Dangerous Reunion (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Robbins, Sandra

  Smiling, he raced to the porch and through the front door. Lisa sat at her desk, her attention directed to her computer screen. Austin Whitman, holding the day’s newspaper, lounged in a chair across the room.

  Lisa stood up from her desk and stretched her arms over her head. “Hi, Brock.”

  Brock glanced around. “Where’s Kate?”

  “We had a call about a fender bender. She left to take the report. She should be back any minute.”

  Brock nodded and ambled across the room to where Austin sat. He dropped down in a chair beside him. “Did the paper get the news about Mike Thornton’s arrest in this edition?”

  Austin pushed up straighter in his chair. “They did. Want to read it?” He passed the newspaper over to Brock.

  “Thanks.”

  Brock read the article, then rifled through the rest of the paper. Most of the news on the island revolved around events and activities that would interest tourists. After a few minutes he’d scanned it from front to back.

  He handed the paper back to Austin and glanced at his watch. Standing, he crossed the room to Lisa’s desk. “How long ago did Kate leave on that call?”

  Lisa looked up at the clock on the wall and frowned. “About thirty minutes. She should have been back by now.” She reached for the radio mic. “Do you want me to see if I can reach her?”

  Brock’s stomach fluttered, and a bitter taste flooded his mouth. He grimaced. “Yes.”

  Lisa pulled the mic to her mouth. “One-one-seven, come in.” No answer. Lisa frowned. “One-one-seven, come in.” Still no answer. Lisa glanced up, a frown wrinkling her forehead. “I don’t understand why she’s not answering.”

  “Let me try her cell phone.” Brock pulled out his phone and punched in her number. It rang several times before he heard the connection, but Kate didn’t answer. “Kate.” No answer. “Kate! Are you there?”

  “Kate’s tied up right now and can’t come to the phone.”

  The words trickled through his body like ice water pouring from his head to his toes. He gripped the edge of Lisa’s desk with his free hand and tightened his hold on the phone with the other. “Who is this?”

  A laugh rumbled in Brock’s ear. “Someone you know well, Brock. I’ve had a lot of fun on this island. First it was the deputy, then the fire at the theater and the big explosion. Oh, that was beautiful.”

  Brock gasped at the cruel tone of the caller’s voice. “Are you telling me that you’re the one responsible for the murder of four innocent people?”

  A shrill laugh pierced Brock’s ear. “Guilty.”

  A chair scraped across the floor, and Austin Whitman hurried to stand beside Brock. “Is that our killer?” Austin whispered.

  Brock nodded and glanced at Lisa, whose face had turned white. Brock took a deep breath. “Let me talk to Kate.”

  “I told you she’s tied up, and I mean that literally. Right along with her two sisters.”

  Terror kicked him in the stomach. “Wh-what do you want?”

  “I want you, Brock,” the caller snapped. “I want you to come to Kate’s house alone. If you bring anyone with you, I’ll kill Kate and her two sisters. Do you understand?”

  “Why are you doing this?” Brock yelled.

  “Come to Kate’s house alone, and you’ll find out. When you get here, come in the front door and walk to the kitchen. You’ll find us there.”

  The call disconnected with a click that left Brock in stunned silence. Austin grabbed him by the arm. “What did he say?”

  Brock closed his eyes and swallowed the fear that rose in his throat. “He’s holding Kate, Betsy and Emma prisoner at their house. He says he’ll kill them if I don’t come alone.”

  Lisa jammed her fist in her mouth and glanced from Brock to Austin.

  Austin pulled out his gun and checked it before replacing it in his holster. “Well, one thing’s for sure. You’re not going alone.”

  Brock held up his hands in protest and backed away. “No, you can’t go. He said he’ll kill them.”

  “But he’ll kill you, too, Brock.”

  Brock shook his head. “No, I can’t risk getting them all killed.”

  Austin glared at him. “Think like a police officer, not Kate’s friend. You can’t help her if you go alone. Maybe between the two of us, we can get this guy before he kills them.”

