Erin's Way (26 page)

“You’re bleeding,” Evan told him. “I have to call Jenny. You understand me? I’m taking you back to the hospital.”

“Wait.” It might have come out as only a hoarse croak, but Evan stopped.

Sam looked at the officers gathered around him waiting for the leadership he had never failed to provide, and he wouldn’t fail now. “Gentlemen, we have a whole new problem. Our dead suspect is the only one who knew where Erin is. I want Delacroix and everything he’s touched gone over with a fine-toothed comb. Nothing is insignificant. We need to know every move he’s made since he arrived here.”

The sharpshooter wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. I had no choice. It was him or you.”

“I know,” Sam said, thinking it might as well be him if they couldn’t find Erin, but he had to offer some reassurance. “You did the right thing.”

As he waited for Evan to get behind the wheel, one thought truly remained. Delacroix was dead, and time was running out for Erin.

Her mind dulled by exposure and hunger, Erin stared at the sliver of light. She had watched it brighten, then march slowly across the area in front of her. Now as another day passed, it began to dim again.

Don’t go.

Had she spoken out loud? She didn’t want the light to fade. It was almost like a friend to her now, the dust motes dancing in the glowing golden ribbon of afternoon sunlight. There were other reasons she didn’t want it to fade. As muddled as she felt, she knew time wasn’t just passing, it was running out. Right now, time was more of an enemy than Andre. He wouldn’t just leave her here. He would want to kill her himself, see her die. He had been gone too long. He should have been back by now, at least she thought so, but she couldn’t be sure.

Erin stared at the canteen. She was so thirsty. People could survive for a while without food, but not water. Her eyes roved over the canteen possessively. If she took just small sips, maybe she could prevent enough of the diluted drug mixture from making her high. Her fingers crept over the dirt to the strap, and she pulled it toward her.

You’re admitting defeat. You’re admitting no one’s coming back for you. Why not just go ahead and drink the whole thing? Maybe you’ll freeze to death while you’re stoned and never know when you die.

She gave a short bark of laughter, the hoarse, cracked sound startling her. How appropriate would that be, to die of a drug overdose? It was exactly what a lot of people expected of her. Former Senator Stoner Richardson’s troubled daughter dies of an overdose while chained like a dog to a sewer pipe underneath a rundown mobile home. It was a headline on par with any from her past exploits.

Erin laughed until she couldn’t stop, and if there was an edge of hysteria in it, it didn’t matter. No one could hear her. She could scream as long and as loud as she wanted, and no one would hear. She knew that for certain because she’d already tried it. That was how she knew. She was in the middle of no-fucking-where.

No!
She could hear herself, the defeated negative self-talk, and
she would not give up. She would get out of here alive and make sure Sam hadn’t died in vain. With her free hand, Erin frantically pulled at the pipe holding the opposite end of the cuff. She crawled along its length, sliding the cuff along it as she tried to find some weakness in the pipe, but there was none. She managed to get close enough to the trailer’s rusting water heater that she was able to pull the plastic-coated blanket insulation off of it. Mice had eaten holes in it in several places, but she could still use it to give her some cover.

No matter what she had to endure, she wanted to live. Resolve hardened inside her. Although there would never be another man like Sam, all this time to think had helped her realize there were other people in her life who cared about her—her parents, Evan and Jenny, Tabby and Joe, Melodie, Rachel—Erin realized the list was much longer than she’d ever imagined. She could live for them, even without Sam. And she would remember him. She’d never been a quitter and she wouldn’t quit now. Sam wouldn’t want her to. Even when he’d pushed her away or been exasperated with her, he’d still been her most ardent champion. Now she would become his.

With the insulation around her shoulders, Erin once again piled dirt around her legs, trying to get ready for the night to come. She glanced again at the canteen. She would drink. Even if she risked being drugged, she had to have liquid, and maybe it would make the night pass faster, if not dreamlessly.

* * * *

Sam awoke and stared at the ceiling above him. The soft cream color and the elaborate light fixture just off to his right were definitely not a part of any hospital he’d ever seen before. So just where the hell was he now?

“You’re finally awake, I see.”

