by B. J Daniels
Jack ran over to the vehicle. “They left the keys in it,” he called back to her.
Cassidy’s legs felt like water as she tried to run. She managed to get into the passenger side as he slid behind the wheel. “Those men down there... Was one of them your father?”
He nodded as he turned the key and the engine jumped to life. “Do you have any idea where we are?”
“I think we’re in Paradise Valley. Head down that way,” she said, pointing to the river. “If I’m right we aren’t that far from Livingston.” She turned to look back as dust rose from the tires. Two men emerged from the bomb shelter. One had a gun drawn, but before he could aim it, the Land Rover dropped over a rise.
Cassidy turned back to Jack. “Now what?”
His cell phone rang, making them both jump. He glanced at it. “It’s my father.”
* * *
THE BLOOD HAD dried on her hands a dark red. Tiffany picked at it as she drove. The knife lay on the seat next to her. It was still wet and had already left a mark on the leather upholstery. Dr. Iverson would have been so disappointed in her, she thought, and had to laugh. He often told her how disappointed he was. She was going to be his perfect patient, the one he saved from crazy. He was going to write a paper about her for some medical journal and make a name for himself.
Well, he was really disappointed with her now, she thought.
Jerry had come through for her, just as she’d known he would. All she’d had to do was pretend to pout and he was putty in her hands.
“I would kill for a hot fudge sundae,” she’d said right before he’d gone off duty.
He’d chuckled. “Best not let the head shrink hear you say that.”
“I know it’s too much to ask, but I’m serious. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for one.”
Jerry had met her gaze, his burning with his need for her. She’d been teasing and tempting him, never letting him get everything he wanted from her. Tonight, though, could be the night, her look had promised. If he brought her the sundae.
He’d looked around. The hospital was quiet in the hour after dinner. Whatever they put in the food seemed to knock out the patients. Soon, though, there would be moaning and groaning, crying and screaming. Often Tiffany had to put her pillow over her head to drown it out before the staff finally came around with the meds.
“You could sneak the sundae to me later in between shifts,” she’d tempted. She gave him a wicked look. “I’ll even share my sundae with you.”
He had grinned at that. He’d brought her ice cream one other time, but it had melted before they’d gotten to it. That had been the first time she’d coaxed him into her room late at night with the promise of a “surprise.” Neither of them had been surprised by what she had to offer, but he’d definitely enjoyed it and she could tell he would do most anything to have more of her.
“All right,” he’d finally agreed earlier, his eyes gleaming at the thought of what they would do when he returned. “I just can’t get caught and lose this job.”
“I won’t let that happen.” After tonight, she’d thought, he wouldn’t be needing a job.
Jerry had been most accommodating. She’d left him in her blood-soaked bed, his pants down around his knees, his throat cut—just as the sheriff had predicted. She’d eaten some of the hot fudge sundae but left enough for evidence of what Jerry had bribed her with, before she’d covered him up. Wouldn’t want him to be found too quickly, she’d thought.
She’d taken Jerry’s keys to let her out of the hospital—and provide her with an escape vehicle. With a quick glance at her watch, she’d seen that it was the time the staff met to discuss the patients before meds. She’d had only about twenty minutes before they would be coming around.
Using Jerry’s keys, she’d slipped down the hallway to the staff section of the hospital and helped herself to clothing from one of the lockers. Fortunately, one of the nurses was her size. Also, Tiffany liked the way nurse Elle Thompson dressed when she wasn’t on duty. She knew that Elle always kept a change of clothes in her locker because she went out a lot after work.
Tiffany had slipped into the designer jeans, a long-sleeved silky T-shirt and nice leather sandals before pulling on the matching blue-jean jacket. It had been so long since she’d worn anything but the lightweight cotton pants and tops the hospital provided. The fabric felt so good, she had wanted to pet it.
Pulling her hair up, the way Nurse Thompson did hers, she’d checked herself in the mirror. They were both blonde and both the same size. Elle often stopped in even on her days off to change before hitting the bars. This way her husband didn’t have a clue what she was up to.
Tiffany had just hoped she didn’t come in tonight and ruin everything. She’d checked herself in the mirror. She even had down Elle’s cocky way of holding her head. If any of the patients happened to see her, they wouldn’t think anything of it. Nor would any of the staff if they happened to get a glimpse of her when she left.
She’d walked down the hallway as if she owned it. No one had made a stir. As she’d neared the main desk, she’d seen that it was empty. She’d heard the murmur of voices from the staff room behind it.
Tiffany had kept walking, right past the main desk without looking in the direction of the staff meeting. She knew that a lot of the staff didn’t like Elle, didn’t like her running around on her husband. She pretended to be in a hurry and merely gave a distracted wave when several of them looked in her direction.
Still, she’d half expected one of the nosier ones to come out of the room. That’s why she’d had the knife tucked up under the sleeve of the jean jacket. Lucky for them, none of them had.
As she’d left, the door closing behind her, she’d let out the breath she’d been holding and had tried to relax. Almost home free.
