Ryder's Wife

by Sharon Sala

  * * *

  Casey woke up with a start. Several things became obvious to her all at once. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t move. Her arm was sore and there was a bitter taste in her mouth. And, she remembered why. She took a deep breath and heard herself sob.

  “So, girlie, girlie, I see you’re comin’ around.”

  She froze. Oh God, I am not alone.

  “Please, let me go.”

  He laughed, and Casey felt like a fool. It had been a stupid thing to ask, but she’d had to, just the same.

  “Now, we can’t be doin’ that. Not until your people come up with the dough. We went to a lot of trouble to set this all up, you know. Don’t you think we ought to be paid for our time?”

  Dear God, I’ve been kidnapped! “They’ll pay,” she said, and then choked on a sob.

  He laughed again. “And why the hell not? It ain’t like you’re short on dough, now, is it?”

  Something skittered across her leg and she kicked and screamed in sudden fright.

  “Hey! Ain’t no need for all that screamin’. If you can’t keep your mouth shut, I’ll just have to gag you, too—you hear?”

  Her voice was still shaking, but there was just enough indignation to get the man’s attention. “Something ran across my leg.”

  “Probably just a lizard. They’s all kinds of water critters down here. Be glad it wasn’t no snake.”

  She shuddered and thought of Ryder. Obviously, he hadn’t been in any wreck. They’d used that excuse to sucker her right into their hands. If she’d had a foot free, she would have kicked herself. And along with that knowledge, came a question she was afraid to have answered. If Ryder wasn’t in a wreck, then where was he? The thought of never seeing him again, of dying and not being able to explain to him why she’d done what she’d done was devastating.

  “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  The man cursed. “I told ‘em not to leave me out here. I told ’em somethin’ like this was bound to happen. But hell no, did anyone listen?”

  “Please.”

  He yanked at the cord binding her wrists to get her attention, then untied her ankles, dragging her up from the bed and standing her on her bare feet. A few steps later, he gave her a push.

  “You got a couple of minutes, no more. And don’t try nothin’, either.” His hand cupped her breast, and Casey could feel his breath on her face. “You’ll be sorry if you do.”

  Casey wouldn’t move, wouldn’t let him know how scared she was, or how repulsed she was by his touch.

  “Well, what the hell are you waitin’ for?” he yelled.

  She held out her hands. “For you to untie me.”

  He cursed, but moments later, she felt the rope come loose around her wrists and heard the door slam shut between them.

  “No funny business,” he yelled. “And remember, I’m right outside this door.”

  Her hands were shaking as she tore at the rag covering her eyes. When it fell free to the floor, she staggered from the unexpected glare of light. Quick to take advantage of the privilege she’d been granted, she did what she had to do, aware that it could be hours before he might let her get up again.

  As she washed her hands, she searched her surroundings for something—anything, that might help her escape. But there was nothing in sight. Not even a window in the tiny, airless room.

  The only remarkable thing she could see was a varied assortment of crocheted knickknacks sitting on floors, on shelves, even hanging from the walls. It explained nothing.

  “Get out here, now!” the man yelled, and Casey jumped. “And put that blindfold back on your face or you’ll be sorry.”

  She did as she was told, although she was already as sorry as a woman could be and still be breathing. If only she could start this day over.

  Her hand was on the doorknob when the man suddenly yanked it open. He grabbed her by the hand, retied her wrists and ankles, and shoved her back down on a bed.

  Loath to recline in a room with a man she could not see, Casey sat with her back against the bedstead, her knees pulled toward her chin. It wasn’t much, but it was as good a defensive position as she could manage. The urge to come undone was almost overwhelming, but she refused to give way. She was going to need all of her wits to survive.

  CHAPTER 14

  Just as Ryder had feared, Casey’s car was found at the location she’d written on the notepad. What broke his heart was learning they’d also found her shoes. For once, she must have heeded his warning and kicked off her shoes before trying to run.

  Unfortunately, it had done her no good. There wasn’t a clue as to where she’d been taken.

