Love you to Death (36 page)

Elise could see what came next. He wasn’t going to kill Trent quickly. He was going to drown him.

Fury swelled inside her, making her vision blur with the force of it. She was not going to stand here and let this happen. Chances were she wasn’t going to survive the night. She sure as hell wasn’t going to spend her last moments being a victim.

She pulled at the cuff on her wrist. The tree branch swayed but bounced back. She pulled harder, trying to work the plastic loop toward the narrow end of the branch.

The thin bark scraped away as she tugged, leaving behind green scars in the wood. Her wrist started to bleed, but that was the least of her worries. The killer had managed to lift Trent’s bulk into the trunk.

Trent was too big to fit easily, but the man shoved hard several times until the trunk lid latched.

Elise pulled harder, moving the cuff a couple of inches until it ran into a smaller branch. With her free hand, she bent that branch, trying to break it, but it was too green to snap.

Leaves dropped from the tree, shaken loose by her efforts.

The killer got into the car and drove it onto a wide wooden dock. He got back out and went around to the rear of the car. He fetched a jack from a large plastic tub at the end of the dock and shoved it under the back of the car.

As he started to jack the car up off its back wheels, Elise knew she was nearly out of time.

Frantically, she jerked on the cuff and the tree limb, trying to make one give way. She managed to break the smaller branch off, but it left behind a stubby bit of soggy splinters behind. She was going to have to get the cuff over that bump.

Blood leaked out from under the plastic, making it slip along her skin. She twisted to get a better angle and pulled with all her strength. The hard edge burned as it cut into her flesh, but she didn’t ease off the pressure.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw that the car had been jacked up all the way. The killer found a heavy stone and was hauling it back to the open driver’s door.

Elise let out a cry of denial. She was not going to let this man kill Trent.

She gathered up some of her blood and smeared it on the knobby bit of wood, hoping to lubricate it. Another tug told her the idea worked. The cuff slid over the bump. The sudden release of pressure made her stumble, but she regained her footing and pulled the cuff the rest of the way off the skinny branch.

Leaves flew everywhere, sticking to the blood on her wrist, but she didn’t stop to clear them away. She sprinted over the ground as quickly and silently as she could.

The killer was leaning inside the car. Suddenly, the engine roared and the back tires spun as if someone had floored the accelerator.

The noise hid her approach.

He straightened, closed the car door and went around to the back of the car.

Elise’s feet hit the dock, making a hollow thud as she ran.

The killer saw her coming. He gave her a sickening, pleased smile and kicked the jack out from under the bumper.

The spinning wheels hit the dock, and the car shot off like a rocket.

The man drew his gun and aimed it at her. Elise didn’t care. She didn’t slow. She was going to dive into the water after Trent and get him out of that trunk.

The car hit the water with a huge splash and a crunch of breaking plastic.

The killer must have realized her intent, because he dropped the weapon and launched himself at her.

Elise leaped to avoid him, but she wasn’t fast enough to clear the end of the dock and go into the water. The killer snagged her around the waist and slammed her down onto the weathered wooden boards.

He’d knocked the air from her lungs, but she didn’t stop fighting him. There was still time to save Trent.

She scrambled, trying to claw her way out from under him, but he bore down on her, pinning her in place. His arms were wrapped around hers, and his weight kept her legs immobile. The only thing she could move was her head.

Elise looked toward the water, praying Trent would come swimming out at any moment. The car sank fast, releasing huge bubbles of air as it went. The headlights cut through the murky water, making it glow a dull brown-green.

Finally, the last bit of bumper disappeared below the surface of the water. One more giant air bubble gurgled to the top, and then nothing. No movement. No Trent.

“No!” screamed Elise. “Trent!”

“He’s gone,” said the killer. “He’s breathing in that dirty water right now. It’s filling his lungs, choking the life from his body.”

Agonizing fury consumed her, making her stronger, faster. She exploded into movement, knocking the killer’s arms away from hers. She managed to crawl two feet away before he grabbed her ankle and pulled her back away from the water.

Splinters dug into her skin, but she didn’t stop kicking and punching.

Her blows landed, but did little good. He let out a grunt of pain, then balled up his fist and slammed it into her temple.

Lights blinded her for a moment and then disappeared, along with everything else.

Gary dragged Elise down the dock, enjoying the sound of her head bouncing along the wooden planks.

The bitch didn’t know her place, but she would soon enough. Once he got her home, she’d realize just what happened to women who refused to obey.

Once he got back onto the rocky ground, she got too hard to drag, so he hefted her over his shoulder and headed toward his house. It was only a half mile away, and the exercise would do him good.

He checked over his shoulder, just to make sure that the ex-cop boyfriend hadn’t surfaced, then headed for home. Once he had Elise safely locked away, he could clean himself up and see to his bleeding nose.

And then, finally, it was going to be time for the McBride sisters to have a little family reunion.

He could hardly wait.

T
he shock of cold water rushing into Trent’s mouth woke him up.

He sputtered, spitting the water out, instinctively moving toward the dwindling source of air he felt on his face.

Within a few speeding heartbeats, everything came back to him. The drive from Chicago that ended at the isolated expanse of farmland. The lake. The fight with the cop-impersonating killer that left him with two bullet holes, at least. Maybe more. His entire body was a mass of writhing pain, and he was twisted to fit into a small, confined space, unable to move and see what worked and what didn’t.

The trunk. He was in the trunk of the Mazda.

