by Maris Soule
As Katherine led the way back to the Tahoe, she glanced over the craggy landscape that surrounded them. The gold seekers back in 1896 had had a rough time crossing these mountains; how could a man who’d spent the last fifteen years in a hospital and a sixteen-year-old girl who didn’t like to hike handle the terrain?
“He could have found a way to sneak across the border,” she said, “but my bet is he’s in Skagway.”
“Why do you say that?” Vince asked.
“Because he kept me in the basement only four houses away from where I lived.”
“And no one knew?”
“No one. The room was soundproof. The one window was covered, and, in the beginning, he rarely turned on the light. For the first two weeks of my captivity, I was in total darkness except when he came to see me.”
Just talking about it brought back the memories—and the terror. A tightening in her groin reminded her of how she reacted whenever she heard his footsteps coming down the stairs, while the sickening sensation in her stomach mimicked the effect of his touch.
“Katherine?”
She blinked, shaking off the image of that room and the memories of what he did to her. Vince Nanini was staring at her, a concerned look on his face.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I . . . I’m—” She forced herself to take a deep breath and shove the past back into the recesses of her mind. “I’m okay,” she finally said and slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine.
She needed to approach this as a police officer, not as a woman terrified of the man who’d changed her life completely. She needed to control her emotions.
“Any houses with basements around Skagway?” Vince asked as he buckled his seatbelt.
“A few. Mostly the newer ones that have been built outside of town.”
“I don’t see her going quietly,” he said, almost to himself. “Not Misty. She’s a fighter. If there’s half a chance, she’ll try to get away.”
Katherine understood his hope. She also knew the reality. “He’ll threaten her. He killed that kid in front of her as a warning.”
“He threatened you?”
She nodded.
“So where’s he have Misty?”
She glanced his way. “You think I know?”
“I don’t know what I think. But you know Skagway. Where would a man—a stranger to the area—take a teenaged girl? We had enough trouble finding a place for Crystal to stay. Where would he find a hideout?”
A logical question, she decided. “I don’t know where he would take her. That’s what we have to figure out.”
“Do people rent out houses and apartments during the summer season?”
“Some do.” She headed the Tahoe back down the Klondike Highway. Call the landlords, she told herself. At this hour most would be in bed, but time was of the essence.
She slowed as they once again approached the spot where the Blazer had gone over the edge. Before she stopped, she said, “When a child is taken, the first forty-eight hours are the most important. In my case, Charles broke into our house on a Friday night. No one knew what had happened until Monday morning, when my parents didn’t show up for work and my brother and I weren’t at school. If Misty and that young man down there met in Skagway this morning and took off right away, we’ve already lost more than a quarter of that time. We need to get things rolling as quickly as we can.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Gordon watched Katherine’s Tahoe slow and come to a stop. “She’s here now,” he said into the satellite phone he held. “I’ll tell her, but she’s not going to be happy.”
He listened to the response to his statement, all the while watching Katherine and Vince Nanini step out of the patrol unit and start his way. “I understand,” he said. “Yes, helluva mess, but I can handle it. You just concentrate on getting better. Goodbye, sir.”
Gordon handed the phone back to the SAR volunteer standing next to him and dismissed the man. He didn’t want others overhearing what he had to say to Katherine. As it was, she would be upset when he issued the chief’s order, but she’d really be angry if he also, inadvertently, revealed her secret.
Learning why Officer Katherine Ward would know so much about The Beekeeper had stunned Gordon, but now that he did know, her behavior around him and others made sense. When she first joined the Skagway police department, he’d thought her reticence to talk about her past was a snub. And he certainly couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t give Phil the time of day. Gordon knew the officer had the hots for Katherine.
At one point he’d thought she might be a lesbian, but her behavior didn’t fit that concept either. In fact, thinking back over the three years he’d known her, he was surprised she functioned as well as she did. He couldn’t imagine going through the terror the chief had described: seeing her parents and younger brother killed, being held hostage for nearly nine months. Constantly raped.
Ten years her senior, Gordon was living in Fairbanks, just beginning his career as a police officer, when Katherine’s grandparents permanently moved to Skagway, bringing her with them. She had moved back to Michigan by the time Gordon became a part of the Skagway police department. He didn’t know anything about Katherine Ward until three years ago when the chief said they were hiring a former resident who was coming to them with three years experience on the Kalamazoo force.
Alice had said she remembered Katherine as an angry and confused teenager and hoped she’d changed. Alice knew everything that went on in Skagway.
Gordon wondered if she knew about Katherine’s past. The real story.
And what was the real story today?
Was Katherine involved in this homicide and kidnapping?
The chief had said he didn’t think so, but Gordon wasn’t so sure. If she’d come right out and told him how and why she knew this Bell guy, maybe he wouldn’t have his suspicions. But she hadn’t been up-front with him. As usual, she’d skirted the truth.
He had no choice but to take her off the case.
“So where did you go?” Gordon asked the moment Katherine was within hearing distance.
“To talk to Canadian customs. As soon as I heard Bell was no longer being held in Michigan, I wanted to show them his picture.”
