C
HAPTER
14
The next morning Jane had a good, long laugh for the first time in months. She and Coop were having coffee in bed, trading childhood stories about learning to ride a bike, and Coop had her laughing so hard she nearly spilled her hot drink.
“Easy there,” Coop said. “No hot liquids on the family jewels.”
She was laughing again when Coop’s cell phone jangled.
“It’s dispatch,” he said, putting the phone to his ear. “What’s up?”
Jane took a breath and shook her head as he walked away from her, sunlight casting shadows over his bare, muscular body.
What a gorgeous man.
“Contact the Coast Guard,” he said. “They’ll bring out a helicopter to search by air.”
As he talked, Jane grabbed one of his slightly worn T-shirts from the floor and slipped it over her head. It smelled of Coop—clean and a little salty. Although she’d been sleeping up here every night, she still hadn’t moved any of her belongings up. Wasn’t it healthy to keep a little distance in a new relationship?
From the way he slipped his uniform on while he handled the call, Jane could tell it was a serious incident. By the time he hung up, he was dressed in pants, shirt, and a belt.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“We need to stage a search and rescue operation for a missing toddler. Wandered away from the parents at the beach.”
“That’s scary.” Jane couldn’t imagine the panic of a parent in that situation.
“We need to act fast.”
“Where do you think the kid went?”
“Back to the cottage. To play in the dunes. Down the beach. Kids wander off a few times every summer, but I’ve got an excellent record of return. A hundred percent.”
“Good. Keep it up.” She bent down to straighten his collar, thinking how fun it would be to seduce him in uniform. Hmm. Some other time.
He finished tying his shoes. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”
She returned his kiss, walking him to the door as if she had lived here forever.
Like a wife ...
Her toothbrush might be in the apartment downstairs, but she slept in his bed every night and she had a set of his keys hooked onto hers. That sounded pretty damn settled, and she didn’t mind it at all.
Watching his truck pull out, she wished him luck and said a little prayer for the safe return of the toddler.
Since it was midweek, there were no houses to clean, but Marvin had asked Jane to help clean a few rooms at the motel—an easy gig compared to the rambling cottages. She worked methodically, and by one o’clock she was stowing her buckets and gloves and heading over to the Quickstop to pick up some lunch.
The muted noise of the Coast Guard helicopter overhead let her know that the search for the missing child was probably still going on. Up ahead, she saw that one of the side streets leading to the ocean was closed, blocked off by orange traffic cones and a police cruiser with flashing lights.
At the Quickstop, Kailani was noticeably absent from her stool behind the counter.
“Where’s the crochet champion of OBX?” Jane asked Becca.
“She’s a little under the weather.” Becca bagged a purchase for a customer, wished him a nice day, then turned to Jane. “So, did he find you?”
Jane squinted. “Who?”
“Your brother. He was just in here looking for you. Said he wanted to surprise you.”
Jane braced herself as a sick feeling seeped into her belly. TJ, here? He would love a few days at the Canadian Hole, but after all they’d been through in the past few days... “What did he look like?”
“You know. A big guy,” Becca said casually. “Solid build, dark hair. Nice smile.”
Jane’s worry hardened to dull panic. TJ was thin—a beanpole with sandy blond hair.
Someone was in town, looking for her.
Canby’s hired gun.
“How long ago was he here?”
Becca shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe an hour ago?”
An hour ... she might have passed him on the road. Maybe he was even staying at the motel where she’d spent the morning.
Suddenly, Jane felt conspicuous ... a walking target.
“He said he’d been looking around town for your Jeep, and I told him you had a job cleaning houses, so you probably weren’t around this morning.”
“Oh, really?” Jane swallowed, a strain with the knot of fear in her throat. “Did you ... did you tell him where I live?”
“Oh, no.” Becca laughed. “I don’t even know where you live.”
Thank God for that,
Jane thought.
“Excuse me a second,” she told Becca, looking around the store for a private place. The office. She knocked on the door and it fell open. The light was on, but it was empty. She stepped inside and she fumbled with trembling hands to call Coop.
It rang four times when she realized he was still on the search and rescue operation. She hung up, then called a second time. “Please pick up,” she whispered.
