“Get out. Both of you.”
Elise opened her door and got out. Immediately, the killer grabbed her and shoved the gun against her back hard enough to make her wince.
Trent got out but left the car running, the lights on and the door open in case they needed to get away fast.
The killer jerked Elise’s hair hard enough to make her gasp in pain, and gave Trent a knowing smile. “Move away from the car.”
Trent moved.
“Come around to the front where I can see you better.”
Trent went and stood in the beams of the headlights. He kept his body loose, his eyes on the killer. In the light, he could now see that the uniform the man wore wasn’t an official one. It carried the wrong emblem, but it was probably close enough to fool most people. The hat was the real thing, though. So was the gun.
Anger burned hot and acidic in Trent’s throat. If he ever managed to get his hands on that asshole, he was going to see to it that he suffered before he died for hurting Elise.
The killer pulled something off his belt and handed it to Elise. “Tie him up nice and tight.”
He pushed her forward, making her stumble. She caught her balance and hurried to Trent’s side. Fear made her face pale, but she was holding it together. Her whole body shook, but she hadn’t shed a single tear or broken down the way most people would have.
It only made him love her more.
“Hold your hands out for her,” said the killer.
Trent saw what she carried. It was plastic zip-tie handcuffs.
Once those went on, he was going to have a hell of a time stopping the man from doing whatever it was he had planned.
“Nice and tight. No wiggle room.”
“I’m sorry,” whispered Elise.
Trent kept his voice low, barely a whisper. “It’s okay. Just do what he says so you don’t get hurt.”
“Hold your hands up and let me see,” ordered the killer.
Trent held them up in the headlights’ glare, showing the killer she’d done as he’d asked.
“Elise, open the trunk. You, walk over here.”
The man waited for him at the back of the car. The trunk popped open.
The killer was going to stuff him in the trunk and send the car into that lake. Trent was sure of it. Why else would he have stopped here next to the water? Why else was a dock on a lake so small, wide and sturdy enough to support a car’s weight?
If Trent was going to do something, now was his last chance.
Trent moved like he was going to comply like a good little docile prisoner. He shuffled his feet over the dirt and kept his eyes down.
“Get in.”
“No!” shouted Elise.
The killer grabbed her arm hard enough to make her squeak in pain. The barrel of the gun went to her head. “Get in the trunk.”
Trent lifted his head and looked into Elise’s eyes. “I love you,” he told her. He might never again get the chance, and he didn’t want to let the opportunity go by.
Her eyes widened with shock, and something gloriously beautiful took hold of her features. The fear was wiped away, and what was left in its place was the fierce determination of a woman who was going to get what she wanted.
She lifted her foot and pulled her elbow forward at the same time. Trent had been in enough fights with his brother to know what she planned even before she finished moving.
He charged just as her foot slammed down on the killer’s, and her elbow flew into his gut.
The gun slipped away from her head, and that was all the opening Trent needed.
He barreled into the killer, giving him the full brunt of his momentum. His hands were still confined, and as they fell, he lost his balance.
Elise yelped and backed away.
Trent couldn’t free his hands, so he slammed both of them into the killer’s face. Blood spewed out from his nose, but it didn’t seem to faze him. He let out a roar of fury and punched Trent in the neck.
With his hands bound, Trent was off-balance. He couldn’t seem to steady himself.
The killer lifted the gun.
Trent realized too late that he hadn’t unarmed the man.
He rolled away, trying to make himself a moving target.
He heard the boom as his body jerked from the blow. A searing pain swept out from his side, consuming him.
Elise screamed.
The gun went off again, only this time, Trent felt nothing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ed Woodward hung up the phone and stuck his head into the room where Agent Laurens was going over all the crime scene photos. “Hey, Robin, Ms. McBride never showed up to her meeting with Special Agent Sinclair. I can’t get her or Trent on their cell phones.”
Robin glanced at her stylish watch and frowned. “They’ve been gone almost two hours.”
“Either Trent convinced her not to cooperate, or something happened. Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Robin stood and followed him out the door.
“To check security footage of the parking lot and see who was driving. I wouldn’t put it past Trent to simply take off with Elise to keep her out of this.”
They turned the corner and walked past the back entrance of the station. Robin came to an abrupt stop.
Ed turned to see what she was looking at. “What?”
“Do your officers usually carry purses?”
Ed looked to where she pointed. Dave Fowls had just come in from the parking lot. He clutched a brown purse in his hands.
“No.”
“It’s Elise’s,” said Robin as she headed for the man, her stride long and confident.
Ed hurried after her. “How do you know?”
“I was trying to avoid looking at the cheap, mud-brown thing all day. Believe me. It’s hers.”
Ed wouldn’t have known a cheap purse from an expensive one if his life depended on it, but Robin was always impeccably dressed. He trusted that she knew her way around a handbag.
He lifted his voice so Dave could hear him over the station’s noise. “Hey, Dave. Is there ID in that purse?”
