“Why ‒”
“You can’t use it,” he said. “I can be tracked, if not by the GPS, then by which cell tower the phone uses.”
He grabbed her purse, riffled through it and then set it on the floor between them.
Alyssa slouched in the seat and kept silent.
***
Miles of Interstate raced by while Alyssa tried to make sense of her situation. Escape was foremost in her mind, but opportunity was lacking.
At the Alger exit, Nick turned off I-75.
“Where are we going?” Alyssa said. Bella wriggled and meowed, and Alyssa loosened her grip on the cat. She bounded to the back of the van.
“Rest stop,” he said. “I need gas and some supplies.”
Alyssa remained silent.
Nick pulled into a gas station with a general store. He stopped at a pump, switched off the vehicle and turned to Alyssa. He studied her a moment. “Whoever those two were who tranquilized your friend, they’re looking for me, and I don’t know who’s on which side, so I have to be careful. You wait while I pump the gas. Then we’ll use the facilities and I’ll grab some snacks and supplies.”
“Why don’t I just go to the ladies’ room and meet you in the store?”
“Just do it my way. Stay put.”
Alyssa glared at him.
He grabbed the messenger bag on the floor by his feet. He pulled out a cell phone, which he stowed in his shirt pocket, and a handful of paper money. Alyssa caught a glimpse of other bills stuffed in the bag. Fifties? If the bag were full, it would be a great deal of money. Maybe she could help herself to some. Nick glowered at her and zipped the bag and tossed it behind the driver’s seat.
A few minutes later the gas tank was full, and Nick had paid at the window near the pumps. He parked beside the store. Out of sight from the main road and poised for instant take-off.
Nick opened the door for her and took her arm. She set Bella on the floor and let him help her down, aware of the warmth of his hand on her arm. His grip was tight. To the casual observer she thought they probably looked like any young couple. Her face felt warm.
“What’s wrong?” Nick steered her toward the store.
Must he notice everything?
“Nothing. I was thinking … how this might look. To other people, I mean.”
“Worried about your reputation?” Was there a slight sneer on his face?
“No … yes. People might misunderstand.”
“Now’s the time to hope they do misunderstand.”
“What do you mean?”
He leaned close to her, his breath warm in her ear. “I don’t know what I’m up against. If people think we’re just another couple, we’ll be less of a curiosity. An ordinary happy couple blends right in, becomes forgettable. An angry couple stands out. People do so love to see others’ troubles.”
“What a cynical attitude.”
Nick shrugged. “Not cynical. True.”
They reached the restrooms located on the side of the building. He knocked.
Alyssa stared at him in amazement. “Oh, good grief. This is the ladies’ room. I can knock without any help from you.”
Nick opened the door and glanced around. Over his shoulder Alyssa saw three stalls, a sink, a towel dispenser and blank, tiled walls.
“Be my guest,” he said and pointed. “I’ll be next door if you need me.”
She tossed her head. “I haven’t needed help since I was three,” she muttered as she stomped inside.
The bathroom was windowless. No escape. She relieved herself and adjusted her clothing. She did not want to see herself in her present state, but the mirror was large, and, when she washed her hands, she couldn’t help but notice her disheveled appearance.
“Ugh,” she said. She fluffed her hair with her fingers and wished for a comb. She’d left her purse in the SUV, and her pockets yielded only her lipstick, the fifty dollar bills, her earrings and Nick Trammel’s handkerchief. She ran a dribble of water onto a corner of the handkerchief and wiped smudges from her face.
Then she saw the monogram. A large embroidered N in one corner. That was odd. Most men used their last name for the initial. Of course, most men nowadays didn’t carry handkerchiefs.
Alyssa dabbed at her eyes and stashed the handkerchief again. At the door she turned the doorknob and pushed, but the door did not give.
He’d done this. She didn’t know how, but he’d locked her in. She backed away until she bumped into the sink. This whole situation was puzzling. Nothing made sense. He probably wasn’t at all who he said he was. And he was keeping her prisoner. She leaned against the sink trying to decide what to do. What was he doing? Was he going to take off and leave her trapped in a gas station bathroom?
