by Kylie Brant
The boy beneath the table shook his head. “But you’re welcome to look.” Baxter waved her arm in an expansive gesture. “Not that you could do a damn thing with a weapon if you had one.”
“You don’t need the boy anymore,” Sophia said quietly. “When this is over, he’ll just slow you down. Let him leave now. He doesn’t need to be a part of this.”
Baxter sauntered into the room and for the first time Sophia realized the woman was wearing a backpack. Not the pint-sized one Henry had worn this morning. Despite Baxter’s words, Sophia knew she didn’t have to get into the boarded up bedroom to find a weapon.
Whatever the woman thought she would need to end this with Sophia would be in the bag.
“Yeah, the kid’s a pain in the ass, but he comes in handy. Think that old man would have agreed to give me a ride if sweet and innocent over there hadn’t been with me? I’m gonna keep him. I can train him. Better than Sonny.” The mention of her son seemed to incense her and she crossed to Sophia in two quick steps and knocked her to the floor. “You remember my son, right? You should. You’re. The. Reason. He’s. Dead.” She punctuated the words with kicks, following Sophia as she tried to roll away.
There was a river of sick horror coursing through her at the suggestion Baxter would try to mold the boy the way she had her own. And Sophia realized that she wouldn’t be able to play on the woman’s ego, the way she had with Vance. And given Vickie’s long history with therapists, she’d see through de-escalation dialogue. So deliberately, she chose a different tack. “I do recall your son. You shot him. Maybe you were angry that he brought the police to your door by going to you. Or maybe he was trying to kill you. But Sonny’s death is on you, Vickie. You’re responsible. Just like you’re responsible for the way he was abused by men when he was young.” She paused, then added in a pitying tone, “Your son hated you.”
Vickie’s face twisted and she lunged, a snarl on her lips. Sophia was ready for her, drawing her feet close to her torso and then kicking out as hard as she could when the woman got close enough. She caught Baxter in the chest, knocked her away, giving herself enough time to roll and get her feet up under her again. She ran for the door, but the deadbolt was placed several inches about the doorknob. Her hands bound behind her, Sophia strained to reach high enough to unlock it, when the other woman charged at her, head down.
Sophia didn’t dodge quickly enough. The impact of Baxter’s body hitting her drove the breath from her lungs. The woman used both hands to grab her and shove her hard across the room. Off balance, Sophia landed hard against the couch, slamming her head against the pine trim. Her knees buckled. The room was spinning. Her lungs screamed for oxygen.
“Having fun yet? Not so fucking smart now, are ya? Did you ever once ask yourself how I knew when you’d be alone this morning? You haven’t, I can tell. Well my little helper over there planted a bug in your place when he was there the first time. And that’s exactly what’s going to help me end your fucking boyfriend, too. The explosives I pretended to wire to the kid? They’re really being saved for Prescott. How long do it think it will take them to pick up all the pieces of him?”
Fear and rage warred inside Sophia. Cam. She couldn’t let this monster hurt him. “He’s probably found it by now. Cops can sweep for those things, you know.” She saw by the other woman’s expression that she’d scored a point.
But after a moment Baxter shrugged. “I’ll figure something out. All I have to do is sit that last pack of explosives next to the condo and boom. One less fucking cop.” She slipped out of her pack, and put it on top of the counter. Unzipped it. “But don’t feel left out. I’ve got something pretty special planned for you, too.”
She opened her eyes. The other woman was unloading objects from the backpack, one by one. Needle-nosed pliers. A metal speculum. A sex toy with needles extending along both sides of it.
“We’ll start with this, though.” Baxter took out a box of cigars. Chose one. “Guess you already know that you’re going to be lucky number seventeen.” She stilled, the smirk fading from her face.
Nausea circled in Sophia’s belly. Slowly, painfully, she stood upright again. Baxter was taller. Heavier. So that meant she’d have to outwit the other woman. Use her brain, because she was no physical match for…
And then she realized why the woman had gone silent.
A vehicle was coming down the rutted drive.
In a flash Baxter reached into the pack and brought out a gun. She bent to grab Henry by the arm and haul him out from beneath the table, bringing the weapon up to his head in one smooth motion. “One sound. One move,” she whispered nearly soundlessly. “And he’s dead.”
Car doors slammed. Boots crunched on the gravel. Up the two porch steps. The three of them were unmoving inside, a frozen tableau. Sophia’s mind was racing, grasping and discarding ideas frenetically.
She still hadn’t decided on one when a knock sounded at the door.
Chapter 14
Cam and Maria Gonzalez sat silently in the Air Wing Cessna 182. It had taken valuable time to fill the SAC in on how he’d arrived at his certainty regarding Sophia’s whereabouts. Even longer to wrangle an order for one of the state patrol aircraft to get him to the Centerville airport, minutes away from Sundown Lake. There had been little conversation on the plane. Both were aware of the enormity of the stakes. Cam had other members of his team following up other leads in his absence, but this was the one he’d bet on.
