Protective Instincts (25 page)

"Coming?"

Brit came to life and scrambled in. She shut the door as the motor raced. Wide garage doors raised as the derelict car approached them.

"Hang on. We'll be discovered in seconds." As she said it, it happened. Porch and yard lights barely beat the men who appeared at the front door. "They'll follow us and they'll warn Sam and Drew. Want to change your mind?"

"Not a chance." Brit fumbled for a seat belt. The shocks, if there were any, were put to the test.

Esther shifted smoothly while pushing the car to racetrack speed. She laughed when Brit hung on to the seat. There was enough light to tell her they were going too fast for the drive and then for the dirt road they entered on two wheels.

"Sorry there aren't any seatbelts. We never replaced the ones the boys cut up. This baby taught us all to drive. Even Sean learned with her. Daddy and Matt planned to restore her, but haven't had time. By the time Matt has a kid, if he and Becky ever do, this darlin' will have time to age again."

Brit finally relaxed her clenched fists and tried to breathe normally. "You've been planning our escape." Esther nodded. "How long?"

"Since I was fourteen." She laughed. "Once Sam let me drive a tractor, I started plotting ways to sneak out."

"You didn't."

"Sure, I did." Esther downshifted smoothly to a stop at the blacktop road. "Drew and I used the same plan when we were grounded. We were only caught half the time, until Luke and Daddy put in all the outside lights. They made my goodnight kisses rough on dates, kinda too public."

Brit laughed. "You slowed down on the real road, 'fraid the cops would object to racing speed?"

"Yeah, something like that. So, where to?"

"I think --" Her cell phone chimed.

"Gonna answer it?" Esther glanced at the clock, which actually worked. Ten after ten o'clock.

"I'm supposed to be on my way to the Waffle House."

She checked the messages, Sam's number.

It chimed again. She didn't answer it.

Esther's phone rang. "Yes?" She looked at her companion. "Sorry, we don't need any life insurance." She disconnected. "Daddy and Luke have reported on our escape."

"What did Sam say?"

"You figure it was Sam?"

"I could hear him all the way over here."

"The Mustang has left your house. An older model, green truck pulled in behind it and is following it at a discreet distance. An agent picked up the truck and Mustang at the main intersection and followed them."

"Well, got any bright ideas?"

"I say we keep going. I'm in the mood to kick some ass. We still have at least thirty minutes before you're supposed to meet the man. I say we head for the farm Julie described."

Esther's phone rang again. "Well?"

She shook her head. "Uh-huh."

She glanced at Brit, made a face. "Um hm, okay."

She slammed the steering wheel. "No way, pal."

"Drew?"

"Of course. My brothers are predictable and protective, and bossy as Hell, if nothing else. They've always been like that. Got it from our daddy."

Brit's phone chimed. She waited, and then checked the voice mail.

"Brit, I don't want you in danger! Stay clear of trouble. We've covered the Waffle House and the Drake place. There's no way you can help. I'll slip in and sneak Julie out while Drake's away to meet you. You and Esther need to go back home where you'll be safe. Even if he realizes we're waiting here for him, he won't go to our farm. Don't be mule-headed."

Esther answered her own phone before Brit finished the message.

She held it away from her ear. "Please tell my stubborn woman I love you both. Go the Hell home! Please, please go where you'll be safe."

"We love you, too. Be careful." Esther disconnected.

"I think we need to go to the Three Creek Baptist Church Julie mentioned. We can watch the traffic from there and be near if Julie needs us. Head for 78 and Peach County."

"Look in my pack," Esther switched on the inside light. "Check the inside pockets.

Brit opened the pack, then unzipped a pocket. "Holy sh --" She pulled out a small pistol and shells.

Esther glanced her way again. "Now the other pocket."

Brit found another small handgun. "Good God, Esther. Are these both yours?"

"Did you forget my brother is a cop? Of course they're mine. For now, one is yours." She paused when she heard Brit's loud intake of breath. "You can shoot, can't you?"

* * * *

Julie searched the house for weapons she could hide. Three dull kitchen knives, she stuffed in places in her clothes she hoped wouldn't poke her. The grocery bags Douglas had left held flashlights and batteries.

