Hostage Negotiation (11 page)

Relief flashed across Cole’s face, and for the first time in days he smiled a genuine smile as he looked at Kaylee. “I’ve been worried and second-guessing myself ever since I agreed to let you assist us in the search. But Chief Scott’s assembled a crack team. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“I was never worried,” she said. “I know that Zack will keep me safe.”

Cole’s grin widened. “I’m sure that
Zack
will do just that.”

Zack narrowed his eyes in warning, but Cole just laughed and headed back down the hall.

“It looks like everyone is waiting for us.” Kaylee motioned toward the search teams milling around outside the glass front doors.

He nodded and held one of the doors open for her. But as they stepped outside, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing the right thing. Crack team or not, they were about to go into the territory of a killer who knew the swamp better than any of them, and had made it his own personal, sick playground. Zack just hoped that by taking Kaylee there, he wasn’t playing right into the killer’s hands.

* * *

K
AYLEE
WORKED
TO
control her breathing as Zack brought his truck to a stop on the same dirt road where he’d rescued her close to a month ago, deep in the Everglades. And behind his truck, another four-by-four pickup pulled to a stop, the one with the two Fish and Wildlife officers. Kaylee knew she should have hopped right out, started the search, but she couldn’t seem to make her hand move to the door handle.

It had been hard enough getting into this truck at the airport, because it reminded her of the swamp and what had happened. But she’d thought she’d gotten past that, and had assured Zack that she was fine taking the truck from the sheriff’s office to the Glades, particularly because it was four-wheel drive and they might need that to keep from getting stuck. And she
had
been fine, at first. But then he’d insisted on bringing two deputies with them, two searchers who’d volunteered when Zack asked for backup to make sure she’d be safe when he brought her out here—on the off chance that they happened to stumble onto the killer.

Carlson and Thomas had both greeted her politely enough at the sheriff’s office, but she’d instinctively taken a step back when Carlson moved to shake her hand. Thomas raised his brows and didn’t even offer a handshake. She’d apologized but still couldn’t bring herself to even look them in the eyes.

Something about being surrounded by three tall, muscular men while contemplating getting into a truck to go to the swamp had her feeling claustrophobic and jittery. It made no sense. These were the good guys, especially Zack. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom that had settled over her. And once they were on their way, the closer they’d gotten to the swamp, the tighter her nerves seemed to wind until she was ready to explode.

Thinking
about facing her fears and
actually
facing them were two entirely different things. Because, as she sat in the passenger seat now, vaguely aware that the men had gotten out of the truck, as well as the two other men in the truck behind them, all she could do was stare at the bushes and trees lining the road.

She knew those bushes, knew those trees. They were in her nightmares every night when she closed her eyes. And now, seeing them again, the place where she’d run from the devil and out in front of this very truck, she started to shake. A keening sound carried on the wind, like a hurt animal, in terrible pain.

The passenger door opened and suddenly Zack was there, leaning in, saying soothing words. And to her shame, she realized the keening sound was coming from her. She clamped her lips together to stop the noise and focused on the rich timbre of his voice. It was like a physical thing, stroking down her spine, calming her, even though the buzzing in her ears made it impossible for her to make out his words.

His hands, warm, gentle, slid under her palms, carefully pressing up against her hands. She blinked and realized her nails were digging into the dash, and that he was trying to get her to loosen her hold. But he didn’t put his hands over hers or try to force her. Instead, he let her be in control, keeping his hands open, under hers, with just the barest of pressure as if to tell her he was there to help her, but that it was up to her to decide if or when to let go.

A rush of unexpected longing swept through her, breaking through her fear. This man was so solid, strong and yet amazingly gentle. He somehow always seemed to know what she needed to help her focus and beat down her panic. If only she could have met him under different circumstances. She had no doubt that they could have been great friends, or perhaps something deeper, special, lasting. But not now. It was too late for her, for them, even if there ever could have been a “them.” She was broken. She only had to look at her nails scoring the dash to see just how broken she was.

“We can turn around, go back to the station right now,” he was saying, as his words finally penetrated her fog of fear. “It’s okay. You’ve been incredibly brave just getting this far. We can go back and—”

“No.” Her voice came out a squeaky croak. She cleared her throat and forced her hands to relax their death-like grip on the dash, and instead slid her hands over his and threaded their fingers together. “I’m ready. I can do this.”

