Obsession

by Patricia Bradley

“I don’t remember everything,” he said, his voice low. “I remember riding in the front seat, with Ryan and Mary Jo in the back. They were making out . . . we parked, must’ve been at Loess Bluff. Music. I remember hearing dance music. And Mary Jo laughing. Then Trey was shaking me, waking me up. He said Ryan and Mary Jo were dead, and he’d called his dad.”

  “Did Trey see who shot Ryan?”

  “No. He said he’d left them to answer the call of nature. He heard the shots. When he got back to where Ryan was, he was dead and Mary Jo was gone. When Sheriff Carter got there, he reamed us both out good. Sobered me up.” His voice trailed off. “I think I need another drink.”

  “No, you need to get this off your chest. Why did you bury Ryan and not Mary Jo?” When Gordon hesitated, Sam said, “If you didn’t kill either one and you’re worried about going to jail, pretty sure the statute of limitations has run out on obstruction of justice.”

  Gordon’s face showed that was exactly what he was worried about. “It was all the sheriff’s idea,” he said. “He was afraid if word got out that Trey was even at the scene of Mary Jo’s death, it would cost Carter the election. Her murder almost did.

  “He planned it all. Trey knew how to get the keys to the backhoe, and we buried Ryan at Mount Locust because the backhoe was handy. When we went back for Mary Jo’s body, the hunters had found her.

  “While Sheriff Carter dealt with them, Trey drove Ryan’s Mustang to Memphis and I followed in Trey’s pickup. It didn’t take long for the car to get stripped.” He looked up. “Who do you think killed Trey?”

  Before Sam could answer, his cell phone rang. Merit Health? “Excuse me,” he said and swiped the answer button. “This is Ryker.”

  “Mr. Ryker, this is Sandra Wyatt’s nurse at Merit Health. Ms. Wyatt is awake and very insistent about speaking to you.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Once the nurse gave him the room number, Sam hung up and eyed Gordon. “I have to leave, but before I go, do you remember who Mary Jo came to the Hideaway with that night?”

  The doctor frowned. “I had forgotten she was with someone. I can’t recall who it was, but maybe if I think about it . . .”

  “I’ll be in touch. But in the meantime, if I were you, I’d watch my back.”

  69

  Nausea crept up into Emma’s throat. She was going to be sick, but instinct told her not to move. Where was she? Lying on something, for sure. The smell of leather. She was in a car or, judging by the rough ride, more than likely a pickup. One with a back seat.

  Emma tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were so heavy. Think. She couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried. It was like a fog bank had rolled into her head, one that only odors could penetrate.

  Suddenly Emma realized she wasn’t alone. Of course she wasn’t—she was lying in the back seat of a vehicle. Why had it taken this long to realize that? Had she been drugged? That was the only answer. Regroup. Take deep breaths and maybe the fog will lift. At least the noisy tires covered her breathing as she sucked in air.

  Her nose itched, and Emma scratched it. Her hands weren’t bound! Okay. Make a plan. But first she had to figure out what was going on. What was the last thing she remembered? Sam. She’d been angry at him. But somehow, she didn’t think she was now. Was he driving?

  No. She didn’t know how she knew it, but Sam wasn’t anywhere near her, and whoever had put her in this truck was dangerous. Maybe she could talk to him, reason with him—how did she know it was a man? A shadowy memory surfaced. Corey. It all came flooding back. He’d stopped by her apartment with coffee to celebrate something . . . then she got a phone call from Melanie. Her mouth got drier. Corey had been living and working in Natchez when Mary Jo was murdered.

  Where was he taking her? Maybe she could talk to him. Get him to turn her loose. Uh. No. She had the advantage of surprise as long as he didn’t know she was awake. Emma felt on the floorboard for any kind of weapon she could use when they stopped, and her fingers closed on a round piece of steel. Tire iron.

  The truck slowed, and the melody of a song floated from the audio system. Whitney Houston singing, “I will always love you.”

