Devil's Lake (Bittersweet Hollow Book 1) (12 page)

Chapter 25

A
nderson slid into the passenger seat and motioned with a brisk wave of his hand. “Go.”

Without hesitating, Boone pulled out of the parking lot. “Which way?”

“Take a left up here. We’ve gotta head south, back down to Devil’s Lake.”

Boone eased into light traffic and headed south again. “Okay. So spill. What’d they say?”

Anderson clipped his seatbelt closed and turned to Boone. “Well, first of all, I did find a lady to chat with.”

“Yeah?” Boone smiled. “Did you use your Phantom charm?”

“I did. And it worked.” Anderson’s lips curled up. “On an eighty-four-year-old woman.”

Boone pulled into the passing lane. “Hey. Whatever it takes, right?”

Anderson unrolled the printouts he clutched in his hand. “She was a sweetheart. Told me much more than I needed to know. She’s been working for the paper since she was a teenager. You want to know anything about the town, you go see Hannah.”

“We hit the jackpot, then?”

“We did. I’ve got directions to the cabin, but she said it gets pretty dicey when you enter the state land. Lots of little roads, no more than trails. She gave me directions to the edge of the park, then told me to work my way toward Devil’s Lake and watch for the cabin with the boarded up windows.”

“She knows it?”

“Vaguely. Has heard about it, hasn’t actually been there.”

“Did she know Murphy?”

“Yes. By name and reputation. Remembers him entering and winning the derby. But she hasn’t really had much to do with him on a personal level.”

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

Boone followed Anderson’s directions to the edge of the state land, and after following a fairly well-traveled dirt trail for a while, the road forked into a Y.

“Hang on,” Boone said. “Let me take a look at my GPS. I should know which general direction the lake is in.”

Anderson examined both roads while Boone got out and tried to get a signal.

“Damn,” Boone said, waving his phone around. “Signal’s too low.”

“That’s okay. Let’s try this side,” he said, getting out and examining the right hand track. “Look. It’s got some deep tire ruts. Could be from Murphy’s truck. Looks a bit more worn than the other side, too.”

Boone hopped back in the car, but first grabbed both rifles from the trunk. “Let’s see how far we can drive in. Then we’ll continue on foot.”

It wasn’t as easy as they’d hoped. They came to multiple forks in the road, and each time, Anderson examined them and chose the one he thought seemed more traveled. But seven times they came to a dead end, had to back up or do tight K turns, and ended up almost where they began.

“This is ridiculous,” Anderson said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Come on. Let’s go back to that last intersection.”

Boone followed his directions, then stopped and pulled over. “Look.”

Anderson glanced up from the map he’d drawn of the trails that nested throughout the forest. “What?”

A row of antlers were nailed to a tree, in a bizarre he-man showoff display of
I killed it
.

“Okay. That’s what Portia told us about, right? Now you’re talking, Boone old man. Let’s take this one.”

“How ‘bout we just park it here and hoof it in. The cabin can’t be too far.”

“Good idea.” Anderson grabbed his gun, took a swig of water from the bottle in the drink holder, and smiled. “Let’s go find this creep.”

They tromped through the greenery. Birds sang with abandon in the woods around them, as if they hadn’t borne witness for the past two years to the torture of one very fragile young woman.

Boone’s heartbeat quickened. He breathed deeply, calming himself. He needed to focus. “I see something,” he whispered, throwing out an arm to stop Anderson.

“Right,” Anderson whispered back. “Straight ahead.”

Both men melted into the woods, off the trail, carrying their weapons low.

“Slow and easy,” Boone said.

Without speaking, they made their way toward the cabin, stopping to listen every few minutes. No sounds came from within, no lights winked through the boarded up windows.

“Let’s just wait and watch for a bit,” Anderson suggested. “See if there’s any movement.”

They crouched behind a low hanging spruce bow, listening and waiting. The minutes dragged onward, and Boone’s muscles ached to move again.

