Did You Miss Me? (10 page)

But things had gone wrong once again and he’d had to run from the law to avoid another prison sentence. He’d come home once again. This time to his house.
Mine
. Because a week after he came home, Aunt Betty had died peacefully in her sleep.

In her nightstand drawer he’d found the will in which she’d left the house to him, God bless her. But bundled with Betty’s papers he’d also found his mother’s diary and when he’d read
that
, everything changed. Well, almost everything changed.

He still loved Cole and still hated his stepfather. That hadn’t changed.

But now he understood the pain his mother had endured. Mitch had always thought his stepfather was a player, screwing a different woman every night. What he learned by reading his mother’s diary was the opposite. His stepfather had one woman, all those years, one who was also married. He’d left Mitch’s mother every night for a woman who’d rubbed the affair in his mother’s face. Who’d laughed at her, considered her a joke.

Mitch now knew that woman’s name.

He sat down at the old desk and pulled the drawer out, revealing the leather-bound volume. Carefully sat it on the desk and opened it to the page he knew by heart. Read the words penned in his mother’s hand on an autumn night eight years before.

Tonight I followed him. I did. I put the baby in his car seat and I followed him. To the Motel 6 in Winchester, VA.

Motel 6? Really? I was so relieved. Just a prostitute, I thought. He’s not in love with someone else. And then her car pulled up. A Bentley. A Bentley in the lot of Motel 6. I would have laughed if I hadn’t been crying.

Because Daphne Elkhart got out of the car. He took her in his arms. Right there in the parking lot.

How do I compete with a woman like her? She’s beautiful. She’s rich. I can’t compete. But I can’t just give up without a fight. I’ll give her one more chance. I’ll go see her. I’ll ask her to leave my man alone. I’ll take Cole with me. She’ll see he has a child. That she’s wrecking a home. And if she doesn’t back away, I’ll tell her husband. He’ll fix her. He’ll make her behave. And if Travis won’t, his mother will. I’ll make someone listen if it kills me.

Mitch closed the diary, put it back in the drawer. The entry was dated two nights before she killed herself. There was one more entry, the following night. His mother had confronted Daphne, begged her to leave her husband alone. And Daphne had laughed at her.

The ME had placed time of death sometime the day after that last entry.

Knowing who had destroyed his mother’s life had rocked him soundly, making him hate his stepfather all the more. He and Daphne deserved each other. So he’d started to plan how he could get them both. All at once. If he could use them against each other? Even better.

Mitch had been setting things up for months. His stepfather’s endgame. Daphne’s endgame. The Millhouses taking the fall so that nobody suspected him. Things had finally started to cook last night. The next days would bring the payoff.

He walked to the only area of the shelter he’d changed, walling off two small rooms, lining them with extra insulation. They were three feet underground with concrete walls twelve inches thick, but cops had sophisticated equipment these days. He didn’t want to risk that anyone searching above might pick up a heat signature. They were to hold his stepfather and Daphne, once he had them both. But at the moment someone else inhabited one of the rooms.

Kimberly MacGregor looked up when he unlocked her door, hate in her dark eyes. He’d tied and gagged her, so she couldn’t speak, not with her mouth anyway. Her eyes expressed everything she couldn’t say. She hated his guts. Which he could live with.

She was sitting on the cot, back against the wall, shivering even though she was wrapped in a blanket.

‘Hi, Kimberly. Just wanted to see if you’re still alive.’ He removed the gag, then stepped back. He’d had to stab her thigh to keep her from running to her car the night before, but she’d got in a couple good kicks with the other leg. ‘Let it all out,’ he said.

‘Where is my sister?’

‘Safe. For now. But close enough that I could get to her before my temper dies down. So don’t make me angry, Kim.’

She glared, but toned it down. ‘You said you were going to
talk
to Ford, only
talk
!’

‘You wanted to believe it, because it made it easier for you to justify betraying him.’

She swallowed hard. ‘Is he alive?’

‘Last I checked.’ He studied her carefully. ‘Who was the cop?’

‘I don’t know.’ But she looked away briefly as she said it.

She’s lying
.
‘
You saw what I did to that cop last night. If you want to save your little sister from a similar fate, you’ll tell me what I want to know. Who was he?’

‘I don’t know his name, but I don’t think he was a cop. I think he was a bodyguard.’

‘Ford hired a bodyguard?’

‘His mother did. She was afraid for him. He didn’t know about the bodyguard.’

‘But you did?’ he asked silkily. ‘And you didn’t tell me?’

‘I didn’t know about him,’ she insisted, ‘until all of a sudden he was there and you tased him. His mother must have hired him without telling Ford.’

‘You gave me away,’ he said quietly. If he’d been a second slower, if he hadn’t been so well prepared, things would have ended very differently.

