Gone to Her Grave (Rogue River Novella Book 2)

by Melinda Leigh

  Static roared in his ear.

  “Carly!”

  Seth swiped his keys off the hall table and bolted for the front door. He had to get there before Carly. The connection broke before she could answer, and all that sounded in Seth’s ear was dreaded silence.

  Carly put the Jeep in park and turned off her headlights. She lowered her window. Humidity, thick and heavy in the air, muffled the night sounds of the forest. The buzz of insects surrounded her vehicle. Nearby an owl hooted. Electricity hovered in the air. Overhead, storm clouds roiled, blocking out the moonlight and leaving the rural road dark.

  A car approached. She turned and looked through her rear window. Headlights sliced through the blackness. The car parked behind her, and a figure got out. Even in the dark, she knew the shape of his body.

  Seth.

  He walked toward her Jeep. The sight of him, capable, confident—and armed—tempered her fear.

  “You waited.” Relief poured through his words.

  His reaction brushed Carly’s nerves like a backward stroke to a cat’s fur. “Of course I waited. I don’t carry a gun. In this situation I’d be useless in there alone.”

  Did he really think she would run into a potentially explosive situation without any backup? No wonder he’d always been so freaked out by her job. He thought she was a complete idiot. She compartmentalized the anger stirring in her chest, to deal with it later. Even if she wanted to protect Gary, running in without law enforcement support would likely make the situation worse. She’d provide Darren with a ready hostage.

  He nodded, then straightened to scan their surroundings. “Any sign of the boy?”

  “No. But he shouldn’t have beat me here.” She prayed. “His trip was a bit shorter, as the dirt bike travels, but the dark would slow him down.” Carly thrummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “What now?”

  “County sheriff deputies are ten minutes out. We wait if we can.”

  She nodded. In her head she knew Darren had already had plenty of time to hurt his family. His wife and daughters could very well be dead. She’d been to more than a few domestic disputes with children caught in the middle. Alcohol and drugs often fueled already volatile emotions. But Darren hadn’t looked drunk or high when she’d seen him that morning.

  Just mean. Plain mean.

  Had Darren been simmering for a long time? Or had losing his job triggered his rage?

  Seth paced the dirty asphalt. In cargo shorts and a snug T, he didn’t look much like a cop, but his body radiated tension in the coil of his muscles, as if he were still a running back waiting for the snap. This was no game. His posture and hard body were badass.

  The high-pitched whine of a dirt bike pierced the humidity.

  “Shit.” Seth stopped. His head tilted as he listened. No sirens. “You wait here.”

  Carly shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t go in alone. Neither should you.”

  “Okay.” He spit the word out as if it hurt. “But you do as I say.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Wait a second.” He jogged to his car and opened the trunk. He pushed a Kevlar vest through her window. “Put this on.”

  “But what about you?”

  “This is not negotiable. Better hurry up. I don’t hear that bike anymore.”

  Carly froze. Thunder rumbled overhead. After it faded, the lack of engine whine made the night seem eerily quiet. Gary was home.

  “Okay.” She got out of the Jeep and shrugged into the too-large vest. Then slid behind the wheel, flipped her headlights back on, and shifted into drive.

  He pulled in front of her. She followed him down the dark road to the Fishers’ dirt drive. He shut off his headlights as he made the turn.

  Seth parked some distance from the house. She parked next to him. Grabbing her flashlight from the glove compartment, she got out of the Jeep. The dogs were barking loud enough to wake anyone within a half mile. No sneaking up on Darren.

  The forest canopy nearly met over the home. Gloomy in the daytime, the property was totally Friday the 13th at night. Carly was no camp counselor, but her head was filled with images of Darren with his ax.

  Though an ax would likely be the least of their worries. What good old country boy didn’t own a couple of rifles?

  Seth closed his car door and walked over. A powerful flashlight protruded from his pocket. He handed her his backup piece, a subcompact Beretta she’d fired before.

