Killer Reads: A Collection of the Best in Inspirational Suspense

by Luana Ehrlich

  She pulled into her drive, surprised to see her house in darkness. Odd for this time of the evening. Where was Dylan? She glanced at her watch. The milking would be done by now. “Here we are safe and sound, but it doesn’t look like anybody’s home unless he’s already in bed.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t be here? I don’t know what I was thinking. We can’t impose on you and your family like this.”

  “It’s fine, Misty. Really.” She hit the remote for the garage door. As it slid open, she saw Dylan’s car was gone. Maybe, he’d driven over to his Mom’s or Joni’s. Or even had an emergency fire run, though he usually took the truck for that.

  She carried a sleeping Suzie while Misty helped Noah in. He’d fallen asleep on the ride down and was groggy. She hit a light switch and noticed the kitchen was as spotless as when she’d left.

  Very strange. Dylan always left a few dishes on the counter or sink as the day went on. A few dirty dishes never bothered him the way it did her. Hadn’t he eaten during the day?

  Reggie laid Suzie on the sofa. She stirred and whimpered but a second later her breathing turned even. Misty and Noah stood in the kitchen waiting for instructions. “You ready to go to bed, or do you want something to eat?”

  He grinned. “Whattayagot?”

  She opened the freezer and pulled out cookies’n cream ice cream. “How about some ice cream, if it’s okay with your Mom?”

  He glanced at his mom.

  “Sure.”

  Misty looked exhausted. Her non-black eye had dark circles under it. Reggie set the carton down and went to the cupboard and pulled out three bowls.

  After eating, she got them settled in one bedroom. Misty had thought it best if they all slept together that night. They could comfort each other. What a scary day it had been—for all of them.

  Reggie wandered back out to the kitchen and washed the ice cream bowls. Where could Dylan be? It was late, but not too late to call Mellie. She picked up the phone and punched in the number.

  Her mother-in-law picked up before the first ring finished. “Hello.”

  “Mellie, this is Reggie.” Mellie had asked her to call her Mom more times than she could remember, but it didn’t feel right. She’d never called anyone Mom that she could remember and as much as she loved Mellie, she couldn’t use the term of endearment—yet. “Do you know where Dylan is?”

  The silence on the other end made her stomach clench.

  “No, I thought he was with you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He called me this morning and said you both were going away for a few days and could we keep a watch out on the house and the farm.” Mellie sounded as confused as Reggie felt.

  “Oh, I did go away but not with him. I guess he decided to go somewhere, too.” Her finger slipped into her mouth and she chewed on a nail.

  “Did the two of you have a fight?”

  “Not that I know of.” She tore at a hang nail on her cuticle. A fight no—but a major blow to their plans. They hadn’t shared the news yet with the family that Reggie couldn’t have children because of her diabetes.

  Dylan had been a rock when the doctor gave them the news.

  But now that he’d had time to digest it, maybe he was having second thoughts—about staying married to Reggie.

  “I’m sure he probably decided to go fishing for a day or so, dear. Squabbles are bound to happen in a marriage now and then. No big deal.”

  Maybe, maybe not. “I need some advice and some help.” She filled Mellie in on the details, knowing her mother-in-law would know what to do.

  “Oh, my. Those poor children. They must me terrified.”

  “They’re sleeping now.”

  “That’s good. You bring them over in the morning. I’ll cook a good breakfast and we’ll figure something out. In fact, I have an idea that just might work.”

  “What?”

  “Let me check on something first. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”

  She hung the phone back up on the wall unit. Worry gnawed at her. Where was Dylan and why hadn’t he told her he where he was going? Focus on helping Misty right now. God had arranged for her to be in that motel so she could help Misty and her kids, and that’s what she would do.

  CHAPTER 25

  Reggie stood at the threshold of her bedroom staring at the four-poster bed. Dylan built it with his own hands as a wedding gift to her. A truly amazing accomplishment.

