by Susan Stoker
Her voice was still scratchy, but along with the chills, hunger, thirst, and all of her aches and pains, Laine could add shaking to her list of things that were just not going her way.
“You run off to get help yet?” she asked the dog, still staring down at her. “’Cos I could really use some here.” Laine stood for a moment, and wished with all her heart she could lay down. The first night had been long, cold, and uncomfortable, but the second had been absolute misery. Her legs were cramping and her back was killing her from not being able to stretch it out properly. The bruises from her initial decent into hell were starting to make themselves known as well. She’d slept in spurts, sitting up. Her neck hurt, but not as much as her ankles. She’d started trying to stand for periods of time, ignoring the shooting pains in her legs. If she got a blood clot from sitting for too long, she’d die of that as easily as anything else.
Once, when she was completely miserable, she’d given climbing the walls of the abandoned well the ol’ college try, and failed miserably. All she’d done was make her ankles ache more, and rip a large chunk of dirt from the wall of the shaft, further contaminating the murky water at her feet. She had to look like the monster from the black lagoon by now. Covered in dried mud from her attempts at using it for a bug repellant, and the additional dirt and mud that she’d gotten on her over the last forty hours or so.
The water had finally begun to seep through the weathered leather of her boots and Laine could feel her toes squishing in her socks. And she was thirsty. So damn thirsty. Now that the sun had come up again, the temperature had risen in her hole. It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been if she’d been in direct sunlight, or if it’d been the middle of summer, but the gnats and other insects had taken up residence with her again and were driving her crazy, along with all her other maladies.
The dog panted as she whined above her. “Now I know how you felt when I got here, girl. I hope that granola bar was good. I’d kill for one, although it’d make me even thirstier than I am now, which would totally suck. You see anyone up there? Anyone at all? Maybe someone will come look at this stupid house. It is on the market, after all. I know, I know,” Laine continued the one-sided conversation, not expecting the dog to suddenly talk back, “it’s been on the market for two years and hasn’t had one contract on it . . . but you never know. Maybe today’s the day. Maybe today, someone will decide they want to live on a real live ranch and take a tour.”
Laine eased herself back to her makeshift seat on the rotten boards and fell silent. She was cried out, and didn’t have any tears anymore anyway. She closed her eyes, feeling tired. So tired. She’d just close her eyes for a moment; she’d be okay, she was just resting her eyeballs.
As she fell into a fitful sleep, she didn’t even notice the gnats settling on her face, or that the dog stayed by the hole high above her head, as if watching over her.
* * *
Wes tried to look around Laine’s house with the eye of a detective, rather than the man who recently had an epiphany that he loved her. The first night had been bad, but he’d still held out hope that she was hunkered down somewhere and not really missing, but now that a second night had come and gone with no word from or about her, the feeling in his gut that she would die if he didn’t locate her was eating away at him.
Dax’s mysterious techie friend hadn’t called him back yet, neither had anyone from Morningside, and he’d taken to driving the streets of San Antonio, trying to see if he could find Laine’s car. In a last-ditch effort, he’d gone to visit Dax and Mack and had gotten the key to her apartment from Mackenzie, wanting to see for himself that she hadn’t come home and packed to go on a spur-of-the-moment trip or something.
Not being able to find her, and not having any information coming in, was killing him. He should’ve found her by now. He felt like he was on the cusp of having all the information they needed, but hadn’t been able to put the pieces together. It was incredibly frustrating.
Everything at Laine’s house looked in place, exactly as it’d been the last time he’d seen Laine. Nothing was knocked over, as if she’d been in a tussle with someone. Her boots and sandals were missing, which wasn’t unusual, she usually had the boots in her car in case she needed to walk around a muddy or dangerous property. There wasn’t any food left out on the counter. It was exactly as if she’d gotten ready for a day of work with every intention of returning. Dammit.
His phone rang, and Wes answered immediately with a terse, “King.”
