Save the Last Dance

by Save the Last Dance (epub)

  “Gunnar? What are you doing down there?” Traci called out. “Is there a reason that you’re standing in a dark hallway holding my sister’s purse?”

  He felt like God had just given him a lifeline. Even if Kimber got mad at him, he was going to risk it. She was too important to him to wait another second longer. “Hey Trace, come here a sec, would you?”

  Some of the humor left her expression as she approached. “What’s up?”

  “Look, I realize I sound ridiculous, but I’m kind of worried about Kimber. She ran down to the bathroom over ten minutes ago. She said she’d be back in five.”

  As he’d half-expected, she looked skeptical. “Gunnar—”

  “I know. Believe me, I know I sound like I’m worrying about nothing. But would you go check on her?”

  “You’re really worried, aren’t you?”

  He nodded. “I can’t explain it, but something doesn’t feel right.”

  “You know what? Sure. Come on, you can stand outside the door. If she gets annoyed we’ll just tell her that’s too bad. We care.”

  “I appreciate it. Thanks,” he murmured as they walked the rest of the way. “I’m sorry if I’m acting overprotective. It’s just that—”

  “I know.” Traci reached out and squeezed his arm. “Don’t ever apologize for caring so much.” She smiled as she opened the door. “Now, I’ll be right back.”

  He braced himself for Kimber to come flying out, chewing on him for worrying. But all that happened was Traci calling Kimber’s name.

  When the door opened again, everything about Traci was different. “There’s blood near the sink and no Kimber. Gunnar, are you sure she went this way?”

  “Not positive but about eighty percent sure. Where else would she have run down the hall to use the restroom?”

  She picked up her phone. “Dylan, where you at?” After a pause, she said, “Listen. We’ve got a prob. Kimber’s gone.”

  As she relayed the story, she walked down the hall and turned on the light switch. “Yep. Call in reinforcements. My sister’s in danger.”

  CHAPTER 32

  “A merry heart does good, like medicine.”

  —proverbs 17:22

  Brett was gripping her wrist so tightly, Kimber was sure he was cutting off all the circulation in her right arm. The pain competed with the burning on her cheek from where he’d slapped her.

  She still couldn’t believe what was happening. Slight, self-centered, chatty Brett had been the source of all her stalking.

  He’d penned notes from Peter, hoping to make her uneasy enough to lean on him more. He’d attacked her after their meal at the restaurant because he’d been so angry that she wasn’t going to take any more jobs.

  And now she was sure he’d become completely unhinged. All she could do was hold on and keeping hoping and praying that she could either get free of Brett’s grip or that Gunnar and Traci would rescue her.

  But before she did any of that, she just had to hang on.

  “Brett, you’re hurting me,” Kimber protested for at least the fourth time. “Can’t we stop for a few seconds? I need to catch my breath.” If he released her, she might be able to fight back and maybe even injure him enough to escape.

  But it didn’t look like it was going to happen anytime soon. She couldn’t find a single ounce of compassion in his expression. Instead, he looked even more determined. He twisted her wrist painfully as he pulled her forward. “Stop fighting me. You’re not going to win. Now shut up.”

  That was easily the nicest thing he’d said since she’d opened the metal door in the women’s room and found him leaning up against the sink. She’d freaked out, opening her mouth to scream.

  And he had promptly covered her mouth with his hand and called her a long list of profane names.

  She’d been so shaken, both by his hand over her mouth and the things he was saying, she’d frozen. That’s when he’d slapped her hard enough to make her see stars, then grabbed her wrist and yanked her to the bathroom door.

  And what had she done? Instead of anything of worthwhile, all she’d done was say that she needed to wash her hands first. She’d jerked toward the sink, tripping when he grabbed her again, and cut her forearm on the ancient metal faucet. When she’d dared to gasp, he’d hit her hard and again threatened her, telling her to stay silent.

  Next thing she knew, he was pulling her down the hall in bare feet and into an alley. All told, the whole abduction had happened in less than five minutes. The only positive was that her cut had bled enough to leave a thin trail on the linoleum floor.

  “Brett, please!” When he finally paused, she inhaled, preparing to do whatever it took to escape.

  But then she only felt white-hot pain as he hit her again.

  * * *

  When Kimber woke up, she found herself handcuffed to a latch on her seatbelt. Her other arm was gripped tightly in Brett’s right hand, and he was driving through the narrow streets of Bridgeport one handed, barreling toward the highway.

  Even though her head was throbbing and she felt hazy, a thousand questions raced in her head. From the most basic, like why was he doing this and how had he known where she was to the most mundane—how in the world had he even known where to get a set of handcuffs?

  When he turned and finally released her arm, she whimpered as the blood began to flow again.

  He smiled. “Guess you’re not so tough anymore, huh?”

  “I have never been tough. You know that.”

  “I know. You’ve always acted like you were better than me. Better than most of us. Better than all of us.” He gritted his teeth as he drove his nondescript gray rental sedan onto the entrance ramp and accelerated.

  Realizing he wasn’t making a single concession for either the sleet or the oncoming traffic, she screamed. “Brett, you’re going to get us killed!”

