True Colors (38 page)
With tennis shoes in hand, Alex left the bedroom and paused in front of her sister in the hall. “I let them out into your yard a million times yesterday and didn’t watch them. This was a fluke. I’m sure Dieter’s just looking for home and has gotten a little lost.”
Charlie nodded and swallowed, miserable despite Alex’s reassurances. “Okay. I . . . I’ll help you look, though. He’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”
Alex led the way out of Charlie’s house and into the damp chill of early morning. A haze of humidity clung to the ground, and everything looked muted in the predawn light. The sun would be up in less than half an hour, burning off the chill and the damp.
“Noah went that way,” Charlie said at the end of the driveway, pointing to the right. “I’m going to try to catch up with him.”
“We’ll go left then,” Alex said as Charlie took off at a sprint. She glanced at Logan, who didn’t look quite awake yet. “Actually, why don’t you go left, Logan, and I’ll go straight. There’s a shortcut to the dog park between those houses across the street.”
Logan blinked his eyes open wide a couple of times, then shook his head. “We stick together. No exceptions.”
“It’s a missing dog,” Alex said. “A missing
blind
dog.”
blind
dog.”
“No exceptions,” he repeated firmly. “We don’t know where Butch McGee is. He could be watching.”
She didn’t argue. To be honest, she was relieved, not relishing the idea of traipsing off by herself, even if it meant finding Dieter faster. She was confident the German shepherd could defend himself if he had to. Assuming that treats weren’t involved. The big dog would follow someone off the side of a cliff if it meant he’d get a doggy biscuit afterward.
She and Logan walked side by side, all attention focused on scanning and calling for Dieter. After about an hour, Alex’s voice began to tremble with growing concern. They’d traveled the same wooded path for the third time—one of Dieter’s favorite places to walk near Charlie’s house because of the myriad smells and wildlife—and hadn’t spotted the lovable, protective dog.
Logan slipped his hand over hers and squeezed. “We’ll find him.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak and fighting the eye-burn of emotion. The sight of an elderly man shuffling toward them kept her from bursting into tears. He wore a hat and jacket, one hand plunged deep into a pocket and his shoulders hunched as if it were forty degrees instead of seventy. A cane helped maintain his tottery balance. Alex thought it odd that he would walk this secluded path. If he fell, he’d have a tough time getting help.
“Maybe he’s seen Dieter,” Logan said.
Alex sniffed and nodded. “I hope so.”
The old man waved at them with his cane, an eager grin flashing his white teeth. Something about that smile set off a spark of familiarity in Alex, but she figured she must have seen him around Charlie’s neighborhood before. Or maybe it just struck her as odd that such an old man would have such white teeth. Maybe they were dentures.
“Do you know him?” Logan asked.
“I don’t think so. Maybe he’s just happy to see friendly faces.”
He faked a shudder. “Remind me not to get old.”
The old man was about six steps away when he paused, dropped his cane and pulled his hand from his pocket.
Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw Logan flinch before it clicked what the old guy pointed at them. A gun.
“Shit,” Logan growled, and pivoted toward her, putting himself between her and the old man just as a strange snicking sound snapped through the air.
Logan’s body jerked, and he fell to his knees in front of her and pitched forward, where he jerked and seized.
“Logan? Logan!” Alex grabbed at his shoulders, trying to roll him over, trying to steady him but not knowing what to do to help him.
She saw the tiny darts embedded in the back of his T-shirt, saw two thin wires connected to them and trailing away. A stun gun. The old man had Tasered Logan.
Then she registered the thud of footsteps and twisted around to see the old man striding toward them without his cane. Not an old man at all.
That’s why his smile had looked familiar.
Butch McGee.
She pushed to her feet. She’d kick the bastard’s teeth in for hurting Logan.
On the ground, Logan shuddered, valiantly fighting the effects of the shock. He grunted out unintelligible syllables that might have been “Run! Run! Run!”