  She shook her head. “Agency policy—”

  “You have a concealed carry permit, and I know you can shoot that thing. Screw agency policy.” Seth pushed the gun into her hands. Then he checked the straps on the vest. “Would you rather let Darren Fisher put a bullet in my chest?”

  “I shouldn’t be wearing your vest.”

  “Nonnegotiable.”

  She took the gun and let him lead the way up the driveway to the front of the house. Seth stood aside and motioned for her to do the same. Before she could knock to announce their presence, angry voices emanated from the back of the house.

  “You worthless little piece of shit!” Darren yelled. “You hand that over right now.”

  “Where’s my ma?” Gary’s voice shook.

  Seth tucked Carly behind him as they ran for the backyard. In the light of the shed, Gary was pointing a handgun at Darren. Less than ten feet separated the two. Gary’s back was facing Seth and Carly.

  “Police!” Seth yelled. The beam of his flashlight spotlighted the confrontation.

  With one glance, Darren sized up the situation and stepped to his left. The movement put Gary in the direct line of fire and turned the teenager into a human shield. Gary’s head whipped around to see who was behind him. Darren lunged, his movement much faster than Carly would have expected from such a large man. He ripped the gun from Gary’s hands and spun the boy around. Darren immobilized him with a beefy hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  He pressed the muzzle against the boy’s temple. “One more move and the kid’s dead. Drop the gun.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “I can’t do that, Darren.” Seth kept his gun leveled at the psycho with the gun and hostage.

  Worst. Fucking. Nightmare.

  Sweat dripped down his temple. What he wouldn’t give for the county SWAT team and a sniper. But without those things his best option was to stall for time and hope that when Darren saw the flood of county vehicles and armed men, he’d come to his senses.

  But Darren had other ideas. He started dragging the kid backward, toward the woods.

  Carly eased away from Seth. She was clearly trying to circle around and flank Darren.

  “Stop right there, bitch.” Darren angled the boy to ensure his body was blocking any possible shot. “This is all your fault, you and your interference. The government don’t have the right to tell a man how to treat his family. Kids should be happy with whatever food they get, not go crying to social services for a fucking handout.”

  “It’s no shame to need help,” Carly said.

  “Yes, it is,” Darren yelled. “We ain’t a charity case. My family is greedy. That’s the problem.”

  But Darren didn’t look like he missed any meals. No doubt his wife and kids got the scraps after he was full.

  “Where are they, Darren?” Seth asked.

  “They’ve been taught a lesson they won’t forget.” Emotion left Darren’s voice, making his statement cold enough to raise the few hairs on the back of Seth’s neck that weren’t already standing upright.

  Darren and Gary had covered fifteen feet. The trees lay just a few yards behind them. The kid’s face remained impassive, as if he’d shut down.

  The first raindrops hit the ground, plopping into the dirt and leaving tiny moist craters in the dry earth. The thin wail of sirens floated over the patter of steadily increasing rainfall and the now-frenzied barking of the dogs.

  Darren continued to pull Gary backward toward the forest. Seth followed, his gaz
e and his gun steady. His peripheral senses kept track of Carly’s presence to his side. Behind him he could hear the first responders pulling into the yard. Sirens and strobe lights punctuated their arrival. But Seth kept his direct attention riveted on Darren.

  “Come on, Darren. Give it up. You’re outnumbered,” Seth reasoned.

  Darren dropped the kid, ducked behind a tree, and disappeared into the darkness.

  Seth glanced over his shoulder. Four deputies stepped out of two county sheriff cars. Carly was helping Gary get to his feet.

  Seth grabbed him by the arm and hauled him to the deputies. “Lock him in a vehicle.”

  “You can’t—”

  The cops ignored the kid’s protest and put him in the backseat of the first cruiser. Another car pulled into the drive. Seth gave the county cops a two-sentence summary. Two officers went with Carly to the house.

  Seth’s heart protested as he watched her move away from him. He wanted to protect her. But an armed and dangerous Darren was running loose, and he had to be stopped. Seth jogged toward the woods with two deputies, leaving the newly arrived cop to stand vigil over Gary and direct any more arrivals.

