Every second that passed was sheer torture. Every minute that crawled by was an agony like Dusty had never known before in his entire life. Even the brutal battering he’d taken over and over again from his own father hadn’t prepared him for the pain that roared through him now.
Time was the enemy and already it was as if a lifetime had passed since he’d come inside the café and realized Trisha was gone.
“Steve Kaufman was in as usual,” Daisy continued.
“Trisha wondered if he might be her secret admirer,” Dusty said. If the widower had or harmed Trisha, Dusty would rip his head off.
Dillon looked at Ben Taylor. “Call Aaron and have him head to Kaufman’s house to check things out.” Dusty fought the impulse to jump out of his chair and head straight to Steve’s home.
“Three of the Humes men were in,” Daisy continued.
“Which three?” Dillon asked. A pulse worked in his jawline.
“Greg, Shep and Zeke were all together. I suppose the only rather unusual thing that happened was that Trisha told me that Zeke actually made nice with her this evening.”
Zeke.
The name boomed in Dusty’s head. Zeke Osmond, who had seemed a bit upset that Trisha was dating Dusty. Zeke had asked her out and Trisha had rejected him. Zeke was the man who had been on the radar as a potential suspect in both Dusty’s and Trisha’s minds.
Dusty couldn’t contain himself any longer. He jumped out of his chair. The time for questions concerning Zeke’s guilt in all of this was over. It was past time for a real confrontation with the man. “I’m going to the Humes ranch.”
“Dusty, sit down and let me handle this,” Dillon replied firmly.
Dusty eyed the lawman with cold, hard resolve. “I’m done sitting around here and waiting. I’m outta here.” Dusty hurried out of the building with a rage slowly growing inside him.
If Zeke was responsible for Trisha’s disappearance, then Dusty would know within a few minutes. If he wasn’t responsible, then Dusty would know to look elsewhere, but he had to check it out for himself.
A spattering of rain hit his windshield as he pulled out of the parking lot. Trisha, where are you? Zeke lived on the Humes property. Did he have her tied up in his bunk? Had he stashed her someplace else? Where? As far as Dusty knew Zeke didn’t own any property around town.
Along with the growing rage, a hollow wind of hopelessness blew through him. Your fault, a little voice whispered in his brain. This is all your fault. You should have known better. You weren’t strong enough; you weren’t smart enough to keep her safe at all.
She’s gone. You blew it, cowboy. He stepped on the gas pedal and prayed that the inner voice was wrong, that it still wasn’t too late to rescue the woman he loved.
* * *
Sweet success!
The heady emotion shot right to his head as he gazed in his rearview mirror and saw Trisha prone and unconscious in the backseat. It had taken meticulous planning and incredible risk, but she was finally where she belonged...with him forever.
The chokehold had made her pass out. He’d dragged her body behind a car and watched when Dusty had gotten out of his truck and gone inside the café.
The storm had definitely been a blessing. The thunder had stolen away the single cry that Trisha had managed to make before she’d passed out.
The minute Dusty had disappeared from view, he’d carried Trisha to his car parked on the nearby street, loaded her inside and taken off.
When he was several miles away from the café, he’d stopped. By that time Trisha was starting to come around. He’d taken care of that with a shot of tranquilizer in her arm. He calculated that she would remain unconscious for four to six hours...plenty of time for him to get to the cabin and restrain her.
Life would begin anew for the two of them. Their pasts would no longer matter. The cabin was stocked with enough supplies to last about a year. He figured it would take her that long to forget her former life and realize how deeply she loved him.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew it would take some time for him to win her over. But he also knew it would eventually happen. They were destined to be together, and you couldn’t fight destiny.
A light rain began to fall as he left Bitterroot behind. It was as if the heavens were washing away all of the past and there was only the future...his glorious future with the woman he loved.
* * *
The rain had stopped falling but a stiff wind had begun to scream around the truck windows as Dusty turned onto the Humes property. A glance in his rearview mirror let him know that the patrol car was still behind him.
