Attempt to Locate

by Christy Barritt

  “What should we do?” Skye whispered.

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  “You two—stop talking!” The leader glared at them and took a step closer.

  “Yes, sir.” Cassidy edged herself in front of Skye, determined that no one would get hurt here.

  She stared at his gun. If only one man had a gun, Cassidy might be able to take him. But all three had guns. She was no match for all of them.

  “It’s our lucky day, boys.” Leader Man sauntered over closer to Cassidy and Skye, ushering Lisa along with him. “There are three of us and three lovely ladies.”

  Cassidy’s stomach sank, and she fisted her hands at her side.

  No, just take the money and run. Don’t take this any further.

  The man stopped in front of Skye and looked her up and down. “I’ve always liked exotic beauties.”

  Skye shivered but kept her chin high and her gaze defiant.

  As the man reached for Skye’s hair, anger flared to life inside Cassidy.

  “We’re not looking to start trouble.” Cassidy kept her voice calm and placating. “Why don’t you just take the money and leave?”

  The man turned to Cassidy and slapped his gun across her face. “Did I ask you?”

  Pain shot through her nose and cheek. Blood pooled in her mouth. Stars swam in her eyes.

  But Cassidy pulled herself together and stared the man in the eye. “No, you did not.”

  “Then you’d best be quiet.” The man turned back to Skye, his eyes hungry again. “Now, where were we?”

  “I’d rather you kill me on the spot than to ever entertain any idea of being touched by you.” The spitfire in Skye emerged, and she spat out the words.

  Cassidy held her breath, wishing her friend had remained quiet. Now she waited to see how the man would react. As she did, her face pulsated with pain and the acidic taste of blood flooded her mouth.

  The man stared at Skye a moment before letting out a cackling laugh. “Strong-willed bunch of women here tonight. I like that.”

  “Just leave us alone,” Cassidy said, her fingers itching for a weapon. “Don’t make this worse for yourselves.”

  “Worse for ourselves?” He turned to her, his eyes full of menace. “What does that mean?”

  “It means, you’re already breaking the law by committing armed robbery.” Cassidy continued to force herself to keep her voice calm, trying to defuse the situation. “Don’t add more offenses to the list.”

  “You’re a smart one. But who says we’re afraid of getting in trouble?”

  “You should be,” Skye blurted. “She’s the police chief.”

  Cassidy’s stomach sank. She wasn’t going to play that card unless she had to. Men like these hated cops, and now that they knew that information . . . it would only make it harder for Cassidy. Skye couldn’t have known.

  The man leered closer. “Police chief, huh? Never seen such a pretty police chief. They’re usually ugly old men. Do you sell an annual calendar to raise money for the department? Maybe a swimsuit edition—featuring only you? I’d buy it.”

  Cassidy said nothing. She wouldn’t give the man the satisfaction of a reply.

  “Django, we’ve got the money,” the heavyset man said. “We can go now.”

  Django? Obviously, a nickname. Wasn’t there a movie about a fictional character by that name? Django Unchained? Cassidy thought there was, that maybe he’d been a bounty hunter. She’d think about that more later.

  “But the fun is just getting started, Pork Chop.” Django still stared at Cassidy.

  She couldn’t see his lips, but she sensed the man was smiling. Formulating. Trying to figure out how to use this opportunity to his advantage. He didn’t care who got hurt—only that he got what he wanted.

  This was not how Cassidy had wanted things to go.

  “Django . . .” Pork Chop shifted his weight, almost looking nervous.

  “The cops aren’t on the way.” Django still stared at Cassidy. “After all, the police chief is here. I don’t think we have much to worry about. Unless you have some kind of signaling device on you. Should I frisk you to find out?”

  Cassidy felt nausea trickling in her gut. The man wasn’t scared. In fact, knowing she was police chief seemed to thrill him.

  “I’m sorry, Cassidy,” Skye whispered.

  “It’s okay.” Cassidy kept her chin up as she waited for whatever might happen next.

