Hush (10 page)

The now-abandoned farmhouse Megan rented that horrible summer.

Six years ago, Simone went looking for fun, looking for lively company to relieve the isolation of a weekend at the cabin. Simone had gone to that farmhouse looking for Megan O’Neal, and she’d found her…lying in a pool of blood.

That was the last time Simone ever let their father drag her anywhere near these woods. No one would ever expect Simone to go to the farmhouse—it was the perfect place to hide.

Anna’s nerves were jumping all over her body. Now that she knew where to find Simone and Bobby, she had to go to them—and she had to go
now
. She scribbled a note for Charlie and grabbed the gun.

Chapter Nine

Near Tangleheart: Tuesday, 6:45
A.M.

B
RANCHES CRUNCHED BENEATH
Anna’s feet and a fine mist of rain dampened her face as she ran full-tilt up the road. It’d taken her mere minutes to scramble down the path from the cabin. Now she was headed up Farm Road 99 as hard and as fast as her legs would carry her. Her strides grew longer and more fluid by the minute. Her entire body hummed with energy—with purpose. Her breathing hitched along steadily. She was nowhere near winded. It was as if she’d been training for this moment her entire life. Hanging by its straps around her neck, her purse banged against her chest.

Inside the purse: Charlie’s HK 45.

Cocked and locked
.

Not until she sighted the old farmhouse did fear begin to drip into her veins, diluting the confidence that had been fueling her. There were plenty of places a shooter might be hiding; in that copse of chinaberry bushes to her right, for example, or maybe behind that up-ended wagon to her left. She slowed to a walk for caution’s sake. Tire tracks marked the road, but she didn’t see Simone’s car in the drive. Most likely she would’ve parked farther up the road or pulled off into the trees somewhere along the way.

Anna dug out her pistol and tossed her cumbersome purse behind a bush. Taking cover wherever she could find it, she made her way to the house, up the steps and onto the front porch. There was no concealing the creak of the old planks no matter how stealthily she moved.

Take it nice and easy.

Her breath hardened to concrete in her lungs. She tried the door.

Unlocked
.

Her lungs relaxed. She sucked in a blast of oxygen, straight-armed the .45 and slipped through the door.

No sooner had she ducked inside than her ears pricked at the sound of Nate’s voice in another room.
Dear God
. He’d found Simone. He knew his wife too well.

Anna heard crying.

Bobby!

Elbows locked, sweeping her gun in front of her as she moved, she spun across the room and reached a cracked-open door. Silently, she positioned herself to peer through the slit.

Nate perched on a hard-back chair and, as she’d seen him do on many occasions, bounced his young son on one knee.

She had to cover her mouth to muffle the wheeze that escaped her lungs. Simone huddled against the opposite wall, a pale, stricken heap. Anna tightened her grip on her pistol. Her arm trembled all the way from her shoulder to her wrist. She couldn’t risk firing at Nate with Bobby on his knee, she wasn’t that good a shot. No one was that good a shot.

Lowering her shaky arm to her side, she tried to catch Simone’s eye. It was no use. Simone’s gaze was fixed on Bobby.

Anna tensed, arched on the balls of her feet, as she watched her sister uncurl into a stand and take a dangerous step toward Nate.

“Give me the baby, and I promise not to run,” Simone said.

Nate’s knee bounced up and down fast and then faster. Bobby stopped whimpering and began to squeal with delight.

“Please, I—I’ll do anything you say.” Tears leaked from Simone’s eyes, slipped down her paper-white cheeks. “Let’s just go home. I promise I won’t tell anyone what you did to Megan.”

Nate bounced Bobby higher. “I know you’re mad about Megan. You have a right to be. But this is crazy, Simone. You’re acting like you’re scared of me.”

Anna pressed her face closer to the door. Simone cowered in terror, but…if Nate had a weapon, Anna couldn’t see it from where she stood.

“I
am
scared of you.” Simone sobbed into her hands. “You murdered Megan and that reporter too.”

When Nate bolted to his feet, Anna used her thumb to click the safety off her gun. But she kept her finger off the trigger. Bobby was still in his father’s arms.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Nate’s face flushed beefy red. “Yes. I had an affair with Megan while you and I were dating. I admit I got her pregnant. I’m a horrible coward not to have told you, and I know I’m to blame for her suicide, but for God’s sake Simone, you can’t honestly believe I
murdered
her.”

Simone’s legs started to wobble.

Nate rushed to her side, gently let Bobby down and put out his hand to his wife. “Take it easy honey, let me help you.”

Rather than collapse, Simone took Nate’s hand long enough to lower herself to the floor. Then she jerked away and scrambled on her knees to her son. Bobby crawled eagerly into his mother’s arms.

Nate crouched beside them. “You have to believe me, Simone. I love you and Bobby more than my life.”

Simone rocked Bobby, her lips set in a hard line, her eyes glazed and empty. Suddenly, she pulled her shoulders up, and sat ramrod straight. “Then explain this.” She dug something shiny from her pocket and held it out for him to see. “I found
this
in your room—hidden in the back of a picture frame.”

Megan’s necklace
.

Anna could see the old-fashioned key dangling from a chain.

“What is that?” Nate’s brows knit in confusion. “Why would I hide a necklace…why would I hide
anything
from you in a bedroom we share?”

