by Aimee Laine
“But you don’t really, do you? You’ve been out of his life for a number of years? He could have set this whole thing up. Win her over, push her to the edge, then yank it out from under her. She all but did that to him. A little payback, perhaps?”
James sliced the air with his hand, shutting Maggie down. She knew the back story but didn’t have the current issue of Charley and Wyatt magazine like James, Cael and even Stuart did. “It’s that love-does-crazy-stuff thing, but I don’t think Wyatt had anything to do with this. No matter what, I think we need to turn tail and head home. In the meantime, we need to try to reach Charley and Lily—”
“They aren’t answering.” Cael jumped in. “Tried ’em both.”
“And we need to find the house Chase was in,” James said. “It’s across the river—”
“I know the river and the bridge,” Cael said.
“But who knows how many houses it could be?” James said.
“Chase knows,” Maggie said. “And I have another theory.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Stuart hung up.
27
When Wyatt said his cell phone wouldn’t power on, Charley offered him hers, their fingers tickling as she passed it to him. When her phone’s signal died in mid-conversation with Detective Bland, Lily passed hers over.
He slipped them both into his pocket.
When they veered off the main road, Charley turned to him, her brows pulling together. The path to the park took an altogether different route.
“Detour,” he said.
When the car reached and crossed the bridge, Charley’s inner warning bells began to toll, and she pulled her hand from underneath Wyatt’s.
“Cold?”
Charley shivered. “No.” She forced herself not to rub her arms.
As Wyatt turned into the drive of a single-story bungalow on the opposite side of the bridge, she knew she’d been had. Behind her, Lily pressed into the seat back but remained mute.
Two figures stood on the porch as the car slowed to a stop twenty feet from the house.
“Now, ladies.” Wyatt put the car into park. “Don’t run when you get out. Casually step out, walk around the car, and I’ll lead you inside.”
His blue eyes sparkled with life and excitement. She sensed no fear, no worry, not even a hint of concern over the distinct change.
“What’s going on, Wyatt?” Charley asked.
“Change of plans.”
“We don’t—”
“No, you don’t change your plans. Get out.” He pointed to her door. “If you don’t, I’ll signal the two on the stairs to shoot.”
She turned to Lily whose wide eyes held unspoken worries. At the same time, they opened their doors and stepped out. The house really did sit on the water’s edge, with a slight embankment that might offer cover if they could reach it.
“Ah ah ahhhhh.” Wyatt waved a finger at them. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Think about what exactly, Wyatt? We’re supposed to be at a park. We’re supposed to be with James and Cael, Maggie, and Detective Bland. We’ve got fifteen minutes, but now we’ll never make it.” She tried to sound angry, but fear overwhelmed her senses and left her with a tinny, less-than-confident warble.
“Oh, it’ll all be over soon.” He gestured to her to move in front of him.
“What if I just want to go back?” Charley asked as Lily walked up to her side.
“Well, see … we won’t be having that now. Move.”
Charley held her ground at the edge of the car. Lily could run if she held them off. Maybe.
“Guess you’re not going to make this easy.” Wyatt pulled his weapon from his harness and fired a shot into the air.
Charley’s ears rang with the sounds of the bullet as it blew through the chamber before Wyatt pointed the gun at Lily.
“Move now, or I shoot your companion.”
My companion? Why not me?
Charley grabbed Lily’s hand and walked in front of Wyatt. She looked back over her shoulder with every couple of steps until she reached the house. The two on the porch grabbed her arms as she made her way up the short flight and yanked her forward, pulling her off balance and into their control.
“Hey!” Lily grasped for Charley.
Wyatt raised his arm into the sky and crashed with the full force of the butt of his weapon against Lily’s head.
She fell, face first, down the stairs until she slid to a stop.
Charley’s ear-splitting cry pierced the sky before her own vision went dark.
• • •
“Chase.” James whispered over the boy’s sleeping body.
Chase lay across his bed, one hand and a foot draped over the edge, his Superman blanket tucked under his other side. James shook him with a palm on the small of his back.
“Chase, wake up, buddy.” James pulled the covers back from his face. “Chasey. I know it’s late, but we need your help.”
“He’s out for the duration, I’m afraid,” Maggie said from behind James. “Does he always sleep like that?”
“Yes.” James tried again, his gaze on Stuart, who eyed Maggie from the doorway.
“Let’s just pack him in the car, drive to the bridge, and wake him on the way,” Stuart said.
“Still don’t want to hear that other theory?” Maggie smirked at Stuart.
“Cut it out, Maggie. If it were that good, you’d not have been able to keep it to yourself,” James said. “I don’t think we should take him, just find out more about the house.” James rubbed Chase’s back.
“We don’t have a choice but to take him,” Cael said from the end of Chase’s bed. “He’s going to have to direct us, maybe even by way of retracing his escape route through the forest, if he can remember it.”
“We can take two cars, and once we find the house, I can whisk him out,” Stuart said.
“It’s well after midnight, and he’s only a little boy,” Maggie said. “How can he possibly remember and lead us there?”
“He’s a very talented little boy.” James called Chase’s name again.
