by Janice Olson
Checking the road both ways, he parked, jumped out of the cab. At a dead-out run he leapt over the ditch landing halfway up the other side as he clawed himself upright to climb the rest of the way. Uncertain how anyone could survive such a crash, he picked his way through glass and metal, around the torn-off driver’s door, noticing the shredded hardtop several yards away. He stepped over pieces of a Nikon and a camera bag completely annihilated. Steam continued to pour out from beneath the sprung hood, and the mixture of antifreeze along with burnt rubber filled his nostrils.
Moving around the mangled car, he saw Goldilocks hanging limp from her seat belt, a pool of blood on the passenger’s door. He felt for a pulse and barely found one. Pulling the switchblade from his pocket, he reached in and in one fluid movement severed the seat belt allowing her body to crash down onto the door, her left leg still tangled in the gearshift. He pulled her loose, dragged her from the wreckage, then left her in the tall grass before he sprinted back to his truck, her moans echoing in his ears.
He backed his truck up around the curve to a low spot where he could cross the ditch, driving through the downed fencing, before stopping next to Goldilocks. She was still out cold, which served his purpose fine.
Stooping, he brushed the hair from her face watching her for a moment before cradling her limp body in his arms, never expecting his body’s immediate reaction of holding her battered flesh next to his. Breathing in deep, he filled his lungs with her sweet, fresh smell, along with the smell of blood, and knew he’d have to get a handle on his emotions.
She’s a job. Now finish it.
None too gently, he shoved her onto the bench seat and then slammed the door. Furtively glancing around, he hopped into the driver’s seat. Without looking at Goldilocks, he sped off across the field.
Chapter 63
Jason tried several times to reach BJ on her cell phone, but each time it went to voice mail. He’d left messages, even texted, but never heard back from her. She must be busy working and unable to answer. Hungry to hear her voice and see her face, he raced up the private road to The Rose and parked in the circular drive. He took the front steps two at a time.
Funny how, in the past few weeks, he began to think of this Austin stone monstrosity as home. BJ made the difference. She was becoming an obsession with him. So much so he could hardly keep his mind on work or anything else. It might be too soon, but he wanted to marry her. Maybe after he did, this craziness might stop, but he knew it wouldn’t, he loved BJ too much.
Before he could open the door, out flew Randi practically in his arms. “Whoa.”
“Oh, sorry.” She made to step around him.
“Where are you heading in such an all-fired hurry?” He looked past her. “Is BJ with you?”
“No. That’s just it. I’m worried about her. I’m going to find her.”
“What do you mean you’re worried about her?” Panic stabbed his gut when he saw the anxious look on Randi’s face.
“She was supposed to be here to meet with me at two o’clock, but she hasn’t made it back.”
“Back? Back from where?” Jason didn’t like the sound of this.
“Fielder’s Pond. Sidney said she left shortly after ten saying she’d be here in plenty of time before I arrived. But she hasn’t. And she doesn’t answer her cell either. Jason, this isn’t like BJ. Unlike me, she’s always punctual or she calls.” Randi wrung her hands.
Jason turned on his heels and charged down the steps, jumping into his Jeep. “Call Robby, tell him what you told me. Tell him I’m headed out to Fielder’s pond to look for her. Have him meet me out there ASAP.”
“Jason—”
Jason didn’t wait to hear what Randi yelled at him, just tromped the accelerator, peeling rubber as he headed toward the gate. Something wasn’t right. He couldn’t put his finger on the why, but he was certain BJ was in trouble.
By the time he reached the farm-to-market road to Fielder’s Pond, his speedometer read 75 and climbing. He knew this road like the back of his hand and also knew he would be approaching the curve just before the turnoff to the pond. He let up on the gas when he noticed several sets of dark, heavy skid marks on the blacktop that led to the edge of the road. Across the ditch in the field, a stark contrast to the green grass, he saw debris and the undercarriage of a car on its side.
