Aftermath

by Rachel Trautmiller

  “That would be out of character for her stay, here.” His voice moved closer.

  She didn’t dare look up. Didn’t want to experience the crushing pain, opening her eyes might cause.

  “That’s not what her incident report said.” The sound of shuffling shoes filled the silence. “Here’s a thought, Dexter. You do your job and let me do mine.”

  “Let the infirmary know we’ll be coming, Raner.” A hint of anger lined the undertones. “Now. Garth will stay here with us.”

  A tense moment permeated the room. And then the open and close of a door echoed through the space. Seconds passed.

  Nothing happened. No hands clawing at her arms and delivering a rough drag to her feet. Nor shouted words about complete isolation.

  She could have heard a mouse twitch its whiskers.

  Beth opened her eyes. Through her still braced arms, she noted a pair of black dress shoes. And then he squatted next to her. “Can you move?” His hand reached toward her.

  “Don’t touch me.” The words sprang from her lips, agony tearing the last from her. “Please.”

  As if remembering his place, he pulled back.

  “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

  “My friend.” She sucked in a breath. Swallowed back a heavy dose of bile. Fought the blackness crowding in. “Isn’t missing. He’s my lawyer.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “HOW IS LILLY?”

  Amanda choked down a swallow of McDonald’s coffee. It swirled with the breakfast muffin Robinson had insisted she eat, when they’d stopped fifteen minutes ago.

  And she’d complied, because he’d given her a look that had telepathed an I’ll-leave-you-on-the-side-of-the-road-if-you-don’t-eat.

  Worst fifteen minutes ever.

  He maneuvered his vehicle on the turn off of 16, outside of Lake Norman. “Jonas is keeping her busy.”

  She stared at the passing landscape. The trees bursting with green. The wild flowers cropping up in the ditches. The nature center was nestled off of Maiden Road, in an area surrounded by tall pines and various wild life. Without an advertisement, it boasted a fresh atmosphere.

  Unlike the stifling emotions swirling in the vehicle.

  “How are you?” She kept her voice low. Resisted reaching out and touching him.

  His eyes stayed glued to the road. “Trying not to imagine all the really horrible things that might be happening to my niece.”

  Don’t imagine it. Don’t go there.

  There wasn’t any cold. No needles sharp enough to piece aortic tissue. No madman with the presentation skills of a talented mortician.

  Her stomach surged upward, around the dreg of caffeine she’d consumed. She tried to swallow it back. Take a breath through her mouth and let it out slowly.

  It wasn’t helping. As if she were on a cheap carnival ride, spinning round and round, every bump in the road aggravated it.

  Sweat popped up on her brow. “Pull over.”

  “What?”

  She gripped the door handle. Closed her eyes. “Pull over, please.”

  In seconds, the vehicle came to a lurch. She opened her door and hopped out. Didn’t get two steps before her stomach sought to choke her. She doubled over. Her breakfast landed on the loose gravel, on the side of the road.

  Another dry heave came on its heels.

  The slam of a car door permeated the quiet morning around them. And then Robinson was right next to her, a warm hand running up and down her back. He handed her a napkin like this happened all the time.

  Pressure built behind her eyes. She squeezed them shut.

  This was his deal. She could get it together and be strong for him. Amanda sucked in a breath.

  “Water?” A bottle appeared in her vision.

  After accepting it, she uncapped the container and swished a few mouthfuls. Then took a small sip. Wiped her mouth and straightened. “Aren’t you a boy scout.”

  Instead of the sass she’d intended, the words came out on a small warble of anxiety.

  Not helping.

  She turned to face him.

  “Feel better?” Those usually bright blue-green eyes held a glimmer of the pain he tried to hide.

  It zapped into her heart like a well-aimed dart.

  “I’m sorry, Robbie.” She wrapped her arms around him. Breathed in his unique scent. “We’re gonna find her.” The words were a mumble pressed against his chest. It covered the ache each syllable caused. “We have to.”

