Head Start (Cedar Tree #7) (28 page)

By the time I turn back to the diner, Gus’s Yukon is pulling in with Joe right behind him. Inside, four tables have been pulled together, and Mal comes in from the kitchen with my laptop.
Fuck yes
. I’m going to go nuts if I can’t do something. I don’t say anything, just sit down at the table and boot up. I barely notice chairs scraping as some of the others sit down around me, talking to each other or on the phone.

“Seb!” I hear Arlene shouting out and I look up to see him walking in, his face grim. His eyes find mine as Arlene throws her arms around his neck. He doesn’t have to say it, I already know.

“Fuck, brother,” he says as he walks over to where we’re sitting. “She was there one minute and gone the next. Didn’t see anything on the road either. It’s a ghost town.”

“Yeah, that’s because half the population is at the site of the explosion,” Joe points out.

“Only damn truck on the road was that old rust bucket Bill Krutcher drives,” Seb says scratching his head, referring to one of the local farmers. “Must be pissed or something, because he didn’t honk his damn horn the way he usually does.”

I turn my eyes back to the computer and pull up a the software that’s supposed to track the app I installed on Kendra’s phone a while back, but I’m not getting a signal.

“What are you looking at?” Gus asks, leaning over my shoulder.

“Kendra’s tracker. It’s not working.”

“I thought you said those things work even if the phone is switched off?”

“They do,” I slam the lid of the laptop shut. “Unless someone takes out the battery entirely.
Son of a motherfucking bitch!”
Swinging around I clear the table behind me with one swipe of my arm, sending condiments, cutlery and napkins flying.

The diner is dead silent, or at least I thought it was, until I hear a child crying. My eyes flick to the two tables at the far end, where the young mother is cradling her scared little boy in her lap while her husband shoots daggers in my direction. The door opens and Damian walks in, Luna in tow. “Drew’s right behind us,” he announces sardonically, taking in the puddle of ketchup at my feet. Arlene bends down and starts wiping the mess off the floor, but I immediately pull her up by her arm.

“I’ll do it.”

Without argument she hands over the rag. The time it takes me to clean up my mess is enough to get control of my frustration, and after handing the dirty rag back to Arlene, who awards me with a small smile, I prepare to eat crow.

The father is still glaring at me when I approach, but I try to focus on the little boy, no more than maybe three or four, still cowering against his mom’s shoulder. “Hey buddy,” I start tentatively before dropping down on my haunches so I am at eye level with him. “I’m really sorry I yelled and got mad. I didn’t mean to scare you.” When the kid still doesn’t show his face, I stand up and face his parents. “I’m sorry. I...” I stop there, shake my head and turn around. I have a woman to find.

I walk back just in time to hear Damian instruct Luna to see the remaining patrons home. Joe offers his help. They no sooner leave and Drew’s SUV pulls up.

“What’ve we got?” he says as he comes in, directing his question at Damian.

“Not much. Seb went after her, but was too late. Only thing he saw was some old geezer in a truck.”

“Who was it?” Drew wants to know.

“Bill Krutcher,” Seb answers. “Well at least it looked like it, but he didn’t honk like he usually does.”

Drew goes rigid when he hears Bill’s name. “Krutcher reported his truck stolen earlier today. He said he was sure it was those Vandenbeek kids down the road. I was on my way there when the call went out over the radio about the explosion.” His mouth snaps shut and immediately gets on his radio, barking orders. The rest of us suddenly become a flurry of activity.

Gus points out the truck was heading west, toward the Utah border. Damian is barking in his phone to make sure the trooper stationed at the state border was in place and I’m already scanning Google maps for close up satellite images of any abandoned structures along County Road G.

“Mal, grab my printer upstairs,” I yell out over the diner. There are a few turn offs between here and the state border and I want to document them all. Within minutes, Mal is hooking up my printer on the table. I take screen shots of every lonely structure I can find and print several copies off.

“I’m going,” I announce as I see Drew and Damian head for the door, my printouts in hand. There’s no fucking way in hell I’m going to hang around here and wait while Kendra is out there somewhere. Been out there for well over an hour and a half. I’m already moving to the door with my own set of copies, when I hear Gus behind me. “Mal, go with him. Take the Yukon, just in case.” I hear the clang of keys and Mal catches up with me by the door. The Yukon is parked right out front. I know why Gus suggests the Yukon. The seats in the back can fold down. He wants to make sure we can accommodate anyone who might be injured and needs quick transportation. I can’t even go there.

“We’ll find her,” Mal says quietly as we pull out.

“I’m gonna rip him in two if he’s hurt her, Mal.” My voice cracks. “I love her.”

I feel Mal’s hand squeeze my neck as I try to get ahold of my emotions. “I know, buddy. I know.”

Up ahead, Drew’s Durango turns right, into the first cut off. We keep going, following Damian, who takes the next exit we see. Mal continues on to the next one, a narrow dirt road off to the north that, according to my map, has what looks to be an old barn or shed at the end. Just as we pull up to the building, my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s Drew.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing here. Did you guys grab the third exit?”

“Checking it out right now.”

“I’m taking the next.”

Mal slowly drives the Yukon towards the dilapidated wooden structure. Probably once a barn, but now nothing more than a stone foundation and a collapsed frame. Still, we get out of the car, armed with Gus’s giant Maglite to take a closer look. It doesn’t take long to figure out nothing or no one is here. Doesn’t even look like anyone’s been on this trail in recent days. Only our tracks are visible.

We’re almost back to the car when my phone goes off once more. Drew again. “Get down here.” Is all he says before hanging up.

“Next exit. Drew’s got something,” I yell at Mal as I run the last few steps to the truck. Mal’s ass barely hits the seat and we’re turning a donut on the loose dirt, leaving billowing clouds of dust behind us as we barrel toward the road. I manage to shoot a quick message to Damian who ends up right behind us on the road.

