Take the road past the parking area for Granite Lake Retreat and follow it approximately two miles. When the paved road ends, continue on the dirt track for another half-mile.
I eagerly await your arrival.
Your Only Love
Rachel crushed the note in her hand. There was no turning back, not when Lark’s safety was at stake. She followed the road as instructed, her heart contracting as she passed the entrance sign for Granite Lake Retreat. She’d fallen hard for Kane at the camp and prayed he’d forgive her for shutting him out. She blinked back a few more tears and swallowed.
The road wound past a few scattered homes that looked like vacation cabins and ended abruptly at a chain strung across the track with a private property sign hanging from two links. Rachel got out and unfastened a metal hook on one side. Leaving the chain lying on the road, she drove across it and bumped down the rutted drive, cringing when the MG scraped bottom. She certainly wouldn’t be making a fast get-away with this car. Finally, the narrow lane opened up. The glare of her headlights revealed a small cabin.
Rachel parked next to an old green pickup and got out. Light shone through the multi-paned window near the door. Stepping up onto the porch, she peeked inside. Lark sat on a straight-backed chair with her hands behind her back. Heart pounding, Rachel threw open the door and ran to her daughter’s side.
“Mom.” Lark’s voice broke.
Other than a streak of dirt on her face and a skinned knee, she appeared unharmed.
“Honey, are you okay?” Rachel touched her cheek then enfolded her in a tight embrace. “I’ve been going out of my mind with worry.”
“He didn’t hurt me. Can you untie my hands? He’s been gone a long time. Maybe we can get away before he gets back.”
“Not going to happen, Lark. No one’s going anywhere, at least not tonight.”
Rachel turned to meet Curt Dawson’s warm brown gaze. A smile curved the corners of his lips. She shivered and looked away. A long hunting knife, strapped to his leg, gleamed in the light.
“You promised you’d let Lark go if I came.” Rachel held his gaze as she stepped forward. “I did as you asked. No one followed me, so I’m counting on you to uphold your end of the bargain.”
“I’ll let Lark go just as soon as you’re ready to stay here with me. I’m not a fool, Jordan. I realize it may take a little time to convince you we belong together.” He shut the cabin door and dropped her overnight bag and purse on the floor. “You left these in the car.”
Rachel took a deep breath and smiled. “Thanks for bringing them in. Do you think we could untie Lark? Her wrists look raw. Maybe we could put some antibiotic ointment on them.”
Crossing the room, he tore his gaze away from Rachel to glance down at Lark’s wrists where they were secured to the chair. “They don’t look so bad, and I’d really rather not have to worry about her trying to escape.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
Lark’s voice sounded so small, so vulnerable, Rachel’s heart squeezed.
Curt’s chuckle grated across her nerves.
“I’d like to believe you, Lark, but your wrists wouldn’t be chafed if you hadn’t been struggling to get loose. I’ll free your hands once dinner’s ready.”
When her daughter opened her mouth, Rachel shook her head. “That seems reasonable. Can I help with the meal?”
“Thanks for offering. I’m glad you’re willing to cooperate.” He came over to touch her hair. “We’re going to get along just beautifully, Jordan. You’ll see.”
Rachel withheld a shudder as his fingers stroked her jaw. “What would you like me to do?”
His glazed eyes refocused. “You heat up a can of stew while I throw together a salad.”
“I don’t mind making the salad.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m not willing to trust you with a knife just yet. The can opener is in the drawer by the stove, and there should be a corkscrew in there as well. I brought along a nice bottle of Merlot to go with our dinner.”
Surely she was in some alternate universe. As she worked to prepare dinner beside the man who had terrorized her for so long, she wondered who owned the cabin. No pictures or other personal items sat on the bare shelves. The main room consisted of a living area and small kitchen. Two closed doors led to what she assumed were a bedroom and bath.
Lark sat quietly while Rachel heated the stew and buttered a loaf of bread. She gave her a reassuring smile whenever she could despite the fear twisting her stomach. When the food was on the table, their captor untied Lark’s hands.
