Ready, Aim...I Do!: Missing

by Debra Webb

  What the hell had just happened?

  He nudged the heap on the ground with his foot. The man didn’t move.

  Scott swallowed hard. Where was his flashlight? He felt around on the ground, working his way back toward the porch. His fingers finally wrapped around the hard plastic cylinder. He clicked it on and swept the beam over the ground until it landed on the heap.

  The big man lay facedown on the ground. Blood seeped from beneath him. Scott looked down at himself, turned the flashlight on his torso.

  His breath caught when he saw blood.

  Was he hurt?

  He felt around on his chest, his abdomen. He was okay. Must be the other man’s blood.

  Easing closer, he tried to identify the man on the ground. He couldn’t see his face. Holding his breath, Scott leaned and rolled the man over.

  The squeak that echoed in the air came from Scott.

  The man was Stevie Price.

  Why had Stevie attacked him?

  Scott stared at the gun on the ground. Because he’d sneaked up on him at night with a shotgun in his hand.

  “Dear God.” He’d killed a man. A mentally challenged man.

  There would be no plea bargaining his way out of this. His daddy’s money wouldn’t buy him a get-out-of-jail-free card—

  Had he heard that? A whimpering sound that brushed against his senses. His ears perked up, and this time he was certain. It was a soft, sad sound.

  Scott whipped around and shone the light on the shack.

  “Who’s there?”

  Faint cries whispered on the night air.

  He moved cautiously forward, inching closer and closer to the shack.

  “Hello?”

  The crying didn’t let up. Soft sobbing.

  The porch creaked when he stepped onto it again. Scott braced for another attack that never came. He stepped gingerly through the open door. The place smelled bad, almost as bad as Stevie. Poor, stupid misfit. Scott put his hand over his mouth and shone the light around the room. In the beam of light he saw a sleeping bag. Bottled water. Food remains. And something in the corner. Something pink.

  A dress.

  Scott’s heart almost stilled again.

  In the corner, curled in a little ball, was a blond-haired child.

  He swallowed back a lump of emotion. “Polly?”

  Big tear-filled eyes looked up at him.

  It was her. William’s child.

  A howl shattered the silence, and Scott whirled to face the sound. Before he could wonder where his shotgun was, something hit him in the stomach, knocking him to the floor.

  The flashlight spun across the room.

  Scott blinked as a fire lit in his belly. He touched himself and felt the warm, sticky wetness. He held his hand in front of his face. The meager glow from the flashlight on the other side of the room highlighted something dark on his fingers. Blood. His blood.

  Agony swelled in his midsection.

  He’d been shot.

  Before he could cry out, the barrel of a shotgun appeared between his eyes. His gaze traced the long black barrel and settled upon the face staring down at him.

  He opened his mouth and tried to speak but he couldn’t seem to form the words. What was wrong with him? Finally he squeaked out one word, “You.”

  This was wrong. He had to do something.

  When the shotgun disappeared from his view, he tried to turn his head but couldn’t.

  The room started to move... No, he was moving. His body was being dragged toward the door.

  He opened his mouth again to scream but the blackness swallowed him.

  11:15 p.m.

  JOHNNY RAY BRUCE sucked on the cigarette dangling from his lips. She was late. Probably couldn’t get away from her old man.

  Fool.

  He’d told her a long time ago that she would never belong to anyone but him. Too bad she’d been too stupid to listen. Now things were way too complicated.

  Headlights appeared in the distance.

  Johnny Ray threw the cigarette to the ground and stamped it out. “’Bout time.”

  The lights flashed on the park bench next to where he’d parked his car. They didn’t have to worry about being seen in the park. Folks around here went to bed with the chickens. Rolled the damned streets up at dark.

  Johnny Ray hated this town. He’d have been gone long ago if it hadn’t been for her.

  Presley slammed the door of her car and sauntered over to him. “Gimme a smoke.”