“My name is Tex, and I’m the friend of a friend of a friend who’s been looking into your missing girlfriend.” The man on the other end of the phone didn’t bother beating around the bush.
Wes didn’t care about introductions at this point, he was just glad to finally be hearing from Dax’s friend. “Do you have anything?”
“Yes. I’m pretty sure I do. You were right on, and I don’t think I would’ve found what I did without your help. I searched the MLS database for a property for sale by someone with the last name of Johnson. There were four hundred and thirty-two in and around San Antonio.”
Wes’s stomach dropped, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything as Tex continued.
“But there’s only one that’s connected to Morningside Long-Term Care Facility and is south of the city. Ethel Johnson, age ninety-two. She’s been there for four years. She has one daughter, who lives up in Austin. The ranch went on the market two years ago and the price has dropped three times. They own it outright, so there’s no mortgage. I took the liberty of hacking into one of the government’s satellites and checking it out with the best cameras available. Not that crap that Google uses. According to the DMV, Laine owns a 2012 Toyota Avalon. It’s hard to be one hundred percent sure, but it looks like there’s an Avalon sitting in front of the house at the property in question.”
Wes didn’t give a shit at the moment how many laws the man on the other end of the phone had just broken, or about the fact that he’d admitted as much to a law enforcement officer. All he cared about was Laine, and it looked like he was finally getting a viable lead. Sometimes it worked that way in his job. He’d work for days with nothing, and the most inconsequential thing could lead to solving the case.
“What’s the address?” Wes’s heart rate increased. He’d known it.
Tex gave it to him then warned, “I’ve already told Penelope, who’s most likely informed the rest of her crew and Mackenzie by now. I’m sure she’s told Daxton, so if you’re heading out there, be ready for the cavalry to be at your heels.”
“If she’s there, I’m forever in your debt.”
“No, you aren’t. You’d do the same if it was my wife. And you have, not with me or mine, but with many, many other people. I’ve looked into your record. You’re a hell of a Ranger. It’s my honor to help you. Let me know if you ever need any other help. I’ve got your back, King. Good luck and godspeed.”
Wes didn’t bother saying goodbye, as the other man had already hung up. He closed and locked Laine’s apartment door behind him and climbed into his vehicle, taking the extra seconds to put the address Tex had given him into his GPS. It sucked to take the time, but it would be even worse to be lost on the back roads of southern Texas, knowing he was close to Laine, but not getting there in time because he’d been a dumbass.
As he raced to the deserted ranch, his phone rang once again. Expecting it to be Dax or one of his other fellow Rangers, Wes answered brusquely, “Yeah?”
“Is this Texas Ranger Wes King?” The voice was hesitant after hearing the sharp way he’d answered.
“Sorry, yes, this is he. Can I help you?”
“My name is Mary. I work at Morningside. Our receptionist said you were interested in one of our patients with the last name of Johnson that was maybe selling a house?”
Wes was pretty sure he had the information he needed already, but he didn’t tell Mary that. “Yes, do you know of anyone like that?”
“Yes. Ethel Johnson is in her nine
ties and the sweetest woman I know. I’ve spent many a night sitting up with her listening to the stories of her life in that house. Her husband died twenty years ago and she’s been lonely ever since. Her daughter tried to help as much as she could, but since she lives in Austin, she couldn’t be around all the time. A few years ago, Ethel fell and couldn’t get up. Her daughter decided she needed to be in an assisted-living facility, and she’s been here ever since.”
“Can you tell me the address?”
“No, I’m sorry. I would if I could, but I don’t know it. But I do know it was south of the city. Ethel sometimes talks about how she and her husband used to sit on the roof and gaze northward at the city lights.”
Tex had been right. He was on the right track. The address he was racing toward was south of San Antonio. Wes was relieved, but not a hundred percent. He might have the address of the property Laine was going to look at, but that didn’t mean she was there. But at least it was a place to start. “Thank you, Mary, I appreciate you calling me back.”
