Anywhere She Runs

by Webb, Debra

  Stay away from your kin, Detective. You can’t trust him.

  Adeline stole a glance at her cousin.

  A lump of dread settled in her gut.

  She knew better than to trust him . . . no matter the excuses he gave or the assurances he offered.

  Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

  But she couldn’t ignore the possibility that he might be telling the truth. Or that Nichols had been talking about Jamison.

  Either way, she hoped like hell she wasn’t going to have to be responsible for the death of Cyrus’s only other son.

  And if she survived this . . . Wyatt was going to kill her.

  The important thing here was saving Cherry Prescott and Penny Arnold . . . and if Adeline was really lucky, Danny Jamison.

  Maybe, just maybe, Wyatt would recognize then that Adeline could take care of herself.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Laurel, 11:20 P.M.

  It was past Danny’s bedtime. He was sleepy. He rubbed his eyes. He never stayed up this late.

  He wished his daddy would come back.

  Danny cuddled up to the new puppy his daddy had given him. He’d opened all the presents his mom had hidden for him and the ones Santa had left.

  Danny smiled. He’d got lots of good stuff. But the puppy was the best. He couldn’t wait to show his puppy to his friends.

  He frowned. He might not get to do that. His dad had said they would have to leave Laurel or the police would never stop bothering him. Danny’s grandma and grandpa had poisoned their minds. He didn’t know what that meant exactly except that it was bad. His daddy said Danny would make new friends.

  Danny was glad to be back in his own bed. His daddy had said no one would come looking for him here. But Danny had to stay in his room and he couldn’t turn on any lights except his little flashlight. The windows were covered with blankets just to make sure no light got out if he forgot. The police might drive by or something.

  There was food and water for the puppy. Food and water for Danny. And all the presents. His dad had even brought a bucket to the room and said that Danny should pee-pee in it. He wasn’t to leave his room for anything.

  Danny smiled again. That meant he didn’t have to take a bath!

  Wouldn’t be for long, though. His daddy was coming for him before the sun was up in the morning, he’d said. They would pick up his mommy and then they would go far away. Danny got to pick the place.

  He liked that.

  His mommy would be glad to be out of the hospital. She still didn’t talk, but his daddy said that she would talk as soon as all the lies stopped being whispered in her ears.

  One thing was for sure, she would make Danny take a bath.

  A loud creak made Danny’s eyes get big. He made a sound in his mouth . . . the same kind he made when he watched a movie and something happened that he wasn’t expecting.

  He hugged his puppy tighter. It whimpered.

  Danny sat up. Maybe his daddy had come back early.

  He scooted out of bed and went to the door. His hand stilled on the knob. His daddy had said not to leave the room.

  But if his daddy was here it would be okay.

  Danny turned the knob and opened the door enough to stick his head out. He listened for the sound of his daddy coming up the stairs.

  The house was quiet.

  And dark.

  Danny shivered. He didn’t like being here alone.

  His puppy jumped off the bed and ran over to him. Danny reached down to pick him up but he ran out the door.

  “Puppy! Stop!” He still had to decide on a name for his puppy. “Come back!” The puppy just kept going.

  Danny ran to his bed and got his flashlight. He couldn’t let the puppy run around the house by himself. He might get into something.

  “Puppy!” Danny could hear him yapping. He followed the sound down the stairs.

  His daddy had made him keep his eyes closed when he brought him inside the house. He’d kept his eyes closed all the way to his room. That’s where Santa had left his presents.

  The living room was a mess. Broken glass was on the floor. Stuff was turned upside down. What was that big red spot on the floor?

  He remembered his daddy had ketchup on his face that night. Boy, he’d made a big mess. Danny’s mom wouldn’t like that. But they were moving anyway. Didn’t matter. The next people who lived here could clean up the mess.

  Danny found his puppy in the kitchen. “You silly puppy.” He stepped in something wet. “Ooo. Bad puppy.” His dad said he’d have to learn the puppy to go potty outside.

