Taken - Before her very Eyes

by Faubert, Wade

  “Maybe we should deliver it in person and watch the excitement ourselves?”

  They came to the end of the road and Gavin reached for the unit, taking it from Dean’s hand. “Looks like a right turn then a left up ahead.”

  “Is Summer still in the same location?”

  “Yeah, looks like it.”

  “Maybe it’s the drop spot?” Dean said, straining to return to the sitting position. He stared over at the half brother he’d barely known, even though they’d grown up in the same dysfunctional house.

  “You know what,” Dean said, feeling the seriousness of the situation seeping back in. “I’ve been thinking these last few months, that if Summer ever got over what happened to her, that I’d sell the business and move across the country for a fresh start.”

  “And leave me all alone in this fucking place?”

  “Seriously, if Summer ever came to her senses and I got her back, how could we stay? How could I risk her falling back into the way she is now? The best thing for her would be a nice clean slate to start with. Maybe she could get a different job—something behind a desk. Something nice and safe.”

  Gavin gave a long stare then shook his head. “Here I thought you were the smarter one of us. If Summer does pull through this shit the last thing she’s gonna want is to be strapped to a desk, locked inside a building for eight hours a day. She’s always been a fighter and she’ll want nothing more than to get right back into the mix and throw her punches.”

  Gavin hesitated before continuing. “You remember how messed up I was after she arrested me.”

  Dean nodded. “You looked like the guards had just done a number on you with their nightsticks.”

  “I never told you this before, but those marks weren’t from any stick or even from her bodyguard, Nate. She kicked the living shit out of me the night I got busted. I resisted and she literally beat the fucking crap out of me.”

  Dean couldn’t believe it. Gavin had never acknowledged the physical abuse during his trial. He refused to accuse anybody of police brutality and suddenly Dean understood. “That’s why you wouldn’t go along with your lawyer’s motion to press for police brutality.” An uncontrollable grin filled his face. “You couldn’t admit that such a petite woman had kicked your ass so badly that you found your front teeth two days later in the shitter.”

  Gavin’s face was burning red with embarrassment. “I guess I did deserve the ass kicking.” Gavin swallowed the lump in his throat and flexed his hands. “I underestimated her. I looked at her size and that pretty face and I thought she was only on the force for PR work, so I took a swing at her and that’s the last thing I remember until I came to in the hospital.”

  “Wow,” Dean said. “I’m glad she never lost her temper around me.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure she has a rule about beating up pussies.”

  Dean started to protest, but realized that he wasn’t the most macho person in the world. He did have more looks than brawn and thankfully that was what attracted Summer to him.

  “You’re right,” Dean said, flipping his long curls back and giving Gavin his big white smile. “I’ll take the looks, cause it’s easier than getting women with muscle.”

  “But,” Gavin flexed his biceps. “You’ve gotta have the muscle to keep the women.”

  Chapter 17

  “Nate!” Summer screamed, jumping from the car and rushing out the doorway to the muddy field where the cruiser was sinking. She glanced back, seeing the truck with Sabrina inside, turning around on the laneway. She could see her tiny head twisting over the seat, gazing out the rear window.

  Summer jumped from the laneway into the thick mud and struggled to make her way toward the car. The way the car had jumped off the road, she expected to see Nate’s head exploded like John Scott’s had been. She hurried through the mud to the side of the cruiser and gave a quick prayer when she saw Nate moving behind the wheel. Blood covered the back of the seat and tiny fragments of glass stuck in the wet fabric of his shirt. The bullet appeared to rip straight through his left shoulder, lodging into the seat backing. Nate was lucky. The kidnapper missed his shot, or maybe felt a little kind hearted.

  “Are you all right?” Summer pulled his shoulder forward checking the wound.

  “Fine.” Nate bit his lip, grimacing in pain. “Just a little hole. N—Nothing serious. Did he drop Sabrina?”

  “No.”

  Nate tried to open the door, but Summer held him back against the seat. “W—What are you waiting for? Go get her!”

