“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me his name.”
“I see.” Creed linked his hands together in front of him. “So you’re saying a stranger called you up because he heard you were in jail and...what? What did he want?”
“Nothing.” He shrugged.
Again, Mac was ready to burst through the mirror and throttle him. How much time were they wasting while Isabelle was in the hands of a man who’d already tried to kill her several times over. Was she okay? Was she even still alive? He swallowed and refused to allow his thought to go further down that path.
The door to the interrogation room opened and Regina stepped inside. “I got the phone records from the jail. The call that Mr. Baldwin took came in just after lunch, and was traced back to a burner phone, but the call pinged off the tower near downtown.”
“Okay, thanks.”
She switched papers. “Also, there was a deposit into the account of Mr. Drew Baldwin in the amount of twenty-five thousand dollars.”
Drew sat up with an indrawn breath. “How’d you get that?”
“It’s called a warrant,” Creed said. “All nice and legal so we can send you away for quite a while. Unfortunately for you, we’ll have to confiscate the money since it was used to buy your cooperation in a crime.”
Baldwin shot to his feet. “You can’t do that! That’s my money!”
“Not anymore. Now sit down. I’m bigger and stronger than you are, and you’ll lose if things get physical.”
Drew stared at Creed for a few minutes, then sat. Mac admired the sheriff’s calm way of dealing with the kid.
“Tell me about the money,” Creed said.
Baldwin let out a sigh and dropped his chin to his chest. “He said he’d pay me the money,” he finally said, his eyes on the table, “if I’d confess to the charges to give him some time, but then, after next week, I could say I didn’t do it and they’d drop the charges.”
“And you believed him?”
He shrugged. “I wanted the money.”
Of course he did. “Come on, Creed,” Mac muttered, “ask him where Isabelle is.”
A buzzing sound came through the speakers and Mac turned back to see Valerie off the phone, but staring at her screen. She stood with a gasp.
Regina looked up and Mac focused his attention on the room behind him. “What is it?” Regina asked.
“A notification that someone used the lockbox on the house off Timber Mile Road. It’s up the mountain and in a very secluded area. There are only about ten houses up there and they’re mostly farm or ranching properties with a lot of acreage.” Timber Creek had that small-town feel when one was on Main Street, but in reality, it covered a lot of land.
“Who has access to that lockbox?”
She bit her lip. “Just Travis and me.”
“Hold on, let me get Creed.” Regina left the room, appeared in the doorway of Baldwin’s room and motioned to Creed. He followed her out and both of them entered Valerie’s room.
“What’s the address?” Creed asked.
She rattled it off to him and Mac tapped it into the maps app on his phone. Twenty-four minutes from the station. Up a winding mountain road. He walked out of the viewing room and headed for his truck—only to remember he’d ridden with Creed.
Mac spun on his heel to see Creed exiting the interview room with Regina and Valerie right behind him. “I assume you’ve already got the address programmed into your GPS?” Creed asked.
Mac waved the phone at him. “Can we please get going?”
Creed nodded. “Valerie sent me the floor plan of the home. You can look on the way. Regina, you put Valerie in the cell and stay with her. I hate to do it to her, but I’ve got to hold her.”
“She knows. That’s why she made arrangements for her kids before she agreed to come down here.”
Sympathy for the woman who was just as much a victim as Isabelle pinged through Mac.
“Regina, tell Grant and Ben to meet us out there. Mac, come on.”
He didn’t have to say that twice.
* * *
Isabelle wasn’t sure how long she could get away with pretending to be unconscious, but she would take advantage of it for as long as possible in order to give someone a chance to find her. The fact that she knew someone—probably Creed and Mac and every deputy on the force—was looking for her brought her great comfort. She just needed to stay alive long enough for one of them to find her. Her head pounded a fierce rhythm, and while she’d love a couple of ibuprofen pills, that was the least of her worries.
Footsteps drew closer and Travis nudged her with a toe. When she didn’t respond, he whispered a curse and stomped away.
With her hands still bound in front of her—and growing more numb with each passing minute—Isabelle’s hopes of escape dwindled quickly. She’d thought she’d kept enough space between her wrists when he’d pulled the zip tie tight, but even pressing her palms together, she couldn’t loosen it enough to keep the blood flowing.
With her eyes cracked, she watched Travis pace in front of the kitchen doorway, muttering and raking his hand through his hair. He spun and walked to the table. He ruffled some papers, rearranged them, then muttered some more.
He spun to look at her and she slammed her eyes shut. “Come on, Isabelle, we both know you’re faking.”
She lay still, barely breathing, praying he didn’t truly believe she was conscious. He’s just trying to call your bluff. Stay still, don’t respond.
When she didn’t say anything or move, he returned to the kitchen. She heard him opening and closing drawers and cabinets and finally the water running.
Seconds later, when the wet rag hit her face, she couldn’t help the gasp that escaped. She blinked and lifted her almost nonresponsive hands to swipe the water from her eyes.