His frown told her he wasn’t quite so sure, but she didn’t let him take the time to think about it. She pulled her hands back and took off her seat belt. He hadn’t wanted to take her out here to begin with, and it wouldn’t take much for him to turn around and take her back to Naples. She had to do this. Now. Because after today, she never wanted to come back to this godforsaken place again. Ever.

Swinging her legs to the side, she forced him back as she hopped out of the truck. The two deputy searchers stood off to the side of the road, watching her warily, as if they thought she might freak out any minute and start screaming like a crazy woman. The FFW officers stood a few feet farther back, whispering to each other—probably about her.

Kaylee straightened her spine and closed the truck door. “Let’s go.” She started past Zack, but he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward him.

“Are you sure about this?” He kept his voice low so the two men behind them couldn’t hear him.

“What you’re really asking is whether I’ll break down into a blubbering puddle, or curl up in a fetal position, or maybe run around in circles screaming, right?”

His eyes widened, but before he could say anything, she continued. “No. I’m not sure that I can handle this. But I am sure about two things. First, with you beside me, I’m safe. So if I do curl up in a ball, I have every confidence that you’ll make sure I get home unhurt.”

His lips twitched as if he wanted to smile, but instead he nodded. “Second?”

She looked past the truck to the bushes, to the exact spot where she could still see the devil standing, his evil eyes peeking out through his mask as she lay helpless in the road. “Second, if I don’t do this now, I never will. And if I don’t do this, I’ll never forgive myself.” She squared her shoulders and pointed to the spot where she’d last seen the evil man who’d changed her life forever. “That’s where I ran out of the woods. That’s where we’ll start.”

Without waiting for him, she started across the road.

Zack directed the FFW officers to head into the trees a short distance away, keeping parallel with them. “Thomas, Carlson, you follow Miss Brighton and me, but keep back about ten feet. Give us some space, but not too much,” Zack told the men as he kept pace with her. “I don’t want any surprises today.”

“Neither do I,” she whispered.

“Did you say something?” he asked, staring down at her.

“Nothing.” She’d stopped at the edge of the road, right where the devil had stopped, and peered through a break in the trees. Zack stood quietly beside her, waiting, watching her intently.

Without turning from her study of the path, she held out her right hand. Zack immediately took it, his strong, warm fingers holding hers in a solid grip that had her breathing easier.

Zack will protect me. Zack will protect me.
She kept repeating the mantra over and over in her mind as she closed her eyes, using his hand as her anchor, allowing the jumbled pieces of her memory to flit around, bouncing against each other, until they began to stick together and form a bigger picture.

“I’m here, Kaylee.” Zack’s deep voice was reassuring, anchoring her like his hand, keeping the evil at bay. “You’re okay.”

She nodded, letting him know she heard him, as she tried to fit the pieces together. Without opening her eyes, she said, “When I escaped, I counted every step I took, repeated every turn in my mind, looked for oddly shaped trees, fallen logs, anything I could use to help orient me, so I could find my way back.” The pieces of her memories bumped, turned, shifted and then...clicked. She opened her eyes, and like magic, the path opened up before her. “This way.” She stepped into the woods.

Chapter Twelve

The devil is in the details.

As Kaylee stepped over a fallen log, she couldn’t help thinking that old saying was never more true than it was today. She used to tell herself that mantra when studying for an exam at school, or when filling out financial reports at the bank where she worked or even when planning her annual vacations. Because details mattered to her, had always mattered. It was about doing things right, not making mistakes. And today, remembering each and every detail of her flight from the man who’d abducted and tortured her, the man she’d dubbed the devil, was even more critical than anything else she’d ever done. If she didn’t get these details right, someone else might die.

So she took her time, methodically studying every group of trees, every misshapen bush that they passed as she moved deeper and deeper into the woods. It was as if she were outside her own body, looking down from above, trying to map out her escape route—backward. And it was so...incredibly...difficult. Trying to reverse every step she’d taken, even though she’d noted landmarks, funny-shaped branches, or half-rotten logs as she’d made her escape, she hadn’t realized how hard it would be to try to remember those details in reverse to get back to the spot from where she’d once run.

She stopped, let out an exasperated breath and studied the trees around her.