They ate in silence. After several long minutes, Lark pushed her plate away. “I can’t stand this. What are we doing here? Let us go, you freak!”
Showing no real emotion, he kept his focus on his dinner. “We’ve talked about this. I have no more desire for your company than you do for mine. When Jordan and I reach an understanding, I’ll turn you loose.”
“Her name isn’t Jordan. It’s Rachel! Do you hear me?” Lark’s voice pitched higher. “Why won’t you let us go? My mom loves Kane, not you. She could never love you.”
“Lark.” Rachel gave her a brief head shake and a warning glance.
Dawson stiffened. Angry color suffused his face as he glanced up. “She may feel some attraction to that man, but I’ve no doubt Jordan will soon realize he could never satisfy her the way I will. You see, my Jordan is there inside Rachel, just waiting for me to release her.”
His gaze moved from Lark to Rachel, and a smile lit his eyes. “For fourteen long years I’ve waited, knowing we’d be together someday. The time is now.”
Pushing back his chair, he picked up his plate. “If you’ve finished eating, I believe I’ve waited long enough. Time for bed. Why don’t you freshen up while Lark does the dishes? I see no reason why she can’t help out.” His head swiveled toward the girl. “For the time she’s here, anyway.”
“I’d like to wash my face.” Rachel stood. “Lark, do as Curt asks and clean up in here. Would you please?”
Her daughter’s gaze swung toward the bedroom door. “Mom, you can’t.”
“It’s all right, honey.” Rachel smiled. “Curt isn’t a monster. He won’t hurt me, but we do need to talk.” She picked up her purse and headed toward the bathroom then turned to look at the animal who’d taken her daughter. “I’ll be right back.”
He cleared his throat and held out a large hand. “May I?”
Rachel handed him her purse. He looked inside and took out her cell phone before handing it back.
Fighting to walk slowly when she wanted only to run, she got to the bathroom then shut the door and locked it. She leaned against the wall with closed eyes as a wave of panic washed over her. She took a couple of deep breaths but her body wouldn’t stop trembling.
“Okay, Plan B. I can do this.” Opening her eyes, she straightened then stared at herself in the mirror, remembering getting into character during her New York days. She took a few long breaths and forced herself to focus. Soon, the face looking back was calm, almost serene.
“I wouldn’t be much of an actress if I can’t convince one deluded fool I’m interested in him.” She squared her shoulders. “Tonight, I’ll be Jordan Hale again, and when it’s over Lark will be free.”
She used the toilet then washed her face and hands. Pulling the penknife from her pocket, she looked for a hiding place. Her gaze rested on an open tissue box, and she slipped the knife inside. Her hand hovered over the box, questioning her decision. She could keep the weapon and try to use it on the pervert. If she failed, though, the game would be over. This way Lark had a better chance.
In the kitchen, her daughter stood at the sink washing dishes. Tears ran down her face, and she swiped at them with a wet hand. Rachel crossed the room to hug her.
“Everything’s going to be fine. I don’t want you to worry about me. I know exactly what I’m doing.” She turned to smile at the sick, little man who blushed under h
er regard. “Curt and I are going to talk and get to know one another better.”
He swallowed. “Lark, it’s been a long day. I’d like you to use the bathroom, and then we’ll get you settled for the night.”
“Are you going to tie me up again?”
“I’m afraid I have to, but there’s no need for you to be uncomfortable. I’ll secure you to the couch.”
“Go blow your nose.” Rachel gave her daughter an intent look. “There really isn’t any reason for tears. Take the overnight bag with you. I brought you a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. You’ll be a lot warmer sleeping in those. I remembered how cold it gets up here at night.”
The deviant picked up the bag, unzipped it and looked through the contents before handing it to Lark.
“There’s a spare blanket and pillow in the bedroom closet, Jordan. She’ll be warm enough.”
