Deceived (35 page)

“Where’s your father?” they asked Nicholas.

“Your mother and the boys?” I listened for the answers.

“Mom and the boys are going to Canada.”

Canadian border patrol had been given Miles Thomas Wade’s photograph and description. That made Canada a good destination for the Austin family.

Rounding a corner, Nicholas simultaneously gave and received information. He tugged me along behind him. We entered a large conference room where half a dozen machines were hooked up. One replayed a call between the Reaper and Mr. Austin.

“He sounds familiar,” I whispered.

Eyes glanced from me to Nicholas. No one stopped working. A man nodded at Nicholas and we took two seats at the enormous, file-covered table.

“Do you think you’ve heard him recently, or could it be a memory taking shape?” The look on Nicholas’s face unnerved me.

“I’m not sure. I don’t know.”

He waited.

“What’re they doing?” I nodded to the desk where they replayed the message in increments.

“They’re trying to trace the call.” Nicholas leaned in toward my ear. “They’re analyzing the recording for any background noise or clues to help narrow down his whereabouts. He couldn’t have taken her far.”

“Sara’s last text was sent at nine twelve this morning. The call placed by the Reaper came in at ten forty. That means it took him an hour and a half to get somewhere he felt comfortable making a call.”

“He could’ve been on the road.” A man whom I’d met in the hall spoke.

“They could be anywhere,” I said in a low tone, mostly to myself.

“Not anywhere,” Nicholas answered. “He has a plan. This is important to him. He took one daughter to exchange for another. That’s not his playing style. It’s much more personal.”

“He’s not playing anymore,” I mumbled, remembering the press conference. “He’s got nothing to lose. Dad named him. What’s his incentive to hide?”

“We don’t think he’s hiding, necessarily. Your father seems to think he’s staying in D.C.”

“D.C.?” I shrieked. “What if he comes for you?” My heart hitched and then stopped. I couldn’t lose Nicholas. The Reaper must want to take out the entire Austin family since he was unable to get mine.

Several men and women coughed and giggled at my conclusion. Nicholas’s head hung back over the top of his chair. When he pulled it up he had a sarcastic look on his face. “Not me, Elle.”

Right. Me. He wanted to kill me
.

“We’ve got something.” A man with headphones pulled one side off his ear and waved us over to him. He had isolated a voice yelling in the background.

“Cumberland.” A man I recognized spoke to Nicholas, who stood protectively at my side.

“Is that near here?” My voice startled me. I hadn’t planned to ask it out loud.

Before he could answer, my father’s voice sounded through a speaker nearby, a phone call I presumed. He was safe. Nicholas covertly slipped his hand over mine and squeezed.

“We think they were in Cumberland when the call was placed.”

“I know where he’s going.” My dad’s voice became official. It was low and rough but certain.

“He’s taking her back to the beginning. We’re headed there now.” Instead of “goodbye,” he commanded, “Get there.”

The crowd dispersed. Most scurried around right outside the door. Nicholas stood and told the few who remained that he was going. He instructed a giant, bald man to keep an eye on me, and then he left, but not before giving me an appraising look.

I stood there, frozen. I’d read the files a hundred times. I knew where the beginning was. Unfortunately, a giant, bald man stood near the door with his hands folded in front of him. I wasn’t getting out that way, and he wasn’t talking.

I knew what I needed to do.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Real tears needed few summons. “I need to use the ladies’ room.”

He stepped aside and waved an arm toward the hallway beside us. I threw one hand over my lips and bolted for the front door.

I hailed a cab and jumped in, hoping no one followed me. “Take me to the Towpath Trail in Cumberland.”

“Cumberland?” The driver didn’t look thrilled. I handed him a wad of the cash that had come with my new identity. He pulled away from the building looking slightly more interested.

The drive away from town was surreal. Traffic moved like game pieces along a crowded board. Forward two spaces. Wait. Forward three spaces. Wait. It continued that way until the cab pulled onto one finger of the twisted freeway. Then we were free. If the killer wanted to make a trade, there was still hope. I could save Sara the way her family had already saved me. My dad and Nicholas wouldn’t be far behind me. I hoped I’d beat them there. If they arrived without me, Sara might end up like my mom.