Alex ignored him, focused on defending herself, and him, from the psychopath. She heard Logan grunt louder, more frantic, trying to get her attention, and glanced down just as he reached out a desperately twitching hand to try to stop her.
His fingers closed around her bare ankle, and the contact sent her spiraling into his latest, literal, shock.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
B
utch could barely contain his glee as he dragged a drugged, bound and gagged John Logan feetfirst through the brush to the car. He’d stashed his Alex a few hundred feet off the wooded path, well out of sight of any unlikely passersby. Despite the way she’d surprisingly dropped into a dead faint after he’d Tasered the cop, he’d tied and gagged her and administered a light sedative to keep her calm and quiet until he could return.
utch could barely contain his glee as he dragged a drugged, bound and gagged John Logan feetfirst through the brush to the car. He’d stashed his Alex a few hundred feet off the wooded path, well out of sight of any unlikely passersby. Despite the way she’d surprisingly dropped into a dead faint after he’d Tasered the cop, he’d tied and gagged her and administered a light sedative to keep her calm and quiet until he could return.
He’d left the Fusion parked on the side of the road that paralleled the wooded path. After popping the trunk lid, he built up a healthy sweat maneuvering Logan inside. The cop weighed a fucking ton.
The whole time he grunted and pushed and shoved the big man into place, the damn dog barked its damn head off in the large crate in the backseat. He should have killed the thing, but he hadn’t in case he needed to use it to draw Alex and Logan to this relatively secluded area.
And now he had some ideas for later, too. Alex loved the dog. And Butch thought he might love using the dog against her.
As he slammed the trunk shut, he began the sprint back to Alex. He smiled the whole way, pleased at how smoothly his plan was working. Once he had them secured at the empty house he’d found online in a listing of foreclosed homes . . . well, then the fun could begin.
And, finally, his brother would be avenged.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
A
lex opened her eyes to bright, piercing sunlight and the lightheaded realization that she was tied to a chair.
lex opened her eyes to bright, piercing sunlight and the lightheaded realization that she was tied to a chair.
Oh, God, not again.
Butch McGee sat cross-legged right in front of her, on plush, off-white carpet. He looked for all the world like a normal guy participating in a little yoga before bedtime. His smile, more relaxed than any psychopath’s should be, sent a chill through her.
“Hello, Alex,” he said, voice soft, almost reverent.
She drew in a calming breath and tried to focus past the trepidation and dizziness. First things first: Logan.
When she saw him, her breath choked off in her chest. He was similarly secured several feet away, facing her. His head drooped forward so his chin rested on his chest. Was he dead? No, he couldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t be tied up. Please, please, don’t let him be dead.
“Don’t worry,” Butch told her from where he sat between them, as though manning the middle in a game of keep-away. “He’s just sleeping.”
“What did you do to him?”
“Nothing he won’t sleep off in a New York minute.” He smiled. “How long do you think a New York minute is? Shorter than a Florida minute, right? I imagine a Florida minute is one of the longest minutes out there. Time moves more slowly here, don’t you think? Considering all the retired folks and the vacation vibe.”
While he entertained himself, she looked around, trying to get oriented. Big, fancy house. No furniture. The dueling scents of new paint and new carpet. Huge glass windows that looked out on lush acreage that went on forever.
“Hey, Alex, I’m over here.”
She focused on him, trying not to shudder as she gave her wrists a subtle tug. Secure, just like last time. Logan’s restraints were probably doubly secure.
“Don’t you want to know what happened to the dog?” he asked, light and airy, as though he’d asked if she’d seen last night’s episode of
American Idol
.
American Idol
.
Dieter. Oh, God, not Dieter.
He smiled, no doubt thrilled by her tightly clenched jaw. Cocking his head, he said, “That German shepherd was the only one out of the brood that would follow me for a couple of Milk-Bones. How did it end up blind?”
“What did you do to him?”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“If you hurt him, I’ll . . . I’ll . . .”
“Kill me?” he asked, gleeful. “Over a dead dog.”
