by S Doyle
“Why did you tell him to hurt Kenny?”
“So I could save the day, of course. Wasn’t that perfect? I snuck him into the event and told him to attack Kenny so I could shoot him. I saved you and your brother. I was a hero.”
“You weren’t,” Reilly said. “You were nothing more than a murderer.”
“I was a hero,” Mark countered. “So much of a hero you weren’t even nervous about coming with me in the car. Were you?”
No. He was right. They’d all been fooled by the badge. Pierce, Odie, Kenny. Even Luke. Luke might not have liked him, but he trusted him. He looked so damn normal.
“You should know I have the means to take care of you. I’m rich. Don’t let this van fool you. It’s good camouflage. Mommy and Daddy will give me anything I ask for. I write to them I need money and they wire it to me. Although I can’t live with them anymore because they’re always on my case about therapy.”
“Maybe they’re trying to help you.”
She saw his head tilt as if she’d said something ridiculous.
“Help with what? I love deeply. Intensely. That’s not a crime. When I see something I want, I take it. They taught me that. It makes sense if I see someone I want that I should take her, too. So I do.”
“Okay. You took me. Now what?”
“Now we’ll go someplace where we can be together. We’ll eat and drink and make love and be happy. What else would we do? I will have to punish you,” he added. “For being with Luke.
That hurt me. Watching you at the farmhouse. Letting yourself be exposed like that. You’ll have to pay, but then we can make up.”
The panic she felt she’d done an admirable job of suppressing started to well up and overtake her.
“He’ll look for me. He’ll try to find me.”
“He might. He won’t,” Mark said simply.
Reilly leaned back against the side of the door, bone weary in a way she’d never been before. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t think. She was in the back of a van going somewhere with a delusional psychotic who thought they were going to live happily ever after.
The pictures that lined the interior mocked her. She saw herself smiling, looking strong in front of the camera. Swinging a club.
Where was that strength now?
“What do you mean he had a partner? What do you mean Leonard isn’t FBI?”
Luke had come back in the room to let Reilly’s family know what was happening. Kenny stood too quickly and nearly fainted if his ashen face was any indication.
“I want to go back to the course and get Reilly. Now,” Pop said.
“I’m going,” Luke answered. “I wanted to let you know what was happening. If she calls tell her to hold still until we get there. I can’t get her on the cell, but that might not mean anything. She might not have it on her if she’s signing autographs.”
“I’m going with you,” Kenny said. He started to move but Tessa held him back.
“You’re as weak as a kitten,” she told him when he glared at the hand holding him back. “You’ll slow them down.”
Reason prevailing, Kenny nodded. “Go get her. And bring her back.”
Luke didn’t bother to answer. The detective was waiting for him in the hallway and together they started to run toward the elevator.
As soon as they reached the detective’s car, the cop popped a strobe light on the hood of it. He reached for the radio on the dash and called in the situation. Luke listened to his words about a possible threat and couldn’t shake the idea there was nothing possible about it. He dug out his cell and tried her again.
No answer.
It was after dark. The tournament was over. There would be buzzing around the clubhouse for hours afterward he knew, but surely she’d signed all the autographs she could. She should be waiting for him. With her phone in her hand.
An idea struck Luke and he searched his phone for another number. Tom Carter was a fellow tour golfer and friend. He’d been in the paring behind Reilly. Luke hadn’t seen how he finished and he didn’t care. He hoped he might still be at the clubhouse. Luke found his number and dialed, begging for him to pick up.
“Luke?”
“Tom,” Luke sighed, so grateful he could barely think of what to say. “Listen, are you still at the course?”
“I’m just about to head out. What’s up? You forget your caddy jumper?”
Luke ignored the humorous jibe. “Have you seen Reilly? I left her to sign some autographs, but now I can’t get her on the phone.”
“Sure I saw her. She had a real crowd around her but they thinned out. I’m pretty sure I saw her take off with the guy from yesterday. You know, the big FBI dude.”
Luke thanked him out of reflex and dropped the phone in his lap. His whole body felt numb.
“He’s got her.”
The detective was still talking into the radio when he stopped.
“What?”
“A friend of mine saw her leave with him. She had no reason not to trust him. No reason to think he wouldn’t take her where she asked.”
“What kind of car was he driving?”
Luke shook his head. Reilly. He’d just got her and now he was going to…
“What kind of car was he driving?”
Luke turned to stare at the man with the mustache. “What’s your name?”
“Look, sir, I need you to pull it together. If we’re going to find her we need to know what car Leonard was driving.”
Luke nodded. “A Camry. Dark maroon.”
The detective relayed the information to the dispatcher and called for an APB on the car.
Luke knew it was a wasted effort. This man was smart. This man had fooled them all. Why hadn’t he called Bob to verify who he was? Why hadn’t he checked the damn badge number?
Because Mark made it all sound so real. There’d been nothing suspicious about him. Nothing alarming. He joked about the lack of security at the gate to the development and Luke hadn’t once suspected a thing.
