Web of Lies

by Brandilyn Collins

  Jenna bent over the wheel, shoulder blades jutting beneath her shirt. Dave twisted around toward me. Sweat shone on his forehead, his fingers gripping the back of the seat. “Annie, you call the Sheriff’s Department. We have to explain how we know Kelly’s not in the Boyle Road house with Neese. If they’ll listen to anybody, it’s you.”

  I fumble-punched the number, prayers filtering through my head. Dispatch put me through to Ed Grange, one of the few deputies who hadn’t been called out to capture Neese. I tore through the information, voice frantic, until he told me to slow down and start over.

  “It’s Kelly, my daughter.” My words shook. “She’s locked up in this horrible little room and we know where it is now. She’s not in the house with Neese. She’s in another house to the west of town. We’re on our way there now and we need help.”

  “You mean that room with the spiders?” Ed, an older deputy, spoke so infuriatingly slowly.

  “Yes. We know that room has an unusual small oval window, and now we’ve found the house where it is.”

  A pause. “How do you know it has an oval window?”

  Oh, God, please. “Chelsea Adams saw it in her vision.”

  “Oh.” Another pause. “Wait. I thought Ms. Adams said Orwin Neese had taken Kelly.”

  I gritted my teeth, explanations tumbling crazily. “Chelsea didn’t say that, but Kelly called and said, ‘He put me in the spider room,’ and we know Neese had the spiders, but now Neese is surrounded in a house on Boyle Road, and that house doesn’t have an oval window, and we know Kelly’s in a room with the window, and now we know where that room is!” I gulped a breath. Surely I sounded like a blabbering idiot. “Look, we know she’s there. Maybe the house belongs to some accomplice of Neese’s who’s guarding her. We need help getting her out! We can’t go into this situation alone.”

  “Okay, okay; what’s the address?”

  My mind went blank. I asked Jenna, who spouted it immediately.

  We flew around a curve. I hit the door, bumping my elbow. “It’s 2378 Scander Lane.”

  Silence. “Say again?”

  I repeated it. Come on, come on. Dave was still half turned toward me, listening. Chelsea perched forward, pasty knuckles wrapped around the back of Jenna’s seat.

  “Annie,” Ed said, “careful now. Tell me that address — one more time.”

  What was wrong with him? I spat it out.

  “There’s no way.” His tone dropped. “You have to be wrong.”

  “We’re not wrong! Ed, please.” Tears scratched at my eyes.

  “Look, I want to help you. But that address? I can’t send a bunch of armed deputies out there just because it has some window your friend claims she saw in a vision. I’d lose my job for sure. How do you know the window’s in that house anyway?”

  “Milt Waking found — ”

  “Doesn’t matter. I can’t do it. Not unless a supervisor okays it, and right now everybody’s busy capturing Neese. Who’s supposed to have your daughter, by the way.”

  I gripped the phone, disbelief closing my throat again. After all the work I’d done with the Sheriff’s Department, they didn’t trust me?

  “Annie, you listening? Please don’t go out there and do anything foolish. I tell you I know that house. It’s protected to the hilt. You so much as rattle a window, it’ll set off the alarm, plus buzz a pager in the owner’s pocket. Then you’ll have some real explaining to do.”

  I couldn’t be hearing this. There had to be a mistake —somewhere. “Ed, I’m begging you to believe me. Whose house is it?”

  He cleared his throat. “Not house, Annie. More like an estate. And it belongs to Ryan Burns.”

  Chapter 58

  So Chelsea Adams thought she’d skip town, huh? Go back to her Bay Area house, where she could dream up more visions about him. A little more time and she’d get it all right.

  Think again, Mrs. Adams.

  He perched on the top basement step, Kelly’s cell phone in his hand. He’d turned the thing off long ago; its incessant ringing was driving him nuts. The megaphoned voice of Detective Blanche filtered into his ears. Guy had been on television half the morning — first interviews and now live coverage. His ego must be sky-high, with all those cameras on him.

  “Mr. Neese! Please answer the cell phone you were using. We’ve been trying to call you.”

  Fat chance.

