by Mallory Kane
What if living quietly, surrounded by love, was better than dying heroically?
He looked toward the bedroom, wanting to rush in there and tell Dana about all his newfound insights, but she was upset and scared. And damned if he wasn’t going to have to upset and scare her even more, before he could even think about making up to her for all the ways he’d failed her in the past.
It didn’t matter what great insights he’d had. It didn’t matter that she’d finally opened up to him and told him things she’d never told anyone.
Later, they needed to talk. Right now, there were other, more important considerations than Dana’s feelings. There was her life. He glanced at his watch.
He needed to take a look around, to be sure Fontenot hadn’t tracked them here. And he needed to check in with the captain to see what the situation was.
Grabbing his cell phone, he walked outside. He looked around. Everything still seemed quiet and deserted. The lake was placid, the air still. He stopped and listened. Nothing.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he turned around, staring back up toward the house. What was wrong, then? There was nothing out of the ordinary that he could see, or hear. It almost seemed too quiet.
Frowning, he punched in the numbers for the precinct, stopping when he heard a familiar roar. As his best friend and partner’s battered Chevy roared up, Cody stuck the cell phone back in its holder on his belt and stood up.
What the hell was Dev doing here? A mixture of relief and apprehension settled hard on his chest.
“Dev! Where y’at?” he called, walking toward his buddy’s ancient car, shaking his head at its condition and the mud it had gathered on its trip here.
“Damn it, Cody,” Dev grumbled as he surveyed his treasured car. “This gumbo mud’s going to eat the paint right off my babe.”
Cody grinned. “Come on, Dev. Like there’s any paint left on it to eat off. All I see is primer. Why didn’t you bring one of the department’s four-wheelers?”
Dev turned to Cody. “I wasn’t much interested in announcing to the world that I’m a cop.”
Cody stiffened. “Why? What’s the deal, Dev? You got something on Fontenot?” His pulse sped up and his muscles tensed, but it wasn’t the old familiar thrill of the chase. It was fear, fear for Dana.
He glanced up at the house again, and wiped his face. “Well?” he insisted, when Dev hesitated.
“Code, there’s something wrong with the picture.”
Cody’s mouth went dry in sudden apprehension. “I knew it. What is it? It’s too pat, isn’t it?”
Dev nodded. “The man went to a lot of trouble to rent a car without leaving a trail, but we traced him and the car to Pensacola, and of course we took care of Dana’s sister.”
The big detective’s face lightened and his black eyes sparkled like polished ebony. “And let me tell you that baby sister is something. I mean Dana is a knockout, all right, but Angie is a stunner. What a woman!”
“Dev!”
“Okay, okay. I was beginning to think your buddy Fontenot had lost his touch. I mean tracing him to the rental car agency was not easy, but it was hardly on the same par with his usual tricks.”
Cody’s stomach clenched. “So you’re saying…”
“He covered his tracks, but not too well.”
“You think he was baiting us?”
Dev rubbed his neck and grimaced. “You could say that. The car turned up abandoned, just on the other side of Pensacola, with a dead fish in it.”
Cody stared at his friend. “A dead fish?”
“Yup.” Dev nodded, looking expectantly at his friend. “A dead fish. A red herring.”
“I knew it! It was too easy. Damn!” Cody pounded his fist against the hood of the Chevy.
“Hey, watch the car.”
“So you lost his trail? And you’re sure he did nothing to Dana’s sister, or the kids? There was nothing out of place? Nothing unusual?”
“Oh, he did something, all right. He left a page from Dana’s day planner on Angie’s doorstep.”
Cody felt the blood drain from his face. He racked his brain, trying to remember the last time he’d seen her planner. “What day?”
Dev pulled a plastic bag with a sheet of paper inside it from his jacket pocket.
With fingers that he couldn’t stop from trembling, Cody took the bag. He knew what he would see before he looked, but he stared in fascination at the pale green page. It was Friday’s page, and there, written in her precise handwriting, was Dana’s note to herself.
