Jameson was already walking away from the group with his phone to his ear.
“Still no luck, Jameson,” McKenna answered her phone.
“A woman took her. Older, salt and pepper hair, drives a black Buick,” Jameson cut straight to it.
“Reggie Coleman has a black Buick registered in his name. Hold on.” He could hear McKenna furiously pounding on the keyboard. “Lois Coleman has blonde hair and she’s short and stout. But she could’ve been wearing a wig.”
“Yo!” Jameson bellowed across the parking lot. “How tall was the woman?”
RJ frowned for a moment then answered. “She was pretty tall for a woman.” Again he turned to his father. “Like mom’s height.”
“Five-eight,” Ray once again explained.
“Thin? Heavy set?” Jameson questioned.
“Average?” The teenager shrugged his shoulders. “She wasn’t big, but she wasn’t thin, either.”
“Did you hear that?” Jameson went back to his conversation with McKenna.
“Yeah. Not Lois Coleman.”
Jameson caught sight of Weston pulling into the lot. The smell of burning rubber filled his nostrils as Weston came to a stop, not bothering to pull into a parking spot.
“What about Deloris Marshall or Gary Earle’s wife?”
“Anything?” Weston asked, coming to Jameson’s side.
“Weston’s here. I’m putting you on speaker.”
“Negative on Gary’s wife, she’s wheelchair bound. I’m checking on Deloris now. Holy shit. Wait a second.”
“What?” Jameson growled. The shock of McKenna’s voice almost sounded giddy.
“Kennedy’s phone is back on. Shut up for a second.”
Jameson’s heart thumped in his chest and his breath caught.
Come on, McKenna, work your magic.
“Why are we in Pennsylvania?” Unprepared to hear Kennedy’s voice, Jameson rocked back in shock.
“You ruined everything!” a woman shouted.
“That’s Deloris Marshall,” McKenna announced.
“But why are we in Pennsylvania? You passed Idaville ten miles ago. There’s nothing but barns out here.”
“Shut up. You talk too much,” Deloris complained.
Good girl!
“She’s telling us where she is,” Jameson declared.
“Smart,” Weston agreed.
“Idaville, Pennsylvania, is one hundred and forty-six miles north. There are two main routes,” McKenna cut in. “PA-34 north and PA-94 both are rural roads.”
“You kidnapped me.” Kennedy sounded insolent. “I think I deserve to know where you’re taking me. You just passed a sign that said welcome to Goodyear.”
“They’re headed north. Come on, Kennedy. Keep going,” McKenna encouraged, even though Kennedy couldn’t hear her. “She knows we’re listening.”
“I’m headed north.” Jameson jogged to his truck and watched Weston toss his keys into the open window of his truck. “Tell me where I’m going.”
“Someone park this for me.” Weston gestured to his vehicle. “I’ll be back later for the keys.”
“Pulling up a map now,” McKenna told Jameson as Nixon and Weston piled into his truck.
“Do a property search in Pennsylvania, anything—”
“Already did it,” McKenna cut Nix off.
“I didn’t kidnap you,” Deloris sneered. “My Reggie’s in jail because of you. It’s all your fault.”
“You sure went through a lot of trouble drugging me and tying my hands behind my back for a nice afternoon drive.”
Jameson’s grip on the wheel tensed until his knuckles turned white.
That’s it, babe, keep her talking. Hold tight, I’m coming for you.
32
Kennedy
My headache had turned into a dull throb and my throat felt like I’d swallowed sand.
There was nothing I could do but talk while we were driving and pray that McKenna had been able to hack my phone. Jameson had to know I was missing by now.
All I had was hope and a prayer. I’d been trying to untie the knot behind my back but all I’d done was chafe my wrists bloody and the sticky liquid did nothing to lubricate. It actually made it worse.
Even after all these hours, I was still in a state of shock that Deloris had been able to get me into her car. I didn’t remember her doing it, but I was surprised she was as strong as she was—I had to have been dead weight. I wasn’t afraid of Deloris so much as I was of the thought of her having an unknown accomplice.
