by Rebecca Deel
On the return trip to her office, she slowed near the trashcan, her nose wrinkling. The pungent scent of tuna and overripe bananas grew stronger with each step. Somebody forgot to take out the trash before closing the office yesterday.
Coke in one hand, Meg tugged the trash bag loose and headed to her office. The Dumpster was a few feet from the back door. It should be safe enough. She left the drink on her desk and unlocked the steel door.
Shadows filled the dimly lit alley. Fear settled low in her gut. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. A sharp wind cut through her clothes, sending a shiver cascading over her body. Well, she already had the door open. Might as well go on to the Dumpster.
A couple of steps from the steel bin, a hand clamped over her mouth. A rock-hard arm jerked Meg off her feet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“What do you want?” Ty Drake surged to his feet, his glass thudding on the library desk. Light from the chandelier reflected on the windows, concealing the darkness outside.
Rod steeled his heart against the anger and betrayal on his friend’s face. He had a job to do. “I need to speak to the Senator. The butler told me to wait in here.”
“Haven’t you done enough damage to my family?”
Rod controlled the flinch. “Your family destroyed themselves. My job is to clean up the mess, keep it from spreading.”
“Yeah?” Ty’s bark of laughter cracked the quiet of the room. “Well, you failed, man. Thanks to you, I’m unemployed. Again.”
Regret swelled inside his chest. The gossip about Otter Creek Community College’s new president not tolerating scandal appeared accurate. “I’m sorry.”
Ty picked up his tumbler, finished the contents in one swallow and stumbled to the sidebar. He poured the rest of the contents of an open bottle into his glass.
“How much have you had, Ty?”
“Not enough.” He raised the glass to his lips. “I’m still standing and conscious.”
Rod sat on the edge of the desk, watching his friend, remembering his own battle with the darkness. “The booze is only a temporary fix.”
Ty hurled the empty glass against the brick hearth. Glass fragments littered the floor. “How else am I supposed to live with the pain?”
Rod searched for the right words and realized there weren’t any. “Talk to Marcus Lang. He helped me.”
“Just how much stock should I put in the advice of a fellow lush?”
Heat burned Rod’s cheeks. “Former fellow lush,” he said, his tone mild. “I haven’t touched any alcohol since last spring.”
Ty dropped into the leather armchair. “Why not? Don’t you still miss Erin and Kayla?”
“Every day.” The familiar ache throbbed in his chest. “I had to quit drinking, Ty. I almost lost my job last spring. Showed up drunk at a crime scene.” Acid churned in his stomach at the memory. “Ethan had to drive me home. He gave me one more chance and kept the incident off my record.”
Ty’s lip curled. “How decent of him. Too bad he won’t extend the same courtesy to my family.”
Rod ignored the last remark. “I drank to forget, but the relief was only temporary. When I woke up the next morning, all of it came back in spades along with a hangover. Lang helped me realize destroying my career and drinking myself into the grave wouldn’t bring back my family.”
Footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor. Rod stood and faced the doorway. Warren Drake entered the room looking more haggard than Rod had ever seen him. He appeared 20 years older than he had two days ago.
Drake frowned at his son and Rod. “What’s going on?”
“More questions, Senator Drake.”
Ty struggled to his feet. “I’ll call the attorney, Dad. Don’t say anything until he comes.” He walked to the hall, throwing his hand out for balance as he passed through the doorway.
Drake caught his son’s arm. “After you make the call, get some coffee.”
Ty stared at the Senator for a moment, then flicked Rod a glance and left.
“You might want to shut the door, Senator,” Rod said softly.
Drake closed the door, waved Rod to one of the leather armchairs and collapsed into the other one. “Are you here as a family friend or a cop?” A wry smile appeared on his lips. “If you still claim us as family. Might not be too healthy for your career, though.”
“I’m here as both friend and cop.” Rod leaned his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped. “Senator, I found Ty’s birth mother.”
Drake’s eyes closed, his head dropped back against the leather. “For more than thirty years, I’ve kept this secret buried, yet you managed to uncover the truth in a matter of days.”