The line clicked, then his voice. “Miss Jane? I can’t really talk ...”
“I know, but I’ve got a problem.” Trying not to babble, she spilled the details of the strange man who had come into the Quickstop looking for her.
“Okay, Miss Jane, first thing is to stay calm, okay? I can’t get away right now, but ... how about I send a car over? Dale can come get you.”
“Did you find the missing child? I don’t want to pull your cops off the search.”
“Haven’t found him yet, but we’re following up on a lead. But put that aside for now. You need to stay away from your usual places. And you can’t be driving the Jeep around if he’s looking for it. Where are you now?”
“In the office of the Quickstop.” She ran her hand over the old desktop, eyeing the dark kneehole underneath, wishing she could duck down into the shadows and stay in the cool obscurity there. “I don’t know where to go.” Her voice sounded thin and frail and she hated herself for being so weak.
“Don’t go to the house, and don’t go cleaning any cottages, especially now that Becca’s tipped him off to what you do.”
She rested her cheek on the cool desk. Her skin felt hot from the fire of panic as she considered where she could hide. “I’m scared, Coop.”
“I know, sugar. Damn, I wish ... look, I’m going to come get you, okay?”
“No, no! You’ve got something important to do. I ... I’ll figure something out.”
“Hold on! I know. You can go to the precinct. Brenda is there. She’s not armed, but you can sit with her. No criminal type would have the nerve to go strolling into a station house.”
She took a halting breath. “I can do that. I’ll just leave my Jeep in the parking lot here and walk.”
“Now you’re thinking smart. You go to the station house and call me or text me when you get there. You hear?”
“Okay.”
The blood seemed to be drained from her body as she left the store, a walking zombie headed over to the police station. She deliberated about walking along Highway 12—the shorter route—but decided on a backstreet that ran parallel. It was more deserted, but there was a lot less traffic, and she didn’t want to chance the hit man driving by and recognizing her.
The hit man.
The hunter.
Knowing he was here, she felt tears sting her eyes as she passed familiar spots in Avon. The pizza place. The cinemas.
The little gray-haired lady who sold kites from her Cape Cod–style home was tinkering around on the porch as Jane passed, and Jane swallowed the lump in her throat to exchange a greeting.
Avon was supposed to be her protected haven—her escape.
How dare he track her here!
She was angry, furious for all she’d sacrificed ... all the things Tia had lost in her months of therapy. Her hands clenched into fists as she turned a corner and spotted the small building that housed the police station two blocks ahead. And now she had to go sit in a police station and be babysat by Brenda the dispatcher. Talk about loss of freedom!
As the gravel of the precinct parking lot crunched under her feet, she noticed Coop’s truck sitting there. Of course, he was off in the cruiser now.
But she had a key to his truck.
She paused as a window of opportunity presented itself. The hunter wouldn’t be looking for her in Coop’s truck. She could borrow it and move around under the radar.
Not a bad idea.
She took her keys out of her pocket, jumped into the cab, and fired up the engine.
The warm breeze swirling through the truck helped to cool her temper a bit. She turned onto Highway 12 with the intention of just driving for a while, but when she saw the sign for Ego Beach, she decided to turn into the Canadian Hole.
With the truck pulled up to the edge of the parking lot, she was able to watch the windsurfers in the cove. The strong breeze and flat water made for perfect conditions, and some of the masters were out there hotdogging, flipping their boards and banking so sharply their bodies seemed to scrape the water.
How she longed to get out there with a board and sail and catch the wind! Her days on Pamlico Sound, taking lessons from Coop, now seemed surreal—a paradise too good to be true.
Tears stung her eyes as she realized what she had to do. Coop would be angry with her, and rightly so, but this trouble was more than any small police department could handle. Hell, not even New York City could provide her the protection she’d needed.
She would have to go it alone ... on the run.
She fired up the truck’s engine, angry at the world. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving Coop and all this behind, but she didn’t see that she had a choice.
As traffic slowed down the road, she picked up her cell phone and forced herself to dial his number. The man she loved had a right to know, though he’d probably hate her when she told him her plan. She was beginning to hate herself.
As her bad luck would have it, Coop didn’t pick up. Swallowing hard, she left him a message.
