Elliot lashed her to a big fir tree beside Steph, lowered the trap door, and shoveled dirt over it. Slowly Brooke’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. The outline of a house was visible a short distance away, and she understood the reason for the gags. Was it his home? The shape looked familiar. She could swear she’d stood in this very spot before. Squeezing her eyes shut, she listened to the wind blowing through the fir tree, the sleepy chirp of a robin disturbed by the commotion, and tried to pinpoint the memory.
Finished with his shoveling, he stomped down the dirt and scattered needles across the earth, then disappeared in the direction of the building. She stared at Stephanie and saw the question in the other woman’s eyes. What in the name of God is he doing?
When he reappeared a few minutes later, his teeth flashed white in the starlight. “Bunch of morons,” he muttered, untying the rope holding them to the tree. His movements were self-assured, his step lively. The flare of hope she’d felt at his earlier panic dimmed. Something had boosted his confidence.
Binding them together at the wrist, he tugged on the tether and spoke in a whisper. “Let’s go. We have quite a hike ahead of us.”
Stumbling on the uneven forest floor, they walked deeper into the woods. Exhaustion and hunger weighed each step. Her feet felt like raw meat in the thin bedroom slippers. Surely they’d gone at least a couple of miles. Beside her, Stephanie tripped and fell, dragging her down into a clump of ferns. Her nightgown was soaked through at the knees and clung uncomfortably to her legs. She shivered and lay still, breathing deeply.
“Get up.” Grabbing her arm, Elliot pulled her to her feet. Stephanie scrambled up and leaned against her, chest heaving. “A little farther and I’ll turn you loose.”
They walked on. The trees thinned, and the going became easier. Brooke kept her pace slow and steady. The further they went from town, the more difficult it would be to reach safety. Purposefully, she fell to her knees, pulling Stephanie with her.
Elliot sighed and helped untangle them. A crescent moon rose above the trees, casting a pale light over the forest. He frowned and shook his head. “I wanted to wait for a new moon for Stephanie. This isn’t the way I imagined it.” Reaching out, he loosened Brooke’s gag. She spat out the cotton and swallowed against the dryness in her throat.
“If it’s wrong, let us go,” she croaked and swallowed again. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“A new moon is the refuge of the hunted. It makes the game more difficult.” He smiled, staring up at the sky. “Now a full moon is a hunter’s moon. There’s nothing quite like taking back a piece of my heart beneath its majesty.” He turned to face her. “You should have had a full moon, Brooke.”
“Don’t do it, Elliot.” As soon as he untied her hands, Stephanie clasped his arm and clung. Her voice was choked with tears. “Don’t kill us, please. Take Caroline away from here and find a place where you can be happy together. You don’t have to hurt us to have your heart back, truly you don’t. Your love for her makes it whole.”
He bit his lip, and for an instant Brooke thought he might give in. Then he shook his head, and his eyes hardened. “It’s gone too far. I have to finish it now.”
Rubbing her chafed wrists, she stood close beside Stephanie. “At least give us a fair chance.”
He reared back and frowned. “Of course I will. It wouldn’t be any fun if it was easy. You’ve got a five minute head start. Good luck, ladies.”
Picking up her skirt, Brooke ran, rocks biting into the soles of her feet through the slippers, her heart hammering in her chest. Stephanie panted by her side. After a minute, she stopped and grabbed the other woman’s hand, squeezing it. “It’ll be too easy if we stay together. You go straight toward town. I’ll head toward Jesse’s cabin.”
“Oh, Brooke, no. I can’t stand being alone.” Her voice was a cry of pain.
“We have to, Steph. Do you know where you are?”
“I think so, but what if I get turned around.”
“Keep the moon at your back and run like hell. You can do it. We can do it.” She gave her hand a final squeeze. “Now go!”
Waiting only a second to watch Stephanie disappear into the trees, she turned and ran for her life.
****
Otis lunged around the side of the school, pulling Dillon by the end of the leash. He ran to keep up, stopping beneath a huge fir tree. The dog sniffed the ground and started digging.
Harley held up a flashlight, illuminating the area with the powerful beam. “The ground looks like it’s been disturbed recently, though it’s difficult to tell the way he’s going at it.”
