Devil's Lake (Bittersweet Hollow Book 1) (26 page)

How the hell am I going to get home? Or even get to a phone?

She hadn’t seen an office or phone on the way out, but wondered if she could possibly locate that room where Murphy had found the coffee maker. If people were using it, there had to be a phone hook up.

She missed her iPhone. It probably still sat in her purse in her bedroom at home. Battery dead. Wondering what happened to its talkative owner.

What about Murphy’s car? She had the keys in her pocket, they jingled as she walked.

What color was it?

She had no idea. Just that it had a front and back seat, and a loud radio.

That’s helpful, Grace.

She chuckled in spite of herself. He’d probably hidden it, she figured. Maybe over in the woods? She scanned the tree line that bordered acres of woods surrounding the facility. It was dark, so it really was useless to try to find something in those deep, dark woods now, anyway.

And where was the main road? She had no idea which direction to walk in.

Was that shining silver reflection through the trees the surface of Devil’s Lake? Tempted for a moment to run toward the water and wash all things Murphy from her, she envisioned stripping and jumping into the cool lake water, stroking far out into the middle of the lake, and just floating on her back with the moon shining on her face.

She stopped and sat on the stoop by the door where she had just emerged. Sat and thought. Sat and felt like crying.

A few tears trickled down her cheeks. She roughly wiped them away.

My God. I really did it.

If Portia’s theories were right, Grace could’ve ended up as one of Murphy’s castoffs. She might’ve been killed and buried out in those dark woods. She’d never have seen Anderson again. Or her parents and Portia. She would have just been a ghost, wandering the fields and barns of Bittersweet Hollow.

She wondered about her mother, and prayed that going back to the clinic would stop the cancer again.

How much is one person supposed to take, anyway? Beating the whole drug thing was hard enough. Trying to maintain a chaste lifestyle was another challenge, especially since she craved men so much and seemed to have a really hard time controlling it. Watching her mother wither away from cancer, month after month…Then getting kidnapped by a robotic-voiced moron.

What was that all about?

Something told her she was not going to crave other men so much now. Not after this whole charade.

She’d always been a good actress. That’s how she met Anderson, when she starred in the lead role of her college production of “Grease.” She’d made a fantastic Sandy, even if she did say so herself. And she’d fallen for Anderson, who’d apparently had it bad for her since the first day of auditions. Sure, he was fifteen years older than she was. But crap, who cared these days? If you found someone who loved you…what did it matter?

Anderson.

Would he understand? Would he think of her as tainted?

No.

No, he had taken her back time after time when she’d cheated on him, when she’d fallen off the wagon. No. He’d take her back and love her, just like always.

I need to be much nicer to him. He’s a gem.

Something moved in the woods to her right. A flashlight played along the path.

She froze.

Who would be out at this time of night?

Oh, God.
Did Murphy have a partner?

***

Portia gripped Boone’s arm, staying close to his side. He played the light along the narrow path in the woods.

“I told you to stay in the car, Portia.” He stopped and chided her, knowing it was hopeless. “It could get dangerous.”

“Jeez, Boone. I’m not your dog.” She frowned and spit the words. “I’m armed.” She brandished her father’s rifle. “I know how to use this. My dad made sure of it when I was fourteen.”

He flicked back a lock of his shaggy blond hair. “You haven’t shot it in years.”

“So? It’s like riding a bike. It’ll come back to me.”

Anderson chuckled behind them, followed closely by Ned.

“Tell me this was a smart idea,” Portia said. “We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we?”

Boone nodded and pushed toward the clearing where the gray buildings of the abandoned munitions plant sprawled for acres in front of them. “I’ll tell you it was a good idea when we find her. She could be in any—or none—of those buildings.”

Anderson took the lead. “We’d probably better split up. Do you all have a good signal?”

Ned held his up. “I’ve got two bars.”

Portia and Boone did the same, nodding. “Good to go,” Boone said.

Anderson lowered his voice as they approached the edge of the compound. “Let’s check in every half hour. Boone, you call me. Ned and I will search together; we’re taking the southern half of the plant. Portia, stick with Boone. Got it?”

