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Authors: Dahlia West

Shooter (Burnout) (48 page)

BOOK: Shooter (Burnout)
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She gripped the doorknob and twisted. Suddenly, a hand clamped down over her shoulder. “FILTHY WHORE!” he shouted, spitting blood into her face. Hayley screamed and dropped the knife.

 

 

 

Hayley’s eyes flew open and the sound of her own screaming filled the small cabin. The knife really did fall. That much was real. She’d taken it with her to the chair to rest and she’d dropped it during her nightmare. She scooped it up, sobbing all the while. Her feet were bare, that was real too. She winced as she slid her shoes on in spite of the cut on the sole of her foot. She was done taking chances. Unable to sleep anymore, she turned the chair to face the window and waited for the sun to rise. When it did, she shuffled to the front door.

 

The air was cool outside and the weather was decent. That was something, at least. The cabin was situated at the end of a long, dirt drive, and that was the easiest part to navigate. Unfortunately, she saw no other cabins as she trekked down the hill. She stopped when she came to a crossroads.

 

There were no signs. No indicators of which way led toward civilization. She might not even be in South Dakota anymore. Wyoming wasn’t that far away and she’d been unconscious for a long time. It would be just a guess. She turned East, for no good reason that she could think of, and just put one injured foot in front of the other. Chris wasn’t dead, she assured herself. Not even injured. It was all lies. Now all she had to do was find him. She had no idea how long it was before she saw the silhouette of a similar cabin up ahead.

 

As she got closer, a sign out front said “Rental Office” and Hayley had to force herself to keep from sobbing in relief. She shuffled up the wooden steps of the small building and pushed open the door. A man in a John Deere hat was perched on a stool behind a counter. He glanced up from his magazine and blinked at her.

 

Hayley took a deep breath, about to speak, when the man shouted, “Bert!”

 

She flinched and took a step back.

 

“What?” came a loud voice from the closed door behind him. Hayley took another step back toward the front door. The door behind the counter swung open and apparently Bert was a woman, not a man, because a rounded, blonde haired older woman stepped into the lobby. “Now what on Earth-” she began, glaring at the man but then her eyes fixed on Hayley. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

 

Both of them turned to look at the muted television mounted in the corner of the lobby. Hayley followed their gaze and was perplexed to see a familiar face looking back at her from the screen.

 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” the woman proclaimed again.

 

“Well, while you’re calling them,” the man said, “might wanna put a call into Hal Klines. Might get a quicker response.”

 

The woman fumbled for a phone hanging on the wall behind her. She dialed a number, or attempted to, had to hang up and dial again. “Rose!” she practically shouted into the phone. “Rose, get the Sheriff!”

 

Hayley turned her attention to the smiling young woman on Channel Five who had her smile but no trace of sadness in her eyes.

 

*******************

 

Caleb had gone outside to meet a squad car that pulled up. It seemed that the officers assigned to the house were changing shifts. Chris picked up the phone to try Hayley’s cell again with Caleb burst back through the door. “They found her!”

 

Hawk, Tex, and Easy scrambled out of their seats.

 

“Is she alive?” Easy blurted out.

 

“Yes,” Caleb said, “but she’s hurt.”

 

“How badly?” Chris demanded, practically sprinting to the door.

 

“I don’t know,” Caleb admitted. “The dispatcher didn’t say.”

 

Instead of taking the truck, all of them piled into two RCPD squad cars that peeled away from the curb as soon as the doors shut. It was over a hundred miles an hour this time, as well, but at least they had the benefit of lights and sirens this time.

 

It was farther from Rapid City to Lead than it was from RC to Sturgis and Chris was white-knuckling it the whole way. Caleb even pulled his cruiser up to the ER doors rather than park to let Chris and Tex out.

 

Chris sprinted through the doors and sought out the triage nurse. He had to explain who he was twice and she still wasn’t inclined to let them through until Caleb showed up, having parked the car, and flashed his badge. Everyone except Chris stayed behind and Caleb escorted him through the secure doors.

 

A doctor and a Sheriff were speaking in hushed tones in the hallway and Caleb strode purposefully toward them. He flashed his badge again and both men eyed Caleb and Chris. The doctor introduced himself as the one who’d treated Hayley when she first arrived in the Emergency Room. The Sheriff introduced himself as Hal Klines from here in Lead. Caleb introduced Chris as Hayley’s fiancee, which caused some suspicion since the media had only released her real name and photo. Caleb had to explain that Hayley was in hiding from the very man who’d taken her and that seemed to garner some sympathy from both men. Chris didn’t argue about the fiancee part since he knew it would give him greater access to Hayley.

 

Caleb remained silent and melted into the background as the Doctor described Hayley’s injuries to Chris. The Doctor kept his voice low. “She says she wasn’t raped,” he told Chris, as well as the Sheriff who was still with them. “But the nurse found blood in her underwear. So far she’s refusing a rape kit. She’s exhausted and traumatized and she’s resting right now.”

 

“Where is he?” Chris demanded. “How did she get away?” If he was still out there, he could try for her again. And Lead Regional wasn’t as secure as a hospital in a larger city.

 

The Sheriff looked grim. “Well, based on the reports of my deputies when they checked out the cabin, I’d say traumatized about fits the bill. He’s dead, Mr. Sullivan. Apparently she was forced to stab him to death with some broken glass. Now that’s a helluva thing for a woman, for anyone, to have to do. But he’s ‘caught’, so-to-speak. He’s right where he needs to be. So if she needs to take her time coming to terms with what happened, well, she’s got time.”

