Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Melody S. Monroe

  Stone shot out of the car and tapped the hood. “Get home safely.”

  Peter turned the car around and left. Stone shivered and dashed inside. He stopped in his tracks. Susan was standing at the window, hands on hips, nostrils flared. Oh, shit.

  “What was he doing here?”

  “I thought you trusted me.”

  “I did.”

  But apparently not anymore. Stone strode over to the kitchen and pulled the luncheon meat out of the refrigerator. He wanted to finish the job he’d started before the interruption. Susan grabbed his arm.

  “Tell me.”

  “He wanted to warn me that his brother might be Joseph Francisco’s illegitimate son.”

  She stared at him. “Peter Caravello drove all the way from DC to West Virginia to tell you that.”

  “And to offer his help.”

  Gravel sounded outside. Stone glanced out the window. It wasn’t Peter. “Grab your clothes and come back out here.”

  He raced to his bedroom and snatched his sidearm and jacket. She had her jacket and gloves in hand when he met her in the hallway. “Someone’s coming.”

  Her face paled. “You don’t think it’s a friend of the Traynors?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Her arm firmly clasped in his hand, he led her into the living room to the open door in the floor. “Get below and stay there until I come down.”

  “Shouldn’t we see who it is?” Her gaze flicked to the dark pit and shivered.

  He picked up the two sandwiches and handed her the food. “Go.”

  Her fingers dug into his arm. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

  Ms. Super Prosecutor? “Light switch halfway down the stairs.” She wouldn’t be safe staying in the living room. “You need to hide.”

  Once she descended, he closed the lid and replaced the rug. No one would ever know she was there. Gun in hand, he raced to the window and peered out.

  A white Ford Focus crept up the drive and stopped behind his car. Stone’s shoulders relaxed when a tall, gawky blond man, dressed in a blue uniform, got out of the front seat. He couldn’t make out the letters on the man’s nametag, but if he had to guess, the logo might say the name of a garage or that of a landscaping company.

  Hank must have forgotten an appointment. He slipped his Glock into the coffee table drawer. No use inciting trouble.

  Before the man had a chance to knock, Stone opened the door.

  The guy blinked, then smiled. “Howdy.” He looked like he hadn’t visited a dentist in years.

  Stone shot a glance outside to make sure he’d come alone. “How can I help you?”

  “Hank Traynor around?”

  A hint of a Bronx accent surfaced, and his mind raced to Susan’s description of the two men at the diner, but he dismissed his concern. If the man knew Tom’s father’s name, he must be on the up-and-up.

  “No. He’s visiting his son.”

  “You alone then?”

  Odd question. “Yes.”

  “Mind if I come in?” The man stepped into the entranceway before Stone could answer.

  “As a matter of fact I do mind. Why don’t you come back in about two weeks? Hank should be here by then.”

  The man’s pleasant smile disappeared as he shoved past him. Stone stepped back, his mind racing as to how much force he wanted to use to get this guy to leave.

  The second the sunlight glinted off the man’s knife, Stone’s body shot to code red alert. Blondie waved the weapon in front of Stone’s face.

  “Where’s the woman?”

  “What woman?”

  “Susan Chapman. Don’t lie to me. She’s staying here.”

  Stone inched back toward the coffee table and drew on his FBI training to keep the man talking. “Who told you that?”

  “A little birdie at the local diner.”

  He connected the dots between the diner and the knife. “You harm Rebecca?”

  “The redhead?”

  Shit. “Yes.”

  Stone lunged and pushed Blondie backward until his back slammed against the wall. As Stone reached up to grab the man’s hand wielding the weapon, the goon wrenched his arm downward and smashed the side of Stone’s neck with more force than he expected for such a scrawny guy.

  Pain stunned him for a moment, and he teetered backward. The man sprang toward him and swung his knife hand in a low arc, contacting Stone’s thigh. A sharp pain sizzled up his hip and thigh. Stone ignored the searing ache, cocked back his arm and threw an upper cut, knocking Blondie on his butt.

