“What about his gambling?”
Her scowl deepened. “He didn’t gamble. But he did make some wagers for me. He told me not to do it. That it was a bad idea. But I needed the money, so I wanted to take the risk.”
“Why didn’t you do it yourself?”
“Code of ethics. I can’t place bets at the racetrack I own.”
I nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Anyway, back to the subject at hand. I thought everything was on track. We were collecting the ransom money and trying to track down the people responsible—”
“Which were you going to do? Give them money or try to find them?” It wasn’t very usual that I didn’t care if I played nice or not. But the fact that Peyton had tried to get him to drink again really irked me. Chase had been an alcoholic! What kind of person did that?
Peyton scowled and glanced around. Was she paranoid, or did she think someone was watching her?
“If we didn’t first find the men who snatched Winston, then I was going to give them the money,” she whispered, her voice coming out as a hiss. “You’ve got to understand that I was going to do whatever it took to get my husband back in one piece. I won’t apologize for that.”
I wasn’t about to apologize either. She was playing a dangerous game, not only with her husband’s life but with Chase’s as well. “These people who snatched him . . . did they drive a black van? Three guys?”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “Yes. Exactly. How did you know?”
The memories came back like a slap. My body literally shuddered at the thought of what had happened. I was lucky to be alive. “Because they snatched me also.”
Her eyes got even wider than before. “You got away?”
I shrugged, finally pulling the paper off my straw and jamming the plastic cylinder into my drink. “I don’t think they ever really wanted me. They wanted to know how I was involved in all of this. When they found out I was the scorned girlfriend, they suddenly didn’t seem to care anymore.”
Peyton leaned back in the booth and seemed to process that for a moment. “That’s good for you. Because these guys are no joke. I wouldn’t put it past them to kill you.”
“You have any idea who they are?”
“No, we were never able to pinpoint any identification. Chase told me he had a lead. That was the last time I heard from him.”
My heart panged. I hoped that Chase was okay. I prayed he hadn’t stumbled into some information that led to him being hurt . . . or worse.
“Did these men kill Aidan Jennings?”
“You really do your research, don’t you?” Peyton grabbed my straw wrapper and was now trying to straighten it with nervous, frantic motions with her fingers. “We think so. And they tried to frame Chase for his death. When these men found out Chase was involved, they wanted to get rid of him.”
“Why?”
“Because he had a great track record as a detective. And he’s determined. Before he started drinking, he was the most focused person I knew. Then he injured his knee and his brother died. Everything changed after that.”
Right—he’d lost his money, and therefore Peyton had lost interest in him. I was sure it was more complicated than that. Relationships always were. But that did seem to be what it boiled down to.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Peyton said, studying my face.
I blinked. I hoped she didn’t know what I was thinking, because the thoughts weren’t that flattering on her end. “Do you?”
“I used to be materialistic. I liked the life Chase and I had together. But it was more than him losing his money that caused us to break up. I didn’t even know him anymore. He was obsessed with his brother’s death, and, when he couldn’t find answers, he started drinking. That was difficult on our marriage.”
“I can imagine.”
“As you can see, we’ve both moved on. We’re both doing well, despite our history.”
“As much as I appreciate you sharing that, right now I’m much more concerned with his future than I am his history. Is there anything else you can tell me that might help me figure out where Chase is?”
She let out a sigh, the air ruffling her hair. “I don’t know.”
Okay, then I would ask some leading questions. “Did Chase think Alexander Cartwright was connected with all of this?”
“Alexander. Of course! Chase did suspect he was involved.”
Peyton was getting testy, so I needed to proceed carefully. “Do you have proof your husband is still alive?”
She pulled out her phone, hit several buttons, and scrolled up for a moment before showing me a picture. “This.”
I stared at the photo. He had blood drizzling from his lip, but he was alive. The date at the bottom said it was taken yesterday.
The words “Only two days” were scrawled at the bottom of the message.
I frowned. I had more answers now, yet those answers had led to more questions. I still had no good idea what to do or how to solve this problem in my life.
I leaned closer to Peyton. “Peyton, I’m sorry about your husband. I’d love to help find him. But first, I have to ask, do you have any idea where Chase is?”
“If I knew, I would tell you. Last time we talked, he was investigating Alexander down at the stables. He hasn’t been in touch since then. I’ve been beside myself.”
“Did you think about calling the police?”
“Only if I wanted both Winston and Chase to die.” She halted her words and shook her head. “Sorry. I’m not trying to bite your head off. I’m just worried. Chase was my only hope, and now that he’s out of the picture . . . I don’t even know what to do. The kidnappers want the money in two days. I’m a few thousand dollars short, but I want to attempt it anyway.”
“Where are you meeting them?”
“They’re supposed to call with the information.”
I nodded and stood. “Thank you for sharing.”
“Holly, you can’t go to the police with this either. My husband will die if you do.”
“I understand.”
“And Holly?”
I stayed where I was.
