by Roslyn Woods
Up the hill suddenly seemed like the only way she could go. She could hear the low rumble of a car coming up the road, and a beam of light was occasionally visible as it curved along the road leading up to the white farmhouse and the barn. She found herself running, her exhausted body suddenly filled with a burst of fresh adrenaline and terror. In a few moments she was in the brush and trees above the barn, but she didn’t want to stop and catch her breath. In a moment, she tripped over a rock hidden in the grass and fell headlong into chips of limestone and dry weeds. Pulling herself up, she thought she saw a flash of light coming up from the barn. Did he see me? she wondered as she stood up again. A trail of blood was dripping from her right knee, but she hardly felt it. She kept going as fast and far as her bare feet could take her.
The earth beneath her feet continued to be uneven and rocky in places, but she managed to hobble along, her fear keeping her moving. Don’t let him come after me, don’t let him come after me. She remembered there was supposed to be a winery somewhere along the road that led to Estelle’s place, but she had no idea if she was headed in that direction. All she knew was that she was headed away from the barn, away from Estelle’s ranch, and into a strange wilderness that made no sense to her.
She kept moving. Surely she would come to a house or some kind of dwelling where there would be people to help, but she seemed only to be heading into trees and brush, and she realized she wasn’t going to be able to see for many more minutes. She picked up a piece of branch about the size of a baseball bat, and carried it with her, thinking at least she could swing that at Jack, should he come at her through the brush.
It seemed she had run for miles, but the ever-darkening sky was forcing her to make her movements slower and more deliberate, until at last she came to a dry creek bed with a little cave-like section on the embankment. She stopped and looked up. There seemed to be the most light in the part of the sky she had run from, and she wasn’t about to head that way. It was too dark, and she was too exhausted and breathless to keep going. She had eaten too little during the past week, and she was too dehydrated to fight the feeling of faintness that was coming over her. Then, another flash of light. Was someone coming through the trees?
Some sagebrush was growing near the top edge of the embankment she had come to, and Shell climbed under the brush and into the little cave before curling her legs inside. For a few moments she simply caught her breath. “Don’t find me,” she whispered. She thought for a moment about snakes, but she was more worried that she wouldn’t make it through the night without being found by Jack.
Chapter 44
There must be an accident up ahead. That was all Dean could think of as a possibility for slowing him down so much. It was 7:55, and traffic was stopped on the southbound Interstate 35 from all the way up at Cesar Chavez. He just wanted to get off the freeway. If he took a surface street west, he could get down to the 290 by taking just about any north and south street west of where he was.
He honked at a car in the lane to his right, hoping to squeeze in and move over to the shoulder. Once he got over there he could go around everyone. It was highly illegal, but that was the last thing concerning him now.
Sadie barked from the backseat.
“I know, it’s driving me crazy, too,” said Dean. “I’m going to call Gonzalez,” he added, as if the dog understood everything he was saying. He pushed the button and spoke into the phone, “Call Gonzalez,” he said.
“Calling Sergeant Gilbert Gonzalez,” Siri answered, and Dean waited while he listened to the phone ringing.
“Yes? Maxwell?” said a voice.
“Gonzalez?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m on my way to Dripping Springs. I’ve got an idea where Shell might be held. There’s a barn behind Estelle Travis’s place.”
“Wait a minute! What are you talking about?” asked the sergeant.
“There’s an abandoned barn and a farmhouse. Shell freaked out when we drove by there last week. I think someone might be holding her there.”
“Look,” Gonzalez interrupted, “I know you’re trying to help, but I think you’re wasting your time. Listen, we’ve got a lead.”
“Yeah?”
“Detective Aquila and I have been looking at the video of the parking lot at the HEB.”
“And?”
“And there was a white Ford van parked near your girlfriend’s car. We can’t see the whole license plate, but we’ve got three digits and we’re cross-referencing vans registered with those numbers and the name Logan.”
“Logan?”
