She flung it away, subduing her scream as she scrambled to her feet, desperate to get off the ground. But she nearly fell over as she drew herself to full height. Her head spun; her thoughts were fuzzy.
What was going on?
How did she get here?
Where was here?
As her breaths came faster, shallower, she backed up until she hit a tree. She attempted to suck in a deep breath, but her unease prevented her.
Get a grip, Charity. Assess the situation.
She tried to take some controlled breaths in order to steady her heartbeat. She had to think clearly here. Her life depended on it.
When her heart rate slowed—even just slightly—she tried to gather her bearings. She scanned the area.
Trees stared back at her from every direction. There were no other markers to identify which set of woods she might be in.
How had she gotten in the middle of nowhere?
Then, like a punch to the gut, she remembered.
She remembered the creaks in her bedroom. She remembered sensing movement. Then someone was on top of her, covering her mouth. She’d felt a prick.
She’d been sedated, she realized, rubbing her arm where the needle had poked her.
Then she’d been dumped here?
At once she realized exactly where she was.
She was in the very spot where Andrea had been abducted.
She shivered, despite the heat outside.
Quickly, she glanced down, assessing herself. She didn’t appear to be injured. Her clothing was intact, and there were no obvious signs of struggle. At least she could be thankful for that.
She had to get out of here. But which way should she go?
Calm down, Charity. Think. Breathe.
She closed her eyes a moment. The river ran north to south. Her house was to the south of the woods.
Glancing above her, she spotted the sun hanging in the sky to her right. She’d use that for her guide right now, and determine which direction was south.
She took her first step and winced. All she’d worn to bed was an old tank top and some flannel shorts, so her bare feet weren’t protected from the rocky, gnarled soil beneath her.
Despite her discomfort, she kept moving forward. With each step, she listened for the sound of anyone nearby. What if the person who’d done this to her was still close? What if he watched her now?
The thought caused nausea to churn in her gut.
Just keep moving, Charity. Keep moving.
She reached the area where the woods turned swampy. Her gut roiled again as she inhaled the rotten, putrid scent of the wetlands. There was no way she’d get through this part without sinking her feet into the stagnant water.
She could do this. She had no choice.
Holding her breath, she tried to step across the first puddle. Her feet sank into the mud on the other side. She squirmed as imaginary critters raced across her skin.
The swamp was no place to be barefoot.
But that was the least of her worries right now.
Who had left her here? Why? What message was this person trying to get across?
It couldn’t have been Andrea. She wouldn’t have been able to lift Charity and carry her here. But who? Lawrence Whitaker, maybe?
Just then, something slithered in front of her.
A water moccasin.
Charity drew back just as the snake coiled and prepared to strike.
***
Joshua slowed as he passed Kicking Cotton Bar after leaving Sam Childs’s house. The chief and Ron Whitaker exited the building, talking like old friends.
What exactly was the chief doing at the bar at this time of the day? He glanced at his clock. It was only 10:00 a.m., so the bar wasn’t even open.
He started to pull in to get some answers once and for all when his phone rang. He saw Daleigh’s number and took the call.
“Joshua, have you seen Charity?” Panic laced Daleigh’s voice.
Tension pulled between his shoulders. “No. Why?”
“She’s gone.”
His heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean gone?”
“I thought she was sleeping in, and I didn’t want to disturb her. But a few minutes ago I decided to check on her, to make sure she was okay. Her bed was empty.”
“Could she have gone on a walk?”
“Joshua, I’ve been awake since seven. No one has come or gone since then. Besides, her window is open and all her things are still here, including her phone.”
Fire rushed through his blood. Something was wrong. Majorly wrong. He should have seen this coming, but he’d have to address that later. “I’m on my way to your place right now.”
He turned on his lights and sped down the road. Quickly, he dialed the chief, putting aside for the moment the fact that he’d seen her with Ron.
“Charity White is missing,” he told her, his heart hammering with each word. “I’m on my way to the scene now.”
“Missing? I’ll meet you there. I’m just leaving a meeting now.”
Joshua’s mind raced. Charity. What had happened to her? A sick feeling gurgled in his gut. If someone had hurt her . . .
He shook his head. He couldn’t think like that. He had to remain in control of his emotions.
His knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
Lord, watch over her. Protect her. Open my eyes and help me see how to find her.
He reached Daleigh’s place in under five minutes, hastily threw his car into park, and then hurried toward the house. Daleigh stood on the porch, her arms pulled tightly across her chest. Ryan was with her. The tension etched across his friend’s features deepened his own apprehension.
“We didn’t touch anything because we didn’t want to mess with the scene,” Ryan said.
“Show me her room.”
Daleigh led him down the hallway of the small house. He paused at the doorway and observed the space.
The bedsheets were tangled. The window was open—all the way open—and the screen was only partly on the window, probably shoved back in place in someone’s haste to leave.
