by Lisa Jackson
“Fine!” she gasped.
“You okay?”
“Fine!” she said again. “I’ll call you after …” She snapped off the cell phone, and it slipped from her hand to clatter onto the night stand. “My God, Blair … stop!”
But he didn’t, and she was soon floating in liquid sensations that had her fingers clutching the bedclothes and her body writhing.
*
She left for Massey’s ranch in the late afternoon, hoping to catch Scott at home. Blair followed in his truck, bound and determined to be Kat’s protector. She kept looking at him in her rearview mirror, though he kept his vehicle way back from hers.
She was practically in a fever all the way to Massey’s property, which was tucked up against Forest Service land, nestled up against rolling hills that led into the mountains. She watched the fence posts whip by in a blur and patchy white clouds flutter overhead, her mind on Blair. She saw the stuttered white lines that split the two-lane road run into one long ribbon, her mind on Blair …
Blair’s lovemaking had turned her into a puddle. His hands … and mouth … and well, the feel of him thrusting inside her, body straining, the hot passion in his eyes … the taste of his probing tongue …
Just thinking about it brought a flush to her cheeks, and she flexed her hands on the wheel. One tire suddenly slipped off the pavement onto the hardpan on the side of the road, and she yanked the Jeep back on course. Shit. With an effort, she forced aside the vision of their lovemaking, dragging her thoughts back to her driving. She didn’t want to miss the turnoff to the gravel road that led to the Massey house. As the thought crossed her mind, she damn near drove right by it and had to stand on her brakes, looking in her rearview for approaching vehicles, then reversing to make the turn.
Blair’s truck was just easing up at the end of the Massey drive as she turned into it. He pulled over to the side of the road, nodding toward her, his Stetson tipping forward. She lifted a hand in acknowledgment, then drove farther along, watching in the mirror as Blair’s truck became a dark speck behind her, then disappeared behind a rise. On either side of the dusty drive lay pasture land currently covered with a blanket of bright, bobbing wildflowers in blues and pinks, yellows and reds, and shades of purple from lilac to magenta to grape. Someone had strewn seeds, she thought, as it was such a riot of color as far as the eye could see down the long drive. Joleen, Scott’s wife, probably.
It was half a mile to the house, which was a small, tired-looking ranch-style with a barn and several outbuildings in much better repair behind it. Kat knocked on the door and heard light footsteps heading her way. The door opened, and Joleen Massey peered out. Kat had seen her a number of times but had never made her acquaintance.
“Mrs. Massey? I’m Katrina Starr from the Sheriff’s Department.”
Joleen stared at her blankly, a little unfocused. Her expression grew worried. “Yes?”
“I’ve talked to you a few times, but I’ve never connected with your husband. I was wondering if he’s home now.”
“Oh.” She was peering somewhere near Kat’s left ear, and Kat recalled vaguely that Joleen had some vision problems. “I’m sorry. Scott’s out hunting for that poor missing girl.”
“He’s searching for Addie Donovan?”
“Yes. He knows these woods inside out.” She half-turned toward the back of the house and swept a hand behind her to indicate the forest rising behind their property.
“He’s an excellent hunter.”
“I saw him at the parade,” Kat said, her gaze searching the interior of the house. “He’s a trick rider, isn’t he?” She noticed a series of black-and-white photos of Scott on a galloping horse, making some intricate moves, along the wall above a flight of stairs that led down to a lower level.
“Well, yes, but mostly he helps out at some of the spreads around Prairie Creek, and he loves to hunt.” She smiled. “There’s nothing like venison.”
It wasn’t deer hunting season yet, but that didn’t stop some of the men around Prairie Creek who felt it was their God-given right to go after game any time.
As if she’d spoken aloud, Joleen added, “He’s always been a good provider. I’m having some trouble with my sight these days, but I can still help trim a deer.”
Kat could almost smell the scent of animal blood, but wondered if that was just her jittery stomach reacting to the mere idea.
Joleen tilted her head. “Are you Patrick Starr’s daughter? The policeman?”
