And she knew he’d had a place not far away where he kept other girls.
Another cabin he’d commandeered? A house? Some deserted building?
“Sheriff?” She approached Dunne, who’d just thumbed off his cell phone, looking frustrated.
“Hey, Portia. You holding up okay?”
“I’m fine,” she lied. “But I want to talk to you more about Murphy.”
“Shoot,” he said. “Let’s go sit at the kitchen table. It’s quieter there.”
Boone followed them. “I’m part of this, too. Don’t leave me out, just because I look like Frankenstein.” When he lowered the ice pack, the ugly wound bulged from his forehead.
Portia pulled out a chair for him. “You do look pretty scary. But we’ll let you listen in.”’
Boone shot a surprised glance at her. “You’re making a joke.”
“So?” she said. “What if I am?” She tossed him a smile and grabbed a set of maps from the cabinet, settling at the table.
“That’s a good sign. You’re one strong woman, Portia Lamont.”
“Damned right I am,” she said. “I’m from good Vermont stock, you know.”
Dunne smiled, but he wanted to get right to business, which was fine with Portia. She had an idea.
She spread out the map of Devil’s Lake and its surrounding areas. “I think he’d go back here, guys.”
Dunne leaned forward to study the map.
Boone nodded. “It’s so remote. There’d be a million places he could crash. Lots of camping spots and cabins.”
Portia nodded. “He knows these woods like the back of his hand. And I’m positive he had another site where he kept at least one other woman.”
Dunne looked at her with interest. “What makes you think that?”
She took a deep breath. “When he got tired of me, he’d disappear for a while. He’d come back with fresh clothes, pants and shirts I’d never seem him wear before. He’d be kind of…sated. That’s the only way I can describe it. And he told me…” she hesitated for a minute. “He told me a man needs variety. That he gets tired of the same old thing.”
“Whoa.” Dunne questioned her about the timeline again, trying to hone in on specifics. When they were done, Boone pointed to the map he’d been studying.
“What’s this place?”
All three leaned forward to study the markings more closely. Portia sat up straight. “Wait. It just came back to me. On the trip up there, even though I was groggy, I remember seeing signs for an old munitions plant somewhere up in the woods. It’s not far from the cabin.”
Dunne punched it in on his cell phone. “Baraboo, right?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Okay. It’s an abandoned site. Partially demolished.”
Boone and Portia exchanged glances, and he stood, locking eyes with Dunne. “I think we should check it out.”
Dunne raised one hand. “Wait a minute. ‘We?’”
“Hell, yeah. I know how to get there. Ned could come up with us. You ready for a road trip, Sheriff?”
Dunne shook his head. “This isn’t television, Boone. You can’t just grab your guns and go in shooting. You’re a civilian. This is police business.”
Portia exploded. “Who cares whose business it is? My sister’s been taken! And Murphy might be on his way right now up to Devil’s Lake. You need to do something, or we will.”
Dunne spread his hands wide. “Whoa, little lady. Hold your horses.”
“Hold my horses?” she said. “Is that all you can say, Sheriff?”
He ducked his head. “Sorry. It’s just I don’t want you two going off half-cocked and getting yourselves killed. Or getting your sister killed, for that matter.”
Portia calmed down, taking a deep breath. “I understand. But the longer we wait to do something, the longer he’s got her.”
Dunne’s phone rang. He answered it, grunted, and hung up. “We’ve got a lead.”
PART IV
Payback
Chapter 53
Murphy dumped the sister onto his bed in the old Army munitions plant where he used to work. He knew the place inside and out, and although many buildings had already been demolished, he knew about them, too, because he’d been part of the crew that worked on it. There wasn’t a building or trail in this massive complex that he didn’t know by heart. And this particular old building, tucked way off in the corner of the seventy-five hundred acre campus, had been a refuge for him for many years.
He’d taken other girls here, and it worked great. Nobody from the public was allowed on the grounds, not yet anyway. Somebody wanted to turn it into an RV park. Another group lobbied for a bird watching haven. But so far, no decisions had been made except to allow turkey hunters in during April and May. Since that was over, there was little activity in the area except off on one far corner where they’d begun cleaning up the trails. It was well away from him and his little nest. And he’d stayed hidden just fine.
His generator made a little noise when he needed to use it for power, but it wasn’t too bad and he had camouflaged it after rigging it up to the old electric and water systems. In fact, it could be quite cozy in his little corner of the building.
He had a mini-refrigerator, a Coleman stove, a space heater for winter, and lots of blankets. Plus he’d even figured out a way to get his old television to work with a converter box and rabbit ears.
He could figure out anything, anywhere. His mother always said that about him.
He was smart.
Smarter than all those girls.
And sure as hell smarter than the cops.
He’d almost laughed at how easy it had been to trick the cop in the patrol car. He’d been nodding off for a while, anyway. Murphy brought the dogs down from the woods and stuck them in the tack room with a cat, letting them bark a little. The cop had started to come out of his car to investigate, and when he opened the car door, Murphy had sprung at him and knocked him out in seconds. A little chloroform kept him quiet.
