Love Inspired Suspense March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Protection DetailHidden AgendaBroken Silence

by Shirlee McCoy

  Carl. Her heart dipped to her stomach. So it was him. Even more disturbing, Tony had been the one who’d counseled him.

  “Carl understood it was wrong.” Tony sighed. Slipping the syringe into his chest pocket, he kept talking, as if he needed time to set the record straight. “Setting you up like he did. Standing guard while his good friend Randall took you into his room, and then, of course, your near overdose, which kept Carl in fear that someday the story would find him.”

  “Randall,” Amber said, her chest heaving. He was her college assailant, but Carl was the one who wanted her dead?

  “And whether you realized it or not, you possessed the power to destroy poor Carl. His greatest fear was that you’d take your story public. And look at you,” he said, shaking his head. “His fears weren’t in vain. You’re geared up and ready to shout your story to whole city. And once you did that, the speculation that would follow has the potential to disrupt the lives of many. Both Carl and Randall have made quite a nice career in the drug trade, thanks to me. And if either of them were investigated, my name would be sure to come out. I couldn’t let that happen. I hope you understand.”

  Understand? Was he crazy? She wanted to squeal in protest, but when Tony let out a frustrated cry, Amber knew she needed to get out of there.

  “I am sorry that things turned out like they did. If only Carl had gotten the job done right the first time. Poor man, each failed attempt weakened his resolve to follow orders and keep his mouth shut.” Tony released her hair and reached for the syringe. “And now I’m forced to take care of things myself.”

  Panic seized Amber’s throat and blood pounded in her temples. She needed to make her move, and she needed to do it now.

  Before she had the chance to chicken out, she fisted her hand and punched Tony’s chest, knocking him off-kilter for a second. Then she dived over the seat back of the double cab and managed to kick him in the face as he grabbed after her.

  “Amber! You need to stop this!” he growled, his long arms flailing as his body dangled across the seat back.

  She would never stop. Never give up. Amber grabbed on to the rear handle and pulled hard—the door flew open. But before she could scramble out, Tony lunged into the backseat and latched on to one of her ankles, dragging her across the backseat.

  “I’ve had enough of this.” He picked her up and flung her back over the front seat.

  Air left her lungs as she landed with a thud. Working to regain her breath, she inhaled weakly. Each raspy breath competed with the fear flooding her chest as she caught the predatory gleam in Tony’s eyes.

  He was breathing heavily, impatiently, as he pulled out the syringe and ripped the plastic cap off with his teeth.

  A scream wrenched from Amber’s throat and bounced off the walls of the cab. Adrenaline burned through her, but before she could work up the strength to fight, she felt the prick of the needle in her stomach.

  A veil of darkness moved in. Her vision blurred and everything started to swirl. But before the shadows could swallow her up, she managed to splutter, “You’ll never get away with this.”

  *

  “Detective Wiley, please wait.”

  Patrick wasn’t about to wait. Instead, he charged down the fourth-floor corridor toward the elevator, his cell phone pressed to his ear.

  “You can’t leave. The doctor hasn’t discharged you yet.” Nurse Jane stayed at his heels.

  Patrick skidded to a stop at the elevator and smashed the button on the wall. He adjusted his phone to his other ear, trying to drown out the nurse’s lecture and finish giving details to the police dispatcher. “Yes, Amber Talbot is likely with one of her colleagues, Tony Hill. Run his plates and track the GPS on Amber’s cell phone.”

  “…at least stay until I contact the doctor,” the nurse droned on.

  Come on. Come on. Patrick kept talking to the dispatcher, willing the elevator doors to open. He punched the button again. “And put out an APB on Hill. I want every available officer looking for him.” He hung up, and shot the nurse his best cop glare.

  “Sorry. It’s critical that I leave now.”

  She folded her arms, unruffled. “If you do go, we’ll have to write this up as an AMA. Against medical advice. Your insurance may not pay. And…”

  And if he didn’t leave, Amber may not live. That concern tore at his soul. Forgetting the elevator, Patrick swung around and gave the area a quick sweep, looking for an alternative exit. He took off down the narrow hall when he spotted a glowing exit sign and the word stairs marked under it. He left the nurse’s words trailing in his wake.