She grabbed several plastic bags to stuff together and donned the old, musty smelling, woman's jacket over an old sweater she'd found hanging on a nail in the pantry. She grabbed two water bottles and an unopened pack of crackers and a package of cheese. To those she added a small towel and two forks.

She'd checked the outbuildings for a way to leave, but no old cars or tractors waited. Only in the movies would that happen. The pitchfork would do as a walking stick, or as a weapon, if she needed one.

On the way out, she grabbed candles and a box of matches. It was dark enough to make walking around scary, but not as scary as having Douglas find her here when he returned. Afraid to follow the road, she walked through the wooded area beside the driveway. She crept toward the old road, praying night animals wouldn't bother her.

"God, please don't let him find me." She moved slowly until she reached the dirt road. Jogging along the road's edge for a short while, she listened for a car engine. The night was quiet, except for the crickets and night noises. She hadn't heard such quiet since she and Brit had camped out during their teen years. A hoot owl scared ten years off her life.

"I'm not afraid of ghosts," she mumbled as a mantra until she didn't need to think to say the words. She sing-songed under her breath, "Lions and tigers and bears, oh my."

She saw the lights coming toward her from the direction of the highway and heard the engine at the same time. Thankful for the trees and bushes lining the road, she scrambled behind cover.

Bats flew from the trees' lower branches overhead, nearly sending her back onto the road. She tried to slow her breathing to normal. The truck was dark inside as it passed. By the time the truck passed, she could hear her blood pounding in her ears. The taillights became red pinpoints, then faded into the night.

What if that was Douglas? The way he kept changing vehicles she couldn't be sure. She waited until she was sure the driver hadn't spotted her and turned around to come back. She scrambled back onto the road, thankful for her protective jeans.

* * * *

Sam prayed Esther and Brit would go back home where his father and Luke could protect them. Briggs hadn't wanted him to go along, but had finally relented when Sam had promised to stay out of the way.

Officer Briggs and his partner would meet the Peach County Sheriff's men, since the house was in their jurisdiction, and go from there.

Drew and an FBI agent had circled the block and followed Douglas and the Mustang. There should be no problem if the women would just stay away.

"Should we have someone stop the VW and detain the women?" Sam asked Drew over his cell phone.

"Who knows where they are? Esther knows these roads like the back of her hands. She could have taken any number of shortcuts to wherever she thinks they need to wait."

"Yeah, I know."

"Did she mention whether she has her guns?"

"No, but you know she does. At least she knows how to shoot as well as either of us." Sam shrugged when Briggs and his partner turned in the front seats to look at him. "I don't know about Brit, though. Damn it!"

The unmarked police car pulled in behind the Three Creek Baptist Church and met a Peach County Sheriff's car. At least they knew where Douglas was, for now. Sam champed at the bit while the lawmen spread out a large paper and pointed to spots on it. Detective Briggs, not a small man himself, was nearly dwarfed by the uniformed county cops. These men must have grown up pulling the plows, instead of driving tractors.

When the deputy turned away from the car and spat, Sam was sure he was right.

By the time the lawmen separated to their own cars, Sam was anxious as an expectant father. Actually, he wouldn't mind being an expectant father ….

* * * *

Julie felt like she had been walking for hours. Her watch read ten fifty-five. She'd passed three driveways but she had no idea how far the houses were from the road. She saw no lights from the road. Would she lose time going down driveways that might be dead ends? She'd take her chances and hope she could see a house from the road.

She gauged her distance at nearly four miles. She remembered at least three more drives and large fields, and an orchard, between her and the highway.

She'd have to stop unless she could make better time. Lights coming from behind forced her off the road again, behind a pair of fragrant bushes. What was at that end of the road? The racket of the engine was nearly drowned out by the rattling of the old truck. A flatbed truck. An
empty
flatbed truck lumbered past. The windows were down and the driver bellowed a country tune with the radio. Long gray hair flew behind her.

Julie was surprised when her feet moved her toward the back of the truck and some inner force pushed her onto the bed. The truck didn't slow. The driver continued to bellow the country tune. Julie flattened herself against hard boards and thanked God for the help. She prayed the odd-looking driver wouldn't notice her stowaway.

