Chelsea Lane (Haunted Hearts Series Book 5)

by Denise Moncrief

  The cops might not be sure they were dead, but Chelsea was. If either one of them were still breathing, they would have resurfaced in the last twenty-four hours. The men that had broken into the house on Chelsea Lane were pretty certain Zeke and Cooley weren’t coming back. That was all the evidence Chelsea needed.

  It was obvious. The cops didn’t know about the house on Chelsea Lane. If they had, they would have been all over it. Once again, she considered going straight to the Fairview police, but something held her back. An urgent voice whispered in her ear that she needed to remain off the grid awhile longer.

  She glanced at the street sign and snorted. Why had James named her after the street? Couldn’t he have come up with something different? He’d told her she’d better get used to a different name. No one was ever going to know she was still in Fairview. So no one was going to mention her real name ever again. Not in his hearing. As far as James was concerned, Cherish Duncan was dead.

  She’d almost forgotten her birth name. For years, she’d been Chelsea with no last name. James Standridge wasn’t going to give her his name either. That would require a license and then the county would know that she hadn’t really run away from home. She’d been living in Fairview right under their noses all along. He’d told her he’d been doing the same thing. Celeste Standridge hadn’t even known her son was back in Fairview. She had died without knowing. James got a lot of amusement out of that. He had hated Celeste. Hated her enough to scheme with his cousin Zeke to have her committed to the mental hospital.

  For the first couple of years, Chelsea had kept hoping that someone would see her and tell her brother where to find her, but that never happened. James had made sure she never left Chelsea Lane during the day. And when she did leave in the middle of the night, she had to ride in the back of a panel van with no windows. Just like the other women had.

  That one time… She thought he’d been caught and she’d finally been found. James had been stopped for speeding. The officer never asked to see the back of the van. She’d cried herself to sleep when she’d finally been allowed some rest. That was the last time she’d cried in front of James. He hadn’t tolerated any show of emotion.

  Zeke though? Zeke loved to watch her cry. Pushed her to tears. Yeah, she was glad the bastard was dead.

  Eventually, James had taught her to drive, and he’d let her take the wheel once in a while, but she always had to drive at night and wear a wig so no one would recognize her. Never, ever was she allowed to go anywhere alone.

  Driving the car without wearing a disguise seemed so strange.

  She shrugged off the memories and pulled the Crown Vic onto the street, heading south toward the highway and out of town.

  The last struggling remains of sunlight poked pink and red and orange fingers of color through the partly cloudy sky. What was the saying? Red sky at night, travelers delight? Who used to say that? Oh yeah, her Grandpa Duncan.

  She choked up. Zeke had loved telling her that he’d passed away. Had Grandpa died wondering if she was still alive or not? Probably not. Grandpa had never much cared for anything except where he was getting his next drink. He probably never gave her disappearance a second thought. One less mouth to feed. No, she couldn’t think about that or she wouldn’t be able to function.

  After waiting for a red light, she pressed the accelerator, and the car shuddered and coughed but didn’t die. It moved along the pavement at a steady pace. Not too fast. Not too slow. She would have chewed her nails but for the paranoid need to keep both hands on the wheel.

  A ways out of town, the Hot Spot came into view on the right side of the road. She gasped when her gaze shifted toward the bar and she saw her brother get out of a pick up. Tears welled in her eyes. She almost turned the car around. Her foot was on the break, but then she moved it back to the accelerator, forced herself to keep going. She would let him know she was alive soon. But not just yet.

  The strong desire to keep Jake Richards and his friends from finding the other women swelled inside her. She realized what was driving her, what had kept her from going to the police, what pushed her down the road toward Laurel Heights.

  She had to stop Jake. For every woman his cousin Zeke had used and discarded. For every woman Jake might still force into the life she had been living.

  Until that night, she had believed Cooley was behind the entire operation, but then she’d heard the name Haskins, and her ideas had shifted. If old man Haskins was involved, then she’d need someone on her side that Haskins didn’t own. Finding someone in Hill County that fit that requirement wouldn’t be easy.

  That’s why she needed the help of the man that had been coming, the one that was finally here. He was an outsider.

  She’d never driven up the drive to Laurel Heights. It was steep. The house perched on the top of a hill. She’d only been inside twice before, when James had taken her and when she went looking for him after he disappeared.

  The moon had popped into the darkened sky by the time she stopped at the top of the drive and parked beneath a large sycamore tree. As she exited the car, she rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension that had wound tighter and tighter in the center of her back. Reaching into the back seat, she retrieved the shotgun.

  “I must be crazy. I should be at the Fairview police right now instead of doing something so…insane.”

  Why, oh why, did she believe the man that Kristie warned her about would come back to Laurel Heights? That didn’t make any sense. Yet an undeniable urgency pulled her toward the house. Like a premonition.

  Chelsea crossed the yard, mounted the steps, and turned the knob on the back door. To her surprise, it opened without resistance. Not locked. That was weird. She had been certain she’d have to blow the lock off, and she had only one shell.

