But she wasn’t beaten yet.
“Get out.” The kind, compassionate tone she’d come to associate with Frasier McNaughton was gone. He sounded cold and unfeeling. Like a man capable of murder.
“What don’t you just put me out here and leave?” she asked. “By the time I get back to civilization, you’ll be long gone. That’s what you’re planning, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes, you and Deputy Waters made sure my stay in Wetumpka was over. Ironic, isn’t it? The town you love so much will be safe again, but you won’t be around to enjoy it.”
His words chilled her and she felt her hope shriveling. But she couldn’t allow that. She couldn’t let him break her will to fight. “Aren’t you counting your chickens and all of that?”
“If you’re hoping Aiden or Rob will come to the rescue, I wouldn’t. I’m sure you might be thinking they’re tracking the GPS in your phone. Not. There’s no signal. Do you think I would have left you with a phone if it was of any use?”
She concentrated on not showing the distress that washed over her. He’d told her the pleasure he took at watching hope die in the eyes of his victims. Well, he wouldn’t get any satisfaction from her. She would not show her fear or distress.
“Get moving.” He pushed her toward the path, almost making her trip.
“Where are we going?” she had to delay him. As far as she knew there wasn’t another living soul within a five-mile radius. Once Frasier decided to kill her, if she couldn’t outrun him she was dead.
“Save your breath and walk.” He pushed her again.
Tammy stumbled into some underbrush, quickly snapping a few limbs. If by some miracle Aiden came looking for her, she wanted to leave him a clear path to follow. She knew it was likely futile to even try, but she couldn’t give up. She simply couldn’t. She had too much to live for, and part of that included allowing Aiden to see that she cared for him. Why had she fought so hard against vulnerability? Perhaps they didn’t have a future together, but they hadn’t even had a present because she was so afraid.
Frasier pushed her into a clearing, and she looked around at the morning that was dawning golden and bright. She’d expected a cabin or at least some kind of shelter, but this was just a clearing in the woods. This wasn’t a place to confine her. This was where he meant to kill her.
He pushed her so hard, she fell to the ground beside a rock. She saw the chain then, with the handcuffs on the end. He was going to chain her. She rolled and scrambled to her hands and knees. Rocks cut her palms and knees as she tried to get away, but Frasier was quicker. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her back. When she fought him, he hit her hard enough to stun her.
“I don’t have time for this.” He snapped the cuffs on her. “I’ll be back.”
“Don’t leave me here.”
“You’re going to die. I want you to think about that. I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?” She had to keep trying.
“I have another loose end to tie up.”
Tammy sat up and rubbed her face on her forearm. “You’re going to kill your partner. He’s become a liability.”
“Tammy, my dear, you read far too many mysteries. All imagination and no logic. That’s a problem for you.”
“Don’t leave me here. I don’t want to starve. I’d rather you kill me quickly.” Yes, she was a reader, and sometimes the logic of Br’er Rabbit was a path to follow. Oh, please don’t throw me into the briar patch! “The worst would be out here starving, a victim of wild animals.”
“Don’t worry. The pleasure of watching you die will be all mine.” He pulled a stocking from his pocket and came toward her. When he was right beside her he moved quickly behind her and pulled the stocking around her throat. He tightened it slowly.
“I thought you liked to look at your victim. Only a coward kills from behind.” She recognized the scent of sandalwood and roses and she suddenly knew where it came from. It was the scent of the candles in the church. They burned during weddings, funerals, and christenings. Frasier lit them before each service he preached. They were in every public room of the church. If only she’d picked up on the scent sooner.
Chuckling, Frasier released her. Before she could get away from him he slipped something around her neck. A piece of jewelry. “I want to take my time with you. Trust me, the last thing you see will be my eyes staring into yours.”
She looked down at the necklace and wanted to cry. It was a silver cross, just like the one Debby Caldwell had been wearing when she died. “Get that off me.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it. So delicate. Something so you can think of me while I’m gone. And a reminder I’ll be back.”
