by Gemma Bruce
“You be careful. Call me and Terrence if you feel uncomfortable. You can always stay in my spare bedroom.”
Julie scuffed through the parking lot, digging in her purse for her keys and thinking, What do I want from Cas? Because nothing was a lie. She wanted a lot. But she wasn’t going to get it. You needed trust to offer love. And she just didn’t trust him.
Damn, where were her keys? In the city she would have them in one hand and her mace in the other before she even left the bar. But things were lax in the country and she was getting soft. Then she remembered that she’d stuck them in her coat pocket so she wouldn’t have to search for them when she left.
She unlocked the door. A van rumbled to a stop behind her. Typical, thought Julie. The idiot had a whole damn parking lot, and he had to park next to her. What was wrong with these people?
She heard the door of the van slide open; something was thrown over her head and she was snatched off the ground. The van took off and she and her assailant were thrown to the floor. Julie ground her elbow into his gut as she fought to free her head and shoulders from the sacking that covered them. The van swerved out of the parking lot.
Julie rolled across the metal floor; her head whacked against the tire well and she went down for the count.
Chapter 22
Cas put his shoulder into sanding the hull of the Julie E. and tried not to think about Julie. He’d come home, intending to write his resignation and take it to Hank Jessop. Instead he’d wandered out to the shop to look at his boat.
At first he’d wanted to smash it into a thousand pieces, but he’d spent a lot of hours building it, and his better judgment won out. He told himself that if he couldn’t have Julie, at least he could sail the Julie E.
And some tiny part of him was still hoping that they would see their way clear of this mess.
He knew she wouldn’t take a bribe. He should never have doubted her.
And she should never have doubted him. She was mad as hell right now, but once she calmed down, she would know that he’d never shoot at her. Jesus. Why would she even think that? Probably because he’d showed up right after someone fired at her. Because he never told her about Reynolds and the rifle. Because even after all they’d been to each other, she didn’t trust him.
Of course, he hadn’t trusted her either. God, what a mess. And he didn’t know how to fix it.
So he began sanding the prow, trying to lose himself in the feel of the wood. It curved beneath his hands like a finely formed woman and made him think of Julie. Julie, who hadn’t trusted him with the truth.
His cell phone rang. He snatched it out of his pocket. Not Julie. Terrence. He sighed and flipped it open.
“Cas. We need you at the Roadhouse. Immediately. One of the bikers found Julie’s purse in the parking lot. Her car door was open and her keys were in the lock. I think someone’s kidnapped her.”
“On my way.” Cas grabbed his jacket and ran for his car.
When Julie roused, her hands were tied behind her back, the bag, smelling of grain, was still over her head, only now it was also tied around her shoulders. She tugged at the ropes that bound her wrists and inanely thought of Cas. But this was not a variation on pirates and captive princess. Cas would never be so rough. And he would never frighten her, even for fun. She held perfectly still, trying to orient herself.
Then she heard the furtive whisper of one of her kidnappers. “What are we gonna do with her?”
“Leave her in the back while we search,” said the driver.
Damn, they were after her treasure. Jeez, Wes, look at all the trouble you’re causing.
“The back of the van? We can’t do that. What if somebody sees her?”
“Nobody’s gonna see her.”
“What if Cas stops us for having that broken headlight?”
“Aw shit,” said the driver. “I forgot about that.”
“Cause you know he’s gonna look for her and he’s gonna kill us when he finds her. What if—”
“Would you quit with the what ifs.”
The van came to a stop, then started off again. Stop sign? It turned to the right.
“Hey, where are we going?”
“You just gave me a better idea.”
The van lurched, then slowed down. Julie could hear the thump-thump of a flat tire. She smiled in spite of her situation. The idiots had kidnapped her with a broken headlight and a flat tire.
“Shit, what’s that?” asked the first voice.
“Damn tire must have finally blown.” The van slowed and pulled to the side of the road, or street.