  Summer turned and watched the truck disappear over the hill. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “I’m fine!” Nate knocked her hand away and turned his head, gazing at the hole in his shoulder. “I’ll call for an ambulance and backup.”

  Summer took a step backwards then stopped in her tracks. “No backup. I can handle this.”

  Nate raised one eyebrow. “You sure?”

  Nodding, Summer trudged through the mud, back to the Malibu before realizing that she’d dropped the keys out the hole, along with the money. Cursing, she ran to the back wall, stuck her arm through the hole and struggled to find the keys. They were there somewhere, they had to be. She felt the cold canvas bag but the keys were nowhere to be found.

  “Damn it, I know he didn’t have time to grab the keys before leaving.” Summer stood on her tiptoes and peered through the gap in the boards. She lifted the bag carefully, praying that the keys wouldn’t fall to the ground. And once the bag was off the wooden crate, she saw the glint of metal balanced on the end slat of the crate. Carefully Summer lifted the bag through the hole and dropped it to the ground, then reached out through the hole, her fingers inches away from the keys.

  Summer glanced to the service laneway as her chest began tightening. She drew a cleansing breath, stepped onto the bag of money and heard a small popping sound as she stretched with everything she had, ignoring the pain in her arm as the slivers dug deeper and deeper into her flesh. Once her fingers touched the cold metal of the key ring, she hooked her finger through the hole and lifted them back inside.

  One deep breath, then Summer snatched the bag of money and jumped behind the wheel. Blood from the gashes trickled down her arm, landing on the console. She ignored the stain and turned the key, bringing the car roaring to life. Summer slammed it in reverse and raced backwards. The Malibu hit the rut at the entrance of the barn, sending it bouncing to the side and smashing into the half open door, which shattered into pieces on top of Nate’s car.

  Once she was clear of the debris, she floored the pedal and the tires spun, flinging mud ten feet in the air as she made her way around the barn, careful not to slide down into the deep muddy field. She took a quick glance back at Nate and felt relieved that he was busy talking on the radio.

  Hitting the top of the hill, she scanned the countryside for the truck and watched as it disappeared out of sight, down on the main roadway at the end of the service lane. She knew she had to keep close. She couldn’t afford to let him get a huge lead otherwise Sabrina’s life may be in jeopardy. If only Nate would’ve listened and stayed back at the farm house like he’d promised, then Sabrina would be sitting right beside her.

  She pushed the Malibu harder than she normally would’ve, given the condition of the laneway. The car wasn’t made for off-roading in the countryside, but it seemed to be holding its own just the same. The rutted, pitted laneway appeared to have been abused for years by large tractors, making it difficult to navigate the course.

  It looked like he’d chosen this drop location after careful consideration. Even if someone tried to follow him, there was little chance of the police cars making good time following him across the countryside. The big truck tires were definitely designed for this type of environment.

  Summer remembered the tire prints that were at the farm house. They belonged to a smaller vehicle, not a large truck. And the pattern, it was definitely different. There was no way he was driving this truck earlier
, so where was he getting the vehicles from? He could be stealing them, she supposed, but why take a chance when you’ve already got the cops scouring the countryside for you. Maybe whoever the kidnapper was working for had set him up with the hiding place and the vehicles?

  The car bounced wildly, the undercarriage coming crashing down on the roadway, bringing a jarring pain ripping through her head as it smashed against the head rest. Summer cranked the wheel, fighting to keep the car from bouncing off the lane into the death trap of mud as she approached the smooth paved road fifty feet away.

  She could feel the anxiety building, just imagining how fast she could go once she reached that roadway. The left tire spun as the car sank deeper into the rut at the side of the lane, pulling her ever so close to the smooth pool of mud soup. Summer cranked the wheel toward the side of the road and instead of fighting the rut, she turned into it, gaining speed until she was dangerously close to sudden death, then cranked the wheel slightly and floored the pedal. The wheels grabbed, then spun as the muffler scrapped on the mixture of gravel and rocks beneath.

