She hadn’t recognized the muffled voice of the man who’d grabbed her, but Van Rooten had to be behind it. She tried to reason out what he’d have to gain.
Blackmail? Who and why? All the questions came back to Jonathan.
He would start looking as soon as he realized she was missing. But that didn’t offer her much comfort. The wind would blow the snow, filling in their tracks, so there’d be none to follow. Yet she had no doubt that Jonathan would try to find her, until she remembered he hadn’t answered his phone. As the impact of that thought registered, she swallowed a groan to keep from gasping out loud. Jonathan could already be hurt, or worse. Lauren traversed the emotions of fear and fury in a matter of minutes, settling into despair.
The man braked the pickup, throwing her off the seat and wedging her in the narrow space between the front and back seats. Landing on the hard ridged, rubber floor mat facedown, she nearly choked on the smell of dust.
“It’s time to get out,” the man growled.
Chester. It was Chester. Maybe she could reason with him.
He reached into the back seat and pulled at her shoulders. She flinched in pain when her knee hit the hard metal edge of the doorway.
Trying to sit up, she saw the knife in Chester’s hand. He, was going to kill her! She drew back in fear.
“I’m not gonna cut you, Lauren, so just be still. I’m gonna cut this tape.” He slid the knife between her ankles and sawed through the tape. Afraid the knife would slip and cut her, she tensed and remained still as he’d told her to.
“Now, if you won’t scream your head off, I’ll take the tape off your mouth.” Chester stared at her, waiting for compliance. “Deal?”
Lauren nodded her head, but couldn’t keep from wincing when he yanked the tape off her mouth.
“Come with me. We’re gonna be here for a while.”
She scooted out of the pickup and bent a little, testing her legs for strength. Disappointment filled her when she realized they were too stiff for her to kick Chester or to run. When he grabbed her arm to lead her through the dark, she pulled away from him, refusing to be any more compliant than she had to be. “Keep your hands off me.”
She tried to ignore him as she hobbled forward, surprised when she realized she was at Jonathan’s house. Why would the sheriff bring her to the ranch? As the answer began to crystallize, Lauren stumbled. Icy fear gripped her heart. Jonathan. He was dead. Chester had brought her out here to kill her, too. He meant to leave no witnesses.
Without a word, Chester grabbed her upper arm and jerked her upright. Again she tried to shrug off his hand, but he kept a firm grip on her. The adrenaline that had kept her going seeped out of her blood, leaving her trembling. She didn’t have the energy to fight him.
She had to think, to plan, to save what little strength she had left. Her head was throbbing. While that should have been the least of her worries, it wasn’t. She had to be able to think clearly. To save herself and Jonathan—if he was still alive.
Keeping one hand on her arm, Chester took his gun and, using the butt end, broke a glass pane out of the back door, reached in and unlocked it. Then he thrust Lauren inside.
Glass crunched under her shoes as she fought to remain upright. That was hard without the use of her hands and arms for balance. Lauren searched the room for any sign of Jonathan. Everything looked fine. She decided that if the sheriff had been there earlier he would have left the door unlocked. Surely he wouldn’t have had to break and enter. That theory gave her some comfort. Maybe Jonathan wasn’t here.
When the sheriff closed the door and turned to face her, she asked, “Why are you doing this, Chester?”
“It wasn’t a planned thing, if that’s what you’re asking, Lauren. I thought I’d try again to find the negative of that picture I know you took. I didn’t think anyone would get out on a night like this. But since you came in, I didn’t have a choice.” He shoved her down the hall to the living room, where he flipped on the lights, then pushed her onto the sofa.
To Lauren, it seemed that bad timing was going to be her death—first in Diablo Canyon and now here. She’d be safer if she didn’t let Chester know she suspected as much as she did. “Why bring me here to Jonathan’s?” She looked around the room and found no sign of a struggle, so he must have left of his own free will. “Where is he?”