“Get that mutt out of there,” Polk shouted, running up behind them. “He could be destroying evidence.”
“Otis dug here once before, the day Brooke disappeared.” Dillon’s chest tightened, squeezing the breath out of him as a sudden thought occurred. Please, God, no. “You don’t think—”
The dog’s nails scratched against a wooden surface. “Looks like some kind of trap door.” Harley grabbed Otis by the collar and pulled him aside. With his foot, he scraped away the last of the dirt.
Dillon bent and tugged on a metal ring. The door crashed against the ground with a reverberating thud. Not a grave. A cellar. His knees nearly buckled with dizzying relief. “June has one like it at her house.”
Shining the light into the hole, Harley spotlighted a pair of empty cots. “Looks like he took both women with him.”
Agent Washington stepped forward. “Stay back, all of you. We need to preserve the scene.”
“Have at it. All I care about is finding Brooke and Stephanie.” Harley’s shoulders heaved. “We will find them, if we have to search every inch of the woods from here to hell and back.”
Otis sniffed around the base of the tree and whined, then tugged on his leash. Dillon followed, giving the dog his head. “I think he has Brooke’s scent,” he called over his shoulder. Are you coming?”
“Jesus, who would have thought that mongrel was part bloodhound. Let’s go, boys.” Harley, Dwayne, Detective Watkins, and Agent Johnson crashed through the woods behind him.
Wishing he’d grabbed a flashlight out of his truck, Dillon swore as he tripped and sprawled in a huckleberry bush. Springing to his feet, he ran on in the feeble moonlight. Adrenaline pumped through his body as he sprinted to keep up with the dog. Knowing that right now Brooke could be struggling to escape from Elliot, that mere seconds could mean the difference between a future with the woman he loved and incredible heartbreak kept him racing ahead, even as his breath seized in his chest and pain stabbed his side. Harley wheezed next to him, along with Agent Johnson, who wasn’t even breathing hard. The woman had easily outdistanced the other two men.
They’d gone close to two miles when Otis stopped, sniffed the ground in a widening circle, and whined. “Please don’t tell me the dog lost their trail,” Harley gasped, bending double as he struggled to breathe.
Otis ran forward, nose to the ground, then darted to the right and barked sharply.
Dillon frowned. “Do you suppose they split up or doubled back? I’m not an expert in canine tracking.”
“Damned if I know. Dwayne, give Dillon your flashlight,” Harley said as the deputy reached them. Chest heaving, the man handed over the light. “Forget the damned dog. Let’s see if we can find their trail.”
Shining the light into the undergrowth, Dillon discovered bent ferns leading in two directions. “Which way, boy?” Otis barked again and pulled on his leash. “The dog wants to go north,” he called, “and there are definite signs someone headed that way.”
“I’ve got more over here,” Harley said. “Someone went back toward town, veering away from the trail we followed up.” He ran a hand over his head and swore. “Well, hell.”
Agent Johnson fisted her hands on her hips. “Simple. We’ll each take a different set of tracks. Sheriff, head back toward town with your deputy. Detective Watkins and I will continue east, and Mr. Tremayne and the
dog can take the northern path.” She scowled. “I don’t like leaving you on your own, but Watkins and I are not expert trackers. Anyway, I imagine that animal will prove to be an effective weapon if you need one. Keep a sharp look out and yell if anything catches your eye.”
Nodding, Dillon let Otis go. He didn’t care where the others went. Right now he had more confidence in the dog’s ability to find Brooke than he did in all the law officers combined. And he certainly wasn’t afraid of Elliot Locke. His hand tightened around the leash in a white knuckled grip. If he found the twisted freak first, the county wouldn’t have to worry about paying for a trial.
Running through new growth forest, it was all he could do to keep up with the dog. After a time the trees grew closer together, the undergrowth denser, and he was forced to slow. This was an older section of forest, nearly shouting distance from his grandfather’s cabin. Otis stopped and howled. A shiver rippled down Dillon’s spine. “Jesus, quit that!”
“Who’s there?” a voice shouted.
