Taming Jesse James (18 page)

Leaving the bag, he walked to her car, and that one little prickle of unease became a whole damn nest of spiders skittering all over him at what he found. Her umbrella, the fancy flowery one he'd kissed her beneath that morning before she left her house, lay closed but not snapped on the ground.

Even more ominous, the car wasn't locked and he could see her keys in a jumbled heap on the seat.

What was going on here? The bag, the umbrella, the keys. They were here, but where the hell was Sarah?

Maybe she'd forgotten something and gone back into the school. But why would she leave her keys and her umbrella out here in the middle of a downpour, especially when he knew the school was always locked at this time of the afternoon?

He was about to bang on the door and scour the building for her when he spied something else in the puddle, a glimmer of white underneath her bag that he'd missed before. He lifted the sopping mess, which turned out to be some kind of homework assignment.

As soon as he read the student's name scrawled in uneven letters at the top, he knew instinctively that Sarah hadn't left this paper separate from the rest by accident. It was a clue to tell him where to find her.

She was in trouble, and it was somehow linked to Corey Sylvester.

Cold, stinging fear clutched his stomach. Could Seth have gotten to her somehow? Damn. He should have put some kind of protection on her. He'd thought they'd have more time before Garrett found out he was under investigation for the shattered windows at her house, the bloody warnings to mind her own business, the attempted break-in a few weeks earlier.

He hadn't arranged protection for her, though, mainly because he was still having a tough time believing Seth could be involved. He had a possible motive—anger at her for accusing him of hurting Corey—but Jesse wasn't convinced he had the personality for revenge.

He'd been working hard to come up with an alternative theory that made sense to explain why the mayor's favorite fishing cap had been found at the scene of a pretty sick crime. Coincidence? Mistake? A plant of some kind?

But how could he argue with this paper staring right back at him? Sarah was in trouble, he could feel it like a deep ache in his bones. What kind of trouble, he didn't know, but the trail led him right back to Seth Garrett.

What would the son of a bitch hope to gain? He didn't know and he couldn't wait around here to figure it out. His heart pounded out a fierce rhythm as he rushed to the Bronco and sped off through the gathering darkness. On the way to the Garretts, he radioed for an officer to search the school grounds and double-check her house, just in case he was wrong and she was safe and sound somewhere.

Even as he gave the order, he knew she wasn't.

Something was wrong. She needed him and this time he couldn't fail.

He didn't bother knocking at the Garretts', just shoved open the unlocked door.

Seth stood poised at the base of the stairs, as if he were just on his way up. Surprise flickered on his face at the intrusion, but Jesse didn't give him a chance to say a word. With adrenaline pumping through him like an uncapped oil well, he grabbed two fistfuls of beige golf shirt and rammed the other man against the wall so hard Seth's head connected with an ugly-sounding crack.

“You son of a bitch. Where is she?” Jesse barely recognized the rough, feral voice coming from his throat

In contrast, Seth's voice came out strangled. “Who? Ginny? She's in the kitchen.”

He gave the man another hard shake. “Where's Sarah? What have you done to her?”

Seth's eyes widened. “Sarah McKenzie? Corey's teacher? I barely know the woman.”

“You know her enough to stalk her. To lurk outside her house and smash in her windows and leave nasty notes on the door.” He shook again. “I know you took her. Now, where is she?”

“You're crazy! I don't know what you're talking about, Jesse. I swear it.”

Drawn by the raised voices, Ginny rushed into the entry. “Jesse! What is going on? Let him go!”

“Stay out of this, Gin.”

“No. Good heavens, Jesse. What's gotten into you?”

“Is she here at the house? Are you hiding her in your garage?”

“Hiding who?” Ginny fluttered her hands. “This is ridiculous!”

“Sarah McKenzie is missing. And the only one I know in Salt River who might have a grudge against her is your husband.”

“You're nuts.” Seth's voice came out raspy. “What kind of grudge would I have against her? Corey's done better in just a few weeks spent in her class than he has all year!”