“I had some help.”
“Our intrepid Gazette editor, Megan Cahill, no doubt.”
“And Sherri.”
Drake’s eyes popped open. “Sherri?” He dragged a shaking hand over his face. “Yes, of course. I should have realized.”
Alarm bells rang in Rod’s head. The Senator didn’t know about Sherri looking into Ty’s birth? Rod knew the chances of Drake killing Sherri over the blackmail were about zero. Reporters flashed headlines about good-old-boy politics almost daily. It was old news within fifteen minutes any more. Yet the Senator didn’t know about Sherri poking into Ty’s birth. So what did that leave? His and Ethan’s conclusion must be right. Drake was covering for one of his sons, but which one? “Ty doesn’t know, does he?”
Drake licked his lips. “He knows a lot of things, Rod. He knows he’s adopted and that his mother and I loved him dearly. We would do anything for our sons. Anything. What greater love can a parent have?”
Rod ruthlessly controlled the fury swelling in his gut. “How about showing your children an example of integrity and honor? To accept responsibility for your own actions and take the consequences like a man? They’re not kids anymore, Senator. Kyle and Ty are grown men.” He leaned closer. “Look, I know you love them, but you aren’t doing your constituents a favor by allowing your son to get away with murder. Don’t do this. Don’t take the murder rap for him.”
“You don’t believe I killed Sherri and her mother?” His voice sounded hoarse.
Rod shook his head. “I can make a case for it, but I don’t think you did it. I saw how you treated her, especially after the rape. Her own father couldn’t have loved her more than you did.”
An odd mixture of guilt and pain crossed Drake’s face. Rod frowned. Was the crackling fire casting weird shadows on the Senator’s face, making him see things that weren’t there? “This may be your last chance, Senator,” he pressed. “Come clean about your role in Sherri’s death. I will uncover the truth with or without your help. But when I prove you had nothing to do with the murders, I’ll charge you with obstruction if you don’t tell me the truth now. You’ll spend the remaining months of your life in a prison hospital as a guest of the government.”
The Senator’s gaze drifted to the fire. He remained silent a few moments. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked away time as Rod waited for Drake’s decision. Finally, Drake turned to face him and Rod knew from the set look on his face that the Senator would rather die in jail than betray either of his sons.
“I love them.” Drake stood. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Rod. I won’t forget it.”
Rod’s hand rested on the back of the chair as he looked back at the old politician. “I have to pursue this to its final conclusion.”
Drake nodded. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. You’re a fine man, Rod, one I would have been proud to call my son.”
Those words, though sweet to hear, left a bitter taste in his mouth. Rod shook his head and opened the door. Ty hovered nearby in the hallway. Rod turned. Drake hadn’t moved. “If you want to break the news yourself, Senator, do it now. The newsies will plaster the airwaves with it in a matter of hours.”
Rod slammed the front door behind him.
Fear hammered through Megan. She strained to see anything in darkness thic
k enough to suffocate in. Her lungs constricted, felt like a two-ton Chevy sat on her chest. Panic flared. She dragged in a wheezing breath. Maybe the trunk didn’t catch when that goon threw her in. She beat on the trunk lid, but it didn’t budge.
The car took a curve too sharp, tossing her around the trunk as if she were a rag doll in a dryer. She tried to wedge herself into a corner, at least keep the bruises to a minimum. Lot of good that would do. She had a feeling her luck avoiding the killer had just run out. A grim smile curved her mouth. Wouldn’t matter much if she had a few less bruises for her funeral. If she only had a flashlight or something that gave off even the tiniest bit of light. Right now, the blanket of darkness terrorized her more than facing a murderer.
Another curve threw her to the other side of the trunk, banging her hip against the far wall. She growled and reached back to rub the spot. Her hand brushed against something hard, rectangular in her pocket. Her heart leaped. Cell phone. But would she have a signal?
