Killer Reads: A Collection of the Best in Inspirational Suspense

by Luana Ehrlich

  Some might describe Billy Clyde as paranoid, but Dylan knew it wasn’t paranoia but a healthy sense of reality. The old saying, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean someone isn’t out to get you, was a perfect fit for Billy Clyde.

  Mr. Genius managed to get himself hired as a consultant to a government agency he refused to name. His job gave him access to very sensitive information, and since he worked from home that meant he wanted his home to be safe and secure.

  Billy Clyde had designed and built a log cabin on an acre of property abutting the national forest. From their home it looked as if they were deep in the woods a million miles from civilization.

  But it was an illusion.

  An illusion that made both Billy Clyde and Theresa happy. Theresa could have her volunteer jobs, her friends, her church, and community while Billy Clyde could have his privacy. It worked for them.

  Billy Clyde and Theresa were as much in love as the first time he’d met them years ago. Billy Clyde had been his commanding officer in the Marines and took pity on the homesick newbie. He’d invited Dylan and the other bachelors to spend Thanksgiving with him and his family.

  First time he’d spend Thanksgiving with An African-American family but not his last. He definitely loved the extra food choices-mac and cheese, greens, and sweet potato pie—his favorite.

  He rounded the bend in the river and a small wood cabin came into view. It was Billy Clyde’s dog run and kennel and a miniature of the actual log cabin.

  Needing to scout the area first, Dylan continued downstream past the kennel. Hopefully, anyone keeping watch would think he was a lone fisherman enjoying the afternoon. After he’d gone a half-mile or so downriver, he turned the boat around and passed the area again, even more slowly and more vigilant.

  Not much was visible from the middle of the river, but there were no indications of a problem. Everything appeared peaceful but his time in the Marines had taught him looks could be deceiving.

  Several hundred yards above the dock, he turned the boat around once again, but this time turned off the motor. The sudden silence was eerie.

  He took a deep breath.

  The sloshing of the water against the boat sides soothed his nerves. As he neared the wooden dock, he allowed the boat to drift closer. The dogs’ barking became louder, almost frantic.

  He planted his feet and grabbed for the rope knotted to the pylon. After grasping it, he pulled the boat alongside the dock. He stepped out of the boat onto the wooden slats. His body swayed with the movement until his equilibrium steadied itself.

  After he tied the boat to the mooring, he eased over to the dog kennel, being careful to stay out of the line of sight from the cabin. He glanced at the house. Were Billy Clyde and Theresa in there— in trouble?

  The dogs hadn’t noticed him yet. Too busy barking. They were charging from one end of the run to the other, biting at the thick wire that enclosed them. Their only focus was on the house.

  Not a good sign.

  Something was definitely wrong up there.

  He bent low and whispered. “Hey, Snappy.” The shepherd’s ears perked up, and he stopped in mid bark. His head swirled to where Dylan knelt. The dog looked back up towards the house and then trotted to Dylan. His nose jutted through the chain link fence.

  “What’s going on up there? Is there a problem?”

  Snappy’s brown eyes gazed at him reflecting the same anxiety Dylan felt. He wanted to pat the dogs head, but the dog was called Snappy for a reason. “I know. I’m worried, too.”

  Not to be outdone Patches, the other shepherd, nudged Snappy aside with her humongous nose and pushed forward to be comforted by Dylan. When the dogs calmed, Dylan stood and moved into the woods. He was careful to stay hidden from the house.

  He circled the kennel moving toward the cabin.

  As soon as he was out of the dogs’ sights, the barking started up. Even more frenetic than before. Using the trees as cover, he moved closer to the cabin, praying Theresa and Billy Clyde would be inside safe and sound.

  They’d have a good laugh about his own paranoia, and then sit down to lunch. He’d call Reggie and the world would be right again.

  He inspected the area outside of the house.

  Nothing wrong as far as he could tell.

  Dylan stood in the shadows of the trees--waiting and watching. When he was satisfied, he sprinted toward the house but his feet slowed as he approached.

