The Black Sheep's Redemption

by Lynette Eason

  Charles felt his heart skip a beat. Then had a wild idea. To Ryan, he said, “Show him the picture of Alan.”

  With a raised brow, Ryan asked, “You think she could have left with him?”

  “I don’t know. But I do know that he’s unhinged and he wants Demi. Can’t hurt to ask.”

  Ryan complied. “Was this the guy she was with?”

  Officer Luther nodded. “Yeah, that could be him. He had on a baseball cap, but yeah…it looks like him.” Then he frowned again as he pulled out a little notebook. He flipped a few pages then said, “But his name wasn’t Alan. He said his name was Christopher Holden.”

  “I don’t like this,” Charles stated. “Something’s not right with this.”

  “I agree.” Ryan nodded, his eyes troubled.

  “We need to track them down. And fast.”

  Ryan’s gaze rested on the corner of the bank’s building. “We’ve got all the footage of the shooting from the video cameras. Now we need to watch them again and see if we can get a plate off the car Demi got into.”

  “Where was the car parked?” Ryan asked the officer.

  Officer Luther pointed. “Over there in that lot across the street, somewhere around the middle. I watched them for a little while to make sure he didn’t collapse and need more help. But they made it to the car fine.”

  Ryan nodded his thanks then said to Charles, “Let’s go watch that footage.” He snagged a uniformed officer. “Do you mind checking that parking lot for a camera?” He explained in detail the area he particularly wanted to know about.

  Five minutes later, in the security office of the hotel, Charles stood behind his brother while Ryan scanned the footage, running it through to the appropriate time. And then he pointed. “There she is. Demi and someone exiting the building. But it’s from the back.”

  “And now they’re out of range. They’re off the camera.” Ryan slapped his thigh in disgust.

  Charles felt his fear blossom. How was he going to find Demi?

  Prayers formed on his lips even as he kept his eyes on the next camera.

  The officer Ryan had sent to check on the camera in the parking lot came in, phone tucked against his ear. “I’ve got it. They’re in a blue Camry.” He looked at Charles as he bolted to his feet, ready for action when Ryan pointed to the video that was now being fed to the monitor he watched. He said, “It looks like he forced her into the car.”

  “We’ve got to get her. Now,” Charles barked. “How are we going to find her?”

  “I’ve already got a trace on her cell phone.” He looked at Charles. “You got her a good one. The GPS is on and we’re tracking them now. And I’ve got a helicopter on the way.”

  Charles felt the tightness in his chest ease slightly. Demi was still in the hands of a madman, but at least they had a way to find her.

  Ryan listened a few more seconds then frowned. “They’re stopped? Where?” He looked at Charles. “Dedham.”

  Charles said, “You need to get the local police to the location.”

  “On it,” Ryan said.

  Charles paced, feeling like he should be doing something. Why would Alan take her to Dedham? Dedham was a small town, even smaller than Fitzgerald Bay.

  Where strangers would stand out. Alan had to know that the authorities would put Demi’s picture on the news again once they realized she was missing.

  “That’s not right,” he said. “That’s not them. He wouldn’t just drive thirty miles then stop.”

  “Maybe he’s not done. Maybe he’s just stopped for gas or something.”

  “No, it doesn’t make sense.”

  “He’s not going to act or think like a rational human being. He’s unpredictable,” Owen agreed.

  Charles gulped. “Which makes him all the more dangerous.”

  “Exactly.”

  Charles felt helpless. He paced, his limp more pronounced. The way it always got when he was under a lot of stress. Ignoring it, he ran a hand through his hair and then finally stopped, dropped his chin to his chest and sighed. God, please be there for Demi. I don’t know what’s going on with her or where she is, but please keep her safe.

  “How close are the local police?” Charles asked. He paced forward, then back in the small room.

  Ryan relayed the question. “They’re there. They’ve tracked her cell phone to a car.” He paused as he listened. “But it’s a black Honda driven by a couple in their sixties.”

  Charles’s head snapped up. “He knew we’d track her. Alan slipped her phone into another car.” Now the fear swamped him, threatening to suffocate him. “Why didn’t she get away from him before now?” he murmured. “Does he have her tied up?” The thought sickened him and he forced himself not to dwell on those kinds of thoughts.

  “I’ve got the airport covered, the major bus lines, the train station. I’ve got a BOLO out on his Camry.” Ryan shook his head. “We’ll just have to see what comes in.”

  “No.” Charles refused to accept the wait-and-see attitude. “This guy was in a mental hospital. He’s not thinking right—or straight.” Charles closed his eyes and pulled on every bit of psychology he’d ever studied. “He’ll want to go somewhere familiar, somewhere comfortable. If he’s been fixated on Demi, he’ll take her to a place that has meaning to him.”

  “Where? His home?”

  Charles nodded. “Yes, that’s the first place we need to look.”

  “But where does he live?”

  “He was her next-door neighbor,” Charles whispered. “Go to Demi’s address in Springfield and we’ll find Alan’s house.”

  Ryan shook his head but didn’t disagree. He just said, “It’s a long shot.”