  Stone glanced at the blood racing out of his leg. Shit. Given the depth of the cut, he needed his weapon. He wouldn’t last long in hand-to-hand combat before he bled to death. Stone turned, raced toward the coffee table and whipped open the drawer. His fingers were inches from the Glock when the man wrapped two arms around Stone’s waist and jerked him backwards.

  Stone elbowed him in the gut and stomped on the man’s foot.

  “Fuck.”

  Stone twisted around. Eyes glazed, Blondie swayed. He smashed the man’s nose and followed up with a one-two punch to his stomach.

  The bastard wouldn’t go down. Instead he attacked, swinging the knife high. Stone ducked but not before the blade sliced open his cheek.

  Stone grunted.

  Using every ounce of strength, Stone threw himself at Blondie. He had the weight advantage, outweighing the man by at least thirty pounds. They tumbled to the wood floor. His attacker’s head sent out a loud crack as his skull smashed against the ground.

  Stone’s breath whooshed out, but he managed to push up and place a knee in the middle of the man’s chest. “Who are you?”

  Blood dripped from Blondie’s nose. The man’s eyes glazed over, then rolled back in his head.

  “Damn it.”

  Stone got up and staggered to the table to retrieve his weapon. He cocked the gun and pointed the Glock at the still man. His pulse throbbed in his head as blood leaked into his mouth.

  “Move and you die.” He wiped the blood coursing down his cheek.

  He waited for the man to respond, but the bastard didn’t move. Susan told him two men had shown up to the diner. If this was one of them, where was this man in the plaid shirt? He sure as hell wasn’t going to wait around for him to show.

  Assuming the accomplice was nearby, his first priority was to make sure Susan wasn’t harmed. Halfway to the cellar door, he spotted the trail of blood behind him. His leg was leaking life.

  He clasped a hand over the gash and searched the kitchen for something to stem the flow of blood. He took a handful of towels, grabbed his jacket and raced to Susan.

  He expected her to cry out when he opened the door, but she remained quiet. In fact, no light appeared downstairs. His respect hitched up again. She was hiding in the dark, facing her worst fears.

  With the carpet replaced over the trap door, he closed the lid. A shout sounded outside.

  He threw the bolt to lock entry from above, and edged his way down the steps. The accomplice had arrived.

  “Susan?” Stone whispered.

  No answer. Seven steps down, as he reached up to tug on the light cord, his leg gave way, and he tumbled to the bottom.

  * * * *

  “Stone?”

  She couldn’t see anything. The room was entombed in darkness. The loud thud ten feet away scared her. He’d called her name, so why wasn’t he answering?

  She inched toward the stairs. Feet pounded above them, and she stilled. “Stone?” Her voice came out raspy but soft.

  Holding her breath, she waited for him to answer. A low moan came a few feet in front of her. On her next step, her foot hit something hard. She knelt and patted the air in front of her. A hand grabbed her wrist and her heart nearly stopped.

  “Shh,” Stone said.

  He let go and pushed to a standing position.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. Something wasn’t right.

  More footsteps sounded above them. He stood, tugged o
n her upper arm and led her to the far corner. She tripped over the jacket she’d left on the floor, but he steadied her.

  He leaned toward. “Stay here.” His breath rippled down her cheek. “I need to turn on the light. We have…to get out of here.”

  The pain in his voice shot adrenaline through her system. “You’re hurt.” She reached out to touch him, but he slipped out of her grasp.

  “I’m…fine.” The bulb above the stairs came to life.

  She hadn’t even heard him walk up the creaky steps. Relief washed over her until he turned around. “My God.” His left eye was swollen half shut, a gash cut across his cheek and his chin sported a purple bruise. “What happened?” Dumb question. He’d been in a fight. She hoped he’d be able to tell her who he’d battled.

  “Someone wanted to find you.”

  “Me? I thought the Feds had come to arrest you.”

  “He asked for you by name.”

  Acid burned in her throat. She hadn’t come this far to let him get her. “Well, he isn’t going to find me.”

