by T. L. Haddix
A crude, eight-inch square had been cut out of the middle near the top of the door. A raw two-by-four was used as a makeshift bar. When Stacy opened the door and went inside, she saw that it was a small, windowless closet. A bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, and a cot with a blanket folded at its end sat to one side. There were two gallons of water, a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a five-gallon bucket with a lid sitting to one side. Two rolls of toilet paper sat atop the bucket. Wes had obviously been planning to hold someone prisoner, and Stacy wondered if he had seen her mother as collateral damage all along.
“That’s your bathroom. Now I know this place is a little sparse, but at least I’m not making you sleep on the cold floor.”
As a cramp coursed through her pelvis, Stacy winced. She hated like hell that she was going to have to reveal something so personal to him, but she didn’t have much of a choice. “Wes, I’m having my period. I’m going to need supplies.”
He cursed. “Well, that’s a fine mess. Go on. Get inside. I’ll figure something out once you’re locked up.”
Seeing no alternative, Stacy obeyed. “What are you going to do with me?”
“Keep you here until the roadblocks lift, then let you go close to town. They’ll be so excited to see you by then, they won’t be looking for me.”
Stacy thought he was delusional if he thought Wyatt would give up that easily, but she didn’t tell him that. He closed the door behind her, and she heard him slide the board into place.
“Go ahead and explore your room. I know you’ll want to do that. See if you can find something to break out of there with. The cot’s nailed down. No springs in the mattress. You can’t get to the light bulb. I took the handle off the bucket. Still, you won’t take my word for that. I’ll go see if there’s something we can use for your Aunt Flo.” He snickered, and Stacy heard his footsteps move away. She hurried to the door to see if he was still there, but she couldn’t see out. The hole was too high. She slid the bucket over and stood on it to look out. Since she heard him moving around upstairs, she figured she was safe to use the bucket. She cleaned up as best she could afterward, using a splash from one of the gallons of water to rinse her hands off, then sat on the cot. Pulling her legs up to her chest, she rested her head on her arms. Her feet, scraped in several places, were cold and hurting. She hadn’t been wearing shoes when they’d busted in.
Her mind was nearly clear from the drugging, though her head was pounding like nobody’s business. That, she knew, was a remnant of the Taser hit.
By then, someone would have found Gordon. He would be at the hospital, getting treatment, assuming he was still alive. The full-on search would have started, and someone would have called Garrett. As Stacy thought about her brother-in-law, a flicker of hope flared to life. He knew her mother had used a murder house in Clay County as a hideout. If he was brought into the investigation maybe, just maybe he would remember that. If he didn’t, Gordon might, then they would figure out where she was. She had based her hope on a lot of ifs, but she’d seen stranger things happen, and right now, those ifs were all she had.
When Gordon came to, his head felt as though it were filled with cotton. The room was dimly lit, and for a minute, he didn’t remember where he was. When he heard the hospital intercom system, all the memories came rushing back, and he struggled to sit up. Garrett stood up from where he’d been sitting beside the bed and put his hand on Gordon’s chest.
“Easy, easy. You don’t want to tear those stitches out.”
Gordon clamped his hand around Garrett’s wrist. “Where’s Stacy?”
Garrett looked away from him. “We don’t know.”
Even though his mind was sluggish, Gordon knew Garrett wasn’t telling him the truth. He tried to get his brain to work enough to figure out why Garrett would be lying. Only one reason came to mind—Stacy was dead. His grip tightened, and Garrett winced.
“You’re hurting me, Galen.”
Gordon let his hand drop. “She’s dead, isn’t she? That’s why you’re lying. They killed her.” Anguished, he fell back against the hospital bed. “No, Garrett, please. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I don’t know. Her garage was set fire to, and when they got there, they found a body. It’s the right build, and—” He clenched the bedrail. “Stacy’s wedding band was on the body. Her gun was beside it. I’m sorry. I’m so damned sorry, Galen.”
