by R. R. Banks
When I first saw her out on the street, my heart almost stopped. I was sorely tempted to skip town. But I'm glad I didn't. For a lot of reasons. I don't know where things with Abby are headed. I don't honestly know if they're headed anywhere. But I find that I really want to walk down that road, see how far it goes, and then take it from there.
It was unthinkable a week ago, but I really want to see if there actually is something still there between Abby and I, or if we're both just caught up in the nostalgia of the past.
“Here you go.”
The waitress set a fresh bottle of beer down on the table in front of me.
“Thanks,” I say and pick up the bottle.
“You know, I get off in about an hour,” she says.
I give her a soft smile. “Thanks, doll,” I say. “But I'm waiting for somebody.”
“You've been waiting an awful long time,” she said, trailing a perfectly manicured fingertip across my shoulder. “A girl shouldn't keep a man like you waiting.”
I laugh softly. “Maybe another time,” I say.
“Well, just in case your mystery girl doesn't show,” she purrs. “I'll be off in an hour.”
I give her a smile and just shake my head. “I'll keep that in mind.”
She saunters off and I check my watch again – simply for lack of something better to do. I grab my phone again and punch in her number. I hold the phone to my ear as I take a quick pull of my beer. The phone rings three times before her voicemail picks up the line.
“Hey, Abby,” I say. “It's me. I'm down at the Wagon, just kind of wondering where you are. Call me.”
I take another long pull of my beer and start to wonder if maybe this is her grand payback. If this is how she's punishing me for vanishing all those years ago – by standing me up. There is a sinking feeling in my stomach, but then I reel it back in. That doesn't sound like Abby. She's not that petty of a person. As I think about it, I honestly don't think she'd just stand me up to spite me. Even after all that we've gone through together, that doesn't seem like something she'd do.
I know it's only twenty minutes, but I start to grow concerned. Something just feels – off. Call it intuition, a sixth sense – call it whatever you want – but something doesn't feel right to me. Maybe, I'm making too much of it. Maybe, she got hung up somewhere and hasn't had a chance to call. I don't know, but the fact that she's late and hasn't called or texted me – it has alarm bells ringing in my head.
Especially knowing her ex-boyfriend is out there and has been stalking her.
I'm almost about to call her again, but figure that's going to do no good. So instead, I call over to Greenwood's. The call is picked up on the second ring.
“Greenwood's,” Brooke says. “How can I help you this evening?”
“Brooke, it's Caleb.”
“Oh,” she says, her voice growing a little frosty.
Although things between Abby and I seem to be going well, Brooke has been less than receptive to my coming back into her sister's life. I can't say I blame her or don't understand. Only now, do I fully understand and appreciate the damage I did leaving the way I had. How badly I'd hurt her.
But we were working through those things. We were starting to heal. It was going to take some time, but Abby was going to be okay. We were both going to be okay. Whether or not this rekindled thing between us went anywhere? That was anybody's guess.
Hopefully in time though, as Abby healed and grew stronger – assuming I remained in the picture – the ice between Brooke and I would thaw.
“What can I do for you, Caleb?”
“I was actually wondering if you'd seen or talked to Abby?”
“No, not today, why?”
“We were supposed to meet for drinks tonight,” I say. “And she hasn't showed up.”
“Sucks, doesn't it?” Brooke says. “When somebody just ups and disappears on you?”
I sigh. “Look, I get it, Brooke,” I say. “You're still pissed. Fine. But she's not responding to calls or texts. She's not here. And you haven't seen her. So, can you drop the attitude for a minute and help me out here? This isn't like her.”
“Fine,” she says. “Give me your number. Let me make a couple of calls.”
I give her my number and disconnect the call. I take a long pull of my beer, my concern starting to grow. And with each minute that passes by, that concern grows even more. Ten minutes later, I'm on the verge of ordering another beer when my phone rings. I snatch it up and connect the call.
“Yeah,” I say.
“She's not answering my calls either,” Brooke says. “And she's not answering her home or office phones.”
“Does she ever just disappear like this?” I ask. “Is this normal?”
“No,” Brooke says. “She never just drops out like this. Communicating is kind of a thing with her.”
I recognize the jab she's taking, but don't take the bait. I don't take it because I can also hear the concern in Brooke's voice. Hearing that slight quiver of fear makes my adrenaline rush because I know it's real. She's genuinely worried.
“I'm scared, Caleb,” she says. “I don't know where my sister is.”
I need to defuse the situation. The last thing I need is for Brooke to go off the rails. I don't know anything just yet, least of all that there is an actual reason to be worried. For all I know, Abby is sitting at home watching TV and drinking a glass of wine, congratulating herself for sticking it to me.
“Don't worry, Brooke,” I say. “Let me look into it and I'll get back to you. The important thing right now is for you to not stress yourself out. Abby could very well just be sitting at home to make a point to me.”
“If that were the case, she would have answered when I called, Caleb.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But maybe not. I'm going to go over to her house and see if she's there. Just sit tight and try not to worry.”
