Fatal Disclosure (10 page)

The other robber shoved Lizzy forward, and Miranda grabbed her before she hit the floor. Both women cast terrified glances at Betsy as the man holding her pulled her toward the door. He glanced over his shoulder before he backed on to the porch. Then he pulled her across the porch and down the stairs. Over her shoulder, she could see the other man who had run past them holding the back door of a car open.

“Put her in here,” he yelled to his partner.

She strained against the arm locked around her, but it was no use. There was no way she could break free. “Please,” she gasped. “You need to let me go before you get into worse trouble than you already are. There’s no way off this island, and the police will find me.”

The robber holding her chuckled and dragged her closer to the car’s open door. “You think so? Well, your brother will have a hard time doing that.”

Cold fear knotted her stomach. How did this man know her brother was a deputy on the island? There could only be one explanation. This wasn’t a robbery. These men had come into the store with the intention of abducting her.

The reality of her situation sank in. There was no escape, and from the sound of her kidnapper’s voice, he didn’t intend for her to be found. What would they do? Kill her? Would she disappear and never be seen again? She shivered with fear. The necklace bounced on her neck again, and Betsy thought of her mother.

Betsy had never known anyone stronger in her faith than her mother. Even when she knew she was dying, her spiritual beliefs never wavered. Now as she faced possible death and what seemed like a hopeless situation, Betsy felt God’s love flood her heart. A sudden peace filled her soul. She closed her eyes and breathed a prayer that God would stay with her no matter what happened.

* * *

Mark had debated his options from the moment he spun around to see the robbers. Pulling his gun would endanger customers in the store and also lead to questions about why he carried a weapon. It would be better to avoid gunfire, but he wouldn’t hesitate if innocent lives were put in danger.

The entire time the robbers were in the store, he’d scanned the shelves and aisles for some kind of weapon, and the display of croquet sets next to the door had caught his attention. The minute the robber disappeared out the door with Betsy, he rushed past Lizzy and Miranda. “Call the police,” he yelled over his shoulder to the owner.

He grabbed a croquet mallet in his left hand and one of the wooden balls in his right. Flattening himself against the wall beside the door, he peeked around the door facing and saw the robbers pulling Betsy to a car next to his in the parking lot.

The man in the red ski mask held her around the waist with her arms pinned to her sides and pulled her backward. The other ran ahead to the car and opened the back door. The only way to save Betsy was to stop them before they had a chance to escape with her in the car.

He started to reach for the gun strapped around his ankle but hesitated when two motorcycles roared into the parking lot. The noise from the engines startled the robbers, and they whirled with their guns aimed at the two riders. With Betsy’s captors momentarily distracted, Mark bolted through the store’s door, took aim with the wooden croquet ball, and hurled it at the man holding Betsy.

The ball sailed through the air and struck the robber between his right shoulder and elbow. His arm jerked, and the gun crashed to the ground. A cry of pain pierced the air as he released Betsy and grabbed his now-dangling broken arm with his left hand.

Gripping the mallet with both hands, Mark leaped down the front steps and charged toward the disabled robber. Betsy scrambled to put some distance between herself and the masked men. Mark swung, and the mallet sank into the man’s soft stomach. A groan rumbled in his throat, and he keeled over.

Mark pulled back to swing again just as he heard Betsy’s scream. “Mark, look out behind you!”

He tried to turn but it was too late. Something heavy struck his head, and he fell to his knees. He shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears and glanced up in time to see the butt of a gun descending again. He held the mallet with one hand above his head in an effort to deflect the blow and tried to reach his gun, but it was no use. Another pain flashed through his head, and he sprawled facedown on the pavement. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the robber he’d attacked scramble to his feet and jump in the car.

“Mark!” Betsy’s cry mingled with the wailing of distant sirens.

“Stand back or I’ll shoot!” a voice growled from nearby.

A car door slammed, and an engine roared to life.

Was Betsy safe, or was she a prisoner in the car? He needed his gun, but he couldn’t reach it.

Get the gun! Protect Betsy!

