Next to Die (31 page)

“He looks familiar,” mused Valentino with a narrowing of his dark eyes. “I’ve seen that face before.”

Joe’s hopes latched on to that statement. He dragged out a chair to sit down before his legs gave out.

The creaking of the door jarred Penny from a shallow sleep. Adrenaline spurted through her bloodstream, making it impossible to play possum a second time. She wriggled into the corner of the bed.
No, I’m not ready to die.

Ritter said nothing. Over the awful silence, she thought she detected the chirping of a cricket. Was it still night? She’d lost all sense of time.

As his heavy tread approached, she cringed, expecting the worst. He fisted her hair, yanking her head closer. To her astonishment, she felt him loosen the knot that kept her blindfold in place. As it slipped free, he shoved her back. She blinked, catching sight of his silhouette but little else.

The room was black, with just the faintest suggestion of light framing the single window. Something metal gleamed in Ritter’s hand. Penny was blinded by a flash of light. In the next instant, he grabbed her hair again and tied the blindfold back in place.

“What was that for?” she dared to ask.

“A memento,” he answered cryptically.

“What? You mean you take pictures of the people you kill? You are one sick bastard, you know that?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

She knew it wasn’t wise to incite his anger, but she was in a fighting mood. She would not be snuffed out without exhausting every option for survival.

“Your pictures are going to get you caught one day,” she taunted.

Her reward was a blow forceful enough to knock her senseless.

Joe lifted his head off the table and wiped drool surreptitiously from the corner of his mouth. He realized he’d fallen asleep while Special Agent Valentino sat beside him, typing on Hannah’s laptop. “It’s morning,” said the agent without looking at him.

A glance out the bay window revealed that it was dawn. The sky was the color of charcoal. Tiny flakes of snow pattered the windowpane.

“How long did I sleep?” Joe asked, chagrined. Navy SEALs weren’t supposed to sleep while someone else did the work.

“Just an hour or so. Hannah’s resting on the couch,” he added, hinting that they ought to keep their voices down. “Ophelia and Vinny have left for Portsmouth. She’s going to broadcast Penny’s disappearance on the morning news and plead for the public’s assistance.”

Joe rubbed his scratchy eyes. “Any developments?” he asked wearily.

“Actually, we’ve heard from our analysts,” the agent admitted with enough reluctance to make Joe’s heart stop.

“And?”

“We have an ID on the kidnapper.” He met Joe’s gaze at last, his midnight eyes inscrutable.

“Tell me,” Joe demanded, bracing himself.

“He’s Buzz Ritter, former state police officer turned mercenary. He’s wanted in fourteen states for assault, murder, theft, and embezzlement.”

Joe swallowed against his suddenly dry throat. “How many people has he killed?”

Valentino shook his head to convey the silent message
You don’t want to know.

“You think he’s going to kill Penny.” It wasn’t a question, because Joe already knew the answer, could feel it twisting his gut into knots. “Lia won’t be able to live without her.” He jammed trembling fingers through his hair. “Hell, I don’t know if I can,” he admitted with a humorless laugh.

He would never have said as much to anyone but Penny. But the agent’s patient gaze made him confess, “When I came home from my last mission, I was a wreck. I wanted to crawl into the bottom of a bottle and stay there.” He shook his head. “Penny . . . I don’t know how she did it, but she dragged me out of that hole. She doesn’t deserve to have this happen to her,” he choked out.

Valentino looked away. “It’s intolerable when the innocent are victimized,” he concurred, his voice gravelly with despair.

The words turned Joe cold. It didn’t sound as if the agent harbored any hope. “We can’t just sit here,” Joe bit out.

“We have an all-points alert out for Ritter,” Valentino soothed. “We’re waiting to hear what Ophelia’s broadcast might turn up.”

Joe scraped back his chair. He headed for the bathroom. Splashing water on his face, he avoided contact with the red-eyed stranger in the mirror.

Penny was his best friend, his lover. He didn’t want to learn the hard way that she’d become something more: the woman he’d grown to love—and lost.

“Let’s go.” The grip on Penny’s arm jarred her awake.

In a semiconscious state, she hadn’t even heard the door open or her captor approach her.

Go where? she wondered, her adrenal glands taxed by the rude awakening and the sudden presence of danger. Her aching head made it hard to respond.

Ritter yanked her to her feet and shoved her before him, propelling her blindly toward the door. She realized she was barefoot.

He’s going to kill me now.
The realization made her knees buckle.

Ritter hauled her onto her feet again. “Walk!” he commanded.

She felt especially vulnerable without shoes.

The smell of fresh, cold air helped to sharpen her senses. He prodded her to climb a run of steps. They walked through a room with creaky floorboards and out another door. Hope fluttered momentarily as she detected a hint of sunlight creeping beneath her blindfold. Was it possible his boss hadn’t paid him, after all, and he was going to let her go?

She stumbled down three steps and out into a yard where something cold and wet struck her face. It was snowing, and he’d taken her coat as well as her shoes. Hope expired with the realization.

Ritter pulled her to a stop. She heard him open a car door. “Get in.” He sent her sprawling across a cold leather seat.

She vaguely recollected being transported this way before. At least he hadn’t chloroformed her this time. Perhaps her wits could save her.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded as he got into the front seat and started to drive.

He didn’t answer.

Lying on her left side, with her arms bound behind her, Penny struggled to sit up. Her legs were free, she realized, but without shoes she was defenseless. Or was she? She could still run.

But then, he probably wanted her to do that. He would drive her to some deserted place and release her. She would run until a bullet tagged her skull.

