by Angi Morgan
“I never intended for anyone else to get caught up in this mess. I can’t believe she’s gone.”
“Thing is, it did happen and the actions can’t be changed. But you can help catch the man who strangled the life from Brenda Ellen Richardson.”
“How? By going to jail? Who’ll clear my name then?”
“You need to tell us everything, Bree. How can I help when you won’t even trust me with your name?” He wanted to crack this case wide open. He couldn’t deny the anticipation of that happening and could really get into rubbing it in his partner’s face. At least for a minute or two.
Through the back window, a truck slowed and reversed. On a busy day at the lake, it might have been an innocent enough action. In the ice and snow, when the streets were basically deserted, a warning jump-started his adrenaline. It suddenly turned, speeding down the incline, and headed straight toward them.
“Hold on!” Jake threw the car into Reverse, trying to get out of the way.
Too late. The car’s tires spun, barely moving them while the truck grew into the size of a monster vehicle in his side mirrors. He braced himself for the collision.
The impact slammed them forward and the truck didn’t stop. Jake kept his foot on the brake, turned the wheel, pulled the emergency brake. Nothing stopped them.
“We’re going into the water. Unlock the doors!”
Bree was right. The truck had the power and traction to ram them a second time, jolting them forward. There was nothing between them and the water. He pushed the button, lowering the front windows.
Dallas barked. Bree yelled. Jake released his seat belt and pulled his weapon and cell. He tossed the phone in the back. “Call 911.”
Five more feet and they’d be in the lake. He released the wheel and got a firm grip on his Beretta. He turned, fired at the truck, connected. The car tipped into the water and he no longer had a shot.
“They’re going to kill us.”
“Stay calm. The safest place for you is here. The car’s not going any farther.”
“You don’t know that. Get me out of here.”
“Trust me, Bree. Stay here. I’ll be back. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” He tugged his heavy overcoat off. It would weigh him down in the water.
“You can’t—”
Jake didn’t hear the end of her sentence. The front seat was filling quickly and he had to secure the area before he got Bree out of the car. He launched himself through the passenger window and heard the gunfire before kicking hard and away from the car.
He surfaced and fired two rounds. The truck backed away. It didn’t make sense. They had the weapons to kill them. Could have rammed the car underwater completely. They were gone in seconds. No license tags to memorize and they’d probably ditch the truck a few miles away. He looked back to the car. Bree was in the front seat, calling to Dallas to come to her.
The frightened pup had crawled to the back window and wouldn’t budge.
“Get to shore, Bree. Come on.” He stuck his hands through the window and gently tugged on her arm.
“Oh, my gosh. She’s scared to death and won’t come to me.” She locked eyes with him. Pleading.
“I won’t leave the pup.”
Bree put her cuffed hands in his and he pulled her through the window while the car shifted, sinking a bit deeper into the lake. He steadied her slim figure on the slick rocks until she could stand on her own.
He shook his head, all the while knowing he had to get the traumatized puppy. He holstered his weapon. “They might come back, so stay close to the car. I don’t think it’s moving again.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. You’ll probably have to carry her.”
The doors were still locked, keys in the ignition. He tried the lock button, electrical was gone. “Dallas, come on, pup.” He tried coaxing her with kissy sounds, but like this morning at the body of Mrs. Richardson, nothing worked.
“She’s blind on her right side, Detective. I don’t think she can even see you.”
That might partially be the reason, but most likely, the animal was just scared. As scared as the woman climbing up the grassy shore? “I told you to stay put, Bree. You keep moving and I’m coming after you instead of the dog.”
“I’ll be freezing in the snow instead of freezing in the water. Trust me, Detective, I have nowhere to go.” She raised her cuffed wrists to him, emphasizing her captive status.
Restraints hadn’t dissuaded some of the men he’d captured before. He hoped she spoke the truth because, for the life of him, he couldn’t abandon the dog. He held his breath and climbed back inside the vehicle. This was the first time he’d been grateful to be issued a huge tank of a car, instead of a newer economy size.
Jake shrugged out of his suit jacket and took a couple of deep breaths to prepare for the icy submersion. He maneuvered his long body into the backseat almost as soon as his feet crossed through the window. He broke the water’s surface, grabbed Dallas and then lost her when her body hit the ice water. He spun in the water to get out and caught movement on the driver’s side of the car. The men who had run them into the lake were approaching through the bushes.
“Look out!” He slammed his hand against the roof, scaring the circling pup trying to get back to the dry rear window.
He pushed the dog under the water and she popped up outside the car. He followed as fast as his legs could push him through, hearing Bree’s screams under the water. When he came up for air, she was still yelling at the man who carried her across his shoulder up the small hill to the road.
“Watch out!” she screamed.
He turned away from Bree’s abductor and straight into something slamming into his ribs. He’d been a second too late all day, but not anymore.
The rocks were slippery under him, but he scrambled to get through the frozen reeds to the shore. He caught the piece of wood when his attacker tried to ram it in his gut. He shoved back, sending the man slipping backward on the ice.
