Blind Trust (6 page)

“Aw, man!” Sam blurted when he saw the two passengers. “Does this look like some kind of party to you? Nobody told you to bring guests.”

Clint got out of the Bronco and leaned back wearily against it. “I had no choice.”

“Like you had no choice but to leave her office when I told you to stay put?” Sam flared. “Like you had no choice but to play sitting duck without any safeguards at all while I was losing that guy? You pull that again, pal, and I may not show up to bail you out.”

Clint frowned, ignoring the threat. “There was a letter in their mailbox. Cut-out letters that said, ‘Revenge is sweet and falls on those we love.’”

“Terrific,” the man muttered without surprise. Gray eyes focused disgustedly on a tree-mottled sky. “Not only do we have to pull a vanishing act in broad daylight, trying to keep ourselves intact, but we also have to worry about keeping
them
in one piece too. And they don’t exactly look like willing participants. I told you it was a mistake to come back when you did. But what do I know, right?”

As if the man’s ramblings were nothing new and therefore not worth acknowledging, Clint opened the van doors and looked inside, then dropped his head in a fatigued slump. “You could have at least gotten something with seats,” he said. “It might be a long ride.”

Sam made an up-and-down assessment of Sherry, then Madeline, his cool eyes telling them they were a burden that he did not welcome. “Who knew we’d have company? They can sit on the floor,” he said.

Sherry opened her mouth to lash out, but Madeline beat her to it. “Look, Mister Whoever-you-are. This is no picnic for us, either. If you don’t want any crashers in this little game of yours then just leave us and we’ll walk home.”

Sam uttered a low, dry laugh. “Lady, it sounds awfully tempting. But I’m not in the business of throwing pretty little appetizers to the wolves. It’s my experience that it only makes them hungrier for what they’re really after.”

Clint clutched the roof of the van with both hands and glanced over his shoulder. “Come on. Get in.”

Sherry planted her feet and refused to move, and Madeline did the same.

Sam stepped toward them, silver eyes conveying his impatience. “The man said to get in.”

Still, Sherry didn’t budge. Sam started toward her to meet the silent challenge in her eyes, but Clint stopped him. “I’ll handle her.” He looked at her for a moment, then scooped her up.

“Get your hands off me!” she railed, struggling to beat her way free of him. And Clint acquiesced, depositing her onto the bare metal floor of the van.

With a slight grin, Sam stepped toward Madeline, but her gritting, “Don’t you dare touch me,” warned him off, and she climbed into the vehicle of her own volition.

“You won’t get away with this!” Sherry sputtered as they slammed them in and climbed into the front. “My father will have the entire police force looking for us before it even gets dark.” The words were empty, she thought. He wasn’t likely to realize she was gone at least until tomorrow. But the two men abducting them didn’t know that.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said, as if he’d heard it all before. Then he cranked up the van and started toward the highway.

Through eyes misty with fury and betrayal, Sherry watched Clint settle onto the floor where the passenger seat should have been and lean back against the door of the van, covering his face with a hand. The new lifestyle didn’t come easily to him, she thought. There was at least some degree of suffering that went with it. She watched his chest heave, as if the weight of breath was too heavy. He leaned forward, hiked up the jeans on his right leg, and returned the gun to its holster.

Closing her eyes, Sherry fought the tears that would reveal her shock, her fear, and her rage. It was best to retain a neutral expression at times like these, she told herself, even if everyone knew she was faking.

Forcing her eyes to the world whizzing by outside the van, she wondered in anguish where the road had turned. What had happened to transform the man she would have spent the rest of her life with—the generous, kind, sharing man she had been head over heels in love with?

