Healing His Heart

by Sasha Goldie

  I nodded my head.

  "Walk."

  He didn't let go of my arm, and soon I felt the cold press of the gun in my side. I tried not to jerk away. It tickled at first, then hurt, and scared me enough to make bile rise in my throat.

  "I won't," I tried to say around my gag. "I-"

  "Hush. When we get farther into the woods, I'll turn on a light. In the meantime, try hard not to fall." He pushed the muzzle of the gun harder into my side. "I don't want to shoot you this close to town, but I will if I have to."

  I couldn't tell if he was bluffing. The gun could be fake, for all I knew. I didn't know jack about handguns. I had to assume he meant it.

  Bending slightly, I squinted my eyes and tried to keep a good eye on the ground. The more we walked, the darker the woods became. I whimpered in pain as another stick jabbed me in the foot. Apparently we'd been walking long enough, because he relented and pulled a flashlight out of his pocket.

  "Okay," he said. "I'll carry this. You won't get far in the dark if you try to run away again."

  He turned it on and within minutes, we found the path. It wasn't much better, but at least I could try to step over the sticks and larger rocks. The light occasionally flashed over my feet, and I saw blood.

  As much as they hurt, I believed it.

  "Keep moving," he said as I stumbled, trying to figure out which foot hurt worse and which I should favor.

  "I am," I mumbled desperately behind the gag.

  "Shut up. I won't tell you again."

  Every time I wanted to groan or whimper, I bit down on the cloth in my mouth. My cheeks began to chafe against the cloth, and after another half hour or so, my feet stopped hurting so much.

  That couldn't have been good.

  Not long after that, we broke into a clearing. I had no idea how long we'd been walking, but I'd grown up in these woods and I'd never seen this clearing.

  "To the left." I headed around the side of the grassy area, unable to feel the cool relief of the patch of grass for the burn that had started in my feet. After a minute, I almost tripped over a four-wheeler hidden behind a couple of bushes.

  "You know how to drive one of these things?"

  I shook my head. I'd never been the outdoorsy sort.

  "Climb on." I gingerly stepped on the side, the moonlight streaming through the break in the trees and giving me ample light.

  As I lifted my leg to swing it over the seat, my strength waned. I fell back into John, but he caught me with ease.

  Pushing me up with my arm, he helped me onto the vehicle and climbed up behind me.

  "Lean forward," he growled. "Put your hands in your lap."

  "Wouldn't I need to hang on?" I looked at him with wide eyes over my shoulder and he rolled his eyes.

  "You're worse than Corey. Fucking sissies."

  His insult of my friend pissed me off and broke through my terror. I narrowed my eyes at him.

  "Yeah, I know you're chummy with Corey. Don't worry, you'll see him soon."

  No. That meant he wasn't just kidnapping me. Corey, too.

  22

  Patrick

  "Hey, I'm going to have to leave." I sidled up to the head nurse's station.

  She gave me a severe look. "Why?"

  It really wasn't any of her business. Did I have to tell her the truth? I didn't know, but she wasn't a bad woman, just trying to cover her floor when I wanted to take off. I'd just hung up from trying to call Tyler, again. Three times since I got to work four hours ago, and he hadn't answered.

  "It's a long story, but there's something I've got to take care of that can't wait."

  I hadn't been able to get Tyler off my mind. Was he safe? What if the stalker started another fire? Or came in with a gun? There was only one deputy across the street, and he could easily miss something or be fooled. Or overpowered.

  "My patients are sleeping. I've done everything I can think of to cover them. I gave forty-one extra ice, because she'll bug you until you bring some. And forty-three just went to the bathroom, so he probably won't need to go again for two hours. The rest are either catheterized or ambulatory."

  She started to open her mouth, to protest by the looks of the expression on her face, but I rushed another sentence in. "I'll pick up an extra shift for you when someone calls out, I swear, and I'll do it soon. And, it's looking like a b-o-r-i-n-g night." We weren't allowed to say words like boring, sleepy, slow, or quiet. They jinxed us, every time. "Charts are updated, rooms are quiet."