What if someone else was following behind us? She’d said she didn’t kidnap me. And I was afraid to ask her what she’d meant by that. Did she not put me in her car, or in her mind was it not kidnapping me because she was taking me somewhere to kill me?
Either way, I was screwed until we stopped. Now that the drug had worked its way out and I could think clearly, I realized I still had use of my legs. As long as she didn’t shoot me or stab me I could easily outrun the woman—even with my hands tied behind my back.
I was formulating a plan of attack when I remembered I hadn’t been giving McKenna directions.
Please be listening.
“Why are we going to Fuller Lake?”
“Enough!” Deloris shouted.
“Just tell me why? Why are you doing this? Why are we on Lake Shore Drive?”
“Because you ruined everything. It’s your fault my son was murdered. If you would’ve just sold Reggie your land, none of this would’ve happened. My son would be alive and me and Reggie would be together.”
No surprises there, I’d already put two and two together and figured out why she’d kidnapped me, but I was happy she admitted it. If McKenna was listening, she’d also be recording the conversation. At least when this was over, Deloris Marshall would be right next to Reggie in the detention center and they could be together like she wanted.
“I didn’t kill your son.”
“It’s all your fault!” Deloris screamed.
In her fit of anger, she jerked the wheel and I careened sideways. My abdominal muscles protested as I tried to remain upright.
“Be careful or you’re going to crash.”
“What do I care? Everything’s gone. All gone. You took everything.”
Oh, hell. For the first time in hours, real fear wound its way through my body. If she crashed either by accident or on purpose, I was fucked. She hadn’t buckled me in, I’d easily be seriously injured.
I had to keep her talking but I was afraid to make her any angrier. “The lake is beautiful.”
“Reggie took his son up here to hunt.”
Another clue. Please, McKenna, find me.
What else? Think, Kennedy.
Deloris made a turn, taking us up a treelined driveway.
“I love the tall evergreens. They give off so much shade. I was thinking of planting a row next to my house—”
“Shut up.”
Shit. I shouldn’t have mentioned my house. Now she was pissed again.
A nice cabin came into view and panic hit. This was it. She was stopping.
“The…um…cabin is pretty. It looks like it was made from real logs. Have you…um…it’s real nice. And you still have a view of the lake.”
Deloris didn’t say anything. She turned off the car, got out, and I was getting my feet in position to kick out as soon as she opened the back door to get me out.
But she never opened the door. Instead, she beeped the alarm and walked to the house.
I couldn’t stop my heart from pumping overtime and beads of sweat formed on my forehead and started to roll down my face. Even though the car was parked in the shade, the air temperature outside was still stifling. Only I would get kidnapped and locked in a car on the hottest day of the month.
Shit. I was wasting time. I had no idea when Deloris would be back.
“McKenna. If you’re listening, Deloris Marshall took me to a cabin in Pennsylvania. I don’t see a house number and the last s
treet sign I saw was Lake Shore Drive. She left me in the car and went into the house…” Even though I felt like an idiot talking to myself I gave a detailed accounting of what happened and everything I remembered about the drive. I didn’t know how much time had lapsed but I knew it’d been two hours since I woke up. Or since I was able to get myself into a sitting position and look at the clock on the radio.
I fell silent when I ran out of things to tell McKenna. I finally got myself angled far enough so my back was against the door. It was frustrating as hell not to be able to see as I felt around for the lock. Sweat was now dripping down my chest and back and I really needed a drink of water.
Finally, I found the lock and slid the lever. The door handle was just below that. Almost there. The excitement died when the door didn’t open.
“Child safety locks,” I muttered. “It’s so damn hot in here. I’m going to try the other side.”
It took me a long time to scoot myself to the other side and repeat the process. “Nope. This side’s locked, too.”
