Checkmate

by Kris Norris

  Checkmate

  By Kris Norris

  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  P.O. Box 992

  Edgewater, Florida, 32132

  Checkmate

  Copyright © 2009, Kris Norris

  Edited by Chantal Depp

  Cover art by Chel Hickerty

  Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-097-2

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Electronic release: December 2009

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  Dedications

  To my mother, Lee, for reading this book in its many stages more times than I can count. I still blush at the memory of some of your questions. You are an inspiration and a heroine. May I achieve half your grace in my life.

  To Mark, for always believing in me and building me back up whenever I stumbled. You are the light that burns in the window and the song that plays in my heart.

  To Kyle, Jared and Sydney, for opening my eyes to the world of make believe again and showing me the greatest gifts are the ones you leave behind. I love you, and I’ll always be your biggest fan.

  A special thanks to Bronwyn and Tiffany. Without you ladies, this book would still be sitting on my computer. You ladies rock.

  And to Chantal. I couldn’t be blessed with a better editor. Thank you for your patience, your wisdom and for making my work shine.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  May 13th

  National Adventure Race Qualifying Meet, Washington State

  “Hey, great race, Kendall.” Logan smiled at her, sweat beading his brow.

  “Thanks. You guys were pretty impressive too. Who knows, if we keep this up, our team could finish in the top five by the end of the season.” Kendall winked at Jody. “Since when did you learn to shoot the rapids that way, girl? I was sure you were in for a dunking.” Jody was leaning against Logan’s chest, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder.

  Jody beamed. “I told you I’ve been practicing. After your brother’s comment at our last race, I thought it might be wise to put in some extra training. He’s a tough man to please, and I don’t want to be the reason we don’t make it to the championships.”

  “Don’t be silly, you were great out there. And if we don’t make it, there’s always next year.” Kendall smiled. “As for pleasing Trace, I don’t think any woman’s capable of that.”

  “Where’d he get off to anyway?” asked Logan, motioning to the bike loaded on the truck. “There’s his bike, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” said Kendall, running her fingers along the mud caked rim. She looked around the lot. Most of the cars were gone, the empty spaces marked by the growing shadows blanketing the mountain.

  “Probably off taking care of some personal business, if you know what I mean,” said Logan.

  “Maybe, but it’s not like him to leave his bike on the truck without locking it.” Kendall fingered the open latch. “He’s paranoid, you know. He thinks everyone’s out to get him, and his stuff.”

  “At least all the pretty ladies,” teased Jody. She stifled a moan when Logan slipped his fingers beneath her shirt and tweaked her nipple. Kendall rolled her eyes. The man seemed insatiable, and didn’t seem to care where they were or who was watching them. Jody giggled, batting his hand away.

  Great, thought Kendall. I introduced them and now they’re the ones having all the sex. Some things just aren’t fair.

  Jody shifted as Logan made another attempt, focusing her attention back on Kendall. “I’m sure he’ll be along any moment. I think he was upset we placed fourth. I know he was hoping we’d qualify for the Championships this time around, and I don’t think finishing one spot short went over too well with him. Adventure racing is his passion.”

  “You mean obsession,” countered Kendall, turning toward the truck. Logan seemed determined to get his hand down Jody’s running tights and she wasn’t in the mood to be a spectator. She walked around to the driver’s door glad she’d convinced her brother to bring their truck instead of riding with their friends. Somehow Trace’s irritated attitude seemed more appealing than listening to Jody scream as Logan brought her to orgasm on the ride down. From the stories her friend had told her, the man was quite inventive. She chuckled, trying not to picture the scene, as she reached for the handle.

  “Hey, guys?” She pointed to the door when they joined her at the truck. “Please tell me those aren’t Trace’s keys in the lock.” She turned, suppressing the initial wave of fear knotting her stomach, as she searched the tree line. “Trace?”

  “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all this,” assured Logan.

  “Then why do you sound so anxious?” asked Kendall, glancing over at him. “Trace!” she yelled again, louder, more desperate. It wasn’t like Trace to run off. Not without telling her. She cupped her hands to her face just as Jody tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around, resisting the urge to scream. Blood pounded through her veins, her heart beating in sync with the heaving of her chest. “What?”

  Jody pointed inside the car, her hand trembling against the glass.

  Kendall looked through the window, a flash of panic tingling up her spine. She pulled the door open, drawn to the objects centered on the seat.

  “No,” she whispered, falling to her knees as she stared at a picture of her mother with Trace’s wallet layered on top, the leather soaked with blood.

