Daisy leaned over and touched her hand. “Could you see the cabin? What did it look like?”
Portia sighed with trembling breath. Exhaustion started to creep over her and she didn’t know how much more she could share before she’d need a break.
Her mother picked up on it. “That is, honey, if you’re up to it? Do you want to stop for a bit?”
“No. A few more minutes will be okay.” Portia steeled herself. “It was a hunting cabin, I think. Heated by wood. It had a tin roof, and I only know that because I’d hear the rain on it, beating away…” She focused inwardly. “There was a front porch. All the windows were boarded up. It had a generator which ran the lights and well pump.”
Boone said, “That might make it easier to trace. He’d have to feed it with gas all the time. He’d have to go out for that on a regular basis.”
Anderson agreed. “Good point.”
Portia let out a tired sigh and leaned back against the chair. “He did. He often went out for gas for the generator.”
Grace said, “What was it like inside?”
Her sister’s face fell. “It was my prison for two years. I could draw you a picture of every square inch of the inside.” The emotion that hit her came swiftly, surprising her with its sudden intensity. She collapsed onto her arms on the table, weeping softly.
Daisy stood suddenly. “That’s enough for now. I'm taking her upstairs.”
Portia raised a tear-stained face to her mother. “No. I don’t want to be cooped up anymore. I want to be outside.”
Daisy’s eyes widened. “Well, okay, honey. Wanna sit on the porch?”
Portia shook her head. “No. I don’t want anyone to see me.”
Boone stood and held out a hand with a tentative smile. “How about that old glider behind the barn? We can set you up so you can see all the horses, the hills. Want to try that?”
She nodded, tears still trickling down her cheeks. “Thank you. That would be perfect.” To her own surprise, she took his hand and let him walk her toward the door. Before they went out, she turned to the group with a hitch in her throat. “Thanks for listening.”
The returned murmurs of affection gave her a renewed sense of strength, and surprising herself even further, she let Boone lead her around the barn.
Chapter 18
Boone settled Portia on the glider, then ran back into the house to bring out a quilt, pillow, bottle of water, and a few magazines Daisy pushed on him.
“Here you go,” he said, slightly breathless from running. “You can even use the little bathroom in the groom’s apartment. Remember? It’s right through this door, here.”
She snorted. “Of course I remember. I’m not totally brain dead.” She tucked her legs under her, covering her lap with the quilt.
Boone grinned. “Okay, Peaches. Settle down there, girl.”
“I’m not a horse!” The corners of her mouth twitched. “Except I think I’d rather be one, at this point in my life.”
“Don’t blame you. It would be one nice life. Especially if you lived on this farm.” Boone pointed to the far end of the glider. “May I?”
“I guess.” She nodded, sliding closer to the other end, away from him.
He sat down and began to move the seat back and forth in a comforting, rhythmic motion. “Remember when we were kids? We’d come out here after we had a long ride, have your mom’s lemonade… Those summer days were some of my best memories ever.”
Portia began to relax. The sun-dappled patterns from the lilac hedges growing near the barn warmed her face and fluttered on her eyelashes, soothing her. “Me, too.”
“Remember the time we went up to Deacon’s Point? And we got—”
“—caught in that thunderstorm?” she said.
“Yeah. That was so cool.”
She actually chuckled, welcoming the sound. “We got drenched!”
“And ran for that cave, where you heard the mysterious growling sound.”
“I wonder what lived in there. Was it a big cat? Or a bear?”
“I didn’t hear it. I still think you imagined it,” he said, tilting a smile toward her so she’d know he was just kidding.
“I didn’t imagine it!” She unfolded her legs and put them on the ground, pushing back and forth in the same rhythm as Boone. The simple feeling of gliding gave her comfort, and for the first time since she returned home, she felt safe.
But Portia jumped when her father came around the corner with Anderson, who wielded a long screwdriver. With a nod, they headed for the beat up blue truck and knelt at both ends, removing the license plates. She watched her father tuck the plates into the incinerator by the back shed. Would they burn? Or would he dispose of them later?
They opened the driver’s side door and using the blade from a box cutter, scraped off all the stickers from the window.
Boone watched them work. “I think they’re trying to get the VIN number off now. There’s probably a metal plate on the dash… Yup. They’ve got it. And now the one on the engine block. Okay, good. All traceability is gone.”
Anderson and her dad conferred for a minute, and then disappeared. Her father got in the truck and started it up, heading down the dirt track that wound toward the woods. He leaned out the window with a small wave. “Back in a few hours.”
Anderson’s Jeep appeared around the corner, following the truck. She watched until they vanished into the deep woods at the base of the mountains. “Where do you think they’ll hide it?” she whispered.
Boone squinted in the sunlight. “I’m guessing No Bottom Pond. They could drive it right up the ledge and push it over. They’ve never been able to measure the depth of that hole. It’s at least a mile down, some say. You’d never see it again.”
She nodded. “That’s probably where they’re headed.” She frowned suddenly. “But what if someone sees them?”