She couldn’t let him get to her. She couldn’t. “Hey, John Wexler. Who was your first kill?” she asked. She’d find out what she could. And maybe delay him for taking another life.
“My sister.” He grinned. “She didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut.”
Tammy had the sense he was toying with her, but she couldn’t be sure. Frasier enjoyed shocking and hurting people. Yet he’d captured the entire city of Wetumpka and fooled them, always hiding the darkness at the center of his soul.
“How old were you?” she asked.
He seemed to think about the question. “What difference does it make?”
“How many women have you killed?”
“Not nearly enough.” He stuffed the stocking into his pocket and walked away. “I would tell you to stay put, but I don’t think you have a choice.”
She watched him walk out of the clearing into the slanting rays of the morning sun. At least the temperatures would rise some. Thank goodness it wasn’t raining.
Christmas Day. Tammy looked at the handcuffs that held her wrists. She had to figure a way out of them. If Trouble were there, he’d come up with something. Or Aiden. He would free her and help her escape.
She let the pleasant fantasy unfold—she needed something to keep her resolve up. She’d never admit to another soul that Aiden played the knight in shining armor in her daydream of rescue and freedom. Any other time, she would scorn such silly ideas. But right now, she needed something to hold onto, and Aiden fit that bill.
Shake the lead out, Deputy Waters. We have to find Tammy before he hurts her. And as you noted earlier, the SSK enjoys the kill, not tormenting or holding his victims. He won’t keep Tammy alive long.
I should have seen this coming. I mean Frasier was always underfoot. Conveniently there, snooping to discover what Tammy and Aiden had found out. I agree with Aiden that Thad Brady is the most logical place to start looking for Tammy, since he was at her place and since he’s reported his girlfriend missing. But something about all of this doesn’t sit right with me.
There’s Brady’s cabin. We’ve lost the surprise element of darkness, but I don’t know that’s going to matter. The place looks abandoned. Why am I not shocked?
Aiden is creeping closer. I’ll let him take the lead, but the truth is, I’m a lot stealthier than he is. And I see an open window I can enter. I mean who leaves a window open when it’s below freezing? I don’t think Brady is here. And I don’t think we’re going to find Tammy here either.
I’m on the window ledge and Aiden is giving me the signal to enter. The place is totally empty. And cold. I don’t think Brady has been here for at least the last twelve hours. The place is tidy, though. No mess. No dirty dishes. Brady has policed his space. And here, under the counter is an M24. Let me get back to the window and get Aiden in here.
Lucky for me, the door is unlocked, too, which is strange for a man who values his privacy so completely. Aiden is inside and he’s following my hints—and he’s found the gun. He’s using gloves to remove it from the brackets. And now he’s going through Brady’s drawers. He’s found something. It’s an army uniform shirt with a piece missing. Exactly the shape and size of the tag of material Aiden found in the bushes outside Tammy’s window. There’s no doubt Brady has been stalking Tammy. No doubt at al
l.
Aiden is continuing the search, and he’s found two toothbrushes in the bathroom and a very feminine robe. It looks like Paula Scott was spending some time with Brady here in the cabin. So he reported her missing—but he’s not here to give us any details.
What is really going on here? I think Aiden had better start putting two and two together and come up with the place where Tammy is being held or it’s going to be too late for her. And possible for Paula Scott too.
Hold on. Someone is coming out of the woods. Let me get Aiden’s attention. There, he sees the man moving through the trees in a furtive manner. Has Brady returned? No, it’s not Brady, but it’s a tall, muscular man who is built a lot like Brady. And it’s not Tom Wells.
Blood pudding on toast! It’s the minister. Frasier McNaughton. But his entire body has changed. He’s lost sixty pounds at least. He was padded! Who would have thought he’d wear padding to give the impression of girth. And he pulled it off completely. I never suspected. He’s darting back into the woods, and I can’t get Aiden’s attention. Should I go on the attack or hide so that I can ambush the fake minister when he gets here?
