She Can Tell (37 page)

Her head struck wood, and her vision dimmed as her captor dropped her in the bottom of the boat.

She weighed nothing over his shoulder as he settled her into the boat.

He should have killed her. She was the only thing that could tie him to the murder. He was going to do it cleanly. No gutting her. Just a quick slice across the throat.

But when he’d pressed the knife to her soft neck, he hadn’t been able to do it. He shined his light on her unconscious face. Her resemblance to Barbara was startling.

Keeping her was like having Barbara back again. Only this time would be different. The Watcher glanced at Rachel. So much like Barbara. This time there would be no husband, no Harry, just the two of them.

Arranging her limp body between the seats, he quickly tied her hands and feet. Sirens drew closer. He jumped back
onto the shore and rolled Will’s body deeper into the underbrush. With all the chaos at the fire, there was little chance anyone would track them all the way to the river. Who would notice an extra set of boot prints after dozens of cops and firemen traipsed over the scene? He’d come back and dispose of the body later. He pushed the boat off the bank into the swirling water and started the engine. From under the rear seat, he produced a handheld spotlight. He switched it on, shining it on the water ahead as he headed across the river. The small vessel bucked on the waves. Neither the dark nor the rough current alarmed him. He’d been navigating these waters his entire life. Still, attention must be paid. If he capsized, he’d lose her.

In his mind, Rachel’s face blurred into Barbara’s. After all these years, he was finally taking her home.

Mike surveyed the scene. Two cars were submerged in the flooded creek. Normally just a few feet deep, the water surged waist high. Four people, wrapped in blankets, huddled behind an ambulance. The fact that everybody was all right was a miracle. Creek water rushed past. Its depths churned dark with sediment. On the surface, foam swirled and eddied. Despite the height of the creek, this bridge hadn’t been on Mike’s short list of trouble spots.

“Mike!” Pete stood on the bank, shining a flashlight on the water. “I need to talk to you.”

“Chief!”

Mike turned.

Behind him, Ethan called from the open door of his patrol car. “Fire department just got a call out to the Parker place. Barn’s on fire!”

Mike ran for his vehicle.

“It’s important,” Pete shouted, but Mike kept going. Pete chased him down. Mike paused, one foot in the SUV.

“This could be a setup,” Pete gasped. “Explosives went missing from Lost Lake. Vince and Harmon covered it up. I can’t see shit, but there was enough dynamite to blow these bridge supports.”

The sinking sensation in Mike’s stomach went into a free fall. He glanced back at the creek. Inspection of the bridge supports would have to wait until the water receded.

“Thanks.” Even with the drop in temperature and soaking wet clothes, Mike’s body poured sweat all the way back to Rachel’s. Pressure built in his chest, growing tighter as he neared. He saw the glow as he turned down Prescott Road, orange and warm against the storm clouds. Higher up, smoke billowed in a black plume upon the charcoal-gray sky. As he drew closer, the flames became visible, tongues licking around the remaining wood of the structure, eating the barn right down to its skeleton.

Heart slamming, he unlocked his glove box and grabbed his gun and holster before leaping from the SUV. Sean’s vehicle was already there. A fire truck pulled into the driveway. Sarah stumbled across the lawn toward him.

Mike caught her by the shoulders. “Where’s Rachel?”

Tears streamed down Sarah’s face. “I don’t know. I can’t find her.”

Mike faced the barn. A crack split the air. A large rafter fell, taking most of the roof with it. It collapsed with a boom and a roar. Flames and sparks shot into the air like fireworks.

She couldn’t be in there.
Nothing was alive in there.

Sean was jogging around the back of the burning building, but Mike couldn’t tear his eyes off the inferno. Everything around him blurred as the possibility that she
was dead sank in, and his insides twisted until his lungs wouldn’t expand. His vision blackened at the edges.

“Mike, listen.” Sean grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him until Mike looked at him and blinked. “She’s
not
in there.”

Mike focused on Sean’s face.

“She’s not in there.” Circling wide to avoid the heat and flying embers, Sean led the way around the side of the barn. “I counted all the horses. Eleven. Sarah said that’s all of them. So why would she have gone back in?”

A bit of burning debris landed on Mike’s arm with a sizzle. He swatted it out. The sharp burn brought him back to reality. He looked over the meadow. Big shapes moved in the dark. Was Sean right?

“Bandit, no,” Sarah’s voice shrilled over the crackling of the flames.

A small brown missile was heading straight for the fire. Mike rushed forward, but the little dog veered off, circumventing the inferno and heading for the woods behind the property.

Mike looked at Sean. “Right. Follow him.”

