All the Shiny Things: A Kate Reid Novel (Kate Reid Series Book 1)

by Mahle, Robin

  “Oh, we won’t be going far and not really out of town. I’ve been monitoring the police scanners, so I know where the roadblocks are. And besides, with the media helicopters hovering everywhere, broadcasting the FBI’s every move, I think we’ve got the advantage here. There’s one more place I’m pretty sure the FBI doesn’t know about, not yet anyway. I think we’ll be able to spend some time there for a while.” He placed his hand on her head, his touch causing even greater pain to her already throbbing skull. His hand slid down her long dark hair, eventually caressing her back. “I miss being with you, little Katie. And I’m very curious to see how much you’ve learned over the years.”

  Her mind flashed back to visions of him, caressing her in the same manner. Younger, thinner, but just as terrifying, especially to the child she once was. She began to feel the same fear that ruled her younger self, running through the forest.

  He yanked her arm further and she dragged her feet until she was able to catch up with his quick pace. He was in a hurry, which meant to her that he knew they must be close. What was his plan?

  The doors opened and the light poured into the warehouse. Katie’s eyes squinted at the brightness, her swollen eye now in searing pain. The hospital gown she was still wearing allowed the cold air to penetrate right through to her bones and the paper-thin white camisole she still had on beneath offered only a little more protection.

  When they reached the car, she noticed her bag lying on the back seat. The front passenger seat contained a grocery bag filled with bloodied bandages. There was another bag that had a hat and a few other things in it, but she couldn’t see what they were. He wasn’t leaving anything behind.

  He shoved her into the back seat and walked around to the driver’s side, when he paused and looked back at the warehouse. She watched him stand there for a minute and then he looked at her again, like he was thinking he forgot something. He stepped back around, pulled open the door and dragged her back out. “You got me worked up so much, I almost forgot my most treasured possession.”

  Katie knew it was the box. It still sat on the stool. Her pulse began to race, the closer they got to the back room where it remained. Would he notice? He released her arm long enough to take hold of the box. Then once he held it securely against his chest, he gripped her arm again, squeezing hard.

  She winced in pain, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her head.

  They raced back to the car; she was tossed into the backseat like a ragdoll. When he jumped into the driver’s seat, bringing the engine to life, he sped out of sight of the abandoned warehouse.

  Katie looked through the rear window, the building shrinking in the distance. He hadn’t noticed, not yet anyway, but that was fine because there was nothing he could do about it now. She managed the briefest of smiles, remembering the heart-shaped pendant lying on the floor, behind a leg of the chair where she had been bound.

  During the night, awakening briefly, she had managed to drag herself and the chair to the wooden box. He was just outside the door, blocking it, asleep and snoring. It was a struggle to maneuver the box with bound hands, but she removed the pendant, opened it, and placed a scrap of her hospital gown that had snagged on the fire escape into the locket. She carefully placed herself in exactly the same position, the blood drops from her hands in the same spot in relation to the chair. She tucked the locket behind the back chair leg.

  It wasn’t much, but Katie hoped it would be enough for Marshall to know that she was still alive, for now.

  “Your clothes are in that bag. Get changed,” Hendrickson said.

  “I can’t. My hands are still tied.”

  “Goddamn it!”

  He was agitated and becoming increasingly short-tempered. Did he really have a plan?

  “Pull your legs up and through so your arms are in the front.”

  She did as he asked and managed to slip on the jeans she was wearing when they took her to the hospital. The bag still had everything in it, except for her cell phone.

  His face still appeared badly burned, but he’d changed his bandages, removing some entirely, leaving the least damaged areas exposed. He was wearing the hat now and he cringed when he put on the sunglasses, no doubt from the pain of the burns.

  “Where are we going?”

  They seemed to be heading east, from what she could gather. What was there? She wracked her brain. The nearest place was Bridgeville. It was about as small town as you could get in this area, even smaller than Rio Dell. The back country roads could easily be overlooked.

  Marshall wouldn’t overlook anything, not as long as he had a say in finding her. But who was Scarborough taking orders from now? The FBI had completely taken over, so who was in charge? Katie had to keep up hope that they’d go back to the warehouse, find the pendant, and realize she’d been taken someplace else. There had to be a way to contact Marshall. Wherever Hendrickson was taking her, they weren’t likely to find her before he’d had his fill.

  There was nothing between Rio Dell and Bridgeville; not even a convenience store. If that was where they were going, it was only about half an hour or so away. The best Katie could recall, not many people lived there. Maybe some cabins dotting the green hills, a mom and pop grocery store, maybe a fast food place by now. She’d only been there once when she was thirteen. It was a perfect place to hide. Find an abandoned home on a couple of acres. It wouldn’t be that hard.

  Katie saw the sign pointing toward the 36, but he continued going straight, down a single lane road. No one else was in sight. A sinking feeling started to settle in. She began to doubt her ability to come out of this alive. She would be gone and he would escape, once again. She couldn’t let that happen.

  Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back on the seat. In her mind’s eye, Marshall was standing in front of her, his body inches from hers, both naked under the shower. She remembered his kiss, his firm arms wrapped around her as they embraced. In that moment, her mind jumped to a scene she couldn’t explain, but one which compelled her to act.

  Katie immediately lurched forward, threw her still zip tied arms over his head, reared back, and began choking him. The car swerved on the country road. He slammed on the brakes, launching her forward. Katie was halfway over the front seat now. He reached behind her head, his hands digging into the back of her neck, and pulled her over the rest of the way. She scrambled to get her legs out in front of her and began kicking him in the side. Her arms were stretching too far now and started to ache. He pushed her head back with one hand and tried to lift her arms up with the other. Her own strength caught her by surprise. Though he’d landed a few good blows, she’d managed to keep hold of him. The car was out of control and heading for the shoulder of the road.

  A moment later, both of his feet pounded on the brakes. They spun around; Katie flying wildly between the dash and the passenger seat, pulling his head along with her. When the car finally came to a stop, he pounced on top of her, the weight of his body knocking the wind from her lungs. He easily tossed her arms over his head and was now free of her.

  He pummeled her face and then started choking her. “How does that feel, Katie?” He laughed.

  She struggled for breath, quickly bringing her elbows in toward her sides, using her hands to loosen his grip on her neck. The taste of blood filled her mouth and the pressure behind her eyes made them feel as if they were about to explode. He was choking the life out of her, right here, right now.

  But then he stopped, releasing his hands from the death grip around her throat. She inhaled a great deep breath to refill her lungs quickly before she passed out; a terrible gasping sound escaped. She instinctively leaned over onto her side and spit out copious amounts of blood from the severe beating her face took once again.

  She could hear him laughing. Had she even left a mark on him?

  “Are we done here?” He wiped the blood from his lip.

  Apparently, she’d connected at least one hit. His bandages were bleeding through. She looke
d at his neck. She had done some damage, but it was far from enough to stop him.

  “Get back there!” he shoved her back over the seat with ease.

  The rest of the journey, she remained still and silent. He tossed one of his clean bandages at her and told her to clean off her face. Glancing back at her in the rear view mirror every minute or two ensured she wouldn’t make another stupid attempt. It had been stupid and almost had cost her her life. And although she hadn’t hurt him to any great degree, she did accomplish what she’d set out to do.

  Before her emboldened attack, she caught sight of her cell phone sitting in the center console in the front seat. The scene that flashed through her mind was of the attack. Once in the front seat, Katie had to figure a way to take the phone and she had. Kicking him with her legs she positioned herself in such a manner as to snatch it up while he was busy protecting himself. She’d slipped it into the pocket of her jeans, beneath the hospital gown. He had no idea she’d taken it.

  So Katie remained quiet, waiting for her chance. A sign appeared ahead and soon came into focus. “Bridgeville 10 Miles.”

  26

  Bridgeville was one of those towns that if you blinked, you’d miss it. Hendrickson drove slowly down to the main street, then veered left; presumably in search of someplace to stay.

  Katie feared what he would do to whoever happened to be occupying a place he found suitable. She needed him to leave her just long enough to call Marshall to tell him where she was. Had the FBI already been to the warehouse? If so, they would be searching for tire tracks in order to track down this car. Having worked with Marshall this long, she’d learned a lot about tracking evidence. But, if she could just call him, this would all be over.

  “This’ll do,” Hendrickson said.

  The small A-frame home was old and tucked back away from the street and its neighbors. From the outside, it didn’t look as though anyone lived there. She prayed that was the case.

  Hendrickson pulled up along the dirt driveway. It was barely nine a.m. and the sun still sat low enough in the sky to shine through the windows of the home. By the looks of it, no one had lived there for a long time. He leaned toward the passenger seat, opened the glove box, and pulled out a gun. Then, he opened her door and yanked Katie out of the back seat. She had no idea he had a gun. He must have gotten it from Wilson’s home yesterday.

  She knew he hadn’t expected to survive this time. Was the gun for himself or for anyone who tried to rescue her?

  They approached the front door. Hendrickson looked through the curtains of the front window that had been partially open; just enough to get a glimpse of the inside. He pounded on the rusted screen door. No answer.

  He pulled her around the side of the house and toward the back. There were no fences or gates. No one out here needed such security. In fact, Katie suspected the front door wasn’t even locked, unless the owner happened to lose it to the bank. The bank might have locked it up tight.

  The backyard was overgrown and weedy, with scraps of trash and old rotted wood lying around. A rusted trike was under the makeshift aluminum cover that passed as the patio roof. Katie wondered what could have happened to the family that lived there and thanked God they weren’t there now.

  He dragged her back to the front of the house and tried the door. “No one’s here,” he said, opening it.

  A stale odor floated out. This place had been empty for a while, it seemed. Some furnishings were still in place, old and torn. Hendrickson wouldn’t let her out of his sight while he searched for any signs that someone might show up. When they walked past the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Katie’s handiwork didn’t escape notice. He saw that blood had seeped through some of his new bandages after they’d struggled. His face looked just as hideous as it had when he had appeared at her hospital bed.

