“Nicky? Are you okay?”
She picked up the phone, sounding breathless. “It broke. I scraped my knuckles. I didn’t mean to break it.”
“That’s no problem. The important thing is you’re okay. You’ve just earned a bonus can of whipped cream. You want to keep playing?”
“Yes!”
“Good girl. Can you see through the window?”
“No.”
Oh, for cripe’s sake. Come on. “Nothing at all?”
“There’s something over the window. Like a curtain.”
“Can you push it to the side?”
I heard her scraping at something.
“It’s stuck. Like somebody glued it. Why would somebody glue up their window? That’s stupid.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Stupid.” Maybe it wasn’t a curtain. Maybe it was a window decal or tinting. “Is it dark, like a grayish color?”
“Not really. It’s more like reddish-purplish with blue stripes.”
Stripes? “What else?”
“I can’t see the whole thing. There’s a red triangle and then blue and maybe stars in the blue part. I’m not sure.”
I closed my eyes and tried to fit that into a pattern I knew.
“Vi, I’m thirsty.”
“You’ve been working very hard, but there’s still more to do. Nicky, I need you to listen very carefully.”
- 40 -
She begged me not to leave her. Disconnecting was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Before we hung up, I told her to work on getting herself untied. I’d be there soon.
She was at JJ’s trailer.
If I were wrong, the worst thing that would happen would be I’d have a good gallop. I strapped the biggest western saddle I could find on Gaston and made the stirrups as short as possible, hoping Nicky’s legs would reach. I threw his bridle over his halter. Just like the cavalry.
I yanked an old windbreaker I found in the tack room over the holster, shoved a knife in one pocket, phone in the other, and took off, sending Gaston into a frantic gallop the moment my rear end hit the seat.
On the straight stretch along the field, I called Malcolm. I’m not a trick rider, but the fact is, once you get used to the speed, gallop is a smooth gait—easier to sit than trot or canter. On a straightaway over flat ground, there’s not much to do but find your balance and enjoy the ride. I hooked the reins over the horn and dialed. Still no service to his phone. I had a decent signal, but the woods were coming up fast, and I’d probably lose it there. Dex’s voice mail picked up.
“She’s not in Chicago,” I yelled, hoping he’d be able to hear with all the wind. “She’s at JJ’s old trailer. I’m on my way.”
Fifty yards from the woods, I tried 911. I had no idea where the trailer was, though, in terms of an address. Dispatch picked up right as we dove under the trees, and I lost the signal. I was on my own.
I used the remaining time to cement my connection with Gaston. He was open and receptive; there wasn’t much in his head besides whatever was in front of him. Wastrel had been complicated and asked a lot of questions. Cali could be that way too, but she was learning to trust and focus. Gaston didn’t need any convincing of the urgency of our mission. He understood Nicky was in danger.
It would take only a moment to get her out of the trailer. If she were there. Please, be there.
We rounded the turns, blasted through the clearing and over the log. A little beyond that, I stopped. How close could we get without being detected?
What if JJ was there?
He wasn’t going to hurt her. He wanted Malcolm. But why had he taken Nicky and left Brooke? Why leave Chicago if Malcolm was on his way? Something about this wasn’t right, but I couldn’t figure it out.
Maybe he was deranged; years of hatred and wanting something he couldn’t have finally made him snap. If that were the case, I couldn’t afford to wait. I had to get her out of there.
I slid to the ground and led Gaston forward. Could he tiptoe? He could. Or as close as a horse can get to it. I watched the footing, moving branches out of the way that would snap if he stepped on them. He waited patiently each time I stopped to listen. The wind carried sounds away, though. That was to my advantage in terms of JJ hearing me, but it meant I couldn’t hear a thing, either.
The trailer came into view through the dense underbrush. Any further, and the horse would be clearly visible. I tied the lead line to a branch and told him to stay still and be quiet. He wuffled softly against my shoulder. I patted his cheek.