Sean pulled a flashlight from his pocket and trained it on the ground in front of them. Bandit stopped at the edge of the woods. He ran back and forth on the bank of the creek. Normally, just a few inches of water tumbled over the rock bed. Tonight, the creek was knee-deep and double its typical width. The dog yapped and zoomed off into the trees. Mike and Sean followed at a run. Just beyond a strip of tall grass, a game trail led through the forest, running parallel to the creek.

“Look.” Sean illuminated a clear set of footprints in the mud. “Big man wearing boots. And he was carrying something heavy.”

The tension in Mike’s chest compounded. He pulled his gun from its holster and jogged next to Sean toward Bandit’s barks. They slowed when the river sounded ahead of them. Sean held up a hand and ducked behind a tree at the edge of the woods.

Ahead, the river churned and eddied, black and ominous in the dark. The riverbank was empty, except for the furious dog, running back and forth, growling at the water’s edge. Mike picked up Bandit. “Hush.”

The distant sound of an engine’s purr floated over the rushing water. Sean trained his beam on the bank. A furrow in the mud showed where a boat had been pulled onto the riverbank.

“Son of a bitch. He’s been coming in by boat.” Sean pointed his light at the water, but the boat was long gone.

Nausea rose fresh in Mike’s gut. Rachel’s stalker had won.

Rachel opened her eyes to a dark and blurry sight. She blinked hard to clear her vision. The cold metal under her head rocked and pitched. Pain ricocheted through her skull as it bounced. Water sloshed over her, the icy cold a cruel slap that sent a shiver coursing through her torso. She tried to raise a hand to her face, but couldn’t. Her hands were tied together with rope. Nylon bit into the bare skin of her wrists. Her ankles were similarly bound.

The floor beneath her pitched sharply again. A boat. She was curled in the bottom of a flat-bottomed aluminum boat, wedged between the seats. Whoever was manning the outboard motor at the rear of the boat wasn’t in her line of sight.

She debated moving so she could reach her bound ankles. Would he notice in the dark? She was partially
concealed between the bench seats. Was he preoccupied handling the boat on the rough water?

The bow lifted and slapped down violently on the water. Rachel’s head bounced, and her vision blurred for a few seconds. She closed her eyes against rising nausea. Terror and soot clogged her throat. Slowly, she curled tighter, drawing her knees up until they were close to her chest. Her hands sought the rope binding her ankles. Moving as little as possible, she picked at the wet strands of nylon. Agony shot up her hands. Her burned fingers fumbled. She inched her hand toward her front pocket, where her knife pressed against her hip.

The flat-bottomed hull of the fishing boat was meant for calm lake waters, not the rough chop of the swollen river. The boat rose and slapped on the water rhythmically as the hull hit a series of waves. Rachel’s body jarred on the bottom of each trough. Water poured over the side and soaked her jeans.

But she slid the knife between her palms and went to work on the ropes.

The boat turned sharply and then picked up speed. Then the ride abruptly smoothed out.

“We’re almost home.”

Rachel turned toward the familiar voice. Concealing the knife between her hands, she lifted her head to see over a cushion. He sat at the rear of the boat. One hand steered the outboard motor. The other held a spotlight. He set the light on the seat next to him and flipped a toggle. The light switched from spot to lantern, illuminating a circle around them. He adjusted something on the motor. A gust of wind blew his hood back and revealed his face.

Mike listened to the engine sound fade. “Who? Who is it?”

“What’s your gut tell you?”

“It’s someone who knows her very well. Someone who knows she’s claustrophobic and faints at the sight of blood and is allergic to bees. Who would know all that and be comfortable taking out a small boat on a flooded river?”

“Will Martin? Troy? They both hunt and fish.”

“Maybe.” But it didn’t feel right. Bandit squirmed in Mike’s arms. The dog stared into the underbrush. A growl rose out of the small muzzle.

Someone groaned.

Gun in hand, Sean crept toward the sound. “Oh, shit.” He holstered his weapon and pushed through the brush. A few seconds later, he dragged a limp body into the clear.

Will Martin’s face was gray as river water. Blood soaked his T-shirt over his belly. Sean pressed two fingers to Will’s throat. “He’s still alive, but just barely.”

Sean ripped the bloody cloth, revealing a gaping knife wound. He tore off a strip of Will’s shirt, balled it up, and pressed down hard.

“He can’t last long the way he’s bleeding.” Mike whipped out his cell to call for an ambulance. The 911 operator confirmed what he already suspected. “An ambulance was already dispatched to the fire. They should be at the house. I’ll send them back.” Mike was already moving back toward the house.

“Don’t you go after her without me.”

“Gotta go.” Mike jogged off. He called over his shoulder, “I’ll let you know where I am. You can catch up.” He left Sean cursing.