Midnight Sacrifice (18 page)

Driving aimlessly, Danny headed away from town. He needed some time alone. Thoughts of his prospects filled his
head. What did his future hold? What kind of a job was he going to get with only one good hand? Sullivan’s Tavern could only support so many family members. His only other marketable skill was fixing cars, but his bum hand slowed him down too much for that to be a viable career. It was probably best that Mandy wasn’t interested in him. He didn’t even know what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. How could he contemplate a relationship? He glanced at the dashboard clock. More time had passed than he’d intended. Such was the time-sucking nature of a pity party. It was time to meet the insurance adjuster at Reed’s house. As Danny turned onto the interstate, his eyes were drawn to the mountains on the horizon. How could a place so peaceful harbor so much evil and madness?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The sound of wood scraping woke Kevin. He opened his eyes to dusty daylight. Lifting his head over his son’s body, curled in his arms, Kevin scanned the barn interior. No people in sight. The double doors were ajar. Fresh air flooded the cage. Against his chest, Hunter’s rib cage expanded with each reassuring breath. But they’d been without food or water for two days, maybe more. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Exhaustion and the drugs they’d been given had bent reality like a fun-house mirror.

He recognized that fear should be pounding through his veins, but dehydration had sapped his body’s ability to respond. He stretched a leg out. His foot encountered something. He turned his head and squinted. Two meal bars and a liter-size bottle of water had been placed in the cage during the night.

Multiple things occurred to Kevin immediately. One, someone had been close to them while they slept, completely vulnerable. He curled tighter around his son while panic took a slow spin through his already nauseated gut. Two, there was a good chance that the water was drugged. Three, without water, Hunter wasn’t going to survive much longer. Four, there wasn’t anything Kevin could do to save his son.

Hunter shivered, and Kevin tried to cover more of his shrinking form with a combination of his own jacket and body. The child’s skinny frame didn’t have any body fat available for fuel, and his smaller mass left him more susceptible to fluid loss. The damp, cold nights were an added insult. Looking down at
his son’s pale and sleeping face, Kevin’s heart ached more than his water-starved joints. Terror for his son welled in his chest, filled his lungs, and constricted his next few breaths. The pressure threatened to render Kevin useless. He fought back with action. Right now, they were stuck, but who knew what opportunities might crop up. The more Kevin studied his surroundings the better.

He took another inventory of the barn. There was nothing he could reach through the bars of the cage, but potential weapons littered the building: a hammer, pieces of lumber, a couple of other farm tools he didn’t recognize but that looked potentially harmful. Or course, all of these things could be used against them, too.

The big tractor hadn’t moved. Nothing had changed. Wait. Kevin squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. Yes. The woodpile in the corner had doubled in size.

What was his captor planning? More cages? Kevin blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. No. The pieces of wood were thin branches, too flimsy to build another prison.

Kevin sat up. The rough wood beneath his body dug into his bones. He scooted to the other side of the cage, picked up the water bottle, and examined it. It was a refillable sports-type bottle, not a sealed commercial product. Easy to tamper with the contents. What to do?

He opened the bottle, put it to his lips, and sniffed. Smelled like water. He took a small sip, barely enough to wet his chapped lips, and waited. When he felt no adverse effects, he drank more. Cool water soothed his dusty throat, but he put the bottle down after drinking about a quarter cup. Hunter needed the fluid more. Kevin sat and let ten or fifteen minutes pass. He didn’t die.

Kevin cupped his son’s face. “Hunter, wake up.”

His boy’s freckled face blanched in fear the second his eyes opened. But his eyes were cloudy. If Hunter didn’t get some water, Kevin wasn’t going to have to worry about their captor’s plans. So plan A: Hunter would get the majority of food and water. With just a little fluid, Kevin’s spare tire would keep him going for another day or two. If Kevin was wrong and the supplies were drugged, he could only hope the dose wouldn’t be worse than no water at all—and that if the opportunity to fight for their freedom did come, they would be able to respond. Drugged, he couldn’t protect his son. But dead, he’d be of even less use. He refused to think about the horrors playing out in his head. Of his son helpless at the hands of a psycho and of Kevin powerless to protect his boy.

Of what the psycho was planning to do to them.

His instincts told him they were being kept alive for something. Something big. Something evil.

At the moment, he really had no choice. Hunter’s eyes were sunken, his lips dry and cracked. His skin lacked elasticity. He’d stopped crying sometime the day before. They’d start with a half cup of water and see how Hunter reacted.

Praying he was right, Kevin lifted his son’s shoulders and tilted the open bottle to his lips. “Drink this.”

Hunter drank. And Kevin prayed.

Just outside the door, boots scraped on dirt. Kevin automatically shielded Hunter with his body. Someone was coming. Their captor walked into the barn, but the blond man barely glanced at them as he crossed to the tractor and started it up.

Where was he going?

