Dead Right (39 page)

“Who broke into Madeline’s house!” he said impatiently.

“Oh. I heard about that.”

He motioned to the phone. “Hurry!”

She came in and dialed as he searched the kitchen and living room, then headed down the hal . In the bathroom, he found a smear of blood on the vanity and bloody bandages in the trash can. In the bedroom across the hal , he found a bottle of Viagra on the nightstand. Someone had shoved a bunch of sex toys under the bed and left a photograph of Madeline as a young girl on the dresser. Like the sermons in the trash outside, Hunter suspected that picture had come from the boxes in Madeline’s basement.

Her gap-toothed smile made him feel things he real y didn’t want to feel—tenderness and concern…

“They want to talk to you,” the neighbor said, standing in the doorway.

“I’l cal them from my cel phone.” He was too busy now.

He needed to fire up Ray’s computer, check his files and e-mail. But the picture that confronted him as soon as he opened Ray’s “recent folder” caused the neighbor to gasp and nearly made Hunter sick.

It was a picture of Madeline’s head, which had been scanned in from the photograph he was holding, on some other woman’s body who was being raped by three men.

Below the picture were the words, “Make her beg.”

Ray dropped the shovel, then dragged Madeline’s unconscious body to the end of the porch. He had to hurry in case Clay returned. If Clay was as guilty of the reverend’s murder as everyone believed, he couldn’t want Madeline poking around in the past any more than Ray did. But Clay was unpredictable and possibly dangerous, and that was al there was to it.

“They’l search for you,” he said over the scrape of her boots against the wooden planks. “But they won’t find a trace.” He grunted as he heaved her over one shoulder. “I doubt anyone’l look for too long. Maybe that big bad brother of yours seems protective, but let’s face it. You’re not his real sister. And, frankly, his life would be easier without you.”

Using some rope he’d brought from home, Ray bound Madeline’s hands and feet. Then he gagged her with a bandanna and tied her into the bed of his truck, so that even if she awoke, there wouldn’t be enough slack to al ow her to sit up. Final y, he threw an old blanket over her.

That’s good for now.
Glancing nervously around, he jumped into the driver’s seat and drove away from the farm as slowly and comfortably as if he’d just stopped by for a visit. But once he was several miles down the road, with nothing but rol ing hil s on either side, he pul ed over and took the time to arrange a tarp on top of her, in case it rained. They had a long drive ahead of them, and it was cold. It’d be even colder in the hil s of Tennessee. He didn’t want her to freeze before they could reach the cabin he’d rented.

He pul ed out the money he’d stolen from Bubba and counted it again. He’d have enough to buy supplies for at least a week.

He couldn’t wait to start the fun. It would be even better than those afternoon and late-night sessions with the reverend, Katie and Rose Lee. That was before anyone had invented Viagra.

Maybe he’d invite one of the buddies with whom he traded pornography on the Internet to join him. He wasn’t sure if anyone lived close, since it was such a clandestine group—for their own safety it had to be. But Madeline would be worth the drive. And when the week was up, maybe he’d rent her to someone else for a while, like the folks who made money on the cabin. She’d be an investment!

He chuckled at his own thoughts, even waved cheerful y as he passed a woman whose fence he’d mended last summer. They could take pictures, too, and sel them on the Internet. Some guys made a lot doing that. Of course, Madeline wasn’t a child, so the pictures wouldn’t go for a premium, but they could chain her up and get some good rape and torture stuff. And when they grew bored—he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as a rush of nervous excitement ran through him—maybe they could make a snuff film. That would have to bring in the big bucks, a beautiful woman kil ed right on camera.

With such big plans, Ray began to worry that he might’ve hit Madeline too hard with that shovel. “Come on, Maddy, come back to me,” he muttered, frequently turning to look through the back window at the tarp that covered her. “Don’t ruin it.”

After another fifteen minutes, he nearly stopped to check for a pulse. But just as he slowed down, he saw the lump beneath the tarp begin to move.

The gag cutting the corners of her mouth made it difficult to breathe. Closing her eyes, Madeline tried to calm her racing heart, tried to control the panic that edged closer with every second. Where was she? What’d happened?

She’d been at her house. No, she’d been at the farm.