“Do you think the missing woman might be out there?”
“I don’t know, but I’m praying she is.”
“Good luck. I hope she’s okay.”
“Me too. Please tell Ethel she’ll have a visitor soon. I’d like to come and thank her myself once I find my girlfriend.”
“Oh, she’ll like that. Will you wear your uniform? She has a thing for cowboy hats, and the cowboys who wear them.”
“I will. Thanks again.”
“Bye, Ranger.”
Wes clicked off the Bluetooth on his phone and gripped the steering wheel hard as he raced south. “Hold on, Laine, I’m coming for you.” His words were whispered, but he hoped with all his heart that the man upstairs was listening and would keep the woman he loved safe until he could get there.
11
Wes drove down the rutted and badly in-need-of-repair dirt and gravel driveway at a speed much too fast than was safe, but he didn’t care. Turning one last corner, he saw a house—but more importantly, Laine’s car.
Daxton was already there, leaning into the driver’s side.
Not bothering to pull the keys out of the ignition, Wes slammed his car into park and jumped out.
“What do you have?” he growled out at his friend in agitation.
“Nothing. Her keys aren’t here. But her purse is. Her phone is in it.”
Wes walked around to the other side of the Avalon and opened the door. Her purse was sitting on the passenger seat, with a granola bar wrapper and her phone resting on top, as if she’d thrown both there without much worry. It didn’t look like anything was out of the ordinary with the car. The seat looked to be in the right position for her five-nine height. There was no blood or anything else that would be evidence of a struggle.
Using his shirt to pick up her phone, trying to preserve evidence if it was needed later, Wes turned it on. The charge was at twelve percent. “It’s almost dead. I bet she turned it off to try to conserve it. We had a conversation about it and she was probably trying to make sure it didn’t die altogether.”
Dax nodded in agreement. “Her sandals are on the floorboard near the pedals. She took the time to change into her boots. It doesn’t look like she was in distress, at least when she left her car.”
They both looked around the car and could see Laine’s footprints all over the dusty ground. They led toward the house as well as partway to the barn. They weren’t spaced far enough apart for her to be running. She was just walking around. They didn’t immediately see any other footprints indicating another person had been there and had possibly snatched Laine, but somehow it didn’t make Wes feel better. She was still missing.
He looked around at the desolate property and the hair on his arms stood up. Laine was close. He could feel it.
Before they could split up to begin searching for her, a line of cars made their way up the long driveway. All of Dax’s friends piled out. Quint, Hayden, Cruz, Calder, TJ, and even Conor, came up to them.
An ambulance bounced along the driveway next, as well as a brush truck from Station 7. A short woman who Wes now recognized as the infamous Penelope Turner, the Army Princess herself, popped out, along with five other firemen. Even though he’d met them in passing before, they were quickly re-introduced as Moose, Sledge, Chief, Squirrel, and Driftwood.
“Taco and Crash had to stay back in case we got any calls, and they’re pissed. But they said if we needed anything, to call it in and they’d send anyone and everyone they could,” the tall firefighter named Moose explained to the group.
Wes wasn’t sure who Taco and Crash were, but he didn’t care. He was feeling extremely emotional at the moment, thankful for the support of so many wonderful men and women.
He swallowed the knot in his throat and quickly organized a search. “Okay, everyone pair up. A firefighter with a cop. Don’t be a hero. If you find her, call out, but be careful. We have no idea what the structural integrities of the buildings are. There might be a bad guy hiding out. The last thing we want is a shoot-out or a hostage situation. Be smart, stay alert. If you find anything, don’t touch it. If there are fingerprints, we need to preserve them. Look down, you can see her footprints. She’s wearing boots. Don’t mess them up, if you can help it. They could help later. If you find, Laine,” Wes’s voice cracked, but he choked it down and continued with determination, “call out or whistle so the rest of us can get there to help. Any questions?”