“Yes, he used to be with the Sheriff’s Department,” she allowed, “but he’s retired now.”
“Scott always said he was one of the good ones.”
Kat smiled. With Paul Byrd being so down on her father, it was nice to hear someone else praise him. “Would you have your husband call me?” She gave Joleen the number and expected her to write it down, but she said she had an excellent memory and didn’t need to.
“The one good thing about losing a sense. The others make up for it,” she said.
At that her nose wrinkled. “Although the smell can be pretty rank.”
So the odor was real. Massey must have killed something recently.
“I’m lucky because he usually does most of the skinning at his hunting shack.”
“Is that one of the outbuildings?”
“It’s further away. Into the woods.”
A hunting shack in the woods.
The hair on Katrina’s arms lifted. She envisioned Scott Massey tramping through the undergrowth, stalking prey. She gazed thoughtfully to the hills behind the Massey house. Hunting … in the off-season…
“Do you know which direction he went to search for Addie? Is he with other rescuers who are looking?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure. But he should be back soon. He always makes sure I’m settled before it gets too dark.”
Kat lifted her chin toward the photographs on the back wall, forgetting Joleen probably couldn’t see. “Those are great pictures of Scott along the back wall. Who took them?”
“Oh, I did. Before my eyes started going bad.”
“You were a photographer?”
“Of sorts. Scott’s really the one who knows cameras. He’s taken pictures for lots of people around town, some of the best families. You know the Dillingers?”
“I actually work with Ricki Dillinger.”
“Ira’s daughter? Well, Scott took some pictures for Ira of the Dillinger family a number of years back,” she said proudly.
Kat remembered the photograph in Ira’s office with him and all of his children. She would have to ask Ricki about it.
“Would you like to come in for an iced tea?” Joleen invited. “Scott should be back any minute.”
“You know, I think I’ll have to pass this time, but thank you.”
“Oh, there he is now,” she said, cocking her head.
Kat faintly heard an approaching engine. Joleen’s superior hearing had picked it up sooner than she had. Panic spread just beneath her skin. Why hadn’t Blair alerted her that Scott had passed by him?
Her purse was slung over her right shoulder. She stuck her hand inside and pulled out her cell. No message. Had something happened to Blair?
“I may have to take a rain check,” she started to say.
“Nonsense. He’ll want to talk to you too. Wouldn’t it be marvelous if he found that poor girl?”
Kat had turned around and looked back the way she’d come. Nothing but the wildflowers and blue sky that was just starting to darken. Then she realized the truck was coming from a different direction. The woods. Forest Service land.
The hunting shack.
She was still holding her cell phone, and she glanced down at it, looking for Blair’s number. Favorites. No, she hadn’t put Blair there yet. But he was in Recents. She pushed the button for his number as the truck roared right up to her, so close that she jumped back in alarm. Joleen peered out from the doorway sightlessly. Scott leapt out of his truck and slung a rifle to his shoulder
in one smooth motion. “Drop it,” he said, leveling the rifle directly at her.
“Scott?” Joleen asked, sounding afraid.
In a soft voice, he said, “Joleen, honey. Go back in and get both Ms. Starr and me a cold lemonade. Can you do that?”
“Did you park right by the porch?” she asked.
“Sure did. Gotta haul some equipment out of the back.”
Kat could see the bed of his truck was empty.
“Go on, then,” he said, a smile in his voice. “We’re both dying of thirst.”
Chapter 28
Joleen blinked worriedly in Scott’s general direction, then said, “Um … okay. Ms. Starr? You want that lemonade, then?”
Massey’s finger tightened almost imperceptibly on the trigger. Kat felt a line of sweat trickle down her back. She had a gun inside her purse, but there was no way to reach for it with the rifle’s muzzle pointed at her.
“Drop it,” Scott mouthed this time, staring at her.
The phone slipped from her fingers and landed in the dust with a tiny thunk.
“Ms. Starr?” Joleen asked.
“Lemonade would be fine,” Kat told her in a surprisingly strong voice.
“Go on then, honey.” Scott shooed his wife.