No. If he left her here, she would scream, and someone would find her. He was making sure she couldn’t run off. But she wouldn’t be easily kept captive. She went to the door, hand raised to pound, mouth open to call for help.
“Alyssa?” Nick’s voice outside. “You ready?”
“Almost,” she called. She studied the mirror.
With sudden inspiration, she retrieved the lipstick from her pocket and printed a message on the glass. “Kidnapped. Call police. Brown SUV lic # 478 CPH.” She printed her name. The SUV was registered to Aunt Ellen.
“Now,” Nick said.
She shoved the lipstick and the handkerchief back into her pocket.
Alyssa pushed against the door, expecting to find it still jammed. Instead it swung open easily. Nick flipped a quarter over in his fingers. That was how he’d locked her in. A coin or two placed between the door and the jamb was a prank she’d learned in high school.
Alyssa started back to the SUV. Nick grabbed her elbow.
“Easy now, what’s your hurry?”
She glanced around. Although there were people in the parking lot, nobody was near the bathrooms. He guided her firmly back inside.
“Well, well, well.” The door closed behind them. “Interesting mirror decoration.”
Alyssa squirmed. “Let me go.”
He grabbed her by both arms and lifted her until her toes barely touched the floor,
“Who do you work for?” His voice was low, his breath hot on her face. He smelled minty, and she caught the faint fragrance of his aftershave.
“Benton Heights Elementary School.” The words burst from her. “You’re hurting me.”
“Dammit, woman. I want the truth.”
“That is the truth.” What could he possibly be thinking?
“Don’t play games with me. Who are you? Who do you work for?” He lifted her an inch off the cement floor.
“I-I-I ‒”
He let go, and she hit the floor hard and stumbled against the sink. Something popped in her left ankle, and pain shot up her leg. Nick grabbed her, spun her around, and, using one arm, pulled her tight against him, pinning her arms against her sides. She was helpless in his grip. With his free hand, he grabbed a paper towel and quickly reduced the message to a rose-colored smudge.
“I haven’t got time nor patience for this,” he said with a snarl. “Raise your arms.” He patted her sides and back, then the front of her T-shirt. She cringed when his hands touched her breasts. He did not react but moved down to her shorts, feeling the pockets.
He reached in her pocket, pulled out her lipstick and tossed it in the trash, then straightened and looked into her eyes. “We’re leaving. Now. When we walk out, you’re not going to scream or carry on or try to run away, because you won’t get more than three steps before I get you, and when I do, I will hurt you. You got that?” He glared at her.
She nodded, fear rising in her throat, almost eclipsing the feeling of a hot poker piercing her ankle.
Without releasing his grip, he backed slowly to the door.
He turned the handle and gradually loosened his hold on her. He pulled the door open, and Alyssa stepped on her left foot. She gasped at how much her ankle hurt. Her knees buckled. He scooped her up int
o his arms and carried her out to the parking lot.
“Remember,” he hissed under his breath, “not a sound.”
She gritted her teeth and tried not to cry out. Tears filled her eyes.
Beside the SUV an elderly woman was getting out of a white sedan with the help of an ornately carved cane. She stopped and stared at them. Alyssa turned away and stared into Nick’s chest. The gun under his shirt felt hard, ominous. She closed her eyes and willed herself not to moan.
“It’s okay, honey,” Nick said. “Don’t you cry. You jest feel a little faint. It’s jest the mornin’ sickness. But I’ll be blest if I knew it would last all day like this. Maybe I should get you on back to that doctor.” His accent was pure, stereotypical Southern.
“Young man,” the silver-haired woman said.
Nick slowed. “Yes’um?”
“Some crackers and weak tea for the upset stomach.” The woman pointed her cane at a younger pudgy man who had emerged from the other side of the sedan. “Why, with Robert there, I was sick the whole time, but he still turned out fine.” She gestured at the SUV. “Get the door for the nice couple, Robert.”