“Chase really does care about you. I think it’s really sweet that you would go out of your way like this to help him. For what it’s worth.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
As I reflected on my conversation with Peyton, there was only one thing I knew to do. Jamie agreed, and we’d piled into my car to take a little drive.
I slowed the car as I passed an old farmhouse nestled into the Kentucky hillside. Jamie and I stared at it a moment. The one-story building was old and not well tended. If a strong wind came up, the whole structure might fall down.
The grass was a little too tall all around the house, and there were no cars parked outside, at least not that were visible to my eye. The mailbox overflowed with flyers and envelopes and other items that had been stuffed inside.
A barn, far larger than the house but equally old, lurked at the back of the property.
“Where are we?” Jamie asked.
The house looked like something from a modern-day horror story. Or the kind of place where the police discovered someone had been held captive for a decade and no one noticed. But that was aside from the point.
I shrugged. “That’s what I need to find out. It was important enough that Chase marked it on a map. It has to be significant somehow.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
I dragged in a deep breath, trying to gather my courage. “I guess. I mean, I don’t know. How else are we supposed to get answers?”
I didn’t sound very confident, but that was only because I didn’t feel very confident. This was no time to be fake. I needed all the courage I could get to go forward with this.
“The hunter becomes the hunted,” Jamie said in a deep, dramatic voice.
“That does not make me feel better.”
“It wasn’t supposed to. This could be dangerous. You’ve got to keep that in
the back of your mind.”
I continued down the street until I found a little dirt road through the woods where we could conceal the car. There was a stretch of probably a quarter mile of woods that I’d have to trudge through in order to get to the house. But I’d rather walk through the woods than announce my arrival on the property.
The tension was thick in the air as Jamie and I sat there for a moment. We were near the last leg of this investigation. I could feel it. I only hoped everything turned out . . . well, turned out happy.
“I’m going to walk with you,” Jamie announced.
“But who’s going to be my backup in case something goes wrong?”
“I’ll still be your backup. I won’t go near the house, and I’ll stay at a distance. But I just feel like I need to be closer in case something happens.”
I had to admit I felt relief at her words. “Okay. That sounds good.”
We set off on foot toward the house. I had no idea what I was expecting to discover. A black van, maybe? A voice changer, ransom letters, pictures of Chase with a dart through his nose?
The possibilities were endless.
I knew this could be fruitless, but I had to try something.
With the right evidence, we could turn all of this over to the police and our hands would be clean . . . for the most part, at least.
Jamie and I trudged through the woods. At times, the trees were close and the underbrush thick. Other places, the oaks and maples were spaced out and the landscape was rocky. We tried to stay hidden, to remain quiet, to do nothing that would give away our presence.
With each step, my anxiety grew. The fear of the unknown—of not knowing how all of this would play out—kept haunting me. I knew all too well that the future wasn’t promised to me. My life here on this earth could end in the blink of an eye.
When I learned the doctors had gotten my diagnosis wrong and I discovered I had more than a year to live, I felt like I had a new lease on life. But the grim reality remained that all of that could change in a heartbeat. God offered us a lot of promises, but “no suffering” was not one of them.
Finally we reached the edge of the woods. The sunlight streamed through the open canopy of sky in the distance. We’d arrived at the X that had marked the spot.
Jamie and I crouched down beneath a hedge of shrubs and low-lying trees at the edge of the property. We were just here to observe. Not to take action. We’d call the police for that.
I was in no state to fight or fend off the bad guys. My ribs were still killing me. My face was tender. My energy was running on fumes.
I stared at the house, which looked worse up close than it did from the road. The clapboard siding was both moldy and falling off. Trash had collected around the edges. I couldn’t imagine anyone living here.
There was no sign of movement. Even from this side view, I didn’t see any cars or anything else that would indicate someone was home. Nor did I see Chase. But this place was important to him.
Jamie began creeping down the edge of the woods toward a dilapidated barn at the back of the property. As she got closer to the structure, she waved me over.
“Check it out,” Jamie said.
I followed her and peered behind the building. The Creeper Van! It was barely visible, but it was there. I did a little celebratory dance in my mind. Score! We had at least one answer.
Josh had said the van was connected to a crime ring. Somehow, all of this tied together.
“Isn’t that already enough evidence?” Jamie asked. “We can go now and call the police.”
“Except someone’s coming from the other side of the house,” I whispered.
I quickly dropped to the ground, fearing we’d been spotted. The man had a hat pulled down low over his face, concealing his features, and he wore a generic sweatshirt and jeans. I couldn’t get a good look at his features.
Instead of going toward the van, the man opened the doors to the barn. A sedan was inside, along with boxes of other things. I couldn’t tell what; I just knew it wasn’t your typical barn fare.
Just then, my phone buzzed. I glanced down at the screen and saw that Josh had texted me.
There’s an arrest warrant out for Chase.
What? Someone was determined to frame Chase. Someone had sent me that e-mail. The gun had been planted by his Jeep. All their hard work had paid off, and now Chase’s good name was on the line.