Joleen disappeared, and immediately Scott strode toward Kat, whose brain was sizzling with one word: run. But that barrel stared at her, a round, black eye, and she stayed stock-still. The man was a hunter and desperate. She didn’t doubt he would shoot her cold and claim an accident, and she couldn’t risk it. Not now. Her thoughts were tumbling, one after another in the space of a nanosecond. I’m pregnant. I have a chance for a future with Blair. I love him. I cannot die now. I have to live. For the baby, for Blair …
When he reached her, he dropped the rifle and grabbed her neck with both hands. Her knee shot up, but he twisted away, expecting the move. She grabbed at him, reaching for his face. She’d gouge his eyes out if she could. But he shook her like a rag-doll, and pinpoints of light formed behind her eyes. His hands tightened cruelly. Air. She needed air. Her fingers scrabbled and dug at his, wrapped hard around her throat. She gasped and fought as he stomped hard on her cell phone over and over again, effectively killing it.
“You were the one with the screwdriver,” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and fetid.
The trees … the wildflowers … the colors darkened and faded, and she was gone.
*
Blair snatched up his cell phone. Katrina! He clicked on.
“Hey, there. You okay?”
No answer. A thumping sound and … strangled breathing?
Then nothing.
A pocket dial?
Hell no.
He put the truck in gear and turned down the Massey drive. He tried calling Kat back, but the phone went straight to voice mail. He didn’t want to piss her off and crash her party, but he didn’t like any part of this.
If he was barreling in where he wasn’t wanted, so be it. It wouldn’t be the first time.
*
Kat woke to a raw throat and a sense of movement. She was in a vehicle, bouncing hard. She opened her eyes to a scene of passing trees and then a small clearing with a small building on one edge, its roof obscured by a canopy of fir boughs. Her hands were caught behind her back, so tight she was losing feeling. Massey … the rifle … you were the one with the screwdriver …
“… no, honey, I’ll be back soon,” he was saying. “Ms. Starr remembered she had a previous engagement. See ya before the sun goes down.”
He dropped something into the side pocket of his door. His cell phone, she figured. She started to turn her head but stopped herself, sliding her eyes instead.
But he was watching for her. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “Even though you hurt me.” He turned his hand so she could see the mark she’d left with the screwdriver fifteen years earlier, a small scar. He clucked his tongue. “You and your friends showing off what God gave you that night … I knew what I had to do.”
“You raped Ruth,” Kat tried, her voice a rasp.
“Made a woman of her,” he corrected. “She wanted it. You all want it. You just like to pretend you don’t.”
“That’s what you told Courtney? And Rachel? And Erin, before she got away from you … ?”
His face darkened. “You and Ruthie met with her,” he growled. “And look what happened. She’s going to die too.”
“She’s going to live. And she’s going to finger you.”
He jerked the truck to a stop beside the shack. She realized the boughs would make it difficult to see. Where were they? She had the sense she hadn’t been out that long, so maybe they weren’t on Forest Service land at all. No wonder no one had found them. “This is somewhere on your property,” she said.
“You’re smart,” he said. “Too smart.”
She reached around for the handle, trying to shove open the door. She managed, but he was laughing as he came around from the driver’s side and yanked her out the rest of the way, tossing her onto the ground. Her head reeled. He’d damn near killed her, she thought dizzily, cutting off her air. He grabbed whatever held her hands—a rope?—and dragged her toward the shack. She kicked and fought, but he cuffed the side of her head, and she saw stars.
He left her to insert a key in the padlock on the door. She tried to crawl away, but he picked her up like she was a rag doll and hauled her over his shoulder. Someone gasped, and Kat focused to see a naked and dirty Addie Donovan sitting up on a cot, handcuffed to a long chain that extended from a metal ring on the wall behind the cot.
Oh God.