He roared past the huge two-story house where Raymond Humes lived. He knew the men who lived on the property stayed in a building like the one on the Holiday ranch. What he didn’t know was which unit Zeke lived in.
After pulling to a stop in front of the wooden structure, he got out of his truck. The police car pulled up just behind him and Ben Taylor stepped out of the vehicle.
“Don’t get in my way, Ben,” Dusty warned.
“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Ben replied.
Dusty stalked up to the first door and knocked. He then dropped his hand to the butt of his gun and stepped back. Lloyd Green opened the door. His eyes narrowed. “What in the hell are you doing here?” he asked.
“I’m looking for Zeke.”
Lloyd looked at Ben and then back at Dusty. “Is there a problem here?”
“Yeah, there’s definitely a problem. So which unit is Zeke’s?” Dusty replied brusquely.
“Two doors down,” Lloyd replied and pointed to the right with a thumb.
As Dusty moved to Zeke’s door, Lloyd stepped outside his room. Dusty banged on the door. Nerves tightened his muscles. Was Zeke here? If he wasn’t then Dusty could only assume he was someplace else with Trisha.
He hammered again on the door with the back of his fist, anxiety coupled with a simmering terror clawing inside him. The door swung open and Zeke appeared clad only in a pair of boxers. “What in the hell?” he demanded.
Dusty wasn’t aware of consciously making any decision when he pulled his gun and stuck it in the center of Zeke’s chest. “Where’s Trisha?”
“Dusty!” Ben yelled from just behind him. “Put your gun down.”
Dusty didn’t blink. He didn’t even move. His gaze was focused solely on Zeke, who had slowly raised his hands over his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. How would I know where Trisha is?” Zeke replied.
“Are you her secret admirer? Did you kidnap her from the café? Where have you put her, Zeke? What in the hell have you done with her?” The questions exploded out of him as he continued to hold Zeke at gunpoint.
“The last time I saw Trisha was when she served me at the café. I’m not a secret admirer, whatever the hell that means, and I have no idea what happened to her if she’s missing now.” Zeke held Dusty’s gaze steadily.
Dusty wanted Zeke to be guilty because if Zeke wasn’t then Dusty didn’t know where else to go, who else to question. Zeke might be many things, but Dusty’s gut told him that Zeke was now telling him the truth.
He dropped his arm to his side and put his gun back in the holster and then backed away from Zeke’s doorway. “Where are Shep and Greg?” he asked, remembering that the three had been together at the café earlier.
Zeke shrugged. “I suppose they’re in their rooms. Shep and I drove home from town together, but Greg was in his own car.”
“Get them out here,” Dusty said. He wasn’t leaving this ranch until he’d checked out all three men.
“Do as he asked,” Ben said and moved to stand next to Dusty.
Zeke nodded and walked to the door next to his and knocked. Shep immediately answered and Dusty walked over to peer past the man’s shoulder and i
nto his small room. Trisha was nowhere in sight, and there was no indication that she’d ever been here.
Ben’s cell phone rang and everyone froze. He answered and listened for a moment. “Thanks, I’ll let him know.” He hung up and looked at Dusty. “That was the chief. Aaron checked in from Steven Kaufman’s house. Kaufman is home and there’s no reason to believe he had anything to do with Trisha’s disappearance.”
The sickness of defeat filled the back of Dusty’s throat. What if she’d been kidnapped by somebody who hadn’t even been on their radar? What if Frank really had found her and now had her all to himself the way he’d always wanted?
Dusty looked at Zeke and Shep. With Aaron’s report it meant that three of the potential suspects had now been cleared. How on earth were they going to find her? How on earth was he going to save her?
“Greg,” he finally managed to say. “I need to talk to Greg and then I guess we’ll be finished here.” Dusty fought against a sweeping wave of utter desolation.