  Lisa rose from behind her desk and stared at him. “Austin’s right, Brock. Kate wouldn’t want you to go in there without backup. She would have faith that you would respond like the trained officer you are.”

  There was that word again. Faith. Even now he knew Kate had faith that God was in control. The strange thing was that he believed it, too. Kate had shown him the way to a faith that would overcome the guilt he’d held onto, and now it would help him face whatever happened at her house. He glanced from Lisa to Austin.

  “Okay, Austin. Let’s go see if we can put an end to this crazy killer’s rampage on Ocracoke.”

  Kate struggled not to let her eyes betray the fear that crept through her as Dillon closed her cell phone. He replaced the phone on the kitchen table and laughed. Smiling, he walked behind the chair where she was held prisoner and bent down with his mouth next to her ear. His warm breath sent chills up and down her spine.

  “I suppose you heard. Your boyfriend will be here anytime now. All of my plans and my actions have led up to that moment. It won’t be long now, Kate. You’ll know soon.”

  His taunting voice grated on every nerve ending in her body. Her eyes blinked, and she widened them in hopes that he hadn’t noticed that one flicker of fear.

  She cringed as he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently caressed them. “You’re a very beautiful woman, Kate. I don’t blame Brock for caring about you so much. I used to love someone, too, but she left.”

  Kate wiggled her shoulders in an attempt to escape his hold, but he laughed and inched his fingers up to her neck. She wondered if the pulse in her neck echoed the erratic cadence of her heartbeat as his touch moved upward until he stopped with his fingers on either side of her mouth.

  Kate stiffened as his left hand slowly stroked her cheek. His thumb and index finger grabbed the edge of the tape covering her mouth. Pain exploded in her head at the violent jerk that pulled the tape from her mouth.

  He laughed and walked around the chair to face her. “Is that more comfortable?”

  Kate rubbed her lips together to stem the tingling pain before she spoke. She tilted her head to stare up at him. “Why, Dillon? That’s what I want to know. What did I ever do to you?”

  His eyes grew wide. “Why nothing, Kate. You’ve been very friendly to me ever since I’ve been on the island. You were just the bait I needed to get who I’m really after.”

  She frowned. “You’ve killed four people, another is in critical condition and you’ve terrorized a packed theater for what? To use me as bait? I don’t understand.”

  He crossed his arms and smirked. “You’re smarter than that, Kate. Who do you think?”

  She shook her head. “I have no—” She stopped midsentence as understanding reared its head in her mind. Her eyes grew wide at the reality of what she’d just heard. She did know who he was after, and she could hardly speak his name. “Brock?” she whispered.

  Dillon laughed and pointed a finger at her. “Bingo! You win the prize. And let me show it to you.”

  He turned to the table where the black bag he’d brought with him lay and unzipped it. He reached inside and pulled out a hypodermic needle and held it up. A clear liquid filled the syringe. The way Dillon held it toward her told Kate some sinister plan was about to unfold.

  “Wh-what’s that for?”

  Dillon’s face hardened into an angry mask, and he gritted his teeth. “Never mind. Just do as I say, and everything will be fine. When your boyfriend gets here, I want you to call him into the kitchen. Then I’ll take it from there.”

  Kate shook her head. “I won’t help you kill Brock.”

&nbs
p; An angry snort rumbled from Dillon’s mouth. “You’d better be worried about your two sisters in the bedroom. Do you want them to live? The way I see it, Kate. You have a choice. Brock or your sisters. Think about that until he gets here. Now I’m not talking anymore.”

  Dillon sank down in the chair where he’d sat earlier and trained his attention toward the door into the kitchen where Brock would have to enter. Kate studied his body language. He sat straight with every muscle tensed. He looked like an animal ready to pounce for the kill.

  He had said she had to choose who would die, but she knew the truth. Dillon had gone to great lengths to plan his attack on Brock, and he had left Ocracoke littered with bodies on his quest. At this point a few more didn’t matter.

  The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach told Kate that Dillon didn’t want just Brock. There was no way he’d leave three witnesses. When Dillon left, she, Brock and her two sisters would all be dead.