Terror ripped at his insides as he brought his truck to a stop facing the carnage of metal. Even from this distance he knew whose car he was looking at. For one brief moment Jason felt the horrible fear of loss. His hand slammed hard on the steering wheel as anguish filled his heart. He’d lived this nightmare before, but this time his heart felt as though it was being ripped from his chest and he didn’t want to survive if it meant he’d lost BJ again.
“No, God! Not Billy Jo. Please.”
Chapter 64
Cold. So cold.
Icy fingers seeped into every joint causing BJ to shiver. There wasn’t a place on her body that didn’t scream out in pain. Her teeth chattered and she quaked inside and out. She wanted to roll up into a tiny ball to fight against the onslaught of the cold dampness that invaded her body, but her limbs wouldn’t cooperate. Whatever held her wouldn’t let go.
Snippets of horrific scenes, real, frightening pushed BJ to wakefulness. Yet nothing made sense.
Fighting her way up through the deep haze surrounding her mind initiated a violent retching in her stomach. The sickness so compelling it pulled her out of the clutches of the nightmare into reality. She forced her eyelids open to a blinding cloak of pitch darkness and nothingness—terror struck home.
She attempted to move, and found she couldn’t. Hands behind her back, her ankles and wrists were bound by ropes digging into her flesh. She pulled and tugged, but the jarring motion caused her to scream out at the excruciating pain in her shoulder and leg, yet her muffled cries never got past the strap of tape across her swollen lips. Damp clothing clung to her skin, and she grappled with where or why she was in this predicament.
A vision of chrome and a black truck. Her Jeep airborne. The crunch and scraping of metal. The abrupt burst of the airbag, then being jerked, smashed, and tossed around as she tumbled inside the Wrangler. The faint remembrance of falling, hands pulling, a disembodied face hovering, nothing more. The fragmented memories and the darkness played upon her fears and the unknown was bringing about her hysteria. Her insides knotted together as she continued to tremble, whether from chill or terror was uncertain.
A man, she was certain the face was a man, must have brought her here, wherever here was. What other explanation could there be. Right now, he could be within striking distance but she wouldn’t know. Overwhelming fear clutched at her heart. She wondered if a person could die of fright.
Don’t panic. Think.
She inhaled and found the mere act hurt her chest. With the breath came the smell of damp dirt and a musty odor. Her left arm ached as though torn from the socket and a sharp pain throbbed in her left thigh. Doubtful if she were loose from the ropes she’d be able to stand or walk. She bit down hard to keep from crying out as another harsh spasm of pain overtook her. Grit scraped against her teeth, and a metallic, salty taste of blood filled her mouth.
Beneath her right side, her fingers scraped against a layer of grainy particles of sand and dirt. Unlike smooth concrete or wood, the floor was rigid and uneven, maybe stone but not in a house, unless abandoned. Except for the sound of her labored breathing, she heard nothing until her ears picked up a faint inconsistent pounding. The sound seemed to pulsated through the ground.
Paralyzed with fear, terror such as she’d never known before filled her mind as she acknowledged the awful truth.
Someone had left her here to die.
Chapter 65
Every muscle in Jason’s body tensed against the sight of the accident praying the Jeep belonged to anyone but Billy Jo then he felt guilt for the prayer. The scene was too much like Lindsey’s accident, and if Lindsey didn’t survive, how could B
J? He wanted to rail against God, but knew He wasn’t responsible.
Stopping short of the curve, he pulled his Wrangler off the blacktop and crossed the ditch at the lowest point along the road. The indication of flattened grass told him he wasn’t the first one to come this way. The EMTs maybe? But he couldn’t be certain.
Mixed emotions ripped through him as he drove around the vehicle debris to the open top of the empty, battered Jeep. The short-lived elation that BJ must have been rescued was overshadowed with concern about how badly she was injured.
When he reached her car, he reached inside and lifted what was left of the hanging seat belt, fingered the clean cut, but noticed blood stained the strap. More signs of blood were on the steering wheel, driver’s seat, down by his feet, even on the grass leading away from the wreckage. His eyes followed the tainted path to where it stopped. There a huge dark patch. So much blood, she could have bled out.