  Danny picked up his puppy and turned to go back to his room. The beam of his flashlight landed on the door to the basement. It was open.

  Was his daddy down there? Maybe he had come home.

  Danny went to the door and peeked down the stairs. “Daddy?”

  No answer. It was quiet down there.

  “Daddy!”

  The puppy scrambled out of his arms. Danny tried to grab him but he was tumbling down the stairs before Danny could catch him. He yelped and whimpered.

  “Puppy!” He hurried down the stairs. If the puppy was hurt . . . what would he do?

  He finally reached the bottom step and scooped up the whimpering puppy. “You’re being a bad boy.” His daddy said boy puppies were the best.

  The puppy snuggled against him, reached up, and licked his face. Danny giggled. Maybe he’d forgive him for being bad this time.

  Danny started to go back up the stairs but something out of place made him look again. His daddy always kept the basement perfectly clean, just like his mommy kept the house. His daddy didn’t like messes. He was probably mad he’d spilled all that ketchup.

  Rocks were piled up.

  Danny hugged his puppy tighter. “How did those get there, boy?”

  Had someone been in their house while they were gone? Boy, his dad would be mad about this!

  Danny looked around some more, moving the beam of his flashlight over the basement floor.

  He made that scared sound in his mouth again. He walked closer to the pile of rocks, looked down at the big hole. He shined his flashlight around the whole thing.

  It looked like . . . like a grave.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Wyatt stepped out of the shower. He’d stood under the hot water until it went cold. Damn, he felt better.

  He scrubbed the towel over his body. His cell phone vibrated, trembled against the counter.

  A call at this time of night was never good.

  He picked up the phone. Womack’s name was displayed on the screen. “Henderson.”

  “You need to let me in.”

  “What?” Womack was here? Shit. That definitely couldn’t be good. “I just got out of the shower. Let me get some clothes—”

  He froze in the doorway between the bathroom and his bedroom.

  The bed was empty.

  No Addy.

  “Wyatt, open your door.”

  Fear abruptly released him. He rushed to the bed. Lifted the covers as if his eyes had betrayed him.

  She wasn’t there.

  “Addy!” he shouted as he moved down the hall.

  “Wyatt,” Womack shouted in his ear. “She’s not here. Open the damned door!”

  Wyatt stalled halfway to the living room, his deputy’s words filtering past the panic. “What do you mean, she’s not here?”

  “Wyatt, open the door. I’ll explain everything.”

  He was at the door three seconds later. He unlocked it and jerked it open. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded. “Where’s Addy?”

  Damn it. She wasn’t supposed to get out of his sight. She was likely pissed at him now that he’d admitted the motive for his decision nine years ago.

  Womack looked him up and down. “You probably want to put some clothes on. Then we’ll go find her.”

  Wyatt stalked back to his bedroom and tugged on his discarded jeans and shirt. He grabbed his
socks and boots while he was at it. She was gone. Had she contacted Womack? How the hell had this happened?

  He hurried back into the living room. “Where is she?” Womack had to know something, otherwise he wouldn’t have showed up here like this.

  “She called me about fifteen minutes ago. Said she got a message from the perp.” He opened his phone and showed the forwarded message to Wyatt.

  “Goddammit!” He went for his keys. They weren’t on the table by the door where he normally kept them. “Did she take my SUV?”

  “No, your SUV is out there. She wanted ten minutes head start,” Womack explained. “She’s already got that and more. We need to get going.”

  She’d sneaked out of here. Taken his keys so he couldn’t follow her until Womack arrived. What the hell was she thinking?

  Where the hell was his spare set of keys?

  “Wyatt,” Womack urged, “let’s go. I’ve already called Sullenger and Guthrie. They’re meeting us at the rendezvous location.”

  This was real. Addy was out there somewhere. Wyatt had failed to keep a close enough watch on her.

  Ten minutes later they were at the turnoff to the area where they had set up the command post earlier today to launch the search.

  Sullenger’s Civic was there. She and Guthrie stood in the middle of the main road.

