by Linda Turner
“We’re not sure anything is,” Joe told him as Alice preceded him into the apartment. “The restaurant burned to the ground this morning—”
“What! I heard the sirens, but I didn’t realize it was the restaurant.”
“It was set,” he said flatly. “But that’s not the worst of it. While I was down there taking care of things, Annie left the apartment with a man she introduced to Alice as her brother. Supposedly, they were going to visit their father’s grave.”
Surprised, Sam frowned. “I didn’t know Annie had a brother.”
“She doesn’t. Whoever this jerk was, he matched a witness’s description of the man who set the fire at the restaurant.”
Swearing, Sam shut the door and motioned them both to sit down. “What the hell happened to the uniform I had assigned to your place?”
“I don’t know. He was there when I left—that’s the last time I saw him. Maybe he got called away because of the fire. Things were pretty intense there for a while. The fire department was afraid the fire was going to spread to the buildings on either side of the restaurant, and they were calling in all the help they could get to evacuate everyone.”
“That’s no excuse,” Sam growled. “He was ordered not to leave his post no matter what. He should have known the fire was a possible distraction. Damn rookies!”
“Don’t blame him,” Joe said bitterly. “I should have seen it, too, but I got a call that it was the restaurant, and I never even thought that Annie was the real target.”
“We’ll get her back, Joe. How long as she been gone? Give me a description of this man she was with. Did anyone see what kind of vehicle they were in?”
“I did.” Her mouth twisting with distaste, Alice gave him a detailed description of Annie’s companion. “They left in a faded red GMC van and turned west onto Commerce. Annie was driving. I’m not sure what year the van was, but it wasn’t one of those fancy new ones.”
“Did you get a glance at the license plate?”
Regretfully, she shook her head. “I was so upset that Annie would go off with that man when Joe’s restaurant might be burning that I didn’t notice.” Worried, she said, “You are going to catch him, aren’t you?”
“We’re damn sure going to try,” he growled. “But I can tell you right now, folks, we haven’t got a hell of a lot to go on. Why would Annie say they were going to her father’s grave? Is he buried here in town?”
“No, he’s buried in Oklahoma.” A thought hit Joe then and chilled his blood. His eyes flew to Sam’s. “A grave. She said she was going to a grave. Do you think she was trying to tell me the bastard was taking her to where she buried Freeman?”
The words were hardly out of his mouth before Sam was quickly striding to the phone. “You may be right. It would be a smart move on his part since we’ve already exhumed the body and investigated the scene. He wouldn’t be expecting us to go back there and probably figures he’s a regular Einstein for thinking of it.”
Snatching up the phone, he called the police station and spoke to another detective. Quickly and concisely, he gave him a description of the van and Annie’s companion. “When last seen, the van was going west on Commerce. The suspect had Annie Taylor with him, and I believe they’re headed north on 110 to the Driscoe Ranch. No weapons were seen, but we have to assume that Mrs. Taylor is with him under duress and the suspect is armed and dangerous. Get backup out there to where Freeman’s body was found. I’ll meet them there.”
When he hung up, his only thought was to grab his gun and car keys and run for the door. The only problem was Joe was standing right in front of the front door, blocking it. “I’m going with you.”
His tone was hard and curt and would brook no argument. Sam gave him one anyone. “You know you can’t go, Joe. This is a police matter. Let us handle it.”
“She’s my wife.”
“You could get hurt.”
“She’s my wife.”
It was an argument Sam had no response for. Swearing, he scowled at his friend and gave serious consideration to cuffing him to the nearest solid piece of furniture. But if it was his wife in the hands of a piece of scum, he wouldn’t be able to stand on the sidelines and watch someone else try to save her, either.
“Dammit, Joe, I know that and I don’t blame you for being worried. But you can’t help Annie now. If anything, you’ll be in the way…” Seeing the granite set of Joe’s chin, he gave up with a muttered curse. “I could arrest you for interfering with a police investigation. You know that, don’t you?”