  Now, just like before when she’d gone to Chicago, Ryder sat by the phone, again waiting for word. Only this time, the phone had been tapped, and when they heard—if they heard—he knew the request wouldn’t be for a ride home. If Ryder’s fears were correct, it would be for money in return for his wife.

  Eudora had been given a sedative and was in her room asleep.

  Erica was curled in a chair in the corner with her head on her knees, trying to come to terms with the fact that a member of their family was a possible kidnap victim and trying not to let herself think that if Casey didn’t ever come home, everything that had been Delaney Ruban’s would then belong to her and Miles. It shamed her to realize that she’d already envisioned what she would wear to her sister’s funeral. She didn’t want Casey to be dead. Not really. Right now, she would be perfectly satisfied if Casey were back and being the constant source of discord in their lives.

  Before Mason Gant had become a detective on the police force in Ruban Crossing, he had been a star running back on his college football team. He’d planned on a career in the NFL, not one behind a badge. But a single tackle had changed his plans and the rest of his life. Before he knew it, fifteen years had come and gone and he was now Detective Gant, and carried a notebook and pen, not a pigskin.

  Because of the identity of the missing person, he knew that this could very well be one of the most important investigations of his career and was not giving an inch as to protocol. He’d interviewed all of the hired help and the immediate family, except one. Miles Dunn had been the last to come home and the last to be apprised of his sister’s situation. And as Miles slumped in a chair, it was Gant’s opinion that Dunn wasn’t nearly as bereaved as he would have liked.

  “And where were you?” Gant asked, pinning Miles in place with a casual stare.

  Miles raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Why on earth should it matter where I was at? My sister is missing. Why aren’t you out trying to find her?” Taking heart in the fact that several of Ruban Crossing’s finest were present, he glanced at Ryder, confident that he could say what was on his mind without coming to harm. “Better yet, why aren’t you questioning her husband? We don’t really know a thing about him.”

  “Oh, but we do, and his story checks out clean. Besides, he has nothing to gain from her demise. On the other hand, you and your sister have several hundred millions dollars at stake. Am I right?”

  Erica stood up with a gasp of indignation as Miles shifted nervously in his seat. “Of course not. Casey inherited.”

  The detective persisted. “But what happens if she dies?”

  Miles shrugged. “I wouldn’t really know.”

  As the family lawyer, Lash was in attendance. At this point he interrupted, but seemed hesitant to do so. “That’s not exactly true, Miles. You did come to my office this morning and ask what would happen if Casey defaulted on the terms of Delaney’s will.”

  Ryder came to his feet, and if there hadn’t been a desk and a chair between them, he would have put his fist in Miles’s face.

  Miles spun, his face livid with anger. “You’re twisting everything. You knew I was asking because we all thought Ryder had flown the coop.”

  Lash looked repentant. “I’m sorry, Miles, but I felt obligated to tell the truth. If anyone needs me, you know where I can be reached.” He picked up
his briefcase and made a quick exit.

  Ryder was shaking with anger. “You son of a bitch. Do you remember what I told you? If Casey hurts—you bleed.”

  The low, even tone in Ryder’s voice frightened Miles far more than any shout of rage could have done. He scrambled to his feet and backed toward the door, looking frantically toward the police for protection.

  “Sit down!” Gant said, and then glanced at Ryder. “While I can understand your indignation, this isn’t getting us anywhere. A woman is missing and all you people seem able to do is fight among yourselves.”

  Ryder hunched his shoulders and stalked to the windows overlooking the courtyard, looking up at the small apartment over the garage. Precious minutes passed as pain twisted within him, drawing and pulling like a dull knife. The night before last, he’d slept in Casey’s arms. They’d made love with an abandon that had surprised even him. And less than thirty-six hours later, someone had lied to Casey and stolen from Ryder the thing he cared for most—his wife.

  And then suddenly the phone rang, and everyone jumped as if they’d been shot.