Meg dug out the phone and punched the button at the bottom. Yes! A signal and a little light. Immediately the fear receded enough to catch a few breaths and the strangle hold on her chest eased. Hands shaking, she hit her speed dial and prayed.
Rod thumped the steering wheel in frustration. He stomped on the gas, his tires squawking on the Drake driveway. The SUV barely cleared the brick columns at the entrance to the drive as he skidded into the street.
He’d hoped for a more successful conclusion to his fishing expedition. Acid churning in his stomach at the futile gamble, Rod gritted his teeth. Meg would have to remain in protective custody until he found proof enough to arrest either Kyle or Ty. Knowing her, he was in for a fight, but she would lose. He didn’t intend to lose another woman who meant the world to him.
He rubbed his bristly chin. Might as well face the truth. He loved that little spitfire writer and he would do anything to keep her safe. He shuddered. If anything happened to her, Rod didn’t know if he could face the loss, not again. He had to protect her. He couldn’t lose her now.
His cell phone chirped. “Kelter.”
“Rod, help me!”
He slammed on his brakes, guiding the vehicle to the side of the road, his department-issued SUV fishtailing on the deserted road. He jammed the transmission into park. “What’s wrong, Meg?” He struggled to keep his voice calm despite the firestorm of fear billowing inside. The rookie he left watching the newspaper office hadn’t called. Could someone have snuck into the back of the building? But all the doors had been locked.
“Two goons grabbed me and stuffed me in the trunk of a car.”
“Did you see their faces? Is it the same guys who followed us earlier?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” A loud thump sounded, followed by a cry of pain.
“Meg, talk to me.” Keeping the cell phone pressed against his ear, Rod grabbed the radio. “Dispatch, this is unit two. Patch me in to Blackhawk.”
“The mayor’s in his office. Want to try back later?”
Rod scowled. “Negative. This is code 1.” He switched his attention to the phone. “Meg! Come on, baby. Talk to me.”
The radio crackled to life again. “Blackhawk.”
“Ethan, go to the secure channel.” Rod flipped his radio to the appropriate setting and waited for Ethan’s signal. When he received it, Rod said, “Meg’s been kidnapped. Two men stuffed her in the trunk of a car. She called me on her cell, but she’s not responding right now.”
“I’ll start the process for pinging her phone. Where are you?”
“About ten miles from the Drake place. The Senator and Ty were there, but I didn’t see Kyle.”
“Any one of them could have recruited help to snatch her.” Anger made his words clipped, his tone sharp. “I thought we put a man on her. What happened?”
“I don’t know yet. Send Santana to Meg’s office to check on Jenkins.”
“Roger that.”
Rod dropped his radio handset and focused on his connection to Meg. All he heard was road noise, the occasional squeal of tires on pavement as if the driver had turned too quickly. After what seemed like a lifetime, he heard Meg’s shallow breaths. “Meg?”
“Yeah.”
Rod drew in a deep breath, relief rolling through him at tidal wave speed. If she could talk to him, they had a chance to figure this out before something irreversible happened.
She fumbled with the phone a second. “Sorry about that. I think I’m wedged in here better. I’ve been rolling around like a bowling ball.”
His eyes narrowed. A big trunk indicated a large car. “Are you all right?”
“I would be a lot better if I had a night light.” Her voice was pitched unnaturally high.
Oh, man. He’d forgotten her fear of the dark. “Doesn’t the cell phone give off a little light?”
“For a few seconds. I’m back to wishing I had night vision goggles. You wouldn’t happen to have any handy, would you?”
He forced a chuckle while his heart squeezed in sympathy. “I’ll see about adding that to our standard equipment list. Help me find you, Meg.”
“I’ll try.”
“That’s my girl.” Rod froze. He hadn’t meant to let that slip.
“Am I really?”
He caught the wonder in her tone. His hand tightened around the phone, wishing he could hold her instead of a piece of plastic. “Yeah, Cahill, you are. Now, how about helping me locate you so we can talk about it in person?”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
“Did you get a look at the car?”
