Midnight Exposure (11 page)

Spying Jed’s orange hunting cap through a stand of pine trees, Reed stepped out of the cab. Sheba jumped into the driver’s seat, wagging her tail expectantly.

“You stay here.” He pointed his finger at the dog. Her tail froze and drooped midwag. Reed shifted his eyes to Scott, who was reaching for the door latch. “You, too.”

Scott opened his mouth to protest but closed it after meeting Reed’s gaze, which was surely filled with dread at what the chief and Jed might have found. Reed closed the heavy vehicle door. His feet dragged and his muscles cramped with trepidation as he strode through the trees. Hardpack crunched under his boots, the snap of ice echoing ominously in the still-quiet woods. “Hugh?” His voice was gritty over the incessant pounding of his heart.

Hugh’s head lifted. Snow dotted his red knit cap. His face was ruddy, windburned, and exhausted but held no trace of horror. “It’s not her, Reed. Jed found a dead moose.”

Reed exhaled, relief nearly making him dizzy. A fresh lungful of cold air settled his stomach. He stepped into the small clearing. The two men stared down at the frozen, partially mauled remains of a bull moose. The carcass was largely intact, indicating it hadn’t been there long. A dead moose was the wilderness equivalent of a free lunch.

Frustration stirred in Reed’s chest. Who the hell cared about a dead moose? They should be out looking for Jayne.

Jed pointed to a neat hole in the animal’s chest and jerked a thumb at the beast’s thick neck. “This is the third animal we found like this since summer.”

Reed flinched as Jed kicked a mangled hind leg with the callousness of a toddler angry at a broken tricycle. The frozen limb bobbed stiffly.

The hunter spat. “A thousand pounds of good meat, wasted.”

Reed started to turn away. This was a fucking waste of time.

“Let’s stay focused. We’re looking for a missing woman, remember?” Hugh’s tone sharpened. “But this is real strange.”

Reed swiveled back at the odd pitch of Hugh’s voice.

“They bled him.” Jed pointed to a slit in the animal’s jugular. The carcass was positioned head-down on enough of an incline that blood would have run out of the vein even after the beast’s heart stopped pumping.

“Somebody killed three half-ton animals just for their blood?” Reed leaned closer. The hair on the back of his neck rose. Blood collecting was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

“Jed, what do you think?” Hugh asked. If you needed something tracked, Jed was your man. He and Nathan’s uncle Aaron were the best guides around.

Jed scanned the area around the moose. “Can’t see tracks with the new snow. But there’s no reason to leave the meat. Can’t see this spot that good from the road. If I wasn’t looking for something, even I wouldn’t have found the carcass.”

Placing two hands on his thighs for support, the chief straightened his lean but aging frame with a huff. “OK. This is weird, but let’s get back to the search.”

The three men were silent as they made their way back to their vehicles. Reed followed the chief to his cruiser.

“About the case.” Reed glanced behind him. Jed’s pickup was pulling onto the road. “I’ll do it.”

Hugh nodded and tossed his hat onto the passenger seat. His face was somber, but his eyes were pleased. “Thanks. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

Reed’s face heated. “There’re too many odd things happening around here.”

“That’s the way I see it, too.” Hugh fired up the engine and reached for the door handle. His wipers brushed fresh snow off the windshield with a squeak. “Normally, this is a pretty boring town.”

“All these recent weird events can’t be coincidental,” Reed said. He and Hugh exchanged a look. Cops weren’t big believers in coincidence. Bloody visions from a cult murder case he’d investigated years before swam in Reed’s head. The thought of Jayne mixed up with something like that made his stomach roil.

“I agree. But I’d appreciate it if you’d keep my request quiet. As far as anyone else needs to know, you’re just helping with the search for the missing lady. No need to upset anybody until I have more information. Nathan doesn’t want to believe any of these things are connected.” Hugh didn’t need to spell it out. Many of the businesses in town depended on campers, hikers, and hunters. Murder was hell on tourism.

“I’m heading back to the diner. Nathan’s called in more volunteers.” Hugh cast a worried eye toward the sky. “According to the forecast, we have maybe six more hours before we have to call off the search until the storm passes. Though, frankly, I don’t know where else to look. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Reed swallowed. Lady Luck had never liked him very much.

“I could use some help organizing volunteers,” Hugh said.

“Right behind you.” Reed’s stomach churned. As he climbed into his truck, his eyes drifted back to the moose carcass.

Someone in Huntsville was literally out for blood.

Jayne continued to work, keeping her ears open for any sound that’d indicate her kidnapper had returned. A shiver moved up her spine as she thought of her abductor. A strange psycho serial killer had been watching her. Following her. He’d slashed her tires. But why?

The answer stood out like a marquee.

To keep you from leaving town
.
Duh.

Jayne’s numb fingers slipped on the curved metal, and she snapped off her thumbnail below the quick. The spark of pain that shot into her hand was blunted by the cold. She flexed her fingers to force blood through the digits before returning to her task.

As she wiggled and turned the hook, an unfocused memory edged into her mind. Hands lifted her body. A voice murmured. The picture faded as suddenly as it formed. Jayne tried to yank the impression back into her head, but the harder she concentrated, the more her brain refused to cooperate.

Jayne shook herself and bent down to inspect her progress. The hook felt just a little bit looser and turned with less resistance.

She supposed it could be worse. Whoever had abducted her could have stripped her naked. He could have raped, tortured, and murdered her by now. Instead, she was still looking forward to those upcoming festivities. Occult-type visions of black candles and chicken blood swam through her head.

Why else would he keep her alive?

She stifled a hysterical sob and applied more pressure to the hook in the wall as she turned it. The cut on her palm reopened.