Robert looked taken aback. “Mother ‒”
“The door, Robert.”
Nick clicked the door locks, and Robert opened the passenger door. Nick deposited Alyssa on the seat. A jolt in her ankle forced a gasp from her. Tears of frustration filled her eyes, and, dammit, her ankle hurt.
Nick inclined his head politely. “Thank you, sir. Ma’am.” He went around to the opposite door.
“Remember the tea.” the woman called after them. “Chamomile is best.”
Nick nodded, waved at her and started the SUV. With his hands clamped on the steering wheel, he drove around the building and parked directly in front of the main door.
He turned and glared at her. “Don’t move. I’ll be watching.” He dangled the key, palmed it and stuck it in his pocket.
He got out and went inside, glancing back every few seconds.
The weight of his gaze bored into her, freezing her. She couldn’t move for the throbbing in her ankle. If she ran, she wouldn’t get far. If she went into the store and asked for help, would others get hurt?
Alyssa put her hand on the door handle. At least she could open the door and scream for help. Inside the store Nick craned his neck and looked out at her. The man must have mental radar. She abandoned her idea to scream.
In a short while, he was back with a couple of bags which he slung into the back. He handed her a can of Coke, set another in the cup holder on his side. In moments they were out on the road.
“That was close,” he said. “Now to find a new way north. Off the beaten path where I’ll be harder to trace.”
Instead of a left back onto the highway, he turned right, heading north on a two-lane road labeled M-33. Alyssa cringed against the door. She couldn’t swallow. She could barely breathe. Fear had swollen her throat almost shut. Her heart hammered, and her ankle pulsed with every movement of the vehicle. She must have sprained it when Nick dropped her. If she held it very still it was bearable, but, when she shifted position, it hurt enough that she held her breath for a few seconds until it quieted down.
She opened the Coke and took a long swig, grateful for the sugar and the coolness.
Maybe the old woman and her son would speak of the encounter, and someone would think it odd, and Alyssa would be rescued. She turned back to the window and watched the passing countryside.
She was trapped. Now, more than before, because of her ankle. If she were going to get out of this situation, she would have to play along and wait for her chance.
Nick drank his Coke in silence. Every time the SUV hit a pothole, her ankle felt it. She turned toward the window, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her hurt. Finally, she fumbled in her purse for the pills from the previous night and surreptitiously downed one with the soda. Nick ignored her.
The dashboard clock ticked time away. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then thirty. She finished the Coke, set her empty can in the cup holder.
Finally he spoke. “So, do you want to tell me who you are and who you work for?”
Alyssa opened her mouth. No sound emerged. She tried again. Nothing. Nick shrugged. “Have it your way. I’ll find out eventually.”
“I ‒” she squeaked. “I did tell you. My name is Alyssa Mallory. I teach kindergarten at Benton Heights Elementary.”
He snorted. Bella climbed back onto Alyssa’s lap and settled her head against Alyssa’s arm. From that vantage point, the cat stared at the bearded profile of Nick Trammel until the rhythm of the road lulled her to sleep. Alyssa tried to shut out her thoughts and leaned back, but every bump reminded her that something was very wrong with her ankle.
Chapter 9
the miles rolled by in silence. Traveling north on M-33, they passed farms, fields and little towns ‒ Rose City, Mio, Fairview, Comins. The names rang in Alyssa’s head, each new place promising a hope of escape. Hope faded as the towns disappeared behind them. She thought about opening the door and dashing to freedom when Nick slowed for a lower speed limit, a blinker light or a stop sign.
She tensed to open the door and flee, but was stopped by her ankle. Hurt, she was helpless. She would simply have to wait for the right opportunity.
After the tiny village of Atlanta, the road became narrower and bumpier. The gas stations and corner taverns vanished in the rearview mirror to be replaced with pine forests that encroached closer to the road.
When the road ended at Onaway, Nick turned east onto M-68, a broader, smoother road.