I remained where I was, trying my best to remain unseen. I didn’t want to make any sudden motions. The man paused at the door and glanced around, almost as if his spidey senses were tingling. Did he know Jamie and I were out here? Did he sense he was being watched?
I held my breath.
Finally, he took off down the road. I released my breath, realizing just how close that had been.
“Did you recognize him?” Jamie whispered.
I shook my head. “No. Not really. I couldn’t get a good enough look at him.”
“Do you think it’s safe to go check out the barn?” Jamie said.
“Maybe. But first . . .” I needed to text Josh.
Josh, we’re at the place Chase marked on the map.
He quickly replied.
That’s a bad idea. I’m checking out another lead for you. Will let you know when I hear back. Should be anytime.
“I just want to get this over with.” I held up my phone. “I’m going to start by getting some pictures of that van and sending them to Josh. I consider that a little insurance in case something happens. But you stay here. You’re my other insurance policy.”
I stayed at the edge of the woods as I made my way toward the building. With one last glance down the lane and no sign of anyone, I bypassed the front of the barn and walked toward the Creeper Van. I paused by the double doors at the back of the vehicle. I remembered the fear I’d felt when I’d been pushed inside. I remembered wondering if I’d live or die. My entire body tensed with each memory.
Push through, Holly. Push through.
I snapped photos of the license plate. As I walked around the edge of the vehicle, I tugged on the back door. To my surprise, it opened. Inside, there were more boxes of . . . items. All kinds of things. Antique-looking figurines and jewelry boxes and electronics.
What? How did all these things tie in with the abduction of Peyton’s husband? It just didn’t make sense.
“What are you doing here, Holly?”
I twirled around at the deep voice, fearing the worst. I raised my fists, ready to fight, ready to defend myself.
Chase stood there with hands on his hips and a look of disapproval in his eyes.
“Chase?”
He gingerly lowered my fists and gave me a “really?” look. I shrugged and straightened like I really was tougher than he knew.
“Did you follow me?”
“You’re asking me that?” His eyebrows shot up.
I started to defend myself but stopped and frowned instead. “You’re okay.”
“Of course I’m okay.”
“No one’s heard from you for two days.”
“No one?” He shook his head, as if giving up even trying to figure that out. “I’ve been investigating something. I dropped my phone and it died.”
“Oh.”
He glanced behind him, his jaw rigid and his shoulders tight. “What are you doing here?”
My frown deepened. “We found your map. I wondered if you’d come here.”
“So you came here to find me, bringing nothing but your . . . your fists of doom . . . to defend yourself with?”
I shrugged, my emotions swerving wildly all over the place. Relief at seeing Chase. Agitation with his assessments. Fear over the truth in his words. “I just needed to know that you were okay. Or, if there was anything I could do to help, I wanted to do it. I didn’t want to leave any stone unturned.”
“You’re not Liam Neeson, Holly. You’re not a trained professional who’s equipped for these things. You’re going to get yourself killed.” He grabbed my a
rm and led me back toward the woods. “You need to go home. Now. I appreciate your concern, but you’re only making this worse.”
I jerked away from him, fire igniting in my eyes. “You are not the only one in danger. These men have been chasing me as well. I’ve got a stake in this now, like it or not.”
He pressed his lips together, but his eyes softened. “You should have stayed in Cincinnati. I was trying to shield you, Holly. I should have known . . .”
My phone buzzed. I glanced down at the screen and saw that Josh had texted me back.
If Victor Rollins tries to contact you, don’t trust him. He’s not really a cop again.
My blood went cold.
“I’d say you’re all too late for any of this,” a new voice said.
Chase and I both turned toward the sound.
Victor stood there, holding a gun to Peyton’s head.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Peyton’s eyes were wide with fear, her limbs trembled, and sweat beaded across her forehead.
Where had the two of them come from? How had Victor grabbed Peyton and gotten back here so quickly? It didn’t make sense.
“I got the call saying I had to meet or Winston would die. Victor brought me here,” Peyton said, her voice trembling. “He’s going to kill us all.”
I forced myself not to look toward the woods and give away Jamie’s presence. She should still be there. She should be calling the police.
I prayed that she didn’t get caught.
“Victor, let Peyton go,” Chase pleaded, suddenly bristling with adrenaline.
“I knew it was only a matter of time before you put it together that I was behind all of this. I can’t let you ruin me again.” Victor stepped closer, still pulling Peyton along beside him. She whimpered as he manhandled her.
Chase subtly pushed me behind him. “Why? Why are you doing this, Victor? What are you trying to prove?”
Victor sneered. “You turned on me and ruined my life. My wife left me. I lost my job. No one would hire me. You destroyed my life, Chase Dexter.”
“I had no choice but to report you for stealing those drugs, Victor. You should have thought about that before going into the evidence locker like that.”
Random Acts of Malice (Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries Book 3) Page 19