“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to borrow your truck. You can use my Jeep as fair trade. I’ve got to leave town, Coop. It’s better for everyone, all around. Thank you for ... for everything. I’ll be in touch when this is all over ... if you’re still speaking to me.”
She ended the call and silenced her cell phone, not wanting any diversions to stop her now. She knew Coop would call back eventually and it broke her heart to ignore him, but she couldn’t stay here, a walking target.
Sea Breeze Lane was abuzz with activity. The driveway of Coop’s house was empty, of course, but across the lane Mrs. Lang was outside watering her garden. Isaiah’s truck was parked by the Claytons’—probably servicing their hot tub. Old Mr. Mitty came up from the beach path leaning on his walking stick. His two black Labs circled around him, then darted ahead.
Funny how this street felt more like home than any street she’d lived on in New York.
She pulled into the driveway of Coop’s house—her safe haven. If only she could stay ...
But that wasn’t possible. She needed to throw her stuff in a bag and hit the road. Drive till she couldn’t see clearly anymore. Leave the hunter behind in her dust.
The key turned in the lock, and she pushed the door open and bent down to check her makeshift security system. The fishing line was still intact, strung across the entryway. At least she knew no one had come through that door.
In the kitchen she paused, her hands on the cool counter, her gaze out over the smooth waters of Pamlico Sound.
This place, this interlude, would forever be engraved upon her soul. Already she missed her dinners with Coop and the intimate nights in his bed.
But she had to go. She grabbed a cold can of Diet Pepsi from the fridge, cracked it open, and headed into the bedroom.
In the closet, she unzipped her duffel bag and tossed in shoes and flip-flops. She stripped garments from their hangers and dumped them in.
On her way to the dresser, something struck her about the bedroom window. Had she left it open like that? She moved closer and noticed that the screen wavered in the wind.
Someone had sliced through it.
From the corner of her eye, she caught a movement in the mirror. The bedroom door was swinging away from the wall.
She swung around, her arms flailing, spilling diet soda through the air.
And there he was: big and dark-haired and with fierce brown eyes.
Her killer.
C
HAPTER
15
Where the hell was Jane?
She’d left him a strange message about taking off in his truck and now she wouldn’t answer his calls. What the hell was going on? Cooper clicked his radio to signal the dispatcher. “Brenda, do you have Jane there with you?”
“No, Sheriff. I’ve been watching for her like you said, but no one’s been in at all this afternoon.”
“Copy.” He ran the route from the Quickstop to the station house in his mind. Four, maybe five blocks. What could have happened to her?
That was a question he didn’t want to think about.
Jane could smell his sweat now.
He held up a gun.
And suddenly she couldn’t look away from the hollow, black barrel pointed right between her eyes.
“I don’t want to shoot you here.” His voice had a surprisingly high pitch, but the fast-clipped New York accent was unmistakable. “There’s too many people around. Your street is like Grand Central Fucking Station, so we gotta get out of here.”
So this guy wanted to get away with it ... and he’d noticed the neighbors outside.
She wondered if she could distract him and make a run for it.
He shot a quick glance toward the door, then stepped closer to her and rammed the cold steel of the pistol to her forehead.
Explosive pain gave way to blackness as she fell back onto the bed and curled up. Her head ... she rubbed the knot already forming there.
“That’s just a little taste of what I’ll do if you don’t listen. One bad move on your part and I’ll shoot and run. I’ll be out of this hick town before any of those neighbors realize the noise wasn’t fireworks.”
Her head was still throbbing when he grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. “Move it. I don’t want to be hanging around when the boyfriend comes.”
Coop floored it down Sea Breeze Road, frantic to find her. He had waited with the rescue team on the beach until he’d gotten confirmation from Dale that the missing boy had been located, fine and dandy and with his auntie on the waterslide at Rodanthe.
“We got another incident pending. Stay on Alert Fifteen,” he’d told the guys from the Coast Guard as he’d jumped into the cruiser. Alert Fifteen kept the helicopter crew on call, ready to go back up in the air with a few minutes’ notice.
Cooper had hit the Quickstop, then the station house, where he’d confirmed that his truck was missing.
Then he’d hightailed it over here, thinking she might still be packing.