“Take your time,” Zack said beside her, his voice, as usual, deep and soothing. “You’re doing great. Just relax. Don’t try to force it.”

She grimaced, remembering the last time she’d tried to force it—at the hospital, when the detectives and FBI agent kept badgering her and badgering her with more and more questions. She’d gone completely blank, and it had taken weeks before she’d been able to remember anything again.

Zack was right. She needed to relax, stop trying to force it. She nodded and closed her eyes, thinking back to nearly a month ago, the last time she’d been in these woods.

“Think about the smells,” Zack said. “How did the woods smell that day?”

She frowned up at him. “Smells?”

“Close your eyes again,” he urged. When she did, he said, “Scent is one of the strongest triggers for memories. Just picture yourself in the woods that day, but forget about the devil. You’re moving through the woods, a traveler, lost, trying to find a way out. What do you hear?”

“Birds. I hear...birds. An owl I think, and some other bird that would chirp, a high-pitched sound, about seven or eight times. Then it would stop and start up again a few seconds later.”

“Was the wind blowing?”

She shook her head. “No. It was hot, muggy, like now. Only an occasional breeze.”

“What did the air smell like? Was it musty? Wet?”

“Wet. Yes. Like...like the smell of moss on a tree. Or perhaps mud. It was very wet.”

“It had rained a lot that week, practically a monsoon a few days later. Try to put yourself back in that time, the birds, the smells, the hot air barely moving.”

She inhaled deeply, eyes still closed, taking in the scent of the trees around her, listening to the sounds around them. Like one of the birds that Zack had mentioned, she mentally flew over the marsh, remembering, searching then reversing everything. She checked off the landmarks she’d already passed today until she remembered the next one, a twisted tree, slightly taller than the others nearby, its branches choked with moss, strands of it hanging so far down that they swept the ground beneath it.

She opened her eyes, scanned the trees around them, moving in a full circle once, twice and then, facing just a little bit more to the right than they’d been going before, she saw it.

“There.” She pointed toward the tree, a good fifty yards away. “We need to head toward that tree.”

Zack motioned to the two deputies keeping pace about twenty feet behind them now, Thomas and Carlson. They’d been assigned the task of marking their path by shoving little bright orange flag markers into the ground at regular intervals so they could easily find their way back to the road. Carlson pushed one of the flags into the ground and they all started forward again.

The two Wildlife officers—Jasper and Gene—were keeping pace on a parallel path, only occasionally visible through breaks in the trees. They were looking out for traps, footprints, wild animals—anything that might pose a threat. It was their responsibility to keep checking every few minutes on the rest of them, so they wouldn’t get lost. But the two WWF officers were so stealthy and good at blending in with their surroundings that Kaylee rarely noticed when they stepped through the trees, checking on them. Then they’d be off again.

The tension that had been jumbling up Kaylee’s thoughts had miraculously drained away as she’d tried to put herself back in the moment, back in time in this same place, but with Zack at her side to keep her safe. The landmarks were coming fast and clear now and she picked up her pace.

“You have a gift,” she said, glancing up at Zack before looking back at the sometimes rocky, sometimes muddy, terrain they were passing over.

“A gift?” He steadied her with his hands at her waist when she would have fallen then quickly dropped his hands to his sides.

“Your voice, the tone, the way you speak, even the words you choose...they’re soothing, reassuring. You make me feel safe, and it helps me remember.” She shrugged. “You have a gift.”

He smiled and held up a low-hanging branch for her to pass under. “I’ll have to remember that the next time one of the residents of Mystic Glades tries to whack me over the head with a beer bottle, or leads me on a merry chase through mud puddles and potholes big enough to swallow me whole, or takes all the lug nuts off the wheels on my car and stands there laughing when I back up and all the tires fall off. I’ll just calmly tell them to stop and listen to the sound of my voice and see how that goes.”

“Whacks you over the head with a beer bottle? Take the lug nuts off your tires? Seriously?”

“Actually, I think it was a wine bottle.”

She blinked up at him. “And these are the people you put your life on the line for?”

“Yep.”

“Why? If they treated me like that, I’d quit. Go somewhere else.”

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. I certainly haven’t had the welcome that I expected, especially since the town spent months trying to lure someone into being the chief of police, to start a brand-new police station where they’ve never had one before.”

They reached the twisted, moss-covered tree and she didn’t hesitate, waving them forward as she turned slightly to the left, heading to the next landmark. “Where were you before you took the job as chief?”

