Lethal (Small Town Secrets Book 1)

by Ann Voss Peterson

  “You got this?” Subera asked.

  “Yeah. Go.”

  “You’re going to be okay, Nikki. You’re going home.” Carefully, he coaxed her hand away from her ear. A crescent-shaped bite was missing from the lobe.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “No. Not bad.” Not a lie. She could be dead. “You’re going to be okay, Nikki. You’re going to be just fine.”

  “Oh, Trent. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” A fresh torrent streamed from her eyes and dampened the shoulder of his Kevlar vest.

  He smoothed his hand over her tangled hair. She looked so much like Rees now that her hair was dark again. He’d never realized how much the sisters looked alike. “You’re safe. I have you. Risa is going to be so happy.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I took her to the police station like I told you on the phone. She’s safe. You’re both safe.”

  Nikki nodded, gasping for breath between sobs.

  Subera strode into the room, his gaze zeroing in on Trent. “Dryden’s gone. And there are no cars in the garage.”

  The way he paused, Trent sensed there was something else. “What is it?”

  “The owners of the home.”

  “Dead?”

  Subera nodded. “Found them in the basement.”

  “Damn.”

  “Eddie… He…” Nikki sobbed.

  “Nikki,” Trent said gently. “Did he say where he was going?”

  “He didn’t tell me anything. Just what he was going to do to Risa, like I told you on the phone.” She closed her eyes, fighting back another wave of sobs. “The people downstairs, they weren’t the only ones.”

  “We found the man in your car.”

  Nikki looked away. “There was a woman, too. He hunted her and killed her.”

  “Farrentina Hamilton?”

  Nikki nodded. “And the hotel. Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  Trent hugged her to his shoulder and rubbed his hand over her back, letting her cry. Over her head, he peered out of the farmhouse window. Even with the leaves sprouting on the trees, he could make out the roof of a barn down the hill. He’d been able to hear the cows when they’d first arrived.

  Dryden couldn’t have staged his hunt of Farrentina Hamilton here. And he wouldn’t have gagged her. Not Dryden. He would want to hear her screams, her fear. Gagging her would have stolen the whole purpose behind his hunt.

  The psychopath had staged his hunt someplace else. And if Trent found Dryden’s hunting grounds, he might find Dryden.

  “Nikki? I need to ask you a few questions, okay? Questions that might help us find Dryden.”

  Nikki pulled back from his arms. Trying to stand, she swayed on her feet.

  “Here, sit down.” Trent guided her into the chair and snugged the blanket around her. He knelt down and wrapped her hands in his. “Do you think you can answer some questions?”

  Nikki nodded.

  “Were you there, Nikki? When Dryden hunted Farrentina?”

  Nikki nodded again.

  “Do you remember anything about the place? Anything could help.”

  “I’m not sure. It was a cabin. Real small. Linoleum floors, like something from my grandmother’s house.”

  “Okay. Okay. Good. So you were inside the cabin?”

  “I should have left. I was alone. I could have just run into the woods, but...” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, as if trying to dislodge the memory.

  “It’s okay, Nikki. You did fine. You survived, and you’re helping us now. Okay?”

  Nikki opened her eyes, nodded.

  “What do you remember about the outside of the cabin?”

  “It was white? And it was higher. Propped up. Like on blocks.”

  “Good, good. Were you near a river? Or a lake?”

  “River.”

  “Were other cabins around?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see any, but there was a road.”

  A cabin. In a sparsely populated area. Probably on a flood plain of some kind. “Were there photos in the cabin or anything that might have had the owner’s name on it?”

  “I don’t remember. But Eddie talked about the owner.”

  A fresh shot of adrenaline pumped into Trent’s bloodstream. “By name?”

  “No. He just said the owner would bust a gut if he knew we were there.”

  “Bust a gut? Did he say why?”

  “Because the guy hated Ed. And Ed had used him. I don’t know.”

  Young?

