The Deputy's Duty

by Terri Reed

  She’d known falling in love again was madness. Had thought she’d never go down this road again but then she hadn’t figured on Ryan Fitzgerald. He’d gotten past the barricades she’d erected around her heart. Made her think her heart was safe with him.

  But he’d hurt her. Not physically as her ex had. Ryan would never be that guy.

  This hurt went deeper and made her bleed inside.

  She headed back to her lonely cottage by the sea. There was no question she had to leave Fitzgerald Bay. Being here hurt too much. Seeing Ryan hurt too much.

  Even though she’d turned in an article that she was proud of, it wasn’t the one Ryan had read. After he’d left she’d taken a good long look at her work and viewed the story from Ryan’s point of view. She hadn’t like what she’d read. The words sounded vindictive and crushing.

  Not the person she wanted to be.

  So she’d revised the story to reflect the heroism of a certain deputy chief and the rescue of innocent lives.

  As a freelance journalist Meghan knew there would be other stories, other chances to gain recognition and higher wages.

  What she needed at the moment was to show a judge that she had a steady income and stable home to provide for Georgina. And that meant heading back to Boston and finding a well-paying job. Now.

  Her lawyer, Mr. Dean, had said she could visit Georgina soon. The only bright spot in a rather dismal week.

  When she arrived at her cottage, she dragged her suitcase from the hall closet and laid it open on the blue-and-red toile printed comforter and began systematically packing her clothing. As she emptied each drawer and slid it shut, the hollow sound echoed in the stillness of the cottage, magnifying the hollow feeling in her heart.

  What would Ryan think when he read her revised article today?

  She wouldn’t be here to find out.

  A noise stilled her hands. Was that a knock she’d heard? Hope flared. Had Ryan had a change of heart and come to see her? She hurried to the door trying not to let her expectations fly too high.

  Wood splintered as the front door gave way to the man forcing his way in.

  Terror crashed over Meghan, engulfing her in its smothering intensity like a tsunami wiping out everything in its wake. A scream tore from her lungs. She turned to flee, to find an escape.

  Roman Wykoski grabbed her by the hair and yanked her backward. Dragging her out the front door, he growled, “You thought you were so smart, you and your boyfriend. No one makes a fool of me and lives.”

  Frantic, Meghan kicked and screamed as he hauled her from the cottage.

  Please, God, save me.

  Despair underscored the terror. No one would come looking for her. Georgina would grow up without her. No one else would miss her.

  Especially not Ryan.

  FIFTEEN

  Ryan saw his father slip away. After the press conference the family was gathered in the living room of the family home. Ryan followed his dad to the study.

  The sounds of his siblings muted as he closed the door behind him. “I’m proud of you, Dad.”

  His father’s confession of his affair, his mistakes since and his heartfelt apology to his family and the town rang with sincerity. Humbly taking ownership of his faults had endeared him to his family. And Ryan hoped to the town.

  Aiden sat in the recliner by the window. His favorite reading spot. “Thank you, son. That means a lot to me.”

  As a young boy, Ryan used to love to climb onto his dad’s lap and listen to him read from the stack of books Ryan would drag in. The memory evoked affection. For all his faults, Aiden Fitzgerald had been a good dad to him. “I owe you an apology, Dad.”

  Aiden shook his head. “No.”

  “Yes. I let my anger and hurt cloud what’s important.” Family, loyalty, love.

  “I wish I’d done things differently. I wish I’d exercised better judgment.”

  “The past is over and done with,” Ryan stated, remembering when Meghan had shared this wisdom with him. He hadn’t bought it then, but now he understood. Dwelling on what had already been only robbed him of what could be. “We have to figure out how to live in the now, then the future.”

  “When did you become so wise?” his father asked.

  Ryan couldn’t claim the credit. “Since I allowed Meghan Henry into my life.”

  His father arched a gray speckled eyebrow. “Ah. The lovely Meghan. You care about her.”

  So much more than cared. “Yes. I love her.”

  “Have you told her?”

