by Macy Largo
He had to get himself together. “Everything’s fine between us. It’s the rest of life that’s hell. I wish they’d catch that fucker so we can get on with our life.” He stood downwind of Tom and caught a hint of chemical smell. Tom always smelled like that when he was working, like any mechanic smelled during the day, of brake cleaner and carb cleaner and any number of solvents or fluids they used in the course of a day that soaked into their clothes.
“No leads, huh? The techs finally got that damn RV and truck out of here. Never so happy to see a vehicle leave my lot.” He shook his head. “Spooky shit. Never seen anything like that before.” He thought for a moment. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do have it easy. I don’t have to deal with shit the way you and Del do. I never could be a cop.”
John stared at his phone, wishing Sarah would at least call him. “Sometimes it sucks. Usually it was good though.” He leaned on his cane. His worse leg was really tuned up this morning, and even his normally good leg hurt. “Mostly good.”
Tom indicated his cane. “Except for shit like that.”
“That was my own damn fault. And the deer,” he rapidly added. He wanted to turn this conversation around and fast. “Saw your new website. Looks good.”
Tom proudly grinned. “Took a class in it. Did it myself.” His smile faltered. “Sorry I didn’t have you do it.”
John laughed. “No, that’s okay. I mean it, you did a nice job.”
Cindy called to Tom from the office doorway. “Napa said they can’t get that alternator until tomorrow morning. It’s gotta come from Rapid City, and the daily truck already left.”
“Crap. Call the customer and let them know. They’ll just have to wait.” He shrugged at John. “I wish I’d stayed with computers in school instead of letting Dad talk me into quitting college and working for him.” He looked at his hands. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”
“Yeah, but people always need a good mechanic. You’ve got job security. Geeks are a dime a dozen sometimes, and we’re practically obsolete about the time we master one thing.”
Tom snorted. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. Didn’t think about it like that. Technology changes, but you still have to be able to turn a wrench. Well, back to work. You leaving Del’s car or waiting on it?”
“I’ll just wait on it.”
“I’ll get Keith on it right away then. Keys in it?”
“Yeah. Cindy already wrote up the work order. Oil change, lube, air filter, and check the belts please.”
“Got it.”
Tom returned to the service bay while John returned to the office to sit and wait. The other customers eyed him warily. He stared at his phone, fighting the urge to call her. She’d turned her phone off, so he’d only be torturing himself leaving voice mails.
Besides, if she was really heading to Key West, he was Santa Claus.
Chapter Fourteen
She crossed Alligator Alley westbound, but then hopped off and took U.S. 41 north, picking up I-75 around Ocala. She avoided large cities, routing around Tampa and Atlanta on secondary roads before picking the interstate up again. It slowed her down, but hopefully she’d avoid the FHP, which she was sure had already been notified, if she knew Del and John.
And she felt pretty sure she knew Del and John.
Twenty-four hours later, she was in Tennessee and at a motel. She only slept six hours before getting on the road again, pushing through Kansas City and north as night fell across the plains. She didn’t want to be on the road at night, but knew the sooner she returned home, the sooner the showdown would happen.
Finally, she had to stop in Sioux City. She checked her phone and found several messages from Eddie and Del. Del sounded ready to spank her, and her uncle sounded ready to kill her he was so worried.
She found an email from John, sent the day before.
Babe, please, call us. We’re worried sick about you. We love you.
She hadn’t thought this part of her plan out very well. She considered a reply and finally tapped one out. She needed to get them away from Mitchell, so whatever Dark Friend wanted to do didn’t involve them. She was tired of running, and obviously the killer was one step ahead of the law.
Please come to Miami and meet me there. I’ll come back to Uncle Eddie’s. Then I’ll do whatever you want. Let me know when you’re en route.
She turned her phone off again before she parked behind a truck stop and tried to nap.
* * * *
John started awake when his BlackBerry buzzed. He fumbled for it on the bedside table, then glanced at her reply, sent moments earlier.
He nudged Del awake, who sat bolt upright when he read it.
“Fuck. All right, we need to go. We can get a flight tomorrow.”
“I can’t go tomorrow. I’ve got to get that job finished for McCarthy Development. If I don’t, I lose a thirty-grand contract. I need at least three days.” He stared at her message after he took the BlackBerry back. “You go. I’ll catch up with you there. Get down there and make sure she’s safe.”
Del frowned. “Fine. But you’d better get your ass down there ASAP.”
“I will. I promise.” He tapped out a reply.
We’ll be there tomorrow night. We’ll leave first thing in the morning. Okay? Love you.
He lay awake and stared at the ceiling. If she was heading back to Miami, he was Whistler’s Mother. He couldn’t very well get up and go track her phone’s GPS either, because Del would know something was up. He hated keeping that information from Del, but if Del suspected she was on her way back to South Dakota, there was no way he’d leave.
Not to mention he wasn’t one hundred percent sure of his hunch. If there was any chance of her being in Florida, Del needed to be there to make sure she stayed safe.
