Protective Instincts (26 page)

Where the Hell are Drake and Drew? Drew hasn't been in touch since he announced his approach to the meeting place, right behind the decoy Mustang and its FBI driver. They should be in the Waffle House parking lot by now.

Why was it taking so long for the Peach County cops to bring Julie out? Lights moved toward Sam and the patrol car. Three men swept their lights back and forth. Men, only. Three men had walked down the drive toward the Drake house and three men were coming back. Where was Julie? Surely they would have brought her out if they'd found her. She wasn't walking toward him or being carried.

* * * *

Esther pulled her Bug into the graveled parking area of the Three Creek Baptist Church. A lone light lit the front of the church. No light lit the back. "Now what?"

"We should pull out of the light as far as possible. We'll still see any cop cars coming this way. At least we'll know Julie's safe."

Esther's cell rang only a squawk's worth before she answered it. "What do you mean Julie isn't there?"

"What?" Brit stared at Esther.

"What could have happened to her? Could Drake have an accomplice who moved her?"

"Esther, what's happening? What's he saying?"

Esther made a shushing motion. "Well, you're with the cops. What do they think happened to her? Could they have missed any places in the dark? Maybe she's tied up and hidden." She stopped when Brit gasped. "Sorry."

Esther handed the phone to Brit.

"Sam?" She listened, nodding her head. "You found no signs of injury? They checked outbuildings and such? Okay. Me, too. Sam, we're not going home but we'll stay out of the way. Sam!"

"He wants to speak to you, again." She handed the phone back to Esther.

"Sam, she'd have come on her own. There was no way she'd have sat around and waited any more than I would have! At least I can keep her out of trouble. Oh, yeah? Heard from Drew and the decoy? Right!"

* * * *

Douglas watched the Mustang. The teacher had parked in a well-lit area. A truck had pulled in soon after he had. No one got out. Odd. Something didn't feel right about the situation.

He watched a hand adjust the rearview mirror of the Mustang. It was time to go to the car and tell the teacher to get in his truck and go with him to see her friend.

He wished someone would get out of the other truck. He didn't need anyone to witness his contact with the teacher. Someone might notice and remember. Maybe it would look like lovers meeting. He opened the door of his truck and sauntered toward the Mustang.

He knocked on the closed window of the driver's side. The woman seemed to shrink away from the window.

"Roll it down," he spoke loudly to get her to hear him. How did she think she would learn where her friend, was if she wouldn't talk to him. Her hair hung on the sides of her face. The handkerchief she held to her face, like she was crying, hid most of her features.

"Open the window and I'll tell you where your friend is. Come on." He wanted to call her the troublesome bitch she was. The window opened a little. "I'll take you to her."

Her voice sounded hoarse, like she'd been crying. He needed to get her in his truck so she couldn't get away.

"I can't get out," she said.

"Why the Hell not?" He needed to calm down so she wouldn't spook. He flexed his fingers to relax. He pasted on a smile.

"Julie's waiting for you. I told her you were coming." He laughed. "If you don't come with me, I won't untie her before I teach her how to beg. I've been nice, so far. No blood spilled, no bones broken − yet."

The woman cried into her handkerchief. The bitch was getting on his nerves. He didn't have time for her hysterics.

"Okay, never mind. I'll just go back to her." Maybe she'd follow him. He walked to his truck. He hesitated before opening the door and getting in. He'd really prefer to have her with him. Short of causing a scene, he couldn't force her to get out of her car here. This should have been easier. She insisted on ruining his plans, again. This would be the last time she'd have the chance to mess him up.

When he pulled out of the parking lot onto the road, the Mustang followed him.
When I get her away from everyone, she's gonna pay for all the trouble she's caused.

She followed at a safe distance. There were few vehicles on the road. The deserted shack he'd spotted earlier wasn't far. Douglas was nearly beside himself with anticipation when he approached the four-way stop. An occasional car or truck passed or turned onto the road. He'd prefer not to have anyone see his truck and the Mustang turn onto the same road. Of course, by the time anyone could do anything with the information he'd be gone.

At the four-way stop, he glanced behind at the Mustang when she stopped. Behind her, a black truck followed. It was too dark to be sure but the damned truck looked too familiar.

He passed the road where he'd planned to turn. Eight miles later, he turned on the road leading to highway 78, toward Peach County and his house. If that damned truck kept with them he'd know he'd been double-crossed. He'd told the bitch not to tell the police. Now what the Hell to do?

* * * *

Julie ached all over. Just turning onto her side hurt. A cool, damp cloth washed her brow. Where was she? Was Douglas washing her face? She trembled. A groan escaped her lips.

