Return to Mystic Lake (15 page)

He moved back to where he’d been standing when Roger left the room. As the deputy returned, Jackson stopped him before he could get all the way into the room.

“You own a motorcycle, Deputy Black?”

Roger’s face paled. “Yeah.” He gave a forced laugh. “Guess I didn’t put myself on that list I gave to you. I didn’t even think about it. I keep it in storage most of the time.”

“What’s that?” Deputy Morsi joined the conversation.

“I just learned that Roger here owns a motorcycle,” Jackson said, his voice deceptively pleasant.

“Yeah, he rides it most days, but hasn’t ridden it for the last week or so,” Morsi replied.

Something snapped inside Jackson. The motorcycle chase...the near-death drama. Roger’s guilt-ridden expression. With a roar of rage unleashed, Jackson attacked Black, tackling him to the floor as his hands wrapped around the big man’s neck.

“Hey...hey,” Deputy Morsi exclaimed in panic as he drew his gun, obviously unsure who he should point it at, his fellow deputy or an FBI agent.

“You’re part of it,” Jackson growled out as his hands pressed tighter against Roger’s neck. “You were the one who tried to kill us.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Roger had to work to get the words out as his face reddened from a lack of oxygen.

“I’ll kill you right now if you don’t start talking,” Jackson said.

Roger’s face grew even more red as his fingers scrabbled to loosen Jackson’s hold on his throat. Realizing he couldn’t break the contact, he hissed out an okay.

Jackson released his hold and as he got up he pulled Roger’s gun from his holster and held it pointed to the lawman’s chest. “You’d better start talking or I’m going to start shooting.”

Jackson ignored Fred Morsi and several other deputies who had gathered behind him in the hallway. “Where’s Maggie?”

“I don’t know.” Roger remained on his butt on the floor, rubbing his raw throat.

Jackson took a step toward him and placed the barrel of the gun against his forehead. “Jeez, I swear I don’t know. I was hired by your father to get rid of you. I never wanted to be sheriff. All I wanted to do was retire, and he offered me enough money to make it worth my while. You’re right, I was the one who chased you on the motorcycle, and I was in contact with Bentz, who was hired to keep track of your movements, but I swear I don’t know where Jerrod has Agent Clinton. I swear to God I don’t know.”

Jackson took a step backward and handed Roger’s gun to Deputy Morsi. “Arrest this man for attempted murder. We’ll figure out more charges as we wind up this case.”

He left the office as Morsi was locking handcuffs on his coworker. He stomped back to his car, got inside and realized he had no idea where to go.

His head dropped to the steering wheel, and hot tears burned at his eyes. Maggie. His darlin’, Maggie. Where was she? Was she already dead? He hated his father, but he hated himself even more for not being man enough to tell Maggie the truth about the man who had raised him, a man capable of killing not just his own son, but the woman his son loved.

Chapter Fifteen

The dim shine of the flashlight did nothing to penetrate the dark corners of the shed. Maggie sat in the very center, having exhausted every means of escape she could think of.

She’d tried to break down the door, had checked every area of the walls and the flooring to see if there was a weakness she could exploit, but there was nothing.

Tonight she would die.

She’d come to a final resignation about it, although a million regrets came with her acceptance of her fate. She wished she would have laughed more and worried less. She wished she would have taken more chances, reached out for more happiness.

She should have told her mother that all their money was gone and it was time for Katherine to live within her means. Marjorie wished she’d enjoyed her time on earth a little bit more. Dammit, if nothing else she should have allowed herself to get cable television.

A giggle bubbled to her lips. She knew it was a hysterical reaction to her circumstances. She was laughing to keep from weeping. She wanted to weep for Jackson. Even though she knew they hadn’t been meant to be together, she could cry for what he’d given her. He’d opened her up to trusting. He’d made her realize she could love a man deeply.

She wished she’d had a chance to tell him she loved him one more time, but if even given the chance she wouldn’t do it. She belonged in Kansas City, and he would go back to his home in Baton Rouge. She’d known there wasn’t a future with him, but surely as she waited to die she could pretend.

Having already drunk one bottle of water, she was reluctant to open the second bottle that Jerrod had left for her. She had no idea how long she’d been inside the shed or how much longer she might be captive here.

She knew instinctively that this shed would not be her coffin and the only tiny modicum of hope she had left was that somehow when Jerrod came to get her out of here, she could escape.

What hurt the most was the certainty that she would be used to give Jackson as much pain as possible. Jerrod would twist Jackson’s feelings for her, no matter what they were, into something ugly, something that would haunt Jackson if he lived or would be the last thing he’d know before his death.

She jumped to her feet as she heard the jingle of the padlock on the door. Maybe if she rushed him, she could bowl him over and run. She lowered her shoulder and prepared to attack.

The door opened, displaying two things—night had fallen outside, and Jerrod stood before her in the beam of her flashlight with a gun pointed at her chest.