  Womack eased to the side of the road. He’d been too damned quiet on the drive here.

  Wyatt hadn’t said much, either. Fear had put a choke-hold on him and he couldn’t shake it.

  This bastard had killed three people, including Addy’s mom, possibly more.

  Wyatt needed Addy to be safe.

  He was out of the car before Womack braked to a complete stop. “Where’s Addy?” he demanded of the two deputies staring at him.

  “She’s not here.” Sullenger was the first to answer. “No sign of her Bronco.” She hitched a thumb up the road. “We did find a truck pulled off the road about thirty yards that way.”

  “It’s Clay Cooper’s truck,” Guthrie explained. “I didn’t have to run the plates. I know his vehicle.”

  Silence fell over the four of them. Wyatt told himself that the possibility of Adeline’s being with Clay wasn’t nearly so fucking scary as the idea of her with Jamison. But something didn’t feel right.

  “Did anyone call old man Cooper to find out if his son was at home?”

  Sullenger and Guthrie exchanged a look.

  “What?” Wyatt demanded.

  “He’s not at home. Or any of his usual hangouts,” Sullenger explained. “We called around as soon as we recognized the truck was his.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Wyatt braced his hands on his hips and turned all the way around in the road. There was nothing out here. Fucking woods and water. They had searched most of this area already.

  But she’d been here tonight . . . or at least she’d been headed here.

  “We need to talk,” Womack said to Wyatt.

  Wyatt turned to Womack. Judging by the look on the man’s face, things were going to get worse.

  “Give us some space,” Wyatt instructed the other two.

  Sullenger and Guthrie walked over to her Civic and leaned against it, looking less than comfortable.

  “What the hell’s going on, Womack?”

  “It’s my son.” Womack blew out a heavy breath. “He got into some trouble with drugs.” The deputy turned his face away as if he couldn’t bear to look Wyatt in the eye now. “I’d already spent every dime I had in savings trying to get him rehabilitated.”

  Wyatt was aware that the man’s son had been to rehab a couple of times, but he’d had no idea the trouble had started again. More importantly, why was he telling Wyatt this now?

  Womack shrugged. “I was desperate to help him. Clay said he could help. He knew the thug my boy had gotten involved with. Had some influence. He could make it right.”

  Tension coiled around Wyatt’s chest. “What did it cost you?”

  “For a long time, nothing.” Womack met his gaze. “But he never failed to remind me that there would come a day when he would need a favor from me. And that if I didn’t pay up when that time came, my boy would end up facedown in a river somewhere. Clay said all he had to do was give the word and the trouble would be back at my door.”

  Wyatt couldn’t speak. If he said a word, he would blast the man. He had to hear him out first. Keep him talking until he knew everything.

  “When that crazy bastard tried to kill his wife, I got a call from one of my buddies up in Laurel.”

  “Are you talking about Jamison?” A band tightened around Wyatt’s chest.

  Womack nodded. “There was a picture found in Jamison’s car. The kind you print off the Internet from articles you’ve Googled. Stuff like that.”

  “What picture?” Wyatt didn’t recall hearing anything about any pictures.

  “A picture of Addy.”

  Rage roared inside Wyatt. “And you kept this information from the investigation?” Keeping his hands at his waist and off Womack’s throat took every ounce of willpower he possessed.

  “There were dates written on the page. Address. Occupation. Indications that Addy was adopted. Stuff like that. Apparently Jamison had been researching Addy for some reason. But it wasn’t relevant to the case . . . to what he’d done to his wife.”

  “What did you do with this information?” Wyatt demanded, his jaw clenched so hard he could hardly utter the words.

  “My buddy in Laurel recognized Addy and gave me a call. I convinced him that this was sensitive information and that maybe we should keep it between the two of us and that I would handle it. Like I said, it didn’t appear to have anything to do with what the bastard had done to his wife.”