Joe only shrugged. “Do what you have to do, but hurry up and make up your mind. Annie needs me.”
“For all we know, she could come back any second. You should be here.”
Eager to help, Alice said, “I’ll watch for her. If she comes in, I’ll call the station and they’ll notify you.”
Trapped, Sam could do nothing but give in. Sighing in defeat, he scribbled his cellular number on a pad by the phone. “Just call me direct, Alice, if you see Annie or hear from her. C’mon, Joe. Let’s go.”
She couldn’t lose control now. Joe was coming for her.
Annie knew it as surely as she knew that she had never been more miserable in her life than she had in the two months that they’d been separated. Tears threatened then, hot, scalding tears that thickened in her throat and burned her eyes, making it nearly impossible to see, let alone drive. No, she told herself fiercely. She couldn’t think about that right now, couldn’t remember the things they’d said to each other, the way they’d hurt each other. If she did, she’d fall apart, and she’d be damned if she’d give her captor the satisfaction. She’d rather eat worms.
Dashing at her wet cheeks, she forced down the lump of emotion in her throat and stiffened her spine. Her heart slamming against her ribs, her voice carefully expressionless, she asked, “Where do you want me to go?”
Smug now that he had her right where he wanted her, he leaned back in his seat and eyed her with cool deliberation, the gun he still held on her not wavering so much as a centimeter. “Turn right at the next intersection and stay on San Pedro until I tell you to turn.”
Following his instructions, Annie almost wilted in relief. He hadn’t been serious about taking her back to the Driscoe Ranch. He’d just been pulling her chain, trying to frighten her to death. But that was okay because this was better. Much better. San Pedro was one of the city’s major thoroughfares and ran for miles through one neighborhood after another. It went right past San Antonio College, where there were almost always people about. If she kept her eyes open and she was lucky, she just might be able to spot someone, anyone, she could signal to for help.
Her hands damp on the steering wheel, she checked the rearview mirror and the side ones, then glanced ahead, her eyes constantly searching for the light bars of a patrol car. But the traffic was disappointingly normal, and as they drove past the college, there wasn’t so much as a security guard in sight.
Watching her through narrow, beady eyes that missed little, her companion warned coldly, “Don’t even think about trying something, you little bitch. You hear me? I’ve got no reason to keep you alive, so don’t push me.” Signaling with the gun, he motioned for her to change to the left lane. “Get over. We’re turning left on Hildebrand.”
Her heart froze in her breast. If they drove far enough west, Hildebrand led right to Interstate 10. From there, it was only ten miles to the Driscoe Ranch. No! she cried silently. This was all just a cruel joke. He couldn’t really be taking her back there. He wouldn’t! He couldn’t be that sadistic.
But this was the same man who had looked Robert Freeman right in the eyes and put a bullet in his head.
Nausea curling into her stomach, she slowed down for the turn onto Hildebrand and silently ordered herself to get a grip. Panicking now wasn’t going to do anything but get her killed. She had to stay calm and keep her wits about her and stall as long as she could to give Joe and the police a chance to find her. Because they w
ould come for her. Going as slow as she dared, she turned at the next intersection like an old woman who had a carton of eggs on the front seat and was afraid of jostling them.
“Get on with it,” he ordered tersely. “Now!”
“There’s a school zone—”
“The hell there is!” Uncaring that someone in a passing car might see, he held the gun so she could see him caress the trigger. “I said drive and I meant it.”
Her heart in her throat, she had no choice but to pick up her speed to the posted speed limit. Then, all too soon, she could see the interstate in the distance. Her fingers gripped the wheel until her knuckles turned white. Act normal, a voice whispered in her ear. Don’t let him see that you’re afraid.
But the monster thrived on fear—he could smell it in the air. His mouth curling into a sinister smile, he said, “Go north on 110.”
“No!”
Wicked laughter whispered over her, making her skin crawl. “Oh, yes,” he purred. “You know the way.”