“What are you doing?”
“Changing the tire. I don’t want to wreck the rim.” The sound of the driver’s door opening.
“We can’t just stop ...” The sound of the other door opening.
Then the side door slid open. Julie kept her breath steady, while her pulse kicked into overdrive. She lay perfectly still, but gently tested the ropes that tied her wrists together. It just made them tighter. Then she was shoved out of the way.
“Dang, she’s still out. I hope she’s not dead.”
“You nitwit, she’s not dead.”
“Not dead.”
And Julie suddenly knew who they were. Henley and Bo. What a couple of dolts.
She listened to them change the tire, with much cursing and clanging of tools. Once the car slipped off the jack and they had to start over again.
And all the while, Julie tried to free her hands. Then the car was jacked down, the flat tire was thrown in the back with her, and the van started out again.
Damn, thought Julie, you can never find a policeman when you need one.
An instant of fear sliced through her. They were idiots, but they were mean. She took a slow breath and gathered her wits. Think. Listen and wait.
It seemed like only a minute or two went by, when the van slowed, turned, and stopped again. Julie tensed. Had they pulled into a parking space? They couldn’t be leaving her in a van parked in the middle of Ex Falls, could they?
The doors opened and shut again. She waited. And waited. Maybe they had decided to leave her in the van after all. She kept working at the knots.
The side door slid open. Julie froze. The van dipped as one of her assailants climbed inside. Only this time it was Julie and not a tire that was dragged across the floor.
She went limp, making it as difficult as she could to move her. She was hoisted up and tossed over one of the men’s shoulders. Bo, she thought. What a dumb fuck to let Henley make him do all the dirty work. Probably had to change the tire, too.
His shoulder dug into her stomach and she had to concentrate not to throw up.
“Hurry up.”
Definitely Henley and Bo, thought Julie.
“I’m hurrying; she weighs a ton.” He shifted her across his shoulder. Julie was bumped through a doorway. It closed behind them. Bo was panting with exertion. Damn, she could probably take them even with her hands tied if she could just see.
She was banged through another doorway. Heard the clank of metal and then she was dumped on a mattress. The springs gave under her weight. Their footsteps moved away. The door closed and a lock clicked.
Julie rolled off the bed and walked right into a wall of metal bars. Damn them. She was in jail.
A knot of people stood in the Roadhouse parking lot, the snow falling around them, making them look like a tableau in a snow globe. Cas slammed to a stop, banged on the door, and jumped out of the police car. “What happened?”
Terrence had his arm around Tilda, whose face was stricken. “Larry,” he called, looking over the crowd.
A tall skinny guy wearing a Hellzapoppin jacket turned around.
“Tell the sheriff what you told me.”
Larry looked over at the VW, then at Cas. “I was coming out of the bar, when I saw the interior light on in the bug. So I went over to close the door, figuring somebody hadn’t closed it right. Only I found this purse on the ground and the keys
in the door, so I took ’em in to Tilda.”
“And Tilda called me,” said Terrence. “I’ve already alerted the county. They’re setting up roadblocks on the two main routes out of here. That’s about all they can do since we don’t have a description of the getaway vehicle. And they’re pissed ’cause we mucked up the crime scene.”
“I didn’t know it was a crime scene,” said Larry. “I was just trying to help.”
“Nobody’s blaming you, you did right. It was the rest of everybody tramping outside for a look-see. And I’m not blaming them, neither. It’s a natural thing to do. And the snow took care of any prints they might have found.” He turned to Cas. “What do you want us to do?”
Cas’s mind was a dead blank. Julie had been kidnapped. And suddenly all the other stuff didn’t matter. He looked around the crowd. “None of you saw anything?”
There was general headshaking and sympathetic looks.
Tilda took his elbow. “Come inside. We’ll make a plan.”