‘I didn’t mean to. I was surprised. Look, I got Ford to the alley when you told me to.’

‘Only because I took your sister. You got cold feet and nearly ruined my plans. I’m surprised and disappointed. I didn’t take you for a coward.’ He studied Kim’s face. ‘Or maybe it wasn’t fear. Maybe you’ve developed feelings for Ford Elkhart?’

Kim’s cheeks flushed a dull red. ‘No. Not like that. He’s . . . just a nice kid. I didn’t want him hurt.’

‘Better Ford than Pamela. You’re lucky I wasn’t caught. Then nobody would know where I stashed your sister and before long she’d run out of air. That would be bad.’

She glanced up at him, fear in her eyes.
Now that’s what I’m talking about
.

‘I did what you said. Let Pamela go. She’s just a kid. She didn’t do anything wrong.’

He re-tied the gag. ‘When did age or innocence ever matter? Technically, Ford didn’t do anything wrong, except trust you. If you’re nice and behave, I’ll let you see your sister later. If you cross me again, I’ll gut her and make you watch.’

He locked her door and checked the empty room that would soon belong to Daphne Montgomery. He hadn’t realized she was Daphne Elkhart until her son won some stupid horse jumping contest and they got written up in the paper.

Daphne wouldn’t like her new home. She didn’t like being underground.
Can’t say that I blame her
. He’d mounted a CD player on the wall. The CD was mostly a mix of white noise, but every so often a voice would say, ‘I’m back! Did you miss me?’

Thanks to his stepfather’s painstakingly kept records, Mitch knew exactly what those words meant to her. When he’d read her story, Mitch’s first inclination was to feel pity for the poor little mountain girl, kidnapped and terrorized. But then he remembered cleaning his mother’s blood and brains from this little room. He remembered his little brother’s nightmares, and all Mitch’s pity vaporized as if it had never been.

Daphne had a hard time as a kid.
So damn what? So did I
.
So did Cole
. The judge hadn’t cared about Mitch’s sad story when he’d gone on trial. As Daphne’s judge and jury, Mitch didn’t care either.

Chapter Four

Marston, West Virginia, Tuesday, December 3, 11.05
A.M.

F
ord’s hands sprang free, his lungs heaving.
Thank God
. The box cutter had been damn dull. Rubbing his wrists over the blade had taken forever, but it was done. He pulled the box cutter from the logs where he’d wedged it. He sawed at the ropes around his ankles, rubbing his legs to get his blood circulating again, then ran a hand over his hair, unsurprised to find a bald spot where his scalp burned.
What the hell?
Gingerly he touched the sore spot on his head. At least it had stopped bleeding.

Call for help
. But of course his cell phone was gone.

Thump
.
Thump
.

Ford stilled. The sound came from close enough to rattle the window above his head. He rose, standing to one side of the glass so that he couldn’t be seen.

It was an old man, splitting logs. From the way he swung his axe, he looked to be in damn good shape. He was about sixty-five, maybe seventy.

He gathered up the wood he’d split and carried it into his house, a cabin with a front porch, complete with a rocking chair. Just when Ford had started to wonder if he had anything to do with his kidnapping, the old guy reappeared, a rifle over his shoulder.

Coming this way
.
He’ll have to come through that door
.
You’ll have one chance to overpower him
.
If you fail, you’re dead
.
So don’t fuck it up, Ford
.

Ford searched the shed, looking for a weapon. The box cutter might work, but he’d have to get too close and the man had a gun. He needed something with more reach.
The logs in the corner
. He tested one, then another, until he found one that was longer than the rest. It was nowhere near Baseball bat length, but it would have to do.

Standing at one side of the door, he heard the creak of the rusty hinges.
Wait
 . . . 
wait for it
 . . . Ford swung the log, smacking the man upside the head. The guy teetered, then went down on his knees.
Don’t wuss out now
.
Finish it
.

Ford hauled back and smacked him again. The man fell forward, his rifle sliding out of his grip. The old man pushed himself up on his hands and knees, reaching for his weapon. Ford hit him in the head a third time. This time the man didn’t get up.

Ford stood there, panting, staring down at the old man.
Oh my God, I killed him
.

So? He’s a sick fuck who would have killed you
.

No, wait, he’s breathing
.
I didn’t kill him
.
Now what? Run
. Ford grabbed the rifle and burst through the doorway, gasping at the cold air outside.
Need a coat
.
You could die out here without a coat
. He ran around the shed, toward the cabin. There was an old truck parked out front.
Keys
.
Dammit
.
I should have taken his keys
.

He ran into the cabin. There was a phone on the wall, but it was an old rotary style. ‘No way,’ he murmured. Would it even work anymore? He lifted the receiver – but heard nothing. The line was dead.

