by Dana Mentink
“Come to fetch you, while Kenny keeps your hubby busy.”
She gulped. Kenny’s attack at the borax works had been a ruse...so he could carry out his plan. Kill her, then Beckett.
Her blood went icy and she fought the shivers. She tried to keep from clutching the spray trigger too hard and accidentally deploying it.
“You’re not taking me anywhere.”
He smiled then, no words needed to convey the malice in his heart. There was no warmth, no compassion, nothing in his expression but hatred. Was he close enough? Did she have the nozzle of the spray aimed correctly?
One chance...
He shoved his hands in his pocket and pulled out a cord.
She bit her lip. “You’re going to strangle me?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I’m going to take you back to Kenny and let him do it. That’s justice. Beckett killed Pauline. Kenny kills you. It’s proper.”
She swallowed the brick in her throat. “That won’t work. I can’t walk all the way back. You can’t carry me. I’m too heavy.”
“True,” he said. “Gonna knock you out, tie you up and roll you off the road and out of sight, pile some sand over you, maybe. We’ll be back with the car. You’ll keep just fine...like a side of beef I got in my deep freeze.” He laughed.
“I’ll keep running and fighting.” She thought of Beckett. “It will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done.”
He grinned. “Like I tell Kenny, difficult things are the most rewarding.” He took the final step forward. She squeezed the trigger. The stream of liquid arced out in a silver thread from the nozzle. The spray did not hit him squarely in the eyes as she’d hoped, but it was close enough. He clawed at his face, reeling back, coughing and spluttering. She advanced, kept on spraying until there was nothing left in her canister.
He cried out and collapsed to his knees. She didn’t wait any longer, whirling off along the road, sending another text as she went.
Help me.
And then it was pure persistence, one bloody foot in front of the other, in the direction Willow had taken. Each step was agony. “Only a little farther,” she whispered to the baby. “We’re gonna make it—you’ll see.”
Surely by now, Willow or Jude had gotten the message and alerted the National Park Service rangers. Help was on the way, for her and Beckett. Her shins ached and the pain in her feet felt like she was walking on razor blades. After a few yards, she risked a look over her shoulder.
Time stood still. Her mind whirled. A sound reflected off the road, a desperate keening moan. It took her a moment to realize it was her own cry, as she watched Uncle Leonard rise to his feet and come after her.
* * *
Beckett crested the slope down which he’d tumbled. He wasn’t sure if he would be running right into the point of Kenny’s knife, but he couldn’t wait. Laney’s scream rang in his memory and flooded him with adrenaline.
He had to get to the van, to get to her.
There was no sign of Kenny as he plowed through the ruins, stumbling and banging his knees, scrambling up again, tripping, falling, rising, until he finally made it to the entrance point. Below, Kenny’s car was still there in the parking lot, lights on, engine running. Beckett didn’t take time to puzzle it over. He thundered down the slope, just as Kenny slammed the driver’s door.
He fired a mirthless grin at Beckett as he peeled out of the lot in a shower of gravel. The sedan turned left, the direction Laney had taken. Fear punched him squarely in the gut.
He ran to the van and leaped into the driver’s seat, cranked the key.
The engine throbbed, coughed and died.
He banged on the steering wheel. “Come on, come on.” How many times had they thought about replacing the old vehicle and how many more times had another expense been deemed more important? Beckett’s cousin Austin was an excellent mechanic, and he’d kept the old van going with spare parts and sheer persistence.
He cranked the key again. Same result.
He heard Laney’s voice from a long-ago memory. “Vannie is sensitive. Be gentle.”
“It’s a car, Laney.”
“So is a Rolls-Royce, but you’d treat that better than Vannie, wouldn’t you?”
Her fanciful notions of how to treat a hunk of metal and gears amused him at the time, delighted him, as had most things about his imaginative wife.
