He caught the cushion and tossed it back on the couch. “Cut it out.”
“Well, fuck you. You have no respect for my ability to do my job. You want to tuck me someplace safe while others put themselves in danger to protect you.”
“I would hardly have gone along with the fake engagement if I didn’t think it was a good idea, but it hasn’t worked out.”
“Maybe I’m assuming you actually care about me when in reality you’re worried I’ll figure out what’s going on with Drew. My bet is that you didn’t know he was involved when this first started. Now that you do, you want to stop the investigation. I take it back. I’m not going anywhere. If your plan was to get rid of me so you can cover for your brother, I’m not cooperating. You’re stuck with me.”
***
The next morning, Ellie stood outside Sam’s closed office door. Whatever had been developing between them was dead. Maybe he did care about her, but he was obstructing her ability to do her job.
They hadn’t gone on their morning run, and she’d stayed in her room, watching through her bedroom window until he’d left for work. By now he was safely in court, so she put aside whatever misgivings she might have had and turned the knob. He’d locked it.
No matter, Arch Bollinger had taught his stepchildren how to pick locks using whatever tools were at hand. She went up the stairs to her room and returned a minute later with a bobby pin. Seconds later, she had the door open.
She started with the antique rolltop desk set against one wall and determined it was used for things related to the house: manuals for kitchen appliances and electronics, sample books for countertop material and flooring that suggested Sam planned to update the kitchen, and even an architectural drawing of the house dated nearly a hundred years before.
Tucked next to it she found an envelope with a school-project valentine printed in a child’s careful hand to “Auntie Nan” and signed “Your nephew, Sam.” In the center of the red construction-paper heart was a small school photo of a serious, dark-haired boy. Oh geez. Was there anything that could pull harder at her heartstrings than that lonely little boy who had lost his mother? She returned the valentine to the envelope and tried to put a lid on the emotions the card had pulled up.
She moved and sat in the high-backed leather chair in front of the wide desk Sam regularly used and shut down her apprehension about going through his personal things.
She started with the desk drawers first, pulling each open to examine their contents. The top left drawer was stacked with receipts, mostly from online retailers, while the middle one held bills. The deep bottom drawer held a couple of squeeze-type grip strengtheners.
She picked one up and worked it a few times before replacing it to continue her search. An organizer in the top right-hand drawer held paper clips, Post-its, pens and pencils. How could someone only have boring pale yellow Post-its, plain metal paper clips, and yellow wooden pencils? She wondered what that said about Sam’s personality.
It wasn’t until she got to the bottom right drawer that she found hanging files, one with a tab that read “Rock Creek Estate.” Inside Joss Creed’s will, the deed to the ranch, and correspondence with a lawyer were all neatly organized, Sam having written notes on the boring yellow Post-its with his precise script. She leafed through the documents, gaining a clearer picture of the difficult position Sam’s father had left him in, and why Drew was so resentful.
She pulled out the last file in the drawer. Inside was an unlabeled manila folder containing a stack of papers. One glance told her these were copies of the threatening emails. She read through them again, reviewing the now familiar messages from the self-described Freedom Defender.
The last sheet contained the most recent email. She frowned as she read. This email had been sent two days ago, and Sam hadn’t shared it with her or the team.
Like the others, FD claimed to be preserving the Second Amendment. After the usual diatribe against Judge Creed, accusing him of being part of a conspiracy to subvert the Constitution, the last line read: Enjoy the time you have left with your girlfriend. When she dies, her blood will be on your hands. We’ll keep you alive long enough to witness her death, then you’ll follow her to hell.
“Talk about overly dramatic,” Ellie muttered to herself. She took out her phone and snapped a photo of the email and sent it to the rest of the team.
***
The next morning, Ellie steered the Land Cruiser toward the grocery store, reviewing how everything had evolved over the past twenty-four hours. She bit back a sigh. The best way to describe her and Sam’s current relationship was as a deep freeze with brief flashes of heat. After work he’d shut himself in his office, and an hour later she’d received an email from him. He’d forwarded the threat she’d found in his drawer to herself and the others.