  As he removed a cigarette from the pack, Johnny Ray let his eyes skim her body. Short shorts, halter top and bare feet. Man, it was a sin for a woman to look that good. He wanted her. Right now. Right here. But she was ticked off. She didn’t have to say so. He knew her well enough to read her body language like an open book.

  He flipped out his lighter and watched as she drew on the cigarette. His gut tightened. She was something, all right.

  She exhaled a big puff of smoke. “We got trouble.”

  “Oh yeah?” He lit himself another smoke. “That soldier boy of yours finally grow a brain and figure out how to make you happy?”

  She rolled her eyes and took another long drag from the cigarette. “He’s suspicious about that night.”

  “It doesn’t matter how suspicious he is,” Johnny Ray shot back. “He doesn’t have any evidence. My uncle said there’s no evidence of anything.”

  Presley turned away.

  “Hey, baby.” He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “I know this is hard, but you gotta be strong. Falling apart now won’t change anything.”

  She jerked away from him. “My baby is missing. You don’t know how that feels.”

  Johnny Ray shrugged. “Maybe I don’t. But I don’t like it when you mope around like this.”

  She lifted her chin haughtily. “He says I can’t talk to you anymore.”

  Rage roared through Johnny Ray. He charged up toe-to-toe with her. “So what? He’s said that before. His threats have never changed anything.”

  “He says he’ll get a divorce.”

  “Hey!” Johnny Ray threw up his arms. “That’s great. He should’ve come up with that plan years ago.”

  She glared at him. “I don’t want a divorce. That would leave me with no insurance. No money. Nothing. I’m not living that way again. And...”

  “And what?” he snarled.

  “Maybe I don’t want to lose him.”

  Another rush of fury stormed Johnny Ray. “What’re you saying?”

  “That I can’t see you anymore.” She shook with her own anger and no small measure of fear.

  She was actually serious.

  Johnny Ray laughed. Long and loud. She glared at him. “Well, darling, I’m afraid that doesn’t work for me.”

  She tossed the cigarette away. “Well,” she mocked him, “I guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

  Johnny Ray stuck his face in hers. “I don’t think so. You’ll do whatever I tell you to.”

  “I’m through letting you run me. I deserve better and Will wants me to be happy.”

  “Sounds like your sister-in-law’s been filling your head with fairy tales again.”

  “Melissa’s been better to me than my own momma ever was. The Shepherds are my family.” She folded her arms over her chest and shook her head. “I’m not cheating on Will anymore.” Her chin quivered but she held it high. “We’re done, Johnny Ray.”

  Shaking his head, he chuckled. “Well,” he said cruelly, “you should’ve thought of that before you killed his kid.”

  Behind her, tires squealed.

  Johnny Ray looked past Presley to see William’s truck skid to a stop next to her car. The soldier boy jumped out, leaving the door open.

  “Johnny Ray,” William snarled, “you’re a dead man.”

  “Call my uncle,” Johnny Ray said to Presley as he walked past her. To William he taunted, “Bring it on, soldier boy. Let’s see if the military made a man out of you after all.”
/>
  Saturday, May 29th, 1:02 a.m.

  MELISSA SHOOK LOOSE from the dream. It was the same one she had whenever Jonathan was on her mind. They were still together. He hadn’t left, and they had children of their own.

  A howl shattered the final remnants of sleep.

  Melissa sat up. A curse hissed through the air.

  Jonathan.

  She threw back the covers and jumped up. When she reached the door to William’s room her brain had only just conjured up the idea that she shouldn’t go to Jonathan like this. It was too late.

  He sat on the side of the bed, his hands braced on either side of him.

  “You okay?” she asked him.

  “Yes.”

  That was his stock answer. She crossed the room, using the moonlight filtering in between the curtains to avoid the clothing littering the floor, and sat down beside him.

  “The same old nightmares?”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t suppose you want to talk about it.” He never had. Three years apart likely hadn’t changed his mind about sharing with her.

  “I led my team behind enemy lines.”