  She sucked in a deep breath. "All right. You came with a good reputation, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

  I smiled at her and bowed slightly. "Thank you."

  "But you do owe me that extra night."

  "You got it."

  I ran on light feet to the break room to get my stuff out of my locker, then opted to take the stairs. Our elevators were terrible, and I'd be faster on foot.

  As soon as I broke through the doors to the employee lot, I sprinted to my car.

  I'd always been a worrywart. I'd always been anxious. Mom said it was tied together with my need to care for people. This time, though, I couldn't shake the feeling that John was more dangerous than we anticipated. If he'd set fire to the diner, what wouldn't he do?

  As much as I wanted to fly back to Three Lakes, the mountain roads wouldn't let me. I had to stick to a reasonable speed, winding through the woods, until I felt like I was going to scream with frustration. The thirty-minute drive, normally longer during the day with traffic, felt like thirty hours.

  Finally, I turned onto Main Street in Three Lakes, and floored it. Slowing down enough to make sure nobody was coming, I drove through the only red light in town, and slammed on the brakes as I passed the gas station. The deputy sat in his car, asleep.

  Oh, no. I laid on the horn as I passed, yelling out the window. "Wake up, asshat!"

  Turning into the service station lot, I jumped out of my car. The bedroom light was on. A good sign.

  Why was I so panicked? There was no sign he wasn't okay. He probably just slept through my call. It would be easy to do, and I couldn't remember seeing a phone in the bedroom. If the only phone was out in the living room or kitchen, it would be all too easy to miss the sound of the ring.

  The locked door held me up a second. I don't know what I expected, but I tried to walk right in. It was locked. Another good sign. I dug the key out of my pocket. I'd almost forgotten to grab it on my way out, but halfway down the stairs I'd remembered it and gone back for it.

  The garage was dark and quiet, but instead of comforting me that I didn't hear anything, it felt creepy and oppressive. I hurried up the stairs, lamenting my short legs. I couldn't take them two at a time.

  "I should've called Brady," I huffed. Unlocking the door, I burst into the apartment. Silence.

  As soon as I entered Tyler's temporary bedroom, I knew. My intuition had been correct. Harry was dead on the bed, and the room was empty. I sprinted through the entire apartment, even checking the nook beside the washer and dryer. He wasn't there.

  "No," I whispered. I ran back to the bedroom to Harry. Touching him with tentative fingers, I realized his chest rose and fell. He wasn't dead, but who knew what the psycho had given him? I had to get him to a vet.

  I scrambled off the bed and to the light switch. Flicking it on and off several times, I headed to the kitchen and grabbed the phone on the wall.

  Why in the hell hadn't Ian bought a cordless phone? What was wrong with him? After dialing 911, I stretched the cord as far as I could, leaning and stretching my body across and down the hall, into Tyler's bedroom. I barely reached the light switch.

  "911, what's your emergency?"

  "This is Patrick Hunter. I'm staying with Tyler Green in Ian Garland's apartment above Ian's shop. I just got here, and the dog has been drugged and Tyler is missing." I tried to speak clearly and talk slow as I flicked the bedroom light on and off. "There's a deputy parked out back-"

  I cut off as the deput
y opened the door. "Hello?" he called.

  "The deputy is here," I said into the phone. "But we need Brady here, now."

  I moved back into the kitchen and hung up the phone. "What the hell were you doing asleep?" I screamed at the kid. He couldn't have been much more than a teenager.

  "I wasn't," he said. "I nodded off for a second, but not long."

  "Well, the dog is dying and Tyler is missing. What do you have to say about that?" I ran back into the bedroom and leaned over the bed, pulling Harry toward me.

  Lifting him into my arms, I walked out of the apartment. "Don't mess up the scene before Brady gets here," I called over my shoulder as I went down the stairs.

  "And don't touch anything!"

  I wished I'd been able to not touch anything, but I'd been so panicked I wasn't sure what I'd put my hands on and what I hadn't. The phone, definitely. The light switch, and the blankets on the bed.