  As he slammed through the door, he bit his lip against the spasm of pain that hit when his arm caught the edge of the metal door as it swung shut.

  Cradling his arm to his chest, he dashed down three sets of stairs two steps at a time. Reaching the bottom, he threw open the door and burst into the lobby just as, “Code yellow, St. Joseph’s Hospital. Code yellow,” blared from the overhead speakers.

  About time.

  Patrick hastily assessed the area. A security officer stood a few yards away and was securing the glass entrance doors. His vehicle was parked outside against the curb. Thank You, Lord.

  Patrick made a beeline for the man. “I’m with the Savannah-Chatham Police Department. Unlock the door, please, and I need the keys to your vehicle.” He showed him his detective badge.

  From the insipid look on the man’s face, he wasn’t impressed. “Sorry, sir, you’ll have to take a seat.” He gestured to the lobby. “Nobody can leave. We’re on a lockdown.”

  Patrick firmly reiterated his demand, and the guard still refused.

  “Why don’t you radio the security office? I’ll speak to them.”

  After a slight hesitation, the man’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re not a patient here?”

  “Yes, I was, but I’m also a detective.” Patrick flipped his badge again. “Do you carry a weapon?”

  “Yes, sir. I do.” The man nodded and unlocked the door, then turned back to Patrick. “I have this Taser here.” He patted the holster on his belt. “Just got trained on it earlier this year.”

  “Never mind.” Patrick quickly discounted that option. If he got close enough to the perpetrator to use that he’d be better off relying on his hand-to-hand combat maneuvers. Even with one arm in a sling.

  Patrick grabbed the keys from the guard’s hand and burst out the door, grateful for the man’s cooperation.

  Patrick jumped behind the wheel, slammed the gearshift into Drive and floored it, not even sure exactly where he was going.

  He punched in the dispatcher’s number. He needed Amber’s phone’s GPS location.

  Time to get things rolling.

  *

  Amber’s eyes blinked open as the vehicle thumped and jostled over a small pothole.

  Her brain was sluggish, her mouth dry. She swallowed, licked her lips and tried to get her bearings.

  Twigs and branches crunched and snapped beneath the truck tires.

  She tried to lift a hand to shield her eyes against the bright sunshine, but met resistance. Every platelet in her blood froze, her breath jamming in her throat. Her arms were bound behind her back, tied together with what felt like duct tape.

  Adrenaline spiked, dispelling the last remnants of her unconscious state. She started to recall in horrifying detail the events of the past twenty-four hours.

  Patrick had been shot. Tony wanted her dead.

  Amber sucked back a sob and tried not to panic, sitting stock-still in her seat, fearful to make a sound, fearful of what Tony might do if he realized she was awake. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed him, his hands glued to the steering wheel, his neck craned as he squinted through the windshield.

  Swallowing a lump of fear burning her throat, she shifted her eyes and followed his gaze. Trees came into her view, and more dense forest ahead. They were driving up an overgrown winding trail, not even a road. They were in the middle of nowhere!

/>   Calm down, Amber. She lifted a prayer. Tony had plans to take her somewhere. He obviously didn’t want to kill her in his truck or she’d be dead already.

  Too messy. Too much evidence.

  She was grateful. That bought her some time. When the truck door opened, that would be her chance.

  She felt a smidgen better to have a fighting chance, even though the chances of getting away didn’t look promising. She lifted another prayer for God’s grace and mercy.

  A few minutes later, at the edge of the dense woods, the trail disappeared and as they entered into a small clearing her faint glow of hope extinguished as a red four-wheel-drive truck came into view. She recognized the man leaning against the front bumper, and her heart stalled in her chest.

  Randall Becker. Tall, lean and significantly more muscular than she remembered. He was wearing a Coastal Karate dark gray hoodie and matching sweats. A day’s worth of beard clung to his jaw, and his eyes, dark and narrowed, stayed fixed on Tony’s truck as they pulled to a stop.