  He opened his palm, stared at the phone. With one finger he scratched his chin, thinking. This plan would be last-ditch, all right. But with all the chaos it was now or never. If he let that woman get away . . .

  Abruptly he pushed to his feet and hurried to watch the TV. He saw more close-ups of officers and their cars, aerial shots of the whole mess. The entire world seemed to have stopped, the station showing nothing but the stakeout.

  “Mr. Neese!” the megaphoned voice called.

  How much longer would they wait before busting down doors?

  Man, you better do this now.

  Chapter 59

  I lowered the phone and stared at it. Emotions unwound and writhed in my stomach — shock . . . disbelief . . . denial . . . fresh terror.

  “What did he say?” Dave twisted in his seat to search my face, gripping the headrest for support as Jenna sped around a curve. Slow down, stop, I wanted to tell her. We have the wrong house! But my tongue lay like stone.

  “Annie!” Dave’s voice tightened. “What did he tell you?”

  My finger found the exit button on the cell phone. I clicked off the line, let the thing slide to the floor. My brain searched frantically for logic and found none. “Jenna. Pull over.”

  She threw me a look in the rearview mirror. “Why?”

  “Pull over.” I turned to motion to Milt’s car behind us.

  Jenna veered to what little shoulder the road possessed and we slid to a halt. Milt followed. Dave, Chelsea, and Jenna all leaned toward me, faces tense.

  I drew a breath. “We have the wrong address.” My voice sounded dry, dead. “That house on Scander Lane belongs to Ryan Burns.”

  Silence. Jenna gawked at me.

  “Ryan Burns?” Chelsea’s jaw went slack. “That man I met at the police station?”

  “Yes. And the one who just put up fifty thousand dollars for Kelly’s safe return. He’s out somewhere right now with an officer, trying to find her. He told me that on the phone.”

  Dave blinked hard, as if searching for any detail that made sense. “The deputy just told you it’s Ryan’s house?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s sure?”

  “Yes.”

  We all breathed, in and out, in and out. Chelsea stared hollowly at her lap. Behind us car doors slammed.

  “Chelsea?” Dave said. “You knew that oval window was the one. Right?”

  She nodded.

  Stephen skidded up to my door, tugged it open. “What’s the matter; why did we stop?”

  My brain threatened to burst open. Time was ticking. My daughter still prayed for rescue in some horror-filled room, and once again we didn’t know how to find her. “Everybody out!” I pushed Chelsea toward the door, wrapped my fingers around Dave’s arm. “Right now! We have to talk about this; we have to figure out what to do.”

  We scrambled out, huddling off the road like pursued convicts. Ed Grange’s words tumbled from my mouth. “Now what do we do? Kelly can’t be with Ryan. I know him; he wouldn’t do this to me.”

  “You’ve been wrong before, Mom.” Stephen stood beside me, his expression dark, sweat trickling down his temple.

  “But not this time.”

  “I agree.” Jenna dug fingers into her hair. “It can’t be Ryan. We’ve gone off somewhere.”

  I leaned toward Milt, grasped his wrist. “Maybe there’s a local builder who uses that oval window as a sort of signature. Maybe there’s five, ten, a dozen homes in the area with windows exactly like it.”

  “Could be.” He surveyed the ground, looking miserably disappointed.

  “T
he builder’s name should be on those plans,” Dave told him. “Call your friend at the department, ask her who it is. Maybe we can track him down.”

  Maybe, but how long would it take? I rubbed my forehead, pleading with God for something, something . . . Chelsea hadn’t said a word. One hand lay at the back of her neck, her brows knit. I touched her arm. “Please tell us something! You’ve got to know. Is Kelly back at that house with Orwin Neese after all?”

  She looked at me, pain in her eyes. Slowly she shook her head. “Not unless there’s — ”

  A cell phone rang. Muffled, from inside the SUV. Whose? I jerked around, head cocked, listening. Another ring. “It’s mine.”

  I sprang for the car door, threw it open. Half fell upon the seat, fingers scrabbling toward the floor for the phone. God, let it be Kelly. Or Chetterling, with good news . . . I felt the cell’s rectangular hardness, snatched it up to check the ID — and read my daughter’s number.

