Mermaid Moon

by Colleen Coble

  He curled his hands into fists. “Save her from who?”

  “I . . . I was supposed to kill Haylie, and Frank is getting rid of Mallory. I couldn’t hurt her though, so I threw away the syringe and was taking her to find her mother like I’d promised.” She gestured to Haylie. “Ask her. She’ll tell you I was taking her to her mom.”

  Haylie nodded against his chest. “She was, Kevin.”

  His gut twisted, and he pulled out his phone. “Mallory has protection so Frank won’t get anywhere either.” He called Mallory’s number and waited as it rang several times. No answer. That didn’t mean anything. She was fine with the police covering her place. She had to be.

  He glanced at his father. “I’ll call the sheriff.” Before he could punch in the number, his phone rang and Sheriff Colton’s name flashed on the screen. “O’Connor here. We’ve got Haylie. She’s fine. I couldn’t get Mallory, so can you let her know?”

  “She’s missing, Kevin.” The sheriff’s grim tone vibrated with worry. “A policeman left his post just long enough to run to the restroom, and the guy struck. Hauled her out through the back. We’ve lost them.”

  Kevin inhaled and stared at his father, who took a step closer to him. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.” He hung up, then swallowed hard to keep his voice from trembling. He pierced Julia Carver with his glare. “Mallory’s been taken. And you’re going to tell me exactly what is going on.” He looked at his dad. “Call Luke and have Claire meet us at the airfield.”

  Mallory struggled at the bonds, but they were too tight to budge. She was in the basement of a house, and the sound of dripping water came from somewhere. A miasma of mold, decaying metal, and earthen walls seeped into her nose and pores.

  Her captor had chained her up here at least an hour ago, then left. She had no idea if he was still upstairs or what he planned to do to her. She’d tried to talk to him, but he hadn’t responded. Hadn’t even looked her in the eye. She’d never met someone with the mob, but he fit her view to a T.

  She tugged at the chains again. “Help! Somebody help me!” Though she screamed the words so loudly that her throat hurt, she didn’t have much hope. She’d seen how remote this place was on the drive in. Surrounded by trees, the house was set back a good quarter of a mile off a dirt road. She hadn’t seen another house or a car for miles on the way here.

  “Help!” Testing its strength, she tried to pull the chain off the stone wall, but it held fast. The ring attached to the stone looked new, like this place had been prepared just for her. The thought nearly paralyzed her with terror, and she sank to the cold dirt floor.

  Her captor’s pronouncement about Haylie had devastated her, but maybe he’d lied to subdue her. She had to pray and hold on to hope. What was this all about anyway? She didn’t understand. She knew nothing that would warrant death.

  Footsteps thumped across the floor over her head, then a heavy tread came down the steps. A man’s camouflage pant legs came into view, then he stepped into the light.

  She backed into the corner when she saw his leer. “What are you going to do with me?”

  He shrugged massive shoulders. “I already told you. You’re going to join your daughter in the grave, though it might take a little while. You won’t get out of your chains.”

  Only then did she see he carried a gun and a pitcher of water as well as some sandwiches in plastic wrap. “I like to keep things sporting.” He set the pitcher and sandwiches within reach of her chain. “I’m leaving you a little sustenance. I’m also leaving this gun and one bullet for you to load it with. Once you’ve well and truly given up, you can end it yourself with one shot. Otherwise, you’ll stay here and slowly starve to death.”

  “You’re a monster,” she whispered.

  “I’ve been called that before. But a quick, clean kill gets boring after a while. I’ll check back in a week. You’ll be dead one way or another. Sounds fun, don’t you think?”

  “How many people have you killed?”

  “I’ve lost count. It’s my job, and I’m good at it. But I like to liven things up a bit. Makes my life more interesting.” He laid the gun on the floor, then the single bullet beside it.

  His smile made her skin crawl. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. Dropping to her knees, she grabbed the gun and the bullet and started to jam it into the chamber.