“He’ll be back. Just as soon as he finds out you’re missing, he’ll start huntin’ for you.” Chester paced the floor as he verbalized his escalating madness. “No, I hadn’t planned it this way, but maybe it’ll work out for the best, after all. You’re the only ones who know about me. Yep, this gives me an opportunity to get rid of the both of ya. I figure the two of you had a lovers’ quarrel and the son of a bitch killed you and I had to take him into custody.”
God help them all. Chester did intend to kill Jonathan—and her. Relief at the knowledge that Jonathan was alive somewhere was overshadowed by how crazy Chester had become. “It will never work, you know. No one will beli—”
The sheriff spun around. “Yes, they will this time.” His voice was high and too loud. “”They’ll believe me. They’ve always voted for me because I do what’s best for the county, and that means gettin’ rid of the likes of McCain.”
“Why? What did he do to you?”
“I learned he was a double-crosser. I needed money and had asked the commissioners for a raise for years. Got nothing. Bad hours, but what the hell did the people in Sierra really care about my well-being? So I had to get my pay my own way.” He seemed to be genuinely sad as he stopped in front of her. “And, Lauren, as much as I hate it, I can’t let you mess up my plans, so I’m gonna take you to another room while I get things ready. McCain’ll be back out here eventually.”
He seized her by the arm and led her to the master bedroom, then thrust her down on the bed. The bed where only days before she had made love to Jonathan. It seemed like aeons ago, but a faint masculine scent still clung to the pillows where her face was buried.
When Chester grabbed her legs to retape them, Lauren kicked out. But her efforts against the larger, well-trained lawman were futile. Deftly he rolled her over and bound her ankles, then turned to leave. On his way out the door, he paused for a moment, then yanked a blanket off a nearby chair and threw it over her.
The howl of coyotes in the distance pierced the night air and an occasional creak sounded from somewhere far away in the house. Lauren pulled herself up on the bed and twisted her hands, trying to work the tape loose. Realizing it would be easier if she could get her hands in front of her body, she tried to slip her bottom through her arms. She’d seen it done in movies, but found she couldn’t manage it. So she resorted to using her nails to feel where the end of the tape started, and when she found the ridge, she went to work. The sheriff had done a sloppy job of taping her, so there was some slack in her bonds.
She had to escape and find Jonathan. Their love was too new for them to lose one another now.
John pushed the doorbell of Lauren’s house and waited for her to answer. Tonight, he planned on buying her the biggest steak in Sierra, then coming back here and making love until they couldn’t move. He’d given up on doing the right thing and staying away from her until he got his memory back. That might take forever, and he couldn’t wait that long. He couldn’t stay away from her. He loved and needed her too much.
When she didn’t answer, he rapped on the door and stamped his feet to keep warm. Still she didn’t answer. He tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked, so he stepped inside. “Lauren?” he called out.
The evening before, she’d warned him that she might be a few minutes late, but it wasn’t likely that her door would be unlocked and her lights would be on if she’d been at her office all day. He quickly looked through all the rooms, then found the phone. Maybe she was still at work. But there was no answer there.
Deciding that she must be on her way home, he sat down on the sofa and propped his feet up to wait. He’d give her ten minutes.
Fighting back a growing sense of uneasiness, he looked at the pictures on the wall. He understood Lauren’s love for photography. She was good at it.
He glanced at his watch every two minutes, until finally he couldn’t stand it any longer. He’d go looking for her. Maybe she’d had an accident in the snow.
Spotting her car parked behind the law office, he pulled in beside it and hurried to the back door. When the knob turned in his hands, he became aggravated. Lauren ought to know to lock the door even if she hadn’t planned to stay in the office two minutes. Van Rooten hadn’t shown up, so they were still in danger.
“Lauren?” he called out. The overhead light was on in the hallway, so she must have been there at some point. He hurried to her office and threw open the door, half-afraid of what he was going to find. “Lauren?