“You’re a good horse. A very brave horse. We’re not done yet, though. Don’t make a sound. There’s a bran mash in it for you, I promise.” Why was I always promising food?
I left him there and crept forward until I was at the edge of the clearing. I flattened myself beneath a prickly stand of briars. I could see clear under the trailer, and there were no vehicles around the front. The back door, the one I’d used the other day, still gaped.
As we’d planned, I called Nicky and hung up. She’s kept her phone on vibrate and had it stuffed deep under the pillow so only she would hear it. If she were alone, I’d get a call back. One ring. I had the volume on my phone off, too. It buzzed a moment later.
I sprinted to the back door and up the steps, knife in hand, stopped for a moment to listen. Nothing. Good. I crouched and scooted down the hallway as quietly as possible. The door at the end was closed. It was possible there was someone else in the trailer, but it didn’t feel like it, so I opened the door. Nicky was picking at the rope around her ankle. It was tied to a bedpost. She opened her mouth to speak. I jumped forward and clamped my hand over her face.
She went still. I slipped the knife under the rope and sliced it. She threw herself at me, arms around my neck and legs around my waist. She was heavy. I ran through the trailer, out the door, and fell down the steps. In that moment, I heard a car coming.
I didn’t bother trying to see who it was, but scrambled up, faking calm for her sake. “C’mon,” I whispered. “We have to run.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the woods.
The moment she saw Gaston, she froze.
“I can’t,” she said.
“Like hell,” I said. I picked her up and bodily flung her into the saddle.
She yelped.
“Quiet,” I hissed. “Close your eyes and hold the horn.”
I swung behind her, yanked the lead line, and the slip knot I’d tied came lose.
“Yah!” I yelled. Gaston leapt forward.
Nicky screamed. Again, I put my hand over her mouth.
Pellets zinged around us, and a shotgun roared from near the trailer. I recognized the sound. This time, we were not being shot at over our heads. With so many trees and branches, we were safe. He was too far away, and we were moving fast in the opposite direction.
But then, I heard another sound. An engine firing up. A distinct motor noise, like a motorcycle. A four-wheeler.
Shit. Fuck. Piss.
I shoved Nicky’s feet into the big, western stirrups, pressed her down and leaned across her, asking Gaston for more. He lowered his head and dug in. We flew over the log. That might slow JJ down, but not for long. A moment later, we were through the meadow.
The four-wheeler followed. Not close, but JJ could see us, and would gain on us soon enough. We had to get off the wide road.
We couldn’t go back to the farm. No one was there. I yanked on the right rein, knowing Gaston could pilot through the woods without a trail. We slowed from gallop to canter, and kept moving. But now, I had no idea where we were. And JJ could navigate this land in his sleep.
Our only hope was to lose him long enough to reach a public road or a house where someone was home.
Nicky had grown quiet. I knew she was afraid, but so was I. If a scary horse ride was the worst of it, I hoped I could be forgiven.
We slowed to find our way around a steep ravine. Gaston earned his bran mash more than once by safely finding his way. In the woods, the wind was not as strong
, and I heard the four-wheeler to our left. JJ sped along nearly parallel to us, barely twenty yards away. A trail I didn’t know. There must be dozens. Damn it. I curved Gaston right. JJ probably planned to get ahead of us, and at this point, I figured he’d just as soon blow my head off as look at me. I had no doubt he had the shotgun with him.
Should I fire at him? No way. I’d as likely shoot myself or Nicky or Gaston as get a round off at JJ. Or drop the stupid thing. And I didn’t know how the horse would react.
We came out on another dirt road and accelerated. There was a field ahead. I turned and rode along it. JJ and the four wheeler popped out of the woods not far to our left and came straight at us.
I didn’t bother trying to keep an eye on him. I kicked Gaston for more, and he gave me more. Ahead, there was a fence between this and another field. A barbed wire fence that would not be safe to jump. There was a solid-looking metal gate about midway along. It would have to do.
The gate would either save us or kill us.
“Nicky,” I shouted. “Stay down. Hold the horn.”
