Dead Right (42 page)

The house remained dark and quiet.

He’s gone. I’m okay.

Okay had never seemed a more relative concept than when she scooted into the wooden hal way on her left.

Moving like this was a painstaking process, but she couldn’t risk hopping around the cabin in the dark. She needed to chart her way careful y, to do everything she could to keep her head clear. Too much hurry, too much panic, could get her hurt—or worse.

The kitchen seemed a mile away. Hoping there might be other people, possibly in a neighboring cabin or driving along a nearby road, Madeline strained to hear every noise. There was nothing but the wind, whipping under the eaves.

A little more. Not far now. You’re doing fine. You can do
it.

God, she couldn’t even breathe. She had to pause every few seconds just to recover. But it was the only way she could keep going. Whatever he’d given her made her feel as if she weighed three times her normal weight, and she was so restricted that any movement required great effort and concentration.

Frustration threatened to immobilize her. But fear, the cold underlying fear of knowing her life depended on what she did in the next few minutes, kept her moving.

That’s it. There you go.

The kitchen had linoleum on the floor. Madeline felt the difference in textures the moment she reached it and nearly cried in relief. She spent considerable time—too much time

—feeling her way around, searching the drawers and cupboards for a knife or a pair of scissors. But the kitchen wasn’t stocked. There were no implements at al .

Hot tears rol ed down her cheeks as she sagged onto the floor and gasped for breath. If only she could move. If only she could
run.

But she couldn’t. She was completely helpless. And then she heard it. The sound of a car engine, coming toward the cabin.

Clay’s cel phone rang just before he went out of range.

He knew he wouldn’t have reception much longer. They were entering the Great Smoky Mountains.

“Have you found her?” Al ie asked as soon as he answered.

He’d tried to cal her, had left a message when she didn’t pick up. Grace must’ve fil ed her in. “Not yet.”

“What do you think’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” He wasn’t a superstitious man, but acknowledging what he thought could be happening acknowledging what he thought could be happening seemed to increase the chances that it actual y was. And his heart rebel ed at the images bombarding his mind—

images like the ones he’d seen of Katie and Rose Lee in those pictures with Barker. Madeline was his sister just as much as Grace or Mol y. When he learned what Barker had been doing to Grace, he’d promised himself it’d never happen again, that he’d protect them al .

Yet here he was….

“You’l get there in time,” she said. But he knew that probably wasn’t true. No drive had ever seemed so long.

“Have you heard anything from Pontiff?” he asked hopeful y. “Did the Sevier County Sheriff’s Department get back to him?”

“Haven’t you cal ed the sheriff yourself?” she asked.

“Hunter’s tried to, more than once. They won’t put us through to him, won’t tel us anything. They say it’s a police matter. That they’re looking into it. No one on the Stil water force wil tel us anything, either.”

“Why not?” she asked indignantly.

“Pontiff’s angry that we searched Ray’s cabin il egal y.”

“You didn’t have time to get a warrant! You did him a favor!”

“He feels we’ve overstepped our bounds, that we’re trying to do his job.”

“How can he care about his precious ego at a time like this?” she cried.

“He’s not about to let Hunter take charge.”

“I’l bet Elaine knows what’s going on. I’l check with her and get back to you,” she said. But when she cal ed again, Clay’s cel phone coverage was so spotty her voice cut in and out.

“What did you learn?” he asked.

“Two—ties…the c—”

He eased off the gas, hoping he wouldn’t lose her.

“What?”

“I said, two deputies vis—ted the cab—”

That he could decipher. “And?”

“It was empty. Some—thinks—sp—”

“Say that again.”

“Some guy thinks he spotted Ray’s truck going south toward Tupelo, and Pontiff’s al over it.”

To Iuka perhaps?
Shit!
They were heading in the wrong direction. No wonder Pontiff was playing it so smug.

Slamming on the brakes, Clay skidded to a halt on the side of the road. “Al ie?”

She was gone.

“What is it?” Hunter asked. “Why are we turning around?”

Clay cursed again. “Madeline’s not at the cabins.”

