The Black Sheep's Redemption (19 page)

The chopper hovered for a brief moment then it banked right and flew off.

Alan relaxed back into the seat and gave a low chuckle.

Tears threatened again.

She’d held her fear in so tight and now that they were almost to Alan’s house, she felt like she might explode. And then she was in the driveway. Turning, she begged, “Please, Alan, let me go. Do you really want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with you?”

The fist that cracked against her face seemed to come from nowhere.

Darkness blanketed her.

TWENTY-ONE

“W
e’ve got them,” Ryan reported from the backseat. “The helicopter spotted the car. Demi was driving and Alan stuck his head out of the window to stare up at the helicopter so the pilot peeled off. But he circled back to see the vehicle turn into the subdivision. The car is now in the garage.”

He’d been right. Charles sat in the passenger seat of Owen’s car and felt some of the horrid fear ease somewhat. They knew where she was. Now they just had to get her away from that madman without him killing her.

Charles looked at Owen who was driving. “Can’t this thing go any faster?”

“I’m already doing a hundred.” The blue lights swirled on the dash and Charles felt the seat belt cut into his shoulder as he leaned forward.

“We’re not going to get there any faster by you giving yourself a heart attack. Sit back and try to get your blood pressure under control.”

Good advice from his brother, but an impossible feat.

He did lean back, but his fists stayed clenched on his thighs. “I just want thirty seconds alone with him.”

Owen nodded. “I know you do, but this guy doesn’t fight fair.”

Charles snorted. “I didn’t exactly have fair in mind.”

“Right.”

Silence descended.

“Local police are at the scene,” Ryan reported. “They’re watching and waiting for us to arrive.”

“Good,” Owen said.

Charles asked, “Have they seen her? Can they get a look through the windows?”

“No, the blinds are pulled and there are heavy curtains over the blinds.”

Charles continued his prayers as they pulled off on the exit that would lead them to Demi.

* * *

Demi groaned. Her head pounded into a migraine so fierce she thought she might die. Nausea swirled and she rolled to her side.

“Demi? Demi? I know you’re awake. I’ve been watching you.”

Memories returned full force. She knew who she was. She knew who Alan Gregor was.

And she knew she was going to die today.

But the way her head felt, dying might be a relief.

Something cool touched her lips.

Water. She took a sip, then another. It tasted bitter and she grimaced. Her stomach rebelled.

Demi let out another pained groan and lay back as gently as possible. “My head,” she whispered.

“I know. But that will pass. I put a mild narcotic in there to help with the pain.” A cool cloth touched her forehead, covered her eyes and for a moment she panicked, but it felt so good, she decided to leave it there. Alan continued in what he probably thought was his soothing voice. “I didn’t want to hit you. But you just made me so mad when you asked me to let you go that I decided you needed some severe discipline in order for you to understand.”

Understand? Understand what?

“Because I will never let you go. And if you ask me again, I will punish you again. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

The headache receded from migraine to just really bad.

“Good.” He sounded satisfied.

“It was you all along,” she whispered. “You were the one in the gray hoodie.”

“Yes. I tracked you down and was determined to bring you back here. Where you belong. You didn’t belong there.”

“And that night, in the bookstore. That was you, too?”

“Yes again. Only I wasn’t fast enough. I didn’t know the layout of the store and you got away from me. Then cops got there so fast…” She could almost picture him shrugging, but didn’t want to open her eyes yet. He said, “And yes, that was my message in the church where you were looking all lovey-dovey at Fitzgerald.”

The hard tone returned to his voice and she knew she needed to get him talking about something else. “Tell me about my parents.”

“I’ve never met them. One day, once you’ve accepted your position here with me, I will allow you to introduce us.”

The nausea faded a bit and she pulled in a relieved breath.

“You have some color back in your cheeks. Feeling better?” he asked.

“No.”

A quiet sigh filtered to her ears. “I’ll give you a few more minutes, then we can talk again.”