  * * * *

  “There were over two hundred people at this insane race,” scolded Special Agent Dawson Cade. “Explain to me how no one managed to see anything. I mean, the guy was taken right here!” He waved his hand around the gravel lot. “It’s hardly a secluded area. And how do you steal a man like Trace Walker without there being any evidence of a struggle? The guy’s six feet tall, and two hundred pounds of muscle.”

  “I’m still not convinced the guy was stolen,” said the officer. “After all, the only thing we know for certain is that some of his blood didn’t go with him.”

  “Oh, he was taken,” said Dawson, staring into the truck. “And you can bet this is far from over.” He turned to the officer. “You said his sister and two friends found the wallet?�
��

  “That’s right. They said they were right behind him. Can’t imagine how he disappeared so fast.”

  “That’s easy. Someone was waiting.” He glanced back at the wallet. “Where are they?”

  “Over at my cruiser. The sister’s pretty upset. Something to do with the picture, I think. She wouldn’t say.” The cop looked back at him, one eyebrow raised in question. “You don’t think they’re involved, do you?”

  “I doubt it. But they know more about this than they’re saying, or at least more than they realize. The wallet was staged. Whoever took Trace Walker wanted them to find it. And they had to know the Bureau would get involved, so they don’t perceive us as much of a threat. That’s what we should be afraid of.”

  Dawson headed for the cruiser, his attention focused on the three people huddled around the open door. One of the women was leaning against the man’s chest. Lovers, he thought. He stopped just short of them. “I’m Special Agent Dawson Cade.”

  The man and woman stepped back. The other woman was sitting on the edge of the seat, staring at the ground. She had something in her lap. It looked like a small stuffed animal.

  “Which one of you is Kendall Walker?”

  The couple looked over at the woman in the car. He followed their gaze. “Ms. Walker?”

  She nodded, but didn’t speak.

  He stepped closer, kneeling down to her level. “I realize you must be upset right now, but if we’re going to find your brother, I need—”

  “You won’t find Trace,” she interrupted. “Not until that bastard wants you to. He’s too clever for that.”

  Dawson drew back, not sure he’d heard her right. “You sound like you know who took him.”

  “I do.”

  “Who?”

  “Not here.” She looked around at the encroaching forest. “Take me home.”

  Dawson frowned. Shock or insanity? It was a fine line and he wasn’t certain which side the woman was edging toward. “If you’d just give me a name, I could spare you a lot of inane questions. At least for today.”

  Finally she looked at him, fire burning behind her pale eyes. “His name won’t do you any good, not by itself. And I don’t have the resources to explain myself here. Now either take me home, or keep looking for clues you aren’t going to find.” She stood up, clutching the small object in her hands. “He’s not trying to hide his identity from you. I wouldn’t be surprised if his prints weren’t all over the keys and wallet. He wants you to know his name. There’s no power in that.”

  “So why not tell me now?” challenged Dawson.

  “Because you need more, and I can’t give you that here.” She pushed past him and headed for a blue jeep parked near the trail. “Yours is the Cherokee, right?” She didn’t wait, but walked straight to his car, seating herself in the front.

  Dawson cursed and turned to the others. “Are you coming too?”

  “I don’t think Kendall wants us there. Not yet. And we already gave a statement. We just didn’t want to leave her here alone.” Logan handed him a business card. “Here’s my number. We’ll both be there. Call us when she needs us.”

  Dawson nodded. He didn’t like being played, and right now he felt like his grandpa’s fiddle. “You can count on it.” He turned, then paused. “I don’t suppose I have to tell you two not to leave town?” He looked at them over his shoulder. Jody nodded as Logan pulled her tight to his chest. “I didn’t think so.” He walked over to his jeep, slamming the door shut. “Where to?”

  “Just head down the mountain,” said Kendall, “and we’ll go from there.”

  ****

  Kendall hadn’t spoken since they’d pulled off the main highway and onto an obscure road below the hills.

  “I assume you’ll tell me when we’re getting close?” Dawson finally said.

  “Just keep going. When the road stops, we’ll be there.” She didn’t bother to look at him, but continued to stare out the window.

  “The vineyard?”

  “The house.”

  “I thought your family made wine?”

  “Trace makes the wine, not me,” she answered.

  “And what do you do?”

  “Make sure all the bills get paid. Trace is very talented, but he can’t balance a cheque book to save his life, let alone keep the business running.” She turned to look at him, “But you know that. I suspect you know a lot about me, or at least my family.” He didn’t hide his smile. “The F.B.I. reacted faster than I thought they would. They seem to have a knack for being extremely motivated after the emergency.”