"All right, sugar. It's all right. Nobody's gonna hurt you. Me and Ned's gonna take good care of you."

Julie opened her eyes slowly. The face near her own was beautiful with age. Blue eyes crinkled under gray brows. Lines bracketed the old woman's smiling mouth. Soothed by the crooning of the hoarse voice, Julie closed her eyes for another minute to gather her thoughts.

"Wh-Where am I?"

A new, deeper voice answered. "Why, child, you're with Wilma and me, in our house. She found you on her truck. You'd done passed out."

The woman spoke softly. "You're all scratched up, like you been runnin' from somethin'. Who's that there Douglas fella? You kept callin' out his name like you was scart of him."

The woman, Wilma, Julie figured, dipped the cloth in a water basin and washed her arm. It stung only a few seconds.

"I put my special healin' powder in the water. Make it up myself, you know. It'll cleanse your wounds and keep you from gettin' infection."

"So, girl, you gonna tell us who's got you so scart, so we can help?" Ned looked like a hillbilly Santa, with his plaid shirt tucked into overalls. His white beard hid most of the bib. The house was so quiet Julie could hear a clock ticking.

Wilma held Julie's head up. The rim of a glass was cool against her lips. "Drink a couple of swallows. It's water from our spring out back. I'll get you something more if you drink this first. If you're hungry, we can talk while you eat a bite."

"Thanks." Julie was surprised when she drank a swallow, then another. "Good water."

Ned and Wilma grinned proudly. "Best water in the state. Man wanted us to bottle it and sell it. We don't sell water! The good Lord give it to us to share. It'd be like sellin' air. "

"Wilma wanted to call the sheriff, but I thought you might be runnin' from the law. You done somethin' wrong?"

"No!" Julie answered too quickly. She tried to raise herself on her elbow but her head swam. "Please, I need to call my friend and let her know I'm okay. My cell phone ran out of battery power. Do you have a charger?"

Ned patted her hand. "I got chargers for big batteries and a generator, but we got no cell phone. Our son says we oughta have one for emergencies. Maybe we'll get one, one of these days. You can use our phone."

"I'll pay for the call. I think it's long distance."

"Stay put and I'll bring the phone to you." Wilma placed a heavy looking rotary phone on the bed beside Julie. She dialed Brit's mobile.

"Brit, I got away from Douglas and I'm okay," she blurted. "Yes. Go someplace safe and stay there 'til they get the bastard." She paused. Wilma and Ned stared at her.

"What did you say?" Julie yelled into the phone. "You're where? Are you crazy? What if he finds you there?"

She heard Ned comment to Wilma. "Think her friend's hard of hearin'? She don't haf to yell." She didn't hear Wilma's response.

"You're too close to his house. I don't care where you're supposed to meet him."

She paused while Brit spoke. Her heart beat double time. "But when Douglas finds out you've tricked him, he'll come looking for you. Hell, he won't give up. He thinks he's in love with me." It was too bizarre.

"Don't you think he'll be spooked when he finds a small army waiting for him? Okay, let everyone know I'm fine. I'll call the law, if there's anyone available."

Her head pounded. "For heaven's sake be careful! The man's a loony tune and he wants you dead."

Wilma reached for the receiver. "I found your friend on my truck. She's awful scratched up and tired but me and Ned's takin' care of her. We're not far from where she hitched a ride." Julie hadn't realized she been spotted when she hopped on the truck. Wilma had known she was there all along and she hadn't even slowed down.

"Sounds like you shouldn't be near here. You're hidin' behind the church? Honey, that's a favorite place for the 'shiners to meet their buyers. You don't want to hang around. Let me give you our phone number so you can check on your friend. Then you get away from the church. Got a pencil and paper?"

Julie could imagine Wilma wetting the lead on a pencil. "Okay. Our number's 799-3232. Oh, yeah, 478. Got it?" Julie watched Wilma mouth the numbers to Brit.

"She's safe as in her own mama's arms. Sheriff knows us, honey. We're Ned and Wilma."

Julie took the phone back in time to hear another phone ring. She heard Esther's voice, so she figured she'd cut her part short. "Brit, girl, I gotta rest a few minutes and we need to conserve your phone's battery power. And you probably want to hear what Esther's saying, anyway."

All Hell's about to break loose.