“We got the name from Estelle Travis’s cook. So maybe you should just wait and let us--”
“No. I’m going to have to go and see. I have to see if she’s there at the house or barn. I’m just letting you know first.”
“Where is it?”
“You take the small road just past the fence at the front of Estelle’s property. Turn right. Go up the hill there for maybe a mile. It’s behind her property…an abandoned farmhouse and a barn. The barn was painted into one of the Travis paintings, only we don’t think Travis himself ever saw it.”
“A forgery?”
“I think so.”
“Okay, but don’t do anything. Wait till Wilson and I get there.”
“I’m not waiting for anyone. I’m just giving you a courtesy call. That’s it.”
“No. You’re not taking this case into your own hands, Maxwell!”
“You don’t get it, Sergeant. I don’t know what’s happening to her! This is more important to me than any law you can quote at me. I’m going in, and I’ll take the consequences!”
“Wait, Maxwell! We’ll be there before you know it!”
“Not in this traffic, you won’t! Just get there or send someone as soon as you can,” Dean said, and he ended the call just as he got room to ease over into the other lane. One more lane and he could get to the shoulder. He honked again and flashed his lights. Someone in a slate-blue Lexus SUV to his right put down a window and started swearing and telling Dean just exactly what kind of SOB he thought he was. Dean pushed the nose of the Jeep in front of the guy anyway while laying a hand on his own horn. He really didn’t care if he hit the Lexus and took out a headlight, he was moving over. Somehow, he found room and got in front of the guy before driving out of the lane entirely and taking the shoulder all the way to the exit that led to the frontage road. From there he took Woodland over to Congress Avenue and turned south toward the 290.
It was getting pretty dark, 8:20 p.m., by the time he turned onto the little road past Estelle’s ranch and headed up toward the farmhouse and the barn. The road twisted more than he remembered, and he turned off his headlights and eased along slowly. Where was it? It seemed much further than it had last week when he and Shell had come up here in the daylight.
Then he saw it, rising slowly out of the gloom on the hill, a white farmhouse looking haunted and forgotten. Beyond it, a hundred yards up the hill, was the dark silhouette of the barn, and in front of it was the pale shape of a van. His mind flashed to Thursday night when he was watching for Shell in Travis Heights…a van…a white van parked just a bit up the street from Billie and Leo’s place.
Dean pulled out his phone and told Siri to message Gonzalez.
“What would you like to say to Sergeant Gilbert Gonzalez?” she asked.
“There’s a light colored van in front of the barn…period…It wasn’t there before.”
“Are you ready to send this message?” asked Siri.
“Yes.”
He parked the Jeep on the side of the road in the brush and got a flashlight from the pocket. “Okay, Sadie girl,” he said. “We’re gonna find Shell now. You help me find Shell!”
Sadie whined anxiously, wanting to get out of the car and get on with it. Dean had brought a sweater from Shell’s closet, and he had Sadie smell it before they got out of the Jeep. “Find Shell for me, girl!” He hoped she knew what he wanted. He hurried al
ong and Sadie sniffed the ground while staying close to him. Whose van was it? Was there a connection between what Gonzalez and Aquila had found on the video and the van outside the barn?
By the time he got close to the building, it had gotten considerably darker. Sadie sniffed around at the footing and whined. The huge double doors at the center of the barn and under its peak were closed with a heavy chain and a padlock. Dean picked up a branch from the grass and headed to the part where the roof sloped down sharply toward the ground. He remembered the door was there.
With a racing heart, he turned on his flashlight and tried the door. It wasn’t locked. He opened it suddenly and shone the light inside, and Sadie silently pushed past him. She was doing her thing now. No one appeared to be inside, but he saw the cot and the bloody strips of tape and cloth lying on the floor. Sadie ran ahead of him as his heart seemed to drop to his stomach. Where was she? “Shell! Shell!” he called frantically. He caught sight of a Big Gulp on top of a table, and he walked over to it and felt the cup. It was still cold and condensation had formed on the outside. Sadie sniffed around the room before commencing to bark. Dean shone the light into the bathroom. There was blood around the faucet handles and the spout. It was still red. He opened the door in the partition. There were paintings in there and the distinct aroma of paint and turpentine.
