Chapter Seventeen
Slater definitely hadn’t expected to find Leonard in the stall, and a whole bunch of questions immediately began to fly through his head.
Why the hell was Lana’s father here? What did he want? And where was Pamela? She certainly wasn’t in the stall with her husband, so had she been taken?
Or was she the person firing those shots?
Slater figured any and all of those possibilities could be true, but for now he focused on Leonard.
And the gun that the man had gripped in his hand.
Leonard didn’t aim the gun at them. In fact, he stayed against the wall, his body sort of slumped to the side. Slater didn’t want to take a chance, though, that Leonard might turn that gun on them, so he reached in and snatched it away. All without Leonard putting up a fight.
The man moaned again and shook his head. “Who’s shooting?” he asked, his words slurred.
There was indeed some gunfire going on, and it was all coming from Duncan. Either he’d managed to pin down the shooter, or else the shooter had given up the fight and was escaping.
“Leonard’s in here,” Slater relayed to Duncan, figuring that wouldn’t be info that Duncan was expecting.
“I’ll check him for more weapons,” Lana insisted, moving into the stall so she could frisk her father.
Again, her father put up no resistance whatsoever, and when Slater used the flashlight on his phone to aim it at the man, he saw Leonard’s slack face and unfocused gaze. It was possible he’d been injured, but there wasn’t any blood. However, the sleeve of his shirt had been shoved up, and there appeared to be a puncture mark on his arm. Not from a weapon but possibly from a needle.
“How did you get here, Leonard?” Slater asked while he continued to keep watch around them. He didn’t want someone hiding in another stall to attack him and Lana while they were occupied with her father.
Leonard shook his head and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Here?” he questioned.
Yeah, he’d been drugged all right, but Slater figured that didn’t mean the man hadn’t committed murder. He could have done this to himself so he’d look innocent. After all, they’d just found the body of a woman he’d likely had some part in murdering.
Outside the stall, Duncan’s shots trailed off some, and he was probably testing to see if the shooter would start up again. Hopefully not. Even though he and Lana were in the stall, it wouldn’t give them much protection from bullets coming at them. And Duncan was practically out in the open where he, too, could be gunned down.
“Lana,” Leonard murmured, clearly trying to focus his eyes on his daughter. “What happened?”
“You tell me,” she countered. “You can explain how you got here and why your former lover, Alicia Monroe, is buried in a grave just a stone’s throw away.”
There was rage in her voice, and Slater couldn’t blame her one bit. He was feeling plenty of that himself. Not just for Alicia but for the danger that had nearly cost Lana her life.
“Buried?” Leonard repeated, shaking his head, but then he stopped. Just stopped. And any trace of color drained from his face. “Alicia.” He said the name as a low moan that ended in a groan.
“Yes, Alicia,” Lana snapped. “You murdered her and—”
“No,” her father argued, and while that response was still slurred, he seemed adamant about it. “I didn’t kill her.”
“Then who did?” Lana snapped.
Leonard shook his head again. “Buck, I think. I think he did it. Because he was jealous. He was seeing her, too.”
Lana grounded out some raw profanity. “And why didn’t you report that to the cops?”
“No proof.” Leonard repeated that a couple of times, and while he sounded somewhat convincing, Slater wasn’t ready to buy it.
Not with so many unanswered questions.
There were those emails in the files that Pamela had taken from Leonard’s computer. Or rather had supposedly taken. Slater had to concede it was possible that was a setup to frame Leonard for a murder he’d had no part in committing.
“It’s me,” Slater heard Duncan say, and a few seconds later, he slipped into the stall behind him and Lana. “There’s no movement in the bleachers, no sign of the shooter. Or Pamela. I’ve called for backup.”
Good. Because Slater wanted all the help they could get, and he knew this was far from over. They had to find Pamela. And the person who’d fired those shots. They could be one and the same, but they had to know.
“What the hell happened to him?” Duncan asked, tipping his head to Leonard while he continued to keep watch on the bleachers and the arena.
“To be determined. But I think he was drugged.” Slater motioned to the puncture mark on his arm.
“Self-inflicted?” Duncan immediately wanted to know.
“Again, to be determined,” Slater repeated.
“Drugged,” Leonard muttered, and he, too, looked down at his arm. “Yes. Someone drugged me.”
“Who did that?” Lana demanded, and she clearly wasn’t ready to dole out any TLC. If it turned out her father was innocent, there’d be time for that later. For now, they had to take every precaution.
And that included treating Leonard like the killer he very well could be.
“I, uh, don’t know,” Leonard said, his eyelids fluttering down.
Lana huffed. “How did you get here? What’s the last thing you remember?”
Leonard didn’t give her the fast responses that she clearly wanted. “Don’t know,” he said, but then his eyes popped open again. “I was at the estate. I had a drink. Then I woke up here.” He stopped, groaned. “Alicia’s dead?”
Duncan huffed, too, and took out his phone. “I’ll request an ambulance.” He hadn’t managed to press in the number, though, when there was a shout.
“Help,” someone yelled, and it was a voice that Slater instantly recognized.
Pamela.
“It came from the bleachers,” Duncan said, and both Lana and Slater pivoted in that direction.