  “It’s okay? You really think this is okay?” Django stepped closer, close enough that Cassidy could feel the danger coming in waves off him. “Tell me you’re not scared of me.”

  Cassidy swallowed hard, not liking the game this man was playing. She heard Lisa gasp in the background. Django continued to stare. Pork Chop gathered behind him. And the third man—the quiet one—stood by the door keeping watch.

  “Tell me!” Django demanded.

  Cassidy lifted her chin. “I think you’re an overgrown bully. That’s what I think. You haven’t earned any fear people give you. You’ve demanded it. There’s a difference.”

  He rammed his gun across her cheek again.

  She gasped. But, as quickly as she could, Cassidy raised her head back up and stared the man in the eye. As police chief, she couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not now.

  Even if blood dripped from her mouth.

  Even if her teeth ached.

  Even if her cheek throbbed.

  “Do you want to amend your statement?” Django growled.

  Cassidy stared him in the eye. “No, I do not.”

  Skye gasped beside her.

  Anger flashed in the man’s gaze. He grabbed Cassidy’s arm, stuck the gun to her head, and jerked her toward the door. “Let’s go, boys.”

  “Django . . .” Pork Chop shuffled from foot to foot again.

  “Don’t question me. I said, let’s go!” Django paused at the door. “If anyone follows me, this police chick dies. Understand?”

  Cassidy glanced at her friends’ faces. She saw the fear there. More than fear—terror.

  She tried to communicate with her eyes that she’d be fine.

  But, in truth, she had no idea . . .

  And as the man dragged her out the door, Cassidy’s doubt ricocheted higher than the nighttime sky, and she prayed she would get out of this alive.

  Ty Chambers patted his dog, Kujo, on the head before leaning against the railing of his screened-in porch and staring out over the dark ocean. It was cold out here on his deck—forty degrees and windy. But it was his favorite place.

  It was especially his favorite place when Cassidy could be here to share in the moments with him. At the thought of her, Ty touched the wedding ring on his finger, turning it slightly across his skin. He still couldn’t believe he’d married the woman of his dreams and that he got to spend the rest of his life with her.

  He hoped Cassidy was having fun out with her friends tonight. Since becoming police chief, she rarely took time for herself anymore. Even though she fought letting the job take over her life, Ty could see the struggle for balance, especially when the workload was overwhelming—as it had been lately.

  Tonight, Ty had taken the opportunity to read a book, to walk Kujo, and he’d even caught up on some paperwork for Hope House, the nonprofit retreat center he’d started to help veterans dealing with PTSD.

  It had been nice . . . but he would have rather spent a warm evening in with Cassidy. Maybe eating a homecooked dinner—prepared by him. Sitting by the fireplace. Making plans for forever.

  His phone rang, and Ty pulled it from his pocket.

  Skye’s name showed on the screen. Skye? Why would Skye be calling him?

  He put the device to his ear. “Hey, Skye. What’s up?”

  A sob filled the line. “Ty, they took her. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

  Alarm rushed through him, and he straightened. He could barely understand his friend. “Wait. Slow down. Took who?”

  “Cassidy. There was a robbery at the general
store. The men took Cassidy.”

  The words whooshed over Ty. Certainly he hadn’t heard Skye correctly. She was talking so fast . . . he had to have misunderstood. “Who took her?”

  “The robbers. They took Cassidy. I’m so sorr—”

  Ty didn’t have time to ask why Skye was apologizing. It wasn’t important now.

  His entire being went into combat mode. “How long ago, Skye?”

  “Two minutes.”

  He rushed inside his house and grabbed one of his guns, checking to make sure it was loaded. “Did you see where they went?”

  “Toward the ferry.”

  Shoving the gun into his waistband, Ty snatched his truck keys and darted toward the stairs. “Call dispatch. Let Dane and Leggott know. In the meantime, I’m going to go look for her. What kind of car?”

