This one is a fighter. She’s doing everything within her small frame to dislodge herself from my grasp. I walk her further into the building and press her against a wall. Her movements are slowing, and I know it’s only a matter of time before she’s out.
Even when all movement stops, I wait another minute. You can’t be too careful.
The problem with chloroform is it can knock you out for half an hour or hours. It’s a tricky substance to play with. I always make sure my play area is within the twenty-minute zone. Nothing worse than someone pounding on your trunk lid in peak-hour traffic.
I throw Izzy over my shoulder and carry her to the car. The trunk is already open—again with planning. I chuckle to myself at how easy she was to abduct.
And this one?
This one is going to fuck with all of them.
They all like her.
They’ll all be looking for her.
They’ll never find her.
The FBI, the sheriff, the MC—all morons.
I slam the trunk shut and get in my car. It’s a white, four-door sedan. Boring. No one will even notice. It’s all about blending in. I’m surprised most serial killers don’t do this. They try to stand out. Not me. Well, apart from the ravens. How else are they going to know what I have done?
Carlos
The doors to the newly painted hall are closed, but Izzy’s car is parked out front. I take the stairs two at a time and knock on the doors. I wait for a moment listening for the sound of her voice, then try the handle. The door swings open easily.
“Izzy? You here?” I yell.
Silence greets me. There’s a box on the front counter, but I ignore it as I continue looking for Izzy. Wilson comes through the door, and we both walk toward the back of the building. There’s a broom on the floor, and the doors in the back are open. I walk through them, but Izzy isn’t here. Wilson is frowning. I shrug and pull out my cell and find Izzy in my contact list. The phone rings, and I follow the noise. Her bag is in a drawer in the desk at the front.
Izzy wouldn’t go anywhere without her bag. My gut turns to stone. I hang up and dial Cassia.
“Hey, Carlos.”
“Cass, is Izzy with you?” I want her so badly to say yes.
“No. She’s working at the hall. There’s a guy coming to install heavy-duty ramps for the side doors so we can get ATVs and snowmobiles in and out easily. She should be there.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I hang up, and Wilson pulls out his cell and begins talking with Special Agent Argos. Next, I dial Kat Saunders.
She answers on the third ring. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t our disgraced sheriff?”
“Hey, Kat, is Izzy with you?”
“What, no apology? No, hey Kat, how are you doing? Just straight to the point?”
“Kat, I can’t find her. Izzy’s bag is here at the hall, but Izzy isn’t here. Is she with you?”
“No, she told me she’d be working late. There’s a workman coming to install something. Carlos, are you fucking with me?”
“I wish I was. Sorry, Kat, I’ve got to go.”
Fear crawls its way from my gut to my chest. A burning sensation bordering on pain begins to spread through me. I’m looking around the hall, looking for something, anything that will tell me where Izzy is. My eyes fall on the box on the counter.
“Carlos, did you find her?” asks Wilson with his cell phone still pressed to his ear.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Dammit,” replies Wilson as he turns and goes back to this conversation.
I pull the knife out of my boot. It’s an old habit, and I always keep it in there. I open the blade and slice the tape on the box, the flaps spring up slightly. Pine scent fills my nostrils, and when I peer inside, I find a raven. My stomach drops, and I stumble backward away from it. My phone buzzes in my hand. I look at the caller, and it’s Zeke.
“Zeke?”
“Yeah, Carlos. It’s me. Is it true Izzy’s missing?”
I can hear voices in the background. “Yes. I just found a raven. She’s not here, but her bag, keys, and phone are. Zeke, I’m begging you if you know who this fucker is, you have to tell me.”
The line goes dead, and in a fit of rage and worry, I punch the hall wall, splitting my knuckles and splintering the wood. It does nothing to calm me down. I run out of the hall and down the street to the Sheriff’s Office, Wilson hot on my heels. When I burst through the front doors, all of the FBI agents are in my bullpen. All my deputies are here too.
