by Debra Webb
The images on the screen faded to black. There was a second or two of nothing but gray lines, and then a new scene flickered into focus. Desmond and yet another young woman.
This time things got way out of hand.
Keith tensed. Ashley looked away.
Equal measures of indignation and outrage built as he watched the sick game play out.
When the intensity escalated farther out of control, Ashley muted the sound and turned to Keith. “She’s the one who—”
“Is she dead?” He’d tried to pay attention to what Ashley was saying, but the images on the screen wouldn’t let him turn away.
Her gaze shifted back to the screen. “I’ve asked myself that a thousand times.”
Keith grabbed the remote and hit visual search so he could rewind to the exact spot where he’d thought for sure that Desmond had killed the woman. He hit Pause. “Look.”
Ashley stared hard at the screen. “I know. She’s not moving.” She turned back to Keith. “This is what I’m talking about. I can’t prove she’s dead in that video, but she was reported missing two days later and then her body turned up two years later.”
Keith crouched in front of the screen and peered more closely. “She looks dead to me. See—” he pointed to her face “—she isn’t even blinking. Her eyes are open and she isn’t blinking. The camera stayed on for another full minute and she didn’t blink once. And I sure as hell didn’t see her chest rise or fall.”
“This is all I’ve got.” Ashley crouched next to him. “Do you think it’s enough?”
He turned to meet her gaze. “Absolutely.” He stared back at the frozen screen. “No wonder he’s been trying to find you. This could send him to prison.”
The crunch of gravel followed by the sound of a car skidding to a stop outside jerked his gaze toward the window.
He and Ashley exchanged a look. “Did anyone know you were coming?”
She shook her head.
He pushed Stop on the VCR.
She was on her feet and at the window peeking out to see who’d arrived.
He reached beneath his shirt for his weapon and started toward the door.
Just before he reached it, she spun around, her eyes wide with shock or fear or maybe both. “You son of a bitch! You set me up!”
He pushed past her and looked out beyond the edge of the blind. Two goons had emerged from the car. He looked back at her. “Who are those guys?”
She looked at him with such disgust that it sliced right through his gut. “They’re Desmond’s men!” She shook her head as she backed away from him. “I can’t believe you set me up.”
Chapter Thirteen
“We don’t have time to argue. Find some place to hide,” Keith ordered. When she hesitated, he growled, “Now!”
Ashley hovered in the same spot for three more beats, trapped somewhere between devastated and mad enough to scream. How could he do this to her?
“Go!” he whispered.
Footsteps on the front porch propelled her into action. With one last glance over her shoulder, she left him standing there staring after her.
He had no right to look so worried.
This was his fault.
Not wasting any more time, she wiggled into the opening in the kitchen floor. There was barely enough room for her to fit between the floor joists, but she managed. The tricky part was getting the removed boards back into place properly and before those men got into the house.
She heard voices in the living room, Keith’s and another man’s, just as she slid the final board into place. Her heart nearly stopped when she realized it wasn’t down flush with the rest of the floor on one end. Holding her breath, she tapped it with her finger. Thankfully it slipped into place.
She let go of the air trapped in her lungs.
Thank God.
Then she remembered the video tape. Why the hell hadn’t she grabbed the video tape? The voices grew louder and she held very still and listened intently to hear the conversation.
“I said she isn’t here.”
Keith. Why would he lie to the people who’d hired him?
“We know she’s here, Mr. Devers. Let’s not make this any more unpleasant than it needs to be. Mr. V. has given you ample opportunity and his patience has grown thin.”
She vaguely recognized that voice. But both faces were familiar. She’d seen them before.
“If Mr. Van Valkenberg has a problem with my work, he needs to take it up with Mrs. Colby-Camp. That’s the proper protocol, gentlemen.”
Was it possible that he hadn’t been in on this?
It sure sounded as if he were innocent.
“He’s not going to cooperate, Marcus.”
Marcus. She remembered that name. He’d been one of Desmond’s right-hand men. A bodyguard of sorts.
Her heart rate picked up, making the blood roar in her ears. She held her breath in an attempt to slow it but it didn’t work. If Keith wasn’t the one who called and gave their destination away, this situation could become very dicey for him. Good thing he was armed.
But knowing he had a weapon didn’t make her feel any better. He didn’t seem like the type to shoot anyone.
“I think you’re right.”
She couldn’t tell which of the men had spoken.
“Now just a minute.”
Keith sounded tense or nervous.
“Don’t move unless I tell you to, Mr. Devers, and this won’t be nearly as unpleasant.”
Ashley’s heart stopped cold. They would kill him.
She was suddenly very certain of that.
The heavy slap of footsteps coming into the kitchen made her freeze.
She prayed he wouldn’t walk over the boards directly above her. If they were loose…
Whoever it was paused for a moment, then walked back into the living room. The conversation had stopped. What did that mean? Renewed fear seared through her veins. What if they’d hurt Keith already?
She listened, the pounding of her heart echoing in her head.
“Sit.”
The man named Marcus had given the order.
“I’m certain Mr. Van Valkenberg would not approve of your tactics.”