A fleeting memory came back to her of her last Christmas with Clint, when he had taken gifts at his own expense to the patients in the children’s ward of the hospital. He’d told her that night of the younger brother he’d had who had died after a long hospitalized illness, and the way he had never been able to forget the loneliness and boredom that had laced those last few months for the little boy. He’d never gotten over the need to find that younger brother in someone and offer the comfort and sunshine his own brother hadn’t been able to accept. So he tried to brighten the lives of the children confined during the holidays, as he brightened the daily lives of the youth who depended on him. She wondered now if he had remembered that ritual last Christmas-the one she’d suffered through alone—or if he’d been too caught up in his new troubles to think of anyone but himself. Was that man still there beneath the harsh, cold shell of the criminal with the gun strapped to his leg and the eight months of mystery in his eyes? Or was this all that remained?

Madeline nudged her out of her miserable reverie, and gestured toward Clint with a nod of her head. “What did he do? Why are we running?” she asked in the quietest whisper.

Sherry gave a helpless shrug. “I wish I knew,” she sighed.

“If we just knew what we were up against …” Madeline’s words trailed off as Clint opened his eyes. He stared at Sherry for a moment. Then he moved toward them, and sat before Sherry with his hands clasped between his bent knees.

“Sherry, I know you’re afraid,” he said in a soft voice that was barely audible over the road noise. “I’m afraid, too. But I want you to trust me.”

“Famous last words,” Sherry muttered. “Kidnapping me or my roommate is not the best way to win my trust, Clint.” Clint frowned. “Sherry, whether you can believe it or not, I’m doing this because I love you.”

Something in his eyes when he uttered the words tugged at Sherry’s heart, silencing her comeback, but Madeline was unaffected. “Give me a break,” she moaned.

“Just tell me what you did, Clint.” Sherry pleaded. “Make me understand what’s going on here to make you kidnap us.”

Clint kneaded his eyes, leaving them red. “Not yet. There’s no telling what could happen before we get out of town. It’s best if you don’t know.”

Sherry closed her eyes.

“Trust him,” Madeline said sarcastically.

“The bottom line,” Clint said in a bolder voice, “is that you
have
to trust me. Both of you. You just don’t have a choice. At this point there is nothing else you can do for yourselves.” Then, as if there was no point in continuing the conversation, he turned away and went back to the door.

“There’s something we can do for ourselves, all right,” Sherry whispered to Madeline when he was out of earshot. “And we’re going to do it as soon as this van stops.”

Chapter Five

T
he ordeal seemed to shift from frightening to downright intolerable when Sam began to sing “You Ain’t Nothin’ But a Hound Dog,” butchering the Elvis tune.

“Please!” Madeline groaned. “This is enough of a nightmare without your singing.”

Sam glanced over his shoulder, an amused half-grin working at his profile as he chanted the lyrics again, louder and even more off-key than before.

Sherry buried her face in her knees and wrapped her arms over her head, but still the wailing continued.

“Give up, Madeline,” Clint moaned from his position on the floor. “I’ve been listening to it for months. He sings when he’s nervous … or bored … or tired … or happy …”

Sam arched an undaunted brow and did a drumroll on his steering wheel, humming loudly.

“He would have been a rock singer,” Clint explained, “except that he lacked one crucial element called talent, plus he can never remember the lyrics.”

“Just for that,” Sam said in a mock wounded tone, “I’m going to have to do my new and improved version of ‘Peggy Sue.'”

“First they kidnap us, then they torture us,” Madeline mumbled.

Sam cocked a brow. “Driving throws me off-key. I’ll do better on the plane.”

“What plane?” Clint perked up at the new development.

“The one I arranged for when I realized things had blown up in our faces. It should be waiting for us at the little airstrip not too far from here.”

Sherry nudged Madeline. “This is the time,” she whispered. “Pretend that we won’t give them any trouble, then when they let us out we can tell them we have to go to the bathroom and make a run for it.”

“Be serious,” Madeline returned. “Don’t you think these guys can outrun us?”

“Maybe they can,” Sherry said. “But if we have a few minutes’ head start we might get to safety before they can find us.”