  “I know it is. But it’s the only shot we’ve got right now.”

  * * *

  Demi squirmed in her seat, desperate for an opening. She had to get away from Alan or she wouldn’t live to see nightfall.

  Unless she went along with him. Possibly. But it would take all her acting skills and she didn’t know if she could do it.

  But she had to.

  If she wanted to live.

  She looked at him. “Where were we going to live after we were married?”

  Alan’s gaze shot to her. “Keep your eyes on the road.”

  Demi complied. He continued, “In my house, of course.” From the corner of her eye, she saw his jaw tightened. “Pretty soon you’ll forget all about that Charles guy and we’ll start a family and live like we were meant to live.”

  Demi swallowed hard. He was delusional. Did he really think it was possible to do that? She looked at him again then quickly back in front of her. “I don’t know, Alan. It’s pretty hard to just pick up with someone you don’t even remember.”

  His hand reached out to stroke her cheek and she forced herself not to cringe from him. Instead, she swallowed the sudden nausea and concentrated on driving. “Where do I go now?”

  She didn’t want to let on that she’d regained her memory. There was no telling how that would affect him. Her cheek throbbed a steady beat, a reminder that she was in the company of a vicious man.

  “Just keep going on this road. I’ll give you plenty of notice where to turn.”

  “Okay.” Her easy agreement seemed to calm him and Demi drew in a steadying breath. As long as she was driving, she was alive.

  Where was Charles? She glanced in the rearview mirror as though she expected to see him behind her. Cars passed her on the left and she had a white Chevy behind, but none of them were the red truck she longed to see. Then again, if he realized what had happened to her, he might be riding with someone else.

  Her heart-sent prayers to the one she knew could deliver her from this situation. Please, Lord, let Charles find me
. Provide a way for me to escape. I love Charles, Lord, and believe You sent me to him and his family for a reason. Please, please, deliver me from this man.

  She drove and prayed and Alan fell silent. She knew where she was going. He was taking her to her home. Only she knew it wouldn’t be to her parents’ house.

  It would be to his.

  But hope swelled. Charles knew where she lived. He would be looking for her. Maybe when Charles arrived, she could signal him somehow. Let him know she was next door. Her mind clicked with everything she could try. Devising plan after plan, she discarded one after the other.

  After another forty-five minutes of silence, Alan perked up. “Get off at this exit then make a left at the stop sign.”

  She did. They were about ten minutes from their destination. She checked the rearview mirror again. Still no sign of Charles—or anyone else—looking for her.

  Her knotted stomach twisted into a solid ball of fear.

  “Slow down. Turn here.”

  A helicopter thumped overhead and Demi felt a leap in her pulse. Could it be searching for her? Alan tensed and stuck his head out the window to stare at the chopper.

  The chopper hovered for a brief moment then it banked right and flew off.

  Alan relaxed back into the seat and gave a low chuckle.

  Tears threatened again.

  She’d held her fear in so tight and now that they were almost to Alan’s house, she felt like she might explode. And then she was in the driveway. Turning, she begged, “Please, Alan, let me go. Do you really want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with you?”

  The fist that cracked against her face seemed to come from nowhere.

  Darkness blanketed her.

  TWENTY-ONE

  “We’ve got them,” Ryan reported from the backseat. “The helicopter spotted the car. Demi was driving and Alan stuck his head out of the window to stare up at the helicopter so the pilot peeled off. But he circled back to see the vehicle turn into the subdivision. The car is now in the garage.”

  He’d been right. Charles sat in the passenger seat of Owen’s car and felt some of the horrid fear ease somewhat. They knew where she was. Now they just had to get her away from that madman without him killing her.

  Charles looked at Owen who was driving. “Can’t this thing go any faster?”

  “I’m already doing a hundred.” The blue lights swirled on the dash and Charles felt the seat belt cut into his shoulder as he leaned forward.

  “We’re not going to get there any faster by you giving yourself a heart attack. Sit back and try to get your blood pressure under control.”

  Good advice from his brother, but an impossible feat.

  He did lean back, but his fists stayed clenched on his thighs. “I just want thirty seconds alone with him.”

  Owen nodded. “I know you do, but this guy doesn’t fight fair.”

  Charles snorted. “I didn’t exactly have fair in mind.”

  “Right.”

  Silence descended.

  “Local police are at the scene,” Ryan reported. “They’re watching and waiting for us to arrive.”

  “Good,” Owen said.

  Charles asked, “Have they seen her? Can they get a look through the windows?”

  “No, the blinds are pulled and there are heavy curtains over the blinds.”

  Charles continued his prayers as they pulled off on the exit that would lead them to Demi.

  * * *

  Demi groaned. Her head pounded into a migraine so fierce she thought she might die. Nausea swirled and she rolled to her side.

  “Demi? Demi? I know you’re awake. I’ve been watching you.”

  Memories returned full force. She knew who she was. She knew who Alan Gregor was.

  And she knew she was going to die today.

  But the way her head felt, dying might be a relief.

  Something cool touched her lips.