Without a word, Lark shut the bathroom door with a sharp click. Rachel headed into the bedroom. The sight of the king-sized bed covered with a patchwork quilt sent a shudder through her. She pulled the blanket and pillow off the closet shelf and went back into the main room.
“When I searched your bag, I couldn’t help noticing you didn’t bring a nightgown for yourself. Why not?”
Rachel looked him directly in the eye and smiled the way Jordan Hale had smiled at so many men. “Am I really going to need one?”
Keep him happy and focused. Give Lark the time she needs to get away. I can do this. She unclenched her fists and offered another smile.
Sweat broke out on the pervert’s forehead.
The bathroom door opened. Lark’s gaze went immediately to her mother, a hint of excitement in the depths of her blue eyes.
“Let’s get you settled.” With unsteady hands, he tied Lark’s feet and hands then looped the rope around the couch, securing her to it.
Rachel spread the blanket over her daughter. “Good night, honey, sleep well.”
“Good night, Mom.”
Rachel bent to kiss her cheek.
“Got it!” The words were a bare whisper in her ear.
Rachel smiled then straightened. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Lark stared at her kidnapper, her gaze fierce. “If you hurt my mother, Kane will kill you.”
Anger darkened his eyes. “I have no intention of hurting her, and I’d rather not hear that man’s name mentioned again.” He indicated the bedroom door with a sweep of his arm. “After you, Jordan.”
Rachel walked toward the bedroom with her head held high, fists clenched at her sides. She didn’t plan to surrender easily. Once Lark was safely away, Curt Dawson was in for the fight of his life.
Chapter 28
Kane read Rachel’s note for the tenth time, looking for a clue where none existed, then crushed it in his fist. Grace sat down next to him and squeezed his arm.
Head in his hands, he stared out the window into the early evening gloom. “Why’d she do it? Why didn’t she let the police handle it? Why didn’t she call me?”
“She was thinking of Lark’s safety.”
“By throwing herself to the lions? We could have put a tail on her the bastard would never have detected. For Christ’s sake, this is what I do!” Kane pounded his fist against his thigh.
“The bastard has a name.” Sheriff Walker closed his phone.
Kane jumped to his feet. “Which of them is it?”
“Curt Dawson. The lab rushed the DNA results on the skin sample taken from beneath Rose’s fingernails. It matches the sample you took off his water bottle. Also, the Lakeport police have Bob Mayfield in custody. The reason Mayfield’s been so secretive is because he’s growing a nice crop of marijuana on his property. He flatly denied any involvement in Lark’s kidnapping, and this time he has witnesses to verify his whereabouts. We charged him with possession of an illegal substance with intent to sell, but Dawson’s our kidnapper.”
“So the truck in Lakeport was just a coincidence?” Kane’s chest rose on a long breath.
“I’m afraid so. I have men questioning Dawson’s friends and relatives again. Maybe one of them will remember something significant.”
“I want to personally question Tiffany Randolph. If Dawson’s been harboring a secret obsession for Rachel the whole time they were dating, she must have known something was off. Maybe she’ll remember some small detail that will help find them.”
The sheriff nodded. “Go ahead, Kane. I’ll call your cell if anything breaks. In the meantime, we’ll be doing everything we can to pin down their location.”
He fisted his hands on his hips. “The CHP hasn’t spotted Rachel’s SUV yet?”
“No, I don’t understand how she could have traveled any distance without being seen. We had an APB out on her vehicle within forty-five minutes of her disappearance.”
“Maybe they’re somewhere nearby.”
“That’s one possibility.” Walker frowned. “Another is Dawson picked her up, and she left her vehicle parked someplace secluded.”
Kane pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I’ve talked to Tiffany.”
He spent the forty-five minute drive to Tiffany Randolph’s home in San Rafael trying not to imagine what Dawson was doing to Rachel. As the minutes ticked by, twilight deepened to darkness. Kane pulled into the condominium complex where the asshole’s so-called girlfriend lived. Jumping out of his Jeep, he ran up to pound on her door.
