by B. J Daniels
But Franklin’s gaze was on the woman, the blond hair wet against her face. He finally got a good look at her before the boat sped off across the wide expanse of Flathead Lake.
It wasn’t Geneva.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THORN HURRIEDLY TURNED off the shower and ran to the bathroom window to look out into the darkness. There was no movement, no sound. It verified what he’d suspected. JJ had gone out the window while he was over at the bar getting the food. But she hadn’t gone willingly, he saw as he took in the torn shower curtain, and to his horror, drops of blood on the bathroom floor.
He hurried out of the bathroom, telling himself not to panic. But his thoughts were out of control right now. He’d been in abduction situations before, but never involving someone he loved. He rushed around to the back of the cabin. Through the light coming from the open bathroom window, he could see two sets of man-size footprints in the still muddy earth.
Taking out his phone, he started to call the judge, but it rang before he could. He’d forgotten for a few minutes about the ransom drop. The judge could be calling to tell him that they had the kidnapper—and Geneva.
“JJ. They have JJ,” he said into the phone without preamble.
“I know,” the judge said to his surprise. “Franklin just called. He’d demanded that the kidnappers bring Geneva to the drop. Instead, it was a blonde woman who looked like her.”
“JJ.” His voice broke. “But they already had Geneva. Why take someone who looked like her?” Thorn had been thinking out loud but now stopped, realizing what he was saying.
“We don’t know why they didn’t use Geneva. Maybe... I don’t want to speculate.”
He knew exactly what the judge didn’t want to say. Geneva was dead. They had to have someone show up for the exchange. Why not the woman who’d already been mistaken for her? But how had they known that he and JJ were staying at Miguel’s?
He couldn’t worry about that now. He listened as the judge told him what he knew, cringing at the part about Zac throwing JJ off the bridge with her bound, her mouth taped. He must have let out a furious sound because the judge quickly added, “The last he saw of her, she was fine. One of the men in the boat pulled her on board. She left with Zac and the money.”
“She’s not involved, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” the judge said quickly. “But maybe that was their plan, to sow that seed of doubt in Franklin’s mind.”
Thorn swore. His brain screamed, Find her before it’s too late. They’d needed her and now they didn’t, and that’s what terrified him.
Trying to pull himself together, he drew on his strength. He couldn’t lose JJ. He had to think clearly. He had to behave the way he’d been trained. He couldn’t let his personal feelings paralyze him or worse, force him into a mistake that could cost her her life. If she was still alive...
He shoved that thought away. “We couldn’t trace Geneva’s last call. But it did ping on the closest cell tower. I’m going there now. If I find something...”
“Be careful, Thorn. I have a bad feeling about all of this. Also, Franklin’s chief financial officer disappeared right before the ransom drop. Helen’s had no luck trying to reach him.”
Thorn grabbed up JJ’s phone and, pocketing both his and hers, strapped on his gun and headed for the door. The night was clear and cool. He took his motorcycle and sped northwest toward the town of Somers. That’s where they’d found Geneva’s headband in the old mansion overlooking town. That’s where her last call had pinged a cell tower—somewhere around the small town that had once been known for its lumber mill.
* * *
THE JUDGE SAT for a moment in the guest bedroom at Franklin’s estate, too upset to move. He didn’t believe JJ was involved in the kidnapping and hadn’t for some time. Instead, what had him upset was wondering how the kidnappers had known that JJ and Thorn were staying in one of Miguel’s cabins.
The place was so out of the way. He knew he hadn’t mentioned anything about it to anyone. But with a start, he realized that he had been forced to put the address into his vehicle’s navigation system. Otherwise, he would never have been able to find it.
Now all he could think about was who’d been in his vehicle. He recalled Curtis’s interest in the car. He’d handed the man his keys so he could check it out. He’d stopped short of telling him he could drive the sports car. But he had told Curtis that he could start it up because the roar of the huge engine was part of the fun. He’d watched from the window. Helen had gone out and climbed in it as well, kidding him about the car being his midlife crisis.
Had Curtis pretended an interest in the car? Or had Helen climbed in only to check out his navigation system? Or had both of them wanted to know where Thorn and JJ had been staying so they could tell the kidnappers where to grab JJ?
He shook his head and looked down at his phone. It was synced with the car system. He laughed. All anyone had to do was look at his phone. WT tried to remember if he’d left it lying around where it could have been picked up, and realized that he’d put it on the charging station a few times in the kitchen. He’d forgotten about it until he went into Franklin’s den and had to go retrieve it.
But would that have been enough time to check his phone? He’d turned the passcode off, finding it a pain in the neck.
Did he really suspect Helen? Or even Curtis? Maybe there was an even simpler explanation. He’d been followed from the Davenport estate. He swore, realizing that he hadn’t checked for a tail. Probably wouldn’t have recognized one if he had. Had he led the kidnappers right to JJ?
He felt sick, fearing that he was responsible for getting her abducted. He could see how Thorn felt about her—and knew what it would do to him if something worse happened to her. WT would be responsible for whatever happened to the two of them. But he also felt relieved that he had come up with an explanation that didn’t include Helen.
