A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trust

by Reagan Keeter

  “Up the stairs.”

  Kim and Frank complied.

  From behind, Austin directed them out of the house and to the van. When Kim saw it, she turned around to stare at him. Her eyes were wide with alarm. She shook her head, again tried to speak. She didn’t want to get back in the van.

  Perhaps in a show of support, Frank turned around, too. Chin up, he puffed out his chest.

  Austin didn’t have time for this bullshit. He spun the gun around and whacked Frank across the top of the head with the grip. Frank fell to the ground as if some invisible puppeteer had just cut the strings that were holding him upright.

  Kim did her best to scream.

  Austin pulled open the back door. “Get in the damn van!”

  Her eyes darted between Austin and Frank. She shook her head no.

  Austin had had enough. He slid the gun back under his belt and forced her into the vehicle. Then, with considerable effort, he managed to get Frank inside, as well.

  He slammed the door shut, then went around to the driver’s side door, climbed in and started the engine. He drove to the edge of the lake. But it wasn’t until he got there that he realized he had a flaw in his plan. Unless he stayed in the vehicle, foot on the gas, he had no way to send it careening into the water.

  Although he wanted their deaths to be terrifying events that seemed to go on forever, Frank was already unconscious. He would drown without ever knowing what had happened. Austin should probably just shoot them both and be done with it. Burn the bodies. Drop the van in some sketchy neighborhood.

  No matter what Connor told the police, the vehicle wasn’t in his name. So if it was gone, Austin’s link to it was gone, as well.

  Yes, he decided. That’s exactly what he should do. But he wasn’t going to shoot Kim and Frank in the van for the same reason he hadn’t shot the other couple in the van. You can’t completely get rid of blood. And if the police ever found the vehicle, he didn’t want them uncovering that sort of evidence.

  If you’re going to kill someone, you can never be too careful.

  Austin put the van in park, went around to the back, and pulled Frank out of the rear door. “You, too. Get out,” he instructed Kim.

  This time, she did what he asked her to. Maybe because getting out seemed like a safer idea than getting in. How wrong she was.

  It didn’t take her more than a few seconds to realize that, either. Austin hadn’t aimed the gun at either one of them yet, but she already looked terrified and, it seemed to Austin, a little confused.

  At first, Austin thought it was the in-and-out instructions he had given her. Why bother putting her in the van at all if he was just going to tell her to get out a few moments later? Then he noticed she wasn’t looking directly at him. Actually, to be more specific, she was looking past him.

  That was strange. The van was behind her. The cabin was off to her left. As far as he knew, there was nothing in her line of sight but him. He turned around to see what had gotten her attention and immediately wished he had turned around sooner.

  CHAPTER 56

  Dylan kept her eyes glued to Connor’s cellphone. Go left, go right. Connor began to doubt the directions when the road turned from two lanes to one, and was almost certain they were going the wrong way when it turned to dirt a few minutes later. But by the time he decided to say something, they were too far down the narrow road to turn around.

  “This is what the phone says, okay?” Dylan responded. “If we get to our destination and there’s nothing, we’re probably going to be too late to save them, wherever they are, so we might as well keep going.”

  That wasn’t what Connor wanted to hear, but he knew she was right. He pressed down on the gas. The truck bounced over the uneven ground in jaw-jarring thumps. Then, between the trees, he saw another set of headlights, also in motion, but not headed toward them. They were headed toward—Connor looked closer, noticed the way the headlights seemed to twinkle on the distant ground—a lake.

  He stopped, killed the lights on the truck.

  “What are you doing?” Olin said.

  Connor pointed at the other vehicle. “You see that?” Its shape was impossible to make out in the darkness, but everyone got the point: If they had come to the right place, that was almost certainly Austin’s van.

  “What do you want to do?” Dylan said.

  “We can’t keep going in this thing. We can’t take the chance Austin will hear us.” He turned off the engine. “We need to get up there on foot, deal with him first. Then we’ll figure out where our parents are.”

  Olin and Dylan agreed that made sense.

  As they piled out of the truck, Connor was tempted to tell Dylan to wait there. But Dylan didn’t take directions well, and she would likely be safer with them than she would be wandering around on her own.

  Olin reached over into the bed of the truck and grabbed the bat. “Let’s go.”

  Connor nodded, and they hurried up the road. He wished he had the Taser as well, but somehow in all the excitement back at the house he had lost it.

  The trees thinned out as they neared the cabin. With the moon reflecting off the water and the lights in the cabin casting a warm glow onto the porch, the sight would have been picturesque in another context.

  Connor noticed the van had stopped at the edge of the water and was just sitting there.

  “Should we go check it out?” Dylan said.

  Connor took a deep breath, answered only by stepping off the road. The new course he was on would take him directly to the vehicle. He didn’t think Austin had an accomplice, so it was almost certainly Austin driving the van. The three of them had taken him down before. They could do it again.

  The driver’s door opened. A figure got out.

  Connor stopped where he was, held a hand out for Olin and Dylan to do the same. It was inevitable that the van would eventually move or someone would step out, but Connor suddenly felt more exposed than he had before and he needed a moment to reassess their situation.