  She stalled. Maybe she wasn’t ready to enter the house again. After all, strange things happened inside. Her heart pounded at an alarmingly fast pace. With a large dose of shaky determination, she pushed open the door with the barrel end of the shotgun.

  The house was dark and empty. Creepy. Very creepy.

  “Stop it. There’s nothing creepy about a dark kitchen. Just turn the lights on.” She reached for the switch and stopped short of touching it. “No, don’t turn the lights on. Someone might see the light and call the Sheriff’s office.”

  She shivered.

  “Stop talking to yourself.”

  What if someone answered?

  “I’m not crazy.”

  Before she could reorganize her thoughts and talk her psyche back into sane thinking, the roar of an engine rumbled from outside. Someone else was on the property and had probably already seen Zeke’s car parked under the huge tree outside. She peeked through the kitchen curtain and caught just a glimpse of a man’s profile. Her blood pumped faster. She had to surprise the man before he could sneak up on her. He’d be looking for her, but she had the advantage.

  She slipped through the door to the basement and closed it softly behind her just as the back door of the house creaked open. She held her breath. A moment or two passed. The longest moments of her life it seemed.

  “Chelsea?”

  He was here.

  “I know that’s not your real name, but that’s what I’m gonna call you.”

  She closed her eyes and absorbed the sound of his voice. A commanding, yet soothing voice.

  “You said there were other women like you. I want to help you help them.”

  How could he possibly know that’s what she wanted most?

  “I promise I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

  She eased the basement door open and emerged, shotgun barrel first. “I don’t think you can make me do anything as long as this gun is aimed at your chest.”

  Chapter Three

  Jordan glanced up at Laurel Heights as he inserted his key into the ignition. “That house gives me the creeps.”

  Chelsea lifted her nail to her teeth and chewed.

  “Ev
ery time I step into the place, I feel a load of negative energy.” He shifted his gaze toward her to get her reaction.

  The hand came away from her mouth just long enough to speak. “I’m pretty sure that’s James.”

  Her flat evaluation shocked him. “James Standridge?”

  She released her nail, spit the chewed off portion, and nodded. “He died around here somewhere, maybe even in the house. Why wouldn’t he haunt it? It was his mother’s house, and he hated her.”

  “How well did you know James?”

  She paused just long enough he figured her answer would be a rough admission. “He kidnapped me.”

  That had to be the shortest version of her story.

  She sighed and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. When was the last time the woman ran a brush through it? Did she even own a brush? Before they’d gotten into his car, she’d retrieved a trash bag from the Crown Vic parked under the sycamore tree. It looked awfully light to hold all her possessions.

  They had discussed whether or not to leave Zeke’s car where she had parked it, but after much debate she’d agreed to leave it right there under the tree for Shaw Bennett to find. When Jordan finally called Bennett, and he’d have to soon, he’d have a lot to tell him. How the car managed to find its way to Laurel Heights was the least of his disclosures.

  Bennett wouldn’t like it that Jordan went out on his own to follow a hunch. It wasn’t the first time Jordan had gone lone wolf, probably wouldn’t be the last, but after the pervious time, Bennett had expressed his extreme displeasure. Bennett wasn’t technically his boss, but he might as well have been from the way he acted.

  When Chelsea started talking again, her voice wobbled a bit. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

  The engine was running, but Jordan hadn’t yet put the car into reverse. He’d never doubted that she had lied to him about a lot of things. Actually, she’d done more than lie, but he’d settle for an explanation for this particular infraction first.

  “About what?”

  “The missing women…they were never at Cooley’s. I just said that to get you out of Laurel Heights.”

  He slid his hands around the steering wheel, but still didn’t put the car into reverse. “I figured that out.” He paused. “Are there really missing women? I mean besides you.”

  She sniffed. Was the woman about to cry?

  “There were three other women in the house besides me. When I told them James and Zeke were dead, they ran.” She turned watery eyes toward him. “Three guys showed up looking for them. One of them was Zeke’s cousin, Jake.” She sucked down a shuddery breath. “Do you know who Zeke is?”

  He nodded. Zeke Richards had been buried beneath a ton of rocks in the mountain under Laurel Heights. His colleague in the Arkansas State Police, Matt Dickerson, had been supervising the work crew when the state had dug Richards out and identified his body.

  “Then you understand why I’m worried. Jake is just like his cousin. I’m afraid of what will happen to them if Jake catches up with them.”

  She was talking about men associated with Haskins. The Hill County deputy, Mitchell Grayson, who had been at Shaw Bennett’s meeting, had seen Jake Richards in Haskins’s house.

  “James and Zeke kept women at Laurel Heights?” Both were players in the drama that had unfolded in Hill County recently.

  She shook her head. “No. They kept us at the house on Chelsea Lane.”

  A house on Chelsea Lane. That was news to him. Probably news to Bennett as well. Even though Jordan was certain Bennett hadn’t told him everything.

  “What… Why…” He couldn’t form the questions that were swirling around in his head. Sick thoughts. Not that he hadn’t seen and heard enough sick stuff in his career. The thought of what James Standridge had done to her made him want to puke.

  She swallowed hard. “James and Zeke got them for Cooley.”

