Connor's Gamble (27 page)

Alyssa took a deep breath before nodding, and Bethany stood, motioning to the camera in a sweeping arc.

“Connor.  Dear, dear Connor, your ex has a few things to say to you.”

She stared at the lens, knowing Connor would hear this, her final words to him.  Could she make him understand why she'd made the choices she'd made?  How wrong she'd been? 
Where do I start?

Alyssa knew she needed to speak from the heart.  Expose her soul and pray he'd hear the truth in her words.  “Connor, I love you.”

“Aw, isn't that sweet?”  Bethany's mocking tone wafted from somewhere off to her right.  She didn't bother looking.  Anger overrode her terror.

“Shut the hell up, you psycho bitch!  I'm talking to my husband.”

“Ex-husband.”  The spite-filled words floated back.

“Connor will always be my husband in my heart.  A piece of paper didn't change that.”  Alyssa's words rang with sincerity.  She turned back to the camera.  “I'm sorry.  More sorry than I'll ever be able to tell you in a few short seconds of video.  When those pictures came, they stung my pride.  Everything I'd lived with all my life, the lies, the deceptions . . . the shame, it all flooded back when I thought you'd done the one thing you'd sworn in our wedding vows you'd never do.”

Tears tracked down her cheeks but she didn't care.  Nothing mattered but telling Connor how she felt.  If she only had these few minutes, she'd make sure Connor realized she'd never stopped loving him.

Sitting up straighter in the uncomfortable metal chair, at least as straight as she could with all the duct tape anchoring her in place, Alyssa kept her eyes glued to the camera.  A small part of her kept listening for Bethany.  She didn't trust the psychotic bitch as far as she could throw her.  In the blink of an eye her emotions vacillated from calm to insanely violent.

Blood trickled from the cuts on her shoulders and chest but she ignored it and focused on finding the right words.  “When you asked me to marry you, the one promise I asked was your loyalty.  Fidelity.  Growing up with my parents, loyalty was one value that never existed in my home.”

Moving as little as possible, Alyssa wriggled her right ankle against the metal chair leg, lifting her heel off the floor and dropping it back down again. 
Did the duct tape move a little?  Keep trying.

“Better wrap it up, Alyssa.  I gotta get this sent to Connor's phone.  Sixty seconds, and you're done.”

Alyssa held back her shudder at Bethany's pronouncement.  One minute wasn't much time but she'd take every second.

“No matter what happens, Connor, I've always loved you.  I never stopped.  Through all the fights, the divorce, even moving away, nothing and no one changed that.  On my honor and love, Connor, I will never, ever doubt you again.  And when you find me, I am going to kick this bitch's ass all the way under the jail.”

Bethany's laughter crawled across her skin like fire ants, leaving a burning trail in their wake.  Sauntering back into view, she stepped in front of her and into the path of the camera.

“Connor, when you get this, think about all the fun I'm having with your little ex until you get here.”  She lifted her right hand and light glinted off the pistol she held.  Alyssa gasped at the movement, not speaking, knowing Bethany wanted her screams recorded, one more thing to hurt Connor.  She'd get no satisfaction from her.  Damned if she'd let this psycho use her against Connor ever again.

“I'll talk to you soon, Connor.  Not too soon, though.  Don't want to spoil my fun.”  With a couple of steps, Bethany was behind the camera, turning off the recording.  Snatching the cell phone off its makeshift stand, Bethany held it to her chest, swirling around, dancing to music only she heard.  At least that was what it looked like to Alyssa.

Please, God, help me.  She's lost it.

Stopping in the doorway, Bethany peered down into the phone, smiling as she played back the video.  Alyssa's heartfelt plea to Connor reverberated throughout the space. 
Please, Connor, don't come!  She can't win.  If you come, she'll kill us both.

“Okay, that's done.  Connor should get our little present any second.  Hope he likes the show.”

“He won't come.”

“After your precious declaration of undying devotion?  Of course he'll come.  As soon as I send directions, he'll burn rubber the entire way, just to get to his sweet, innocent little sweetie.  Blech!”  Bethany tossed the cell phone onto the cluttered table against the wall, dug through her purse and dug out another cell phone.  Her concentration focused directly on it, she fiddled with it a moment.  A couple of swipes on the screen and a huge smile lit her face.