  As I carried the big dog out the front door of the shop, Brady's truck squealed into the lot, and he and Carson jumped out.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked Carson.

  "Corey never came home," Brady said. "I drove his route back to the brewery and met Carson there."

  "I stayed late doing paperwork, but Corey left early because we had a rare slow night. He’s been missing about four hours. We figured if Corey was missing, we better check on Tyler. We came as fast as we could." Carson pointed at Harry. "Is he okay?"

  "Tyler is missing and Harry's been drugged, but he's breathing." The poor dog tried to lift his head when he heard his name.

  "I'll take him to Doc Hinson. Give him here." Carson took Harry, and I handed him my keys.

  "Take my car."

  He nodded and slid Harry into the back seat. "I'll call the shop line as soon as I know something."

  Brady had already disappeared inside. I ran up the stairs in time to see him on the phone. "APB out for Tyler and Corey both. Call the staties and the FBI. Get everyone here."

  He slammed the phone down and looked around. "I've got to trace Corey's path again. His car has to be run off the road somewhere along the way." He looked around. "Is there a back door to this place?"

  I shrugged. "I didn't think so, but when I got here, the door was locked. Deputy Do-Right over here," I pointed at the rookie, "was asleep when I drove by."

  "I swear, only for a second," he said desperately.

  "Well, there's no point in us trying to figure out who it is. The only person that would take both of them is John." He ran his hand over his face. "Get on the computer back at the station and see if you can find any land that John owns. Anywhere he'd take them, especially if it's in the vicinity."

  "What about people out of town or on vacation?" I asked. "Tyler said something about the woods behind the town, do they go to a neighborhood?"

  Brady shook his head. "No. Eventually you'll get to the lake that the town is named after, but that's too far to walk to." Turning in a circle, the poor man looked lost. "They almost had to have left in a car."

  "I wouldn't have missed that," the deputy said. I still didn't even know his name.

  "Go look up anything you can find about John," Brady commanded. "And call his PO."

  The deputy hung his head and hurried out the door.

  "Wait here," Brady said. "Actually, wait downstairs. The captain will be here soon, and when the FBI rally, they'll descend on us. Be prepared to answer a slew of questions."

  I nodded. "I'll tell them anything. Can I go with you?"

  "No, you need to be here to tell them what you know. Make sure they know about Corey, too. I'll radio in if I find anything."

  I nodded and followed him down the stairs, my heart beating and aching like someone had their fist around it, squeezing. Brady had to be feeling worse than me.

  Turning on all the lights in the shop, I found the bay door switches and opened them. The police would need to look all over. I tried to sit at the desk and wait, but couldn't contain my nervous energy. I spied Ian's coffee pot and rummaged around until I had a pot brewing.

  We were going to need it.

  The state troopers pulled in the same time as the Three Lakes captain. Ian kept several mugs by the coffee maker, so I handed out coffee while I explained. Anything to keep my hands busier than my mind.

  "I'm Captain Connor." Brady's boss stuck out his hand. "These gentlemen are from the state police, and we'll probably have the feds moving in soon. When they get here, they will take over everything. Why don't you tell us what you know, from the beginning?"

  I explained the break-ins, the fire, and what Tyler had told me about them being run off the road. Then, I told them what Brady told me about Corey not coming home.

  About the time I finished recanting everything I could think of, Brady pulled in.

  He shook everyone's hand and took a cup of coffee. "Corey's car is not anywhere along his normal path home. As far as I know, he always goes the same way."

  "Then the suspect has probably had Corey drive them to an offsite location." The unnamed state trooper shook his head. "They could be anywhere."

  "Does Corey's car have anything that would track it?" I asked. "Or his cell?"

  "I've already got someone pinging his cell phone," Brady said. "I stopped by the station on the way back and told Chris to add it to his search."

  I nodded and sat in the desk chair. What else could they do? I lowered my head into my hands and listened to them talk while I tried to hold it together.

  "We need to keep the lines clear in case the guy wants to give a ransom demand."

