by Kait Nolan
“I don’t get it.”
“I think maybe he’s trying to connect what elements of the real are represented in the books.” But the whole thing was a damned mess. Real and fictional names for places were conflated. Judd squinted, studying the board.
“I’m not seeing a lot of reality on this board,” Spence said.
“There’s order to it, though,” Ethan said. “Look here. It’s laid out to show cause and effect, connections.”
Realization dawned. “It’s a plot outline. I’ve seen Autumn do one. It’s not laid out like this, but a lot of the same pieces. I think it might be her third book. The original version that was on the laptop stolen before the fire.”
“Why would he be mapping out her book?” Ethan asked.
Why indeed?
Before any of them could hypothesize further, Judd’s phone rang. “Hamilton.”
“Chief, I’ve got someone on the other line calling for you.” Inez sounded rattled.
“Who?” Judd tensed. Was this about to become a hostage negotiation?
“A woman. Her name is Marjorie Haynes. She says she has a message for you.”
Impatience simmered. “What message?”
“I…well, I honestly think it might be better if you talked to her yourself. I thought at first it might be a prank call,stuff was taken.” but she said it’s about Rumor Fairchild’s third book.”
“Patch her through.”
A moment later, an unfamiliar voice came on the line. “Hello?”
“This is Judd Hamilton.”
“You’re the Wishful Chief of Police?”
“Yes, ma’am. My dispatcher said you have some information?”
Marjorie took a breath. “Okay, you’re going to think I’m a lunatic, and maybe I am, but I couldn’t in good conscience not call when it might be a real thing.”
“When what might be a real thing, Miss Hayes?”
“I just got Rumor Fairchild’s third book—you probably don’t even know who that is.” She laughed awkwardly.
“I know who she is. What do you mean you just got her third book?” Judd demanded. The book wasn’t finished. He knew it wasn’t.
“It came out today. I’ve been waiting for months, so I snatched it up and started reading right away and…well, there’s a message embedded in the book instructing to call the Wishful Chief of Police.” Marjorie took a breath. “I think the author’s been abducted. I know that sounds crazy—”
“No, it doesn’t. Is there anything more to the message?”
“It doesn’t? I mean, I didn’t want to waste your time, but I didn’t really want to think—”
“Miss Haynes, was there anything more to the message?”
“Well, it’s mostly just a series of random letters called out in the text in a different font.”
Judd’s pulled kicked up. “Random how? Did you write any of them down?”
“Yes. It starts with A, L, U, U, Z…”
“Clever girl,” Judd murmured.
“Does that mean something to you?”
“Yes. Yes it does. Marjorie, hang on just a second.” Judd waved a hand for Spence’s phone. As soon as it slapped in his hand, he was stabbing at the screen. He pulled up Amazon and did a search for Rumor Fairchild. There it was. Forged In Lies. The listing was so new, there weren’t even reviews yet. He grabbed a copy and switched over to the Kindle app, quickly downloading the book and opening it.
“Okay, Marjorie, I’m with you. Have the book open now. Where did you first see the change in lettering?”
He navigated to where she told him. The difference was subtle but there. Something most people would either not notice or probably chalk up to a glitch in the file. “Someone find me a pad and paper.”
They paged through together, and Judd wrote down every letter, until they got through the entire book. To anybody else it would look like absolute nonsense. To Judd, it looked like hope.
“Marjorie, thank you for calling. You may have just saved a life.” He’d barely hung up the phone before he ripped out a fresh sheet of paper and began writing out the alphabet.
“You wanna let us in on what the hell is going on?” Spence asked.
“Autumn’s alive. Someone published her third book. I don’t know if it was her or him. I’m guessing the latter. But she used it to leave me a message.”
“That gobbledygook means something to you?”
He numbered each letter. “It’s a cypher we used as children. Her father didn’t approve of me even then, so we’d write notes to each other like this so he wouldn’t know what we were talking about. Nobody else would be able to translate it but me.”
Across the top of the paper, he wrote JUDDAUTUMN. Ten letters. Beneath the tenth letter, J, he wrote A and proceeded to fill in the rest of the letters forward from there to make the key. That in hand, he applied the key to the message she’d left. Then he drew in lines where there should be spaces between words.
JUDD IM WITH MARK CAUFFIELD THINKS HES FLETCHER AT HIS GREAT UNCLES CABIN I THINK NEAR HOPE SPRINGS DEFINITELY BY LAKE IN THICK WOODS
Ethan let out a whistle. “Your woman is clever.”
“Yes, she sure as hell is.” Judd shot to his feet. “We’ve gotta find that cabin.”
Hang on, Firefly. I’m coming for you.
Chapter 21
Fear destroyed Autumn’s sense of time. She had no idea whether Mark had been gone minutes or hours. Exhausted, she slumped against the door to the root cellar, battered hands resting against the wood. All her energy went toward keeping her breathing even, her blood pressure down. She’d missed her last dose of meds.
Maybe Mark had left her here and wasn’t coming back. Maybe he’d snapped out of his delusion and gone back to his normal life, with no memory of the last two days of fantasy. Maybe he didn’t upload the book at all. Maybe no one was coming.