“Something’s not right,” he muttered when he saw the chaos, but no Lauren. Her desk was a mess, and file drawers hung partially open. This was definitely more than a case of staying late at work and forgetting the time. Something had happened to her.
A frown furrowed his brow as he thumbed through his wallet, searching for Robert Jordan’s card with his home phone number on it.
Drumming his fingers on the desktop, John waited for Robert to answer, then explained his concerns.
Robert said, “I’ll be right over. You call in the law.”
“Yeah, sure.” If Chester couldn’t be trusted, John doubted the deputies could either. He hung up the phone and looked around Lauren’s office for signs of a struggle. He checked every room, every closet before he walked back down the hallway to the door, but he found nothing amiss. Her car. Maybe he’d find something in her car. When he yanked the car door open, the overhead light cast a glow on Lauren’s purse sitting on the floorboard.
John felt his throat tightening when he saw that there were no keys in the ignition. She’d have needed them to get into the office. He straightened up and looked around. Soft flakes of snow drifted downward in the glow of a streetlight, but the beauty was lost on John. He dropped his gaze to the ground and retraced his steps to the back door of the law offices. Just as he reached the porch, Robert drove up, his car’s headlamps banishing the shadows behind the building.
John noticed a hole in the snow. Kneeling down, he felt around and closed his fingers on cold metal. As Robert approached him, John held out his hand to show Robert what he’d found.
Lauren’s keys.
“It doesn’t look good, does it?” Robert said.
John felt his features harden. If Lauren was hurt, the son of a bitch who’d done it would pay.
“I called her dad before I came.” Robert rubbed his hands together. “I expect he and Ted will be here within the half hour.”
“I’m not waiting that long,” John said, going back inside: “I’m calling Cliff, then I’m heading back out to the ranch.” John wasn’t going to be without a rifle this time. His handgun was in the glove compartment, but he intended to be prepared.
Half an hour later, he was on his way to the ranch. Deputy Soliz had shown up at the law office about the same time Cliff had, so John left the preliminary investigation in their hands. In the meantime, he didn’t want to have to listen to them speculate.
He recalled looking through Lauren’s house, remembering how it reminded him of the woman he loved. Other than a damp towel thrown carelessly on the bed, everything had been in place. He glanced down at the dashboard clock. Eight o’clock. Where the hell was she?
Lauren had finally gotten a good grip of the tape binding her hands and was slowly unwinding it when she heard Chester curse from the hallway. Quickly she lay back down to hide her hands. He opened the door, allowing a blade of light to cut across the room. She huddled under the blanket, hoping he wouldn’t yank it back and see what she’d done. She didn’t have to work hard to act terrified.
“You’ve been out here visitin’ before, Lauren. What did you find out about McCain?”
“Not much.” She knew the sheriff was wondering what Jonathan might remember and possibly have told someone.
Chester let out a nervous laugh. “Hasn’t got his memory back, huh? I knew that the minute the border patrol brought him in. Gotta get him before that memory comes back. I didn’t plan on it being here, though. He’ll be back and I’ll be waiting for him. He won’t know what hit him.”
“Chester, don’t make it worse. Let me go.”
He stared down at her. “Sorry. I really truly am. But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. And it’s gonna look like McCain killed you, after which I killed him, trying to protect you. Can’t risk takin’ him into custody again. He might talk.” With that, he closed the door.
Lauren frantically worked on the tape. She had to get loose soon. Maybe she could get out the window, warn Jonathan. Where had he hidden his rifles? Maybe she could get one. In the meantime, she concentrated on the tape—one inch at a time. How many times had Chester wrapped it around her? Suddenly, she felt it give and she pulled her wrists apart.
She sucked in her breath and glanced toward the door. She massaged her wrists, then reached down and untaped her feet. Hearing footsteps, she lay back down just as Chester opened the door. A strip of tape dangled from his hands.