An idea hit and I tried to get my legs over the center console. If I could get into the front seat I could get out. I twisted and tried to maneuver through the space but I couldn’t manage it with my hands behind me.
“Fuck,” I huffed in frustration. “I really hope you’re listening, McKenna, and my phone didn’t die or lose service. I’m stuck in here and I can’t get into the front seat, I tried.”
That was a seriously depressing thought. As long as I was locked in the car, she was my only chance.
I sat back and rested my head against the seat back.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m not trying to kick out the window,” I said conversationally. “I thought about it. But with my hands tied I’d have to dive out the window. If I hurt myself, I won’t be able to fight the bitch when she finally comes back. And I don’t know if someone else is in the house. I think for now I’m safer in the car. But if it gets any hotter in this fucker, I may have to do that just so I don’t sweat to death.
That was a terrifying thought.
“How long does it take for someone to die from heat exhaustion? I remember something on the news about a poor little baby who was left in the car on accident. But I can’t remember how long it takes.”
Surely it would take hours, right?
I tried to work the knots again but the raw skin had me crying out in pain.
“This fucking sucks, McKenna. My hands are useless and I’m stuck in this goddamn car. I wish Jameson was here, he’d know what to do. God, I hope you’re listening. If you’re not, I’m screwed. My only chance is if she opens this goddamn door.”
I pounded my head on the seatback in frustration and immediately regretted the sudden movement.
“And I have a damn headache. I’m going to kick her in the face when she comes back.”
I looked at the house and imagined Deloris sitting on the couch reading a magazine, not a care in the world I was dying of thirst and hot as hell.
“God! What a bitch. She blames me for Peyton’s death. Me! Can you believe that shit? He broke into my house. He tried to kill me. It’s Reggie’s fault, not mine. God, I hope he rots in jail forever.”
I don’t know how long I sat there feeling sorry for myself but it was long enough to be soaked in sweat and for fear to replace my anger. My head no longer ached—instead I was dizzy, so dizzy my eyes kept drifting closed.
This must’ve been Deloris’s plan. She was going to bake me in the car until I was dead. I fucked up, I should’ve kicked out the window when I had time. I should’ve taken the chance and if there was someone else in the house, I could’ve figured something out. Instead I’d waited too long.
“McKenna, if you’re still there, tell Jameson I’m sorry I messed up.”
I took a shallow breath and thought about his smile and what he sounded like when he laughed. I didn’t have it for long, but at least I had it.
“If I die in here, I need you to tell my mom I love her. And don’t let the police tell her. I know it’s a lot to ask, McKenna, but Jameson and Nixon should do it. They’ll know to go easy. They’ll know how to help her.”
I was so damn tired and my throat was so raw it hurt to speak, but if this was all the time I had left I needed to say a few more things before I fell asleep.
33
Jameson
Jameson had slipped past anger over two hours ago when Kennedy had started talking to McKenna after Deloris had locked her in the car. Then thirty minutes ago when she started talking about dying in the car, Jameson felt his heart shatter.
They’d made good time but they were still twenty minutes away, and by then, Kennedy could be out of time. On a day like it was, it would take thirty minutes for the temperature inside the car to reach over a hundred degrees. Kennedy had now been locked inside for almost two-and-a-half hours.
“I can’t breathe in here, it’s so hot,” Kennedy said. “I’m going to try to kick out the window.”
“Stay still, Kennedy,” Nixon muttered as if she could hear him.
The less energy she used, the better off she’d be.
There was a soft bang and Kennedy slurred, “I can’t fucking do it. I’m so stupid. McKenna. Tell Jameson I’m so sorry for being so stupid. God, I wish he was here.”
Jameson cursed a blue-streak and swerved around two cars in front of him.
“You’re turning left up here,” Nixon instructed.
“McKenna?” Kennedy called. “Thank you for keeping me company. I’m so happy Nixon found you. He’s so good. Always was.”
“Goddammit, Kennedy,” McKenna cried. “Don’t give up.”