  Chapter 60

  Kelly’s bare feet throbbed. She shivered in the middle of the little room, shoulders drawn in, hands fisted at her stomach. Her desperate gaze roved the floor around her, looking for spiders. If only she had something, any little thing, to flick them away —

  A tickling on her head. Kelly shrieked, flicked a palm across the top of her hair. A large black spider whisked down, landed on her leg. She screamed again, batting at it with both hands. “Get off, get off!” It fell to the floor, then scuttled toward her feet.

  “No!” Kelly shuffled backward, then whipped her head around. What if she stepped on one? What if another one dropped down from the ceiling? Where was the one by her feet? What was that on her arm?

  The black one reached her toe. She squealed and kicked it away. Frantically she ran her hands over her arms, her legs. They’re everywhere, they’re all over me, they’re going to bite me, I’m going to die!

  With a wail she threw herself at the door once more. “Let me out! Please! Let. Me. Out!” She banged it and kicked it and tore at the knob. “Please, let me out!”

  Kelly sobbed and pleaded until her throat rawed and the words ran dry. She sagged against the door, exhaustion flooding her. She needed to lie down. She needed sleep. Even for just ten minutes . . .

  Her eyelids drooped.

  What was that?

  Her eyes flew open. A spider — by her cheek. “Aah!” She jerked her face away from the wood, jumped back. Oh no, the floor. Now she had to check it again . . . And the ceiling . . . Then the floor again . . .

  Her vision blurred. She looked up, down, behind her, trying to see through fresh tears. Then turned in a cautious circle. Searching. Praying. God, please, let somebody find me. Let someone find me soon . . .

  Chapter 61

  “It’s Kelly!” I jabbed on the line. Jenna gasped. Everyone crowded in, hope and fear quivering the air. I leaned forward, smashed the cell phone against my ear. “Kelly? Kelly, where are you?”

  A chuckle. “Annie Kingston.” The same low voice grated every nerve in my body.

  Oh, God, no. This could not be Ryan Burns. “Where’s Kelly, Orwin? I want to talk to her!”

  “She’s alive and well. I’m gonna make this quick, so you better listen if you want her back. Is Chelsea Adams with you?”

  Chelsea? My heart slammed against my ribs. “Yes, but please, I want to know Kelly’s okay; let me — ”

  “If you don’t listen,” he hissed, “you’ll never see your daughter again. Do you hear? ”

  “I . . . yes.”

  “All right.” He drew a breath, spoke rapidly. “As you know, I’m rather indisposed at the moment. Policemen are everywhere. But your daughter’s not here. Now that I’m trapped, I’m thinking if I let her free, maybe the cops will go easier on me. Besides, I got a friend who could use that fifty-thousand-dollar reward. So bighearted me just told him where Kelly is. But he’s dicey about all this and doesn’t want any trouble. So here’s the deal. Tell Chelsea to drive your car — alone — heading north on Tory Road, west of Redding. Go two miles. When she sees a falling-down old red barn on her right, she stops. Gets out of the car and opens every door, plus the back. My friend will have binoculars. When he sees nobody hiding in the car, he’ll come out and give Chelsea a key and directions. The key will open an old warehouse and the room inside it where Kelly is. No use trying to find this place on your own. You don’t follow these instructions, the guy will split and you’ll never see Kelly again. This is your one chance. Got it?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Good. The guy will be wearing a sweatshirt with a hood. Chelsea’s not to look at his face. When this is all over, and he’s sure he won’t get in trouble, he’ll come forward for the reward. You want your daughter back, tell Chelsea to be there in twenty minutes.”

  Click.

  I lowered the phone in shock.

  “Mom — ” Stephen leaned down and shook me — “what happened?”

  Adrenaline catapulted through my veins. Kelly was alive. We could bring her home. My back straightened. “We have to go. Now.”

  Amazingly, no one would get in the car without an explanation. I could have strangled them all. I stumbled out, shook Jenna by the shoulders. Words spurted from me — where Chelsea was supposed to go, what she was supposed to do. Tears raked my eyes and my voice shook. But as I repeated Neese’s commands, reality hit. Wait a minute. Why did Neese want Chelsea to do this — alone?