She opened it almost immediately and waved him inside. “Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”
He shook his head and remained standing. “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”
Tiffany sat on the edge of the couch, her hands clasped in her lap. She wore a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt that admirably displayed her assets, but the fun-loving smile was missing. “I can’t believe Curt actually kidnapped Lark. Are you sure he’s the one who did it?”
“We have DNA evidence. He’s been harassing Rachel for weeks now. Apparently he’s been fixated on her for the last fourteen years.”
“How can that be? He would have been a boy all those years ago.”
“He was a teenager with the hots for a beautiful actress.” Kane clenched his fists. “It wouldn’t be the first time a wet dream turned into a sick obsession. I’m looking for some help here. Anything you can tell me about Dawson and his habits could turn this investigation around for us.”
“I wish I could help. Is that why he took me up to Granite Lake, so he’d have an excuse to be near Rachel? I thought he was sticking it to his mother.”
“He never talked about Rachel while you were there?”
“Only casual comments, but he was horny as hell the whole time we were camping. We went at it like a couple of rabbits.” Her lips twisted. “Now that I think about it, a couple of times during sex he whispered a name, but it wasn’t Rachel. I asked him about it once, and he just gave me an odd look and said I imagined it.”
“Rachel played a character named Jordan Hale on the soap opera. That’s how he thinks of her.”
Tiffany’s hand shook as she pushed back her hair. “That’s really perverted. I never could figure out what made Curt tick. We had an open relationship, which suited both of us.”
“Why’d you date him?”
“He’s good in the sack.”
Kane cleared his throat. “Were there any special places he liked to go? Did he talk about a trip he hoped to take?”
“Not really. He grew up in Nebraska, but he hasn’t been back there in years. Curt’s not close to his family. He mentioned the reunion his sister was planning weeks before he asked me to go with him. I had the impression he didn’t plan to attend. Then all of a sudden he was excited about going.” She shrugged. “Anyway, he’s mentioned that camping trip fondly a few times. He said he’d like to do it again without the excess baggage. I thought he meant his parents, but maybe he was referring to me.”
“You think he might take Rachel
back to the mountains?” A seed of hope sprang to life—not much to go on, but something.
“It’s the only thing I can think of. When we were together, we didn’t do a whole lot of talking. Curt may look like Joe Average, but he’s anything but in bed.” She picked at the edge of the couch with a shiny red fingernail. “Sorry. That’s probably not what you want to hear.”
Lips pressed tight, Kane walked over and handed her a business card. “You’ve been very helpful. My cell number’s on the card. Call if you think of anything else.”
“Of course.” She stood and touched his arm. “Curt may have a sick fixation with Rachel, but he really isn’t a violent person. He was always very considerate both in and out of bed. I don’t think he’d actually hurt her or Lark.”
“I hope you’re right. Thanks for your cooperation, Tiffany.”
“Just catch the son of a bitch. Rachel was so nice to me while we were camping.” She grimaced then went on. “It creeps me out knowing Curt was thinking about her every time we had sex. I’d like to personally kill the freak.”
“I doubt you’re the only victim of Dawson’s fantasy life. Don’t worry. When I find him, he’ll pay.”
Kane’s cell rang as he was leaving San Rafael. He glanced at the display and answered. “Do you have news?”
“We finally got an ID on the pickup he’s been using.” The sheriff paused. “It belongs to the father of one of Dawson’s friends. Apparently he borrowed it to move some furniture a few months ago and has been helping himself to it ever since. The man keeps it at a farm outside Petaluma and rarely drives it. He only realized it was missing when his son asked him to check after we contacted him. I’ve released the license number, but so far no hits.”
“No sign of Dawson in Petaluma?”
“None. His car was parked in the old barn where the truck was stored. Dawson obviously felt safe leaving it there. The elderly man who owns the place recently had hip surgery and hasn’t been in the barn for weeks.”
“Tiffany thinks he may have gone back to the mountains. Put the CHP near Donner Summit on alert for the truck and for Rachel’s SUV. I’m heading up there now.”
Every Move She Makes Page 30
