by Carolina Mac
Misty stood up and she was shaky.
“I’ll help you.” Blaine slipped an arm around her waist and led her out of the kitchen.
He returned and sat at the island and drank a Corona with Travis. “What do you think?”
“Made me sick when Misty said the guy was hurting Ginny,” said Travis. “He’s had her for two whole fuckin days. Can’t imagine what he’s done to her in all that time.”
“Not your fault, Trav. Wasn’t even your watch. You were on your own time.”
Quarter Line. Brenham County.
TAKE THE NEXT RIGHT,” said Billy-Don. “Look for a barn or a building where we can crash.”
“Nothing but ranches out here, Billy.”
“That’s right, Charlie, nobody will be looking for us in the middle of butt-crack, Tex, and we need some fuckin sleep.”
“Good thinkin. How about that barn? No house near it.”
“Try it.”
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
AFTER DINNER Blaine took Misty into the office to try again. Travis had stayed for dinner and was intent on finding Ginny, blaming himself for losing her in Johnson City.
“Where do you want to sit, sweetheart? Want me to light a fire to help you relax?”
Misty nodded. “That would be so nice. Can’t tell you how much I miss the fireplace in my old house. When I came in, I tried not to look to the left at the spot where my house used to be.”
Blaine didn’t risk upsetting Misty by making a comment. The house thing had been the biggest part of their breakup, and he wasn’t going there. Not now that they had made up. He concentrated instead on chopping kindling and laying a fire in the hearth. Hot as hell outside, but the house was cool, even damp some nights. He blamed it on the age of the house, rather than the ghosts he feared lingered there. He lit a match and the paper caught. “There we go.”
Misty had taken a seat in one of the leather wing chairs next to the fireplace. She had Ginny’s things on the antique parlor table beside her.
Travis sat in one of the club chairs in front of the desk, close enough to see, but far enough away to give her some space.
“Do you want tea before you start?” asked Blaine.
“No thanks, I’m fine.”
Blaine took the other wing chair and watched her, let her relax into it and take her own time. He’d seen her do this enough times in the past to realize how much energy it took from her. She’d even fainted a couple of times afterwards. It wasn’t a picnic.
“I’ll try the bracelet.” Misty picked Ginny’s gold and diamond tennis bracelet off the table and held it in her hand. A few seconds passed, and she let out a little squeal that startled both Blaine and Travis.
Blaine sat forward on his chair, just in case, but didn’t say anything to break her concentration.
Misty began talking in that low voice, not her own, that Blaine had come to recognize as ‘Misty’s physic voice.’
“Drugs, she’s full of drugs and she’s sick. Her stomach hurts. She’s throwing up.”
“Can you see where she is?”
“No, I can’t see the place. It’s far away. But the car is there. I can see the car.” Misty paused, and Blaine held his breath.
Travis stared across the room but said nothing.
“Elvis,” said Misty, “it’s like a car Elvis used to drive.”
Travis was on his feet. “A Cadillac?”
“Is it pink?” asked Blaine.
“It’s blue.”
Blaine gabbed his cell and pressed Ackerman’s personal number.
“Late in the day for a social call, Mr. Blackmore.”
He’s such an asshole.
“I know where Doctor Rodriguez is.”
“How would you know that, may I ask?”
“I figured it out, sir. Go to Cherokee Trailer Park. It’s north west of Marble Falls.”
“And you want me to send a crew out there on what? A hunch? A whim? A dream you had?”
Pissed at Ackerman, Blaine pressed end before letting go a stream of cursing. He called Chief Calhoun. “Hope I didn’t wake you, sir?”
“No, just watching the late news with my wife. Do you have something, son?”
“Ginny is being held at the Cherokee Falls Trailer Park,” said Blaine, “I’d bet on it.”
“Is that what the young lady said?”
“Not exactly, but she saw the blue Cadillac and described Ginny running away from the kidnapper and running to the river.”
