“Boys, lets not fight.” Elliot’s lips curved. “You’re worse than my students when someone’s ball goes missing.”
Is the man actually amused by the situation? His voice held a touch of humor, but his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses were as hard as granite. Dillon counted backward from one hundred, reaching sixty-eight before he felt capable of a response that didn’t involve punching the smirk off Elliot’s face. “Easy for you to say when Caroline is tucked away safe in her classroom.”
Carter shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks and stared at the floor. “Maybe you don’t understand how we feel. You never dated any of the women he’s taken.”
“No, I didn’t. They wouldn’t give me the time of day in high school.” He pushed his hair back with a hand that shook. “You were the jocks the girls giggled over in the hallways.” He cleared his throat. “It’s somewhat ironic you’re turning on each other now.”
“No one is turning on anyone,” Harley snapped.
Dillon straightened in his chair. “What I don’t understand is why they’re wasting time questioning us when they could be out searching our homes.” His knuckles gleamed white as he pressed his fists against his thighs. “Hell, I’ll give them an engraved invitation if they want one. Seems like that’s the way to clear this up and get on with the business of finding Brooke and Stephanie.”
The door to the inner office opened, and Rod emerged. Dark circles smudged the bags beneath his eyes, and his jeans hung from his hips. Dillon was willing to bet the man hadn’t eaten more than a few mouthfuls since his wife was kidnapped.
Agent Johnson stood behind him in the doorway. She checked her clipboard. “Dr. Shaw, you’re next.”
“Give ’em hell,” Harley muttered as Carter stood and passed Rod. The doctor flashed a smile.
Gallows humor. Leaving his chair, Dillon followed Rod past the dispatcher’s desk and stopped him with a hand on his sleeve. “How’re you holding up?”
Slumping against the wall, he rubbed his eyes. “Not very well. Time ran out for Marnie. Now it’s ticking down for Steph.”
The truth of the statement couldn’t be denied. Dillon didn’t even try. “Do you think the FBI has it right? Could it really be one of the men sitting over there?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Doesn’t seem possible, but then I can’t think straight anymore.” His bloodshot eyes narrowed. “If one of them is the sick bastard who took Steph, I’ll kill him myself.”
“What motive—”
“The cops aren’t looking for a motive. I expect a deranged psycho doesn’t need one. They’re looking for opportunity. Made me tell them where I was when each woman was kidnapped or killed.” He let out a shaky breath. “They’ve got this timeline pinned to the wall. Seeing Steph’s name up there nearly made me puke.” He shuddered. “Saying I was at home in bed with my missing wife when most of the abductions occurred didn’t impress them much.”
“Brooke was taken at nine in the morning. That should narrow down the field significantly.”
“I expect it will. I was arguing with Ted Reynolds about the cost of tuning up his Jeep. Seemed wrong to be working when Steph—” He clenched his fists until the knuckles whitened. “My kids got to eat. Soon as they verify my alibi, I’ll be off the suspect list.”
Dillon frowned. “I was in my office, going over meeting notes. Alone.”
“What about when the others were taken?”
He squeezed his eyes closed, remembering sitting in his truck overlooking the ocean with Brooke on his lap. He was so desperate for her he’d wanted to make love right there beside the road. Jesse’s phone call had sent them tearing home instead.
“I was with Brooke when the whack job butchered Cybil, but since she can’t verify it...” He cleared his throat. Tears burned behind his lids. “Last weekend when Marnie was killed, I was in Eureka. Brooke was with me.”
“Can anyone else verify it?”
He nodded. “The owner of the bed and breakfast where we stayed will remember us.”
“Good. There can’t be more than a couple of men without an alibi for at least one of the abductions. The FBI will either find the killer or realize their theory is utter crap.”
His temples throbbed as he turned to look at the men who were the prime suspects. Chairs squeaked, as they shifted in their seats, no doubt as impatient and frustrated as he was with the long wait. Dillon knew each one and was friends with all but a couple, but he prayed one of them was the monster they hunted. If the FBI was wrong, if the killer really was an unknown, Brooke and Stephanie’s odds of being found plummeted to next to nothing. Sinking to the floor, he lowered his head to his knees and held on to a delicate thread of hope.