 

Chris nodded, thanked the Doctor and the Sheriff and ducked into the private room.

 

She was lying in bed, eyes closed, face toward the window. She looked so...damaged...was the first word that came to his mind. She’d clearly been struck full force in the face judging by the bruise on her cheek and her right hand was bandaged.

 

“Baby,” he said softly.

 

She opened her eyes and turned her head to him. He felt his entire body relax. Until now he hadn’t let himself believe it was over. Not even when Doc had announced she’d been found. It wasn’t until he could see her that he’d allow himself to let go of all the fear, anxiety, and rage he’d been holding in.

 

Hayley’s bottom lip trembled and tears started to well up in her eyes. This finally jerked Chris out of his stupor. He jumped forward, toward the bed. “Hey. Hey, now,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and cupping her swollen face in his hand. “It’s over, Hayley. He’s gone. I’m here.”

 

She struggled to sit up and when she did he put his arms around her. She cried into his shoulder and all his guilt surged up again. He hated that he couldn’t protect her, hadn’t protected her, even though he’d sworn he would. And here she was, having to pick up the pieces all over again.

 

“It doesn’t feel like it’s over,” she sobbed.

 

Chris tightened his hold on her. “That’s because it just happened. It’ll take time, baby. But he can’t hurt you anymore. That much is absolutely true.”

 

She pulled away from him and gingerly wiped face. He winced inwardly, knowing how much pain she was in physically as well as emotionally. He hated that he could take away neither.

 

“I want to go home,” she told him.

 

And those words, while not “She’s dead,” or “I don’t think we’ll ever find her,” put a knife into his own heart all the same. Because all he had to do was look into her eyes to see which home she meant.

 

Steeling himself against the ever-expanding pain in his chest, he nodded to her. “I’ll call them, baby. They’ll be here soon.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 37

 

 

Chris zipped up his jacket on his way toward his Harley. It was September now, the leaves were turning, and though the afternoons were nice, the evenings were getting colder. It was dark now every night when he forced himself to finish up at the garage and head home. He straddled the Harley and fired up the engine. He rolled out of the Burnout parking lot, but instead of turning right, he turned his now-usual left and gunned the engine.

 

The lights of the city gave way to long shadows. He passed rolling fields, dimly lit by the flood lights of barns nestled back from the road. He headed toward the hills that he knew were there but couldn’t see in the dark. He’d driven this way enough times now in the last two weeks to know it, even by moonlight. He wound his way up the hills, through the brush pine. The road was gravel not paved and would require snow chains to navigate in just a few months.

 

He nosed the bike off the county road and up a small one lane drive, climbing higher in the hills outside Rapid City. His approach triggered motion lights mounted high on both sides. He rolled to a stop in the circular drive and killed the Harley’s engine.

 

It was a two story log cabin, built in the 40’s. And frankly, it looked it. He was honest about that. Easy had taken one look at it and declared it a roach motel. But then the sullen younger man had put on his work gloves and helped Chris pull up the baseboards that had cracked over the years.

 

In the weeks since her parents had taken her back to Raleigh, Chris had spent his nights driving around. Sometimes in town. Sometimes on the open road. Occasionally exploring the back roads that threaded through the hills. It was better being in an empty house. Pepper was still there, but seeing her only reminded him that Sarah wasn’t.

 

They guys had taken to calling her that, when they asked about her, which was pretty frequently at first, but had dwindled now only occasionally. They weren’t blind to the fact that the longer Sarah was gone, the more surly their former Lieutenant had gotten.

 

It hadn’t taken more than a week of night exploration for Chris to finally realize what it was he was really doing. He was scoping out houses. His own house was forever tainted from the moment Markham had pulled up in front. Even if Sarah never returned, Chris couldn’t continue to live there. So when aimless driving had given way to actual searching, he looked for places that she would love.

 

He’d chosen the cabin even before he’d gone inside it. It was uninhabited, a For Sale sign pounded into the gravel driveway. He’d found it at night and its distance from the city proper meant that the stars shone above the dwelling like diamonds against velvet. A high rock wall rose behind it making the driveway the only point of approach, which appealed to Chris’ Army Ranger instincts. It had a two car garage on the side and a large overhanging porch on the second floor. He couldn’t bring himself to say out loud that Slick would love it, but he knew she would.

 

He’d hassled the realtor the next day to get a walk-through. He’d over looked the aging wallpaper, the cracked linoleum in the kitchen, and the crumbling fireplaces, one in the living room and one in the master bedroom, and told her he’d make an offer. He returned with the boys three days later for the inspection. Whatever Hawk thought of the place, he kept it to himself and Tex busied himself with inspecting the overhanging covered porch on the second floor. Only Easy turned his nose up at the place. “Shooter,” the younger man intoned. “You’re not really going to drop half a mil on this place.”

 

As it turned out the inspection turned the tide Chris’ way. The house needed a lot of work, but it was structurally sound. The owner lowered the asking price considerably and Chris signed the papers two weeks later. Now, instead of driving around avoiding home every night, he went straight to his new home and spent the evening hours fixing the place.

 

He bought a bed for the Master bedroom. A four poster romantic affair that couldn’t have been further from his own style. But is style wasn’t important anymore. The bed was delivered and he considered the room “finished” until further notice. He then turned his attention to the kitchen, ripping out cabinets and tearing up the floor. This, in his opinion, was the most important room in the house and he wanted it perfect.

BOOK: Shooter (Burnout)
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