Forcing in three calm breaths, he tried once more, turning the key with more delicacy than before. It started up, easy as pie. “Yes,” he hollered, pulling the van away from the broken-glass pile on the ground. The rear doors were hopelessly mashed, welded ajar by the impact of Kenny’s fender.
He jammed his foot on the gas, stopping abruptly when he heard the beeping of his cell phone. He snatched it up. He had no time to speak before Jude started in.
“We’re on our way,” Jude said.
“They’re after her...”
“I know. I called her back, but she’s not answering.”
He hit the speaker button and dropped the cell onto the passenger seat.
“Where’s Kenny?” Jude asked.
“Heading north after Laney. He had backup. I’m following.” He rammed the gas pedal down and the wrecked van surged forward, wind blowing through the open cargo doors.
“Beckett, I’m two minutes from your location. Clouder’s got a paramedic responding too. Wait right there.”
“This is a satellite phone.” He quickly shared his coordinates. “You can track me.”
“Wait.”
He didn’t answer. The phone skidded off the seat as he lurched out onto the road.
“Beckett,” Jude shouted.
Beckett rolled out, his headlights scouring the shoulder on each side of the road. He knew she would have kept to the road, her best chance at help. Kenny must be ahead of him by a matter of minutes.
Scared... What had he done allowing Kenny to find them so easily? And then he’d sent Laney off and running, oblivious to the fact that Kenny had brought a cohort.
Dumb move, Beckett. She’s smart not to trust you. You led her right into a trap.
A fox darted across the road and he swerved to avoid it. A predator out stalking prey, just like Kenny and his helper. Kenny’s smile had been satisfied, as he sped from the borax works. Why hadn’t Beckett recognized the diversion?
“Focus,” he snarled at himself. Self-recrimination could wait until after he found her.
Found her...but what if he was too late? His petite, pregnant wife, desperate, alone, terrified. She would not last long against two men intent on murdering her.
He slammed that thought down tight and punched the gas. He stared into the darkness for any sign of movement. She had no flashlight except for her cell phone, and that was pretty useless against the vast Death Valley darkness. To escape Kenny’s partner, she might have headed for the foothills. Too far, he thought. Too much exposed ground to cover without being seen.
Stopping for a moment, he stuck his head out the open window, listening. Ahead, a pile of tumbled rocks partially concealed the turn in the road. Was that the throb of an engine? He goosed the gas. The van lurched ahead with a roar. When Beckett cleared the rocks, there on the straightaway was Kenny’s damaged sedan.
It was pulled to the side, passenger-side door open, headlights off, engine running. A thick-bodied man was lumbering toward it. Uncle Leonard. No surprise. Where was Laney?
Had they subdued her, gotten her into the sedan with them? Locked her in the trunk? He cranked the van. Fifty yards and closing. There was a loud pop and the van began to buck. The blown tire sent Beckett skidding into a lazy spiral across the road. Sweat beaded his forehead. He turned into the skid and wrestled the car to a stop. In his peripheral vision, he saw Kenny and his uncle leaping into the sedan and slamming the doors.
By the time he brought the van b
ack under control, Kenny was already speeding out of sight. Strobing lights and sirens announced the approach of the NPS or Jude or both from a half mile behind him.
He forced the van back out onto the road, slowly now, ignoring the grinding sound where the tire rim hit the asphalt. Indecision clawed at him. Had they taken her? Or was she hiding someplace nearby? Or... He gulped down the acid taste in his throat.
“Laney,” he shouted out the window. There was no answer but the squeal of the damaged tire as he idled along the roadway. Leaving the engine running, he grabbed a flashlight from the van and stalked along the roadway, light scanning for any telling signs.
The light shook in his hand as he saw the disturbed dirt, puckered into trails. Had she been dragged? He shouted again, his cry a minuscule blip in the wide-open space.
No sign of her.
Desperation crawled up his spine, digging claws into his stomach. They must have her, and he’d let them get away. He had to follow, as best as he could, for as long as the van could still move.