* * * *

Teacher drives that Mustang like a little old lady. Doesn't she know how to appreciate a fine machine? Wonder if she'd drive differently if she realized this could be her last night to enjoy it? Yep, turn right. How long is she gonna crawl along?

The sooner he met his target at the Waffle House, the sooner he could take her out in the woods and kill her. He watched the classic car ease to a traffic light.

"Damned light's green, keep moving. Ah, shit, yellow. What the Hell?" he muttered. His quarry's exhaust belched out as it zoomed through a red light. Slamming on brakes, Douglas cursed. She couldn't have done that on purpose.

"What the Hell? She can't know I'm following her." Sweat dampened his shirt. He was muttering again, but who would know? "Can't afford to get stopped by cops. Might be at least one intelligent cop who'd recognize me. Just what I need."

An older, green truck turned in front of his and behind the Mustang that had left him standing. A white rattletrap followed. By the time the light turned green, three vehicles separated Douglas from the teacher's car.

He swiped at the sweat now dampening his upper lip and forehead
. Persuading the teacher to follow me to the deserted shack shouldn't take much effort. She and Julie were friends. Too bad they aren't more alike. Doesn't matter. Killing the teacher's a job. Even this killer has honor. Take a job, do the job. That's been my motto and I'll follow through.

The white rattletrap finally turned. Two cars separated him from the Mustang and his prey. Once he offed the teacher, he could take his lady and leave this country and this job. He'd need to get Julie away before she could hear about her friend's death. He'd have to convince her someone else had done the hit. She'd probably never forgive him for killing her friend.

Douglas almost cheered when the green truck turned off. Ten minutes and they'd be at the meeting place. "Well, bitch, not much longer." The old excitement seeped into his bones. His breathing quickened. His palms were damp. He'd do this last job. He'd collect the final installment and make a fast getaway. If he couldn't get to them, he'd settle for what he had.

* * * *

The bed of the old truck rattled, jarring Julie in a monotonous, almost rocking motion. Lulled to an exhausted trace-like state, she almost missed the right turn onto the highway. Wind chilled her through the sweater and jacket.

Oh, great. What's up ahead? Next stop I get out and try to call Brit. Hope there's a pay phone. Cell battery's gone. How much farther?

The truck slowed. Where? No lights to indicate civilization. She glanced at her watch. Only eleven o'clock. She hadn't dozed as long as she thought she had. A right turn had her scrambling to hide under something. There was nowhere to hide. Preparing to roll off the truck bed, she stopped in her efforts.

"What you doin' on my truck, girl?" A raspy voice came from the cab. The door opened. The wild haired woman slid from the seat to the ground. "Kinda late at night for a female to be walking on a deserted road by herself."

Julie could only stare at the driver. A woman? Her long, wild, white hair and her hands-on-her-hips stance were the only things about her that gave her gender away. Baggy overalls, work boots, and a battered hat could have belonged to an old man.

"You don't need to be scared of me." She must have seen more than Julie could. Actually, she looked like the kind of person who might even smell fear. She was close enough now for Julie to see her faded blue eyes, bracketed by a network of lines and dirt. "Somebody after you, child?"

Julie tried to answer but couldn't get past the fear in her throat. What if this strange looking person knew Douglas? What if she was as bad as Douglas? She definitely looked rough. Julie could see her thin lips moving, but the sounds coming from them seemed like gibberish. Her head weighed a ton. Her limbs froze. The dark night went darker.

* * * *

Sam waited in the patrol car. The radio squawked messages meant for cops all over Florence and the surrounding area, but none addressed his concerns. The detective with Sam made sure he stayed put, while he spoke to the person on the other end of the radio. Sam listened, but only with effort.

Where are Esther and Brit? Haven't heard from them in a while. Can't believe Brit hung up on me. Doesn't she understand I'm trying to keep her out of danger?

How can the cops and I concentrate on saving Julie and capturing Drake if Brit's around? Add Esther to the mix and things will be even more complicated. Now I gotta worry about the woman I love and my sister.