Buy junk food, buy two romance novels, spend weekend alone at the lake house, reading and eating.
Dev caught the bag as it dropped from Cody’s hand. “Friday. Two days ago. When did Dana last have it?”
A memory seared Cody’s brain. “On the way up here,” he said, his jaw clenched tight. “She had some coupons for coffee in it.”
Dev stiffened and glanced up at the lake house. “You know where it is now?” he asked, the black intensity in his eyes belying his casual question.
Cody followed his gaze, frowning, then turned and rushed over to the car.
The doors were locked, and inside, on the back seat, where she must have left it when they took the groceries in, was Dana’s day planner. It was zipped closed, and the little gold nameplate on the front shone dully in the shadows.
Cody’s blood ran cold. “He’s been here. That son of a bitch has been here. He’s been watching us.”
Behind him, Dev swore softly and colorfully. “We need to get somebody up here to go over the car.”
“There’s no point in that. I know, I know, procedure. But think about it, Dev. He doesn’t care if we know he’s been here. He wants us to know. It will feed his ego to have the car dusted for prints. He’s laughing at us.”
He turned around, scanning the thick foliage that surrounded the inlet and the house. He pushed his fingers through his hair and wiped his face. “God, Dev. I’ve been goofing off up here, playing house with Dana. I let myself forget just how good the bastard is.”
Dev chuckled. “You two have been playing house? You patching things up?”
Cody shook his head and rubbed his neck. “Don’t, Dev. She’s too upset. And she has a right to be. Damn. How could I have let him get so close? How could I have been such an idiot? He could have killed her.”
“He’s after you.”
“Hell, yeah, he’s after me. And he’ll use her if he can. Damn it!” Cody hit the car with his doubled fists, relishing the pain that shot up his arms. “What was I thinking? I should have been after him.”
“Whoa, Code. Stay cool.” Dev lost his cheerful demeanor and straightened to his full six-feet-three-inch frame. His cold black eyes skimmed the horizon. “Just how removed from you and Dana is this place? How did he trace you here?”
Cody shook his head. “The house belonged to a friend of Dana’s granddad, an old Cajun who liked his privacy, to say the least. It’s in the old man’s name. It’s like I told the captain. There shouldn’t have been any way to trace it to Dana.”
“What about the electricity?”
“It has its own generator. I cranked it up when we got here.” Cody pulled out his revolver and checked it. “We’ve got to get Dana out of here.” He squinted up at the house, which looked peaceful. Deceptively peaceful.
“What about water and sewer? Property taxes?”
“Dana’s brother, Greg, arranged for a local to take care of all that a long time ago. Hell!”
“What?” Dev cocked an eyebrow in his direction.
“I don’t know how Greg pays the local guy.”
Dev grimaced. “Check probably. Where does he live?”
“In Iowa, but still…”
“Yeah, still.”
Cody tensed. “So how long has it been since anyone has verified Fontenot’s whereabouts? He could have been here any time in the past two days. The page wasn’t missing when we got here Friday night. She’d have noticed.�
�
“You sure? She was pretty upset.”
Cody shot Dev a look.
“Okay. Yeah. This is Dana we’re talking about.”
A tiny smile curved Cody’s mouth. “Yeah. She’d have noticed.”
“Well, the last time he was actually spotted was at the rental car agency, yesterday morning. Saturday. And the page showed up on Angie’s doorstep this morning.” Dev shrugged his shoulders, settling his jacket, and brushed his fingers across the bulge of his own weapon. “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Yesterday afternoon, a woman was murdered, her neck snapped. Right on the street near where the rental car was found. And her car is missing. It’s a real junker, according to some neighbors. Not what you’d expect Fontenot to drive.”
“That’s how he got here. He was here last night. Probably watching us, while we were…God! How could I have been so stupid?” Cody wrapped his hand around his gun. “We’ve got to assume he’s here, Dev.”
“Let’s get you two out of here.”