Why didn’t he hire security to follow her? He should have. This was his fault. His self-castigation continued while he dug out his cell phone and punched in Robby’s number.
“Robby, Jason here. Listen I just found BJ’s Jeep. It’s been rolled, but no sign of her. It looks bad.” He cleared the catch in his throat. “Someone cut her out of the seat belt. Have you heard any reports?”
“Listen man, I’m sorry. Hold on while I check.”
Jason ran his hand through his hair, praying for BJ’s safety. He looked over the wreckage, overwhelmed with the prospects of her injuries. He didn’t want to picture her body battered and bleeding. Instead, he remembered BJ the night when they talked and just before their lips touched. And the feel of BJ in his arms. He relived it all wanting to scream at the injustice, at … God. No, God had nothing to do with this. Some demented person did this work and Jason was going to make it his job to find the person.
“Jason?”
“Yes, what did you find?”
“There’s no report filed, but Stella’s checking all the clinics and Trinity Hospital. Should have a report by the time you get back to town.”
“Thanks. I’ll catch you at the station.”
Jason gave one last glance around and spotted BJ’s cell phone in the grass. He remembered the first day he saw BJ he’d rescued the little pink thing from annihilation.
He scooped up the phone that was still intact, gave a laugh that surprised him. “Well, sweetheart, I just saved your bacon again.” Please, God, let it be so.
He pocketed her BlackBerry and turned to climb into his Jeep, when he heard someone yelling. “Hey, boss.”
Chaps, one of his ranch hands, stood on the other side of the ditch waving at him. Jason motioned that he’d be right there.
When he pulled up behind the Rocking J pickup, the man sauntered up to Jason’s Jeep leaning his elbows on the edge of the open window. “Was the little lady all right?”
Jason couldn’t imagine how Chaps already knew about Billy Jo. “What do you know about the accident?”
“Not much.” He raised his hat and scratched his head, then plopped the hat back in place. “I came by just after it happ’ned. I was on my way to the north pasture. Saw the guy load her up into his pickup. I didn’t stop. Figured he had ever’thing under control.”
“What truck? Can you describe it?”
Chaps gave him a speculative look then spat between his teeth. “Sure can. Black Chevy. Purty new. I’d say within the last couple of years, with one of them big ol’ fancy chrome brush guards.”
“Did you see the man’s face? Recognize him?” Chap’s information gnawed at Jason.
“I saw his face. But no one I ever saw before.”
Jason didn’t like the sound of this. Why would the man put BJ in his truck instead of calling the police? “Would you know him if you saw him again?”
“Purty sure.” Chaps gave a sharp nod. “Come to think of it, funny thing.”
“What?” He didn’t have time to pull the information out of Chaps, but Jason knew the man wouldn’t be rushed.
“When I slowed down, he turned real quick like. Almost like he didn’t want me to see his face. Didn’t think much at the time. But now that you mention it, I think that was it. He didn’t want me to have a good look at him.”
“Thanks, Chaps.” Jason’s mind was whirling just about as fast as his stomach. The news didn’t sit well. “Hang on for minute. Let me call Robby.”
The wrangley old cowpuncher leaned his hip against Jason’s fender crossing his arms and legs.
“Robby, have you found her?”
“Stella hasn’t been unable to locate her yet. If you hang on a minute, she’s talking with Trinity now.”
Jason could feel the tension building in his neck and shoulders, and for some reason he imagined he heard BJ calling for help. Overactive imagination more than likely, but he didn’t like his gut feeling that something was very wrong, and not just the wreck.
“Jason?”
“I’m here.”
“Stella said no reports of admittance for an automobile accident involving any woman of BJ’s description within the past five hours. She’s checked the surrounding clinics, and even Trinity. I called The Rose. She’s not there either.”
Acid poured into Jason’s stomach, igniting it like a forest fire. He clenched his jaw so hard he felt the ache from the pressure he’d inflicted. “Robby, I’m bringing in Chaps, my ranch hand. He saw BJ. A man loaded her into a black Chevy truck then headed into town. And I’ll tell you right now, if he’s harmed one hair on her head, I’ll kill him.”