“You didn’t hear anything?” he asked Daleigh.
She shook her head. “I sleep with music playing, though. I should have thought ahead and realized—”
Joshua shook his head, cutting off her thought before she had time to develop it. “Don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have known.”
But he should have.
“We did have the windows open earlier. The breeze coming in from outside was so nice. She may have kept her window cracked as she slept. She said something about loving fresh air.”
He walked to the other side of the bed, looking for a clue about what could have happened. As he leaned down on the floor, something under the bed caught his eye.
It was a syringe.
Had someone drugged Charity and then abducted her?
He had to find her.
As soon as possible.
He knew with certainty that her life depended on it.
CHAPTER 31
As Charity stared at the snake, goose bumps covered her arms.
The snake stared back.
Her blood went cold as the standoff continued. Slowly, Charity took a step back.
The snake looked poised to strike at any minute. She wouldn’t stand a chance out here if the moccasin’s venom seeped into her blood. These woods would be her death. Her nightmare had started here. Would it end here also?
Trying to keep her nerves at bay, she scooted back ever so slightly. Her foot hit something wet.
She didn’t care. Not at the moment.
The snake remained unmoving.
She took another step and water covered her ankles, the mud below it suctioning to her feet and causing willies to race across her skin.
When she reached the other side of the dirty muck, the snake lowered its head and finally slithered away.
She let out the breath she held.
She had to get out of these woods. If the elements didn’t kill her, anxiety would.
Charity burst into a run, moving as fast as she could across the uneven ground. Thorny underbrush, unseen roots, and nearly invisible spiderwebs met her at every step. Her feet were bleeding and sore, but she didn’t care. She just had to get out now.
Her lungs burned under the strain of her run. Sweat poured down her neck and forehead. Her hair clung to any available skin.
All she could think of was getting to safety.
If she were honest with herself, all she could think about was finding Joshua. Somewhere along the line, she’d begun to think of him as her shelter.
Don’t be like your mom, an internal voice said.
Her mom had always turned to men as the answer. Charity didn’t want to be that woman, didn’t want to follow in her mother’s footsteps.
But at some point the lines blurred. At some point, people had to depend on others, not out of weakness but out of wisdom.
Finally, rays of light broke through the foliage ahead.
She pictured the field behind her house and prayed that her instincts were correct.
In her haste to get to safety, her foot came down on something sharp. She jerked her leg up and saw a broken stick, one of its ends raised in the air and now covered with blood.
She checked, and sure enough, the bottom of her foot had a large gash.
She clenched her eyes shut. The wood had gone deeper than she’d thought. She picked some splinters from the wound, biting back the pain, resisting the urge to squirm.
Using a nearby tree, she pulled herself up. She tried to put pressure on her foot, but pain rushed through her. She wanted to cry but couldn’t allow herself that luxury.
It was going to take some time, but Charity was going to move. She was going to get out of these woods if it was the last thing she did.
And it very well might be.
***
The chief and Isaac were both on the scene at Daleigh’s house. Isaac took photos and dusted for fingerprints while Chief Rollins took plaster impressions of the shoe prints outside the window.
Joshua had interviewed some neighbors, searched Charity’s phone records, and begun to put together a rough timeline. But similar to Andrea’s abduction, there was little evidence to go on. He couldn’t stop pacing as his mind ran through possibilities.
Ryan put a hand on his shoulder. “What can I do for you?”
“I wish I knew. I have no idea where someone might have taken her, but I feel like I’m not doing anything right now. The further we get away from the time she disappeared, the more likely it is that she’ll never be found.”
Just like Andrea, he thought. He didn’t voice the thought aloud.
“You can’t think like that,” Daleigh said.
“I know, but this is what I did for a living for five years. I know the statistics.”
“Statistics are wrong all the time. I used to work the stock market, so I should know,” Ryan said.
An idea began to form in his head. Chief Rollins said yesterday that she was going to tell Ron Whitaker about the hat. What if Ron blamed Charity again? What if he thought she’d planted that hat when she came back into town? The man wasn’t rational. Could he have recreated Andrea’s abduction in order to teach Charity some kind of morbid lesson?
He started to tell the chief his theory, but then changed his mind.
He didn’t trust the chief right now. Until then, he needed to stay quiet.
“I’m going to pay a visit to someone,” he told his friends.
“Don’t do something you’ll regret,” Ryan said. “You want me to come with you?”
“No, stay here, just in case you hear something. I’ll keep you updated.”
***
Charity reached the edge of the woods and spotted Joshua’s house in the distance. If she could make it there, maybe she could get inside and call for help. In the very least, she could wait for Joshua to get home. It beat being lost in the woods.
Besides, she wasn’t going to make it much farther on her own. Her body ached. Her head swam. Fear kept trying to creep in.
She stepped onto the field, the grass rough and coarse beneath her. She limped along, trying to reach the house. His truck was out front, but she knew that was only because Joshua was in his police cruiser today.
