Manhunt

by Tyler Anne Snell

  “Why did she keep them, then?” Braydon asked, genuinely curious.

  “Because one day a very young Sophia cried about not remembering her father. She was a toddler when he died so she didn’t have the memories that Lisa did. Their mother had no business being a mother and didn’t know or care about helping the little girl. So, when Sophia wouldn’t stop crying, Lisa did what her father had done every night before bed and rolled onto the ground over and over again until Sophia finally stopped.” Richard smiled. “It may not seem like that much of a story but after all of these years Lisa could have told Sophia that the whole routine used to make her sad—make her miss her father—but instead she’s kept the act up and even stocks her house and mine with tons of odd pillows because in her words ‘Sophia deserves them.’ Lisa believes with all of her heart that Sophia deserves to always be happy. So, you tell me, Detective, do you think Lisa would say that Sophia deserves to be brutally killed by a sadistic man?”

  “No,” he answered.

  “Then why would I?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sophia felt 50 percent better once the hospital gown was off. There was something about the way they looked that set her on edge. Maybe it was the fact that if a person was wearing one it meant they were in the hospital and therefore not in the best of shape. Either way, after Cara helped her into her normal clothes, she gave a loud sigh of relief.

  “You okay?” Cara asked.

  “All things considered, yes.” She sat down in one of the chairs and went to work putting on one of her shoes. The doctor guessed the drug would leave her tired and wobbly for a few more hours but she would fully recover. He equated Nathanial’s injection to taking one very large sleeping pill before chasing it down with some whiskey. Sophia could attest to this assessment—her body wasn’t as off-kilter as it had been, but she wouldn’t be passing any field sobriety tests in the near future. Good thing she was already in the hands of the Culpepper PD. “I still can’t believe I was out for almost thirteen hours. I guess Nathanial knew what he was doing when he made this stuff.” She quieted as guilt pushed out her next question. “How’s Amanda doing? Braydon said she still hasn’t woken up.”

  “The doctor said she had a lot more of that stuff in her system but they were able to stop the bleeding and stitched her up good. So that’s a plus,” Cara said. She tossed Sophia’s wayward right shoe at her. “Since she was injected before y’all brought her in, they think she’ll wake up by tonight. Marina sure hasn’t left her side, though. I’ve never known that woman to be quiet this long. It kind of makes me nervous.”

  “It’s good that she’s staying with her.”

  “Yeah, normally you can hear the two of them fussing at each other from a mile away but...I think they’re pretty close when you get down to it.”

  “That’s a relationship I can understand.” Sophia smiled.

  “We’re also leaving them an officer just in case.” She folded her arms across her chest as her face hardened. The last officer they had left to guard someone had ended up dead, but they both knew it wouldn’t play out like that with Amanda. Nathanial had made it clear that he only had eyes for Sophia.

  “I’m glad she’s going to make it,” she said truthfully. “I just hope her stomach doesn’t scar.” Cara gave her a sympathetic look. They both knew it would. She felt guilty that Amanda had been used as a personal message to her and Braydon. It also didn’t help that it was her name that had been cut into the woman’s skin.

  The doctor came soon after and gave Sophia the okay to leave, though he tried to make her stay for observation at least twice. Braydon took over helping her walk to the truck. His closeness allowed his beautiful scent to envelop her. It stirred up the feelings from their first kiss, which felt like a lifetime ago. The thought sent a pleasant tingle through her. She was almost sad when he helped her into the cab. Cara, though off duty, followed behind the truck as they left the hospital.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, settling into her seat. Once again, she marveled at how familiar this routine had become.

  “Back to my place for the moment. I didn’t have a chance to grab your things earlier today.”

  What with a crazed man dropping a half-dead woman on the porch, she thought.

  “Then where are you putting me?” She was half teasing. It seemed like every time she had gotten into his truck he had taken her somewhere new.

  “You and Cara will be headed to Château Vega.”

  “Isn’t Cara off duty?” she asked. It wasn’t fair to keep sticking the officer with her if she didn’t have to.

  “Everyone on the force is working this case, off duty or not.” There was a note of pride for his peers in his tone. “Small towns are stereotypically close, remember? If you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.”

  “How much does the town know of what’s been going on?” She hadn’t had the chance to really wonder how everything that happened looked on the outside. She suspected that, under different circumstances, she wouldn’t have been kept in the loop of knowledge during the investigation. Plus, aside from the hospital, she hadn’t really been anywhere truly public without an officer or Braydon. If there was gossip going around Culpepper it fell on deaf ears where Sophia was concerned.

  “After James’s death, Captain Westin made an announcement about Nathanial being a dangerous man and to take safety precautions until we have him in custody. Knowing how unstable he really is now, I’m glad we let the town know that he’s running around.”

  “And what about Lisa and Amanda?”