He turned at the sound of the deep, mellifluous tones that had once rung through the US Senate chamber and saw Stoner seated casually in a chair near a tall, narrow window. Maybe casually wasn’t the right word. Upon closer examination, tension had settled on the older man’s shoulders like an ox bearing a yoke. Sam took in the opulent surroundings, the sun streaming through the sheer curtains at the window.

“Your guest, I presume,” he rasped in a voice that sounded even rougher than he’d imagined it might.

“Mmm.” Stoner set aside the magazine he’d been reading and leaned forward. “You put up such a fuss last night Jenny finally brought you here.”

“What time is it?” Sam’s gaze strayed to the window again.

“About three-thirty.”

His eyes widened. He’d slept until three-thirty in the afternoon? He needed to get up, but when he looked around the room, he didn’t see his clothing.

As if aware of Sam’s intentions, Stoner continued “She sedated you, Sam. You were combative and bleeding.”

Dimly, in the back of his brain, he recalled agreeing to that, as long as she didn’t make him go back to the hospital.

“Erin?”

Stoner’s expression turned haggard. “No word yet.”

Sam’s mouth tightened. “I need to get up, see what’s going on.” Stoner was shaking his head. “You don’t understand….”

One look from the older man’s stormy gray eyes stopped him.

“She’s my daughter, Sam. I understand. Exactly. Now if you’ll let me finish…?”

Sam’s mouth tightened and he nodded. Their relationship had never been easy. It wasn’t just about what had happened with Erin when she was a teenager. No, it went back even further to when Sam was a teen and had discovered exactly what was going on at the cabin between their two farms. Although Sam had never breathed a word of it, the fact he’d known of Stoner’s lover—Tabby’s mother—was enough to make him if not an enemy, certainly unwelcome. Sure, that secret had all come out in the open, and the two men had an uneasy truce, even a friendship of sorts now, but Erin’s disappearance was straining everyone’s relationships.

“Evan invited them to set up shop downstairs, so the combined task force is down in the front hall. If you’ll stay put, I’ll send Jake up here. He can update you.”

Sam blinked. This was now the staging area for the search? As Stoner stood, Sam put his hand on his sleeve to stop him.

“Stoner, what day is it? I mean, I haven’t missed any more than a day, have I?”

The gray eyes warmed slightly. “No, son, you haven’t.”

“Thanks.” Sam laid his head back against the pillows, relief flooding through him. It was bad enough that he could do so little, but the time was already going by so quickly.
The longer she’s gone…
He couldn’t complete the thought.

Jake would be here any second. He would be able to tell him what was going on. Sam wiped his eyes with his fingers and brushed his hand across his unshaven cheek. It hadn’t been that long ago that Jake had been in a similar situation. Holly’s ex-fiance had stolen Noelle when she was just a newborn. Since Jake had delivered the baby, it was like his own daughter had been kidnapped. So Jake would understand just how impotent Sam felt, and his injuries only made matters worse.

He looked up when Jake walked in and tried to smile, but he knew it was a weak effort at best.

“Hey, man. Stoner said you were awake.”

“You making any progress?” Sam tried to keep his tone cool, but his voice cracked at the end and he glanced down, embarrassed he couldn’t keep it together.

“Some,” Jake responded as if he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. “You want to hear it all?”

“Yeah. Don’t leave anything out, even if you think it will upset me.” He needed the details. It was the only way he could feel he had some control over trying to find Erin.

“Well, we discovered several things in the car and on Delacroix, which lead us to believe he didn’t plan to kill Erin.” Jake sat in the chair Stoner had only recently vacated. “In his glove compartment, we found a vial of ketamine. It’s been used as an anesthetic for people and animals, but it’s also had some popularity as a hallucinogenic in the drug culture. There were syringes, and the vial looks like doses are gone. I’ve got someone checking on dosages and how much has been used.”

That was promising. Rick had said Delacroix might use drugs. “What else?”

“Keys to handcuffs in his pants pocket. We also found what looks like a door key. A paper tag hooked to it had Matty’s name on it.”

“A hotel key?” Some of the smaller mom and pop hotels still used keys.

Jake shook his head. “No. Looks like a deadbolt like you’d find on a house.”