“Izzy has been taken,” I state angrily. “And if you…” I point at Special Agent Jennifer Argos, “… hadn’t arrested Zeke Russo, the Savage Angels would be helping us. Instead, they’re working this on their own and will likely get my woman killed.”
Deputy Lucy Dalton makes a strangled noise and covers her mouth with her hand. The rest of my deputies stare at the FBI with distaste.
Argos has her hands on her hips and is looking at the floor in front of me. Slowly her eyes meet mine. She nods. “How do you know she’s been taken? She could be out shopping like the other one was.”
“There’s a dead raven in a box on the counter in her store,” I reply icily.
“Shit. I’m sorry. Russo looked good for it. The LA connection, the women found in his hometown. You see that, right?”
“I see that he was a convenient scapegoat.”
Argos nods. “Okay, that’s fair. What do you know?”
“I don’t know fucking anything.”
Wilson puts a hand on my shoulder. “That’s not entirely true. Kade Cantrill.” He looks at Argos. “Someone has recently come into his life. He’s a lifelong friend of Zeke Russo’s. It’s a small town, Sheriff. Who is it?”
I frown and remember the restaurant where Destiny said Kade’s brother and father were in town.
“He’s got family visiting.”
“Who?” asks Argos.
“His father and brother.”
Argos clicks her fingers at Special Agent Burke. “Run them, see what we get. Sheriff, has anyone else been reported missing?”
I shake my head, and Burke begins clicking away on a laptop while I stand there feeling helpless. I can’t do nothing. I have to be doing something.
“Lucy, I need you to drive me to Devon Rushard’s office.”
“Yes, Sheriff,” replies Lucy as she grabs her hat and keys.
“Sheriff, let us handle this,” says Argos.
I don’t respond. Instead, I shake my head and stride from the building. Adrenaline pumps through my system, and as I wait for Lucy, I even contemplate jogging to the lawyer’s office.
Lucy joins me on the sidewalk and doesn’t say anything as she opens her cruiser and starts the engine. It’s a small town. It takes us less than five minutes to drive the distance, and Lucy does it in the fastest possible time with sirens blaring. The whole of Tourmaline will know something is up.
The car doesn’t even entirely stop before I have the door open, and I’m running. Destiny meets me at the door.
“What’s wrong?”
“Where are Kade’s father and brother staying?”
“At the Country Inn Motel, Addy’s place. Why?”
“Do you know where they are?”
“No, why?”
Her pretty face is scrunched up in concern.
“Izzy has been taken, and I think one of them has her.”
The color drains out of her face, and she shakes her head, but I have no more time for small talk. I run back to the cruiser and Lucy.
“Country Inn Motel.”
Lucy doesn’t wait for any further instructions. She reverses in a cloud of blue, spins the wheel, changes gear, and we shoot off like a rocket toward the motel. She brakes hard in the parking lot, and again, I sprint into the office.
“Sheriff?” asks Addy in a startled tone.
“Kade’s father and brother, what are their names and what room are they in?”
“The father is Clif
ford Cantrill, and the brother is Francis, but they aren’t here. They checked out yesterday.”
I slam my fist down onto her counter. I need to think. I need to be smart. But all I can think about is what he’s going to do to Izzy.
“Addy, did they have a car?” asks Lucy from behind me.
“Y-Yes.” Addy opens a filing cabinet and begins rifling through the paperwork. It only takes her a moment, and she pulls out a form and thrusts it at me. “See here?” She points. “It was a rental, a white Nissan Sentra. The registration is there, too.”
“Thank you,” I mutter as I snatch the paper from the counter and run back to the cruiser.
“Where to?” asks Lucy as she puts it in reverse.
“Back to work. The FBI can contact the car rental company, and hopefully, they’ve got a LoJack system installed. If they do, we can track them.”
Hope sparks in my chest.
If we can get to Izzy fast enough, we might be able to save her.