  “We’ve tried to keep their names out of the public, if only because people around here can get really riled up and turn into vigilantes.” He sighed. “Normally, it might be a good thing to have an entire town looking for them, but it’s too much of a risk with Nathanial. He has no empathy—if someone got in his way, he’d only drag them into his little play of evil.” She had to agree there. Culpepper had already lost enough because of the man. “Richard and Marina kept quiet as best they could but, you know how gossip is—I’m sure it isn’t as much of a secret as we want it to be.”

  She nodded and yawned. The Nathanial Cocktail was one heck of a drug.

  “So why are Cara and I going to Richard’s?”

  “I’m not comfortable with the security at Lisa’s or my place anymore,” he said bitterly. “Richard already has guards and a gate.”

  “He has guards?” she asked incredulously. Was Richard that big of a man that he needed not one but multiple people to watch over him?

  “He has two on rotation year-round—cousins Able and Dwight Stevens. He brought them with him when he moved here. They live in a house at the back of the property with Able’s wife. From what I know of them, they’re pretty dependable guys. Honestly, I should have taken you there instead of my place.” He paused, about to say something, but then stopped himself. He turned his neck to the side and popped it before continuing. “I guess I just felt better with you near me.”

  Sophia felt herself blush, but wasn’t embarrassed by it. She was used to the effect he had on her and didn’t care to make excuses for it. Instead, she turned to face him and smiled.

  “I felt better, too.” That seemed to ease his mind. He didn’t smile but he stopped frowning. “So, while we’re at Richard’s where will you be?”

  “Hunting.”

  The house at 2416 Gothic Street hadn’t changed in the past seventeen hours or so since they had been gone but to Sophia it felt like a different world. Captain Westin was sitting on the front porch looking down at the spot where Amanda had been when they pulled into the driveway. Sophia felt more confident in her abilities to walk alone. She shooed off the helping hands of Braydon and Cara and walked right up to the captain and shook his hand. He returned the gesture with a firm grip.

  “Glad to see you’re okay, H
ardwick,” he boomed. “Pretty gutsy move you pulled.”

  “Thanks,” she said, “at least I think.”

  “Don’t worry, that was a compliment,” Braydon whispered just over her shoulder. His breath tickled the exposed skin of her neck. Suddenly she was self-conscious of the fact that she’d been holed up in a hospital bed all day without a shower or a good teeth-brushing.

  “Right,” she said, making sure to turn her breath away from the man. She excused herself to his room and began to pack up her things. When the EMTs were loading Amanda into the ambulance, she and Braydon had grabbed a change of clothes to throw on in lieu of their pajamas or, in Braydon’s case, the lack thereof. He had flung open his chest of drawers, grabbed a pair of jeans and a black shirt then put them on as he ran back outside. Sophia had taken more time with her jeans and tank top. Now, standing in the middle of the room, she looked at the combined mess they had made in their hurry. It was like a small bomb had gone off.

  “You okay?” Braydon popped around the corner. She could hear Captain Westin and Cara talking in the living room.

  “Yeah. I’m just...sorry for making such a mess.” She didn’t know why, but at the moment she was pushing down the urge to start cleaning the entire room. Because that made sense. Braydon began to laugh.

  “You didn’t make a mess. I believe it was me who did all of that.” He pointed to the pile of clothes on the floor. “Plus, my bedroom floor is usually covered with clothes anyway.” Sophia felt her eyes narrow in abrupt jealousy, imagining women’s clothes littering the room. Which was a reaction, she reasoned again, that didn’t make sense to have in their situation. The detective cleared his throat and quickly continued, “I mean I am a single guy living by himself. It’s normal for me.” He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to act as if he hadn’t purposely thrown the word single in for her benefit. Sophia’s eyes reverted to round and amicable. It was nice to know that Detective Braydon Thatcher wasn’t swimming around the dating pool. Especially since they had shared a kiss—one that Sophia couldn’t quite get out of her head.

  She finished packing and together they went outside to Cara’s 4Runner. Braydon put her bag in the backseat and stood with the passenger door open as she scooted into the seat. Cara sent a questioning look to Sophia, then to the detective when she, too, got into the car.

  “I want you two to be careful—to be safe, okay?” He looked between the women, then to Cara. “Don’t play hero if you see him.” Then, very noticeably he inclined his head to Sophia. “Got it?”

  “Yessir.”

  He gave her a quick smile. “You know the drill then, call me—”

  “If I need anything or anything happens,” she finished.

  “Exactly. Let me know when you two get to Richard’s. I’ll stop by later.” He shut the door after one prolonged shared look with Sophia and headed back inside. An odd feeling of loneliness moved against her chest but she shook it off. There were more important things happening than her selfish feelings for the man with aquamarine eyes.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Braydon ran a hand through his hair. He was standing in front of a closed door and wondering why he was even there. The afternoon had flown by with no new leads and them no closer to finding Nathanial or Lisa. Wherever he had her, it was one hell of a hiding place. The only person who could help them was still asleep in the hospital, though the doctors were positive she would wake up soon.

  He sighed.