Turning slowly, he looked for the keys to the truck. His heart was pounding so hard it was all he could hear.
No keys
.
Not okay
. For a ridiculous moment he wished he’d run with a rougher crowd in high school.
Then I might know how to hotwire an engine
.

Gran would know
. His mother’s mother knew how to do lots of things that would be useful in this situation.
Wish I’d paid more attention during all those hiking trips
. She’d tried to teach him survival skills, but he’d been too addicted to his GameBoy to listen.

He opened drawers, looking for keys, a knife, anything.
Hello
. Boxes of ammo.
This could come in handy
. He pulled one out and frowned. Empty. They were all empty.

His back was to the open front door when he felt the floor tremble under his feet. He wheeled around to see the old man stagger through the doorway, an axe clutched in both hands. For a second they stared at each other before Ford remembered he still held the guy’s rifle. Not breaking eye contact, Ford lifted it to his shoulder.

Luckily I did pay attention to all Gran’s target shooting lessons
. They’d given him the edge over all his friends, making him a living legend at Xbox
Medal of Honor
.

‘Where’s the girl?’ Ford asked quietly.

The old man hesitated, then shook his head. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’ But there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.

Liar
.
‘
The girl who was with me last night. What have you done with her?’

Unease flashed to relief before settling into feigned confusion. ‘There wasn’t any girl. Just you.’

‘There was a girl. Where is she?’

‘You’re crazy,’ the old man said. He took a tentative step forward, then another.

Ford took one step back, then stopped himself. ‘No more. I will kill you if I have to.’

‘No you won’t.’ He took a third step, his confidence growing. ‘Give me the—’

The man was a yard away from grabbing the barrel of the rifle.
Do it
.
Shoot him now
. Ford prepared for the recoil and the ear-splitting blast, and squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened. No recoil. No blast. Ford cocked the lever, fired again. Nothing.

The gun wasn’t loaded
. Ford wasn’t sure who was more surprised, himself or the old man. But the old man recovered quickly and charged, swinging the axe up as he’d done with the logs outside.

Ford stepped to the side and when the old guy rushed past, he jabbed at his back with the rifle stock, knocking him off balance, then swung the weapon by the barrel to smack the back of his head again. The old man went down and Ford followed, shoving his knee into the guy’s kidney.
Hope it hurts, you bastard
.

He wrenched the axe from the old man’s grip and pressed the blade up under his grizzled jaw. ‘Where’s. The. Girl?’

‘I. Don’t. Know.’

‘You have to know. You shot me in the back with a fucking taser. She was there. What did you do with her?’

‘I didn’t shoot you with nothin’. I signed on to babysit only you and that’s all.’

Ford frowned.
I’m back
.
Did you miss me?
This wasn’t the same man that talked to him before. The voice was way different. ‘Who’s the other guy?’

‘Don’t know.’

He pressed the axe blade harder against the man’s flesh until a line of blood appeared. ‘You don’t want to push me, buddy. Who’s the other guy?’

The man hesitated, then his shoulders sagged as if he’d given up, which Ford didn’t buy for a second. ‘Archie Leach.’

That name sounded really familiar. ‘Why did he kidnap me?’

‘Money. Both your parents are richer than God.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Marion Morrison,’ he drawled.

That name Ford knew. Fury bubbled up.
Asshole
. Morrison was John Wayne’s real name. Who knew who ‘Archie Leach’ really was? ‘Where is Archie now?’

‘Went to the city to collect the ransom.’

‘Which he’ll
share
with you?’ Ford let the sarcasm ooze in.

‘Marion’ had gone still. Sincerely still this time. He said nothing.

Ford laughed bitterly. ‘You already know that somebody unloaded your gun. Did your Smithsonian phone over there actually work before?’

The surprised jerk of the old man’s shoulders said that it had.

‘Well, it doesn’t now,’ Ford said flatly. ‘So your partner left you alone, with no way to defend yourself and no way to call for help. He collects the ransom and leaves you high and dry. And even if you take this gun from me, it doesn’t matter because he’s taken your ammo. Yeah,’ he added when the old man exhaled sharply. ‘All the boxes in the drawer? Empty. You think you’re a fucking John Wayne? You’re just the fall guy.’

‘If you’re gonna use that axe, boy, do it now. I’m gettin’ tired of listening to you.’

Ford frowned, not sure what to do next. He probably couldn’t kill the old bastard, not on purpose anyway.
And I don’t have any ammo either
.
Which the old guy now knows
.
Way to go, Elkhart
.

The subtle tightening of the old man’s back was the only warning Ford had before he twisted out of his grip, rolling away from the axe blade and grabbing onto the handle with both hands. But although his captor was strong for sixty-five, Ford was twenty years old and pissed off. With a hard yank, Ford took the axe back and, holding it like a bat, walloped John Wayne’s head like he was going for a home run.

