Pushed Too Far: A Thriller (13 page)

“If you have any concerns, anything I should be aware of, don’t hesitate to let me know,” said Schneider.

Concerns? Was he kidding? She’d just spilled her list of concerns to him this morning. Concerns he’d obviously turned around and used to convince Haselow and the board that she should be suspended.

“I’ll leave you two to work out the transition.” Haselow shrugged on his coat, fumbling with the sleeves. Once he finally managed to get dressed, he gave Val a strangely awkward bow.

Schneider stood and shook the man’s hand. Val expected him to wipe his palm on his pants afterward, but instead, the father she always wanted circled the desk and lowered himself into her chair. He leaned back, looking at home, in control, back where he belonged.

Transition complete.

Val hardly noticed Haselow close the door behind him. “What’s going on, Jeff?”

“Just trying to help.”

“You think I handled things the wrong way? You think I should have just ignored a report of Dixon Hess entering the high school with a gun? Would you have ignored it?”

“I think the stresses of the past week have caught up with you, that’s all. It could happen to anyone. I’m just trying to help.”

She had to calm down, choose her words carefully. But at the moment, anything short of slamming her fist on the blotter and yelling seemed inadequate. “I don’t need your kind of help, Jeff.”

“Don’t need it? Really? One minute you’re telling me you don’t think Dixon Hess is guilty, the next you’re almost shooting him in front of a classroom of school children.”

She opened her mouth, ready to fire back something sharp and hurtful, but the words wouldn’t come. The fact was, she could understand how her words and actions wouldn’t add up. “I can explain—”

“Don’t have to. You’ve been stressed. No one is blaming you. But you’re under investigation, and now with Hess stirring up trouble and the media lapping it up ...” He heaved a sigh so heavy his whole body convulsed. “It’s a good time to take a break. If you weren’t so close to this, you’d see. Hell, you probably
would
suggest the suspension yourself.”

“I do have to explain. Remember what I told you about Hess?”

He looked at her with dull eyes.

“Whether you agree doesn’t matter. He’s going to start killing the people he blames for putting him in prison.”

“He made threats? Why haven’t you arrested him?”

“He knows which words to choose to get his point across.”

Schneider nodded. “He is slippery. But I’ll take care of him. I know how to do the job.”

She didn’t think he meant to imply she didn’t, but he also didn’t know what he was up against, not like she did. “I’m serious. People are going to die.”

“If you’re trying to tell me Hess is a dangerous man, Val, believe me, I know. That’s what I was trying to get across to you this morning, what Pete has been saying all along. You can’t make a deal with a man like that. He played you at the school today. He’s playing you on this Jane Doe case.”

She wished she could argue with any of that, but until she had hard evidence, nothing she could say would convince Schneider that Hess hadn’t killed Jane Doe.

She wasn’t entirely convinced herself.

“The investigation will be over soon, and with me taking over the job, you won’t miss a beat.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I am. Now gather what you need from your office, go home, catch up on your rest, and spend some time with that niece of yours.”

His suggestions sounded wonderful, if a killer’s threat wasn’t hanging over her town.

“Everything will be fine. Just fine,” he said.

She located her coat and bag and took a last glance around her office. Staring at her from the wall above Schneider’s head, hung her college diploma, certificates from Staff and Command school and the FBI’s National Academy and—in the ultimate twist of office décor irony—the framed newspaper clipping announcing Hess’s conviction.

“I’ll bet you don’t know why you’re here.”

Tamara Wade wasn’t sure if the male voice was part of her dream or calling her out of it, but she didn’t want to wake.

“I mean you didn’t do anything wrong, did you? You went through the motions, stood up there in your tailored suit and your power pumps and played your part.”

Not a dream. Real. And when she realized that, something inside of her cringed.

Where was she?

The place smelled musty, dank like a basement and cold. She was lying on her side, naked, hard concrete underneath, so cold her muscles twitched and jerked in shivers. She tried to open her eyes, but her lids were heavy, her head looping and spinning even though her body remained still.

“You didn’t lie. Not one word. You told the truth, but not the part that would help me.”

She tried to bring her hand to her face, to find out what was wrong with her eyes, to support her head, but they wouldn’t reach.

Tied. Her wrists were tied.

To each other. To the floor.

A blindfold wrapped her eyes.

Where in the hell was she?

It all came back then, the parking garage, his smile when she saw him, the smile of a predator. She’d been so proud of her role in getting him out of prison, in saving a man from a punishment the state failed to prove he deserved.

Now she was the one being punished. “Am I still in the garage?”

“No.”

“Where am I?”

“A place where we can have some privacy.”

Privacy. To kill her. To rape her. To do whatever he pleased. “What do you want, Dixon?”

“You really weren’t listening, were you?”

What had she missed? “I’m sorry. My head.”

“Just talking, talking, talking. You never gave a shit about what I had to say. You still aren’t listening.”

“I’m sorry. I am now. I promise.” Why couldn’t she see? She needed to get a look at his face, read his expressions, tell him what he wanted to hear. “Please.”