“Don’t get any smart ideas, girly,” he said. “It doesn’t matter to me if I deliver you to Jackson dead or alive.”

For a moment she wanted to rush him anyway, let him shoot her now so that Jackson wouldn’t have to watch her die. But that tiny survival instinct kicked in, that single ray of hope that somehow, someway, she and Jackson could get out of this together and alive.

“Turn around,” he commanded. She hesitated only a moment and then did as he asked. He quickly tied her wrists together and then grabbed hold of her shoulder and spun her around. “Come on, we’ve got a date. I’ll let you sit in the passenger seat as long as you behave, but if you give me any trouble I’ll backhand you into unconsciousness. Got it?”

She nodded as he shoved her toward an awaiting SUV. He opened the passenger door and she slid in, wincing at the uncomfortable position of her arms behind her.

He circled the vehicle and slid in behind the steering wheel and started the engine. “This would have all been so much easier if you could hire good help these days. Black had two chances to kill you and he bungled both of them.”

“Black? You mean Roger Black?” she asked in stunned surprise.

Jerrod chuckled. “You’d be amazed how easy it is to buy a greedy man.”

They hadn’t even considered the top-dog deputy as a potential suspect, but then why should they? She knew by Jerrod’s answer to her question about Amberly and Cole that he didn’t have anything to do with whatever had happened to them.

Jackson’s gut instinct that the attacks on them had been personal had been right, and the attacks had nothing to do with the case they’d been investigating.

That meant they had no clues at all about Amberly and Cole’s disappearance and moved her closer to believing that somehow the case was related to what Jackson had been working on in Bachelor Moon.

They drove only a short distance and then he stopped the SUV and put it in Park. Every nerve in Marjorie’s body went on high alert.

She looked around the area, but still couldn’t discern where they were in the darkness of the night. There were no lights to indicate any kind of civilization nearby.

Jerrod pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and flashed Marjorie a smile that was visible in the dashboard illumination. “Time for the games to begin,” he said and then punched in a number.

* * *

J
ACKSON
HAD
DRIVEN
up and down each and every street of Mystic Lake, seeking Edward Bentz’s van. Not only could he not find it, none of the deputies on duty had managed to locate it, either.

Darkness had fallen and along with it his hope. Maybe this had been his father’s intention all along. To take Maggie away from him and place her somewhere that Jackson would never, ever find her again, either dead or alive.

Maybe the true torture was the not knowing what had happened to her...if she was alive, or if she was dead. And if Jerrod had killed her, had she suffered?

He’d been in touch with Deputy Fred Morsi, who was now acting as head deputy, several times through the course of the past couple of hours. Roger was locked up, and although Fred had continued to elicit answers from him, he still swore he had no idea where Jerrod, Edward or Maggie might be.

Jackson was now parked once again in front of the sheriff’s station. Night had fallen, and his despair had grown to mammoth proportions as if fed by the darkness itself.

He didn’t know where to go. He didn’t know what to do. He tasted grief, but refused to acknowledge it. He refused to grieve for Maggie without positive confirmation that she was dead.

He jumped as his cell phone rang. He fumbled it out of his pocket. “Revannaugh,” he answered.

“Isn’t that a coincidence, it’s Revannaugh on this end, too.”

The familiar sound of his father’s voice churned up a combination of rage and hatred in Jackson that he knew he had to control. “Where is she?”

“The lovely Agent Clinton is right here by my side.”

Jackson pressed the phone more tightly against his ear. “If you’ve hurt her I’ll kill you.”

Jerrod laughed. “Big talk from a man who doesn’t hold the cards.”

“What do you want, Jerrod?” Jackson asked the question although he already knew the answer.

“Do you have any idea the indignities I’ve suffered over the past six years? A man of my stature, in a prison cell with monsters? You put me there, son.”

“You put yourself there,” Jackson replied.

“You put the final nail in my coffin, my own flesh and blood testifying against me. You want your girlfriend back? Meet me in thirty minutes on the north bank of Mystic Lake, and as they say in the movies, come alone.”

“Thirty minutes. I’ll be there.” Jackson dropped his phone in his pocket, started his car and headed directly toward the lake that was the namesake of the town.

He had no idea what his father intended, had no idea what would go down on the banks of the lake this night. There was a near-full moon that would make it difficult to depend on the darkness of the night for cover.

He had no idea if his father would be alone with Maggie or if Edward Bentz would be with him to provide backup. He didn’t even know if Maggie was still alive or if Jerrod intended to deliver her body to his son.

Jackson was certain of just one thing...only one Revannaugh would be leaving the banks of Mystic Lake tonight. Jerrod had pushed him into a corner where he had no options. He would kill his father to save Maggie, and he knew his father would kill him without blinking an eye.

On the north shore of the glittering lake was a thick grove of trees. Jackson pulled into the area and got out of his car, his gun in his hand.

The night was hot, muggy and completely silent, as if Mother Nature knew something bad was coming and had hidden all the insects and night creatures from harm.