Hugging Bobby close, Simone climbed to her feet and faced her husband with a deadly calm. “Very good, Nate. You’ve got the act down pat. But you know perfectly well I meant that I found this in your old bedroom
at your parents’ house
.” She threw the necklace down and stomped it with her heel. “The letter said
the necklace is the key
. When I didn’t find it at our house, I hoped it wasn’t true. I started to believe in you again. I
wanted
to believe in you so badly, because—God help me—I love you.”

The way Simone’s chin shivered made Anna’s body tremble with fury at the man who’d betrayed her sister.

“But then I found the necklace in your old bedroom.” Simone’s voice shattered into a thousand pieces. “Right alongside your football trophies.”

Reality hit Anna so hard she gagged. Lowering her head and her gun at the same time she fended off her queasiness, managed not to vomit. So it was all true. Her sister’s husband, a man Anna had known and trusted most of her life, was the same cold-blooded monster who’d murdered two innocent women and ambushed her in the library.

From her hiding place in the hallway, Anna couldn’t fire her pistol with any chance of success. Nor could she could push open the door and enter the room without alerting Nate to her presence.

Nate could very well have a gun tucked into his jeans, and he was standing so close to Simone he was practically on top of her.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She was going in—she had to. She wouldn’t shoot unless Nate forced her to, but she had to get Simone and Bobby out of that room. As she raised her gun, she felt hot breath on the back of her neck. A scream rose in her throat, but her vocal chords froze—no sound came out.

She started to turn, but a powerful hand gripped her wrist.

Twisted.

The snap of a bone.

A searing pain.

Her pistol dropped, slid across the room, and she lost sight of it.

A swift kick swept her feet out from under her.

As she crashed to the floor, she jerked her arms up to protect her head.

Next came three rapid kicks to the back. The pain that shot up her spine cost her dearly—paralyzing her lungs and coating her senses with black, inky poison. She struggled to her knees, tried to get to her feet, hands balled into fists, ready to fight. Her vision started to go dark.

No!

She blinked furiously, fighting to stay conscious.

A foot rose to kick her again, this time from the front. Through the thick haze that varnished her senses she recognized them:

Black leather shafts, inlaid star of Texas, silver alligator toes
.

Boots kicked her in the gut. Then he bent, and she smelled his foul, tobacco-stained breath. An oily, bloated face floated in front of her. “I knew you Kincaid girls would have each other’s backs.” Then Caleb Carlisle stuck the cold barrel of a pistol against her head and dragged her to her feet.

A
NNA’S TEMPLES THROBBED,
her eyeballs vibrated, and her head ached like a migraine on steroids. Even her runner’s legs had finally given up—her thighs shook from the simple task of bearing her weight. At this point, the only thing she could do to keep herself upright was to press her hips and back against the west wall of the room—which was exactly what Caleb Carlisle, aka Boots, had instructed her to do. Simone huddled at Anna’s side, clasping Bobby close. By some miracle, Bobby had fallen asleep, and now nuzzled his face contentedly against Simone’s chest.

Morning light lasered through the sliding-glass doors on the east side of the room, nearly blinding Anna. When she tried to raise her right hand to block the sun from her eyes, exquisite pain stopped her. She gritted her teeth and used her left hand instead.

As for Nate, he stood with his feet spread wide, arms splayed, shielding his wife and son with his body. A little more than arm’s length away, Caleb wagged his gun, despite the fact that his own son and grandson were in the line of fire.

Rubbing his pistol against his cheek, Caleb scowled. “Step away from the ladies, Nathan, and take my grandson with you.”

Simone tried to press Bobby into Nate’s arms, but Nate shook his head. His throat worked in a long swallow, and he took a shuddering breath. “Put down the gun, Dad. I’m asking you, I’m
begging
you to just put down the gun before somebody gets hurt.”

Either Nate was completely confused about what was happening, or he was some terrific actor.

“It’s a little late for that, son. Somebody already got hurt. Now take Bobby and do like I say or I can’t be responsible for what happens.”

“Do whatever you want with me, but let them go…please, Dad…sir.”

Caleb raised an elbow to wipe the sweat away from his hairline, shifted forward on his feet into a more predatory stance, if that was possible. “Get out of my way, boy, or else—”

Nate’s body canted forward, and then in a blur of motion, he lunged at Caleb, grabbed his gun arm, kneed him in the groin. Caleb let out a yelp, and pandemonium broke loose, Simone was screaming, Bobby was crying, and somewhere amidst the noise, Anna heard a gun clatter to the floor. Her eyes widened as Caleb’s pistol spun toward her like a hockey puck. Watching the gun spin intensified her wooziness—she felt a bit like a child trapped on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.

Caleb threw an uppercut to Nate’s jaw. Nate’s head snapped back. Simone screamed louder. Bobby cried harder. Anna felt a painfully heavy weight in her hand. Looking down she managed to refocus her eyes.

When had she grabbed the gun?

Her wrist throbbed, and she noticed blood on her skin, her gun-hand tipped at an unnatural angle. Bringing her left hand up to support her right wrist, she stuck the pistol out in front of her. “Back away, Caleb. All the way to the wall.”

His face lifted in a taunting smile. He cupped his hand behind his ear. “I can’t hear you. What’s that you say,
Freak
?”

She tightened her grip on the gun, commanding her arms not to shake, willing her face into a hard mask. “Back against the wall, Caleb.”

“Hang on there, Miss Kincaid.” A deep voice echoed through the room. She wanted to shout for joy when Sheriff Hawkins came trotting in with his weapon drawn and a pair of handcuffs dangling from his belt. “Somebody wanna tell me what the hell just went down here?”