  “You answer it,” Gant directed, pointing at Ryder.

  Ryder said a prayer and picked up the phone. “Hello.”

  “This is a recording. I will not repeat myself, so pay attention. Casey Justice is with me. At the moment, she is alive. If you choose to ignore my conditions, she will not stay that way long. For her release, I want three million dollars in small, unmarked bills, none of them larger in denomination than a fifty, none of them smaller than a five. I will call you at five o’clock, day after tomorrow, and tell you where and when to make the drop.”

  The line went dead, with the computerized sound of an altered voice still grinding in his ear. “Did you get that?” Ryder asked.

  Gant nodded. “All we can do now is wait.”

  Ryder slammed the phone down. “Like hell. That’s three days. In three days, anything could happen to Casey. Don’t you have any leads? Didn’t anything turn up when forensics went over her car?”

  Gant was a man who believed in telling it like it was. “Forensics is still going over her car, and you know as well as I do that we don’t have any other leads. However, we will actively be pursuing the investigation.”

  Ryder covered his face with his hands and turned away. He felt sick to his stomach and couldn’t quit shaking. He kept thinking about Casey. Of how afraid she must be. “Dear Lord. Why is this happening?”

  Gant briefly touched Ryder’s arm. “Because someone got greedy, Mr. Justice. Now I suggest you try to get some rest.

  The next forty-eight hours will be crucial. The FBI should be here by morning.” He grinned wryly. ”You’ll probably have to repeat everything you’ve told me to them. They’re kind of partial to taking their own statements.” His smile faded. ”I think you should be prepared for the possibility that the kidnappers are going to want you, or another member of the family, to make the drop.”

  “I’ll do whatever they ask, but I’m not very good at waiting.” He exhaled slowly, as if the action pained him. “There will be time to rest after Casey gets home.”

  Gant looked away. He was too aware that the odds of that happening weren’t all that good.

  “If anyone needs me, I’ll be at the apartment,” Ryder said, and started down the hall when Erica caught up with him.

  “Ryder.”

  He stopped and turned.

  Looking him straight in the face was the hardest thing she’d ever done. From start to finish, she was ashamed of the way she’d behaved, but she didn’t know how to say it without admitting she’d been in the wrong.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “If you don’t want to be by yourself, I know Casey would want you to stay here in the main house. You could have her room.”

  “I don’t think so, but thanks.” He turned away.

  “Ryder, wait, please!”

  He took a deep breath and turned around again. “Yeah?” “I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I have never regretted anything as much as I have regretted the stunt I pulled with you. All I can say is, I have envied Casey her place in this family all of her life, and it’s not even her fault. She was born a Ruban. Our mother became one by marriage. Miles and I have been on the outside looking in ever since the day Mother said, ‘I do.”’ Her chin quivered as she continued. “However, not even in my ugliest moment have I ever wished Casey to come to harm. I ask your forgiveness, and when Casey comes home, I will ask hers, too.”

  Ryder knew truth when he heard it, and in his opinion, it was probably the first time in her life that Erica Dunn had been completely honest, with herself, and with someone else. And because she was Casey’s sister, he held out his hand.

  “Truce.”

  She smiled. “Truce.” And she accepted the offer of friendship.

  “Sure I can’t change your mind?”

  He shook his head and then hurried out the door. Erica watched as he ran up the stairs to the apartment, and although she couldn’t hear it, imagined the thud as he slammed the door shut behind him.

  Ryder grabbed the phone as soon as he came in the door, then sat down with it in his lap. Within seconds, he was punching in numbers, then waiting as it began to ring. Four rings later, the answering machine kicked on.

  He closed his eyes as he listened to the message. It had been so long—too long since he’d heard the sound of his brother’s voice.

  “This is Justice Air and The Justice Way. State your name, your business, and if you want a call back, leave your number. Wait for the beep.”

  It didn’t register to be surprised that Roman was now in charge of his business as well. Casey was foremost on his mind.

  “Roman, it’s Ryder. For once, pick up the damned phone.”