Cody shook his head. “Let’s get Dana out of here. I’m going to get Fontenot. We can’t underestimate him.”
“We’ll get him, my friend. Now I’m calling for backup.”
Cody shot a grateful look at Devereaux Gautier. “Thanks, friend.”
DANA THREW CLOTHES into her bag, her brain whirling with the implications of Cody’s words, her chest squeezing so tightly it hurt to breathe.
I didn’t blame you.
You left me.
Remembering back, Dana was amazed at how callous she must have seemed. In reality, she’d been numb, running on nervous energy and caffeine, desperate to get away from Cody as soon as possible because he was the embodiment of everything she’d lost.
Oh, God, how deeply she had hurt him.
While he’d been in the hospital, he’d lost his family, just as she had. When she should have been there for him, while he was recuperating from brain surgery, where had she been? In a fog of self-pity and grief, that’s where.
How could she have done that to him? Her chest squeezed tight as she realized the pain she’d put him through.
He’d lost the chance to have a child, too, but he’d gone right on. He’d had to, she realized now.
He’d returned to work as soon as he’d been able, sooner than he should have. He’d agreed to all her terms for the divorce as if he hadn’t really cared one way or the other. He’d let her take whatever she’d wanted without protest.
He’d been distracted, remote, removed from it all. As she thought back, armed with her new realization, she could see that the dullness in his eyes was grief, that the slump in his shoulders was defeat, rather than just a lack of interest in the whole divorce. And the tense whiteness around his mouth and the stiffness in his bearing had been hurt, not just impatience to have it all over and done.
It was too much to take in right now, just how much she must have hurt him, so with a great effort of will she stopped the thoughts and concentrated on being angry with him for going back to New Orleans. That was easier to deal with.
She muttered to herself as she tossed her sandals into the bag. “If you think you’re going off to New Orleans and leaving me here with some local hick cop who can’t even find his bullet, you’re crazy, Cody.” She leaned over the bed to retrieve her hairbrush.
Suddenly, she heard a sound behind her. A soft sound, like a swish of cloth. She started to turn. “Cody?”
Something smelly and hot covered her head.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see. Her legs were kicked out from under her and she was dragged across the floor.
She tried to scream, but when she took a deep breath, all she got was a lungful of dust and lint.
She coughed, choked, coughed again.
Then, like a flash of lightning, she knew. It was Fontenot. Adrenaline shot through her, and she forced air into her burning lungs and screamed.
Fontenot whacked her upside the head with something heavy. Pain exploded in her brain. Only the meager cushion of the blanket kept her from being knocked unconscious.
Dazed and nauseated, and choking from the dust, she kicked feebly at the hands that tugged her feet with surprisingly efficient strength. He pulled her out the back door. She heard its familiar creak and yelped when her head bumped on the threshold.
She rolled and kicked, trying to get her feet under her, screaming at the top of her lungs for Cody.
“Screaming won’t help, Mrs. Maxwell.” The voice was muffled, but she understood the words. “He can’t hear you.”
Fontenot kicked her, then hit her in the head again. “I do wish you would stop struggling. It would make things so much easier.”
She recognized his voice, and it made her skin crawl. It was a strange voice, low and hoarse, soft but grating. Its very quietness belied the sheer insanity of his words.
“Stop! Why are you doing this?” Dana kept yelling, futile as it was.
She was turned roughly, and some kind of heavy strapping or tape was wrapped around her midsection, pinning her arms to her sides and tangling the blanket even more efficiently around her.
The restraints cut off what little air she’d had to breathe. She gasped blindly, desperate to fill her lungs with untainted air. If she didn’t get a full breath soon, she would die.
“This will just take a moment, Mrs. Maxwell. You’ll forgive me if I’m in a bit of a hurry. I usually am much neater.”
He easily got her legs trussed despite her desperate kicking, and Dana was overwhelmed by something she’d never experienced in her life. Terrifying, nauseating claustrophobia. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move.