He twisted his wrist and checked the time. “Not too likely. No hunting this time of year. It’s all your dad’s private property. Unless there’s a random hiker up there…”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right. And they’ll be careful.”
“There’s no one on earth more careful than your father,” he said. “And he really loves you, Portia.”
She smiled and started the glider going again. “I know. He’s the best.”
Boone’s face changed, and she wondered what had upset him. “What?” she asked.
“I just wanted to say I’m really sorry about what happened to you. It’s so damned unfair.”
She didn’t say a word, just pushed the glider back and forth, but his words comforted her.
“And I hope, I pray… that someday you will realize not all men are like that Murphy creep. He’s the exception, not the rule.” He reached over to touch her hand, but hesitated mid-air.
“I’ll get there,” she said with a sad smile. “Just give me time.”
Boone pulled his hand back, laying it palm-down on his thigh. “Deal.”
***
They glided for another hour. Boone made small talk about the horses and the farm, filling her in on who’d had what foals and which pastures they were settled in. He talked about the roof leaking, the big tractor getting stuck in the mud last spring, and how the local farrier had thrown his back out, causing all horse owners to panic. They’d found a replacement to shoe their horses, but nobody loved the new guy as much as old Hank.
“How about tomorrow I take you out to see all the new babies? There are four, to be exact. And there’s one I think you’ll really like. He’s the spitting image of Mirage.”
Turning to Portia, he noticed with a start that she had fallen asleep. When had that happened? He shook his head, realized he’d probably been talking to himself for the past few minutes, and gently got up, whispering to her sleeping form. “Sleep well, Peaches. I’ll check on you soon.”
Chapter 19
Boone, Dirk, and Anderson pored over the maps they spread on the kitchen table. They’d been discussing options for
over an hour after the two men returned from dumping the truck in the pond. Boone had checked on Portia twice, and she was still curled in a ball, sleeping on the glider with both dogs snoring on the grass beneath her.
Daisy and Grace crouched over a laptop, sitting side by side on the couch. Grace announced their findings as they progressed.
“Found the town of Baraboo.”
“Here are the obits—they’re listed with photos in the Baraboo News Republic.”
“Lots of people died this month. Wow.”
“Mostly women, elderly.”
She and Daisy exchanged disappointed glances, then stood and came to the table. “No luck so far. Either he’s not dead, or no one’s found him yet.”
Dirk grimaced. “Looks like we need to make some phone calls, and if that doesn’t work, we take a road trip.”
Boone leaned his chair back, balancing on two legs. “We need to find out more about Murphy. First of all, how and why he chose Portia. Secondly, how much he knew about all of us. From what she said, he followed the case in the papers, it’s gonna be really hard to just blend into the town as if we are passing through. Especially if we start asking a lot of questions. He might have friends up there who could tip him off.”
Anderson chewed on the end of a pencil. “Unless we concoct some story about one of us being a journalist. Maybe I could be doing a piece on ‘living off the grid,’ or something like that? I could try to do it over the phone, and contact someone at The Baraboo News Republic.”
Grace pulled out a chair and sank into it. “With your theater background, you’d be the best one to pull that off. You’re a natural actor, honey.”
Boone looked up. He’d forgotten Anderson taught drama classes. That was how he’d met Grace, when she had a part in one of his productions. “Good idea. You could try to dig up a list of names of folks who live out in the woods. There probably wouldn’t be too many, especially those who live there year round.”
Dirk’s thoughts seemed to drift elsewhere. He stood, walked around the table a few times, and stopped at the window. “It just dawned on me. If he’s alive, there are two ways he might have reacted to Portia’s escape. Either he’s pissed off and will want revenge, maybe to recapture her…or he’s afraid she’ll bring the cops down on him and might have disappeared even further into the woods to hide. After what happened to that guy Ariel Castro—he might be running scared.”
Portia appeared in the doorway, the quilt and pillows in hand. “He’ll be mad. He has a huge ego, and an even bigger temper. If he’s alive, he’ll come after me.”
Daisy ran her hands through her short hair. “Well. If that’s the case, you men sure can’t desert us and head out to Wisconsin.” Her brow furrowed. “What if he’s already on his way here? Or somewhere out there, in the woods? Watching, waiting?”
Stillness came over the room.
“Right,” Dirk said. “I'm getting my rifle.”
Boone stood up and scanned the woods through the kitchen window. “Mine’s in the truck. Might be better to keep it here, by the door.” He turned to Dirk and Daisy. “Might also be a good idea for me to bunk in the groom’s shed until we figure out what’s going on.”
Daisy shook her head. “No. You can sleep right here on the couch. It’s much more comfortable and closer.”
Dirk turned to him. “You sure your family can spare you, Boone? We’ve already taken terrible advantage of your kindness.”
Boone shook his head. “They’re doing fine. You folks are my second family, anyway. I’d never desert you at a time like this.”
Dirk shook Boone’s hand, pulling him into a bear hug. “If I’d had a boy, I’d have been proud for him to turn out just like you, son.”
Portia tossed a grateful smile at Boone, then went toward the stairs. “Think I’ll go up for a rest.”