Oh, but you’re wrong, Keith, she screamed silently. He just didn’t understand what a monster Desmond was.
The front door slammed. Who went outside?
“You don’t know Mr. V. very well, do you, Devers?”
“Apparently not. You’re wasting your time here. Miss Orrick gave me the slip late last night. I was hoping she’d come back here looking for her mother.”
Ashley stilled. He was going to get himself killed for her? Her chest tightened. She’d been running so long, doing everything possible to protect her son, that she’d forgotten what it was like to have to worry about anyone else. As much as she loved her mother, she’d had to let her fend for herself in order to ensure her son’s safety.
All those new houses on their land…her childhood home’s state of disrepair…the nearly empty cupboards. She had done this to her mother.
Tears burned at the back of her eyes.
The front door banged against its frame once more.
She cleared her mind of the past. It was the present that she needed to focus on.
“That’ll do fine.”
Marcus.
“Put your hands behind your back, Devers.”
The unknown man.
God, they were restraining him. Her palms started to sweat. There was no telling what they would do before they killed him. Torture…
She had to do something.
Ashley tried to think. Her mother would take care of her son. She didn’t have to worry about that. If she didn’t get through this—and that had always been a possibility—she could hardly bear the idea that her son would be hurt, he would be safe with her mother.
The demands for her whereabouts grew louder. Keith continued to deny knowing where she was. Ashley thought she could hear someone going through the ho
use. Upstairs, maybe.
She wished she had a cell phone so she could call for help.
It didn’t matter now. Help wouldn’t arrive in time.
Whatever happened next was up to her.
The first sounds of torture filtered through the cracks in the boards and her stomach clenched. The unmistakable smack of flesh against flesh, followed by an equally distinctive grunt.
The rhythmic thwack-thwack of someone coming down the stairs echoed next. Then, “She’s not in the house.”
More beating…more threats.
She couldn’t listen anymore.
She had to act.
The first board was the hardest. It took every ounce of courage she possessed to shift it out of its slot. The ruckus in the living room escalated and she understood that she was out of time.
Careful not to make any unnecessary noise, she eased the rest of the boards out of her way and scrambled out of her hiding place.
She grabbed the broadest butcher knife from the block on the counter and walked straight into the living room.
“Stop!”
The scene seemed to freeze right in front of her.
Keith was the first one to recover. He shook his head at her decision to come out of hiding.
Her heart dropped into her stomach when she got a good look at his face. They’d beaten him good. Crimson had seeped into the bandage on his forehead, indicating they had purposely pummeled his old injury.
“Why hello there, Miss Ashley,” Marcus said facetiously. As usual, the large man—he had to be six-three—wore a suit. Desmond always dressed up everything, even the whores he abused.
She’d always hated Desmond’s minions, especially this one. The idea that those big, ugly hands had hurt Keith made her want to kill him. “The tape is over there.” She pointed to the television. That was what they wanted. The evidence that could possibly put their boss away for life. That same evidence had served as her insurance all these years. She’d been certain he wouldn’t want to risk the negative attention it would draw even if he could buy himself out of any trouble related to it. But she no longer needed it. Her son was out of reach. There was nothing else they could do to her. “Take it and leave us alone.”
Marcus laughed. “You hear that, Buzz? She wants us to leave.”
Buzz, the one whose name she hadn’t remembered, shook his head. “Not going to happen.” He was younger, maybe her age. He wore the same trademark I-work-for-the-richest-man-in-Chicago tailored suit.
Too bad there wasn’t a warning label letting those who got too close know that these guys were armed and dangerous.
“I’m giving you the tape,” she shouted, not doing a very good job of keeping her emotions in check. “What else do you want?”
Marcus smiled that fake smile of his. “We want the boy.”
Terror jolted through her. “Why? He doesn’t even know his father. Don’t give me that ridiculous story about Desmond being ill and wanting to spend his last days with his son. I know that’s a lie.” She couldn’t keep the contempt out of her tone.
“Ashley, don’t.”
Keith’s plea was punctuated by a brutal punch to his stomach. He bent forward as far as his restraints would allow.
“Shut up,” Marcus said to him. “This doesn’t concern you.”
She wanted to run to Keith, but she didn’t dare move.
“Mr. V. wants his boy. End of story. Now give us the location.”
She tightened her fingers around the knife’s handle. “I can’t. I don’t know where he is.”
The surprise in Marcus’s eyes sent victory soaring through her.
He moved around Keith and came toe-to-toe with her, ignoring the knife. “You will tell me.”
She stabbed at him with the knife. He grabbed her wrist and wrenched it until she had no choice but to release her weapon. She bit her lip to prevent the cry that fluttered at the back of her throat.
He kicked the knife away. “Where’s the boy?”
Her shoulders lifted and dropped. “I don’t know.”
“Tie her up and put her in the trunk,” he said to his cohort. “We’ll take her back to Chicago. Mr. V. will get what he wants out of her.”
Buzz grabbed her by the arm and dragged her toward the door. She tried to jerk free but it was no use. The door closed behind them before she could look back at Keith one last time.
