. Damn she was strong. He kept his gun on Mary Beth and that skillet as they backed out the door.
Once on the porch, he hauled Izzy down the steps. “In the car.”
“I couldn’t get into the back,” Courtney said from the passenger side. “I’m sorry!”
Izzy slid into the rear seat so Peter could drive. “It’s all right.”
“Everybody okay?” Peter asked ramming the car into gear before grabbing his phone and dialing Billy.
“Yes,” Courtney said. “Isabelle, holy crap, you’re like the bionic woman.”
Peter brought his eyes to the rearview mirror and glanced at Izzy. Her head was back against the seat and she had closed her eyes. The comedown was a bitch.
Billy picked up on the first ring. “I hope this is you driving Izzy’s car down the driveway.”
“Yeah. Watch the house. I’ve got Izzy and Courtney with me. Izzy went apeshit on Seth and he’s in bad shape.”
“I missed it again? That is so hot.”
Peter snorted a laugh as he turned onto the road and floored it. “Sampson should be showing up any time. I called him on the way here. He said he’d get some agents out here ASAP.”
“I wish I could have seen her in action,” Billy said.
Peter hung up and exhaled.
“What?” Izzy asked, still with her eyes closed.
“He’s pissed he couldn’t watch.”
She rolled her head side to side. “He’s such an idiot.”
“Stop!” Courtney yelled.
Isabelle braced herself against the back of the driver’s seat as Peter hit the brakes in front of a deserted farmhouse about a half mile from the compound.
“What the hell?” Peter said.
Courtney paddled her hands toward the empty house. “Turn in here.”
“What for?”
“Please? There’s someone else.”
“Courtney?” Isabelle said, her energy suddenly roaring back.
Peter pulled into the driveway of the ramshackle farmhouse. The sagging covered porch, with its peeling paint and missing first step, should have collapsed by now.
Courtney turned to her. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell you, but I can’t leave her here.”
Dust kicked up around the car and Peter came to a stop in the driveway. “Who?”
But Courtney was out of the car already, half walking half running to the front door. A tattered orange no trespassing sign hung in the front window and indicated the house was in foreclosure.
“Iz?” Peter said as he got out of the car.
“Beats me.” She grabbed his hand so he could pull her from the backseat and they ran to catch up with Courtney who had already entered the house.
They stepped into the house and the oppressive heat and stagnant air hit Isabelle like a full speed garbage truck.
“Are you here?” Courtney yelled. “It’s me. It’s okay.”
The slap of a screen door came from the back of the house and a hugely pregnant young woman with greasy auburn hair stepped into view.
“Holy cow,” Izzy said.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Isabelle backed against Peter and leaned into him, because holding up her own body suddenly became too much.
Could this be…
Yes, the girl looked different from the glamour shot Isabelle had seen, but her hair color—not brown, not red, with flecks of gold—was the same. The cotton maternity shorts and grimy white top she wore strained against her ballooning belly.
“Please tell me you are Nicole Pratt.”
The girl stayed silent, but Courtney nodded. “How’d you know her last name? I never told you.”
Isabelle spun around, threw her arms around Peter’s neck and squeezed. She shut her eyes and breathed in and out, in and out, in and out. “Am I dreaming?”
He backed her up and gripped her arms. “You found her.”
Alive.
Isabelle turned and faced the two girls. Courtney stood still, her gaze bouncing between Peter and Isabelle.
Obviously, an explanation was owed. “I’m sorry I had to lie to you, Courtney. I’ve been working with the FBI to find Nicole. After Kendrick was killed they asked me to come here.” Izzy glanced at Nicole. “Your roommate told the police you’d been volunteering at the compound. They didn’t know you were living there. Your mother is frantic.”
Nicole brought her hands over her face and Izzy glanced back at Peter who shrugged.
“Courtney, what’s going on?” Izzy asked. “What is she doing in this house?”
But Courtney stiffened.
Defiance.
A reaction Isabelle understood all too well. She’d have to reassure her. “Nothing has changed. We are still going to help you. Both of you. Now more than ever, but you have to be honest with us.”
Courtney wrapped an arm around Nicole’s boney shoulders. �
�I trust them.”
The air grew hotter and less breathable, but Isabelle waited while Nicole considered them.
She finally said, “I found out I was pregnant just after Christmas. I couldn’t tell my mother. When I began to show I started wearing big shirts and didn’t go home for spring break. I stayed at school and told my mother I was going home with a friend.”
“You didn’t think you could tell her?” Isabelle asked.
Nicole shook her head. “My mother is the highest ranking Republican in Congress. She’s an ultra-Conservative who has spent her career talking about family values. She wants to run for president. A pregnant, unmarried nineteen-year-old doesn’t fit.”
And Isabelle understood. After all, she’d been protecting her own family secret for years. “I’m so sorry.”
Nicole stared at the floor. “I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid to have an abortion. I didn’t want to have an abortion. I figured I could give up the baby, but I was afraid the press would find out. I went to Tomorrow’s Family Network and gave them a fake name. They sent me to see Seth and Kendrick. I knew it was illegal, but it meant no one would know. I told my mother I wasn’t coming home for the summer and I told my friends I was. No one knew where I’d be and I would have the baby before school started. It seemed like my only option.”
Isabelle glanced at Nicole’s very large belly. “When are you due?”
“Next week.”
“Next week!” Peter said. “What the hell are you doing in this rat hole?”
“That’s the problem, rich boy. She decided she wanted to keep the baby, but Seth and Kendrick wouldn’t let her go. They were afraid she’d go to the police and told her it was too late, that they’d already made the deal.”
“Why didn’t you call someone?” Isabelle asked.
“They threatened her. Said they’d kill her and the baby before they let her leave. Then Seth took her car keys and cell phone.”
Nicole nodded. “I couldn’t risk my baby.”
Isabelle’s mind raced. “When did he take the phone?”
“A few days before I ran.”
Isabelle turned to Peter. “He must have shut the phone off. That’s why the feds couldn’t get a location.”
A Just Deception Page 28
