In the Heart's Shadow

by T. L. Haddix

  “You have good taste in men, daughter. This one’s so handsome. I might have to rethink my plans.” She cocked her head to the side and pretended to think, tapping the gun against her jaw with false regret. “Nope. He’s part of the grand scheme.”

  “Which is what?” Stacy ground out.

  “Destroying you. Utter and absolute devastation, nothing less. I won’t stop until everything you care about is shattered and in pieces around you. I should have had you scraped out of me when I first discovered I was pregnant. I would have gotten a lot further than I did. Wes, you ready?”

  “I am.” He jerked Stacy to her feet. She balanced awkwardly, hands and feet bound. She had to lean against Wes, and the contact made her skin crawl.

  “Good. Then let’s take care of this loose end.” Without any more warning, Pam lowered the gun and fired.

  Stacy saw the muzzle flash, but didn’t hear the shot. She saw Gordon’s body jerk and smelled the acrid stench of burning cordite. Despite her bindings, she tried to go to him, but Wes yanked her back, tossing her over his shoulder. She didn’t realize she was screaming until his shoulder jamming into her stomach knocked the breath out of her. Something pinched the back of her leg, and she realized she’d been given an injection. Gordon, stunned horror on his face, met her eyes before he slumped in the chair, blood spreading rapidly across his grey T-shirt.

  And then everything went black.

  CHAPTER 38

  GORDON STAYED SLUMPED OVER UNTIL he heard a car engine fire up, then race away. As soon as he was sure they were gone, he raised his head. His chest and shoulder felt as though they were on fire, but he didn’t think Pam had done enough damage to kill him. He’d hated to do it, but playing dead had been his only choice. If he hadn’t, she might have shot him again. And her aim might have been better the second time.

  Blood was dripping down his bound arm, saturating the duct tape binding him to the chair. The adhesive failed as soon as it became wet, and Gordon was able to slip his left arm out. When he reached across his body for his cell phone, the pain flared, and he screamed in frustration and fear. He wrestled the phone out of its case after some fumbling. Desperate and terrified he’d lost Stacy forever, he dialed 911.

  He was felt woozy by the time the call went through. When the dispatcher answered, he identified himself. His mouth was hard to move and his tongue was clumsy. “I’ve been shot, and they have Stacy. Get Wyatt. They have Stacy.”

  When he slumped forward again, he wasn’t pretending.

  Wyatt was in Maria’s office discussing the IT budget when Gretchen came rushing in, her face white.

  He was on his feet in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

  “Gordon just called nine-one-one. He’s been shot, and Stacy’s been taken.”

  Maria gasped, and Wyatt turned back to her. “Go! I’m fine!”

  “Call Ethan. Get him in here now.” He ushered Gretchen out the door. “Find Jason, and call Russell DeHart. We need everyone on this.” Without waiting for her response, he stalked through the door to the stairwell, then took the stairs two at a time. He burst into the county’s call center, where a white-faced Carrie was throwing out orders over the radio. She held up her hand to ask for a moment and finished giving instructions to whoever was on the other end. As soon as that was done, she briefed Wyatt.

  “Gordon’s been shot. Wes Mason and Stacy’s mother busted in. They shot him and took her. He’s been in and out, but I managed to get that much out of him. Neighbor’s with him now.”

  “How bad is he?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a chest wound, from what the neighbor says.”

  “Damn it all to hell! And we’re sure it’s Wes?”

  She nodded shakily. “No doubt. I’ve tried calling him, but he’s not answering his phone.”

  “Probably ditched it. Who all’s been dispatched?”

  “Everyone. Jason’s on his way to Gordon. Ditto the paramedics.”

  Wyatt yanked hard on his hair. “Get whatever information you can about Wes’s personal vehicle. Find out if he has his cruiser. Get the information out there. Issue an APB. Call Kentucky, too. Let them know what’s going on. Gretchen’s calling Russell DeHart, and Maria’s calling Ethan. Coordinate with them. I’ll head over to Gordon’s. We’re going to need as much help on this as we can get.”

