Chapter Fifteen #2
His concern moved to the next level. “Tell me exactly what she did when she got here.”
Shelly took a breath. “She asked me to stay until she got back. She said it might be late. Then she rounded up a flashlight, a bottle of water…” Her face scrunched as if she could barely hold back the tears. “She took her father’s hunting rifle.”
His jaw clenched to hold back a wave of curses. Not good. Not good at all. “Did she say anything about where she was going?”
Shelly took another of those slow, deep breaths. “She said: ‘When Billie gets here tell him I went back. He’ll know what to do.’”
The concern escalating inside him turned to fear. “You’re certain those were her exact words.”
Shelly nodded.
He hesitated. “Did she take that white truck that was sitting out there?”
“The one Vince left, yes.”
“Thanks, Shelly. Hold down the fort.”
When he reached the door, her voice stopped him. “Are you going to find her and bring her home?”
He glanced back at the woman so very worried about her friend. “I am.”
Not only was he going to bring Charly home, he was bringing his sister and her new husband home, too.
Lost in the Woods Getaway
Scottsboro Highway, 9:45 p.m.
BILLIE PARKED OUTSIDE the cabin that served as the office and the home to the Rogers family compound.
Both the vehicles that had been here before were here now, which hopefully meant the owners were home.
He’d driven the road that wound behind the property and found the white truck Vince had lent Charly but it was too damned dark and he didn’t have the time to try to find her in those woods.
Instead, he’d come straight to the center of activity—to the source.
From the number of guests he noticed in the glass dome in the center courtyard, a dinner party was happening.
He imagined the Rogers family would not want trouble.
That would work to his advantage because Billie was ready to unleash exactly that—trouble.
He unlocked the glove box and reached inside.
He didn’t carry a weapon even when on the job unless it was absolutely necessary.
This was one of those necessary moments.
He climbed out of the SUV, tucked the weapon into his waistband at the small of his back. When he reached the door that displayed the office hours and this was well past, he banged hard. Hard enough to shake the wooden slab in its frame.
There were lights on in the cabin but not in this front room.
He pressed a doorbell that hopefully sent an alarm to the living quarters to let whoever was inside know someone was at the door.
He waited patiently for ten, then fifteen seconds.
The lights came on in the room and he banged on the door again for good measure.
“All right, all right, I’m coming,” a man called out.
The door opened and Billie was ready. He held his weapon so that it would be the first thing the man saw.
His eyes rounded and his mouth did the same. Lucky for both of them no sound came out.
“Step back,” Billie ordered, “unless you want the guests having dinner over there to hear and see this.”
The man shuffled back awkwardly. “We…we don’t keep money here.”
“I don’t want your money,” Billie said as he closed the door behind him. “I’m looking for Charly Nix. She’s here and I need you to take me to her.”
“Charly.” He frowned. “Why would she be here?”
Did this man have no idea what his son was doing? Billie wasn’t giving him the benefit of the doubt.
“She and I were both here earlier this afternoon,” Billie said. “We had a confrontation with Kerrick. We’ve spent the last several hours at the sheriff’s office. Kerrick is still there. They’re keeping him overnight.”
The man’s face paled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What’s Kerrick done?”
This was taking far too much time. “The cabin back in the woods on the other side of the property.”
He nodded, his gaze still tracking the muzzle of the handgun. Billie lowered his weapon to refocus the man’s attention on him. Whatever was going on here, he needed this guy to pay attention and to do as he said.
“Someone was being held prisoner in that cabin. I need you to tell me who, besides your son, uses that cabin.”
The idea that Kerrick had insisted on calling the sheriff still nagged at Billie but there was always the chance someone in the sheriff’s department was working with him, which would explain why he had no worries in doing so.
At this point Billie couldn’t be sure about anything.
He was working with possible scenarios and pieces of potential evidence.
The man’s head was moving side to side now. “No one.” Then his face changed. “Wait. No. Paul Grant uses it sometimes for hunting. He’s the only person we allow to hunt the land, but he hasn’t been back there recently.”
Billie thought of the man who had hugged Charly when they visited him. “Do you have a UTV?”
He nodded, then shook his head. “We use golf carts. They’re quieter.” A ringing sound drew his attention toward the door that led to the living quarters. Cell phone. It rang a second time.
