She gasped. “Maddie is under the bed?”
“Someone is under the bed.”
She rolled until she could look past a storage box under the bed and found her cat huddled near the wall. “Hey, sweetie! Oh, poor scared girl!”
From under the bed, a loud rumbling purr answered her. Maddie crawled until her head barely poked out from under the bed frame and gave a squeak-like meow.
“Think if we tied a message around her neck, she’d carry it to the nearest neighbor?” Dave asked. “‘Help, we’ve been taken hostage by a lunatic. Send the police.’”
“Yeah...no. I can barely get this girl to find the cat treats I drop on the floor for her, even if I point them out. I seriously doubt she could find the neighbor’s house. Isn’t that right, Maddie-pie?”
The cat merped and edged closer, purring and requesting a pat with a bump of her head on Lilly’s shoulder.
“So no Timmy’s-in-the-well Lassie rescues?”
She turned her head to glance up at Dave with a weak smile. “Not from Maddie. Best we’ll get is if Wayne tries to pick her up, and Maddie scratches his eyes out trying to get away.”
Dave lifted an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “So there is hope?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Come on,” he said with a jerk of his head. “Time’s wasting. Give me your wrists again.”
She sobered, glanced toward the door, then inched back into a position where he could gnaw at the tape binding her wrists.
His lips brushed the inside of her wrists from time to time, and she had to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep from moaning.
This is the man whom Helen called you about so many times, crying and hurt by his apathy or lack of commitment, she reminded herself, trying to squelch the fluttery sensations that tickled her belly. Then a different vibration caught her attention as the floor quivered, and the thud of footsteps signaled Wayne’s return. As if sensing danger, Maddie scurried back under the bed.
“He’s coming back!” she warned Dave in a whisper a fraction of a second before the door opened.
Wayne, who had a plate in his hand, glared at the two of them, huddled so close together. His lips pressed into a grim line of displeasure, and he set down the plate with a thump on the bedside table. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Sitting up, Lilly twisted and inched her body until she was leaning against the side of the bed. “We were just...trying to get more comfortable. You have the tape on our wrists too tight, and I know my shoulders are hurting from having my arms crooked behind me.”
Wayne stared at her for several seconds, his narrowed eyes skeptical. With a grunt, he grabbed her under the elbow and half lifted her to her feet. “Get on the bed.”
“Why?”
Wayne lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable there? Stay on the floor if you like, but not by him. You can get on the bed or be tied over there to that desk.” He waved a finger toward the heavy rolltop antique that had once been her grandmother’s.
“Bed.” As she flopped on the mattress, feeling a bit like a fish floundering on a dock, she cut a quick look to Dave, whose expression and posture reminded her of a snake. Dangerous. Tightly coiled. Ready to strike. She tried to signal him with a subtle shake of her head. Wayne, too, was edgy and could prove lethal if provoked. Until they were in a better position to act, they needed to appease Wayne, not rile him.
As she scooted into place on the mattress, she glanced at the plate Wayne had brought in and spied a sloppily constructed peanut butter sandwich. “What’s that?”
“I thought you might be getting hungry,” Wayne replied gruffly.
The smile she offered him was genuine. “Thank you. That was...nice.”
He shrugged the shoulder on his uninjured side and grunted. “Yeah, well...you were nice enough to patch me up so...” Another dismissive shrug. “Turn around.”
When he pulled out a pocketknife, she hesitated, and he took her arm forcefully. “You want your arms tied in front so you can eat or don’t you?”
“Yes.” She gave him access to her wrists and held Dave’s vigilant gaze. She could tell by the way the muscle in his jaw twitched and how his breathing whispered, shallow and quick, that he was mulling a move. She could practically hear the gears in his head turning as he sized up the situation.
Wayne sawed through the loop of tape at her wrists, and Lilly rolled her aching shoulders as she brought them forward and rubbed the offended flesh. Within seconds, he had the roll of tape in his hands and was securing her hands again. When he was finished taping her wrists, he squinted one eye as he sized her up. “You be nice to me, Lilly. I’ll be nice to you.”
