He stared down at her, and she averted her gaze. She could play the part, say the words and go through the motions. But her eyes would give it away—the fear she tried to hide, the revulsion, her thoughts of escape.
“Look at me,” he commanded. “It’s important that you look at me.”
She dragged her eyes back to his. Maybe if she cleared her mind, thought only of... Chris. She would think of Chris. He was out there somewhere searching for her, frantic with worry. He would have alerted all the law enforcement agencies. And when he found her, he would draw her into his arms and hold her and kiss her, and she would never be afraid again.
Eugene squeezed her hands, and reality crashed back in. “I take thee, princess, into my care.” His voice boomed out over the empty field, and she flinched. He was an actor onstage in a crowded theater, bellowing his lines to the farthest row. “I pledge you my love and protection, both in this life and in the one to come. I promise to be ever at your side and to destroy any forces that may try to come against us.”
He fell silent and stared at her, waiting. What was she supposed to do?
“Go ahead,” he whispered. “It’s your turn.”
“I—I’m a little nervous. I need you to help me.”
“Just repeat what I say.” She nodded, and he continued, whispering the vow. “I place myself under your care, my noble prince.”
She started to repeat the words, but he interrupted. “Say it so they can hear you, just like I did.”
“I place myself under your care, my noble prince!” She shouted the words, letting her soprano voice ring out clearly in the still night air.
“I pledge you my love and servitude, both in this life and in the one to come.”
Again she repeated his words.
“I promise to remain by your side as you destroy any forces that try to tear us apart.” She finished the vow as loudly as she had begun it. Maybe someone would hear this lunacy and call for help.
He positioned her at his side, one arm draped across her shoulders. When he looked down at her, his lips curled back in a grin—delighted, proud and completely insane. “Come on,” he commanded, “smile and wave to all the people.”
He raised his free hand and turned it back and forth, eyes looking out over masses that existed only in his imagination. After a long silence, he smiled down at her, keeping his hand in the air. “Look at that. They’re happy for our union.”
She nodded, continued to wave and prayed for an end to the madness.
Finally, he lowered his hand, her cue to stop waving, too. The arm he had draped across her shoulder settled at her waist, and he pulled her tightly against him. “I can’t believe you’re actually mine.”
Defiance surged up within. With or without his fantasy ceremony, she would never be his. But she forced herself to submit.
“Smile at them,” he ordered. “They’re wishing us success on our journey.”
“Journey?” New fear stabbed through her. He was taking her somewhere else. She jerked around to look up at him, searching for answers in that detached gaze.
“Yes, our journey to the other side.”
Other side of what?
Before she could voice the question, fingers dug roughly into her ribs. “I said, smile.”
She gritted her teeth and forced her mouth to comply.
“All right,” he said, dropping his arm from her shoulders. “They’re sending us on our way with their blessing.” He looped her arm through his and led her back across the field, along the deteriorated road and toward the bridge.
He was taking her back to the car. Frantic thoughts flitted through her mind, disjointed ideas that she dismissed almost as rapidly as they came. She had to think of something—something a lot less painful than slamming her car into a tree at fifty miles per hour.
She prayed for clarity, some brilliant flash of insight.
She was going to need it.
* * *
Kevin drove slowly around Lake Mae, the last of the three lakes in Harmony Grove. As they completed the small loop, Chris’s heart sank lower and lower. Missy’s car wasn’t there, either. Wherever Eugene took her, it wasn’t in Harmony Grove.
“Where do you want to go next?”
Kevin was looking at him for direction, but he had none to give. Starting in Harmony Grove gave him something to do, which had helped him hold on to his sanity. For twenty minutes, he had scoured the shores of all three lakes, praying Missy’s car would be there. During that time, he had alternated between searching, praying and worrying. BethAnn was evidently doing quite a bit of worrying herself. She sat crowded between him and Kevin and hadn’t stopped chewing her nails since getting in the truck.
He let out a heavy sigh. “I feel like we’re looking for a needle in a haystack.” Polk County had hundreds of lakes. The chances of finding the one Eugene chose were pretty much nonexistent. He put his head in his hands, hopelessness clawing at him. Eugene had taken her right from under his nose. How could he have let it happen? What kind of cop was he, anyway, when he couldn’t even protect the woman he loved?
BethAnn put a hand on his shoulder. “They’ll find her. Since they’re in her car, the cops at least have a good description of the vehicle. In the meantime, we’ll just pray that God keeps her safe.” The pep talk was likely for herself as much as for him.
“I have been praying,” he argued. “Since the moment I opened the door and Smudge almost ran me over getting inside.”
“If we just had some idea where to go.” BethAnn dropped her hand from his shoulder. “Eugene didn’t leave any clues in the notes, did he?”
He shook his head. “The notes were just lots of words of adoration and references to fate and his quest and the fact that soon they would be together. Unfortunately, he didn’t say where.”
Kevin eased the truck to the side of the road. He had just finished circling the lake for the fourth time. “What about the sketches? Melissa said you guys found a sketchbook in the stable. Any clues there?”
“If there are, they’re pretty obscure. Other than a few sketches at the front, the entire book is scenes from some off-the-wall medieval fantasy.”
