LUCY: The Complete Lucy Kendall Series with Bonus Content (The Lucy Kendall Series Book 5)

by Stacy Green

  More rats?

  I forced my outstretched arms to steady, taking aim with the Glock’s sight.

  Just when I’d gathered enough nerve to bust into the room, something large ran across my feet, its cordlike tail streaming behind it.

  I shuddered so hard I nearly dropped the gun.

  The adjacent room was empty. So were the next two.

  Forty-five minutes had gone by, and I had several more rooms to search. Time to stop being afraid.

  I approached the first closed door, grateful I’d thought to bring my lock picking kit. The lock snapped quickly. I pushed the door open before my imagination took over with all the horrible things I might find.

  Empty.

  I moved on to the next.

  And the next, my despair increasing with every step.

  Kelly wasn’t here.

  I didn’t know where else to look, and I couldn’t call for help.

  “Damnit!” I threw my bag onto the floor, the lock picking kit scattering. I beat my fists against the door of the last room until I drew blood. Helpless. No, useless. I couldn’t do anything to save my family. And that’s just what the bastard intended. He wanted me running in circles until I gave up.

  “I won’t give up.” I shouted into the darkness, reaching for my weapon. “Even if time expires, I’m going to keep looking. And I will make you pay for what you’ve done.” I snapped the safety off and pulled the trigger. Bullets sprayed into the opposite wall. Every pop felt like an accelerant to my anger. I kept shooting until the magazine was empty.

  Out of breath, I dropped to my knees. The impact from the hard floor travelled all the way to my chest, but I barely noticed.

  You’ve got to get yourself together.

  You just wasted time and bullets.

  But it felt damned good.

  My phone buzzed with an email, the light an ethereal glow in the dank. Ready to pass out, I scrambled to my bag and grabbed the phone. What if he called again?

  It wasn’t a phone call. The subject of the message froze me in place.

  The software Kelly installed on her phone had sent me an update. The phone was on, and the service had immediately tracked it. My fingers trembled as I opened the email and clicked on the attached map. I recognized the address immediately.

  It was the same one I’d been keeping watch over earlier.

  16

  My hand finally stopped bleeding, but I clutched the wheel so tightly the cut burned.

  Had Kelly’s phone been at Tesla’s the entire time? Or was someone playing more games with me?

  Night descended on me as I raced back to Chestnut Hill. Perfect. I’d done much of my dark work in the dead of night. I knew how to blend in and move through without attracting attention.

  But creeping down a manicured lawn with a semiautomatic weapon tucked in the back of my pants was a first for me. Most of my previous assaults were carefully planned out. Even the truck driving pedophile I’d killed with an overdose of insulin had been meticulously planned. No time for that now. I’d wasted away nearly half the day on a wild goose chase. I should have stayed with my instincts.

  I parked farther down the street and headed toward the house, my hidden gun reloaded and ready.

  If Tesla had used his son’s email like Kelly believed, then using his house to hide Kelly wasn’t that much of a leap. And maybe the son was involved, groomed by his father.

  Except Kelly was an adult now. I shrugged off the thought and kept moving forward.

  Body low enough to smell the cloying scent of healthy grass, I stalked up the property toward the guest house. Lightning danced in the horizon, but no thunder or scent of rain followed. Still, the heavily clouded sky made the muggy night extremely dark–a small advantage for me.

  I ducked behind the same Atlas Cedar tree I’d hidden behind earlier. The tree’s width had to be at least thirty feet, giving me ample hiding space. The evergreen’s silvery needles looked ghostly in the darkness, their tips making my arm itch as I crept around for a view of the guesthouse. The application couldn’t pinpoint to the exact area, but it was able to tell me Kelly’s phone was somewhere within a fifty feet radius, meaning the search area included the house and part of the surrounding landscaping. Had Tesla left the phone there and taken her somewhere else? Why turn it on now?

  I’d just have to ask him.