He didn’t know how the fucker hacked into her computer to get her info, but he’d changed all of his own passwords, including beefing up both the router password and network security key and changed the username. That’s all he could do for now.
That and wait for her to show up at the house. Most likely sometime tomorrow, if he knew her.
* * * *
Around dawn, Sarah awoke confused and disoriented until she realized where she was. She turned on her BlackBerry and checked her Gmail.
She found John’s reply and nearly cried in relief. Yes, in every movie and book she’d read, the heroine made too-stupid-to-live choices like the one she’d made, but this wasn’t a book or a movie. This was real life, and the killer would bide his time and wait and take out her men or her uncle.
She trusted Robbie and her inner voice a hell of a lot more at this point than she did the combined efforts of law enforcement.
She used the bathroom at the truck stop, bought herself some coffee and breakfast, refueled, and hit the road. Her men would be safely away from Mitchell, and she could figure out what to do when she got there in a few hours.
* * * *
John hugged Del. “Give her a spanking for me when you get there,” John said, maintaining the illusion.
Del grinned. “I’ll give her two. I get to start without you for once.”
John laughed. “Yeah, you do that. I’ll be there as soon as I finish up here.”
“No chance of me talking you into changing your mind?”
“It’s okay. Get her revved up for me.”
After a final hug and kiss, John walked Del to his truck and stood in the driveway, watching him go. He slowly scanned the yard, looking for any sign he was being watched, before he returned to the house and locked himself in. He closed the blinds and turned off all the lights. If she saw lights on, she’d know they tricked her.
He went to his computer and logged in, grimly smiling when he tracked her GPS and saw the last reading was in Sioux City.
She should make it home in the next couple of hours.
He considered calling Del right then, but he still had at least an hour to play with. He kept tracking her, but she’d turned her phone off aga
in. Until she turned it back on, he wouldn’t be able to get a signal.
* * * *
Her heart throbbed as she made the turn onto I-90 in Sioux Falls. Unlike her previous trip from Seattle, she was coming home, and from the opposite direction. Then she felt a warm swelling in her soul, and because of the light traffic, she spotted Del’s truck heading eastbound. She couldn’t see well enough with the sun’s glare on his windshield to get a look at both men, but knew they wouldn’t recognize her in the Accord.
As the feeling ebbed and faded, she felt at peace. Robbie said this would work out okay. Her men were safely heading to Florida. Her uncle was safe.
She’d do whatever she had to do to ensure she stayed safe. Getting killed wasn’t part of her plan, and while she fully admitted this wasn’t the wisest course of action, she was determined to take this fucker out once and for all.
Somehow.
Turning off at the Mitchell exit felt like a homecoming, of sorts. She passed Tom Davies’ garage and felt that wave of darkness at the sight of the little Ford Ranger, which still sat parked by the road with a For Sale sign on the windshield, and Tom Davies’ sedan sitting out front. Suppressing a shudder, she continued on home, breathing out a deep sigh of relief when she shut off the engine and stared at the house.
Home.
Even if her men weren’t there.
She trundled her bag up the front porch steps, unlocked the front door, and paused for a moment to bask in the feeling. Love. Warmth. As if they were still there.
Damn, she’d missed that feeling. She closed and locked the door behind her, dropped her bags in her room, then headed down the hall, past the closed office door for the master bathroom. She needed a fucking shower and a nap, and no place would be better than in her men’s bed. Then she’d decide what to do. Probably send her stalker a message baiting him to come and get her.
Then again, maybe he already knew she was there, if he’d been watching the house.
She started the shower and slowly stripped as steam filled the bathroom. Closing her eyes, she tried to reach out to Robbie. Even though she felt him nearby, he wasn’t coming in close enough to talk to. With a deep sigh, she opened her eyes and screamed.
In the mirror stood John’s reflection.
He immediately came to her as she spun around, holding her, apologizing, soothing her.
“Shh, baby, it’s okay.”
Fear and desire and relief all flooded her at the same time. “What the fuck?”
“I knew you were coming home. I tracked your phone.”
“But I saw Del’s truck heading east!”
“He was alone. He doesn’t know I suspected you’d come home.”
She cried on his shoulder. “No! You can’t be here! He’ll hurt you!”
“Honey, if you think I’m going to let you do whatever it is you think you’re going to do alone, think again.” He kissed her, not letting her protest. “I’m not about to lose you. Now tell me the truth or I will let Del spank the crap out of you.”
She finally admitted what happened. She showed him her BlackBerry and the messages from DF.
He frowned. “Did you dream again?”
She nodded and told him both about the dream of her uncle with his throat slashed and about what Robbie said. “He said I hold the keys. But I don’t know who he is!”
* * * *
Del squinted, even with his dark sunglasses, against the early morning sun. At the next exit he reached, he pulled into a gas station and used the bathroom. As he washed his hands, he looked up from the sink to see a small boy standing behind him.
He let out a startled yelp. He knew that kid. He’d haunted his nightmares since Del’s accident, since Mark had shown him the DVD of John’s dash cam video.
