For a wild moment I wanted to be back in the trunk of a car. At least there I wasn’t near him. At least there I could fight, scream when I wanted to scream. Now every emotion had to be pushed down deep inside me. Because I knew if I let it out now, I’d never get it back in. I’d attack him right here, driving or not. Hit and slap and scratch his eyes out.
Sweat slicked the back of my T-shirt. I clenched my jaw, breathed in, breathed out. I could not lose it here. I had to stay one step ahead of him.
I swallowed hard. “I asked you about the community. What’s it going to be like?”
“It’ll be people who want to serve God the right way. Women dressed modestly. Everyone in church every day.”
“What church?”
He made a sound in his throat, as if I’d asked a stupid question. “My church.”
“You’re a pastor?”
“I’m a prophet.”
Joshua the prophet. Oh, yeah, this guy’s head was on straight.
I was trapped by a madman.
“How will we live?”
“Off the land. We’ll farm, raise cattle. Sell our goods to people in town.”
The last word made my heart leap. “What town?”
“You’ll know soon enough.”
“How far away from the cabin is it?”
He smiled. It was the most evil expression I’d ever seen. “Far enough that you can’t run to it.”
Just watch me. He had no idea what I’d do to get back to my family.
I gazed at the freeway eaten up by the Explorer’s wheels. Every mile took me farther away.
I could see fine out of my right eye. But my left had only half the vision. Cautiously I touched the area with my fingertips. It still felt swollen. Tender.
My hand slid away. Woodenly, I stared out the windshield. The world looked black and vast. Like it would swallow me whole.
“You know how to sew?” Joshua asked.
“No.”
He grunted. “You’ll learn.”
I’d never threaded a needle in my life.
My thoughts turned to Mom. What was she doing right now? She wouldn’t be sleeping. She had to be going crazy with worry. Dad too. Had they stayed at Ed Schering’s mansion? Did anyone have any idea what had happened to me?
Be strong, Mom and Dad. If you are, I will be too.
14
Nearly three o’clock in the morning. I’d been kidnapped eleven hours ago. Eleven hours. It seemed like forever.
I still couldn’t believe this was real.
In the front passenger seat, I shifted uncomfortably. My body felt cramped and torn. I needed to go to the bathroom again.
The freeway stretched on and on, never ending.
Fifteen minutes later I saw a sign for a highway exit. Joshua slowed and turned off the freeway.
I tensed. “Where are we going?”
“Takin’ a back road to a cabin.”
Every muscle stilled. Driving had been bad enough. But stopping…“Why?”
“I got to get some rest.”
Was he telling the truth?
“Whose cabin is it?”
“A friend of mine.”
No, not two men. “Does he know we’re coming?”
“Sure. But he’s already in Montana, waiting for us. He left the electricity on so we could use the place.”
“You mean he’s someone in your community?”
“Yeah. Me and him are like brothers.”
Could a monster like this care for someone like a brother?
Suddenly the word us registered. I turned my head to stare at Joshua’s jowly profile. “You mean he knows you’re bringing me?”
Joshua snickered. “He knows I’m bringing a wife.”
But did he know Joshua had kidnapped me?
My mind churned. I stared out my side window, thinking. Maybe some neighbor near his friend’s cabin would see us. Maybe they’d recognize my face. Surely my kidnapping had been on the news by now.
Joshua smirked, as if he knew what I was thinking. “No neighbors around to bother us. Besides, in this area people mind their own business.”
My chin lowered. I stared at my lap.
Why, God?
It didn’t make any sense. In the last year, I, then Mom and Dad, had become Christians. We were trying to live right. Why would God let this happen? And worst of all, Joshua was doing this in God’s name.
A lightning bolt ought to burst out of heaven and strike him dead.
We hit the end of the exit. Joshua turned right onto a two-lane highway. Full blackness descended, not one other car in sight. The Explorer’s headlights cut through the thick dark like swords. We might as well have been on Mars.
Never had I felt so isolated.