  Shock radiated through Melissa. He was going to tell her? Now? Fear of shattering the moment kept her from speaking.

  “We were captured. As soon as I was identified, the interrogation started. They knew I had information that would help their cause.”

  She wanted to touch him, to put her arms around him and hold him close but she didn’t dare move. The pain in his voice tore at her heart.

  “When I wouldn’t break, they moved on to another technique.”

  The ability to breathe eluded her.

  “They tortured and killed my men, one at a time, in an attempt to make me talk.”

  Dear God. How could anyone hope to recover from that kind of trauma?

  “I didn’t break. I couldn’t let my country down.”

  He fell silent for so long Melissa thought he’d finished. She reached out to him, but he flinched.

  “They all died for nothing. The mission was aborted after our capture. But I didn’t know.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know.”

  Melissa put her arms around him. He tried to draw away but she held on tight. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You did your duty. That’s all you could do.”

  He pressed his cheek to hers. “They died for nothing.”

  The agony in his voice had tears welling in her eyes. “They died for their country,” she murmured. “It was all any of you could do.” Though she didn’t understand exactly what had happened, she knew full well if his men had been anything like Jonathan, any one of them would have done the same thing he had.

  He turned his mouth around to hers. “I swore I wouldn’t do this again.”

  “You don’t have to,” she whispered, her lips brushing his. “I’ll do it.”

  A ringing sound made her hesitate. The phone.

  For a moment she couldn’t move. She could only breathe the same air as him.

  The phone rang again.

  “I have to get that.” She forced her body to draw away from his and stood, then she practically ran. All the way back to her room. She snatched the phone from the nightstand. “Hello.”

  “Melissa.”

  “What’s wrong, Uncle Harry? Have they found Polly?” Fear lodged in her throat. The sweet sensual heat Jonathan had stirred vanished in a heartbeat.

  The overhead light came on and Jonathan stood in her doorway.

  “It’s William,” Harry said, his voice haunted.

  Melissa looked around for her clothes. “Is he okay?”

  “He and Johnny Ray had a fight. Johnny Ray’s beat up pretty bad. The chief’s holding William until we come pick him up.”

  Melissa closed her eyes and scrubbed at them. Why in God’s name didn’t Johnny Ray admit defeat? Presley had chosen William. “I’ll be right there.”

  “I’m on my way to city hall to pick up William. You stay put. I’ll bring him back to the house and we’ll try to talk some sense into him.”

  “Okay. Be careful.” It was the middle of the night and Harry wasn’t so young anymore. Melissa hung up the phone and met Jonathan’s questioning gaze. “William and Johnny Ray got into a fight. Johnny Ray’s in the hospital. Uncle Harry’s going to pick up William from city hall.”

  “Has he been charged?”

  Melissa sighed. “I don’t know.” She combed her fingers through her hair. How could any of them do this with Polly missing? It was insane.

  “Where’s his wife?”

  Melissa shook her head. “I didn’t think to ask.”

  For the first time since he walked in, she noticed Jonathan was staring at her. Heat rushed into her cheeks as she realized the state of her dress.

  “Sorry.” She wrapped her arms around her middle, covering her breasts. The nightgown was thin and from the look in Jonathan’s eyes, he saw right through the fabric.

  Jonathan took a step into the room. “I’ve seen every inch of you, Melissa.”

  The heat that had infused her cheeks started anew deep in her belly. “I know, but that was before.” She pulled in a much needed breath. “I didn’t mean to come into your room like that.” What had she been thinking? If that phone hadn’t rung, God knows what would have happened.

  “I’m glad you did.”

  Their gazes collided and held. He’d dragged on his jeans but hadn’t taken the time to fasten them. He was as lean and strong as she remembered and the need to touch him, every part of him, made her knees weak. But she couldn’t go there, not and survive. Losing him had been too hard. That he’d shared his nightmare with her only made being together more difficult. Bruises, maybe a few days old, were scattered on his torso. She frowned. She hadn’t asked what kind of work he did now.