  It was simple but beautiful. He’d put coat after coat of lacquer on it making it shiny as an ice-covered tree branch with the sun sparkling down on it. The beautiful handmade double wedding ring quilt had been a gift from Dylan’s mother and sister.

  She sighed and slipped off her shoes. Her toes sunk deep into the thick-piled maroon carpet as she walked to the bed. She sat on the edge.

  Running her fingers over the smooth wood, she’d never slept in this bed without Dylan, and now he was gone. And she had no idea where he was. Her mother-in-law’s reassurances hadn’t worked. In fact they’d done the opposite.

  This wasn’t like Dylan at all.

  Something very strange was going on and she wanted to know what it was. It could be about her not having children, but deep down she didn’t think that was it. If he had a problem, he’d talk it out with her in his own laid back style. No screaming. No accusations. No recriminations. Just a simple conversation, honest and calm.

  For him to leave and not answer his phone was bizarre.

  She sat down on the edge of the bed and replayed every detail of the morning.

  Shaking her head, she sat down on her bed. She thought back to her over reaction about the broken jars of tomatoes. No wonder Dylan was sick of her.

  When had she turned into a drama queen?

  Maybe he was sick of her, sick of their marriage? Her mind flashed to him carrying her over the threshold earlier that morning. She smiled. Dylan loved her. Of that she was sure. He’d vowed until death do us part, and she knew he would never break that vow. Even in the face of their devastating news. Where ever he was, he would come back to her.

  Her body relaxed and her breathing turned even.

  ****

  Reggie’s eyes popped open.

  Scenes from the previous morning replayed in her head. Billy’s phone call. The message for Dylan. Dylan nuzzling her neck. Dylan telling her the road trip was cancelled.

  She zeroed in on Billy Clyde’s message. It had been downright bizarre, but she hadn’t thought all that much about it at the time. She’d had other things on her mind.

  Her mind played the scene as if it were a movie.

  When she finished, she sat up in bed, her clothes still on. Her pulse raced.

  Billy never called Dylan, Dylan. He always called him Monroe, but he hadn’t that morning. He’d called her Regina, not Reggie. Dylan had been hugging her and then after the message he told her she should go visit her friends in Cleveland for a few days.

  Then, he’d left with the lame explanation that something came up that he needed to take care of. And now she knew why.

  That message from Billy hadn’t been what it seemed at the time. It was a message all right. A message that her husband figured out, but she’d been too self-absorbed to do.

  Her gaze moved to the clock.

  Four-thirty in the morning.

  Too bad.

  She jumped out of bed and picked up the phone.

  First, she tried Dylan’s number. He didn’t answer. No big surprise there. She hadn’t expected him to. After all, he’d been avoiding her calls all day. She left him an interesting message that he’d have to respond to if he took the time to listen to it.

  Then, she walked to the den, and sat down at the computer. She brought up the phone and address app. She dialed Billy’s cell and then Theresa’s.

  No answer. That surprised her.

  The answering message requested she leave a message. She hesitated, not sure if she should. She decided not.

  She rubbed her eye
s, still groggy from sleep. Her mind didn’t work all that well at this time of the morning. What should she do? Every instinct was screaming at her that something was going on in Paw Paw with her two friends. Dylan had figured it out and that’s why he’d encouraged her to go to Cleveland for a few days.

  That stinker. She knew Dylan well enough to know his plan.

  He’d wanted to go to Paw Paw to check out the situation and keep her as far away as possible. Her muscles relaxed. Dylan still loved her and was doing what he always did—taking care of her.

  She had to get down there now.

  Something was wrong. They might need her.

  Looking down at her clothes, she wondered if she should take the time to shower and change. No. Every nerve screamed she needed to get to Paw Paw now.

  She rushed through the darkened house wondering where she put her keys. Her feet stopped. Misty and the kids. She couldn’t leave them here without an explanation. It would be horrible for them to wake up and her gone.