  Finally the missing pieces of her case started to link together, but the grim reality of what her future held settled like lead in her stomach.

  It may be too late.

  EIGHTEEN

  Patrick sped down Highway 25 and then turned onto 170 heading toward Alligator Alley in the Savannah National Wildlife Refuge. This was where Amber’s phone GPS locator device reported its approximate location. He only hoped her cell was in close proximity of her and that he wasn’t too late.

  He phoned Vance, huffing a sigh as he waited for him to pick up. What Patrick wouldn’t give for a police radio or scanner.

  Or a chance to have Amber back in his life—forever. The thought burned through him like wildfire. His heart swelled, no longer unable to deny the truth.

  He loved Amber Talbot.

  On the fourth ring Vance answered. “Patrick, you doing okay?”

  “I’ll feel better once I know Amber is safe.”

  “Understood. What’s your location?”

  “I’m about three miles from entering the wildlife refuge. What about you?”

  “Not far, either.” Vance’s voice came back. “My ETA is about seven minutes.”

  “Good. I’ll keep you posted on my whereabouts.”

  “Hold on. Before I let you go, I want to update you on something. I just got off the phone with dispatch, and the officer tailing Randall lost him about an hour ago.”

  “Great.” Patrick’s heart jumped to his throat. He jammed the gas pedal to the floor. “I’m heading in. I’ll call when I know more.”

  *

  “Let’s go, Amber,” Tony said brusquely as he yanked her by the arm, jerking her out the passenger-side door.

  Before she even righted her stance, his grip bit into her arm as he dragged her around the front of his truck, directly across and several yards from where Randall stood.

  Her heart dipped to her stomach. Tony, the one person who used to have the ability to calm her, now had her scared her to death.

  Tension hung heavy in the air like a damp blanket as Amber waited for one of the two men to speak. The wind blowing through the field of tall grass and weeds ripped through her hair, letting stringy locks escape their bindings and slap around her face. She tossed her head, flicking hair from her eyes. She was afraid to miss anything.

  “New vehicle?” Tony finally addressed Randall.

  “Something like that.”

  “Clever. Not bringing your own. Becker, I like the way you think.”

  Randall didn’t look amused. He lifted his square chin. “I’m not sure I like the way you think, Tony.” His voice was as taut as a tripwire.

  “Really? Why is that, Randall?” Tony wrenched her in front of him, clenching his arm around her waist, crushing her back against his rib cage. Was he using her as a body shield in case Randall started shooting?

  Not only was Tony a creep, but he was also a coward.

  A grim smile twisted Randall’s features and if that gave any indication to his intentions, Tony should be worried. And so was she.

  Randall came off the truck and stepped forward, one hand never leaving his hoodie pocket. “You must think I’m stupid, Tony. I know why you called me out here today.”

  Tony barked a laugh, a combination of humor and annoyance. “I need your help, Randall. And like it or not, you’re in this with me.” He shifted a little, sank his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small gun. It was cold and hard as he held it against her back, hidden from Randall’s view. She bit back a wince.

  Randall snickered, then his dark eyes narrowed, became slits. “You need my help or a scapegoat?”

  “Not sure what you’re hinting at, Randall.”

  Amber bit her lip. She tempered the urge to blurt out that Tony probably had the same plans for him as he did for her. Fortunately good sense prevailed. She doubted a shared status on Tony’s hit list denoted allegiance from Randall.

  Randall took another step, allowing her a good look at his cold, deadly stare. “I told you from the beginning, Tony, that I didn’t want anything to do with this. Carl’s paranoia. Carl’s deal. You knew how amped up he was, but instead of calming him down, you handed him a bomb and then had him break into Amber’s house. And what did it get him? A bullet in the head.”

  “Carl was falling apart. He couldn’t be trusted.”

  Amber swallowed, unnerved by the story unraveling.

  “Well, now the cops are on my tail. You bought in to his stupid theory and now look at you. Everything’s blown up in your face.”

