The Darkness We Hide

by Debra Webb

  On autopilot, Rowan went through the motions of making peanut butter sandwiches. She rounded up a paper bag and added one sandwich, an apple and a bottle of water as well as a napkin.

  “If only I could tie this to your back and send you downstairs with it,” she said to Freud.

  He cocked his head and studied her.

  “Come on. Let’s take the officer his dinner.”

  Officer Radisson thanked her, insisting peanut butter was his favorite sandwich. She decided not to mention that the old reliable had been hers and Billy’s lunch or dinner more often than she preferred to admit. She was relatively certain she hadn’t eaten so much peanut butter in one year since she was ten or so.

  When she was back in her living room, her cell rang.

  Billy.

  “Hey.” She collapsed onto the sofa and held her breath in anticipation of the news.

  “He’s still stable but they want to go ahead and do the surgery tonight. They’ve discovered three major blockages and waiting is too risky.”

  Rowan rubbed at her forehead and the throb that had started there from the day’s endless tension. She couldn’t just sit here. “I’m going to shower and drive down there.”

  “There’s nothing you can do. Mom and I are stuck in this waiting room for the next several hours. I’ll call you as soon as he’s out of surgery. When he’s settled in for the night, I’m taking Mom to the hotel on Gallatin and then I’m coming home. You and I will come back together tomorrow.”

  She didn’t like being more than an hour away. “I don’t know, Billy. I feel like I should be there.”

  “Ro, I’ve got Radisson in the lobby and Pace in the parking lot. I’ll feel better if you stay put. Pryor’s guy is probably around there somewhere.”

  Rowan went to the window and surveyed the parking lot and the street. “I don’t know. I think he’s called off his surveillance. I haven’t seen anyone since the cemetery.”

  “I swear,” Billy growled, “the man is a whack-job.”

  She chuckled. Billy was right. “Just keep me posted, please. I don’t care what time it is. I want to know what’s happening. Give Dottie my love.”

  “As soon as I know anything, you will, too. Love you, Ro.”

  “I love you, Billy.” Should she just tell him? No, no. She wanted to give him his answer in person. “See you tomorrow.”

  The call ended and she suddenly felt intensely lonely.

  Maybe she’d have a glass of wine and take a long hot bath. The sooner this day was over, the happier she would be.

  Her cell sounded off again and she dragged it from her pocket, her pulse already speeding up at the idea that something may have gone wrong with Billy’s dad in the blink of an eye.

  Charlotte.

  Rowan relaxed. She was probably returning her call from earlier. She frowned, but that had been hours ago. Two or three, she couldn’t say for sure.

  “Hey, Charlotte.”

  “Ro, I need your help.”

  Rowan stilled. Her pulse accelerating once more at the fear in her friend’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

  Charlotte laughed nervously. “You know my husband is never home when I need him. He’s always out of town at the worst possible times.”

  The high tension in the other woman’s tone had ice forming in Rowan’s veins. “What’s happened, Charlotte?”

  “When I came home this evening, Penelope needed me to help her with a school project. Stupidly I climbed up on a chair and then on the counter to get something in that very top shelf above the refrigerator and I fell. I can’t call my momma. She’s got the flu.”

  “How badly are you injured?” Rowan was already moving toward the table where she’d dropped her purse.

  “I... I’m not sure. My ankle might be broken. I can’t walk on it and I need to go to the ER. I thought about calling an ambulance but—”

  “Don’t do that. I’ll be right there,” Rowan said as she grabbed her purse and the fob for Billy’s truck. “Should I call—”

  The connection dropped off.

  Charlotte probably hadn’t realized Rowan was still talking or maybe she hit the end call button before she intended to. It happened.

  Rowan gave Freud a pat on the head. “Stay, boy.”

  She locked up and hurried down the stairs.

  Radisson was on his feet before she reached the final step. “My assistant, Charlotte Kinsley, needs me to take her to the ER. Should I drive, and you follow, or do I ride with you?”

  Rowan didn’t really see any reason for them to take both vehicles, but she wasn’t familiar with all the rules uniformed officers were required to follow.

  “How about I ride with you,” he offered. “You’ll be more comfortable in your private vehicle.”

  “All right.”

  In the parking lot Radisson explained the situation and instructed the other officer, Rose Pace, the one Billy had sent as backup to Radisson, to keep an eye on the funeral home and that he and Rowan would be back soon. Until then they would likely be at the ER with Charlotte Kinsley. He promised to keep the officer posted.

  As Rowan pulled out of the parking lot she surveyed the street in both directions. Pryor had definitely pulled his detail. Fine by her. She was sick to death of his self-indulgent tactics. The man was so damned arrogant. She hoped Josh was able to pull together the necessary evidence to take the guy down if he was in fact the leak. The possibility that she might be giving Josh the benefit of the doubt and then some crossed her mind. She had known him a long time, but she’d known Julian a long time as well.

  Right or wrong, Josh had himself in a precarious situation. Even if Pryor was guilty of what Josh alleged—and Rowan didn’t doubt it, but she also couldn’t confirm the allegation—things could still go badly for him.