  A flashing blue light on the guesthouse’s lower level glowed into the landscaping on the side of the structure. Television, I realized. Maybe Telsa had passed out with his joint and would be an easy mark.

  I slipped forward, eyes on the various windows. In this heat, they were all shut and most likely locked. I could try one but risked making too much noise, not to mention setting off the alarm system. Good thing I knew how to pick a lock.

  The front door stood ten feet ahead and to my left. I dropped lower, damned near crawling. My knees skimmed the cement as I hit the entrance. I leaned back against the recessed area, catching my breath. Even with his private entrance, Tesla must depend on his parents’ security system for protection.

  His time had come. Daddy’s boy was going to give me answers.

  I slipped the pick into the lock and twisted.

  A sound behind me. A twig snapping?

  Frozen from the inside out, I forced myself to turn my head and checked the vast expanse of property. Nothing to see. I couldn’t even make out the mailbox.

  Something above me buzzed. My head jerked up, eyes watering.

  A security camera.

  My desperation had made me careless.

  That was probably why I didn’t sense the blow coming.

  A heavy fist connected to the tender spot at the base of my neck, propelling me forward. I slammed against the door hard enough pain shot across my forehead.

  I reached back for the gun, but he was too quick, snatching my arm and twisting it tightly enough I thought it would break free of the socket.

  “I knew you’d come back.” Tesla’s breath stank of pot and whiskey. “I just didn’t think it would be tonight. But I’m happy to see you.” He shoved his pelvis against my back. “What’s this?”

  Tesla pulled the gun from my belt. “Were you going to shoot me?”

  “Not until you told me where my friend is.”

  He pulled my right arm harder. It would break soon if I didn’t do something. I summoned all my strength and drove my left elbow backwards, but he’d anticipated it, dancing out of the way. He caught that arm too, trapping both of them behind my back and pressing me against the front door. “I don’t have your friend. But I’ll take you.”

  “No you won’t. You’re not interested.” Any excitement from this came from his need for revenge, not to have me.

  He laughed, his hot breath teasing my ear. “I’ll work something out.”

  Where had he put the gun? He must have it on him.

  “I’ll kill you first.”

  “You’re awfully cocky for a woman trapped like a rat.”

  My mind tripped and raced trying to figure out what to do next. “I just know what I’m capable of.”

  He laughed, the sound almost seductive in my ear and then pressed his erection into my back. “I like it when girls fight back.”

  “What about the little girls?” I tried to bait him. “Did you like making them cry?”

  Tesla wrenched both my arms until I cried out in pain. “I don’t like little girls. You’ve got things all wrong.”

  “Then tell me about it.” I still didn’t know if Tesla had been used by his father or enlisted to act as his guard dog. Either way, I needed to bring him down.

  “Waste of time. You won’t believe me. Neither do the cops. But they don’t have enough to charge me. Just ruin my life.”

  He pressed his face into the curve of my neck and inhaled. “You smell sweaty. Why don’t we take a shower first?”

  I gritted my teeth. As long as he had me in this position, I was helpless. I had no choice but to make him act. “Why? I’m
too grown up for you. You’ll just be standing there like an idiot, limp and useless.”

  He twisted both my arms and pressed me harder into the door, his knee jammed between my legs. I should have expected the blow, but Tesla was quick. He yanked me back and slammed my head into the glass front door. I heard the pane of glass crack, felt the trickle of blood on my forehead. Pain fragmented across my face and down my spine.

  “Is it your father?” I gasped. “Are you covering for him? If you know something, tell the police. He deserves to pay for what he did.”

  “And you deserve to suffer.” Tesla’s spittle landed on my cheek. “Fucking bitch. You need to learn to mind your own business.” The combination of his breath and fluids and my own blood threatened to make me sick.

  “Believe me, I suffer every day.” I couldn’t allow this to continue. But he had my body nearly locked down.