  “Good girl.” He lifted a cloth from his leg, and her stomach churned. A six-inch circle of blood pooled on the white material.

  “Oh my God.” She leaned forward to examine his wound, but the light wasn’t sufficient to see the seriousness of his injury. “Were you shot?” She hadn’t heard a gun go off.

  “No. Stabbed.”

  He hobbled to the back room and returned a moment later with duct tape. “Can you wrap this around the towel to keep it in place?”

  “We need to clean the wound and get you to a hospital.”

  He snorted. “What we need to do is get the hell out of here.”

  As if to punctuate his comment, someone stomped on the trap door. “Where the hell are they?”

  He held a finger to his lips and limped to the back room. A moment later, he dragged in two backpacks and a walking stick. “Put this on.”

  “What about fixing up your leg?” Susan donned her jacket, then strapped on the pack but wasn’t happy about Stone’s unwillingness to get help. However, they couldn’t exactly climb the stairs and drive to the hospital.

  “We’ll deal with it later. Come on.” He headed to a bookcase and leaned the stick against the wall. “Give me a hand. There’s a tunnel behind this bookcase.” He punched in a code and a click sounded. “They’ll never find us.”

  So she hoped.

  Once in the cold, creepy tunnel, the walls closed in. “Are you sure whoever is after us can’t tell there’s a tunnel behind the bookcase?”

  “No. Even if he figured out we went behind the shelves, he wouldn’t know the combination to move the case.”

  “That makes me feel somewhat more secure.”

  “I’m glad.” She thought she heard a chuckle in his tone.

  She tripped on a rock but caught herself on the wall. Being in the pitch-black, with the ceiling no more than three inches from her head, sucked.

  “How much longer?” She hadn’t meant to whine, but the uneven ground and the spiderwebs slapping her in the arms and face had undone her composure in a mere ten minutes.

  Stone stopped, his breath ragged. He braced a hand on the wall over her head. “The tunnel is five hundred feet long. Hold on. We’ll be at the opening soon.”

  She didn’t know how one and a half football fields could take so long to get through. As the walls narrowed, she ran a hand on the side to keep her balance. What she wouldn’t give to be back in a stuffy courtroom right now facing rapists and child molesters. She hated that she was afraid of the dark.

  “There’s a flashlight in the pack if you need one,” he said as if he realized why she was so hesitant. “But we might want to use it later. I didn’t throw in any extra batteries.”

  From his worried tone she could tell he didn’t want to waste the precious resource. “No problem. Seeing is highly overrated.” She swallowed hard.

  The path curved to the right and she ran into a wall. Susan ran her hands up and down the solid surface in order to find some way out. “It’s a dead end.” Her stomach somersaulted. She smashed her palm against the crumbling wall to find a way out.

  “Easy. It means we’re close.” Stone took a few steps to the right and pushed hard on the wall. Chunks of dirt fell outward.

  Scant light peeked in.

  Her shoulders sagged. “You found the exit, thank God.” Had the ceiling been taller, she would have literally jumped for joy.

  With her boot heel, she kicked away the earth wall. Soon, the only obstacle to freedom was the dense underbrush blocking their exit.

  He pried the leaves and branches apart, providing enough space from them to crawl through. Stone held up a hand. “Let me go first to see if it’s all clear.”

  This time she wasn’t going to argue.

  He retrieved his walking stick he’d set against the wall and forced his way through the small opening. He returned in less than a minute.

  “I don’t see anyone. Come on.”

  He stuck out a hand to help her through the narrow entryway. Once outside, she took a deep breath. The heavy scent of pine and oxygen bolstered her spirit. The cold air did not.

  “Stone, you’re bleeding again.” Or else she hadn’t remembered the stain on his pants leg being so large.

  He looked down at his wound. “It’s stopped. I’m fine.”

  His bravado had its limit. “The cut could get infected. Stuff the towel down your leg and I’ll wrap the whole area with tape to secure it. Dirt has a way of worming its way into the smallest places.”

