Depth Perception (38 page)

“I promise not to tell anyone what you've told me."

He laughed. "You think I'm pretty stupid, don't you?"

"I think you need help."

"Walk.” Putting his hand between her shoulder blades, he shoved her hard enough to make her stumble. "We don't have much time."

Because she didn't have a choice, Nat obeyed. But her thoughts were already jumping ahead to escape. If she could find a way to distract him. she could make a run for it. If she could put some distance between them, maybe she could find the highway and flag down a motorist.

She thought of Nick and wondered if they'd put him in a cell or if he was still being questioned. She wondered if he'd realized she was missing. But even if he had, she knew he was in no position to help her.

Her thoughts shot to Faye. Nat had been on the phone with her when Travis showed up at her door. Nat had told her she would call her right back. Had Faye become worried when the call didn't come? Or had she gone back to sleep, totally unaware that Nat was in trouble?

Another layer of fear settled over her when she realized there was no one she could count on to help her. Nat was alone and at the mercy of a madman with no one to rely on but herself.

The rain was little more than a drizzle, but the foliage was dripping, and within minutes she was soaked. The air had grown cold, bringing a rise of fog. At some point she had begun to shiver, great shudders that racked her body from head to toe.

Around them, the bayou sang a soulful predawn chorus of frogs and crickets and the cadence of water dripping onto leaves. Mud sucked at her feet as she continued down the path. She was aware of Travis behind her, holding the spotlight steady on the path ahead. She wondered what he had planned for her. Was he going to beat her to death with the baton? Tie her up and leave her to die like an animal?

She slowed her pace slightly, all the while watching the shadows along the path for a trail she could dash into and run. She was in good physical condition. It was still dark. She had the element of surprise on her side. If she could get a head start, maybe she could put some distance between them and hide.

The thought had barely formed in her mind when she spotted the fork in the trail ahead. The main path went right, but there was a vague impression of a narrow, overgrown trail to the left. Praying she wasn't making a mistake that would only hasten her death, Nat started to go right, then dodged left at the last second and leapt into a dead run.

Chapter 28

Arranging for bail seemed to take forever, and by the time Nick and Faye arrived at Nat's house, he was climbing out of his skin. Faye had tried to call Nat four times in two hours, but had yet to get an answer. When they pulled into the driveway and found the house dark, Nick got a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Where the hell was she?

Faye had barely brought her Volkswagen to a halt when he swung open the door and sprinted to the house. He took the steps to the porch in a single leap, crossed to the door. His heart began to pound when he found the door unlocked. And he knew they weren't going to find Nat inside.

He shoved the door open. "Nat!"

The house was eerily silent and dark as a cave. Nick felt around for the wall switch, but when he flipped it, nothing happened. "Damn it."

Faye came in behind him. "Storm must have taken out the electricity,"

"I'm going to see if I can find a flashlight."

"I think there's one in the kitchen drawer." She pushed past him and headed toward the dining area. "Candles, too."

Nick trailed her to the kitchen and watched as Faye went to a drawer and began to rummage. An instant later, a light flicked on. He reached for the flashlight. "I'm going to check the rest of the house. Light some candles, will you?"

"Sure thing."

He was halfway through the living room when she screamed. He found her in the kitchen, kneeling, a candle in her hand. "What is it?" he asked, but even from where he stood, he could see the primitive words scrawled onto the tile.

He shone the beam on the floor.

Travis.  Office.  Map.

"Oh, my God." Faye's gaze met Nick's. "That's blood."

He knelt, touched the grotesque letter with his fingertip. "Still wet."

"What does it mean?"

"It means she's in trouble." Stepping over the bloody letters, he started toward the living room. "Stay put."

He took the stairs two at a time, then moved silently down the hall, calling out her name, shining the light in each room as he passed, finding nothing. He entered Nat's room. He could still smell her. He shone the light on the bed where the sheets were still rumpled from their lovemaking. The memory of everything they'd shared flashed in his mind's eye. The wave of emotion that followed made his chest so tight he could barely draw a breath. She had to be all right. God would not take something precious from him twice in his life . . .