Dave reached inside and pulled out a passport as Robin and Ed reached his side. “Elise R. McBride. Isn’t that the lady whose sister is missing?”
“Yes,” said Ed, “and now she is, too.”
Elise watched in horror as the killer shot Trent again.
Blood bloomed out over his shirt and darkened one thigh. Trent stopped moving and lay still and quiet in the dirt.
The killer stood up, keeping Trent in his sights the whole time. His shoulders rose and fell with his labored breathing, and he wiped a hand across his face.
In the glow of the headlights, Elise saw blood wet on his fingers.
He didn’t even bother to turn around when he said, “He’s still alive. Try to run and I’ll shoot him in the head.”
Elise stood right there, not daring to move a muscle.
I love you.
He’d said those magic words to her, and they’d changed her entire world. He hadn’t just been saying them as a distraction either. She’d been looking into his eyes when he spoke. He’d meant every word.
He loved her, and now he lay on the ground, bleeding because of her.
She never should have taken the risk of fighting back. If she hadn’t, Trent wouldn’t have attacked. He wouldn’t have been shot.
She was shivering with shock by the time the killer walked toward her. He wasn’t pointing his weapon at her, but he didn’t have to. She knew he’d use it if she so much as twitched.
She wasn’t afraid of dying as much as she was of not being able to save Trent. “Let me stop his bleeding,” she begged.
“No, I’ll do it,” said the killer. “But first, let’s make sure you don’t run off.”
He grabbed her wrist and dragged her across the broken ground to a tree. He looped one end of the plastic handcuff around her wrist and the other around a thick branch of a young tree. He pulled the plastic tight unt
il it cut into her skin, securing her in place.
“Stay put.”
“Please hurry,” she said. “He’s losing a lot of blood.”
The killer smiled at her, then went back to where Trent lay. He pulled his booted foot back and kicked Trent in the ribs with a force that would have incapacitated a grown man.
Trent didn’t even flinch. His body flopped over the ground, and he lay still and silent.
It was then that Elise realized the man had lied. He had no intention of helping Trent. He was going to kill him. She’d been a fool to think otherwise.
Maybe he’d lied about Ashley being alive, too.
Elise felt hot tears fall down her cheeks.
The man dragged Trent over the ground, heedless of the blood seeping from his side. He holstered his gun, then heaved Trent up toward the open trunk of the car.
Elise could see what came next. He wasn’t going to kill Trent quickly. He was going to drown him.
Fury swelled inside her, making her vision blur with the force of it. She was not going to stand here and let this happen. Chances were she wasn’t going to survive the night. She sure as hell wasn’t going to spend her last moments being a victim.
She pulled at the cuff on her wrist. The tree branch swayed but bounced back. She pulled harder, trying to work the plastic loop toward the narrow end of the branch.
The thin bark scraped away as she tugged, leaving behind green scars in the wood. Her wrist started to bleed, but that was the least of her worries. The killer had managed to lift Trent’s bulk into the trunk.
Trent was too big to fit easily, but the man shoved hard several times until the trunk lid latched.
Elise pulled harder, moving the cuff a couple of inches until it ran into a smaller branch. With her free hand, she bent that branch, trying to break it, but it was too green to snap.
Leaves dropped from the tree, shaken loose by her efforts.
The killer got into the car and drove it onto a wide wooden dock. He got back out and went around to the rear of the car. He fetched a jack from a large plastic tub at the end of the dock and shoved it under the back of the car.
As he started to jack the car up off its back wheels, Elise knew she was nearly out of time.
Frantically, she jerked on the cuff and the tree limb, trying to make one give way. She managed to break the smaller branch off, but it left behind a stubby bit of soggy splinters behind. She was going to have to get the cuff over that bump.
Blood leaked out from under the plastic, making it slip along her skin. She twisted to get a better angle and pulled with all her strength. The hard edge burned as it cut into her flesh, but she didn’t ease off the pressure.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw that the car had been jacked up all the way. The killer found a heavy stone and was hauling it back to the open driver’s door.
Elise let out a cry of denial. She was not going to let this man kill Trent.
She gathered up some of her blood and smeared it on the knobby bit of wood, hoping to lubricate it. Another tug told her the idea worked. The cuff slid over the bump. The sudden release of pressure made her stumble, but she regained her footing and pulled the cuff the rest of the way off the skinny branch.
Leaves flew everywhere, sticking to the blood on her wrist, but she didn’t stop to clear them away. She sprinted over the ground as quickly and silently as she could.
The killer was leaning inside the car. Suddenly, the engine roared and the back tires spun as if someone had floored the accelerator.
The noise hid her approach.
He straightened, closed the car door and went around to the back of the car.
Elise’s feet hit the dock, making a hollow thud as she ran.
The killer saw her coming. He gave her a sickening, pleased smile and kicked the jack out from under the bumper.
The spinning wheels hit the dock, and the car shot off like a rocket.
The man drew his gun and aimed it at her. Elise didn’t care. She didn’t slow. She was going to dive into the water after Trent and get him out of that trunk.