  The garage doors were open.

  Dylan reached behind him and slid his gun out of the band of his jeans.

  CHAPTER 6

  Dylan’s blood pressure spiked as his gaze landed on the vehicles in the garage.

  All the tires on Billy Clyde’s van and SUV had been flattened. Step by step he searched the garage, looking in and under the vehicles. Empty. He crept to the door leading inside the house.

  He tried the knob. Not locked. His senses moved up to red alert. Putting an ear to the door, he listened. No sounds. He inched the door open and waited.

  Silence. No booming voice. No tinkle of Theresa’s laugh.

  His peeked inside.

  The kitchen was a disaster.

  The stools to the kitchen island were tipped over. Several glasses had been knocked off the kitchen island onto the floor, probably during a struggle, and shards of glass were strewn all over.

  With gun in shooting position, he crouched low and stepped over the threshold.

  Red was smeared on the kitchen floor amid the broken glass. His mind flashed back to the broken jars of canned tomatoes from the morning. It seemed a long time ago.

  He bent down to inspect the mess. His finger touched the floor. Sticky.

  Not tomatoes this time—blood.

  He put his finger on the trigger and moved through the kitchen and into the living room. Nobody. The only sound was the distant barking of the dogs. Were there people out back? He glanced through sliding door in the dining room that led out to the patio.

  He moved closer watching for movement outside.

  Nothing.

  He stepped into the living room. Neat and clean as usual. His gaze strayed back to the mess in the kitchen. Dylan whispered to himself. “What happened in here?”

  “About time you got here, Monroe.” Billy Clyde’s voice boomed.

  Dylan jerked and then covered his startled reaction with a sheepish grin. Where was his voice coming from? “Everything ok?”

  “What do you think?” The voice boomed again.

  “Where are you?”

  “In the bathroom.”

  Dylan rushed down the hall, but it was locked. “Can you unlock it?”

  “Don’t you think I would have if I could have?” Dylan heard the fury behind in his friend’s voice. “Kick it in.”

  Using a shoulder, he rammed the door. Pain shot through his shoulder. He was getting too old for this stuff. “You just had to use solid wood doors.”

  “Only the best for me.”

  Dylan slammed against the door once again, with the same results.

  “Come on, Monroe. You can do better than that.”

  On the third try, the crack of wood splintering brought a grim smile of satisfaction to Dylan’s face, but not for long. His friend sat in a puddle of blood. Hands and feet bound. Duct tape still clung to his chin, but Billy Clyde had managed to get it off his mouth somehow.

  “Get over here, Monroe, and get me loose.”

  Dylan knelt beside him and reached behind the big man’s back to untie the cords binding his hand.

  “Forget about untying them, just cut’em.”

  Dylan pulled out his pocket knife, and in one quick upward slice freed Billy Clyde’s hands from the electrical cord. “Where’s the blood coming from?”

  Billy Clyde’s tormented voice announced, “Theresa’s been kidnapped.”

  The shock of his words stopped Dylan for a moment, and then he focused back on his friend. “What’s the blood from?”

  “Didn’t you hear me? Theres
a’s been kidnapped.”

  “I heard you, but I need to know about the blood.”

  Billy Clyde pointed at his shoulder.”They shot me.”

  Of course they shot him. It was the only way anyone could have hogtied the big man or kidnapped his wife. “How bad is it?”

  “It’s bad. Didn’t you hear me say they kidnapped Theresa?”

  “I was asking about the gunshot wound.”

  “I lost some blood, but I’m not going to die. Did you hear what I said? Theresa’s been kidnapped.”

  “I heard you, but I can only focus on one crisis at a time, and your gunshot wound gets priority.” Dylan helped Billy Clyde take off his shirt and inspected the wound. It looked to be a through and through and the bleeding had stopped.

  He moved to the medicine chest. After he picked up a bottle of rubbing alcohol, gauze, and surgical tape, he knelt back down. He handed some gauze to Billy Clyde. “Press down. Ok, tell me what happened?”

