Confer, Lorelei - Deadly Deception (Siren Publishing Classic) (22 page)

“Thanks!”

* * * *

Joe traveled every side road he came across and still no signs of any traffic or any recent travel. He had gotten nowhere. He was beginning to think he had been driving around in circles all day. He hadn’t had anything to drink or eat except some cheese crackers early this morning. Both he and the car were running on empty, and now, as luck would have it, it was starting to get cool.

He had no idea of his physical location and knew it would soon be nightfall. He stopped the car to look around. He needed to find a place of shelter for the night. He didn’t want to go back to the shack he had used the night before, didn’t think he could find it anyway. He decided to get back onto the wider path and head back up the mountain.

After traveling a few miles the car began to jerk and sputter, and then died. Out of gas. End of the line.

He tried to get the car off the road as far as he could, but the high banks on both sides prohibited much success. He would have to hoof it from here to find shelter.

He got out of the car and started walking along the path. He could see a number of tire tracks now but couldn’t discern his own. Since he had gone back and forth so many times most of the day, they all looked the same.

The sun had gone behind some clouds and the temperature began cooling down fast. He buttoned up the light weight jacket he had found in the cruiser and kept walking, looking for some kind of hidey-hole.

He soon found a thick grouping of pine trees in a small clearing. The ground beneath the trees was covered with pine needles and would make a soft bed while the overhang would keep him warm. He could start a small fire in the clearing, if necessary, to get some warmth back in his bones.

Reaching the trees in no time, he sat close to the newly started fire and sucked in all the much-needed warmth. Joe watched the smoke drift up above the treetops.

* * * *

Wyatt entered the computer room and partially shut the door. He turned on the monitors and watched “Intruder, Intruder” blink across the screen. He had turned the volume down earlier or there would have been a large siren going off right now. He had to act now. He couldn’t wait for the arrival of Dave and Sam so they could put their plan into action.

Wyatt read a couple of e-mails, one bringing a smile to his face, then turned off the monitors after another final check and walked out of the living 2room. Isabella sat in front of the fireplace curled up in one of the chairs with a book in her hand, fast asleep. He lightly covered her with a blanket, put another log on the fire, picked up his jacket, and quietly went out the front door.

Wyatt headed to the southwest corner of the compound. He knew this area very well. He and Dave had often come here and played catch and football because it was the most level part of all the property. He stopped a moment and listened. Someone was following him.

He quietly crept around in a circle coming up behind Isabella. He moved stealthily closer and then grabbed Isabella from behind.

He tried to whisper in her ear. “Shush, it’s me. Don’t make a sound.” He removed his hand from her mouth and saw that she was trembling and gasping for air. He pulled her to him and held her tightly. “What are you doing here?” he whispered. “I need a few minutes to myself.”

“Wyatt, I’m scared. Where are you going? I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’ll be fine at the house. I need a couple of minutes alone. Come on, I’ll take you back to the house. Why don’t you make us something warm for dinner? I’ll be back shortly.”

He stood at the edge of the tree line and watched her walk the rest of the way to the front door and go into the house. He turned around quickly and headed back in the opposite direction. He had some catching up to do.

Isabella paced inside the house while looking out the windows watching Wyatt turn and walk away.
I wonder what he’s up to.

She sat down on the couch thinking what he might be doing, why he couldn’t trust her enough to confide in her, and she didn’t like where her thoughts led her.

She stood, grabbed her jacket, and once again left the confines of the house. She had to find out what he was hiding from her, why he was being so sneaky. She glanced around at the surrounding trees and paths and decided to take a roundabout way to meet him in the middle instead of following him directly.

Although she didn’t know the area as well as Wyatt, she did have a good feel for it after her brief tour earlier today. She could now see the differences in the trees and the size of the mountains since her disorientation was less and less with each waking moment.

Thinking that maybe he had gone there for some quiet time, to think, she decided she would start by going to the area where he and Dave had played football.

Once she found the level spot he had pointed out to her earlier, she glanced around, listening intently for anyone about. She only heard the leaves rustling in the slight breeze. She studied the area, and making a 360-degree turn, she noticed a slight ravine before a higher, steep bank. She could see much more from on top of the bank, so she started making her way down the ravine and up the other side.

Once she arrived at the top of the bank, she looked around in awe of the view. She thought she could see for miles. She didn’t see anyone around so she sat down to catch her breath. She needed some alone time too.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her jacket around them. Clouds blocked the sun. The increasing wind made the already cool air cooler. A storm must be brewing. She leaned her head onto her knees seeking her body heat.

Suddenly, her short hair was grabbed from behind. Her head whipped backward. Pulled to her feet, a hand covered her mouth. A burly arm wrapped around her waist. She was being dragged away from the top of the hill.

She screamed for Wyatt to stop it, screamed that she was sorry, but her words were muffled. With another deep intake of breath, she realized it wasn’t Wyatt’s clean woodsy-scented hand over her mouth. The smell was of cigarette smoke and sweat and was familiar to her.

Oh. My. God. Joe. He had found her! Again!

Chapter 39

Joe couldn’t believe his luck. While out looking for firewood, he glanced up and couldn’t believe his eyes. The girl he had been searching for sat in front of him on top of an incline. Now was his chance.

Slowly, he made his way toward her backside. When he could reach her, he had grabbed her hair. He had covered her mouth with his other hand and dragged her to his new campsite. She fell on her way down a slight hill, ripping a hole in her sweatpants but there was no slowing down.