  Ryan heaved a heavy sigh full of self-recrimination and guilt. “No.”

  In fact she probably thought he despised her. Which was far from the truth. “Dad, Meghan wants custody of Georgina.”

  “I thought she might,” Aiden said. “It’s what Olivia wanted.”

  “Can you help make it happen?”

  Aiden smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  A wave of relief lifted some of the weight bearing down on him. “Georgina’s in emergency foster care. Probably scared and confused. It’d sure be nice if we could get her to Meghan sooner rather than later,” Ryan said, hoping his father would take action.

  His father glanced at his watch. “I have a few favors I can call in. And she is my granddaughter.”

  And Ryan’s niece. “Thanks, Dad.”

  His father waved a hand. “Go to Meghan. Tell her how you feel.”

  “I will.”

  The study door open. Keira rushed in, her eyes wide and panicked. “Dad, Ryan.”

  Her agitation knotted Ryan’s gut. “What’s happened?”

  “Christina Hennessy’s transport was ambushed. She’s escaped.”

  * * *

  Ryan drove to Meghan’s. He wanted her to hear the news of Christina’s escape from him. Though he’d had a patrol car drive by often, he still needed to make sure she was safe. He parked in front of her cottage, jumped out of his rig and hurried up the walkway.

  A stray sandal lay on the ground. A sense of foreboding prickled the tiny hairs at the base of his neck.

  He picked it up, frowning at the shoe. Hadn’t Meghan been wearing this at the press conference? A knot of apprehension fisted his gut.

  The front door of the cottage was ajar. The splintered wood and broken lock sent a shock of fear jolting through him. Caution made him reach for his holstered weapon at his side. Leading with his gun, he entered the cottage.

  “Meghan!”

  The end table lay on its side. The contents of Meghan’s purse lay scattered on the floor. The area rug was bunched up. All signs of a struggle.

  He locked down all emotion and grabbed his phone. He called his brother Douglas and explained the situation. As he talked he did a quick sweep of the house even though he knew she wouldn’t be there. Someone had taken her. The sight of the half-filled suitcase on her bed disturbed him but he couldn’t let his mind even process that, not when every instinct told him she was in danger.

  “We’ll find her, bro,” Douglas said. “I’ll send everyone out. We’ll canvass the area, see if anyone saw something.”

  Ryan stepped out on the porch. There were few houses at this end of the beach. His own place was barely visible a quarter of a mile down the shore. “I’m going to check the beach.”

  The flutter of paper drew his attention. An ice pick stabbed a note to the porch railing. “Wait a sec. I found something.”

  He read the scrawled note. His heart dropped. His self-control crumbled. Panic throbbed in his head. Wykoski had Meghan. The note instructed Ryan to come alone to the cliffs off the Fitzgerald Bay lighthouse if he wanted to see Meghan alive. The same place where they’d found Olivia Henry’s broken body.

  “What
is it?” Douglas asked.

  Ryan lifted his gaze and scanned the street, the beach, the ocean. Was he being watched?

  “Wykoski’s got her.” Terror twisted him up inside. His chest squeezed tight until drawing breath was difficult. He jogged to his rig and climbed inside. With tires squealing, he roared down the street. “He wants me to come to the lighthouse cliffs if I want to see her again.”

  “You stay put. I’ll be right there. We’ll go together,” Douglas said in a firm tone.

  “No time. Already en route. I need to save her. Meet me there.” Ryan hung up and concentrated on driving to the place where this nightmare began.

  A terrifying image slammed into his consciousness. An image of Meghan, broken and bleeding at the bottom of the cliffs.

  His heart in his throat, Ryan sent up an urgent prayer.

  God save her. Help me save her.

  He’d just found the love of his life. Losing her now would be a blow his heart would never recover from.

  * * *

  The sound of the tires against asphalt reverberated in her ears. Her eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness. But her heart cried out against the stiffling confines of the trunk she’d been forced into. She had no idea where Roman was taking her. She was almost afraid to find out.