“Didn’t the Caddie belong to the old drowning victim?”
“It did—does—but it had been stolen when Farrell and I got up there to his trailer.”
“You think the stalker, the red Camaro guy, switched cars?”
“That’s what I’m thinking, Chief.”
“Then we have to think he may have had a hand in the old man’s death as well.”
“I’d make that connection. Yes, sir.”
“Ackerman?”
“He’s not taking my word for it.”
“I’ll encourage him.” The Chief hung up and Blaine crossed the room to give Misty a hug.
“You were amazing, sweetheart. Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down for a while? If you want to stay the night, I’ll go get Hoodoo at your place.”
“Would you, Blaine? Thank you so much.”
“I’m gonna head up there, boss,” said Travis.
“Take Greg, Andy and Rick, they haven’t seen much action lately.”
“Where are they?”
“In the carriage house, remodeling it.”
Travis chuckled, “Is that what they’re trained for?”
“Not exactly.”
Cherokee Trailer Park.
AS THE EFFECTS of the drug wore off, Ginny gradually regained most of her senses, and was determined to play the kidnapper to her advantage—she had found out his name was Mason—with obedience and sweetness. She hoped going this route would keep her from being shot up with more drugs and being at his mercy. Once she was able to think clearly, Ginny made a plan. If she could get Mason into the car and onto the highway, she’d have a better chance of getting help than here in nowhere land.
After he’d covered the blood-soaked kitchen table with a bed sheet, he heated up a can of soup for their supper. Obviously one step away from the State Hospital, this guy had issues. Ginny had done her time in the psych wards and recognized the signs.
Another thing she couldn’t miss was the blood-bath that had taken place recently in the kitchen. The amount of blood on the table, the kitchen floor, and the sofa in the next room told her that someone couldn’t have survived. She asked no questions but doubled her resolve to make sure she wasn’t next on his list.
“Why don’t we go to my place, Mason? I could get some of my own clothes and you’d be a lot more comfortable there. I have a pantry full of groceries, and I could cook you something nice, like steak and baked potatoes.”
“I can’t take a chance on you calling the police, Virginia.” He gave her the crazy grin. “You’re a smart lady, you have to be if you’re a goddam doctor. You know I can’t let you leave here.”
Ginny stood up and cleared the dishes off the table. “Thing is, Mason, my security people will be looking for me and it won’t take them long to find me here. Those guys are smart, and they don’t give up easily.”
As she put the dishes in the sink she glanced down into the open drawer next to her and saw a paring knife lying unattended. When Mason looked away to light a cigarette, she slipped it into the pocket of the sweat pants.
“Want to watch a game on TV, baby?”
“Nope, I want to go home and have sex in my king-sized bed. The one with the satin sheets.”
Mason grinned and pulled her down on his knee. “Do you have satin sheets like in the movies?”
“I sure do. Red ones.”
“I want to do that too, but you’re being so nice to me, I have to think maybe you’re trying to trick me. Women do that a lot. It’s t
heir nature.”
“Believe it or not, Mason, I have never needed to trick a man into having sex with me.”
“With a body like you’ve got, Virginia, I believe that.”
Here goes.
Ginny slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Then she stood up and took his hand. “Let’s turn out the lights and go for a drive.”
Mason grinned and followed her outside. “Why not?”
Route Seventy-One North-West of Marble Falls.
TRAVIS POUNDED the gas on his souped-up F-450. They’d made good time since they left Austin and should be well ahead of the Feds, if the Feds were coming at all. What an asshole Ackerman was. Blacky had handed him cases on silver platters in the past, and still the man wouldn’t listen to the gospel according to Blackmore. A fuckin mistake. The kid was a brilliant criminologist, and hardly ever wrong. Deep in thought about this and trying not to think about what the kidnapper was doing to Ginny, Travis didn’t take much notice of traffic going the other way.
Greg gave a shout out. “Big old blue Caddie just passed us Trav. Give us a quick U-turn.”