  The fishing and hunting equipment and photographs he’d seen at the guard’s house flashed into Trent’s mind. The image of the fishing cabin. A cabin Dryden had found out about somehow. And after Dryden had foiled the guard’s vigilante plan, he couldn’t resist rubbing Young’s nose in the victory by using the guard’s secluded retreat as his private hunting grounds.

  Two paramedics with the county EMS filed into the room. As they examined Nikki, Trent told Subera what Nikki had remembered and tried out his theory about the cabin belonging to Gordy Young.

  Subera nodded. “We’ll get someone on it.”

  “Something on a flood plain. He would need someplace isolated.”

  Subera nodded and was gone.

  The paramedics coaxed Nikki onto a stretcher. Before they took her to the hospital, Trent asked for a word with her alone.

  “It’s going to be okay, Nikki. We’ll find him.”

  She nodded, her face still almost as white as the sheet and blanket pulled up to her neck.

  “I just have a couple more questions, okay? Then I’ll call Risa and have an officer drive her to the hospital to meet you.”

  Nikki’s eyes welled with a fresh surge of tears. “I want to help.”

  “When did Dryden leave? Do you know?”

  She had only to consider the question for a split second. “I thought I heard him right after I talked to you on the phone.”

  “After you talked to me? You’re sure?”

  “I was afraid he’d come in, see the phone on the bed.”

  “Could he have heard what we said?”

  Nikki’s eyes moved back and forth, scanning Trent’s face. “No. He couldn’t have. He would have been angry. He would have killed me.”

  Trent wasn’t so sure. The ache assaulting his neck spread into his shoulders and radiated down his back.

  Dryden didn’t make mistakes, at least not one this careless. He was far too clever to leave Nikki with access to a phone unless he intended for her to call for help. And Dryden would have a pretty good idea of who Nikki would call if she got the chance.

  “He couldn’t have…” Nikki’s eyes grew wide. She held a bloody hand to her mouth. “You don’t think he was…”

  “It’ll be all right, Nikki. I’ll make sure of it.” Trent forced the words through a throat already closing with panic. Flagging down the paramedics to take care of Nikki, he started for the door.

  Because Trent did think Dryden was listening. He was almost sure of it. And if Dryden heard the phone call, then he knew exactly where Risa was.

  Exactly where Trent had left her.

  For her own safety.

  Risa

  Risa measured scoop after scoop of dried coffee into the drip basket of the Lake Loyal Police Department’s coffee maker. The last time she’d been in the station, the place had been filled to bursting. Now that the task force had moved into the nearby church basement, the place was back to what was probably its usual state.

  Empty.

  Silence echoed through the tiny building, broken by nothing but the tap of an ancient typewriter in the conference room. The friendly dispatcher had been leaving when Risa had arrived, her shift long since over, and apparently at this time of day, there was no need for a replacement. Not that Risa was dying for someone to talk to, but Oneida Perkins seemed on top of everything. Without her at her post, Risa had no way of finding out what was going on.

  Risa set the coffee maker to brew, then with nothing els
e to occupy her, she concentrated on controlling the tension coiling in her muscles like a spring ready to snap. She hated not knowing what was happening. Hated the endless questions spiraling through her mind with no answers in sight.

  Had they reached Nikki in time? Was she safe? Had they captured Dryden?

  Perching on the edge of a break room chair, Risa dug her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and checked it for the hundredth time in the past hour. Surely Trent would call her soon and let her know what was going on. Surely his need to exclude her didn’t extend to not keeping her informed.

  When he had insisted on leaving her at the police station, she’d had to face it. Trent would never see that he could have a better life. He would never give them a chance. Their relationship was really over.

  Risa probably should have seen it all along. She had seen it, but she hadn’t wanted to give up. She hadn’t wanted to accept that she and Trent would never be together—could never be together. Now she had no choice. He had made the choice for her. And there was nothing she could do to change it.

  Trent would go back to his lonely life. And she would struggle on rebuilding hers. Alone. There would be no happy ending. Not for them.

  But there might still be a happy ending for Nikki.