  Womack shrugged. “I figured Clay would be more than glad to get his hands on this information. I didn’t see how it could hurt anything. Addy was long gone from here anyway. And Clay would like nothing better than to figure out a way to prove she wasn’t a legitimate heir so he did all the inheriting. I’d heard him talk that shit before. I was convinced it couldn’t hurt anything, but it could help . . . save my son. I’d give the info to Clay and my son would be off the hook.”

  Wyatt restrained the urge to beat the hell out of the guy. “But then Addy showed up here with info on the Prescott case,” Wyatt suggested, his blood boiling in his veins. “That made you a little nervous, didn’t it?”

  Womack didn’t answer at first. Just stood there looking like the dog he was. “Yeah, it made me start thinking, but there wasn’t any connection. Seemed like a coincidence that she showed up not long after the photo was found in Laurel.”

  “Then Arnold went missing and you started to think maybe this wasn’t a coincidence.” The idea that a man with this many years in law enforcement would do such a thing sickened Wyatt. What the hell had he been thinking?

  “It wasn’t until you called from Jones County and confirmed Jamison was the one behind these abductions that I knew for sure. I begged Clay to let it go. To leave Addy alone,” Womack admitted, then shook his head. “Her momma’s dead. And she don’t need no more bullshit. But he wouldn’t listen.”

  Wyatt stilled. “What do you mean, you told him to leave Addy alone?”

  Womack plowed a hand through his hair. “He was the one who slashed her tires. He slashed her clothes and left that message on the motel room mirror.” He gestured to the road. “Evidently, he’s still got a plan to have his revenge.”

  Revenge. Jesus Christ. “Do you have any idea what he’s planning to do?” Fear ignited deep in Wyatt’s arteries.

  Womack shook his head. “He just said it was a joke. A way to fuck with her head and get his revenge for what she did to his brother. He swore it had nothing to do with the missing women. That’s all he told me.”

  “I can’t believe you’re scared of that piece of shit?” Wyatt shook his head. “That’s pretty fucking pathetic, Deputy.”

  “When you have a son,” Womack challenged, “you’ll un
derstand.”

  Wyatt wanted to kill him, but right now he needed him too badly. “One more question, how did Clay know about the letters? The kind of paper? Glue? How did he learn those details?” Wyatt already knew the answer, he just wanted to hear the man say it out loud.

  Womack looked away.

  “Deputy Sullenger.” Wyatt glared at Womack. “Read Deputy Womack his rights and put him in lockup.”

  Sullenger looked less than happy about the assignment but she said, “Yes, sir.”

  “Guthrie,” Wyatt said to his other deputy, “I want you to get the whole department out of bed. I want everyone here in twenty minutes. Call Chief Parker and get his people here, too. We’re going to find Addy and that piece-of-shit cousin of hers.”

  Guthrie pulled out his cell and started making calls.

  “Wyatt, wait,” Womack said even as Sullenger took him by the arm. “I can help.”

  Wyatt was so pissed off and disgusted with the man he was lucky he hadn’t beaten the crap out of him right here. “What the hell can you do?”

  “I know a lot of Clay’s friends and . . .”—he shrugged—“contacts. Let me check around and see if any of ’em have some ideas on where he might take Addy.” Womack jerked his head in the direction of Clay’s truck. “If he asked her to meet him here, they can’t be that far from where he left his truck. Chances are, when he’s finished with . . . whatever . . . he’s planning on coming back for it.”

  That was the first thing Wyatt should have considered. This was way too personal for him . . . he wasn’t on his toes. And Addy needed him to do this right. “All right.” To Sullenger he said, “Don’t let him out of your sight.”

  Sullenger nodded.

  Wyatt closed his eyes and prayed for Addy’s safety.

  Whatever Clay was up to, surely he wouldn’t kill her. He was a dirtbag, that was for certain. But Wyatt wasn’t sure he was capable of killing anyone.

  The old man, now that was a different story. He might just be capable of anything, despite the good deed he’d done for Addy’s mother all those years ago.

  Addy. His body ached with agony. Wyatt refused to even entertain the notion of losing her again.