“I knew it,” Travis said. “Get up here to the table and let’s get this done.” He grasped her upper arm and pulled her to her feet. Weakness hit her, and she stumbled. Without his hand on her arm, she would’ve gone back to the floor.
He shoved her into the nearest chair and slapped a pen into her right hand. Her fingers wouldn’t work properly, and it fell to the table. His cheeks darkened, his anger palpable. “Quit playing around with me,” he said. “This isn’t a game. I’m ready for this to be over with as much as you probably are.”
“Not really,” she said. “Having this over with for me means I’m dead.”
He slammed a fist on the table and she jumped, but kept her gaze on his.
“Just sign it.”
“I can’t, Travis. My hands and fingers are numb. If you want me to use a pen, you’re going to have to cut this off.” She lifted her hands toward him.
He studied her for a brief moment as though he didn’t believe her. Then picked up her hands and rubbed her fingers. She wanted to yank away from his touch but forced herself to remain still.
She needed her hands free.
He needed her signature.
She knew who would eventually win that battle.
With a growl, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a large switchblade hunting knife. He opened the blade and placed it between her hands, cutting through the plastic with one swipe. Her hands fell apart and she tried curling her fingers. At first they wouldn’t cooperate, then slowly, she worked them until fire shot along her nerve endings, the feeling returning with a vengeance.
He set the knife on the table to his left and shoved the pen at her. “Here.” His elbow knocked the open knife to the floor, but he ignored it, his attention focused on his greed, the papers and the pen. “Start signing.”
“Can I at least read it while my hands return to normal? They’re still burning.”
He huffed a laugh and shook his head, eyes glittering. “They’re closing documents.”
“You’re supposed to have a lawye
r present to make this legal.”
“I have one. You’d be amazed at what money can buy. Now read if you must, but you have two minutes.”
Two minutes. Two minutes to figure out how to get away from this man.
Her eyes dropped to the floor. To the knife near his chair. She thought he might have forgotten about it. He wanted those papers signed so badly that he was getting careless.
While she stared, she thought and flexed her fingers. She could sign her name now, but as soon as she did, she was dead. Unless...
She looked up. “You can’t kill me in here. This place is for sale. What are you going to do to me after I sign the papers?”
“Just sign them! Do it or I’ll tie you back up and go get one of those brats you care so much about and bring him back here! Trust me, you don’t want me to do that.”
He would and she’d wind up signing.
She blew out a shaky breath and nodded. “Calm down, Travis. I’ll sign your papers.” She picked up the pen. “No one’s going to believe I’d willingly do this—especially not my parents.”
“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“One more question before I sign.”
“What?” He practically screamed the word.
“Will you please put my body somewhere it can be found? I don’t want my parents—” or Mac “—wondering if I’m ever going to show back up.”
He blinked and backed up a couple of steps. “Yes.” He swallowed. “I’ll do that.”
“Thank you.” Had she really just said thank you? She scribbled her name on the first page, then flipped it to the next. He held the gun and paced, keeping an eye on her, never quite turning his back.
Because the ranch was only in her name now, all he needed was her signature. She signed and flipped, trying to control her raging fear and ragged breathing. Her mind worked, frantic with each turn of the page. Her hand shook with each scribble of her name. Please, God, help me. And be with Mac. Lord, if it’s not to be for me to live much longer, please don’t let Mac give up on living. Give him the peace he needs to find love again. To love himself again. To love You like he needs to.
The next page she flipped off the table and to the floor. He sighed. “Pick it up.”
Isabelle bent and snagged the paper, pulling it over the knife, hiding it. With her other hand, she grabbed the weapon and straightened.
Heart thundering in her chest, she wondered if he’d seen her. She set the paper on the stack with her left hand and slid the knife under her thigh with her right.
“Finish it,” he said. “I need to get home before Valerie notices I’m gone.”
No, he hadn’t seen her. He was too focused on his greed and his desire for her signature on the papers. He had tunnel vision at the moment, and it was up to her to make that work in her favor. She picked up the pen once more and looked around. The place had been lightly staged with a few pieces of furniture strategically placed to make it more appealing to a potential buyer.
His eyes flicked to her once more. She signed the next page and turned it face down on the growing stack.
“Faster,” he snapped.
With a flimsy plan in her head—and wondering if she could actually carry it out—she finished signing. When she turned the last piece of paper over, Travis let out a long sigh.
She kept her hand on the stack and set the pen on top of them. “Now what?”
He met her gaze. “I’m really sorry it came to this, Isabelle.”
“Well, it hasn’t actually come to anything yet. I’m still alive, which means there’s still time to change your mind.”
“And go to prison when you go to the police? I don’t think so.”
She nodded, not bothering to tell him she wouldn’t go to the cops. They both knew she would. She gathered every ounce of courage she could muster. It was going to be either her or him. “Could you tell me how all of this even came about?”
He hesitated, then shrugged, seeming to relax a fraction now that he had what he wanted. Good. She needed him to think he’d won, that she was beaten. “It was pretty simple,” he said. “About six months ago, an investor was scouting places around here that would make a good tourist spot. He wants to build condos for a time-share company. He spotted your land and came into my office to talk to me about it.”