  “Shit!” The car was slowing, being dragged down by the exhaust. She heard the sound of metal tearing apart and a second later the rear of the car flew up, catapulting over the muffler that had been ripped right from the vehicle, sending the car over it like a pole vaulter making the most important jump of his career.

  The car came crashing down, bouncing a few times as the tires took advantage of the lack of friction and sent the car screaming up the rut, toward the blessed asphalt. With the muffler gone, the car roared down the final stretch sounding like a stock car on a Saturday night.

  “Sorry, Nate,” Summer muttered as the front wheels grabbed the welcomed flat surface, pulling the car easily from the muddy gravel that had helped give the kidnapper such a huge lead. She sped down the road, mud flinging from the tires as the last of the gravel pounded the wheel wells, challenging the roar of the open exhaust. She knew there was no way of sneaking up on the kidnapper now. Not with this thing screaming for miles away.

  With the pedal pressed against the floor, Summer gripped the steering wheel so tight there was no way her hands could twitch. The roar of the engine was so loud, she doubted she’d be able to hear the phone ringing if the kidnapper called, so she tucked it under her leg, praying that it would vibrate and she’d get another chance to save Sabrina.

  The road ended up ahead, splitting in two directions, one back toward the highway and the other down toward the cliff surrounding the lake. Summer had driven along the lake a few times, enough to know there were plenty of hiding places along the cliffs. Houses were built, perched on the ridge, overlooking the expanse of water, while others found their seclusion building their homes down in the valleys, hiding from view of passersby. He could be in any one of these homes, seeing how most were now empty with the approach of winter.

  Summer turned left, down toward the lake, hoping she was using the same logic as the kidnapper. She had to stop thinking like a cop—or a mother—and start thinking like him.

  “He needs a place to hide,” Summer muttered. “And where better than in the valleys, along the lake.”

  The changing landscape blurred past in a rush of fall colours as the flat farm land began slowly rolling down toward the lake front. She glanced at the map, following her current course until the road she was travelling ended at the Talbot Trail Road, which ran along the edge of the lake.

  Most of the homes were located along this stretch of road, allowing easy access to the city, but there were a few side streets that jogged down the steep cliff toward the water’s edge. The houses on these streets were hidden from the view of the roadway, secluded from the rest of the world, making them the perfect hideout for the kidnapper. The only problem was there were so many side streets and homes, not to mention tiny boathouses along the water, plus tiny shacks everywhere that he might be held up in.

  When the road ended at Talbot Trail, Summer sat for a second, glad that the roar of the exhaust had subsided temporarily as she gazed out over the cliff, across the seemingly endless body of water before her. It looked so beautiful as the sun glistened off the surface and she remembered how much Sabrina loved going to the beach. She loved building castles and playing in the breaking waves as they crashed ashore, and today the waves were crashing, easily eight feet high, dangerous for anyone playing in them.

  Summer hopped out, limped before the car and examined the pavement, hoping for a sign. Maybe there was a minute drop of mud from the truck’s tires as he rounded the corner, knocked free from the sideway’s force of the turn, which would indicate the direction he’d gone? But finding no sign, she stepped onto the quiet highway, glancing in both directions, looking for a clue, but finding nothing.

  “Damn it!” Summer screamed at the top of her lungs.

  The ringing of the phone barely made it over the rumble of the exhaust, sending Summer running to the car and grabbing for the phone. “Where the hell are you!”

  “Right where you left me,” Nate said. “Waiting for an ambulance.”

  “Nate?” Summer leaned against the car. Her legs were weak and tired all of a sudden. “I can’t talk to you. I can’t tie up the phone.”

  “The l—lab called. They found the prints. Matched them to Percy Campbell.” Nate paused for a second. “Stephens and Malroy are headed for his place right now.”

  “Any chance it’s down by the lake?”

  “No, just on the outskirts of Chatham… Summer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Be careful. He’s done time at Fenbrook for drug and gun possession. We know he’s armed and dangerous so if you find him, please wait for backup. I can’t stand the thought of losing you again.”

