by Addison Fox
Against the backdrop of murder.
How hadn’t he realized it before?
And how had he been so ignorant to understand how conflated her feelings were? Here she was helping him and his family and he’d denigrated all she worked for. And, by extension, who she was.
A lone figure, waving in the distance, caught his attention and he angled Tot toward the man. It didn’t take long to see that it was Julio Bautista waving him over. Tot understood his impatience, running toward the man at a fast clip. In a matter of moments, they’d covered the ground between them.
“Julio. What can I do for you?”
“You don’t know?” Julio’s dark brown eyes narrowed as his wizened face tightened.
“Know what?”
“Bella? Is she here?”
The roiled emotions that had kept him company since the morning he walked out of Belle’s house flared high, an irrational response to the older man’s reference to Belle. “No, she’s not here. Why?”
“She hasn’t been seen since Saturday.”
“What?” Tate struggled to take in Julio’s words even as the implications were already dive-bombing his sense of calm. “Where is she?”
“We don’t know.” Julio shook his head. “I’ve been all over. Chief’s been all over. We can’t find her.”
“When was the last time anyone saw her?”
“Annie on the dispatch desk said she left late on Friday night. Chief checked her computer and she had an email half drafted. Date on the start of it was late morning Saturday. That’s the last we can figure.”
And it was Monday.
The tension that gripped his stomach tightened with unholy fists.
Belle had been missing for two days and no one had known.
* * *
Belle came to on a sense of unreality. Her pulse pounded, the sound loud in her ears as she desperately fought for her bearings and her breath. Hard gasps accompanied the heavy thud in her veins and she struggled to get a sense of place through the raw, aching fear and swirling headache that blurred her vision.
Where was she now? And why?
Renewed awareness returned in full as her breathing slowed, that sense of unreality giving way to all she did know. Aside from the lingering headache, she was fine and she wasn’t drugged any longer. And, as she wiggled her fingers, she realized she did have freedom of movement.
The dim lighting and lightly circulating air was a decided improvement over the small space Grantham had originally shoved her into and as her eyes adjusted to the light she could make out the edges of an air mattress that she lay on. Struggling against the headache, she sat up, rubbing at her wrists and the remembered ties that had held them together the first time she came to.
She had been moved.
The events at the precinct had haunted her in the initial hours after he’d taken her—the way he’d preyed on her sympathy and years of familiarity and friendship. What had happened to break him so badly? And when had the kindly father figure and mentor turned into a monster?
The cloying questions had only added to the tight space—best she could tell, he’d kept her in a small shed after taking her—and she’d finally given into the frustration and the sense of unreality with body-racking sobs.
Whatever she’d believed she knew about Russ Grantham, that man was gone. When the tears had finally cleared—the sobs both for herself as well as the grief over the loss of a friend—she found new strength. And the determination to keep focused. There could be no more sympathy or empathy for the shell of a man left behind after losing his son. To maintain either emotion would negate her ability to protect herself.
To do what had to be done to slay the monster.
That focus had fueled her as he’d ultimately transported her from the small space into this one. She had no sense of time or place, but she’d remained attentive through the fear and the blindfold he’d placed on her as he’d driven. She’d pictured Midnight Pass, using his home as the starting point for a mental map of the land. Had fought the urge to struggle as she lay in the back of a moving vehicle and instead used the time to think.
And considered how she might leave a similar clue as Jesse Abrogato had if everything went sideways.
The drive had been short—further credence that they were still in the Pass—and Belle had considered how to play things when she was removed from the car. Her plans were short-lived when he’d opened the trunk into bright sunlight, a gun pointed at her head even as his other hand came down over her mouth and nose.
For the second time, the world had gone black.
And now here she was.
Eyes fully adjusted, she looked around the room. Aside from the air mattress, there was a small, four-legged sink and a toilet. A plate of food sat on a drop-leaf table but there were no chairs. Nor could she find anything that could be used as a physical weapon. No other small furniture like an end table or a lamp. And, after a quick glance over the counters, not even any drawers that could be removed for their heft or cornered edges.
Russ Grantham was a cop and a good one, and he’d eliminated any ability for his prisoner to gain the upper hand.
Which only made her more determined to find one.
* * *
Tate ignored the steady, stoic stares of a team of Midnight Pass police officers led by Chief Corden and an equally stoic set of federal agents led by Agent Noah Ross and focused on what he knew. The intimidation tactics of a line of officers meant nothing to him. Their endless questions and probing for answers meant even less.
Belle was gone.
And he knew the man who’d taken her.
“Why did she suspect Russ?” Hayes Corden asked again, the same as they’d been asking for the past hour. Once again, Tate walked them all through the details she’d shared. Her suspicions over Grantham. The evidence she’d found on Reynolds property. And the grave concern that it had belonged to Russ.