A
dead
dog. That
bastard
. She jerked at her bound wrists. “He never hurt anyone, especially you.”
dead
dog. That
bastard
. She jerked at her bound wrists. “He never hurt anyone, especially you.”
“True. But you know what? I’m enjoying how frantic you are about the animal’s fate. It’s really turning me on.” He leaned back on one hand and fondled himself through his Dockers.
A new kind of fear whitewashed her vision, and she shut her eyes.
“Aw, don’t be a party pooper, Alex. This party’s just getting started.”
“What do you want?” she asked through gritted teeth. Stupid question, really. But stalling was all she had for now. At least until Logan woke up.
“We’ve already had this conversation. Revenge.”
She opened her eyes to meet Butch’s gaze head-on, determined not to cringe. “I assure you that Logan doesn’t know who you are or why you want revenge. You’ve made a mistake.”
“Nope. I don’t make mistakes. I learned very young not to make mistakes. The consequences can be very painful.” He rose to his feet in a graceful motion and walked toward her, slow and casual. “But let’s talk about you.”
When he reached out to touch her face, she jerked her head back, away from him, but the restraints made sure she had nowhere to go.
His fingers, cool and damp, caressed her cheek.
Reality whirled away.
He’s standing across from me, waiting. I can hear him breathing, heavy and deep.
I don’t want to do this.
“I’m waiting, Butchie.”
I want to close my eyes to the naked, white flesh restrained on the table before me. Her rosy nipples are puckered from the damp chill of the basement, and her breasts quiver as she sniffles and whimpers, the gag in her mouth shutting off any screams.
I can’t look at her eyes. I did already, by mistake, and her tear-drenched terror almost made me piss my Levi’s.
I should be curious. I
am
curious. I want to look. Touch. I’ve never seen a naked woman before. She smells . . . nice. Like some kind of flower. I should know what it is. If the dickhead didn’t keep me here, a prisoner, I would know.
am
curious. I want to look. Touch. I’ve never seen a naked woman before. She smells . . . nice. Like some kind of flower. I should know what it is. If the dickhead didn’t keep me here, a prisoner, I would know.
I decide she smells like lilies, or how I expect lilies to smell. Soft and girly. Sweet.
Like Mommy.
My sweaty hand tightens on the knife. Did she even try to find me? She and Dad probably just fucked until they created another kid to replace me.
I watch the news every night on the tiny little TV he brought me, flipping through the channels one after the other and back again, looking for some mention that Tyler Ambrose has been lost for, shit, must be at least ten years by now, and never found.
I’m here. I’m right here!
But there’s no amazing grace for Tyler.
“Butchie.”
There’s an edge to his voice. He’s getting impatient.
He’s less than three feet across from me. One flick with the blade, and I could open his jugular. I know where that is. He’s insisted on anatomy lessons. I know how to cut and where, to prevent his idea of fun from ending too soon.
“Remember how I promised you a present? This is it. You’ve been a very good young man, and I want to reward you. I know it’s difficult being confined to the basement all the time, but it’s necessary. No one would understand, but what we’re doing here is very important work, and you’re my apprentice. You’ve earned it, Butchie.”
A present. This . . . woman, trussed and gagged and naked and terrified, is my
present
. What am I supposed to do with her? I’d rather have one of those video game things I’ve seen advertised on TV. Nintendo. Or a Game Boy. Yeah, that’d be cool.
present
. What am I supposed to do with her? I’d rather have one of those video game things I’ve seen advertised on TV. Nintendo. Or a Game Boy. Yeah, that’d be cool.
“Do you want to touch her, Butchie?”
I shake my head. He’d better not zap me with that fucking stun gun.
“Do you want to make love to her? Because you can.”
My stomach cramps, and I squeeze my eyes shut. This situation doesn’t resemble anything I’ve ever seen on TV that relates to making love. This woman and I haven’t walked hand-in-hand on the beach or giggled while cooking dinner or thrown snowballs at each other or sprayed each other with the hose while soaping up a fancy car.
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