Stalker In the Shadows Page 17

  Before she could fully recover, he grabbed her by her hair and yanked her up to her feet. She screamed but knew there was nobody who would hear her. She was vaguely aware of Zeus running from the room.

  “You want that gun?” he whispered in her ear. His grip on her hair tightened. “You want to get that gun and shoot me?” He punched her in her side. Once again pain ripped through her, weakening her knees. “That wouldn’t be nice, Colette.”

  His hot, stale breath made her want to throw up. “If anyone is going to shoot somebody, it’s going to be me shooting you. But that would be too easy.”

  He pulled out a syringe. New horror swept through her. She fought to get away, but he stabbed the needle into her arm.

  She flailed her arms and kicked at him, desperate to get free. He laughed at her efforts, his laughter sounding like the devil’s happiness.

  Within minutes her arms began to feel too heavy to fight and her legs could barely hold her up. What had he given to her? Oh God, what had been in the syringe?

  Her eyelids grew heavy. He loosened his grip on her hair, and she nearly fell against him. Help, her mind screamed. He laughed as he picked her up in his arms.

  He’d won. That was the last thought that drifted through her mind before she knew no more.

  HER HEAD POUNDED. Her mouth was dry. Colette came to in confusion. She opened her eyes and frowned. She was in a kitchen she’d never seen before. The floor was an old, faded linoleum, and an old table stood in front of a window with a cracked pane of glass. The air held an unpleasant odor.

  Where was she? She tried to raise a hand to her head and realized she was tied to the chair. That’s when everything crashed back into her head. Peter...who didn’t look like Peter...the stab of the needle in her arm... Oh God, she was in trouble. Peter was actually Hank Bridges, and nobody knew that.

  As if to punctuate that thought, Peter walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a chair, flipped it around backward and sat directly in front of her. “Hello, Colette.”

  It was so disconcerting to hear the familiar voice coming out of the unfamiliar face. But the eyes were the same, dark blue eyes that burned with evil intent.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me how happy you are to see me again?”

  She kept her mouth shut. She had no desire to engage with him in any way. If he was waiting for her to beg and plead for her life, it wasn’t going to happen.

  How long had she been unconscious? Did Hunter know yet that she was missing from the house? Were they all out looking for her now?

  They’d never find her. They could look everywhere, but they’d never suspect she was here. They were all looking for Peter, not this new, improved version of her ex-husband.

  She wanted to weep with defeat, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears. He’d always gotten off on seeing her cry.

  “Gee, I guess you aren’t talking to me. Maybe I can make you scream.” He started to stand up from the chair.

  “Of course you can make me scream. You’ve got me tied to a chair and helpless. Congratulations, big man. You’re a real hero.”

  The slap snapped her head to the side. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. “Show me some respect. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to get you here,” he said. “I’ve spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to make this happen.”

  “Why, Peter? After all this time, why come after me at all?” she asked. Her hands were tied behind her back, and she twisted and turned them in an effort to gain some give in the rope.

  “You belong to me. Don’t you remember that was our song? We danced to it at our wedding.”

  “We divorced,” she replied. “And I never belonged to you. I belong to myself.”

  She hadn’t intended to talk to him, but she now realized she needed to keep him talking. She needed time, time for somebody to find her. She desperately hoped somebody—anybody—would find her.

  “A piece of paper doesn’t change the fact that you belong to me,” he said.

  She sighed in frustration. “Why did you marry me in the first place?” she asked.

  “I married you because I wanted you. I knew after our first date that you were the woman I wanted to bear my children, the woman I wanted to spend my life with. Why did you marry me?” He looked at her in amusement.

  “I fell in love with you, Peter. I thought you were a good man, a gentle man who would take care of me and any children we had. But you became a cruel and abusive man.” She stiffened, waiting for another blow from him.

  “That’s because you failed to live up to my expectations of you as a wife.” His eyes were dark and flat, like the eyes of a serpent. “You had to be taught, Colette. It wasn’t my fault that you were a slow learner. I hope our daughter doesn’t need to be taught.”

  She wanted to tear his eyes out, stab him in his sick, black heart. As she thought of Melinda in his care, she wanted to scream at the injustice of evil winning. Peter would steal all the sweetness, all the happiness out of Melinda.

  Colette would gladly spend a thousand years in hell to save Melinda from him. But the devil was already working with Peter. “Please just let me go, Peter. I’ll make sure you get plenty of visitation with Melinda.”

  “Why should I settle for visitation when I can have her full-time?”

  “Please, Peter. If you ever loved me, then just let me go.” She had thought she wasn’t going to beg, but she was now begging for her life...for Melinda’s life. “I won’t tell anyone what you look like or that you’re living as Hank Bridges. Your identity is safe with me.”

  His eyes burned into hers. “You were my everything, Colette. I needed you as much as I needed air to breathe.”

  “You tried to kill me,” she replied half hysterically. She continued to work at loosening the rope holding her hands, but so far she’d had no success. Her fingers were numb, but her wrists felt raw and painful. “Peter, you stabbed me in my stomach. You almost killed me.”