After fifteen minutes, they nodded to each other and moved forward. Boone motioned for Anderson to go around the back. He reached one side of the cabin and slowly peered into a crack between the planks blocking one window on the Devil’s Lake side. His eyes raked the room within. Woodstove. Couch. Small dining room table and two chairs.

No Murphy.

Anderson met him at the back of the cabin.
Sotto voce
, he said. “Nothing on the porch. No movement. Can’t see anyone inside.”

Boone straightened and spoke in a more normal tone. “Okay, then. Let’s go knock on the front door.”

PART II

The Taking

(two years earlier)

Chapter 26

P
ortia thrashed against the foul rag pressed to her mouth and nose, but the man was strong and clamped it tighter. She held her breath, struggling to escape his arms, but he held her like a child gripping a doll against its chest, tightly and with no intention of letting go.

No luck.

Don’t breathe, don’t breathe, don’t breathe!

What the hell was happening? Who was this guy who’d parked his truck behind the greenhouse? And why did he say she was “with him” now?

The dark night went darker. Her head swam.

She breathed.

Hours later she woke in the truck, arms tied together with rope and her head pounding. He’d parked around back of what looked like a gas station, and had left her in the truck alone. She wanted to scream, but something about the drug he’d used made her head stuffy, her throat muscles didn’t respond to her brain’s signals.

Yell! Scream! Shout!

Her brain demanded, but her lips just mumbled nothingness.

Get up!
Run!

A figure emerged from the men’s room, approaching the truck.

Help
.
Help me, please
.

He came closer, opened her door. And it was then she realized it was him. The crazy guy who’d taken her.

“Awake, sugar?” His voice sounded odd, almost robotic.

With one hand, he pushed her helplessly back against the seat. With the other, he doused more of the foul smelling liquid onto the rag and raised it to her face.

“Sorry. Just a little longer, and we’ll be home. You sleep now. Sleep.”

She’d fought him weakly, but hadn’t stopped his arm from forcing the acrid smell into her nose and mouth.

When she next awoke, the sun had risen and a pink horizon greeted her gritty eyes through the passenger side window. She noticed the red geranium for the first time on the floor by her feet.

They were crossing a river on a metal bridge, and the light winked on her face in repetitive flickering waves.

“You won’t need this anymore, sugar.” He leaned over to roll down her window and tossed her purse out into the open space. It sailed over the bridge railings and disappeared.

“No!” A weak gurgle escaped her lips. Hot tears scalded her cheeks. “My phone.” It was all she could manage. And in spite of all the other essentials that flew past her and into the river below, all she could think of was her beloved iPhone. Gone. Wet. Useless.

“How will I call my parents?” she murmured, as if the crazy guy next to her would actually care or answer her.

He patted her leg, leaving his hand on her thigh.

She pulled away.

“Oh, don’t worry. You won’t need your folks anymore. You’re with me, now, sugar.”

“Stop calling me that!” With a sob, she drew herself closer to the open window, for one wild moment thinking maybe she could throw herself out of it, roll on the road, and scream for help.

But her muscles flagged and her arms were tied.

He leaned over her and rolled up the window. “No crazy ideas. Sugar.”

She closed her eyes and let the tears stream down her face. “Why?” She opened them and turned toward the monster sitting beside her. He looked so normal. So much like every other guy on the street of small town USA.

“Because you’re the one. You were meant for me. Now hush up and go back to sleep.” He reached for the rag again.

“No! Please. I’m thirsty. Can I have a drink, please?”

He leaned down and opened a small cooler sitting on the floor between them. Uncapping a bottle of water, he handed it to her. “Drink up.”

She drained the bottle, managing to hold it between her bound hands.

“What do you say?” he growled, lowering his eyebrows in her direction while turning onto another highway.

“Huh?” She turned blurry eyes toward him.

“What. Do. You. Say?”

Heart pounding, head aching, she leaned as far away from him as possible. “Um. Thank you?”

“Good girl. Now shut up and let me drive.”

Chapter 27

W
hen she next awoke it was to the truck bouncing over potholes and ruts. Her head bumped against the window, and her bleary eyes shot open.

Outside, tree branches swept past the truck. Beyond that, deep blackness.