Zeke nodded and as he walked down the length of the building to the last door, Dusty and Ben followed close behind him. Shep and Lloyd remained where they were.
Zeke knocked on the door. “Greg, open up,” he called.
No light came from the small window. Was the man in bed? Was he sleeping soundly despite the thunder and lightning of the storm that had raged overhead?
Zeke knocked again, this time harder. Tension built up inside Dusty while they waited another long, agonizing minute. Zeke reached out and grabbed the doorknob and then turned to look at Dusty. “It’s locked, but I don’t think he’s inside. He would have answered by now.”
“Anyone have a key?” Dusty asked, the tension in the pit of his stomach twisting into a thousand knots.
“Just Greg,” Zeke replied.
“I can’t believe he’d have anything to do with this,” Lloyd said as he approached where they all stood. “He’s just a good old boy who doesn’t have a whole lot of brains.”
“Step aside, I’m breaking down the door,” Dusty said. He needed to see inside the room. If Greg had anything to do with Trisha’s disappearance, then maybe there would be a clue inside.
“You can’t do that,” Ben protested.
Dusty turned and looked at the officer grimly. “Ben, you’ll have to arrest me in order to stop me.” He motioned for Zeke to move away and then he lowered his shoulders and slammed into the door.
Pain exploded through his entire body, but he welcomed it as the physical ache momentarily usurped the emotional agony that tore at him. He drew a deep breath and slammed into the door again...and again.
With a loud crack of the jamb, the door finally sprang loose. Dusty burst inside and fumbled for a light switch. A single bare bulb dangling from the ceiling turned on.
He stared around in disbelief. Not only was there no sign of Trisha, but the room looked as if nobody had ever lived in it. There were no clothes and no personal items except a cell phone on the nightstand.
Dusty walked over and picked it up. It was a cheap burner flip phone. He flicked it open, but got no dial tone. He slammed it shut.
“I’ll be a son of a bitch,” Zeke exclaimed. “Maybe Greg isn’t as dumb as we all thought.”
“I thought it was kinda strange when he wanted to drive his own car tonight instead of riding with us,” Shep said.
“He probably left the phone here so that we couldn’t trace it,” Ben said. “Give it to me and maybe Dillon will be able to do something with it.”
Dusty handed the phone to Ben. Greg Albertson. The name fried in Dusty’s brain. “You’d better call Dillon and tell him it’s Greg, and Greg better pray that Dillon finds him before I do.”
CHAPTER 14
Headache. Trisha had the mother of all headaches. It was her first conscious thought and a moan escaped her. The pain was excruciating.
Something cool and soothing landed on her forehead. Yes, oh, yes, it felt so good. A cool cloth... Dusty always knew exactly what she needed when she needed it. She started to reach up to move the material a little lower, but she couldn’t move her arm.
Why couldn’t she move her arm? Her foggy brain tried to make sense of it. Had she been in some kind of an accident? Was Dusty okay? Oh, God, was she paralyzed?
No...no, that wasn’t right. She’d been at the café working and there was a storm coming. They’d been under a tornado watch. Had she been in a tornado? Had the café been hit?
She rejected the idea as she continued to struggle for memories. Yes, she’d been at the café and Daisy had told her to knock off for the night.
She’d stepped out the door. She’d seen Dusty in his truck. An arm around her neck...can’t breathe...help me!
Her eyelids snapped open and she stared blankly at the unfamiliar surroundings. She was in a small bedroom. There was a chest of drawers, the single bed she was on, and a nightstand. A small window was across the room, only the black-painted frame showing above a sheet of plywood that covered the glass.
Her head began to pound once again as horror surged up to nearly choke her. She not only didn’t recognize the room, but her hands were tied to bedposts on either side. Her legs were tied together at the ankles.
Nobody was with her, but the sound of water running came from another room. Who was there? Who had brought her to this place and tied her up?
Danger! It screamed inside her and she bit her lower lip to prevent a shriek of panic from escaping. She stared at the bedroom doorway and attempted to free her arms, but the ropes that held her were thick and strong.
