You Belong to Me (57 page)

‘You bitch,’ he snarled. ‘You’ll pay for that.’ He rose to his knees, his good arm around her waist and started to haul her to her feet again. All she could hear was the pounding in her head. All she could feel was the burning in her leg. Like an animal she fought, throwing her body back, crying out when the back of her head connected with his forehead.
Crack
.

The arm around her waist was suddenly gone. Breathing hard, Lucy rolled away, lifting her throbbing head. Evan was lying there, motionless. Out cold. The bandage on his arm was bright red. His stitches had blown and he was bleeding again.

Desperately she looked around, then up – and saw the small table.
Knives
. She’d seen knives. Struggling to one knee, she hooked her chin on the edge of the table and pulled. It toppled, then crashed to the concrete floor, the corner hitting Evan square in the forehead.

Hammers and knives scattered.
Yes
.

She needed to breathe. She didn’t have time.
Get away. Get away. Cut the ropes
. But her hands were tied behind her back. She needed help. She looked back over to the flatbed cart. Gwyn was watching numbly.

Lucy twisted her body, maneuvering her hands until she grabbed one of the knives. Then she began to roll toward Gwyn, clenching her teeth against the pain and hoping like hell she didn’t stab herself in the back.

Ocean City, Maryland, Wednesday, May 5, 10.30 A.M.

Clay stopped the car. ‘Alyssa, we’re here. Wake up.’

Alyssa stirred, yawned, then blinked in surprise. ‘This isn’t Anderson Ferry.’

‘No. I was almost there, then I started thinking. We know Nicki went to Anderson Ferry a week ago. Mazzetti said we should have found a package. But we didn’t.’

‘So either Nicki’s got a hiding place you don’t know about, or Evan took it.’

Clay nodded. ‘I got to wondering why Evan killed her that night. If it was because she got information from Anderson Ferry, how did Evan know she had it?’

‘She might have told him.’

‘She might have told me,’ he murmured.
Why didn’t you come to me, Nic?
‘That she didn’t meant she didn’t want me to know, which meant it was really bad.’

‘And if I had something that bad, I wouldn’t have let him in my apartment.’

‘She didn’t let him in. She was in bed when . . .’ He had to swallow back the bile that burned his throat every time the images of Nicki’s mutilated body filled his mind. ‘He caught her sleeping. He knew she knew. He was furious that she knew.’

‘So how did he know?’ she asked, then let out a breath. ‘He hid a tracker in the little girl’s backpack. I bet he hid one in Nicki’s car too.’

‘Very good,’ Clay said grimly. ‘He knew she’d been to Anderson Ferry and he knew she’d gone home. Then I wondered why the tracking device Nicki put under her own car was here, in Ocean City.’ He pointed to a motel whose paint had long faded to gray. ‘Specifically there.’

‘She left you the package.’

‘She left me something.’ Now that he was here, Clay was afraid to go inside. But he knew he had to. ‘Come with me. I don’t want you alone until the cops find Reardon.’

‘How do you know they’ll find him?’

‘He shot that cop this morning, the one who was guarding the doc at the morgue last night. Left him in critical condition. And he kidnapped Dr Trask. It’s all over the radio.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘They will find him, it’s just a matter of time.’

‘That poor woman,’ Alyssa said as she followed him into the motel.

If he kills her, her blood is on my hands too
. Clay rang the bell on the desk and an elderly woman came out to greet him. ‘My name is Maynard,’ he said. ‘Nicki Fields sent me.’

‘Oh. All right. Can I see ID? Nicki asked me to make sure you showed ID.’

Clay obliged and the old woman hurried away. When she returned, she held a thick manila envelope. ‘Thank you,’ Clay said, forcing himself to take it.

When they were back in the car, he opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of papers. On top was a note, in Nicki’s precise handwriting and Clay’s throat closed.

Dear Clay, if you’re here, I’m dead and Evan Reardon is responsible. As I write this, I’m hoping I can find him and deal with him myself. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to know how badly I fucked up. I trusted Evan. I fell for him. I even considered running away with him, becoming Mrs Ted Gamble. Now I just want to take a few days off and fix this.