  Darkness had settled in for the night by the time they reached Charlotte’s home. The colonial-style two-story was showing some age, but it was a lovely house. The home was surrounded by ten acres complete with a beautiful old barn. Somewhere out there in the dark goats and chickens roamed. It was a really nice place to raise children. Rowan had been here a couple of times. Charlotte and her husband had done most of the renovation work themselves. Rowan had a tremendous amount of respect for anyone who could conquer those sorts of DIY projects.

  Rowan pulled into the driveway, the truck’s headlights reflected off the taillights of Charlotte’s minivan. As Charlotte had said, her husband wasn’t home. His new promotion was keeping him away from home more often these days. Unfortunately, according to Charlotte, it was the only way to move up in the company. With two kids, he had needed that promotion. Rowan hoped that Charlotte’s promotion at the funeral home would boost their income and simultaneously their quality of life as well.

  Radisson followed her up the sidewalk and to the front door. Rowan pushed the button and the doorbell chimed inside. Charlotte’s daughter, Penelope, opened the door. She was eight. Her brown eyes were big and round as if she’d expected the bogeyman at the door.

  Rowan gave her a smile. “Hi, Penelope. Your mommy called and said she needed my help.”

  Penelope drew open the door, clinging to it as if it were a buoy in rough waters. She didn’t say a word, much less smile. The child was truly afraid. Rowan walked in, Radisson right behind her.

  “Where is your mommy?” Rowan asked, surveying the living room.

  The child burst into tears as an arm snaked around her neck. The muzzle of a handgun bored into her skull.

  Julian kicked the door closed, revealing his presence.

  All the emotions—shock, hatred, disgust—that had been simmering inside her for a year burst from Rowan. “You son of a bitch. Release that child!”

  “Put the gun down, sir.” Radisson stepped forward, one hand extended outward, the other resting on the butt of his service revolver.


  Julian stared at him. Didn’t say a word.

  Rowan repeated her demand. “Let her—”

  An explosion rent the air. Rowan witnessed the flash from the barrel of Julian’s weapon. Felt the spray of blood spew from the man next to her.

  The bullet seared into Radisson’s skull, shearing off a good portion of the right side of his head.

  He dropped to the floor, his weapon still holstered.

  Rowan’s heart stumbled and the ability to breathe fled.

  “It’s time for you and me to go, Rowan.”

  Rowan shifted her attention to the man who had spoken. The man she had admired, respected and for whom she had felt such deep affection.

  The man who murdered her father and countless others. The one holding a small child as protection. Bastard.

  An ache twisted even as anger detonated.

  “I am going to kill you,” she said, the words as cold and hard as she felt at that moment. What she would give to watch the life drain from his body!

  “I would love to hear you explain how you intend to manage such a feat considering you are unarmed, and your protector is—” he glanced at the officer lying on the floor “—out of commission.”

  “Where is Charlotte?”

  “She’s quite well, I assure you.”

  Rowan moved her head side to side. “I’m not going anywhere until I see her and her son.” Charlotte had two children. Where was the boy?

  “As you wish.” He motioned with the gun. “They’re in the dining room.”

  Rowan swung her attention to the child. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Everything is going to be fine. This evil man will not hurt you.” She glared at Julian and then turned her back on the bastard. She hurried to the dining room.

  Bound and gagged on the floor, Charlotte flopped like a fish who’d washed up onto the shore. The frantic grunting sounds tore at Rowan’s heart. Her son, ten-year-old Parker, was bound and gagged and curled up next to his mother. Her smashed cell phone had been slung across the floor.

  Rowan dropped to her knees and reached for the tape wrapped around her friend’s mouth and head.

  “Do not touch her,” Julian ordered. “Restrain the child as I’ve restrained the others and we’ll be on our way.”

  Rowan glared at him. “I swear if you hurt them, I—”

  “I won’t hurt them as long as you do exactly as I say.”

  A hundred possibilities to overtake him went through her mind but none of them were feasible at the moment. Her only choice was to do as he demanded and hope they walked out of here without anyone else dying. She had to make that happen for Charlotte’s sake.

  Julian pushed the little girl toward Rowan.

  “I’m so sorry to do this, sweetie.” She picked up the duct tape and tore off a strip to cover her mouth, muffling her pitiful sobs. She secured her hands behind her back just as Julian instructed and then she bound her ankles. Rowan exchanged a look with Charlotte. She tried to relay with her eyes how deeply she regretted this nightmare invading her friend’s home, touching her children.

  Rowan stood. “What now?”

  “Bring the tape with you.”

  She reached down and picked up the roll from where she’d left it on the floor.

  “We’re going out the back door. My car is parked near the barn.”

  Rowan glanced back at her friend once more, then did as she was told. Julian locked the door as they left. It wasn’t until then that she noticed he had Charlotte’s handgun tucked into his waistband.

  “Down the steps.” Julian motioned to the steps on the other side of the porch.

  Rowan crossed the porch and descended the four steps.

  “Pick up the gasoline can.”