He grabbed Kat and cut her loose from her bonds. Baling twine, she saw. Then he picked her up once more as if she weighed nothing and carried her to the wall where the head of the cot stood. A thick metal ring was nailed halfway down its length, near the ceiling, and it was strung through with barbed wire. Rocking D wire, she realized. Head aching, she kicked at him and connected with flesh. His grunt of surprise brought her a brief flash of satisfaction, then he was standing her against the wall, grabbing her flailing fists, wrapping them in the barbed wire until her arms were stretched over her head. Her legs were free, and she kicked again, but this time he easily sidestepped her. The barbs bit into the flesh at her wrists, and she had to stand on tiptoe to keep them from hurting her.
“You asked for this, bitch. Remember that. You always get what you ask for, right, Addie?”
“Addie,” Kat said, turning to look at the frightened girl who cowered against the wall. Her eyes were large and bruised.
“Right?” he demanded of her, leaving Kat for a moment to stomp closer to her.
“Right, Lover,” she whispered.
“Don’t talk to her,” Massey warned, glaring at the girl who looked away from Kat and crossed her arms over her bare breasts in embarrassment.
He grabbed one of Kat’s legs, and she tried kicking him with the other, but then she was yanked down on the barbs at her wrist. She yelped in pain before she bit off the sound, hanging from the wire. He lashed her leg to the wooden one at the head of Addie’s cot. She wriggled as best she could, but he caught her other leg and lashed it to a hook on the far side. She felt panic rise inside her. She hung before him, the pain at her wrists excruciating.
Then he stood back, looked at her, and smiled. “You’ve got the place of honor,” he said. “Right, Addie?”
“Right, Lover,” she whispered, her eyes downcast. Kat wanted to weep for her. She was so broken.
“Addie here doesn’t know how to please a man. She’s got a lot to learn. But you know what to do, don’t you, Katrina? All of you out there, swimming and splashing. You know what to do.”
Kat shrank against the wall as Massey came toward her. He slowly undid the buttons on her shirt and then moaned in delight at the sight of Kat’s breasts pushing up from her bra. His hand cupped one breast, and she automatically twisted violently away from him.
“Come on now,” he whispered. “That
’s not how we play.”
Addie started to whimper, and he snapped his head toward her. “Look at me,” he demanded. When she didn’t comply, he shouted, “LOOK AT ME!”
She slid him a terrified look. He stared at her for a moment, then turned back to Kat. “You see? She doesn’t know the first thing about fucking. Courtney, now, she learned. She learned real good.”
Kat said through her teeth, “Courtney killed herself because of you. You had to take her body away from here, toward the Donovans. That’s how you found Addie. You poured gasoline on Courtney to hide your DNA, but it didn’t work. They have a sample of your semen.”
His eyes flared with alarm, and Kat met his eyes with a confidence she didn’t feel. The lab hadn’t found anything, as far as she knew, but Massey didn’t have to know that. He yanked her bra down, exposing her breasts. Kat steeled herself, looking for anything to help her escape. Anything! Her head was slowly clearing, down to a dull ache now as adrenaline raced through her veins. She had to save her baby. She had to save herself.
“Erin’s going to identify you,” Kat pressed.
“Erin didn’t see me.”
“Oh, yes, she did. She saw you. And she knows your voice. And your semen will seal the deal.”
“You bitch!” he roared.
Addie cried out as he pinched one of Kat’s already sensitive nipples, hard. Kat closed her eyes and counted to ten. When Massey had first kidnapped Erin and Rachel, he’d attempted to hide his identity. He hadn’t wanted his victims to see him. Chillingly, now he didn’t care about that any longer. There would be no escape.
“Rachel’s dead too, isn’t she? She fought you, and that’s when Erin got away. She got free of you, didn’t she?” Kat said triumphantly.
“Well, you never will!” he shouted, then, “You need to shut your fucking mouth!”
“You buried Rachel here somewhere,” Kat guessed. “But not Courtney. Why?”
He didn’t answer, and as Kat struggled to find how to free herself, Addie’s voice came tremulously from the corner. “Rachel haunts him.”
He whipped back toward her. “Shut up!”
“He keeps saying he loves us all,” Addie said. “He didn’t mean to kill her, and it hurts him to have Rachel nearby.”