At a tap at his door, he forced himself to rise from the end of the bed to answer it.
“Are you all right?” Helen asked, looking concerned from the doorway.
“Is Franklin back?” he asked, not about to share the bad news he’d received even though seeing her in the flesh, he had trouble believing the suspicions he’d had about her only moments ago. This was Helen, a woman he’d loved so desperately that he’d never loved another.
She shook her head. “Curtis hasn’t returned either. Should we be worried?”
“No, I’m sure he’s on his way back,” he told her, suggesting they wait in the living room. The bedroom felt too intimate. She smiled almost ruefully, as if she too felt that old chemistry stirring between them. Apparently, it was something a person never outgrew.
Last night lying in bed alone in this huge house, he’d wondered if what they’d felt for each other so long ago had been the real thing. It had certainly felt that way for him—back then—and even now with everything that was going on.
In the living room, Helen poured herself a drink. She seemed as nervous as he was as he waited for Franklin to return and Thorn to call after he’d followed up the only lead he had on JJ. Maybe it was time to call in the authorities. Maybe it was past time.
“Sure I can’t tempt you with a drink, Judge?” Helen asked from the bar.
He shook his head and looked down at his phone, willing it to ring with some good news. The fire crackled in the fireplace as Helen walked over to it, her lovely body silhouetted in the light.
“Do you ever think about us?” she asked quietly, her back to him.
His heartbeat kicked up at the soft seductive tone of her voice, let alone her words. She turned slowly to look at him. He felt young and foolish again. He almost felt tempted. “Helen—”
She cut off whatever else he might have said as she stepped to him, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. Just the touch of her lips ignited a
need he’d thought long forgotten. Her free hand cupped the back of his neck, drawing him down as she deepened the kiss.
He took her in his arms, pulling her into him. It had been so long and yet he remembered her mouth on his, her body melded to his. She smiled against his lips as she felt his evident desire and drew back to look into his eyes.
“You haven’t forgotten,” she said, still smiling that Cheshire-cat smile of hers, something else that he belatedly remembered. Helen had always loved having the upper hand.
He let go of her. “This isn’t the time or place,” he said, his voice sounding unusually gruff. In truth, he was half afraid of what would happen if they took this any further right now. Only moments ago, he’d been suspicious of her and hadn’t trusted her. She’d broken his heart. How did he know she wouldn’t do it again? Maybe he was too old for this.
“What’s wrong, Judge?” she teased. “You can’t tell me that you don’t want me as much as I want you.” He shook his head. She was right about that and she knew it. “William, we could have this time together. You aren’t really going to let a misunderstanding from so long ago keep us from a second chance?”
His cell phone rang, and she turned away, her back a steel rod of disappointment—or was it anger—as she moved to the bar to freshen her drink.
* * *
JJ WIPED HER bleeding nose and sat up, the blanket that had been wrapped around her falling to the floor. She didn’t know how long she’d been out. She touched her neck where the man had choked her into unconsciousness. Her throat hurt. Who was she kidding? Her whole body hurt. She felt as if she’d been beaten. But why wouldn’t she, after everything that had happened to her, including being thrown off a bridge into the river? She’d almost drowned.
She’d been surprised when she’d been hauled into the boat to race across the lake through the darkness. At first she’d thought she’d been rescued even though she was with the same men who’d dragged her naked from the cabin shower. They’d tossed her in the back of the van along with some clothing to wear and told her if she did as she was told, she would live.
She was alive, but for how long? she’d wondered after she’d seen where they’d taken her after pulling her out of the water. She’d looked up to see huge hulking buildings, piles of logs and old machinery etched against the night sky. Brandemiller Mill near Somers. She’d recognized it the same instant she’d been filled with terror.
The place had an eerie feel to it that had told her it had been abandoned for a very long time. It was the kind of place a body could decompose and never be found. She hadn’t been able to hear the traffic on the highway on the other side of the mill, and realized just how alone she was—with three dangerous men. If they’d brought her here to kill her, they’d picked the perfect place.
She’d tried to run only to be grabbed and thrown to the ground. She’d felt the viselike arm around her throat, seen stars flash before her eyes and then nothing. She hadn’t even gotten a chance to scream. What little fight she’d managed to put up had gotten her a bloody nose.
Blinking now, she tried to see where she was in the total blackness. The floor under her felt freezing cold. She touched it with her fingertips. Concrete? The rough surface almost felt like rough metal. At least she wasn’t back in the root cellar. That alone buoyed her spirits. And the clothing someone had put on her was at least dry and warm. They’d even given her a blanket. That had to be a good sign, right?
Pushing to her feet, she swayed as she managed to stand, the floor feeling as if it wasn’t quite level. Lifting her arms over her head, she could feel nothing. As she took a step, her bare foot made a scuffing sound. It echoed, giving her the feeling that she was in a fairly large room.
She swallowed back the panic that rose in her sore throat. She had no idea where she was, let alone what they planned to do with her now. They’d forced her to go with them to the ransom drop after dressing her in some of Geneva’s clothing. Her wrists had been bound and duct tape slapped over her mouth.
