A Deadly Love (32 page)

Crawling off the cot, Stephanie stood on the packed dirt floor in her filthy, white nightgown. The chain rattled with her trembling as he unshackled her ankle. Dropping his backpack to the ground, Elliot unzipped it and pulled out a length of rope. With quick, economical movements he tied her hands behind her back and stuffed a gag in her mouth. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating with fear.

“Why the granny gowns?” Brooke asked. If she could get him talking, delay him somehow, maybe the police would come. He was frazzled, obviously worked up about something. Did the FBI suspect he was guilty? Surely law enforcement was combing the woods, looking for them.
But they looked before and failed.
She pushed the thought aside.

“I don’t care about the nightgowns.” He grabbed Stephanie by the arm and led her toward the stairs.

“It’s been bugging me. Please, can’t you explain?”

He looked over his shoulder and scowled. “My foster mom used to wear them. The old bat would stand over me every evening like some bloated apparition, yelling at me to get the rest of my chores done when I was exhausted from chopping wood after school.” He let out a breath. “I wanted to take that axe and—” He broke off and stared into space. “Anyway, I couldn’t think of a less sexy garment, and I didn’t want you to tempt me from my devotion to Caroline.”

Fear crawled up her spine.
The look in his eyes when he mentioned the axe...
The man was truly crazy. “Where are you taking Steph?”

“Not far. Don’t worry, I’ll be back to get you in a minute.”

The second he disappeared Brooke jerked against the chain, prying at the loosened link with numb fingers. She’d worked on the chain for the past two days, smashing the metal against the iron cot until her ankle was scraped raw and her fingers bled. She needed more time. Whimpering, she pulled with all her might. The link bent a fraction.

“Stop it, Brooke. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

Her time was up. Releasing the chain, she slumped against the mattress and stared at Elliot as he descended the ladder. “Is this it? Are you going to kill us both tonight?”

“I didn’t want the game to end this way. I should have had a full month with you.” His lips tightened in his pale face. “It’s too late now. I can’t risk the FBI stumbling across your hiding place.” Pointing the hunting knife, he jerked his wrist. “Get up.”

She pressed against the dirt wall. “Why should I cooperate?”

“Because if you do, you’ll have one last chance to escape. Are you willing to give that up?”

She shook her head and rose slowly. “You’re going to hunt both Stephanie and me?” Hope sent her spirits soaring. Surely he wouldn’t be so reckless as to let them loose at the same time? She’d come so close the first night, so close she could see a porch light burning in the distance. Behind the closed door of the cabin was her salvation. He’d taken her down fifty yards from freedom, rolling her on the ground and laughing in her ear. He’d praised what he called her “valiant effort.” Tears burned behind her eyes, and she forced them back as he tied her wrists. Tonight
she
would be the victor.

Sticking a wad of cotton in her mouth, he covered it with a handkerchief. The gag was a new twist, and he hadn’t blindfolded her.
Why?

After unlocking her leg shackle, he picked up the backpack and turned down the wick on the lantern, casting the room into darkness. “Careful on the ladder,” he said, pressing a hand to her back to steady her.

A gentleman to the end.
She giggled, feeling an insane urge to thank him. It was all so unbelievable, she and Stephanie in their tattered, white gowns standing beneath a gorgeous, star strewn sky. Not a hint of fog, unlike the night she’d nearly hit Tricia. If only...

Elliot lashed her to a big fir tree beside Steph, lowered the trap door, and shoveled dirt over it. Slowly Brooke’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. The outline of a house was visible a short distance away, and she understood the reason for the gags.
Was it his home?
The shape looked familiar. She could swear she’d stood in this very spot before. Squeezing her eyes shut, she listened to the wind blowing through the fir tree, the sleepy chirp of a robin disturbed by the commotion, and tried to pinpoint the memory.

Finished with his shoveling, he stomped down the dirt and scattered needles across the earth, then disappeared in the direction of the building. She stared at Stephanie and saw the question in the other woman’s eyes.
What in the name of God is he doing?

When he reappeared a few minutes later, his teeth flashed white in the starlight. “Bunch of morons,” he muttered, untying the rope holding them to the tree. His movements were self-assured, his step lively. The flare of hope she’d felt at his earlier panic dimmed. Something had boosted his confidence.