“There’s something else, Jake. What?” Sam stiffened because he doubted it was anything he really wanted to know.

“Her coveralls were in the car along with her boots and socks. Wherever he has her, she doesn’t have any protection from the elements. It was mighty cold last night.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. “She’s tough.”

He said it to reassure himself, but it did little good. While some of his anger had faded—hanging on to being angry with a dead man was just plain stupid—fear they wouldn’t find Erin gnawed at him like an insatiable hunger. As tough as she was, there was only so much any human body could take. And this time of year, no one could be certain what the weather would do. It could be nearly summer-like one day and snow the next.

“We’ve set up a search grid,” Jake said into the silence stretching between them.

“On what criteria?” Sam forced himself to think logically, keep his mind on the investigation. If he could just step away from the emotions, just for a minute, but it wasn’t possible. Not with Erin in danger.

“According to Rick and Jim, Delacroix wanted to meet at the restaurant as soon as possible. Between his call to Rick and his arrival at the restaurant, only an hour and ten minutes passed. Using the restaurant as a center point, we drew a circle around it to encompass what would constitute that amount of drive time.”

Jesus! That was huge.
Sam ground his teeth. “It will be nearly impossible to search an area that size within a realistic timeframe for finding Erin alive.”

“I realize that, Sam, but we don’t dare cut it down geographically and risk that she really is that far away, so we’ve also got deputies contacting realty and rental agents around the area. Matty’s name on the deadbolt key doesn’t match his handwriting, Delacroix’s, or Rick’s.”

“So you think it might be the key to a place they rented specifically to hold Erin?” Sam felt the first small flare of hope.

“That’s what we’re going on right now.” Jake’s words just helped to cement that.

Sam wrapped his fingers around the back of his neck and massaged the aching muscles thoughtfully. The panic faded. His brain began to kick into gear, and his years as an investigator shoved themselves forward. “I wouldn’t stop with realtors and rental agents. Have someone start going through the area papers and their classifieds. They would have wanted something cheap, something that could be rented quickly and without a formal lease of any sort. Plot everything you find on a map. If it fits in your grid, check it out.”

Jake nodded. “We’ve got assistance from other counties and the state. We’re gonna find her, Sam.”

Sam ran his hand over his untidy hair and sucked in a deep breath, the first time he really felt like he’d gotten any oxygen since he’d realized Erin was gone. They could do this. For the first time since her disappearance, he began to actually believe they could find her. Now the next step was to get his ass out of this bed and downstairs so he could help.

“I need to get cleaned up.”

Jake grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.”

* * * *

Her light was coming back. Erin shivered, hoping that with the light would also come warmth. She was so cold. The insulation had helped, but her left hand, the one hooked in the handcuff, was numb. She had scooted to a place where the pipe was closer to the ground and had tried to cover it as much as she could, but it wasn’t enough. As the light grew, she crept back to where some of it might fall on her if she stretched out a little bit. To actually feel the sunlight on her would be nice. She dragged the canteen along with her.

Drinking some of the water last night had given her a high, but it had also helped her sleep. She didn’t want that now, but she was so thirsty. Two nights, nearly forty-eight hours. She had to believe Andre wasn’t coming back. Whether he’d deliberately left her here to die or something had happened to him. He wasn’t coming back, and if he wasn’t coming back, then no one was.

As the sunlight strengthened, she realized that even though the temperature was warming—she wasn’t. Surviving another night might not happen. There, she’d admitted it. Erin seriously considered her options for getting away. She remembered stories she’d listened to on the radio and over her computer about people who’d been stuck places, out in the desert after a car accident or hiking in the mountains, and the extreme measures they’d used to get free. She looked at her cuffed hand. Even trapped animals sometimes chewed off their captive limbs in order to free themselves.

Her stomach rolled, but there was nothing for her to throw up.
Sever
her own hand? She hadn’t reached that point. Yet. If the choice was that or death, she would have to decide if she could go to that extreme. She would have to make a decision before she became too weak to carry it out. But not yet. Please, God, not just yet. For now, while the sun shone and the crawlspace warmed ever so slightly, she would keep hope alive. She had to.