No, she had to believe Judd would find her. Somehow.
Was the flashlight getting weaker? At the thought, her chest gave another painful squeeze. If the batteries died, her only source of light would be the thin crack around the door. And once night fell, she’d be in total darkness. Autumn couldn’t even think about that possibility. She’d be out of here before then.
Forcing herself to her feet, she limped across to the shelves of supplies. Surely there was a lantern or more batteries or something in all the camping gear. Maybe there’d be something she could use as a weapon. She’d been wholly cooperative thus far. Mark wouldn’t be expecting any kind of attack when he got back. She prayed she wouldn’t disturb anything that moved on its own as she began shifting things around. Being trapped down here with rats or snakes or anything insectoid would just add a layer of terror she couldn’t cope with.
She found a case of bottled water and ripped it open, twisting off the top and drinking until her parched throat was quenched. Better. A couple of sleeping bags were piled on top of a nylon bag that held what was probably a tent. She set the bags to the side and examined the tent supports. They were aluminum, light and not sharp enough to do a lot of damage without a helluva lot of force behind them. There was a camp stove, heavy enough to swing, though it would make for an awkward weapon. A spurt of relief shot through her as she uncovered the old Coleman lantern. But when she shook it, there was no slosh of fuel and the mantle fell to bits. It was easier to swing than the camp stove, but still a poor weapon. Whether by accident or design, the rest of the shelving turned up nothing useful, either for illumination or for defense.
“Think,” she muttered.
Crossing back to the door, she felt around the edges for the hinges. Maybe she could pry the bolts out and open the door that way. But no. This door opened outward. The hinges were outside. There’d be no getting out of this god-forsaken hole until someone let her out.
Resigned, she unrolled the two sleeping bags and made herself as comfortable as possible beside the door. Then she switched off the light to conserve batteries. The sudden enveloping blackness made h
er chest seize, but she fought her way through it, focused on that rim of light edging the door. She stared at that sliver until her eyes ached and her butt had gone numb from the hard ground, even through two layers of sleeping bag.
At first she thought she’d imagined the shadow passing through the frame of light. Then she heard the scrape of the padlock being moved.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded rusty from all the screaming.
Autumn expected to hear Mark say something, for the lock to be removed, and the door opened wide. But he said nothing.
There’d been no sound of an engine, had there? Could she have missed that? What if it wasn’t Mark? What if it was someone who could help?
“Hello?” she called, louder this time. “Can you hear me? I need help. Please let me out.”
A throat cleared and a man’s strained voice answered. “Get back from the door.”
Autumn scrambled back.
Bang. Bang. Her rescuer swung some heavy object against the lock. Bang. Bang.
It took a half dozen more blows before she heard the wood splinter. He wrenched the door open, and Autumn lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sudden flood of light. A tall, thin figure stepped into the doorway, hunching a little as he came down the stairs.
Autumn went weak with relief. Not Mark. Not Mark. She was saved. “Oh my God, thank you.” Her legs were all pins and needles, and she struggled to stand.
“You’re hurt.” The voice was low, barely above a whisper, but something in the tone sounded familiar.
“My ankle. I was in a car crash and kidnapped.”
He crossed over and took her arm, helping raise her to her feet.
She looked up, more thanks on her lips. And then she saw his face.
Her father.
“No,” she breathed, jerking her arm free. The motion sent her sprawling on her butt, but she continued scuttling back, away from him, away from the door.
“Stop it, girl,” he ordered. And there was the voice she remembered from her childhood.
Old fear hooked its claws into her spine and dug deep.
“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help.” It was her father’s face, her father’s voice, but the words didn’t compute.
“Why would you do that?”
“You’re my daughter.”
That was the most ludicrous excuse he could offer. “You never gave a damn about me.”
Something that might’ve been regret passed over his face. “I know I was hard on you. Harder, maybe, than I should’ve been. You were a willful child.”
“You did your best to beat that out of me.”
“Didn’t succeed. You’re still willful. Still reckless. But you don’t deserve this. Let me get you out of here. Let me do something right.”
“How did you even know I was here?”
“Didn’t like the way the one in glasses was looking at you. I followed him. I was waiting down from his house when he switched vehicles to bring you out here.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?” she demanded.
“You really think that boy would believe a thing I say? He’d have hauled me in for questioning and wasted time. So I came to find you myself.”
“Why didn’t you let me out sooner?”
“I parked a ways off and walked in. It took a while. I ain’t in good shape. Dying takes a lot out of you.”
Was she supposed to feel sympathy about that?
“The point is, I’m here now. And if you want to get out of here before the other one comes back, you need to come with me now. I don’t know how much longer he’ll be gone.” Jebediah held out his hand.
Could she really trust him? Had he really come to save her or was this all some kind of ruse?
“Autumn, I was a shitty father, and I ain’t got much time to make up for that. Let me help you.”
It came down to going with the devil she knew or staying with the devil she didn’t. When push came to shove, her father was old, ill, and didn’t seem to be armed. Even with her ankle, she could probably overpower him, if necessary. Right now she just needed out of this fucking root cellar.
