Skye Cree Boxed Set Books 1 - 3

by Vickie McKeehan

  Great, thought Skye, not exactly a glowing point in favor of the boyfriend.

  As Josh stirred beside her, the cynic in Skye ramped up. “Relationships often go south without warning, Velma. You know that. But hey, I understand you’re concerned about your friend. You’re right to be anxious if her car never moved. Give me Willa’s address. I’ll talk to this Charlie, size him up for myself.”

  While Skye keyed in the number and street info into her phone, she realized she was anything but calm. A jumble of nerves began to crawl up her spine. Googling the address, she determined it was on the way to work.

  “That’s real good, Skye, talk to Charlie,” Velma echoed. “He’s a mechanic at Dalton’s Garage around the corner from Country Kitchen. When you’re done, stop in and I’ll see to it you get breakfast.”

  Skye ended the call, saw Josh was all the way awake.

  “Trouble?”

  “Let’s hope not. Waitress didn’t make it home from the night shift. Remember Willa Dover?”

  “At Country Kitchen? Sure, the cute little blonde, right?”

  “That’s the one. Her car is still parked near the restaurant. She’s gone missing. But I suspect the boyfriend.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. The boyfriend’s definitely a cliché but the first go-to guy for a reason. Maybe she took off somewhere on foot, reluctant to go home.”

  “Not according to Velma. After waitressing eight hours on your feet, trust me, you’re not exactly ready to go out and party. But I’ll know more after I get through grilling the boyfriend. Wanna come?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Good because Velma dangled breakfast as an incentive.”

  By the time Josh and Skye reached Dalton’s Garage, Willa had been off the grid since midnight, almost eight hours.

  They found the repair shop a busy place where people were dropping off cars for simple stuff like a regular oil change and a variety of major work. They had to wait for the owner to hail Charlie Tucker, who was in the middle of overhauling an engine in an older model Suzuki.

  When Charlie did crawl out from underneath the bay area, Skye watched from the window of the lobby as the tall, slender man with a long brown ponytail approached the waiting room. He was about her age, she decided, as he did his best to wipe the grease from his hands.

  The guy didn’t wait for introductions before he wanted to know, “You here about Willa? Any word yet?”

  Skye noted Charlie’s unease. At his next question she figured out why.

  “Are you two cops?”

  “No. And you’re under no obligation to talk to us. But if you are so inclined, we’d like to know about your relationship with Willa. Maybe start with this. Did you file a missing person report yet?”

  “I called the cops two hours ago around six o’clock, got the runaround about how I had to wait twenty-four hours to report her gone. They said, ‘She’s an adult. She has a right to disappear.’ That’s bullshit, if you ask me.”

  With a fair amount of prompting, Skye got him to focus. Once he did, Charlie settled down and went over the same story Skye had heard from Velma. To her, the more he talked, the more his apprehension faded away.

  “Did you two have a fight?” Josh asked. “Even the happiest couples do fight from time to time.”

  “I won’t lie. God knows Willa and I have had our share of them in the past. I’ve known her since she was seventeen. But we didn’t have a fight last night because I’m telling you, Willa never made it home. We were doing real good lately, you know? I didn’t even know she hadn’t shown up at home till Velma called at five-thirty and said her car was still at the restaurant. I knew right away something was wrong then.”

  “Why is that?” Skye wanted to know. “Why is it you didn’t miss her crawling into bed with you in the middle of the night?”

  “I’m a sound sleeper. Besides, I took cold medicine before I went to bed around ten. You can ask anybody here and they’ll tell you I felt like crap yesterday, thought I was going to hack up a lung. So when I got home I ate some leftover spaghetti Willa had made, drank a couple of beers, and went to bed before I dropped. I wouldn’t hurt Willa like that. I love her.”

  Skye’s heart clutched at the heartfelt declaration. “Did you ever tell her that?”

  When Charlie hung his head, she had the answer. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. You give me a list of her friends and family, share a few phone numbers out of your cell phone I can check out.”

  “I called everybody I know after I talked to Velma.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll give them a call, too.”

  “You might as well know, on my way to work this morning I stopped by Country Kitchen and checked out Willa’s car. There’s not a damn thing wrong with it. I replaced the spark plugs at Christmas and the head gasket two weeks after that. It might be old but it runs like a top. You ask me, somebody did something to her.”

  “Okay. But you should know I plan to call a detective I know to make sure Willa’s put on the front burner and it sails past a uniform. Hopefully it won’t get stuck in a pile on someone’s desk. Any chance you have a photo of Willa?”

  Charlie hitched a hip and dug into his back pocket, pulled out a billfold. With his grimy fingers, he inched out a photograph. “Here’s one we took at the lake last October, a Sunday. We’d only been back together two weeks when I took this with my old Canon.”

  “I’ll see you get it back.”

  “Thanks,” Charlie said. “Will you let me know as soon as you hear something? Anything at all.”

  “I will. And Charlie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If I find out you’re lying, I’m coming back here to get in your face. Even though I’m not a cop, you’ll likely need a lawyer if that happens. Or a doctor.”