“You do anything to let Franklin Davenport know that you aren’t his precious granddaughter, and the man I have stationed near the bridge will shoot you,” Zac had told her. She hadn’t seen the man and yet she hadn’t doubted that he would kill her if he didn’t get the money. What worried her was why they hadn’t brought Geneva to the exchange. Also, she’d worried about what they planned to do with her once they had the money.
Now she had a pretty good idea. All they had to do was leave her here. One day, if this sawmill were ever leveled for new development, they’d find her skeletal remains, but by then Zac and his cohorts would be long gone with the briefcase full of money.
Tears filled her eyes. Was this nightmare never going to end? She thought of Thorn and felt a surge of anger. She wanted to live. She would live. She had to. She wiped furiously at her tears as she turned back to retrace her footsteps so she could find the blanket on the floor. She wrapped it around her, determined not to lose her shit. Life had thrown her a few obstacles. The thought made her laugh at how mildly that was putting it. So what if she’d had to improvise a lot to stay alive for at least half of her life? She’d gotten this far, hadn’t she? She couldn’t give up.
She felt her anger warm her almost down to her bare feet on the cold floor. These people wouldn’t get away with this. Somehow she would—
JJ spun around at a sound behind her, trying to see in the total blackness. She’d been so sure she was alone. Now she heard something moving toward her, a steady scrape on the floor headed in her direction.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THORN OPENED UP his motorcycle, letting it run through the dark night as fast as he could go. He’d gone through Big Fork headed north, then turned west, taking a road along the north end of Flathead Lake. He had no idea what he was looking for, believing he would know when he saw it.
Where would they take her? To a place where her screams couldn’t be heard. Not to kill her, he assured himself. They could have let her drown in the river. Instead, they’d pulled her into the boat. And taken her somewhere boat accessible.
He’d almost reached the town of Somers when he spotted the lit cell phone tower and slowed. Off to his left was Flathead Lake. He thought of the boat the kidnappers had escaped in. Ahead, he could see the lights of Somers and all the new development.
But closer he saw the skeletal remains of the abandoned old sawmill. There were numerous large buildings and rusted equipment next to the lake, along with a huge pile of old logs.
He slowed his bike. The mill was surrounded by a high chain-link that had seen better days. A thick stand of bushes had grown up along the outside of the fence. He hadn’t gone far when he saw the wide gate into what had once been a bustling sawmill. He pulled in, his headlight revealing a chain and lock on the gate, but the chain was hanging down, the lock open.
He read the name on the weathered sign: Brandemiller. It appeared to be another connection between Brandemiller and Geneva, and maybe ultimately Zac Judson and the kidnapping—if he was right and JJ was inside here somewhere.
He could see tracks where someone had driven in after the recent thunderstorm. His heart began to pound as he looked at the hulking buildings—so close to the cell tower that had pinged on Geneva’s last call. All his instincts told him this was where the call had come from, and that JJ was in there.
But what if they were wrong? If he was wrong, he would be wasting valuable time. He knew he couldn’t second-guess himself. He had to go with his gut. He cut his motor and pushed the bike into the bushes to hide it. Taking the small flashlight from his saddlebag, he turned it on and spotted a hole in the chain-link.
Praying his instincts were right this time, he slipped through the hole and into the abandoned sawmill property.
* * *
JJ MOVED SLOWLY BACKWARD, her fear growing as she tried to understand who or what was in the room with her. She had no weapon
, no real way of seeing what was coming toward her. Nowhere to run.
That became even more clear as she backed up against a cold wall in this windowless room. If that’s what it was, a room. The edge of the floor sloped downward. What was she in? Something bowl-shaped.
She didn’t have time to think about that. It had been bad enough thinking she was in a room alone. Was there a sick animal in here with her? Something that had crawled in and couldn’t find a way out?
JJ tried to still her pounding pulse so she could hear above the sound whatever it was now made as it approached slowly—cautiously? Whatever had been moving across the rough floor toward her stopped. She heard a sound like something alive taking a breath. Her eyes stared into the complete darkness for movement, feeling as if she’d gone blind and deaf, as well.
JJ wiped her nose as it began to bleed again and took a breath of her own, and then froze. Whatever it was in the room with her was moving again. Growing closer. A slow, tenuous sound.
She took a couple of quick steps to the side, hoping to circle around whatever it was—until she stepped in something wet, making a splashing sound. She froze in place, realizing that she’d been heard. Whatever was in the room with her had heard her and now knew exactly where she was.
The smell of the liquid rose around her—stagnant water? She hoped that was all it was as she held her breath and listened. If she moved, she would be heard.
“I know you’re there.” The low whisper echoed ghost-like through the space.
Goose bumps rippled over JJ’s flesh.
* * *
FRANKLIN FELT NUMB. He didn’t remember calling Willie after the bungled ransom drop. Nor did he remember driving home. Now as he walked in his front door, he headed directly to the bar and poured himself a drink. He took a swig of it, swallowed and turned to see Helen and Willie staring at him.