She turned because she didn’t have any choice. Because he was going to kill her no matter what she did, and the longer she could put it off, the more time she had to think up some kind of way out of this nightmare. She had a baby to think of, to protect, a husband who would blame himself the rest of his life if something happened to her. She had to do something!
But short of running the van into another car and chance hurting herself and the baby, not to mention a total innocent in the other vehicle, there was nothing she could do while she was driving. So she drove, reluctantly following his roughly growled directions, every muscle in her body slowly, painfully, tightening as they drew closer and closer to the spot where he’d forced her to bury Freeman after he’d killed him in cold blood in the Transit Tower parking garage.
Then, before she was ready for it, she was leaving the road behind and taking the van over a rough path carved out of ranch land that was thick with cedar and cactus. Within minutes, the city, civilization, help, was left behind. She braked to a stop and felt her breath lock in her throat as her eyes fell on the mound of dirt under a cedar tree fifty yards in front of the van.
It looked like exactly what it was—a grave. Once Freeman’s body had been removed, the police had pushed the dirt back over the shallow pit, but she didn’t fool herself into thinking it would be empty for long. Once before, he’d intended this to be her final resting place, and she’d outsmarted him. He wouldn’t let her do it again.
“Get out,” he said coldly, shattering the silence. “You’ve got some work to do.”
Her hands starting to shake, she climbed out of the van and looked around wildly for a way out. But she was trapped as surely as if he had her backed up against the wrong end of a dead-end alley. Last time, after she’d knocked him cold with the shovel, the dark shadows of the night had covered her like a shroud and he hadn’t been able to follow her. But it was broad daylight now, and there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The second she tried to make a break for it, he’d shoot her.
Trapped, she stood quivering by the van, her heart jerking out a frantic rhythm as he came around to join her. Now, she thought, swallowing a sob. He would do it now. And there was nothing she could do to stop him!
But instead of shooting her, he grabbed her by the arm, startling a gasp from her, and hauled her over to the pile of dirt. Forcing her down on her knees, he aimed the gun right at her head. “Dig!”
Stunned, she stuttered, “I—I can’t. I h-haven’t got a shovel.”
He laughed, truly amused, but there was nothing funny about the hate that glistened in his eyes. “You think I’m stupid enough to give you a shovel after what you did the last time? Not on your life, bitch. Use your hands.”
She couldn’t. She couldn’t put her hands in the same dirt she’d dropped by shovelfuls on Robert Freeman’s pasty face. Not without gagging. With no amnesia to protect her now, time spiraled backward in a dizzying rush, and all too easily she was sucked back into the nightmare of the fateful night she’d watched the banker die. She could feel the chilly slap of the wind against her skin, the terror that burned her throat and stomach, the bile that rose to her mouth every time her eyes inadvertently found the small, deadly bullet hole in the center of his forehead.
And now it was her own grave she had to dig.
Trembling, her fingers curled into fists. This wasn’t the end. She couldn’t let it be. She’d always been an optimist, the one who fought against all odds when people all around her were giving up and wimping out. Even when she’d left Joe, she hadn’t given up on their marriage, though there’d been a lot of people who had been quick to accuse her of doing just that. She’d just loved him so much that she’d had to resort to drastic measures or risk losing him forever.
She had to do the same thing now. She couldn’t give up just because things had gotten a little sticky. The fiend standing over her had made a mistake with her the night he’d killed Freeman—there was a good chance he would do so again. All she had to do was be ready.
But it was hard. God, it was hard! She couldn’t seem to stop shaking or draw a deep breath. Dizzy, the gun like an obscenity just inches from her head, she raised up on her knees and bent over the pile of dirt, forcing herself not to cringe. Scooping it up in her trembling hands, she turned and tossed it aside, then bent to the task again. And again. Time ceased to exist. There was only the feel of the dirt on her hands, the smell of it and cedar in her nose, and the bitter taste of fear on her tongue.