Good thing, because now the team could talk openly about it in his presence without giving away that she’d snooped through his desk.
Seth had called. She and Sam had driven around for fifteen minutes to throw off anyone watching them before going to Marshal Central for a late evening meeting. Sam had hammered on about the threat to Ellie, but Seth had refused to change her assignment. She was becoming more and more discouraged with the lack of progress. Bella’s questioning looks told Ellie that the tension between her and Sam hadn’t gone unnoticed.
The friendship they’d seemed to be developing before their argument was a memory. Now they ignored each other. Or at least he ignored her. Her dilemma was that while she was putting on a good act, she couldn’t help being hyperaware of everything about him.
His scent triggered a response if he walked too close to her, an aroma she labeled Hot guy on a crisp fall day. Maybe she should shorten it to Sam. When his hair fell over his forehead, she had to leave the room before she jumped him.
There was that moment in the courthouse parking lot earlier that morning. Sam had driven, so she’d stepped out of the Land Cruiser to switch seats. They were standing behind the vehicle when a pair of women had walked toward them. Sam’s expression had turned speculative, then he’d leaned forward to cup the back of her neck and lowered his mouth to hers. The momentary touch of lips had been like flash lightning, scorching in its brief intensity.
He’d stepped back and released her to jam his hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. A moment later she was watching his back as he strode toward the courthouse.
She pulled up in front of the grocery store, her mind on trying to figure out something for dinner. The brooding sky and icy temperature matched her mood perfectly. Sam, who did aloof really well even as he was handing her an umbrella, had informed her of an impending storm. The clouds stacked up in the western sky and the biting wind made her grateful she’d opted for her padded down coat.
With her purse slung over her shoulder, she pulled up her hood, bent her head against a strong gust, and trudged toward the glass doors of the store. A van pulled to a stop, blocking her way, the passenger door opening as she stepped sideways to go around it. It wasn’t the man who got out of the vehicle who caught her attention, but the pale face under the dark beanie of the driver. Frowning, she opened her mouth to speak. A movement in her peripheral vision was her only warning before a blow to her head had the world spinning into darkness.
Chapter Seventeen
Ellie’s head throbbed. She blinked open her eyes and bit back a groan as she tried to sort out her surroundings. The surface under her cheek vibrated, her clue that she was in the back of a moving vehicle. Her heart pounded heavily. Shit. This was bad.
Voices, loud and angry, carried from the front. Sharp pain radiating from her forehead muddled the words so she couldn’t make them out. The smell of cigarette smoke permeated the air. She rolled to her side, fighting back a wave of nausea, and became aware that her hands were uncomfortably secured behind her. She pulled at the restraints and heard a metallic clink. Handcuffs.
A desperate thought had her awkwardly bending her arms and in that split sec
ond, her situation kicked up from bad to grim. Her holster was there, but the gun was gone. No doubt, if they’d found her gun, they’d found her phone.
Hoping desperately for a break, she cast around frantically for her purse but didn’t see it. Then she remembered shoving her phone into a pocket of her coat. She couldn’t get her hands to her front to check for that, but she didn’t feel the weight of it. Something wet trickled along her eyebrow and she guessed it was blood. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up so she could lean against the sidewall.
Clearly, she’d been kidnapped, which meant whoever had taken her was trying to get to Sam. Linc was at the courthouse today, as were Seth and Bella. They would keep Sam safe.
She was in some sort of work van with a low, flat floor and two bucket seats in the front. Two men in heavy coats and beanies were taking turns snarling at each other. There were no windows in the back, only what looked like a couple of toolboxes and gray plastic bins with lids. A packing blanket wrapped around something bulky lay on the opposite side of the van.