****
Dillon pressed the phone to his ear and ground his teeth together. Dirty dishes were piled around him on the kitchen counter. He hadn’t touched them in the three agonizing days since Brooke disappeared. “Damn it, Harley, tell me! Have they finished verifying the alibis?”
Harley’s sigh whistled in his ear. “They have. I’m in the clear, by the way. When Tricia was abducted, I was in Sacramento settling my mom into a convalescent home after she fell and broke her hip. Your alibi for the night Marnie was killed checked out.”
“Wonderful. I never doubted my innocence. Who’s not in the clear?”
“I could get fired for revealing confidential information now that I’m officially back in the loop.”
Closing his eyes, Dillon rubbed his hand across his unshaven jaw. “I don’t give a rat’s ass. Tell me.”
“Surprisingly enough, Carter. He either left the hospital early on the nights in question or wasn’t on call. Fred Murphy’s been home alone most every night, drinking from the sounds of it, since he and his wife split. Then there’s Elliot. He said he was with Caroline the night Cybil was killed, but she couldn’t verify it one hundred percent when Agent Johnson pushed her. Course if that woman gave me the stink eye, I’d probably forget my own name.”
“That’s it?”
“Yep. The other alibis are rock solid.”
He clutched the phone in a white knuckled grip. “What are you doing about it?”
“We’ve got all three under close watch. They won’t be able to take a piss without the police knowing about it.”
“You think one of them will lead you to Brooke and Steph?”
“We’re counting on it.”
Some of the tension in his shoulders eased. “You’ll let me know the second something happens?”
Harley was silent for a moment. “I shouldn’t, but I will on the condition you keep your mouth shut and don’t go anywhere near the three suspects.”
“I won’t do anything that will tip them off.”
“I mean it, Dillon. I swear to God, if you—”
“I said I wouldn’t.” He lowered his voice when Zack appeared in the kitchen doorway wearing Superman pajamas, eyes wide, freckles standing out on his pale face. Draping an arm around his son’s shoulders, he gave them a squeeze. “Thanks, Harley.”
“Sure. I’ll be in touch.”
Dillon hung up the phone and let out a long breath.
“Does Harley know where Brooke is yet?” Zack asked.
“He will very soon. Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I’m thirsty. Can I have a drink of water?”
Dillon hunted for a glass in the cupboard and came up with a chipped mug. He filled it with water and handed it to his son. “Looks like I’d better tackle the dishes.”
“It’s kind of gross in here.” Zack drank, his throat moving with each gulp, and then set the mug on the cluttered counter. He ran his finger along a dark brown coffee stain. “Will Brooke really be home soon?”
“She definitely will.”
He took a deep breath, his chest expanding beneath the pajamas. “Brooke told me you don’t want to get married again, but you seem really worried about her. Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”
Dillon’s heart sq
ueezed painfully. “How would you feel about it if I had?”
“Glad. I like Brooke a lot.”
Happiness, like an unexpected ray of sunshine, warmed him. It was past time to tear down his defenses. He was ready to let love back into his life, and Brooke was the only woman who could fill the void. He knew beyond a doubt he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life without her in it. As soon as she was home safe, he’d tell her so.
“We can talk about it later. Right now I want you to go back to sleep. You have school tomorrow, and Miss Farnsworth won’t like it if you’re cranky.”
After tucking Zack in, he smoothed his hair and dropped a kiss on his forehead. The boy was asleep before he left the bedroom. It took over an hour to wash the dishes. His glance turned time and again to the silent phone as he scrubbed pots and wiped down counters. When the kitchen no longer qualified as a health risk, he headed for the living room and threw himself on the couch.
Doing nothing was more exhausting than a hard day of labor in the forest. Why didn’t Harley call? Surely the psycho holding them had to leave his home to tend the women. He hadn’t starved the others, so wouldn’t he need to take them a meal?
