As if reading the intention in her expression, the killer shoved the gun’s muzzle against the back of Bryson’s head. “In the truck. Now. If you scream, if you do anything to alert the police, I’ll shoot both of you, him first. Then I’ll find another family a few houses down to kill and drive away in their car as the police try to figure out where the shots came from. You’ll be dead, another family will be dead, but I’ll be just fine. Is that what you want? Me to kill your boyfriend and another innocent family, all because you refuse to follow instructions?”
“We’re going.” She forced the words out between clenched teeth.
Bryson looked like he wanted to argue. But he was in no physical condition to do so. They hobbled to the end of the truck. The gunman twisted the handles and yanked open both of the doors. Just as expected, it was empty. No windows. No pass-through to the cab. Just a metal box, with no way out but the back doors. Which required getting past their armed escort.
It took some grunting and contorting because of how their hands were cuffed together to get both of them into the back. As soon as their feet cleared the doors, one of them slammed shut.
The gunman paused in the opening of the other door. “I’ll take that cane for now. Don’t want you trying to poke me with it when I open the door again.” He yanked the cane away from Bryson and sealed them inside.
Chapter Thirteen
“He didn’t blindfold us,” Teagan said.
Bryson hated the fear in her tone. He knew exactly what she was afraid of, that because the man who’d abducted them hadn’t blindfolded them, it meant he intended to kill them. He wasn’t worried about witnesses, or that they could identify him later. But reassuring her right now was beyond Bryson’s abilities. He was struggling just to stay conscious. That blow to his head had really done a number on him.
The darkness in the back of the truck was absolute, which was disorienting enough. But his aching hip and throbbing head were each trying to outdo the other in the pain department, which made his efforts to wrangle his scattered thoughts next to impossible.
“Bryson?” She moved her left hand against his right one and interlaced their fingers. “How bad does it hurt? Your head?”
He gently squeezed her fingers. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
“Maybe if you said that without pain making your voice so raspy I’d believe you.” She clasped her right hand over their joined hands. “I’m so sorry. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me involving you. I never should have gone to Gatlinburg and interfered with your life. That was beyond selfish. And now, we’re both going to die—”
“Hey, hey. Stop that. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the professional. I should have been on guard against this type of possibility. But what matters right now is that you don’t giveup. You hear me, Teagan Ray? Don’t you dare give up.” He waited, but when she didn’t respond he said, “If you’re nodding or shaking that beautiful head of yours, or making some kind of rude gesture, your effort’s wasted. I completely forgot to pack my night-vision goggles this trip.”
A brief laugh reassured him like nothing else could have. He needed her present, engaged, not frozen and helpless the way he’d seen her in the foyer after he’d finally managed to swim through the darkness that had threatened to drag him under. He wasn’t sure how long he’d lain there after that awful slam of the bat against his head. He hadn’t even seen the bat until later, when they were leaving, lying on one of the chairs. It had shocked him that he was still alive with the amount of blood covering the bat.
Then he’d seen Mrs. Broderick.
She’d been curled in a lifeless heap on the other side of the room. He knew then that not all of the blood on the bat was his. The poor woman had been brutally attacked. Even though it didn’t feel like it, he was lucky to be alive. For now.
“Aren’t you going to say I told you so?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.
He had to draw several deep breaths to push back the hazy fog that kept trying to drag him into unconsciousness. What had she said? Something about I told you so. “What are you talking about?”
“Avarice Lowe. I’d pegged him all along as the man who’d abducted me. But I was wrong. It’s this man. Whoever’s driving this stupid truck. The thing is, Lowe never seemed to fit the image of the monster in my head. I know it sounds wonky. But I always thought I’d know my abductor if I ever saw him, by the way he was built, his profile, something. Nothing ever clicked for me when I saw Lowe’s pictures. And, to be honest, nothing clicked when I saw this guy today. Not really. I mean, hisvoice, yes. Definitely. And yet, even though he seems familiar, he doesn’t seem...right. It’s still not clicking.” He could feel her shoulders move against him as she shrugged. “Listen to me. I’m not even making sense.”
“Always...trust your instincts.” He swallowed hard against the bile rising in his throat. Obviously he had a concussion. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. Or throw up. Or both. He cleared his throat and tried again to follow the conversation. “Instincts. They’re telling you something. What did you mean when you said he seemed familiar?”
“His face.”
“His face?”
“It just seemed...familiar. He’s the kind of guy you could pass on the street a bazillion times and you might think, okay, he’s kind of good-looking. Clean-cut. But nothing amazing. Just a typical, white-collar kind of man, you know? And yet, I would swear that I’ve seen him before. Not just once. Several times.”
He rubbed his left temple, desperately trying to beat back the throbbing pain and focus on what she was saying. There was something important here, more important than her thinking she’d seen him before. But he couldn’t seem to grasp what was bothering him about what she’d just said. Finally he dropped his hand to his side, giving up for now. Whatever was bothering him would come to him, eventually.
“Maybe he lives in The Woods,” he offered. “You’ve passed him on the street, on the sidewalk. Or saw him at that amenity center. Do you ever use the tennis courts, the pool?”
“The pool sometimes. But I haven’t in a long time. Not since, well, I never was a fan of a one-piece bathing suit. Too grandma for me. But I don’t think wearing a bikini is exactly a good idea now.”
He wanted to reassure her, tell her that no one would notice the X that had been cut into her skin. But peoplecould be cruel. Some probably would stare. Others might ask a question, innocently thinking she’d had that X carved there on purpose, like a tattoo. They might wonder at the symbolism and significance, without realizing they were bringing up a horrific memory that she’d rather forget.
He’d just started to doze off again when she asked, “What are we going to do?” Her voice was a low whisper, as if to keep the driver from hearing them. “Please tell me you have a plan.”
He didn’t have a clue. He tightened his hold on her hand. “We’ll figure it out. Together. Two against one. We’ve got this.”
The truck hit a bump in the road, knocking them against each other. He scooted back against the wall, trying to keep from slamming into her. But she had no such compulsion. She moved closer, her body plastered against his side. But unlike earlier, there was nothing suggestive about her actions. He could feel the slight shaking of her shoulders and realized she was silently crying. Carefully, so he wouldn’t hit her face, he maneuvered their handcuffed hands so that he could put his arm around her, pulling their linked hands tight against her belly. She cradled her head against his neck.