“Get the key.” Billie glanced at his bare feet. “And your shoes.”
“Can I answer the phone? It’s probably my wife.” He blinked, his eyes so large he looked like an owl. “Or it could be Kerrick, I guess.”
Billie didn’t bother telling him that his son wasn’t getting any calls tonight. “No. Just your shoes and the key for one of the golf carts. We’re in a hurry.”
He followed Rogers into his living room where the older man jammed his feet into the shoes he had discarded. He glanced longingly at the phone but didn’t go for it.
As they exited the home through the back door, Rogers flipped on the rear exterior lights.
Two carts were lined up under a carport.
As he slid into the passenger seat, Billie noted a small oil stain in the gravel a few feet away.
Maybe they parked farther over sometimes or maybe they had a third cart.
A third cart made sense since the wife wasn’t home.
She could be out there somewhere with Charly. The idea knotted in Billie’s chest.
Once they were loaded up, Billie withdrew his gun again. “Take me to that cabin.”
Rogers nodded.
When he shifted into gear, Billie warned, “Don’t do anything stupid, Mr. Rogers.”
“No. No. I won’t.”
When they entered the tree line, Billie noted there was a path just wide enough for the carts. “Are there paths like this all over the property?”
“Mostly in this front part of the property for the cabins,” he explained, glancing nervously at Billie as he spoke. “There are a couple paths farther back but none that go right up to the cabin you’re talking about. We’ll have to walk part of the way.”
Billie scanned the dark woods around them. His gut twisted with mounting worry. If Charly wasn’t here…
Another set of headlights appeared in the distance.
“That must be my wife. There was an issue at that back rental, cabin fourteen. She went to try and resolve it.” He glanced at Billie, appearing even more anxious now. “She’s very good at taking care of guest issues.”
“Is she alone?” Billie asked. The other cart had stopped a few feet away. The headlights preventing him from seeing the interior of the vehicle.
“Oh yeah. She’s alone,” Rogers assured him.
Laney popped out of the driver’s side of the other cart. Billie ensured his weapon wasn’t readily visible as she hurried over to the driver’s side of their cart. She looked at her husband first then at Billie. “Is everything all right?”
“This man,” Rogers said, “seems to think Charly is at the old cabin.”
Laney blinked once, twice. “I can’t imagine why.”
“Did you know Kerrick is in trouble again?” Rogers asked.
Billie heard movement on his right. He whipped toward the trouble. Too late. A muzzle rested against his forehead.
“Well, now, the gang’s all here. Shall we start the party?”
Paul Grant.
“Where’s Charly?” Billie inquired. His fingers tight around his weapon.
“He’s armed,” Rogers announced.
“Of course he is,” Grant said with a chuckle. He pressed the muzzle of his own weapon a little harder against Billie’s forehead. “Give me your gun and we’ll talk about your question.”
Billie reached outward as if he intended to hand over his weapon…but there was a problem with that move. A smart man never gave up his gun…otherwise, he ended up a dead man.
His arm went up fast, slammed against Grant’s while his upper body plowed into the man’s midsection.
The blast of a bullet leaving the chamber of Grant’s gun echoed in the darkness.
Grant hit the ground, Billie on top of him. He scrambled up, his gun still clenched in his right hand. He grabbed the bastard on the ground and yanked him up as well. He dragged him toward the other cart, the one Laney Rogers had been driving.
Screaming drew his gaze over his shoulder. Laney was attempting to staunch the flow of blood coming from her husband’s shoulder. The round Grant pulled off must have nailed him.
Billie shoved Grant across the passenger seat and into the driver’s seat. “Take me to Charly or I swear to God I will shoot you right now.”
While the scumbag drove, Billie’s gun boring into his temple, he called Malone and warned there was a gunshot victim near cabin fourteen on the property at Lost in the Woods Getaway.
The beam of the headlights bobbed across the front of a cabin. Grant stopped the cart, shut off the engine. “She’s in there.”
Billie switched the gun to his other hand so he could grab Grant by the collar and drag him out of the vehicle. He didn’t care if the bastard walked, crawled or was dragged…they were going in together.
They reached the steps. Billie pulled Grant up with him, then he shoved him against the door. “Open it,” he ordered.