Drew’s duty vehicle is just off to the side of a small clearing on the side of an old dead end dirt road that cuts south of the county road, about six miles west of town. It crosses over McElmo’s Creek before suddenly stopping. The only things there are some old storage sheds that were once used by Sutcliffe Vineyards north of here to store their equipment. They’ve long since built a large storage barn north of the road.

Mal pulls the Yukon in behind Drew’s wheels and we quietly get out and walk to where Drew is shining a flashlight on the ground.

“Cell phone. Crushed,” he says in a soft voice.

It’s Kendra’s, the remnants of the shiny red case as unique as its owner.

K
endra

The first thing I notice is the smell.

It’s earthy, like wet soil and compost, but there’s a faint trace of yeast too. Just a hint, but enough to tingle the inside of my nose. The second thing, immediately following, is a hot pain radiating up my leg. It’s like something is chewing on my ankle. I crack open my eyes, but I can’t see much of my surroundings, it’s too dark. It isn’t until I try to move my head that I notice the rough texture against my skin. And when I try to move my hand, I realize I’m tied facedown on something. Something curved and rough against my skin. I’m buck naked.

I can’t hold back the whimper that stays trapped behind the duct tape I can feel pulling across my mouth. Struggling against the ropes around my ankles and my wrists only causes pain and I soon stop, recognizing the futility of fighting. With tears running down my face, and snot clotting my nostrils, I gasp for breath, managing only to make myself lightheaded.

Karly. Did she manage to get away? I remember seeing her disappear into the trees, but I have no recollection of what happened after. I stabbed him. Didn’t I? I can’t think straight, my head is so fuzzy. And Neil. Oh my God, Neil. I should’ve said it back. I had one chance, and I blew it. I don’t think I’ll survive this.

-

P
ain and the gentle touch of fingers along my back wake me up. And I blink my eyes against a soft glow around me. Candles. No longer completely dark. For a moment, I think I may have been dreaming earlier, but then I feel a searing hot pain right along my spine and a scream crawls up my throat with nowhere to go. I try to roll my body away, but all that does is pull on my restraints. I stop fighting when I feel hot breath against my ear.

“1 Cor. 11:7. Woman is the Glory of man. For the man is not of the woman; but the woman of the man. Neither was the man created for the woman; but the woman for the man.”

I can’t make heads or tails of what he’s whispering, over and over again. Corinthians, he said, so a Bible verse, but the words all blend together as he slices my back again and a fresh wave of agony washes over me. I can hardly produce a sound when my mouth opens in a scream. This is hell. 

My eyes focus on the licking flames of the candles as I welcome the dark slowly edging in.

-

C
old water washes over my head and my back and a low chuckle greets my sharp intake of breath.

“Raphael. My travel guardian. My healing God. My angel of mercy.” Each reverently whispered statement is followed by a new splash of water, that feel oddly soothing on my burning body. The pain is hot, searing, and so overwhelming, I can’t even feel the source.

“The Lord’s holy angel, said he, go with you on your journey and bring you home without scathe...”

I scream when a fresh piercing pain slices my back. I can no longer make out the words he mumbles, one simply drifting into the next as I welcome the darkness closing in on me.

The last thing I feel are his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispers to me. “You. It was you all along. My trial...my ultimate test. You will be the crown on my work. My masterpiece. My victory. My perfection.”

N
eil

Mal is already walking up the road a bit farther, shining his light down. He and Caleb are both excellent trackers. Thinking of Caleb, I send him a quick text. Figure two are better than one.

Drew and Damian are both talking on their phones, calling in reinforcements, I guess. I just stand there. Breathing in and out, trying desperately to connect with Kendra somehow while hanging on to my sanity. Every minute she is in that depraved cocksucker’s hands is one too many. I close my eyes for a moment, praying to God or Allah or the Great Spirit—fuck, to whoever the hell will listen—that my Pup is still alive.

“Tracks,” Mal says in a low voice as he joins us. “Tracks continue up.”

“All right,” Damian says, taking charge. “You and Neil...”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his instructions because from the edge of the woods, on the far side of the clearing, a figure tentatively approaches.

“Kendra?”

My feet are moving before my brain is fully engaged, and before I know it, I’m running at the woman who has stopped in her tracks, shielding her head with her arms. Not Kendra. Her sister. Realizing my mistake, since the woman doesn’t know me from Adam, I instantly slow down my pace and call her by name.

“Karly?”

Slowly her arms fall away to her sides and through a curtain of tangled hair, she eyes me with trepidation.

“My name is Neil. Has Kendra mentioned me?” I ask her in as soft a voice as I can manage. She nods her head, wiping impatiently at her hair and in doing so, reveals her face, which is bloodied.

“He’s got her,” she whispers, and I tentatively take a step closer when she suddenly reaches out and grabs my shirt. “He hurt her. She attacked him, told me to run and he hurt her. I was running away when I heard her scream. I was running away...” Her words are stringed together as if she has to force them out before she collapses, keening in my arms.

“I’ll find her. I promise I’ll find her,” I say over the top of her head.

I recognize the irony, since no more than maybe two hours before, I had told Kendra the exact same thing about the trembling woman in my arms. I should never have left her.

A heavy hand falls on my shoulder. “Let me have a look at her,” Mal says from behind me. “Karly? Can you look at me, honey?” When she lifts her head, I carefully let go of her and leave her in Mal’s capable hands. Drew is already on the phone calling in an ambulance but tells them to head to the diner.

“What did she say?” Damian asks, looking past me at the girl.

“Kendra’s injured. I didn’t get much more out of her. I have to find her.” I try to move past Damian toward the tracks that lead up the hill, but he grabs my arm.