When the headlights of Ray’s truck swung over the extra set of tire tracks in the snow, his heart began to thud.

Someone had been at the cabin. Not only were there tire tracks, there were footprints everywhere.

For a moment, he was tempted to run. To get the hel out while he stil could. But the cabin was dark. Whoever had come by wasn’t there now. If he was busted, the police would’ve already cut him off, pul ed their guns,
something.

Leaving the engine running, he waited for several minutes, trying to determine whether or not it was safe to get out. When nothing happened, nothing stirred, he took the flashlight and the knife he kept in his truck and approached the front door. There were other cabins in the area, but they were miles away. It wasn’t as if someone would’ve come here by mistake, was it?

No. His flashlight had just passed over something smal and white. A business card. Wedged in the door.

Taking it, Ray held it in the light so he could read. It belonged to a Mr. Brian Shulman, an employee of the property management company from which he’d rented the cabin. Turning it over, he saw a brief note.

Enjoy your stay and don’t forget to put the key in the
lock box when you go.

Had this Mr. Shulman gone inside?

Probably not. Why would he?

Stil , panic poured through Ray at the possibilities.

Unlocking the front door, he went straight to Madeline’s room.

The door that he’d closed when he left was now standing open. So was the closet.

His gut tightened as he set his flashlight on the bed and dug through the blankets. She was gone.

Whirling, he checked the rest of the room and under the bed. Nothing. The place was empty. Where was she? Had someone taken her? No. That didn’t make sense. Mr.

Shulman wouldn’t have bothered to leave his card if he’d found Madeline.

She must’ve gotten away by herself. How the hel had she done it?

Regardless, he couldn’t lose her. She was his. A replacement for his own daughter. It was Barker’s fault that Rose Lee had tried to pass that note to Eliza. Nothing would’ve happened if Barker hadn’t insisted on having Ray bring Rose to church every Sunday. Then she wouldn’t have passed that note and Ray wouldn’t have had to punish her with his belt. And she might not have overdosed afterward.

“Madeline?” he cal ed softly.

There was no response. But she couldn’t have gotten far. He saw no rope piled on the ground, no gag. And he’d drugged her. Chances were she was stumbling around in the snow, staggering through the trees, maybe even going in circles.

But the dead bolt on the front door had been set when he arrived. How could she have gotten out?

A muted noise drew him across the hal . He hurried, anxious but relieved, thinking he’d found her. But it was only the soft clank of the blind stirred by the wind. The wind? The window was open, and there was a chair underneath it.

She’d managed to get outside.
Shit!
A white-hot rage built inside him. He’d find her. He’d find her before anyone else could.

And God help her when he did.

Madeline could hardly hear above the racket her heart was making as she listened to Ray move around the cabin.

He’d gone to the room where he’d left her, as she’d expected. Then he’d crossed the hal to the window she’d opened by biting the latch with her teeth and using her chin.

If she was lucky, he’d rush outside, and start looking for her in the forest—because she didn’t have much of a chance if he started searching the cabin. She was only three feet from him when he came back into the hal , hiding behind the door of the third and last bedroom. She hadn’t had time to think of—or get to—a better place. It had been al she could do to open that damn window.

“She’l pay for this,” he muttered. Then he went out the front door, and turned off the truck’s engine.

She’d hoped he would be in too much of a hurry to think about his truck. If he’d gone directly to the back, she might’ve been able to slip out the front and drive away, even with her hands and feet stil tied. The sound of his engine had given her hope and helped cover her movements. She’d opened a window, so she could move a gear lever and manage a steering wheel wel enough to drive a mile or two, someplace she could find help. That was why she’d opened the window in the back room—to draw him away from the road.

But he was too smart, too cautious. For al she knew, he was standing on the porch waiting for her to come out the front door. What if there was snow on the ground? If it remained undisturbed beneath the window where she would’ve had to land, he’d know it was a trick.

She’ll pay for this….

Was he waiting for her to make a move? To reveal herself?