The foursome had decided to investigate on their own after waiting for the police to act on the tip that had come in about some old drunk who said he saw Murphy driving a car in Baraboo with a girl slumped in the front seat. They’d acted skeptical about his report, even though Sheriff Dunne told them they’d already checked out the cabin by Devil’s Lake and had found nothing new there. It was when Boone found evidence online that Murphy had worked at the old munitions plant over a decade ago that they decided to check it out.

They’d been on the road for twelve hours, and tired, cranky, and gritty-eyed, they’d all agreed not to wait until morning light.

They split into two teams. Anderson and Ned disappeared into the moonlit night, and Boone led the way toward the first building.

Chapter 63

G
race shrank back into the shadows beneath the overhang. Slowly, quietly, she shuffled to the corner and hid from the light in the woods.

She wanted to run and scream, wave her arms, and shout, “Here I am!” But she held it in, clamped her lips tight together.

What if the person in the woods with the flashlight was another nut job like Murphy? What if it was his brother?

Worse yet, what if it was his
mother
? What if she
took part
in his sick games?

She shuddered. She’d always thought of his mother as dead.

She hoped she was right.

With a deep, steadying breath, she peeked around the corner.

The light was coming closer, bouncing along the ground as if its owner was jogging toward the building. She pulled back a few more feet into the darkness and held her breath.

***

Portia bent low and ran behind Boone,  trying to keep a low profile. Soon she felt out of breath, and wondered if she could keep up the pace. Boone was in much better shape than she was, there was no question about that.

They approached a darkened building, but at the very end of the long building, she noticed a dim light spilling onto the gravel below a window.

She stopped him and pointed. “Over there.”

“Come on,” he said.

A shrill cry stopped Portia’s heart beating in her chest. She froze, turned toward the noise, and was quickly enveloped by a shrieking tangle of arms and legs. Someone kissed her cheeks over and over again.

“Portia! Portia. Oh my God. It’s you!” Grace danced in place, then jumped on Boone, both legs around his waist. “Boone! You guys actually found me!”

When Portia finally realized what was happening, she screamed Grace’s name and hugged her and Boone in a three-person embrace.

Grace jumped down, wrapped her arms around Portia, and hugged and twirled with her for a full minute. “Oh my God. You’re here!”

“Yes, we are, Baby Cakes.” Portia laughed, relief flooding her so strongly that her legs almost buckled.

Boone was on the phone to Anderson, practically shouting the news. “We’ve got her.”

In five minutes, the sound of scuffling boots grew louder, and finally, Anderson appeared in the light of his own flashlight. He stopped. Stared. And opened his arms for Grace, who threw herself on him with such passionate kisses that Portia almost had to turn away blushing.

“Baby, baby, baby,” Grace muttered. “Oh God. You wouldn’t believe what I had to do to get away from him.”

When they finally stopped chattering over each other, the foursome stopped. Ned was the one who brought them back to reality.

“So,” he said. “Where’s Murphy? Did you have to kill him, Grace?”

“No,” she said, looking pensive. She raised her eyes to each of them in turn. “But I was sorely tempted.”

Boone gestured toward the light. “Is he down there?”

“Uh huh. Come on.” Grace looped her arm through Anderson’s and her eyes hardened. “I’ll take you to the son of a bitch.”

Chapter 64

N
ed held his phone up in one hand. “Hold on a second. Shouldn’t we call the cops first? Let ‘em know we found Grace?”

Boone shook his head. “Let’s wait, make sure we’ve really got Murphy, too.”

Grace giggled, sounding almost hysterical. “Oh. We’ve got him. Unless he can chew through a plastic tie-wrap on his wrist and ankle, he’s ours.”

Portia’s fists tightened at her sides and she leaned down to pick up the rifle she’d dropped. “I’d like a go at him.” As soon as she said it, she wondered how those words could come from her own lips.  But the pent up anger, the long-suffering pain, had been building up inside her for a long time now. “Just five minutes. That’s all I want.”

