“Donald seemed real concerned we couldn’t find Stevie. Said to call him if we needed help.” His face cleared. “Security camera. He’s got a camera aimed at the front porch. I noticed one on the corner of the house too, pointing at the side entrance. Think it’s a warning system, not a security system?”
Basement. Concrete blocks.
“Let’s go find out.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Let’s get him out of there,” Zane said to Kenny as he drove toward Donald’s home. “Since Donald offered to help with the search, call and tell him we desperately need every extra vehicle on the road. He helped search for Bruce. Tell him we need him again. Don’t let him say no. As soon as he leaves, we’ll go in.”
“Got it.” In the passenger seat, Kenny pulled out his cell phone. A stricken look crossed his face. “We still don’t have a phone number for him!”
“Shit.” Zane mentally shifted gears. “You’ll have to knock on the door again. Convince him we need his help.”
“But what about you?”
“You’ll drive up his long driveway. Let me out at the road and I’ll sneak up in the shadows. I’ll get into his house somehow.”
“Zane, you can’t do that.”
“Right now I don’t really care. Who’s going to fire me? Stevie’s brother?” He looked at his officer. “This is Stevie we’re talking about.”
“Right.” A determined look crossed Kenny’s face. “But I’m letting the county sheriff know where we’re going. We might need backup.”
“Not if we can get Donald away from the property.” Zane said a silent prayer. He didn’t give a shit about his job. Every cell in his body told him that Donald had Stevie, and he’d be damned if he let her vanish or turn up dead in a motel room.
She is going to be my wife.
Zane pulled over and leaped out of the car, the keys still in the ignition. Kenny came around the back of the car and slid into the seat. “Get him out of that damned house,” Zane repeated, holding eye contact with Kenny. “Keep ringing the doorbell until he answers. I don’t care if he’s in his pajamas. I’m counting on you to sell this.”
“Got it.” Kenny pulled the door shut and gunned the gas, sending slushy snow flying as he headed up the long driveway.
Zane ran after him, hoping he didn’t trip and break an arm. He could barely see. Ahead, Kenny’s taillights disappeared around a curve and left Zane in the dark. He kept running, the icy air stinging his lungs. What if she isn’t there?
She’s there.
He rounded a curve and the house came into sight. Donald believed in lots of outside lights, but as Kenny had theorized, it was possibly to protect his activities, not his home. Zane kept to the shadows of the trees, swinging wide around the house. On the front porch, Kenny continuously rang the doorbell, calling Donald’s name. He beat on the door with his fist.
Zane crouched in the dark and waited. Come out, you bastard.
Or I’m coming in anyway.
Donald had returned to the basement. He’d changed into a black-and-red basketball jersey and baggy black shorts. His legs were insanely white and his arms were muscular. Much more muscular than Stevie would have expected from the quiet pharmacist.
Strong enough to slice through Bob Fletcher’s neck?
His muscles flexed as he set down a coil of thick rope and a stack of neatly folded towels.
Stevie stared at the items as her brain begged her to look away.
She held strong.
He didn’t have the best of her yet.
How much will he hurt me? She didn’t see any knives or items to create pain. Vanessa’s body hadn’t shown signs of abuse outside of rape and choking. Stevie breathed evenly. She could handle rape. It usually wasn’t sexual for the aggressor; it was about the power over the victim. Take away the power trip and he might lose interest.
It’s just my body.
I’ll be damned if he messes with my head.
Her mental defenses ready, she watched him tie odd knots in the rope. Time for some
Basement. Concrete blocks.
“Let’s go find out.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Let’s get him out of there,” Zane said to Kenny as he drove toward Donald’s home. “Since Donald offered to help with the search, call and tell him we desperately need every extra vehicle on the road. He helped search for Bruce. Tell him we need him again. Don’t let him say no. As soon as he leaves, we’ll go in.”
“Got it.” In the passenger seat, Kenny pulled out his cell phone. A stricken look crossed his face. “We still don’t have a phone number for him!”
“Shit.” Zane mentally shifted gears. “You’ll have to knock on the door again. Convince him we need his help.”
“But what about you?”
“You’ll drive up his long driveway. Let me out at the road and I’ll sneak up in the shadows. I’ll get into his house somehow.”
“Zane, you can’t do that.”
“Right now I don’t really care. Who’s going to fire me? Stevie’s brother?” He looked at his officer. “This is Stevie we’re talking about.”
“Right.” A determined look crossed Kenny’s face. “But I’m letting the county sheriff know where we’re going. We might need backup.”
“Not if we can get Donald away from the property.” Zane said a silent prayer. He didn’t give a shit about his job. Every cell in his body told him that Donald had Stevie, and he’d be damned if he let her vanish or turn up dead in a motel room.
She is going to be my wife.
Zane pulled over and leaped out of the car, the keys still in the ignition. Kenny came around the back of the car and slid into the seat. “Get him out of that damned house,” Zane repeated, holding eye contact with Kenny. “Keep ringing the doorbell until he answers. I don’t care if he’s in his pajamas. I’m counting on you to sell this.”
“Got it.” Kenny pulled the door shut and gunned the gas, sending slushy snow flying as he headed up the long driveway.
Zane ran after him, hoping he didn’t trip and break an arm. He could barely see. Ahead, Kenny’s taillights disappeared around a curve and left Zane in the dark. He kept running, the icy air stinging his lungs. What if she isn’t there?
She’s there.
He rounded a curve and the house came into sight. Donald believed in lots of outside lights, but as Kenny had theorized, it was possibly to protect his activities, not his home. Zane kept to the shadows of the trees, swinging wide around the house. On the front porch, Kenny continuously rang the doorbell, calling Donald’s name. He beat on the door with his fist.
Zane crouched in the dark and waited. Come out, you bastard.
Or I’m coming in anyway.
Donald had returned to the basement. He’d changed into a black-and-red basketball jersey and baggy black shorts. His legs were insanely white and his arms were muscular. Much more muscular than Stevie would have expected from the quiet pharmacist.
Strong enough to slice through Bob Fletcher’s neck?
His muscles flexed as he set down a coil of thick rope and a stack of neatly folded towels.
Stevie stared at the items as her brain begged her to look away.
She held strong.
He didn’t have the best of her yet.
How much will he hurt me? She didn’t see any knives or items to create pain. Vanessa’s body hadn’t shown signs of abuse outside of rape and choking. Stevie breathed evenly. She could handle rape. It usually wasn’t sexual for the aggressor; it was about the power over the victim. Take away the power trip and he might lose interest.
It’s just my body.
I’ll be damned if he messes with my head.
Her mental defenses ready, she watched him tie odd knots in the rope. Time for some
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