  “Okay. Fine. But I’m not lying. Find her. Will you?”

  “You got it.”

  “Do you believe him?” Josh asked once Charlie headed back to the Suzuki.

  “I do. How about you?”

  “I think he’s telling the truth. Which means—”

  “We need to find Willa.”

  They walked around the corner to Country Kitchen where Velma greeted them with a troubled look instead of her usual wide smile.

  “So? Did you talk to Charlie Tucker?”

  Skye went through the byplay back at the garage with the boyfriend. “I called Harry on the way here. He’ll expedite it, put out a BOLO for Willa until the obligatory twenty-four hours is up. If they get nothing from the BOLO, he’ll get Seattle PD to investigate it as a missing person case.”

  “But you both plan to still look for her, right? You have to do something, Skye. You can’t just let Willa fall through the cracks like others have.”

  Skye grinned. “You bet. Now how about that breakfast you promised?”

  “Sure. What’ll you two have?”

  “I’m craving blueberry pancakes,” Josh admitted.

  “Sounds good to me, make it two,” Skye agreed. “Take a seat, Velma. Let’s go over exactly what happened last night with Willa.”

  “Again?”

  “Yep. Give it to me one more time.”

  In the middle of the rehash, Travis walked up. Skye looked him in the eye, pointed a finger and said, “You know what, Travis? As owner of Country Kitchen with waitresses working here ’round the clock, you really need to think about installing security cameras, both in front and in the back. And make sure they have a high-quality resolution, not that grainy stuff.”

  “Duly noted. I have a guy coming by this afternoon.”

  “A little late for that,” Velma moaned as she got to her feet. “We need to get the word out.”

  “And we will. I’m having flyers printed up to put in the window. We’ll circulate Willa’s picture, maybe get the news media involved,” Travis said.

  “An excellent idea,” Josh said, nodding toward Skye. “And this is just the woman to do it, the perfect one to hold a press conference ri
ght here in front of the restaurant.”

  “If I have to appear on camera, then I want my stack of pancakes first,” Skye groaned. “I get nervous enough without my stomach rumbling in front of all Seattle’s reporters.”

  Soon after that, Velma complied by slapping down two plates filled with steaming flapjacks onto the Formica table.

  After he’d scooped up the last of the stack, Josh slid out of the booth, took out his cell phone. “Finish up while I set up the press conference.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to take a look around outside first.”

  “Why?” But she already knew. She stood up, tossed some bills on the table from her pocket. “I’m going with you.”

  “Velma said Willa left out the back door. Let’s head that way,” Josh prompted.

  The negative energy blasted him the minute he reached the parking lot. He sensed an evil so dark it had him doubling his focus. He surveyed the area across to the alley and back again. Because he could still see Willa’s Honda angled at the curb on the street, he headed that way. But when the images lessened, he stopped in mid-stride. Sensing that Willa had never made it this far, he turned on his heels to backtrack. As soon as he reached the middle of the lot again, the series of flashes became stronger. This is where he decided to concentrate his efforts.

  “She didn’t get into the car on her own. He dragged her. He tried to do it without getting out, but of course, that didn’t work. He had to get out so that he could make room for her to get in. He’s not quite six feet tall, has brown hair. Not sure what color eyes, but he hasn’t shaved in several days.” Josh frowned, considered the rest. “And he smelled. He was sweaty from some type of physical labor. His olive green shirt had major stains under the armpits and around the neck.”

  “Why would she let someone like that get so close to her?” Skye marveled.

  “He asked for directions, got her talking, then pulled her into his smallish SUV. No, that’s not quite right. The SUV was a Jeep. I don’t know the model but I’d recognize the front grille. He peeled out of the parking lot right about there.” Josh pointed to what would’ve been the darkest part of the area where the light from the alleyway didn’t reach the entire scope.

  “Going which direction?”

  “South. He headed south on the I-5. I’m sure of it.”

  They exchanged looks. Skye picked up on the where, mainly because she had complete faith in his ability to read the situation. She didn’t have a problem following his lead. Both knew the info was sketchy but more than they had had since six a.m.

  “There are a lot of miles between here and Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Josh. Think about it. The fact the guy headed south means nothing.”

  “I know that,” Josh fired back.

  She might not possess the same skills Josh did, but she could pick up on his body language. Hands on hips, the stubborn set to his chin, told her he’d already made up his mind. “But you want to follow this through until it dead-ends, right?”

  “I do. I know it’s a longshot but I think it’s worth a trip south anyway.”

  “Okay, then what are we waiting for?”

  They were fine until they reached the outer edges of the military base. An outcrop of dated offices looked like products of a bygone era. They zeroed in on the derelict buildings, some with broken windows. They drove past an old service station, an abandoned hangar, a PX no longer in use.

  “This part looks like a ghost town. You can feel the old souls here,” Skye commented as she stared out the passenger side window.

  “Troubled souls wrestling with an evil so dark most people can’t comprehend it.”

  “Evil that lives and breathes here—somewhere—we just have to find where.” Unnerved is the way it made her feel, like the victims might be long gone but they had left a part of themselves behind so someone would know they’d been here.