“I hope you guys have lots of babies. I wish I could’ve seen them.” Kennedy sniffed, then started to cry. “I wish I’d had babies.”
That sob from Kennedy had wetness brimming in Jameson’s eyes.
“Hold on, Kennedy,” he growled. “Hold the fuck on.”
“I love him,” Kennedy cried. “Tell him that I was thinking about him when I closed my eyes.”
“Kennedy!” McKenna shouted even though there was no way for her to hear.
“Tell him I loved it when he laughed. That’s what I’m thinking about. The last thing I’m gonna hear is him laughing.” Kennedy choked back a sob and Jameson couldn’t breathe. “Thank you for being here, McKenna. Tell Jameson…just tell him…I’m tired. Too tired. I’m gonna go to sleep.”
Silence descended like a blow, the weight of it debilitating.
“Jameson,” Nixon called.
But he wasn’t paying attention—all Jameson could think about was Kennedy’s final words.
It can’t be over. No fucking way can it be over.
“Fuck!” Nix shouted and grabbed the wheel, jerking it hard right just in time to prevent the near head-on collision. “Pull the fuck over and let me drive.”
“No time,” Jameson grunted, eyes now focused on the road.
“We’ll have no time if you kill us all.”
A sign for Lake Shore Drive caught his attention, but he skidded to a stop as a black Buick turned in front of him.
“Do you think that’s the car?” Weston asked.
“What are the chances—?”
“Let me out. I’ll run the rest of the way to the house.” Weston already had the back door open and was jumping out. He rounded the bed of the truck and in a full sprint took off down the street. Jameson hit the accelerator to catch up to the Buick as it turned onto a gravel access road.
Rocks were shooting out from under the car’s rear tires as the Buick picked up speed.
“What the fuck is she doing?” Nixon snarled. “She needs to slow down.”
Please, God, don’t let Kennedy be in the car.
Deloris Marshall was driving straight for a boat ramp and not slowing down.
“Fuck!” Jameson roared as the car splashed into the water.
He slammed on his brakes, jammed the truck into park, and anticipation surged as he ran toward th
e water. By the time he made it into the water, the front end was already sinking and the car was filling up at an alarming rate.
Don’t be in there.
Jameson was waist-deep with only the ass-end of the Buick bobbing when he dove underwater, Nixon right behind him. His boots were so heavy it felt like he had bricks tied around his ankles and his clothing caused drag, slowing him down more than Kennedy had time for.
His hand hit the metal fender of the Buick and he popped up, took a huge gulp of air, and dove back down.
Uncaring that debris was burning his eyes, he peered into the car and pushed through the open window. Kennedy was floating face down in the back of the car, her beautiful blonde hair flowing around her. His gut churned and for a moment panic and fear paralyzed him.
Nixon bumped his leg getting his attention and pulling him from his stupor, and determination kicked in. He would not let his woman die in a watery tomb. He kicked his feet, propelling him farther into the car and he grabbed Kennedy’s bicep.
Nixon wrapped his arm around Jameson’s middle, and with a shove off the car, yanked both Jameson and Kennedy out the window.
Jameson adjusted his grip around the woman who had changed his life and kicked as hard as he could to the surface. This was not how their story would end. He’d never recover, never get over the loss of her. She had to live—there was no other option.
His head came up out of the water. He turned Kennedy to her back and Nixon was there at his side checking for a pulse.
“No pulse,” Nix announced.
Three minutes. They had three minutes before brain death occurred.
“Do it,” Jameson demanded, and Nixon lowered his mouth to hers.
Jameson watched in horror as Kennedy’s cheeks puffed out as Nixon attempted to breathe life into her. They’d been too fucking late. He should’ve known she was in trouble earlier. He shouldn’t have been so wrapped up in work and lost track of time. Thirty minutes sooner and this wouldn’t be happening.
If he’d just taken the goddamn day off and helped her work her field, none of this would’ve happened.
Jameson's Salvation (Gemini Group Book 2) Page 25