  Amanda shouldn’t be the only person who could help them break the case. He was a detective and, although newly appointed, he liked to think he was good at his job. However, the longer Lisa was out there—scared, possibly hurt and in the hands of a madman—he felt he was losing any claim he once had. Not only was he unable to stop Nathanial but he was now afraid he had lost Sophia’s confidence.

  She’d said she had injected herself because she’d known that Nathanial would kill Lisa if she didn’t. In her mind, that only damned the sanity of “Terrance” Williams when in fact, it also quite clearly sent the message that she knew that Braydon wouldn’t be able to find Lisa. It was a thought that frustrated him to no end.

  He stood in the hallway of Richard Vega’s second story. Cara and Richard were having a late-night dinner—both unable to sleep—while the Able cousins stood guard at each entrance to the house. The only other entrance was locked and between the two. If anyone managed to break in from that door they wouldn’t be able to move throughout the house without one of the two seeing them first. Tom was sent home to rest for a while, the captain heading the search. Officers from the next county had been told to stay and help. Braydon hated the feeling of being useless. Maybe that was why he stood outside the bedroom Sophia was staying in. He wanted to comfort her, but at the same time he wanted to be comforted.

  The realization made his mood sink lower. He didn’t wait for guilt to rise in him—it had already surfaced and made a home after finding the body of Trixie Martin. Anger was its constant companion while an unhealthy sadness weighed down the edges of his mind. Having Nathanial’s vendetta unveiled had made the memory of Amelia’s death that much more prominent. Braydon hated to admit it, especially everything considered, but it made him miss her so much it hurt.

  He let out a breath. It was almost midnight and Sophia was probably asleep. She didn’t want or need him there. He had nothing new to deliver. With his mind made up, he turned to leave when he heard something that made him instantly reconsider—Sophia was awake and she was crying.

  “Sophia?” He knocked on the door. “Are you okay?” There was some movement in the room but she answered right away.

  “Yeah, hold on.” His hand was already on the handle, but he waited until she gave the okay. “You can come in.”

  The guest bedroom was one of six in the entire house. It held a queen-size bed, a dresser and a love seat comfortably—all were pale pink and dark wood. Sophia was sitting on the love seat when he walked in, but the covers of the bed were pushed to the side and the floor was covered in pillows. She was trying to act normal but her swollen eyes and tear-streaked cheeks gave her away.

  “What’s wrong?” Braydon asked, immediately on alert. He had never seen the woman cry before—the aftermath was so unsettling he didn’t realize at first she was only wearing a long T-shirt. Sophia tried on a smile, pushing her hair over her shoulder, but it slid right back off.

  “I—” She paused and to Braydon’s horror tears began to roll down her face. “I don’t want to die,” she finished, burying her face in her hands as she began to openly cry.

  Braydon closed the space between them and knelt in front of her. He gently took her hands and pulled them away.

  “You aren’t going to die,” he whispered. “I won’t let you.” He kissed her hands, keeping them in his own. She watched the movement while tears continued to come.

  “But what if something happens tomorrow and—and he does get me,” she said, close to sobbing. “He’ll do awful things to me.”

  “Don’t go, then. We can dress someone as you or—” He stopped as a loud sob escaped her.

  “But then what if he kills Lisa?” she asked. “She’s all I have!” She seemed to fold into herself at that, bringing her bare knees up to her chest. Braydon released her hands and took the seat next to her. Not caring if it was too brash of a movement, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. She didn’t protest and was soon leaning against his chest, his arms encircling her.

  Up until that moment, Sophia Hardwick had been a rock. She had remained so calm, so collected, so confident. Sure, she had cried after finding Trixie but that had been an in-the-moment response—one that most anyone would have had. Since then she’d taken everything in stride, showing courage in the face of a madman who wanted nothing more than to see her dead. Braydon had liked her determination, her courage but, as she wept into his sh
irt, he realized that her vulnerability didn’t diminish her strength in the least. She was a strong woman who had finally let her worries catch up to her.

  “Sophia,” he said, stroking her hair, “he won’t kill Lisa, and I know I can’t keep asking you to trust me—I know I don’t deserve it—but please believe me when I say that I will kill Nathanial before he ever gets a chance to hurt you.” There was a hardness in his tone—a stone-cold promise he refused to ever break.

  Sophia’s sobs quieted and soon her tears ceased. She pulled back to look him in the eyes, but Braydon didn’t drop his arms from around her.

  “But I do trust you,” she said, her voice and its meaning wonderful music to his ears. He smiled, relief flooding through him. “You’re a good man, Braydon Thatcher. I hope you know that.” He was about to respond but stopped when she leaned forward. Her lips pressed against his in a soft kiss.

  At first he didn’t return it—she was vulnerable—but then so was he. Bringing his hands to cup her face, he deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his tongue. She moaned into his mouth, which seemed to awaken the rest of his body. He wanted her—all of her.

  “Wait,” Sophia said, pulling away. Braydon froze. “Just, hold on.” She stood up from the couch and walked to the door. He looked on, afraid they had gone too far, moved too fast. Then, she did something that made him give a little laugh.