He leaped back inside and his foot hit the gas. He was flying after them, futility making him shout aloud. “This isn’t going to happen,” he hollered into the inky night air, the breeze snatching away his desperation. Laney would often tell him that God wanted to hear the sorrow as well as the celebration.
Right now, he thought he would be swallowed up by the yawning fear inside. When he thought the feeling would cause him to explode, he shouted the words. “Lord, help me. I can’t find her.”
Again, the night greeted him only with emptiness. The sirens were closer now and he plowed on, not knowing what else to do. A figure hunched next to the road not ten feet ahead of him. One pale hand outthrust to shield her eyes from the glare of his headlights. He nearly stood on the brakes, the squeal of tires sickening. He exploded from the car.
“Beckett?” The word was so soft and weak, he almost didn’t hear it. His heart surged full force against his ribs as he grabbed her up. The relief was a trail of silver light that filled him from toes to the top of his head. It was several seconds before he could breathe.
She sobbed in his arms, tears wetting his shirt. “They were going to kill me. They heard you coming and I ran. They would have killed me, Beckett.” She was wobbly, trembling. “They would have killed our baby.”
Her legs shook and he scooped her up, carried her to the passenger seat of the still-running van. For a few moments he simply held her, as tight as he dared, showing her with his touch that she was safe.
Her shuddering cries took over and left her unable to speak.
He stroked her shoulders, touched her hair, cradled her close. “It’s okay, honey. I’ve got you now. They’re gone.”
They weren’t gone, not really, but at the moment he would have sawed himself in half if it would have comforted her. He pulled a blanket around her and held her to his chest while she cried.
“Cops are right behind us. We’ll get you to a hospital.”
“They’ll come,” she cried. “They’ll find me.”
“No,” he said, holding her face and urging her to look at him. “They are gone. You are safe.”
For now. The words seemed to help, and she gulped in a steadying breath while he pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Kenny and good old Uncle Leonard were still out there, probably celebrating how close they’d gotten to making good on their threat. One enemy had morphed into two.
As he held Laney close and reassured her as best he could, the National Park Service vehicle careened into view.
Go ahead and celebrate, Kenny, he thought grimly. It’ll be time for you to pay up soon enough. He would make sure that they were locked up if it was the last thing he did on this planet. They would never touch Laney or the baby ever again.
ELEVEN
Laney opened her eyes to a startling brightness. A creamy wall held a whiteboard with strange notations and check marks next to a name, her name, Duke, Laney. There were numbers there, and marks and initials, some kind of checklist. A medicinal scent tickled her nostrils. She blinked hard, trying to place herself in space and time. Her head pounded and muscles ached everywhere, as if she’d been put through the tumble cycle of the dryer.
A calloused hand covered hers. Beckett stood over her, haggard, a hole in his T-shirt and a shadow of stubble on his chin. Why hadn’t he shaved? Memories trickled in from a nightmare, running, terror, faceless strangers pursuing. No, not a nightmare, she realized. She bolted upright, a scream on her lips.
“It’s okay,” Beckett said. “You’re safe. The NPS had you flown to a Las Vegas hospital.”
“Hospital? The baby...” she croaked, hands flying to her stomach, noting the IV taped to her hand. Why couldn’t she remember what had happened?
“Muffin is fine. You are too.” He flashed her a tenuous smile. “Minor cuts and bruises and mild dehydration. They were worried about shock and the pregnancy. Just precautionary to transport you here.”
Precautionary... She relaxed a notch. Still, she touched the swell of her tummy, just to reassure herself. “Kenny’s uncle came after me. I sprayed him with insect repellent.”
Beckett’s smile kindled some light in his eyes. “I know. Couldn’t be prouder.”
She squirmed, feeling her cheeks pinken. She wished he would not look at her quite so closely, but he was outright staring, and there was nowhere for her to hide unless she pulled the covers over her face.
He held a cup with a straw to her mouth. “How about some water? Hydrating, remember?”