  Meghan prayed fervently, silently. Help me, Lord. Please help me.

  She lay curled in a fetal position. Plastic ties bound her wrists painfully behind her back. More ties secured her feet together. A foul-tasting cloth stretched across her mouth. She drew in air through her nose. But she couldn’t get enough oxygen. She felt suffocation clawing at her, sending her already frightened senses careening. Beneath her the car vibrated as the tires sped along the pavement.

  The car slowed, leaving smooth road for a bumpy, gravel drive. She shifted in the trunk, her hip hitting something hard, the jack, maybe a box of tire chains. Rocks pinged off the undercarriage. Each hit felt like a slap or the ticking of a clock.

  Oh, Ryan, if only…

  The car jerked to a stop. Her heart lurched.

  For a moment all was quiet. Except the pounding of her heart. She concentrated. She faintly heard the sound of the ocean crashing on shore, the clang of a buoy marking shallow water. The ocean, but she could be anywhere along the eastern seaboard at this point.

  Roman’s threat swirled through her mind, beating down what little hope remained in her heart.

  Did he plan to put her on a boat and take her away to sell her as he’d threatened before? Or did he plan to kill her and dispose of her body in the ocean?

  The trunk lid popped open. Bright light surrounded her. Blinded her. Meghan winced.

  Through squinty eyes, she made out her captor’s silhouette. Rough hands dragged her from the trunk, her stiff and aching body banging with painful thuds against the lip of the trunk, then the bumper, until finally landing in a heap on the ground. Sharp-edged rocks bit into her flesh. Tears stung her eyes. She cried out, but no one could hear her.

  Overhead a gull screeched, its cry echoing the scream trapped behind Meghan’s gag.

  She glanced around.

  Her heart pounded. She knew this place.

  They were parked off the main road leading to the Fitzgerald Bay lighthouse. Roman hadn’t taken her far at all. This was the place where Olivia’s body had been found.

  The reality of her own fate became crystal clear at that moment. Meghan’s stomach knotted, threatening to upheave the bile churning inside.

  He wasn’t going to sell her. Otherwise, he wouldn’t want her so beat-up and bruised. No, he was going to kill her.

  Self-preservation kept her calm. If she didn’t do something, she would die. She’d never see Ryan or baby Georgina again.

  Roman lifted her in his arms and carried her past the white-and-red-striped lighthouse. She bucked and twisted. Frantic fear clouded her mind.

  Unperturbed by her struggling, he followed the path that led to the edge of the jagged bluff. Wind whistled up the wall of stone carrying the briny scent of the water crashing on the ragged rocks below. Was he going to throw her over the cliff?

  Please, God, no!

  At the edge, he dumped her from his arms onto the loose, crumbling earth. Rocks and stones slid down the face of the cliff. She shuddered, scooting back from the edge as best she could. She whimpered with terror.

  “Now what?” a woman’s strident voice demanded.

  Shock snapped Meghan from the debilitating fear. Someone else was here. She arched her body to see who was behind her.

  Christina Hennessy stood several paces away. Meghan sucked in a sharp breath.

  Wait. Christina was supposed to be in jail. Meghan tried to make sense of the situation.

  Wind whipped her blond hair into a frenzy. She wore a bright orange jumper. Prison garb. How had she escaped? Why was she with Roman Wykoski?

  “We wait,” Roman said. “He’ll show up and then we’ll take care of them both.”

  Did Roman mean Ryan would show up? Roman was planning an ambush on Ryan.

  “He won’t come alone,” Christina warned. “Just dump her over the side and let’s go. You promised me we could leave.”

  “No worries, sis. I’m prepared. Our escape route is all set.”

  Sis? As in siblings? Meghan’s mind tried to make sense of it.

  Prepared? A fresh stab of fear pierced through her. Her heart wept for the man she loved. He would come to rescue her but walk into a trap. There was no way for her to warn him.

  Oh, God, please, protect him.