  SEVENTEEN

  Brock stopped the car on the island’s main road at the turnoff to Kate’s house. He glanced in the rearview mirror and watched the car carrying the two ATF agents pull to a stop behind him. Austin had insisted they come as backup. The agreement was, however, that the two men would approach the house only if Austin summoned them.

  Brock gripped the steering wheel and turned his head to stare at Austin. “The house is down this road. I’m going to let you out here. You can work your way down the beach and come up over the dune ridge to the back door. He said they were in the kitchen. There’s a small window over the sink. Maybe you can see in and know what’s happening.”

  Austin nodded. “Does the back door open into the kitchen?”

  “No. It opens into a small utility room. Unless they’ve remodeled, it’s a narrow room with a washer and dryer on one side and a closet and sink on the other.”

  Austin pursed his lips and stared through the windshield. “I don’t have to tell you that we’re dealing an unstable character. He’s killed four people already and one or two more probably won’t bother him at all.”

  “I know.”

  Austin took a deep breath and grabbed the door handle. “Be careful, Gentry.”

  “You, too, Whitman.”

  The agent crouched low and ran toward the dune that skirted the road. When he’d disappeared onto the beach, Brock glanced in the rearview mirror again, waved to the agents behind and put the car in gear. He eased down on the accelerator, and the car inched forward. As he approached the house, his heartbeat increased until his tight chest felt as if it would burst.

  He’d been here many times in the past, but never on a life-or-death mission like now. The last time he’d come had been the night of Doug’s death. He and Kate had sat on the beach, and she had talked to him of her faith in God. He’d come a long way in his journey toward finding God since then, but there were things he still questioned. Kate believed God always walked with you wherever you went. He wanted to believe God was with him right now. But was He?

  Brock stopped the car in the house’s front yard and dropped his head to rest on his hands that gripped the steering wheel. He felt so alone. He’d been in dangerous situations before, but he’d never experienced one like this. A madman held captive the woman he loved and her two sisters. Only he and Austin could put a stop to their almost certain death. And they needed some divine intervention if they were to succeed.

  If God was with him, Brock needed to know now. His lips began to move in silent prayer. God, I feel so alone, but I have to help Kate and her sisters. Don’t let them die. Please don’t bring them this far in finding their brother to have it all be for nothing. All I want is to know You’re watching over us. Kate believes it. Just show me. Please show me.

  He didn’t move but sat still, waiting for the revelation of God’s presence he needed. He didn’t know how God would speak to him, but if He was real, He’d do something. Brock waited, but nothing happened.

  The heavens didn’t open to reveal a blinding light that carried the voice of God to earth. Nor did his heart fill with wonder at God’s message spilling into his soul. There was nothing. He groaned and shook his head. Nothing. No assurance whatsoever that anyone or anything watched him. Why had he thought God could love a person like him—one who had broken the heart of the only woman he’d ever loved, hated his father for years and been the cause of an innocent man’s death?

  He opened the car door and stepped out. He squared his shoulders and took a faltering step toward the house. He placed his foot on the first of the front porch steps and froze. A distant cry reached his ears. He turned his head to stare toward the sun that was slowly sinking in the west, and he heard it again. The call of a Black-crowned Night Heron.

  His skin warmed from the blood that pounded in his veins. He remembered the night he and Kate sat on the beach and she’d told him how she heard God’s voice in all the sounds of Ocracoke. They’d heard a Black-crowned Night Heron that night. Kate said dusk was their feeding time, the time when she could hear God’s voice in their call. The sound of the bird’s cry drifted over the dunes once again, and Brock knew the prayer he’d whispered in the car had just been answered.

  God had spoken to him in the voice of a bird, and His message that He controlled the situation inside the house pierced Brock’s heart. God did care about what happened to His children.

  Tears filled Brock’s eyes, and he stared upward. He wasn’t alone. This was God’s battle, not his and not Austin’s. They were there merely as God’s messengers, and whatever happened, God was in control.