And what would happen when we reached the cabin? When Joshua didn’t have to drive?
I pulled my arms against my sides and tried to breathe.
“We’ll be there soon,” Joshua said.
Terror kicked around inside me. My eyes squeezed shut. I focused on the lull of the car, wishing for sleep. Telling myself this wasn’t real.
After some time the Explorer slowed. My head jerked up. Joshua turned left, and our tires popped over gravel. Trees lined the road on either side. Then a clearing. Our headlights washed over a two-story log cabin surrounded by weedy grass. A simple detached garage. Joshua pulled up next to the garage. “Stay here.”
He slid out of the Explorer, leaned down, and pulled up the garage door. It rolled open with a grating sound. Joshua returned to the SUV and drove inside. He cut the engine. “Let’s go.”
The garage fell into darkness. Not even a window in the place to let moonlight through.
I couldn’t move.
He opened his door and glared at me, a message to obey. The overhead light in the Explorer had flicked on, washing down over his face. I stared back. In an instant I took in the beady brown eyes and round, pudgy face. Fat lips. A buzz cut.
My brain flashed on pictures I’d seen of that face. The memory jolted me.
No, no.
Dear God, don’t let it be him.
15
Three thirty in the morning, Rayne and Gary were on their knees in the mansion’s library. Rayne’s legs were going to sleep, but she hardly noticed. She couldn’t rest. Couldn’t do anything right now to help find Shaley. But she and Gary could pray.
Brittany and the rest of the band members were in their bedrooms, giving Gary and Rayne some time by themselves. Not one of them had wanted to leave Rayne’s side. She knew they weren’t sleeping. Ed Schering had hugged Rayne a short time ago, before straggling upstairs to his suite. Al was on the phone in the TV room. The man never stopped. He was either on a call or taking notes or conferring with the local sheriff’s deputies who’d come in and out every hour.
“God, please help us find her. Soon.” Gary’s voice sounded raw and cracked. He pressed close to Rayne, one arm around her back. He’d broken down and cried more than once as they prayed. “Be with us during our press conference. Let someone who sees it on the news lead us to Shaley.”
The press conference was scheduled for ten o’clock in the morning. Rayne and Gary were putting up a one-hundred-thousand-dollar reward for Shaley’s safe return. They both would make a statement. Al would handle the rest, giving out information and taking questions from reporters.
Gary rubbed Rayne’s shoulder. “And help Rayne—”
Footsteps sounded, and the door opened. Rayne looked up to see Al at the entrance. He carried a notebook-size folder. He raised both hands. “Didn’t mean to disturb you. We have some new information.”
Violent fear and hope shot through Rayne. She struggled to her feet, Gary helping her up.
“What’s happened?” Gary demanded.
Al came into the room and gestured toward the rich chocolate leather couch. “You want to sit down?”
Rayne walked around the large glass coffee table to perch on the end of the couch, Gary at her side. Her muscl
es felt tied in knots.
Al sat in an armchair and angled around to face them. His eyes looked tired, but his shoulders were as straight as they’d been since he first arrived. Rayne felt a spray of jealousy. If only she were merely tired instead of weighted with a thousand pounds of fear. Her head throbbed even after two aspirin, and her mind still reeled.
But Al had been through this once. He knew how it felt. And his daughter hadn’t come home.
The jealousy spritzed away.
Al opened the folder and withdrew a sheet of paper. “Couple things. First, we did match fingerprints in the back of the van to Shaley. The blood drops are human and her type. And the hair is consistent with Shaley’s hair.”
Rayne’s throat constricted. She managed a tight nod.
“Also, we were able to match other fingerprints from the van to one lifted from the pay phone in Nevada. For that reason, and another one I’ll tell you in a minute, we’re certain this is our man. We ran those prints through the California database and got a hit.” Al handed the paper to Rayne. “His name is Ronald Fledger. Recognize that?”