And the car was sinking into the lake.

Panic seized him and he fought it back, knowing that it would kill him. There was still a little bit of air left, and until that was gone, until the water filled the trunk, equalizing the pressure, there was no chance of getting out.

He didn’t have much time, and he didn’t want to waste a second of it. He tried to move his hands to feel for a way out, realized they were still bound, and started searching the trunk for something sharp enough to cut through the plastic cuffs while he waited for the trunk to fill with water.

Survival instincts roared at him to flee, to fight his way out, and he had to grit his teeth to hold them back.

The water level in the trunk was still going up, taking away the pocket of air he had left. He sucked it into his lungs, trying to oxygenate his blood as much as possible so he could hold his breath longer when the time came.

Another gush of water filled his mouth. Panic rioted through his limbs, making them shake. If he didn’t find a way out soon, he was going to drown down here, alone in the dark, while that killer did whatever he wanted with his sweet Elise.

He had to get out and save her. He’d seen what that man had done to all those poor women. He couldn’t let that happen to Elise.

He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to swim with his wet clothes dragging him down and the gunshot wounds weakening him, but he guessed that trying to swim while also handcuffed was going to be impossible. He’d sink like a stone.

Trent’s fingers searched over the bumps of the sheet metal around him. Something sharp stung his fingertip as it sliced it open. He had no idea what it was—the edge of a piece of metal of some kind—but if it could cut his skin, it could probably cut the plastic ties.

It took him a precious few seconds to maneuver his bound hands to get the right angle, but he managed to make it work. He sawed back and forth, raking the plastic against that bit of metal.

Water rushed into his nose, and he had to push with his legs to shove his face up high enough to take another breath.

The plastic broke. His wrists flew apart, scraping his knuckles as they dragged across the metal trunk lid.

He ripped his hands free and felt around for the trunk release. This car was new enough to have one inside, probably similar to a light switch—designed so kids would flip it to turn on the lights if they got stuck.

His fingers were a bit numb, but he found the lever and triggered the release. The trunk lid didn’t move. He was going to have to shove it open.

The position was awkward, and a searing pain shot out from his thigh, but he managed to brace himself and push the lid up with his legs. The thing felt like it weighed a ton, but it moved sluggishly through the water, letting out the last few tiny air bubbles that had been trapped.

Trent’s air supply was gone, but at least he knew which way was up as he followed those bubbles.

The headlights were still on, gleaming through the murky water. The beams landed on a bright green Volvo with smashed windows—Ashley’s car.

He hoped that meant she was nearby, and that Elise was, too.

His head broke through to the air, and he sucked in huge gulps of oxygen. He treaded water, but every kick burned his thigh, every stroke made his ribs throb in protest.

He wasn’t going to be able to keep his head above water for long with his wet clothes and shoes bogging him down. He had to get to shore and hope that the killer with the gun hadn’t noticed he was still alive.

Trent headed for the dock. It was closest and would provide cover from any stray bullets headed his way.

He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious—how long Elise had been on her own with the killer. Had he had time to hurt her? Was Trent already too late? The idea that he’d find Elise hacked into pieces the way those other women had been made him want to scream in rage and denial. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to hurry, but his limbs were sluggish with cold and blood loss. The gaping holes in his body weren’t doing him a hell of a lot of good either. He was going to have to stop the bleeding soon, or he’d end up being no good to anyone.

As he swam, no bullets flew past him, nor did he see anyone at the edge of the lake. The moon overhead was bright enough to see by, now that his eyes had adjusted.

He made it to the dock and clung to one of the wooden supports while he gasped for breath. Getting up onto land was going to be a bitch, but he didn’t have any options. And every second he rested was one more second Elise was in jeopardy.

Trent reached up, gripped the end plank, and used what was left of his strength to haul himself up and over the edge.

Pain roared through his abdomen at the motion. Something was definitely not good somewhere inside his gut. He lay on the deck, bleeding and panting as the wave of pain passed over him, leaving him weak and shaking.

After what seemed way too long, the pain faded enough for him to move. He lifted his soggy shirt, looked down at the bullet hole and saw a slow stream of blood seeping out. A quick swipe over his back told him there was no exit wound, so the bullet was still in there somewhere.

Lovely.

The hole in his thigh was more ragged and bled a lot more, but it had gone through part of the muscle and out the other side. Ugly and painful as hell, but not that serious. He hoped.

Heedless of whatever muck he’d picked up in the lake, Trent ripped his shirt in half, tied part of it around his thigh to slow the bleeding, and the other half he tied around his waist in the hopes it would keep the bullet from moving around in his abdomen and doing any more damage.

By the time he was done, he was weak and nauseated from the pain, but at least he’d done what little damage control he could.

Now, it was time to find Elise before it was too late.

He pushed himself to his feet and scanned the area. There were no signs of life, no movement nearby. The only thing he could see was the wavering light of a yellow bulb obscured by the trees.

He wasn’t sure if Elise had gone toward that light, but he didn’t have a whole lot to go on here. If she wasn’t there, maybe there’d at least be a phone he could use to call for help.

Right now, in the shape he was in, it was his best bet.

With slow, shambling steps, he moved over the dusty ground, leaving a visible trail of water and blood behind him.

Elise didn’t want to open her eyes. She knew monsters waited out there beyond the calming blackness of sleep.

Her head pounded, and her ribs ached like she’d taken a beating. Her wrist felt like it was on fire, consumed by a searing, stinging pain.