  Carrie nodded. “Godspeed, Sheriff.”

  “I’m going to need it.”

  CHAPTER 39

  WHEN STACY CAME TO, SHE was shocked to find herself tied to a chair in her own garage. As her mind cleared, she remembered what had happened and started to struggle. “Galen,” she whispered, fighting harder to get free of the bindings, but they were too tight. “God, please, let him be okay.”

  “You’re only going to hurt yourself,” Wes said from behind her. She twisted and saw that he was coming out of the bathroom, zipping his pants. Pam wasn’t far behind him, and from the looks of things, they hadn’t been using the facilities. Stacy thought she might very well be sick then and there.

  “Oh, please. Get that condescending look off your face. Like you’ve never screwed around in a bathroom before.” Pam’s laugh was a harsh sound. “We’re going to have a hot time in the old town tonight, girl.” She kicked a gas can.

  Stacy realized with horror that they were planning to burn down the garage. She didn’t need to be a genius to figure out that she would probably be in it when it went up. “Why?” she whispered.

  “Because it’s something I should have done a long time ago. Do you have any idea how hard my life has been for the last twelve years? The things I’ve had to do to survive?”

  “I have a good idea, yes. Does Wes know? Do you? Do you have any idea who she really is?”

  Pam slapped her again, hitting the same side as before. Stacy cried out, unable to hold it back. “I told you, talk to me. Not him.”

  Stacy aimed her bloody spit straight for her mother’s face.

  “You little bitch.” Pam wiped away the blood-tinged saliva with the back of her hand. She stepped forward, but Wes held her back.

  “If you beat her up too much, they’ll figure it out.”

  “So what if they do? She’ll be dead, and I won’t care.”

  “Don’t be stupid. We’ve not worked this hard, for this long, only to have you screw everything up by giving them proof she’s a kidnap victim.”

  Throwing her hands in the air, Pam walked away. “Fine.”

  Wes put his hands on Pam’s shoulders. He murmured something that was too low for Stacy to hear, then they came back to stand in front of her.

  “How did you get Wes to help you?” She tried to remain calm enough to avoid setting off her mother’s temper.

  “Oh, that was easy enough. He had his own little vendetta against you, daughter mine. He wanted to see you burn as much as I do.”

  “So what’s the plan here?”

  “You and your husband,” Pam hissed the word, “had a fight. You shot him, and then, drowning in guilt, you decided to kill yourself. Nobody will be the wiser. We didn’t have any witnesses, and there’s even a nifty little suicide note.”

  Stacy laughed derisively. “And you think people will just believe that? Pam, how’d I get out here? My car’s at the condo. And everyone in the department knows about Wes’s involvement. I guarantee you, they’re looking for both of you right now. Wes knows Wyatt won’t give up until he finds you.” She looked straight at Wes and was gratified to see some of the color draining from his face.

  “No, I don’t believe you. We were too careful.”

  “Not careful enough. Gordon and Ethan figured out what you were doing weeks ago.” She’d stumbled over Gordon’s name. “We have Pam on video going into my house a few minutes before the fire starts. Why do you think the warrant was issued for her arrest?”

  “Oh, we thought of that, too, though. You and I reconnected a few months back,” Pam explained. “We burned the house down for the insurance money. We’ve laid a nice trail of e
vidence pointing toward that, and it will all be discovered once you’re dead. Everyone who knows the truth will be long gone.”

  Stacy shook her head, keeping her eyes on Wes. “You know better. You don’t work for Wyatt Dixon as long as you have and still think that he’ll ever stop looking for you.” She moved her gaze to her mother. “Maggie turned on you. She flipped. They found my father’s remains, Pam. Your house of cards is finally coming down around you.”

  Pam’s face was nearly purple with rage, and if Wes hadn’t been held her back, Stacy knew she would have killed her with her bare hands. As her mother screamed and cursed at her, she could see the wheels turning in Wes’s head. He knew she was right.

  Wes stepped away from Pam, and Stacy couldn’t figure out why until he drew his gun.