  “I . . . I’m not sure. I think it was a sedan. It was dark-colored. Kind of old. Ty—”

  “I’m going to go find her, Skye,” Ty said, trying to talk her down from the ledge. He didn’t have time to fully do that, though. “Do what I said. Call dispatch. Now.”

  “Okay.”

  Ty jogged the rest of the way to his truck. Kujo remained on his heels and jumped in beside him.

  His hands trembled as he cranked the engine. Cassidy . . .

  No, Ty couldn’t let his mind go there. To the horrible places. To the what-ifs. He knew better.

  He just had to concentrate on finding his wife. Now. Before anything worse happened. He could do that.

  He jammed the truck into Reverse, backed out his driveway, and sped down the gravel road to the main highway on the island.

  Please, Lord. Don’t let anything happen to Cassidy.

  Every day Ty prayed for her safety. Ty knew how his mom had felt when Ty had been a Navy SEAL. The woman he loved was not only police chief, but a lot of people had reasons to harm her. Big reasons.

  And now this.

  He raced down the road, hoping to catch up with the vehicle. There were only so many places the driver could go here on the island.

  As the thoughts rushed through his head, he called Mac MacArthur, his friend and the former police chief. Ty quickly explained what was going on before ending with, “Can you call the transportation system? Make sure no ferries leave this island. Have the Coast Guard patrol the waters for her. We need to put everyone on alert. If these guys have Cassidy, I’m going to find them here on Lantern Beach.”

  “I can do that. Be careful. And find our girl.”

  “I will.” But Ty’s thoughts raced. What had happened tonight? Were these robbers who’d come into the general store the same ones who’d been plaguing the towns north of here in the Outer Banks? The same trio who had killed a man in Nags Head?

  His stomach churned tighter.

  His foot jammed on the accelerator as his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled.

  When he reached the ferry, an ache throbbed in his chest.

  He hadn’t found Cassidy.

  He hadn’t seen the car.

  And the ferry was shut down.

  Where could those men have taken her?

  Chapter Three

  Cassidy’s heart pounded into her chest as the men sped down the road.

  What were they going to do with her? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  But there was no way this would end well.

  Django, as the other two had called him, sat beside her in the backseat still wearing his mask—they all were. He clutched her arm, his fingers digging into her skin so hard that she could feel the bruises forming.

  Her cheek still ached, as did her teeth. The side of her face had swollen.

  How could a fun girls’ night turn into this nightmare?

  At least Lisa and Skye were okay. Cassidy was thankful for that.

  But she had to figure out something for herself now. A desperation for survival clawed at her chest.

  The two men in the front seat—Pork Chop, who drove, and the Quiet One—appeared to have put their weapons down. But Django still had a gun in his free hand.

  Cassidy licked her lips. There wasn’t an easy way out of this. If these men managed to take her to a secluded location, there was a good chance she wouldn’t get out alive. She had no doubt about that.

  “Django, I don’t like this.” Pork Chop’s voice stretched thin. “You’re taking it too far. Just like last time. You said you wouldn’t let it happen again.”

  “Shut up! I make the calls here.” Spittle flew from Django’s mouth.

  “But—”

  “We’re not talking about it,” Django barked. “I’m handling it. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.” A few seconds of silence fell before Pork Chop seemed to hesitantly continue, “But abducting a police officer—”

  “I said we’re not talking about it.” As Django spat the words, he squeezed Cassidy’s arm even tighter—so tight she nearly groaned. But she didn’t want to let the man know he was hurting her. It would bring him too much satisfaction.

  A million possibilities of what she might say or do flittered through Cassidy’s mind—but most of the options would only make this man angrier. She couldn’t chance that. The air in the car was already charged with emotion and adrenaline.

  But Cassidy was going to have to chance something if she wanted to survive this. Django was obviously out of his mind. He had no concern for anyone—only his own desires. His own high. His own adrenaline rush.

  She glanced around. Saw they were past the boardwalk area and surrounded by large, dark rental homes.

  They were headed toward the ferry, she realized.