"Did you find anything?"

He started at the sound of Faye's voice, turned the beam of light to see her standing at the doorway. "She's not here," he said.

She stepped into the room and looked around. "Any idea where she might be?"

Because he didn't have a clue, Nick directed the flashlight beam around the room, looking for anything that might tell him where she'd gone or who she was with. Something out of place on the dresser mirror caught his attention. He steadied the beam on the mirror, and the hairs at his nape stood straight up.

Uncle Travis  Mad  Danger.

"What the hell?"

"Blood?" Faye asked.

Nick walked to the dresser, touched the red letters with his fingertips. "Lipstick."

"She must have had two seizures before she left. What do you think it means?"

He glanced at Faye. "In the past, almost every trance writing incident has been focused on protecting someone from harm."

"You think Travis Ratcliffe is in some kind of danger?"

"Maybe," But that didn't feel right. Nick studied the words on the mirror. "Or maybe it's a warning."

"Travis?" Faye whispered.

Cold, hard fear pounded through Nick at the thought. Ratcliffe was one of Bellerose's most upstanding citizens. He was the son of a renowned televangelist. A doctor. The parish coroner. All of those things would be the perfect cover for murder.

The realization struck him like a punch. Reaching out, he leaned against the dresser, bile flooding his throat, his mind reeling. "She's with Travis," he said.

Faye was already digging her cell phone from her bag. "You don't think he'll hurt her, do you?"

"Call the Ratcliffes," Nick said. "Find out if Nat is there."

Her hand shook as she punched numbers and put the phone to her ear. The seconds ticked by like hours. Nick felt as if he were coming apart inside. He couldn't image Travis Ratcliffe hurting children or wanting to hurt Nat. Surely they were wrong about this.

"Hello? Bernard? Hi, this is Faye Townsend." She looked at Nick. "Yes, I was very sorry to hear about Hunt. Can you tell me if Nat Jennings is there? No?" She grimaced. “Has she been there?" Her brows rose. "She called? When?" Faye looked at her watch. "Okay. Um . . . is Travis there?" Even in the dim light from the flashlight. Nick saw her expression change, her complexion go pale. "No one knows where he is? How long has he been gone?" She nodded. "I see. Thank you. And please give my best to Elliott."

She clicked off the phone, giving Nick a knowing look. "Nobody has seen Travis for a couple of hours."

The words shook Nick, drove home his worst fear. Taking Faye's arm, he guided her toward the door. "Listen to me. I want you to call Alcee Martin. Tell him everything. About the trance writing. About what we found here. Tell him we believe Travis killed Hunt. That he is a murderer and he has Nat."

Breaking away from her, Nick started down the hall at a jog.

"Where are you going?" she called out.

“I’m going to find her before Travis kills her."

#   #   #

Nat ran blindly through the darkness and rain, bursting through wet foliage and brush at a reckless speed. Branches tore at her face and clothes, but she didn't slow down. She could hear Travis behind her, cursing and screaming at her, terrifyingly near. But running with her hands tied behind her back had proven a lot more difficult than she'd imagined. Her balance was off. She couldn’t seem to get up her speed. One wrong move, and he would be upon her.

"Don't you run from me you fucking bitch!"

Travis's voice sounded maniacal in the dense silence of the forest. If there had been any doubt in her mind that he was insane, this moment put that doubt to bed. Travis Ratcliffe was an out-of-control madman. And if he caught her, he was going to kill her.

"I'm going to get you. I'm going to make you pay."

Choking back a sound of pure terror, Nat left the trail. She plowed through brush and tangled vines. Branches slashed her face as she plummeted down a small incline. Too late she realized she'd entered some sort of bog. She sank into mud up to her ankles. She lost a shoe, but she muscled her way through the bog and up the opposite bank. She'd just reached the top when her foot caught on something. A root growing out of the bank. She was running so fast, her own momentum slammed her face down hard enough to take her breath.