* * * *

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. Relief that Julie was safe for the moment was overshadowed by the dangers Drake still posed. If he returned home, he'd be caught by the sheriff's men or FBI man. Men were scattered strategically around the house and property. Anyone turning into his drive would be stopped. Drew's description of the truck Drake was driving should make the job easier. He must be wandering around an awful lot. Either he was leading the Mustang on a merry chase or he didn't know where he was going. Surely, he hadn't made the decoy or Drew. It sounded like he was moving right into their trap. Too easy.

* * * *

"Brit, think we should change locations? If Julie's free, do we need to wait here to see Drake caught? That Wilma person might have a point about this place. Wouldn't it be a kick in the head if we were caught here by moonshiners or drug dealers, instead of Drake, especially with the local law so nearby?

A siren screamed. Lights flashed a streak past the church. "You don't suppose?" Brit paused. "Naw, he couldn't be close enough and they wouldn't announce themselves."

Esther grinned. "It would be funny if he was stopped by a state patrolman for speeding. Boy would he be in deep shit. There is an APB on him, after all."

* * * *

The black truck kept showing up. Douglas had made several turns but couldn't lose him. Someone was following him and the Mustang. He'd make a fast turn and hope the Mustang followed. He wasn't far from the Three Creek Baptist Church. He'd never killed anyone behind a church before.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Sam couldn't believe he and the cops couldn't find Julie. When his cell rang, he spotted his brother's number and answered it. "Sam, Drake seems to be heading your way in an old model, tan, Chevy van, very muddy. License plates too muddy to ID. We followed him from the Waffle House parking lot."

"Any problems?"

Sam held the cell phone away from his mouth. "No problems, so far. Drew says they're all headed this way." He returned to his brother. "So, how?"

Drew's voice came through. "The decoy managed to fool him. I'm following them from a distance."

The police radio squawked. "Agent Mustang, here." It sounded kinda like code or maybe CB talk. "Following yokel and should meet soon. Someone needs a car wash, a big one."

Maybe Drake has a dirty truck?

"We're waiting dinner since you're not the only one missing. Sis isn't here. We'll watch for you," Detective Briggs answered into the radio. After a quick catch up for his deputy and an explanation to Sam, he opened the door of the cruiser. "Gotta pass the word."

That should fool anyone listening in.

Sam rang Esther's cell. "Drew says they're headed this way. Please, go home. You don't need to hang around. Julie's safe, so there's no need for you and Brit to be in harm's way.

"Sorry, brother. Brit says she wants to see the bastard get what he deserves. When you call to tell us he's in custody, or dead, she'll be ready to leave."

"Damn! Be careful!" Sam hit the door armrest. Headstrong women. God, he hoped they stayed put where they'd be away from the fireworks.

* * * *

Julie sat in the back seat of the oldest Chevy sedan she'd ever seen. "Wilma, I really appreciate what you two are doing."

"Ain't nothin' girl. Sittin' in the back of Three Creek Church might get your friends in trouble. We need to move 'em. Maybe they'll go on home if they see you're safe. Wouldn't want some 'shiner or dealer to find 'em. If Luther finds 'em waiting back there, he'll think they're settin' a trap and kill 'em."

"Luther? Who's he?"

"Meanest dealer around. He grows his own weed. Makes a tidy profit, too."

* * * *

Sam nearly retched from the pain in his gut. His neck felt like he'd been slammed by a sledgehammer. A cold sweat drenched his face. Brit was in trouble. He answered the cell before the first ring finished. Drew's voice yelled, "All Hell's about to explode. Drake's turning into the church driveway."

The sheriff's car moved ahead of the others. Sam had abandoned his seat belt to lean toward the driver of the police cruiser. Drew hadn't said which church, but Sam knew. How could they have all been so stupid to think he wouldn't double back on them? How could the woman he loved put herself in danger again? Again! And with his sister? At least Drew and the FBI agent were there. But would that keep Douglas from going berserk and creating mayhem.

* * * *

"We've got company," Brit slid down in her seat. Esther cocked her revolver. "There's more than one set of lights." She punched Sam's number.

Before she could get in more than two words, he shouted, "You didn't leave, did you? Don't answer that. Stay down and be careful. Drake's pulling into the church parking lot."

Brit could hear Sam's commanding voice. Leaning across the floor shift she hissed, "He's here? Oh, God."

"You've got plenty of protection. Don't interfere. Don't show your face. Don't get out of the car and do anything stupid!" He left the connection open.

The van pulled around the corner. Brit and Esther peered, hoping the VW wouldn't be noticed.

* * * *

Douglas had never been so ready to finish a job. He waited for the rush he had always felt when he moved in for the kill. He was barely behind the church but no one would see him from the road. He had to lure the teacher from her car. Hell, he'd shoot her through the window if he had to. He'd turned his van around to head out quickly. She'd pulled in behind him.