Chapter Thirteen
For a split second, Aiden didn’t believe what was right in front of him. The camouflaged military long-sleeved shirt hung over the back of a wooden chair at the kitchen table as if someone had put it out for him to discover. The torn sleeve was clearly visible. The missing patch of fabric was exactly the size and shape that he’d found caught on Tammy’s rose bush beneath her window. Brady had been there, skulking about, spying on Tammy. Aiden’s fury rose briefly to the surface but he tamped it down. It would do no good to let his emotions rule him.
What didn’t make sense was that Tammy had been with Frazier before she went missing. Why didn’t the minister stay with her?
Aiden continued his search for evidence. He’d found the sniper’s rifle under the cabinet. Even though something felt very off about the convenience of the evidence against Brady, he could no longer deny that the reclusive veteran had moved to the top of the suspect list for the SSK. But that didn’t help him locate Tammy. If Brady was involved in taking her, surely there had to be some evidence.
He went to a small desk in a corner of the room and went through a messy stack of bills and papers. Nothing. Until a folded piece of paper fell to the floor. It contained a flap of tape as if it had been left on the door or window. Aiden opened it.
“Thad, I don’t want that nosey McNaughton on my property. He was creeping around here again yesterday. When I caught him, he said he was meeting with you. Put an end to it. No good comes from a person like him in the middle of your business. Tom.”
Aiden studied the note. Why was Frasier McNaughton visiting Thad Brady, and obviously more than once? The note said McNaughton was there again. What could the two men possibly have in common? Frasier wasn’t the rugged outdoor type. Why would he be visiting the reclusive ranger? Snooping around Brady’s cabin, was how Tom Wells had put it. It didn’t make sense.
The scene of Jessica Whiddon’s murder came back to Aiden. He had a mental image of Frasier standing over the young woman’s body. Frasier’s face had been impassive, and he’d never offered to help her children with the grief and shock, and most ministers would do.
His attention was pulled from his thoughts to the black cat. Trouble sat on the window ledge looking out toward the woods. A low, deep growl came from his throat. The cabin was in a small clearing, but the trees around it were thick. With the sun shining brightly, it was a land of dense dark shadows and bright patches of light. It took a moment for Aiden to focus on what had upset Trouble.
A man was walking rapidly toward the cabin. He moved through the trees with grace and agility. The man stepped into a patch of sunlight, clearly revealing his red hair and beard. Aiden couldn’t believe his eyes. Frasier McNaughton was no longer the plump, huffing minister who’d been a familiar sight on the streets of Wetumpka. He’d shed his extra weight and doughy exterior like a snake skin, revealing a lean, fit man. His posture, his walk, his demeanor—all had undergone a transformation. He strode toward Brady’s cabin with a purpose.
Aiden didn’t have time to analyze the physical changes Frasier had undergone, or the relationship he might have with Thad Brady. He could only say that Frasier wasn’t who he appeared to be.
The physical evidence he’d gathered pointed to Thad Brady as the killer. But something was up with the convenient evidence and with the chameleon minister. Were the two men acting in league? He couldn’t wait until he figured it out. He had to act quickly and decisively. He had to take Frasier captive. If he was making a mistake, he could apologize. But if Frasier, who was the last person to see Tammy, was somehow involved in her disappearance, he would pay. But first he would tell what he knew about Tammy’s whereabouts.
Trouble let out a soft yowl and jumped to the floor, then ran to the front window sill, where he hissed a warning. A quick check let Aiden know Frasier was coming out of the tree line into the clearing of the yard. He would be at the door in a matter of seconds.
Aiden grabbed the cat and ducked behind the bar in the kitchen. There wasn’t any other place to hide in the single room cabin except the tiny bathroom, which looked like a trap. If Frasier penned him in there, he wouldn’t have any room to maneuver or any chance at escape. Crouching low, he pulled his weapon and prepared to take McNaughton prisoner when he entered the cabin.
Aiden checked his phone, hoping for cell service. Disappointment left a bitter taste in his throat. Nothing. He and Trouble had to figure this out by themselves. And they had to get it right the first time. They wouldn’t have a second chance.