Binding them together at the wrist, he tugged on the tether and spoke in a whisper. “Let’s go. We have quite a hike ahead of us.”

Stumbling on the uneven forest floor, they walked deeper into the woods. Exhaustion and hunger weighed each step. Her feet felt like raw meat in the thin bedroom slippers. Surely they’d gone at least a couple of miles. Beside her, Stephanie tripped and fell, dragging her down into a clump of ferns. Her nightgown was soaked through at the knees and clung uncomfortably to her legs. She shivered and lay still, breathing deeply.

“Get up.” Grabbing her arm, Elliot pulled her to her feet. Stephanie scrambled up and leaned against her, chest heaving. “A little farther and I’ll turn you loose.”

They walked on. The trees thinned, and the going became easier. Brooke kept her pace slow and steady. The further they went from town, the more difficult it would be to reach safety. Purposefully, she fell to her knees, pulling Stephanie with her.

Elliot sighed and helped untangle them. A crescent moon rose above the trees, casting a pale light over the forest. He frowned and shook his head. “I wanted to wait for a new moon for Stephanie. This isn’t the way I imagined it.” Reaching out, he loosened Brooke’s gag. She spat out the cotton and swallowed against the dryness in her throat.

“If it’s wrong, let us go,” she croaked and swallowed again. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“A new moon is the refuge of the hunted. It makes the game more difficult.” He smiled, staring up at the sky. “Now a full moon is a hunter’s moon. There’s nothing quite like taking back a piece of my heart beneath its majesty.” He turned to face her. “You should have had a full moon, Brooke.”

“Don’t do it, Elliot.” As soon as he untied her hands, Stephanie clasped his arm and clung. Her voice was choked with tears. “Don’t kill us, please. Take Caroline away from here and find a place where you can be happy together. You don’t have to hurt us to have your heart back, truly you don’t. Your love for her makes it whole.”

He bit his lip, and for an instant Brooke thought he might give in. Then he shook his head, and his eyes hardened. “It’s gone too far. I have to finish it now.”

Rubbing her chafed wrists, she stood close beside Stephanie. “At least give us a fair chance.”

He reared back and frowned. “
Of course
I will. It wouldn’t be any fun if it was easy. You’ve got a five minute head start. Good luck, ladies.”

Picking up her skirt, Brooke ran, rocks biting into the soles of her feet through the slippers, her heart hammering in her chest. Stephanie panted by her side. After a minute, she stopped and grabbed the other woman’s hand, squeezing it. “It’ll be too easy if we stay together. You go straight toward town. I’ll head toward Jesse’s cabin.”

“Oh, Brooke, no. I can’t stand being alone.” Her voice was a cry of pain.

“We have to, Steph. Do you know where you are?”

“I think so, but what if I get turned around.”

“Keep the moon at your back and run like hell. You can do it.
We
can do it.” She gave her hand a final squeeze. “Now go!”

Waiting only a second to watch Stephanie disappear into the trees, she turned and ran for her life.

****

Otis lunged around the side of the school, pulling Dillon by the end of the leash. He ran to keep up, stopping beneath a huge fir tree. The dog sniffed the ground and started digging.

Harley held up a flashlight, illuminating the area with the powerful beam. “The ground looks like it’s been disturbed recently, though it’s difficult to tell the way he’s going at it.”

“Get that mutt out of there,” Polk shouted, running up behind them. “He could be destroying evidence.”

“Otis dug here once before, the day Brooke disappeared.” Dillon’s chest tightened, squeezing the breath out of him as a sudden thought occurred.
Please, God, no.
“You don’t think—”

The dog’s nails scratched against a wooden surface. “Looks like some kind of trap door.” Harley grabbed Otis by the collar and pulled him aside. With his foot, he scraped away the last of the dirt.

Dillon bent and tugged on a metal ring. The door crashed against the ground with a reverberating thud. Not a grave. A cellar. His knees nearly buckled with dizzying relief. “June has one like it at her house.”

Shining the light into the hole, Harley spotlighted a pair of empty cots. “Looks like he took both women with him.”

Agent Washington stepped forward. “Stay back, all of you. We need to preserve the scene.”

“Have at it. All I care about is finding Brooke and Stephanie.” Harley’s shoulders heaved. “We
will
find them, if we have to search every inch of the woods from here to hell and back.”