  First question: Was it Austin?

  He watched the way the man moved around the van and decided it probably was.

  Second question: What was he up to?

  They had come this far with their only plan being to “deal with him.” But Connor still didn’t know exactly how they were going to do that. If they could figure out what Austin was doing, they could anticipate his movements, form a plan to close in without being seen.

  “Do you think he’s dumping the van in the lake?” Olin said.

  Connor shrugged. It did indeed look that way. What else would he be doing there? “If he is, he’s going to have to go back to the front of the van eventually to put it in gear and weigh down the gas pedal.”

  “And that’s when we’ll get him,” Dylan said, punching her right fist into her left palm.

  “Calm down, Captain Marvel.” Connor watched Austin open the van’s rear doors. “But, yes, that’s when we’ll get him.”

  Austin dragged something big and bulky out of the van and let it fall to the ground. Then he gestured as if he might be talking to someone.

  “He’s not alone,” Olin said.

  A figured emerged. Connor strained to see through the darkness. As the person awkwardly climbed out of the van, Connor could see enough of the person’s silhouette to know it was a woman. He also noticed she moved both hands as one. It was as if . . . “Her hands are tied. That’s got to be my mom.” He turned to Olin. “Or yours.”

  Then Connor realized the big and bulky thing Austin had dragged out of the van was a body. Dead or unconscious, there was no way to know.

  “What is he doing out there?” Dylan said.

  Connor suspected Dylan’s question was rhetorical. There was only one answer, and he was sure all three of them knew what it was. “We need a plan right now.”

  Olin, however, wasn’t waiting around to make a plan. He broke into a run before Connor even finished his sentence. Connor and Dylan immediately went after him. As he c
losed in on Austin, he raised the bat, swung.

  Austin turned around right before Olin made contact. He doubled over, fell to the ground. Connor and Dylan caught up with Olin as he was lifting the bat over his head, about to swing again.

  “Don’t do it,” Austin said. He was lying on the ground, half propped up by the body Connor still couldn’t identify and struggling to speak. He had one hand wrapped around his torso. And in the other, a gun aimed in Olin’s general direction.

  Olin froze.

  The woman, Connor noticed, was his mom. He felt himself go dizzy like he had on the stairwell as so many emotions fought for dominance. He wanted to run to her, to hug her, to let her know that everything would be okay. But he couldn’t do any of that. Not with Austin holding that gun. For now, he just had to take solace in the fact that, while she looked bad, at least she was alive.

  And that, he realized, probably meant the man Austin was propped up against was Frank.

  “Put it down,” Austin said.

  Olin did, moving slowly so as not to spook him. The man’s hand might be shaking, but Olin clearly understood Austin was close enough to hit one of them if he pulled the trigger.

  “Get over there with the rest of them,” Austin said to Kim. Then he grunted and groaned and pushed himself back up to his feet. Still holding one hand around his stomach, he stepped back. When you have a gun and your enemy has a bat, distance is your friend.

  He looked down at Frank, who was still lying in a heap on the ground but seemed to be regaining consciousness, and swung the gun toward him only long enough to fire a single round.

  Kim screamed.

  “The rest of you get into the house!” Austin shouted, jabbing the gun at them as he spoke.

  CHAPTER 57

  Austin told Connor to hand over his and his father’s cellphones. Then he directed everyone down to the cellar. He said he needed to think. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. None of it was.

  When Connor saw the cages, he knew that was where Austin must have been keeping his parents. But with only two cages, he also knew it meant he was right when he had assumed Olin’s parents had been the ones found burning in the parking deck.

  But why had Austin killed them and kept Kim and Frank alive?

  Austin put Kim back in a cage, then tied Connor, Dylan, and Olin up, binding their hands behind their backs and then securing them to one side of the empty cage.

  They all had gags on now—rolled-up socks Austin had stuffed into their mouths, held in place with bandanas and rope. Connor felt like he was going to choke to death if he didn’t keep fighting the sock away from his throat with his tongue.

  There had to be a way out of this. If Connor had been keeping a scorecard, he would have to admit that he had gotten himself and Olin (and now Dylan) in more trouble than he’d gotten them out of, but it was never too late to try to turn things around.

  He had only one tool at his disposal—the Swiss Army knife he had taken off Austin back at the apartment—but it would be enough if he could get to it.

  The problem was the knife was in his front pocket, and he couldn’t exactly reach a hand in and pull it out. He might, however, be able to shake it out, he thought.

  He put his feet flat on the floor, lifted with his knees so that he could get the pocket at a ninety-degree angle, then began to shake his hips. Dylan raised an eyebrow in his direction. He could only imagine what she was thinking.

  Connor felt the knife slide closer to the top of the pocket. Eventually, though, it hit a fold in the fabric and refused to go any further. After several attempts, Connor gave up. There was nothing they could do. They were trapped.

  He wished he had thought to text Olivia the address before they came up here.

  Connor wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Austin came back down into the cellar. When he did, though, he didn’t say a word. He just walked over to Connor, untied him from the cage, and pulled his gun.

