For the Right Reasons

by Kara Lennox

  “Someone in law enforcement,” Eric said grimly. “Like we’ve been afraid of all along.

  “Joe,” Bree said, “can you focus in on the Tuckerville deputies and people in the D.A.’s office? Maybe one of DeVille’s inner circle is involved, and he’s been covering up for them. Good ol’ boys and all.”

  “I’ll get someone on it. Beth has been hard at work running more tests on that DNA. Depending on the quality of the sample, she might be able to isolate certain gene markers.”

  It was just a theory, Bree knew. But it felt right. Requesting the evidence from all of those murders was the one thing they’d done that a lot of people knew about.

  “What about other Range Rover drivers in the area?” Bree asked.

  “A pool of about thirty-four in a three-county area. If we start getting into Houston, it gets hairy. But we’re checking out those closest to Tuckerville. So far no red flags.”

  Bree sighed. “Okay.” One final thought occurred to her. She hated to even mention it, but she didn’t want to leave any stone unturned. “What about the coroner, Dr. Gentry? He is a part of the sheriff’s good-ol’-boy network, if only a grudging member. And he was with the sheriff right around the time Philomene went missing. We saw them having dinner together. He said he’d been fishing with Needles and the sheriff the night before.”

  “We already thought of that,” Joe said. “It was relatively easy to check his DNA against the sample, since he’s in the national database.”

  “Oh.” And here she thought she was coming up with an original idea. It seemed those Project Justice people thought of everything. Truthfully, she was relieved she could rule out Ted, especially since they’d confided in him.

  “There’s the exit sign.” Eric’s voice was tight, all business. He veered the car off the highway and down the ramp, slowing to barely thirty miles per hour.

  The kidnapper couldn’t have chosen a much more desolate area, at least not in this part of the state. Boylston Road was a two-lane blacktop that appeared to lead nowhere. To their right was an overgrown pasture. At the end of the ramp, across the road, was one derelict gas station. Other than that, it was just a few scraggly mesquite trees and open prairie.

  “He must be in that gas station.” Eric eased his car to the shoulder. “There’s nothing else around.” He turned off the engine, unfastened his seat belt and opened the door.

  “Wait!” Bree called, alarmed. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going in there.”

  Bree couldn’t stop him, so she got out, too, hurrying to catch up with him as he headed across the road. “Eric, she won’t be in there. He has to know there’s a chance we’re not doing this alone, that someone else will know where we are, where we’ve stopped. MacKenzie won’t be someplace so obvious. And if the kidnapper is hiding in the gas station and you confront him, he might never tell you...”

  Eric slowed down. “Damn it. You’re right.”

  “I know it’s hard for you to be cautious, but let’s just wait for him to contact us.”

  A muscle in Eric’s jaw ticked. “Yeah. Okay. Hell, for all we know, he’s nowhere near here. He could pretend to see us stopped here, and how would we know he’s lying?” Eric scanned the horizon. “If he really was here, watching, he’d have called by now.”

  As if on cue, the phone Bree was holding rang. Eric held out his hand, and she gave it to him, praying he would stay calm. It seemed to her that losing their cool would only play into the kidnapper’s hands, making them more vulnerable.

  But it wasn’t her daughter in jeopardy.

  Eric flipped the phone open. “We’re here.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  SO FAR, SO GOOD. Riggs and that interfering whore were playing right into his hands.

  They had followed his directions, and they were alone. He’d watched them for a few minutes before calling. They didn’t appear to be talking to anyone else on any other phone. Not that his observation was any guarantee.

  “Go west on Boylston Road for seven-point-two miles. You’ll see a dirt road off to your left. Park the car and head up that road on foot. I hope you brought your walking shoes.”

  “How far do we walk?” Riggs demanded.

  “Until I tell you to stop.”

  “Let me talk to MacKenzie. I need proof she’s okay or this little game is over.”

  “You want to hear her scream again?”

  “Do you want to sign your own death warrant?” Riggs shot back. “Just let me talk to her.”

  The man thought about it, then sighed. “Okay. Tell her to for God’s sake stop crying. I’m sick of listening to it.” Maybe a small concession would entice Riggs to be more cooperative.

  He stepped back inside the house from the deck overlooking the lake. It was a great location for his purposes, perfectly isolated. This time of year, no one was on the water or hiking the woods, not with the weather so cold.

  The man stepped into the kitchen—and froze. “I changed my mind,” he said abruptly. “Just drive where I told you to go.” He hung up the throwaway phone and stared in disbelief at the empty chair, the colorful tangle of bungee cords lying on the floor.

  * * *

  MACKENZIE RAN WITH the wiggling puppy in her arms and a cell phone in her pocket. She couldn’t believe she’d done it! She’d worked her hands up through the stretch cords and freed them, then bitten at the silver tape until she could rip it. Once her hands were free, she had leaned over and peeled the tape from her feet.

  The stretchy cords had been trickier. They’d been hooked behind the back of the chair, where she couldn’t reach. But then she’d figured out she could slide them around so the hooks were in front.

  Once, the bad man had walked back into the kitchen. She had quickly folded her hands in her lap and bowed her head, sobbing, so he wouldn’t look at her. He didn’t like looking at her, didn’t like hearing her cry.