  “I’ll admit my need to discipline you got a little out of hand, but that didn’t give you the right to leave me. You were mine, and you’ll be mine until you die.”

  He stood abruptly and shoved the chair he’d been sitting in aside. “The only way I’ll truly be free of you is for you to be gone...dead. That’s the price you pay for leaving me, Colette.”

  He stalked over to the nearby door and yanked it open. Immediately a noxious smell wafted in the air. Squeals and grunts could be heard.

  Peter turned to look at her. “Hear that? Those are my pets. Did you know that sixteen pigs can completely eat a human being in eight minutes? There are twenty-five starving pigs in my pen. I tested the information with Ted, who got me access to the café attic.” She stared at him in horror.

  “It actually took seven and a half minutes for Ted to get crunched up and swallowed. Then this morning they got fed again. Poor old Sheila was another loose end that needed to be taken care of. I figure by late this evening the pigs will be hungry again.” He grinned at her. “Of course I’ll feed my pets...I’m going to feed them you.”

  As he turned and left the kitchen, she worked desperately on trying to free her hands. She was horrified not only by what he’d already done but also what he planned to do to her.

  THEY HAD SCOURED the town for Peter Waverly and nobody professed to have seen him. “How can one man stay so far under the radar?” Hunter asked Nick when they were both in the office for a few minutes.

  “You got me.” Nick shook his head. “We checked the motel and the few places in town that are rented out. We’ve asked people if they’ve noticed anyone in or around their barns and outbuildings, and we’ve come up empty-handed. We’re going to start checking on some of the abandoned buildings in the area, but if you want my opinion, I think he’s probably left town.”

  “That’s the last thing Ains...Colette wanted.” Hunte
r frowned.

  “This all must have been a shock to you. How are you doing with it all?” Nick asked.

  Hunter drew in a deep breath. “To be honest, I don’t know how I’m doing with it all. Right now I want to stay focused on minimizing any danger toward her.”

  “And after that?” Nick asked.

  “After that I don’t know,” Hunter replied honestly. “I kind of feel the same way I did when I realized all the lies Emily had told me.”

  “But there’s a difference. Emily lied to deceive you so she could continue her affair. Colette lied to save her and her daughter’s lives.”

  Nick’s words haunted Hunter during the rest of the morning as he worked street patrol. Yes, there was a difference. He tried to put himself in Colette’s position. What lengths would he go to in order to protect Danny if the little boy had lived?

  He would have lied, stolen and done whatever necessary to save his son from danger. Why would he hold it against Colette for doing the same thing?

  It was just after noon when his phone rang and he saw George’s caller ID. Why on earth would George be calling him right now?

  “Hey, George, what’s going on?”

  “Hunter, I got something to tell you...something really, really important.”

  “What’s that?” Hunter asked. George had spoken superfast, and Hunter wondered if perhaps George was off his meds again. He didn’t sound drunk—rather he sounded amped up.

  “I thought today was your day off and I spent most of the morning thinning out some plants and I repotted some because I thought you might like them.” The words spewed out of George so fast Hunter could barely digest them. The man was obviously agitated about something.

  “So, I took them down to your house and was just about to knock on the door when I heard two people talking inside and then I heard the side gate in your backyard open. I...I peeked around the corner of the house and saw him—he was...he was carrying Ainsley over his shoulder.”

  A sick burst of adrenaline shot through Hunter. “Who was it, George? Who was carrying her outside?” he asked urgently.

  “I can’t remember. I know him from somewhere...but right now I can’t remember from where. Dammit, I knew she was in trouble and I hid behind the bushes like a damned coward. I’m sorry, Hunter. I’m so sorry. You needed me to save her and I...I failed you.” He began to weep.

  “George, where are you now?” Hunter asked as he turned his car around to head for home.

  “I’m at your house on the front porch.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Hunter hung up and raced for home. How in the hell had a man they were all looking for managed to get to Colette? How had this happened? Oh God, where had Peter taken her?

  As he drove, he called Nick to let him know what had happened, and the lawman agreed to meet Hunter at his house. Hunter stepped on the gas, his heart thundering so hard he could hear the frantic beats in his head. Dammit, he’d thought she’d be safe in his house. He shouldn’t have worked today no matter how much he was needed to do patrol. He should have stayed with her, kept her near to him.

  The good news was there was an eyewitness to the kidnapping. The bad news was the witness could be off his medications and might never be able to identify whom he had seen.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hunter drove faster than he’d ever driven through town in his life. He was painfully aware that seconds mattered...minutes mattered. The faster George could tell them something, anything about the kidnapper, the faster they might be able to find Colette.

  Peter had already beaten her up. Hunter knew the man wouldn’t blink twice before killing her. He could have killed her right there in the house, and yet he’d carried her out and away. Why not just kill her?

  Where could he have taken her? Where was his lair? The man had apparently moved freely through town in order to leave the items on Colette’s porch and to leave the note in the café. Why had everyone who was questioned in town indicated they had never seen Peter anywhere before? Why hadn’t he seen Peter in town? The man was obviously a freaking ghost.