Closing his eyes, he tried to picture big, gruff Fred Murphy tying Cybil to a tree and slicing her up. The picture wouldn’t form. Fred had worked for him since he’d taken over the reins at Big Timber. Before that, the two of them had labored side by side in the woods. The man was easy going to a fault. But he’s changed since his wife left him, started drinking more. His brother had mentioned on several occasions that he was worried about him.
Carter was a womanizer, pure and simple, had been since he hit puberty, but that didn’t make him a killer. Dillon rubbed his temples. The doctor wasn’t subtle. He was in your face direct to the point of irritation, and he certainly hadn’t been shy about asking Brooke out. Hiding in the woods wasn’t his style. But he has the skill to cut out a woman’s heart. Not that the butcher used much finesse, from what he’d seen of the victims. He shuddered and swallowed hard against a surge of nausea.
Then there was Elliot, quiet, always in the background, never one to stir the pot. Dillon barely remembered him from high school. The younger boy had been a nonentity. Since he returned to Woodvale, the man seemed more outgoing and confident. But he was engaged to a terrific woman. Why in the hell would he jeopardize his future with Caroline to mutilate women who, in his words, had never given him the time of day?
He sat up slowly. Was that it? Was Elliot getting some sort of sick revenge against women who had ignored him when they were all still just kids? Springing up off the couch, he headed for the phone. It rang before he reached it.
“Yeah?” He spoke into the receiver and held his breath.
“Have you heard anything?” June’s voice quavered.
Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall. “I’m sorry I haven’t. I was hoping you were Harley.” When her only response was quiet breathing, anxiety filled him. “Are you okay, June?”
“No, I’m not. I just got off the phone with my daughter. I put off calling her as long as I could, but I finally broke down and did it. I kept hoping I could wait until Brooke was home safe to tell them what happened.”
“Are they driving up?”
“Ardelle and Matthew will leave first thing in the morning, just as soon as they cancel their classes at the university. I wouldn’t be surprised if James and Neila show up along with them.”
Dillon rubbed his aching head. “Brooke wouldn’t want her family to worry about her.”
“Which is why I didn’t call them sooner. But it wasn’t right, her own parents not knowing she’s in trouble. Oh, Dillon, do you think the police will find her soon?”
The fear in her voice sliced into him. He couldn’t sit around doing nothing, regardless of the promise he’d made Harley. “I thought of something that might help just before you called. Would you mind coming over to stay with Zack?”
“Of course not.” Her voice sounded breathless. “What is it?”
“I’d rather not say, because I may be way off base. Still, I’d like to check it out.”
“I’ll be there in two shakes.”
He hung up the phone and stared at it. Should he run his theory by Harley or beat the living shit out of Elliot until the man confessed? What if he was wrong? A shudder ran down his spine. Grabbing his jacket from the rack, he shrugged into it and picked up his boots. He finished tying them just as the phone rang.
“June?”
“It’s Harley.”
The sheriff’s tone froze him in place. “What happened?”
“The dumb fucks watching Elliot let him slip away. We’ve got men looking everywhere for him.”
His knees shook, and he grabbed the wall to steady himself. “How did it happen?”
“Elliot headed over to the school with a briefcase about an hour ago, went straight up to his classroom. Polk and Dwayne were tailing him, saw the light come on, and settled in to wait. Patience isn’t one of Polk’s virtues, thank God, or we’d still be clueless.” He let out a long breath. “They thought up a lame ass excuse about suspecting a burglar, and went up to check on him. The school was empty. Apparently there’s a back door the two idiots didn’t know existed.”
Dillon’s gaze flew to the door when June came in with Otis on her heels. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the dog, remembering the way he’d dragged Zack around the side of the school. “I’ll be there in three minutes, and I’m bringing Brooke’s dog. Christ, I think I may know where they are.”
Chapter Nineteen
The trap door slammed against the ground with a reverberating thud. Elliot skipped down the ladder, carrying a lantern. Beyond him, stars blinked in the night sky. “Up, both of you. We’re leaving.”