Mark flattened his palms against the rough asphalt and tried to push up. It was no use. He tried to call her name, but the only sound that came from his throat was a groan. He sank back to the ground and welcomed the darkness closing in around him.

* * *

Mark’s eyes blinked open. Where was he? Someone nearby spoke in a soft whisper. He tried to sit up, but strong hands gripped his shoulders and pushed him back down.

“Easy there, mister. You’ve got quite a bump on the head.”

Mark’s gaze drifted over the face of the man leaning over him and came to rest on the patch on his sleeve, a six-pointed star with a serpent entwined around a rod in its center. Mark frowned and tried to focus on the emblem. “Th-the Star of Life,” he whispered. “Are you an EMT?”

The man chuckled. “That’s right. I’m Arnold Culver. I met you yesterday out at Springer’s Point.”

“W-where am I?” Mark tried to sit up, but Arnold pushed him down again.

“You’re lying on a gurney in the parking lot of the Island General Store. Two men tried to hold up the store, and you took on the robbers. I’m afraid you got the worst end of the deal. We’re going to transport you to the health center and let Doc check you out.”

Mark’s heart thudded, and he grabbed Arnold’s arm. “Betsy? Where is she?”

“I’m right here, Mark.”

He turned his head in the direction of her voice. Tears ran down her face, and she covered his hand with hers. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine, thanks to you. But I’ve been so worried about you.” Fresh tears trickled from her eyes.

He rubbed his hands over his eyes and frowned. “I remember charging down the steps toward the car but nothing much after that.”

Betsy’s hand tightened on his. “I was never so glad to see anybody in my life as I was when you burst out the door. I don’t think those guys knew what hit them. You looked like a gladiator swinging that croquet mallet. I heard the bone in that guy’s arm break when the croquet ball hit him. Where did you learn to throw like that?”

“I pitched on my college baseball team.”

She smiled. “Well, you sure struck that guy out. He even dropped the money in all the excitement. You saved me from being a hostage, and Sam recovered his money, as well.”

His head cleared, and what had happened in the store flashed in his mind. He bolted upright on the gurney, and this time Arnold couldn’t stop him. “I’ve got to get after those guys.”

This time it was Betsy who grabbed his arm. Her forehead wrinkled with a frown, and she shook her head. “You’re not going anywhere but to the health center. Brock and Scott have already been here, taken a statement from everyone, and they put an APB out for the car the robbers were driving. So lie back down and do what Arnold tells you to.”

Arnold shook his head and laughed. “I’ve known Betsy for a long time, and she’s a mighty determined woman when she sets her mind to it. I suggest you do what she says.”

Mark started to protest, but the glare Betsy directed at him told him it would be best if he didn’t. He lay back down. “All right,” he grumbled, “but this is a waste of time. I’m fine.”

Arnold and his assistant picked up the gurney. As they moved toward the ambulance, Mark’s gaze drifted over the crowd gathered in the parking lot. The owner, who he’d seen at the cash register, smiled and waved to him. “Thanks, mister, for saving my money.”

Mark smiled and glanced at Lizzy and Miranda. Lizzy had a tissue pressed against her mouth, and Miranda took a step toward the gurney. “I’ve never seen anything so brave in my life. We’re praying you’re not hurt badly.”

Before Mark could respond, the two EMTs shoved the gurney into the back of the ambulance. Then Arnold climbed in with him and turned to Betsy. “You want to ride with us?”

She shook her head. “No, if you’ll get Mark’s keys out of his pocket, I’ll drive his car and meet you there. I want to hear what Doc has to say about him.”

Mark handed his keys to Arnold, and he tossed them to Betsy. Then the doors closed, and the ambulance began to move. He relaxed and replayed the events in the store in his mind.

He recalled the look of terror on Betsy’s face when the man touched the pendant hanging around her neck. Maybe if he’d been quiet instead of telling the robber to leave Betsy alone he wouldn’t have decided to use her as a hostage.