“Yeah, I'll go ahead and stop the sun from rising too while I'm at it.”
“More power to you.”
I disconnect the call and throw some money down on the table. The waitress gives me a disappointed little pout, so I just shrug my shoulders and leave the bar.
I drive a little too fast over to Abby's place, but my intuition is telling me that I need to get there quickly. I jump out of the car and hurry up to her front door, knocking and ringing the bell. The lights are all off and the house is dark – making those alarm bells in my head ring even louder.
I always keep a lockpicking kit in my coat pocket, so I pull it out and go to work. I have the door open in less than ten seconds. The house is completely silent as the door swings inward.
“Abby?” I call out.
I wait a second but get no answer. Flipping on lights as I go, I search her entire house and find that it's as empty as it looked from the street. She's not there.
I back out of the house, making sure to lock the door behind me and then walk back to my car.
“Where in the hell are you, Abby?”
I drive quickly over to the office building where her practice is and find that she's not there either. Abby has just fallen off the face of the planet. I run a hand through my hair and try to quiet my mind. I need to think. Need to have my head clear. Need to come up with a plan of action.
I lean against my car and take several deep breaths. As I do, calm descends over me and I'm able to start thinking a little more clearly again. If Abby's batshit crazy ex wasn't running around out there, I might not be so worried. I get the appeal of some time alone. The necessity of it.
But the fact is, her batshit crazy ex is running around out there. And has already proven that he can't stay away from her. Had already proven – to me, at least – that he's dangerous. Which is why the alarm bells in my head are ringing so hard.
The first thing I need to do is find out where she is. Once I do that, I can assess the situation and see if there's any reason to panic. Her location might tell me whether she's been taken or whether she's just taking s
ome time to herself.
I punch in a number and put the phone to my ear. The call is connected during the second ring.
“Long time no hear,” Tony says. “I assume by the fact that you're still up there, the homecoming's gone better than expected?”
“Yeah, in some ways,” I say. “But listen, I've got a situation I need your help with. I don't have my equipment with me and I need to track a cell phone.”
“Situation serious?” he asks. “Need me up there?”
“No, I can handle it, but thanks,” I say. “I just need a twenty on the cell phone.”
“Roger that,” Tony says. “Give me the number.”
I give him Abby's cell phone number and wait a few minutes while he does the work on his end. A couple of minutes later, he gets back on the line.
“Looks like she's on the other side of the Strait,” Tony says. “She's in Canada, man.”
“Canada?” I ask.
“Looks like,” he says. “There's about ten miles of water between Washington and Canada – she's on the other side of that water. I take it that she's not supposed to be there?”
“No, not at all,” I say. “Can you send the information to my phone?”
“Already done, brother,” he says. “And listen, if you need help, I'm on the next flight.”
“Thanks, Tony,” I say. “Appreciate you doing me a solid.”
“Any time at all.”
I disconnect the call and then punch in Brooke's number. Now that I know where Abby is, I can go about formulating a plan. Brooke picks up on the first ring.
“Brooke,” I say, not waiting for her to speak. “We've got a problem. I need your help.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It took a lot of doing – not to mention both Tony and Brooke calling in some favors – but about two and a half hours later, I'm squatting in the thick foliage of the treeline with a clear view of what I assume is James' cabin. A cabin Brooke wasn't aware he owns.
Not that it matters who owns the place – I could see James in there through the windows. And because I'd had Tony ping Abby's cell phone again, trying to narrow down the location, I know that she's in there too. He apparently hadn't been smart enough to confiscate the phone – or if he had taken it from her, he hadn't been smart enough to turn it off.
Either way, it works in my favor. And shows that he's not too bright when it comes to kidnapping somebody. Another point in my favor.
I make sure the brightness display on my phone is turned all the way down and screen myself with some bushes to avoid being seen. I'd been on enough night missions to know how to avoid detection – and dealing with an amateur like James was making my job even easier. But I wasn't going to take any chances.
With my phone on dark, I punched in the number and held it to my ear. I needed to give her an update because Brooke was half out of her mind, threatening to call the cops and send in the army to save Abby. I needed to keep her calm. The cops wouldn't be able to help. They'd only get in the way and if they came storming in here, they'd more than likely get her killed. No, I needed to handle it. I had the training and the experience and could get the mission done. Get Abby home safely.
Reluctantly, she agreed to hold off and let me handle it. On the condition that I kept her updated every step of the way. Which was fine. She deserved to know what was happening. Brooke picked up the line halfway through the first ring.
“What's going on, Caleb? Is she okay?”
“I don't have a visual yet,” I say quietly, making sure to keep my voice pitched low. “I'm outside the cabin. I can see the target through the window. But I do not have eyes on Abby.”
“You need to get in there now, Caleb,” she's almost screaming.
“Stay calm, Brooke,” I say. “I know she's in there and I know she's alive.”
“How can you possibly know that if you can't see her?”
I hold the scope up to my eye again and see James pacing around, talking. He's agitated, but I know he's talking to Abby.
“Because I can see him through the window,” I say. “He's having a conversation – with Abby.”