  When he walked back out, she’d unhooked the last of the stretchy cords and was free. She’d been so scared he would see her, and she’d stood there frozen for a few seconds, wondering what to do next.

  That was when she’d noticed the phone he left on the kitchen counter.

  Not the one he’d been talking on; a different one. She’d picked it up and studied it. It was just like Elena’s phone.

  She couldn’t speed dial her daddy, of course. But in kindergarten the teachers had made all the kids learn their parents’ phone numbers so they could call for help if they ever needed to. She’d put in the first two numbers; then she’d heard the bad man rustling around in the other room and decided she’d better run first, then call. She’d shoved the phone into her jacket pocket and tiptoed to the back door. The noise had been awful loud when she’d opened and closed it, even though she’d tried to be quiet, and she’d expected the bad man to come running into the kitchen and grab her.

  But he hadn’t. She was out the door. She was free.

  Grabbing the puppy had been a last-minute decision. The poor thing—it had been crying at the door ever since they got to the house. The bad man had been so mean to the puppy, not even talking to it. Afraid that he might get mad and hurt the dog when he realized MacKenzie was gone, she had decided to take it with her. As soon as she got to a safe place, she would call her daddy.

  But the puppy was heavier than she’d thought it would be, especially after she’d been running for a bit. It was slowing her down.

  “MacKenzie!” the bad man called from the house. “Where’d you go? You want a cookie?”

  Did he think she was stupid? She’d learned a lot about people who tried to get her to do stuff with promises of cookies and ice cream and candy when she’d lived with her foster family. One time she’d hidden in a closet from Mrs. Stover when it was bath time. Mrs. Stover had said if she would come out and take her
bath, she could have a glass of chocolate milk. But what she’d gotten was a spanking.

  She ran faster. She was in among some trees and bushes, and when she looked over her shoulder, she couldn’t see anything of the house except the tall chimney. Maybe that meant the bad man couldn’t see her, either.

  But he could for sure run faster than she could, and if he came after her, he would catch her. So she kept running.

  After another couple of minutes, she stopped and put the puppy on the ground. “Snowflake, you’ll have to run to keep up with me.”

  The little white dog jumped up against her leg as if he wanted to play.

  “Maybe later. C’mon.” She took off running again, though the brush was getting thicker. Vines and thorny branches grabbed at her ankles. She just wanted to stop and sit down on the ground and cry until someone rescued her.

  The bad man’s voice rang out across the woods. “MacKenzie? I talked to your daddy. He’s coming to get you, but you have to come back to the house.”

  His voice was fainter than before. That was good. But she still couldn’t stop. The puppy ran ahead of her, seeming to have no trouble with vines and thorns. Every so often he would stop and look back at her, whining, encouraging her to keep going.

  “I’m coming,” she said, climbing over a fallen tree. She would run all day and all night if she had to.

  Then she saw something in front of her that brought her heart into her throat.

  A fence.

  A fence that went as far as she could see in both directions. It was tall and made of metal, and it had barbed wire on top.

  She walked along the fence for a while, hoping she might find a gate. But there was no way she could get to the other side. Meanwhile, the bad man’s voice was getting louder again.

  MacKenzie had to do something or the bad man was going to see her. She looked left, then right, then all around. And then she looked up.

  She had seen cats get away from dogs by climbing trees. Maybe she could do the same thing. She was a good tree climber. Her foster brother Wesley had shown her how to climb the tree in the Stovers’ backyard, a big tree with lots of branches and funny pink flowers that looked like fireworks and smelled sweet. Up in that tree, she could be alone. No one except Wesley knew to look, and he never told.

  MacKenzie had climbed the tree in her new backyard, too. Aunt Elena had found her up on a high branch once, and she’d turned pale and told her to get down immediately. It was the only time she remembered Elena yelling at her.

  But not every tree was a climbing tree. She had to find one with lots of branches low to the ground.

  There was one! Half of it was dead with no leaves, but none of the trees had very many leaves to hide behind because it was winter. She would just have to hope the bad man didn’t look up.

  Clenching her teeth together, she started to climb—one branch, then another.

  The puppy whined. If she could have brought it up with her she would have, but she needed both her hands.

  Once she made the mistake of looking down and almost fell. She had never climbed up this high before. She sure hoped the bad man wasn’t a tree climber.

  When she felt she’d gone high enough, she straddled the branch she was on and clung to the trunk. Once she felt comfortable there, she let go with one of her hands and pulled the phone out of her jacket pocket.

  It wasn’t easy holding the phone with one hand and punching in the numbers at the same time. She almost dropped it. But finally she had all ten numbers entered correctly. Holding her breath, she hit the green-phone button and held the phone up to her ear.

  * * *

  ERIC AND BREE had been walking for twenty minutes down the rutted dirt road, which ran through a thick mixed forest of pines and deciduous trees. Maybe it was a logging road; Eric wasn’t sure. But it seemed to go on forever. The clouds had burned off in the past few minutes, and dappled sun filtered down onto the ground. Between the mild exertion of walking and the rising temperature, it was almost comfortable to be outside. Under any other circumstances, this would be an idyllic walk through nature with the woman he loved.