  Risa tangled her fingers together in her lap and mouthed a silent prayer. It would be tough for Nikki. She would need time and love and a really good therapist. Risa would find someone. The best. Risa would dedicate herself to rebuilding their relationship, getting Nikki on her feet.

  Please, please just let her be safe.

  An office door swung open and the ruddy face of Lake Loyal’s police chief peered out. “How are you holding up, Professor?”

  She shot to her feet, barely preventing herself from lunging at him. “Have you heard anything?”

  “Not a word.”

  She nodded and lowered herself back into her chair.

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m just a little nervous.” With great effort, she managed to bring something resembling a smile to her lips. The police chief had been kind enough to house her in his station and provide her with protection. The last thing she needed to do to repay his dedication was jump all over him.

  “I’ll let you know the moment I hear anything. I promise.”

  “Thanks, Chief Schneider.”

  “No problem. But call me Jeff.” His grin widened, and he nodded in an awkward attempt to be reassuring. “Listen, I ordered lunch from the Schettler Brew Pub down the street. I got you one of their special Black Forest sandwiches. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Sandwiches. Lunch. Risa glanced at the clock. It was past one o’clock. She had totally lost track of time. And she wasn’t hungry in the least. “Thanks. I’m not sure I can eat, but that was really nice of you.”

  “No problem.” He gave her a smile. “Somebody’s bringing ‘em over. I’m just going to step outside, meet ‘em at the curb. Don is in the conference room doing his reports. He’ll tell you if any news comes in.”

  “Thanks, Jeff.”

  He gave her a sympathetic smile and strode out the front door.

  Risa slumped in her chair. She hated being so powerless. So utterly helpless. She hated not knowing. She hated having to sit and wait.

  She was definitely all about hate, at the moment.

  It was so quiet. Even the plunk of Don’s search-and-peck typing had stopped. Nothing to distract her. Nothing to focus her wild tumble of thoughts. Thoughts of what was happening this minute while she sat in the station alone. Thoughts of what would happen in the future, after Dryden was caught, after Trent’s role was over, after he left her alone, struggling to help Nikki while patching her own shattered life back together.

  All over again.

  Hate and self-pity. She couldn’t forget the self-pity.

  A thump sounded from outside the door to the station. The door that Schneider had just walked through.

  She straightened in her chair, trying to identify the sound. Something hitting the wall of the station? Or the distant slam of a car door?

  The sandwiches?

  Or could it be Trent? Was he back? Did he have Nikki?

  Risa rose from her chair just as the front door swung open.

  Emotionless eyes focused on her. A smile slithered over thin lips. And one fist balled around the handle of a knife, the gleam of its blade muted by smears of fresh blood.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the radio squawk. Trent’s voice shouting over the airwaves. A warning that Ed Dryden was on his way.

  “Hello, Risa. Miss me?” Dryden’s voice rang with a note of sadistic glee. He stepped toward her. His athletic shoes, wet from the outdoors, squeaked on the tile floor. “Not much security in this place, is there?”

  She stood riveted to the spot, her legs frozen, her mind paralyzed. Dryden. Here. Coming for her.

  “I sure missed you.” His grin widened. He took another step forward. “Nikki is a nice piece of ass, but she can’t hold up a conversation.”

  Terror clogged her throat, bitter as bile. Finally getting her feet to move, she lurched backward, running into the legs of her chair and almost going down in a heap.

  “Of course, maybe my memory of you is a little enhanced. First your roof stunt, that was stupid, and you don’t seem to be very talkative today. What’s the matter?”

  Regaining her balance, she backed away from him, step after step, groping for the wall behind her. She had to find help.

  “I sure hope your quietness isn’t permanent. I was looking forward to hearing you beg. I’ve thought about it a lot. You begging. You screaming.”

  Scream. She had to scream. She forced a sound past her lips. A gurgle echoed through the tiny station, then a piercing shriek.

  He threw his head back in a laugh. “There it is. Too bad no one can hear you.”