  “Change of plans here, sweetheart. It’s been a nice ride, but here’s where you get off.” He raised the pistol to Pam’s left temple and pulled the trigger.

  The right side of her face disintegrated, and her body crumpled to the floor. Stacy scrambled back in the chair in horror, feeling it tipping. Wes holstered the gun and hurried over to her, stopping her descent before she could hit the hard concrete. The ringing in her ears slowly subsided, and Stacy could hear him trying to soothe her.

  “Easy, easy. I’m not going to hurt you.” He walked around her, slipping on gloves. He pulled a knife from the utility belt he wore with his civilian clothes, then cut her left hand loose from the bindings and stepped back. Then he wiped down the gun.

  Stacy was trembling with shock, and she struggled to make her mouth work. “Why did you shoot her?”

  “Because I can’t get away from Wyatt Dixon with her attached to me. I can make it on my own. If he hadn’t been tipped off, I wouldn’t have done it. I liked your mother. Besides, I never was that keen on killing you in the first place. I think you’ll suffer a hell of a lot more if you live to deal with the consequences of what we’ve done.”

  “So you’re not going to kill me?”

  “Not unless you force my hand. No.”

  Stacy was shaking so hard that she thought she would fall apart. The feeling was coming back into her hand, but whatever he’d given her earlier was still in her system, making her sluggish.

  “You don’t honestly think you’ll get away with this, do you, Wes?”

  His answering look was condescending. “Well, I didn’t plan all this only to fail at the last minute. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to let you handle this, with supervision, a few times. Fire it a time or two. I need to make sure your prints are on it, in case they find it intact.” Cupping her injured hand around the weapon, he fired twice. Each shot sent a spike of pain through Stacy’s head, forcing her to throw up.

  Wes stood over Pam and dropped the gun where it would have logically fallen if she’d actually killed herself. Once that was done, he came back to Stacy and picked up her left hand. He slid off her wedding band.

  “I need this,” she saw him say, but she couldn’t hear for the ringing in her ears. She thought she protested, but she couldn’t be sure as he slipped the ring onto Pam’s left hand.

  Moving efficiently, he doused Pam’s body with gasoline. Once that was done, he circled her with gas. He sat the can carefully at her feet and came to stand behind Stacy again. The bindings on her right hand loosened, and then Wes was helping her up.

  “One more thing…” He motioned with his finger. “One more.” With his arm around her waist, supporting her, he walked her over to a workbench and picked up a flare gun lying there. Turning so that Stacy was in front of him like a rag doll, he backed toward the side door. At the threshold, he stopped and fired two flares at Pam. Enough vapor had risen that the gas caught fire with a solid, palpable whoosh. Her mother’s body was immediately engulfed in flames.

  Wes carried her to the back of his car and lifted the unlatched trunk. A roll of duct tape lay inside, and he bound her hands with it. Dazed, Stacy stared at him. Her hearing was coming back now that effects of the gunshots had faded.

  “He’ll think I’m dead,” she whispered. “When they find the ring, he’ll think I’m dead.”

  “Only for a couple of days. Then I’ll let you go. He’s a big boy. He’ll be fine, assuming he isn’t dead himself,” Wes answered. “I have to tell you, that wound didn’t look good.”

  “Please don’t do this, Wes. Please.”

  “Sorry. It’s already done.” He pulled her arms behind her back and taped them together. “In you go.”

  When Stacy didn’t get into the trunk, he shoved her off balance and lifted her in. “We need to get you somewhere safe. See you in a bit.” He shut the trunk, and seconds later, the car dipped as he got in. She tried to focus on the route they took, but her mind was still foggy from whatever Wes had given her at the condo. Instead, all she could see was Gordon’s face. Until the autopsy results came back, he would think she was dead. He was going to end up reliving his worst nightmare—if he was even still alive.

  She tried to envision exactly where her mother had shot him, to figure out if the wound had been mortal, but she couldn’t. All she could see was his body jerking from the impact and the blood spreading across his shirt. Pam had been so close to him that it would take a miracle for the gunshot to not have killed him. Her mind scattered from the drugs and realizing that Gordon probably was dead, Stacy started to sob.