And if he were wrong, the chances of ever finding Sophie alive decreased dramatically.
The knowledge rapped at the base of his skull, a constant painful reminder. It lay between him and Maria, an unspoken truth too horrible to verbalize.
His cell rang as the pilot began his final descent. Recognizing the number, he answered with a speed fueled by desperation.
It was Herb Wentworth, the Appanoose County Sheriff. “Agent Prescott. I just heard from the two deputies I sent out to the address you gave us on the lake. They didn’t run into anything like you mentioned.”
His gut abruptly hollowed out as he exchanged a glance with Maria. “You’re sure they have the right place?”
“I’m not saying they had an easy time finding it, mind you. But there’s no vehicle in sight. No sign that the cabin is occupied. Just the opposite. They said the windows appear to have been boarded over from the inside, like the place had been abandoned.”
A tiny flicker of hope flared. “From the inside? That’s kind of odd, isn’t it? Most people would cover the outside, to protect the glass from vandals.”
“Guess that’s true enough. But they knocked for a couple minutes. Didn’t hear anything, so they drove back up to the road, radioed in the report. I’m relaying it on to you.”
“Is there another structure on the property where the car could be?” Maria’s lips flattened as she listened to his end of the conversation. She’d put a lot on the line in allocating resources toward the Denholt connection. But his instincts still insisted they were on the right track.
Because he needed them to be right. He needed to believe that he was getting closer to where Baxter held Sophie.
“There’s no garage. Just some small stone building a ways behind the cabin, and a vehicle wouldn’t fit in there.”
“Anywhere nearby a vehicle could be hidden?”
The other man sounded rueful. “Agent, that cabin sits on almost ten acres of wooded property. That’s a lot of land and a lot of trees. Sure, someone could maybe pull a car far enough into the timber to hide it. We’d have to do a foot search though, and it’s nearly dark. You might want to wait until morning to come down.”
“We’re going to land at the Centerville airport in a few minutes,” Cam informed him tersely. “If you can spare a car to pick us up, I’d appreciate it. In the meantime, maybe you can have your men go back to the address and start searching for that car. I have a feeling our victim doesn’t have a lot of time left. I need to find out for sure whether we can cross this site
off our short list.”
The man agreed to both requests and Cam disconnected. Nothing about the report was reassuring, and self-doubt shredded his earlier confidence. What if he’d overlooked something? Maybe he’d seized on Denholt only because of finding Lisa Hansen in the cellar of the Coates’ place. Perhaps he’d neglected some other key piece of information while combing through Sophie’s files.
“She’s there or she’s not.” They were the first words Gonzalez had spoken since they left the airport. “It’s not like we’re putting all our eggs in one investigative basket. The team is still at work.” She looked at him, her dark gaze unreadable. “Even if it doesn’t pan out…this was worth the time spent checking it out.”
He didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Sophie had been taken over fourteen hours ago. He couldn’t afford chasing after leads that didn’t pan out.
Time was one thing she no longer had.
* * * *
The strangers at the door had made Baxter paranoid. It wasn’t until after the vehicle had pulled away that she put her weapon back into the bag, and took out the duct tape instead. She thrust it at Henry. “Tape her ankles together.” She watched long enough to ensure he obeyed before disappearing into the remaining open bedroom door. She stayed in the room for several minutes, making Sophia wonder if she was checking on the progress of the car that had been outside the house for a few minutes.
The possibility had a ribbon of hope unfurling inside her. Maybe Baxter was checking on the strangers from an unrestricted window. If so, it was another possible avenue of escape.
If Sophia weren’t bound, hands and feet. If she weren’t weaponless. Defenseless.
She clenched her jaw against the black well of despondency that formed at the thought. It deepened when Baxter came out of the room. This time carrying a gas can.
“Just in case we have to hurry this party along,” the woman said cheerfully. She liberally doused the furniture, splashed the cabin walls and plank flooring. Then made a show of pooling it around and down the front of the door to the porch. “I think you’re familiar with my work.” Her voice was confidential, as she tossed the can aside. “I didn’t get to stick around and listen to the screams when dear Aunt Mary and her husband and brat died. Too scared of getting caught. I realized my mistake though when Webster was melting before my eyes. I’m going to enjoy listening to you scream. First while I show you a few techniques I learned from Vance. And then again, when the flames are eating the flesh off your bones.”
Sophia looked for Henry. Found him under the table again, arms wrapped around his knees, his eyes screwed tightly shut. “Have you checked how far it is to the next house?” She saw by the woman’s stiffening that she had scored a point. “There are probably neighbors in the area. It can be deceptive with all the trees around. Not to mention the fact that sound carries near water.”