Oh, hell, this can't be good
.

Bethany wiggled the cell phone back and forth, the screen pointed face out toward Alyssa.

“How many different phones do you have, Bethany?”  By Alyssa's count, this was the third different phone she'd seen since arriving at this godforsaken place.

“Let's see.”  Bethany paused, looked as though she was counting in her head.  “Six.”

“You have six different phones?  That's crazy.”

“Oh, no.  Actually, it's brilliant.  It's an old trick I've used for years.  Whenever I'm in a different place, a new city, I'll pick up a prepaid cell phone.  Always pay in cash.  Always turn off the GPS.  Pretty much makes them untraceable.”

“Why?”  Alyssa needed to keep Bethany talking, focused on her and not on Connor.  The longer she kept from calling him, the more time he'd have to come up with a plan—to rescue her without getting killed in the process.

“Well, hon, this ain't my first rodeo.  You think you're the only person we've ever brought out here?”

We?  Who else is she talking about?

“This is our special place.  Me and Mickey.  You've heard of Mickey Trejo, haven't you?  I'm sure Connor told you all about him, even though the son of a bitch couldn't spare five lousy minutes to talk to me about my best friend.  Some of my fondest memories are the times Mickey and I spent here, playing our special games.”  Bethany ran her hand along the door jam, a fond caress against the wood.

“I suppose after tonight I won't be able to come back here anymore.  It's just as well, since Mickey can't meet me here any more.  Thanks to Connor!”  Bethany spat the words, whirling around and stomping toward her.  Fisting her hand in Alyssa's hair, she yanked her head back forcing her face upward.

“Connor ruined everything.  Everything!  He's got to pay.  I've designed the perfect revenge for him—losing everything he loves.  Starting with you.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Sunday

T
he chirp of a text message sounded, startling Connor out of his thoughts.  Almost an hour had passed since he'd talked to Alyssa.  Time seemed to crawl by in slow motion.  He watched the clock on the dashboard as each minute seemed an eternity, the second hand of the old-fashioned clock sweeping around tick by tick.  Minutes passed like hours.

He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life.  Sitting on the sidelines wasn't his style.  He was more a charge in with guns blazing, take no prisoners kind of guy.  This waiting for the next message was like a long drawn-out torture session with no end in sight.

The screen illuminated as he read the message, fingers crushed around the phone in a death grip.

Got a present for you, Connor.  See video attached
. 
Alyssa's been a naughty girl.  I had to punish her.  Wanna see?

The video that scrolled onto the screen shocked the breath out of Connor, his lungs seizing as he tried to draw in air.  His hand shook so hard the phone slipped from his fingers to land on the floor of the car.  Nausea roiled in his stomach, bilious acid causing him to gag.  He struggled against the urge to vomit, feeling around on the floorboards for the dropped phone.

The video showed Alyssa, but not the beautiful, healthy glowing woman she'd been the last time he'd seen her.  Instead, bruises covered her face, and her left eye was blackened and swollen shut.  Dark red blood trickled from her nose, and the side of her mouth was swollen, the skin around it mottled and blotchy.

Her hair—it looked like someone had taken a saw to it, hacking away.  There were huge chunks missing on either side.  Red welts encircled the skin of her neck and more bruises displayed on the pale skin of her naked shoulders.  Blood oozed from a cut or stab wound high on her left shoulder.

Her words, her message of love filled him with a mixture of hope and despair. 
She loves me.  She still loves me!
  A fierce killing rage began a slow insidious build deep within his gut, blossoming and spreading outward until his entire being was engulfed in more anger than he'd ever felt in his entire life.

“You're dead!  Damn you to hell and back, I'm going to kill you, you sick bitch!”  Connor felt the tears well up and overflow while he screamed.  He pounded his fists against the steering wheel and banged on the dashboard, grief and guilt racing through him.

“Why?  She's never done a damn thing to hurt anybody.  Why her?”

The phone chirped again, the sound muffled on the bench seat where he'd flung it after seeing the picture of the woman he loved.  Snatching it up, he read the next message.

Not so pretty now, eh, Connor?  I only wish it was you.  It'll be our turn to dance soon.  Having too much fun now.  TTYL
.