The car hit the water with a huge splash and a crunch of breaking plastic.
The killer must have realized her intent, because he dropped the weapon and launched himself at her.
Elise leaped to avoid him, but she wasn’t fast enough to clear the end of the dock and go into the water. The killer snagged her around the waist and slammed her down onto the weathered wooden boards.
He’d knocked the air from her lungs, but she didn’t stop fighting him. There was still time to save Trent.
She scrambled, trying to claw her way out from under him, but he bore down on her, pinning her in place. His arms were wrapped around hers, and his weight kept her legs immobile. The only thing she could move was her head.
Elise looked toward the water, praying Trent would come swimming out at any moment. The car sank fast, releasing huge bubbles of air as it went. The headlights cut through the murky water, making it glow a dull brown-green.
Finally, the last bit of bumper disappeared below the surface of the water. One more giant air bubble gurgled to the top, and then nothing. No movement. No Trent.
“No!” screamed Elise. “Trent!”
“He’s gone,” said the killer. “He’s breathing in that dirty water right now. It’s filling his lungs, choking the life from his body.”
Agonizing fury consumed her, making her stronger, faster. She exploded into movement, knocking the killer’s arms away from hers. She managed to crawl two feet away before he grabbed her ankle and pulled her back away from the water.
Splinters dug into her skin, but she didn’t stop kicking and punching.
Her blows landed, but did little good. He let out a grunt of pain, then balled up his fist and slammed it into her temple.
Lights blinded her for a moment and then disappeared, along with everything else.
Gary dragged Elise down the dock, enjoying the sound of her head bouncing along the wooden planks.
The bitch didn’t know her place, but she would soon enough. Once he got her home, she’d realize just what happened to women who refused to obey.
Once he got back onto the rocky ground, she got too hard to drag, so he hefted her over his shoulder and headed toward his house. It was only a half mile away, and the exercise would do him good.
He checked over his shoulder, just to make sure that the ex-cop boyfriend hadn’t surfaced, then headed for home. Once he had Elise safely locked away, he could clean himself up and see to his bleeding nose.
And then, finally, it was going to be time for the McBride sisters to have a little family reunion.
He could hardly wait.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The shock of cold water rushing into Trent’s mouth woke him up.
He sputtered, spitting the water out, instinctively moving toward the dwindling source of air he felt on his face.
Within a few speeding heartbeats, everything came back to him. The drive from Chicago that ended at the isolated expanse of farmland. The lake. The fight with the cop-impersonating killer that left him with two bullet holes, at least. Maybe more. His entire body was a mass of writhing pain, and he was twisted to fit into a small, confined space, unable to move and see what worked and what didn’t.
The trunk. He was in the trunk of the Mazda.
And the car was sinking into the lake.
Panic seized him and he fought it back, knowing that it would kill him. There was still a little bit of air left, and until that was gone, until the water filled the trunk, equalizing the pressure, there was no chance of getting out.
He didn’t have much time, and he didn’t want to waste a second of it. He tried to move his hands to feel for a way out, realized they were still bound, and started searching the trunk for something sharp enough to cut through the plastic cuffs while he waited for the trunk to fill with water.
Survival instincts roared at him to flee, to fight his way out, and h
e had to grit his teeth to hold them back.
The water level in the trunk was still going up, taking away the pocket of air he had left. He sucked it into his lungs, trying to oxygenate his blood as much as possible so he could hold his breath longer when the time came.
Another gush of water filled his mouth. Panic rioted through his limbs, making them shake. If he didn’t find a way out soon, he was going to drown down here, alone in the dark, while that killer did whatever he wanted with his sweet Elise.
He had to get out and save her. He’d seen what that man had done to all those poor women. He couldn’t let that happen to Elise.
He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to swim with his wet clothes dragging him down and the gunshot wounds weakening him, but he guessed that trying to swim while also handcuffed was going to be impossible. He’d sink like a stone.
Trent’s fingers searched over the bumps of the sheet metal around him. Something sharp stung his fingertip as it sliced it open. He had no idea what it was—the edge of a piece of metal of some kind—but if it could cut his skin, it could probably cut the plastic ties.
It took him a precious few seconds to maneuver his bound hands to get the right angle, but he managed to make it work. He sawed back and forth, raking the plastic against that bit of metal.
Water rushed into his nose, and he had to push with his legs to shove his face up high enough to take another breath.
The plastic broke. His wrists flew apart, scraping his knuckles as they dragged across the metal trunk lid.
He ripped his hands free and felt around for the trunk release. This car was new enough to have one inside, probably similar to a light switch—designed so kids would flip it to turn on the lights if they got stuck.
His fingers were a bit numb, but he found the lever and triggered the release. The trunk lid didn’t move. He was going to have to shove it open.
The position was awkward, and a searing pain shot out from his thigh, but he managed to brace himself and push the lid up with his legs. The thing felt like it weighed a ton, but it moved sluggishly through the water, letting out the last few tiny air bubbles that had been trapped.
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