Izzy
My head is pounding, and I feel nauseous. I try to pry my eyes open. My arms don’t feel right, and I can’t move my hands. It takes me a good long time before I realize I’m hanging by my hands. I open my eyes, and nausea threatens to overwhelm me. I groan and quickly shut them.
“Take your time. He’s not here. Just breathe. If you can do that, you might not vomit,” says a tearful female voice.
I crack one eye to see if I can keep my stomach down. When everything stays where it is, I do the other. It’s dark in here, but there’s light coming from under the door and a window. It looks like someone put newspaper over it, but it’s come off on one corner.
“Where are we?” I ask.
She sniffles. “I don’t know. I woke up here. The man wears a mask, and he rarely speaks.”
I try to spin around, but I can’t. My feet don’t touch the floor. “Are there more of us?”
“No. It’s just been me for…” she falters, and I can hear her crying.
“It’s okay. What’s your name?”
“Juliet, but everyone calls me Jules. It feels like days. I don’t know how long I was out for.”
“I’m Izzy. We knew a girl had been taken, but we didn’t know who. Are you connected with the MC?”
Jules sniffles again. “Y-Yes, I work at The Cherry. But I’m just a waitress. I’m a nobody.”
“No, you’re not. Everybody is a somebody.”
Jules laughs. It’s high-pitched and condescending. “I don’t think now is the time for a life coach.”
“Can you get your hands free?” I ask as I ignore her comment while I pull myself up to get a better look at my bindings. The pounding in my head increases to the mother of all migraines. I lower myself and close my eyes. For a moment, I concentrate on my breathing.
“I can wiggle my fingers, but I can’t get my hands free. I’ve tried.”
I nod into the darkness and realize Jules might not be able to see me.
“My head is pounding. I don’t feel good.”
“I was like that, too. He gave me Advil and water every few hours on my first day, and they helped. At least my head doesn’t want to implode anymore.”
“Can you see me?”
“Yes, I’m behind you.”
I open my eyes again, and I’m grateful for the darkened room, but the headache still goes up a notch. Looking around me, I can’t see anything I can use as leverage to raise myself or to get myself down.
“Jules, is there anything near you that you can stand on?”
“No. We’re strung up in the middle of the room on exposed rafters. How’s your upper body strength?”
“Pretty good. Why?”
“I know you don’t feel good right now, but if you could raise yourself, you might reach the rafter above you. I tried, but my upper body strength sucks. The girls were trying to teach me how to work the pole, but every time I hung upside down on it, I’d slip down and make a fool of myself.”
“Isn’t it all about leg work?”
“Only if you let go. I had to master being upside down using my legs and arms before I could let go and just use my legs. It’s not as easy as it looks.”
I look above me and see the rafter, but I’m a good two feet from it. I let my head hang back, and I see the top of Jules’ head. She has dark hair, maybe black or dark brown, but it’s hard to tell in this light.
“Any tips?”
“Yeah, don’t throw up and hurry.”
I grin, grab onto the rope with both hands, and lift myself. I slowly inch my way toward the rafter. I’m almost there when I slip, and my pounding head increases its torturous, painful throb threatening to knock me out. I try again, but the pain overwhelms me, and I vomit. My stomach tries to empty itself again and again as I hang helplessly. Eventually, it stops, and I’m left with the acrid taste in my mouth with drool and vomit all down my front.
I can hear Jules crying.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
“You have to try it again.”
“Can’t you? You have to, Jules.”
“Maybe he’ll let us go?”
I shake my head, sending a sharp, stabbing pain from behind my left eye. “He doesn’t let them go, Jules. He’s going to torture and kill us. He’s killed nineteen women. This man is a monster.”
In the darkness, inhaling the smell of vomit and fear, I can hear Jules crying. I know she’s scared, but I’d rather live than die at the hands of this prick.
“Jules, you have to lift yourself. You have to try, or you’ll always be a nobody, a waitress in a strip club.”