Jake followed and got an uppercut under the man’s chin. A left. Another right. The man stumbled back with each hit. Jake tugged the mask at the top of his head, showing a chin that could barely grow hair. The kid couldn’t be more than twenty years old. He still held the branch in one hand while he yanked the ski mask back into place. Jake recognized the crazy, wide-eyed, out-of-his-element look.
The kid blinked, panted hard and dropped the branch. He’s going to run. Jake was ready to dive and knock the young man to the ground, but the kid pulled a gun. He began firing—wildly. Jake heard a bullet connect with metal, and one ricocheted off a rock. And the third...
Bright shards of light exploded, obscuring his view of anything else and sending him to his knees. He hit the water, plunging face-first into the icy lake. He fought to stay aware. Bree’s “no” echoed between his ears along with the thumping of his heart. There was a sharp shove against his ear. Was the floating a sensation or was he really on top of the water?
Shot. Conscious but unable to react. Was this it? Had he survived six years in a war zone to come home and drown in two feet of water?
Hell, no.
Chapter Seven
Jake was dead.
Bree would never forget the twinkle in his eyes when they first met in the diner and how he’d seemed too shy to ask for her phone number. Or how he’d rushed into the house chasing Brenda Ellen’s murderer. Or how he hadn’t embarrassed her in front of Julie before arresting her in the park.
A good man was dead because of her running. How many more would die? It has to stop. “This has to stop,” she shouted into the darkness surrounding her. She sniffed one last time, rubbing her nose on her drenched, smelly coat, then kicked out against the car trunk.
Her abductors—and Jake’s murderers—had been parked for several m
inutes. She was petrified but determined to be strong. She’d faced the unknown before. She’d faced Griffin and escaped. She could do it again with a little luck.
Footsteps. A pop. Jarring light shining in her eyes.
“Get out.”
“I, um, I can’t. My legs are cramping and I can’t move.”
“Do you think I give a flip?” As much as he tried, the man who’d shot Jake couldn’t disguise that his voice was high-pitched and his eyes darted questioningly all around him. It was plain to see he wasn’t in charge.
His gloved hands fisted on her collar and the handcuffs, using both to jerk her from the small trunk. Her legs protested and she fell to the concrete floor. It made no difference. He wrapped a hand in her clothing and hair at the back of her neck and dragged her across the filthy floor. He pulled her into a chair on the other side of the expansive abandoned room and began taping her to it.
The man who had carried her over his shoulder from the lake was smoking a cigarette, leaning on the roof of the compact. She wouldn’t cry. Not another tear. No matter what they did to her. “You won’t get away with this. The man you let drown was a homicide detective. There will be a citywide manhunt for you.”
“Like anybody saw us.” The younger one laughed as he sliced the end of the tape and stuck his knife back inside his boot.
“Wait,” the man in charge said, flipping his cigarette into a pile of rubble. “Our little friend here must be cold in that wet coat of hers. Let me help her a minute.”
“She’s handcuffed, Larry. We can’t—”
He waited until he was in the younger one’s face and flipped open a switchblade close to his ski-mask-covered nose. “What did I say about names?”
Bree swallowed hard, her throat dry and sore from the frightened tears she’d shed as she bounced in the trunk. The blade came closer. He polished the flat side just below her collarbone, the long, sharp edge just an inch away from her throat. She dared not look down, afraid that he might cut her and everything would be over.
He guided the knife down her arm, slicing her coat like butter when he came back to her neck. Across, around, down her sleeve and slicing on the way back up. She felt the tip only a couple of times on her right arm as it snagged in her sweater. If he broke the skin, she couldn’t tell in her state of mind.
He yanked the coat remnants back over her shoulders. The pieces would have fallen, but he continued, asserting his power by threatening her with each slice.
Her coat lay in shreds around the chair. The man who had shot Jake came closer and wrapped the tape around her chest, forcing her close to the chair. She could barely take a deep breath and definitely couldn’t move. She could no longer tell if she shivered because of the cold or shook because of the adrenaline firing through her body.
It took her a minute after they’d both walked away, but she finally got her voice. “What are we doing here?” she yelled to the men.
The man who’d attacked Jake glanced up from the back of the car, but only for a second. He seemed nervous, young, inexperienced, while the older guy, who he’d called Larry, had that dare-me-to-hurt-you look. The same evil gleam she’d seen on Griffin’s cohort’s face at the animal clinic.
“What do you want?” she asked Larry and his underling. They’d ignored her since taping her to the chair. She hated not knowing why they’d kept her alive. It honestly surprised her since they’d killed Brenda Ellen in such a horrible way.
Not much time had passed since the lake. Her clothes were still wet. Each minute seemed like five while she froze in the drafty warehouse. Colder now that he’d taken so much delight in cutting her coat. Remembering the blunt side of the blade against her skin made her shiver more.