  “Don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” Billy’s voice was as quiet as the eye of a hurricane. And just as deadly.

  “I’ll call for an ambulance.” Dylan stood and slid his phone from his pocket.

  “No.” Billy Clyde’s voice was firm.

  “You’ve been shot. If I don’t get you to the doctor, Theresa will have my hide. You have to get—”

  “Can’t do it, Monroe. If I go to the hospital or a doctor they’re obligated to report my gunshot wound to the police. If the police get involved, it could make a bad situation worse—for Theresa. You’re going to have to treat me yourself.”

  “I’m not a medic.”

  “I’ll walk you through it.”

  “You’re not a medic either.”

  He shrugged. “I read about it.”

  His friend, the genius. There wasn’t much Billy Clyde couldn’t do after reading about it. Dylan nodded, He knelt beside his friend and inspected the wound. “I won’t perform surgery on you, no matter what you say. Let’s clean it up and see what we got.”

  “If the bullet damaged something vital, I’d already be dead. Clean it up. Try not to make it start bleeding again.”

  Billy Clyde winced as Dylan poured alcohol on the wound.

  As gently as he could he wiped off the blood. “Hold still, partner.” Dylan picked up the roll of gauze and tape sitting beside Billy on the floor and held it against his wound for a minute. Moving it away, a light red circle showed the bleeding had all but stopped.

  Dylan replaced the used gauze with a fresh patch and then circled his massive brown arm with the white tape. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “I already told you. No hospitals.”

  “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

  “I’m fine.” Billy pulled himself up to a standing position using the tub as a makeshift crutch. He swayed ever so slightly as he straightened. “See, I’m hunky-dory. We’ve got things to do.”

  “Well, I think—”

  “Not happening.”

  No point in arguing, Billy Clyde’s mind was made up. Dylan nodded and took hold of his arm and guided him out of the bathroom and to the living room. His friend collapsed on the sofa, his brown face pale from the effort.

  “What happened?”

  “They took Theresa.” Billy Clyde’s voice was ragged with emotion.

  “Who is they?” Dylan sat down beside his friend.

  “I have no idea.” Billy Clyde put his head in his massive hands. He looked up at Dylan. “I’ll tell you everything in a minute, but first, let’s pray for Theresa. I gotta bad feeling, Monroe. A bad feeling.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Theresa’s rise back to consciousness came much the way an old instamatic camera worked. Started out black and then became faded and unrecognizable, but with each passing second her mind became clearer, more focused.

  Car accident. The men. Ether.

  Panic bubbled up inside. She struggled to sit up but couldn’t. Her hands and feet were tied and something covered her eyes. She couldn’t see a thing. Forcing her breathing to remain calm, she didn’t want to alert her captors to the fact she was awake.

  If they were even around.

  It was so quiet.

  It didn’t sound as if anyone was nearby. No talking, no breathing, no sounds at all greeted her ears. Was she alone? Or were they standing above her staring down at her? She shuddered at the thought. If they were, they must be quiet breathers.

  God, I trust you and I know you are in control of all things.

  Her lip quivered, but she managed to regain control. She’d lived with Billy long enough to know emotions in a situation like this could get you killed. She wasn’t as tough as her ex-Marine husband, but she’d learned a thing or two from him over the years.

  First things first.

  Figure out where she was and then how to escape.

  It seemed she was on a hard object or maybe the floor. No sensory input. No sound. No light. Maybe, it was one of those deprivation tanks. She inhaled. Dirt and dampness.

  Was she in the woods? She didn’t think so. She sniffed. Musty and mildew. Chilly and damp. Maybe a cave or a basement?

  Her head throbbed from the ether.

  Billy would find her. No question about that. The question was why had they kidnapped her in the first place? She didn’t have any enemies.

  Her breath caught.

  It was true she didn’t have enemies, but Billy had his fair share. Is that why they kidnapped her? To get revenge on Billy? Or was it about money? Thanks to Billy and his software company, they had more than they needed.

