by Nancy Bush
“I can find something to eat here. I keep telling you I don’t need a nursemaid.”
“This isn’t about you, Taft. The dogs need my touch.”
He snorted but stopped arguing.
The pugs had bolted their food down, and Mac hid a smile and bent down and cooed to them. Plaid came straight over but Blackie caught sight of the prize hedgehog and zagged right. Realizing her mistake, Plaid immediately turned an about-face and chased Blackie into the kitchen. The battle for the plush toy included plenty of growling and yipping.
Taft leaned back in his chair and grimaced. He glared at the point of his injury. They’d put his arm in a sling to control movement, but now he jerked the sling off.
“Think that’s a good idea?” she asked, and the look he sent her could melt steel.
She decided to change the subject. “Troi did not have anything to do with Rayne’s death. Seth was the last guy.”
“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
She had a mental image of Seth’s look of incredulity burned on her brain. He’d acted as if she were speaking in tongues, and the memory wouldn’t leave her. It bothered her like an itch she couldn’t scratch.
Taft admitted, “I could actually go for a Goldie Burger.”
She smiled. “I can do that.”
“Thanks, Mackenzie.”
His seriousness got to her. It was so out of character. “De nada. I’m going to stop by Stephanie’s and pick up a few things.”
“You planning on staying the night?”
She met his gaze and her heart beat a little faster. “High probability,” she said as she headed out the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Thad sat in his F-150 and watched Mackenzie walk to her car, a grin on her face, and felt a burning jealousy so intense he hardly knew what to do with it. He was afraid she’d see him. There were only so many visitors’ spots and he kicked himself for racing over here without more thought. Things were getting flaky in his mind. He needed to clamp down on himself, control dangerous urges.
He slid his truck into gear as she got into her RAV and pulled onto the street. He hoped she was going to her current residence because he had no information on where that was yet. He’d discovered her mother lived in town and had been planning to stake out that address until he’d learned today about Jesse James Taft’s existence in her life. It hadn’t taken him long online searching to come up with his address and as soon as he’d seen the RAV4, he’d known it was her. It matched the one he’d seen her climb into outside the Waystation and her appearance had clinched it. This time he memorized the license plate as he kept a safe distance behind her.
Things need to be in the right—
“Shut the fuck up,” he said aloud.
Mackenzie turned away from Laurelton toward River Glen. Maybe she was going to her mother’s house.
But then she turned on Wishing Well Street and his skin felt suddenly electrified. What is she doing here?
* * *
Taft worked himself out of the recliner, annoyed with the dull pain radiating throughout his right side. He knew he should take another pill. Keep ahead of the pain. But he wasn’t going to.
The pugs snuffled by the door and Plaid was already whining for Mac. “You too, huh?” he said as he stood to one side of the window so he couldn’t be seen as he glanced through the blinds.
You like her, Helene said.
Already established, he silently answered back.
Don’t make stupid mistakes this time.
He watched Mac pull out of the lot. He was just turning away when he saw the gray Ford F-150 follow after her, the silhouette of a man in a cowboy hat at the wheel. The license plate was plainly visible and Taft memorized it, then went to the kitchen for a notepad and wrote it down.
He walked back to his chair, thinking about it. It was entirely possible Mackenzie and he were being watched by the authorities. They’d been in the center of a multimillion-dollar drug bust yesterday and were very likely on the Feds’ radar.
But...
He picked up his phone and placed a call. “I need a license plate number.”
* * *
At Stephanie and Nolan’s, Mac swiftly packed an overnight stuff bag. One night, maybe two. That’s the most Taft would be able to handle no matter how much he needed help. Helplessness was not something he could handle.
Stephanie had heard her come in and now leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb of the pink and white room, one arm wrapped somewhat protectively across her stomach. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“It’s just for a night or two.”
“Aha, you’re staying with Jesse James Taft. Sounds like an outlaw. His name was all over the news today. How is he?”
“Okay. I think.” She picked up her bag. “He saved my life.”
“Then he’s at the top of my good list. I just wish you were staying. Nolan’s on his way home, but I like having you here.”
“I’ll be back.”
“And then you’re moving out for good.”
“Not that far away.”
She smiled, then said, “I don’t want to sound like I’m paranoid, but I just learned something awful.”
“What?”
“A girl I used to be friends with was killed on Friday night. Murdered.”
Mac frowned as she walked toward the door, Stephanie following behind her. She looked back at her stepsister.
“Really? Here?”
“In Portland. It was on the news yesterday, but I didn’t think it was her. Someone came in and strangled her. They called her Brandy, first. Her roommate found her. I knew her as Brenda Heilman.”
“I’ve hardly seen the news. Didn’t want to watch myself.”
“Yeah . . .”
Mac saw the tightness in Stephanie’s face. “You want me to look into it?”
“Maybe, yeah . . . I guess. But the weird thing is, you know that girl who accidentally fell from the overlook taking a selfie? Rayne Sealy?”
They were standing together on the porch. Mac was ready to dash to her SUV before the rain could start again. Now she gave Stephanie her full attention. “What about her?”
