Web of Lies (29 page)
K
elly’s bare feet throbbed. She shivered in the middle of the little room, shoulders drawn in, hands fisted at her stomach. Her desperate gaze roved the floor around her, looking for spiders. If only she had something, any little thing, to flick them away —
A tickling on her head. Kelly shrieked, flicked a palm across the top of her hair. A large black spider whisked down, landed on her leg. She screamed again, batting at it with both hands. “Get off, get
off
!” It fell to the floor, then scuttled toward her feet.
“No!”
Kelly shuffled backward, then whipped her head around. What if she stepped on one? What if another one dropped down from the ceiling? Where was the one by her feet? What was that on her arm?
The black one reached her toe. She squealed and kicked it away. Frantically she ran her hands over her arms, her legs.
They’re everywhere, they’re all over me, they’re going to bite me, I’m going to die!
With a wail she threw herself at the door once more. “Let me out!
Please! Let. Me. Out!
” She banged it and kicked it and tore at the knob. “Please, let me
out
!”
Kelly sobbed and pleaded until her throat rawed and the words ran dry. She sagged against the door, exhaustion flooding her. She needed to lie down. She needed sleep. Even for just ten minutes . . .
Her eyelids drooped.
What was that?
Her eyes flew open. A spider — by her cheek. “Aah!” She jerked her face away from the wood, jumped back.
Oh no, the floor.
Now she had to check it again . . . And the ceiling . . . Then the floor again . . .
Her vision blurred. She looked up, down, behind her, trying to see through fresh tears. Then turned in a cautious circle. Searching. Praying.
God, please, let somebody find me. Let someone find me soon . . .
“
I
t’s Kelly!” I jabbed on the line. Jenna gasped. Everyone crowded in, hope and fear quivering the air. I leaned forward, smashed the cell phone against my ear. “Kelly? Kelly, where are you?”
A chuckle. “Annie Kingston.” The same low voice grated every nerve in my body.
Oh, God, no.
This could not be Ryan Burns. “Where’s Kelly, Orwin? I want to
talk
to her!”
“She’s alive and well. I’m gonna make this quick, so you better listen if you want her back. Is Chelsea Adams with you?”
Chelsea?
My heart slammed against my ribs. “Yes, but
please
, I want to know Kelly’s okay; let me — ”
“If you don’t listen,” he hissed, “you’ll never see your daughter again.
Do you hear?
”
“I . . . yes.”
“All right.” He drew a breath, spoke rapidly. “As you know, I’m rather indisposed at the moment. Policemen are everywhere. But your daughter’s not here. Now that I’m trapped, I’m thinking if I let her free, maybe the cops will go easier on me. Besides, I got a friend who could use that fifty-thousand-dollar reward. So bighearted me just told him where Kelly is. But he’s dicey about all this and doesn’t want any trouble. So here’s the deal. Tell Chelsea to drive your car — alone — heading north on Tory Road, west of Redding. Go two miles. When she sees a falling-down old red barn on her right, she stops. Gets out of the car and opens every door, plus the back. My friend will have binoculars. When he sees nobody hiding in the car, he’ll come out and give Chelsea a key and directions. The key will open an old warehouse and the room inside it where Kelly is. No use trying to find this place on your own. You don’t follow these instructions, the guy will split and you’ll never see Kelly again. This is your
one
chance. Got it?”
“Yes,
yes
.”
“Good. The guy will be wearing a sweatshirt with a hood. Chelsea’s not to look at his face. When this is all over, and he’s sure he won’t get in trouble, he’ll come forward for the reward. You want your daughter back, tell Chelsea to be there in twenty minutes.”
Click.
I lowered the phone in shock.
“Mom — ” Stephen leaned down and shook me — “what happened?”
Adrenaline catapulted through my veins. Kelly was alive. We could bring her
home
. My back straightened. “We have to go. Now.”
Amazingly, no one would get in the car without an explanation. I could have strangled them all. I stumbled out, shook Jenna by the shoulders. Words spurted from me — where Chelsea was supposed to go, what she was supposed to do. Tears raked my eyes and my voice shook. But as I repeated Neese’s commands, reality hit. Wait a minute. Why did Neese want
Chelsea
to do this — alone?