Talking was about the last thing she wanted to do right now.

Unless it was with Charles.

She heard Alan’s footsteps recede then the quiet click of the door.

The slamming of the dead bolt jolted her and the cloth slipped from her eyes onto the bed where she lay. Still she kept her eyes shut.

Her entire face hurt. Her cheek, her jaw. Her head.

Everything.

Going by feel, she picked up the cloth and placed it against her throbbing cheek. With every heartbeat, pain pulsed.

But she couldn’t lie there. She needed to find a way out of—

Where was she?

Pulling the cloth from her eyes, she squinted, wincing at the shaft of agony caused by the light.

Ignoring the pain, she sat up and did her best to take in her surroundings.

She was in a bedroom. Whose? Alan’s? She shuddered. The furniture appealed to her taste, though. Not terribly masculine, but not overly feminine, either. Demi had the awful thought that he’d actually picked it out with her in mind. Another shiver racked her.

She frowned and let her eyes wander from the dresser to the door.

Then back to the window.

She slid gently from the bed, keeping one hand on the edge to keep her balance. Standing, she swayed, caught herself then stayed still until the room stopped spinning and the lightning-sharp pain dulled to a jackhammer throb.

“Please, Lord…” she whispered as she stumbled to the window. “Please let me see Charles again.”

She yanked back the curtain—and stared at a cement wall. A sob threatened to break through. She swallowed it and pulled the curtain again into place.

Vaguely, she wondered if Alan could see her. Was he monitoring her with hidden cameras?

She decided she didn’t care. She moved to one of the two doors and twisted the knob. The door opened easily and her heart leaped. Then sank to her toes when she stepped into a bathroom. She turned in a circle taking in the perfectly matched towels, little soaps on the sink and the exact brand of facial cleanser that she used.

She stepped away and felt the wall touch her back. Sliding down to the floor, she rested her aching forehead on her bent knees and sobbed.

* * *

Charles felt every muscle in his body go rigid when they pulled onto the street where Demi was being held. Still no sighting or any activity had been reported. Charles continued to pray.

They parked and Ryan said, “Stay here.”

“Not a chance.” Charles didn’t wait for permission. He’d been trained to fight, to face his battles. He’d even been involved in rescuing a fellow marine who’d been captured and held hostage by a group of Iraqi refugees.

And he had his weapon.

Ryan didn’t argue with him. Instead, his brother approached the command truck that had parked out of sight of the house. Charles followed him.

Once inside the van, Ryan introduced himself to the man in charge, Detective Pierce Sands. Ryan asked him, “Anything?”

Detective Sands shook his head. “I’ve got a SWAT team on the way. We’re getting our equipment in place to get eyes and ears in there. Right now, I have orders to let you be the lead on this since you know the suspect and the victim.”

Charles watched the action for a few moments, then turned to study the house. It was an older home, probably thirty to forty years old. From the front, it looked like a single-story house, but he’d overheard Ryan talking about the layout and knew it had a basement. The house next door was Demi’s parents’ house. The house she’d grown up in. He wondered if it had triggered any memories when she’d seen it.

The small utility shed next to Alan’s house looked strange. Out of place. Who put a utility shed
beside
his house? But Alan had proved he wasn’t stable and Charles longed to rush the house and pull Demi from that madman’s clutches.

Action erupted.

The SWAT team had arrived.

Charles watched as officers swarmed toward the house in silent fashion planting themselves around the perimeter. Alan would not be getting out of that house through any of the doors or windows.

Charles stepped out of the van and watched, praying Demi was all right.

One of the officers with a megaphone yelled, “Alan Gregor, we have you surrounded. Let your hostage go and come out of the house.”

Charles waited for a response.

Nothing.

Would he harm Demi when he realized he had nowhere to go?

Gut in a knot, heart beating fast enough to make him light-headed, Charles continued to watch. And wait.