She’d broken a window and then…

Her memory final y cooperated, and she saw Ray holding the shovel, swinging it at her head. But why had he done that? She’d known Ray her whole life!

Slowly, her faculties returned, accompanied by more pain. She was in a—a trunk or…the hard bed of a pickup truck, under a musty-smel ing blanket. Her head and jaw ached, her hands and feet burned unmerciful y, and a knot dug into her hip. She shifted as much as she could, hoping to relieve that discomfort if no other, but it only made the shoulder that bore most of her weight complain more loudly.

The black void of unconsciousness edged close and rol ed back, edged close and rol ed back, like lapping water on the shore of a lake. Madeline’s body screamed at her to dive in, to simply drift away with the tide.

But there was something inside her that warned against succumbing….

Wake up…Move…Fight…Save yourself!

The truck swerved around a sharp turn, putting even more pressure on her shoulder. She moaned, and reached eagerly for oblivion, anything to block out the misery. But then, just before it descended, she recognized a new smel .

Pine trees. Not only was she hurt, bound and gagged, she wasn’t in Stil water anymore.

When Hunter barged into the police station, a stout woman behind a smal desk glanced up and tried to intercept him, but he sidestepped her. “Why aren’t you doing more?” he demanded, confronting Chief Pontiff at the water cooler.

“You’re not the one cal ing the shots around here,” Pontiff retorted and drank from his partial y fil ed paper cup.

“So what? You saw those pictures on Ray’s computer.

We’ve got to find Madeline!”

Pontiff crushed the cup and threw it in the garbage.

“We’re trying, damn it!” The quaver in his voice would’ve given away his anxiety—if the tremor in his hand hadn’t done so first. “I’ve cal ed his sister’s house and talked to her and his mother. They haven’t seen or heard from him.

I’ve canvassed the trailer park, talked to al the neighbors.

No one knows where he might’ve gone. I’ve cal ed in my new rookie. He and Radcliffe have driven up and down every street in this town. Right now they’re searching the barns at some of the outlying farms. What more can I do?”

he asked miserably.

“Organize a civilian search party,” Hunter said. “Ask the town for help.”

Pontiff stared at him for several seconds. Hunter guessed pride tempted him to refuse. He didn’t like having someone else take charge, especial y an outsider. But, ultimately, he nodded. “I’l cal Pastor Portenski, see what he can do.”

“Thanks,” Hunter said and meant it. Planning to head out so he could search again, he hesitated when his cel phone rang. It was Clay.

“Tel me you’ve found her,” he said, answering immediately.

“No. But I’ve located the truck she was driving. It’s here at the farm. We missed it earlier because it’s parked way in the back. And there’s a broken window at the house.”

Hunter’s grip tightened on his phone. “She’s not inside?”

“No. Bonnie Ray across the road says she saw Ray’s old Dodge pul out of the drive over an hour ago. But she doesn’t remember seeing Maddy.”

“Did she notice which direction he went?”

“He turned east, away from town.”

“Son of a bitch,” Hunter muttered. What were they going to do now? If Ray Harper had Madeline and had left town more than an hour ago, she could be anywhere within a sixty-to eighty-mile radius.

Every bump caused Madeline more agony. Her head, shoulder, hip and jaw throbbed; her hands and feet had stopped burning but she could no longer feel them. She needed to move, get her circulation going. She craved a change of position more than she’d ever dreamed she could crave something so simple. But it was no use. She’d already struggled with the ropes until she’d rubbed her wrists raw.

She couldn’t get loose. And it was noticeably colder.

She was beginning to shake violently—from the cold and the pain.

“Hunter,” she whispered, wishing he could hear her. She remembered how he’d cradled her body against his last night, the comfort he’d offered and tried to imagine she was with him now, safe and warm.

But other visions intruded. Like the message on her answering machine.
Spread your legs.
The blood on her kitchen floor. The giant dildo. It had to be Ray.
But why?

She didn’t understand.

The truck slowed, its shocks squeaking as it bounced and swayed from side to side. They obviously weren’t on a paved road anymore.

That realization terrified Madeline. There had to be a mil ion little turnoffs between Stil water and wherever Ray was taking her. How would anyone ever find her?