“It’s me, grandpa. Don’t shoot, for God’s sake.”
Jesse stepped around a clump of dwarf maple. Leaves rustled as he lowered the shotgun. “I heard something a little bit ago and came to investigate.”
“What did you hear?” Holding his breath, he waited for the answer.
Jesse raised a shaking hand to his chin. “Sounded like a scream.”
Blood thrummed in his ears. He couldn’t panic. It wouldn’t help Brooke. Taking deep breaths, Dillon concentrated on slowing his breathing. “The dog lost her scent. If Elliot is carrying her, he can’t be moving very fast. We’ll find her.”
His grandfather’s eyes widened. “Elliot Locke, that scrawny little school teacher. He’s the one killing the women?”
Dillon nodded.
“Hell, yes, we’ll find her.” Jesse crouched, studied the feathery fronds of a sword fern, and gave a crow of triumph. “They went this way.”
****
Brooke stopped running and stared around at the dark forest. Clouds covered the moon, and for the first time she wasn’t certain which way to go. Shaking with cold, she pressed a hand to her pounding heart and tried to slow her breathing. I absolutely cannot panic. If I turn a little more to the west...
She plunged into the thick woods, pushing aside tree limbs, forcing her way through bushes. A branch snapped against her face, and she cried out, feeling blood ooze between her fingers from a gash on her cheek. She wiped her hand on her nightgown and ran forward blindly in the darkness. Surely she was nearing Jesse’s cabin. If she yelled he might hear her. But so might Elliot. Whimpering softly, she smacked full force into a stand of dwarf maple. The impact knocked her on her butt. Her head spun.
It took precious minutes to steady her legs enough to stand. Tears ran down her face as she moved forward more cautiously this time. Behind her a twig snapped. She spun, striking out with all her might. An arm wrapped around her chest, held her as she kicked and squirmed.
“Gotcha,” a voice whispered in her ear. “You were close, Brooke, but not close enough. A fine effort.”
She screamed, loud and shrill, before a hand clamped over her mouth. “Ah, ah, ah, no fair yelling. We aren’t alone, more’s the pity.” He shoved a handkerchief in her mouth and bound her wrists. Kicking with all her might, she connected with his shins. “Damn it, stop fighting me!” Shoving her to the ground, he sat on her and tied her ankles.
It was all Brooke could do to breathe. Spots danced in front of her eyes as she tried to draw air into her burning lungs. Climbing off her, he threw her over his shoulder and plunged through the ferns, muttering and panting as he went.
“Stephanie was a piece of cake to catch, but you didn’t make it easy.”
She froze, and the fight drained out of her. He’d found Steph. Squeezing her eyes shut, she blinked back tears. Maybe they should have stayed together. Maybe if they’d gone on the attack instead of running away, they could have overpowered him somehow. It’s too late for what ifs. As she bounced against his backpack, she prayed he hadn’t had time to kill Stephanie. Hope, however slim, that her friend was still alive kept her sane.
His steps slowed, and his breathing became more labored. Carrying her was taking a physical toll. Time was on her side now. She pictured Dillon searching the forest for her, his face set in hard lines of determination. He wouldn’t give up looking until he found her, and Elliot had said they weren’t alone...
With a hard kick of her legs, she jammed her knees into his chest. His grip loosened, and she toppled to the ground, knocking the wind out of her.
“Damn it, Brooke, don’t make me chloroform you. I want to look into your eyes when I take back the piece of my heart that’s deep inside you. If you keep fighting me, you’re going to ruin it!”
She lay perfectly still. Unconscious she was as good as dead.
“Are you going to cooperate?” She gave an abrupt nod, and he smiled, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “I thought you’d see it my way.” Grunting, he heaved her onto his shoulder. “We’re almost there. Not much farther, now.”
It seemed an eternity until he lowered her to the ground. Pressing her fists against the soft, damp earth, she pushed herself to a sitting position—and saw Stephanie. Relief so intense it was painful surged through her. Gagged and bound, her friend strained against ropes binding her to a giant redwood, clearly very much alive.
“Up you go.” Grabbing her arm, he swung her to her feet and dragged her across a bed of moss to a second tree. “You can face each other if you like.”