  A distinct click sounded in Ryder’s ear, and he closed his eyes with relief.

  “It’s about damned time,” Roman growled.

  “Give me grief later,” Ryder said. “Right now, I need you, brother, as I have never needed you before.”

  Roman sat up. Ryder was thirty-three years old and to Roman’s knowledge, he had never asked a soul for help before in his life. “What’s wrong?”

  “My wife has been kidnapped. I want her back, Roman.” His voice broke. “Dammit, I need her back. If anything happens to her, I won’t—”

  “Where are you?”

  “Ruban Crossing, Mississippi.”

  “Hell, I knew that,” Roman muttered. “I mean physical directions to your home.”

  Startled, it took Ryder a moment to reconnect his thoughts. Then he sighed. He should have known. After all, his brother was a private investigator.

  “Got a pen and paper?” he asked.

  “Does a bear—”

  Ryder laughed aloud, drowning out the rest of Roman’s remark. It made him feel good, almost normal, to hear Roman’s ever present sarcasm. Some things never change.

  He gave Roman directions to the Ruban estate, and when he hung up, for the first time since this nightmare had started to unfold, he knew a small sense of relief.

  * * *

  In a small, unused room in a forgotten part of Delaney Ruban’s house, candles were burning, on pedestals, in cups, on plates, even on the floor. Candlelight flickered upon the walls and on the bare, lithe body of Matilda Bass, giving the cafe au lait color of her skin a rich, golden glow.

  Her hair was undone and hanging well below her waist and she moved as one in a trance, methodically unrolling a cloth she’d brought into the room. A handful of small, white bones fell out of the folds, arranging themselves in a crude sort of circle as they rolled to a stop.

  She leaned forward, her bare breasts shifting, and she was barely aware of the thick, silken length of her hair against the skin on her back, blind to the candlelight surrounding her as she sat.

  At her side lay a knife, the shaft, old and yellowed. The blade was long and thin, the kind that pierces and kills and leaves
nothing behind but a tiny, red mark. The carvings on the handle were old and held a power all of their own.

  When Joshua entered, Tilly sensed the air in the room stirring, and somewhere within her mind, she sifted through the change and knew that nothing threatened what she was about to do. Her focus shifted again as she went to her knees before the circle of bones, whispering in a language that she’d learned at her grandmother’s knee.

  * * *

  Lash downshifted Fostoria Biggers’s small white compact and turned into the overgrown driveway leading up to her house. It was nearly dark, and he knew that coming out here was risky, but he wanted to see for himself that the mighty Casey Ruban had been brought to her knees. Using Fostoria’s car was just another way of blurring his trail.

  The house was small and nearing total dilapidation. In fact, if possible, it was in worse condition than his beloved Graystone. Fostoria’s porch had sagged some years ago, and was nearly rotted through from the wetlands upon which it had been built. Paint had peeled off all the siding except in a few sheltered places, and the curtains that hung at the windows were faded and limp. The grass in the yard was ankle high and Lash winced as he thought of walking through it. There was no telling what kind of reptiles were lying in wait.

  He made it through the yard and onto the porch. Sidestepping the worst of the sag in the planks, he walked into the house as if he owned it. Bernie Pike spun toward the sound, his gun pointed directly at Lash’s chest.

  “Dammit, Marlow, you scared the hell out of me.”

  Lash frowned. “Point that thing somewhere else.”

  Bernie did as he was told.

  “Where is she?” Lash asked.

  Bernie pointed toward the first door on the right down the hall. “I put her in there. It was the only room that had a bed.”

  Lash nodded.

  “When’s Skeet comin’ to relieve me?”

  Lash frowned. “I told you two to guard her. I didn’t think I would have to set up a work schedule for you as well. Call him and find out for yourself.”

  Bernie shivered and glanced nervously out the open door. “I’m ready to get my money and get the hell out of this swamp. There’s snakes and lizards and all matter of critters out here. When is it all goin’ down?”