Retribution (2 page)

Colton didn't want to see it either. What if he was wrong? What if it was Meg? His heart pounded hard enough to hurt.

Serena looked up from her phone. “Oh Colton, I was getting ready to call you. It's not Meg.”

His knees threatened to give out on him even as relief swept him. He swallowed. “Right. Thanks.”

“Sorry for the scare.”

He nodded, unable to speak for a moment.

“It's not her,” Jillian stated from behind him, her monotone worrying him. Was she in shock? Fear overload?

He turned and gripped her arm. “No, it's not.”

She raised a trembling hand to her lips. “I'm so glad, but . . .”

“I know.” Because while the girl wasn't Meg, she was somebody's sister, daughter, granddaughter. “I know.”

“Now what?” Jillian asked.

“We keep searching while the lab processes the evidence.” He cleared his throat. “And we pray.”

Meg blinked against the harsh light and tried to roll over to bury her face in the pillow. She frowned when her arms wouldn't move.

She jerked her right arm.

Something cold encircled her wrist.

And memory returned.

A scream welled. She swallowed it back. “Tanner?” Her voice came out in a croak. She tried again. “Tanner! Where are you? What are you doing?”

Her words bounced off the cement walls, echoing around her. She swiveled her head. Cement above her, cement below her. Cement all around her. A bed. A toilet in the corner. All the room lacked was the sliding door fitted with bars. A prison. A cell. She was locked in.

Terror smothered her and she gasped for air. “It's okay,” she whispered. “It's going to be okay. Dad will find you. He will. Mom will make him.”

But what if he didn't?

Her stomach cramped.

What if he couldn't?

Jillian racked her brain trying to remember any small piece of information Meg might have mentioned about school, her friends, anything. “Her coach was the last one to see her before she disappeared.”

“Right.”

“Have the cops talked to him?” Anger swelled. “Why didn't he walk her to her car? It was dark!”

“Why weren't there other kids around?”

“He kept her late again to run drills.”

“I've never liked that guy.” Colton was already on his phone with Hunter. “Question her coach in depth, will you?”

“Already working on it.” Jillian stood next to Colton and could hear Hunter's voice come through the line.

“He's a strict coach and I think he pushes the girls too hard sometimes, but I can't imagine he would kidnap Meg. What reason would he have? It's crazy,” she whispered.

Colton hung up with Hunter and pulled Jillian to him, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing almost too tight. She buried her face in his chest and let the tears flow.
Please, God . . .

Watching Colton and Jillian suffer brought satisfaction like nothing else had in the past seven years. Colton and Jillian liked to destroy families. It was their turn to be on the receiving end of what it felt like to have those you loved suffer.

The watcher lowered the binoculars.

Maybe she would alter her plan. She could kill Meg first. Slowly. Tortuously. Minute by minute, hour by hour, recording the entire thing so Colton didn't miss a second.

A smile broke through for the first time in seven years. Being in control felt marvelous. Strange and wonderful. What did psychiatrists know anyway? Instead of fighting the intense desire for revenge, the need to have someone pay, it was time to just . . . make it happen.

Jillian groaned her prayers. She sat on her daughter's bed, clasped her arms against her stomach, and rocked back and forth. She had no way to express the anguish that consumed her.

“Jilly?”

She heard her name, but couldn't lift her head. Strong arms slipped around her shoulders and she leaned into the strength, desperate to siphon some of it into her body. “Serena?”

“Yeah. Alexia is here too.”

From somewhere deep within, Jillian found the will to lift her head. Alexia came to sit on the bed and lean her forehead against hers. “They'll find her.
We'll
find her.”

“How? How?” Her voice broke and the tears flowed once again.

“Hunter and Dominic are here too. They're looking for the coach so they can question him.”

“Coach Levinson.”

“He disappeared after practice today. They're looking for him.”

“Disappeared? With Meg? Did someone see him with Meg?”

“No.” Serena shook her head. “No one saw them together, but no one's seen him since practice was over and he's not answering his cell phone.”

Jillian's fingers clenched. “I'll kill him if he's hurt her. I will.”

Alexia squeezed Jillian's fist. “We all will.”

“We'll have to form a line,” Serena muttered.

Jillian choked at her friends' support, so thankful for the two women who'd been a part of her life forever. “Where are your kids?” Alexia had six-year-old Brynn and Serena had three-year-old twin boys, Caleb and Micah.

“With our parents,” Serena said. “My dad has been bugging me for time with them.”

“Same here,” Alexia said. “Mom and Michael love having Brynn.”

Jillian nodded, her mind already back on Meg.

“Has anyone called Blake?” Serena asked.

Jillian shifted and swiped her eyes. “Yes. He's out of the country, but said he'd do his best to get back as soon as he could.”

“We'll have her back before that happens,” Alexia said.

Blake Wyatt had helped Jillian raise Meg up until seven years ago when Jillian had returned to Columbia to put a killer behind bars. She'd known she'd run into Colton Brady, her ex-boyfriend and Meg's father, but she hadn't known they would fall back in love, get married, and raise Meg together. That had been amazing.

Meg had disappeared seven years ago too, but they'd gotten her back no worse for the wear.

Jillian's heart beat like a wild thing in her chest as she couldn't help wondering if they would be so blessed a second time.

“We've found Tanner.”