“I’m starving,” Stephanie said. Huddling on the cot, she crossed her arms over her knees. Her pink terrycloth slippers stuck out beneath the ruffle of her nightgown. “You didn’t bring us any food last night.”
Brooke was certain she wouldn’t be able to eat if he put a feast in front of them. Her stomach rolled at the thought. “You’re taking both of us?” She stared at him, saw the panic in his eyes, and her blood chilled. “I thought you only took one woman at a time.”
“I’m being forced to improvise.” His hand shook as he waved the knife, and his breath came in hard pants. “I never thought the police...” He shuddered. “You’re both coming with me. Steph, you first, and don’t try anything smart. I’ll cut your heart out now and be done with it if you don’t cooperate.”
Crawling off the cot, Stephanie stood on the packed dirt floor in her filthy, white nightgown. The chain rattled with her trembling as he unshackled her ankle. Dropping his backpack to the ground, Elliot unzipped it and pulled out a length of rope. With quick, economical movements he tied her hands behind her back and stuffed a gag in her mouth. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating with fear.
“Why the granny gowns?” Brooke asked. If she could get him talking, delay him somehow, maybe the police would come. He was frazzled, obviously worked up about something. Did the FBI suspect he was guilty? Surely law enforcement was combing the woods, looking for them. But they looked before and failed. She pushed the thought aside.
“I don’t care about the nightgowns.” He grabbed Stephanie by the arm and led her toward the stairs.
“It’s been bugging me. Please, can’t you explain?”
He looked over his shoulder and scowled. “My foster mom used to wear them. The old bat would stand over me every evening like some bloated apparition, yelling at me to get the rest of my chores done when I was exhausted from chopping wood after school.” He let out a breath. “I wanted to take that axe and—” He broke off and stared into space. “Anyway, I couldn’t think of a less sexy garment, and I didn’t want you to tempt me from my devotion to Caroline.”
Fear crawled up her spine. The look in his eyes when he mentioned the axe... The man was truly crazy. “Where are you taking Steph?”<
br />
“Not far. Don’t worry, I’ll be back to get you in a minute.”
The second he disappeared Brooke jerked against the chain, prying at the loosened link with numb fingers. She’d worked on the chain for the past two days, smashing the metal against the iron cot until her ankle was scraped raw and her fingers bled. She needed more time. Whimpering, she pulled with all her might. The link bent a fraction.
“Stop it, Brooke. You’ll only hurt yourself.”
Her time was up. Releasing the chain, she slumped against the mattress and stared at Elliot as he descended the ladder. “Is this it? Are you going to kill us both tonight?”
“I didn’t want the game to end this way. I should have had a full month with you.” His lips tightened in his pale face. “It’s too late now. I can’t risk the FBI stumbling across your hiding place.” Pointing the hunting knife, he jerked his wrist. “Get up.”
She pressed against the dirt wall. “Why should I cooperate?”
“Because if you do, you’ll have one last chance to escape. Are you willing to give that up?”
She shook her head and rose slowly. “You’re going to hunt both Stephanie and me?” Hope sent her spirits soaring. Surely he wouldn’t be so reckless as to let them loose at the same time? She’d come so close the first night, so close she could see a porch light burning in the distance. Behind the closed door of the cabin was her salvation. He’d taken her down fifty yards from freedom, rolling her on the ground and laughing in her ear. He’d praised what he called her “valiant effort.” Tears burned behind her eyes, and she forced them back as he tied her wrists. Tonight she would be the victor.
Sticking a wad of cotton in her mouth, he covered it with a handkerchief. The gag was a new twist, and he hadn’t blindfolded her. Why?
After unlocking her leg shackle, he picked up the backpack and turned down the wick on the lantern, casting the room into darkness. “Careful on the ladder,” he said, pressing a hand to her back to steady her.
A gentleman to the end. She giggled, feeling an insane urge to thank him. It was all so unbelievable, she and Stephanie in their tattered, white gowns standing beneath a gorgeous, star strewn sky. Not a hint of fog, unlike the night she’d nearly hit Tricia. If only...
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