When Evan first approached me, I did a routine background check. One of the things I requested was his and his mother’s documents from Newport News. The documents came weeks later – after I’d already fallen too hard to see what I should have already seen.

The marriage license listed his mother as Yvette Bryan, not Yvette Smith as Evan told me. Evan had told me his mother’s maiden name was Smith and that Timothy Reardon was her first marriage, that she’d had Evan out of wedlock. This was inconsistent and it bothered me.

Timothy died ten years ago, but I located his surviving sister. She said that when Yvette was drunk, she’d cry for her daughter, Ileanna. It’s a pretty unusual name and it didn’t take me long to find her death certificate. Ileanna Bryan was killed in a town called Anderson Ferry, Maryland. I went there and found her grave. She died when she was only seventeen. I went to the newspaper office and they pulled the articles you’ll find in this packet. I’m now worried about why Evan never mentioned this.

That Evan came to me wanting a new identity is now very suspicious. I need time to figure it out, to make this right. If I get to the bottom of things and all is well, I’ll come back and get my own package. If not
. . .
fuck it.

There was no signature. No goodbye. Clay handed the letter to Alyssa and started the car. He didn’t need to go to Anderson Ferry now.

Wednesday, May 5, 10.30 A.M.

By the time Lucy reached Gwyn, her friend had pushed herself up to her knees. Lucy rested on her uninjured side, the knife still tightly gripped in her hands. Saying nothing, Gwyn awkwardly maneuvered until her bound hands came in contact with the knife.

Lucy watched Evan’s body for any sign of movement, but there was none. Yet. Gwyn’s movements seemed painfully slow, but only a few minutes passed before the rope broke and Gwyn was free. She twisted, grabbing the knife and sawing the ropes around Lucy’s wrists.

‘He’s got a gun,’ Lucy whispered. ‘He shot a detective with it.’

‘Can we get it?’

Lucy shook her head. ‘It was in his waistband and he fell on it.’

‘I could try to roll him over and grab it.’

‘He’s too heavy. I don’t think you could move him and I’m afraid to try. He might come to. Just hurry,’ Lucy breathed. ‘We’ll have to get out before he comes to.’

Finally the ropes snapped and Lucy rubbed her aching wrists. ‘My leg is broken,’ she murmured as Gwyn started on the ropes around her ankles. ‘I don’t think I can walk out of here, and you’re not big enough to move me. You cut my mother loose and get her out of here. I’ll free my father. Hopefully he’s not too stiff to move. He’s been tied like that since yesterday. If he can move, I can lean on him.’

‘I have a better idea. We get ourselves out on that flatbed and send the cops for your parents.’

The ropes burst free and Lucy had to bite her tongue to keep from moaning.
Goddamn, it hurts
. ‘I’m not leaving her here. He’ll kill her. Get my mother out.’ She cut through Gwyn’s ankle ropes more quickly now that the blood was returning to her hands. ‘My father can push me on the cart.’

‘I’m not leaving you here for him to kill you,’ Gwyn whispered. ‘Try to stand.’ Lucy did, but her leg buckled, unable to support her weight. Gwyn slid her arms under Lucy’s armpits. ‘On your butt,’ Gwyn directed. ‘I’ll drag, you push with the other foot.’

Lucy complied, but all she could see were bright lights in front of her eyes by the time she reached her mother. ‘Cut her loose,’ she said and frowning, Gwyn obeyed. ‘Now get her out of here.
Do it
,’ she snapped when Gwyn started for the flatbed.

‘Leave him here,’ Gwyn said. ‘I’ll get you out and you can send the cops.’

Lucy shook her head again. ‘As bad as he is, I can’t leave him here either. Get your ass out of here and get her out, too. Get help.’

Lucy grabbed the knife and started sawing the rope tying her father. From the corner of her eye she saw Gwyn lift her mother to her feet and help her to the door, which swung closed behind them. The door opened again and Gwyn pushed a wheelchair through. It rolled across the floor, coming to a stop midway. Then she was gone again, getting her mother to safety. Getting help.
Please
.

Lucy removed her father’s gag. ‘Did you take the necklace?’ she asked quietly as she sawed at the rope binding his hands.