When the kid came out of the house to investigate, he’d done the same with him, hiding with the dogs in the tack room.
Those dogs were nice. They liked him and had kept him company up in the woods. He’d miss them. Maybe he’d go back and take them again. They were friendly and didn’t talk back to him like the voices in his head.
They didn’t yell at him, like his mom had.
No, they were great little pals.
He thought back to his success this morning, the way he’d taken down that tall blond man.
All he’d done was hide in the back seat of the cop car. That big guy had leaned over to check on the cop, and whammo! He’d gotten him good, right upside the head.
He smiled at the memory.
The fourth guy, the tall cowboy type who had seemed to be trying to protect Portia the other day when he played with them by shooting from the hill, had been a little tougher. He’d turned and fought for a few minutes. He’d even landed a pretty good punch.
He rubbed his chin. Still sore.
But I bludgeoned him good and he fell like a little girl.
When he’d taken care of all the big, bad men who supposedly guarded Portia, he’d gone inside to get her. To take back what was rightfully his.
But who had he found instead?
A gorgeous little pouty-lipped sexy number. The sister, he thought. Portia’s baby sister, the one he’d seen on the news, pleading with him to return Portia to her family.
He pulled up a chair and watched her sleep, stroking her fine gold hair.
She was plumper than Portia, who’d lost too much weight and had started looking a little too skinny, anyway. But plump in a good way, with soft, rounded hips, nice full breasts, and a face you’d see on television commercials. Pretty lips.
Oh, she was really fine. She might even be the one.
He ran his fingers along her shoulder, down to her hips and thighs, then back to her breasts. They felt soft beneath her pajama top.
> He’d have to get her some clothes. The nurse’s uniform in the wardrobe would probably fit her, but she’d need some clothes for when he didn’t want her that way.
With a start, he sat up, as if struck by an epiphany.
This one might even be pure enough to become his wife. Not a whore, like all the others. All those dirty, nasty girls his mother would never approve of.
No. This one might be just perfect.
He smiled and reached for the tie-wrap to secure her wrists.
No sense letting her get away.
Chapter 54
Grace woke with a start. Confused, she tried to turn from her back to her left side, but her wrist was caught by something and she couldn’t get it loose.
What the hell?
A dank smell wafted up from the strange bed she lay on, and when she opened her eyes, it all came flooding back to her.
That bastard, Murphy, had dragged her right out of Portia’s bed and had clamped a foul-smelling rag over her face. Before she could utter one feeble shout, he’d slung her over his back and carried her away.
She’d woken once or twice in the car. It had been dark, and when he noticed her moving, he’d slapped that damn cloth over her face again. Too weak to fight him, she’d fallen back into a drugged stupor.
Where am I? Is this the cabin where he kept Portia?
And where is he?
Wait. Portia.
Did he kill her?
He wanted revenge, right? Because she’d escaped him, and kicked him in the balls?
A soft moan escaped her as she curled onto her side where her right wrist was secured to the frame of the bed with a plastic tie-wrap. She could see the room in murky darkness. And there, off to the other side, was another twin bed with a figure sleeping on it, facing away from her.
It’s him. Murphy.
A shudder ran through her.
I’ve been taken by the same bastard who took Portia. It’s real.
Something inside her almost snapped, but she shook it off and found her center.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
She forced herself to think.
How can I outsmart this bastard? What does he want? A sex partner?
She almost cackled out loud.
I’ll give him what he wants. And then, when he’s sleeping, I’ll cripple him.
She waited another fifteen minutes, but the pressure on her bladder was too hard to ignore.
“Hey!” she yelled. “You.”
Murphy rolled toward her and groaned. “Five more minutes.”
“I’m not your freaking mother, moron. I have to pee. Get up.”
Murphy opened one eye. “What did you say?”
“I have to pee. Unless you want this place to stink, you’d better get me to a bathroom.”
She smiled inwardly. So much for giving him what he wants. She never could control her mouth.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
She studied him.
Yep. It was Murphy all right. Just like Portia had described him. Stringy gray hair, pitted skin. He was tall, too. Big and brawny.
A shiver of worry ran through her. “Wait a minute. Did you hurt my sister? My husband?”
Murphy heaved himself to his feet. “Portia’s fine. I didn’t even see her. Which one was your husband?”
She paled. Maybe he’d killed him after all. And that mechanical voice…God, that was creepy. What the hell was that all about? “The tall blond.”
“Oh, him.” Murphy grinned. “I just knocked him out. He’ll be fine.” He slid a knife out of his boot. “Hold still.”
Her heart did a flip. My God! He’s going to cut me already? I just got here. Did I piss him off that badly?
“Wait!” She struggled and shrank toward the wall. “I’m sorry. Don’t. Please.”
He leaned down to her wrist. “Shut up and hold still. I’m just cutting off the tie.” He slid the knife between her skin and the plastic tie and freed her. “There. Now, don’t try anything.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and stood up on shaky legs. Get a grip. For God’s sake. Don’t show your fear.
“Come on.” He grabbed her shoulders and started to propel her toward a door. “Bathroom’s in here. You gotta dump the bucket to flush the john.”