“How about retaliation for having your good name smeared by allegations of child abuse? You found out she's the one who made the accusation, didn't you?”

Seth's astonishment was either completely genuine or he had a lock on winning best actor of the century. “I had no idea who made the complaint until you just said it. I wouldn't have cared anyway, since it was completely false. I would never hurt Corey or Sarah McKenzie. Come on, Jess. You know me! You know I couldn't do any of this!”

The stunned sincerity in his expression, in his voice, gave Jesse the first flickers of doubt since he'd seen that soggy piece of paper with Corey's name on it. He suddenly realized he was a few moments away from strangling one of his oldest friends.

Could he have made a mistake?

He could barely see through the black haze of rage and worry consuming him at the thought of the nightmare Sarah must be going through. But he considered himself fairly good at reading people, and right now Seth looked stunned.

Jesse reluctantly released his hold and Seth slumped to a pine bench against the wall, rubbing his throat. “What's this about, Jess? Why would you think I'm involved?”

He raked a hand through his hair. What was he supposed to do now? He had to find her and couldn't afford to waste time here with explanations if Seth wasn't involved. What had she been trying to tell him by leaving that damn paper out of her bag?

“You heard about the vandalism at her house?”

“Yes. Betty Ann, my secretary, told me. She heard it from her sister Janie, who works with Sarah at the school. It sounded like a real mess.”

“We found something of yours on the scene. We have reason to believe it was left there by whoever did the dirty work. I had a theory that it might be some kind of twisted revenge thing, but maybe it was just a plant. Something to throw us off.”

“It wasn't me, I swear it.”

Frustration prowled through him, gnawed at him. He wanted to pound his fist against the wall, to smash every single one of Ginny's pretty little knickknacks in the room.

Where was Sarah?

“Somehow her disappearance is linked to Corey. I can feel it in my bones. She left one of his homework assignments out of her bag. It was the only one she pulled out and I know she had to mean something by that. But what? Where the hell can she be?”

He heard a small sound above his head, like the mew of a tiny kitten, and Jesse jerked his gaze to the stairs. Corey stood halfway down, his hand on the railing and his face so pale his freckles stood out in sharp relief.

Ginny stepped forward. “Corey, do you know something about this?”

“Maybe.” His usual screw-you attitude was nowhere in sight. Instead, he just looked like exactly what he was, a young boy—and a frightened one at that.

“What do you know?” his mother asked, when he didn't say anything more.

He swallowed hard and gripped the railing. “You'll be mad if I tell you.”

Seth started up the stairs and laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Son, you have to tell what you know. Ms. McKenzie might be in danger.”

Tears welled up in his eyes. “I didn't think he'd hurt her.”

“Who, Corey?” Jesse pounced on him. “Where is she?”

“You could try Elk Mountain,” he whispered

They all stared at him. “What?” Jesse growled.

“The trailer on Elk Mountain. Where we used to live.”

Ginny hissed in a breath, her face going as pale as her son's. “What are you talking about? That trailer's abandoned. It's just a pile of junk. Why would Sarah possibly go there?”

“I don't know. But if she's missing, I think maybe my dad might have taken her there. That's where he's been living.” Tears welled up in the boy's frightened eyes. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you he was back, Mom. He made me promise not to. Said he'd hurt Maddie or you if I told.”

Hob Sylvester. Son of a bitch. Suddenly Corey's mysterious injuries these past few weeks made a whole lot more sense. “Why would Hob want to hurt Sarah? He doesn't even know her.”

Corey sniffled. “I don't know. He was real mad at her, though. Said she should mind her own business after she had to go and tell 'bout the, um, the thing on my back.”

“He…your father did that to you?” Ginny asked weakly.

Corey looked guilty and miserable at the same time. “When I told him about Seth wanting to adopt me, he got real mad. Said I was a Sylvester and he wouldn't let me ever forget it.”

Jesse didn't wait to hear the rest. He was already heading for the door, a ragged curse on his tongue. Hob Sylvester. He thought of all the calls he'd responded to over the years on Elk Mountain, back when Ginny and Corey lived there. The bruises and the broken bones and the wounds that went far deeper than flesh.