  And how could I possibly ask her to go?

  Jenna screwed up her face. “Why did he ask for Chelsea; why not you?”

  “Annie — ” Dave looked appalled — “that’s far too dangerous. We don’t know who this guy is. No way can we let her do that.”

  Chelsea only stared, pale-faced. Her gaze fell to the ground and she drew away from us. Her lips moved in silent prayer.

  Everyone else started talking at once. “Wait, wait!” Milt held up both hands. “None of this makes sense; we have to think it through.”

  “I know it sounds crazy,” I cried, “but we don’t have time to think it through. Chelsea’s supposed to be there in less than twenty minutes!”

  Jenna pushed past me toward the car. “Annie, give me a second. I think I know where Tory Road is.”

  She scrambled into the front passenger seat and punched something into the navigation system. Stephen ran around and climbed into the driver’s seat to watch. Up popped a map, an address marked in a red bull’s-eye. Jenna sucked in a breath. “Look! I put in the Scander Lane address and it’s only a couple miles from Tory Road. In fact, that lane turns off Tory. Maybe that is the house.”

  “Yeah.” Stephen jabbed a finger at the screen. “Can’t be coincidence. She’s gotta be there.”

  My throat threatened to close. “But that’s Ryan’s house. She can’t be there. Neese said she’s in an old warehouse.”

  “Why should we believe him?” Milt swiped his arm through the air. “We can’t believe anything he says, including this latest scheme about Chelsea and some key. Whole thing sounds like a setup to me.”

  The minutes were ticking away. I wanted to scream. “We don’t have a choice but to believe him. I just want to get Kelly!”

  Dave held my shoulders. “We all want to get Kelly. But we can’t send Chelsea into danger.”

  I knew that. I did. But my daughter needed us . . .

  Something in the very core of me turned over, went cold. I bent low, dropped my head in both hands. God, help me! I don’t know what to do! A sob rattled up my throat.

  Someone touched my hands gently. Pulled them away. I straightened, blinking.

  Chelsea.

  I looked into her eyes. She was shaking. Literally shaking. She opened her mouth, tried to speak, but the words caught. She firmed her lips, tried again. “Annie.” Her whisper sounded barren, as if she stared death itself in the face. “God just . . . I understand now. And — heaven help me — you’re right. I have to go.”

  Chapter 62

  Chelsea dug her fingers into the leather of
the backseat. Every muscle felt stiff enough to crack. God, I don’t know how I’m going to do this.

  No one spoke. Jenna was pushing the speed limit, even as the arch of her shoulders belied her dismay of their plans. They’d driven through town and now were in a rural area again, on Redding’s west side. Dave cupped his chin, vacantly watching the road. Annie had moved to the center of the backseat, one hand firmly on Chelsea’s arm. Dread and despairing hope fell from her like molten drops. Chelsea knew Annie had everything to say — and could say nothing.

  “It’s okay,” Chelsea managed to whisper and patted her hand.

  Tears trickled down Annie’s cheeks.

  Dave puffed out air. “Look, I can’t . . . There’s got to be another way to do this.”

  “Yeah.” Jenna’s voice was hard. “There’s seven of us and one of him. I could take this guy all by myself. I’ll just hike in, me and my gun.”

  “He’ll have binoculars.” Annie wearily wiped her eyes. “He’ll see you way before you see him.”

  No doubt Annie was right. The man had probably chosen an open area where he could see for some distance. Plus the SUV’s navigation system showed Scander Lane — a dead end — as the only turn off Tory Road. No one was going to sneak up on this man. Not them, and certainly not any sheriff’s deputy in a car.

  “We need to call 911.” Dave turned to look at Chelsea, his mouth set. “I’m not going to let you do this, no matter what you say. 911 has to respond. We should have called them in the first place — forget talking to some deputy behind a desk.” He reached for his cell phone.

  “No!” Annie grabbed his arm. “Dave, we’ve already been over this three times. If deputies show up, they’ll scare the guy away for sure. We’ll never find out where Kelly is.”

  Sudden panic bubbled within Chelsea. Dave was right; she shouldn’t go out there alone. Imagine if Paul knew. He’d never let her do this.