He hit the brakes and the cruiser screeched to a stop in front of his driveway, where his truck sat gleaming in the sun. Good ... she was still here.
He dashed up the walkway and took the porch steps two at a time. Her little string contraption was knocked out of place, so she’d been moving in a hurry.
“Jane! Where are you?” he called.
In the bedroom, he paused at the dark brown stains on the rug in a wild sort of zigzag pattern. The can of soda sat on its side, not far from her half-packed duffel bag. Using a tissue, he picked up the can and jiggled it. Still fizzy. It hadn’t been here too long.
“Jane ... sugar?” he called, searching the rest of her apartment, then bolting upstairs to tear through his place.
She was gone ... but his truck was here ... and so was her stuff.
Something had gone wrong.
And from that wild pattern of the spilled soda, he had to assume there’d been some sort of confrontation.
Fear tore at his gut as he pictured it.
The hit man had gotten her, right here.
But they couldn’t be too far away yet.
He pressed the radio to call dispatch. “Brenda, notify the Coast Guard copters that we need to conduct another air search. They’re to wait for me on the beach. We’ve got another missing person. Jane Doyle, age twenty-eight, brown hair, Caucasian, a hundred and five pounds.”
Beautiful, inside and out.
How could he have been so stupid? He should have responded immediately when she’d reached out to him.
“She never did turn up?”
“Looks like she’s been kidnapped, Brenda. Can you post the APB?”
“Kidnapped? Oh my land! Will do, Sheriff.”
“And I’m going to need some assistance here to canvass the neighborhood.” He gave her the address, then sighed, realizing they were stretched thin with deputies at the far reaches of town, just ending the missing child operation. “See if you can gather up the paramedics for me—Skeeter and Roman were out there today. They’d be a big help.”
“They’re still on the air. I’ll send them right over, Sheriff.”
Her head was throbbing and tears streaked down her cheeks unchecked, but Jane swallowed back her fear and kept her eyes on the road, determined to outsmart the man who’d cracked her on the head.
The brute.
With her hands tied behind her back, Jane couldn’t really sit back in the seat of the minivan, but she did have a clear view out the tinted glass windows.
Hope had burned inside her at the sight of Coop blazing down Sea Breeze in the cruiser, just missing them. The brute had howled in glee over that, and she would have kicked him if she’d thought she could do it and not be punished tenfold.
She didn’t want to piss him off. Let him stay calm and think he was in control until she had a chance to turn the tables.
Yes, he’d tied her up, but he’d left her cell phone in the pocket of her shorts. With enough time, she thought she could get to it and call for help.
Till then, she had to bide her time and try to figure out where he was taking her.
“You know,” she said over the hot whir of the van’s engine, “if you take me to the police right now, they’ll reduce the charges.”
He shook his head and grunted. “That’ll never happen.”
They were heading south on Highway 12 and he was going under the speed limit. No chance of being pulled over.
“Can you turn on the air conditioner?” she asked, only to get him talking.
“Sorry, princess. This is the best we got.”
“You know I’m no princess. I work hard for the things I’ve got.”
“Well, that’s bonus points for you,” the brute said indifferently.
Her senses went on alert when he slowed the van, then made a right turn onto a familiar dirt road.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, though she knew where this road led.
“There’s a low spot here. Gets hit hard at low tide. The water comes in and washes all around it.”
Dragon’s Point, she thought.
“I know that place,” she said. “You’d better watch it or your car will get stuck out there overnight.”
“I got a chart of the tides,” he said. “I got it all figured out. You’ll be tied up when the tide comes in. In over your head, so to speak. And I won’t even have to waste a bullet on you.” He tapped his beefy fingers on the steering wheel. “The cops might even think it was an accident.”
Death by drowning.
She yanked her arms in an attempt to either stretch the bristly rope or work her wrists loose.
No such luck. Already her skin was sore and raw from the friction.
She tried not to think about the cell phone in the pocket of her shorts. He hadn’t noticed it before, and she might not be able to reach it, but it was still there. Her ace in the hole.
Her lifeline to Coop.
“A white minivan with New Jersey plates,” Cooper told Brenda over the radio. “Post a bulletin for a white minivan, male driver, thirties, about six-two and two hundred pounds, Caucasian, dark hair.”