“You need to wake up mouse-boy?” Sophie said from the door where she’d appeared, unnoticed. She leaned into Stuart.
“Yeah, but I don’t want to—” James started.
She flipped the light on. “Chase!” Sophie called between her hands. “Pancakes!”
Chase’s head popped up. He turned toward James before he hit Cael, moved to Maggie, tilted at Stuart and landed on Sophie. “D’you say pancakes?”
• • •
Charley’s head lolled forward as pain radiated from the back. She pulled herself up as straight as she could, though she had no sense of balance. Her eyelids fluttered as her head fell forward again.
Am I sitting?
“She waking up?” a voice asked.
“No,” a second voice said.
“Why won’t he let us wake her up?” the first asked.
“I don’t know. And we’re not supposed to ask,” the second said. “What about the other one?”
“No idea. Don’t remember her.”
Charley pulled her biceps against her chest wall. Her arms had been tied straight against her body.
Ropes.
She flexed her ankles but couldn’t move them further.
Tied.
She tried to raise her heels, but her thighs wouldn’t budge.
Bound.
The voices came from her left. With a slow, precise, and controlled sway, she let her head fall to the right, peeked under half-closed lids. She moved it back to the center again. A sliver of light streamed from under a door, behind which voices reached her.
She swayed to the left again. The light outlined a body, stretched on a flat surface. Lily? Tears formed in her eyes. If he killed her, I’ll kill him. “Lily!” Charley whispered through a raw throat.
When Lily didn’t budge, Charley slid her feet back and forth.
Smooth floor.
Her hand touched th
e chair.
Metal.
She knew the sound of the chair against the floor would alert her captors to her conscious state.
How long have I been here? “Lily,” Charley whispered again. She bit back the cough before it broke free.
Her room’s companion hadn’t moved.
She swallowed a few more times, relaxed her extremities, toes first, until she’d shrunk enough to slip her feet out of the ties. Charley placed her feet on top of the rope and returned them to their normal state. She repeated the same effort with her chest, and the ropes fell free of her body. Those across her thighs, she untied.
Charley opened her eyes wide and caught the faint rise and fall of Lily’s chest. She tiptoed to the bed, knelt before it. The light from the door didn’t offer much illumination, but enough to know Lily lay at rest.
As long as she’s breathing, she’ll heal.
The room held no window, but a light she couldn’t turn on or they’d return—she assumed. She sat back in the chair and dropped her head into her hands. She wanted to cry, to wail, to scream, but she knew none of it would do any good. She couldn’t shift to an animal, and she wouldn’t leave Lily to fend for herself or become their sole hostage.
What do I do?
Why did Wyatt do this?
Charley went through the ride to the house.
He took our phones. When he showed up, what was different about him? She racked her brain for the answer. Nothing. The car. It wasn’t his, but surely he’s authorized to drive FBI vehicles? I’ve seen one. Where? Charley pulled at her hair. He didn’t kiss me. Why? Did he have all this planned? Was it all a ruse from the start? Big house. Big job. He’s got it all. Why? What could he possibly want from me that I haven’t already offered willingly?
Footsteps stopped when they reached her door.
“Is she awake?” Wyatt asked in a voice she knew so well.
“I dunno,” a new voice said.
“Haven’t heard anything in there,” a third voice said.
The same two who asked that very question moments ago.
“Well, let’s see,” Wyatt said.
Charley scrambled her thoughts. What do I do?
The knob turned, a rusty metal clanged as it disconnected from the door’s frame. Light poured into the room and blinded Charley for a moment. She blinked her eyes as they adjusted.
“So … you are awake,” Wyatt said. “You two are morons.” He pointed to the two outside the room.
“What do you want?” She croaked through a dry and parched throat.
“Just you,” Wyatt said with a grin Charley would classify as Jack Nicholson’s Joker—a mix of evil and shrewd combined with a gloss of happy.
She’d never seen him look so duplicitous. “Let Lily go, and you can do with me whatever you want.” She wished for some saliva so she could spit at him. He’d played her. Plain and simple.
“Now, we can’t have that,” Wyatt said. “We’ve so much to discuss. I have to give you my real thoughts about the last sixteen years.”
“Go to hell,” Charley said.
Wyatt laughed, but the sound didn’t match her memory.
Has he simply gone mad?
“C’mon, Charley. Only non-humans go to hell. The rest of us are forgiven of our sins and walk away unscathed.”
Not in my world, they don’t, and you won’t.
“Cat got your tongue?” Wyatt asked. “Nothing witty to say or apologize for?”
Apologize for? Haven’t I already done that a thousand times over? Is this payback?
“Nothing worth saying to someone who hits women,” she said.
“Get up.” His tone changed—cruel, with a dark resonance and no hint of kindness.
Charley obeyed, stretching her legs. She flexed her fingers, rolled her shoulders and shifted her hips—needed to gauge her own strength. She’d clocked him once. He’d likely be prepared for it a second time, but if she had nothing more, she’d use it.
Wyatt motioned her out the door.
Charley looked back at Lily.
“She’s not going anywhere,” Wyatt said.
The two women who’d chatted outside her door were dressed in nothing more than T-shirts and casual jeans. Their faces, though, told her exactly who they were.