Cas let her lead him into the Roadhouse. He was not equipped to deal with this. He needed help, and the only real cop around had just been kidnapped. How could she have let herself be nabbed out of a parking lot?
“What’s our next move?” Terrence’s voice came from far away. The smell of coffee was much closer.
Tilda placed a mug in his hands. “Well, I think you should start by looking for Henley and Bo. Henley’s been hitting on Julie every night she’s been here until I finally kicked him out.”
Henley and Bo. Of course, thought Cas, holding his mug in both hands and looking at it, but not drinking. She’d gotten the upper hand with them twice. If they were drunk enough, they might pull a stunt like this. And if they were drunk enough, they might do worse. A shudder went through him and Tilda put a hand on his shoulder.
“What kind of cars do they have, beside the bikes?” asked Cas.
“Bo has an old Ford Escort,” said Terrence. “Henley has a pickup and a van.”
“Van,” said Cas.
“Yep,” said Terrence.
“Damn them,” said Larry, who was standing at the front of the crowd that had gathered around Cas. “We’ve been talking about kicking them out of the club for months now. Jerks like them give bikers a bad name. But since they were the ones that found the jackets, we just sorta let it slide. Shit.”
A husky man pushed through the crowd and grabbed Larry by his collar. “You better shut your damn mouth about my boy. He ain’t no kidnapper.”
Terrence pulled him away from Larry. “You’re breaking the law, Arnold.”
Henley’s father shook him off. “If that girl went with Henley, it’s because she wanted to. She mighta dropped her purse without knowing it. I mean, hell, she’s been strutting her wares since she was a kid, hasn’t she, Cas?”
The coffee mug hit the floor and broke as Cas lunged for Arnold Baxter. Arnold fell into the crowd.
“Damn it, Cas,” said Terrence, dragging him back to the bar stool. “We got us a situation here. And we don’t have time for fist-fighting over Julie’s virtue, when we oughta be worrying about her person.”
Cas blew out his breath. “You’re right, Terrence. I’m just a little crazy.”
Terrence slapped him on the back, nearly knocking him off his feet. “To be expected.”
“We could form a search party,” volunteered Henry Goethe. “Wouldn’t be the first time we had to go out looking for that girl.”
A search party, thought Cas, still dazed. Julie would just love that. History repeating itself. But he couldn’t see any other options.
“Saved her for you once. For all the thanks we got. But we don’t hold it against you.” Henry smiled. “We don’t mind doing it again.”
“As long as you don’t let her get away again,” added Dan Pliney, coming up beside Henry. “We had great hopes that the two of you would end that damn feud. When you got older, that is.”
“And now you’re older,” agreed Henry. “So let’s go find her. Deputize us.”
Oh shit, thought Cas. “No deputizing.” He was trying to think, but all the television in the world couldn’t help him now. He just hoped it was Henley and Bo and not some drug lord from the city.
Terrence turned to Arnold Baxter. “Now, don’t take this the wrong way, but give me a description of Henley’s van. You might be right and they’re just out for a good time—” This was met with several groans from the crowd and one very pointed, “Julie wouldn’t touch Henley with a stick,” from Tilda.
“And,” Terrence continued, ignoring the responses. “Henley and Bo might be peacefully drinking over in Henryville.”
“That’ll be the day,” said someone in the back and Arnold turned to scowl at them.
“But it’s the only lead we’ve got.”
“Right,” said Cas and stood up. His knees were wobbly. “If it’s okay with Tilda we’ll make the Roadhouse our command center.”
Tilda nodded.
“Call Edith and Lou and tell them to forward any calls to you or my cell. The rest of us will start at a five mile radius and work our way back here. If you see anything suspicious, anything, call here and Tilda will pass it on to Terrence or me.”
“What about us?” asked Henry. “We want to be in on the arrest.”
“Do not try to apprehend anyone on your own. Just report what you’ve seen.”
Terrence began dividing everyone into teams. They left in one great migration.
Cas started to follow them out.