  “You don’t regard my occupation very highly, do you?”

  “It’s not you personally. I just don’t think your agency will be very helpful.” She turned back toward the window, adding, “you don’t know Garrick.”

  “Garrick? So that’s his name. I thought you weren’t going to tell me until we reached your estate?”

  “It’s not an estate, at least not in the way you’re thinking. And I already told you. His name won’t give you any power.”

  “But it might give me some answers.”

  She shot him a knowing look. “Not the ones you want.”

  He looked down at her lap, motioning to the stuffed animal tucked against her leg. “What is that?”

  “A dragon. I take it to every race. It’s my good luck charm.” She clenched her jaw, holding back a stab of pain. She met his stare. “I guess it didn’t work today.” She motioned to a large driveway near the end of the road. “Turn left. You’ll have to stop at the gate.”

  Dawson turned the car, stopping it several feet up the driveway where a tall iron gate blocked the way. He lowered his window, flashing his badge at the guard in the booth. The man scrutinized it, glancing past him at Kendall. He nodded. The gates creaked, pulling apart an inch at a time. Dawson edged ahead, skimming the jeep through. He eased up the winding driveway and rolled to a halt, staring at the house off to his left. It was a traditional Tudor building, complemented by a mixture of wood and stone, all in varying shades of grey. The lawn was immaculate, and there were pockets of colored flowers dotting the yard. It was attractive, stunning in fact, but cold.

  “Are you going to come inside, or just stare at the outside?”

  Dawson looked back at her. “I was just waiting for an invitation.”

  “Nice try, Dawson, but I know you’ll come in whether I invite you or not.” She jumped out and made for the door. She took the stairs two at a time, not bothering to check if he was following. She knew he would. It was his job.

  She walked through the door and headed straight down the hall toward the back of the house. Her pace never slowed, and she heard Dawson curse as he tried to keep up with her.

  “Where’s the fire?” he asked, almost colliding with her when she stopped and changed direction.

  “We don’t have much time.”

  “Much time before what?”

  The phone rang.

  She held her breath, not daring to believe it was happening already. She turned to Dawson. “That’s him.”

  “Garrick? But how?” He swore. “Answer it. And try to keep him talking.”

  Dawson was on his cell, talking to God knows who. The Bureau, she thought, stepping over to the phone. She swallowed, calming the pounding in her chest as she picked it up, cradling the receiver in her hand.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Kendall. How are you?”

  His voice was dark and familiar, and she nearly heaved at the sound of it. “Where is he?” she demanded, stomping her foot as he chuckled into the phone.

  “Now, now, Kendall, is that all you have to say? No, ‘I’m fine and how are you’?”

  “Cut the crap, Garrick, and just tell me where he is.”

  “You know that’s not how the game’s played. Your father taught you better than that.”

  “My father’s dead, so why don’t you stop this madness and just tell me where Trace is?”

  “Oh, he’s f
ine. He’s here with me. We’re getting…reacquainted. After all, it’s been a long time since we’ve spent any quality time together. I was hoping to revisit all of our happy memories.”

  She could hear the smugness in his voice, the pleasure of being in control. “I can’t recall any pleasant memories of you, Garrick. You’re nothing more than a coward. A coward who has spent thirty years trying to take his revenge on people who had nothing to do with what happened. I told you, my father’s dead. Isn’t that enough for you?”

  “You already know the answer to that question. And your father took much more from me than you know.” He paused, breathing into the phone. “Who’s there with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The agent who drove you home. Is he there with you now?”

  Kendall looked up at Dawson. He was hovering beside her, his ear caressing hers, as he listened to the conversation. He shook his head, circling his finger in the air as he pointed to the stairs. “No, he’s checking out the rest of the house,” she lied, drawing strength from the wide smile Dawson flashed her. “He was afraid you might be waiting for me.”

  “Good, then we have a chance to talk.”

  “Just tell me what you want.”

  “You already know what I want. I want you.”

  “Then why did you take Trace? If it’s me you want, then come and get me.”

  “There wouldn’t be any fun in that. You know it’s all about the hunt. Besides, I’ve discovered people are much more obliging when they’re tempted with the perfect motivation.” Garrick paused again, as if counting the seconds. “It took some time to discover yours. You don’t have many people involved in your life, do you?”

  “Now you know why.” She took a deep breath. She had to stay in control, keep her voice calm and unemotional. If Garrick believed he’d broken her, she’d never see Trace again. She jumped when Dawson’s hand touched hers, drawing her attention to some words he’d scribbled across a small piece of paper. She nodded, reciting the line. “What kind of hunt do you propose?”