“You might get it in your head to make a little noise when lover boy gets here. Gotta see that you don’t.” He lumbered toward the bed.
Oh, please, Lord, Lauren prayed. Don’t let him pull back the blanket.
She lay on her arms as though they were still taped, but clutched her hands into fists, ready to fight if she had to. But Chester didn’t seem to suspect a thing as he bent down and stuck the tape over her mouth. As he walked out, Lauren, for the first time ever, was glad that Chester was a chauvinist, never suspecting a woman would have the courage or initiative to escape.
Now, she finally had a chance to warn Jon.
Chapter 16
John turned off the highway, but hadn’t traveled fifty yards. when he braked and got out of the car. Leaving the headlamps on, he looked at the faint ruts not quite covered by the blowing snow. It appeared to him as if another set of tracks were laid on top of the ones made earlier by his car. He got back in and drove another hundred yards with his car door open to see if the tracks continued. They did, and no one lived down this road except him.
Why would anyone come to visit him in a snowstorm? Lauren and Cliff were the only ones who would have a reason. Their cars were in Sierra, so that ruled them out. John suspected he had an unwelcome visitor at the ranch waiting for his return. And he hoped Lauren was with him.
John backed out and drove down the highway to a rise, then picked up his cellular phone and dialed 911. After telling the authorities about the situation at the ranch, John started toward his place once again.
His fingers clutched the steering wheel as he drove the car around a curve. He had to reach Lauren before it was too late. Easing up slightly on the gas, he threaded the car between boulders that lined the road’s parallel, snow-filled ruts.
He found it hard to understand why anyone would have kidnapped Lauren unless she’d accidentally walked in on someone and caught him doing something illegal. Had Chester come back to town? Or perhaps the sheriffs drug contact had taken Lauren. John would know soon.
Crossing a cattle guard, he knew he had to go the rest of the way without his headlamps. If anyone was at his ranch, the person would see the car lights, and John didn’t intend to help the bastard any more than he had to. At least the moon was up and illuminated the snow-covered road enough so he could follow it.
Finally, a mile from the house, he edged off the road to make room for Cliff and any backup to get around. They would understand that he had stopped and walked the rest of the way so no one would hear the car motor.
John pulled his .38-caliber, snub-nosed revolver out of the glove compartment and checked the chamber. Absorbing what warmth he could from the vehicle before he opened the door, he shoved the gun into the back of his
waistband and readjusted his leather jacket. He threw open the door, pulled the collar up around his ears and took off. He had a full mile to cover in the storm, but rather than cursing it or the darkness, he was grateful, knowing it would provide cover.
He just hoped he would get there in time. He couldn’t bear the thought that something had happened to Lauren—again—because of him.
He hurried through the white skeletons of mesquite and shin oak until he was about a quarter mile from his ranch house. Then he stopped to take stock. Only a small, lonely light framed by a living room window said that the place wasn’t deserted. He’d left that light on himself. Still, John sensed someone was there. The cold chills radiating over his flesh weren’t just due to the snow clinging to his clothes.
Hunching his back against the north wind, John searched for signs of a vehicle, but the blowing snow had covered the tracks he’d spotted eight miles back.
Within a hundred yards of the house, caution overruled his eagerness and John stopped to listen. Not that he expected to hear anything, because the sound of the wind rustling the vegetation would camouflage almost any other noise.
Squinting so he could see better in the pale light, he looked for movements around the buildings, but other than occasional gusts of snow, nothing moved. Wanting to find out if Lauren was indeed there, he picked his way through the brush until he was only a few yards from the side of the house. Still there was no sign of life.
Suddenly John spotted what he’d been looking for. The metal barn’s sliding doors were closed. When he’d pulled his car out, he had left a gap for the cat to get in from the cold. Now the door was shut tight. He didn’t know if he should start there and risk being seen before Cliff arrived or wait.
He hated waiting.
McCain's Memories Page 21