  70

  Sam turned into the hospital on two wheels and parked next to the entrance. Instead of waiting for the elevator, he took the stairs two steps at a time. It was a little after ten, and family members who were staying the night in the waiting room were arranging for places to sleep. He crossed the room and was immediately buzzed inside the unit.

  “Is Ms. Wyatt still awake?” Sam asked when he reached her room.

  “She’s in and out, but go on in. She’s asked to see you as soon as you arrive.”

  Sam stepped inside the room. Sandra Wyatt lay hooked up to wires and tubes, but she turned toward him. “Good, you came. My dad . . . how . . .”

  “I don’t know. Earlier today I was told he was holding his own. I don’t think there’s been any change.” He stepped closer to the bed. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I’ve been shot.” She managed a tiny smile below the nasal cannula. “Have you found the person responsible?”

  He shook his head. “We’re working on it. Sheriff Rawlings would be here, but he’s tied up on another case tonight. He’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “The nurse said you had something to tell me.”

  She gave him a small nod. “The man who gave Mary Jo the flowers.” She paused to breathe deeply. “Don’t remember his name, but she said . . . he was going to be a lawyer.”

  Corey, maybe? “Did he live here in Natchez?”

  “Don’t know . . . wish I did . . . but that’s all I remember.”

  Talking tired her, and he hated to ask more questions.

  “Sorry it’s not more. Just seemed important . . .”

  “You said you met him once. Do you remember anything about his appearance?”

  She closed her eyes and sucked oxygen through the cannula. Suddenly her eyes popped open. “His eyes. They were blue, but really pale . . .”

  That fit Corey. His cell phone rang, and he silenced it but glanced at the ID. Chief Pete Nelson. “I’m leaving now. If you remember anything else, have your nurse call me. Doesn’t matter what time it is.” Sam squeezed her free hand. “We’re going to get who did this to your family.”

  Sam waited until he was in the hallway before calling Nelson back. “You’re up late,” he said when the chief of police answered.

  “Yeah. I had an officer on the night shift check the database for the license plate reader in front of Emma’s apartment. The records show Dr. Gordon Cole’s vehicle numerous times, but nothing compared to two vehicles registered to Corey Chandler. The last record showed he was at her apartment at nine thirty. When Emma didn’t answer my call, we came immediately, lights blazing. She’s not here, Sam.”

  “What? She has to be. Her truck is at Mount Locust.”

  “I’m inside her apartment now, and only her cat and phone are here.”

  “Corey must have her.” The knowledge made him sick. “Do you know how long he was there?”

  “No, but she answered a call on her phone at ten fifteen. We just missed them.”

  71

  Where would he take her?” Nate said.

  Sam looked up from the computer he’d brought upstairs to Emma’s apartment. “I don’t know. I don’t find any records where he owns property in Adams County. Any hits on the BOLO?”

  Nate had arrived not long after Sam, and he and the Natchez police chief had put out a Be-On-the-Look-out for Corey Chandler’s pickup. The truck license plate had been the one that showed up the last time on the license plate reader.

  “Except for the house on Mulholland Road, there’s nothing in his name. Same for surrounding counties.”

  Pete looked over Sam’s shoulder. “Do you think he might have used a holding company?”

  Sam’s heart sank. If he had, they might never find him.

  “We need a real estate agent,” Pete said. He was quiet a minute. “Your dad. Whe
n my folks were looking for a farm, they said he knew where every piece of property in the county was.”

  “Don’t you know anyone else?”

  “I’ve heard he knows every piece of property that’s been bought or sold in the last five years,” Nate said.

  Time was ticking away. Was he going to let Corey Chandler kidnap Emma and get away with it because he was too proud to ask his father for help? Sam jerked his phone off his belt and dialed his mother’s number. “Is D-Dad there?” he asked when she answered.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “Yes. Corey Chandler has kidnapped Emma.”

  “No! Why?”

  “It’s a long story. Is Dad there?” he repeated.