As the brute dragged her across the porch, she realized all she needed was her courage. This time would be no different than any other she’d planned for night after night for ten years. All she needed was her courage and the right plan.
KEITH WATCHED the door close behind Ashley. He had to get loose. If he didn’t…
Marcus grabbed the video. “At least we didn’t have to trash the place to find this.” He laughed as if he’d just told the funniest joke of all time. “You see,” he said to Keith as he headed back in his direction, “the funny part is, it didn’t even matter. ’Cause we’re gonna burn the place down with you in it.”
Keith didn’t bother mouthing off. He’d just get punched again. And he’d had about enough of that.
The other one, Buzz, came back inside carrying two gas cans. “We need anything else outta here?”
Marcus shook his head. “Take care of him.” He jerked his head toward Keith. “I’m going outside to call Mr. V.”
“Got it covered,” Buzz assured him with glee in his tone as his partner took his leave.
Keith kept thinking that Ashley had been right all along. No one had known the truth, and he wasn’t sure she could have convinced anyone with all that she knew about the bastard. It was too unbelievable.
“Who tipped you off?” That was one thing Keith had to know. How the hell did these scumbags find out where they were headed?
Buzz laughed as he splashed gasoline around the room. “Easy. We’ve been tracking you ever since you left her house the second time.”
But no one knew they were going back to Ashley’s house after the run-in with the drug makers.
“How did you know we were at her house?”
“Oldest trick in the book. We put a tracking device on your car when you went back to her house the second time. If you hadn’t come back that second time, I don’t think we would have been able to find you. Lucky for us, you showed up. Ironic, huh?”
Keith swallowed back the bitter taste of hate. “You had all your bases covered,” he sneered.
“We always do. Mr. V. knew you had turned when he got the word that you’d asked for twenty-four more hours even after you located her.”
He splashed gasoline onto Ashley’s mother’s chair.
Keith watched as he moved toward the far side of the room. Sweat rose on his skin. He had one chance here. He couldn’t blow it.
When Buzz took his next step, putting him within range, Keith lunged to his feet as best he could tied to a dining room chair and charged the scumbag.
Keith hit him square in the side as the thug wheeled toward the sound of Keith hurtling at him.
They both went down.
Only one would be getting up.
Buzz had slammed headfirst into the hearth. A couple of the framed photographs had fallen from the mantle and shattered on the brick that had absorbed the goon’s impact.
Keith didn’t have time to worry about whether Buzz was dead. As long as Buzz wasn’t moving, that was all that mattered.
Keith rolled onto his knees and chest and attempted to get to his feet. The crash had broken the chair. He shook free of it and looked around the floor for the knife Ashley had been carrying. He had to angle the knife just right and it took a few seconds more than he would have liked. He cut the hell out of himself, but he sliced through the duct tape binding his hands.
He grabbed the gun they’d taken from him and eased to the window. Marcus was several yards from the house. Apparently he couldn’t get reception any other way since he was still on his cell phone. Keith remembered that reception had been better nearer the
road.
He slowly opened the door, treaded cautiously out onto the porch. The boards squeaked, and he had to be damned careful. When he got down the steps he moved faster, came right up behind the bastard still deeply absorbed in his phone call. He kept quiet until Marcus hung up.
“I’ll need your phone and your weapon,” Keith ordered. Part of him wanted to beat this guy the way he had been beaten, but there was no time.
Marcus started to slip his phone into his pocket and Keith moved in close behind him and nudged him with his gun. “Give it to me.” When the man obeyed and then raised his hands in surrender, Keith tossed his phone as far as he could and said, “Now give me your weapon.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Marcus warned.
Keith snatched the gun from him. “No. I made a mistake believing your boss. Now I’m doing the right thing.”
Just to be sure, he patted Marcus down and ushered him toward the car. “Open it.” He gestured to the trunk.
“I’ll need the keys.”
Keith pushed him toward the driver’s side of the car, but reached in to get the keys himself, keeping a steady bead on the bad guy. He wasn’t taking any chances.
He tossed him the keys and they moved back to the trunk. The instant the lid flew open, Marcus hurtled backward, landing hard on his back.
Keith stared first at the downed man, then into the trunk. He grinned, then yelped at the burn from his busted lip. Ashley had positioned herself so that when the trunk opened she could kick the hell out of whoever was standing there ready to grab her.
“Don’t move,” he ordered the guy on the ground.
Keeping one eye on Marcus, he helped her out of the trunk. Her hands and feet were bound with duct tape, so he had to lean her against the trunk. “I’ll have to get a knife to cut you loose.”
She nodded her understanding.
Before doing that, he gently pulled the tape off her mouth. She winced. So did he.
He grabbed the roll of tape. “I’ll be right back.” He said to Marcus, “Let’s go.”
Buzz had started to rouse when Keith hustled Marcus into the house. He quickly restrained Marcus, mouth first to shut him up and then his hands and feet. Then he took care of Buzz, giving him a matching ensemble of silver bracelets, wrists and ankles.