  He grinned and sauntered away. His cruel laugh echoed off the stone walls. “I’ll say this, girlie, you’ve got gumption. You would have shot me dead if I’d stayed. But it wouldn’t have done you any good. I don’t have the key on me.”

  The basement door slammed, a lock clicked into place. Sobbing, Mallory covered her face with her hands. There had to be another way. She had to save Haylie.

  FORTY

  Mallory sat on the cold dirt floor with her back against the stone wall. The gun lay on the floor in front of her, right beside the food and water. Every muscle in her body ached from her struggle to free herself, but her wrists remained shackled to the wall. The drip, drip of a faucet somewhere in the basement was driving her crazy, but it was all part of the frustration she felt from her helpless situation. Her captor had been gone about half an hour.

  She licked dry lips. It had been forever since she’d had water, hours before she’d even been kidnapped. For all she knew, the water and food were poisoned, so she hadn’t dared taste any of it.

  Drip . . . drip.

  She knuckled her eyes and inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. Crying wouldn’t do anything but give her a headache. Giving up would only get her dead. There had to be a way out of this situation.

  Listening to the water, she had a thought. Where was that faucet? Maybe she could get some clean water from it.

  She rose and tested the length of her chain. Only about six feet. She couldn’t see well from the dingy bare bulb swaying overhead, but she shuffled along in the murky light and encountered a small shelf about chest high. It held some boxes of something that might be rat poison and something else she thought might be laundry soap. No help there.

  She moved forward another foot until the chain yanked her back, then turned to her left and walked in the dark until she could go no farther because of the chain. There was no wall to touch so she must be in the middle of the room.

  She picked up the chain and made her way back to the gun. It beckoned her, invited her to give in, to get out of this situation the only way she had open to her.

  No!

  She snatched up the gun and took it with her to the wall. One bullet. That’s all she had to get out of here. Her fingers trailed up the stone wall and touched the stainless steel eyebolt that held the chain. She’d tested it often enough to know it was secure in the stone.

  If she failed, she’d be stuck here until she slowly died of dehydration and starvation. Not an enticing thought.

  And what if Haylie needed her? She wasn’t ready to believe her daughter was dead. Her soul and heart would know the truth, and right now she didn’t sense that Haylie was gone from this earth. And Kevin. Now that she faced the thought of never seeing him again, she knew she still loved him and always had. And her mother. She couldn’t die when so many important things remained unresolved.

  Fear compressed her chest, and her gaze swiveled back to the murky shadows. Wait, maybe there was something. She scurried back to the shelf and ran her fingers under it to see how it was supported.

  She swept the shelf’s contents to the ground, then lifted the wooden board off the metal brackets. Though she couldn’t see well, the brackets didn’t feel securely attached to the wall when she jiggled them. She wound her fingers through the ends of the bracket closest to her and gave it a jerk. It budged a little, so she yanked on it from the other direction and was elated to discover it was even looser. Mallory continued to wiggle it, then finally gave it a last hard pull, and it came away in her hands.

  She took it back to the little light she had and examined it. The metal was old but solid, and the edge
that attached to the wall was small enough to stick inside the link. Maybe she could use it as a pry bar to open the link in one of the chains. She examined each link to see if one seemed weaker than any other, but the chain was new. The eyebolt was an even stronger gauge than the chain, and there didn’t seem to be an easy way to pry it open.

  She selected a link in the chain and set to work with the bracket. She twisted and pried, maneuvered and chipped at it, but half an hour later it looked much the same as it had before. The link edges still touched securely.

  Her mouth was so dry. She swallowed and looked at the water. Just one sip. Surely she could taste any poison in it. Cautiously, she uncapped the bottle and took a tentative sip. The wetness slipped down her throat, and she wanted to gulp the whole thing, but she forced herself to put the cap on and set it back down. While she waited, she worked on the link some more, but it was no use. She’d never get free this way.

  She felt no effects from the water other than slightly refreshed so she took another drink, then put the bottle back down. The gun mocked her, teased her. What if that one bullet was all she needed to get free?