Grace tossed her an empathetic smile. “I don’t blame you. Come on.” She took her sister’s arm and led her into the darkened building, through the cavernous production lines and narrow green painted corridors. When they reached the locked door, Grace pulled the keys out of her pajama pockets. “Okay. Here we go.”

The door squeaked open and Portia was hit with a sense of trepidation. She froze.

What if Murphy got loose? What if he was waiting for them, behind the door? With a knife? A gun?

Murphy’s in there. So close. So stinking close.

She stepped inside after Grace and the men entered the room. Fear replaced her insane desire for revenge. She trembled all over.

Grace stood with hands on her hips, watching Murphy, who, indeed, was still tethered to the bed at the side of the room. Naked, he lay there for all to see, his face screwed into a furious mask with one hand trying unsuccessfully to cover his manhood.

“There’s your man. Right where I left him,” Grace said. “He’s just kind of hanging out.” Another too-bright laugh came from her lips and she covered her mouth with one hand, as if trying to control it. One raw sob erupted from her and she sucked in a deep breath, covering her eyes.

Portia moved closer and took her sister’s hand. “You’re safe now.”

Grace leaned into her, sagging against her shoulder. “Thanks.”

Boone edged forward carefully. “Let me double check his restraints.” He leaned down, poked at Murphy’s wrist and ankle with the tip of his rifle.

In a crazed burst of movement, Murphy lunged for the gun with his free hand. Shrieking with his metallic voice like a futuristic banshee, he reached it, struggled with Boone, and almost won control of the rifle. Boone streaked back, swung the gun around, and slammed the stock against Murphy’s head.

Murphy lay still, eyes closed, body at rest.

Ned moved closer. “Is he dead?”

“God. I hope so.” Portia let go of Grace and crept closer. “Check his pulse. But be careful.” Bile rose in her throat and her fists clenched at her side.

She wanted to run. Run far away. Away from this monster.

Boone leaned forward and touched his fingers to the man’s wrist, keeping his rifle an arm’s length away. “Nope. He’s alive.”

Grace regained her composure and came closer, leaning down to look at him with fierce anger stamping her face. “
Bastard
. I’d like to get some answers before the cops take him away.” She shook his shoulder. “Charlie! Wake up.”

Anderson raised an eyebrow. “Charlie?”

Grace backed up and canted one hip, her saucy attitude firmly back in place. “He hates it when you call him that. Only his precious mommy was allowed to call him Charlie. He wanted me to call him Charles.”

Slowly, Portia’s anxiety settled, to be replaced by lava like anger. Her lip curled. “Really? Charles?”

Grace nodded. “Yup. If you wanna make him mad…call him Charlie.”

“I can’t look at that any more.” Portia grabbed a blanket and threw it over his nakedness. “Hey. Charlie.” She nudged his hip with her boot. “You awake?”

He didn’t move.

“Too bad,” she said, shaking with nerves. “I’d like to force him to tell us about the other girls. I know there were probably dozens. And I wonder if there are any more held in this place.” She gestured to the abandoned buildings around her.

Boone put an arm around Portia’s shoulder. She didn’t flinch. She even leaned into him a little bit.

“Come on, Portia. Let the cops do the questioning. They’re the experts.”

She relaxed against him, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I guess you’re right.”

Anderson framed Grace’s face in his hands and searched her eyes. “Do you need a doctor, honey?”

Grace placed both palms against his chest and rose up on her toes to kiss him. “No, baby. I’m okay, now that you’re here.”

Anderson’s expression softened. “Well, then. Let’s get you out of here.”

Ned held up a hand. He’d been on the phone for several minutes already. “We can’t leave until the police come.” He turned back to his cell phone, head nodding furiously as he relayed the location and situation to Sheriff Dunne back in Vermont.

Chapter 65

“
C
ome on. I need some fresh air.” Boone led the way outside, where he sank heavily onto the edge of the cement steps, glancing over to the horizon. “Dawn’s coming.”

Portia sat beside him. She felt no fear, no nervousness. Her insides had churned when she’d seen Murphy again. She thought she was going to throw up. But then, when she realized he really was secured tightly to the bed, it had all fizzled out of her and she’d felt the fear drain away.