And how could I possibly ask her to go?
Jenna screwed up her face. “Why did he ask for Chelsea; why not you?”
“Annie — ” Dave looked appalled — “that’s far too dangerous. We don’t know who this guy is. No way can we let her do that.”
Chelsea only stared, pale-faced. Her gaze fell to the ground and she drew away from us. Her lips moved in silent prayer.
Everyone else started talking at once. “Wait, wait!” Milt held up both hands. “None of this makes sense; we have to think it through.”
“I know it sounds crazy,” I cried, “but we don’t have
time
to think it through. Chelsea’s supposed to be there in less than twenty minutes!”
Jenna pushed past me toward the car. “Annie, give me a second. I think I know where Tory Road is.”
She scrambled into the front passenger seat and punched something into the navigation system. Stephen ran around and climbed into the driver’s seat to watch. Up popped a map, an address marked in a red bull’s-eye. Jenna sucked in a breath. “Look! I put in the Scander Lane address and it’s only a couple miles from Tory Road. In fact, that lane turns off Tory. Maybe that
is
the house.”
“Yeah.” Stephen jabbed a finger at the screen. “Can’t be coincidence. She’s gotta be there.”
My throat threatened to close. “But that’s Ryan’s house. She
can’t
be there. Neese said she’s in an old warehouse.”
“Why should we believe him?” Milt swiped his arm through the air. “We can’t believe
anything
he says, including this latest scheme about Chelsea and some key. Whole thing sounds like a setup to me.”
The minutes were ticking away. I wanted to scream. “We don’t have a choice but to believe him. I just want to get Kelly!”
Dave held my shoulders. “We all want to get Kelly. But we can’t send Chelsea into danger.”
I knew that. I
did
. But my daughter needed us . . .
Something in the very core of me turned over, went cold. I bent low, dropped my head in both hands.
God, help me! I don’t know what to do!
A sob rattled up my throat.
Someone touched my hands gently. Pulled them away. I straightened, blinking.
Chelsea.
I looked into her eyes. She was shaking. Literally shaking. She opened her mouth, tried to speak, but the words caught. She firmed her lips, tried again. “Annie.” Her whisper sounded barren, as if she stared death itself in the face. “God just . . . I understand now. And — heaven help me — you’re right. I have to go.”
C
helsea dug her fingers into the leather of the backseat. Every muscle felt stiff enough to crack.
God, I don’t know how
I’m going to do this.
No one spoke. Jenna was pushing the speed limit, even as the arch of her shoulders belied her dismay of their plans. They’d driven through town and now were in a rural area again, on Redding’s west side. Dave cupped his chin, vacantly watching the road. Annie had moved to the center of the backseat, one hand firmly on Chelsea’s arm. Dread and despairing hope fell from her like molten drops. Chelsea knew Annie had everything to say — and could say nothing.
“It’s okay,” Chelsea managed to whisper and patted her hand.
Tears trickled down Annie’s cheeks.
Dave puffed out air. “Look, I can’t . . . There’s got to be another way to do this.”
“Yeah.” Jenna’s voice was hard. “There’s seven of us and one of him. I could take this guy all by myself. I’ll just hike in, me and my gun.”
“He’ll have binoculars.” Annie wearily wiped her eyes. “He’ll see you way before you see him.”
No doubt Annie was right. The man had probably chosen an open area where he could see for some distance. Plus the SUV’s navigation system showed Scander Lane — a dead end — as the only turn off Tory Road. No one was going to sneak up on this man. Not them, and certainly not any sheriff’s deputy in a car.
“We need to call 911.” Dave turned to look at Chelsea, his mouth set. “I’m not going to let you do this, no matter what you say. 911
has
to respond. We should have called them in the first place — forget talking to some deputy behind a desk.” He reached for his cell phone.
“No!” Annie grabbed his arm. “Dave, we’ve already been over this three times. If deputies show up, they’ll scare the guy away for sure. We’ll
never
find out where Kelly is.”
Sudden panic bubbled within Chelsea. Dave was right; she shouldn’t go out there alone. Imagine if Paul knew. He’d
never
let her do this.
God, maybe I heard You wrong. There has to be some other way . . .
She closed her eyes. Waited.
