A Deadly Love (30 page)

“He probably went around the school, although the kids know they aren’t supposed to play back there.”

With a nod, he strode past the swings and slide and hurried around the side of the building. His lips twitched in a smile when he spotted Zack. Otis lunged toward the woods, dragging the boy along behind him. Sprinting forward, Dillon reached for the leash and missed. The dog bolted toward a big fir tree and dug furiously.

“Lord, he’s a pain in the butt.” Grabbing his collar, he dragged the dog away. Otis whined pathetically.

“I think there’s a gopher or something. He did that once before,” Zack said, huffing along beside him.

“Terrific. Let’s go home.”

His son chattered as they walked, talking about his math test and the new book Miss Farnsworth was reading to the class. Dillon paid little attention until the boy slowed and stopped. “Are you mad at me, Dad?”

Forcing a smile, he squeezed his shoulder. “Of course not.”

“You haven’t said anything, and you keep frowning.”

Dillon urged him forward. “It’s not because I’m mad.” Passing the spot where they’d found the boot print, a chill shivered down his spine. “I’m a little anxious, not angry.”

Zack looked up at him, his innocent eyes full of trust. Dillon’s heart nearly broke.

“What does anxious mean?”

He cleared his throat twice before he could speak. “Do you remember hearing about Mrs. Gates disappearing?”

“That’s Dale’s mom.” He scowled and kicked a rock. “A bad man took her. Dale looks sad all the time.”

Reaching down, he took his son’s hand and held it. “That’s right, but the police are going to discover where the bad man hid her. They’re looking for her every day.” He cleared his throat again. “So I don’t want you to worry too much if the kids at school talk.”

“About Dale’s mom?” he asked, his brows drawing together.

“No, about Brooke.” He steadied his voice. “The same man took her away this morning, but Harley and the FBI agents are going to find her. Everyone is looking very hard, and it won’t be long before she comes home to us.”

Tears sprang up in Zack’s eyes, and his bottom lip trembled. He sucked in a breath. “Brad said that man killed people.”

“He isn’t going to kill anyone else.” He knelt beside his son and wrapped his arm around him, hugging him tight. “I promise.” He wasn’t lying to his son. He’d keep the promise. Had to.

Zack buried his fingers in Otis’s fur and held on. “Did the bad man hide her with Dale’s mom?”

“The police think so.”

“When are they going to find them?”

“Soon.”

They were quiet as they walked. Every now and then, Zack sniffed and wiped a tear off his cheek. He looked up at him when they reached the driveway. “You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.” His voice rang with conviction. They would find Brooke and bring her home. He wouldn’t—couldn’t believe anything else. “She’ll be home before you have time to miss her.”

His son’s voice was small and thin as he glanced across the street. “I miss her already.”

Chapter Eighteen

The sound of metal scraping against wood sent a chill down Brooke’s spine. She turned toward Stephanie in the dark and groped for her hand. “Is he coming?”

She felt her nod.

“We’re in some sort of cellar. He covers the door with dirt and rocks after he leaves.”

“I’m amazed we haven’t suffocated.”

“There’s a bricked up section of wall that must have been a passageway at one time. There are air vents in it. You’ll see when he gets down here with a light.”

“Have you tried loosening the bricks?”

“Tricia managed to get one out, but it didn’t do any good. My chain is shorter and won’t reach that far.”

Boards creaked above her, a solid thud shook the ground, and a blinding light shined straight into her eyes. Brooke blinked and raised a hand to shield them from the lantern’s glare. Trembling, Stephanie pressed closer against her side as a man descended into the earthen prison.

Setting the lantern on the ground, he smiled. “Evening, ladies.”

He should look like a monster with dripping fangs and blood lust in his eyes.
Instead, his expression was one of mild interest. Staying well back from the cots, he leaned against the wooden ladder and idly turned a hunting knife over in his hand. The light gleamed on the long, serrated blade.

“I trust you’re both well. I thought we’d have a little fun tonight.”

“Why, Elliot, why?” The hard, hot lump in Brooke’s throat grew as she stared at him. Fighting tears, she waited for an answer.