Cooper had gotten the perp’s description from Becca at the Quickstop. Skeeter had learned that the man had also been seen poking around the van by Mr. Mitty. And the van’s Jersey plates had been noted by Mrs. Lang when she was watering her lilies.
People always saw more than they realized. For the first time, Cooper was grateful for his nosy neighbors.
“I’m getting on the Coast Guard helicopter now.” Coop spoke quickly, driven by a sense of urgency. “I’ll be switching over to their radio channel.”
“Copy, Sheriff,” Brenda said.
The blades began to whir, kicking up sand on the beach. He pulled on a helmet with a built-in radio system and stepped into the chopper, hoping his desperation to find her would not diminish his objectivity. It was never good to work a case you were involved in, but there was no way he was going to hand this over to another law enforcement agency.
He gave a thumbs-up to the pilot and the big bird began to rise.
“Just so you know, I’ve got my gun right here on my waistband, so don’t try anything cute,” he said as he pushed her toward the spit of land leading to Dragon’s Point.
Jane had been sorting through all sorts of things to try—none of them so cute. She had tried different strategies with the brute. She’d reasoned and cajoled and played the sympathy card. But when she looked in his eyes, there was no glimmer of compassion, no tiny light of humanity.
He was a contract killer and she was nothing more than a bounty to him.
“What if I wrote you a check for the amount of money you’re getting to kill me?” she said, only half teasing.
“Shut the hell up.”
She walked sullenly, the throbbing ache on her forehead a reminder of his penchant for violence. It wouldn’t pay to tangle with him directly.
They plodded through the sand on the narrow spit of land leading out to the rocky point. Slicks of water were already beginning to cut channels across the low-lying sandbars. Jane stepped over the puddles, wondering how well he knew Dragon’s Point. With his accent, he obviously wasn’t from around here.
“Why don’t you tie me up at the cove?” she suggested, knowing that the tide rarely came up over the rocks out on the point.
“Because the water might not get to you there,” he said. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”
The brute was smarter than she’d thought. He actually knew about the tides, and somehow he’d found out about Dragon’s Point.
“This is far enough,” he said. “Stop. Now.”
She paused at the edge of a tide pool. They were just out far enough to see the colorful sails of puffed kites moving parallel to the shoreline.
“Aren’t you worried about kite boarders seeing me?” she asked. “Or are you going to kill all of them, too?”
“Shut up. You’re going to be gagged and they’re not going to notice a woman sitting alone on the shore.”
He put a beefy hand on her shoulders and pushed down. “Go on, sit.”
She sank down onto one knee, then onto her bottom. Cold water seeped into her shorts immediately and she was cognizant of sitting on the left side to keep the cell phone as dry as possible.
Water splashed from his feet as he paced in front of her, considering. “Where’s the rope?” he said aloud, then cursed.
You left it in the car.
The words burned on her tongue, but she kept silent.
“All right, stay there. I’ll be right back.”
Cold water cooled her legs and bottom as she stayed very still, watching him walk back toward the car. At one point, he turned and looked back to check on her, but she was frozen in place, still as a statue.
She gave no hint that her heart was racing and her mind was reeling with possibilities.
Run!
No, she couldn’t run to safety back on the land. She would never get past him.
But she could run out to the point and hide amid the boulders. That would buy her some time.
And her cell phone ... maybe she could use it to call for help.
She waited a full minute after he dropped from sight, then angled herself up off the sand and bolted for the rocks. Running was difficult with her hands bound behind her, but she focused on maintaining her balance as she plunged through tide pools and scaled the rise up to the jagged point.
The boulders slowed her progress, but she felt a glimmer of hope when she reached the more secluded area. She climbed to a spot where sand had collected between two massive boulders and dropped down to her knees.
Sweat beaded on her forehead as she groaned and stretched her hands around to her side pocket. She couldn’t reach inside, but she could feel the phone through the fabric of her shorts.
Every cell in her body strained as she massaged the phone to the edge of the pocket, pressing, pushing, scraping it to the opening of her pocket.
How long had it been?
The brute would be back any second.
“Come on,” she breathed, her finger sore from the pressure. One more push, one more inch ...