by Debra Webb
Feet moved into her line of vision. Small, bare feet. A face was suddenly in front of hers.
Sierra.
“You should have listened to me, Cece. Now it’s too late.”
* * *
DEACON RODE OUT another hit.
Ricky Olson grinned. “Don’t that feel good, buddy? Our time together was cut short the other night. I thought we would finish up tonight. Then I’m going over there and picking up where I left off with Cece.”
Olson’s two thugs had Deacon’s arms pulled behind his back. In order to hold him the way their buddy had instructed, they’d had to put their weapons away. Olson, on the other hand, still had his in one hand.
Deacon stretched his neck. Licked his bloody lip. “Is that all you’ve got, Olson? I can see why Cece wasn’t satisfied.”
The snorts from the guys behind him helped Deacon out more than they would ever know. Fury claimed Olson’s face. He jammed his nine millimeter into his waistband and prepared to throw his full attention and weight into his next punch.
That was Deacon’s cue. With his right arm, he flung the guy clamped around it toward Olson. Then he grabbed the one on his left with his newly freed right hand and twisted his head hard enough to nearly break his neck. When the guy jerked away, Deacon snagged his weapon.
He put the barrel in Olson’s face just as he lunged for him. “Come on,” Deacon urged. “Draw your weapon. Flinch. Something. So I can shoot your sorry butt.”
Olson froze. Both his buddies did, too.
“On the floor,” Deacon ordered. “Facedown.”
When the three were nose down on the hardwood, Deacon took their belts and secured their hands behind their backs. He claimed their weapons as his own. He ripped off the first guy’s sneakers and used his tube socks to secure his feet. Then he did the same to the other two. All three cursed and threatened the whole time. Deacon ignored them.
“Nice to see you again, gentlemen. I’ll let the sheriff know you’re here waiting for pickup.”
Deacon rushed out the door. He had been watching Cece’s house and saw her heading out to the barn in a hurry. She’d had her shotgun with her. He had rushed back to his place to get his truck and been met by Olson and his welcoming party.
He climbed behind the wheel of his truck and started the engine. Just in case the three got loose before he expected, he drove around their truck and fired a round into each tire. That should keep them here for a while.
As he drove down the road, he tossed their weapons into the ditch one by one. He pulled into Cece’s driveway and barreled toward the house. The doors where the truck was usually parked stood open. He climbed out, rushed up the front steps and knocked on the door. When she didn’t answer, he gave the knob a twist. The door opened. He scanned the living room. The phone receiver dangled from its curly cord instead of resting on the base. He walked into the kitchen. The back door stood wide open. Wherever she had gone, she had been upset and it had something to do with a phone call.
Had to be Levi or Sierra. Maybe Marcus.
He bounded out to his truck and drove to the church since he passed its location first. The building and the parking area were empty so he drove to Marcus’s house next.
Cece’s truck wasn’t in the driveway.
Damn it.
When he would have backed away, someone peeked out the window. The curtain fell just as quickly as it had moved aside.
His instincts started to hum. Maybe it was nothing. But there was no one else in this town who would go to the trouble to find Cece’s new number and call her. She had no friends.
He shut off the engine and got out. He tucked his weapon at the small of his back and then closed the truck door. Listening for the slightest sound and scanning from left to right and back, he walked toward the front door.
It opened before he raised his hand to knock.
“Can I help you?”
Marcus Winters.
“I hope so.” Deacon relaxed into the part of friendly neighbor. “I’m looking for Cece. She mentioned she was coming by to see Levi. Is she here?”
Marcus shook his head. “I haven’t seen or heard from her in years. I hope I never do.”
Deacon hummed a note of confusion. “That’s strange. She said she spoke to you on the phone just a little while ago.”
Something flashed in Marcus’s eyes before he could conceal it. Oh, yeah. He had seen her.
“As you can see,” he gestured to the driveway and yard behind Deacon, “her truck isn’t here. Obviously she is not here.”
“Maybe I should talk to Levi. Is he here?”
“He is not.”
“Well, I suppose I can talk to Sierra. She’s here. I saw her in the window.”
The statement wasn’t entirely true, but unless she actually wasn’t here, this asshole couldn’t know that.
“Very well.” Marcus turned away from the door and walked to the bottom of the staircase. He shouted for his younger sister. Eventually Sierra came down the stairs.
“This man wants to talk to you.” Marcus walked on into the house, leaving the two of them alone.
For a moment Deacon could not speak. This woman had been involved somehow with Jack. She could very well know what happened to him.
Focus. He was here about Cece.
“I was looking for Cece. She said she was coming here. Have you seen her?”
Sierra shook her head. “No. Haven’t talked to her either.”
She was lying. The woman was as transparent as glass. Deacon resisted the impulse to grab her and shake the hell out of her.
“Thanks for your time. I guess I misunderstood.”
Deacon turned and started toward the door.
The shotgun propped against the wall next to the door stopped him.
He saw the carved heart on the stock.
Cece’s shotgun.