  She took a deep breath, willing her mind to slow down and focused.

  God wanted her to help Misty and her children. There was no way she would walk out on that commitment. Besides Dylan could take care of himself.

  CHAPTER 26

  Dylan sat at Billy Clyde’s table as he scrutinized the pictures again when the phone rang. He’d slept for a few hours but the buzzing of his cell phone woke him up a few minutes earlier.

  It had been Reggie then and it was probably her now.

  He walked over and checked the caller ID.

  He longed to pick up the phone and hear her voice. The fact that she was calling Billy Clyde and Theresa worried him. Apparently, she’d put two and two together.

  Heavy snoring emanated from the living room sofa where the pills and Billy Clyde’s wounds had finally taken effect. He’d slept through the ringing of the phone.

  Dylan walked back to the table and the pictures. There had to be a clue in them. They’d gotten the phone call from the kidnappers as soon as they’d left the Miller house. As far as he was concerned that meant they’d been close by. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have known what was going on.

  If only the GPS Triangulator had been hooked up to the phone then. They might have figured out where the call was coming from. It wasn’t like Billy Clyde to make that kind of mistake. But between his worry about Theresa and the effects of the bullet wounds, it wasn’t surprising.

  Billy Clyde was the toughest guy he knew, but even tough guys had human bodies.

  Looking down at the picture, Dylan’s heart lurched. He looked closer.

  A boarded up house across from Mrs. Miller’s, but the tip of a car jutted out from the back of the house. Why would an abandoned house have a car? Of course, the car could have been abandoned the same way the house had been, but it was worth checking out.

  Without a sound he made his way to the kitchen and grabbed keys on his way to the garage. No sense waking up the big man. He needed his rest. Hopefully, he would be back before Billy Clyde woke up.

  If not...Well, he didn’t want to think about that. Billy Clyde would not be a happy camper but it was better this way. Whether Billy Clyde wanted to acknowledge it or not, he’d been shot. His body needed to rest and heal.

  As Dylan drove through the quiet darkness on the mountain road, he prayed. The power of prayer was very real. It had saved his life more than once.

  He found the street but didn’t pull in. He parked a street away and walked back to the house in question. He looked at the abandoned house and shook his head.

  No car.

  Anger and regret surged through him. Theresa might have been right here, only feet from where he and Billy Clyde had stood. If only he’d noticed the incongruity of a car behind an abandoned house, they might have found Theresa and this nightmare would have been over.

  And Billy Clyde wouldn’t have had to commit a felony.

  Dylan cleared his mind and focused on the task at hand. He pulled out his gun from his pants band, and approached the house with caution. Stopping at the side of the house, he listened.

  Nothing.

  He turned the corner, a piece of plywood stood propped up against the cement steps. Someone had taken the board off of the back door. Just as he’d suspected, someone had been in the abandoned house. He peered through the darkness at the door wondering if they might still be in there.

  Open.

  A sigh escaped.

  The kidnappers were probably long gone if they’d ever been here. It was just as likely that some of the teens in the area had taken off the board and use the house as party central.

  But if Theresa had been here, they’d most likely packed her up and moved her to a new location after they’d barged into Mrs. Miller’s. He should have forced Billy Clyde to stay at the house as they’d told him. Instead they’d tipped their hands to the kidnappers.

  How had the kidnappers reacted to that?

  The unthinkable. They could have decided Billy Clyde wasn’t going to play fair and killed Theresa instead. They’d told Billy Clyde that was his one pass at not following the rules but they might have been lying.

  Kidnappers tended not to be the most reliable of people.

  Gun in hand, he opened the door and stepped in.

  Silence.

  Giving his eyes time to adjust to the darkness, he stood and listened. Room after room, upstairs and down. No sign of Theresa. No signs of life in the house. If someone had been here recently, they’d covered their tracks well.

  Finally, the only area left to check was the basement.