Travis let one car go by, then cranked the wheel, squealed rubber and they were heading in the opposite direction. The big Ford fishtailed a couple of times, then settled down and surged ahead.
Greg reached out the window and plunked the metallic strobes on the roof.
“Two cars in front of us,” hollered Andy from the back of the cab. “Wait until we get a straight stretch.”
“Call it in, Rick. Get highway patrol to block the road up ahead of us.”
Greg checked the GPS and told dispatch where they were and the next probable intersection.
“Traffic has cleared, boss,” said Greg, “That’s them a quarter mile ahead. Take him.”
“Hang on,” said Travis and stomped the gas. The big truck flew like a silver streak through the night and in seconds they were right on the bumper of the blue Cadillac.
Greg turned on the siren and the flashing lights, but the Caddy didn’t pull over. It sped up, and so did Travis.
“Hope Highway Patrol is doing their thing.”
GINNY HAD BEEN biding her time as they drove to Austin.
Elated that she was untied and out of the filthy trailer and riding in the passenger seat like a normal person, she’d tried to keep the conversation light and friendly. That’s what the sane side of Mason seemed to like, along with a person she’d never heard of called Miranda Lambert—and Ginny didn’t want to see the other side of him ever again. The bruises were too fresh and painful.
Her hand was in the pocket of her sweat pants, her fingers wrapped around the little paring knife waiting for the right moment. The right moment wouldn’t be anytime soon. When Ginny made her move, she didn’t want to be miles from anybody who could help her. Civilization was what she needed, so she’d have to be patient and wait a little longer.
They were sailing down the highway, country music blaring, and Mason singing a song she’d never heard before, when she heard the siren behind them—right behind them—on the bumper.
Her heart pounded as she got the knife ready. Maybe she wouldn’t have to use it at all if the police had come to rescue her. Wait and see. Wait and see.
“The fuckin cops are on us, baby. Did you call them?”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“Oh yeah, I guess it wasn’t you.” He grinned the big crazy grin. “Hang on we’re gonna outrun them.” Mason stepped on the gas and the big Cadillac engine roared to life.
They picked up speed and Ginny hoped the police could keep up. She glanced out the back window and the big truck was still there, right behind them. She had a flash and thought it looked like the huge silver truck Travis drove.
Had he been searching for her? After she practically told him she didn’t need him anymore? What an ass she’d been to turn a sweet guy like him away.
They sped on like that for a few more miles with Mason cursing and the police not giving up. Then Mason turned sharply to his right down a sideline. The road turned from pavement to gravel and the big car went into a skid. He turned the wheel back and forth but couldn’t control it. They drove into a ditch and Ginny hit her head on the window with a loud crack.
The car stopped dead.
Mason forgot all about her. He hopped out and ran.
TRAVIS TURNED ON the sideline in time to see the Caddie head for the ditch. “He lost the big boat,” hollered Travis, “too fast into the turn.”
“There he goes across the field,” said Rick. “Come on, Andy, let’s take the son of a bitch down.”
“Go guys. I’ll get Ginny.” Travis pulled up next to the ditched blue Cadillac and slammed on the brakes. Adrenaline pumping through him like electric juice, he tore around to the passenger side of the big blue beast wedged on an angle into the long grass in the ditch. He reefed twice on the door and pulled hard on the handle to get it open.
Travis reached in and took her hand. “Come on, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
Ginny sobbed, “Oh, my God, Travis, thank you for caring enough to look for me.”
He picked her up and carried her to the truck. “I’m putting you here in the front seat with Greg. You’re safe now. Greg, give her a bottle of water.”
“Are you leaving?” she asked, gripping his hand tighter.
“Only long enough to catch that asshole. Be right back.”
MASON RAN through the field as fast as he could go. Dark as pitch and the field had a lot of cows in it. Short on breath, he darted between the cows, not knowing where he was headed, and not taking the time to glance behind him. He knew they were close. He could hear them yelling. The bastards were gaining on him and he was fuckin winded. Mason gave it all he had and sprinted for the gate on the other side of the field. All he knew for sure was, he wasn’t gonna let the fuckin cops catch him.
