Chapter 43 #2
Nine damned years! He’d let nine years go by with her thinking that he hadn’t loved her enough to back her up.
“You bastard.” How could he have done such a thing?
“You couldn’t have explained this to me after the fact?
” How could he have allowed her to suffer the loss of everything without telling her the truth?
“You could have backed me up, and then we would have left together.”
He shook his head, his expression adamant. “If I’d backed you up, you wouldn’t have left. You would’ve insisted on staying here and cleaning up Grider’s mess. I know how you think, Addy. I had to make you angry enough to walk away. I needed you to hate me.”
“Well”—she glared at him with all the pain and rage that had been building for nine long years—“you succeeded.” Why couldn’t he see what he’d done? “You could have told me the truth after I left. At least then I wouldn’t have had to live with those feelings all these years.”
“As you’ll recall,” he pressed, his tone reflecting his own rising frustration, “I tried to talk to you. To explain.” He shook his head.
“But you wouldn’t talk to me. I sent letters.
Sent messages through your mother. I even showed up at your door once and you called your HPD friends to haul me away.
You ignored everything. Finally, I gave up.
” He sighed, the sound weary with the old hurt.
“It was enough for me just knowing you were safe. Keeping you safe is all that has ever mattered to me.”
How could he do that? Just let her walk away thinking what she thought of him.
“Well, that’s just great. Thanks for clearing things up for me.
I’m going to bed.” He’d thrown everything away because he didn’t think she was strong enough to take care of herself.
Just proof positive that he’d never really known her at all.
She hesitated, turned back to him. “Just so you know, you worry for nothing. You threw us away for nothing.” She bopped her chest with her fist. “First, I’ve told you a million times that I can take care of myself.
I’m no princess. I’m a cop. A damned good one.
Second, I wasn’t afraid of Cyrus then and I’m not afraid of him or Jamison now.
That bastard’s not killing me. So back off, Wyatt, and let me take care of myself. ”
She stalked down the hall. She bypassed the guest room and went straight to his bed. He could sleep in the guest room or take the couch. His bed was by far the most comfortable.
The rumpled sheets were welcoming. They smelled like him. That shouldn’t have given her any comfort, but it did. She burrowed into the pillows and forced her brain to shut off.
She didn’t want to think. Her mother was gone, and Wyatt was a fool. He’d thrown them away because he couldn’t see the truth. Because he didn’t respect her ability.
Vaguely she heard him come into the room. Heard the water go on in the shower of the en suite bath.
That was the sound that followed her to sleep.
Deeper and deeper she sank.
She tried to fight her way back to the surface, but hands were clutching at her . . . pulling her down, down, down.
Adeline struggled against the hands . . . felt that familiar pressure settle on her chest.
No! She wanted to live. She didn’t want to die.
Her lungs burned with the need to suck in air. She clenched her jaw. Held her breath.
The hands stopped clutching at her. But the weight remained on her chest, rendering her immobile. Helpless.
The water suddenly cleared. So clear she could see the moonlight shining down through it.
She turned her head to the right. Cherry Prescott lay beside her. Her eyes were closed, and a tiara was tangled in her hair. Adeline shook her head. Almost opened her mouth to scream.
Help me! Please help me!
Her heart pounding, she turned to her left. Penny Arnold lay on that side of her. Eyes closed. Tiara twisted in her long blond hair.
Adeline flung out her arms. Tried to rise up. Couldn’t. Finally, her hands settled atop her head. She felt around. Her fingers curled around something metal. She pulled it free of her hair.
A tiara.
Adeline jerked upright.
Sweat dampened her skin. Her breath heaved in and out of her lungs. She coughed. Dark. Water running. She looked at the clock. 10:56 p.m. She’d been asleep, what? Four or five minutes?
Shit.
She threw back the covers Wyatt must have spread over her and got up. Her legs wobbled, so she took a moment to regain her equilibrium.
Damned dreams.
The bathroom door was open. She peeked past it. Wyatt was in the shower. How the hell had only four or so minutes of sleep allowed that stupid dream?
Her throat felt sand-dry. She needed something to drink. Anything but water.
She shoved the hair that had fallen loose out of her face. Apparently she’d done some tossing and turning during that short dream. The images haunted her. Penny and Cherry lying beside her. Adeline shuddered.