“How well do you know Captain Grantham?” One of Ross’s flunkies asked the question—for the third time, even though the phrasing had been changed up slightly—and Tate lost it.
“I’ve known Russ my whole life. So has Belle. So has most of the damn town. None of us thought this could happen and it tore her up. No one had any idea how his son’s death affected him, but as she looked into this, she began to realize it was true.”
“What was true?” Hayes pressed.
“That Russ had decided to take matters into his own hands.”
“And you believe the captain of the Midnight Pass police force has Belle?” The same flunky asked that question and it was only the fear for Belle’s safety—and the desperate desire that she come back to him safe—that kept him in his seat.
“Yes. Wherever Russ is. That’s where you’ll find Belle.”
The raw panic that hadn’t abated for a single second since he spotted Julio Bautista crested once more in his chest. Why were they sitting here talking about this when they should be out there looking for her?
The flunky spoke once more. “You realize this is a serious accusation, Mr. Reynolds?”
Strike three.
Tate pushed off the table, standing to his full height. He didn’t miss the tense sets of eight pairs of shoulders or the subtle drift of hands in the direction of their weapons. Once again, he didn’t care.
“She’s out there. She’s been taken, best as any of you can tell, off this property and you’re all sitting here with your heads up your asses. Get out there! Go find her!”
It was Ross who finally spoke, his tone calm even as his eyes flashed a dark warning in the direction of his team. “We’re trying to do that, but we don’t know where to start.”
“The lodge,” Tate said, several memories from high school drifting back to mind. “The Granthams have a hunting lodge out on the edge of the Pass. He’s got her there.”
Eight sets of surprised eyes swung his direction, even as recognition dawned quickly in Hayes’s. “Why there?”
“Why not there? It’s quiet and isolated. Russ shut it down after Jamie died, but best I know he hasn’t sold the property.”
“He hasn’t.” Julio spoke up from the back of the room where he’d quietly been taking it all in. “And the lodge would make sense. It’s isolated and he’s owned it for so long we have to assume he’s had more than enough time to set it up to his own needs.”
Tate focused on Julio. “His needs?”
At the single, terse nod, panic turned to sheer terror. He’d seen one of Grantham’s victims. And he understood what horrific needs now drove the man he’d once called a friend.
* * *
“Are you all right?”
Belle started at the intrusion from her perch on the air mattress. She jumped to her feet, surprised to see Russ Grantham in uniform, standing in the doorway. She hadn’t heard any noise alerting her to his presence and then suddenly, he was there.
“I asked if you were all right.”
“I’m not.”
“I’m sorry for that. More than I can say.” He’d left her alone and hadn’t made any move to talk to her since he’d faked the heart attack at the station. He hadn’t needed many words during her transport—his gun did more than enough talking—and her unconsciousness upon capture and then from the tranquilizer drugs at transport had ensured she wasn’t asking him anything back.
Now was her chance.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“This isn’t a way to help Jamie.”
“This is all to help Jamie.” Where she’d anticipated madness, she saw none. Only calm, cool control and, in an eerie counterpoint, the sweet, fatherly pride she’d always associated with him. “I lost my son, but I don’t want others losing their children. I’m doing good.”
“You’re methodically torturing and murdering people.”
“No. I’m dealing with the dregs of society. The animals who prey on others for greed and avarice.”
Her gaze ran over his uniform, his captain’s bars seeming to gleam in the muted light of the overhead. “But it’s our job to deal with them. Lawfully.”
A harsh laugh rumbled from his chest. Unlike anything she’d ever heard before, the sound was part sob, part cackle. It was the laugh of someone who’d lost everything and it echoed with empty, bone-deep despair.
“There’s no law here anymore.”
“Because you took it away.”
“Because the criminals have overrun everything! Because drugs run so rampant we’ve had to put officers on patrol around our elementary school. We have to put kids through metal detectors and purse searches at prom. And every month, we have more people who check into the Pass’s drug programs and facilities. I’ve watched it. Studied it. And I finally found a way to end it.”
Belle gave up her last, lingering belief that he’d mentally snapped. There was no sign of madness in his words. Only the harsh reality of someone who’d lost all hope.
Every time you face one of those dark, desperate situations, you give up a part of your humanity for someone else’s.
Tate’s words lingered in her mind. They hadn’t been far from her thoughts since their fight on Thursday morning, but something in them suddenly fell into place. And all the heartache and anger she’d carried since then found its purpose.
She hadn’t given up anything. It was the world around her that had lost its humanity and she was determined to give it back. To find some meaning and purpose and understanding inside the heart of darkness.
“I know how it hurts. How you want them to come back to you. How it should be so easy for them, to leave the next fix alone. If they only loved you enough. If you could only love them more, it would all go away.”
