34. Tase
Tase
I ’m having a hard time getting myself together.
I keep glancing at the phone, waiting for Gilli to text. Or glancing at the door, because even better, she could decide to show up and spend the night here despite all better judgment.
Soren and Aiden might think they have things under control, but they probably don’t. She got my damn bike out of the garage and rode it to town, didn’t she?
Who knows what she’ll do next?
She’s scared and worrying herself to pieces. Do they see it clearly enough? Are they taking her seriously?
The clock in the hallway, a relic from my father-in-law, chimes eleven. It’s late but I guarantee they’ll still be up.
Time for me to act like a goddamn adult.
Rejection is a part of life too, and if I’m not willing to talk about it, then my mind will get carried away and invent a million different scenarios with me and Gilli that probably aren’t real.
I throw on a jacket and grab my car keys. My mind is on Gilli and little else as I drive through town on my way to the cabin .
Until flashing blue and red lights of a police cruiser up ahead force me to adjust my speed.
Not how I pictured this evening going. “Damn it.” The words slip through my lips as the cop waves me over.
I pull up beside the cruiser and dip my head in acknowledgement toward the policeman before rolling down the window. I recognize him, at least.
Darrell Thompkins is a bull-chested guy with a single streak of white in his hair despite his recent forty-fifth birthday. He’s got an annoying poodle named Duchess at home, and a wife he complains about bitterly.
“Evening, Darrell. What’s the problem?” I ask, forcing lightness into my tone.
He’s already got someone else pulled over on the side of the road. What does he want from me?
“It’s odd to see you out and about this late, Doc Walton,” Darrell says. “Where are you headed?”
Ah, thank god, he does not want to talk about my speed.
“Soren and Aiden,” I tell him like it’s a perfectly normal excuse.
Luckily for me, Darrell grins, showing protruding gums. “It figures. You help keep those two in line, okay? No more shooting off fireworks into Mr. Hunter’s yard at three in the morning.”
It was a prank gone wrong on one of their frequent summer vacations back from college. I’m surprised he remembers it.
“No fireworks this time, I promise.”
“Well, just be careful. We had a prank call the other day. Seems like people are losing their minds in our little town and you never can tell what kind of crazies you’ll find out on the road at this hour,” Darrell says.
“A prank call? Really?”
“Yeah, last week sometime.” Darrell tips his hat back, something he’s never seen without, and runs stubby fingers across the furrows on his brow marking the exit of his hair. “Just stupid kids, I’m sure, talking about OnlyFans or some shit like that.”
“OnlyFans?” I force out a laugh. “Damn. You think there’s someone around here with a sexy profile?”
“Who knows the kind of freaky shit people get into,” he mutters.
I wait with bated breath for him to fill in the details but I know what this is. Gilli was telling the truth when she said she’d called the cops and they laughed at her. They thought it was a prank, teens gearing up for the summer or some such.
They’d blown her off. Typical assholes.
But I’m one of them, a part of this town, a respected citizen and honorary asshole, and she isn’t.
“You know,” I say, leaning further out the window for a conspiratorial chat, “I heard from one of the girls at work that someone made a threat against her online. Spooked her up good. Happens all the time.”
Darrell stands up straighter. “No fooling?”
“No fooling. It seems to me some people take advantage of being anonymous online and think they can mess with whoever they want without consequences. Who knows? Maybe your prank call wasn’t actually a prank. People are sick.”
The one thing Darrell and his cop buddies hate is people who lord their power over others—even if they themselves do the same thing under the safety of their badges.
But it isn’t for me to judge.
The bug is planted, and I watch Darrell chew the inside of his cheek, his lips pursing. “You don’t say.”
“Might be worth checking into. Anyway, time’s a-wasting. Have a good night and try not to work too hard.”
I jerk my nose to indicate the poor schmuck trapped in his car waiting for Darrell to run whatever information he needs through the database but wasting time chit-chatting with me .
“You drive safe, Doc.” Darrell’s attention is a million miles away as I pull back onto the main road.
As soon as I’m out of town and away from the boys in blue, I press my foot to the gas pedal.
My high beams cut through the rich darkness of night, and I jam on the brakes at a flash of movement. Half a second later, a deer jumps into the road, pausing only to shoot me a look before taking off again.