In the kitchen, she poured a glass of orange juice and downed it.
Better.
Her cell vibrated. She stared down at her waist. Damn, she hadn’t even taken off her utility belt. No wonder she felt achy. Even five minutes of sleep wearing all that gear poking and digging into her muscles was bad.
She pulled out her phone. A text message. She smiled. The only person who ever sent her text messages was Braddock. It would be a relief to hear from him. She frowned at the unknown number. Did he have a new cell number?
She opened the message.
She stopped breathing.
It’s time, princess. Meet me
at the command post. Come alone
or they die.
For about two seconds Adeline considered walking in there and dragging Wyatt out of the shower. But if he came and this bastard spotted him, the vics would die.
Was it possible they were even still alive?
She read the screen again.
Going alone was her only option. That Wyatt would go apeshit sent anger buzzing along her nerve endings. He didn’t trust her to handle herself. Didn’t have any faith in her ability. She was a good cop. It was way past time for him to notice.
Still, she wasn’t stupid enough to do this alone. As much as she wanted to assure the safety of those two . . . going without backup would be the quickest way to get dead.
No problem. She would arrange backup. All she needed was a ten-minute head start. As long as Jamison thought she was alone, when reinforcements showed up, what could he do?
Die, because she was going to kill his sorry ass.
She checked her weapon, grabbed her jacket and the keys to her Bronco, as well as to Wyatt’s SUV, and slipped out the front door. Wyatt would be pissed but he’d get over it. He needed to learn to trust her.
With a quick survey of the dark yard, she hurried to her Bronco. Hit the unlock button, hopped in, and locked the doors. She backed out of the driveway without turning on the headlights.
Maybe even a ten-minute head start was foolhardy, but if there was any chance at all those women and that child were alive, she had to go for it.
Half a block from Wyatt’s house, she turned on the headlights and put through a call to Deputy Womack.
“Yeah.” From the sound of his voice, she’d gotten him out of bed.
“I got another message,” she blurted. Her nerves were vibrating with anticipation. This could be it.
“Addy? Where the hell are you? Where’s Wyatt?”
“Just listen to me, Womack. Come to Wyatt’s house and get him. I took his keys. By the time you get here I’ll be at the rendezvous point. I’ll forward you the location by text in five minutes. So get up, buddy, it’s going down.”
“Addy, listen to me.”
She hung up before he could attempt to talk her out of her decision. Focus was what she needed right now. Extreme focus.
A shiver rattled her bones as Nichols’s last words echoed in her brain. Stay away from your kin, Detective.
Her kin, right. The bastard was nothing to her. Except a dead man. He wasn’t getting away with what he’d done to her mother.
The farther out of town she got, the more her tension ratcheted up. She braked as she reached the turnoff to the dirt road leading to the command post they’d used today. As promised, she forwarded the text message to Womack’s cell as well as Wyatt’s.
She made the turn. A big-ass tree lay across the road.
She braked hard. “What the hell?”
They’d been down this road just a few hours ago. The entire search had started and then ended just a mile or so from here. There hadn’t been any strong winds.
She rammed the Bronco into reverse. She’d been set up. “Shit!”
“Get out!”
She hit the brake at the same time she turned to see who had shouted the command.
Clay stood outside her door, a .357 Magnum revolver aimed at her head.
“Shut off the engine and get out.”
She was going to kick the shit out of him. She rammed the gearshift into park, jerked the door open, and slid out of the seat. When her feet hit the ground, her weapon was in her hand and pointed at his damned head.
“Drop the .357, you dumbass.” She was definitely going to kill this prick. If he’d messed with this case, he would so regret it.
“You don’t understand,” he argued, his tone strained as if he were afraid or was nervous about something.
“This is the only way I could get you away from Wyatt.” He lowered his weapon.
“I was scared shitless you’d drive off when you saw it was me if I didn’t do it this way.
” He gestured to the tree. “I didn’t know what else to do. ”
“Are you out of your damned mind?” He was dead, all right. She bored the barrel into his forehead. He drew his chin down, squeezed his eyes shut. “I could kill your ass right now and no one would give one shit, you idiot.”