Chapter 66
BJ’s fear morphed into red, hot anger. Anger over the man who left her here to die. Anger over Madelyne for the foolish stipulations of her will. Surely, the only reasonable explanation that she’d been dumped in this dark, stinking hole—someone after the inheritance, no doubt. Why else would a person go to such lengths to almost kill her then leave her here in this tomb of darkness?
For certain, she could look forward to a slow death if she didn’t get her hands and feet untied. She had to find a way out of this place.
BJ strained against the ropes. Excruciating pain tore through her body until she couldn’t endure it any longer. Beads of sweat rolled down into her eyes as she took several panting breaths of the putrid air before beginning again.
She had no recollection of time—could be hours or minutes since she’d been imprisoned. No way of knowing. Maybe by now, Randi would be worried enough to look for her. Or would Randi think she was out on a shoot and forgot about the time, as she was sometimes prone to do. The likelihood of someone finding her would be slim, and survival would depend solely upon her own ingenuity.
Something skittered through her hair and in front of her face. She jerked away in terror, the result painful. Her imagination ran wild—mice, spiders, slithery snakes. She knew full well in her present predicament she couldn’t defend herself against even the smallest of creatures.
Forcing herself to concentrate on the problem at hand, she mentally prepared herself for the pain, clamped down hard with her teeth, and then yanked against the rope with her right hand.
Waves of pain shot up her arm, ricocheted through her body, as a muted scream pounded inside her head. White lights burst behind her eyelids, and the jarring motion caused her stomach to revolt. She swallowed hard against the forceful retching response, knowing full well if she threw up she’d choke to death with the tape on her mouth.
The cord dug into her wrists and tore her flesh. She collapsed against the floor, small bits of grit cutting into her forehead, her body freefalling and spinning in space until the dizziness subsided. BJ sobbed.
Shaking uncontrollably, she tried not to imagine what she couldn’t see. The perpetual darkness played upon her psyche, forcing her to confront her fear—she might never leave this place alive.
A quick inhale of breath brought about another spasm of pain. The oppressive, putrid air and the severe ache in her chest made it difficult to breathe. She moved to shift i
nto a sitting position, but the lack of leverage caused her to fall back against the hard floor adding to her suffering.
Help me, God.
A cloak of despair hovered over her like a wave ready to break. The quicksand of doubt and helplessness mocked and threatened.
The only time she’d felt this powerless was at seventeen, the night Chief Doggett dropped her off on a street corner in Austin. Her mind drudged up the awful image of the desperate young girl, clutching the small bundle that held all of her earthly possessions, watching, defenseless, as the taillights were swallowed up by the night. She remembered the horrifying fear. The sounds of the angry streets. The dark, lonely, terrorizing thoughts of the unknown. That night her will to prevail far outweighed her fear. She did it once … she could do it again.
She rested her head against the cold, damp floor, regaining her strength. Steeling herself against the next onslaught of pain, she gave another determined tug with her right hand as a sob escaped, her body soaked with sweat. When her restraints loosened slightly, she became giddy.
Shoving doubts aside, BJ said a quick prayer. She called upon what little reserve of strength she had left, bracing herself before straining against the rope again. Knowing she had little strength left, she tugged with all her might. Her heart pounded violently while a torrent of pain sliced through her, leaving her drained. Her hand slipped free, stinging with a vengeance. She rubbed her wrist and felt the stickiness, no doubt blood where flesh had been stripped from her wrists.
She grabbed the edge of the tape over her mouth, prepared herself for pain. With one swift, hard tug, she tore the strip free. Her shriek bounced off the walls as she collapsed against the floor, her lips and skin around her mouth on fire. A mixture of laughing and crying filled the room. She spoke nonsensical words, just to hear her voice then laughed again at her silliness. Reality set in. Fear that her capturer might hear her, she stopped, attuning her ears to her surroundings. Nothing.