“Talking again. Talking instead of listening.”

“I’m sorry.” Her throat was going to be raw from apologizing, but she didn’t know what else to do, how else to reach him. “Take the blindfold off, please. I need to see you. I can listen better if I can see you.”

“Listening is done with the ears, Tamara.”

“Please.”

She heard the shuffle of shoes on concrete and could feel him near her. He tugged at the fabric binding her eyes, yanking her hair along with it.

A bare bulb hung from the ceiling, the energy saving kind with the pigtail curls. She blinked back the glare.

“Has your listening improved?”

She was in a basement, a pile of boxes near her head, an old bed spring leaning against the wall. Her hands were tied in front of her, fingers purple from lack of circulation. The rope securing them was fastened to a steel ring embedded in the concrete, like something from a dungeon.

Shadows surrounded her, but she still couldn’t see Dixon Hess. “Where are you?”

“Behind you. Just getting a little something to help you listen.”

A shudder worked over her skin, fear adding to cold until she could no longer control her muscles.

“You know what your problem is, Tamara? Why you are a shit listener?”

Her teeth chattered together, the tremor taking her. She craned her neck, trying to spot him.

“Do you?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“You always have to be talking, always talking. You can’t listen if you’re constantly flapping your gums.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You still don’t get it?” His voice wasn’t angry but cold.

Somehow that frightened her more than anything. “Don’t get what? Just tell me what to do.”

“Listen.”

“I’m listening. Really, I am.”

“No, you’re not, Tamera. You’re talking. You love talking more than anything in the world. And I’m about to take that away from you.”

A scream worked up the base of her throat.

And when he stepped into the light, and she saw the long sewing needle in his fingers, thread trailing from the eye, her shriek broke free.

“I
called a friend of mine,” Val explained to her niece. “She invited us to stay with her a few days.”

Grace greeted the news with a frown.

She’d been frowning since Val got home, had frowned all through dinner, and Val had to admit, she couldn’t blame her. It had been a hell of an upsetting day, not just for her, but for Grace, too. And even though she felt as if she’d been run through a wringer and come out still soaking wet, she needed to hold it together. One of them had to, and it wasn’t fair to expect it of a sixteen year old.

The tea pot screamed from the stove. Val tore open two packets of instant hot chocolate, dumped them into cups, and poured in the steaming water. She hadn’t finished outlining the plans she made, and had yet to break the news about her suspension. She’d hoped chocolate would make everything go down a little more easily.

She carried the fragrant mugs into the adjoining living room and set them on the coffee table. “My friend is really great. You’ll like her. And there’s a lot of fun stuff to do in Chicago.”

“Chicago?” The sixteen year old flopped herself on the couch the way only a hormonal girl facing a life upheaval could. “What about the horses?”

Val took a sip of the cocoa, burning her tongue. Giving up, she set the cup down and eyed her niece. “Oneida found a man who has horses of his own. He’s agreed to feed and muck stalls while we’re gone.”

“What if he doesn’t know what he’s doing? What if Max colics again? What if he forgets to check Banshee’s blanket and she gets too hot? Or too cold?”

“I think he can manage.”

“How about water? If the power goes out, the heater in the water tank won’t work.”

“If that happens, he’ll carry buckets from the house.”

“The water pump in the house won’t work either.”

“So we’ll tell him to get some jugs of water from Wal-Mart.”

“Do you know how much water horses drink?”

“Did you miss the part about him having his own horses?” Val shot back.

Grace shook her head, blond hair flying. “A lot of people have horses, and they’re really stupid about taking care of them.”

Val forced a deep breath into her lungs. She’d hardly slept in days, and even though some feeling seemed to be returning to her hand—she hoped—the problem with her neck and head was getting worse. On the drive home from the station, she’d been hit with a fatigue so deep, she’d been barely able to make it.

Jeff Schneider had been right. She needed to get out of here, to get Grace out of here. Even if it was only a few days, she needed to make sure they were both safe so she could rest.

She could do that in Chicago.

“Listen Grace, no one cares for those horses like you do. But that doesn’t mean this guy can’t handle feeding and cleaning for a few days.” She prayed it wouldn’t be longer than that, although if her suspension turned into losing her job completely, they wouldn’t have to worry about taking care of the horses. They’d have to sell them.

No point in mentioning that to Grace just now.

She stared at the empty fireplace for what seemed like forever, then wiping her eyes with the back of one hand, she pulled herself into a sitting position on the couch and folded her arms. “I want to talk to him.”

Definite progress. “He’ll be here for feeding time tomorrow morning. You can show him around, give him instructions.”

Arms still crossed over her chest, Grace lightened up on the pout. At least a little.

“Come on. It’ll be fun.”

“I’m not a kid. I know this isn’t just for fun. It’s because of what happened in school today, isn’t it?”

Val couldn’t deny it.

“Heidi saw he had a gun. She did. She wouldn’t lie about that.”

“He was messing with her, Grace. He was messing with the teachers. He was messing with all of us.”