“No. It’s not her. I’d know if she was dead. Garrett, I would know. I would know!” he shouted, raising up to clasp Garrett’s arm. “I would know!” Fighting to get out of the bed, he didn’t notice he was crying or that Garrett was, as well. Several of the medical staff came rushing in, and three of them, along with his brother, held him down.
“He’s going to rip his wound open. Get a sedative now!” someone yelled. Seconds later, the contents of a syringe were being injected into his arm.
“He tore his IV out. We’ll have to restart that.”
He thought he saw Sandra’s concerned face as the drug started to take effect, and he tried to reach out to her. His eyes grew heavy, and all the fight drained from him. As they settled him back on the bed, he looked into Garrett’s anguished eyes.
“I would know,” he thought he whispered, and then oblivion claimed him.
CHAPTER 42
WES WOKE STACY AT SIX a.m. Saturday morning by banging two pans together. He’d done so several times since locking her in the closet, and he seemed to enjoy it immensely.
“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty. It’s six o’clock. Time for calisthenics.”
Stacy groaned. “Seriously, Wes?”
“Yep. You know the drill. Start with your stretching.”
He’d made her exercise at regular intervals, which was part of his grand scheme, from what he told her.
“I don’t want you to look like you’ve been locked away. No weight loss, no trauma other than what you already have. I have your protein shake ready for you, too.”
Stacy had refused to drink the first protein shake he’d given her. Upon her refusal, he’d Tased her, then forced her to drink it. She’d nearly choked to death in the process and hadn’t protested the subsequent shakes. As a reward for her cooperation, he’d given her a bowl, a washcloth, and a sliver of soap. She was nowhere near clean, but at least she wasn’t nasty.
Exercises done and meal out of the way, he let her out of the room for a brief walk around the basement. He stayed at least ten feet away from her at all times and kept his gun at the ready.
“I’m not giving you a chance to get at me. I know what you can do. You’re not as weak and helpless as you look.”
As she walked, she chanced asking about Pam. “How’d you meet my mother?”
“Bar in Cincy. As soon as I saw her, I knew she had to be kin to you. We struck up a conversation and discovered our mutual loathing for you. She was a nasty piece of work, your mother. How the hell did you become a cop with someone like that in your family tree?”
“One of my instructors at school helped.”
He snorted with derision. “I’ll bet. Back in the cage with you.”
The look in his eyes as he gestured with the gun was mean, and Stacy didn’t want to push him. So far, he’d kept his word and hadn’t approached her with anything remotely like sexual interest. She wanted to keep it that way. She also figured that Pam hadn’t told him what she’d done to Stacy, because if she had, he would have raped her. Of that, Stacy had no doubt. He likely had no idea how terrified she was, not knowing from minute to minute whether he was going to change his mind and assault her.
“Have you heard anything yet?” she asked as he closed the door behind her.
“About your lover boy? No. They’ve gone radio silent. I figured they would. But the news hasn’t reported anything, either. So make of that what you will.”
Stacy was frantic, but she didn’t dare show him. Wes had too many weapons in his arsenal. She wasn’t about to give him more ammunition.
Early
Saturday afternoon, with his arm in a sling, Gordon was released from the hospital. He was in a bear of a mood and sick of everyone trying to sound positive when they were convinced the body in the garage had been Stacy’s. He’d snapped at Garrett more than once and even at Sandra.
“I’m sorry,” he told her as Wyatt drove them to Richard and Jackie’s house, Garrett following behind. “I don’t understand everyone’s reluctance to believe me when I tell them that wasn’t Stacy.”
“Galen, I’d like nothing more than to find out we’re wrong,” she said quietly.
“We’re still looking for her. We’re not giving up that easily,” Wyatt assured him.
Gordon knew they were doing their best. He ignored Sandra’s concerned look, and for the millionth time, he tried to figure out where Wes could have gone with Stacy since Thursday. He still had a little bit of a migraine from the Taser and the subsequent anesthesia and was too anxious to focus.