“No! Damn you, no!”  Anguish coursed through Connor as the screen went blank, the illuminated text disappearing from view.  Jumping from the car, he pounded on the roof, the hood, reared his foot back and kicked the tire.  Pain shot through his foot, spearing up his leg with the impact of the kick.  Pain was good. Pain he could deal with.  The numbness in his heart, the bleakness in his soul, those he couldn't.  Alyssa was his life, his everything.  If he lost her, his life wasn't worth living.

Pulling up the picture on the phone again, he stared at it, studied every line, every angle.  She'd still been alive when it was taken.  Her one eye not blackened and swollen shut was open and he could read the pain reflected in her glazed stare.

A car door slammed and the slap of feet running on asphalt sounded, coming in his direction.  He whirled to see Remy sprinting toward him.

“Thank God!  Remy, you got anything?”  Connor hugged his friend, doing the male backslapping thing, pulling back to search Remy's face.

“Not yet.  I've called Max every fifteen minutes.  He's digging as fast as he can.”

“Tell him to dig faster.  Look.”  Connor handed his phone to Remy with Alyssa's gruesome tableau on the screen.  Remy's fluent Cajun curses echoed Connor's sentiments. 
Damn this sadistic bitch straight to hell.
  Connor planned to make sure she reached her flaming destination, up close and personal, even if he had to drag her there kicking and screaming.

“What kind of sick bitch is Bethany to do that to a helpless woman?”  Remy's arms encircled Connor, hugging him again with so much force Connor could barely catch his breath.  He thumped Remy's back in return, acknowledging the show of support and friendship more than words could express.

“What do I do, Remy?  I'm not a cop.  Hell, I'm not equipped to deal with this kind of bullshit.”  Connor leaned against the car's hood, rubbing the heels of his hands against his burning eyes.

“I love her, man.  She's everything.  Always has been.  I don't think—if anything happens to her . . .”  Connor's voice broke abruptly and he swallowed against the lump lodged in the back of his throat.

“We'll find her.  Hold on to that, Connor.”  Both men jolted at the blare of a phone.  Remy grabbed his cell, noted the caller, and put in on speaker.  “Whatcha got, Max?”

“Took a crap load of digging, but you are right.  Julie Jamison is the daughter of Captain Jeffrey Jamison.  She was sixteen when he died.  Court records show she was placed in a foster family, two parents and three other foster children.  Disappeared less than a year after that.  She basically fell off the grid.”

That sinking feeling of dread, that nasty feeling you get right before the bottom falls out and your world collapses clawed at the pit of Connor's gut.  He needed answers, knew on an instinctual level there was a deeper thread connecting everything, but he wasn't seeing the big picture. 

"Where'd she disappear to?"  Remy asked the question Connor had been thinking.

“I'm getting to that.  Several years pass and Bethany Banks shows up in Baton Rouge.  Gets a job at the television station and works her way up through the ranks to on-air reporter.  A little judicious digging and it turns out she's a ghost.”

Connor stared at Remy as the words sank in.  “Ghost?  What's that mean exactly?”

“Bethany Banks, the real Bethany Banks, died in 1963, buried in a church cemetery on the outskirts of Baton Rouge.  Prior to her job at the TV station, Bethany Banks the reporter didn't exist.”

Remy's voice cut into Max's recitation of facts.  “Cut to the chase, bro.”

“I was able to get a yearbook picture of Julie Jamison from the high school, don't ask how, and compared it to Bethany Banks.  The hair's different, so is the eye color, but I'd bet you big money they're one and the same person.”

Dead silence followed Max's confirmation, the shock palpable in the air.

“Bethany is Cap's daughter?  She's the one who did that to my wife?”  He slammed both fists down on the hood of the old car with enough force it rocked beneath his blows.  “Why, dammit?  I don't even know her.  Met her maybe once, I think.”  Connor's eyes widened, pupils dilating in terror as the reality of the situation finally took shape in his mind.

“Connor, I'm checking a couple of leads, but it could take a . . .”  A soft feminine voice interrupted.  He heard Max's voice murmuring quietly to the other person, snippets and fragments of words and sentences barely audible over the speaker.

“Damn but my wife is good.  Theresa got us a possible lead on a location.”  The distinctive sound of papers rustling filled the dead silence, which seemed to stretch into infinity.