Cumberland was closer than I was prepared for.

At the Towpath gateway, I paid a fee for entrance. I doubted Miles had walked up, with Sara in his grip, and paid the man his fee. I had no idea where I was going. In retrospect, I should’ve paid more attention to the crime-scene photos in the file. Not that it would’ve helped. The forest looked like the forest. I turned in a weary circle. No green leaves in sight. He had dumped his first victim in the spring. What little I remembered of her photos was green, not gray, brown, and barren like the space around me.

All I had was the small pamphlet I’d received with my admission ticket. According to the pamphlet, the trail wound on for miles. I pulled my jacket tight and moved forward. Fresh snow dusted the ground beneath my feet. I tugged at my hair, too short to keep my neck warm. I hadn’t brought a scarf or gloves. We’d left the apartment in a hurry.

As I crunched through the frozen grass, the canal came into view ahead of me. The trail wound along it in both directions. My map indicated I was close to the beginning, so I went the other way. I walked and walked, every moment expecting to run into Nicholas. I could’ve been miles from where Amber Laney was found, for all I knew. I was looking for a needle in a haystack, and I didn’t have a plan.

What would I do if I found them?

According to my watch, it was a few minutes after four. The sun had already begun its descent. Once it set, I’d have no way to see. Lighting along the trail was sporadic at best. I hastened, remembering a report of coyote attacks in the metro parks. The exposed gray bark of the trees was a reflection of me. Their stark winding branches reached into the white sky like gnarled fingertips of warning. The forest wasn’t enchanted. I didn’t live in a storybook. What awaited me in the dimming winter light was a very real monster.

A twig snapped.

“Hello?” A chuckle echoed through the growing darkness. “Hello?” Only the sound of leaves in the wind answered.

I took a step off the trail, creeping forward in the direction of the laughter. My stomach retched. My heart hit the frozen ground with a coiling thump. Not twenty feet from the trail, Sara lay on the ground near a tree. Her hands and feet were pulled back in an unnatural posture. She didn’t move. I slipped on snow-covered leaves in my hurry to reach her. I fell twice, pulling myself up the small incline toward my friend. She was tied up. My stomach rolled into my spine. I ran the final steps to her side and pulled at the rope that bound her. She still didn’t move.

Low chuckles echoed around me, edging closer. I hastened my attempt to wake or free Sara. Her cold skin scared me. I didn’t want to think of what it meant. “Sara,” I urged. “Sara.” No response. I fought to keep my head clear.
It is supposed to be me. It should’ve been me.
I yanked on the ropes, working my frozen fingers into the knots, begging Sara to wake up.

A branch snapped behind me, and he appeared.

Chapter Thirty-One

“You,” I whispered.

Directly before me stood Miles Thomas Wade. He wore a brown leather coat and khaki slacks. His loafers seemed inappropriate for a woodland murder.

“It’s nice to meet you. Officially.” The voice. I squinted hard at his face. My heartbeat crashed in my chest. “I’m Miles. I’ve wanted to introduce myself to you for so long.” He stepped closer, outstretching his hand.

The man from the Francine Frances library stood as close as ever. My head worked to match his voice with the picture on the television. He was older than he was in the photo. His hair was darker and moppy, hanging in his eyes. No longer worn close to his head. He was clean-shaven. No longer blond or bearded. I never would’ve known. He’d made me so uncomfortable that I’d avoided eye contact. Look where that had gotten me.

“I suppose that was rude of me. Of course, we’ve met before.” The look in his eye added fear to my physical pain. “Unofficially.”

“I don’t understand.” I wanted to keep him talking. Adrenaline surged, bringing clarity to my situation. My skin heated from the inside.

“Uh.” He sighed, indicating that he had a long story to catch me up on. A long story was good. In a few more minutes, I might be able to call out for help or be discovered by the Marshals. Maybe even run.

“I made a promise. You for her.”

I looked back at Sara lying motionless on the icy ground. I didn’t know if she was dead or alive. I hadn’t had a chance to check for a heartbeat. What would happen if I left her? I couldn’t take her with me. We needed help.

“Come with me, and the Austins can go on. Your entourage will be here soon. Choose.”

I teetered. Could I stall long enough?