I wait a beat to make sure it doesn’t double back, and then hurry on.
The deer turns out to have been a messenger. Or a harbinger, whichever title fits. Lost in thought, I might have otherwise missed the car on the side of the road and passed it by before making the turn to Savage Gardens.
The deer got me to slow down, and now I see that it’s Gilli’s car.
Why on earth would her car be here?
My first thought is she’s had car trouble. Then I notice that both front tires are absolutely flat. Punctured, it looks like.
And the driver’s side window is shattered.
Ice curls in my veins and sends frost shooting into my fingers and toes as I slam my car into park and rush over to inspect. Maybe she’s hurt. Maybe she needs my help.
The car is vacant. I notice glass shards from the busted window littering the front seat and floorboard. In the back seat is Gilli’s duffel bag. What?—
She could be injured, bleeding. I search the area frantically, calling her name.
Nothing.
What happened? Did she have double blowouts on her front tires? She skidded sideways and almost landed in the ditch, but that wouldn’t cause her side window to break.
I take another look at the car, and there’s her purse peeking out from underneath the passenger seat.
She wouldn’t leave her purse, would she? Then I notice some small red drops on jagged shards still stuck in the window frame of the door.
Blood.
And suddenly it comes together. Looks like she was forced off the road and dragged from the vehicle.
The threat was real.
I heave in deep breaths to calm myself. Gilli’s in trouble. What do I do now? Call for help? Wait for the police to arrive?
No time to waste. If they found her this easily, then they must have researched her family members. Which means they know about the cabin.
A curse erupts as I run back to my car. The road to the cabin is just ahead. I take the turn way too fast, almost losing control, but manage to right the car at last.
As I near the cabin, I cut the lights off, driving carefully through the darkness.
My intuition tells me that a bold attack is absolutely the wrong move. If things are as bad inside as I fear, then I need to be stealthy. They won’t be expecting me, so surprise could be on my side.
I stop the car before I get to the cabin. Dead ahead, an unfamiliar vehicle is parked in the driveway, and a dull gleam from inside tells me the curtains are pulled tight in the living room. Something neither of the boys do.
They aren’t alone. Shit, what if I’m already too late?
Keeping my distance, I go the rest of the way on foot, crouching low and trying to stay in the shadows as much as possible in case anyone is watching.
The cabin is isolated from the nearest neighbors, but these dudes, if Gilli is right—and she has been so far—aren’t amateurs. They aren’t going to hole up in the cabin without making sure they are prepared for an ambush.
What have we gotten ourselves into? Think, Tase, think .
Thinking is fucking hard when the people I love are in trouble .
The sliding glass doors might be blocked, but the window overlooking the driveway has no curtain or blinds.
Anxiety eats at my nerves until they’re raw and aching, my fingers tense on the sill. Only my hold keeps me upright. My pulse races when I peek through the window.
Inside, there’s a ring light illuminating Gilli, and she has her shirt off.
In her bra and yoga pants, with her eyes closed, she twists and winds her body in a sinuous dance, her arms above her head.
A giant bruise marks the side of her face, with smaller cuts across her tawny skin.
Streaks of makeup and mascara smear down from teary eyes.
The sight rips me to shreds.
A man in a ghost mask stands beside a tripod that holds a cell phone, but the screen is angled away from me. I have no doubt that Gilli is being filmed, possibly even broadcast live. It turns my stomach.
Two other burly men lurk on either side of the room. One of them holds a baseball bat and the other a switchblade, but all three of them have their entire focus centered on Gilli.
They are the cobras and she is the mesmerizing melody keeping their attention captive.
Behind the masked man, I spy Soren anchored to the legs of the kitchen island, a zip tie around his ankles and his wrists behind him. Aiden is nearby on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood. A broken bone pokes through his sweatpants.
Fuck fuck fuck.
They found us. They made a move before we were fully prepared.
Fumbling, I reach into the pocket of my coat for my cell phone. My fingers are numb but I manage to get the phone out and shield the screen to keep the glow from being seen inside.
Calling 911 will take too long to get the kind of instant help we need ASAP .
Darrell’s number is programmed into my contacts. It’s a risk to make the call, and if I try to slink off further down the lakeshore to avoid being heard, they might see the movement and come after me.
There’s no way I want them to use that baseball bat on me. The switchblade would be even worse.