“She was a friend, too. In fact the three of us were best buddies in grade school for a while. Kind of drifted apart later.”
“You knew Rayne?” Mac demanded.
Stephanie blinked. “Did you?”
“Stephanie, that’s the case that I’ve been working on. That’s how I ran across Taft, in the first place. He and I were investigating different cases. I was trying to find Rayne. Her friend Bibi asked me to and then Rayne died, and then Bibi . . . was killed . . . and Taft was working on this drug bust that happened.”
“Bibi?”
“The garage fire. The police haven’t fully said it was homicide. There were indications that she may have tried to kill herself with carbon monoxide, but I don’t think it holds up.”
Stephanie shivered and looked around quickly, drawing her sweater closer around herself. Mac, too, felt a cold frisson slide down her back. “Your friend Brenda was murdered?” she asked.
A gray truck passed by the front of the house, a man in a cowboy hat at the wheel. They watched the back of it until it turned onto the main road and then Stephanie said, “I’m going inside and locking all the doors.”
“Do that,” Mac said. “Maybe I should stay till Nolan gets home?”
“No, no. Go on. Rayne’s death was an accident and I don’t know anything about Brenda. It was probably an ex-boyfriend. Isn’t it always? I’m just letting myself get spooked.”
“I told Taft I’d go to Goldie Burger, but I’ll come right back after I drop it off for him. You want a burger?”
“No, I’ve got food. Meat doesn’t work for me right now anyway. Nolan will be home soon.”
“Call me if he gets home before I return, otherwise I’m coming back.”
“Okay.”
Stephanie closed the door and t
hrew the lock as Mac race-walked toward her RAV. Strange developments. She hadn’t told Stephanie that she thought Rayne had been murdered because she didn’t want to frighten her more than she already was, and anyway, Seth Keppler was no threat to anyone right now.
But Bibi’s death . . .
And now this Brenda’s . . .
Were the deaths all tied together through Seth?
Mac was still mulling it over as she approached the drive-through at Goldie Burger. There were two cars in front of her. Did that make sense? Seth Keppler, drug dealer, also a mastermind killing young women?
The two vehicles slowly placed their orders and moved ahead of her and she was finally able to place her own order. She added fries and a couple of Cokes, even though she rarely drank soft drinks. Her mind was frazzled. Her head still ached some.
She would lay it all out to Taft when she got back, see what he thought.
As she turned back toward Laurelton and Taft’s condo, she didn’t notice the gunmetal gray F-150 that trailed her out of Goldie Burger’s drive-through.
* * *
Thad followed after her as she headed back in the direction of her lover’s place. What had she been doing at Bitch Stephanie’s house? How did she know what was in his mind? She was too attuned to him. Eerily so.
Was that why she’d been at the Waystation? Did she know? Did she know?
You approached her, not the other way around.
A cosmic connection, then?
He didn’t know how to stop her. How to keep her from reaching the condo of her lover, the ex-cop. He had to stop her. He had to.
He needed to take her to the lair.
How? What did he have?
He had a pickup full of supplies. He could use something. What?
He had to stop her!
How?
And then he knew. It was mostly blocks of city between River Glen and Laurelton but there was that one stretch of county property with nothing built on it. They were almost there. She was rounding the corner. He pulled the truck up close to her SUV, hugging her bumper as she made that turn. His beautiful truck would take a hit, and that would hurt, but he had had to do it. Had to.
She’s onto you!
He punched the accelerator hard and the F-150 jumped forward.
Wham! He smashed his truck into her bumper. The RAV spun on the wet pavement and Thad hit her again, slamming into the SUV’s side and pushing the vehicle off the road and into the swale below.
* * *
Mackenzie lost control of the wheel. What? What was it?
Slam!
The RAV skidded off the road sideways and down a few feet into the grassy area below street level. She banged her head again and it took a moment to gather her wits. This time she really might be concussed. Damn, if she wasn’t going to have to have herself looked at and—
Her driver’s door suddenly wrenched open. Outside in the rain was a man in a cowboy hat.
“What happened?” she asked dully.
He suddenly grabbed her shoulders and yanked her out of the car. She tried to stop him. She grabbed at his arms but he was strong. She wasn’t tracking well.
“Sorry, Mackenzie,” he said through his teeth.
“Wha—”
She saw the blur of his fist coming and then nothing.
* * *
Taft waited for an hour. She’d said she was going to stop by her stepsister’s first, so maybe she’d gotten to talking to her. It was early for dinner anyway. She’d said she was coming back, but she hadn’t said when.
He resisted the urge to text her. He hated being weak in front of her. He’d meant it when he said he could get by on his own, but the truth was he wanted her here.
He waited for some word from Helene, but there was none. The drug bust today had gone a long way in helping vanquish some of his ghosts regarding her death from an overdose. It hadn’t been his fault, but her dealer had been one of his acquaintances. Ten years older with an unfaithful husband who’d stoked her unhappiness, Helene had spent time partying with her younger brother’s crowd. She’d hooked up with one guy in particular and had gone down a drug-fueled rabbit hole with him. They were both gone now. Had been for a long time.