The falling snow thickened, blowing and drifting against the small windows. As daylight gradually abandoned her, Jayne’s eyesight adjusted. She worked methodically on turning and circling the metal pin long after her cramped fingers began to bleed. Until she heard a sound that brought fresh panic bubbling into her throat. A hot rush of adrenaline wiped out any thoughts of exhaustion.

Upstairs, a door had opened.

Footsteps tracked across the ceiling above Jayne’s head and echoed in the empty space.

Despite the cold, despite dehydration, fear pushed sweat from her body. She grasped the chain in both hands and pulled frantically. Fresh blood oozed from her wrists and fingertips. Jayne felt the hook slip, just a bit, and pulled harder, throwing all her weight backward with each heave. She choked up on the chain and braced one foot up on the wall. Her shoulders and back strained. The mortar gave suddenly with a way-too-loud jangle of metal. Jayne fell backward onto her butt in shock and froze.

Had he heard that
?

She’d planned on running, but there was only one way out of this basement. And her captor was up there.

She could try to sneak out. Was the basement door even locked? She’d been chained. Her kidnapper
might
have assumed a lock wasn’t necessary. No. If he caught her on the steps, he’d have the advantage of higher ground, and possibly knock her down the steps. She’d wait. See what he did. He had no idea she was trained in martial arts. She had surprise on her side. What could she do to look even more helpless?

She quickly reached for a bottle of water, opened it and poured it out behind the steps, out of sight, bringing the empty bottle back and leaving it on its side in the dirt. If he’d doctored
the water, let him think she’d drunk it. The old house had a low basement ceiling. Jayne stood on her toes and loosened the light-bulb in its fixture. Her eyes had adjusted to the gloom. Maybe his hadn’t.

Footsteps neared the basement door. Jayne’s heart thumped at the base of her throat. All her training boiled down to the next few minutes.

But would it work?

She turned to the wall, stuck the hook back in its hole and brushed away the pile of fresh dust on the floor. Squatting down onto her butt, she eased down onto the floor, curling on her side and keeping her feet between her and her captor. Her legs were her strongest weapons. She left some space to maneuver between her body and the wall.

Panic stiffened her neck. She fought the tension and allowed her head to loll onto the dirt floor. Feeling the heavy chain sag on her wrists, she grasped the links between her hands a few inches above the cuffs. She tilted her face down and let her long hair fall across her eyes.

The footsteps came closer. The basement door opened with a rough scrape. Jayne peered through the curtain of hair. Light illuminated the stairs as a silhouetted figure stepped down onto the first tread. Against the bright light of the open doorway, her captor was a shadow. A hulking, black silhouette.

He flipped a switch on the wall and grunted when the bulb didn’t illuminate.

Inside its ribbed cage, her heart pumped frantically. Adrenaline screamed through her veins. Her body protested the stillness, pleading with her to move. She fought her flight instinct and the ragged breaths that hitched from her lungs.

She’d trained for this. She could do it.

But panic still skittered through her head like a desperate rodent bolting for its hole.

The man switched on a flashlight and yanked the door shut behind him. The beam swept the dark recesses. Jayne closed her eyes as it passed over her. His boots rang as loud as gunshots on the wooden treads as he descended.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs with a rustle of nylon. Jayne’s heart stuttered when he trained the bright beam directly in her face. Unsure how much her hair covered, Jayne forced her facial muscles to relax.

Through her lids, the light flickered and dimmed.

Her captor hesitated, as if deciding if he should approach her. Jayne peered through her lashes and forced lungs that wanted to pant in terror to maintain a slow, even rhythm. She grew light-headed from the effort and perceived oxygen deprivation.

He took a few steps forward—close enough that she could smell the mix of evergreen and sweat his body emitted. His foot stopped next to her hip. He nudged her with the toe of his boot. Jayne let her body go lax; her head lolled.

He shifted his weight as if still uncertain. He pulled his leg back and kicked her sharply in the thigh. Pain shot up Jayne’s leg. She couldn’t hold back a soft moan as she rolled to her back, drawing her knees up to her chest as if in agony.

The beam from the flashlight flickered again, then went out. He tapped it in his palm.

Taking advantage of the momentary diversion, Jayne grabbed the ankle next to her hip. She simultaneously shot both feet into his pelvis and yanked his leg out from under him. He fell backward onto his ass. Before he could recover, she dropped a heel onto his groin.

A wet gasp emanated from her captor. The flashlight dropped to the floor as he cupped his genitals with both hands and curled to the side.

She leaped to her feet and swung the chain in her hands in a wide arc. He levered his shoulders off the ground, raised one hand and blocked most of the blow with a beefy forearm, but the tail whipped around and slapped him on the back of the head. His body sagged onto the dirt floor. One hand still clutched his groin as Jayne backed away.

The flashlight on the ground flickered. In its beam, something small and silver lay in the dirt next to his prone body. She scooped up both the light and the object, shoving them into her pocket before sprinting for the steps. Her boots slipped on bare wood as she scrambled up the stairs. Her fingers were stiff from cold and slippery with her own blood. She fumbled with the knob.

She wiped her palms on her jeans, twisted the knob, and pushed. The door, swollen from dampness, stuck fast.

A scrape sounded at the foot of the steps. She risked a look back. Her captor was pushing to his feet. Jayne turned back to the door as his boot rang on a wood tread.

Fresh terror gave her strength, and she threw her shoulder against the door. Behind her, her captor scrambled on the steps. She slammed into the solid frame again. Bloated wood gave with a scrape. Jayne’s momentum carried her forward. She fell to her knees. Her palms slapped worn linoleum.

A hand grabbed her left ankle, dragging her back onto the steps. She snagged the door frame with her bound hands and glanced over her shoulder. Light poured onto the upper portion of the stairwell, illuminating her ski-masked captor four steps below her. He jerked on her foot. Jayne’s fingers dug in.