The door of the cabin creaked open and Frasier’s footsteps entered. Aiden held his breath. “Come on out,” Frasier said. “I know you’re in here, Aiden. Stop hiding like a child. I know you’re on to me.” The minister sounded almost cheerful.
Aiden rose, gun pointed at Frasier’s chest. “I’m not hiding.” To his surprise, Frasier wasn’t holding a gun. He appeared unarmed.
Frasier stopped in the doorframe. “So you finally figured it out? You’ve tracked your quarry to his lair. How many years has it taken you? Too many.”
“Yes, too many. But it’s over now.” Aiden couldn’t believe the man responsible for killing so many young women had simply walked into the cabin with the intention of giving up. No, Frasier—or John Wexler had another card to play. He just had to anticipate what it might be. Likely his partner was outside preparing an attack, because Aiden knew now that the SSK wasn’t working alone. “Close the door.”
Frasier obliged, his expression pleasant and his tone mild. “How many young women have died because you couldn’t follow the clues? Their deaths are on you, Aiden. Especially that beautiful wife of yours. Kayla. She tried so hard to make me see the good in myself.”
“You’re going to pay for all of the horror you’ve brought into people’s lives.” Aiden couldn’t even view Frasier as human any longer. He wanted to shoot him, but he couldn’t become the very thing he hated—a murderer. Not even to avenge Kayla could he shoot an unarmed man in cold blood.
Trouble moved closer to the minister and hissed. He arched his back and growled, clearly warning Aiden of something, but what.
Frasier kicked out at the cat but missed. “That black devil tripped me at Tammy’s house. Before this is done, I’ll skin him alive.”
“I don’t think so. I have the gun,” Aiden pointed out.
“I’ve enjoyed our little game, Deputy Waters. All this time, I knew who you were. I anticipated your moves before you could make them. I left just enough of a trail to drag you behind me. I dangled the evidence, left the bodies, sent you running here and there. You never came close to catching me. Think of how much suffering people have endured because you failed.”
“I have you now.” The truth bit hard into Aiden’s emotions. His finger held the tension on the gun’s trigger. It would be so easy to end it all. For Kayla. For all th
e women the man in front of him had killed. For all the families who’d suffered loss.
“So it would seem?” Frasier smiled. “Me and my…partner.”
It was the smile of a shark sliding effortlessly through the water. Frasier McNaughton, or John Wexler as he was legally known, wasn’t done. He had something else up his sleeve. Now Aiden knew it for certain. He’d walked into the cabin without any attempt to escape. He’d somehow known Aiden was in there—armed. Yet he’d stepped right through the door. And so far had made no effort to run. He only wanted to brag about his ability to manipulate and control Aiden. Aiden accepted that if he wanted to find Tammy and Paula, he had to keep the killer talking.
“You’re too smart to go down this easy. You have a trick up your sleeve, don’t you?” Aiden rested his gun on the counter top. “Tell me about it.”
“So this is just a friendly chat between two…friends?” Frasier laughed. “Even after everything you lost, Aiden, you wanted to believe in the good of mankind. You looked right at me every day and saw only the man who built homes for the poor and ran toy drives for children. I watched you when you realized Jessica Whiddon was dead. I took something else from you then.”
Frasier’s words stung, but Aiden refused to show it. “Yes. That’s true. But in the end, I have you.”
“Do you? Over-confidence can be deadly.”
Aiden gritted his teeth, but he forced a smile. “So, tell me about your partner. How long have you and Thad Brady been working together?” The murders all made sense now. He’d been on the SSK’s tail before—come so close to catching him. But he’d never gotten there because there were two killers, not just one. The killer known as John Wexler had been working with the loner Thad Brady. Aiden knew that when he went back and put together the timeline of each of the murders, they’d discover a lull in killings during the time Brady served in the military—if his military record hadn’t been forged and fabricated. “Tell me about Brady.”
Familiar Trouble Page 16