He blinked behind his glasses. “I’m sure Stephanie explained it all to you, and I’m anxious to get started. It’s always more entertaining the first few times.” He made a tisking sound. “Before you ladies give up and quit trying to outsmart me.”

She nearly choked on the words. “Please, I want to hear it from you. Tell me why you’re doing this to us.”

Crossing his arms over the black down vest covering his plaid shirt, he sighed. “I suppose I have time. Caroline thinks I’m home sick with a cold, so I don’t have to worry about her surprising me with a visit.” His lips curved. “She’s so sweet, always making an extra effort to please me. Such a thoughtful, loving woman.”

“Then why would you do this to her? She’ll be devastated when she finds out you’re the one who—” Brooke bit her lip, unable to finish the sentence.

“I’m doing it
for
her.” His voice rose. “Why don’t you understand that?”

“Because you’re a freaking lunatic,” Stephanie shouted. “We don’t understand because we’re not crazy!”

He shook his head and frowned. Brooke imagined it was the same expression he wore when a student gave a wrong answer in class.

“There’s no reason to be hurtful at this stage of the game, Steph. It’ll all be over soon.”

Brooke tucked the white cotton gown under her and wrapped her arms around her knees. Imagining the end he had in mind, she shivered, cold penetrating to her core. Anger and blame wouldn’t get through to him. If she could make him see reason...

“Tell me what you’re feeling, Elliot. Maybe we can help.”

“It’s simple, really. I love Caroline, love her so very much.” His voice broke, and he took a deep breath. “When I marry her, I want to give her my heart—my whole heart.”

“You can do that, surely.” She nudged Stephanie with her elbow. “Tell him, Steph. Tell him that everyone knows how much he loves Caroline.”

“It’s true. We all see how—devoted you are to her.”

His eyes stared earnestly. “I am, but I want to give her my
whole
heart. And to do that, I need to take back the pieces.”

“What pieces?” Brooke’s voice rose, and she tried to calm her jangling nerves. Panic was the enemy. She had to focus.
Maybe he just needs a reason to let us go.
“You never loved me. We were friends.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. All those years ago, I loved each one of you.” He held up his hand when Stephanie started to speak. “I know you didn’t care about me. Cybil and Marnie were downright mean at times, but they were both so pretty...” He stared into space for a long moment. “Steph, you and Tricia were nicer, but you still didn’t treat me the way I wanted to be treated. You never looked at me the way you looked at Rod or Carter, like I was someone worthy of your love.”

Brooke closed her hand around Stephanie’s arm, feeling the pent up energy, afraid of what she might say. “You and I were pals, Elliot. We used to sit in front of the market eating ice cream cones and talking on long summer afternoons. We had some terrific conversations about what we wanted to do with our lives. Remember, you told me you planned to teach.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. Truly.” His eyes filled with tears. “If you hadn’t returned to town, this wouldn’t be necessary. Not for you, anyway. I could have embraced my life with Caroline without thinking about you every day.”

“Cybil hadn’t come home to Woodvale in years,” Stephanie said in a hard tone. “Why did you drag her back only to murder her?”

“Because she kept making movies—hot, sexy movies.” He raised his hand and wiped the back of his wrist across his brow. “Not only that, every time I turned on the TV, she was on one of those gossip shows, reminding me of the way I used to feel about her. I couldn’t ignore her any more than I could ignore you when we were constantly bumping into each other in town.”

“And Tricia? She lived in Crescent City not Woodvale. What’s your excuse for killing her?”

Stephanie pulled against her restraining hold, and Brooke tightened her grip. Elliot’s hand holding the knife shook. The man was clearly on the edge of losing it. If he lashed out—she forced back her fear and concentrated on what he was saying.

“Tricia worked at Caroline’s favorite restaurant. How do you think I felt when Tricia waited on us, knowing she still held a piece of my heart that rightfully belonged to my fiancée?” His lips quivered, and he pressed them together before continuing. “I gave you all a bit of my heart and soul, even though you didn’t want it. Now it’s time to take back the pieces.”

With a supreme effort, Brooke spoke in a quiet voice, trying to defuse the tense atmosphere. “There must be a better way, Elliot. Surly if you talked to someone, got some help—”

“Enough!” The word echoed in the dank room. “
This
is the only way. I won’t discuss it further.” He straightened and stepped to the end of the cot. “Brooke, it’s your turn tonight.”