Her own house stood in the distance—at least the remains of it did. What was left of it almost seemed like a tombstone or a sad memorial to her past. She desperately wanted to be victorious, to change the course that seemed to have been set in motion for her as a child.
When she finally reached the back door of Joshua’s house, she nearly fell against it. Her foot was still bleeding, and it ached worse than ever. Her legs were covered with sludge and welts from mosquitoes and biting flies.
She turned the knob, but it didn’t budge. Of course Joshua’s house was locked up. He was smart enough to do that.
But back when she and Andrea were children, the window to Andrea’s room had never locked properly. The girls had been able to sneak in and out. As adolescents, it had seemed harmless. Looking back, it was anything but.
That window was the only chance she had of getting into Joshua’s house, other than busting out one of the glass panes on the back door.
She pulled a wicker deck chair over to the area where Andrea’s room was. Climbing up, she carefully pushed on the panes. To her relief, the window slid up. All these years, and no one had either checked it or bothered to fix it.
She pushed it up high enough that she could climb inside. Using the last of her energy, she heaved herself into the opening and fell onto the floor on the other side.
She was safe. For a moment, at least.
***
Joshua pounded at the door to Kicking Cotton. He kept knocking until finally someone answered.
“We’re closed,” Ron Whitaker started. When he spotted Joshua, he did a double take. “Officer Haven.”
Joshua stepped forward, making sure his foot blocked the door. “Did you do something to her?”
“Do something to who?” The man narrowed his eyes, his voice rising.
“Charity.”
Ron’s hands went to his hips, and a knot formed between his brows. “Why would I do something to her?”
“To run her out of town. To make her pay for mistakes she made a decade ago. Because you think revenge will make you feel better.”
“Slow down, now. I don’t like the girl, but I wouldn’t hurt her. What’s going on?”
Joshua tried to subdue the anger simmering inside him and remain a professional. Being a hothead wouldn’t get him anywhere. In fact, it would make him take steps backward. But he knew time was of the essence right now, and he didn’t want to play games.
“Charity is missing, and I’m not convinced that you don’t have something to do with it,” he said, his voice even.
Ron raised his eyebrows. “That’s a big accusation.”
“I know the chief told you about Andrea’s hat.”
“You think that I think Charity planted it?”
Joshua waited for his response. “Do you?”
“The thought crossed my mind. None of this stuff started happening again until she came into town. You know the saying ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’? Well, Charity’s mom was neurotic. Maybe Charity has some of that in her also.”
Joshua raised a finger, fighting the impulse to do something stupid—like punch Ron Whitaker in the face. “If you laid a hand on her, it will be my one and only goal to make sure you see justice.”
Ron stared at him a moment before raising his hands. “I’ve done some stupid things. But nothing that stupid.”
“Were you stupid enough to kill your own wife?” Joshua put the question out there, knowing it could be dangerous to bring up. But he wanted to see the man’s reaction.
Surprise flashed in his eyes, and then
anger. “What are you talking about?”
“The fact that her accident may not have been an accident. That you found out she was cheating and leaving you, and you couldn’t stand it.”
“You best keep your mouth shut, boy.” The man’s hands clenched into fists, and he looked ready to snap at any minute. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I think I do.”
“How dare you come on my property with these accusations? You have a lot of nerve.” The man’s nostrils flared.
He wished he had enough to bring the man in, but he knew he didn’t. Not yet at least. But Ron Whitaker remained at the top of his suspect list.
Joshua started to reply when his phone rang. He squinted at the number on his caller ID. It was . . . his own?
As tension crept between his shoulders, he stepped back and answered. “Hello?”
“Joshua. It’s me. Charity. I’m at your house. Please help me.”
CHAPTER 32
Charity splashed water on her face again. She’d managed to drag herself into the bathroom and bandage her foot. She’d also pulled her hair back and borrowed a sweatshirt from Joshua’s drawer to cover her tank top.
While she was in his room, she’d taken a moment to stare at a picture of Joshua and his son atop the dresser. Joshua looked so happy with his arms wrapped around the boy and the beach in the background. Joshua should be close by for his son; it was the right thing.
As she dried her face with a towel, her legs collapsed beneath her. Her adrenaline had worn off, taking any energy she had with it. She sank to the floor.
She pressed her face into the bathroom cabinet, relishing its coolness. Thanking God she’d made it this far. Pushing away her questions, knowing she’d have time to dwell on them later.
Victorious. The word repeated in her head again. She was determined to live it out in her life.
The front door opened, and Joshua’s voice cut through the air. “Charity?”
“Back here,” she called, her voice weaker than she would have liked.
Footsteps hurried through the house until Joshua appeared in the doorway. The next instant he was in front of her. His hands grasped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Oh, Charity. Are you okay?”
Gone by Dark (Carolina Moon Book 2) Page 18