  “What if—”

  “No.” She shook her head. “There’s no alternative here. Just a bridge to cross where we stay and fight.”

  “We can’t lose her.” The words came out on a web of agony. He pulled her closer and buried his head. Pressed his lips to a patch of bare skin between her neck and shoulder. Once. Twice.

  A shot of liquid desire rushed through her veins. Had her seeing only this man. Needing him like a body needs water.

  Through everything, he had to understand it. He had to know how much he meant to her. How her life was a pale comparison without him in it. And she’d do anything to make sure all the working cogs, within it, stayed the same.

  She ran her hands over him. Needed to assure herself he was in this moment with her.

  As if he could hear her thoughts, his mouth moved to the underside of her jaw. Placed kisses that were both tender and urgent as he made his way upward.

  The shrill peel of a cell phone broke through her haze. Had her freezing for a second, before she stepped out of his arms and fumbled for the device in her pocket.

  She hit the speaker button, her blood still humming with Robinson madness. “Nettles.”

  “It’s Davis. Ya’ll at the nature center, yet?”

  Her gaze connected with Robinson’s. His hair was a mess. She didn’t remember running her hands through it. “Almost. What’s up?”

  “You know, you could have told me about Paige. I would have understood.”

  Amanda shook her head. Davis was a rule-follower to the letter.

  “Same with your trip to Raleigh. I could have helped.”

  There’d been too many people as it was. “I need you where you are, doing exactly what you’re doing.”

  And maybe Davis understood that because she said, “I did some digging. Found out nine of the fifteen girls we’ve got on our list have been to the Mountain Creek Nature Center, on the same field trip.”

  While a part of her hoped this was the clue they needed—and the possibility of getting to Ariana—the other part couldn’t stand the idea of a place in her childhood not being the iconic bout of freedom and fun she remembered it to be.

  When she’d been a student, the secluded atmosphere and chance to be out of class had been an adventure. Not a nightmare, where a predator used innocence against her.

  “The lab retested the samples they had. Still came back with no drugs in their systems. When they ran the stomach contents, they found rice and trace amounts of seafood of unknown origin. They sent the sample to a lab in DC. Put a rush on it. And it came back positive for Tetrodotoxin. It’s a neurotoxin that causes nausea, vomiting, paralysis and neurological disruption.”

  “So, it would be perfect for subduing a young girl. Capture her, deprive her of food for a day or two and then roll in a gourmet meal.”

  Robinson blew out a breath. “You get hungry enough, you’re not gonna care what you’re eating.”

  “Here’s the thing, about one milligram of TTX is lethal. Surfers in Australia have gotten scratches from the Blue-ringed Octopus and not survived. This guy’s using less than half that amount.”

  Which had to mean he didn’t intend to kill them in that manner, but with cold and final impalement. Wanted them partially aware, but immobilized.

  “There’s more.”

  “More?” She grabbed Robinson’s wrist. Noted the time. “I’ve only been gone forty minutes.”

  “I put Brink and some of the others to good use. Paid a visit to Ernie Slate’s house—he
still lives at home, by the way. His elderly mother answered the door. Turns out the Slate’s are related to the Carter’s.”

  That was news to her. “As in Dana Carter?”

  “Correct. When Mr. and Mrs. Carter passed away, the Slate’s became sole heirs to Carter Meats—Mr. Carter’s business. And the property at five-five-seven-nine Bellvine.”

  “That wasn’t listed anywhere on the initial investigation report.” And she didn’t have to guess why.

  Davis let out a snort. “Detective Catsky wasn’t exactly your go-to guy for anything—much less a murder case.

  That was all hindsight. “Does the family have any idea what happened to the Carter kid?”

  “Didn’t appear so. The house is a shrine to him and his family.”

  Creepy.

  “Here’s the kicker. Dana Carter bares a huge resemblance to someone else we know.”

  “Who?”

  “Zander Singleton. And he just happens to be co-owner of the nature center.”