  Keeping his gun in one hand, he pulled out the flashlight from his pocket. He hadn’t wanted the light to call attention to the house, on the off chance anyone was up at this time of the morning and looking out their window. But the basement would be more protected and darker.

  And he needed the light to see.

  He stepped onto the first step. Creak. The first sound he’d heard since entering the abandoned house other than his own breath. He was pretty sure he was alone, but he and Billy Clyde hadn’t made it out of Afghanistan by being pretty sure.

  He waited until he was certain there’d been no reaction to the noise. Step by step, he made his way down to the basement. The temperature dropped several degrees and mustiness filled his nose.

  He turned on the flashlight.

  His eyes blinked at the sudden brightness.

  A dirt basement. At the bottom of the steps he moved the flashlight in an arc. A chair stood beside a crate. Looked like some bottles and food on top of the crate.

  Someone had been here.

  Dylan walked over to it and pointed the light down to get a better look. Ants crawled on the bags and the paper cups. He picked up the paper cup, shaking the ants off of it.

  Beads of moisture. That meant the debris was recent.

  He arched the light around the room once again. A door in the corner. He walked over, his heart thumping. Please God, don’t let Theresa be in there dead. The door squeaked as he opened it. He ignored it. Didn’t care about the noise. He wanted to see if Theresa was in that room, dead or alive.

  He flashed the light.

  The room was empty.

  He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not. A part of him had hoped, Theresa would be in here waiting to be rescued. But at least she wasn’t in here dead. He stepped in to take a closer look.

  An old bathtub sat in the corner. He moved closer and leaned in. There was something in the tub. A bright red, yellow, and orange scarf. Just the sort of thing Theresa would wear. He reached in to pick it up.

  A scuffled step.

  He put his finger on the trigger of his gun and—

  CHAPTER 27

  His head throbbed. Dylan opened his eyes but the darkness remained.

  Blindfolded.

  He attempted to move his legs and arms, but couldn’t.

  Both tied.

  His head hurt where he’d been hit. He felt woozy, slightly sick to his stomach a
s if drugged. Probably had been.

  How long had been here? He had no idea. Was Billy Clyde awake and looking for him? He hoped so. Too bad he hadn’t left a note explaining where he was going.

  Dylan kicked out with both feet but they were blocked. The soles of his feet clanked against a barrier. He was in a container of some sorts. Hard, almost a metallic sound when he kicked.

  The tub. Of course.

  Whoever had snuck up on him had knocked him out and then put him in the tub.

  The same tub where Theresa had no doubt been hours earlier.

  Something slithered over his leg.

  He wasn’t alone. His foot wanted to kick out at the intruder, but Dylan knew that wasn’t a good idea. It could be anything. No reason to aggravate it.

  It moved up his leg. At least it was on the outside of his pants.

  He held his breath. Your will, dear Lord, not mine.

  It was the prayer he always used when in danger. He’d learned long ago in the mountains of Afghanistan that his life and his death were in God’s hand.

  When he’d first gone to Afghanistan his prayer had been to keep him safe but somewhere along the way the words had changed. It felt too shallow—too selfish to pray for his safety when others around him died every day.

  A clicking noise drew his attention.

  What was it? It sounded familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. The slithering motion once again. Only he felt it in two places at the same time. And then the clicking noise.

  And then he understood.

  Snakes. He was in the tub with snakes.

  More clicking. More slithering. Hard to know how many snakes were in the tub. Only two types of venomous snakes were native to this part of the country and he was lying helpless in a bathtub with one of them— rattlesnakes.

  His heart fluttered and a moment of panic filled him, before he forced himself to remain calm. Panicking wouldn’t help. He assessed his situation. No way to know how many without seeing them, but he could feel them.

  Could be a coincidence, but he doubted it. What kind of crazy people would put him in a tub with rattlesnakes? Why not just kill him and get it over with? It would have been a lot less painful—and terrifying.