  Connor wasn’t sure where this was going. He worried Austin might take him outside and shoot him like he had Frank. Maybe his plan was to kill them all, one at a time.

  The rational part of him insisted that was unlikely. No matter how he felt about Austin now, Austin had gone to a great deal of trouble to find Connor and get close to him. There was something he wanted. Maybe Connor was about to find out what that was. This couldn’t be all about family. If Austin had only been interested in getting to know his estranged son, he could have introduced himself honestly when they’d first met.

  But the rational part of him also insisted he treat the situation like he was going to be killed. Because if this was the last chance he had to help his friends, he had better take it.

  When Austin gestured for Connor to go upstairs, Connor instead took a step toward him, placing them only inches apart. He could hardly believe what he was doing. Stepping right up to him like this seemed suicidal. But he also didn’t know any other way to pull off his plan.

  “Get upstairs,” Austin demanded.

  Connor stood there, eye to eye, for several seconds, before turning and following Austin’s instructions.

  When they got upstairs, Austin removed Connor’s gag. He gestured toward the sofa, told Connor to sit down. Then he locked the cellar door and took a seat himself. The chair he had chosen put him as close to Connor as he could get without actually sitting on the sofa with him. “I wish you hadn’t come here.”

  Connor didn’t respond.

  “But since you did, there are some things you need to understand. All this isn’t what it looks like.” Austin put the gun on the chair beside him. Too far away for Connor to grab if he tried. Which he thought about doing.

  Austin lifted a mug off the coffee table, which was made of pale, unvarnished wood, and took a sip of what looked like coffee. Connor had been so distracted by the weapon he hadn’t noticed the mug until now. It was one of two. Both on coasters, of course.

  He assumed the second mug was for him. There was no way he was drinking that coffee, though. God knows what might be in it. After all, it wasn’t as if Austin had let him choose which mug he wanted to drink out of.

  “It looks like you kidnapped my parents and killed my dad.”

  Austin sighed. “You need to understand what’s really happening here. Frank was not your dad.”

  “I know.”

  Austin suddenly looked surprised. “You do?”

  “I saw my birth certificate. But he’s the man who raised me. Not you. And at least he never killed anybody.”

  “You know I’m your father?”

  Connor didn’t feel like elaborating on how he had learned that information, so he shrugged and said, “I put two and two together.”

  Austin took another sip from his coffee. “Frank had it coming.”

  “I’m not just talking about him.”

  “You mean Olin’s parents? They had it coming, too.”

  “Why? What did they do?”

  “It’s what they didn’t do.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Austin leaned forward. “Now we’re getting somewhere. I think there’s probably a lot you don’t understand. Fifteen years ago—”

  “I already know about Prague.”

  “You do?” He considered that. “You have been a busy bee, haven’t you?”

  The comment got under Connor’s skin. Had Austin really expected he wouldn’t go looking for answers after his parents were kidnapped? Did he think the police were so inept they wouldn’t eventually make the connection between the murder in Prague and the abductions in New York?

  “Let’s skip the history lesson,” Connor said. Minutes earlier, he would have warned himself about letting his emotion get the better of him. But he didn’t regret saying it. Not one bit. Either Austin was going to kill him or he wasn’t. Connor had already cowered before this man once. He wasn’t going to do it again. “You were already having an affair with Frank’s wife, so you weren’t exactly stellar father material to begin with.
Then she tried to call it off and you killed her. Am I up to speed enough for you now?”

  He saw a flash of anger behind Austin’s eyes. “That’s where you have it wrong. There was no affair. I didn’t kill her. Frank did. Kim and Frank set me up to take the fall. So this—this was payback. It was their turn to spend their lives in a cage. As far as I was concerned, they could stay there until they died of old age. I planned to be there for you. To take their place. To finally have my chance to be your father. I was never going to tell you how we were related, but I figured with time you would come to see me as family anyway.”

  Connor tried to wrap his head around this. He wasn’t sure whether to believe Austin. Was it like Olivia had said? Had all those years behind bars twisted his memory? No, Connor thought, they didn’t. He knew Austin well enough to know he wasn’t crazy. Even as part of Connor rebelled against the idea that Frank and his mom had killed Frank’s wife and conspired to frame Austin, he knew there was something true about what Austin was saying. And it was enough to make him lean back and listen—really listen—to what Austin had to say next.

  “I made sure you were taken care of, didn’t I?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you think that money you found on the dining room table just came out of nowhere?”

  Austin was talking about the money that was now stashed away in the back of Connor’s sock drawer. Thinking about the money also made him think about Roland. Whatever secrets he and Frank had, there was now no doubt in Connor’s mind that he wasn’t involved in this.

  But there was that word: secrets. This whole thing was about secrets. And didn’t it make it just a little more plausible that if Frank had secrets with Roland, he had darker secrets, as well?

  Yes, it did.

  Then Connor remembered something else. There was a question he had been asking himself since the night of the abduction. In the big picture, it didn’t matter very much. But he still wanted to know, and this seemed like it might be his only opportunity to find out. “How did you get into the house so fast?”