He checked his weapons, then opened his door. His peripheral vision caught a glimpse of an old VW Bug. As soon as he was done with the teacher, he'd have to make sure there were no witnesses. Soon the teacher would be dead and he could go get Julie and go away. They'd be together forever. With the money he'd stashed in phony bank accounts, he'd never have to work.

The Mustang lights stayed on. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something didn't feel right. He could hear his own breathing. The closer he got to the car, the stranger he felt. His pistol hung ready at his side. Maybe he should have just planted explosives on the car to blow it up with the teacher in it. Nah! He wanted her to know she was going to die. He'd have to move quickly in case they did have company.

He knocked on the Mustang window. A bright light shone in his face as he heard the glass being lowered. He averted his eyes, then turned back to see the barrel of a pump shotgun pointed in his face.

"Shit," he blurted. The light nearly blinded him.

"Police, drop your weapon," a woman's voice ordered. "I said,
drop
the damned weapon. Hands behind your head or I'll blow your face off."

Like Hell he would. He raised his gun hand as he prepared to duck below the window.

"Don't even think about it." A man's voice warned from behind Douglas. "Drop the weapon and move away from the car."

Douglas flinched as cold hard steel pressed at the base of his skull. He'd kill the bitch and the bastard who interfered. He raised his gun to shoot. "Shit!" The pain in his back made him lose any advantage he might have had. The car door had slammed into him. He fell to his knees. The shotgun pressed into his temple again.

He still had his knife in his boot. The man standing over him looked willing to kill him here, now.

Night sounds surrounded him. Crickets, frogs, cars on the road yards away, another car door opening.
How the Hell many people are here anyway?
He looked up. Both gun barrels pressed his temples. He saw a small figure approaching from the direction of the Bug. He managed to move his head to see who approached.
No. No! It can't be.

The woman coming closer had dark hair, but the face was familiar. He wanted to look behind him. The hot mama who lived in the teacher's house? Yes, but she looked different. Something in her eyes. The teacher?

The teacher couldn't be in front of him and behind him pointing a shotgun in his face.

"Looking for me?" the woman in front of him asked.

He wanted to lunge at her but the cold, hard barrels dug into his flesh. "Stand up slowly." He heard from behind. His arms were yanked behind his back.

Anger shot through him. He had a card to play and he played it. "I still have your friend. I've buried her alive. Unless I tell someone where to find her, she'll die. No food, no water, air running out. Her death will be slow and painful. Now get these damned guns out of my face."

"No," Brit answered. "You don't have my friend." The crunch of tires announced more company.

Brit nearly laughed aloud as an automotive monstrosity pulled into view behind the captive. Two white-haired people hobbled from the ancient car. Julie followed them.

Julie raced straight to Brit. A roar reached Brit's ears as Julie threw her arms around her. She wasn't sure who hugged the hardest, but it didn't matter.

"Julie, how did you get here? You were supposed to wait for me, dammit! You were supposed to wait!" Douglas shouted.

Drew and the agent restrained the maniac fighting like an animal. More headlights and crunching gravel brought the sheriff's car. Behind it, Florence police raced in.

Brit felt Sam's arms around her only seconds after she saw him exit the police car. She barely heard the words identifying the captive as the man who had escaped jail. She heard snatches of Miranda rights and warnings to go quietly, as he was led to the sheriff's vehicle. Sam kissed her and she wanted to hold him and kiss him forever.

"NOOO," Brit heard Esther yell.

Brit tried to turn toward the sound. Sam groaned and his arms left her. He fell to the ground.

Gunshots rang out. Brit's shoulder ached. Her attacker lay on the ground. Drew's gun pointed at the bleeding, prone figure. She counted seven guns. Her arm felt heavy. A gun, she gripped a gun. That made eight guns? She had fired her gun. She was vaguely aware when Julie took the gun from her hand.

Kneeling, she reached for Sam. In the beams of light from the cars, she saw bloodstains spreading across Sam's chest. The coppery scent nearly gagged her. She fought for control. Yanking her jacket off, she propped his head up. She tried to find the wound, the source of the glistening life flowing from the man she loved. She couldn't lose him now.

"Sam, don't you dare die on me. I need you. Sean needs you. I'll never forgive you if you leave me." Esther and Julie stood at her side. Esther offered Brit sterile cloths from her backpack. She found and pressed the wound with both hands.

Esther's hands joined hers, wiping and pressing cloths. They saturated as soon as they were pressed. Julie and Drew ripped open package after package. Someone handed Brit several sanitary napkins. Sanitary napkins? Couldn't be. The slash seemed to cross his arm and his chest. She'd keep his life from flowing out no matter what she had to do.