  The rain picked up to a downpour. They entered the forest, the sound of water hitting foliage drowning out the sound of their movements.

  Three high-powered flashlights cut swaths through the gloom. Rain poured through foliage, and water dripped into Seth’s eyes. He shook his head and scanned the woods around him. The beam of his flashlight stopped on a footprint. He signaled to the other cops and followed the direction of Darren’s flight.

  Had he run? Or was he hiding in the darkness, armed and waiting?

  Carly waited on the front step while the sheriff’s deputies entered the house. The next few minutes dragged.

  A deputy opened the front door and signaled to her to come. “You’re not going to believe what we found.”

  The other officer slid through the doorway and hurried toward his car.

  Were they even alive? Holding her breath, Carly followed him into the house. The front door opened into a living room. She scanned the familiar space. Everything looked the same as on her previous visits, from the scratched and dented furniture to the threadbare carpet.

  The cop gestured toward an open door. “In the basement.”

  Heart jittering, Carly descended the wooden steps. “Oh, no.”

  Lined up on the concrete slab were four large metal dog kennels. Padlocks secured the doors. Tammy Fisher and the three little girls each huddled in the center of a cage. A bowl of water was attached to the inside of each kennel. A sack of generic dog kibble leaned in the corner of the room. Shock paralyzed Carly; then relief loosened her muscles as she assessed their condition. All three were sitting up, eyes open wide, bodies trembling. A few bruises colored Tammy’s face, and she cradled one arm close to her body. Carly didn’t see any visible injuries on the children. Tears streaked Tammy Fisher’s face, but the children were frighteningly dry-eyed.

  God, or maybe the devil, only knew what Darren had done to them, but they were alive.

  Carly slid the gun into the back of her waistband.

  “We’ll have you all out of there in a few minutes. Just need bolt cutters.” The deputy’s voice was strained. He leaned close to Carly’s ear. “Ambulance is on the way.”

  The second deputy jogged down the steps and cut the locks. They helped Tammy and the children crawl out of the narrow doors and wrapped blankets around their shoulders.

  “He—he said his dogs were more grateful than us, and maybe if he treated us like dogs, we could learn to behave.”

  “How long were you in there, Tammy?”

  “Since you left yesterday. At least I think it was yesterday.”

  Right after he’d kicked Gary out. Those kennels were designed to house large, powerful dogs, but a boy the size of Gary wouldn’t have fit. Carly supposed they should be grateful he hadn’t killed the teen.

  They waited in the living room. Carly gave the girls and Tammy glasses of water as they waited for the ambulance.

  Outside, rain poured in a steady sheet. The ambulance arrived, red lights swirling in the slanted rainfall. Tammy and the girls were loaded up and taken away. The deputies walked back and forth to the basement with crime scene equipment. Carly eyed the covered back porch. She needed a relatively quiet place to call her boss and give him an update. The dogs had finally stopped barking. They whined and paced at the ends of their chains.

  As she stepped through the back door, a hand grabbed her arm and yanked her off the porch. Pain ripped through her shoulder.

  “Come here, bitch. This is all your fault.” Darren pulled the gun out of her waistband and shoved it into his own pocket. Then he dragged her toward the woods.

  Seth swept his flashlight in a steady arc. The rain fell in a blinding sheet, obscuring the dark forest. Water ran into his eyes, and he wiped a hand over his face to clear his vision. His clothes were plastered to his skin. He scrambled over a fallen tree and into a puddle. The mud pulled at his shoes, producing a sucking sound with every step. But the wet earth allowed him to track Darren through the woods. If the ground had been dry, the asshole would have disappeared. Darren was a hunter. He knew these woods, while Seth and the two deputies were, literally, traveling blind.

  His light fell on a footprint.

  “Found another one,” he called, but the deputies kept running, unable to hear him over the driving rain. Wait. What the fuck? “Stop!”

  He squinted at the ground, then surveyed the surrounding forest. In the distance a siren approached, its sound growing louder as the vehicle drew closer.