Baxter’s face smoothed. “You’re right. So if you get too loud I’ll just have to gag you again.” She went to her bag and took out the box of cigars. Made a production of drawing one out, holding it up. “I think you know how this is going to start.” She set it down to pick up the knife she’d used to cut Sophia’s bonds in the well house and approached her. Even when she tried to scoot frantically around the couch, the woman easily caught up with her. She bent down and sliced open the back of the jacket and blouse Sophia wore. And when the slightly cooler air in the cabin kissed her bare flesh, she shuddered wildly.
Baxter left her for a moment and Sophia rolled to the couch. Using it for support, she struggled to her feet, still hobbled by the tape. She flexed her ankles frantically, hoping that Henry had left some laxity in the bonds. Baxter watched her from her stance at the table, seeming amused by her actions. Then she picked up the cigar she’d taken out minutes earlier, pulled a lighter from her pocket, and—holding Sophia’s gaze—lit the end of it.
She drew on it deeply. Exhaled. Over and over until she had a half inch ash on the end. And then she stalked toward Sophia.
The bedroom door was open so she began hopping toward it. Baxter got there first and Sophia turned around, intent on putting the couch between the two of them. She felt a hand on her back and she was shoved off balance, landing painfully on the floor. Her attempt to crawl away was halted by a knee pressed to the base of her spine.
“This is the way my old man would begin.” Baxter’s voice was conversational. The hot ashes hit Sophia’s bare shoulder and she yelped. “Then he’d draw on the cigar again. You want to get it nice and hot. Makes the flesh sizzle when it comes into…”
“Leave her alone.”
Both of them stilled at Henry’s voice. Sophia craned her neck to look behind her. He had crawled out from beneath the table. And he held the gun from Baxter’s bag in two hands. Was pointing it at the woman.
“It’s all right. I’m not hurting her. We’re just playing.” The pressure was gone from Sophia’s back. She turned over, struggled to a sitting position.
“You’re lying,” he said flatly. “You lie all the time. Like when you said you’d take me home and you didn’t.”
Baxter was on her feet, inching toward him. “Well, I will take you. Promised, didn’t I? Just after this last thing.”
He backed up a bit, the weapon wobbling a bit in his hands. “Uh-uh. ’Cuz you just said you were going to keep me. You hurt the lady in the basement. And you hurt me. You’re going to hurt Sophie, too.”
Baxter spread her arms out in a gesture of innocence, the lit cigar still in her fingers. “You don’t want me to, I won’t. How’s that? I’m listening to you. Now you listen. Give me the gun.” She inched forward a little more. Henry took a step back.
“It’s all right. I promise everything will be fine if you just give me…” She lurched forward, made a grab with her free hand for the weapon.
The shot was deafening in the small area. Vickie took a couple more steps toward him, and Henry backed up around the table, the weapon still pointed. Then she reached out a hand to grab for the edge of the table. Missed. Fell to her knees. The cigar fell from her fingers. Rolled a little. “You…lil…bas…” She crumpled, her expression dazed.
For a moment Sophia was frozen. Then she looked from Baxter to the boy. “Henry.” Sophia waited for his frightened gaze to meet hers. “It’s all right. Come here. Bring the knife.”
Blood was pooling around Baxter’s body and her limbs jerked as she tried to move. The boy was watching her body fixedly. “Bring the knife. Come over here. Henry!”
A trail of flame had flared to life beneath the cigar. It raced along the trail that Baxter had made with the gasoline, licking along the floor. Racing to the door. Up it.
“Now, Henry.” Her voice was stern. Baxter was trying to speak. Only gurgling noises came out. “Bring the knife. Stay away from the flames.”
Skirting Baxter’s body, he set the weapon down and snatched up the knife Baxter had used earlier. Ran to Sophia’s side. Smoke was filling the room, stinging her eyes. The boy blinked rapidly, rubbing at his own with his free hand. “Cut the tape on my ankles. Hurry.”
It seemed to take an excruciatingly long time to do so, but finally her legs were free and she could get to her feet. “Now my wrists.” She turned around to offer her bonds, facing the door. Her stomach plummeted when she saw how fast the flames were spreading. Not only up the doorjamb, on the door, but in a wide trail that stretched across the length of the space along the front wall.
They wouldn’t be leaving the cabin through that door.
* * * *
Cam had probably gotten chillier receptions that the one that met him at the Centerville Airport, but he couldn’t recall when. Sheriff Wentworth had picked them up himself, and he was clearly miffed about it.
“It’s too bad you had to come all the way down here before you let us do a thorough check of the property,” he was saying. The headlights of his cruiser speared through the darkness as he expertly handled the curves of the blacktop. “I sent the deputies back to the cabin,
like you requested, but I have to tell you, budget’s tight and I can’t really spare two men to do a vehicle scavenger hunt in the dark, when…”