Robbie smiled. “Go home, Del. Right now. They need you.” Robbie disappeared.
As fast as he could, he ran for the truck, trying to call John but only getting his voice mail. He hung up without leaving a message and raced west on I-90, heading for Mitchell.
* * * *
John got her into the shower and held her under the spray, trying to soothe her. “I’ll call him as soon as we’re done with our shower. We’ll get him home and we’ll figure this out, but you have to go. You cannot stay here.”
“I’m not leaving you again.”
He rested his chin on her head, wishing he didn’t have two bum legs. This morning he woke up so sore he could barely walk. It was all he could do to pretend he wasn’t hurting before Del left. Then he’d grabbed his cane, heavily leaning on it as he made his way back to the office, where he’d been working with the door closed when he heard her come in.
“What would it take to get you to leave?” he asked.
“You both being with me and taking Uncle Eddie somewhere safe until they catch this bastard.”
John toweled the water off her body, wanting to lick and kiss her, his cock screaming to fuck her, until he saw her shocked expression. “What’s wrong?”
She pointed at his keys, lying on the dresser.
“What?”
With a trembling hand, she reached over and picked them up, then dropped them again as if they were hot. Horror filled her face. “Robbie said I hold the keys.” She looked at John. “Who’s touched your keys?”
* * * *
Del ran a hand through his hair. This crazy fucker was dead if he got a shot at him.
How the fuck had the crazy son of a bitch gotten Eddie’s information? It was like he had an address book with all her personal information in it.
He counted off mile markers as he closed in on Mitchell, then he nearly wrecked when the answer exploded into his mind as he made the turn-off toward home.
Oh, fuck.
And he’d left John alone at the house.
He called in to base on the phone, not on the police radio where it could be overheard by anyone with a scanner, and got Mark on the line.
Chapter Fifteen
“What do you mean?” John asked.
She grabbed one of Del’s T-shirts and yanked it on over her head. He pulled on a pair of boxers. “Your keys. Who’s touched them?”
He shook his head, confused. “No one, babe. Just me, Del, probably you.”
“No one else?” The dark evil was there, weak, but there. She hadn’t felt it before she left.
“Well, I guess Cindy. I had Del’s truck in to Tom’s for an oil change.”
Horror churned in her gut as a montage of memories floated through her mind. Her car. The feelings she got every time they were near the garage. John’s voice telling her they wouldn’t release her name as a material witness, so how had DF known who she was? The dark Ford Tom drove—
“Fuck!” John whispered.
“What?”
He grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the floor, clamping his other hand over her mouth. He pressed his lips to her ear and softly breathed, “My gun and both our phones are missing. I left them on the dresser. That means someone’s in the house. When I tell you, I want you to go down to the basement, lock yourself into the room. Got it? No matter what you hear, you wait there until one of us comes for you. Okay?” He removed his hand from her mouth and pressed a finger to his lips.
She nodded.
He pointed at the floor and silently mouthed, “Stay down.”
She nodded again.
He slowly crawled around the end of the bed, then used it to pull himself to a standing position. He grabbed his cane from where he’d hung it over the closet doorknob and carefully made his way down the hall. With all the lights off and the shades drawn, the house was dim and filled with shadows. She couldn’t tell where he was for sure.
Creeping slowly, she crawled to the end of the bed and waited. She couldn’t see down the hall from her vantage, but suspected John had made it to the kitchen. That’s when she heard an enraged cry and John yelled at her.
“Sarah, now!”
She bolted for the basement door. That’s when the gunshot r
ang out, making her scream.
* * * *
John hefted the cane, holding it like a baseball bat, wishing he had a fucking bat. Not that a bat was much good against a gun.
When he got a whiff of a chemical smell, he knew exactly who he was dealing with.
Tom.
It clicked into place. He was the source of the darkness she felt. He had access to her car, and her address book had been inside it. John knew damn well she’d had all her passwords inside. Tom knew who she was because he towed her car. Her name hadn’t been released as a witness.
And he apparently had more computer skills than he let on to the outside world.
He had access to their house keys because they trusted him. They left their house keys on their key rings when they left a car with him for repairs.
Doesn’t take much to get a copy made.
He had opportunity. Who wouldn’t trust a mechanic who stops to help them in the middle of the night? The night Del found Sarah, Tom had trouble with his truck, or so he claimed.
He drove a dark sedan.
His company was slotted for on-call rotation with local law enforcement once every four weeks. It would explain the killings, if he was on rotation those nights. There weren’t many wrecker drivers in this area, so no one would question if he’d been the responding wrecker driver to each murder.
Shit.
The time difference was enough. He easily could have killed the Engallses and made it back to town while claiming truck troubles.
He hesitated at the end of the hall, listening, smelling, trying to figure out where the fucker was hiding. Then he heard the rustle of fabric, and a dark shape hurtled at him. He swung, making contact and drawing a pained howl in return.
“Sarah, now!”
The gunshot made his ears ring. Hot pain exploded through his leg. As he hit the floor, he was aware of the basement door slamming shut behind her.