“Where are you going?” asked Terrence.
“To the police station.”
“For what?”
“I left my .38 there.”
“Cas, you son of a bitch. You’d better not shoot anybody.”
Cas’s mouth twisted. “I couldn’t if I wanted to. But I can scare the shit out of them long enough to kill them with my bare hands.” And he strode out the door.
The police cruiser was covered with a layer of snow and he couldn’t have been in the bar for more than a few minutes. The storm would be in full gear before long, and it would be impossible to find Julie once the roads were closed. He drove with one hand while he attached his cell phone to the car charger, and searched the roadside for any sign of a suspicious vehicle—or a body.
At least if Henley and Bo had taken her, she might come out of this alive. If drug lords had come to silence her, it would already be too late to save her.
Cas sped up and the car fishtailed before straightening out again. The whole feud had started over a killing, thought Cas. Please don’t let it end because the last Excelsior was dead. He dismissed that as a possibility. He had to find her. Her life—and his—depended on it.
He turned onto Main Street in time to see a vehicle slipping and sliding down the street toward the river. He peered through the falling snow. A van. A goddamn van. He swerved to the curb in front of the station, banged on the door and jumped out, fingering his key chain for the key to the station door. He could still catch them if he hurried.
But when he reached the door, it was open. Someone had used a crow bar to break the lock. Christ. What if they had his gun?
Cas rushed inside. He barely registered movement at his back, before his skull cracked and fireworks exploded in front of his eyes.
Before Julie even had time to start working the sack over her head, the door opened again. She threw herself down on the cot. Now what? Maybe, they’d changed their minds and decided to take her with them. By now she had a pretty good idea where they were headed, and if she could somehow get to Smitty, they would be up the creek. But they only dumped something on the floor and went out again, locking the outer door.
She waited, listened, heard nothing. What was on the floor just a few feet away?
She rolled her shoulders, shimmied and twisted until she worked the opening of the sack to her neck. Then she bent over and the sack slipped off her head. She stood up; the world grew dark and her senses spun. She closed her eyes and quickly sat down
again, breathing slowly, drawing the oxygen deep into her lungs.
She opened her eyes. It was still dark.
No surprise. It was night. But light was coming through a window high above the bed. She’d guessed right. She was in the Ex Falls jail.
A man was lying on the floor. He was wearing Cas’s sheepskin jacket.
At first all she could do was stare. Then she sprang off the cot and banged her shoulder on the bars of the open door, in her haste to get to him.
He was still breathing; she could see his jacket rising and falling, but she couldn’t tell how badly he was hurt. “Cas, can you hear me?” She nudged him with the toe of her boot.
He groaned.
“Cas, wake up. Are you all right?” A stupid question. Of course he wasn’t all right.
He stirred. Tried to lift himself up on one forearm but collapsed again.
“Dammit, tell me how bad you’re hurt.”
“Ugggh.”
Exasperated, Julie flipped him over with her foot. His head cracked back on the floor.
“Sorry,” she said and knelt beside him.
His head lolled to the side.
“Answer me, dammit.”
His eyes flitted open. He winced and closed them again. “Don’t yell.”
Julie gritted her teeth. “I’m not yelling. Just tell me where you’re hurt.”
“My head.”
“I can’t hold up my fingers because my hands are tied behind me, but can you see me okay?”
“Only if I open my eyes.”
“That is not funny.”
His eyelids opened and his eyes rolled until the irises settled into place. “I can see you. Where are we?”
“The jail.”
“Oh, right.” Cas smiled, the same crooked smile he’d had when he fell out of the apple tree.
Concussed, thought Julie.
He struggled to one elbow and peered around. “We’re in the jail?”
“Finally,” said Julie. She sank down on the concrete and turned her back to him. “Do you think you could untie me?” She lifted her hands so that he could reach them.
“Cute,” said Cas. “I love it when you’re tied up.”