"I can't lose another man to that bastard." She thought she heard someone say he was dead. She didn't care. She pushed aside a memory of the gun's kick as she'd fired it. She didn't have time to think about it. She felt Sam's body heat. She listened to his labored breathing. Blankets and jackets appeared and covered Sam's body as she worked. She didn't know whose.

She had been vaguely aware when Drew joined their efforts, though she had taken pads from his hands. She knew he spoke to his brother. She knew Esther spoke to Sam. She just shut out everything but Sam.

Screaming sirens and flashing lights broke into the quiet after the gunshots. Efficient EMT'S, three maybe, surrounded Sam to attach IVs and move him to a stretcher.

Only when Julie threatened to have a paramedic sedate Brit, did she move away for the people to do their jobs. She clasped her restless hands to keep from reaching for Sam.

She followed his stretcher into the ambulance. Brit held Sam's hand all the way to the hospital, watching latex gloved hands cleaning his wound and working to keep him comfortable. She prayed. She encouraged. She pleaded with him to keep fighting. Brit bargained with God.

She followed Sam into the hospital, turning loose only when he was rushed into surgery to assess and repair the damage.

* * * *

A siren wailed in Sam's ears. Pain worse than he'd even experienced, like he'd been slammed by a tractor, held him in place. He hurt all over, but the pain in his shoulder and arm ached. He must have been stabbed by a pitchfork heated in Hell. The smell of blood made his stomach clinch. Brit's scent teased the edge of his consciousness.

He'd been holding her. He remembered that. Then there was yelling, first Esther, then Brit. His world had gone dark and he'd heard gunshots. Had he been shot? Had Brit?

He heard Brit's voice, "Don't you dare die on me. Don't you dare."

He wanted to take her in his arms but he couldn't move. He needed to tell her everything would be fine, but he couldn't find his voice. He shut out the pain.

* * * *

Brit wept when Mr. and Mrs. Samuels hurried into the hospital waiting room and embraced Esther and her. It was all Brit could do to listen, while Esther recounted details of Sam's stabbing. Brit filled in with a detail once in a while, but she couldn't concentrate on the conversations. She appreciated the Samuels' comforting her, when they were worried about their son and brother. The coffee Julie brought her cooled. Drew disappeared after a nurse assured them Sam was holding his own.

Brit rose and paced. She walked up one hall and down another. It was time to call her parents, to let them know it was over. She told them about Julie's kidnapping and Sam's bravery.

"Mama, what can I do?"

"Pray, honey, pray."

"Yes, Mama, I passed a chapel. I'll keep you posted on Sam's condition. When things settle down, I'll give you details. Julie owes us lots of them when she feels like sharing."

She walked toward the chapel, closing her cell phone. Peace seemed to emanate through its entrance. She was drawn to the quiet, small room.

There, in the dim, candlelit corner, she vowed to do anything God wanted of her. Esther joined her to share a few minutes of peace and quiet. "I'll even leave him alone, if that's what it takes. I'll give him up, so he can find a woman to marry and be a mother to Sean."

"But, Brit, you can be a mother to Sean. He's so fond of you already. You can marry my brother."

"I can't marry Sam." There was no way Brit could explain the guilt she'd felt when Tommy died. She'd finally regained control of her life. Sam could take over her life. She'd have to give up her house, the place she'd bought herself. He loved children and would probably want more. She couldn't give them to him. It would never work.

"Of course you can."

"What?" Could Esther know what she'd been thinking?

"Of course you can marry Sam. He loves you."

"He's bossy."

"He wants to protect you. That's the way the Samuels men are." Esther smiled.

"He's controlling."

"He's strong. You just have to know how to handle him." Esther rose from the bench she'd shared with Brit. "I'll see if Sam's out of surgery or there is any news."

"Esther, it's my fault he's lying in there. If I'd stayed in the car tonight, Sam wouldn't have been trying to protect me. If I hadn't let him kiss me, he'd have been paying attention."

"If we'd stayed home we wouldn't have been there for him or the police to protect?"

"See?"

"No, I don't see. That would make it my fault for being there, too. My brother
could have
stayed with us. It
could be
his fault. The bastard who hurt him
didn't have
to
attack you. He
didn't have
to kidnap Julie. He
didn't have to
lure you out tonight.
He's
to blame,
not you
." Esther hugged Brit. "I'd never let you near my brother if I thought you'd ever harm him. None of us would. I'll come back after I speak to Mom and Dad."