I concentrated on Gaston. Jesus. Jumping a horse I’d never jumped before over a four-foot gate in a western saddle without stirrups with a child in front of me. A day ago, I would have called it suicidal. I pushed those thoughts down.
Fifteen strides away. I heard the four-wheeler engine rev.
You can do this, I told Gaston. Piece of cake.
“What are you doing?” Nicky yelled.
“We’re jumping that gate.”
Ten strides.
“No!” she screamed. “No, I can’t. Get me off.” She squirmed.
“We have to.” I clamped my arm around her. “You’ll be okay.”
Five strides.
“No!” She continued screaming.
I ignored her. We can do this together, I see the take-off spot.
Gaston’s ears were up. He saw the gate. He flicked his ears back. He heard me.
One stride.
Go!
He took off like we were going to Spain. Nicky’s scream deafened me.
Never have I felt such a thrill clearing a jump. Too bad I couldn’t savor the moment. We landed in another field, this one smaller. Ahead, the cover of dense woods again. Just before we left the open, I looked over my shoulder. The four-wheeler had stopped at the gate. JJ worked on getting it open.
Up ahead, I could see some sort of break. A road, maybe? Hope surged through me. But when we reached it, we were faced with the river—at this point, a narrow and deep-looking channel with steep banks. We stopped. Gaston’s sides heaved and his neck and shoulders frothed with sweat. I couldn’t hear the four-wheeler, but no amount of distance between us was enough.
I rubbed Nicky’s upper arms.
“Hey, we made it over the jump. Thanks for not bailing.”
“Don’t do that again, okay? Can we go home now?”
“Not right now.”
“But, why?”
“Because there’s no one at home, and he would follow us there. I have to find a different place for us. You okay?”
She nodded, but said, “I’m tired.”
“Me too.”
I couldn’t risk plunging into the water without knowing how deep it was. I turned Gaston left. We’d keep going until we found a better place to cross.
A hundred yards downstream, the river rounded a bend, widened, and split into two around a narrow island. The banks flattened. We crossed, and Gaston never wavered. I kept him in the knee-deep water for as long as I could, following the gentle current, hoping that would further throw JJ off our trail. We climbed the opposite bank and continued, but soon found ourselves in open fields. Good for moving fast, not good if JJ caught up with us.
As far as I could see was only farmland. No houses. Not a road in sight. That seemed impossible. I kept to the edge of one field for a while, but didn’t dare stay in the open for too long. Why weren’t there any farmsteads? I couldn’t believe the area was this uninhabited.
It was almost seven-thirty. Dex would get my message. But what good would it do? They were hours away.
A few minutes later, a barn came into view. It wasn’t very big and sat at the edge of a field planted in corn. But when we reached it, there were no other buildings. No house. No road. No people. We rode up to it, and I dismounted, helping Nicky down. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed at my feet.
“C’mon, sweetie, let’s see what’s inside.”
The big metal door of the building wouldn’t budge at first. After kicking away overgrown grass and weeds, it slid open enough for us all to squeeze in, and I shoved it closed behind us. It squealed and complained, a high-pitched sound that would carry, but there was nothing I could do about it.
The main section of the building was tall with a loft above. To one side, a shed might have housed cattle at one time, but now, a few big, round hay bales were piled in it. Next to them sat a bale fork with its spears pointing straight up.
Should we hold up here until we could get help, or keep going? I looked at Nicky. She sagged onto pile of old burlap sacks and didn’t look like she had anything left. Gaston was game, but needed to rest. I decided we’d stay put until I could talk to Dex or Malcolm. They’d probably know exactly where we were and be able to call someone to come get us.
Gaston shook himself. I tied him to a post along the shed wall. A deep, wooden trough ran the length of the room. It contained mildewed hay, bent-together nests of rusted baling wire, pieces of wood siding, a length of rope. The horse had drunk from the river, so I wasn’t too worried about him. I should have thought to bring a bottle of water and a granola bar, whipped cream, something for Nicky. I wasn’t much of a rescuer.