Working in rhythm to the frantic pounding of her heart, she zoned out and couldn’t have said when she first noticed that the man at her side had become almost hypnotized by the repetition of her movements. The hand pointing the gun at her head was steady as a rock, but the finger that had mockingly played with the trigger when she’d first started to dig had relaxed and now barely touched it. Slanting a look at her tormentor beneath her lashes without once breaking her rhythm, she caught a quick glimpse of slightly glazed eyes and bored features.
For the first time in what seemed like hours, hope stirred in her breast. She was more than halfway through hollowing out the grave. Whenever he decided it was deep enough, he wouldn’t say a word—he’d just pull the trigger. If she was ever going to do anything, she had to do it now.
There was no time to plan, no time to do anything but act. Her fingers scooping up two handfuls of dirt, she turned just as she had every other time…and tossed it in his face.
Chapter 12
“You bitch!”
Snarling, he dropped the gun and grabbed at his eyes, and that was all the opening Annie needed. She whirled, a sob lodging into her throat, and darted into the trees.
“Damn you, come back here! Do you hear me?” he screamed as he dropped to his knees and scrambled for the gun. “You come back here or I swear to God you’ll beg me to kill you when I finally catch up with you!”
He cursed her to hell and back, but she never looked back. She didn’t dare. Her lungs straining, the pounding of her heart booming like thunder in her head, she ran, dodging trees and bushes, whimpering as cedar branches slapped at her face and grabbed at her clothes. From nowhere, a vine reached out to snag at her foot. She stumbled, crying out in surprise.
And her tormentor heard her. Lifting his head like the devil scenting a sinner, he blinked the last of the dirt from his eyes and spied her thirty feet to his right, half hidden among the trees. A nasty grin stretched across his thin-lipped mouth as his fingers closed around the gun. Straightening, he took aim.
The roar of the gun going off sounded like an exploding cannon amid the thick stand of cedars. Annie screamed and dived for cover, knowing as she did so that it was too late. He’d had a clear shot and she’d been a sitting duck. Her breathing ragged, she cowered in the dirt, waiting for the pain to register.
But the only place she hurt was where she’d scraped her knee against a rock and ripped the skin away. Not questioning her good fortune, she was up and running in a heartbeat, tearing t
hrough the trees like a madwoman, her only thought to get away.
Caught up in the terror that shrouded her brain, she never saw her kidnapper curse and take aim again, never saw Sam Kelly step out of the trees and shoot the gun from his hand. All she heard was the report of the gun. Sobbing, her lungs burning, she ran blindly, without a thought to where she was going, tripping over rocks and cacti, hurting herself and too scared to care.
Sweat trickling into her eyes, she didn’t see the man who stepped out of the bushes in front of her until it was too late. She plowed into him, and, lightning quick, his arms closed around her like a trap.
“No!” Screaming, she pounded at him with her fists, striking out at his head and shoulders and connecting with every blow. “Let go, damn you!”
Joe flinched and tightened his hold on her. “It’s all right, honey. You’re okay. I’ve got you now. You’re safe.”
Panic choking her, she didn’t hear. She fought him wildly, scratching and biting at him, fear for her unborn baby giving her added strength. “No! I won’t let you hurt me again! Do you hear me, you slimeball? I’ll kill you—”
Joe grunted at a particularly well-aimed blow to his middle and grabbed her hands, trapping them against his chest. “Annie, it’s me. Joe. I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. Look at me!”
The softly grated words penetrated the terror gripping her, and with a start of surprise, she glanced up. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, abruptly cleared. “J-Joe?”
If he lived to be a hundred, Joe didn’t think he would ever forget the broken sound of his name on her lips. His throat tight, tenderness flooding his heart, he had to swallow twice before he could say thickly, “Sam got him, honey. He’s never going to hurt you again.”
Dazed, she glanced around. “Sam? Sam’s here? Where—”
“Over there in the trees,” he said, nodding back behind her where Sam and a half dozen uniformed officers already had her kidnapper in cuffs. “Alice rushed down to the restaurant just as soon as you left and gave me your message. Thank God, she ran into you or we never would have figured out where he’d taken you.”