He’d been attracted to Reilly. That was obvious, but who the hell wouldn’t be. He said he was a fan. She had fans. Maybe on a gut level Luke hadn’t trusted him, but because he saw him as a threat. He was handsome. Charming.
And a psycho kidnapper.
“It’s doubtful he’ll keep the car. He has to know he’s been discovered by now.”
“Yeah. Probably,” the detective admitted. “But if we find the car we’ll have a starting point. There aren’t a lot roads leading out of this town. We’ll start there and take the most direct route that leads out of state. It will be his first goal.”
What would the second goal be? Would he stop to rape her? Or would he wait until he was sure they were safe? What kind of sick bastard was he? Would he torture her? Kill her? What happened when an obsessed stalker had his target in his grasp?
Luke saw the speedometer spike over 80mph. They were moving fast, but they weren’t moving in the right direction. They were headed back to the course while Reilly was headed away from it.
Another call came in over the radio and the detective reached for it. The dispatch person was reporting suspicious activity and spouting out roads and crossroads Luke had no idea about. The urge to take the damn radio and smash it to pieces was strong. He didn’t want to hear about other problems in the area. He wanted the man to concentrate on finding Reilly.
“Okay, we’ve got something.” The detective was eyeing the rearview mirror even as he told Luke to hold on.
Luke reached out to grab the dashboard while the car spun into a 180-degree turn. Luke heard car horns beep and tires squeal but soon they were facing the opposite direction and going faster than they were before.
They passed car after car using the shoulder as the detective called for backup. Backup to what? Luke wanted to know.
“What the hell is that?” Luke muttered.
A paper flapped in the air in front of him until it landed on the windshield. The image of her swinging a golf club se
emed to mock him. He rolled down the window and reached his hand out to grab the picture before it flew off.
“It’s Reilly.”
“I know. There was a report of pictures flying out behind a van. They’re all of her.”
“You think she’s pulling a Hansel and Gretel?”
“You know her. Do you think she could keep her head together in a situation like this to do that?”
A situation like this? Kidnapped by a man she’d seen shoot another man in front of her. How would Reilly deal with that? The best way she could.
“She’ll keep her head together. This absolutely could be her.”
Reilly reached her arms farther up her back along the door of the van and tugged at the picture. With her arms lifted higher than they wanted to go she had to work a little more, but the tape caved against her strength and the picture was in her hands. Slowly she lowered what felt like a magazine page this time to the space between the floor and the van’s back doors. She could tell by the way the wind battered them about that the lock wasn’t secure.
More likely there was a piece of wire or a chain holding them together from the outside, leaving a slip of space perfect for a picture to fall through.
It had been a while since she’d heard any cars behind them. Not that it was easy to hear anything over the engine’s rumble echoing in the empty back shell. She had no idea if anyone was seeing the parade of pictures she was slipping out between the doors. Or if they did see them would anyone have any idea of what they meant other than they were traveling behind a crazed Reilly Carr fan.
“No. No. No!”
The shout from up front got her attention.
“They couldn’t possibly know. Not yet.”
He turned around and looked at her. He must have seen the empty spaces of the pictures she’d managed to take down.
“You.”
There was little point in denying anything. Instead, Reilly deliberately reached for another picture when she saw his hands spin the wheel dramatically to the right. The vehicle lurched and her body turned and slammed into the side of the van. Nasty bumps told her they were leaving the main road. There was no reason to do that unless someone was chasing them.
The blare of sirens followed and Reilly let her head fall back on the floor in relief. It was over. The cavalry was her e and she was saved.
“There’s nowhere for you to go, Mark. Stop and let me out.”
The van vaulted over an unknown obstacle and she felt herself lifted and dropped. Then it hit something large enough to force an abrupt halt. She rolled all the way to the front of the vehicle, banging into the seat-backs, doing her best to duck her face into her shoulder.
She felt a hand grab at her hair and pull her through the narrow space between the driver’s seat and passenger seat.
“You are coming with me,” he shouted. “Do you understand I have a gun?”
Reilly whimpered as he tugged on her hair even harder.
“Do you understand I will use it?”
There was no point in answering. She’d already seen him use it once.
He opened the door and maneuvered his body so he stepped out first then dragged her over the seat and out of the car. Falling face-first she scrambled until she could pull her still-tied legs up and underneath her.
“Let her go, Mr. Leonard.”
Reilly felt Mark stiffen as he jerked her up, her knees struggling to lock so she could support herself. The next thing she felt was cold metal pressed against her temple. Instinctively, she closed her eyes.
“Sig Sauer semi-automatic,” Mark whispered into her ear. “It’s a common gun among federal agents. Nobody will ever say I didn’t do my research.”
“Where is this going to end, Mark? There’s no point to this.”
“I’m sorry, Reilly. I can’t let you go. You don’t understand that my love is stronger than your life. That’s how much I feel for you. How much I need you to be mine. If I can’t have you...”