“Why not kill us and be done with it then? Why torture us by giving us hope and snatching it away?” she whispered.

He fisted his hands on his hips, the knife blade shining in the lantern light. “I’m disappointed. I thought you were smarter than that.” His brows drew together in a frown. “I’m giving you a fighting chance, even though you never gave me a second look all those years ago. Each one of you toyed with my emotions.” He tapped his chest. “This time I’m in charge. The game will end when I say it’s over.”

There was no reasoning with him. She’d have to find a way to escape instead. Her spine stiffened. “Then by all means, let’s play.”

****

Dillon stared at Carter and Elliot sitting opposite him on folding chairs in the overheated sheriff’s office and blinked grainy eyeballs. Pure exhaustion intensified his sense of déjà vu. He hadn’t slept more than an hour the night before and wondered if he dare drink another cup of coffee. The toxic sludge simmering on the hot plate would undoubtedly eat a hole through what was left of his stomach lining.

Harley paced past the line of chairs, wearing a groove in the dirty linoleum floor. Reaching out, Dillon tapped his shoulder. “I got here late. Who’s in there with the dream team now?”

The sheriff turned on his boot heel and snorted. “Rod.”

“This is insane,” Carter said, looking up from his phone. The doctor hadn’t stopped texting since Dillon arrived straight from dropping Zack at school. “I have patients waiting for me at the hospital. How can the FBI believe one of us is the murderer?”

“Is this what Polk meant by their short list?” Dillon asked. He stared at each of his companions in turn. Besides Carter and Elliot, seven other men occupied the battered metal chairs. Each had lived in Woodvale his whole life. These were men he’d gone to school with, played softball with on summer weekends, and in some cases, worked with for years. The Murphy brothers were employees at Big Timber. They were family men. Hardworking. Decent. Or so he’d always believed. Was one of them also a sociopath, a ruthless killer? Was one of these men holding Brooke hostage, waiting for an opportunity to cut out her heart the way he had the others? Blood pounded in his ears, and he swayed dizzily.

“Yep, an even dozen,” Harley said.

He forced the image of Brooke, frightened beyond imagining, tied up in some leaky shed shaking with cold, to the back of his mind. “Including Rod, which seems ludicrous considering Steph is a victim, I count eleven of us.”

“Hell, man, don’t leave me out.” The sheriff’s voice dripped sarcasm. “I’m on the list, too.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Would I kid about a thing like that?” He returned to his pacing. “The FBI psychologist was pretty specific. She said to include every local man between the ages of thirty and forty who knew the abducted women in school and had some sort of contact with them recently. I fall smack in the middle of the category.”

“Haven’t seen Cybil in years,” Carter said, his fingers flying over the keypad on his phone.

“I don’t think any of us has.” Dillon eyed the smart phone in the doctor’s hand, and his fingers twitched. Carter’s endless texting made him want to throw the damned thing against the wall. Instead, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Cybil is the exception. Washington figured we all have seen her movies, and somehow that counts.”

“So we’re guilty by age and association. They can’t come up with anything better than that?” Gabe Wilson asked.

Dillon’s brows lowered as he stared at the contractor. He’d spent plenty of time around Brooke when she first arrived in Woodvale, fixing the front porch on June’s house.
Did I recommend a murderer when I suggested the man for the job?

“Jesus, Dillon, why are you looking at me like that?” Gabe turned his ball cap around and around in his hands. “You’re giving me the willies.”

He turned away and met Carter’s gaze. The doctor had finally pocketed his phone. He’d dated both Marnie and Stephanie in high school, and he’d made his interest in Brooke crystal clear since her return.
Is he the one responsible for this nightmare?

“Don’t look at me. I’m not the sick freak who killed them,” Carter said, his voice rising. “You’ve known me since preschool, for God’s sake. How can you even
think
I’d hurt any of those women?”

“Easy, Dillon. I know you have a personal stake in this, but don’t jump to conclusions.” Harley crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.

“I didn’t say a word.”

Carter snorted. “Didn’t have to. The look in your eyes would freeze the fires of hell.”