  Even worse.

  “What for?” he managed to ask through tight lips.

  “They made them cook meth.”

  So that was how Cooley managed to operate so many cookers at once. Forced labor.

  “But not you?”

  She turned angry eyes toward him. “I was in charge of the other women when they were in the house.”

  Jordan pressed his lips together to keep from blurting his conclusion. They had made Chelsea a trustee in their twisted prison. The other women must have hated her. No wonder she was angry.

  He calculated the chances of getting more information from her. Would she shut down if he pushed too hard? So far, he’d let her tell this tale at her own pace. Besides his sister’s name, there were at least a dozen, maybe more, names on the list that he’d seen in Josh McCord’s hands.

  Jordan went for it. “Were there other women?”

  Chelsea broke down, pressing her fist to her mouth and sobbing. Few words broke threw. “I should’ve… I didn’t… I should’ve…”

  Sympathy swelled in him to match her sorrow. He reached out to stroke her shoulder, but she shoved his hand away and wrapped her fingers around the stock of the shotgun. Not much good it would do her in such close quarters. She’d barely be able to lift and aim. She must have realized how little good the gun did her in the car because a look of aggravation distorted her features.

  She released her grip on the gun with a disgusted grunt and then snarled her demand. “Don’t touch me.”

  He raised his hands. “I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.”

  Jordan watched her cry, not sure what to do or what to say. He’d always felt helpless in the face of a woman’s tears. His hands clutched the steering wheel to keep from attempting to comfort her again.

  After a few minutes of intense bawling, she finally settled down. “They’re at the house.”

  “Oh, okay. So let’s go get them—”

  “No. You don’t understand. They’re gone. All of them. Gone.”

  He smiled. “Then how could they still be at the house?” Then the truth smacked in the gut. “Oh my God.”

  She covered her face with her hands. Moaning as if her soul was ripping into two pieces. Guilt was a terrible thing to witness. It seemed Chelsea had plenty hanging around her neck. He’d never felt so much pity for another human being.

  “Chelsea, listen…”

  She kept her head hung.

  “Please look at me.”

  He hadn’t meant his voice to sound so demanding, but apparently she was used to that kind of treatment because she raised her red-blotched face to stare at him with wide eyes.

  He spoke in even, soothing tones. “The men you are dealing with are dangerous. I’m sure you know that. You could probably tell me just how deadly they are.”

  A puzzled frown formed on her very red lips.

  “Give me my weapon back.”

  Twice he had allowed her to get the drop on him. Not a very good record.

  She shook her head, almost violently, and placed her hand behind her back as if to make sure his gun was still stuffed in the waistband of her jeans.

  “Do you want me to help you find those women?”

  She glared at him. Then nodded slowly.

  “Then don’t make me go into this unarmed.”

  It took her a long moment to analyze his argument. Then she pulled the gun from behind her and offered it to him. He holstered it and shoved the gearshift into reverse.

  They’d gone through the ruse. He could have overwhelmed her and taken the shotgun twenty times while they sat and talked in the car, but he had wanted the situation to unfold on her terms. Why? Gut instinct told him she’d never cooperate otherwise. And at that moment, he needed her cooperation if he was going to find out what happened to Kristie.

  “So…umm… What were you doing at Laurel Heights? I don’t get it. What was that all about? Leading me through the tunnels. Showing me Cooley’s shed, and then knocking me over the head and locking me in? You made me look bad in front of my partner.” He allowed a bit of amusement to edge his tone,
but he was anything but amused.

  Why had he admitted his feelings of incompetency in front of Shaw Bennett to her? He didn’t want anyone to believe he couldn’t handle himself, yet he’d just allowed her to control the situation again.

  She stared at him for a long hard minute and then gazed out the passenger window.

  “Chelsea?” He needed an answer to his question before they could establish any basis of trust between them. Without trust, he couldn’t depend on her to help him find out what really happened to Kristie.

  She waited another moment before beginning her story. “I went to Cooley’s house looking for James, and when he wasn’t in the house, I started searching everywhere for him. That’s when I found the tunnels and the caves. The entrance is about a hundred feet behind the shed.”

  Oh yeah, the shed. The one she’d locked him in.

  “I’d always heard about them, but I’d never seen them before. I followed the tunnel to Laurel Heights, and I was kind of surprised that’s where it led, but maybe I shouldn’t have been.”

  Her words had begun to rush from her mouth, and she stopped a moment to catch her breath. “When I came out of the basement, I heard voices. I should have turned around and left, but instead I followed the sound up the stairs and saw you trying to keep out of sight from those other two men. For some reason… We needed to get out of Laurel Heights…”

  He pressed down the urge to push her for more. She’d left part of the story out, the part that would explain why she had led him away from Laurel Heights to Cooley’s place. It was obvious. She wasn’t ready to talk, not yet ready to trust him. They’d already established the parameters. He was a cop. She was a criminal. Maybe she had enough common sense to realize she was about to incriminate herself.

  Time to move on. They could come back to the subject later when a stronger level of trust had been established. Before they’d left the house, she’d told him she wanted to go see her brother.