“Where are we going?” Alyssa said. “And who are those men? The ones who shot at us.”
“Do you have a map?” He reached across her to the glove box, flipped through the papers and pulled out a worn Michigan road map. “My, my, I am impressed.” He handed it to Alyssa. “I guess it won’t hurt to show you where we are. You can’t do anything about it.”
Alyssa’s hands shook as she unfolded the map. “We’re almost to Lake Huron.”
Nick’s expression softened. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the water.”
Another turn north at Rogers City, and there it was: the blue-green expanse of Lake Huron stretched to the horizon. Late afternoon sunlight behind them cast elongated shadows into the water and glinted on gentle waves that chased each other to the shore. Nick headed northwest along the shoreline. In a few minutes, he pulled to a stop at a roadside rest area. There were no other cars. A sign pointed toward PH Hoeft State Park. Alyssa had never heard of it. The only facilities visible were two pit toilets.
Nick shut the van off and turned to her. “Now,” he said, waving the keys. “I’ve got these. My phone is safe in my pocket ‒ if there’s even a tower near here ‒ and there’s nowhere to run. So don’t try anything.”
He climbed out and came around to Alyssa’s side. She put the cat on the floor and swiveled to face him as he opened the door. Despite her fear of this man, she would have to get out of the van. It had been two hours and a soda since their last, so-called, rest stop.
He took her elbow and helped her down. When her left foot hit the ground, pain shot through the ankle. She gasped and stumbled and caught herself on the door handle.
Nick pulled her to her feet. “What is it, what’s wrong?”
Given her present situation, this was not a good time to accuse him. But anger got the better of her, and she abandoned caution.
“You dropped me.” She wanted to call him a creep, but she would wait until he was handcuffed in police custody. “I don’t think I can walk. I must have sprained my ankle in the bathroom.” That should pass a sufficient amount of guilt his way. “I took one of the pain pills.”
No apology was forthcoming. Trying to keep her distance from him, she hobbled to the rough brown wood shelter marked Women.
He stopped at the door. “First,” he said, “use the facilities, then we’ll put that ankle in the lake.”
Alyssa grimaced and nodded. “I think I can hop from here.”
“Oh, well, sure. And I’ll dash over there ‒” He pointed in the direction of the shelter marked Men.
When Alyssa emerged, hopping, he was waiting for her.
He offered his arm. “Here, let me help.”
Of necessity she leaned into the hollow of his shoulder. His hand was warm on her waist, and his denim shirt was soft against her cheek. She tried to ignore the memory of the gun under his other arm. She let herself be helped to the edge of the lake where he lowered her to a rock. With gentle hands he removed her tennis shoe and peeled off her sock.
Alyssa was surprised at how swollen her ankle appeared. There was a large bruise low on the outside.
Nick clicked his tongue. “Not good. Bad sprain. Big contusion. Put your foot in the water. It’s cold, so that’ll help the swelling.”
Alyssa nodded. Sure, play along with him. Besides, her ankle really did hurt. Nick sat down next to her.
The cold water momentarily took her breath away, and in moments, her ankle felt numbed, and the pain receded. The afternoon sun was warm on her back. Gulls circled and swooped overhead, their harsh, accusing cries muted by the gentle sound of waves lapping against the rocks. They could have been any young couple, enjoying a summer afternoon. After all, he was tall and dark and actually almost handsome. When he wasn’t yelling at her. And she could find him attractive … under other circumstances.
No. She could not feel this. This man was a desperate, dangerous person, and she refused to have any feelings at all for him.
After sitting for several minutes in silence, Nick rose. “I’d better get moving.” He helped her off the rock and handed her shoe and sock to her. “We’ll just get you to the van.”
He practically carried her over the rocks. Alyssa struggled on one foot, leaning on a man she didn’t trust.
At the back of the van Nick whirled her to face him, and she hopped to keep her balance. “Alyssa, quick, tell me your license plate number.”
She stared at him. “What kind of a trick is this?”
Double Danger Page 9