  “What does Emma’s kidnapping have to do with your dad?”

  “Mom, just let me talk to him, please.” Sam waited for his father to come to the phone. Every second that ticked off put Emma in more danger. What if he was wasting time?

  “Sam, your mom told me what’s going on. What can I do?”

  The concern in his dad’s voice almost undid him. “Corey Chandler has to know roadblocks would be set up when we discovered he kidnapped Emma, so I figure he’s taking her somewhere near here until things calm down and he can smuggle her out. I’ve looked online, but I can’t find where he owns any property. I . . .” He took a deep breath. “I thought you might know somewhere else to look.”

  “Let me think,” his dad said. “Hold on a second.” Sam heard him ask for his computer, then he came back on the line. “Corey Chandler. That name is familiar . . .”

  Keystrokes sounded through the phone. “Yes . . . I thought so.”

  “What did you find?” Sam asked.

  “He’s handled the deed for several pieces of property here in Adams County and over in Jefferson County. Here—I found it. He bought it through a holding company,” he said. “Three thousand acres of timberland bordering Adams and Jefferson Counties. It’s along the Mississippi, so if he’s running, he could be planning a boat trip.”

  “How do I get to it?” Sam asked.

  “I showed him the property, so I can show you the way.”

  “Just give me the directions or an address.”

  “Directions? Impossible. There are too many twists and turns. And there is no address. I know a shortcut, so I’m afraid it’s me or nothing.”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  72

  The pickup bounced over the ruts, jarring Emma’s head. They had stopped somewhere, and she’d dozed off again. Now it seemed as though she’d been riding forever. She had thought once or twice about hitting Corey over the head with the tire iron, but if she raised up, he would see her. No. She had the element of surprise and would wait until they stopped. He didn’t know she had the weapon.

  She’d never hit anyone in her life. Her mind still felt fuzzy, but maybe she could talk him into releasing her.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I wondered when you would say something.”

  He’d known she was awake. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  The pickup slowed to a standstill.

  “Why are you stopping?”

  “To let you sit in the front seat,” he said. “That way we can talk. I’ve been waiting for this day for so long.”

  The truck stopped, and Corey climbed out. This was her one chance. With the tire iron gripped in her left hand, she sat up and took in her surroundings. It was so dark, she could only see the trees caught in the truck’s headlights.

  A second later he opened her door. Emma jumped at him with a scream and swung the tire iron. It connected, and the thud of the tire iron breaking bone sickened her. Corey roared and grabbed his shoulder.

  No! He was supposed to be knocked out. She planted her hands on his chest and shoved him, and then took off running. Pain stabbed her bare feet. My shoes! He’d taken off her shoes. Ignoring the pain, she ran the way they’d come.

  Darkness surrounded her. She could barely make out the road until lights flashed behind her. Somehow he’d turned around and was coming after her. Gritting her teeth, she jumped the ditch that ran along the road and struck out through the woods.

  73

  Which way here?” Sam asked when they came to a crossroads in the middle of a wilderness. It seemed like they’d been driving for hours, but it’d probably been only forty-five minutes. True to his word, his dad had shown them a shortcut, saving precious time.

  “Take a left,” his dad said.

  “People actually live out here?” Pete said from the back seat.

  “Not many,” Nate replied. “And the few who live here like living off the grid. I’ve worked for the sheriff’s department for fifteen years, and I can’t remember ever being called to this area.”

  “You say his name isn’t on the deed for this land?” Sam asked. He looked in his rearview mirror to make sure Nate’s deputies were behind him.

  Beside him, his father shook his head. “He said he represented a holding company.”

  If it hadn’t been for his dad, Sam doubted they would have ever found the property.

  “There!” his dad said when the SUV headlights picked up a side road. “Turn there.”

  The road wasn’t much bigger than a path. Certainly not big enough for two cars if they met someone. They rounded a curve and Sam slammed on the brakes. They’d almost plowed into a pickup truck.