The road turned rocky, and the interior of the van darkened as they entered another wooded area and wound down a path that didn’t seem at all suited for such a vehicle. Branches scraped against the sides of the van, and the sound of gravel under the wheels sent a shiver up her spine. How far into these woods would they take them? And how in the world would they ever get back out if they did escape?

Calm down, Sherry,
she told herself. There must be a clearing somewhere, otherwise there couldn’t be an airstrip. They could just hide in the woods until Clint and Sam gave up on them, and then follow the path.
Don’t be ridiculous,
she reminded herself. Clint wasn’t going to give up. Not unless his danger was so immediate that he couldn’t risk wasted time.

The van came to an opening, and she saw a large field with a runway down the middle. A small single-engine plane idled there, waiting for them. Sam stopped the van, and the two men got out and slid open the side door. “Let’s go,” Clint said, holding out a hand for Sherry.

Sherry stepped down. The forest surrounding the airfield seemed rougher and more primitive, as if it was rarely visited by the human species. But there had to be a way out, she told herself, for they weren’t far from the highway. “We … we need to go to the bathroom,” she ventured.

“You’ll have to wait,” Clint said.

Madeline danced around impatiently. “Come on, have a heart.”

“She won’t make it,” Sherry said. “She’s got a small bladder.”

Madeline blushed convincingly as Sherry pulled her to the trees. Clint started after them, but Sherry spun around, forcing her breath to function normally. “Look around you, Clint. Do you really see any possibility of escape? There are probably snakes in there, not to mention other rabid, hungry animals. Would I really be foolish enough to risk getting stuck here overnight? Let the woman go in peace.”

Clint heaved an impertinent sigh. “All right,” he said finally. “Hurry up.”

Sherry led Madeline off in the direction that seemed least dangerous an area of the woods with thick bushes and matted vines webbed between the trees.

“All right,” Sherry whispered as they pushed limbs aside as fast as their arms would move. “As soon as we get far enough away that they can’t hear, we’re going to run.”

“Where?” Madeline asked in a whisper. “I don’t know where we are. Do you?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Sherry assured her.

“But it’ll be dark in a couple of hours. What if we get caught in here overnight? What about those rabid, hungry animals you mentioned a minute ago? I’m not so sure I wouldn’t rather be with Clint and Sam.”

“How can you say that?” Sherry hissed. “They have guns. They’re taking us on a plane to who knows where. They’re making us accessories to whatever they’ve done.”

“We’re not accessories. We’re victims,” Madeline argued. “And a guy who sings ‘Peggy Sue’couldn’t be that dangerous.”

Sherry had never wanted to strangle her roommate more. “Madeline, even if we could be sure they wouldn’t hurt us, they are obviously not the only ones involved. There are others. Someone’s in that plane. How do you know they aren’t dangerous?” Sherry led Madeline at a brisk pace while they whispered, brush cracking underfoot. A branch scraped Sherry’s arm, drawing blood, but she tried to ignore it. Her eyes darted from left to right, straining for some idea of an escape route. As if by miracle, she spotted a dry spring that cut a path of earth through the trees. She turned around and held a branch up for Madeline to duck under.

“Look, there’s a clearing between those trees. Looks like a spring might have been here once. We could jump down in it and run as fast as we can that way until we reach the edge of the woods. Then we’re safe.”

Madeline eyed the beveled, leaf-filled ditch and brought troubled eyes back to Sherry.

“Madeline, are you with me or not? We have to go now.”

“Okay,” the woman finally agreed, though every nuance of her expression indicated fierce doubt. “Take off. I’m right behind you.”

Sherry skidded down the incline to the dry spring and started to run as fast as her legs would carry her. Two years of jogging might have put her in shape for this sort of thing, she thought as she leapt over rocks and roots. But her sparse diet for the past two days, her sleepless night, and the strain that had been tearing at her muscles all day put her at a grave disadvantage.

Somewhere in the distance behind them, she heard her name being called in anger, and forced her legs to move faster. She heard Madeline stumble and fall, then begin to run again.