  A new strength flowed through him, and he mounted the steps with an assurance he had never felt before. On the porch he gripped the doorknob, pushed the door open and stepped into the living room. His footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as he walked forward.

  He stopped in the middle of the living room and glanced around. A dish towel lay on the floor in the doorway that led to the kitchen. Nothing else appeared out of place. He took a deep breath and eased forward.

  “Kate. Are you in here?”

  Her voice drifted from the back of the house. “We’re in the kitchen, Brock. Be careful. He has a gun.”

  “I’m coming in,” he called out. He held his hands in front of him as he eased around the door into the kitchen. “I’m unarmed.”

  The scene inside the kitchen hit him like a jolt of electricity. The horror of seeing Kate tied in a chair gave way to surprise at Dillon McAllister, dressed in the same running shorts and T-shirt he’d worn earlier today, standing behind her with a gun to her head. The sight of a hypodermic needle lying on the table beside Kate’s chair sent chills up his spine.

  Dillon smiled. “We’ve been waiting for you, Brock.”

  Brock shook his head in disbelief. Dillon? A murderer? It wasn’t possible that the person who had taunted Kate and killed four people could be the man who’d occupied a room next to his at the Island Connection. Not the man he’d laughed and talked with for the past week. He took a step closer. “D-Dillon,” he sputtered. “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this to Kate?”

  Dillon sighed. “I’ve already told Kate. It’s not about her, Brock. I like Kate a lot. She just has the wrong friends.”

  The answer made no sense. “Wrong friends? But how could you know any of her friends? You told us you’d never been to Ocracoke, that you were a college professor here to study the island’s history. Was that a lie?”

  “I’m afraid so. I’ve never been so bored in my life as I was traipsing through all those salt marshes while Grady rattled on about his famous ancestor.”

  Brock raked his fingers through his hair. “This is crazy. Why did you go to so much trouble because you say Kate has the wrong friends?”

  Dillon rolled his eyes. “Brock, don’t you get it? I only used Kate to get to the one person that I hate more than anyone else I’ve ever known.”

  “Who?”

  Dillon’s eyes darkened, and pure hatred lined his face. “You.”

  Broc
k gasped and drew back in surprise. “Me? I never saw you before you showed up at Treasury’s bed-and-breakfast.”

  “I know. And I only came there because I knew that was where you were planning to stay.” Dillon smiled. “You see, Brock, I’ve had a private investigator following your every move for months. When he found out you were taking some time off, he went to your partner’s favorite hangout and bought him a drink. One thing led to another and before the night was over, your friend and partner was so drunk he never remembered talking about how you were going to Ocracoke Island to try and make amends with the only woman you’ve ever loved. He even knew the name of the bed-and-breakfast.” He nudged Kate on the shoulder with the gun. “I guess it’s true what they say. Police officers share everything with their partners.”

  Kate’s face hadn’t shown any reaction to Dillon’s words the whole time he spoke. Brock licked his lips and moved closer. “What did I ever do to you, Dillon?”

  His features hardened, and a snarl erupted from his lips. “Maybe I need to introduce myself. My name isn’t Dillon McAllister. It’s Robert Sterling Jr.”

  The name slammed into Brock’s head like a freight train, and he reeled. “You’re Sterling’s son?”

  “Yes.”

  Kate frowned and twisted her head to stare at Dillon, then looked back at Brock. “His father was the man who was executed?”

  Brock nodded. “Yes.”

  Dillon pressed the gun tighter against Kate’s head. Brock’s skin burned from the hatred raging in Dillon’s eyes. “Can you even start to imagine what it was like for my father on death row all those years for a crime he didn’t commit? Then to be executed when you knew the truth?” He glared at Brock. “You could have saved him, but you didn’t.”

  Dillon’s eyes blinked several times before his gaze darted about the room. His hand shook, and Brock feared he might discharge the pistol at any moment. He had to keep Dillon distracted from the gun. He needed to keep him talking long enough to give Austin time to get to the back of the house. “I didn’t know he was innocent, Dillon.”