The old man was out cold – but still breathing. It was probably a good idea to keep him that way. He might know who had Kim. He definitely knew the other kidnapper.

I need to get help before the other guy comes back
.

Hold on, Kim
.
Just a little longer
.

Baltimore, Maryland, Tuesday, December 3, 11.10
A.M.

Mitch climbed back up the ladder, secured the door, and pushed the shelves back into place. Wearily he let himself into the kitchen and stopped short, stifling a curse.

His middle brother, Mutt, was sitting at the table eating cereal. The TV was on and his brother frowned as he watched.
What the hell is he doing here?
Mitch closed the door hard enough to startle him. Mutt wheeled, sending a splash of milk onto the floor.

‘Where have you been?’ Mutt demanded. Mutt’s given name was Matthew, but Mitch always thought of him as Mutt, since his middle brother was the only legitimate son. Mitch and Cole were bastards, or so his stepfather said.
Takes one to know one
.

‘I had a delivery. It was on the schedule,’ Mitch replied. Appropriating his stepfather’s goods was an important part of his plan. Being a delivery driver gave him access and opportunity.

As the logistics manager and accountant, Mutt was only too happy to have Mitch’s help, especially when the delivery was a dangerous one – it meant Mutt didn’t have to call in any favors from the drivers he kept on the actual books.

It also meant Mutt could pay his brother half of what he paid everyone else and pocket the difference. Mutt didn’t know Mitch knew about that. It pissed Mitch off to high heaven, but he’d bitten his tongue. It had also eliminated any lingering affection he felt for his brother. Things were about to get real bad for Mutt’s daddy. If Mutt got caught in the crossfire . . . 
Well, I won’t cry too hard about that
.

‘Your delivery was to
Richmond
. You should have been back hours ago.’

‘Got a legit job,’ Mitch lied smoothly. ‘Last minute emergency. Woman’s heat pump went out and she has a baby. I fixed it on my way back. Why are you here, anyway?’

Mutt lived in one of his daddy’s fancy houses in the city. He’d never lived out here. His daddy didn’t even like him driving out here, ‘slumming it’ with his half-brothers.

Mutt frowned. ‘Because the school called. They tried to get in touch with you, but you were AWOL, so they called me since you put me as an emergency contact.’

Mitch’s heart stuttered. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’

‘Cole didn’t show up to school today. He’s skipped nine of the last ten days. They’ve called the house and sent home letters. Cole’s about to get expelled. I drove out to see if something was wrong, like you guys had food poisoning or something.’

Expelled? Hell
. ‘And? Did you find him?’

‘Yep. He was in the basement. I sent him to his room.’

Mitch’s shoulders slumped in relief as anger boiled in his gut. His youngest brother had become a real problem recently, finding every way possible to keep from going to school.
I’m glad he’s okay, because I’m gonna kill him
.

But of course he never would. But he would take every privilege his little brother still had. Which wasn’t many.

‘The school never called me.’ Mitch patted his pockets for his cell phones. He kept four – two throwaways he used to communicate with the Millhouses and Beckett respectively and one he used to communicate with Mutt about deliveries. The fourth was the number he gave to Cole and to the middle school. He found the right phone, then glared at the display. ‘Battery’s dead.’ Then he realized what Mutt had said. ‘Cole was in the basement? Why?’

Mitch kept stuff in the basement. Important stuff. Like cash. Guns. And as of last night, Pamela MacGregor, Kim’s little sister who was now his leverage.

Mutt pointed to the TV in the corner. ‘Damn, would you look at that?’

Mitch looked up and saw that Mutt was watching the very thing he wanted to see. ‘What’s happening?’ Mitch asked, very aware Mutt had dodged his question about Cole and the basement. He’d come back to it later.

‘It’s that damn jury verdict on the Millhouse case,’ Mutt said. ‘I’ve got an appointment downtown and I wanted to be sure there was no riot in the streets.’

‘Is there?’

‘Not yet. Jury found the little bastard guilty. But the real excitement was what happened after. The killer knifed a cop and his mom attacked the prosecutor. There was a brawl in the courtroom while the Millhouse kid tried to escape.’

So the Millhouses’ plan B actually worked?
Oh
.
My
.
God
. ‘Did he get away?’

‘Nah,’ Mutt said, ‘but I gather it was touch and go for a minute. Kid’s a fucking psycho. At least two people have been taken to area hospitals.’

His heart did another stutter, dip, and roll. ‘What about the prosecutor?’

‘Not clear yet. There’s supposed to be a press conference in a few minutes.’

If Daphne was badly injured, I’ll kill every last Millhouse I can find
.