She sipped gratefully to ease the dryness in her throat. As much as she was fearful to know the answer, she asked anyway. “Did they catch...?”
“No.” His mouth firmed into a line. “Kenny and his uncle are still at large, but they won’t be for long. Jude’s going to meet with us when you’re back home.”
Still at large. The bottom dropped out of her stomach. She wriggled her toes. As much as she felt careworn and tattered, the thought of lying in a hospital bed evoked downright helplessness in her spirit. “When can I get out of here?”
He smiled. “Maybe in a couple of hours.” His cell phone rang. He answered and covered the phone. “It’s Dr. Irene. I called her when we got here. Probably woke her up, but the doctors were giving me so much information and I couldn’t understand it all. Are you up to speaking with her?”
Laney nodded and he put the phone on Speaker.
“Laney, I’ve spoken to your doctor,” Irene said, without preamble. “Like I told Beckett, everything is fine. Baby’s heartbeat is strong, and your blood pressure is perfect too. Both of you are going to be okay, do you understand?”
Laney laughed. “Yes, ma’am, but why do you sound like a medical drill sergeant?”
There was a long sigh and then her tone gentled. “Sorry. I was just so worried when Beckett called. He was freaking out.”
Beckett grimaced. “I wouldn’t say freaking out. Maybe highly concerned.”
Irene ignored his comment. There was a little break in her voice when she spoke. “You are not only my patient, Laney—you’re the first friend I ever had in this town.”
Laney’s heart warmed. Irene had moved from a big city and found the ponderous quiet and minimal people contact hard to adjust to. Not like Laney, who had immediately embraced the desert culture, from the ferocious heat of the summer, when travelers were nonexistent, to the cooler autumns, which brought the gush of tourists that would sustain them through the inhospitable seasons. But Death Valley was an acquired taste for some people, including Irene. She was constantly in a state of motion, as opposed to the natives, who paced themselves. Judging from the collection of travel and fashion magazines in Irene’s waiting room, she might be still making that adjustment.
“I’m okay, like you said. Sore all over, but ready to go home.”
“What can I do from here? I offered to come
to Las Vegas, but Beckett said you might be returning home today anyhow. How can I help in the meantime?”
“Can you please go and make sure Herm is taking care of Admiral? He does a pretty good job, but he’ll have his hands full running things without Beckett and me, and he might forget about my poor old doggy. Admiral will sleep until dinnertime if he’s allowed to.”
She laughed. “Smart dog. Of course I will. I was there at the hotel, after my run, when Beckett called me. The guests were talking about what happened. Willow said she didn’t get your text in time. She feels terrible.”
“It’s okay. Beckett found me.” She pressed down a shiver as the memory swam in: Beckett arriving by the narrowest of margins, to scare off Leonard and Kenny. Five minutes later and where would she have wound up? “I’m sorry the guests were upset.”
Beckett leaned closer to the phone. Laney noticed a series of scratches and scrapes fanning out along his neck. What had happened between him and Kenny after she ran for help? The memory of the vast darkness and the terror it concealed made her pulse skitter.
“I’m sorry I called you so early, Doc,” Beckett said into the phone. “I appreciate your help to understand all those test results the doctor was throwing out.”
Again, the unexpected note of humility in his voice caught her attention as he continued.
“You said you saw the guests this morning?”
“Yes. They were in the breakfast room when I stopped for coffee.”
Beckett frowned. “Who exactly?”
“A family and two teen boys who looked bored out of their gourds. Willow was there too.”
“And Rita Brown?”
“Who?”
“A guest.” He paused. “Long hair in a braid whenever I’ve seen her. She’s staying in 205.”
“I didn’t see anyone like that. Why do you ask about her?”
“She says she’s a journalist, doing a story on me. She’s from the same town as Pauline.”
They could hear Irene’s gasp. “That cannot be a coincidence, can it? What’s going on?”