Slater couldn’t see Pamela, but he had no trouble hearing a second shout for help. Either the woman was in trouble or else this was part of the ploy to kill them.
“I’ll go look for her,” Duncan said.
“You’re not going out there without backup,” Slater insisted.
Then he had a fierce mental debate with himself. No way would he leave Lana here alone in case her father’s drugging was all an act. Leonard didn’t have any other weapons on him, but he could have a henchman waiting nearby to kill Lana.
Slater took out the pair of plastic cuffs he always carried with him, and he slapped them on Leonard. “If he’s got a phone on him, take it,” he instructed Lana.
“He didn’t have one,” she answered.
Good. Slater didn’t want Leonard to have a way to contact anyone. “If he’s not the killer,” Slater spelled out, “then the real killer put him here. He or she could have just murdered Leonard but didn’t so maybe he’s a patsy, meant to be set up for whatever else is supposed to happen here. But in case Leonard’s faking being drugged, I don’t want him to be able to communicate with any thug who’s helping him.”
That’s why Slater tore off the sleeve of his shirt and used it as a gag on Leonard’s mouth. Again, if the man was innocent he could dole out an apology later, but the restraints and the gag just might stop Leonard from issuing an order to kill.
“Help me,” Pamela shouted again, and it seemed to Slater as if the woman was on the move. Maybe running.
Slater didn’t intend to take anything happening at face value, and when he, Duncan and Lana moved out of the stall, he did so with one thought. When they got to Pamela, she, too, would be treated as a killer until proven otherwise.
He glanced at Lana, and there were so many things Slater wanted to say to her. But now wasn’t the time. Later, though, he needed to tell her just how much she meant to him. For now, he settled for a warning that he hoped she would obey.
“Stay behind me and keep your head down,” he insisted.
A fierce look went through her eyes. “You stay alive. Hear me? Stay alive,” she repeated.
“You do the same,” Slater fired back before brushing a quick kiss on her mouth. Very quick. Since this wasn’t the time for that, either.
With Slater going first, then Lana and Duncan, they scurried out of the stall and toward the bleachers. Not directly toward them, though. They raced toward the wall. Slater wanted a look beneath the bleachers to see if he could spot Pamela and anyone else. He only hoped the seats were stable enough and didn’t come crashing down on top of them.
The three of them stopped when they reached the bleachers and listened. Slater cursed the silence and the darkness. He couldn’t see anything, but he especially listened for any footsteps behind them. He didn’t want anyone sneaking up on them or trying to get into the stall with Leonard.
“Keep an eye on the stall with your father,” Slater whispered to her.
Lana nodded and shifted her position so she could do that as they inched farther beneath the bleachers. That’s when he spotted the flashlight lying on the ground. He couldn’t be certain, but it appeared to be the one that Pamela had been using.
Slater turned it on, and the powerful light illuminated a good portion of the space under the seats. Still no sounds or signs of anyone, though, and just when Slater had started to believe that maybe someone had escaped with Pamela, he heard something.
Movement out in the arena.
They all pivoted in that direction, and in the darkness, Slater shifted the flashlight toward the woman. Pamela. She was running across the massive stretch of dirt that made up the arena floor.
And her hands were tied in front of her.
“Help,” she shouted.
Slater moved so he could get a better look at her and check to see if she was armed. After all, her hands might not be tied at all. Pamela shouted out a call for help again and kept running.
He, Duncan and Lana moved out from the bleachers, and Pamela must have seen them because she started running toward them. She didn’t get far, though, because the gunshot stopped her.
It slammed into the ground right in front of her, causing her to skitter to a stop.
And the shot hadn’t come from Pamela, either. It’d come from the bleachers. Slater turned the flashlight in the direction of the shooter and cursed.
Marsh was standing there.
L ANA HAD KNOWN Marsh most of her life, but she’d never seen him with a gun. Nor had she ever seen that expression on his face.
The expression of a killer.
She caught just a glimpse of him before he ducked down out of sight. Marsh hadn’t been smiling or gloating as Buck had done. No, Marsh’s stare had been pure ice, and the shadows created by the flashlight had made him look like the monster that he was. In that moment, Lana realized Marsh was a cold-blooded murderer.
Slater must have realized that, too, because he pulled Lana back, and while he kept both his gun and flashlight aimed at Marsh, he and Duncan kept cover of the bleachers.
“Stay put, Pamela,” Marsh ordered when her mother started to struggle to get to her feet.
Marsh was peeking over one of the bleacher seats, his head barely visible. He didn’t fire another shot. So, what was he waiting for? Maybe he had hired thugs on the way to help him. But she, Duncan and Slater had their own help in the form of backup that she hoped would be there soon.
“Marsh grabbed me and dragged me in here,” Pamela sobbed. “He punched me, but I got away.”
Despite the troubles that she and her mother had had, Lana was sorry that had happened to her. But Pamela was alive, and that was more than she could say for Alicia, Stephanie and Taylor.
But had Marsh been responsible for their murders? Lana wanted to shout that question, but she knew it could turn out to be a distraction that Duncan and Slater didn’t need. Their goal right now was probably to get her mother out of harm’s way and to make sure they weren’t attacked.