Rather than confront the two, he walked on out the door. Whatever had happened, he was going to need help.
He climbed into his truck, turned around and drove off. Once he was on the road, he found a place to back into the edge of the woods and pulled out his cell. He called the sheriff’s department and waited while the dispatcher patched him through to Tanner. Before Deacon had finished filling him in, Tanner had already ordered a unit to Cece’s house just in case she showed up there. He assured Deacon he would join him ASAP.
“You should probably send a unit to my house,” Deacon said as an afterthought. “I left Ricky Olson and his two pals tied up on the floor. I’ll explain when I see you.”
Deacon ended the call and focused on the driveway that led back to the Winters’ home place.
The next eight or ten minutes were some of the longest in his life. Tanner pulled in and parked directly in front of Deacon’s truck. The road was so narrow there wasn’t room to park beside him.
Deacon met him between the two trucks and briefed him. “No one has gone in or come out. Unless there’s another entrance onto the property.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s the only one,” Tanner said. He searched Deacon’s face for a moment. “You’re certain about the shotgun?”
“Positive. It belonged to her grandmother. Look, Tanner, I don’t want to waste time. The bastard knows where she is. He’s holding her hostage or—”
“I’m going over there to talk to him.”
Deacon wanted to argue but the man was right. “Do what you have to.”
“Stay put,” Tanner warned.
Deacon nodded. He knew the drill. But that didn’t mean he liked it.
He watched Tanner back out onto the road and head down the driveway across the road. He paced the length of his truck about a hundred times before Tanner came back. He parked, climbed out, shook his head.
“Damn it.” Deacon knew Marcus and Sierra were lying.
&n
bsp; “The shotgun wasn’t by the front door anymore.”
“I’m telling you it was there.”
Tanner considered the situation a moment. “I know this family was torn apart by the father’s death. Sides were taken. Seems like the whole bunch, except maybe Levi, turned on Cece, believed her guilty. But do you really believe Marcus or Sierra would do anything to hurt her? Physically, I mean?”
“Absolutely. Marcus Winters is a fanatic. You have to know that. Even Cece believes her sister is on drugs. Levi suddenly goes missing. Now Cece. Look, sheriff, you gave me this whole lecture about how she had been let down by everyone around her. Well, whatever you think of me, don’t let her down because you don’t trust me.”
“All right. But we have to do this right. I’ll get a search warrant for the shotgun. That’ll give us legal cause to search the property.”
“How long will that take?” Deacon did not intend to stand around here and wait.
“I know a judge. It shouldn’t take long. A couple of hours.”
Deacon shook his head. “No way am I waiting that long.”
“No problem,” Tanner said, his own anger tinging his words. “I can arrest you.”
Deacon held up his hands. “How about I go into the woods over there and watch the property? I won’t go near the house. I won’t make a damned sound.”
“Don’t you approach that house, Ross. Don’t you do a damned thing until you hear from me.”
“Unless I see Cece, you have my word.”
“Fair enough.”
Tanner got back into his truck and drove away. Deacon ensured the road was clear and then he ducked into the woods. He moved carefully, watching, listening, until he reached a spot where he could see both the front and the rear entrances of the home. He ensured his cell phone was on vibrate and then he watched.
Whatever the cost, he was not going to let Cece down.
Chapter Fourteen
When Cece’s eyes opened it was dark. She rolled onto her side. Her skull protested, the ache deep in her head threatening to expand. Somehow she forced herself to sit up. It was so dark.
Had she been unconscious that long? It had been early afternoon when she went to the house demanding to see Levi.
Sierra had hit her. Not Marcus.
Cece gingerly touched the back of her head. Why would Sierra protect Marcus?
They had ganged up on Cece during the trial and they were still doing it. Did they really believe she killed their father?
Is that why they hated her so?
Even if she had killed him—which she had not—why would they turn on her with such total aversion? Their father had been cruel and unforgiving. He had been particularly hard on Marcus. Marcus should have hated him more than anyone else.
Maybe he had.
Cece sat in the darkness, her head throbbing, and thought of all she had seen since her return five days ago. Marcus was in control. The church was his now, their father’s followers were his followers. The family farm was his, too. And Sierra was his faithful disciple. When it came to motives, Marcus’s had not been particularly clear eight years ago. He had been a loving son, one who only wanted his father’s approval no matter how hurtful the man was to him.
Cece almost laughed. None of them had ever come close to having the bastard’s approval.
She pushed aside the thought. But Marcus’s motive was clear now. He was all-powerful now. He had everything.
It was him.
Cece crawled until she found what felt like a wall and she used it to lever herself upright. Slowly, she moved along that wall. Within a few feet, maybe six or eight, she hit a corner and another wall. She repeated this process until she had traced all four walls and discovered the door.
The door was locked. Did not move or rattle when she pushed against it with her entire body weight. There were no windows and the walls felt like stone.
Her head still aching, she closed her eyes and tuned out all thought. She focused on what she smelled. Dank. Musty.
Earth.
She lowered to her hands and knees again and felt the floor. Stone, she decided.