Please . . .
The knowledge deep within her didn’t budge.
Psalm 56 rose in her mind:
“When I am afraid, I will trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid . . .”
She swallowed down the fear. “Jenna, how much farther?”
“About three miles.”
“Okay.” Chelsea’s mouth spoke as if from someone else’s body. Memories of her visions, the closing walls of the dim spider room, snatched at her breath.
“For You have delivered me from death and my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before God in the light of life . . .”
“There it is. The turn for Tory Road.” Jenna pulled the car over. Milt parked behind them.
Chelsea pressed her palms together, brought them to her lips.
“When I am afraid, I will trust in You . . .”
Dave surveyed her. “This isn’t right. I can’t let you do it.”
Yes, Dave,
Chelsea wanted to scream,
please don’t let me!
Annie’s words from last Saturday — was that only two days ago? — echoed in her head.
“If we knew everything up front, we’d be too scared to walk off that cliff . . .”
Now she knew it all. Far more than she would tell them.
But she
would
walk off that cliff.
Chelsea forced herself to look Dave in the eye. “God wants me to do this. He’ll be with me. I know it’s frightening, but I’m going to trust Him. I
will
be safe. We have our plans. I’ll be back with that key in no time. And if for some reason I’m not . . . you know what to do.”
They argued . . . and argued some more. But Chelsea knew one thing — if God truly wanted her to place herself at the mercy of this man, He’d smooth the way so it could happen. Hadn’t He brought them through everything else so far?
She won the argument.
Chelsea pushed her cell phone beneath the driver’s seat. She was supposed to call Annie as soon as she was driving away with the key.
If only she could make the call.
They took a precious minute to pray. Another to gather sturdy pieces of wood from the surrounding area. These they threw into the trunk of Milt’s car, beside Bill’s camera.
Then with a final hug to Annie, Chelsea climbed into the driver’s seat of the SUV.
Alone.
T
here she comes.
His body tensed as the SUV came in sight around a curve. About time; she was almost ten minutes late. He lay on his belly, uphill from the narrow road, scanning the countryside through binoculars. Sweating bullets in the sweatshirt. As if his walk in the heat hadn’t been bad enough. After all this trouble, he’d better pull this thing off.
Chill, man, you want the dirt ants to start? Think about . . . something else.
Yeah, like wasn’t this kind of whacked out? The woman had visions, said they were from God. So where was her God now? How come He was letting her walk into a trap?
The car pulled even with the old red barn. Stopped. Chelsea Adams got out. He fixed the binoculars upon her.
Wow. Pictures didn’t do her justice. This woman was fine.
She left her door ajar. One by one opened all the others, plus the hatchback. She backed away from the car, head bent, focused on the road.
He peered at the front seat. Check. At the rear. Empty. In the back. He moved his head right, left, making sure he saw no still form. Then scanned the countryside once more. All clear.
Pum, pum, chaka-laka-laka. Here goes.
I
perched in the backseat of Milt’s car, half on top of Dave. Jenna and Stephen were squeezed in with us. Milt sat in the front passenger seat, his cameraman, Bill, driving. I could barely breathe. My brain lay buried in rubble, dazed and bewildered. Stephen, Jenna, and Milt all insisted the close proximity of Tory Road and Scander Lane was no coincidence. I
knew
Kelly could not be in Ryan Burns’s house, but I had no energy to argue.
Wherever she was, I just wanted her back.
Milt bristled with energy. Every word he spoke was clipped. “It’s been five minutes.”
Five minutes — the planned time for Chelsea to be starting her drive up the south end of Tory Road. And soon we should see the turn onto its north end.
“There it is!” Milt jabbed his finger toward the window.
Please, God, let everything work.
Now the next step. In about three minutes Chelsea should reach the barn. An estimated three more to receive the key, climb back in the car . . .
Stephen checked his watch. “Okay, I’m counting down the six minutes.”
Bill turned on Tory Road and we headed south. Milt leaned toward Bill, neck straining. Aloud he noted each tenth of a mile. “Eight . . . nine . . . one mile. Slow down; we should see Scander Lane soon.” He peered ahead as we rounded a curve. “Whoa, there’s the lane. Back up, back up!”