“Stop, or I’ll shoot,” hollered one of the cops.
“I ain’t stopping,” Mason hollered back.
Bang.
Pain ripped through his leg and down he went. Face first into a pile of cow shit.
“NICE SHOT,” hollered Travis as he ran to catch up to the boys. Rick had already cuffed Mason’s hands behind his back.
“I called for an ambulance,” said Andy. “Let’s get him to the road.”
“You fuckers shot me,” hollered Mason. “I’m in shit.”
“You are in deep shit,” said Travis.
Andy shone his Maglite down and snorted. “No, he fell into a pile of cow shit. It’s all over him.”
“Take a picture,” said Travis, “for Ginny.”
AFTER THE PARAMEDICS cleaned most of the cow shit off Mason for their own self-preservation, they stopped up the bleeding in his leg as best they could and started an IV.
With Rick on board as Mason’s police guard, the ambulance headed for the hospital and Travis followed them back to Austin.
Ginny rode silently in the shotgun seat after refusing to go to the hospital in the ambulance. She argued against it, in that quiet, mulish way Travis found annoying, preferring instead to have Travis take her there on the way home.
He’d explained that a rape kit had to be done to collect evidence against her kidnapper and she’d cried.
Everybody will know, Travis. I can’t bear it.
As they sped along route seventy-one approaching the city, Travis phoned Blacky and woke him up. “Hey, boss. You were right and so was Misty. We got him. He’s on his way to Saint Mike’s. Rick took him down with a knee shot.”
“And Ginny?”
“We’re stopping by the hospital, then I’m taking her home. Absolutely no Feds until morning. I’ll be staying with her and I won’t let them in until she’s ready. If they come to the house before ten they’ll be sitting in the goddam driveway. You can convey that message to Ackerman.”
“Good job, Travis. Did you have the car towed to impound?”
“All taken care of. As soon as we know which trailer this snake
called Mason crawled out of we can send the techs.”
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
BLAINE LEFT MISTY asleep in his bed and headed downstairs to put the dogs out and to call Chief Calhoun. With the dogs romping in the newly fenced yard, he filled a mug with coffee, nuked it, and sat in the window alcove.
The Chief answered on the second ring, sounding a little groggy. “You got her?”
“Travis is taking her to the hospital, then home. He’ll stay with her. No Feds and no statements until after ten. Do you want to tell Ackerman we have her, or do you want me to do it?”
“Let me do it,” said the Chief, “One of my few pleasures, son. Love it when we Rangers have it all over the Feds.”
Blaine chuckled, and pressed end.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Friday, August 17th.
Sideline. Brenham County.
BILLY-DON POKED Charlie Guthrie with the pitchfork within easy reach on the barn floor.
“Ow. Don’t fuckin do that,” hollered Charlie.
“You were snoring so fuckin loud, you woke me up, asshole.”
“Who you calling an asshole?”
“You. That’s who.”
“Hey, shut up, fucker.” Charlie sat up and spit into the straw. “I’m the one who bribed the guard to get you out of your cell. Without me and my network, you never would’ve made it out alive.” Charlie spit again. “Don’t you ever forget it.”
Billy-Don snarled back at him, “You won’t let me, will you?”
“Why should I? You owe me for life.”
“What if I don’t want to owe you no more?”
“Too fuckin bad. Live with it. It is what it is.”
Billy-Don grinned and got to his feet. He took a firm hold on the pitchfork handle and rammed the rusty tines through Charlie’s neck and into the soft pine floorboards of the old barn. Blood spurted out in little fountains and Charlie made a few gurgling noises, then stared straight up at the cobwebs over their heads. Eyes wide open but seeing nothing.
“Now I don’t owe you a goddam thing.”
Blackmore Agency. Austin.