Walking to the parking lot, she’d looked for Jerry’s beat-up old car. It wasn’t there. She’d felt her first wave of panic.
She’d stared at the keys she’d taken from Jerry’s pocket and realized that he had driven his pickup back to the hospital tonight instead of his old car. The pickup was a stick shift and she had no idea how to drive it.
“Elle!”
She’d recognized the voice. Dr. Iverson. She’d thought he’d left for the day, but apparently he’d come back for something.
“Elle! Wait up.”
She’d stepped deeper into the parking lot as if she hadn’t heard him. Assured she was out of sight of the hospital windows, she’d stopped to wait for him.
“Hey,” he’d said, coming up behind her. “I thought you were off today.”
She’d pulled out the knife as she’d turned to face him. His expression had been priceless. There was that moment of confusion as he’d stared at her face followed by that instant of realization even before he saw the knife.
For months he’d been telling her that he would help get her out of the hospital. Right then, she’d thought, he finally would.
Now as she drove his nice car, she concentrated on Frank and Nettie Curry. It wouldn’t be long. She glanced at the knife. It would be all she needed to take care of the two of them. But she would need to take the sheriff’s gun to finish what she planned.
Bitterness made her grimace as she thought about the way Frank felt about his “real” family. Before she left the Curry house, she planned to kill all of his precious crows.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“PICK UP, YOU LITTLE son of a b—” Tom Durand clamped his lips closed as he heard his son’s voice. He took a breath and let it out slowly as he tried to rein in his fury—and his fear. Jack had outwitted him again. Maybe the kid had a hell of a lot more of his genes than he’d originally thought. But it was also going to get him killed. He just hoped he could talk some sense into him.
“You still there?” Jack asked. There was
an insolence to his tone. The kid had the upper hand and he knew it.
“We need to talk.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Jack asked.
He could hear traffic occasionally, which meant they were on the highway. But headed where? “Talk face-to-face.”
His son laughed. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”
“We need to come to some sort of agreement.”
“I can’t see how that is possible anymore,” Jack said. “I think it’s time to let the sheriff handle this.”
“You want to go to prison for impersonating me and stealing from my bank’s safe-deposit box?” he snapped.
Jack laughed again. “I was just trying to get the proof I needed to have you arrested. I think I’ll take my chances with the sheriff.”
“If you do that, I can promise you that Cassidy’s family will pay.”
“You won’t have much luck killing anyone from jail.” Jack didn’t sound so sure of himself.
“But I am only one member of The Prophecy. If I went to jail, someone else would handle it. You have to believe me. The only way to keep Cassidy and her family safe is to play ball with me.”
“That’s a funny expression since you seldom played ball with me when I was a kid,” Jack said. “You were too busy.”
“Really? You want to dig up a bunch of old crap? I was busy making a good life for you and your mother.”
“You’re breaking my heart. Maybe that will work for you on the witness stand at court, but I’m not buying any of it. Remember, I know what was in that bank box.”
“Listen to me. You’re my son. I don’t want to see anything happen to you. Jack.” His voice broke. “I love you. If you go to the sheriff—”
“We’re going to the sheriff.”
He swore as he realized Jack had hung up.
* * *
IT HAD BEEN almost thirty years since Sarah had seen Martin Wagner. He’d aged well. If he hadn’t been so flushed with fury, he would have been handsome. He called himself Tom Durand and from what she could gather, he’d been successful, funding much of The Prophecy’s work all these years.
She’d gotten the call from him and come at once to pick him up. It was late afternoon. The sun had dropped behind the mountains. A cool breeze moved through the pines as dusk settled in the deep green branches. She found him and another man waiting on the side of the mountain next to a large bomb shelter from when a religious group built them all over the area in preparation for the end of the world.
When the world didn’t end, a lot of the group moved on, leaving behind these underground bunkers.
Sarah marveled at how pretty the surrounding area was. Below her, the Yellowstone River made lazy turns through the valley in a ribbon of glittering emerald. In all that beauty and calm, Sarah felt a volcano brewing inside her.
“I had this handled. If you had stayed out of it. Now where is my daughter?” she demanded as she approached the two men. The man with Martin was apparently a paid thug from the looks of him.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Martin snapped and motioned the thug out of hearing distance. “Don’t blame me for this. If my son hadn’t gotten involved and then Joe decided to take over and fix things...”
“Cassidy could go to her father now. Or the sheriff.” She shook her head angrily. “What was the point of taking them? I’m married to Buck and he’s staying in the race. I’m moving into the main house. I will be campaigning with him. Isn’t that what Joe wants?”
Martin looked over at her. “It’s gotten more...complicated. Surely, you realize that. Your daughter and my son know about The Prophecy. They know about us. You think they are just going to keep their mouths shut?” He shook his head. “Joe can’t let them live.”
Sarah felt as if the ground under her was no longer solid. “If he hurts my daughter—”
Martin shook his head, his eyes filling with tears. For the first time, she saw how upset he was. Like her, he loved his son. “Joe can’t let them go to the sheriff.” He sounded as desolate as she felt. “You know what happens now.”