  A faint odor came to her nose, and she lifted her head and sniffed. Was that smoke? She didn’t feel any heat, but the scent made panic beat against her ribs like the wings of a frightened bird. Maybe her attacker had set fire to the house in spite of the choices he’d given her. The acrid odor intensified, and she thought she heard the crackle of flames.

  She picked up the gun and looked at it again. She could put the muzzle right at the crack in the links. It might drive the two edges apart, and she’d be free.

  It also might ricochet off the stone and hit her. She embedded the link into the dirt floor as best as she could, then put the gun barrel against the weakest part. She closed her eyes and prayed, then pulled the trigger.

  The sheriff parked his SUV in front of a palatial mansion in Bangor’s historic district. He’d met Kevin and Carol at the airport. Stephen King’s stately brick home was just down the street. “The Blakes are staying with some supporters this week rather than in a hotel.”

  Kevin opened his door and got out. “I guess the Best Western wasn’t good enough for them.”

  Carol exited the backseat and looked up at the house. She was pale. “It was good of Pete to take Haylie.”

  “Yeah.” His dad had surprised him by offering to take Haylie and pick up Sadie as well. At least Kevin wouldn’t have to worry about anyone getting past his dad’s defenses.

  Kevin rehearsed what he planned to say. He’d choke Mallory’s whereabouts out of Richard if he had to. “Stay behind us,” he told Carol.

  He let the sheriff take the lead since he had more authority to demand some answers than a game warden. Sheriff Colton approached the big Victorian home and pressed the doorbell next to the massive double doors. Moments later a woman around forty opened the door. She wore a black dress and heels that showed off her slim figure. Pearls that looked real hung around her neck.

  Her welcoming smile showed off perfect teeth. “May I help you?”

  “Sheriff Colton and Game Warden O’Connor, ma’am. We’d like to speak to Richard Blake.”

  Her smile faltered, and she looked from the sheriff to Kevin, then back again. “He’s in the living room. Please follow me.” Her heels clicked on the glossy walnut floors as she led them to a large open living room.

  The fireplace was massive and ornate, overlaid with antique tile, and the rug in the middle of the floor looked expensive. Richard and DeAnn sat on a tan leather sectional that ran the length of one wall, turned, and continued on to another wall. Another man sat on the other side of the sofa, and Kevin assumed it was the woman’s husband.

  Richard stood. “Kevin, is something wrong?” His attention moved to the sheriff, and his frown deepened.

  The sheriff glanced at the woman who had escorted them in. “Could we speak to the Blakes in private, please?”

  “Of course.” She signaled her husband, and the two of them left the room.

  DeAnn stood as well, and Richard took her hand and looked at the sheriff. “What’s this all about?”

  Kevin stared at him, trying to read more about his character. “Mallory is missing, kidnapped. The perp says she’ll be dead by week’s end. Since this is Wednesday, that doesn’t give us much time to find her.”

  Richard took a step back. “What can I do? I’ll help in any way I can.” He looked down at DeAnn. “This is terrible.”

  She put her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. That poor woman.” She shot a wary look at her husband.

  Kevin took in her stance, the way she twisted a lock of hair in one hand and clung to her husband’s hand with the other. Did she know something?

  “Julia Carver is in custody and is being questioned. She’s singing about everything she knows. She indicated some connection to a man named Ian Jenkins and is blaming him for what’s been happening.”

  “She’s his stepmother,” Richard said. “I’m still confused. Are you saying Julia had some part in this kidnapping?”

  DeAnn swayed, and he thought she might faint. She sank back onto the sofa and put her face in her hands. “Julia is my friend. Richard promised her a job as head of his personal staff if he’s elected. I’m not sure what she’s done, but you say she’s in custody?”

  Sheriff Colton pulled out his notepad. “What can you tell me about Ian Jenkins?”

  Richard put his hands in his pockets. “Ian was Thad’s partner and CFO of the corporation. He’s buying out all the businesses, and then the money is being dispersed to Thad’s beneficiaries, mostly charities. Ian has been one of my biggest supporters in my run for the Senate.”