Did they even have guns?
The bloom of recognition never enlightened their expressions. Wyatt’s minions only knew her as Mira.
• • •
James worked in the back to prepare additional wiring in case they did find the house. Maggie drove the van with Stuart in the front. Their vehicle followed Cael and Chase in the car ahead of them.
“Wyatt’s Director has three guys on their way. They’ll meet us at the bridge,” Stuart said from the passenger seat.
“The police have a team of three they’ll send,” James said. And it’s all based on a little boy’s recollection, in reverse.
With the van’s slow forward movement and incline, they’d reached the bridge and crossed it.
“There.” Stuart pointed through the front windshield at a bank of cars parked on the side of the road. Cael and Chase continued to drive on. Behind the van, the FBI’s cars pulled out one by one, a dark caravan of silence.
James’s cell buzzed with a call from Cael. “Chase says it’s right on the water, down a road. I’m going to turn down here and see what I can find. You guys hang back, and I’ll come get you.”
“Okay.” James relayed the information to Maggie, who pulled off to the side, and to Agent Timms with the FBI.
The cars behind them pulled to a stop. At nearly two in the morning, no one would notice the line of a dozen cars that sat idle.
“Chase has a great memory.” Stuart interrupted the silence.
“He does,” James said. “Here, you guys slip these on.” James handed them each a miniature microphone they would use for communication.
“What other talents might he have?” Stuart broke the new silence that enveloped them.
“Don’t know,” Maggie said. “Do you want to hear my other theory yet?” She pounded her fist against the steering wheel.
“No.” Stuart turned to look out the window.
“It’s a good one,” Maggie chided.
“I don’t care,” Stuart said. “Your other one sucked. I don’t need to hear more idiotic suggestions about—”
James cell vibrated again. He put Cael on speaker.
“We found it,” Cael said. “Take that right. First house on the left, on the third road. We passed it and had to double back to it. Chase is a hundred percent sure. Says he even remembers the frilly butterfly thing on the mailbox.”
“Our boy is a dream come true,” James said.
“He’s just like his dad.” Maggie mumbled into the side window.
“Lights off on the way down,” Cael reminded them. “Can’t spook them.”
James clicked off as Maggie began to inch forward. He speed-dialed agent Timms. “We’re going to need cover, but we’ve got to get in or around the house for reconnaissance first,” James said. “I’m going to pull up the layout once I see the address.”
“Wyatt is one of our best and most trustworthy field agents. There is no way he’d do this,” Timms said.
“I agree.” James clicked off that call only to have Cael’s number show up again on the display.
“Fifty-three forty-one Windmill Lane,” Cael said.
James smiled.
28
Charley followed Wyatt through a hall of green carpet. The pale-cream walls reflected either a new build, a lack of design skills or both. The wood-chip and paint scent that emanated from the space gave Charley the impression they’d remodeled. Without pictures on the walls or any personal effects, she figured it had been recent.
He turned right into a room in which a brown desk stood in the middle like a centerpiece. A couple of flat-screen monitors and a keyboard made their home on either side of Julie. She stood, arms and ankles crossed, her head tilted toward t
he door. A ghost of a smile flitted across her lips.
Wyatt walked straight to her, reached for her neck, and seduced with his fingers until her smile grew bold. Julie tilted to her right, and Wyatt crushed his lips against hers.
Charley’s heart constricted. She willed herself to keep breathing and not to give up despite the sting within her chest.
Wyatt released Julie and together they turned. Her smile radiated pleasure in an almost obscene way. While Charley stood in the door, they leaned their hips against the desk.
“You said you had secrets,” Wyatt said, “and now you know mine.”
Shock and dismay filled her face, and tears leapt to the surface, but she held them in check. Her lips trembled while, within, her heart continued to thump in random bursts. Why?
“Have a seat, and my darling Julie will explain it all.” Wyatt motioned to two folding chairs that sat in a typical visitor’s spot. In a home, they seemed out of place as if they’d set it up for a particular purpose.
“I’ll stand.” Charley crossed her arms, remaining within the frame of the door.
If she sat, she wouldn’t be able to contain the emotions that struggled to burst free. From her spot, she could regard them with contempt while she considered how she and Lily could escape.
“Fine, but don’t think you can run.” Julie wagged a finger but kept her devious smile in place.
She sounded as she had in high school, though she held a touch of age that Charley could see in the wrinkles around her eyes. “My sisters are ready to bring you back if you try to bolt, Charley.” Julie traced a finger along Wyatt’s jaw. “Honey? Can you get me some coffee?”
She fluttered her lashes at him, and he smiled back, laid his lips against hers once more. With his eyes on Charley, he walked out. Julie turned, one eyebrow cocked, the other pressed down.
“Cat got your tongue? Or maybe it’s that Wyatt had mine?” She leaned against the desk with her arms outstretched at her sides and let her hair fall backward with a laugh. “How do you like seeing him in the arms of another woman?”
Charley remained mute, her feet sticking to the ground as she ran through every logical explanation. Keep your head in the game. Get Lily. Get out. Wyatt and Julie can go to hell.