  Josh turned down a back road and then another and another. But none of the streets led them to Willa.

  Three and a half hours later after circling the base several times without actually going through the gate, Josh turned the car around and headed back to Seattle.

  Frustrated and disillusioned with their efforts, by the time they reached Country Kitchen, Skye had to prepare to face the bank of media that had gathered in front of the restaurant. Skye recognized most of Seattle’s field reporters who waited with cameras, microphones, and note pads at the ready, waiting to ask their tough questions.

  News vans with satellite dishes lined the block, some from as far away as Vancouver and Idaho.

  Of all the things she did for the Foundation, this is the one she hated the most. But appealing to the community had to be done. Willa wasn’t here to speak for herself.

  And that was the problem. After the eerie trip to the base Skye felt she’d somehow let Willa down already. The least she could do was get her photo circulated, make a public plea for help and beg for Willa’s safe return.

  About the same time Skye was addressing the media, Willa Dover woke to complete darkness. Battered and bruised, her body felt sore from head to toe. The man who’d taken her had already raped her four times. Her chest ached. Her head throbbed. Even the roots of her hair hurt.

  There was no doubt in her mind that at some point he’d drugged her. With what, she didn’t know. But she still felt groggy enough to have trouble lifting her head.

  He hadn’t blindfolded her or put anything over her mouth to keep her quiet. She realized it was probably because he had no fear of anyone hearing her scream. Willa had already kicked up a fuss. She’d yelled and hollered. But no one had come. She was pretty sure no one was going to.

  Her arms were stretched over her head at an uncomfortable angle. When she tried to move she found she couldn’t because her wrists were manacled to a bolt in the wall. Her feet were bound with heavy cuffs slapped around both ankles. Each time she attempted to roll or turn, she heard the clanging of metal on metal. It was her chains rattling with each little movement.

  Outside in the distance, she heard nothing but the occasional bird chirping. Except for a few noisy sparrows it seemed quiet. Sometimes a jet flew overhead. Maybe she was near an airport. She tried to remember if she’d heard any other voices other than the man who’d abducted her and couldn’t. Her brain was still having a hard time processing. Wherever she was life no doubt seemed to be speeding along without her.

  All she knew for sure was she had to find a way out of this dark, dank place. She tried not to think about how bad it smelled. She needed to concentrate, to figure out how to escape from this horrible hellhole before her captor came back, which she knew could happen any minute. But how? She couldn’t even get off the filthy cot.

  That thought had her trying to sit up again. With all her might, she yanked on her chains. Was it her imagination or did they give a little? She tried again and again and again until her arms grew tired.

  She thought about Charlie in their little apartment. Had he gone to work this morning without hearing from her? She thought about her mother and her sister. Had they missed her yet? She thought about Velma and wondered if her new friend would be angry when she didn’t show up for work this afternoon. Was anyone worried about her yet? Would she ever see them again?

  About that time she heard footsteps advance down a set of steps and knew he was back from wherever he’d gone. The door opened to the little room where she was. Her heartbeat quickened. Fear felt like a fist in her throat.

  For a brief moment she caught the sliver of sunlight before he slammed the door shut. For one second she thought maybe he couldn’t see her in the blackness. Willa licked her swollen lips and waited. She closed her eyes, not to block out light but to try and put herself in another place. It didn’t work. How much more could she take inside this evil place?

  When she felt him standing next to her, there was reason to be afraid. She might not be able to see him clearly but she could feel the large knife blade he held up to her cheek. He let
it rest there, cold and sharp.

  There was heat emanating from his body. She could feel the rage bubbling to the surface within him. As he knelt beside her on the bed, Willa drew in a tight breath. He crawled into her space, so he could run his fingertips down her throat. On one side, he began massaging the carotid artery. He licked the skin there and whispered to her, “It’s time to play again, Willa my love.”

  When he unchained her, the gesture gave her hope. But then she heard the zipper go down on his pants. And knew her fate was sealed when his knife moved to the space between her legs.

  Chapter 9 Book 3

  Within a matter of weeks Josh had settled comfortably into married life. He admitted he loved having Skye fuss over him, fuss over the house. She routinely picked up flowers at the market, used them around the house to decorate the table at mealtime, or placed them in some conspicuous spot so that they were the first thing he saw when he got off the elevator.

  She set candles around the loft for ambiance. The place always smelled like cinnamon or vanilla or jasmine. He loved walking in the door after a long day and breathing in the aroma of some tasty dish she’d put together from scratch or out of one of her cookbooks.

  Even though they had established an easy domestic routine, it didn’t mean they spent their evenings the same way other couples did. He didn’t know another pair who routinely sat for hours at a time looking up missing children online. Who else kept track of reported runaways from as far away as San Francisco? And now, who else actively sought reports on missing women across the state of Washington? Who else concentrated on official police investigations from as far back as 1990?

  Josh glanced up from his iPad, leveled his gaze across the table at Skye, who sat in front of her own laptop mesmerized with whatever appeared on her screen. “Look at us. What other couples do you know who are glued to their computers over dinner?”