He took the sandwich from the plate and shoved it into her hands.
“Thank you.” She nodded and took a bite, even though she had no appetite at the moment. To spurn his gift didn’t seem diplomatic at a time when she was making headway in gaining his trust.
“What about me? Move my hands to the front?” Dave asked, his head cocked slightly.
Wayne scoffed. “You shot me.” Flashing a cynical smile, he said, “I don’t like you, so you get nothing.”
Lilly chewed the inside of her cheek lightly as she thought. She had an opportunity here. Wayne didn’t have the gun in his hand at the moment, though she figured the lump under his shirt at the small of his back had to be the weapon. Still...even though her feet were bound, her hands were now in front of her, giving her more ability to move, to act. Was there something, anything she could—
Her thought stopped half-formed when she realized Wayne was removing his belt. A chill slithered through her with the implication.
“What are you doing?” she blurted, recognizing the panic in her voice.
Dave yanked his shoulders back and bared his teeth. “Damn it, man. Don’t you touch her!”
Wayne paused, his hand still on the metal buckle. He divided a wry look between them, then snorted at Dave. “You have a dirty mind, Hero.” He slid the belt free of the loops on his jeans and jerked the leather taut between his hands. Leaning toward Lilly, he grasped her wrists and poked the end of the belt between her bound arms, pausing only long enough to send Dave a gloating grin. “Although if I did decide to touch her, there ain’t nothing you can do to stop me, now is there?”
Her heart thrashed in her chest, and she tried to catch Wayne’s attention, meet his eyes. “Don’t do this, Wayne. This whole thing has gotten out of hand, but it’s not too late to do the right thing. Please! Just let us go.”
His mouth pinched closed, and he shook his head, avoiding her eyes. “Can’t do that.”
Wayne tugged her hands, still clutching the peanut butter sandwich, up to the bed’s lattice-style headboard, where he wove the belt ends in and out of the thick oak. He buckled the belt, leaving her arms over her head, bound to the bed. “Don’t worry, Lilly. If you keep on cooperating with me, being nice to me, you’ll be okay.” Tugging up his now-loose jeans, he cut a look toward Dave. “You I’m only keeping around as long as I think you might be useful, say, in fixing up my car. Plus, if the cops track me down, I may need a human shield.”
The two bites of sandwich Lilly had managed to choke down curdled in her gut.
Dave glared at Wayne. “Do you think you’re scaring me with threats like that? That I really care whether you starve me out of some small-minded revenge?” Dave scoffed. “You’re wrong.”
Dave’s challenge wrenched a knot in Lilly’s chest. When Wayne left, she really needed to get a handle on Dave’s state of mind.
Wayne chortled. “I guess we’ll see about that.”
Their captor left, closing the door again. The room fell silent, but Lilly’s mind roared. The truth of the situation was things between Dave and Wayne could escalate quickly, and she’d be helpless to do anything about it.
Lilly stared at the ceiling for a moment, catching her breath before she asked quietly, “Do you really not care if you die?”
“What?”
“You told him you didn’t care about his threats—”
“No! That was just... I don’t want to die. No.”
“Good.” Her body relaxed slightly, though the position of her arms over her head was only marginally better than having them behind her. “Could you maybe stop antagonizing him then?”
“Maybe. Thing is, if he does see the need to be rid of one of us or use someone as a shield, I want his choice to be easy. If anything’s going to happen to one of us, I’d rather it be me than you.”
“Dave...”
“I already have Helen’s death on my conscience. I won’t have your death there, too.”
Her heartbeat scampered. “But...you weren’t responsible for Helen’s death.”
“Maybe not.” His breath sawed out heavily “I carry it with me just the same.”
Grief was thick in his tone, and sympathy plucked deep inside her. Just a few hours ago she’d reamed him out for his treatment of Helen while her sister had dated him. But his feelings for Helen seemed to be deeper and truer than she’d imagined. She drew a slow breath and closed her eyes, fighting the rise of tears that thoughts of her sister brought on.