I hear her intake of breath. I listen to her trying to lift herself, the sound of the rope creaking and Jules’ grunts as she inches her way to the top.
“How’s it going?”
“I’m not sure I have enough strength to do this. I feel weak, he’s barely given me anything to eat or drink.” Jules sucks in a breath and continues, “I know why you said what you said. You’re trying to get me angry.”
“Did it work?”
“Yes.”
“Good, get us the hell out of here. Be the fucking hero and save the day.”
Jules chuckles. “Hero?”
I smile into the darkness, keeping my eyes closed.
“I’m at the top of the rope.”
“Okay. You need to lift your legs up and over. It’s not going to be easy, and I know you’ve done all this on a pole, but you have to do it. I need you to save us. I have someone I need to see, to tell them how I feel.”
Jules grunts, and I can hear straining, and suddenly, she yells. “Fuck it!”
I take a deep breath, and my head still feels like it’s got a jackhammer inside it trying to punch a hole in my skull. “Rest, then try again.”
“It’s hard.”
“Dying here is going to be harder.” I sigh and try to pull myself up again, but I can barely move myself up an inch. “Jules, do you have someone special, someone you want to get back to?”
“There’s a guy. But I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know I exist. He barely says two words to me.”
“Tell me about him.”
“He’s tall, broad, and has long hair. He has one of those deep, rumbly voices you could listen to all day, you know like Sam Elliot.”
I can hear the smile in her voice as she talks about her mystery man.
“How’d you meet?”
Jules laughs. “I work for him, he’s my boss.”
“Wait! That’s Tobias, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, do you know him?”
“Not really. I’ve heard Zeke talk about him, and he’s been staying out at Dane and Kat’s. I’m staying with them, too.”
“You’re Zeke’s fiancée?”
I chuckle. “No, that would be Cassia. I’m, I mean, well, shit…” I’m struggling to define Carlos’ and my relationship, and now Tommy has re-appeared. What does that even mean for me? “I was dating the sheriff, but we broke up. And an old boyfriend just came back into town.
I’ll be damned if I’m going to die here without telling them how I feel. So get your ass up that rope.”
Carlos
There are four carloads of law enforcement converging on the Nissan from different directions. I’ve never been much of a religious man, but I made a deal with the man that if he saved Izzy, I’d be better, I would do better. She just needs to be alive. The car is stationary, it hasn’t moved in twenty minutes. Deputy Lucy Dalton is driving, and I have to say her driving skills are the best I have ever seen.
“We’ve picked up a tail,” states Lucy.
I twist in my seat and see at least six bikes in the distance.
“Great.” I pick up the radio mic. “Anyone else got the Savage Angels following them?”
The radio crackles. “Affirmative, Sheriff,” replies Special Agent Argos.
Eventually, the other cars all come back confirming we’re all being followed.
“Want me to lose them?” asks Lucy.
I shake my head. “No. You never know they might come in handy.”
Lucy casts me a sideways glance and puts her foot down. The cruiser lurches forward.
“Sheriff, we’re one minute out. You?” asks Argos over the radio.
“We should arrive at the same time. Wait for me.”
Lucy takes in a deep breath. “You ready for what we might find?”
“I’m not a stranger to violence, I’ve been in law enforcement for a long time.”
“It’s different when it’s someone you love.” I glance at her and the boldness with which she’s talking to me. “I’m just saying, Sheriff, if she’s still alive, Izzy is going to be traumatized. She’ll need Carlos the man, not Carlos the Sheriff. Think you can handle that?”
“You let me worry about Izzy. You do your job, and I’ll do mine.”
Lucy locks up the breaks, the cruiser skids to a halt. We’re in a field of cars like it’s some kind of swap meet. People everywhere. The other law enforcement vehicles all arrive, and as one, we get out of our cars, cruisers, or trucks with guns drawn. The white Nissan is parked off to one side. No one is inside it. I smash the side window and pop the trunk. It’s empty.
Savage Life Page 13