* * *

“How did they find me!” Alan screamed as the door to her prison slammed open. Demi held herself rigid. If he hit her again, she wouldn’t be able to function. She was barely managing it now.

Passing out would not help the situation. Alan paced, the gun held at his side. He turned on her. “How did they know?” His eyes narrowed and he lifted the gun to point it at her. “You told them.”

Demi’s heart fluttered. Fear strangled her. “How would I do that, Alan? You threw my cell phone away and I’ve been with you since we left. I didn’t tell them anything, I promise. And remember? The night of the reception? You told me we were neighbors. Charles was sitting there listening.” She kept her words calm, praying they were the right words and wouldn’t send him off on another tangent.

He stopped. “I did?” Then he gripped his head with both hands, the gun mashed against his skull. “No, I didn’t! I wouldn’t say that!” He calmed so fast she blinked. He said, “But you’re right. You couldn’t tell them. And you wouldn’t, would you? Because you want to be with me, right?”

“Right.” She swallowed hard at the lie and then took a chance. “Do you want me to tell them to go away? That I’m here because I want to be?”

He jerked. “You would do that?”

“If it would help, I would.” Help her get out of here.

He walked over and grabbed her upper arm and yanked her toward the door. “Stay in front of me.”

She obeyed, climbing the stairs, her heart beating fast as she could almost taste her freedom.

One thing for sure, she wasn’t going back down those steps alive.

At the top, they turned left and he steered her with a rough hand toward the front door. “They’ve got me surrounded,” he hissed. “I know how this works. The only way I’m going to get out of this is if you make them believe you want to be here.”

She stayed calm, heart racing, knowing that Charles was probably somewhere outside the door. She knew that with all her heart.

The phone rang and Alan jerked. The movement jarred her head and she winced. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Answer it.”

She reached out a shaking hand. “Hello?”

“Is this Demi?”

“Yes, Ryan, hi. It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Are you all right?”

With a look at Alan’s wild eyes, Demi forced a lightness into her voice. “Of course I’m all right.”

“Is he listening in?”

Demi flicked a glance at Alan whose eyes roamed the room, never resting, never still. She needed to send a message to Ryan. What could she say? “No, no, I assure you, I’m fine. How are you?”

“He’s not listening.”

“That’s right, we just got here a few minutes ago.”

A pause. “My sniper needs a visual. The den blinds are partially open. Can you maneuver Alan in front of them?”

“I don’t know. Possibly.”

“Tell me where he’s standing, can you do that?”

Alan gestured for her to give him the phone.

She hurried to say, “Sure, but um…he wants to talk to you.”

Demi held out the phone to her kidnapper and he snatched it from her. “Hello?” He paused and frowned. Then said, “She’s here because she wants to be. No, you can’t speak to her again. You’ve already heard that she’s fine.” Alan listened a few more minutes then rolled his eyes with a huff. “Here, she’ll tell you one more time, then you leave. Right?”

Demi took the phone back and pressed it against her ear. “Yes, I want to be here.”

Alan motioned with the gun and hissed. “Tell them something useful. Convince them you want to be here.”

She nodded and swallowed hard. Holding the handset, she moved toward the den area, the open blinds Ryan had mentioned. Alan stayed right on her, following her, lapping up her words. “I…I mean, why wouldn’t I? He’s got a beautiful kitchen with granite countertops.” Alan’s chest puffed a bit and he smiled, nodding his approval. She moved again and so did Alan. “And he’s obviously spent time caring for the place.” She hitched a breath as Alan moved closer, his smile growing. Demi touched the mantel, praising the craftsmanship. Alan backed up and let her regale them with what a good job he’d done with the house.

“And the…uh…window in the living area is just gorgeous. I know you can’t see in because of the drapes, but about two feet to
your
left is Alan’s…um, his favorite painting.” Would they get it? Couldn’t they see him by now? She continued. “And I’m just loving it because from where I’m standing over near the fireplace, I can see…”