Ronald Fledger? Rayne snapped her eyes down to stare at the paper. A mug shot—one she’d seen before. Sickness whirled in her stomach. She shoved the picture into Gary’s hands. “He was stalking Shaley a couple of years ago. Kept sending her pictures and letters, saying how she needed to be with him, and he was going to make sure that happened. He really scared us. Sounded like a nut case, no telling what he might do. We turned all the evidence over to the police. They arrested him. I thought he was in jail…”
“He got out a few months ago.” Al was watching Gary. “Ever see him before?”
Gary’s face had paled. He shook his head. “But I’ve heard the story of what he sent to Shaley.”
Rayne and Gary locked eyes in a long, horrified look.
That crazy man had her daughter. Rayne’s hands started to shake. No. No. “His hair was so much longer then.” The words sandpapered her throat. “I didn’t recognize the composite you showed me earlier.”
“He does look different with shorter hair.” Al continued to focus on Gary.
Gary dropped the mug shot onto the glass table as if it were a snake. He licked his lips. “At least…we know who to look for.”
“Yes.” Al picked up the paper and returned it to his folder. “This is already being disseminated.” He cleared his throat. “Now—the second reason we know this is our man. Nevada police interviewed the employee on duty at the gas station during the time of Shaley’s call. Unfortunately the employee’s not much help. He said people come in and out, and he’s often reading a magazine. He doesn’t tend to notice faces unless someone comes up to the checkout counter.”
Reading a magazine? What kind of employee was he?
“But the deputies pulled the tape from the security camera at the station and took it back to their department. It’s not the best of tapes in that it doesn’t constantly run the time across the bottom. So they had to watch it a while until they could approximate the time of Shaley’s call—”
“Did they see her?” Rayne leaned forward. Please, please.
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Rayne’s right hand pressed to her mouth.
Gary gripped Rayne’s arm. “What did she look like? Was she okay?”
Al flexed his shoulders. “It was definitely Shaley, although it’s not a close-up of her face. In fact she kept her head down the whole time. And the tape is somewhat grainy. She’s no longer wearing the bridesmaid dress—she’s now in jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Her hair was stuck up under a blue baseball cap. When they enlarged the shot they could see San Diego on the front of the cap. It’s the same one shown in our composite of the suspect. That’s why we’re sure we have our man.”
For a moment no one spoke. Rayne tried to absorb the information, but her brain couldn’t focus.
“He had clothes for her.” Gary’s tone had a raw edge. “He planned this so…he planned everything.”
“She’d stand out too much in the dress.” Rayne’s tongue seemed to move all by itself. Her mind was on Shaley. How was she? Was she hurt? Hungry? She had to be terrified.
She kept her head down the whole time. That wasn’t Shaley. He’d forced her to do that. Or she’d been so scared she couldn’t even hold her head up.
Dread coated Rayne. She opened her mouth but only a moan escaped. Tears sprang to her eyes. She sagged against Gary. “Oh, God, please. I just can’t…”
Gary slid his arm around her. “I know,” he whispered in her ear. “But this is good news. We know what she’s wearing.”
Rayne fought to control herself. Slowly she pulled away from Gary, forced her chin up.
“There’s more.” Al tapped his folder. “The tape picked up their vehicle and license plate. They’re traveling in a 1997 blue Ford Explorer. We ran the plate and discovered the vehicle was stolen from the Santa Barbara area two days ago.”
“Two days?” Gary rubbed his jaw. “More planning.”
Rayne pushed a strand of hair from her face. While they’d happily counted the hours until the wedding, this man, this beast, had been planning his horrible act.
“But how did he know my ring would be brought in that van?” Gary’s eyes remained on Al. “Those plans weren’t in place until after he stole the Explorer.”
Al spread his hands. “That we don’t know.”
Rayne found her tongue. “You’ll give out the information about the car and license plate number at the press conference, right? And show the mug shot? Then everyone can be looking for this man.”
Al tilted his head. “We’re…discussing that.”
“What’s to discuss?” Rayne’s voice turned sharp. “And isn’t what’s said at the conference our decision?”
