Jeanne Adams - Dark and Deadly

His dress shoes rang on the concrete walkway as he searched for Torie. A bench loomed out of the semi-darkness, and he heard the faintest sound of voices.

On the ground, half-buried in a flower bed, was Torie’s phone.

“Hello? Who is this?” Paul demanded.

“Paul, is that you?”

“Pam? What’s going on? Where’s Torie?”

“I don’t know. She was there one minute, talking to us, then she was gone.”

“Us?”

“Dev’s back.”

“That’s good,” Paul acknowledged briefly, then hurried on. “How long ago?”

“A couple of minutes.”

Paul ran into the parking lot, spun in place checking the exits. Searching for any sign of Torie. Where the hell was Mike? He’d hired Mike to watch the exits, keep Torie in his sights.

As he worried, he searched. The driveways were long and twisting. Way off in the distance, he saw a car turn on its headlamps as it sat at the traffic light. When the light shifted to green, it turned left.

“I have to take the chance.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Somebody’s taken Torie. Kidnapped her. I think I saw him leaving. I gotta hang up, call Tibbet, and tell him where I’m going.”

“Call us,” Pam shouted as he turned that phone off and opened his own again.

“Jameson? That you?” A man hurried over, his tuxedo rumpled.

“Mike, where the hell were you? You were supposed to be watching the lots, making sure she didn’t get snatched.”

“I have been. I’ve been out front. One of the staff came out, said you were looking for me. I went inside and saw the commotion. No one knew where you were, so I figured there was trouble. I’m sorry I let you down.”

“Never mind that now. Where’s your car?”

“Right here,” Mike said, and pointed to a silvery gray Oldsmobile. “I was going to—”

Paul cut him off. “You drive. Go out that way,” he instructed, pointing to the exit. “We’re following a car that I think took Torie.”

He redialed Tibbet as he flung himself into the passenger seat, and they peeled out after the phantom car.

“He’s got her, I’m following.”

“Who? Who is it?” Tibbet demanded.

“I don’t know,” Paul snarled. “Turn, turn,” Paul ordered Mike as they got to the light. They squealed through on red.

“Where are you?”

Heading north on Kelly Drive along the river. We just left the Bradshaw Mansion. I’m with the guy I hired for tonight,” he said.

“Shitty hire if he let somebody get Torie.”

“Agreed. The tags are—” he began, then turned to Mike.

“R-S-A-three-two-five,” the bodyguard snapped, taking the turns on the winding road with competent speed.

Paul relayed to Tibbet.

“Okay, keep me posted. There’s a black and white on the way to intercept. I’ve notified the park rangers as well, but their patrol’s in another area. I’m en route. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Hurry.”

Paul dropped the phone into his lap and searched the night.

“There!” he shouted to Mike. Faint taillights off a side road betrayed the other car’s direction. They’d been pretty close; it must be him.

He prayed it wasn’t kids out for a little nookie in the backseat. They searched for a way to follow, and passed the overgrown entrance to a rutted road.

“Stop,” Paul insisted, pointing to the road. “There.”

“Got it,” Mike grunted as he cranked the wheel to turn the car onto the overgrown drive.

A faint dust cloud was the only other clue that anyone had gone that way.

It was enough. It had to be enough.

“Tibbet, you still there?” Paul picked up the phone.

“Yeah. Black and white’s closing in on your location.”

“We’re turning off onto a dirt road. There’s nothing marking it, but I saw taillights. I’m pretty sure it’s him.”

“Wait for the black and white.”

“No. He’s got Torie. I can’t. I just can’t.” He let Tibbet’s protests fade into the background as he focused on the bumpy, pockmarked, and narrow way. Mike doused the lights as he rounded a bend.

It was his worst nightmare.

Torie in her glorious dress, with her blond hair cascading over her shoulders, was silhouetted in the glare of the other car’s headlamps. The shadows concealed her kidnapper, but it was obvious that she was afraid. She wobbled where she stood, and he heard an indistinct shout of anger.

“Go back to the road, flag down the cops,” Paul ordered.

“I’m trained—” Mike began.

“Shut up. I think I know this guy, and I have a chance to talk him out of this. I hope. You don’t. Go back, make sure the cops find the damn road.”

Reluctantly, Mike agreed, and like a ghost, he disappeared into the darkness. When Paul tried to slip out of the car the same way, the sound of the door opening gave him away.

“I’ll kill her, Paul. I know it’s you. Only you would have come looking. You’re such an idiot. Get over here, and let me do it properly and kill you both.”

He sprinted to her side, as well as he could in the patchy light, turning his ankle as he did. He stood in front of her, blocking the gun he could see. It was steady, held firmly in the gloved hand of Melvin Pratt Jr.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, reaching back to grip her hand.

“Woozy,” she slurred. “He drugged me. Horrible taste. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Quit bitching,” Melvin ordered. “Now kneel. I want to get a clean shot.”

“No.”

“Paul, you’ve gotta run.” Torie was still slurring but her voice was stronger. “It’s me he wants.”

“Oh, no, that’s where you’re wrong, beautiful Victoria. I want you both dead. I originally thought I could kill Todd and marry you, which would let me finally claim the money Todd stole from me. But nooooooooo,” he mocked like a teenager would. “You weren’t ready to date, you said. But you were,” he accused. “You dated that nasty Trey Buckner. It’s no wonder you got labeled a slut and a black widow. He’s trash, and you lowered yourself to his level.

“So I planned something else. I knew I wouldn’t get the money, but it didn’t matter. I’d get my revenge.”

“Revenge?” Paul baited him, hoping he’d get a chance to overwhelm the angry man, get the gun. “For what? Todd won that money fairly. He lived fairly and gave back. That’s more than anyone can say about you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Melvin shouted. “You don’t know. You never saw what he was. What he did.”

“He never did anything but help you.”

“He hated me, despised me. Called me Weaselboy.”

Paul betrayed himself with a glance at Torie.

“You knew, you bastard. I should have killed you first. You knew it was me, didn’t you, back then, in college? I could have had her then, if it hadn’t been for you.”

“At the fraternity house? You drugged her? It was you all those years ago?” Rage nearly overwhelmed Paul as he realized that he’d never seriously considered Melvin. All those years…

“Nothing too strong,” Melvin chuckled, and a shudder ran up Paul’s spine. With all of this, he knew Melvin was crazy. Now he knew Melvin was capable of worse things than killing. His next words drove the point home. “She was so easy to drug, so willing. She has a beautiful body. I’ve never forgotten it.”

“How could you? How could you pretend all these years?”

Keep him talking; Paul’s thought was scattered, nearly panicked as he felt Torie sag onto his back. “Hang in there, honey,” he muttered, trying to get her to respond.

“Pretend? I’m not the pretender, Paul. You are. I found out where you came from. You’re the son of a trailer trash whore and a deadbeat father. You’re nothing next to me, do you hear me? Nothing.”