No! Her muscles cramped in protest. She refused to die like that—a victim. She had to abort this awful mission before it was too late.

But how? Her freedom was limited.

The squeaking of the windshield wipers suggested an answer. It was snowing. The roads were slick. If Ritter lost control of the vehicle, he might never get her to his remote destination.

With her heart thundering, Penny slunk low in the seat. Slowly, stealthily, she moved her knees up the back of the front seat. Her legs felt weak, sluggish.

She would have only one chance to do this right. If she messed up, Ritter would secure her feet, and then she’d be truly helpless.

On the count of three,
she told herself.

One.

Two.

Three!
She pulled her knees to her chest and extended her legs suddenly, heels connecting solidly with Ritter’s head. But he was built like an ox. “What the fuck?” he roared, seemingly unfazed. Penny cringed. She’d failed. But the car was swerving, spilling her all over the back seat. Ritter fumbled with the steering wheel, seeking to bring the vehicle under control.

“Son of a bitch!” he growled. Tires skidded over the slick pavement. Gravity held them in thrall. They were going fast. Too fast to elude the laws of physics.

The left tires dropped onto the shoulder. Ritter pulled a hard right and sent them into a spin. Penny braced herself.

Crash!
They hit something unyielding. She was flung against the door, hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. With a shattering of glass, the vehicle came to a sudden, shuddering halt. But then it started to tip, groaning as if in agony. Penny fought to stay where she was.

Whoosh!
The car keeled all the way over, bouncing as it landed on its hood. Penny found herself lying in a puddle of broken glass on the car’s ceiling.

Have to get out!
her brain commanded, but she was too stunned to move. She listened, hearing a strange warbling coming from the front.

In the crash, her blindfold had slipped a little higher. Lifting her head, she encountered the back of a headrest, which she used to scrape the blindfold all the way off.

Suddenly she could see. The mangled interior of the vehicle prompted a whimper of fright. She looked down at herself. Her wrists were still bound, but she didn’t appear hurt.

She dared a peek over the seat and got her first good look at Ritter. He was trapped underneath the dashboard. Blood bubbled from his mouth as he sought to breathe and talk at the same time, giving rise to that hideous warbling.

She tore her gaze away, unsympathetic.

She had to get out. Get help.

With her bare feet, she kicked out the sagging, shattered pane of the rear window. It fell in on her, in one thick piece, but she shrugged it off and pushed her head through the opening, rejoicing in the cold, fresh air that hit her face.

With her hands bound, she squirmed out of the vehicle like a worm, rolled in a ditch that left her clothing sodden and cold. She staggered to her feet, struggling on the incline, her legs weak with the dizzying realization that she was still alive.
Alive!

She struggled up out of the ditch onto an empty road, blinking as she took in the flat rural terrain. Withered cornstalks and copses of trees were all she could see in any direction. Surely a car would come along.

But all was quiet, save for the pattering of snowflakes and the sounds of Ritter choking on his own blood.

She left the wreck, determined to intercept a house or dwelling of some kind, aware that her bare feet would soon be frostbitten. The snow was starting to accumulate. Her damp clothes were stiffening with frost.

If she could just find a phone to call for help. To let Joe and Lia know that she was all right. She focused on that warming thought to keep the numbing cold at bay.

When a humming sound carried over the unearthly quiet, Penny stopped and listened, her heart in her throat.
Help me, please!

The running lights of an eighteen-wheeler emerged out of the vale of snow behind her. The truck was moving at a clip that made her heart accelerate. She stepped hastily off the road, unable to flag the driver down with her hands tied.

At the last second, the truck veered into the oncoming lane. He’d seen her.

With a shout for help, Penny watched it roar by. Her hopes plummeted toward despair, only to rise back up again when the brake lights flared. With a roar of deceleration and a hissing of hydraulic brakes, the truck slowed to a careful stop many yards down the road.

Penny started to run.

A bearded stranger leaped from the cab. Penny slowed, suddenly cautious.

“Ma’am?” he called. The concern in his voice was reassuring. “Are you all right?”

“I need help!” she admitted, her voice cracking as the effect of the last twelve hours caught up with her.

His weather-beaten face was a picture of consternation as he bent down to peer at her. “Good gravy,” he exclaimed in a thick local accent, “you’re the Price woman, ain’t ya?”

“How did you know?”

“Saw it on the news; heard it on the radio. Whatcha doin’ way out in here in Pungo?”

“Trying to get home,” she said, her eyes burning with tears.

“Well, I can sure help you with that.”

Chapter Nineteen

Joe was the first to step through the door of the Pungo County Sheriff’s Office. In his eagerness to set eyes on Penny, he left Hannah and Rafe to catch the closing door.

He spied Penny the instant he stepped into the brick building, but the knot of fear cinching his stomach remained. She was huddled under a woolen blanket. Her hair was disheveled, one cheek swollen and bruised. She held a crushed paper cup in her hands. Her aqua-blue gaze tore into him as she glanced up.

“Joe!”

He reached her in less than a second, pulling her up and into his embrace.

She squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m filthy; I smell bad,” she protested.

“No, you don’t.” He craved her in his arms. But she kept him at arm’s length.

“Where’s Ophelia?” She peered past him to see Hannah and Valentino entering.

“Lia’s still at the station,” Joe replied. “We called her the minute we got news.”

“Penny!” Hannah hurried over. “Boy, are we happy to see you,” she said, reaching out to touch her. “This is Special Agent Valentino, the heavy hitter from D.C.”

Valentino clicked his tongue in disagreement and murmured, “My pleasure.”

“We’re going to get you out of here,” Hannah said, casting a glance up and down the hallway. “Let’s go now.”