“What the fuck was she doing with a gun?” Ellie jerked as she tuned into the conversation. Then she remembered that brief glimpse of the driver. His voice was pitched high with worry. Drew Martin glanced at the man in the passenger seat, then returned his attention to the road. For Sam’s sake she wished her suspicions about his brother had proven unwarranted.
“This is an open carry state, half the people in this county are armed.” The man in the passenger seat was heavier than Drew and appeared more relaxed as he sipped from a to-go cup, a cigarette dangling from his fingers.
“I’m telling you, there’s something off there. She wouldn’t let me come in the house with a gun. Said it made her uncomfortable. Why would she say that if she’s one of us?”
“I’m not saying she’s one of us, dickwad. I’m saying it doesn’t prove anything. Creed could have given her the gun to carry for protection because we’re threatening him.”
“I don’t think so. Maybe she’s FBI or something.”
“Does she look FBI?”
“How the fuck should I know what FBI looks like? Isn’t that the point when they go undercover, that you don’t know who they are? We need to get rid of her before they come after us. I kept telling you guys taking her is a mistake.”
Her stomach knotted when she thought of what he meant by getting rid of her. And who were “you guys”?
“We stick with the plan. We grabbed her to get leverage over Creed. We want him to overturn Bannister’s conviction, and we don’t want the government taking our guns. If Big Dog wants us to get rid of her, then that’s what we do, but not until then.”
“We shouldn’t have done this. You don’t know my brother. You think he’s all civilized, but I’ve seen him lose his shit. Thought he was going to kill a guy once who’d punched Ben for being a fag.”
“We’ll deal with Creed.” The passenger looked over his shoulder, a wide smile splitting his round face. “Well, well, look who’s awake. Hello, sweetheart.” He frowned and pointed at his head. “Man, that looks painful. Sorry I hit you so hard. Had a job to do, that’s all. How you feeling? Got a headache?”
She ignored his questions. “Who are you?”
“You can call me Sarge, everyone does.”
“Why are you doing this? Where are you taking me?”
“We’re taking you someplace safe, and we’re going to hold on to you for a bit. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Shit, shit, shit!” Drew swerved and Ellie braced to keep from being rolled around.
“What the hell’s wrong with you? I should never have let you drive.”
“Cops are behind us with their lights on.” Panic edged Drew’s voice, and between the seats she could see his hands, knuckles white, gripping the steering wheel.
A thin, piercing wail sounded over the whine of the engine.
“Don’t freak out. They can’t be after us.”
“Someone must have seen us grab her in the parking lot.”
“No way. The van blocked the view from the store. There was no one in the parking lot when we grabbed her, and we had her in the car in less than thirty seconds. No one saw us. Pull over nice and easy like every other idiot out here and we’ll be fine.”
“The signal turned red. Should we run it? We get pulled over with her in the back and we’re done for.”
“Fuck no, we don’t run it. You’re such a dumbass.”
Drew stomped on the brakes and Ellie tumbled to her side. The sirens drew closer.
“What the fuck, man? Are you trying to get their attention?” Drew wasn’t the only one losing his cool.
The sirens passed, the sound fading, taking Ellie’s brief hope with it.
“Holy shit, I nearly pissed myself.”
Sarge made a sound of disgust. “If you’d listened to me in the first place, you’d save yourself a shitload of grief. Now get going before someone calls the cops to report a reckless driver.” He turned in his seat. “How we doing back there?”
Ellie remained slumped on the floor, her shoulders aching from her hands being pulled behind her back. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Not good. My head hurts and I get motion sickness. I feel like throwing up.” It didn’t take much effort to put a tremor in her voice. “Why have you kidnapped me?”
“We’re not planning to hurt you.” She didn’t believe that for a second. Maybe Sarge didn’t realize she’d overheard him and Drew talking about “getting rid” of her.
Drew slowed the vehicle.
“What the fuck are you doing?” From the temper in his voice, Sarge was at the end of his patience.
“She throws up she’ll stink up the whole van. I’m stopping. We got to look for a bag or something.”