  ___

  A FLASH OF pain brought Beth to awareness in one guttural rush. Had her rising to a sitting position as if strings were attached to her body and the puppeteer was working overtime.

  A bag of something cold dropped to her lap in a wet heap.

  White walls surrounded her and the cot she sat on. It was the only thing in the small, foreign room, in which, she resided. The door leading outside stood ajar.

  She ran a hand over her opposite shoulder. Came into contact with swollen and tender flesh. Found the same at the middle of her back.

  “The X-rays confirm nothing is broken.”

  The sound of Dexter’s deep voice sent a foreign flutter through her body. He stepped inside the room.

  “What time is it?”

  He flipped his wrist and glanced at his watch. She’d never seen it before. Then again, she’d never seen him in anything but long sleeves. As if he were afraid of too much skin showing.

  The puckered scar, she’d noticed earlier, wrapped around to the underside of his wrist. Where had the extensive damage come from?

  “Beth.”

  She jumped. A sharp pain ripped across her torso. Her gaze flew to his. She’d been staring. Heat flashed across her face. Her heart pounded against her ribcage in frantic excitement.

  From pain. Not anything else.

  She swung her legs over the side of the cot. Kept her eyes on the floor. “I’m sorry. What time did you say it was?”

  “Almost nine.” He backed up a step. Folded his arms across his chest.

  “In the morning?”

  He nodded.

  A breath of air whooshed from her lungs. She hadn’t been out long.

  “You said something about a friend before you went down for the count.”

  Her gaze collided with the scar, again. An insane urge to press her lips against it, flooded her body. She found herself pointing to the area. “What happened?”

  She clamped her lips together. What was she doing?

  You don’t care, remember?

  But, sometime in the last week, she’d begun to.

  The unreadable expression, she’d come to know, covered his face. He walked to the door. Grabbed something beyond it and returned with restraints.

  She held out her arms and he made quick work of securing them. The tip of one finger brushed across her skin. Sent goosebumps racing for cover.

  A peek up at him revealed the same vacant expression. All the while her heart promised to beat out of her chest. And her legs were like Jell-O left out in the sun.

  He had to sense it. Had to hear the clanging in her chest.

  This wasn’t right. In her lifetime, she’d been attracted to few men. And never one so far out of reach. Never with this weird sensation beyond the physical.

  As if, in another lifetime, they might have been really good friends. Maybe more. She stood. Pushed the feeling away.

  “Call Amanda and Baker Jackson. They’ll know what to do with the information about Dana. They’ll know if it means something.”

  He left the cell and motioned for her to follow. She kept pace with him as they went in the opposite direction of the dayroom and her cell. Walked down a long corridor that led past two rows of general population cells.

  A few cat-calls went out as they passed. One dark-haired man rested his hands between the bars of his cell and leaned on them, his smile wide. His roving gaze never left her.

  Beth focused on keeping her eyes straight ahead. Didn’t let the snaking sensation of fear cling to her. “Where are we going?”

  They reached a security door. He punched in a code and placed his thumb on the pad. It opened. “My office.”

  Okay. Not what she’d expected. They passed several more cell blocks before they reached another coded access. He stopped at the first door on their left. Motioned for her to precede him inside.

  The space was small. A little wider than her cell and contained a desk, a padded chair, two visitors seats and a bookshelf.

  Beth stopped in the center of the room. Didn’t know if she should move any further. Any other time she’d been out of her cell, there’d been at least two CO’s flanking her.

  And now there were none.

  He left the door open and rounded to the front of the desk, facing the door, and sat. Tapped his fingers on a knee and braced the opposite elbow on the edge of his armrest. Placed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. Didn’t demand she take the chair opposite him.

  “You asked about my arm.”

  Beth lowered herself into the chair. Swallowed back the shimmering emotion climbing her nerves. “I shouldn’t have.”

  Those violet eyes centered on her, turbulent. Stole her breath. “Over three years ago, I was visiting an Air Force buddy at a rehab facility.”