Jackie and Richard met them when they pulled up in front of the garage. “We have the guest house cleaned out and ready for you. Chloe’s in there, too. Are you sure you won’t stay in the main house with us and Sandra?” A worried frown creased Jackie’s brow. “We have plenty of room.”
Gordon dropped a kiss on her head. “The guest house is fine. That way, we won’t keep you awake.”
Garrett parked next to Wyatt and grabbed their bags from the back of his SUV. Gordon made the introductions.
“We met at the hospital,” Jackie said. “You were still out of it, so you don’t remember. Come on in. Let’s get you settled. Sandra, I’ll show you your room. You can put your things there. Wyatt, can you stay for coffee?”
“I could use a cup or three.”
Sandra stopped them with a hand on Gordon’s arm. “Actually, I’d like to just take a nap, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. Come on over when you wake up.”
“I’ll take Sandra in, if you want to take care of the men,” Jackie told Richard.
When they went in, Gordon called softly for Chloe. She meowed as she poked her head through the railing of the loft. When she saw the group of people, she growled and darted away. Gordon sighed and headed for the stairs.
“We’ll get her. You sit down before you fall down,” Richard told him.
Too weary to protest, Gordon headed for the sofa instead. Wyatt sat down in an arm chair opposite and closed his eyes. Gordon realized he probably hadn’t had more than a few hours’ sleep since Thursday.
“What did they find at Wes’s apartment?” he asked.
“Not a lot,” Wyatt answered as Richard and Garrett came back down from the loft. “There was absolutely no evidence of Pam’s presence, and the neighbors hadn’t seen her. So wherever she was staying, it wasn’t there. They did say that Wes had been gone a lot lately, though. They figured he’d met someone or was working a lot of hours.” His phone rang. “That’s Maria. Excuse me.”
Gordon sat back, trying to get comfortable. He hated to admit it, but the ride from the hospital had taken a lot out of him.
“Chloe says she wants to stay up there for a little while. She’s still a little jumpy.” Richard went to the kitchen to start some coffee.
“I can’t blame her. Look at what she’s been through the past couple of weeks.” Gordon closed his eyes and rested his head against the couch. He must have drifted into sleep for a minute, because when he opened his eyes again, Jackie Hudson was sitting on the coffee table, studying him.
Gordon thanked Richard when he handed him a mug of coffee. He took a sip, then sat it on the end table beside him. “How’s Beth?”
“Worried. She wanted to come over here, but Ethan managed to convince her to stay home. Hannah and Paulo are with her.” Jackie leaned forward and rested her hand on his forehead, then pushed his hair back. “Why don’t you try to get some rest?”
Gordon squeezed her hand. “I’m fine.”
Her look told him she knew he wasn’t, but she didn’t press the issue. Wyatt came back, his expression guarded. Every muscle in Gordon’s body tensed, and hours seemed to pass before Wyatt spoke.
“The autopsy’s done. It’s not Stacy.”
A happy shout went through the room, and Gordon was so light-headed with relief that he thought he might pass out.
Richard saw and hurried to his side. “Sit forward, head between your legs, and breathe. Just breathe.”
Once the weakness had passed, Gordon raised his head to look at Wyatt. “You’re sure it’s not her?”
“Absolutely no doubt about it. You were right. We don’t have any dental records for comparison, but the coroner thinks it is Pam. From the condition of the body internally, the age looks right.”
Unashamed, Gordon wiped his wet eyes. “Then where is Stacy? And how do we find her?”
They went over what they knew for the next hour. Wyatt finally had to leave, but he promised to call as soon as he heard anything. “I’ll be sending Jason and Ethan this way. They’re both running on fumes, and they need to crash for a few hours. Jackie, will you see to it that they do?”
“You have my word.”
As soon as he was gone, Jackie sat back down on the table in front of Gordon. She was wearing her mothering look, and Gordon was instantly wary.
“What?”