  Would these guys be stupid enough to get on? Certainly her officers had been alerted by now. They would find her there before the ferry departed.

  As they turned onto a side road, her lungs seemed to freeze.

  They weren’t headed toward the ferry, after all.

  Where were they going? To a house? All the outcomes racing through Cassidy’s head were bad. Really bad.

  Another surge of fear seized her.

  There was no more time to think. She had to act. Now.

  When the man loosened his grip for a moment, Cassidy raised her elbow and jammed it into his temple. He groaned with pain and fell back into the seat.

  Pork Chop glanced back to see what had happened. As he did, the vehicle swerved. The motion threw Cassidy toward Django, but she caught herself by grabbing the door handle.

  Django pulled himself back up. Anger flared in his eyes as he reached for Cassidy.

  She yanked on the handle. The door flew open, the landscape blurring on the other side. Without hesitating, she pushed herself out of the moving vehicle.

  As she tumbled onto the side of the road, pain shot through her shoulder and side. She had no time to dwell on that.

  The car’s brake lights cast a red glow only yards away from her, and a cloud of dust behind the tires made her eyes burn, her throat ache.

  She had to move.

  Now.

  Cassidy pulled herself to her feet just as she heard a car door open. She had an advantage here. She knew this island. The men didn’t.

  Holding her aching side, she took off in a run toward the nearby houses. She had to go somewhere with cover—which meant she had to get out of this empty lot. The men had guns.

  Thankfully, most of the homes here were unoccupied at this time of year. Cassidy didn’t want any innocent civilians to get hurt.

  Her legs pushed into the sandy ground as she forced herself forward.

  Someone yelled behind her, but Cassidy didn’t turn to see what was going on. No, she had to stay low and keep moving, despite the pain in her side and shoulder.

  The brush beneath her was thick with sea oats and brittle grass dried by the winter sun. Cassidy couldn’t stop to think about the snakes here. The ticks. The other critters. They weren’t her biggest concern right now.

  Foliage crunched behind her as the man—Django, if she had to guess—moved in.
He muttered curses and promises of what he’d do to Cassidy when he finally caught her.

  With sudden clarity, Cassidy knew where she needed to head. She had a plan. With a renewed burst of energy, she pushed herself forward.

  This would work. It had to.

  Cassidy just had to make it to one of the houses on the street—a house she had visited not long ago after a break-in. She’d gotten a good sense of the property while she was there.

  Her breath came out with ragged bursts of inhales and exhales.

  But Cassidy kept moving. She’d be dead if these men caught her.

  Finally, just ahead, Cassidy spotted the ocean-front home she was looking for. She sprinted around to the back. Without slowing, Cassidy hopped over a fence, careful to land just on the other side.

  She ducked into a ball against the rough wood and prayed—prayed that this would work. Because it was all she had right now.

  The sound of Django captured her senses. He was getting close. His ragged breaths were louder, as was the sound of grass breaking and cracking under his weight.

  As Cassidy hoped, the man threw himself over the fence. But instead of landing right on the other side, momentum propelled him farther—right into an in-ground swimming pool that had been emptied of its water.

  With a sickening crunch, Django landed on the liner below her.

  He let out a groan.

  Quickly, Cassidy peered over the edge. Django laid on his back. He was still alive, but he wouldn’t be leaving any time soon—not without some assistance, at least. Best case, he’d broken some bones. Worst case, he’d had the wind knocked out of him and a killer headache.

  She was in no position to make an arrest now, especially since Django’s two goons might be coming any minute. She had to get away.

  She pushed herself across the concrete, out the gate, and paused to look around. Where did she go now to find help? She’d be a sitting duck if she ran toward the open expanse of shoreline.

  No, she had to stay close to the houses.

  And she couldn’t go too far away. She wouldn’t make it.

  Cassidy staggered over to the next house. Instead of hitting the main stairway that led to the front door, she slipped beneath the home’s tall stilts and found a covered doorway there.