  Hunter screeched around the corner of the street that led to his house. When he got close enough, he saw George sitting on the front porch. He whirled into his driveway, cut the engine and leaped out of the car.

  George stood, tears trekking down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Hunter. I’m so sorry I didn’t do anything to help. I should have tackled him. I should have done something, but I hid like a baby.”

  “It’s okay, George. Right now what I need for you to do is calm down,” Hunter said even though he was anything but calm. Every nerve in his body was screaming that he needed to find Colette as soon as possible.

  “Come on inside. I need to get some information from you.” Hunter tried to stay calm, knowing that would also calm George down, but Hunter wanted to scream with urgency at the only man who had seen Peter Waverly.

  As they walked through the living room, Hunter saw the gun still on the coffee table. Obviously she’d never gotten a chance to use it to protect herself. Zeus danced at his feet, and he let the dog out the back door as Nick entered the house.

  George began to weep again as Hunter guided him to a seat at the table. “George, we need you to calm down so you can think clearly,” Hunter said and tried to keep the panic out of his voice. “You need to tell us exactly what you saw.”

  “I saw him carrying her over his shoulder,” George said.

  “Did he have a vehicle waiting for him?” Nick asked.

  George nodded. “A black pickup truck. He put her in the passenger seat and then he sped away.” Hunter’s stomach tightened. Sped away where? Where was the bastard hiding out?

  “Was it this man who took her?” Nick showed George the picture of Peter.

  “No, it wasn’t him,” George replied with a frown.

  Hunter looked at Nick in confusion. If it wasn’t Peter Waverly, then who had taken her away? Were they dealing with two different people? Two separate perpetrators?

  George raised a fist and hit himself in the forehead. “I know the man who took her...I just...right now I can’t remember who he is. I know I met him. Damn, damn, damn!” He hit himself in the head once again.

  Hunter caught his hand. “George, stop hitting yourself. That’s not going to get us anywhere. Just give yourself a minute to breathe, a minute to think.”

  Seconds...minutes...where was she? Hunter’s need to find her burned in his belly as his heart continued to beat the rapid rhythm of despair. He needed George to remember, otherwise they had nothing.

  “What did the man look like?” he asked.

  “Dark hair...nice-looking man.” George’s frown deepened, and then he snapped his fingers and sat up straighter in his chair. “I know now. I met him at the café. Hank...Hank Bridges. He bought that old pig farm south of town.”

  Before George was completely finished speaking, Nick and Hunter jumped up from the table and ran outside to their patrol cars.

  The pig farm. She’d told them the person who had beaten her had a strange, unpleasant odor about them. A man living on a pig farm would have had that smell clinging to him.

  Hank Bridges. What in the hell did he have to do with Peter Waverly? Was he a hired killer working for Peter? Had Peter been living with Hank? Was that how he had stayed under their radar?

  It was much easier for Hunter to focus on these kinds of questions than the questions that ate at his guts. Questions like, were they already too late? Had Peter been waiting at the pig farm to bring him Colette and had he already killed his ex-wife? Was Colette already dead?

  Oh God, he could scarcely stand the thought that she might no longer be in this world. He couldn’t imagine never again seeing her beautiful smile or hearing her sweet laughter. He couldn’t imagine her not being there for her daughter.

  His heart hurt. All he wanted was for
her to be in his arms. He wanted to bury his face in her sweet-smelling hair, feel her heart beating steady against his own. More than anything he wanted her to be alive.

  He got on the radio with Nick. “We need to go in quiet,” he said. “We don’t know whether there’s one or two men in there, but either one of them is capable of killing her.”

  “I’ve already called in a couple more men and told them to meet us at the old Winchell place next to the pig farm,” Nick said.

  Thankfully he didn’t mention the fact that they might already be too late, that they’d reach the farm and find her dead body and the men would already be gone, never to be seen again.

  He gripped the steering wheel tightly. Wasn’t it enough that he’d had to say goodbye to Danny? Hadn’t life taken enough from him already? He’d lost both his wife and his baby boy. Dammit, he didn’t want to lose Colette as well.

  Nick followed him down the highway that would take them to the Winchell place, a small farm where the Winchell family had lived and struggled for years. Three years ago they had given up, moved away and abandoned the place to the bank. Nobody had lived in the place since.

  He turned in to the long driveway and drove up far enough that the vehicles wouldn’t be seen from the road. Nick pulled in behind him, and within minutes two more patrol cars joined them. Deputies Greg McCain and Barry Simpson got out of the cars.

  “What’s the plan?” Hunter asked Nick, recognizing that ultimately Nick was the lead on the case.

  “We need to get close enough to do a little recon,” Nick said. “We need to figure out who, exactly, is in the house and where they are in the place. Greg, why don’t you and I sneak closer and see what we can see? Hunter, you and Barry wait here. We’ll check back here and we can make our ultimate plan to move in.”

  Before Hunter could protest, the two men were gone, cutting through an overgrown cornfield in the direction of the pig farm. “There isn’t time for this,” Hunter said to Barry, who was an older, more seasoned deputy.