He kicked dirt onto the fire to eliminate any smoke signals. He had found some old plastic wiring on the ground while out gathering wood earlier, and it would come in real handy right now to tie her up.

She started to kick her feet and flail her arms at him.

“I’ve had enough of you, missy. You stay still or I’ll slit your throat right here and now and throw you in the bushes. No one will find you for days or months, maybe even years.”

When Joe removed his hand from Isabella’s mouth, she started to take in a deep breath. But before she could make a sound, he punched her in the face. She fell to the ground. Her head hit the rock-hard dirt and she collapsed. He made plans in his head while tying her up. They would spend the night here, and in the morning, he would find a way to get her to
Norfolk
. He would call Spike with the good news and see if he had any ideas. He hadn’t failed after all.

Joe didn’t waste any time securing her for the night. He dragged her limp body to a tree and propped her back up against it. He pulled a dirty handkerchief out of his back pocket and tied it as a gag around her mouth. He pulled her arms behind the tree and tied them together with the wire he had found. Then he tied her feet. He stood back and admired his handiwork.

Her head had fallen forward. Her lip dripped blood on her jacket. He picked her head up by her hair. Her face was already swollen and turning colors, her lip bleeding.

Good! Next time she’ll remember to listen to me an’ do what I tell her.

* * * *

Once again, Wyatt headed to the southwest corner of the compound with a rope around his shoulder. He stopped a moment, listening intently. The hair on the back of his neck bristled. He wasn’t alone.

He crept around in a large circle and came up behind where he had last found Isabella. No one was there. He listened intently and looked around furtively, his sight and hearing sharpened. He looked for tracks. His heart lurched when he saw two sets of footprints. The larger ones were deep and noticeable in the now-wet ground while the smaller ones were indistinguishable as if their owner had been dragged through the dirt.

He looked back toward the house but couldn’t see it clearly enough to determine if Isabella was inside. He had no choice. He had to follow the tracks, but first he had to check on Isabella.

His heart beat rapidly as he raced toward the house. Before he even opened the door, he knew in his gut what he would find. He searched the entire space, his ears listening to the slightest sound of movement, but there was none. He quickly made his way to the computer room and looked at all the monitors, turning their views so he could see all of the surrounding area. He reviewed the last thirty to forty-five minutes sequentially from each camera in the area he suspected.

He sought and found the sight he so much didn’t want to see. Isabella tied to a tree, her head lolling to one side. Her captor stood in front of her with a smile on his face, obviously very proud of himself and his success.

How had the son of a bitch gotten to Isabella before I got to him?

Wyatt noted the location and realized they were a short distance outside the compound. He checked the computer log, which listed any intruders within or close to the outside perimeter. From the log, he was able to ascertain when and where Isabella had breached the infrared security line. It would take him about twenty minutes running at full speed to reach her.

And as God is my witness, he had better not have hurt her in any way.

He grabbed his cell phone, another clip of ammunition, and another weapon from his bag before he headed toward that area. He ran to the location of the footprints and began following them. He had learned a lot about tracking in his profession, but a hurricane left smaller tracks than this guy.

There was an indentation
indicating
the smaller person falling to his or her knees and then only appearing on the ground now and then. Obviously, Isabella had been dragged or half-carried most of the way.

He slowed as he got closer to the area where she was being held. He needed to even out his breathing so he could come upon them as discreetly as possible. He moved closer to the pine cropping where he had last seen the intruder on the monitor.

Without making a sound, he sneaked low to the ground, searching the area and listening intently for any sound. Isabella sat a short distance away with her back tied to a tree, her head hung limply to the side, her mouth gagged.

He saw a movement out of the corner of his right eye. He slithered up to a tree behind the trespasser to observe him without notice. The idiot stood there taking a leak, oblivious to his surroundings or his Peeping Tom.

Wyatt noted his jacket and pants were the same color as the Stoney Creek Police Department. Something about the color made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He silently drew his gun from his ankle. His senses heightened. He walked silently up behind Isabella’s abductor.

“Don’t move or you’re dead.” Wyatt held his gun to the intruder’s head and took off the safety. “Put your hands on your head.”

The man stood perfectly still, didn’t move. He quickly complied with the request, especially after Wyatt actually hit his head with the barrel of his gun.

Wyatt kicked his feet apart and searched the man’s pockets, patting him down with one hand while the holding the man’s hands together on his head. He found a gun in the man’s waistband, removed it, and put it in his waistband. He proceeded to frisk him, looking for additional weapons, and found a large pocketknife in the side of his boot.

“Who are you?”

“Joe, Joe Sneed.”

“Can’t you read the No Trespassing signs?”

Joe shrugged.

“What are doing on my property?”

“I was lookin’ for someone.”

“Who?” Wyatt asked without turning him around.

“What do ya mean?”

“Who were you looking for?” Wyatt enunciated each word to make sure he understood them.

“M-my old lady. We had a fight. and she runned off. That’s her over there tied to that there big tree.” Joe’s voice trembled.

Wyatt stood still. He’d heard that voice before, in his own backyard, and again at his front door. Finally, it all made some sense.

He jerked Joe around. He stared at him through narrowed eyes. Wyatt remembered that it had been Joe who had done all the talking in his backyard during the chase for Isabella
and
, as he looked closer, he realized Joe looked like the cop who had come to his door to check on “things.” In fact, he still had on the same shirt and pants now, only he had covered them with a department-issued jacket. Therefore, he could be and probably was Richards’s killer.