Ellie could feel the vehicle turning. She moaned and gulped in a breath. With the headache and being in the back of the van, her claim of nausea wasn’t entirely a fabrication.
“Get back on the damn road. Who cares if she pukes all over herself? We’ve got to get her stashed before we’re pulled over for real.”
“She pukes, I puke. Happens every time.”
“God, you’re an idiot.”
The van stopped and Drew threw it into park.
“Could you have picked a worse place to stop? Circle around to the back of the store, dickwad. There’ll be dumpsters there and we’ll find something for her to spew into so your delicate sensibilities aren’t upset.”
“Stop calling me that.” The van rumbled to life again.
“What, dickwad? You are a dickwad, so that’s what you’re called.”
“Everyone in the militia chooses a code name. Big Dog’s is Big Dog. Mine’s Lobo. That’s what you’re supposed to call me.”
Sarge barked out a laugh lacking in amusement. “You got to earn your name, dickwad. I earned mine in the Marine Corps. Big Dog’s earned his because he’s big and he’s the top dog. So far all you’ve earned is dickwad.”
The van stopped and Ellie made a retching sound. She lay curled on her side, eyes closed.
“Shit, she’s gonna hurl.” Drew shoved open the driver’s door.
“Jesus Christ on a crutch.” Sarge opened his own door, and a second later, the rear doors of the van flew open. “Get out, girl.”
Ellie opened her eyes and gave him a suffering look. “I don’t feel good.” Behind Sarge’s silhouetted figure, the sky looked heavy with gray and sullen clouds.
He flicked away a lit cigarette. “We aren’t taking you to a garden party so I don’t really care if you don’t feel good. You need to puke or not?”
“I think so, but I can’t sit up with my hands behind my back.”
“Well, I’m sure as hell not taking those cuffs off.” He tugged her feet to draw her to the opening before grabbing her elbow and pulling her to a sitting position. “Get your feet under you and stand up.”
Drew stuck his head around the open door. Ellie stood, bent over at the waist, and made herself dry heave, the
n breathed heavily through her nostrils.
“You faking it, sweet thing?” Sarge jerked her upright.
“I’m trying not to throw up.” She groaned and pulled free to sit on the back bumper of the van. She looked at Drew. “Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to hurt Sam?”
Drew’s face contorted. “He brought this on himself. He tell you I asked him for a loan against my inheritance, money that’s rightfully mine to begin with? He told me to fuck off.”
“Sam wouldn’t have said that to you.”
“Maybe not using those exact words, but the intent was the same. He thinks because he’s a big-ass judge he can treat his own brother like shit. Us snatching you will get his attention. Then we’ll have ourselves a conversation and he can give me some goddamn respect.”
Sarge shoved Drew aside. “You’re full of shit. This isn’t some petty personal vendetta. We’re doing this for the cause. Creed needs to be taught he can’t fuck with the Constitution.”
Ellie groaned and her legs shook. “Oh god. I have to find a bathroom.”
“You have to pee?” Drew sounded nervous.
“I think I have diarrhea.”
He reached into the front pocket of his jeans.
“What the hell are you doing?” Incredulity laced Sarge’s words.
Drew pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. He fished through them, then held up a small handcuff key. “We can’t take her to the bathroom in handcuffs. It’ll draw too much attention. We’ve got to get her to a toilet or she’ll shit her pants. I could use the john myself.”
“Oh my god, could you be any more stupid? We’re not taking her anywhere with blood dripping down her face.” Sarge held out his hand. “Give me the goddam keys.”
Ellie moaned. Sarge snatched the keys from Drew, then scooped her legs up and pushed her into the back of the van and slammed the doors. Through the closed doors she could hear Sarge telling Drew that if he didn’t want to get left behind, he’d get in the van. The driver’s door was thrown open and Sarge got behind the wheel, jamming the key into the ignition.
Hidden Judgment Page 17