  A semi driver sounded his horn as Brett narrowly managed to swerve into the next lane.

  At last, Brett placed both his hands on the steering wheel and started weaving through traffic, Kimber guessed it was safe to talk.

  “Brett, I’m not trying to be difficult, but I really don’t understand what’s going on. Why did you come find me in Ohio?”

  “I’m taking you back, Kimber.”

  “Back to where?” She really had no clue what was going through his head.

  “Where do you think? New York.” Looking back at the road, he cursed and slammed on the brakes. The car retaliated by fishtailing. Seconds later, he darted around another semi.

  Kimber bit her lip to stop herself from screaming again, but she was really starting to wonder if she was going to make it out of this car alive. Brett seemed determined to kill them on the road.

  When he increased his speed and flew through the interchange she decided to keep an eye out for cops. Surely someone was going to report his driving soon.

  “You were my moneymaker, Kimber. I had plans for you. I promised people I’d get you for them. But what did you do? You acted like you didn’t owe me a thing.”

  “This is about my modeling?” She really was floored. Sure, she’d had some success, but she was no Tyra Banks and was never going to be. His expectations didn’t even come close to the reality of her career.

  “What do you think? Of course it’s about modeling. I needed you. I depended on you. I created you. You owe me.”

  Everything he said was giving her chills. Brett was acting as if she was his property, like she was his Frankenstein or something. Everything inside of her wanted to yell. Wanted to give him a piece of her mind . . . but there was no way she was going to say anything that might make things worse than they already were.

  As he continued to weave in and out of traffic, surging forward, braking hard, and then cutting people off, she knew she was going to have to rely on both prayer and the good sense that the
Lord gave her . . . and the years of experience she’d had of holding her tongue with her parents.

  Kimber also couldn’t help but reflect on the recent traumas of some of her new friends. Dylan’s sister Jennifer had been viciously attacked and lived in fear for years until her brother’s love, her therapist’s compassion, and the love of her new boyfriend helped ease the way into beginning to heal her trauma.

  Most recently, Gwen had been the target of a drug dealer and her own brother. She’d persevered, though, and was now healthy and looking forward to a much brighter future.

  If those two women could survive their harrowing experiences, Kimber knew she could do the same. Besides, she had too much to live for now.

  When Brett let out another string of curses, she knew she had to do something until someone on the road called 911 and reported his driving or Traci and Dylan and the rest of the Bridgeport Police Department found them.

  When they finally got to a somewhat empty stretch of road, she said, “Where are we going, anyway?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  Why did he think? Struggling to keep all signs of sarcasm out of her voice, she shrugged. “Just curious. Are we driving to New York?”

  For the first time, he looked unsure. “We’re driving as far as we can get today. We need to put as much distance between us and your new family.”

  “Ah.” Pretending she wasn’t handcuffed, bleeding, and fighting a killer headache, she crossed her legs. “Well, I hope you have money because I had to leave without my purse. I don’t even have my driver’s license.”

  “Like I would ever let you drive.”

  He was such a jerk. However, since he did look slightly less manic, she figured the conversation was doing them both some good. “I’ll have you know that I’m a good driver. I passed my test on the first try. I scored a hundred percent on the written test too.”

  He nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always been smart.”

  That almost sounded nice. She was making progress. Pushing back the terrible fear that he was going to take her to some isolated shack where no one was ever going to find her, she sought to keep the conversation going. “You know, you never told me what you’ve been doing since I left New York. How’s Jill?” Jill was his long-time live-in girlfriend who Kimber and all of her friends had regarded as both slightly difficult and also in need of a medal for putting up with Brett 24-7.

  He sped up, likely going close to ninety miles an hour now. “Why are you asking about her? What do you know?”

  Oh, crap. What had she done? “Nothing,” she said in a rush. “I was just asking.”

  “Jill left me. Did you know that?”

  “No. Of course I didn’t. I wouldn’t have asked if I did. I’m on your side, Brett. You should—”

  He pressed on the accelerator, she watched the speedometer edge up to ninety-five, ninety-eight, one hundred. “She said I was too fixated on you, Kimber.” His voice turned even more clipped. “She said that I talked about you too much. That I thought about you too much. She couldn’t handle it.” He looked over at her. “Even though I kept telling her that I wouldn’t have been fixated on you if you hadn’t left me the way you did.”

  “I’m sorry. Hey, would you please slow down?”

  If he heard a word she’d just said, he didn’t let on. “We had a fight. Yelling, screaming. She threw a vase at me. It was Waterford, Kimber. She broke my Waterford vase!”

  Cars were honking. She was now afraid to look at the speedometer, she was sure it now read way over a hundred. The little rental was obviously not made to go that fast—at least not very well and in the sleet. This was very bad. She was going to die before she ever told Gunnar that she loved him and that she wanted to help him raise Jeremy. She was going to die before she told her sisters how much she appreciated them. Before she ever looked both her parents in the eye and thanked them for adopting her and loving her.

  Then, in the passenger side mirror, she saw some blinking lights. Had help finally arrived?