Guilt flooded through him at the possibility he had been the reason Betsy was targeted. But the gunmen already had a hostage and the money. Why did they waste time by calling Betsy and him from the magazine shelf and then taunting her? Why didn’t they take the money and leave? Betsy’s necklace wouldn’t have brought much money in a pawn shop. And if they were after money, why didn’t they retrieve the dropped bag after he had been knocked unconscious? There were too many unanswered questions. Unless…

Mark’s eyes popped open, and an icy fear washed over him. Perhaps robbery wasn’t the primary objective for the two. Maybe the men entered the store with another plan in mind and used the robbery to disguise their true purpose—to kidnap Betsy.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. What he feared had come true. Whoever was after Betsy had almost succeeded. If those motorcycles hadn’t arrived when they did and distracted her abductors, Betsy might be dead right now.

He had to be more attentive to what was going on around her from now on. He couldn’t let his guard down for a minute. It could be the difference in whether she lived or died.

* * *

He recognized the number displayed on his cell phone’s caller ID right away. He took a deep breath before answering. “Talk to me.”

“Uh, there was a problem.”

His fingers tightened on the phone. “What do you mean? Do you have her or not?”

“No, you see…”

His fist crashed down on his desk. “What happened?”

“There was this guy with her, and…”

“Did he have a gun?” he demanded.

“N-no.”

“But you did. How did he cause a problem against two triggermen who came so highly recommended?”

“It all happened so fast we couldn’t do anything. He attacked Vern. Broke his arm. I had to knock the guy out so we could get away. We barely were able to shake the cops.”

He ran his hand through his hair and groaned. “This is just great. Where are you now?”

“At the boathouse, but Vern’s in a lot of pain. He needs a doctor.”

“Well, he can’t see one until he gets back to the mainland. Stay in the boathouse until dark. Then I’ll send a boat to take you up the coast.”

“Thanks.” There was a pause. “And I’m sorry about not getting the job done.”

He exhaled a deep breath. “Yeah, me too.”

He clicked the phone off and glanced across the room to the sofa where his assistant sat. “They didn’t get her.”

Smoke curled up from the cigarette he held. He stared at the ashes forming on the tip of the cigarette and shook his head. “That’s not good news. What do you want me to do?”

He stuck his hands in his pocket, walked to the window and stared outside. Several options were available, but the question remained which would be the best one for the organization. Much as he detested violence, he’d accepted it as a way of life among his new friends on the mainland. They weren’t the forgiving kind. They wouldn’t hesitate to come after him if he messed up this last shipment.

If he was able to recover the information Betsy had and get the latest merchandise to the mainland, he wouldn’t have to worry about them breathing down his neck anymore. His cut would ensure his plan to retire and leave this island. Then he could disappear and live in luxury for the rest of his life.

He took a deep breath and turned back to his assistant. “Pick up those two punks at the boathouse after dark and take them up the coast. Then I want you to get back here and take care of Betsy Michaels.”

The man stubbed the cigarette out in an ashtray on a table beside the sofa and stood. “Consider it done.”

He watched his assistant walk out the door before he sank down on the sofa. Sometimes he wished he’d never gotten mixed up in the drug trade, but he had to admit it had been lucrative. This last shipment promised to be the biggest they’d ever handled. No way was he going to let Betsy Michaels ruin this for him.

The important thing right now was to retrieve the information John Draper had given her no matter what they had to do. She could have saved herself a lot of trouble if she had done as she was told, but the Michaels girls had always been stubborn. And Betsy was worse than either of her sisters. This time, though, her refusal to give up what she had could prove fatal.

EIGHT

B
etsy couldn’t sit still another minute. She jumped up from the health center’s waiting-room couch and charged across the floor to the desk where the receptionist sat. Mona Davis glanced up from the computer screen she’d been staring at ever since Betsy arrived and smiled.

“Do you need something, Betsy?”

Betsy pointed to the clock over the door that led to the hall where the exam rooms were located. “We’ve been here forty-five minutes. What’s taking Doc so long?”

The pretty receptionist’s smile grew larger, and Betsy wondered how often she’d practiced on the friends and family members of patients receiving treatment. “I’m sure he’ll talk to you as soon as he knows anything. In the meantime, could I get you something to drink? A soft drink, perhaps? Or a cup of coffee?”