  No one—Police Chief Schneider? Don, the cop typing? Had Dryden killed them both? Slit their throats like he had Deputy Perry’s? She looked to the front door, desperately willing Schneider to walk in, gun in hand.

  The door remained closed—the entire station silent except for the relentless pounding of her heart.

  “Don’t you think I would take care of the loose ends before I set foot inside that door? I’ve planned for this meeting. Every detail.”

  Alarm spun through her mind in a dizzying whirl. She grasped the wall behind her and willed her mind to clear. She had to stay levelheaded. She had to focus.

  “I don’t want any interruptions.” He lowered one eyelid in a wink. “We have too much catching up to do.”

  Her mind groped for a sliver of hope. She’d heard Trent’s voice on the radio. She’d heard him say the police were on the way. Trent was on the way.

  But would he make it in time?

  Risa eyed the blade in Dryden’s hand. No. Trent would never reach her in time. She had to get away from Dryden herself. She had to run for it.

  She tensed the muscles in her legs, ready to spring. There had to be a back door to the station. There had to be. It was her only chance. Whirling, she dashed down the hall.

  Dryden’s shoes squeaked into motion behind her.

  Faster.

  Closer.

  Grabbing the door frame, she whipped into the conference room. A body slumped over a typewriter. Blood oozed red and wet down on the tabletop.

  Risa’s stomach retched.

  Beyond the body, a neon Exit sign gleamed. Her escape. Her only chance. She forced her feet to keep moving.

  Dryden turned into the room.

  Two steps behind her.

  One step.

  She reached for the doorknob. Her fingers grasped cold metal.

  His hand grabbed her hair. Yanked. Her head snapped back. Momentum slammed her into the door. She fell, her knees hitting the hard tile.

  No, no, no.

  She kicked backward, connecting with his shin.

  Hauling her to her feet by her hair, he pinned her between his body and
the closed door.

  She thrashed, kicking out, striking nothing but air. She struggled to turn around, to claw at him with her fingernails, to bite. Anything. She didn’t want to die.

  “Stop.” A cold edge of steel pressed against her neck.

  Risa froze. A whimper climbed up her throat, and she forced it back.

  “Where were you going? We have so much to talk about.” Dryden’s breath fanned the side of her cheek. Mint. As if he’d freshened it just for her.

  A shudder racked her body, a convulsion she couldn’t control.

  “You don’t seem happy to see me, Risa. You don’t seem happy at all. Why is that?”

  Pain wrenched her neck and throbbed in her knees and scalp.

  “Is it because you like to be in control? Is it because you like to set a guy up and then humiliate him? Do you like to play those games?” Fingers still entwined in her hair and blade pressed to her throat, he pulled her back past the body slumped over the old typewriter. He pushed her onto the table beside Don, and flattened her cheek to the top.

  Snick.

  A handcuff clapped around her right wrist, then her left. Then using her hair, he tugged her back to her feet and steered her for the door. “You like games, don’t you? Well, I have a game for you, professor. And you’re going to love it.”

  Trent

  Trent reached under Jeff Schneider’s bloody body. Finding the column of his neck, he felt for a pulse. A soft, irregular rhythm beat under his fingertips. “He’s still alive. Barely. Call for an ambulance. Now.”

  “On their way,” someone shouted.

  Cassidy raced up beside him and fell to his knees. “I’ve got him.”

  Trent didn’t argue. Leaving Schneider in the detective’s hands, he scrambled to his feet and rushed into the police station.

  The station swarmed with FBI and deputies. Subera stood in the center of the entry hall. He spun to face Trent. His eyes were dark. His face heavily lined. “The cop in the conference room is dead. Throat cut. Name’s Don Largent.”

  “Risa?”

  Subera shook his head. “Not here. No sign of her.”

  Dryden had Rees.

  Dizziness twisted through him. He shook his head, willing it away. He had to focus. He had to concentrate.

  “We put an APB out for the black-and-white he stole.” Subera’s face sharpened with concern. “There’s no sign that he killed her, Burnell. She’s probably still alive.”