Nathan checked on his captives, then drove the tractor to the edge of the lake, unhitched the boat, and launched it into the
smooth water. The process was awkward, but beggars couldn’t be too picky. Other than the lack of a dock, the location chosen by his assistant was perfect. His demands hadn’t been easy to meet. The property was quiet, out of the way, and had a large enough outbuilding for his very special project.

He tied the boat to a fallen log, then moved the tractor back into the shadows of the trees. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He wiped his brow on his sleeve. So much work still to accomplish. Beltane occurred in just two more days. He’d earmarked today for hunting.

He needed four more sacrifices to fill his effigy.

Nathan rowed along the shoreline. On his last outing, he’d seen evidence that someone else was taking advantage of the isolation of the north end of that lake. A small, semipermanent encampment fashioned from scavenged bits.

Last time, the motor had frightened off his intended prey, but this time Nathan intended to hunt the man down as if he were a wary buck.

The oars dipped. Nathan pulled, and the boat slid smoothly through the water. He was getting close. There. The boulder. He steered to the edge and dragged the boat up onto the bank.

A narrow game trail led toward the rough camp. Nathan crept through the trees, his steps silent on the damp pine needles underfoot. At the edge of the clearing, he stopped and peered around a tree. A tent had been fashioned into an
A
by stringing a tarp over a rope and staking down the four corners. Food hung from a high branch on the other side of the clearing. Smoke curled from embers inside a circle of rocks.

But the camp’s occupant was nowhere to be found.

Disappointment and panic whirled in Nathan’s belly. What if he couldn’t find enough sacrifices in time?

He would wait. Eventually, whoever lived here would return. Nathan pulled the Taser from his pocket. Best be ready.

Boom.
A shotgun blasted through the quiet woods

Nathan dropped to the ground facedown. He hugged the back of his head as leaves and bits of bark rained down on him.

“Who goes there?”

Nathan rolled. A grizzled old man stood on the trail behind him. His hair and beard were gray and long and nearly as dirty as his threadbare military fatigues. Nathan raised the Taser and fired. The old man was more agile than he appeared. He jumped behind a tree. The Taser barbs fell to the forest floor.

The shotgun boomed again. Bark exploded above Nathan’s head.

“I’ll kill you. Motherfucking aliens. I’ll kill you all.”

Boom.

Nathan heard the sound of shells being shoved into a shotgun. He scrambled to his feet and ran. Pines needles and branches whipped at his face as he darted through the trees. The next
boom
was farther away. He didn’t slow until he reached the lake’s shore, then he wasted no time pushing the boat out onto the water.

This time he opted to use the small outboard motor.

Stealth was no longer an issue.

Steering the boat to the south, he took stock. No injuries, but the fact remained that his mission was a failure.

Time was running out.

Tomorrow he’d have to venture south, to the more frequented areas of the Lake Walker, where he was sure to find people. There was a chance he’d be seen and possibly recognized, but if he didn’t succeed it wouldn’t matter.

Risk be damned.

No matter what happened, tomorrow he was filling his cages.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Steam poured from the dishwasher vents as Mandy wiped the counters. Breakfast was over hours ago. Where was Danny? All morning, she’d resisted the urge to call Doc and check up on him, but enough was enough. Ignoring the soaking pans in the sink, she picked up the cordless phone. A quick exchange with Dr. Chandler’s nurse, Shelly, put Mandy’s mind at ease about Danny’s injury. But where had he gone?

The door slapped open, and Bill burst through. “I’m hungry. Is there more cinnamon bread?”

“Of course.” Mandy wrapped a leftover slice in a napkin and poured him a glass of milk.

“Where’s Danny?” Bill took a bite.

“I don’t know.”

“He didn’t leave, did he?”

“I don’t think so. He didn’t check out.” Although that’s what she wanted him to do, the thought that he could be gone left an empty space inside her.

Bill looked doubtful. He ripped another chunk off his bread. Mandy chewed her thumbnail. Should she check Danny’s room for his things? No, he was free to come and go as he pleased. He hadn’t made her any promises. At the most, he would be here for two weeks. But the apprehension in her brother’s eyes doubled the hollowness inside. One more reason Danny had to leave immediately. Bill was getting attached to him. When Danny went home, Bill would be devastated.

“After Danny leaves, can I call him?” Was Bill reading her mind?

“Sure. Did you like talking to Reed yesterday?”

“Uh-huh.” He finished the slice and took a long swallow of milk.

“I’m glad.” She should have thought of letting Bill call. Maybe she’d been wrong about a clean break being the best way to handle the situation. Everything she did for Bill seemed to be wrong.

Bill downed the rest of his milk and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Mandy handed him a napkin.

“I thought he forgot about me.”

Ugh. Mandy rubbed her forehead. She’d definitely made the wrong call on that. Exhaustion pulled at her. The dirty pans beckoned. Danny’s words echoed in her mind:
everyone needs to be useful.