His phone buzzed with a text. The gray F-150 belonged to one Thaddeus Jenkins. He plugged the address into an app of River Glen and his brows drew together as he saw where it was. He was pretty sure that was one of the houses above the trail.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Mackenzie came to slowly. Everything hurt and she didn’t understand it. Her head hurt. Her arms hurt—her wrists!—it felt as if they were being flayed and her limbs were being dragged from her body. She visualized being on a rack and slowly pulled apart. Shuddering, she finally opened her eyes and looked at her right hand. It was strung with twine through a ring that was screwed into a concrete ceiling. Both hands, arms . . . were strung up. She was hanging from the ceiling and her body weight was cutting off her circulation, turning her hands white. With an effort, she got her feet underneath her and released the tension. Felt immediate relief. Thank God she could stand.
Why? her dulled brain asked. How?
She blinked and felt the cold.
She was naked.
Memory flooded back. She was driving . . . driving to Taft’s place and . . . there was food. The burgers! She’d picked up burgers and she’d stopped to get her clothes and...
She heard footsteps and a man was suddenly standing in front of her. He was bare-chested, stripped down to his jeans. He looked familiar but she couldn’t place him.
“You’re awake,” he said, grinning. He was breathing hard and sweating. “Had to sneak you in, pack you down here, but I did it. I did it!”
“Who are you?”
He stared at her, a flash of anger in his eyes. “You know. You’ve been tracking me, bitch.”
She didn’t have the strength to argue, just waited, her mind racing. Where was she? How long had she been gone?
Very slowly the man reached for a cowboy hat on a metal shelf and jammed it on his head. She had a glimmer of recognition then. He was the man who’d tried to pick her up outside the Waystation.
“Chas,” he said.
“I haven’t been tracking you.”
“I saw you. I saw you with her.”
“Her? I don’t know you, Chas.”
“On Wishing Well Street. I saw you with her!”
“Stephanie?” Her pulse leapt. This was about Stephanie? Had her stepsister been right about the connection to Rayne and Brenda? But this was someone new. Someone else. Who?
“I don’t know you,” she tried again.
“But you were with her. And she knows who I am, doesn’t she? She knows very well.”
“You saw me outside her house tonight?” Mac said, thinking of the gray F-150 that had cruised by as they were standing together on the porch.
“Things need to be in the right order, but you got in my way, didn’t you?”
Mac willed her sluggish mind to catch up. She needed to play along. To buy time. “Where am I?” she asked.
“You’re with me.” He spread his arms and turned around. “You like it? It’s where we’ll make love until you die.” He pointed behind her and she carefully turned her head to see a whiteboard with names written in different colors and crossed out with the same: Rayne’s in red, Bibi’s in green, and Brenda’s in yellow. Her own name was written on the board in blue, still viable.
As she watched he walked over with a pink Sharpie and added Stephanie to the list.
“You’ll be pleased to know you’re the first to visit me here. Rayne got close, but I made mistakes with her. She knew too much.”
“Rayne didn’t fall. You killed her,” Mac said, her eyes on the whiteboard.
“I didn’t want to,” he answered regretfully.
“And Bibi . . . ?”
“I didn’t want to kill her, either! But Rayne talked about me to her. I wanted to make love to her, like I did Rayne. A
nd Brenda, Brandy,” he sneered. “She wanted me. Things just got out of control, so . . .”
Mac wished she knew what time it was. Wondered if Taft was starting to question where she was.
“So, now it’s just you and me, and we’ll make love all night and all day. Forever.” Mac tried to hide her feelings of revulsion, but he must have seen something in her expression because he drew near and whispered coldly, “Don’t worry. Nobody’s coming to help you. You’re mine now. . . .”
* * *
Emma clipped the leash on Duchess’s collar, and the two of them walked down the hallway and stood outside the dining room where Harley was taking orders from a table of four men who usually sat together. They all seemed to be flirting with Harley. That’s what they did with pretty girls.
Harley managed to walk away from them before she rolled her eyes on her way to the kitchen. She nearly ran into Emma on her way.
She looked down at Duchess and said, “Oh, I wish I could pet you, but I’m working.”
“How are you doing?” Emma asked.
“Good. It’s okay. You taking Duchess for a walk?” she asked.
“We’re going to Mrs. Throckmorton’s house.” Emma had already been there once today. She’d knocked on the doors of all the three houses and of course it was the last one where Mrs. Throckmorton’s daughter, Lorena, had finally opened the door.
“Wait a minute. I said I’d go with you. I can’t right now and it’s getting dark.”
“I went earlier but Mrs. Throckmorton was taking a nap. I said I would come back today. I have a flashlight.”
“Whoa. If you wait till tomorrow we can go together. I’ll come here directly after school.”
“I want to look for the cat, too.”
“Somebody said they saw Twinkletoes earlier,” said Harley.
Emma wasn’t so sure, and it could be that Harley was just saying that to get her to stay. Old Darla had died at the hospital today and Jewell and everybody else was blaming the cat. “Supercilious Bob tried to catch her. They want to get rid of her.”