  74

  Corey’s shoulder throbbed. He couldn’t believe Emma was like the others. Where was she? He’d grabbed the nightscope he kept in his truck and lifted it to his eyes, scanning the area. Nothing moved. He thought about attaching a thermal scope, but the woods were too thick.

  A north wind blew, chilling him. Emma didn’t have on a coat, so she would probably move soon. And when she did, he’d have her.

  Emma braced against the tree with the tire iron still in her left hand. She’d run until she could run no more. Her feet hurt. And she was cold. She edged around the tree. Corey was to her left and down from her. He had a gun, maybe even a nightscope. That’s the only way he could have tracked her. If he did and she moved, he would see her. How did he move through the woods so silently? She peeked again.

  He was gone. Her heart leaped into her throat. Where was he? If she threw the tire iron and then ran in the opposite direction, she would have nothing to protect herself with. If she could just find something, a branch, anything.

  Emma knelt and ran her hand over the ground. Her fingers closed in on something smooth and hard. A rock. Using the sharp end of the tire iron, she dug around it and tried to pry it loose. Once she had it loose, she transferred the rod to her weaker hand. Which way to throw the rock? She had no idea where she was or how to get back to the main road.

  Doing something was better than waiting for him to find her, and she drew the rock back to throw it.

  “Drop it.”

  Her heart almost stopped. He stood not ten yards away.

  “Emma!” The shout came in the opposite direction from Corey.

  That was Sam’s voice! She jerked her head toward the voice. “He has a gun!”

  Had Sam heard her?

  Corey’s hand closed on her shoulder. He held a pistol to her head. “You will never get away from me. Now drop the tire iron!”

  She dropped it but still held the rock in her good hand. “Why, Corey?”

  “You’re mine. If I can’t have you, no one can. But right now, you’re my insurance. Now walk.”

  He pushed her toward a clearing. When she stumbled, he jerked her up and she swung the rock, hitting his head. Corey went to his knees, and she took off running again, this time toward the voices. “Sam! Where are you?”

  Corey grabbed her ankle, bringing her down. Seconds later he stood over her. “Do that again and I’ll kill you. Now get up.”

  Corey used a scope to scan the area. “This way.”

  They walked, getting farther and farther away from the voices, until they came t
o a road. “To the left,” he said.

  At least walking was easier here. “Where are we going?”

  “You don’t need to know.”

  She could barely get her breath, but Corey wasn’t even breathing hard. Why hadn’t Sam found her? Emma tried to slow down, but Corey nudged her with the barrel of his gun. After they’d walked for what seemed like miles, a cabin came into view. Who would build a home in the middle of this wilderness? She heard water lapping against land. The Mississippi River?

  “Too bad you didn’t want me. This could have been yours.”

  “Are we stopping here?”

  “You ask too many questions.” He turned and cocked his head toward the path they’d just taken. “Where did they go?” he murmured.

  “Why did you kill my brother?”

  “He was going to hurt Mary Jo. I couldn’t let him do that.”

  “But then you killed her.”

  He shook his head. “That was an accident. She ran from me. Slipped and fell into the ravine. When I reached her, she was already dead.”

  “Those other women didn’t run from you.”

  “Shut up!” He jerked her by the arm. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Away from here.” He flashed the beam toward a path and half dragged her to wooden steps that led down to the river, where a boat was tied to a dock.

  No. She wasn’t getting on that boat . . . Halfway down the steps, she stumbled, and when he reached for her, she grabbed his hand and jerked him off balance. He fell past her, flailing in the air as he grabbed for the handrails.

  Emma bolted up the steps. Suddenly a bullet whizzed past her. She was a sitting duck on the stairs. Ducking under the rail, she jumped, grabbing anything she could to keep from tumbling down the side of the cliff.

  Everything she caught only slowed her descent until she lay sprawled next to the water. Suddenly Corey stood over her with the pistol aimed at her head. “I don’t know why you had to fight me.”