When no one said a word, they all spread out, watching where they were walking, trying not to obliterate Laine’s footsteps as they went.
Dax stayed with Wes as the other pairs headed out. Some went toward the barn, others toward the house. Squirrel and Calder headed up the driveway, looking for clues, and TJ and Driftwood walked around the back of the barn.
Neither Wes nor Dax said a word as they started around the house, following Laine’s footprints. Noticing as she stopped here and there to look at the foundation or a gutter that was barely hanging on to the side of the house. They got all the way back around the house and hadn’t found any sign of Laine.
Wes stopped and turned in a circle, looking for . . . something. He wasn’t sure what, but his gut was screaming at him that they were missing something vital.
“What is it?” Dax asked, standing patiently by his side.
“I don’t know. I’m trying to see this place through her eyes.” They heard the other pairs of first responders talking to each other as they searched the house. Dax looked over to the barn and saw Quint and Moose coming out. Each was holding two puppies in their arms.
That was it. What was niggling at him finally clicked in his brain. He immediately went around to the back of the house again, knowing Dax followed him. Wes’s eyes moved to the large pasture at the back side of the property. He’d glanced at it as they’d rounded the house the first time, but hadn’t bothered to pay much attention, more concerned about watching Laine’s footprints in the dirt.
He saw what had caught his attention, but hadn’t really registered as anything important at the time. A dog.
The dog was sitting in the middle of the field, motionless. It was odd behavior for any dog . . . friendly or not. She should be either running toward them, if she was friendly, or away from them if she wasn’t. And the fact that there were puppies in the barn meant that the dog should be trying to protect them. But she wasn’t doing any of that. She was simply sitting on her haunches, head tilted, watching them.
He never would’ve looked twice in the large field if it wasn’t for that dog. Nothing seemed out of place. It was simply a large, flat, open space, full of weeds.
Wes started for the wooden fence, not taking his eyes off the stray that seemed to be watching him with just as much intensity. He heard Dax following him and whistling for Squirrel and the other paramedics to be on standby.
The dog fidgeted a bit as Wes came closer, but didn’t bolt. She was a mangy thing . . . had obviously been on her own out at the property for
quite a while. She looked skinny, and had scars on her muzzle, as if she’d been in too many fights with other animals to count, but her teats were full of milk and almost dragging the ground, even as she sat still, observing him. Her fur was almost black with dirt. The dog looked extremely pathetic. But Wes didn’t care about any of that.
It was the hole the dog was sitting in front of that concerned him the most. He didn’t see it until he was almost on top of it.
“Easy. We’re not gonna hurt you. Is Laine there? Is that why you’re here? You guarding her? You’re a good dog. Take it easy.”
The dog half whined and half growled low in her throat and backed up as Wes continued his slow, cautious approach. “Keep the others back,” Wes warned Dax as he heard the group gathering behind him.
He spoke in a calming voice as he eased to his knees about five feet from the dog . . . and the hole behind her. “She’s down there, isn’t she? Thank you for watching over her, for staying with her. I bet she was scared, wasn’t she? I swear to God, you and your pups have a home for life with me if she’s down there. I’ll feed you steak every night if you want . . . although just a warning, that might make you get fat.”
The dog cocked its head at Wes and her ears perked forward, as if she understood his words.
“Please don’t run away, but can I see? Will you let me come closer so I can see if Laine’s okay?”
Amazingly, the dog backed up and went to the other side of the jagged hole in the ground. She lay down with her muzzle resting on her paws, never taking her eyes off Wes.
“Thank you,” he told the dog earnestly, putting his Stetson to the side and laying on his belly. Wes crept forward, using his elbows and knees to propel him, not knowing how stable the hole in the ground was. Old wells and mines were notorious for caving in if caution wasn’t taken. The ground around it seemed solid, but knowing he was most likely this close to Laine made him not want to take any chances.