Instead she tore the sandwich she still held in half and awkwardly tossed one half onto the pillow beside her on the queen-size bed. Then, pulling her knees up and twisting her body, she got her feet high enough to nudge the pillow toward the edge of the bed. “Hey, heads up. Pillow and dinner incoming.”
“Wha—” he began, just as the pillow dropped to the floor with a poof. He chuckled. “Thanks.” Then he said, “Hey, back off, cat. That’s my dinner.”
She smiled. “Don’t worry. Maddie’s never shown an interest in human food. She’s probably just wondering what that was that landed on the floor.” Angling her head sharply and scooting herself higher on the bed, she took another bite of the sandwich. She didn’t know when Wayne might bring food again, and she wouldn’t waste the chance to eat. Around the sticky peanut butter she mumbled, “Can you reach the sandwich?” Remembering his hands were behind him, she huffed her frustration. “Will you be able to eat it somehow?”
“Mmph,” he grunted in what sounded like an affirmative. She heard spitting noises next, and he said, “Got it...and a bit of cat hair. Can’t say I’ve ever eaten off the floor before, but desperate times and all that...whatever.”
“Sorry.”
“No. Thanks for sharing. And for the pillow. I dragged it closer with my teeth. My head thanks you.”
Remembering the blow he took to his head, she furrowed her brow. “And how is your head? Any new symptoms? Double vision? Nausea?” Not that she could do anything for him if he was showing new signs of a concussion, trussed up the way she was.
“Just a splitting headache.”
She took another bite of her half sandwich, and her mind returned to her confrontation with Dave at the bank. “Dave?”
“Hmm?”
“Were you really going to propose to her?”
He didn’t answer right away, and she angled her head on the pillow toward that side of the bed, even though she couldn’t see him from her position. “Dave?”
The sough of an expelled sigh drifted up from the floor. “I was. And I hate—” he cleared his throat “—hate that she never knew. It would have showed her that I really did care about her.”
She noticed he didn’t say he loved Helen this time but chose to let it slide. She was in no mood for recriminations, painful regrets or arguing. “I’m sorry I laid into you the way I did at the bank. I was out of line.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I deserved everything you said.”
“And maybe you’re being too hard on yourself. There are two people in every relationship, and both parties share in its success or failure. I know Helen could be pretty...demanding. Insecure.” She hadn’t meant to say it, but once the words slipped out she realized they were true. She’d shied away from thinking any ill of Helen since her death, but if she was fair, Lilly had to admit her sister had always been...well, needy.
Dave was silent, and Lilly wasn’t sure how to interpret his nonresponse.
During the lull in their conversation, she allowed herself to reconsider everything Helen had told her about Dave in this new, more honest light. Staring blankly at the ceiling, she replayed some of Helen’s complaints. He didn’t call often enough. He didn’t remember “anniversaries” for such things as their first date, their first kiss, their first intimacy. Or if he did, he didn’t commemorate the events the way she felt he should have, with gifts or romantic gestures. She’d complained that he flirted with waitresses and store clerks, but was it possible Helen was too sensitive? That he was just being friendly with the people in service jobs?
Lilly could definitely remember telling Helen that her jealousy wasn’t good for the relationship, that perhaps she was overreacting. And, yeah, that comment had gone over with her sister like a lead balloon. And so rather than try to reason with Helen in later conversations, Lilly had just let Helen vent.
Her chest ached as she continued reconstructing memories of her sister that highlighted her sister’s weaknesses. It felt like a betrayal to resurrect Helen’s faults. But her sister had been human and imperfect like everyone else. For all Helen’s good qualities—and she’d had a laundry list of those, as well—Lilly’s little sister could definitely have made a relationship with her challenging. Even as a child Helen had demanded more of their mother’s attention, had needed constant stroking, praise and encouragement to battle her pessimism and uncertainty. Especially after their father left.
Lilly’s gut whirled as it did whenever she thought too much about her father’s disappearance from their lives when she and Helen were young—yet old enough to feel the sting of rejection and hurt left by their father’s desertion and subsequent disinterest in them.