  He glanced down at her. He must have read the stern look in her eyes.

  “I didn’t know they taught medicine in law school.”

  “I’ll have you know—”

  “Shh. We need to keep our voices down. Sound travels far in the woods.”

  “Fine,” she whispered. “Now stuff.”

  Stone did as she asked, and she attended to his injury as fast as she could. “That’s the best I can do.” While the cut on his cheek had scabbed over and his eye had swollen shut, she didn’t have any other first aid equipment to tend to those injuries.

  “We need to hurry,” he said.

  “You don’t need to tell me twice.”

  Twigs cracked behind them and Stone spun around, his weapon pointed in the direction of the noise. She froze. Most of the trees were bare, but a large amount of underbrush, fallen logs, and tangled branches provided places to hide.

  After scouring the area for a minute, Stone lowered his weapon. He motioned his head away from the house and toward the path they’d taken to the waterfall. When he didn’t move, she guessed he wanted her to lead.

  With every step, either the leaves crunched or sticks broke. If the killers were out there, how could they not find them? They were sitting ducks in the open and making more noise than kids at play.

  Adjusting her backpack, she plowed ahead, determined to get away from the maniacs. She checked Stone every few minutes to make sure his leg was okay but began to worry when his pace turned labored.

  They’d trekked about ten minutes when he stumbled. She twisted around. He was on his knee, hand to head. She raced to him and leaned in close.

  “What can I do?”

  “Nothing. Give me a sec. The leg just gave out.”

  She plucked Stone’s cell phone from his jacket pocket and punched the ON button. “We need to get help.”

  She expected him to stop her. If getting a phone was as easy as taking his, she could have contacted her family days ago. Given the killer knew where she was, there was no reason to keep her family in the dark. She glanced down at the display. “No Service.”

  “Unless we get on top of a mountain, you won’t get any bars around here. There aren’t enough towers.”

  No wonder he didn’t freak when she grabbed his phone. She was tempted to chuck the damn thing, but if they climbed higher, reception might return.

  Stone eased up to a standing position. There was no way he’
d be able to continue for long. He wiggled his fingers for the phone.

  She handed the useless lifeline back to him. “You have to rest.”

  “I will when we get to the highway.”

  “There’s a highway? Is that where we’re headed? How far is this road?”

  “Maybe fifteen miles.”

  “Fifteen miles?” Her voice rose. Damn. She had to remember to whisper.

  “We don’t have a choice. The guy isn’t going to let us get away.” He dug the walking stick into the ground and moved forward. “Was the man at the restaurant a tall, thin blond man?”

  Her stomach twisted. “Yes.”

  “Then we need to move extra fast.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Richard smiled at the information his secretary had unearthed. How had he missed the fact Tom Traynor and Stone Watson went to school together? Tom’s former suitemate told Julie that Stone spent every summer with Tom and his family in a cabin in West Virginia.

  Julie clutched a manila folder to her chest. “Before Tom left, he told me he and his dad were going out to dinner tonight in Old Alexandria to celebrate his birthday.”

  The dots suddenly connected. That meant the cabin was empty for a few days. Perfect. Richard wouldn’t be surprised if Stone and Susan Chapman were holed up there. Once he found them, he’d get his children back and bring his wife home from the hospital. The stress of the kidnapping nearly sent her into cardiac arrest.

  “Thank you, Julie. You’ve been a big help.”

  He understood that his wife would hate him once she learned what he’d done, but at least Ethan and Courtney would be safe. That’s all that mattered.

  He followed Julie back to her desk, then headed to Harrison’s office.

  He calculated the next leg of the journey. The drive from Washington to Shepherd Hills would take a good three hours. If he found nothing, he’d be back by dinner, in time to visit with Kathleen before she fell asleep.

  Richard tapped the doorframe to get Harrison’s attention, then marched in when the man at the desk didn’t react. “I think I know where Stone might be hiding out.”

  Harrison’s fingers froze on the keyboard. “Where?”

  “Did you know Tom and Stone were roommates in college?”