  Moving her tied-up feet and hands, she felt around her prison. She rolled on her side and found the side of her prison. She rolled to the other side. Not very big. Maybe four feet wide at the most and six feet long.

  It almost felt like a...coffin.

  CHAPTER 8

  Dylan walked into the living room, holding four bottles of water. He set three of them in front of Billy Clyde on the coffee table and kept one for himself. “Drink. The water will help with the blood loss.”

  Billy opened his eyes, picked up a bottle, unscrewed the lid, and drained the contents. He picked up another and did the same. He picked up the third but didn’t open it. Instead, he rolled it around in his hand as if it were a ball.

  He took a deep breath and said, “Ok, I’m ready to talk.”

  Dylan sat down in a chair opposite the big man who looked ready to crumble. “Take your time.”

  “This morning Theresa went into town to volunteer at the school for a few hours, like she always does on Tuesday. Kissed me good-by and left. I went down to my office to catch up on some work and lost track of time.”

  “Big surprise there, huh?”

  Billy Clyde nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. Dylan could see he was forcing the emotion away like a good Marine. In battle, they learned to stay focused on the moment or die.

  And there was no mistaking the fact this was a battle.

  A battle Dylan was determined to win.

  Billy Clyde had saved his life both literally and figuratively. Dylan would do what he had to do to bring Theresa back home—to her husband.

  “And the next thing I knew, I heard a noise up here and figured it was Theresa. I came up to say hi, but when I got to the kitchen two men stood there with a masks on.”

  Dylan shook his head knowing how his friend reacted to that.

  “It shocked me for a minute, but I went into warrior mode. Without thinking I charged towards him, and that’s when he shot me.” Anger danced across his face. “Dropped me like a fifty pound sack of potatoes.”

  “Bullets tend to do that, even to you.”

  “Then, we had a little discussion, he told me he had Theresa and that I should calm down if I wanted to see her again.” His voice broke as he said the last words.

  “I take it, you calmed down.” Dylan said.

  “That’s when I told him I’d hung up on you when I heard the noise and that you’d be pesterin
g the police to come check on us. Told him you worried about us living out here so isolated from everyone else.”

  “Good thinking.” Dylan unscrewed the lid on his water bottle.

  “He let me call, but I didn’t have much time to think what to say. I prayed you’d get the message.”

  “Loud and clear, buddy. So, did they let you talk with Theresa?” Dylan tipped the bottle up and took a long gulp.

  Pain passed over Billy Clyde’s face as he shook his head. Dylan wasn’t sure if it was physical or emotional. Probably both. “Did they say what they wanted?”

  “Just told me to wait for further instructions. When I asked to talk with her, things got ugly again. The other guy acted like he was going to put a bandage on this...” He pointed at his wounded arm. “But he chloroformed me instead. Or maybe it was ether. Anyway, I woke up in the bathroom, taped and tied.”

  This was bad—very bad. Theresa was a little bit of a thing and wouldn’t be able to fight them off. “And you have no idea what they want?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Any idea how they bypassed your security system? I thought this place was locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”

  “I’m thinking they probably used the remote control from Theresa’s car. That would be the easiest way.”

  “Sounds about right.” Dylan stood and stretched his cramped muscles. “Maybe, it’s a kidnap for ransom. Did they mention money?”

  “I don’t think it’s about money, Monroe.”

  “Why not? You’ve got a lot of it.” He finished off his bottle and pointed at the last bottle. He tipped his up to urge his friend to drink.

  “Because if it was about a ransom, why would they come here? It makes no sense to take that kind of risk.” Billy Clyde picked up the water but that was as far as it went.

  Dylan shrugged. “Maybe they’re just stupid.”

  “I don’t think so. They managed to get the drop on me, didn’t they?” Billy Clyde shook his head. “They want something from me, and it’s not money.”

  Dylan met his friend’s gaze. He didn’t want to think of the possibilities of what that could mean. “Maybe not. They left you tied up in the bathroom, they knew you couldn’t do whatever it is they want you to do.”