She put her hand in his.
His fingers curled around hers, bony but still strong as they hauled her to her feet. She tried not to flinch as he wrapped an arm around her, taking some of her weight so they could walk to the root cellar door. As they emerged into the light, she realized at least a few hours had passed. The sun rode just below the treeline. Mark had left close to noon.
“My car is a couple miles out. There was no good place to leave it nearby.”
“I don’t think I can walk that far on this ankle.” It was already throbbing like a sore tooth.
“We’ve gotta get out of sight before you can rest. Just hold it together long enough for that.”
The unmistakable metallic slide and ratchet of a rifle had them both freezing in place.
“Step away from her or I’ll drop you where you stand.”
~*~
“We split up into teams of three. One led by me, one with Spence, one with Ethan. We’ll approach from north, east, and west.” Judd tapped the map currently spread across the hood of his police cruiser. “Deputies Lauter and Nichols are making an approach on the water to do a little recon as casual fishermen. As soon as we’re within fifty yards of the place, we all go radio silent. I don’t want anything tipping this guy off. If he’s holed up in there, it could rapidly turn into a hostage situation, and we don’t need that.”
The radio crackled. “This is Lauter. No evidence of watercraft. The cabin itself is set too far in to see more than a little bit of roofline.”
“Hold your position in the cove and be ready to move in,” Judd ordered.
“Copy.”
Judd met the gaze of every man gathered. “Let’s bring her home.”
They split into their teams and moved through the woods at the edge of Hope Springs toward the cabin where Mark Cauffield was believed to be holding Autumn. Accessible only via an old logging road, this place was about as far up up the lake as it was possible to get from his own house. A good six miles as the crow flew and more than twenty by car. With no easy access to town from this side, homes were sparse and trees were thick with underbrush.
It took longer than Judd wanted to pick their way carefully through the half mile of territory between their rendezvous point and the cabin. Everything in him wanted to rush, but he knew the risks. They had to be smart, careful. If Cauffield was unstable enough to believe himself to be one of Autumn’s characters, there was no telling how he’d react. Judd didn’t want her caught in the crossfire.
Soon.
Autumn was here. He could feel it.
Judd closed in on the west side of the clearing and caught sight of Cauffield’s Explorer parked out front of the cabin. He lifted his fist, signaling Darius and Clint to wait. Door closed, curtains drawn. Was there another entrance? Even as he thought it, Judd heard the ratcheting of a rifle.
“Step away from her or I’ll drop you where you stand.”
Cauffield. Who the hell was he talking to?
As a unit, Judd and his men crept closer, using the SUV for cover. Rising up from his crouch, he peered through the windows and saw the man himself behind the cabin, rifle at his shoulder. Beyond him, about ten yards from the edge of the woods, flame red hair glinted in the lowering sun.
Autumn. Alive but obviously hurt. She stood on the other side of the clearing, another, older man’s arm around her, clearly unable to walk on her own. Who? A good Samaritan?
“Turn around. Slowly,” Cauffield ordered.
Hands lifted in the air, Autumn and the other man turned.
Jebediah?
Shock held Judd immobile for long, humming seconds. What was he doing here? How had he found Autumn? Was he in collusion with Cauffield? Had Jebediah double crossed him?
“I said step away from her.” Cauffield gestured with the barrel of the rifle.
“You think I’m afraid of
you?” Jebediah asked.
“I’m the one with the gun.”
Jebediah continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You’re going to let my daughter go.”
“She’s with me of her own volition.”
“That so? That why you had her locked in the root cellar?”
The dark. The bastard had kept Autumn in the dark. Cold rage cut through the questions still swirling through Judd’s head.
“Just keeping her out of sight. Keeping her safe.”
“Only one she needs to be kept safe from is you.”
Beyond them, Judd saw Ethan and his team in position on the east side. Catching his eye, Ethan gestured north. Spence and his team were closing in. All of them were just inside the treeline, waiting for the signal.
“Get away from her,” Cauffield grated out. “You don’t touch her. You don’t deserve to be near her after what you did.”
“It was a mistake, and I’ve paid for it.” But Jebediah did as he said and moved away from Autumn, toward Spence’s group.
Judd breathed a quick sigh of relief because the barrel of the gun followed Jebediah, away from her. She shifted, favoring her left ankle, but managed to stay on her feet.
Cauffield narrowed his eyes. “You really think prison was a sufficient punishment? You tried to kill her!” He clutched the rifle tighter against his shoulder, and Judd tensed, prepared to fire.
Autumn spoke, voice level, the same tone Judd remembered her using to placate her father. “Put the gun down. There’s no need for that.”
Jebediah continued to edge away from Autumn, drawing Cauffield’s aim, bringing the pair of them closer to Judd. “I was drunk, stupid, and in a blind rage because her mother left me.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“No,” Jebediah agreed. “But it’s the reason.”
“And what was the reason for all those years before that? The beatings, the abuse? I’m not going to let you hurt her anymore.” He dropped his head to sight down the barrel.
“Fletcher, stop! If you do this, it’s murder. Leave him to the police.”