  * * *

  Ryan parked a half mile from the lighthouse. He didn’t know what Wykoski had planned but Ryan wasn’t walking into a trap. He approached the lighthouse by way of the bay, taking cover in the trees and scrub grass dotting the beach.

  Up ahead to his right, he saw a man lying in the grass with a sniper’s rifle aimed toward the cliffs above. A short distance offshore a dingy bobbed in the water.

  Stealthily, Ryan crept closer until he was within striking distance of the sniper. He planted a foot in the man’s back. Snaked his arm around the guy’s neck and squeezed, cutting off his oxygen supply.

  A moment later, the man slumped, unconscious in Ryan’s arm. He laid him facedown. Liberating the rifle, Ryan ducked behind a boulder and used the rifle’s scope to assess the situation at the top of the cliff.

  Meghan lay on the ground near the edge of the cliff, bound and gagged. But alive. He let out a ragged breath of relief.

  For now.

  Fierce anger surged through Ryan. He had to save her.

  He sighted in on Roman pacing nearby.

  Ryan’s finger twitched.

  Roman stopped and seemed to speak to someone out of view.

  In the distance, sirens wailed. Roman jerked toward the sound. A grim smile broke over Roman’s evil face.

  Unease slithered down Ryan’s back. He needed to get closer.

  In a low crouch, he ran for the road, crossed and then found a spot on higher ground behind a maple tree. Again using the scope, he surveyed the situation.

  At the cliff’s edge, Roman stood over Meghan.

  Standing next to him was…Christina Hennessy.

  Ryan’s jaw dropped.

  Nothing was what it seemed. He scanned the horizon.

  Sunlight glinted off another shooter’s scope two hundred yards left of the lighthouse. He continued to the left and right. Another gunman lay behind a bush near Charles’s cottage. Roman was leaving nothing to chance.

  Ryan sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving that his brother Charles and kids were safe at Dad’s house and not at home in the lighthouse keeper’s residence.

  His gaze zeroed in on something on the li
ghthouse balcony overlooking the road. A third sniper.

  Fear sent him frantically reaching for his phone. He yanked it from his pocket and called Douglas.

  “It’s a trap,” Ryan warned in tight whisper. “You and the others back off. I’ll deal with this.”

  “No way!” Douglas shouted. “I’m coming whether you want me there or not.”

  Meghan’s life was at stake. He didn’t have time to argue. Ryan relayed the position of each unidentified suspect. “Christina is here. Roman is holding Meghan at the edge of the cliff. She looks injured.”

  His heart squeezed tight. He wanted another chance with her. To apologize. To tell her…

  “I’ll inform the others,” Douglas said. “Don’t take any chances.”

  Ryan clicked off with out answering. That wasn’t a promise he could make.

  The woman he loved was in danger. He wasn’t going to stand around and let her be harmed.

  * * *

  Meghan fought against the fear threatening to swallow her whole. She couldn’t give in to it, in to the dark shadows closing in on her mind. She’d accepted her fate. But the sirens drew Ryan closer and closer to an ambush. She wouldn’t accept anything happening to him. She had to do something, had to keep him safe, even if it cost her in the end. She wouldn’t let the man she loved die.

  Her hand closed over a loose, jagged stone. This might work.

  She wedged it between her wrists. All she had to do was work the nylon tie around her wrist against it. In theory it sounded easy. Reality…remained to be seen. She prayed this worked. She rolled toward Christina, mindful of the long drop below.

  Christina jumped as if she’d been poked with a hot stick.

  Roman laughed. “She can’t hurt you.”

  To cover up her intentions, Meghan screamed questions, made unintelligible by the cloth wedged between her lips. She rocked side to side as she screamed, using the rock like a saw against the tie.

  Christina yanked the gag away from Meghan’s mouth. “I take it you want to talk.”

  Gulping in air, Meghan swallowed and nearly retched on the disgusting taste on her tongue. “Why are you doing this?”

  Christina’s eyes glittered with an insane kind of fervor. “You interfered in our business. Now we have to leave. Start over somewhere else. You have to pay the price for your meddling.”