Grace jumped up to go with her. “It’s my turn. Can I come with you?” She linked arms with her sister at the bottom of the stairs.
“Sure,” Portia said with a soft sigh. She whistled to the dogs, who immediately followed the girls up to the bedroom.
Chapter 20
Grace climbed into the bed with her sister and snuggled closer to her, lying on her side facing Portia. “Just like when we were little, huh?”
Portia sighed. “Yeah. Except…”
Grace. “I know. A lot has happened.”
“Too much.”
“You too tired to talk?” Grace said, one hand stroking Portia’s shoulder.
“I don’t know. It is pretty exhausting. You know, reliving the whole thing.”
“I can only imagine.”
“I don’t want you to. Nobody should have to know about that kind of evil.”
Grace’s eyes puddled. “He really hurt you.”
“Uh huh.”
“What did he do, exactly?”
Portia’s eyes closed. “I think that’s a story for another day. I…”
Grace’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Tomorrow, maybe. Let me get my strength back. K?”
“Okay.”
The dogs jumped onto the bed. Cupcake sat on Portia’s pillow, licking her face, and Boomer wiggled up between the girls.
With eyes closed, Portia spoke in a soft, mumbling tone. “Dogs are the best.”
Grace stroked Boomer’s soft fur. “Yeah. They are.”
In minutes, they were both asleep.
***
Murphy came for her as always, big and hulking, naked, and glistening from the shower. His shoulders bunched and he leaned forward to touch her face. “Hey, sugar. You ready for a night of romance?”
She screamed a silent NO! and strained against the ropes that held her tight to the bedposts while he untied those holding her legs to the footboards. Kicking with all her might, she landed blow after blow on his tree trunk body, but nothing stopped him from moving closer.
Hovering over her, she tasted his salty lips on hers and cringed with all her soul, pulling away, shrinking as far inside herself as she could.
NO!
His rough hands pulled back the clothes, and he lowered his face to her breasts, suckling her like the child she’d never have. He hurt her, with his none-too-gentle teeth biting her tender flesh. Twisting and turning beneath him, she cried and groaned, but he wouldn’t stop.
When he lifted her skirt to touch between her legs, she let loose and screamed, because for some odd reason, today the duct tape had been removed from her mouth and she was gloriously, wondrously free to spew the terrified sound as loud and as far as possible.
***
“Portia!” Grace shook her. “Wake up.”
She woke in a cold sweat with fear clamped tightly around her heart, squeezing the breath from her. “Oh, God. It was him.” Tumbling into her sister’s arms, she sobbed against her, hearing her mother and father, Boone, and Anderson pounding up the stairs and queuing in the doorway.
“What happened?” Dirk shouted.
“Just a dream,” Grace said, stroking Portia’s back. “She’s okay. It was just a bad dream.”
Portia didn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t. She heard the crowd of family and friends dissipate, and when they were alone again, she uttered one last huge sob against Grace’s chest, then pulled back, burrowing under the comforter.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It was him. He was coming at me again.”
Grace surprised her with the sweet ministrations she offered. She’d never seen this side of her sister, and told her so. “You’re so nice to me. Just like mom.” She raised a tear-stained face to her sister. “Thank you.”
Grace’s face crumpled. “Well, after all I put you through in our childhood, I kinda owe you, Sis.”
Portia shook her head. “Don’t be silly. Everybody does dumb stuff when they’re young. You weren’t much different from other kids your age.”
“Yes, I was. I didn’t just dabble in drugs. I lived for drugs. I was…I am…an addict.”
“Still?” Portia’s eyes widened.
“Once an addict, always an addict,” she said. “I don’t use any more. But I always feel the pull. Especially when stuff goes wrong.”
“You mean like when I was taken?”
Grace nodded. “That. And any other reason. But to tell the truth, when I saw mom fall apart after you disappeared, it made me stronger. I had to be there for her. So I resisted, mostly.”
“Mostly?”
Grace hung her head. “Once in a while I screw up. I’ve done some bad things, Portia. I can’t seem to resist a hunky guy. It makes me all crazy inside.” She checked the doorway. “I’ve cheated on Anderson. Three times.”
Portia tried not to show her surprise. What Grace didn’t need was a preachy older sister right now. “Does he know?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe. We never talked about it. I just go away for a few days, then I finally come to my senses and call him.” A few tears glistened in her eyes. “He never asks questions, he just comes to get me. And we go home. As if everything is normal.”
She glanced toward the door again. “But it’s not! I’m not normal, Portia. I’ve got issues. Serious fidelity issues.”
It was Portia’s turn to comfort her sister now, and she stroked her hair, looking into Grace’s worried eyes. “Listen. Everybody’s got stuff they need to work on. But Anderson seems like an amazing man, like he has a heart of gold.”
“I know. He loves me no matter what I do.”
“Well, then. That’s the sign of true love, right? Unconditional love?”
“Yeah.” Grace’s mouth trembled. “I guess we both have work to do, you and me. Huh?”
“I guess.” Portia reached for her sister again, cuddling against her. “Maybe we can help each other.”
“Count on it, sis.”
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