  Kevin thought through the convoluted story Julia had told him. “According to Julia, she’s been working behind the scenes to make sure Ian got what he wanted so he’d support you in the election, then she could get what she wanted. Ian told her he’d shot Karen Blanchard fifteen years ago when Karen asked for support money for Mallory to go to college. Ian had been embezzling funds from Hugon, mostly hiding it as child support for Mallory. He intercepted that request and went to make sure Karen didn’t tell Thad that he hadn’t been sending the support. Things got out of hand, and he shot her.”

  “That’s not all he did,” Carol said. “He framed me for the missing funds, and I went to prison for it. No one believed me when I said I didn’t do it. He’s got a lot to answer for.”

  Kevin shot her a glance. Mallory would want to hear all about this.

  “Ian killed this woman?” Richard took a step back and shook his head. “It seems incomprehensible.”

  “Julia found out about it all when Edmund asked Thad for money for a boat. He thought it only fair since he’d never gotten any support money for Mallory. By that time Thad was dying, and Julia feared all the money Ian hoped to gain from Thad’s death would be diverted to Mallory and Haylie. He had no guarantee Mallory would let him stay in control, and she’d be unlikely to sell to him without having financials run. His embezzlement would come to light, and he’d go to prison. Edmund had cold feet and tried to get a loan to pay Thad back. When Julia got wind of it, she came here to assure him everything was fine and to leave things as they were.”

  “And things ‘got out of hand’ again, I assume?” Richard’s lips twisted, and he shook his head.

  Kevin nodded. “Julia came to Folly Shoals to make sure Mallory stayed ignorant. At first she hoped to eliminate any evidence of Mallory’s parentage. She didn’t seem to know who her biological father was so that seemed doable. Things escalated until Julia felt she had to eliminate Mallory and Haylie.”

  DeAnn twisted her hands together. “She killed Haylie?”

  “No, we found her in time. But Mallory is still missing and we’re running out of time. Julia’s hired gun has Mallory. Do you have any idea where she might be?”

  DeAnn nodded. “I . . . I gave Julia the keys to the Hugon vacation house. It’s near Alligator Lake. I can give you directions.
” She grabbed a pad of paper and a pen and scribbled them out. “I hope you find her, Kevin. Hurry.”

  He snatched the paper from her fingers and ran for the door.

  FORTY-ONE

  Wisps of smoke from the gunshot had curled around the basement. She waved it away and peered at the link, then let out a yell when she saw the chain had fallen apart. She was free from the wall, though a two-foot chain still hung between the metal cuffs on her wrists.

  Her ears still ringing, she stumbled to her feet and rushed for the stairs. The rough wooden treads were lopsided. She had to hang on to the handrail as she climbed them. The heat and smoke intensified as she drew near the basement entrance. She touched the door. Warm. Her fingers closed around the knob, then released it quickly. Too hot to handle. The fire had to be right on the other side.

  Think!

  She retreated back to the basement. There were likely small windows down here somewhere. Her tiny light suddenly went out, plunging the basement into total darkness. She froze, her heart pounding. She couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face. The fire must have taken out the electrical. Disoriented, she swayed with her bare feet on the dirt floor and tried to figure out which direction to go.

  Breathe. In and out, in and out.

  She got control of the panic, then remembered the water. Holding her hands in front of her, she went back toward the chains and found the bottle. She doused water all over her clothes, then turned back toward the basement door. Fire was eating through the top of it. That way held certain death, so she went the other direction until her hands touched cool stone. Her foot touched something hard and she realized it was the other bracket, so she grabbed it. She might need it.

  She felt her way along the wall, following a dim glow just down the room, until her fingers touched glass. She shuddered when her fingers encountered spiderwebs, but the crackling fire drove her on. She had to escape.

  Raising the metal bracket in her right hand and shielding her eyes with her left arm, she smashed through the window. The dirt floor muffled the sound of falling glass, but nothing could mask the intensified roar of the fire as it continued to consume the door.