‘No.
Hurry
.’

She grasped the knife tighter, sawed harder until the ropes split. Ron massaged his hands as she started on the ropes at his ankles. When they broke, her father pushed unsteadily to his knees, then his feet. He’d been tied for so many hours, he couldn’t stand straight.

Lucy pushed herself up so that all her weight rested on one knee. ‘Help me up.’

He took a step back. ‘No.’

‘What?’ Lucy stared up at him in disbelief. ‘I helped you.’

‘That’s your problem,’ he said coldly. He turned for the door, leaving Lucy open-mouthed in shock.

‘Wait.’ She grabbed for him, but grasped only air. ‘Why?’ she hissed. ‘Why do you hate me? Why are you leaving me here to die?’

He turned around, rage contorting his features. ‘It’s always
you. Always you
. She wasn’t my
wife
, she was your
mother
. She obeyed me, like a wife should, until it came to
you
. She only defied me because of you,’ he spat, then shook his head in disgust. ‘The wrong kid died, as far as I’m concerned. Whatever Evan does to you, you have coming.’

He turned again for the door, half-walking and half-stumbling as he made his escape.

‘Sonofabitch,’ she muttered, recovering. Evan would come to, any minute.
Move
. The wheelchair was closer than the flatbed.
Crawl
. She did, dragging her leg behind her, clenching her teeth against the pain. She was only a few feet from the wheelchair when she heard the clatter of metal behind her. It was the table that had held his tools being shoved aside. Evan was awake.
Dammit
.

‘What the hell?’ It was a cry of fury. ‘Freeze, Trask.’

Ahead, Lucy watched her father stumble to a stop.
Please, Gwyn, be getting help
.

‘Get back here, Trask,’ Evan ordered. ‘Hands behind your head.’

Her father looked like he might turn around, then broke into a run. Seconds later he hit his knees, Evan’s bullet having struck him square in the middle of his back. Blood was spreading over his shirt and he fell face forward. For a moment Lucy couldn’t move. Then she saw her father move slightly – one hand extended to crawl.

‘Don’t move, Lucy,’ Evan snarled when she did exactly that.

‘I have to,’ Lucy said fiercely. ‘I have to stop his bleeding. He’s still alive.’

Evan grabbed her arm, dragged her across the floor to where her father lay bleeding. He aimed for her father’s head. Lucy closed her eyes and turned her face away as he fired again.

‘Now he’s dead,’ Evan said flatly. ‘No worries.’

Oh God, oh God. Breathe. Do not hyperventilate. Do not pass out.

Then the two of them froze as a sound outside grew louder. A helicopter.
JD. Thank you
.

‘Fuck,’ Evan snarled again. ‘Move your ass, now.’

‘Reardon!’ came a voice from outside and Lucy started to hyperventilate again.
JD
.
He’s here
. ‘Police. This place is surrounded. Surrender.’

Evan yanked her to her feet. ‘Move,’ he barked, then dragged her, making her hop on one foot to keep up. He dragged her down a hallway to the door, shoved it open and put her in front of it, his gun to her head while he stood inside.

‘Go to hell,’ he yelled. ‘I have a hostage. Let me on my boat. Let the two of us leave undisturbed and she’ll live. Come a step closer and I’ll kill her. I swear it.’

From where Lucy stood she caught a glimpse of JD and Stevie in tactical gear. They were here.
Just hold on
, she told herself.
Just a little longer
.

Wednesday, May 5, 11.00 A.M.

Everything had moved once they knew the address – informing Hyatt, the race to the helipad, the ten-minute flight that would have taken forty to drive. But now, seeing that gun at her head, time seemed to stand still.

‘She’s alive, JD,’ Stevie said in a low voice.

‘I know.’ But she was hurt. She was pale, her mouth pinched in pain, and she leaned all her weight on one foot. ‘He’s not getting on that boat, Stevie.’

‘I know,’ Stevie said evenly. ‘We’ve got two dozen cops surrounding the place and snipers on the way. We need to establish what he’s done with the others.’ She turned to JD, assessing him. ‘Do you need to step down?’