  Water. She took a sip, then another. It tasted bitter and she grimaced. Her stomach rebelled.

  Demi let out another pained groan and lay back as gently as possible. “My head,” she whispered.

  “I know. But that will pass. I put a mild narcotic in there to help with the pain.” A cool cloth touched her forehead, covered her eyes and for a moment she panicked, but it felt so good, she decided to leave it there. Alan continued in what he probably thought was his soothing voice. “I didn’t want to hit you. But you just made me so mad when you asked me to let you go that I decided you needed some severe discipline in order for you to understand.”

  Understand? Understand what?

  “Because I will never let you go. And if you ask me again, I will punish you again. Are we clear?”

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  The headache receded from migraine to just really bad.

  “Good.” He sounded satisfied.

  “It was you all along,” she whispered. “You were the one in the gray hoodie.”

  “Yes. I tracked you down and was determined to bring you back here. Where you belong. You didn’t belong there.”

  “And that night, in the bookstore. That was you, too?”

  “Yes again. Only I wasn’t fast enough. I didn’t know the layout of the store and you got away from me. Then cops got there so fast…” She could almost picture him shrugging, but didn’t want to open her eyes yet. He said, “And yes, that was my message in the church where you were looking all lovey-dovey at Fitzgerald.”

  The hard tone returned to his voice and she knew she needed to get him talking about something else. “Tell me about my parents.”

  “I’ve never met them. One day, once you’ve accepted your position here with me, I will allow you to introduce us.”

  The nausea faded a bit and she pulled in a relieved breath.

  “You have some color back in your cheeks. Feeling better?” he asked.

  “No.”

  A quiet sigh filtered to her ears. “I’ll give you a few more minutes, then we can talk again.”

  Talking was about the last thing she wanted to do right now.

  Unless it was with Charles.

  She heard Alan’s footsteps recede then the quiet click of the door.

  The slamming of the dead bolt jolted her and the cloth slipped from her eyes onto the bed where she lay. Still she kept her eyes shut.

  Her entire face hurt. Her cheek, her jaw. Her head.

  Everything.

  Going by feel, she picked up the cloth and placed it against her throbbing cheek. With every heartbeat, pain pulsed.

  But she couldn’t lie there. She needed to find a way out of—

  Where was she?

  Pulling the cloth from her eyes, she squinted, wincing at the shaft of agony caused by the light.

  Ignoring the pain, she sat up and did her best to take in her surroundings.

  She was in a bedroom. Whose? Alan’s? She shuddered. The furniture appealed to her taste, though. Not terribly masculine, but not overly feminine, either. Demi had the awful thought that he’d actually picked it out with her in mind. Another shiver racked her.

  She frowned and let her eyes wander from the dresser to the door.

  Then back to the window.

  She slid gently from the bed, keeping one hand on the edge to keep her balance. Standing, she swayed, caught herself then stayed still until the room stopped spinning and the lightning-sharp pain dulled to a jackhammer throb.

  “Please, Lord…” she whispered as she stumbled to the window. “Please let me see Charles again.”

  She yanked back the curtain—and stared at a cement wall. A sob threatened to break through. She swallowed it and pulled the cur
tain again into place.

  Vaguely, she wondered if Alan could see her. Was he monitoring her with hidden cameras?

  She decided she didn’t care. She moved to one of the two doors and twisted the knob. The door opened easily and her heart leaped. Then sank to her toes when she stepped into a bathroom. She turned in a circle taking in the perfectly matched towels, little soaps on the sink and the exact brand of facial cleanser that she used.

  She stepped away and felt the wall touch her back. Sliding down to the floor, she rested her aching forehead on her bent knees and sobbed.

  * * *

  Charles felt every muscle in his body go rigid when they pulled onto the street where Demi was being held. Still no sighting or any activity had been reported. Charles continued to pray.

  They parked and Ryan said, “Stay here.”

  “Not a chance.” Charles didn’t wait for permission. He’d been trained to fight, to face his battles. He’d even been involved in rescuing a fellow marine who’d been captured and held hostage by a group of Iraqi refugees.

  And he had his weapon.

  Ryan didn’t argue with him. Instead, his brother approached the command truck that had parked out of sight of the house. Charles followed him.

  Once inside the van, Ryan introduced himself to the man in charge, Detective Pierce Sands. Ryan asked him, “Anything?”

  Detective Sands shook his head. “I’ve got a SWAT team on the way. We’re getting our equipment in place to get eyes and ears in there. Right now, I have orders to let you be the lead on this since you know the suspect and the victim.”

  Charles watched the action for a few moments, then turned to study the house. It was an older home, probably thirty to forty years old. From the front, it looked like a single-story house, but he’d overheard Ryan talking about the layout and knew it had a basement. The house next door was Demi’s parents’ house. The house she’d grown up in. He wondered if it had triggered any memories when she’d seen it.

  The small utility shed next to Alan’s house looked strange. Out of place. Who put a utility shed beside his house? But Alan had proved he wasn’t stable and Charles longed to rush the house and pull Demi from that madman’s clutches.