Freight Trained (21 page)

Someone had left Cole a present and wanting him to see it right away, left it on the driveway instead of the porch.  Weird, but nothing to get panicky over.  Abby's brows drew together as she thought about that further.  It wasn't close to a "give a present" kind of holiday and as she discovered earlier, not near his birthday either.  "Who would be giving you a gift and why?"  She said her last thought aloud.

Cole's hand tightened on her thigh, so she turned her attention back to him.  "I don't think it's for me."

"What?"  Her voice came out as a breathy whisper.  But he already had his phone out dialing so didn't answer.

"We came home to a package in my driveway."  He hadn't answered with a pleasant greeting nor had he introduced himself to his caller.  "We won't touch it until you get here."  Another pause.  "Good.  See you in a few."

"Sheriff?" Abby asked although she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

"Yeah."

"You think it's from the same person that left the flowers and champagne?"

Cole ran his hand
—
the one not still clutching her thigh
—
through his hair, starting at his forehead and sliding his hand back until he gripped the back of his neck.  "Know it is."

She didn't like to think some creepy, stalker type was obsessed with her so blurted, "It could be for you," in a lame attempt to disguise what was really going on.

"Don't know anyone that would spontaneously leave me a present for no reason."

"Maybe your last
friend
, trying to grab your attention?"  She hadn't said that to be snippy, she really hoped it was true.  Abby knew she was grasping at straws but for some reason, if this was a third gift from
him
, it suddenly made things very real.  Ever since she received the flowers, she'd been putting the implications of what those actions meant to the back of her mind.  But with a third gift, it was becoming harder for her to shove the strange reality that she had a stalker into one of her mental boxes to ignore.

Cole reached across the center console and grabbed the back of her head, pushing her toward him as he leaned in, meeting her at half the distance.  His lips captured hers, his tongue parting them forcefully, invading and taking possession of her mouth. 

The force of gravity shift had her catching her fall, one hand landing on the hard-plastic cup holder in the center console, the other high up on his thigh.  If his plan had been to take away her worries, it worked spectacularly.  All thoughts flew from her mind and became focused on the strong, warm tongue that caressed along the back of her teeth, the roof of her mouth, and the length of her tongue.  A low, deep moan traveled down the back of her throat and the hand, twisted in the back of her hair holding her immobile, tightened.

He ended the kiss and still gripping her hair, he placed his forehead against hers and said in his low, sexy drawl, "I won't let anything happen to you, Little Mouse.  I promise."  His lips found hers once again, and she felt the promise in his kiss.

"How normal is this, getting a gift twice in one day?" Abby asked the sheriff.  He had arrived a few minutes ago with Deputy Williams and the four of them stood around the, as yet, untouched box in the center of Cole's driveway.

Sheriff Brody had his hands on his hips, looking down at the box while Abby asked the question but knew she spoke to him so answered, "Well, technically, it's only one gift today, you've just discovered two in one day.  The champagne was left last night and the flowers the night before so it seems, he's leaving you one a day."

"And how normal is that?"  Abby tried to keep the worry from her voice but knew she failed when Cole took a hold of her hand and tangled their fingers together.

The sheriff sighed.  "I've done some research on the subject of stalking, abductions, and the like."  He paused a moment and in the silence knew he thought of his daughter.  He cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded a bit hoarse when he said, "Anyway, every case I've investigated, each perp is so individual, it's hard to know what's considered normal.  For this guy, this is normal."

Abby ducked her head trying not to feel frustrated by his non-answer. 

Cole gave her hand a gentle squeeze.  "I want to know what's in the box.  See how far this fuck has escalated."

The sheriff pulled a pair of latex gloves and what looked like a folded plastic trash bag out of his back pocket.  He handed the bag to Deputy Williams.  "I'm hoping he screwed up and left a print."

"What do you do if you find a print?"  Abby was now kicking herself for never watching all the true crime shows that had become so popular.

"If we find a print, it'll go through NCIC, see if we get a hit."  He said, squatting beside the box.

"NCIC?" Abby asked.

The sheriff looked up from the box.  "National Crime Information Center, FBI database."

The deputy spoke up.  "But if he's never been convicted of a crime, his prints won't be on file."

Abby gave her attention to the deputy when he spoke.  The smile he gave her seemed almost sinister with no emotion reaching his eyes.   She shivered, a cold tingle sliding down her spine, and she subtly took a step closer to Cole.

Sheriff Brody stood, placing the box in the now open garbage bag that the deputy held open.  He looked at Cole.  "You want to know what it is, you'll need to come to the station.

Ten minutes later, Cole pulled them into a parking spot in front of the station.  It was late enough that only three cars besides theirs were parked in the lot.  Cole turned off the ignition then turned to face Abby before getting out.  "If you don't want to know what's in the package, I'm sure there's someplace you can wait while we open it."

Abby was shaking her head before he even finished his sentence.  "No, I want to know.  Wait, scratch that, I need to know."

Cole did the whole "lean over the center console" thing and lightly kissed the tip of her nose.  "Okay, Little Mouse.  Let's go find out what the fuck it is."

"What is that?" Cole asked, looking down at the gift, now revealed, sitting in the middle of the conference table. 

They were in the station's only interrogation room.  The room was devoid of any character with its bare, yellowed walls that could have used a fresh coat of paint five years ago, and the cracked and scarred linoleum tiles that covered the floor. The only pop of color, the blue and red hard-plastic chairs that circled the table.

Abby took a step closer, looking at the large, iridescent-pink egg shaped object from all sides.  "I think it's a music box."  It was beautiful, decorated with white lace and flowers. 