I shoved the bad hay out of his reach. “Let’s go upstairs,” I said to Nicky.
I helped her climb the ladder to the loft. We had a better view from up there. She lay down on a scattering of loose straw near a few dusty square bales that formed a pyramid in the middle. There was an opening at each end of the space. I checked both. The one that looked out over the field had a door hanging by one hinge. I pulled it shut and tied it closed with a piece of baling wire. It was missing part of one section, so I could look out without feeling exposed.
Near the peak of the roof, the siding had long ago blown away leaving a large gap. A patch of sky shown through it and several pairs of barn swallows flew in and out, chattering as if annoyed by our intrusion.
At the other end of the loft, trees crowded the opening, and there was no door. I shoved a bale across it. Again, I could still see out, but it would be hard to see in. Hopefully, he wouldn’t find us. But I couldn’t count on that.
I also stacked a couple of bales over the opening to the loft that led downstairs, then checked the time. Seven-thirty-four. I called Dex.
“Thank God.” I said when he answered. “Did you get my message?”
“Just turned the phone on. Not even off the plane.”
“I have Nicky.” He listened without comment as I explained.
“You’re still in danger,” he said. “When you call 911, you’ll be routed to a different county. Tell them you’re on a cell phone, and you’re being stalked by a murdering kidnapper.”
“You know he killed Malcolm’s father?”
“I’m getting you help as quickly as possible. Feds up here should already be involved. I don’t know where you are, but if you describe the route you took, the locals will find you. Malcolm will know, but I have to get to him first. Good work, Miss Parker.”
“Thanks,” I said. But like Penny says, it ain’t over till the fat lady sings. And I didn’t think the fat lady was ready for her solo quite yet.
“Sit tight,” Dex said. “I’ll call you back.”
Renee’s comment echoed in my ears. Sit tight. Easy for him to say. Whatever else Dex said got lost in static. I think it was something about the tape I’d given him, but the connection went dead.
- 41 -
Just as Dex said, my call to 9
11 went to the next county. They couldn’t connect me with the local sheriff, so spent a long time relaying messages and questions back and forth. They said they would call the phone company to find the tower I was transmitting from, but I could be anywhere in a twenty-mile radius, so searching for us that way might take more time than we had.
I gave them Winterlight’s address and told them we were somewhere southeast of there and across the river. No, I didn’t know what river. How many rivers could there be?
The wind came through the sides of the building and made the tin on the roof flap and creak. Downstairs, Gaston fidgeted and jangled the lead rope, probably tossing his head. He liked to play when he was bored. Swallows swooped along the ceiling, building their half-circle mud homes nestled against the rafters.
Nicky put her head on her jacket and fell asleep.
Ten minutes into the conversation with police dispatch, call waiting beeped, and I switched over. Dex said they were on their way and would be in the area in no more than an hour. He hung up without saying how they were going to do that.
I watched the sky. Clouds tore along the horizon, and sunlight shone down like a spotlight hop scotching over the flat terrain. A pair of vultures rode updrafts, never flapping their wings. I leaned against the bale behind me and answered more questions.
Ten more minutes of passing information along to the local guys, and they said a unit would be in the vicinity within the hour. The woman I’d been speaking to was very nice, but it was hard to tell by her professionally patient demeanor if she really believed we were in imminent danger. An hour? She said they’d sound their siren. When I heard it, I’d tell her. Then, she asked me to hold on. I did. They didn’t have innocuous on-hold Muzak. Just dead silence. If JJ found us, I’d be dead before they got there.
I probably shouldn’t have sat. I definitely shouldn’t have leaned back and rested my head. Despite thirteen hours of sleep, I felt as if I were melting into the bale and would leak through the floorboards. If I’d competed ten horses on the winter circuit in Florida, I couldn’t have felt more exhausted. Knackered, we would have said when I lived in England.
Candace Carrabus - Dreamhorse 01 - On the Buckle Page 26