She thrashed. Gasped and coughed, straining for air. Panic stole the last dregs of coherence and nothing at all made any sense. She whimpered hoarsely and struggled weakly, fast running out of energy and will.
A ripping sound—a flash of metal—blinding sunlight and blessed, blessed air.
She gulped and coughed, then sucked air in through her mouth, preparing to scream.
Chapter Thirteen
Fontenot jerked Dana upright and ripped the cut in the blanket wider, until he could push it down on her shoulders, exposing her face. Then he slapped her with his open palm.
“You really must be quiet. Here’s a little something to help.” He plastered a strip of tape across her mouth, cutting off any sound she might have made.
She squinted against the bright sunlight. Fontenot’s shadow loomed over her head. Her first glimpse of her captor had confirmed that it was him. His pale hair, thinning on top, his puffy eyes, shining madly. Those wet, pink lips, smiling blandly at her, as if he were making party conversation.
“Now, if you don’t mind, it would be a very good idea if we moved away from the house. Quickly.”
“Why? What have you done?” Her words were nothing but desperate grunts, muffled by the tape, as he pushed her toward the woods.
She fell, encumbered by the bindings around her thighs just above her knees.
Cursing under his breath, he picked her up again, holding on to her. “Really, Mrs. Maxwell. Please try. Otherwise I might have to really kill you. Now, come on. We’ve got a show to attend.”
Fontenot was mad. Cody was right. A streak of panic sheared her breath as Cody’s words slammed into her mind.
There’s a madman out there who wants to kill me, and he won’t mind killing you to get to me.
“Let me go, you son of a bitch.” She tried to scream the words, but Fontenot had done a good job of gagging her. She couldn’t get enough breath to yell and she couldn’t move her mouth.
He grabbed the end of the strap he’d wrapped around her and pulled her along behind him as he climbed up into the wooded area above the backwater. Dana had no choice but to follow as best she could. With her knees bound she could do little more than shuffle. If she fell again, he would just drag her, or kill her.
They were behind the house, up ab
ove the swampy little inlet. They ought to be visible from the pier.
Where was Cody? Why wasn’t he rescuing her? Hadn’t he heard her scream?
Had Fontenot done something to him?
Oh, God, no! Don’t let Cody be dead. He’d gone out to look around. Maybe Fontenot hadn’t seen him. Maybe Cody was okay. If he was, he’d rescue her.
Fontenot finally stopped and Dana tried to catch her breath. She worked her mouth but the tape was stuck fast. She tried to wipe it off against her shoulder, but the stupid edge of the blanket just flopped back and forth. Desperately she looked around her for something, anything she could use to escape.
“Here we are,” Fontenot said, smiling at her serenely. “Best seats in the house.” He turned her around and pushed her down on the ground.
He smiled and hummed to himself as he settled beside her, picking invisible lint off his impeccably tailored suit. Dana watched him in horror. He was insane. A maniac, just like Cody said. Panic escalated into unrelenting terror inside her.
“What have you done with Cody?” she asked, although her words sounded like moans behind the tape.
Fontenot put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He smelled like cologne, a familiar scent that lent an eerie air of normalcy to the insane situation she found herself in. His hand, wrapped around her exposed shoulder, was clammy and soft. Too soft. She shuddered at his touch.
“Now, now, sweetheart, calm down,” his oily voice whispered in her ear. “Didn’t I promise you a show? Well, the curtain is about to go up on my greatest achievement. If I could dim the lights, I would, but I’m not in charge of stage direction, so I’ll just have to make do with what the Lord has provided.”
Dana swallowed against nauseating fear and disgust. He was certifiable.
“Look, Mrs. Maxwell,” Fontenot said, a note of barely suppressed excitement in his voice. “Watch carefully now. The show is about to begin. Pardon me for pointing.”
Dana looked in the direction he indicated. From their vantage point above the inlet, they had a clear view of the stretch of land and swamp and water in front of the lake house. She spotted Dev’s battered Chevy, and a few feet away, headed for the pier, she saw Dev and Cody.