  Something was off. The rain was disorienting, muffling sound and obscuring Seth’s vision, but the siren seemed to be coming from an odd direction. Unless they’d turned around. “Shit.”

  Darren was circling back.

  Seth broke into a run, his feet sliding and splashing in the muck. He leaped over a log. His shoe slid on wet moss, and he went down face-first into the mud. His flashlight and gun slid down the trail. The flashlight went out. The gun disappeared.

  Seth lunged to his feet, fear for Carly driving him forward. He scooped up the flashlight and slipped the switch back and forth. Nothing. Desperate, he scanned the ground. Where was his gun? He couldn’t see shit between the darkness and the downpour. No time to keep looking.

  That bastard Darren was headed right toward Carly.

  He ran for the house. The rain slowed, and he could hear the deputies far behind him. They’d noticed his about-face. Lungs burning, Seth slid to a stop at the edge of the clearing. Ahead, the front yard blazed with emergency vehicles and flashing strobe lights. His gaze skimmed over the crowd of responders. All male uniformed bodies. Where was Carly?

  He scanned the tree line.

  Where was Darren?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Terror drowned out the agony in Carly’s shoulder. Her heart battered her chest as Darren half-dragged her through the muddy weeds toward the forest. Rain drenched her in seconds, plastering her hair to her head.

  She could not go with him. He would kill her.

  She gathered her breath and tried to scream, but her vocal cords wouldn’t function in her dry throat. Darren paused to whirl and open-hand her across the face. Pain burst red-hot through her cheek.

  But delivering the blow slowed his pace—and loosened his grip on her bicep. Before he had a chance to adjust his hold, Carly dropped her weight to the ground. Her butt hit the mud with a cold splash. He leaned down, his beefy face twisted in fury, his size dwarfing her.

  She spun on her back and put her feet between them. He lunged forward, and she struck out, kicking his kneecap.

  “You fucking bitch!” The downpour muffled his scream. He reached over her body again.

  Carly rocked back, pulled her knee to her chest, and shot her heel up into his face. Her kick connected with his jaw, knocking him backward. The Beretta fell out
of his pocket as he stumbled backward a step. He regained his balance in an instant and whipped his own handgun around. Carly rolled, snatching up the Beretta. She fumbled with the weapon one-handed. Her left arm refused to obey her commands. It hung from her body, useless and oddly disjointed. She gripped the gun and brought it around.

  Too late.

  Darren kicked it out of her hand. His body loomed over her body, his gun arcing toward her head. A cruel smile twisted his features as he pointed the weapon at her face.

  A flying body hit him in the midsection. Darren went over on his back. Seth landed on top of him.

  Carly skittered back. She searched the ground for a gun. Either gun. There! She spotted the Beretta in a clump of crabgrass. She rolled to her knees and lurched toward the weapon. Snatching it up, she turned and pointed it at the dark figures on the ground.

  A flashlight beam fell across the struggling men.

  But it was obvious Seth didn’t need the help. He straddled Darren’s chest and pummeled him in the face with an elbow. It wasn’t the first blow. Blood poured from Darren’s nose and a cut above his eyebrow. His left eye looked like raw meat.

  “We got him covered, Seth!” Two deputies were pointing guns at Darren. One circled around to cover Darren from a different angle.

  Seth stopped, one arm still raised to deliver another strike. Panting, he levered his body off the man. A deputy rolled Darren onto his face and cuffed his hands behind his back.

  Carly lowered the gun in her hand. Her body began to shake. The numbness faded as the adrenaline began to wear off. Pain bloomed fresh in her shoulder and rolled through her bones like thunder. Dizziness followed. Seth took the gun and pulled her to his chest just as her knees went out from under her. He scooped her into his arms. Body heat seeped through the soaked cotton of his T-shirt. Carly rested her face against his chest and let the blackness take over.

  “How is she?”

  Icing his battered knuckles, Seth looked up as Zane dropped into the chair next to him in a quiet corner of the ER waiting room.