“That sounds right. You came out to see me and asked if I’d ever thought about selling.”
“You said no and while I was frustrated, I let it go.”
“So what changed?”
“Last month, they came back, upped their offer substantially, so I started thinking how I could get you to move. I couldn’t come up with anything believable until that day in the café.”
“When I told you about someone causing all the trouble at the ranch.”
“Yeah. Only I didn’t have enough time to come up with a really good plan. It was an impulse shot when I jumped in the car and tried to run you down. I didn’t even think much about it. And I failed.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “But it all worked out in the end. That’s all that matters.”
Worked out? For whom? Certainly not her. She almost laughed, but couldn’t quite do it.
He walked toward her, a new zip tie clasped in his right hand, the gun held in his left. She curled her fingers around the handle of the knife.
He held the looped piece of plastic out to her. “You know how this works.”
Isabelle raised her eyes and locked them on his. She whipped her hand out from beneath her thigh and buried the blade into the side of his.
His scream echoing in her ears, she launched herself to her feet and out the door.
TWENTY-ONE
They were two minutes out and Mac’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point. In spite of trying to speed their way up the mountain, the twists and sharp curves had slowed them down way too much for Mac’s comfort. Hang on, Isabelle, please, hang on. Please, God, keep her alive. Don’t let him hurt her.
“Almost there,” Creed said.
Yes, they were. After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only about twenty-two minutes, Creed braked.
“Don’t miss it,” Mac said. “According to the GPS, it’s just ahead on the right.”
“I know. I’ve patrolled the area before.”
Of course he had. Mac snapped his lips shut and let out a low breath when Creed found the almost hidden drive and whipped the SUV into the opening. Creed pressed the gas and Mac glanced in the rearview mirror, noting the cars following.
When Creed stopped and shut off his lights, Mac knew exactly what the man was thinking. “Element of surprise?”
“Sure can’t hurt. I’m just praying it’s the right place.” Mac didn’t even want to think it wasn’t. Creed radioed the others and they all flipped off their lights. Darkness pressed in, and right now, it was comforting, affording them the cover of the black night with only a sliver of moonlight to help guide them.
He pulled his weapon and climbed out of the cruiser. The four of them huddled together and Creed said, “Fan out. Grant, you head for the back of the house. Mac and I’ll take the front. Ben, I know you’re going to hate me, but I need you to hang here with the vehicles. If he tries to escape, this is probably the way he’ll come.”
“I’ve got it covered.” Mac could tell he didn’t like it but trusted him enough at this point to know if Travis came this way, he’d stop him.
Creed took the lead and Mac fell into step beside him. As they crested the slope in the drive, Mac saw the porch light burning as well as a light in the kitchen. Someone was there—unless the lights were on a timer and came on at a certain time after dark. Please, God, let her be here. Then he caught sight of the truck parked to the right of the cabin.
“That’s Travis’s,” Creed said. “We’ve got the right place.”
Relief and imp
atience swept over Mac. He just wanted to get in there and get Isabelle somewhere safe.
He pictured the simple ranch floor plan in his head. The porch steps led to a small foyer with a kitchen to the left, den straight ahead and all three bedrooms to the left.
On quiet feet, they approached.
Mac laid a hand on the Creed’s shoulder. “Front door is open.” It was cracked a fraction, so it would be easy to miss just glancing at the cabin, but—
“And that’s blood,” Creed said, pointing at the wet stains on the steps.
Mac’s heart dropped. Creed walked to the front door and stepped to the side. He looked at Mac and Mac raised his weapon. All of his training rushed back along with the adrenaline of going after a criminal.
Creed used two fingers to push the wooden door open. Mac crouched and whipped inside toward the kitchen, his weapon ready. “Clear,” he said softly, but loud enough for Creed to hear. Then back toward the den. He had a clear sight line of the entire room. “Clear,” he said again.
“Hallway’s clear,” Creed said.
Mac followed him to clear the bedrooms. His heart in his shoes, he drew in a deep breath. “She’s not here.”
“Yeah.”
“And there’s blood in the kitchen by the table in addition to the blood on the porch.”
“I saw.” Creed walked to the table, careful to skirt the blood spatter. “This is a contract for the sale of Isabelle’s property. And it’s signed.”
Mac’s blood ran cold. “He forced her to sign and now he’s going to kill her. I’m searching the woods.”
“Follow the blood trail. I’m right behind you.”
* * *
Isabelle huddled behind the largest tree she could find, her breaths coming in short gasps that she tried to muffle. With her back against the trunk, she closed her eyes and listened. Her thundering heart impeded her efforts somewhat, but she held still, fingers clenched.
Footsteps crunched too close, and her eyes popped open. Moonlight filtered through the trees, but barely. Most of the undergrowth was dark, with only an occasional sliver of light slashing through the leaves above.
Peril on the Ranch Page 17