God help me. She was shaking so badly she was afraid she’d col apse. She wasn’t sure what was keeping her upright. Her feet didn’t want to support her weight, but the wal helped, and she knew col apsing was not an option. If her strength gave out on her, she’d be dead—or maybe she’d just wish she was.

A rustle outside the cabin made her wonder if he’d gone around to the back, after al . She had no idea what he’d find

—something that would keep him there, or something that would bring him back here—but she had to go now. She might never have another chance.

Sliding to the ground, she dragged herself down the hal and into the kitchen. At least she was more alert. At least the effects of the drug had mostly worn off. Ful awareness brought her aches, pains and bruises to life, but it gave her hope that she could somehow outsmart him.

When she reached the front door, she didn’t have to open it. He’d left it agape. She could see the gleam of his bumper but not much else.

“Madeline, you’l freeze to death out here. You know that, don’t you? Tel me where you are and I’l help you back to the house.”

His voice came from the forest, sounding deceptively normal. Like the Ray she’d known her whole life. But he wasn’t the man she thought he was. He was evil—a creature with no soul, no concern for anyone but himself.

She just had to make it out the front door and over to someplace safe to hide, she told herself. But her coat wasn’t very heavy—she didn’t know how long she’d last on such a cold night. And where was safe? Ray seemed to be the only other person on the mountain. He certainly wasn’t worried about being overheard.

Anyplace was preferable to being trapped in the cabin.

But when she got to the porch, she saw a glimmer of moonlight shifting through the tal trees overhead and glistening off—her heart sank—
snow.
There were footsteps going every which way, but if she tried to drag herself through it, she’d be frozen before she got ten yards, and Ray would easily be able to fol ow her odd-looking trail.

“You’d better tel me where you are.” He was shouting, his voice ricocheting through the trees. “If you don’t, you’l be sorry. I can promise you that.”

Using her shoulder and hip, she moved toward the steps. Shoulder, hip. Shoulder, hip. She knew that trying to cross the smal clearing was insane, suicide, but she couldn’t stay in the cabin. She’d rather die outside.

Then she bumped into it. The woodpile. And standing right beside it was an ax.

“Maddy, you’re being stubborn for nothing,” Ray said.

“Where you gonna go? There’s no one else around, not for miles. And it’s less than thirty degrees out here. I think it’s about to storm.”

The wind blew snow from the branches of the trees, showering him occasional y, but the darkness bothered him most. He could see only what fel inside the narrow beam of his flashlight, which made him feel as if she was constantly evading him. He’d found one pair of footprints near the open window. He’d assumed they were hers, but they hadn’t gone more than ten feet into the forest.

She would’ve set off, tried to put as much distance between them as possible. So which tracks were hers?

And how had she gotten loose? He’d knotted those ropes damn tight.

He wouldn’t underestimate her again. He’d chain her up, give her a bucket for a toilet and never let her go. But that would have to happen somewhere else. Once he found her, he was hitting the road again. They couldn’t stay here. Not with that Brian Shulman snooping around.

“Maddy?” he cal ed.

And then he paused, fairly certain he’d heard a thud in front of the cabin.

The wind had blown the door shut. The resulting bang had nearly made her cry out. Panting from fear and exertion, Madeline was trying to saw the rope off her hands by pressing it against the blade of the ax. But she was too jittery, too panicked. Ray had stopped cal ing out to her, and the silence was far more unnerving than hearing his voice, because now she couldn’t trace him.

She wanted to hide, to hole up and pray for the best. But she knew that was foolish. He’d find her, and it would al be over. Weak, exhausted and frightened though she was, she had to use her mind and her nerve, push herself to the limits.

Keep going.
She rubbed harder against the blade—

back and forth, back and forth—but cutting through the rope wasn’t as easy as she’d expected when she first saw the ax. The tough, scratchy fibers bit deeply into her wrists, and the blade seemed far too dul .

The adrenaline pumping through her, and the cold, were the only things in her favor. They took the edge off her pain and kept her focused, so the fuzziness in her brain didn’t cloud her abilities or judgment. She had to get free, regardless of the cost. Otherwise, she had no chance.