  CHAPTER 40

  GORDON CAME TO WHEN THE paramedics started working on him. He came up swinging before he realized what was happening, but pulled the punch in time to not hit Jason Hudson in the jaw.

  “Easy, we’re helping you.” Jason helped them get Gordon onto a board. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Mason and Pam took her.”

  “Any idea where?”

  “No.”

  Jason cursed. “How’d they get in? Tasers? There’s confetti all over the hall.”

  “Yeah.”

  “The wound looks pretty clean. Through-and-through,” one of the paramedics said as Wyatt rushed through the door. “Looks like it nicked a blood vessel, and that’s why you’ve lost so much blood. I doubt we’ll even have to Life Flight you out to a trauma unit.”

  Gordon turned his focus back to Jason and Wyatt. “Find her. Please find her.”

  “We’re going to do everything we can,” Wyatt assured him.

  “Not good enough,” Gordon said, but then he was out again.

  When he came to, he was in the emergency room. He was stripped down to his underwear. A nurse was covering him with a blanket, and a doctor was shining a light in his eyes. Someone grasped his hand, and he turned to see Richard Hudson.

  “There’s my boy. Do you know what’s going on?”

  Gordon nodded. “Stacy?”

  “They’re looking for her. We’re going to get you stabilized and close up this wound, okay?”

  “Yes. How bad is it?”

  “It’s barely a scrape, as far as gunshots go. They’re going to knock you out to keep you still while they work. I’m going to stay with you. Do you have any allergies, Gordon?”

  He shook his head.

  “Do you want us to call your brother?”

  “Please.”

  “Consider it done. We’re going to take you up to the OR now and get you patched up.” Richard nodded, and the nurse injected something into Gordon’s IV. Before he could ask what it was, he was out.

  CHAPTER 41

  WHEN THE CAR FINALLY STOPPED, Stacy thought they’d been driving for about half an hour. Given that Wyatt would have thrown roadblocks up on all the major roads as soon as he’d discovered what had happened, Wes had probably taken back roads to get to wherever he’d brought her. The car stopped, then slowly crept forward and stopped again. She heard a garage door close and realized Wes had driven her inside a building.

  “We’re home,” he said in a sing-song voice as he opened the trunk.

  Squinting up at him, Stacy saw that they were indeed in a garage, one that looke
d familiar.

  “Where are we?”

  “Ormsby’s old place. No one ever comes out here anymore. The meth dealers won’t even touch this place. We can crash here for a couple of days, and no one will ever know we’re here. That’s a trick your mother taught me, by the way. Up you get.”

  He tugged her arm, and Stacy stumbled to her feet. She knew she couldn’t fight him off with her arms and legs still bound, so she saved her energy. He bent and tossed her over his shoulder again.

  “Sorry to keep doing that to you, but it’s the easiest way to get you from point A to point B. Let’s get you situated downstairs, and I’ll get that tape off.”

  By the time they reached the basement, Wes was puffing from exertion. He wasn’t a huge man, only five-foot-ten or so, and even though he was solidly built, carrying her down a flight of stairs had taken a lot out of him. He tossed her down on a couch, then wiped his brow.

  Stacy’s shirt had ridden up and her yoga pants had slid down, and as she saw him take in the exposed skin, her breathing caught. He laughed at her expression.

  “I don’t rape women. I’ve never been interested in you like that. I like women who take what they want. You cower every time a man goes near you. Must make it hard for Gordon to get any.” He snickered. He sliced through the tape binding her legs, then turned her and cut her hands loose.

  “Then why are you doing this?”

  “Because I should have made detective three years ago, when you did. But because you’re all kissy-face with Wyatt Dixon’s wife, you got the job instead.”

  Stacy shook her head. “Wes, they weren’t even dating three years ago.”

  His look was full of derision. “You really expect me to believe that? The old man’s had his eye on her for a long, long time.” He gestured toward a closed door with the knife. “Go in there. That’s your cell while you’re here.”