“Shell! Where are you?” he called. Nothing.
Sadie was standing by the door they had used to enter the barn, and she was barking, anxious to get moving. Dean knew she wouldn’t do that if Shell were still inside. They went out through the door, and Dean followed Sadie up the hill. She kept putting her nose to the ground and checking to see if he was following. Dean used his light, but he wondered if that was an ill-advised plan. He didn’t want to alert anyone that he was coming, but he needed the light to make his way over the rough ground. It was rocky, and he came upon a cactus every now and then. He kept the branch in his right hand as he hurried along behind the dog, glad that he had kept up his running and was in condition to do this. Where was Shell? Where was her captor?
He must have walked twenty-five minutes behind Sadie when she stopped and commenced growling. “What is it girl? Where’s Shell?” he whispered.
Suddenly a figure came out of the darkness swinging something that hit Dean’s forehead. The hit was hard enough that he went down, stunned, and Sadie flew into action, tearing into the attacker. Dean recovered quickly and was up and grabbed the branch he had dropped, but he didn’t want to hit Sadie with it and instead dropped it and joined in the fray, “Cut, Sadie!” he said, and she released the assailant who she had on the ground by now. Dean grabbed him by the collar, lifting him, and hitting him hard against the ground again.
“Hey, asshole!” he said, “What have you done with Shell? Tell me, or I’m going to put you out of your misery!”
“Wait! I haven’t hurt her!”
“Where is she, you piece of shit?” Dean asked.
“She’s somewhere around here. She got away! I can’t find her!”
“You’re a liar,” Dean said. “Why? Why did you take her?”
“It’s not my fault! It was Estelle—”
Dean’s fist met the man’s jaw then. “Don’t lie to me!” he said. “Where is she?”
“Look, I wasn’t going to hurt her,” the man insisted, groaning and glancing sideways toward the dog. “I was just keeping her till the paintings sold. Then I was going to let her go.”
“Is that why you came at me with a branch and tried to kill me? Because you’re a gentle soul? Because you haven’t hurt her? I’ve seen the blood in the barn!”
“That was just her wrists because she reacted to the tape!”
Dean hit him again, and this time Logan was out cold. Dean shook him, trying to rouse him. “Where is she, Sadie?” he asked, picking up the flashlight and shining its beam in the direction he’d been heading before. Sadie moved forward, barking again.
Dean followed her to the dry creek that was only a few feet ahead of them. There was an embankment, and Sadie jumped down into the rocks below.
“Shell!” Dean called.
Sadie was whining and barking, standing on her hind feet as she tried to raise herself into the ridge at the edge of the dry creek bed. Dean climbed down the embankment and shone his light along its edge. There was a little cave-like section there, and tucked into it was a curled up figure.
“Shell!” he said, while Sadie barked and licked her wrist. “Shell!” he said again.
She didn’t answer, but Dean reached into the crevice and touched her. “Shell, it’s me. I’m here!” he said as he pulled her out of the embankment and into his arms. She was completely unconscious, and he carried her over the rocks to a part of the creek where he could more easily take her up to higher ground.
When he had reached a flat place above the creek bed, he carefully lay Shell on the grass and shone the light in her face. Her eyes were closed, and he reached for her wrist, searching for a pulse while Sadie whined and stayed close. Her pulse was very slow, too slow, he thought. He heard a groan and shone his light on the shape of the man on the ground only a few feet ahead. He appeared to be stirring.
“What have you done to her?” Dean asked, moving over to him and grabbing him by the shoulders.
“Nothing! Don’t hurt me! I’m sorry!”
“Why is she out?”
“It’s just ketamine. It was a small dose! I found her and gave her a shot. Just a small dose!”
“Stay with him, Sadie. Guard,” Dean said, dropping the man back onto the hard ground.