  She had to get him to slow down and focus on her before he did anything even more reckless. Grasping for straws, she pulled up every single hurt emotion she could summon and started crying.

  Soon, her tears had turned to real ones.

  But it seemed she’d been wrong. It didn’t appear to make a single difference to him.

  Brett kept ranting about Jill, his pain, Kimber’s betrayal, and how much he hated Ohio. Through the side mirror, the lights were brighter. She realized now there were multiple vehicles in pursuit.

  Realizing once again that everything about the whole situation was out of her control—with the handcuff locking her to the seat, she wasn’t even going to be able to escape if the car crashed and went up in flames—Kimber put her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. She prayed for help and strength. She thought of Gunnar and how even their short relationship had been such a blessing.

  She simply let her tears trail down her cheeks. The whole situation was out of her hands.

  CHAPTER 33

  “ ‘Peace on the earth, goodwill to men,

  From heaven’s all-gracious King.’

  The world in solemn stillness lay,

  To hear the angels sing.”

  —E. H. Sears

  “We’re gaining on them,” Traci called out as she weaved the flashing police cruiser down the highway. Beside her, Dylan was both talking on the cruiser’s radio and typing things into his phone.

  From his position in the backseat, Gunnar stayed silent and kept his attention on the gray Hyundai sedan up ahead. There was no way he was going to do a single thing to make either of them regret giving into his pleas to allow him into the car.

  Even he knew he shouldn’t be in the vehicle. Traci had tried to make him stay behind. But, to his surprise, Dylan had been the one to allow his ride-along.

  “As much as I don’t want you in our way, there’s no way I can ask you to stay behind,” he’d said. “If it was Shannon in that car, I’d be doing anything I could to be by her side.”

  “That’s good to know, because there’s no way I’m sitting here in this theater while Kimber’s in trouble.” After seeing her blood on the floor, Gunnar knew he would do whatever it took to help.

  “You better keep quiet, though,” Traci said with a glare.

  “I will. I’ll sit in the backseat and won’t say a word until you tell me I can pull her into my arms.”

  Dylan’s expression had stayed relatively blank, reminding Gunnar that Kimber’s rescue wasn’t a sure thing. A lot could happen that was out of their control.

  Gunnar knew that. But, he also felt that Kimber’s ordeal was going to end on a positive note. After all, from the time Traci had realized that Kimber was gone, things had been on their side. Two people outside had seen Brett pull an obviously struggling Kimber into a gray sedan. After debating whether or not to get involved for fifteen minutes, they’d called the police and had been able to give a pretty good description of Brett’s vehicle.

  Because of that, the Bridgeport Police had been able to work with other local authorities to be on the lookout for him. After a couple of false starts and some misinformation, Dylan and Traci learned that Brett had been taking Kimber first on the interstate heading north and then on a little-used state highway.

  Now their vehicle and several county sheriff cars were getting close. They just had to hope and pray that Brett wouldn’t either lose control of his car or hurt Kimber and that he wasn’t armed and wouldn’t attempt to shoot any of the law enforcement in pursuit.

  Every time Gunnar thought about that, he felt weak. That was a lot to ask for. Was it too much?

  After a terse discussion, Dylan and Traci agreed to let the local sheriffs take the lead. Their lights were flashing and sirens were blaring.

  But it still didn’t look like Brett
was slowing down or pulling over. If anything, it looked like he was driving more erratically than ever.

  Unable to keep his silence any longer, Gunnar blurted, “What’s going on?”

  “My guess is that this Brett character isn’t even aware that he’s being followed,” Dylan said.

  “Seriously?” he bit out. He felt like everyone in twenty miles could hear the sirens on the multiple cars following him.

  “I’ve seen it happen,” Traci said, her voice as hard as ice as she continued to follow. “A person gets so set on his or her plans they aren’t aware of much around them. Plus, he might be on something. That could do it.”

  Gunnar swallowed hard. Traci hadn’t said anything he hadn’t already thought, but it was still hard to hear those words out loud. “He better not be on drugs.”

  “Sorry I mentioned it,” Traci said.

  “Oh, hey now. Looks like Brett is aware now,” Dylan said.

  Gunnar leaned forward, his hands fisted on his knees as he watched the scene unfold in front of them.

  The gray sedan swerved, then suddenly braked hard, causing the back end to fishtail. As soon as he righted himself, Brett accelerated and weaved through traffic. One cruiser was on his tail, the other had moved to his left, while the shoulder of the road was on his right. The guy was trapped.

  While Dylan talked on the radio again, Traci sped up.

  Now they were only about the distance of four cars away. Brett’s car weaved again. For a moment, Gunnar thought he was going to veer off onto the shoulder of the road, and maybe even the road just beyond them. But then, whatever the sheriff had called out to them must have finally made an impression because he started to slow down at last.

  Gunnar exhaled.

  “Come on, Brett,” Dylan muttered. “Don’t be stupid.”

  For the next five minutes, Gunnar could hardly breathe. Brett slowed, darted to the shoulder, returned to the road, then finally drew to a complete stop.

  The sheriff was on him immediately, yelling something with a pistol raised.