  I jammed my foot into his right knee as hard as I could, smiling when he howled and his body buckled. His grip weakened, and I managed to slither around and bring my knee into his groin as hard as I could.

  He anticipated me once again and brought his arm up to stop me. I loved the sound of his wrist breaking as it snapped back. Now my arms were free, and I started hitting him. “Where’s Kelly? Her phone is here.”

  “I don’t have anyone’s phone.” He lunged at me, but this time I moved faster, ducking low. My legs didn’t want to move, but I forced them across the lawn, toward the safety of my car.

  You’re going the wrong way. You need to get inside the house.

  You can’t help Kelly if he takes you too.

  My legs slogged forward, feeling as if I’d gained fifty pounds.

  I should have taken the silencer off. I didn’t hear the shot.

  I only felt the bullet searing into my flesh. I staggered forward, nearly falling to my knees. I dug my teeth into my bottom lip to keep from screaming, but I kept running. Tesla fired again, this time hitting one of the ornamental light posts. The glass shattered, the bulb exploded, the sound like fireworks. Shards sprayed the lawn. Lights in the big house flashed on.

  I kept running for the car that was parked too far away. Warm wetness dripped down my arm. Would the blood leave a trail? Would the police test for DNA? How much would Tesla tell them?

  His father would have me in jail. He’d rob me of my last few hours to save Kelly. Had that been the plan all along? Is that why the phone had come on?

  I could call Todd from jail, but the kidnapper had assured me that would result in Kelly’s death. What if I was on the wrong track? Or what if the police descended on Tesla, and he couldn’t leave the house to take care of her? How long could she survive without food and water?

  I slammed against my car hard enough to bruise my ribs. Blood stained my arm and dripped onto the hood.

  Tesla screamed in the distance.

  I couldn’t stay here.

  But where did I go? Who could I turn to for help?

  17

  Once I’d escaped the Chestnut Hill area, I pulled over to assess my shoulder. I hadn’t lost a lot of blood, but enough to leave the back of my arm feeling wet. The car bumped to a stop against a curb, blocking a bicycle lane. My head felt light and somehow stuffed full all at once. Suddenly I realized eating only half of a dried out pastry all day had been a very bad idea. How much blood could I lose before I passed out?

  I snapped on the dome light and gingerly examined the part of my shoulder I could see. No exit wound. But the bullet had embedded just beneath my skin. It felt like a tiny pebble, except it was still blazing hot and burned harder every time I moved.

  I couldn’t leave the bullet. Infection would probably set in within hours. If I were less squeamish, I could dig it out myself with some tweezers and a lot of whiskey.

  But Chris kept his EMT supplies in his apartment.

  Don’t call him. Don’t ask for his help after the way things have been.

  I wouldn’t be able to keep my secret about Kelly. And then he’d want to help. Together we might find her, but what would the consequences be?

  The thought sent chills down my back.

  Kelly was the first priority, and to help her I needed to be healthy. Going to the emergency room was out–too many questions and far too much time lost. And reporting gunshot wounds to the police was mandatory.

  My phone’s battery had drained to less than 10 percent. I knew Chris’s number by heart.

  My heaving stomach rebelled, pleading with me not to call him. Just before I hit send, another face flashed into my memory. I hung up and searched my bag for something to wrap around the wound, but I had nothing other than the laptops and my wallet.

  A safe place to regroup. That’s what I needed. I couldn’t go back to Kelly’s. What if Justin had showed up?

  Fresh panic set in. Did he have a key? What if he went inside and saw how I’d torn the place apart looking for a clue? All he had to do was move the mouse, and the monitor would come to life. He’d see the desktop and call his brother.

  I couldn’t worry about it right now. I needed help, someone who could take out the bullet and wouldn’t ask questions I didn’t want to answer.

  Someone who’d be understanding about not calling the police.

  It was time to tell my stepfather I knew his secret.