“Can you describe any of the pictures?” Kevin asked.
That he could do. Those images would stay with him until the day he died. “A lot of them had a castle in them, either in the background or worked into the setting itself. In several of the sketches, the two of them stood behind a waist-high wall that seemed to be on a hill or a grassy slope. It looked like they were participating in some ritual or ceremony or something. The last one—”
“Wait,” BethAnn interrupted. She flipped on the dome light, picked up her purse and began fishing through it. “Can you draw one of the scenes with this wall you’re talking about?”
Chris looked at her with raised eyebrows. “I’m not an artist. I never graduated past stick figures.” But as soon as she handed him a pen and a wrinkled grocery list, he began to draw. Within a couple of minutes, he had a crude replica of one of the pictures.
BethAnn snatched the paper from him, gesturing wildly. “I know this place. It’s Mary Holland Park. Remember the fort I told you about? Eugene spent a summer in Fort Meade as a kid. If he went to Mary Holland Park then, this is how he would remember it.”
Kevin jammed the gas pedal to the floor and squealed onto the pavement, rear end fishtailing for several moments until he gained control. Chris whipped out his cell phone and called nine-one-one. God bless BethAnn. She had figured it out. He was sure of it.
Now if someone could just get there in time.
Fifteen minutes later, Kevin screeched to a halt at the park entrance. The gate was closed, chained and padlocked for the night, and the road was deserted.
A wave of despair washed over Chris, drenching the hope that had burned
brightly all the way to Bartow. He’d been so sure Melissa and Eugene would be there, playing the roles depicted in the sketches. “They’re not here.”
BethAnn reached across him to open the door. “You don’t really expect him to park at the main entrance, do you? He might as well put up a neon sign.”
He stepped over the gate and started up the tree-lined road at a full run. A deathly stillness had fallen over the park. Pavilions sat empty, concrete benches hard and cold with no happy families to warm them. In the playground, swings swayed gently in the light breeze, lonely and ignored. Even the soccer field was deserted.
But he gave it all just a cursory glance. His focus was on the lakes. And time was running out. Missy and Eugene weren’t at the soccer field, so the ceremony at the old fort was over.
There was only one sketch left.
Dear God, please don’t let us be too late.
NINETEEN
Eugene straightened his arm and let Melissa’s hand fall. Black water kissed the narrow strip of sand inches from the toes of her tennis shoes. Instead of retracing their path over the bridge toward the car, he had led her to the lake.
“Now we make our passage. Hold my hand.”
Her gaze shot to his face. He stared straight ahead at the expanse of dark water, his features solemn and unreadable. An image flashed through her mind, and a new wave of terror washed over her. It was the final sketch—she and Eugene standing waist deep in water.
Panic ricocheted in her chest. She shook her head and backed slowly up the bank, hands extended in front of her as if warding off something evil. “No. I’m not going in the water.”
Eugene followed, left hand extended, palm up. His right was hidden under his T-shirt, no doubt holding the butt of the gun. “Come on, Melissa. Don’t be afraid.” The words were more menacing than soothing. “Don’t fight it. It’s fate. We must make our passage. Two others have already gone ahead. But you, my sweet, will hold the place of highest honor.”
She continued to shake her head. Threatening her with death wouldn’t lure her into the dark water. Almost all Florida lakes were home to alligators and water moccasins. Just the thought sent icy tendrils of fear slithering up her spine. “I can’t do it.” Her voice shook. “Let’s just go around.”
Eugene grabbed her hand and yanked her toward him. “I told you not to fight it.” Gone was the soothing tone. If he couldn’t coax her into the water, he was going to use brute force. “You don’t have a choice. We must make the passage together.”
An idea budded, a plan born of sheer desperation. She didn’t think it through—there wasn’t time. In one swift move, she jerked from his grasp and charged at him, ramming both hands into his shoulders. He hit the ground with a thud. But she didn’t see him fall. She was already flying toward the bridge at a full run, shoulders itching for the bullet she expected to explode through her chest.
The earsplitting crack never came. In fact, except for her own fleeing footsteps and frantic gasps for air, the evening was eerily quiet. Then a curse sounded in the distance, followed by a heavy tread. Eugene had begun his pursuit.
She flew across the grassy field, using every ounce of strength she possessed. But he pounded ever closer, until she was sure his hot breath brushed the back of her neck. She couldn’t outrun him. She had to outsmart him.
If she suddenly dropped to a crouch, maybe he would somersault over her. The thought flashed through her mind at the speed of light. But in the next millisecond, hands against her shoulder blades sent her hurtling forward, with no time to break her fall. He landed roughly on top of her, knocking the air from her lungs.
The next several moments passed in a blur. One minute she was lying prone, face pressed into the cold, wet grass. The next she was staring at the sky, hands pinned under Eugene’s legs as he straddled her. A familiar flavor seeped onto her tongue, coppery and warm. Blood.
She dragged her eyes from the distant heavens and focused on the form kneeling over her—a scene from her worst nightmare. He glared down at her, eyes bulging and lips curled back in a sneer. The fury was no longer restrained. It radiated from him, a force that held her immobile as effectively as his weight pinning her to the ground.