“Not entirely.” Al leaned forward. “Look. I and the others working on this case don’t know which direction will be the safest for Shaley. If we tell the public, true, they can help us look for the vehicle. Without the public’s help, it could take us far longer to find Shaley, and every minute counts. On the other hand, we have to think from the suspect’s point of view. He doesn’t know we know what vehicle they’re in, or that we know who he is. But if that information is disseminated to the media, he could turn on any radio or TV and hear it. That could make him very angry. What if he takes his anger out on Shaley?”
Oh.
Rayne looked at Gary. His expression was dazed—the same way she felt. The FBI agent was right—either choice could lead to terrible consequences.
“What should we do?” she whispered.
Gary closed his eyes. “I don’t know. I just…don’t know.”
A rock fell through Rayne’s stomach. How to know what to do? How? God, please tell us. Rayne searched Gary’s face and knew he was thinking the same terrible thought.
What if they made the wrong choice—and Shaley paid for it with her life?
16
The pebbles in the driveway hurt my bare feet. I hobbled over them toward the cabin, Joshua grasping my elbow.
A half moon and bright stars lit our way. If I’d been out with friends in a rural place like this, away from the lights of the city, I’d have been amazed at the starry sky. You couldn’t see such a thing in Southern California. But now the night mocked me. How could the sky hang with such beauty when my world had turned so black and terrifying?
Two steps led up to the porch. Joshua still held on to me as we climbed them.
He pulled a key from his pants pocket and unlocked the door to the cabin. I cowered beside him, trapped and trembling. I couldn’t go inside with this man. I couldn’t. This man—this prophet of God—was the man who’d stalked me two years ago. Who’d insisted I’d one day be his. That man had been arrested and sent to prison. But now here he was, leading me into a dark cabin in the middle of nowhere.
Panic clawed at my throat. I shoved it back down. Please, God, protect me. Show me what to do.
“Wh-what are we going to do
here?” My voice shook. My cheek and left eye hurt, as did my arms and hands. Joshua’s grip radiated pain through my elbow.
No answer. He put the key back in his pocket and opened the door. Its hinges creaked. Still holding my arm, Joshua leaned around and fumbled at the wall with his other hand. Light flicked on inside.
“Come on.” He pushed me over the threshold first, then closed and locked the door behind us.
The smell hit me. Oppressive and musty.
We stood in a denlike room with an old brown couch and a pea-green armchair. A wooden table with books and a few scattered magazines. Opposite the couch sat a small TV on a black stand. Farther to the left, the room flowed into a small kitchen. Even from where I stood, I could see burn marks on the short counter space. The stove was off-white and battered. A small refrigerator. A table for two people. Everywhere I looked I saw dust and grime, and what looked like white dog hair.
My ankles trembled.
To our right rose a wooden staircase. Any bedrooms and the bathroom must be upstairs.
I tore my gaze from the stairs and turned back toward the kitchen. My eyes landed on a small black object on the counter.
Telephone.
My heart skipped. Was it connected?
Joshua headed for the kitchen. “There’s some food in the refrigerator. Want a sandwich?”
Like I could eat.
“No. Thanks.”
I watched him turn on the overhead light in the kitchen. It was a bare bulb and bright. He opened the refrigerator door and checked inside. Everything in me wanted to bolt out of that cabin, make a run for it. But where would I go? And how far would I get in bare feet before he caught me? It would make him so mad.
“Come on, Shaley, don’t stand there looking so stupid.”
I’m not stupid.
The defensive thought blossomed into an idea. Maybe I should play stupid. Or at least so scared I didn’t have any fight left in me. Let him think he’d beaten me down, that I just wanted to get along with him. Maybe then he’d get sloppy, not watch me every minute. Somehow I’d get to the phone…
If it even worked.
I forced myself to walk through the den. Around the brown couch and closer to the kitchen. My bare feet felt every piece of dirt on the wooden floor. Little piles of white hair gathered along the wall.
Final Touch Page 5