  “Not true, Randall.” Tony laughed wholeheartedly this time. “I have a wonderful scenario all figured out, you see. I was abducted along with Amber and forced to drive to the middle of no-man’s-land, where miraculously I was able to overpower the abductor and get away. However, I wasn’t able to save poor Amber.”

  Amber winced at the fabrication.

  “Great story, General.” Randall’s sarcastic tone emphasized the last word. “So why don’t you tell me who this abductor of yours is?”

  Tony let out a hollow laugh as he whipped his pistol out and fired at Randall. “You, my friend.”

  Quick as lightning Randall spun and ducked. The shot burrowed into the windshield of the truck. A burst of spidery cracks splintered across it.

  Randall’s growl lit the air. As he raised his gun to fire back, Tony dived for cover. Amber took off in a sprint in the opposite direction, hopping over a log and running into the protection of the forest.

  Gunfire exploded behind her. She dared one glance back, giving her a glimpse of Tony sprawled on the ground amid the tall grass and weeds. Randall stood beside him, his gaze whipping in every direction. Searching…for her.

  Amber broke into a run, chest heaving, leaves and fallen branches crackling beneath her low-heeled shoes. Shoes not meant for hiking, much less running through the forest. She stumbled a few times, but managed to keep her footing and not fall on her face. She desperately wanted her hands free. If her footing did give way and she fell, she’d never get up. Never escape.

  Randall’s wild scream blended with the wind. His heavy footfalls followed her, branches and underbrush snapping beneath his feet. He was drawing closer, gaining on her.

  Amber pushed forward, fighting off the terror exploding in her chest. Up ahead to the right, a steep incline came into view, and to the left was an open meadow. Exhausted and panting for breath, she was undecided for a few long seconds.

  A shot rang out.

  No longer concerned about escape, Amber arced to the left and entered the meadow. She needed a place to hide.

  Outside of a handful of towering hardwoods, the clearing was hemmed in by a mixture of short spindly pines and scrub, more like overgrown bushes than forest. Amber plunged into the line of thick foliage and ducked beneath the canopy and into the silent shadows. She caught her breath.

  Plodding footsteps grew closer, followed by an irate scream. “Amber, you can’t hide forever!”

&n
bsp; Planning to prove him wrong, Amber scrambled farther into the scrub, ignoring the barbs of thorns and briars piercing her skin. Frantically, she worked to tug her hands free. The tape wouldn’t budge.

  Her eyes burned as desperation filled her chest. Her hands were restrained. She had nowhere to run, and a madman with a gun was on her trail. And Patrick was laid up in the hospital. No one knew she was there.

  Before she could blink it away, a fat tear plopped onto her cheek. No time for pity, she reminded herself. She needed to stay strong.

  Amber took a deep a breath, both to work up courage and to hold in more tears. She had to get out of there. She couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing Patrick again. That was motivation enough to keep her focused.

  A branch snapped behind her as the footsteps drew nearer, slowly, purposefully. Randall was in the meadow now.

  She held her breath. Waited.

  The footsteps ground to a stop. She stayed low and craned her head, peering through a break in the screen of bushes. Randall’s mud-splotched boots came into view. He stood only few feet away, just beyond her shelter of scrub brush.

  For a full minute he stood there, stiff and unpredictable. She heard his coarse and heavy breathing.

  A deep and chilling terror settled over her. This was it.

  She held her breath. Lord, help me.

  Ten seconds more and Randall was on the move again. Thank You, Lord. She was safe for the moment. Almost limp with relief, she slumped against a massive hardwood, then jerked ramrod straight when something sharp dug into her back. Twisting around, she noticed a short piece of broken branch jutting out from the tree’s thick trunk.

  Struck by an inspiration, she got up on her knees and worked her duct-taped wrists against the broken branch stub. Seconds passed. The tape started to rip and her heart danced.

  *

  Five minutes into the wildlife refuge on a long stretch of road, Patrick was beginning to feel as though he was on a wild-goose chase. He was in the general area of the last location Amber’s cell phone had registered. But there was no guarantee that she was still in the vicinity.