  Any person who would go to such extremes to get what they wanted was beyond insane. He was obsessed; obsessed with her, even more so than she had been with him. The part that frightened her the most was that she wanted to kill him as much as he wanted to kill her.

  With his fingers, he lightly pressed at his face. “Look at what you made me do to my face.” He pulled her close so she could see his reflection in the mirror. Her face hadn’t looked much better. The bleeding had stopped, but her left eye was black; the swelling worsened by the struggle. A gash that started just above her left eye, where the boot had made contact, extended down her temple and stopped at her cheekbone. She would never look the same again.

  “We look like quite the pair, little Katie, both of us scarred by this. Maybe the only saving grace is that we won’t have to live with it for long.”

  She shuddered, knowing that he had already resigned to his death and there was no doubt he was going to take her with him.

  He led her back down the stairs and tossed her onto the worn, dilapidated couch. “You’ll be here for a while; might as well get comfortable.” Hendrickson walked into the kitchen and turned on the faucet. There was water, probably from a community well, but no electricity.

  They had no food and only half a day’s worth of light left. Darkness would set in by about five-thirty. On this sparsely populated street, there were no lights, no restaurants with illuminated signs; nothing but black and the occasional porch light that might be left on to guide a loved one home.

  She had to figure out a way to call Marshall. So far, Hendrickson hadn’t noticed the missing phone, but she knew it was only a matter of time. As soon as he went back out to the car to gather his things, he’d know it was gone. He would do one of two things: beat the hell out of her again or shoot her, neither of which seemed a desirable solution.

  “Can I use the bathroom?” she asked, pain shooting through her jaw with each word she spoke. “I’d like to clean up my face and I have to pee.”

  His distorted features looked even more gruesome as he approached her. “We were just upstairs. Are you trying to play games with me?”

  She squeezed out a few tears on demand, although the stinging sensation they created brought about actual tears. “I just need to go to the bathroom, I swear.”

  He towered over her, lifting her from the couch. “Don’t think for a second I’m going to let you go up there alone.”

  She had to make that call; she was running out of time. “Can I close the door, please?” she asked as they stood in front of the bathroom.

  “Just get in there.” He shoved her inside and slammed the door. “I’m listening and I’d better hear you pee.”

  There was a small window above the tub, too small even for her petite frame. Not to mention, she was on the second floor and jumping from that height would cause injury enough to keep her from running.

  No, her focus was on calling Marshall. She only had to last a few hours before he would find her, if that. But how to make the call with Hendrickson listening?

  Her hands were still bound and so removing her jeans took some effort. She did have to go, that much was true. She’d removed the phone from her pocket and turned it on. He must have switched it off when he took her, knowing they’d be tracking it.

  The phone seemed to take forever to boot up. When it did, the battery showed fifteen percent. It was enough; that was all that mattered.

  “I don’t hear anything,” he said.

  She managed to sit and finally a stream started. A last second decision, she called 911 instead. Given the amount of time she had, it was probably the better course of action.

  “Hello, 911, what’s your emergency?”

  She cringed, wondering if he’d heard the voice on the other end of the phone. She was finished going and knew she couldn’t speak.

  The 911 operator asked again, “What’s your emergency?”

  She cupped her hand over the phone to quiet her words. “Bridgeville.”

  “Ma’am?”

  She disconnected the call, shoving the phone back into her pocket. She’d hoped that the operator would dispatch the police and,
by turning on her phone, the FBI would pick up a trace. This was all she could do now: hope.

  “I’m coming in there!” he shouted.

  “I’m done and I’m coming out now.”

  Katie kept her head down as she walked out of the bathroom. To look him in the face might reveal what she had done. Casting her eyes downward would serve as reassurance that he was in the position of power. She had no question in her mind to the contrary.

  Her heart pounded fiercely against her chest. At any moment, he could go out to the car and she feared that would be the end. Please, Marshall, please find me. It was by far the riskiest thing she’d done yet and he wasn’t likely to give her any more warnings. He was playing a game with the FBI, but knew that his time was running out. And, if she’d spoiled his plans, there was no point in keeping her alive.

  Hendrickson forced her back onto the couch and remained towering in front of her, his large frame completely blocking her view. He began removing his bandages; peeling each one away from the burned, oozing flesh. The burns had been severe and covered nearly half of his face.

  She kept her head down, not wanting her empty stomach to turn. At this point, it would not take much for the bile to rise.

  “Look at me!” he shouted. “Look at what you did to me!” He bent down, his face within inches of hers. His eyes were brown and bulging out of their sockets, but pristine white flesh remained around them. They moved up and down her body, scanning every inch of her. Could he see the phone in her pocket beneath the hospital gown? He reached his hand out toward her, but rather than strike her again, he placed it on her breast.

  What thin clothing she was wearing allowed for little modesty. The heat from his cupped hand easily penetrated the gown and camisole and she could feel the slightest movements in his fingers.

  He began pushing and squeezing hard, but she refused to show pain. She knew he wanted nothing more than to watch her suffer and she did not give him that satisfaction. He pushed her chest, grunted, and finally released her.