Jillian looked up to see Colton standing in the doorway. He looked ten years older than he had when he'd kissed her good morning a short fourteen hours ago. “Tanner? Where is he? Does he know where Meg is?”

“He's dead,” he whispered. Tears filled his eyes and he blinked. “He's dead, Jilly.”

Meg yanked against the restraints and hollered.

Silence echoed back at her. Where was she? Tremors of terror wracked her. She had to get loose. If she didn't, she knew she would die.

She leaned back against the cement wall and shivered as she fought the urge to vomit. Hunger pains bit her stomach and her head swam. She'd only had a pack of crackers for lunch and then a granola bar and a banana while changing clothes to go home.

A door slammed in the distance and she flinched. Footsteps came closer. She cringed against the wall, then jerked when the cold penetrated her thin long-sleeved T-shirt. A whimper escaped her lips before she could bite it back.

And then her prison door scraped open. The slender figure stepped inside, wearing black jeans, a bulky jacket, and a ski mask. Her kidnapper set up a small tripod and camera, then turned to face Meg. Through the mask's slits, dark eyes met hers, and Meg's terror spun to a whole new level as her captor stepped closer. In a gloved hand, a large knife glinted with wicked intent. Meg bit back a scream and tried to get a grip on her shakes. She held back the scream, but couldn't stem the rising horror. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

“Revenge.” The one word hovered in the air between them, spoken so softly Meg had to strain to hear it.

“Who are you?”

Her captor's low laugh sent chills racing down Meg's spine. The dark, terrifying figure moved toward her and Meg cringed. Then straightened her spine and forced herself to meet the empty eyes. If
she was going to die, she wouldn't give this evil one the satisfaction of seeing her cower.

The knife lifted and Megan's heart thudded as it dropped toward her head.

Jillian jerked awake. “Meg!”

Sunlight streamed through the blinds. The alarm clock on Meg's end table said 6:45 in bright red numbers. Jillian bolted from the bed and into the den. She'd slept? Guilt assaulted her. How could she sleep when Meg might not be able to? The thought nearly took her to her knees. She pushed through the weakness and stumbled into the kitchen to find Colton sitting at the table staring at the wall.

Dread centered itself in her midsection. “You've heard something?”

Her words brought him back from where he'd mentally escaped to and he blinked at her. A frown creased his forehead, erasing the blank expression. “Not about Meg.”

“Then what?” She went to the coffeepot and filled a mug. After two cautious sips, she settled herself at the table across from her husband. “What?”

“Tanner was her friend and he's dead.”

“Yes.”

“And the young woman found behind the dumpster. She's dead.”

Jillian ignored the tightening in her throat. “Yes.”

Colton's fingers curled into fists. “Then what makes me keep believing that Meg's not dead too?”

Jillian froze. Then rose. “Because she's your daughter and you'll believe she's alive until we see with our own eyes that she's not.” She jutted her chin and narrowed her eyes. “I won't believe it until I see it and neither will you.” She flew around the table and gave him a hard shove. “Neither will you, do you understand me? Do you?” She couldn't help the screech in her voice any more than she could help collapsing against him, grasping his shirt and sharing his sobs.

Colton paced his home office as he prayed like never before. The kidnapper hadn't made contact with him since the phone call yesterday. No news, no pictures of Meg, no ransom demands.

Just . . . nothing. He couldn't take it. The stress was slowly killing him.

Dominic and Hunter were on their way over. Jillian was making phone calls to Meg's friends, and the news had Meg's face splashed on the television screen, asking for any information should someone have seen something at the high school yesterday evening. Two crime scene pictures were shown. Meg's car with the door open and a close-up of her keys on the ground.

Colton turned away, his heart unable to bear it, his mind spinning, desperate to find a reason someone would take his daughter. He leaned his head against the mantel and tried to corral his thoughts, to focus. To think.

His phone pinged, indicating a text message. He lifted the phone and looked at the screen. He didn't recognize the number, but the dread in his stomach told him it was the kidnapper. He pressed the button and a video came up, just waiting for him to play it.

The door opened and he jumped.

Hunter and Dominic stepped inside. Snow flurries clung to their clothes. He couldn't help wonder if Meg was warm or if she was cold. Was she awake? Hungry?

Alive?

His throat closed and he sank onto the sofa, still staring at the screen of his phone. A stack of case files slid to the floor. He ignored them.

“You heard anything more from the kidnapper?” Hunter shrugged out of his coat and let it drop onto the recliner.

Dominic hadn't bothered with a coat.

“Just now.” He held up his phone. “A video.”

Hunter moved to his side. “Have you watched it?”

“Just getting ready to press Play when you got here.”

Dominic closed in on the other side. “Go.”

Colton pressed the button and saw his daughter's terrified face fill the screen. He wanted to shut his eyes, but couldn't. Fear like nothing he'd ever felt before filled him. “Meg,” he whispered.

“She's watching the person taking the video,” Dominic murmured.

“She's scared, so very scared.”

Hunter's hand landed on Colton's shoulder as the video panned out and Meg's features grew smaller, but still clear.

“Why are you doing this?” his child demanded in a low whisper.

Colton waited, the tension running through him nearly splitting him apart.

“Revenge,” the faceless tormentor whispered back.

“Who are you?” Meg asked.

And then no more words, just a wicked laugh and a knife plunging toward his child's head.

Colton cried out and dropped the phone.