Otis sniffed around the base of the tree and whined, then tugged on his leash. Dillon followed, giving the dog his head. “I think he has Brooke’s scent,” he called over his shoulder. Are you coming?”

“Jesus, who would have thought that mongrel was part bloodhound. Let’s go, boys.” Harley, Dwayne, Detective Watkins, and Agent Johnson crashed through the woods behind him.

Wishing he’d grabbed a flashlight out of his truck, Dillon swore as he tripped and sprawled in a huckleberry bush. Springing to his feet, he ran on in the feeble moonlight. Adrenaline pumped through his body as he sprinted to keep up with the dog. Knowing that right now Brooke could be struggling to escape from Elliot, that mere seconds could mean the difference between a future with the woman he loved and incredible heartbreak kept him racing ahead, even as his breath seized in his chest and pain stabbed his side. Harley wheezed next to him, along with Agent Johnson, who wasn’t even breathing hard. The woman had easily outdistanced the other two men.

They’d gone close to two miles when Otis stopped, sniffed the ground in a widening circle, and whined. “Please don’t tell me the dog lost their trail,” Harley gasped, bending double as he struggled to breathe.

Otis ran forward, nose to the ground, then darted to the right and barked sharply.

Dillon frowned. “Do you suppose they split up or doubled back? I’m not an expert in canine tracking.”

“Damned if I know. Dwayne, give Dillon your flashlight,” Harley said as the deputy reached them. Chest heaving, the man handed over the light. “Forget the damned dog. Let’s see if we can find their trail.”

Shining the light into the undergrowth, Dillon discovered bent ferns leading in two directions. “Which way, boy?” Otis barked again and pulled on his leash. “The dog wants to go north,” he called, “and there are definite signs someone headed that way.”

“I’ve got more over here,” Harley said. “Someone went back toward town, veering away from the trail we followed up.” He ran a hand over his head and swore. “Well, hell.”

Agent Johnson fisted her hands on her hips. “Simple. We’ll each take a different set of tracks. Sheriff, head back toward town with your deputy. Detective Watkins and I will continue east, and Mr. Tremayne and the dog can take the northern path.” She scowled. “I don’t like leaving you on your own, but Watkins and I are not expert trackers. Anyway, I imagine that animal will prove to be an effective weapon if you need one. Keep a sharp look out and yell if anything catches your eye.”

Nodding, Dillon let Otis go. He didn’t care where the others went. Right now he had more confidence in the dog’s ability to find Brooke than he did in all the law officers combined. And he certainly wasn’t afraid of Elliot Locke. His hand tightened around the leash in a white knuckled grip. If he found the twisted freak first, the county wouldn’t have to worry about paying for a trial.

Running through new growth forest, it was all he could do to keep up with the dog. After a time the trees grew closer together, the undergrowth denser, and he was forced to slow. This was an older section of forest, nearly shouting distance from his grandfather’s cabin. Otis stopped and howled. A shiver rippled down Dillon’s spine. “Jesus, quit that!”

“Who’s there?” a voice shouted.

“It’s me, grandpa. Don’t shoot, for God’s sake.”

Jesse stepped around a clump of dwarf maple. Leaves rustled as he lowered the shotgun. “I heard something a little bit ago and came to investigate.”

“What did you hear?” Holding his breath, he waited for the answer.

Jesse raised a shaking hand to his chin. “Sounded like a scream.”

Blood thrummed in his ears. He couldn’t panic. It wouldn’t help Brooke. Taking deep breaths, Dillon concentrated on slowing his breathing. “The dog lost her scent. If Elliot is carrying her, he can’t be moving very fast. We’ll find her.”

His grandfather’s eyes widened. “Elliot Locke, that scrawny little school teacher.
He’s
the one killing the women?”

Dillon nodded.

“Hell, yes, we’ll find her.” Jesse crouched, studied the feathery fronds of a sword fern, and gave a crow of triumph. “They went this way.”

****

Brooke stopped running and stared around at the dark forest. Clouds covered the moon, and for the first time she wasn’t certain which way to go. Shaking with cold, she pressed a hand to her pounding heart and tried to slow her breathing.
I absolutely cannot panic
.
If I turn a little more to the west...