Expecting Travis to fall upon her at any moment, Nat rolled, then raised her head just enough to see over the top of a fan palm. Less than ten feet away, he stood motionless as if listening. She could see his breaths puffing out as he swept the surrounding area with the spotlight.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he called.

Nat squeezed her eyes closed and tried desperately to control her labored breathing. Sinking into the grass, she pressed her face to the ground. But she knew it was only a matter of time before he spotted her.

Oh, dear God, help me.

The rain was coming down in earnest now. She was soaked to the skin. Mud covered her clothes, but she barely noticed the cold or wet. Hoping the tempo of the rain would help conceal any noise, she began to inch toward a thick briar patch. If she could reach it before he found her, she might be able to hide.

The beam of the flashlight played over the dead trunk of a tree less than a foot away from her. Nat froze, terrified he'd spotted her. But after a moment the light continued on. She could hear him screaming incoherently. She tried to block the sound of his voice. She did not want to think about what he was capable of. Or what he would do to her if he got his hands on her again.

"Natalie! You bitch!"

She was less than two feet from the relative safety of the briar patch when the beam from the flashlight fell upon her. The sound of heavy footsteps pounding through mud sent her bolt upright. Out of the comer of her eye she saw Travis running toward her. She caught an impression of murderous eyes. Lips peeled back in a snarl.

This is it,
she thought.
He's going to kill me.

She tried to scramble to her feet, but her hound hands hampered her, and by the time she got to her knees he was upon her. "I'm going to make you pay for doing this to me!" he roared.

She didn't see the blow coming. Pain like she'd never felt before exploded at the small of her back. She felt her right leg give. A scream tore from her throat as she fell forward. The son of a bitch had hit her with the baton. He was going to do it again if she didn't stop him. Twisting onto her back, she lashed out with both legs.

"Get away from me!" she screamed.

Her foot connected Solidly with his groin. He doubled over, hut Nat knew the pain wouldn't stop him for long. She lined up for another kick. But before she could nail him a second time, he raised the baton and brought it down with bone-crunching force against her right shin.

Nat felt the bone crack. A scream of agony burst from her throat. She forgot about getting away from him and closed her eyes against an undulating shock wave of pain that rolled through her body. She tried to curl, but it was difficult with her hands tied. And so for several unbearable seconds she lay on her side, her uninjured leg drawn up to her chest, the other stretched out in front of her.

"I told you what would happen if you crossed me."

Nauseous from the pain, Nat opened her eyes and looked up at him, hatred and pain choking her. "Stay away from me."

"Get up."

“Travis, for God's sake ... I think my leg is broken."

He stared down at her, his face dispassionate. "You should have considered the consequences before you ran away. Natalie. Now get the fuck up, or I swear I'll break the other one and drag you."

Knowing he was demented enough to do it, she rolled onto her side and struggled to a sitting position. Travis leaned over and grasped her beneath her shoulders. She tried not to jar her injured leg as he pulled her to her feet, but it was impossible. A cry of pain escaped her when her foot touched the ground.

"Put your weight on it,” he said.

She glanced over at him. He was staring at her leg, the flashlight in one hand, the baton in the other. Fearing he would hit her again, she eased some of her weight onto her foot. The ensuing pain wrenched a groan from her. “It's broken," she said. "I can't walk."

His eyes were alight with an emotion she couldn't begin to understand. It was as if he were drawing some sort of twisted satisfaction from her pain and fear. And for the first time she seriously considered the possibility that her life would end here and now, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

Hopelessness pressed into her. She could feel her heart bucking and leaping in her chest. Trembling uncontrollably, she looked around. They were surrounded by trees and the thick tangle of undergrowth. The urge to run was strong, but she knew she wouldn't make it two steps before he stopped her.

She jolted when he came up beside her and pulled her arm around his shoulder. "Put your weight on me," he said. "Let's walk."

Fearing he would explode into violence if she refused, Nat obeyed. She hated being close to him. Hated the smell of his wet hair and expensive cologne. But she endured it, and for several minutes the only sound came from their feet against the wet ground as they struggled through the forest. The pain in her leg was bad, like a chisel clanging against her bone.