Deputy Williams flipped a switch in the back and the melody to "When You Wish Upon a Star" filled the room.

"Does it open?"  Cole asked, pointing to a hairline crack down the middle. 

"There's another switch back here."  The deputy said.

"Flip it," said the sheriff.

The egg split apart and in the center was a small ballerina.  "What the hell?"  Abby was pretty sure that was said by Cole, but her attention was so riveted on what was in front of her, she barely paid notice.  Everyone seemed to lean in a bit closer to get a better look.

A delicately thin piece of rope was tied around the ballerina's crossed ankles and short pieces dangled from each wrist.  The eyes were covered with a blindfold.  Abby took a step back from the table, wrapping her arms around herself.  She felt a sudden chill as if the temperature had just dropped twenty degrees in the room, but knew the coldness didn't come from without, it came from within.  She wouldn't panic, but she couldn't help the slight tremble of fear coiling in her belly.

Cole's deep, demanding voice vibrated through the small room.  She tuned into the conversation, realizing she must have missed part of it.  "So what?  We're supposed to sit around twiddling our fucking thumbs until he does something that puts Abby's life in danger?  I don't fucking think so, Sam.  You and John need to do your jobs and find this asshole."

The deputy took an angry step in Cole's direction, pointer finger out.  "Fuck you, Cole, don't tell us how to do our jobs.  At least we aren't washed up
–
"

"Enough!" the sheriff intervened with a yell.  He looked at the deputy, "John that's not helping."  He looked at Cole.  "I know you're upset.  We're doing everything we can to find this guy.  In the meantime, we'll all keep a tighter watch on Abby.  We won't give him a chance to hurt her and eventually he
will
fuck up."

She saw Cole's chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath probably in an effort to control his anger.  She took the few steps to his side, placing her hand on his arm to get his attention.  "Will you take me home now?"

All traces of anger melted from his face as he looked down at her.  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, kissing her on the forehead.  "Yeah, let's get out of here."

* * * * *

"Talk to you a minute, Cole?" Sam asked, taking hold of Cole's arm to stop him from continuing down the hall.

"Now's not really a good time, Sheriff."  It came out with more bite than he'd intended, still upset at what he'd just seen and pissed at John for being an ass.

"It'll only take a minute.  It's important." 

Cole read the note of gravity in his expression, the hard set of his jaw, the thin line of his lips, the glint in his eye, and gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.

Abby had stopped halfway down the hall and had turned to look at him.  He gave her a chin lift.  "Give me just a second, Darlin'."

"Come into my office," Sam said, holding the door open for Cole.

Cole gave him a brief nod as he slipped through the door, taking a seat in one of the chairs sitting in front of the big, oaken desk. 

"This is a picture of my daughter, Rachel, taken 6 years ago right before she disappeared."

Cole took the picture the sheriff held out.  Pretty girl, long brown hair, blue eyes.  She had a similarity to Sam but what worried him most was the similarity to Abby.  Not that they could ever be confused for one another, but he knew to a sick, twisted mind like the guy they were dealing with, the similarities would be enough.

"I never believed she ran away."  The sheriff collapsed into his chair looking defeated and older than the forty-seven years Cole knew him to be.  "She was a good girl.  I know all parents say that, but in her case it was true.  Good grades, head cheerleader, always helping the community.

"She dated a few boys here and there but mostly hung out with her friends.  She was a good girl," he stressed, once again, "and would never have run away."  Leaning forward in his chair, he placed his elbows on his knees, looking down at his feet.  "But I couldn't find her.  I couldn't..."  His voice broke.

Cole looked away, out the window that had an uninteresting view of the parking lot, giving him a moment to compose himself.

The steel in the Sheriff's voice drew Cole's attention back. "When Abby first started getting the gifts, I couldn't help but recognize the similarities between her and my daughter.  It made me wonder if Rachel had gotten gifts but if she did, she never mentioned them.  If it's the same man stalking Abby that took my daughter, maybe we can figure out a pattern, find out who this guy is."

"Why are you just now showing me this?"  Anger coursed through his veins at the thought of this missing puzzle piece he wasn't previously offered.

"I've been working the angle, but now felt this knowledge was pertinent."

He made his hands into fists and took a deep breath.  Fighting with him at this juncture would be a complete waste of valuable time the sheriff could be using to find this guy.  He slid back his chair and stood.  "You'll call me as soon as you get any information?"

"Yes."

"I mean anything, Sam.  I don't care what the fuck it is, I want to know everything."  He didn't wait for the sheriff's response, just strode out the door.

* * * * *

Abby opened her eyes to a view she was becoming increasingly familiar with.  Same wall holding the same window that housed the same blinds.  Only now instead of disorientating, she found the view comforting.  The only thing missing was the male presence with his strong, masculine arm hugging her around her waist that was usually at her back.

She rolled over, finding Cole's side of the bed empty.  She flung out her arm.  The sheet was cold.  Bright sunlight filled the room, and she sat up, reaching for her phone on the nightstand so she could check the time.  Quarter after eight.  Not too late, but later than she liked to get up on a weekday.

After making a pit stop in the bathroom, she threw on a pair of jeans under the T-shirt of Cole's she'd slept in and padded barefoot down the stairs in search of her elusive bed partner.

He wasn't in the kitchen but half a pot of coffee was, and she greedily poured herself a large cup.  She took a grateful sip, cupping the mug close to her lips as she slowly and carefully trekked her way into the living room.  The set of French doors, bringing in warm sunlight drew her attention, and she made her way to them on autopilot desperate to soak up some of the heat.  What she saw when she looked through the glass, held her spellbound.