“Just the tail lights. It’s a Lincoln Towncar. Maybe dark blue or black. I couldn’t tell in the alley light.”
That’s why Jenkins hadn’t called in a problem. He didn’t see the car or the goons took him out before they snatched Meg.
“Did they say anything to you?”
“Does, ‘Scream and you die’ count?”
“Yeah.” His voice roughened. “Did they say what they wanted?”
“Not to me, but I overheard them talk about my laptop and flash drive.”
He relayed the information to Ethan. They were after her computer? Rod’s brow furrowed. Why? Then his head dropped against the head rest. The editorial. Someone feared she had written her eyewitness account of Sherri’s murder for the newspaper, this time pointing fingers and giving names. Which one of the three Drakes was desperate enough to kill Megan Cahill to keep his identity a secret?
“Which direction did they turn when they left the alley?”
She gave a wry chuckle. “The first bruise is on the back of my head. They turned right.”
Rod snapped on his overhead light and jerked open the glove compartment. He shook open his map of Dunlap County and Otter Creek. “You’re doing great, baby. What else can you tell me?”
“This car needs new shocks.”
His lips twitched. “Stay on task, Cahill. What about the road, the turns, anything like that?”
“We stopped for the traffic light at Main and Third, then hung a left. That’s the bruise on my hip.”
His finger traced the car’s movement. Heading out of town, but from this route they could have taken Highway 18 or one of the back roads out of the county. “Did they ever leave the blacktop?”
“Not so far.”
He heard her breathing harder, faster. “Meg, stay with me. You can do this.” He willed her to beat back the fear.
“I’m trying. It’s just so dark.”
“Close your eyes.”
“It’s dark there, too, Kelter.”
“Yeah, but it’s supposed to be dark when you close your eyes. Come on, Meg. Trust me. Close your eyes and focus on my voice.”
“Okay.”
He could almost see her scrunch her eyes. “You’ve driven all over Dunlap County. You know these roads. Think back. Do you remember anything familiar, like a huge pothole or gravel?”
“No, nothing. I lost track of the turns.” She paused.
“Meg? Wha
t is it?”
“We’re slowing down.”
Rod waited in the ensuing silence, muscles taut, jaw clenched, praying he could figure out where those men were taking Meg before they killed her. He feared he didn’t have much time left.
“Ow. Somebody needs to pave this cow path. We’ve turned onto a dirt road. I hear gravel hitting the car’s underbelly.”
Rod flattened the folded portion of the map with his hand as he scrutinized the area south of town. Several unpaved roads split off from Route 37. He snapped off his light and shoved the car in gear. Which one had the men taken? Where were they heading?
A beeping noise broke into the silence. “What’s that?”
“A warning that my battery is dying.”
Rod stomped the gas. His SUV leaped forward. “You need to end the call, baby. Ethan’s pinging your cell signal.”
“I really don’t want to do that.” Meg’s voice shook.
Rod’s gut clenched into a knot. The call had been a lifeline and he was going to yank it out of her hands. “I will find you. Believe that and hold on.”
“Rod, it feels like we’re riding on a washboard.”
Washboard. Planks. Hope surged. “A bridge?” Silence greeted his question. “Meg?”
Nothing.
He glanced at his cell phone. No signal. He’d lost her. Rod closed his phone and grabbed the radio. “Ethan?”
“Go ahead.”
“Meg’s cell battery is low. I lost her. Not sure if I hit a dead zone or if her battery quit.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not doing much better. I’m on hold, waiting for the shift supervisor’s approval. Did she say anything to help us figure out where they’re taking her?”
“Sounds like they went south from the newspaper office. Just before the signal cut out, she said they had turned onto a dirt road and crossed a planked bridge.” He heard Ethan’s footsteps as he crossed to his map of Dunlap County.
“There are three possible bridges. I’m dispatching all available units to that area, but that’s a lot of territory to cover, especially at night. I’ll call the Sheriff’s department, see if they can provide more manpower.” Static crackled over the air. “Rod, we need to narrow the search grid. Any gut feelings about where they could be heading?”