“Which you just happened to have with you.”
He could tell he’d taken her by surprise, that she didn’t know how to respond. He answered for her. “One of the EMTs brought up his satellite phone. I talked to the chief. He told me everything.”
“Oh.” Her posture alone showed her tension, her back so straight she could have passed inspection with flying colors. “I guess I should have said something.”
“I guess you should have.”
“How’s the chief doing?”
“Fine. Getting antsy to get out of there.” Gordon could have added that he, personally, wished the chief was out of the hospital and able to come back to Skagway and take on the responsibility of this murder and possible kidnapping. But, since that wasn’t going to happen, it was his duty to carry the load.
“The constables we talked to are sure Bell hasn’t crossed into Canada,” she said. “Vince and I were just talking about where to look, and I thought—”
Gordon stopped her with the lift of his hand. “You’re off the case.”
Katherine’s reaction was immediate. “Gordon, no. I can handle this. I’ve got to. He’s here because of me. I’m sure of that.”
“This isn’t negotiable,” Gordon said. “The chief said to send you home, and I agree.”
“You can’t do that.” She looked at Vince, at the search and rescue volunteers still working near the edge of the road, and then back at him. “You need me. We’re shorthanded as it is.”
“If you want to do something, find Phil. Then write up a full report about this Bell person.”
“You want me off because you’re afraid I’ll try to help Bell.” She was practically in tears.
He didn’t say anything.<
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“I don’t care what the papers said. I didn’t help him. I was the victim.”
“Which is exactly why you’re being taken off the case,” he said. “You know as well as I do that’s procedure if an officer has a personal connection. You wouldn’t want a good defense lawyer getting him off because of a technicality, would you?”
“No, of course not, but I can’t just sit around and wait for you to find him.”
“You’re going to have to, Katherine. Now, go. Check on that other girl you think is missing. Find Phil.”
“What about sending out Amber alerts? Contacting the state troopers and the National Park Service? Seeing if Haines can help?”
“That’s being done as we speak.” Not that he thought the small police department in Haines could spare any officers. And, even if they could, logistics simply didn’t work.
“I could—”
“No!” he said before she went on. “You’re off the case.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Vince watched Katherine stalk over to her Tahoe and get in. She gunned the engine and spun the tires as she took off. He’d thought about going with her, but if she was off the case, there wasn’t much sense in doing so. He’d seen her shocked reaction when she realized what the mark on the note meant, heard her anger when she learned that Charles Bell was no longer in the mental hospital. Either she was a fantastic actress or she wasn’t involved with Misty’s kidnapping.
He looked back at the area where the Blazer had gone over the side. Crime-scene tape now blocked off a portion of the road and most of the shoulder. The note had indicated this Beekeeper guy had Misty, but it could be a bluff.
Vince turned to Sergeant Landros. “Could you tell if he took her out of the Blazer before it was pushed over the side?”
The sergeant hesitated, and Vince hoped he wouldn’t be a tight ass about talking to someone not in law enforcement. Besides, he didn’t want details, just assurance that Misty was still alive.
A slight nod was the man’s first tell. Then a relaxing of the shoulders and a deep breath. “We’re pretty sure she wasn’t in the vehicle when it went over,” Landros said. He motioned toward the dirt and gravel of the road’s shoulder. “We pretty much destroyed any ground evidence when we arrived, but we did find what looks to be a crushed hypodermic needle.”
Which meant Misty was drugged, assuming the needle wasn’t simply one that someone tossed out when driving by. “Any idea what Bell may have used on her?” Vince asked.
This time Landros shook his head. “Once we get the pieces to the crime lab in Anchorage, someone should be able to tell us what was in it. But that’s going to take a while.”
“So you’re thinking he shot Bane, tranquilized Misty, transferred her to his vehicle, and then pushed the Blazer over the side.”
“Looks like it.”
“Damn.” Vince shook his head and turned away, looking down the highway toward Skagway.
“I assume you’ll let the girl’s father and stepmother know what’s happened and about the ransom demand,” Gordon said.
Vince nodded. “If someone can give me a ride back to Skagway, I’ll let Crystal know, and we’ll call Tom.”
“One of the volunteers can take you down. Once you’ve informed the family, it would be helpful if you’d stop by the station and give our dispatcher any information about the girl that might help with an Amber alert.”
“What about the other girl?” Vince asked. “Katherine seems to think this guy might have her, too.”
“Let’s hope not,” Landros said and waved toward a group of volunteers standing around the coffee dispenser on the tailgate of the blue truck.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The hazy, doped-up feeling Misty had experienced for most of the day—at least what she thought was a day—was finally gone. She was glad, but clarity brought reality, along with fear, anger, and even hunger. She’d pulled on the cloths binding her wrists and ankles until her skin was raw. She’d tried slipping her hands out, tried breaking the metal posts she was tied to, and tried twisting her body so she could gnaw on the cloth. Nothing worked.