Shafts of light filtered inside from windows high above her head, too high to climb out—if she could get free. It proved the sun was still shining. But the time didn’t make much difference. Not really.
No one knew where she was, and no one knew she was in danger. Jake hadn’t called his department or asked for backup after he’d found her.
These men could kill her and leave her body anywhere. Her parents already thought she was dead. Absolutely no one would know. She had to get free and, if nothing else, turn herself over to the police to stop more innocent people from dying.
Jake Craig was a hero who died trying to save her. He had a family. Brenda Ellen had parents. Those families deserved the truth. Their deaths weren’t going to be in vain. The tears for a man she barely knew threatened to spill, but she couldn’t lose control. She’d cry later.
The two men were masked and she couldn’t identify them if she did manage to escape. They’d changed cars and she’d bumped around in the trunk for a short drive across downtown.
Escaping didn’t seem possible. But could she convince them to release her?
Money!
“You don’t know where the money is, do you? That’s why you’re keeping me alive.”
“Shut up. Just shut it. I won’t be tellin’ you again,” the terrifying Larry said, punching a fist in her direction.
Facing this man was nothing like confronting Griffin in their offices. She’d been scared six months ago but able to fight. Tied and feeling helpless, she was more frightened of these men, who stood twenty feet from her. Still near the second car, they argued. Jake’s murderer kept looking at his watch and then checking his cell phone.
They’re waiting on instructions.
She twisted against the duct tape that barely shifted against her wet clothes. And then the handcuffs jingling made her think of Jake’s body floating facedown in that water. She wanted to shriek, shout, use some of the self-defense she’d learned to hurt the man who’d killed Jake. It was an unreasonable desire, but his death seemed unreasonable, too.
She barely knew the detective, but his needless death had pushed her further than she could handle. Get a grip on yourself and get out of here so their deaths aren’t just a number!
“You can have the money. All two million of it. You don’t have to turn it over to Griffin. Have you thought of that?”
Both men stared at her. The younger started to talk, but the other hit the side of his head.
One phone call would get them their money. She’d left the briefcase with the only person from her family who knew she was alive. It would be easy to meet him—but not to save herself.
All she needed was to use one code word and her uncle would bring the police to the meeting. She might go to jail, but she was a witness to the murder of a police detective. She could put these men away for life. Jake’s death would mean something.
“It’s finally time,” Larry said.
The younger guy dialed the phone he’d been holding. The mean one yanked it away, stormed across the warehouse and stuck it in front of her face.
“Hello, Sabrina.” That smooth voice was her partner’s—her former partner.
“You stinking coward. How’s your leg, Griffin? Rotting off, I hope.”
“I’m afraid I’m better than your policeman,” he said without skipping a beat.
She swallowed hard to hold off the tears. Two people had died today because of her. She wouldn’t give Griffin Tyler the satisfaction of knowing how scared she was of these men.
The prearranged phone call confirmed what Jake had surmised about Brenda Ellen not being the intended victim. Who was she kidding? She hadn’t needed any confirmation. It was her fault and she’d make up for it. Somehow.
“We have a slight problem, hon,” Griffin said sweetly.
“So what?” She recognized the phony coaxing he used to talk to his clients. It had made her eyes roll six months ago. Now her stomach rolled instead.
“Always the smart aleck. We need the briefcase you stole from me.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Look, Sabrina.
These men will hurt you and still get their money back. So you might as well tell them.”
“You don’t understand. I really don’t have it, Griffin. These buffoons left my stuff in the trunk of the car. Now it’s with the cops—at least part of it is. The rest is hidden in Amarillo.”
Hope bubbled inside her while Griffin screamed unsavory words at the masked men. “Get it back. You know what will happen if we don’t. I’ll instruct the others to move ahead with her family. Do whatever it takes.”
Griffin disconnected and the screen went black.
“What is he talking about? What does ‘move ahead with my family’ mean? My family has nothing to do with the money. They can’t help you. They think I’m dead.”
“Too late now. Maybe you should have thought about that before you took off with the payoff.” Larry flicked another cigarette over his shoulder as he shoved the other guy into a corner. He spoke too low to decipher any of the conversation.
It appeared that the men chasing her had men chasing them. Griffin’s voice hadn’t just shaken with anger—he’d sounded afraid.
“Wait! I can get the money back.” She could get almost all of the money from where it was hidden. But if something happened to her family... She was sinking in the deep end and needed help. Maybe she could get the police involved by exchanging the suitcase for her family. Maybe. Most likely not, but if there was a chance, she had to try. “Just let me go and I’ll give you the money when I get it back.”
“You said it was with the cops,” the younger one whined. The mean one hit him along the side of his head again.
“Don’t listen. She’s going to say anything to get us to let her go,” the leader said. “But it won’t work.”
“Do you want to waltz into the police station and ask for it? How do you think that will go over?” she said.
“Maybe better if you hadn’t killed that cop.” Larry punched the younger man standing in front of him.