Grateful he didn’t bother to finish the thought, she opened her eyes. In front of her were three marked police cars positioned all around them in a crude blockade along with a blue Chevy, which had a strobe light attached. The detective that had questioned her yesterday was the man in front holding the gun and Luke was behind him. An officer tried to pull him back behind one of the other cars but he wouldn’t budge.
“Luke,” she breathed, willing him to get behind something.
“I’ll kill her,” Mark shouted.
Calmly the detective shook his head and lowered his weapon. Since there were six other officers pointing guns in their direction she figured one more was overkill.
“It doesn’t have to end this way, Mr. Leonard. You’re clearly a very clever man. You had to be to fool us all. That means you know this can’t end with you leaving here alive if you hurt her. Put down your weapon, let Ms. Carr go, and we’ll all walk away alive.”
“I have money and power. My father will not let me go to jail.”
Again the detective nodded.
“That’s good for you then, isn’t it? He’ll hire some fancy lawyer and this will all go away for you. Now I’m going to ask Ms. Carr to do her best and shuffle over to me. Then we’re going take you in with all due respect.”
“I should be respected,” Mark called to them. “You said it yourself. I fooled all of you. None of you suspected anything. I was so close to getting away. To having her all to myself.”
“You can still get away. A good lawyer is all you’ll need.”
Mark snorted and ran his hand holding the gun under his nose to clear away the snot that had begun to drip.
“I’m not an idiot. I know what I did. I killed someone. Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot!”
“I’m real sorry about that. I just want this to end peacefully. You could say it was self-defense.”
Reilly turned her head and watched his expression. He seemed to be considering it.
“Neville did stab Kenny. He could have gone for me next. Maybe you are a hero. Maybe you did save my life.”
He nodded and she could see the cool handsome man with the all-American good looks was replaced by someone who was clearly lost in his delusions. Mentally separate from the rest of the world. Reilly felt the fear even more powerfully as she tried to shift her feet forward with an inch or two of give between her ankles.
“I did do that,” he said more to himself as he let her shuffle out of his grip. His arms fell to his sides, the gun hung loose in his hand.
“I did stop him from hurting you. He could have hurt you. He wasn’t right in the head.”
“Thank you,” Reilly said as she continued to move an inch at a time away from him. “Thank you for everything.”
“No,” Mark told her. “Thank you for being you. For being someone I could love. But I told you. My love is forever. I can’t let you go without me.”
The words seemed to float on an easy breeze until Reilly was able to understand what they meant.
“Drop!”
She didn’t know who said it, but it was so simple to let her knees buckle and fall to the ground. A shot blasted over her head. Then another one. Then another one.
It took her several moments of uncontrollable shaking with her face pressed into the dirt until she was willing to lift her head. Willing to test her eyes to see if she could open them to see. Willing to acknowledge she was alive.
“Reilly! Jesus!”
She felt Luke stumble toward her. He fell to his knees and rolled her so she could see his face.
“I’m alive?”
“Yeah. You’re alive.” He helped her sit up and she could see a few feet away the man she thought had been sent to help her. Blood pooled out from underneath his body and she looked away. The detective was lowering his gun.
“He shot him,” Reilly stated numbly.
Luke craned his neck over his shoulder at where the detective stood, calmly pulling at his long mustache.
“I don’t know yo
ur name, but we’re naming our first born after you,” Luke told him.
“It’s Osborne. Detective Osborne Montgomery.”
Luke grimaced.
“Okay, maybe just the middle name,” he whispered to her.
Reilly laughed. She laughed so hard it was difficult to tell when she stopped laughing and started crying. But then Luke picked her up and she knew that it was going to be all right.
Epilogue
Eleven months later…
Reilly sat on the couch in their living room in Savannah and smiled as Luke sat down beside her. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close and she wondered how they looked. Probably like lovesick dorks. But there was nothing to be done about that since they pretty much were lovesick dorks.
There was a bustle of people around them as a crew worked large television cameras, moving them into different angles. The girl from makeup came in and patted Luke’s nose again with powder, making him flinch.
Steve Mercuro smiled as he took his seat making sure his clip-on microphone was in place.
“And three, two, …”
Another young man with a clipboard in his hand held up a single finger and Reilly knew they were on.
“Hello, everyone. I’m Steve Mercuro and I’m sitting here with Luke Nolan and Reilly Carr in their first interview since Reilly’s recent announcement regarding this year’s American tournament. So, Reilly, talk to us. It’s been almost a year since you played the American, almost a year since you watched your brother get attacked in front of your eyes, only to discover the man who orchestrated all of this was someone who you thought was protecting you. You overcame the odds of making the cut, making the top fifteen, then of course, the kidnapping.”
She tried not to wince at the dramatic description. This was for TV, after all, and drama was the theme for the day.
“Sounds remarkable when you say it, Steve. But we’ve all just moved past it.”
“Talk to me first about what the experience of playing in the American meant to you.”
“At first it was frightening. Almost overwhelming. Then it came to mean everything and then by the last day, it became just another golf tournament.”