“No!” Sarah pulled out her phone and dialed Doc’s number. She quickly told him what had happened. “Do something, damn it.”
“If I go against Joe—”
“You really are just an old coward,” she snapped. “Save my daughter and Martin’s son and—” she looked at Martin and continued “—and we’ll do whatever you want.”
“Sarah, they know too much. Surely, you realize—”
“If anything happens to Cassidy, I’ll destroy The Prophecy and its plan. Are you listening to me?”
“I told Joe that would be your reaction. Fortunately, for you and Martin, I believe you. That’s why I told Joe I would take care of it.”
“What does that mean?” she demanded.
“That you are going to have to trust me. Pray that I am as good at what I do as I think I am.”
Her heart leaped to her throat. When she spoke the words came out in a hoarse whisper. “What are you going to do to them?”
“I suggest the two of you sit tight. You’ll be told what you need to do next. You owe me, Sarah.” And he was gone.
“What?” Martin demanded.
She was trembling so hard she could barely get her phone back into her pocket. “Doc—” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She was only too aware of how Dr. Venable handled things. Sobs filled her throat. She turned away, not wanting the men to see her cry.
She’d been telling herself that she wasn’t one of these people. That she’d never been. But, like something hard to swallow, the lie wouldn’t go down.
What had she done? Unfortunately, she knew perfectly well.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE SHERIFF CHECKED with the hospital to see if Russell Murdock’s condition had improved. It hadn’t. Angry with himself as well as Russell, he turned to his computer and clicked on the photos taken at the crime scene.
Russell had gotten involved with Sarah Johnson Hamilton from the moment she stepped in front of his pickup almost a year and a half before. He’d come to her rescue and foolishly fallen in love with her. After that, he’d been obsessed with proving that someone had stolen her memories from the twenty-two years she’d been missing.
Frank had to hand it to the man—he’d been the one to track down Dr. Ralph Venable. But even after Sarah had broken her engagement to Russell and gone back to Buck following his second wife’s death, Russell hadn’t quit snooping around in Sarah’s past.
That, the sheriff was sure, was what had gotten him almost killed at the fishing access site. Russell had been convinced that Senator Buckmaster Hamilton was behind the “brain wiping” that had taken Sarah’s years away. Frank wondered if that was still the case after seeing Russell and Buck together the other night.
He was flicking through the photos from where Russell’s body had been found, when something caught his eye. He turned back to the photo and stared at something on the ground. At first it looked like a penny. Since they were worth so little, often people tossed them. Or didn’t bother to pick them up.
But this wasn’t a penny. It was a token and it appeared to have been dropped recently given how shiny it still was. He’d seen one like it recently and realized where. Big Timber Java, the coffee shop on the main street.
* * *
“DID YOU SEE that car?” Cassidy asked, turning in her seat to look back. “The driver seemed to—”
“Recognize us. Or more than likely the car,” Jack said as he glanced in the rearview mirror.
“He’s turning around!” she cried. “He’s coming after us.”
Jack sped up as much as he could. The highway through Paradise Valley followed the winding Yellowstone River. To make matters worse, it was summer an
d tourist season, which meant traffic on two-lane Highway 89 between Livingston, Montana, and Yellowstone Park.
The dark-colored car was behind them with several vehicles in between. The driver had made several attempts to pass, but had been thwarted by all the traffic.
“I’m not sure I can lose him,” Jack said. Ahead he saw a junction for secondary East River Road. At least there wouldn’t be as much traffic, he thought, as he slowed enough to make the turn at Tom Miner, according to the sign. This highway was narrower, but had very little traffic. He sped up, glancing back and seeing no one following them. At least not yet.
“I don’t see the car,” Cassidy said, turning in her seat to look back. “Maybe we lost him.”
Jack doubted that. The driver of the dark car would have seen them turn, but if they knew the area, they might have realized that the two-lane blacktop ran adjacent to the main highway on the opposite side of the river.
“Were you serious about going to the sheriff?” Cassidy asked as she turned to him.
“I don’t see any other way out of this. They aren’t going to stop looking for us. We know too much.”
“You aren’t suggesting that they’ll kill us,” she cried.
“What other choice do they have? It isn’t like we can promise not to tell and they’ll agree to that. These people are fanatical killers.”
“These people, as you call them, are our parents,” Cassidy cried.
He glanced over at her as he took one of the sharp turns. “I’m not sure that makes a difference.” Had she really believed that once she talked to her mother this nightmare would end? The highway now ran along the side of the mountain overlooking the river. The pavement was patched and full of potholes. Jack had no choice but to slow down. There was no guardrail on the road or shoulder. On the left side, the land dropped off in a steep cliff to the river. On the right side of the road, the mountain rose in a wall of rock.
Glancing back in his rearview mirror, he was surprised to find the highway still empty. “This highway?” he asked. “Do you know if it connects to the other one at some point?”