  He did love Bree. How could he not? Little by little, without even meaning to, he was sure, she’d chipped away at his armor, until the risk of loving again was preferable to the pain of losing her.

  When this mess was over and he had MacKenzie back safe and sound, he would tell her. But not now, when everyone’s emotions were heightened. She might not believe him. Or she might not react honestly for fear of hurting him when he was most vulnerable. For now, all he could do was to let her know how much he appreciated her staying by his side, putting herself in danger for his daughter’s sake.

  They definitely were in danger. It still wasn’t clear what the kidnapper ultimately wanted from them. Yes, they had Project Justice backing them up. Kinkaid and Jillian were making their way through the woods, keeping a visual on them even as they stayed well out of sight. The unmarked helicopter was in the air not too far away and would do a casual flyover when it seemed they might be getting close to their quarry. But no one would make a move on the guy until they had confirmed MacKenzie’s whereabouts—or he started shooting.

  Then all bets were off.

  “We’re not getting very good cell reception out here.” Bree had taken control of the old phone while he’d been updating Kinkaid, and he’d let her keep it. Under the circumstances, she was calmer than he was. If he lost his cool again, the kidnapper might very well cut his losses and break off communication altogether, as he’d threatened.

  Eric checked the reception on his phone. “Mine’s okay. If he can’t get through to that one, maybe he’ll try this one.”

  “Or maybe he won’t need to talk to us at all.”

  That was a cheerful thought. How easy would it be to gun them down without warning?

  “Philomene’s killer didn’t use a gun,” he reminded Bree. “He most likely hit her on the head. The other murder victims died by strangling.”

  “But getting rid of us would be a different kind of kill for him. One born of expediency—so he doesn’t go to jail. So he can continue to prey on young women.”

  “He must know that if we disappear, Project Justice won’t let this go. Daniel would take it very personally if one of his employees was murdered.”

  “We don’t know what this guy is thinking,” Bree said glumly. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  Just then Eric’s phone rang. He looked at the screen. “It’s blocked.” He answered it anyway. “Eric Riggs.”

  “Daddy?”

  A jolt of pure joy shot up Eric’s whole body. “MacKenzie! Baby, where are you?”

  “In a tree. I ran away from the bad man.”

  Oh, my God. She’d escaped? His six-year-old daughter had escaped on her own from a serial killer and had the presence of mind to get to a phone and call him?

  Both Eric and Bree had stopped cold in the middle of the road. Bree already had the silver phone out and was talking directly to Daniel, reporting the new development.

  “Are you okay? Where are you?”

  “In the woods. In a tree. Please, Daddy, come get me before the bad man does.”

  Bree had leaned close so she could hear MacKenzie’s side of the conversation. “She called Eric on his regular cell phone,” she reported to Daniel. “Is there any way to trace where it’s coming from?”

  Eric couldn’t hear Daniel’s reply, so he kept his full focus on his little girl. He could hear a dog barking in the background and MacKenzie trying to shush it.

  “MacKenzie, honey, don’t hang up the phone, okay?” Eric implored.

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Daddy, I’m scared. What if the bad man finds me?”

  “If he does, you just be brave. I’m trying to find you, baby.” His eyes filled with tears
. He couldn’t even imagine what she was feeling, but he was in awe of her right now. “Don’t hang up. The phone is going to lead us to you.”

  “Okay, Daddy. I can see him now. He’s getting close—” Her voice cut off abruptly.

  “MacKenzie? MacKenzie!” He checked the screen. Call dropped.

  * * *

  “BREE, ARE YOU still there?” Daniel asked.

  “Y-yes.” She’d been momentarily distracted by the panic in Eric’s voice, the devastation on his face. “The call was disconnected.”

  “We’re trying to get a bead on it now. Wait, hold on.” His voice was slightly muffled as he spoke with someone else. After a few moments, he came back. “I’m afraid it’s not good news. MacKenzie is using a phone with a disabled GPS. But we can still figure out the general area where the call came from by triangulating which towers the signal went through.”

  She related the news to Eric.

  He nodded tightly, still staring at his phone. “C’mon, ring, damn it.” He looked at Bree. “She escaped. She got away from him. But she’s out there somewhere alone and he’s looking for her. She said she could see him, that he was getting closer.”

  “We’ll find her.”

  “She got his phone. I can’t believe— A month ago she was terrified of everything. If a branch scratched a window, she would cower under the covers and refuse to come out.”

  “Sounds like she’s reclaiming her real self. Didn’t you say she used to be fearless?”

  Eric nodded.

  “Bree?” It was Daniel again. She turned on the speaker so Eric could hear. “She’s actually not far from you. But the location isn’t precise. We’ll get the chopper over there in a few minutes, but with all those trees it won’t be easy to spot her from the air.”

  “Then we need a search party on the ground.”

  Orders were given. Kinkaid smoothly took over the operation, and Eric gave up any illusions he might have had about a peaceful end to this kidnapping.

  Cooperation was out. Negotiations were out. Project Justice would go in and find MacKenzie—and take out her kidnapper if necessary.