The inside of the cab smelled like fast food. Portia realized she had eaten nothing since her capture, and suddenly her stomach rolled in hunger. “Is there any food left?” she asked, sounding to herself like a beggar child asking for a morsel at the king’s table.

He seemed relaxed. Happy? As if she were a sudden annoyance, he tossed her a bag.

She dug into it, finding half a carton of cold fries and an apple pie. She slid the pastry out of its sleeve and bit into it, deciding it was the best thing she’d tasted in years. Later, she’d wished she’d eaten the fries, too. At least they had calories. Even cold, there had to be some nutrition in them. Better than nothing.

When she gobbled down the last bite, she reached for another bottle of water and drained that, too. Urgent pressure on her bladder came minutes later, when they jarred over another bump.

“I have to go,” she said. “It’s an emergency.”

He grunted, looked at her as if she’d interrupted a pleasant daydream, and stopped the truck. “Well, don’t go far. We’re almost home.” He gestured toward the door. “You can do your business in the woods. But there are bears and wildcats, so stay close.”

She fumbled with the door handle, incredulous. He was going to let her go! She could pee in the woods, then turn to run. Anywhere would be better than here. Anywhere, even if there were bears waiting to pounce on her.

Slowly, she opened the creaking old door and slipped out.

He cranked down her window. “Make it snappy, sugar.”

Sugar, again. Oh, how I already hate that nickname.

She backed away ten feet and crouched behind a bush, quickly emptying her bladder. When she stood to zip her jeans, the world spun.

Damn. That chloroform, or whatever it was, is still in my system.

“Come on. We’re almost there, and I’m tired.”

In spite of her muddy thoughts and the dizzying sensations coursing through her, she turned and ran as if chased by the hounds of Hell.

In the distance, now that her eyes had adjusted to the dark, something glimmered. Silvery in the moonlight, it beckoned. Salvation. Freedom. A lake! Could she swim across it to get away from him?

His heavy grunt met her ears, then a shout. “Hey! Where are you going?”

She pushed her rubbery legs as hard as she could manage, swinging under pine branches, almost falling, and stumbling through the underbrush. Thorns raked her skin. Her eyes began to tear, because although she tried to run as fast as she could, she realized she was actually lurching at a painfully slow pace, like a crazy drunkard, arms and legs moving, but making little or no progress.

His footfalls came heavy and loud behind her, punctuated by his mechanical, raspy breathing. “God damn you, girl. You’ll pay for this.”

She froze inside, panicking. The silvery sparkle, which she now thought of as her salvation, didn’t seem any closer. With one last huge effort, she forced her legs to move forward. Stars blurred overhead. Trees loomed out of the darkness. She slammed into a big oak tree, banging her head against its massive trunk.

Turning, she saw him, getting closer.

He was laughing.

“You’re not getting very far. What’s wrong? Lost your sense of direction? Feeling a little woozy, sugar?”

She spun, legs churning away from him.

Come on, Portia! Move! Do it for your family. Do it for your horses. Get away from this crazy bastard!

With a deep gulping breath, she poured on the speed, feeling hysterical pleasure in the long strides that took her away from him.

Go, go, go!
Her mind chanted encouragement, and she felt her brain clear, just a little. There, to the right, a trail led to the water.

Pounding faster now that she had no obstructions, she flew down the trail, not daring to look over her shoulder.

“Sugar, you’ll never get away from me.”

He sounded closer than she’d expected.

Run!

She reached the lakeshore, and without stopping to take off her shoes or jacket, slogged into the cold water.

Too late.

His hand reached her arm and jerked her backwards.

“Are you stupid?”

She fell into the water, soaked to her neck.

Heavy breathing met her ears and she felt the world spinning again. “Let me go!” But her words sounded feeble, even to herself.

His arm reached around her neck, squeezing hard. “I said,
we’re almost home
. Now, don’t go spoiling everything. I’ve waited a long time for this.”

His arm pressed harder against her throat, and when she could no longer breathe, she stopped struggling, and the world went black. Again.