Stranded (35 page)

Maggie put a hand on Gwen’s arm.

“What is it? Are you okay?”

“No, I guess I’m not,” Gwen said. “I have breast cancer.”

TUESDAY, MARCH 26

CHAPTER 75

MANHATTAN, KANSAS

This time Maggie had called Noah Waters from the airport. His father had almost hung up on her but stopped when she said, “The man who attacked Noah is dead.” But before she drove to her meeting with Noah, she called Sheriff Uniss in Sioux City, Iowa.

He answered with a lecture, telling her that he had been leaving messages for her for two days. Maggie’s and Tully’s cell phones still hadn’t been recovered after Jack tossed them into the forest. The sheriff wanted her to know they had found “Lily the lot lizard”—that’s exactly how he referred to her now. He told Maggie that somehow Lily had made it back to the farmhouse but she was still in serious condition now at the regional medical center. When she told him about Howard Elliott, the sheriff was stunned.

“Howard Elliott’s been a fine businessman in these parts for over ten years. He’s an independent contractor. Has his own truck. Folks say he took real good care of Helen Paxton after her husband disappeared.”

Disappeared?

Something about that reminded Maggie of Jack’s claim that he
had killed his own father when he was a boy. Was it possible he had done the same to his foster father years later?

As soon as Maggie ended her call with Sheriff Uniss, she texted Agent Alonzo:

Skull found at Iowa farm—

check to see if it’s William Paxton.

Noah insisted on another walk. Maggie understood he wanted to get out of the house and somewhere that his parents couldn’t listen. It had been a week since the attack. He walked more confidently and wore regular shoes. His feet were healing. The cuts on his face were no longer red and swollen. And that wild-eyed panic that Maggie had seen in his eyes was finally gone. But Maggie knew—and she knew this all too well from experience—the real scars would never disappear.

“How do you know for sure it was him?”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the laminated card the Florida crime scene technicians had found in the back of John Howard Elliott’s panel truck. He had built the truck into a custom workshop for his business. As a skilled craftsman, Elliott worked on construction projects across the country. But his vehicle also included the tricks of his hobby.

There were magnetic signs for the outside of the truck that provided significant disguise. Signs that read: ST. VINCENT’S FOR THE HOMELESS, COMMUNITY RESCUE UNIT, and even FEMA. The disguises also included a variety of items Maggie realized would help him look vulnerable and add to his claim of being a nice guy who was “stranded.” There was an arm sling, crutches, a neck brace, and even a dog collar and leash.

And then there was the box of “souvenirs,” an old fish and tackle case. This one didn’t surprise Maggie, though it was the most difficult to go through. None of the items were particularly shocking, but they were deeply personal. Among the dozens of items they found inside were a Harley-Davidson belt buckle, a gold tooth, a shamrock pin, a book of poetry, a Saint Christopher’s medal, a lock of hair, and the card Maggie now handed Noah.

“My driver’s license,” he whispered.

Still not convinced, he asked, “How do you know he’s dead?”

“Because I was there, Noah. He gave me a chance to run just like he did with you.”

They’d stopped in the shade of a huge tree. Its roots had broken into the sidewalk. Noah was quiet. His head stayed down as he stared at the card that he held pinched tightly between thumb and index finger as if he still couldn’t believe it.

“It’s over, Noah,” Maggie said, her tone gentle. “You don’t need to be afraid anymore.”

“But I left Ethan behind.”

And now she could hear him trying to choke back a sob.

Maggie didn’t have an answer for him. She knew human instinct, had studied it, saw it at its worst, and took faith when she saw glimmers of it at its best. She’d never be able to explain to Noah why he had run and she didn’t. Why he had left Ethan and she couldn’t leave Tully. Why she wouldn’t let John Howard Elliott win. She had many more years and more experience fighting evil than Noah. Maybe that was the only difference.

Fight or flight. Good or evil. Rarely was life that black and white. Most people learned to live in the gray areas. Maybe Noah would, too, and hopefully he would learn to forgive himself for simply following his instinct.

“He would have killed you both,” Maggie finally said. “You chose to survive, Noah. You can’t keep beating yourself up because a madman tried to kill you and you didn’t let him. That’s what you need to remember. You survived, Noah.”