“Please, Caleb,” she pleads. “Go in there and get her out of that cabin. Save her, please.”
“I have to be careful,” I say. “If I go in there guns blazing, Abby could get hurt. I'm going to get her out. I promise you that. But I'm going to be cautious about it.”
She sniffles and I know she's crying. “Please save her, Caleb. Please, please.”
“You have my word, Brooke.”
I disconnect the call and drop the phone into my pocket. I look through the scope again and see James pacing – he's moving a little faster, clearly a little more agitated. I need to move. The more agitated James gets, the more likely he is to do something rash. Something stupid. And that could be bad news for Abby.
“Play along with him, Abby,” I say quietly. “Don't wind him up. Keep him calm.”
I know she can't hear me, but I'm hoping that somehow, some way, my thoughts will get through to her. She can't afford to push him over the edge. He's already on the hook for kidnapping – who knows how far he'll go.
When he turns away from the window, I move from the treeline to some dense bushes closer to the cabin. I survey the area, trying to find a place I can breach without putting Abby in the crossfire. I see that there's a back door that opens up to a mudroom or something. It looks to be offset from the main room where I can see James through the windows – which is good.
That's my point of entry.
I quickly and quietly move across the yard, silently ascending the three steps that lead to the back door. Peeking in through the window, I can see the kitchen and the main room beyond. James is still pacing back and forth, entering and exiting my field of vision.
I creep over to the door and kneel down. Slipping my lockpicking tools out of my pocket, I get to work, moving as quietly as I can. A moment later, the lock disengages with a soft click. I put my kit back into my pocket, pull the weapon out of the holster on my hip and slowly turn the handle.
I grit my teeth when a soft squeak sounds as I push the door open and find myself in a mudroom off the kitchen. James' voice is booming from the other room, so I doubt he even heard it over his screaming. He obviously found out that Abby and I had slept together since he was railing on her about that. Nothing I could do about that now.
Moving silently through the kitchen, I stop at the doorway. Using the reflection from the window, I see that he's standing just on the other side of the doorway. I need to move on him, but I need to give Abby a little warning first. She needs to know I'm there and to move when I tell her to move.
Knowing James' back is to me, I lean out just enough to see. He's still standing there and I can see the pistol in his hand he's holding at his side. I can see Abby's feet and lower legs beneath the table – but he's blocking my view of her.
I lean back and wait until I hear his footsteps on the wooden floor before I lean out again. Abby's eyes widen when she sees me and I immediately put my finger to my lips, telling her to keep quiet. She cuts her eyes quickly back to James, paying attention to his ranting and raving. But I can see her sneaking quick peeks back at me.
James enters my field of vision again and I know it's time to make my move. I creep out of the kitchen, moving quickly. James' back is to me, but he feels my presence and starts to turn around, raising his gun at the same time.
“Abby, get down now,” I shout.
I raise my weapon and point it at James' face. His eyes open almost comically wide when he sees me. Abby dives to the ground and crawls away from the table, taking shelter behind the sofa.
“Drop your weapon,” I say in my most commanding voice.
He hesitates, but doesn't drop the gun. I can see by the look in his eye that he's calculating his chances of coming out on top of a shootout with me.
“Don't do it, asshole. I don't want to kill you,” I say. “But I will kill you without a second thought.
”
James obviously thinks he can get the drop on me because he tries to raise his gun hand quickly. I lower my weapon and squeeze the trigger, putting a round through his thigh. He screams in agony, as if it's the most intense pain he's ever felt – which, it probably is. His weapon clatters to the floor and I kick it away from him, sending it spinning across the room.
James falls to the floor, clutching his wounded though while he sobs uncontrollably. I see Abby peeking over the back of the couch at me and I feel a dark rage descend over me – rage at what he'd done to Abby. At how he'd terrified her.
I lower my weapon but step forward and deliver a vicious kick to his midsection. The air whooshes out of him and he's suddenly gasping for breath. I squat down beside him and grab a handful of his hair, wrenching his neck so that he's looking up at me. Making sure that I have his full attention.
“Here's what's going to happen,” I say. “We're going to call the cops. They're going to take you away. Eventually, you're going to get out of jail. And when you do, you are going to leave Sheridan Falls. Forever. You are to put the city in your rear-view and never come back. Ever. If you do, I'm going to kill you.”
He gasps and tries to say something, so I use the butt of my gun to rap him across the forehead nice and hard. He winces in pain and groans – but he stopped trying to speak, at least.
“You are not to contact Abby ever again,” I say. “You're not to even think about her. If you do try to contact her in any way, shape, or form, I'm going to kill you. Just nod if you understand.”
He opened his mouth and started to speak again, so I rapped him over the head again, stopping him short.
“Just nod if you understand.”
He looks deflated. Defeated. But nods anyway.
“Good. We have an understanding then.”
Keeping my weapon at the ready, I hand Abby my phone and tell her to call the police. She does and we sit down on the couch, I pull her close to me. She's trembling and crying, so I wrap my arm even tighter around her, holding her closer.