A basement.
There was a basement in their childhood home. That must be where they were holding her. Though she didn’t remember a small, lockable room. Marcus could have built one. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced her mind to go back in time. She and Levi had played in the basement sometimes.
Brick.
The floors and walls had been brick. Not stone.
Maybe Marcus had had another room dug and used stone in it. She climbed back to her feet and moved to the door once more. She felt her way all around the perimeter, following the seam between it and the jamb. The knob wouldn’t budge. She tried pushing again. No luck.
“Think, Cece.”
She extended her arms and walked through the center of the room, using her arms as if she were doing a breast stroke to ensure she didn’t run into anything.
Light suddenly filled the room. She closed her eyes against the brightness. Then blinked and looked around. Fluorescent lights overhead glared down at her.
The scrape of metal against metal warned someone was at the door.
Cece spun around.
The door swung inward.
Sierra.
Instinctively Cece stepped back.
Her sister wrung her hands in front of her, the chain of keys clinking as she did so. “I’m sorry I had to hit you, Cece. I was afraid of what he was going to do so I did something first.”
Cece scrubbed her palms against her legs, felt the grit and dirt on her jeans from where she had crawled around on the stone floor. And it was stone. Floor, walls, ceiling. She could see that now.
“Why?” She decided to start there. “What did I do to make the two of you hate me so much?”
Sierra shook her head. “I’ve never hated you. It was Marcus. He’s the one who wanted you to go away forever. He thought that would happen when you were blamed for the murder. But it didn’t. You came back and he doesn’t want you here.”
Cece shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why did he want me gone so badly?”
Not once in her life could Cece remember being mean to her brother. He was six years older. Maybe being the only child for so many years had made him resent her. He had never said anything. And what made her different from Levi or Sierra? They had prevented him from being an only child, as well.
Sierra leaned against the wall as if she were too tired to remain standing without assistance. “I don’t know. But he wants you gone and this time I think he has something awful planned.”
Cece ignored the way her heart started to pound, the way the fight-or-flight instinct roared inside her. “Where is Levi?”
Dear God, what if he had already harmed Levi?
Sierra shook her head. “I don’t know. He left. He said he had something to do. He wouldn’t tell me what. I think it had something to do with you or that man who moved into the Wilburn place.”
“Deacon? Why would Levi have a problem with Deacon Ross?” Cece thought of Deacon’s partner, Jack Kemp. She also thought of the photos of Kemp with Sierra sitting so near him.
How could all this insanity have happened with her so oblivious? School. Work. She had been pretty busy. She had been finishing up her senior year of high school and working every possible shift at the diner. Since she was living with her grandmother, she had been really out of touch with what was going on at home. Basically she had abandoned Levi and Sierra. But she had not wanted to. Her father had kicked her out. She’d had no choice.
“Did you know a man who went by the name K.C.? Dark hair and eyes.” Like you, Cece realized. Sierra had those same dark eyes and the dark hair, far darker than that of their father and brothers.
Sierra looked startled. “He...he came around a few times.
He said he knew Mom a long time ago. But they lost touch.”
The idea of what that could mean—that Sierra was the only one in the family with that dark hair and those dark eyes—slammed into Cece. Levi and Marcus had hair that was brown with the slightest red highlights. A sort of cross between their mom and their dad. But Sierra, she was nothing like any of them.
Was it possible this K.C.—this Jack Kemp—was her biological father?
Wait, wait, wait. That did not make sense. Obviously the blow to her head had done far more damage than Cece realized. Her mother wouldn’t have cheated on their father...would she? He had been a cruel and hurtful man.
Sierra blinked. “But no.” She shook her head adamantly. “I didn’t really know him.”
She was lying. Cece could see it in her eyes. The eyes that did not belong to a daughter of Mason Winters.
“Tell me the truth, Sierra. That’s the only way any of us are going to get through this.”
Sierra stared at her for a long moment, her gaze bleary like an inebriated person’s.
“What kind of drugs are you taking?” Cece asked.
“I’m not doing anything wrong,” Sierra shouted. “I take what the doctor prescribes. For my anxiety and depression.”
Cece nodded. “I see. I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t know. You’ve been gone. Far longer than eight years. You don’t know the things he did to me.”
“Do you mean the man, K.C.?”
“No!” That she shouted the word warned she did not want to talk about this mysterious man.
“Tell me, please.” Cece moved closer to her. “I’m your sister. I want to know.”
“He started doing things to me when I was twelve.”
Cece could not speak. That would have been the year after their father kicked her out. “You mean, sexually?”
Sierra looked away. “Yes.”
“Oh, my God.” She started to demand why Sierra hadn’t told anyone but she stopped herself. Of course she hadn’t told anyone. She was ashamed and afraid.
“That day. The day he died. I told him I knew the truth. I knew he wasn’t my father. I was going to the police. I decided I didn’t care what people said or thought when the truth came out. I was going to make sure he paid. My real father had promised to take me away from here. He realized the first time he saw me that I was his daughter. The bastard took that from me.”