  She whipped around and stared at him. “What?”

  He motioned with his weapon at the large red plastic container sitting on the grass next to the steps.

  “Pick it up and start dashing it onto the house.”

  Fear coiled around her heart like a snake. “No.”

  “Do it or I will secure you in the car and then do it myself.”

  “We either leave them alive or I’m not going.”

  He waved the gun. “I think you will go just as you restrained that helpless little girl. Your options are limited, dear Rowan.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll run and you can shoot me or not, but I won’t do this.”

  For a moment Julian simply stood there as if he couldn’t decide whether she would actually dare defy him.

  Then he took a step toward her. “Very well, let’s go. We have quite a drive ahead of us.”

  Rowan started toward the barn. A lone light between the house and the barn provided just enough illumination for her to find the gravel drive and follow it toward her destination. A black sedan waited. Her heart pounded harder and harder as they approached the car. She wondered if Julian had his friend waiting in the car—the one Laura Brewer had seen with him at the inn when his ex-wife was murdered.

  There was no one in the car.

  Her body sagged with relief.

  Julian opened the trunk. “Get in.”

  Again, she didn’t bother arguing. Instead, she climbed in and lay down on her side.

  “Secure your ankles with the tape. Do it right,” he cautioned. “I’d hate to have to go back and use that gasoline.”

  Rowan bound her ankles together, not as tight as she could have but tight enough.

  “Now put a strip over your mouth.”

  Her glower fixed on him, she pulled a length of tape free from the roll and then plastered it across her mouth.

  “Turn on your side with your hands behind your back.”

  She did as he asked, and he secured her hands. Tight.

  “Enjoy the ride, Rowan.”

  He closed the trunk.

  Darkness swallowed her.

  * * *

  The surgeon entered the waiting room.

  Billy pushed to his feet, his heart swelling into his throat. His mother stood beside him.

  “Mrs. Brannigan, your husband came through the procedure like a champ. We’ll be keeping him a couple of days, but at this time all looks optimistic.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” his mom said.

  Billy echoed the sentiment.

  “When can we see him?” she wanted to know.

  “It’ll be a little while, but the nurse will come and let you know soon. For now, relax. We’re out of the woods.”

  After the surgeon walked away, Billy hugged his mother. Tears burned his eyes and he barely held them back. She wept against his chest.

  When they settled back into their chairs, he said, “I should call Ro.”

  His mom nodded. “Please do. She’ll be worried.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Billy squeezed his mother’s hand and stepped out into the corridor.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and it vibrated in his hand. He’d shut off the ringer once they settled in the waiting room. The number was one of the department’s cell phones. Worry twisted his gut.

  “Brannigan.”

  “Chief, this is Officer Pace. We may have a problem.”

  The backup he’d sent for Radisson. “What sort of problem, Pace?”

  “Officer Radisson and Dr. DuPont left more than an hour ago and they haven’t returned. I’ve tried to call Radisson a couple of times and he’s not answering.”

  “Where were they going and why didn’t you go with them?” His worry morphed into frustration and no small amount of fury.

  “Radisson told me to stay and keep an eye on the funeral home. They were going to a Charlotte Kinsley’s house to take her to the ER. He said he’d keep me up to speed, but I haven’t heard from him again. I’ve just arrived at Mrs. Kinsley’s home and your truck is here and so
is Kinsley’s minivan, but no one is answering the door. I just tried Radisson’s cell again and I can hear it ringing inside.”

  “Call for backup, Pace, and get in there, now! I want to hear back from you in two minutes.”

  Billy ended the call and rushed back into the waiting room. He crouched down in front of his mother. “Something has come up and I need to get back to Winchester. I want you to call me if there’s any change in Dad’s condition. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Her eyes widened as if she’d just realized the most likely possibilities. “Is Ro all right? What’s happened?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know but I’m going to find out.”

  She hugged him hard and told him to go.

  Billy’s phone rang again before he reached the bank of elevators. He hit the button to call an elevator as he answered his cell. “Tell me something good, Pace.”

  A moment of silence passed that felt like an eternity. “Radisson is dead, sir.”

  Outright fear punched him in the chest. “Rowan?”

  “She’s not here. Charlotte Kinsley and her children were restrained and gagged in the dining room but they’re okay.”

  “Let me speak to Charlotte. I want you to get Lincoln over there.” The elevator doors opened, and Billy stepped in, hit the button for the lobby.

  “Chief—” Charlotte’s voice was wobbly “—it was him. Addington. He took Rowan with him.”

  The breath left Billy’s chest and for a moment he couldn’t speak or even think. Then he said, “I’m on my way.”

  Twenty-One

  The car braked to a stop.

  Rowan stilled, listened for sound. The engine continued running but the car wasn’t moving anymore.

  Her wrists were raw from trying to twist her hands free of the tape. Her ankles, too. The effort was likely futile, but she had to try. While she’d tugged and twisted, she’d also worked hard to focus on the amount of time that passed since Julian had forced her into this trunk. An hour at least. Maybe more.

  They could be in Huntsville or Nashville or anywhere in between.