The sound of distant car engines caught her attention, telling her that the highway was not far away. She strained her ears and listened for the direction, but Clint’s voice came threateningly behind her.

“Stop it, Sherry! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“This way,” she whispered to Madeline. “I can hear the highway.”

They scurried up the side of the ditch and tore out through the thick wall of trees, vaulting in the direction of the road sounds that seemed even closer. But progress was slow, for nature prohibited them from getting through without stopping every few minutes to make passage.

“Over there!” she heard Clint yell to Sam, too close behind them.

Sherry hurled her body through the brush, ignoring the way thorns clung to her clothes and snagged her skin. She came upon a drop-off and told Madeline to jump.

“But it’s an eight-foot fall, at least,” Madeline whispered.

Sherry ignored her and jumped, landing in a springing position that tested every muscle in her body. Madeline followed, but her landing was not as graceful. She fell, sprawled, her knee twisted beneath her. She yelled.

“Can you walk?” Sherry asked frantically. “Can you get up?”

Madeline pulled herself up and tried to take a step, but her knee gave way.

The sound of cracking branches, running feet, and mumbled expletives reminded them of their urgency. “Go ahead, Sherry,” Madeline whispered. “You’re almost to the highway. I’ll be all right.”

Sherry wrapped her arm around Madeline’s waist and tried to help her. “No. I’m not going without you.”

“For heaven’s sake,” Madeline pressed. “It won’t do any good for us both to get caught. At least you can go somewhere and call the police.”

The sound of the two running men grew closer, and Sherry hesitated.

“Sherry, use your head! Get out of here!”

She looked above her and saw Sam come into view. “There they are!” he shouted.

“Run, Sherry!” Madeline ordered.

Torn, Sherry saw Clint running toward the drop-off as if to jump, and she turned and bolted into the woods, running as fast as she could go. The highway sounded within feet of her. Perhaps she’d make it. But behind her she heard Madeline yelling and sobbing, and Clint’s heavy footsteps gaining on her.

Twenty yards ahead she saw the trees thinning, heard the sound of an eighteen-wheeler rolling by, and felt the first bit of relief she’d known in hours. But suddenly Clint was behind her, his footsteps pounding the earth. A long arm reached out to grab her.

A scream tore from her throat, but he pressed his hand over her mouth and tackled her to the ground. She struggled with all her might and squirmed away, scrambled to her feet, and started to run again. But Clint caught her around the waist, clamping her arms to her sides. “Don’t … even … think about moving.”

Tears of helplessness burst into her eyes and spilled over her cheeks. She shut her eyes.

“I love you, Sherry,” he whispered heavily. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Tears ran down her cheeks, and a sob burst from her throat. “You already have,” she whispered.

He turned her around and she stared up at Clint, watching a look of sympathy flash across his face, a look brought on by her tears and vulnerability. Still holding her with one arm, he wiped beneath her eye with a knuckle. She moved her face aside. “I’m going to keep trying to get away from you until I do.”

“And I’ll have to keep stopping you,” he said.

“You might have to kill me to do it.”

He didn’t answer, but a look of both pain and anger twisted his face, and he started walking, pulling her along beside him.

Sam was waiting with Madeline when they reached the drop-off that had been their downfall.

“Oh, Sherry,” Madeline moaned when she saw that she’d been caught. “You were so close.”

Sam and Clint exchanged sober looks. “Get up, Madeline,” Clint said. “We’re going to the plane.”

Sam shook his head with something nearing disgust in his eyes. “She twisted her knee. I’ll have to carry her.”

“We’ll follow this drop-off until it’s low enough to climb,” Clint said, his bass voice deep and without inflection. He took Sherry’s hand and pulled her behind him.

Sherry followed without a fight, though her eyes, now dry and alert, kept a constant lookout for some other escape route. Another one would arise soon enough. When it did, she would be ready. And no matter what the cost, she would risk it. For she had no intention of falling under the power and dominance of the dangerous criminal wearing the face of the man she had loved.