Over time, the other girl’s sobs had slowly subsided until they’d turned into sniffling and an occasional whimper. Their captor had closed and locked the door when he left, putting the room back into total darkness. How long he would be gone, Misty didn’t know.
“Hey,” she said softly. “You over there. Are you okay? I mean, kinda?”
“Yeah . . . Kinda,” came the quavering response.
The voice sounded young, and Misty wondered if the girl was one of the kids she’d met on the cruise ship. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Sarah. Sarah Wilson.”
Misty didn’t remember a Sarah. She’d been hanging out with a Heather, a Greg, a Lisa, and a Britany, but there were other kids on the ship. A bunch of younger ones they did their best to ignore. “How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
No one Misty would have paid attention to. “So, were you on the Holiday Festival?”
“No.” The girl hiccupped, and then sniffed. “What’s your name?”
“Misty. Misty Morgan. Are you still tied up?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yes.” He’d untied her when he took her to the bathroom. She should have tried to escape then, but her legs had been so wobbly, he’d had to help her walk out of the bedroom and down a short hallway to the bathroom. Even then he hadn’t completely freed her. All he’d done was undo the knots around the metal posts. He’d left the strips of sheeting around her wrists and ankles.
“Does your blanket smell?” Sarah asked.
“Yeah. Smells old. Yucky. Like the blankets at my grandmother’s house. Have you tried to get loose?”
“A little, but every time I do, the cloth around my wrists just seems to get tighter.”
“Same here. If I could get one near my mouth, maybe I could chew it off.”
“I don’t have any clothes on. Do you?”
“No.” Not that Misty would let that stop her from escaping.
The girl sniffed again. “I shouldn’t have stopped and talked to him. I should have just walked by, pretended I didn’t even hear him.”
Misty heard the guilt in the girl’s words. “What did he say?”
“He asked if I lived on the block, and if I knew which house the policewoman lived in. My mother’s always telling me to be careful, not to talk to strangers. So why did I?”
“I keep wondering why I didn’t run when I had the chance,” Misty said. “Or fight. I’ve had a guy—an ex-Marine—teach me self-defense, but do you think I used anything I knew? No; I just sat there and let him jab me with that needle.”
“Was that what it was?” Sarah sniffed. “He showed me a mask . . . said he was in a play about the three bears. He seemed kinda weird, and I started to walk away. All I remember is hearing the car door open, a hand going over my mouth, and something sharp against my neck. I . . .”
Sarah didn’t finish, soft sobs replacing words, and Misty closed her eyes. They’d been drugged. But with what? And how long had it been since he’d opened the truck door and jabbed her with that needle?
She had no sense of time. She did recall starting to wake up and hearing him say, “Too soon.” After that, he rubbed something cold over her skin, and, once again, she felt something prick her skin. She must have fallen back asleep after that.
Now that she was awake, she wished she were asleep, that this would turn out to be a terrible nightmare.
“Mama. I want my mama,” Sarah sobbed.
“Me, too,” Misty agreed, though she knew there was no way her mother could come.
Would her father? Would he pay that much money for her? Last time they talked, all he kept telling her was he was busy and didn’t have time to talk. He was always too busy for her, never around. A daughter was a burden. You didn’t pay millions of dollars for something you didn’t want.
“TSTL. Too stupid t
o live.” That’s what her dad said about people who did dumb things. She’d been stupid. Would he let her die?
A knot of fear twisted in her gut. The guy said he wouldn’t touch her, wouldn’t do to her what he’d done to Sarah, but what if her father didn’t pay? What then?
“Sex with a guy,” Jasmine, her best friend back home, had said, “is like nothing you can do by yourself. Just wait, Misty. You’re gonna love it.”
Misty had been going to “do it” with Brian. Back in May, when she turned sixteen, she’d decided she didn’t want to be a virgin all of her life. She’d already met Brian on-line. He was cute. Older. He thought she was older, too, and he didn’t question her age when she suggested spending the summer traveling across Canada. “Sounds like fun,” he’d typed.
It would have pissed her dad off royally. Would have pissed Vince off, too. He was always telling her to be careful, to be smart, especially when it came to guys. “They’ll promise you anything,” he was always saying, “but they only want one thing.”
Vince had been a super pest ever since that article about her dad came out. Old Baldy kept telling her, “Be careful who you hang with. Be careful who you talk to. Be careful, be careful . . . be careful.” She told him she got the message. He told her if she ever needed help, to give a yell.
“Vince!” she yelled into the darkness.
“Don’t!” Sarah begged, the plea almost a sob. “Don’t yell. Don’t make any noise that will bring him back. It . . . it hurt. It hurt a lot.”
Misty was sorry she had yelled. Talk about stupid. And now she’d upset Sarah. “I hear it gets better after the first time,” she said, hoping that might comfort the younger girl.
“I don’t want it to get better. I don’t want it to happen. Never, ever again.”
Misty had heard the way he’d panted and grunted. The bed shaking. Sarah crying. It didn’t sound sexy, not the way it was described in romance novels or shown in the movies. Where was the high Jasmine had talked about? The thrill? The excitement?