  An agitated swirl started in her stomach. She clenched her hands together. “Dexter, this isn’t necessary. It’s none of my business.”

  “I walked in there to cheer up a friend. Came out on a stretcher. Woke up after a week in the hospital. Was told there was an explosion and I was lucky to be alive.”

  The room got ten times smaller. A flash of shameful heat crawled up her body. Claimed her breath and kept asking for more. The pressure of tears socked her between the eyes.

  “And your friend?” The words came out on a hitch of breath.

  He shook his head. “Never had a chance.”

  Beth clenched her fingers until pain radiated through them. And then she kept going. There was no mistaking where he’d gotten his scars.

  They were all from her. From a thoughtless action she’d assumed would satisfy the burning ache. Instead, it made the void larger until there wasn’t much more than the blackness left.

  An apology sat at the back of her throat, but she held it in check. It would never bring those lives back. Never assuage the pain. A mockery that incited more of the same.

  How could he stand to be in the same room with her?

  “If I’ve eased your curiosity, I’d like to move on.” The words were abrupt. He arranged a note pad on his desk. Stacked it on top of a bible, next to a framed picture she couldn’t see the details of. His closed laptop was on the other side of the surface. “Tell me why Raner had a reason to knock you senseless. And what, if anything, we need to do about it.”

  We? What was he talking about? She couldn’t even think beyond the beating of her heart in her ears. Still couldn’t breathe properly.

  When she didn’t respond, he glanced up from his detail. A dial tone filled the room as he fiddled with the phone on his desk and then dialed a number. “You took some lives, but you’ve got an opportunity to save some, right now.”

  You’ve got an opportunity.

  She sucked in a breath

  “What’s up, Dex?” Baker Jackson’s voice filled the room. “You’re on speaker.”

  “Same here.” He moved the phone between them.

  “Oh?” The question in Baker Jackson’s voice mirrored the confusion taking root
in her mind.

  “I’ve got Beth with me. Seems she received a strange call from her lawyer this morning, sometime after Amanda and I talked.”

  A sigh came over the line, full of resignation. As if Beth had orchestrated this wild turn of events.

  She couldn’t blame him. He had no reason to think any different. “He mentioned something about going out with a bang.” Beth scooted to the edge of her chair. Bit the inside of her lip. Dexter should talk to them. They’d listen to him. Wouldn’t question every word.

  What could she remember about Dana, anyway?

  “Say I believe this story—one no one can, conveniently, verify—”

  “The prison records all of its calls, Baker Jackson.”

  The defense was surprising. Beth’s eyes flicked to Dexter, but didn’t linger long. “Dana knows all sorts of things about everything. Computers, science, medicine, law, marine biology. Explosives. You name it, he had the knowledge. His dad was big on education.”

  “And somehow explosives fell under that list?” Distaste lined every syllable of Amanda’s words.

  An expletive came through the line.

  “What’s wrong, Robbie?”

  Beth shifted closer. Held her breath.

  “No brakes.” As if he’d announced the air conditioner was out, his words were calm.

  “What do you mean, no brakes?” A shrill quality laced Amanda’s voice. It jangled along Beth’s spine. Had her sitting straighter. “We stopped five minutes ago. You had brakes then.”

  “Well, we don’t now, A.J.”

  “You’ve got a ninety degree turn coming up.” A pause. “And you’re doing eighty.”

  Beth stood. Couldn’t help the motion. Nor the fear twisting her gut. Amanda and Baker Jackson continued bickering about the upcoming turn. And his lack of reduced speed even with a few careful maneuvers.

  There was no way his brakes suddenly gave out. Too much coincidence there. Their voices were melding together now, panic the only thing coming across the line.

  Did they go around angering all of the criminals? Paste a pick-me-I’ll-be-your-challenge sign on their backs?

  Dexter pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

  “You both need to calm down.” Beth tried to do the same. Didn’t get a response from the couple.