She waited for him to look at her, really look at her. “
We
survived.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE

In the last twelve years I’ve found myself on the road a lot—fortunately, never “stranded.” I have a home in Omaha, Nebraska, and one outside of Pensacola, Florida—1,199 miles from door to door. But those aren’t the only road trips. Many times in my writing career, like a lot of authors, I’ve driven myself from one booktour event to the next. I remember one year I visited eighteen cities, including Chicago, New York, Philadelphia, Atlanta, and Los Angeles. There was also one year I added a thirty-two-city library tour across Nebraska—in an RV. Thankfully
I
wasn’t driving the RV.

So truck stops and rest areas are subjects I know and have experienced. That’s not always the case with every novel. Most times I’m writing about things I hope to never know. That said, I still learned a tremendous amount during my research for this book. And, as always, I have a whole lot of people to thank.

First off, thank you to my readers, who gave me all kinds of information about trucking and traveling across this country, sharing many of their own experiences. I still haven’t seen a “lot lizard,” but I’m hopeful and continue to be on the lookout.

A special thank-you to my dear friend Marlene Haney for allowing me to bury dead bodies on her family’s farmstead outside
of Sioux City, Iowa, just off Interstate 29. There really is a rest area close by, and several of Marlene’s stories prompted and encouraged my twisted mind. And I took the liberty of using three of her four children—Janet, Matt, and Ryan, who are also friends of mine—and gave them all new careers. They are the Omaha mobile crime lab’s CSU techs in the novel.

Thanks also to:

My publishing teams: Phyllis Grann, Judy Jacoby, Alison Callahan, and Kathryn Santora at Doubleday; Andrea Robinson at Anchor; David Shelley, Catherine Burke, and Jade Chandler at Little Brown/Sphere.

Scott Miller and Claire Roberts at Trident Media Group.

Ray Kunze for lending his name to Maggie’s boss. Ray and I became friends as regulars at BookExpo America, and one year he mentioned he’d like to be in one of my novels, maybe as a dead body. He’s now been Maggie’s boss since his introduction in
Black Friday
. And, for the record, the real Ray Kunze is a nice guy who would never send Maggie into the woods with a highway killer.

Sharon Kator, my talented artist friend and neighbor, who so graciously has been my Florida advocate, taking time out of her busy schedule and setting up some wonderful signing events for me.

My fellow authors and friends who make this business a bit less crazy: J. T. Ellison, Erica Spindler, Patricia Bremmer, Laura Van Wormer, and Karin Slaughter.

My friends and family, who put up with my long absences and still manage to keep me grounded: Sandy and Fred Rockwood, Sharon Car, Patricia Sierra, Leigh Ann Retelsdorf, Martin Bremmer, Maricela Barajas, Annie Belatti, Nancy Tworek, Cari Conine, Lisa Munk, Luann Causey, and Andrea McDaniel.

A personal thank-you to the amazing crew at Kansas State
University Veterinary Hospital. Using the facility in this novel is out of admiration and gratitude and as a way of letting others know what fantastic work is done there. Many of you know my dogs are my family, and I’m grateful to have so many wonderful folks taking care of them: Dr. Nicole Smee, Dr. Tonya McIlnay and the team at Veterinary Eye Specialists of Nebraska, and Dr. Enita Larson and her crew at Tender Care Animal Hospital.

Thanks also to the booksellers, book bloggers, and librarians for mentioning and recommending my novels.

And to all you faithful readers—I know that when times are tough, entertainment dollars are even scarcer. I appreciate you continuing to choose my books. Without you, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to tell my twisted tales.

Last, but never least, my thanks to Deb Carlin, who makes this journey worthwhile.

ALSO BY ALEX KAVA

Fireproof
Hotwire
Damaged
Black Friday
Exposed
Whitewash
A Necessary Evil
One False Move
At the Stroke of Madness
The Soul Catcher
Split Second
A Perfect Evil

A Note About the Author

ALEX KAVA
is the author of thirteen novels, including the internationally bestselling mystery series featuring FBI profiler Maggie O’Dell. Her novels have been published in over twenty countries around the world. She is a member of International Thriller Writers and divides her time between Omaha, Nebraska, and Pensacola, Florida. More information is available at
www.alexkava.com
.

Other titles by Alex Kava available in eBook format

Damaged
• 9780385532006
Fireproof
• 9780385535526
Hotwire
• 9780385532020
A Perfect Evil
• 9781552543917
Split Second
• 9781552549186
At the Stroke of Madness
• 9781552549223
A Necessary Evil
• 9781552549209
Black Friday
• 9781426863998
Exposed
• 9781426838712
One False Move
• 9781552549193

Visit:
www.alexkava.com

For more information, please visit
www.doubleday.com