  For years I wondered how my stepfather dealt with my hateful, manipulative mother. And then I started paying attention. The only time he ever really put his foot down with her was about his poker nights. Two nights a week with his buddies. The stipulation was that Mac would never hold a game in my mother’s house. He agreed, and peace was kept.

  But I discovered poker night didn’t exist and quite by accident. Less than a year ago I’d been tracking the pedophile who eventually kidnapped Kailey Richardson, and I saw Mac go into the bottom apartment of an ancient row house in West Philadelphia. In the middle of the day? My imagination had reared. Was he having an affair? My mother would have been devastated. The idea of having such a juicy, cruel secret to cling to every time she belittled me was too tempting. I’d abandoned my target and followed Mac’s trail across the street.

  The truth proved to be far less scandalous but still satisfying.

  On poker nights, and sometimes during his lunch break if his construction crew was close enough, Mac came to this apartment. No one else lived there. Kelly found out it was rented in his name.

  No one showed up for poker night.

  Mac sat alone in the old recliner my mother had forced him to give to Goodwill and watched sports.

  He rented the apartment to escape my mother.

  Once I stopped laughing at her expense, I felt immensely sorry for him. And yet he’d made the decision to stay, although I suspected it was simply easier not to divorce. She’d take everything he owned, for one. And she’d make his life a living hell.

  So I didn’t rat him out, and I didn’t cause him the stress of telling him I knew about his secret place.

  But I needed his help now.

  Mac waited on the steps when I parked in front of the row house. The neighborhood was lower middle class, mostly safe, and the late hour made it relatively quiet. The drive had taken longer than it should have, especially since I continued to feel more lightheaded.

  He pulled himself to his feet, the plastic drugstore bag heavy at his side, and hurried over to meet me. The past year had taken a hard toll on his health. Atrial fibrillation and high blood pressure meant he took a cocktail of medicine. His weight loss seemed to have stopped, but he was still much thinner than he’d been before he retired from his successful general contracting career. I hated seeing him so weak.

  “Lucy.” He yanked the door open. Worry darkened his eyes as he gazed at my bloodstained arm. “You should go to the hospital. And where have you been? You’re covered in mud.”

  “I can’t.” I didn’t know if the bleeding had stopped. My shirt clung to the back of the seat as I leaned forward and took Mac’s outstretched hand. “It looks worse than
it is. And the bullet is right at the skin. You can take it out.”

  Mac hadn’t asked any questions when I’d called. I didn’t know what excuse he’d given my mother, but he’d left the house immediately. I shouldn’t have dumped the stress on him. But I had no one else–not with Kelly’s life at risk. And I couldn’t just walk into a drugstore and get the supplies I needed.

  Keeping his arm around my waist, Mac guided me up the steps and into the apartment. His living room looked exactly the same as it had last year when I’d spied on him–just the recliner and television with the rickety side table for his cigars and drinks. He’d closed the blinds. The overhead light made the room look yellow and old.

  Mac blushed. “I need you to take off your shirt.”

  I sank into the chair, long past modesty. “Can you help me?”

  Together we maneuvered the shirt off, Mac trying his best to keep his eyes on my arm. The blood had begun to dry, and the material peeled away with a wet, sucking noise.

  “The blood loss isn’t that bad.” Mac trained as a medic in the National Guard, and he’d stayed current with emergency care during his construction career. He claimed it made people feel safer to work with him. “Which isn’t uncommon for a flesh wound.” He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and continued to examine my arm. “Since the entrance is so close to the outer part of your shoulder, I don’t think the bullet went through any muscle. It wouldn’t have risen to the skin if it had.” He gently touched the raised spot on my arm where the bullet had lodged, in the soft part of flesh near my tricep.

  “I picked up some tweezers,” he said. “But I’ve also got needle-nose pliers if we need something bigger.”

  I felt suddenly lightheaded but found the energy to nod. The sooner we finished, the faster I could get back to looking for Kelly. She had roughly 27 hours left.