She wobbled, reaching for the bedpost to steady herself. “Wait a sec. I’m dizzy.”
He grabbed her elbow. “It’ll pass.”
She grimaced. “So, you’ve drugged a lot of girls?”
He didn’t smile this time. “Yes.”
She turned her face up to him. “Why?”
He forced her toward the door. “Don’t ask so many questions. You’re starting to annoy me.”
She stumbled toward the door, wondering why all her joints ached. “I can’t help it. Curious minds want to know.”
He stopped, turned her toward him, and leaned down into her face. “Listen, missy.”
“My name’s Grace.”
“Okay, listen, Grace. I was thinking maybe you were gonna be the one. But now you’re starting to make me wonder. You might be just as skanky as all the rest.”
“Skanky?” She snorted a laugh. “Do you even know what that word means?”
He frowned. “You might be a whore. Just like all of them.”
She shoved his chest before she knew what her hands were doing. “Wait just one minute!” She walked toward him, and he actually stepped back. “You think I’m a whore? You think my sweet sister Portia was a whore?” Her face darkened in anger. “You’re full of shit, you big, stinking, ugly bastard.”
He stood as if dazed.
“My sister is the kindest, purest girl you’d ever know. She hardly had any boyfriends her whole life, you idiot.” She roared the next words. “And I might’ve done some things with guys I’m not proud of…but I’m no whore.”
Before he could react, she stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door.
Chapter 55
While Grace used the facilities, she analyzed everything in the room and took inventory.
Toilet. Toilet lid. (heavy, could be used to knock him out)
Sink. Soap.
Mirror. (crack it, use it as a knife)
No window.
Shower stall. Shower rod. (could I dismantle it and use it as a weapon?)
Plenty of possibilities. I just have to figure out when to go for it.
At night? When he’s groggy? Maybe I can fake him out. Pretend to be really sick.
She finished up, poured part of the bucket into the toilet, and watched it flush. There was a trickle of water coming out the sink and she used it to wet and finger comb her hair, then rubbed wet fingers on her teeth to try to clean them. She figured he had jury-rigged the plumbing from the original building somehow to make this little half-functioning bathroom work.
With a confidant flourish, she shoved open the door and walked up to him. “I’m going to need some things, Murphy.”
He glowered at her. “You’re pretty pushy, lady.”
She walked to a chair and sat. “Yes. I am. But you’re stuck with me now, so you’d better get used to it.”
He just stared.
“I need a toothbrush, toothpaste, fresh towels, shampoo and conditioner. I’ll need some feminine products as well.” She gave him a hard stare. “Do you know what I mean by that?”
He gulped and nodded. “Kotex?”
She crossed her legs. “That’ll do.”
As if he finally came to his senses, he rushed toward her and jerked her to her feet. “Listen. I’m the boss here. I make the rules. You can’t demand stuff from me.” He dragged her to the bed and shoved her onto the mattress.
“You don’t need to tie me up,” she said casually. “I kind of like this little hideaway. It’s mysterious.”
“What?” He studied her eyes. “Sure you do. I know you’re lying.” He grabbed a new tie-wrap from a pile on the table and secured her wrist again.
“Don’t make it too ti
ght,” she said. “It’ll cut off my circulation.”
He stopped before cinching it, and left a little room for her blood to move. “This’ll hold you.”
“Why don’t you just use rope?” she asked, conversationally.
He stood back and rubbed his eyes in frustration. “Because your damned sister got out of ropes. I’ve improved my methods.”
As if she didn’t hear him, she pointed to the mini-fridge. “What’s for breakfast? I’m starving.”
He sighed. “You don’t stop talking, do you?”
She smirked. “No. Why? Does it bother you?”
He shook his head. “Just not used to it. Your sister didn’t say much at all.”
“My sister and I are worlds apart. We’re like opposite sides of the same coin. She’s quiet. I’m loud. She’s private. I’m a social butterfly. She’s focused. I’m scattered all over the place.”
“You’re prettier.”
That stopped her. She hesitated, then kept talking. “No. I’m not. You just messed her up by starving her. You gonna do that to me, too, Murphy?” She narrowed her eyes at him, showing no fear. What he didn’t know—she hoped—was that fear boiled in her gut right now and it was all she could do to keep up her sassy attitude. “Or are we gonna work on this relationship so we can have a future together?”
Murphy slumped into a chair, looking dazed.
Good, she was confusing him.
“What?” he said.
“I thought you said I could be the one. Didn’t you?”
“Um. Yeah.” He started to sweat.
“Well, if I’m going to like you, we have to dream together. Plan for things. Do you want children?” She shifted and smiled, as if pleased with the idea. “I do. And we need good food, not that junk you brought to my sister. All that fried food is no good for you. What’s your cholesterol, anyway?”
“What? Cholesterol?”
“Yeah. When’s the last time you had it checked? It’s dangerous to eat food high in fat all the time. Don’t you know that?”
He stood and threw his hands in the air. “Stop.”
“Stop what? Asking you about your health?”
Devil's Lake (Bittersweet Hollow Book 1) Page 18