Hob was a crazy, vindictive bully who was capable of anything. Just thinking about his sweet Sarah in the hands of a man like that sent a hot, greasy ball of fear slicking through him.

He had to hurry.

This time—please, God, this time—he wouldn't be too late.

 

“Here we are. End of the road, Teach.”

Sarah tried not to listen to the voice. She was in a safe, warm place where no one could touch her—no one could scare her—and she couldn't let anyone disturb her.

She breathed deeply, shoving the entire weight of her psyche against the door to the terrifying world outside. If only she tried hard enough, she could keep that door closed tightly and could stay right here in this nice, safe, blank nothingness.

“Come on. I ain't got all day.” Someone on the outside grabbed her arm and yanked her out of both the truck and her safe, private haven.

She wobbled a little at the impact of her abrupt return to earth.

“Come on,” Corey's father said, his voice harsh and ugly.

He gripped her arm and started dragging her toward the only structure in sight among the towering trees, a dilapidated trailer with peeling aluminum skin of some nondescript color.

No. This wasn't right. She was supposed to be at her safe little cottage right now with Jesse, not at some junk heap in the middle of nowhere.

“I want to go home,” she muttered.

“Tough,” he snapped. He shoved her hard up the wooden steps. They were wet from the rain and she stumbled on a loose board. She reached a hand to the rickety railing to steady herself, then gasped as splinters drove into her skin.

The sharp pain brought her fully back to the grim reality of her situation. She was on an isolated mountainside with a man who appeared to be drunk at best, completely crazy at worst. Even if Jesse somehow miraculously managed to figure out where they'd gone, it still could be hours before he arrived for her.

She was going to have to save herself.

The idea just about sent her scurrying back to the safe place inside her head.

The flimsy door to the structure wasn't locked and Sylvester shoved her inside. Could he actually live here? It was little better than one of those cardboard boxes the homeless used back in Chicago.

It looked as if someone had tried to make the trailer a home at one time, but the wallpaper was stained with water, the lace curtains tattered and ripped.

Her gaze landed on something familiar. It appeared
she'd just solved the mystery of the school's missing coins. The shattered jar lay in a corner in thick broken shards amid a pile of coins.

So Chuck Hendricks had been right—Corey had been involved in the theft. Or at least his father had been.

She didn't have time to dwell on it. Sylvester shoved her toward a blue-and-gold couch missing most of its stuffing.

Still holding the gun, he immediately reached for yet another bottle on the counter, this one already half-empty, and carried it to the only other piece of furniture in the room, a chair of the same ugly print.

For a few moments he drank and muttered, some disjointed soliloquy about Seth and Ginny and Corey, about how Seth was going to pay for taking from Hob Sylvester. About how the stupid bitch was still his wife, no matter what any judge had to say about it.

She thought she heard Jesse's name in there, but she was only half listening, her nerves quivering as she tried to figure out how she could make it out of there in one piece.

The man obviously wanted revenge, but she wasn't quite sure how she fit into the whole picture. Though she didn't really want to know, she figured the more information she had to rely on, the better her chances of surviving.

She thought of Jesse and the weekend they'd shared, the bright color he had brought to her cold, gray world. She wanted to be in his arms again, to feel wonderfully, miraculously whole again. To tell him how very much she loved him.

She was going to have to survive, no matter what.

“What are you planning to do with me?” She in
terrupted Sylvester's rambling with a calmness that belied the panic surging through her veins.

He blinked at her in surprise—just as if the chair he was sitting on had suddenly started carrying on a conversation—then suddenly smirked at her over the lip of the nearly empty Jack Daniel's bottle. “You're gonna help me, Teach.”

“How?”

“See this?” He held up the gun with a broad smile. “This here belongs to Seth Son-of-a-Bitch Garrett. Registered and everything. Who do you think's gonna get blamed when it happens to be used to commit a crime?”'