Brooke stared into Stephanie’s terrified eyes while he lashed her to the tree, knowing she should be petrified. She wasn’t. Nothing seemed real, not the rope cutting into her chest, not the knife in Elliot’s hand, shining in the starlight. It was all some kind of sick, twisted dream.
Clouds drifted past the moon in a game of hide and seek, casting an ethereal beauty over the forest. Surely these weren’t her last minutes on earth. She couldn’t believe it was the end, not when she had so much to live for. Not when she and Dillon were finally finding their way to each other. He would save them. Deep in her heart, which pounded frantically in her chest, she knew it was true. Knew it with every fiber of her being.
A dark shape launched from the forest, knocking Elliot to the ground, sending the knife flying. He screamed, a high pitched shriek that sent a shiver down her spine, and rolled into a ball, covering his head with his arms. The dog stood over him, barking uproariously.
Otis. Her knees gave out, and she sagged against the ropes as two men burst from the woods. Dillon ran straight to her and pulled the gag from her mouth. Coughing, choking on her own tears, she smiled.
“Oh, God, Brooke, I was so afraid I wouldn’t reach you in time.” His voice was hoarse. In the moonlight, his eyes were bright with unshed tears. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head. “I knew you’d come. I knew you’d save us both.”
“You can thank your dog for that. Without him—” He broke off and let out a long breath as he worked on the knotted ropes. “I don’t want to think about it.”
Otis pressed against her legs and whined. When Dillon freed one of her hands, she buried it in the dog’s fur. “And people think he’s more trouble than he’s worth,” she said with a shaky laugh.
Shouts came from the woods as more people ran into the clearing. Someone went to Stephanie, while the others converged on Elliot. Over Dillon’s shoulder, Brooke saw him reach up and grab hold of the shotgun Jesse had trained on him. She opened her mouth to scream as a deafening blast echoed through the forest.
Elliot lay on the ground, his blood soaking into the fir needles, a dark stain on the forest floor. She closed her eyes as the last of the ropes fell away, and Dillon pulled her into his arms. Burying her face against his chest, she finally let go of her fear. Shaking uncontrollably, tears ran down her face. Dillon scooped her into his arms and carried h
er away from the carnage. Clinging to the man she loved, Brooke never looked back.
****
Early morning light filtered through the curtains, falling across the bed in patches. It wasn’t raining, surely a good omen. Brooke stretched, her foot sliding along Dillon’s leg. She snuggled closer to the furnace-like warmth of his body and felt his arm tighten around her waist. Glancing up, she saw that he still slept, his lips open slightly, his breathing deep and even.
When they’d arrived home in the early hours of the morning, after Carter dressed the cut on her cheek and she gave the FBI a brief accounting of her imprisonment, Dillon followed her straight to her room. The need to hold each other was so great, nothing else mattered. Not that her grandmother minded. Brooke smiled, remembering the sparkle in her eyes as she shooed them off to bed. When June finally stopped clinging and crying and thanking the good Lord for her granddaughter’s safe return, she promised to keep Zack occupied all morning and field her parents’ questions when they arrived.
On the rug beside the bed, Otis’s tail thumped. Relaxing against the firm mattress and smooth sheets, she dangled her hand over the edge of the bed to pet him. Tension drained from her. It was over. She and Stephanie were safe, and except for a few cuts and bruises, unharmed. At least physically. The emotional wounds might take longer to heal, especially for Steph, who’d had to endure their ordeal for so much longer. But she was home now with Rod and her kids. Thinking about it brought tears to Brooke’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Dillon’s voice was gruff. Gently, he wiped the dampness from her cheeks.
She smiled into his sleepy gaze and rested her cheek on his chest, loving the feel of his hand stroking her hair. “Nothing. I was thinking about Steph, remembering my relief when I knew she was still alive.”
“It can’t be much compared to the way I felt when I saw you tied to that tree.” His whole body shook as he let out a long breath. “I saw blood on your face, and for a moment my heart stopped. When I realized that bastard hadn’t had time to—” He broke off and swallowed, his arms tightening around her. “I nearly collapsed.”
A Deadly Love Page 26