At the thought of that, Lana turned to make sure her father was still in the stall. He was. They hadn’t shut the door, and she could see him cuffed, gagged and sitting on the floor. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought maybe he had slipped back into unconsciousness.
In the distance, Lana heard a welcome sound. Sirens. And she hoped it would prompt Marsh to surrender.
It didn’t.
She heard the footsteps on the bleachers and braced herself for an attack. It didn’t come. There was a thud as if someone had dropped to the ground. Several seconds later, the footsteps resumed and got a whole lot faster.
Marsh was running away.
Lana saw the split-second debate Duncan and Slater had about what to do. No way could they just leave her parents here, since Marsh could circle back and kill them. And they couldn’t wait for backup, either, because Marsh could be long gone by then.
“Slater and I can go after him,” Lana said.
She hoped it sounded much stronger than a mere suggestion. Because it was the best option. Duncan and Slater wouldn’t want to leave her there while they went in pursuit, and whoever did go after Marsh would need backup. Duncan must have decided the same thing because he nodded.
“Go,” Duncan ordered.
She and Slater took off running with Slater automatically moving in front of her again. Thankfully, they could still hear the sound of running footsteps, but they were on the other side of the arena so that’s where they headed.
The fog was still slithering around the ground, so Lana couldn’t actually see where their feet were landing, and she hoped they didn’t trip over something. Hoped, too, that this wasn’t a trap, but she had to accept that’s exactly what it was.
They stayed low and kept moving, keeping watch around them in case Marsh had planted thugs out here to attack them. They ran, following the sound of those footsteps, and just ahead, Lana spotted Marsh. Thankfully, the trees weren’t so thick here so there was light from the moon they could use to track his movements.
He was heading for the road.
And the car that was parked there.
They wouldn’t have been able to see the vehicle when they arrived since Marsh had parked it in a bend just away from the arena. He’d no doubt done that on purpose. But why?
Why was he even here?
Marsh hadn’t killed her parents even though he’d had plenty of chances, especially if he’d been the one who’d drugged her father and put him in that stall. And, yes, Marsh had fired shots at them, but most hadn’t come close to hitting them. He could have just gunned them down, or rather tried to do that, when they’d arrived or when they’d been at the grave.
Lana didn’t have the answer to any of those things, but she hoped she got the chance to catch and question Marsh.
Ahead of them, Marsh made a beeline for his car, but Lana kicked up the speed to close the distance between them. When they were only a few feet away, Slater bolted forward, diving at Marsh and tackling him. They landed hard on the asphalt.
Lana moved into a position so she could take aim at Marsh, but the man surprised her when he didn’t fight. He looked up at her. Still no smile or gloating, but there was...something. She wasn’t sure what, but that look chilled her to the bone.
Behind them, an explosion ripped through the arena.
The noise wasn’t exactly deafening, but it had definitely been some kind of blast, and Lana’s first thought was a horrible one. Had Duncan and her parents been killed? Oh, my God. Were they dead?
She gasped, instinctively pivoting toward the arena. So did Slater. And that’s when Marsh made his move. Marsh rammed his elbow into Slater’s jaw, knocking Slater off him. In the same motion, Marsh got to his feet and pointed his gun at them.
Lana could barely think, but she relied on her training. She brought up her own gun so she could fire. But Marsh managed to do that first. He pulled the trigger just as Slater caught hold of the man’s legs and yanked him down. Marsh’s shot went wild, slamming into a nearby tree.
The sounds of sirens got closer. So did the thuds of flesh punching flesh with the blows that Slater and Marsh were landing on each other. Both men still had their guns, and she knew it would be too easy for Marsh to try to put a bullet in Slater.
Still keeping watch for any help Marsh might have brought with him, Lana maneuvered around the fight, looking for any way she could put an end to it. She couldn’t shoot. She couldn’t risk hitting Slater. So she went old-school, and when Marsh pulled back his left hand to deliver another punch to Slater, Lana kicked Marsh in the head.
Marsh howled in pain and twisted his body to look back at her. It was the only opening Slater needed because he latched onto Marsh and put him in a choke hold. Marsh continued to fight, but Lana helped with that, too. She stomped down as hard as she could on his foot and then kicked the gun from his hand. It went flying and landed behind her.
But Marsh still wasn’t finished with the fight. He clamped on to Slater’s arm with his teeth and was flinging his head back and forth like a rabid dog. Lana delivered more kicks, this time to Marsh’s kneecaps, and yelling in pain, the man dropped to the ground with Slater keeping his arm around Marsh’s neck.
“I don’t have any cuffs,” Slater said, his breath gusting. The adrenaline was no doubt firing on all cylinders inside him, and he shot a glance in the direction of the arena.
The building was still in one piece, but Lana had no idea how much damage had been done. Or if Duncan and her parents had made it out alive.
“Backup will be here soon,” she muttered to Slater and to herself for the reassurance they’d soon have help.
She was volleying glances at Slater, Marsh and their surroundings when there was another blast, the one much louder than the first. Lana could only watch in horror as she heard the sharp groan of the roof before it collapsed onto the arena.