He held up his hands surrender-style. They actually shook. “No, Addy! Listen to me.” He raised his eyes to meet hers, evidently afraid to move the rest of his head. “I know where they are. I swear to God, I know where those women are.”
Adeline lessened the pressure on his forehead. Her instincts were screaming. “How would you know that when about fifty damned cops haven’t been able to figure it out?”
“I’ll tell you on the way.” He pointed up the road. “My truck’s parked up there. Let’s just go before it’s too late. I ain’t going back there by myself. It’s too damned creepy. He’s got them all shackled up like . . .” He shook head. “I don’t know. You just have to see it for yourself.”
“We’ll take the Bronco.”
He bobbed his head up and down. “Whatever you say.”
They climbed into her Bronco. She shoved into reverse. “Which way?”
“Down the road about four miles.” He pointed west. “There’s a real narrow dirt road that’s all overgrown. If you didn’t know it was there, you’d miss it. You have to park there and walk the rest of the way. It’s another mile or so back in the woods. An old hunting shack next to Singing River.”
Adeline glanced at him, her suspicion growing. “That still doesn’t tell me how you found it. Or why you didn’t call the police.”
He blew out an exaggerated breath. “All right. I did some business there once or twice.”
Son of a bitch. “Drugs.” She shook her head. Of course. Easy access to the water for importing and exporting.
“I went there this afternoon to check out the situation for a future transaction,” he explained. “You know, to see if it was still safe to conduct business there. I freaked out when I saw . . . them.”
“Why didn’t you call someone then?” Could he be any more stupid? “You couldn’t try to set them free?”
“I was afraid, okay? That psycho almost caught me there. I had to hide, then sneak my way out. After what he did to Aunt Irene, I wasn’t taking no chances.” He huddled in the seat as if he expected her to beat him.
The ache of loss pierced Adeline’s senses. She pushed it away. “You should’ve come to us before now.”
“I had to wait until I could talk to you away from Wyatt. He’d try to blame this on me, and I ain’t got shit to do with it.”
Still suspicious, she demanded, “Why didn’t you tell your daddy?” God knows that old bastard had taken care of every fix his sons had ever gotten into.
Another of those big puffs of breath. “I’m on thin ice with my daddy, okay?
He’s real pissed at me because I slit your tires.
Like I said, I was afraid if Wyatt found out I had this information, he’d try to pin this shit on me.
” He wagged his head from side to side. “I might be a little hotheaded and irrational, but I ain’t no freak. This dude is a damned freak.”
That, they could agree on. She would kick his ass about the tires later.
“Let’s just go,” he urged. “I want this over with.”
There was a condition coming. She could feel it.
“I’ll show you where they are,” he continued. “Then I’m getting the hell out of there. You tell Wyatt that bastard contacted you. The phone I used to text you was one of those throwaways. I pitched it in the river. Wyatt don’t have to know I was involved in this at all.”
“I’ll have to think about that one.” She reached for her cell.
“Wait,” he wailed. “First, you see for yourself that I’m right, then you call your people and I’m out of there, deal? I don’t want to be nowhere around when you call him. I’ll walk back to my truck. I don’t care if it takes all night.”
Adeline didn’t like playing by anyone else’s rules. Clay was a piece of shit, that was for sure. But he wasn’t a killer. At least not yet.
“We’ll play this your way for a few more minutes,” she relented. “But if I get the first hint that you’re bullshitting me or that anything at all is off, I’m shooting your ass. Got it?”
Clay nodded. “Got it. Trust me, I want this freaky shit over.”
Stay away from your kin, Detective. You can’t trust him.
Adeline stole a glance at her cousin.
A lump of dread settled in her gut.
She knew better than to trust him . . . no matter the excuses he gave or the assurances he offered.
Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
But she couldn’t ignore the possibility that he might be telling the truth. Or that Nichols had been talking about Jamison.
Either way, she hoped like hell she wasn’t going to have to be responsible for the death of Cyrus’s only other son.
And if she survived this, Wyatt was going to kill her.
The important thing here was saving Cherry Prescott and Penny Arnold and, if Adeline was really lucky, Danny Jamison.
Maybe, just maybe, Wyatt would get it through his thick head that Adeline could take care of herself.