  As if he sensed the war going on inside her and the questions the bruises raised, he nodded. “I’ll be waiting in the living room.”

  Melissa held her breath until he’d walked away.

  By the time she’d gotten dressed and pulled herself together, Uncle Harry had arrived with William and Presley in tow. William had a black eye, a swollen lip and a few scratches. Johnny Ray on the other hand had a mild concussion and two cracked ribs.

  “The chief isn’t pressing charges considering,” Harry explained.

  “Considering what?” Jonathan asked.

  William, she noticed, didn’t say a word. Neither did Presley. She sat on the sofa next to her husband, her legs crossed and her foot tapping a hundred miles an hour.

  Taking a breath, Melissa sat down next to Presley. “You okay?”

  Presley wouldn’t meet her gaze, just shook her head.

  “You want me to tell them?”

  Melissa looked up at her uncle who’d asked the question. Harry starred at William who sat there, unblinking.

  “William?” Melissa said softly. “We can talk later, if you’d prefer.” She turned to Harry. “They’re both exhausted. This has been—”

  “She wasn’t home when Polly disappeared,” William said abruptly.

  Melissa’s heart bumped hard against her sternum.

  “She was with him.”

  Presley stared at the floor where her foot tapped faster and faster.

  “Dear God,” Harry groaned. “How could you do that to William?” Harry demanded. “He deserves better.”

  The silence that held the room captive for the next few seconds weighed several tons.

  Presley nodded. “He made me.”

  “Who made you?” Jonathan prompted. Melissa greatly appreciated the sympathy in his voice.

  “Johnny Ray.”

  William’s face tightened. Melissa wished she could protect him from this.

  “How so?” Jonathan nudged.

  Harry stood. “I can’t listen to any more of this.” He gestured to the door. “I’ll be on the porch.”

  Presley glanced at Melissa, then at Jonathan. “He blackmailed me. He said if I didn’t meet him whenever h
e asked, he’d tell Will my secret.”

  Before Melissa could launch into a rant about what she’d like to do to Johnny Ray, Jonathan asked in that same gentle voice, “Can you share that secret with us now?”

  Presley nodded. She stole a look at William. “After Will deployed to Afghanistan, I found out I was pregnant again.” She made a keening sound and her lips trembled. “You know I couldn’t handle another kid.” This she said to Melissa. “I can barely take care of Polly.”

  “Dear God.” Melissa knew where this was going.

  “So I got Johnny Ray to take me to Birmingham and I had an abortion.”

  William lunged to his feet and walked out onto the porch with Harry.

  Presley broke down, dropped her face into her hands. “I should’ve been home that night. But he made me meet him. I wasn’t gone long. I thought Polly was in her room when I got back but I was really drunk.”

  Melissa wanted to hate her for what she’d done, but she couldn’t. She set aside the fact that Presley had just admitted terminating a baby she had conceived with Will. Presley had been abused her whole life. She wasn’t equipped to deal with snakes like Johnny Ray.

  Melissa pulled the younger woman into her arms. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve made sure he never bothered you again.” Will had trusted Melissa to watch over Polly and Presley. But she couldn’t do that if Presley wasn’t honest with her.

  Presley sobbed harder. “I didn’t want you to hate me. Now look what I’ve done.”

  It no longer mattered that Melissa was right—Presley had been holding something back. But her revelation changed nothing.

  Polly was still missing.

  Chapter Ten

  8:30 a.m.

  Jonathan followed the chief and his deputies around the perimeter that had been cordoned off as a crime scene.

  Stevie Price’s body had been discovered early that morning by two teenagers. The young men had insisted they’d come to the shack for a weekend of fishing in the nearby river. Judging by what the police had found in their vehicle, fishing hadn’t been on the agenda. More like partying. Lots of beer and chips, and no sign of any fishing gear.

  Stevie Price had been shot in the chest once. The coroner had concluded that Price had died within seconds of being hit. An autopsy would likely show the round had ripped through his heart.