A scream welled up in her throat but never reached her mouth. In one smooth sweep, he raised the gun and slammed its butt into her temple. A searing pain shot through her skull, a red-hot poker being driven into her brain. The accompanying flash momentarily blinded her, then scattered into dozens of tiny swirling lights that slowly drifted downward.
She lifted her gaze to the moon and tried to focus on its brightness. She couldn’t lose consciousness. She must stay alert and fight.
In spite of her best efforts, darkness came anyway. It rolled in from all directions, advancing relentlessly, until even the light of the moon faded to darkest night.
* * *
Strong arms encircled her and lifted her from...where? She had no idea. Her head hurt. Actually, it throbbed. But much worse than a throb—more like a tent stake being driven into her temple with every beat of her heart. Then someone was carrying her. She didn’t care where, as long as it was a comfortable place to lie down. And she would ask for some headache medicine. Chris would be happy to get her something.
It was Chris who held her, right? Her eyelids were so heavy, she couldn’t drag them open. But it had to be Chris. No one else would hold her like that. The arms were strong, the chest firm. She felt protected, safe. But there was something hard and metallic digging into her left hip. If he knew how uncomfortable she was, he would move the offending object. She tried to tell him, but the words wouldn’t form. Instead, a moan came from somewhere nearby.
Then there was sloshing. Why was there water all over the floor? And why was Chris walking through it? Couldn’t he make it to her bed without walking through all this water? It sloshed and splashed beneath her, then seeped up her fingers and over her hand. It was cold, uncomfortably so. She tried to pull back, but her leaden limbs wouldn’t cooperate. Someone needed to drain the water. It was everywhere. Soon it enveloped her feet and her buttocks, and she tried to squirm away from it.
When the cool water reached her chest, the shock jarred her into full consciousness. The lake! Eugene was taking her into the lake!
Terror twisted her gut. As he lowered her into the water, she positioned her feet under her. But she was no match for his strength. He wrapped one hand around her throat and easily pushed her head beneath the surface. He was going to drown her! He claimed that he loved her. Why would he want to kill her?
His earlier words echoed in her mind: They’re wishing us success on our journey...our journey to the other side. Before it hadn’t made sense. Now it did. He wasn’t taking her to the other side of the park or county or state. “The journey” was passing from this life to the next. He planned to drown her and somehow kill himself. And whatever warped theology he held promised him they would be together in the life to come.
A massive wave of panic crashed over her, and fragmented thoughts tumbled through her mind, screaming incoherent messages. She flailed her arms and struggled to gain her footing, but he had forced her backward, and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t right herself. When she grasped his wrists and tried to pry his hands from her throat, he only tightened his grip.
Then a voice of reason forced its way through the tangled thoughts and demanded attention. Her struggling was only expending valuable energy. She stopped fighting, then drew her legs up and extended them suddenly, ramming her feet into his stomach. His hold loosened just enough for her to twist away from him, and her head burst from the water. She lunged sideways and dove for the shore, frantically sucking in huge gulps of air.
Within moments, talonlike fingers closed on her shoulders, and she fought for all she was worth, jabbing, punching and kicking blindly behind her. But he avoided every blow. He pushed h
er down and backward, and she hauled in one final, desperate breath before her head plunged beneath the surface.
Fighting was futile now. He stood behind her, well out of reach of her legs and fists. Using the only weapon she had left, she dug her fingernails into the soft skin of his cuticles. He didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, the vise tightened, separating muscle, tendon and ligament and penetrating to the bone. Liquid fire shot all the way to her fingertips, and her arms fell away.
Lord, please send someone. A glimmer of hope flickered faintly in the far corners of her mind. Maybe someone had stepped out of one of the houses and heard her thrashing around. Not likely.
But at the moment, it was all she had to cling to.
* * *
Chris pushed forward, pressing every ounce of speed from his aching legs. He had found them. They were nothing but silhouettes in the silver light of the moon. But he had no doubt what he saw. Eugene had just carried an unconscious Missy into the lake and now held her beneath the surface. Dear God, please let us get there in time.
Maybe he was already too late.
If only he had gone to that lake first. Or if they had split up and he had gone one direction, BethAnn and Kevin the other. Instead, the three of them had run together to the nearest lake. When he scanned its shore, the only shapes rising from the banks were the willows, palms and brush that grew in clumps at the lake’s edge. And there was no one in the water. Its dark surface was smooth and unbroken, reflecting the moonlight in a shimmery, silver-white streak.
So he had looked far into the distance, past the canal and the bridge that spanned it, to the lake beyond. And that was when he saw a slight, solitary figure race up the bank. Though she was too far away to identify, he instantly knew. It was Missy. He longed to call out, to tell her he was coming. But he didn’t dare.
Then a much larger figure emerged and charged across the grass, quickly closing the gap between them. As he watched, his own legs pumping hard, he willed her to run faster. But within moments, the looming figure had tackled her, pinned her to the ground and knocked her unconscious, effectively ending her struggle.
Midnight Shadows (Love Inspired Suspense) Page 19