“You’re a clever girl. I counted on that, too. Here you are. Now, what will it be? You or her?” He moved to Sara’s side, squatted beside her, and pulled a giant hunting knife from his inside coat pocket.

“Where will we go?” My eyes scanned the area. Could I leave a trail? I didn’t have time or materials.

“Someplace you love.” He lifted Sara’s limp torso by her hair. She didn’t flinch. Her arms hung loosely at her sides. Nicholas would blame me if she died. I would, too. This was my chance to be someone’s hero. My turn to look out for someone else. After a lifetime of others protecting me, I owed the Austins this much.

“Don’t hurt her.”

He released her hair and she flopped to the snowy ground. “Off we go then.” He motioned for me to walk. A helicopter chopped the air above us, swaying evergreens and leafless trees alike.

“No place to land.” He didn’t sound upset. At least the Marshals were close. Sara wouldn’t freeze to death, and I had a chance.

“Through the thicket.” He pressed his body against my back, and a sick feeling washed over me. He forced me through dense, thorny vines and low-hanging branches that clung to my clothes and stung my cheeks. His breath filled the air around me, and his knife punctured my jacket when I stopped to move a batch of brush.

“Ah.” I whimpered. His knife had broken the skin on my back.

“Keep moving or it goes deeper.”

I wrapped one arm around my waist, pinching my side where the skin burned. Beyond the thicket was an abandoned lot, overgrown with weeds and filled with tents and lean-tos. Two dozen homeless men and women huddled, warming their hands over fires in brown rusty barrels. Miles directed me to a beat-up Chevy and unlocked the trunk.

“Get in.”

The trunk reeked of gasoline and motor oil. Tears blurred my vision. Another helicopter beat in the distance. None of the men and women made eye contact with us. Surrounded by people and no one helped. I climbed over the crumbling bumper and lowered myself into the filthy space.

He nodded in approval.

“I’m claustrophobic. I can ride in the car. I won’t be any trouble,” I pleaded, using the calmest voice I had. He hadn’t bound me. I could get away if I was vigilant. Careful. Fast. Seated in the trunk, I wished I’d made a run for it instead of complying. I could’ve run into the crowd and begged them to take notice. He couldn’t kill them all and at least then someone would have seen me. Instead, I was a ghost, the whisper of a girl passing through and then gone.

“This will help with the ride.” He pressed a cloth to my face, and I fought against the tide of sweetly scented material until my mind floated away from my body and the world went black.

“Your dad’s not the leave-a-key-under-the-mat kind.” Miles leaned me against his body and closed the trunk. My muscles ached like I’d been beaten or in a terrible car accident. My head hurt. How much damage had the chemical on the cloth done to my brain cells, not to mention inhaling gasoline and oil fumes for who knew how long? The sun had just set when I climbed into the trunk. The world around me was near black now.

“Move, or I’ll carry you,” he whispered against my cheek before planting a kiss in my hair.

My dead feet shuffled forward. We stopped at a too-familiar door and Miles jammed his elbow through the window. “No key,” he added by way of explanation. He reached into the window and the knob turned.

The door swung wide, revealing a thousand bittersweet memories. My tummy coiled and my heart clenched. “Our cabin.”

“Poetic, I think. He brought you here to keep you safe. I did not.” Miles shut the door and shoved me onto the couch, barely a silhouette in the night-darkened room. “My turn to make some memories with you.”

He powered up the lantern near the door and returned to me. He tied my right arm and leg to the wooden framework of the couch that my great granddad had made. My mother’s afghan lay across the back.

His fingers worked over the twine around my wrists. I recognized the knot he made. My dad had used it when we camped.

“Time for a fire. Where do you keep the matches?”

“Kitchen.” He would’ve found them anyway. I wanted him to trust me. See me as a person, not a conquest he had chased for a decade. I struggled against the ties, blinking through tears. Why did he have to bring me here? This was my place. My safe place. Mom had been here.

The fire started with some coaxing. Orange and blue flames licked into the chimney, casting an evil glow over everything in sight, soiling my sweet memories. I couldn’t die here. Absently, I wondered if I did, would I be with her again?

Another thought shot through me like gunfire. He had known about this place all along. No one would look here for me. Hope died in my chest. At least Sara was safe.