He whimpered. “Please don’t hurt me,” he repeated.
Sadie sat on her haunches and growled, ready to spring, while Dean figured a way to carry the flashlight while carrying Shell. He lifted her again, carrying her so that the light shone in front of him while his arms held her against him. Tears and blood were streaming down his own face as he carried her, his fear eased only slightly by the sensation of Shell’s breath on his neck. She was breathing, and he was going to get her some help soon.
He headed in the direction of the barn. In five minutes’ time, he could see a light up ahead.
“Maxwell?” Gonzalez called. “Is that you?”
“Yes!” he responded. “We’ve found her! Sadie found her!”
Dean carried Shell the distance back to the barn while Gonzalez radioed ahead and shone a high-beamed light. Wilson had stayed with the attacker and Sadie, and Gonzalez told Dean that an ambulance was on the way. True to his word, along with two more police cars, the ambulance was just arriving as Dean reached the barn, and he insisted on riding with Shell to the hospital.
“You look like you need an ambulance yourself,” said Gonzalez.
“I’m okay. That guy hit me with a branch.”
“Did he say anything about Estelle Travis?”
“Yes. He said she put him up to it.”
“Well, that’s good enough for me. We’ll see if we can’t bring her in, too, then. You’d better get treated at the hospital along with Ms. Hodge. Make sure there’s no concussion. What about your dog?” the sergeant asked.
“If someone can bring her to the hospital, Margie and Donald will pick her up.”
“Okay,” said Gonzalez, reluctantly. “What if she won’t come with us?”
“She will. She works with police officers every other Sunday practicing search and rescue.”
Chapter 45
After following the ambulance to the hospital in Maxwell’s Jeep, Gonzalez decided the kidnap victim and Maxwell were in good hands. He spoke with the hospital staff for a few minutes while Wilson waited for him in the parking lot.
Detectives Aquila and Harris had taken Logan Bryant downtown after Wilson had read him his rights. Officers Smith and Allen had brought the dog to the hospital parking lot as well and were to transfer custody to Margie Carter and her husband whenever they finished checking on the Hodge woman and Maxwell. Wilson had waited for Gonzalez in the parking lot, a warrant
burning in his pocket.
“Okay,” said the sergeant as he got into the passenger seat of the car. “Let’s go visit Estelle Travis.”
It wasn’t far from Seton Southwest Hospital back to Bell Springs Road, and the gate was just opening when they arrived at Travis Ranch. High headlights of a pickup truck trying to exit shone in their faces, and Wilson put the car in park in front of it, opened his door, and stood with his badge shining in the headlights. There wasn’t room to get around them, so the truck slowly backed up along the driveway, and Wilson and Gonzalez followed it until it stopped under the floodlight above the front patio. The two detectives got out and approached the vehicle.
“What’s this about?” Estelle Travis asked, stepping down from the driver’s seat of the enormous Dodge Ram. “I’m on my way somewhere, and I need to get going.”
“Really?” asked Gonzalez. “At twelve-fifteen A.M.?”
“I’m going to see my boyfriend, if you must know, and he works late.”
“Well, he’s going to be disappointed,” answered the sergeant, nodding toward the piece of paper Wilson was holding up. “It’s possible you’re going to be awfully late, like twenty years later than he expects, maybe more. We’ve got a warrant to search your house.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
Gonzalez smiled. “We’re going to search your house. You’ll need to sit in your front room with me while Detective Wilson checks the place out.”
“You can’t do that!” she cried. “There’s no reason why you should have been given a warrant to search anything of mine!”
“Unfortunately for you, Ms. Travis, the judge who signed this warrant disagrees with you,” said the sergeant. “Let’s go in, shall we?”
“We shall not! You have no right!” she answered.
Gonzalez nodded to Wilson, and the younger detective approached Estelle Travis and handed her the piece of paper just as another car turned into the driveway and headed toward them.
“Oh, look at that,” said Wilson. “Backup.”