“Do you really think so?” Dave asked, breaking his silence, his question pulling Lilly from the bleak direction of her thoughts.
She cleared the emotion from her throat. “Think what?”
“That Helen was insecure. Demanding.”
Lilly blinked, bit her bottom lip. “I mean... Well, you didn’t?”
He hesitated. “Lilly, I don’t want to speak ill of her. If she—”
“It’s okay, Dave. I know she was difficult to be with sometimes. To be fair to you, I want a full picture. Be honest. No hard feelings.”
He grunted, and she heard a rustling as if he was shifting, trying to get more comfortable. “I tried to make her happy. She was a great gal. But I had long hours at the Double M. Most days after work I just wanted to grab a bite to eat and tumble straight into bed.” He paused, then added, “To sleep, I mean. I’d be exhausted.”
Lilly twitched her cheek, amused that he felt the need to be clearer on that point. “Understood.”
“See, the McCalls...they were shorthanded, and I sometimes had to cancel on her when—”
“Dave. I’m not judging you.”
He snorted. “You did. At the bank.”
She chuckled hollowly. “Yeah, let’s put that aside for the moment. Tell me what it was like. How did you try to make her happy?”
“Just...giving her what she asked for. Trying to go to the places she liked or spending as much time with her as I could. But it never seemed enough. Every time I thought I had it figured out, what she wanted of me, it seemed I’d screwed up again. I didn’t mean to be such an oaf. But I always seemed to be in trouble with her for something. Not calling when I got too busy, not noticing she’d done her hair different, not bringing a present on our anniversary, falling asleep too soon after sex—”
An uneasy jitter rolled through Lilly when he mentione
d his intimacy with her sister. Dave was unquestionably good-looking, in peak physical condition from his work on the ranch, injured leg notwithstanding. Thinking of Dave in sexual terms was dangerous. And far too easy to do. She shook her head as if that alone would clear the images taunting her and tamp down the tingle in her womb.
“—didn’t understand why she would get so upset over some things that seemed so unimportant to me, but I tried,” he continued, his voice a bit hoarse. “I really did try to remember the little things that she’d complain about and do better. Complimenting her cooking or her clothes. Texting her if I was going to be late, even if it was just five minutes. Flowers or some gift for every occasion, no matter how trivial the event seemed to me.”
He fell silent, but Lilly said nothing. She sensed that Dave needed to have his say, unload months of frustration and guilt. She truly wanted to hear his side, put things in perspective.
“Problem was,” he said and heaved a sigh, “I never knew what days she thought were noteworthy. I’d never kept track of things she thought were cause for celebration.”
He paused again, and Lilly recalled a phone conversation just a couple months before Helen’s death when Helen had complained bitterly about the fact Dave refused to dress up for Halloween as Raggedy Andy to her Raggedy Ann. Lilly had taken Dave’s side on that one, telling her sister that she shouldn’t force Dave to wear a costume he was uncomfortable with. Helen’s response had been something along the lines of “Fine! We won’t dress up at all then. We’ll be the losers at the costume party with no costume!”
Lilly was tempted to ask Dave how that particular debate had finally come out.
“I mean, really,” he said, “Half anniversaries and half birthdays? Aren’t the whole ones enough?”
Lilly snorted an indelicate laugh. “That’s probably my fault.”
“Your fault? How?”
Her heart squeezed as she reached deep into her sepia memories to pull the dusty reminiscences from their shelf. “My birthday is in December, near Christmas, and so as a kid, I always felt like it got lost in the Christmas rush. When I was seven, I asked if we could celebrate my half birthday in June when the weather was nice and I could have an outdoor party with my friends. My mom loved the idea. So it became a tradition, one that Helen decided meant she should have a half-birthday party, too, even though her birthday was in October and was never overlooked. She won, of course, and got two parties. The one in April was small. Just family, her favorite dinner and a cake, but...a precedent was set.”
Rancher's Hostage Rescue Page 7