Was it Frank? Had the monster in the closet finally found her and now gotten her back where he wanted her? And what about Cooper? Where was he? Was he safe?
Tears burned at her eyes as she thought of her son. Please, please make him be safe. Surround him with every angel in heaven.
And what about Dusty? A new grief pierced through her terrified heart. Was he dead? Had the person who had taken her somehow managed to kill him and then drag her off?
Was it Frank?
Her frantic heartbeat pounded not only in her chest, but also in her ears. Every muscle in her body tensed as the sound of running water stopped.
Who would walk through the door? Would it be the horror from her past or a new horror? Was it Zeke? Had his apology earlier in the night only been a ruse to put her mind at ease where he was concerned?
Heavy footsteps walked across a creaking floor. They came closer and Trisha’s breath lodged in the back of her throat. She stared blankly at the man who appeared in the doorway with a glass of water in his hand.
“Good, you’re awake.” A huge smile spread across Greg Albertson’s pudgy features.
“Greg?” Her voice was a raspy croak. She looked at him in disbelief. He appeared as he always did when he came to the café to eat. His jeans were faded and a gray T-shirt stretched across his big shoulders and slightly protruding belly. He looked so...normal, but there was nothing normal about the situation.
“You sound thirsty.” He walked over to the side of the bed. “Here, have a sip.” He shoved the water glass against her lips. She pressed her lips tightly together, afraid to take anything from him.
“Ah, come on Trisha. I swear it’s nothing but plain cold water.” His eyes were filled with the innocence of a child.
Her throat was dry and scratchy. She realized she had to trust that he told her the truth. She raised her head from the pillow and opened her lips, relishing the cool liquid as she took several drinks. He pulled the glass away and set it on the nightstand.
“Is that better?” he asked solicitously.
She gave a curt nod. “Greg, what are you doing? Why am I here?” She tried to keep her voice as calm as possible. She had no idea what to expect from him, what else he might be capable of.
He rem
oved a navy blue washcloth from her forehead and smiled once again. “You’re here because you belong to me.” His brown eyes shone brightly as he gazed at her with an adoration that made her sick.
“You left the flowers for me...the candy and the notes? You are my secret admirer?” She’d served this man a thousand times at the café and she’d never considered that he was crazy, but crazy definitely lit up the pupils of his eyes.
“I didn’t intend to stay a secret for too long.” He twisted the cloth in his hands and the smile fell away. “I figured I’d take my time with you, prove to you that I’m the man you were meant to be with, but then Dusty moved in on you and I knew I had to step things up.”
Dusty, her heart cried out. “Where is Dusty now?” she asked, fearing what he might tell her.
“Who knows? Don’t worry, he’ll never find us here. But when the time is right I’ll find him.” He twisted the cloth even tighter around his fingers.
“Why would you want to find him?” Her heart began to drum loudly once again.
He smiled at her as if she were a clueless child. “Trisha, I know the only way you’ll be completely free to embrace our life together is if Dusty is dead.”
It was at that moment that she realized Greg wasn’t just crazy. He was deadly crazy.
“I’ve already tried to get rid of him twice,” he continued. “I put a rattlesnake in his room and hoped he’d get bitten so many times he’d die. I started the fire at the stable. I wanted you and Dusty to run outside so that I could shoot him and take you, but that didn’t work out the way I planned. Of course, none of that matters now. You’re here with me and sooner or later Dusty will be dead.”
His tone was conversational, as if he were talking about Daisy’s daily special or the state of the weather, and that only made the fear inside her climb to new heights.
“Where is my son?” she asked.
“I don’t know and I don’t care. He isn’t a part of our destiny. Eventually when you have my children you won’t even remember his name. Do you want me to re-wet this and put it back on your forehead?” he asked and held out the cloth toward her.
Harlequin Romantic Suspense March 2016 Box Set Page 18