  Summer could hear the wail of the ambulance siren in the background and it brought a feeling of relief, knowing that Nate would be all right now that help was arriving. “Nate, see if Percy has any ties to the lake. See if he owns any property down here.”

  “Don’t worry, I—I’ll get Stephens to check it out.”

  “If he finds anything, I want to be the first to know.”

  “Fine.”

  “Nate?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Be nice to the paramedics and try not to be such an ass.” Summer closed the phone and climbed back inside the car. She turned left, seeing the fingers of land creeping out to the lake and guessed the lower lands would be of more interest to the kidnapper than the high cliffs.

  Each house she passed, she slowed, searching for fresh tire prints in the soft gravel leading up to the homes. The early morning rain was helpful, giving a tiny shred of hope at finding tracks that normally wouldn’t be there, but snow, a light dusting of snow would be a saviour right now. But alas, luck seemed like something of the past. Something restricted from her life for good.

  The road dipped down suddenly, rounding to the right, heading back toward the water. Summer squinted at the approaching dirt lane up ahead on the right. It was pitted and cratered with mud puddles and Summer felt a brief surge of excitement at seeing the glistening wet ring around the puddles. She pulled off to the side of the road, careful not to disturb the water and opened her door.

  There was definite wetness surrounding the puddle, a dead giveaway that someone had disturbed the liquid not long ago, and seeing how traffic was all but dead this morning, she knew there was a good chance the kidnapper had come this way. She glanced down the dirt laneway, eyeing the thick overgrowth of trees and bushes as the land neared the open water of the lake, knowing that he could be hiding behind any one of these bushes with his rifle trained on her head.

  Summer drove slow, keeping the rumble of the exhaust to a minimum as she scanned every worn, decrepit shack she passed. Any of these would make a perfect hiding place. They were in such disrepair that nobody would come looking inside. She hoped that Sabrina had been kept warm and safe, even if she was being held captive.

  Creeping along, Summer saw how far the huge waves were breaking o
n the land, coming closer and closer to the laneway as the wind began intensifying off the lake. As she turned the corner, she saw the fresh tire tracks heading to the first liveable home up ahead and pulled to the soft shoulder, then killed the engine. The tire tracks led straight inside the single car garage, but the door was closed, keeping the vehicle’s identity a secret.

  Cautiously, Summer climbed from the car, reaching for her gun as she went. She knew she wasn’t authorized to have a weapon until she was reinstated, but she didn’t care. He was armed and definitely dangerous, and she wasn’t stupid.

  Stepping into the thick of the brush, Summer slowly made her way to the front corner of the garage, careful not to expose herself to the house. The garage door was closed and after reaching around and pulling on the handle with everything she had, she determined that it was also locked.

  “Shit!” She tiptoed back around the side of the garage, peering in the backyard at the waves which were crashing against the retaining wall, splashing plumes of water high into the air, soaking the entire weed choked lawn.

  There wasn’t any sign of the kidnapper or of Sabrina in the windows, but somehow she didn’t think they’d be sitting in the window, watching the waves crashing out back. He’d be busy formulating a plan or he’d be disposing—

  Summer drew a deep breath, holding it as she darted across the slippery lawn until she was standing, pressed tightly against the house, beside the patio doors. As she peered around the frame, movement in the far corner of the room caught her eye. She froze, feeling her hand begin to shake. What if it was him? What if he was standing right inside that room? Could she pull the trigger? Could she gun him down right there before her daughter’s eyes?

  Summer shook her head.

  She had to do it. She had no other choice but to eliminate him from the picture. Taking a second glance, she saw exactly what it was she’d seen. The black cat cautiously crept to the side of the door, curious to see who was outside the glass wall. Summer felt relieved, but silly at being caught off guard by the animal. She tensed when she heard the footsteps inside, moving toward the cat—and the door. They were heavy footfalls, not that of a child. Summer prepared herself to step to the side and take aim at the bastard’s head and, if he so much as flinched, pull the trigger.