  "What if he calls my house?" Brady's voice was wavering. He was about to lose it, too.

  "Can you forward your calls?"

  I heard the sound of someone moving toward me and looked up. Brady picked up the receiver and dialed a number. "Chris? Call the phone company and have them forward all calls from my house to Ian's shop."

  "Until we get any idea where to look, all we can do now is wait," the state trooper said.

  "Let's go check out the scene," the captain replied. "Maybe we'll find something."

  I stayed put as they walked upstairs, talking over the possibilities.

  How would they ever find him?

  23

  Tyler

  We rode the four-wheeler for a while. I tried to count in my head, no way I could keep up with where we went. For all I knew, we were across the damn state already.

  Reasonably, I knew we couldn't be across the state. But in my frame of mind, if he sprouted wings and flew us away, it wouldn't have shocked me.

  I got mixed up on my time count when I was at twenty minutes. Going through the woods was slow at times, though. I tried to focus and think where in the county we could be. Maybe I'd see an opportunity for escape if I knew where the hell I was.

  When we started moving on the four-wheeler, the chill of the night really set in. My adrenaline had kept me warm until then, but tucked up in front of John on the stupid recreational vehicle, with the wind whizzing past, I started to shiver.

  He hit a wider trail and moved faster, and I tucked further into myself to try to stay warm. Thankfully, he didn't go much longer before pulling off and stopping in front of a tiny shack.

  He swung his thick leg off of the vehicle. "Get off."

  Shaking like a leaf, I tried to climb down, but ended up tumbling to the ground, a shooting pain shooting up my calf. I jerked my leg away from the four-wheeler.

  "Careful. The motor gets hot." John chuckled and switched on the flashlight. "Get inside." He hauled me to my feet, thankfully. I wasn't sure I could lift myself up. Maybe before my coma, I could've fought back, done more.

  The shack was something from a bygone era. All wood, it looked like it would give me a splinter as soon as I set foot on the tiny porch. I limped forward, tears rolling down my cheeks. I still couldn't feel my feet, but the burn on my calf hurt like a mother.

  He reached around me and pushed the door open. "In there, sit in one of the chairs beside
your good friend Corey, there."

  Corey glared at John. His hands were tied behind his back and a rag was stuffed in his mouth the way John had wanted me to do mine.

  He tried to talk around the rag, and though I couldn't understand him, I certainly understood his ire.

  He was pissed.

  I was too hurt and scared to be pissed. Eventually, I'd berate myself for not fighting harder, but all I could think about was escaping, not fighting.

  I sat beside Corey. "Hands behind your back."

  His eyes filled with tears as he looked at me. Then he looked back at John, tying my hands together, and he jerked in his chair, screaming behind his gag. Seeing me in my state had taken him from pissed to furious.

  John hurried through tying my hands. I looked up, trying to see what he was doing. His face was on Corey as he tightened my ropes. I flexed my wrists and realized John was so distracted by Corey, he wasn't doing a great job on the rope around my wrists.

  Of course, I didn't say anything. Just let him do what he was doing, urging Corey to keep flipping out in my mind.

  John finished with my rope and walked around to stand in front of Corey. I flinched and whimpered when he backhanded my friend with all his strength.

  "No," I shouted behind my gag. "Don't hurt him." Unfortunately, all they could hear were grunts.

  "Stop fighting," John snarled. "I don't mind giving you more scars."

  Corey froze and shrank back against the chair. Whatever John did to him before, it was enough to take the fight out of him.

  I looked at both of them with wide eyes.

  "You can thank your friend Tyler here for bringing me back to this godforsaken town."

  I didn't know what he was talking about. I'd never done anything to make him hurt me.

  "If he hadn't ever woken up from his coma, I wouldn't be here making sure the jackass doesn't talk."

  There it was. He was definitely the one that hit me. Not that I had any doubts at this point.

  "I was ready to let you go, you know? I was going to move on. I got some clarity in prison. Then, when they got me out, I said, John, it's time to move on. Corey wasn't nothing but a good piece of ass."