Russ blinked before he wiped at the corners of his eyes. For the first moment since he’d pressed her against the wall of the precinct, she saw a flash of the old Russ. The man who’d mentored her and who’d always believed in her. “It doesn’t go away.”
“No. It doesn’t. And they prove to you over and over that they can’t just ignore that lure. The one only they can see. The one that takes them away for a while.”
“He was a good boy.” Russ’s tears fell in earnest, even as he kept his distance on the other side of the room. “There was a time when he loved school and sports and music. He played with his sister. Fought with her, too, but he was her fiercest protector. He used to walk her to school to make sure she was okay. He used to kiss his mother every night on the cheek, then rub his nose to hers. He used to play football with me in the backyard.”
“I know.” And she did know. She remembered Jamie Grantham’s sweet smile and happy-go-lucky personality.
“They took that. They took it all away.”
The compassion that had carried her toward him in the precinct reared up once more and she went with instinct. With that steady determination that she wouldn’t lose her humanity. Wouldn’t lose what made her who she was.
She crossed the room, her gaze steady on his, her sole focus on getting to him and on helping him. His own gaze never wavered off from hers, nor did he refuse when she came close and pulled him toward her. “I’m sorry, Russ. More sorry for Jamie than I can ever say.”
He pulled her to his side, accepting the hug with one arm. It was a move that registered a second too late.
With the speed they were taught at the academy and the subsequent decades of practice, he had his service pistol out of its holster, the butt of the weapon pointed at her. “I’m sorry, too.”
* * *
Tate bumped over the Grantham property with Julio in his passenger seat. The police and the Feds had taken off as soon as he’d suggested the hunting lodge but it was Julio who had told him to come along.
“We will get to Bella. We will get to her because of you.”
“What if I’m wrong?”
“Then we keep looking.”
The response was simple and matter-of-fact and it did a surprising amount to calm the nerves that danced over his skin, his scalp tight and prickled with fear.
They had to be there. Where else would Russ have taken her? He was a well-known figure in Midnight Pass. It wasn’t like he could drive anywhere in town without someone noticing him. That would go doubly true if he attempted to take someone. And until Belle had pinpointed his possible involvement, no one would have any reason to check out the hunting property.
No one would have any reason to believe it had become the lair of a murderer.
“Don’t go to the house.” Julio pointed toward the land that spread out as far as they could see. Several police cars were already at the small house Grantham had built on the property as well as the large barn they’d used for weekend parties. “Does he have a hunting blind?”
Tate had never been much of a hunter, but he had been out here several times in his life. He tried to think through the land and what he knew of Russ’s love of the outdoors. “There are two blinds. One at either end. And there’s a small cabin that had been on the property when he bought it.”
“Go there.” Julio pointed through the window. “Now.”
Tate prayed the man was right as he continued bumping over uneven ground, pushing the work truck to its limits. The house faded in his rearview mirror and he prayed he was going the right way. Prayed they’d get there in time. It was only when a small structure came up on the horizon that Tate took his first hopeful breath. “There. Up on the right, around two o’clock.”
“Park about three hundred yards away and cut the engine. We’ll come in from—”
Julio broke off as the distinct silhouette of two people came into view in front of the house. The older man already had his gun out, his focus through the window as the couple came closer and cl
oser into view. “Stop the truck. Now.”
Tate pulled up short, the wheels spinning in some mud left over from the rains earlier in the week. He was out of the car before Julio could move to stop him, his own gun that he’d laid on the console between the seats already in hand.
It was foolish and risky, but he could only hope he’d be enough of a distraction to grab Russ’s attention, giving Belle the needed leverage to take Russ’s gun.
She was strong and capable and he knew she could do it. She’d been trained for this. Had been taught how to get out of dangerous situations. And he’d never believed in that training more than at this moment.
* * *
Belle marched from the small house next to Russ, his grip tight and his gun unwavering as he moved her forward. The moment they’d cleared the room where he’d held her, on toward the front door, she had a sense of where she was.
“This is your property.”
“Yes.”
Where he’d done his awful work. “So why drag the body to Reynolds Station? Or the other body to the park?”
“I needed a place. The cut fence over at Reynolds was a good distraction and it took the focus off of here.”
Of course it had.
“Russ. Can’t we—” She stopped as he pushed her through the door, on out into the bright spring day.
God, how had she been so wrong? How had she misjudged him so badly once again? She’d seen his tears. More, she’d seen how he’d broken at the memories of Jamie and she’d instinctively pushed toward that.
And was going to pay for it with her life.
The air was redolent with spring, the grass fresh and new. The scent seemed to surround her, brighter and more vivid than she’d ever remembered. She was heightened, all her senses on alert, like she wanted to take it all in for a few moments more.
If only she could turn it all back. Could have seen him for what he was sooner. Could have told someone sooner.