She blinked hard, trying not to give in to the despair that was bringing tears to her eyes. She’d think of something.

This couldn’t be real. This didn’t happen to people like her.

This kind of thing always happened to someone else.

Briefly, she prayed it was just another one of her nightmares, that she’d wake up in a few minutes.

But when the truck came to a stop and the driver’s door creaked opened, then slammed shut, she knew with absolute certainty that she was already awake.

“We’re here,” Ray announced cheerful y.

She wanted to ask him where “here” was. She wanted to ask him so many questions. But even if he removed the gag, her mouth was too dry to speak. The gag was so tight she hadn’t been able to close her lips or even swal ow properly since he’d put it on.

“Let me check it out, and I’l be back for you, okay?” he said.

When she made no sound, didn’t move, he suddenly pul ed the blanket off her, and their eyes met. “Scared me for a minute,” he said, chuckling.

His boots thudded against the earth as he walked away from her. Then she heard the jingle of keys. She couldn’t figure out where they were, but it was so damn cold. Colder than Stil water. And higher in elevation. The smel of pine was stronger than ever—pine and wood and moist earth.

“No bathroom,” he said when he came back. “But what can you expect for thirty-five bucks a night?” He untied her from the bed of the truck. Then, using the rope to jerk her into a sitting position, he almost broke her arms.

When she groaned, he laughed. “Sorry about that.

You’re a tal woman, and I’m not as young as I used to be.”

He rol ed her toward the tailgate, then shoved her again and let her fal to the ground. Pine needles poked her cheek and nearly went in one eye. She tried to turn her face away, but in her effort to get enough air she breathed in some dirt, then hacked helplessly because she couldn’t cough.

Ray didn’t seem to care. He’d gone back to the cab of the truck. “I’ve got everything we’re going to need right here, but—” she heard him rummaging around “—damn it! I gave you the dildo. Am I an idiot, or what? I wasn’t even there to see you open it, and now we don’t have one of my favorite toys. If you fail to plan you plan to fail,” he said, chastising himself.

She tried to ask, “What do you want from me?” but her words came out as helpless grunts.

“Just be patient,” he said. “I’l get you fixed up.” He pul ed her into a sitting position. Then he picked her up and carried her into a smal cabin. There was some very plain, inexpensive furniture in the living room, but no television and, from what Madeline could see, no phone.

“It’s pretty basic,” he said as he put her on the couch.

“But that’s okay. We won’t get bored. If we do, I brought some good reading material.” He took some magazines out of the bag he’d carried in and showed them to her.

They were al hard-core pornography. Turning to the first page, he began to read aloud, but it was so revolting Madeline squeezed her eyes shut and repeated, “This isn’t real…this isn’t real,” over and over inside her head.

“We’l get back to that,” he said, tossing the magazine aside. “I wouldn’t want to get ahead of myself. The anticipation is half the fun.”

We’ll get back to that?
The lust in his voice made the cold knot of fear in her stomach grow bigger. Did he intend cold knot of fear in her stomach grow bigger. Did he intend to rape her? She couldn’t believe it. This man had been part of her father’s congregation. He stil attended church almost every week.

“Ray.” His name was unintel igible when she said it, but he looked up.

“Please. The gag.”

“Hmm…I guess there’s no harm in it,” he said. “Just remember not to say anything I don’t like, or it could go back on again. There might be other consequences, too.

Especial y if you don’t remember to cal me Master. ‘Yes, Master.’ ‘No, Master.’ Okay?”

He was crazy. How could she have missed it? The hard, ugly edge to his weathered face, the gleam in his dark eyes. He’d gone over the edge.

He must’ve noticed the defiance in her attitude because he purposely smashed her mouth into his crotch as he untied the gag. Madeline told herself not to absorb this detail, but she shuddered anyway.

“For what I got for you, you’l have to wait til later,” he said. But the gag was off. She tried to be grateful for that as she stretched her swol en lips, wet her dry tongue and tried to ease the pain in her jaw.

“So what do you say?” he prompted.

She didn’t know what he meant. When she didn’t respond, he grabbed her hair so she couldn’t move her head and brought his nose right up against hers. “I asked you a question.”

“Why are you doing this?” she croaked.