Nerves jangled inside him. He waited, unsure from which direction his father would come, uncertain if he might already be here.

He’d been foolish to come without his own backup. He didn’t exactly trust the Mystic Lake sheriff’s department, given the fact that their top deputy had turned out to be an ineffectual hit man.

He pulled out his phone and dialed the number for Agent Adam Forest. Maggie had given him the number to use in an emergency, and he figured this definitely qualified as an emergency.

It took him only moments to explain the situation with Adam and then hang up. It would be at least twenty to thirty minutes before Adam would arrive, and Jackson was expecting his father within the next ten minutes or so.

Those minutes clicked by in agonizing slowness. During that time, Jackson removed all emotion from his head. He couldn’t think of Jerrod as his father and he couldn’t think of Maggie as his partner or the woman he loved. The two of them were simply hostage taker and hostage. As long as he thought that way and kept his emotions in check, he would function better in doing whatever needed to be done for a successful outcome.

Despite the heat of the night, Jackson was cool as an unnatural calm descended upon him. He gripped his gun tighter as an SUV approached. The vehicle pulled to a halt, the high-beam lights pointed directly at Jackson, half blinding him.

He squinted and saw a tall man get out of the driver’s seat. Jerrod. He held his gun on the man who was his father, but there was no way he would shoot, not without knowing where Maggie was.

He got the answer to that question as Jerrod walked to the passenger side and pulled Maggie out of the car, using her as a shield in front of him as he approached Jackson. He held Maggie with one arm around her neck, and in his other hand was a gun pointed at Jackson.

“Let her go,” Jackson said. He kept his gaze on Jerrod, knowing that one look at Maggie would undo him to the point that he wouldn’t be able to function.

“Drop your gun,” Jerrod replied.

“You drop yours and let her go. It doesn’t have to be this way,” Jackson said.

He knew he would shoot Jerrod if he had to, but in a flash, old memories shot through his brain. Jerrod teaching him to ride a bicycle, buying him ice cream and taking him to a movie.

There had been flashes of a father in the monster, but Jackson had never been fooled. He knew exactly what his father was capable of, the kind of man he was at his very core.

“Just let Maggie go and we all walk away from this,” he said, although he knew at the very least he’d make sure his father was in custody.

Jerrod laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “Now, we both know you aren’t going to just let me walk away from this, and I’m definitely not in the mood to let you walk away. I’ve had years to think about your betrayal, to wallow in my need to see my own brand of justice served.”

He moved the barrel of his gun and pressed it against Maggie’s temple. “Maybe if I kill her you’ll understand the depth of my unhappiness with you.”

For the first time Jackson allowed himself to look at Maggie. He was surprised to see that she appeared calm, as if resigned to whatever happened.

“If you kill her she’ll be dead, but then you’ll be dead, too,” Jackson said, pleased that his voice remained cool and calm.

Jerrod appeared to study him, and once again he moved his gun to point at Jackson. “Then I guess you leave me no choice. I’ll just have to kill you first, and then after you are dead I’ll take care of your partner.”

A shot rang out and Jerrod roared in pain as he dropped his gun, released Maggie and fell to one side on the ground. “You shot me,” he screamed at Jackson.

“No, I didn’t,” Jackson said in bewilderment as Maggie ran to his side.

At that moment, Agent Adam Forest stepped out from behind the SUV. As he walked past the writhing Jerrod, he kicked Jerrod’s gun out of reach and smiled.

“I saw an opportunity and so I took it.” He looked at Jackson. “No man should have to carry the burden of killing his own father through the rest of his life.”

“I’m bleeding to death,” Jerrod screamed. “For God’s sake, I need help.”

Adam returned to the man on the ground and checked out his wound. “Don’t be such a baby. It’s a clean shot through and through and didn’t do any permanent damage.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll call it in.”

Jackson nodded, numbed by the unexpected help. It was only when he grabbed Maggie into his arms that his numbness went away, along with the iciness that had been inside his heart for what felt like days.

He cupped her face, her beautiful face in his hands. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you at all?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “But I’d love it if you’d unfasten my wrists so I can wrap my arms around you.”

He whirled her around and with a pocketknife he sawed through the tape that bound her. She turned around and threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck while her body pressed tightly against his.

“I was so afraid for you,” she murmured against his chest.

“I was terrified for you,” he replied as he stroked her hair, then caressed her back and breathed in the scent of her.

“I was a little worried myself,” Adam said, his voice breaking them apart. “I broke every speed limit to get here and then I was afraid he was going to shoot Jackson before I got a clean shot at his leg.”

Jackson looked over to where his father was still on the ground, only now he wore a bracelet of handcuffs. He looked back at Forest. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“All in a day’s work,” Forest replied.

At that moment the sound of sirens rose in the air. “I’ve got both FBI and local authorities on their way. From what I’ve heard, Mystic Lake law enforcement is going to need some help getting their stuff together.”