“I want you to go upstairs and rest.” When he started to protest, she raised one eyebrow, and he shut up. “Hear me out. They need your help here. You know this case intimately, as well as anyone else who’s on it. But as tired as you are, you’re not doing yourself or Stacy any good. Go upstairs, take a nap for a couple of hours. If there are any developments, we’ll wake you up.”
“Jackie, Stacy may not have a couple of hours.” His voice cracked. “How can I sleep when she’s out there, God knows where?”
“Because if you don’t rest, you could lose her for good. You could hold the key to this whole thing, but you’re so tired, you can’t see it. I’m not saying sleep until noon tomorrow, honey. Just a couple of hours.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then pressed his fingers against his eyes, fighting tears. That, more than anything, convinced him she was right. “Okay.”
“Good.” Satisfied, she stood. “Do you need help getting settled?”
“No, I think I’m okay.”
“I’ll walk you upstairs,” Richard said. “You’re probably still a little woozy from the anesthesia, and the last thing we want is for you to take a tumble.”
Richard left him upstairs, pulling the sliding screen closed to give him privacy from the downstairs. Gordon made use of the facilities, then carefully stretched out on the bed with a heartfelt sigh. He pushed his shoes off with his toes, letting them fall. To his surprise, he had to struggle to keep his eyes open. When Chloe cautiously jumped up on the bed and sniffed him, then snuggled in, his heart shattered. If they didn’t find Stacy, he didn’t think he’d be able to go on.
“What are we going to do, Chloe?” he whispered. “What are we going to do?”
Downstairs, Garrett stood at the bay window that overlooked the pool. Aside from when Emma had been born, he didn’t know when he’d felt so helpless.
Jackie walked over and stood beside him. “You okay?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not.” He looked down at her, not bothering to hide his worry. “What if we don’t find her or she doesn’t come out of this alive? We don’t just lose Stacy. We’ll lose Galen, too. He won’t survive if she doesn’t.”
Grim lines crisscrossed her face. “I know.”
“So what do we do?”
“We find her and bring her home.”
Garrett snorted. “It isn’t that simple.”
Jackie smiled sadly. “I know that, too. Let me tell you a story about my daughter, Beth.”
As she related the tale of how Beth had been kidnapped and shot, Garrett realized she did understand what was at stake. The knowledge didn’t make him feel any better.
About ten minutes after Gordon had
gone up, Chase arrived after dropping his wife off at Beth’s. Jason and Ethan showed up an hour later. They all gathered on the front porch, leaving the door open in case Gordon needed something, but not wanting to disturb him. The group was obviously tight-knit, and Garrett was glad his brother had found this family.
“There’s got to be something we’re missing.” Jason groaned. “I know there is. No way Wes is smarter than all of us. He had to have said something at some point in time, damn it. Sorry, Mom.”
“All swear jar penalties are suspended until we get Stacy back safe and sound,” Jackie told him.
“So where would Mason take her? If we were him, where would we go?” Chase mused. “It would have to be someplace private, someplace secluded.”
“I hate to point this out to you folks, but Olman County has a lot of square miles that are exactly what you described,” Jason said.
“We are very aware of that, thank you very much, Mary Sunshine,” Ethan grumbled.
Garrett was sitting on the floor next to Chase, his back propped against the wall. “And there was nothing in the land records under Mason’s name or his family’s?”
“Nope. He’s from Tennessee, doesn’t have family here. Which brings us to another point. We don’t even know Stacy’s still in the state, much less the county.” Jason jerked to his feet. “Damn the son of a bitch to hell and back.” He strode across the yard to the patio and stared down into the pool, hands on top of his head. Jackie went to him, wrapping her arm around his waist.
“Stacy’s been training him. She’s like a little sister to him at this point, even though she’s a year older than Jason,” Chase explained.
“She’s like a sister to me, too,” Ethan said. “How’s Gordon?”
Garrett shrugged. “About like you’d imagine, I guess. Scared to death.”
Ethan sat up, his face lined with fatigue and worry. “It’s a hard place to be, where he’s at now.” Given what Jackie had told him earlier, Garrett knew the other man had been in that place.