“Western Kentucky, outside of Murray. I’m a farm boy, born and raised.” His smile faded. “But I was ready for a change. Honestly, I practically jumped at the chance to leave.”

“Because of Jo Lynne?” she asked quietly.

He nodded and didn’t say anything for a few minutes. But then he smiled again. “I like Mystic Glades, like the people, even when they’re playing their practical jokes. Because beneath it all, I understand them. They’re afraid of change. And they hate to admit that they need help. I figure in a few more months, once I’ve got some deputies hired and everyone is used to us, it will all settle down.”

She eyed him in surprise. “You sound almost wistful. You actually miss them, don’t you?”

He shook his head, as if surprised himself. “Yeah. I guess I do. I’ve made some good friends there—Jake Young, who used to be a cop himself, Dex Lassiter, who doesn’t live there anymore but visits often enough to claim residence status. And of course Cole. They’re good people. And they’ve married incredibly smart, equally good women—Faye, Amber, Silver. I think you’d really like them if you ever have a chance to meet them.”

“I’d like that.”

He smiled then sobered as he kept an eye on their surroundings.

They were silent again as she focused on remembering—reminding herself to use the sounds and smells to ground her memories. And then the terrain became harder and harder to travel through because the ground was wet and sucked at their feet, slowing them down. An hour passed, two, and still they kept going.

At one point Zack announced that they’d gone beyond where the original search had stopped. He asked her if she had any idea how much farther away the
camp
might be. But that wasn’t a question that she could answer. There was no real sense of time or even direction in her memories, only puzzle pieces that dropped into place with each step she took.

There was a brief stop for lunch, courtesy of bottles of water and sandwiches the two deputies carried in their packs for everyone. And then they were moving again.

A few hours later, Zack touched her arm, capturing her attention.

“We’ll have to turn back soon,” he said. “I don’t want us out here after dark. And even though the return trip will be much faster since we’ve marked the path, it will still take several hours to reach the road, even if we run the whole way.”

She nodded, disappointment coiling in her stomach. “Can we keep going a little longer?”

He eyed the sun, glanced back at the two deputies. “All right. Another half hour, at most.”

Without another word, she started off again. It wasn’t long before a deep sense of foreboding passed through her and a shiver jolted straight down her spine. A mixture of dread and excitement had the hairs standing up on the back of her neck, goose bumps rising on her arms.

“We’re close,” she whispered. “I can feel it.”

He tensed beside her, his right hand dropping down by his gun as they continued forward. They stepped through a cluster of oak trees and suddenly they were in a large clearing. Kaylee stumbled to a halt, pressing both hands against her chest, her heart pounding so hard that she felt dizzy.

“This is it. We’re here.”

Zack motioned to the deputies. Carlson flanked her left side. Thomas stepped up behind her. All three of them pulled their guns, keeping them pointed down at their sides, but at the ready.

She was surrounded by a wall of bodies, each with pistols, and yet she felt vulnerable, exposed, on the edge of hysteria, like she might run away screaming and tearing at her hair like a crazy woman at any moment.

“It’s okay. You’re safe,” Zack whispered, his free hand going to her back, stroking lightly up and down as he murmured his litany of soothing words. But for once, she didn’t feel reassured.

She shivered and looked around the clearing. But she didn’t see it the way it was today. She saw it the way it was the last time she was here. Lifting her hand, she pointed to the left. “Over there, that’s where he kept me, in the box in the ground.” She pointed to the right. “And there, that’s where he would set up a campfire.” Her hands shook as she wrapped them around her middle and stared straight ahead, at the scarred tree she remembered so well. But she didn’t say anything else. She couldn’t, not yet.

“Thomas, search for the box. Carlson, see if you can find evidence of the campfires. Be alert. If the killer heard us coming, he could be hiding close by.”

The men headed off to do as Zack had directed.

“She’s not here,” Kaylee whispered.

“We don’t know that yet. She might be in the box.”

“Maybe,” she allowed, but she could feel it deep in her soul that if Sue Ellen had ever been at this particular camp, that she’d been moved long ago to some other place. The whole day of trudging through the woods, slogging through the mud, had been a waste. They were no closer to finding Sue Ellen than they were this morning. Her shoulders slumped with disappointment.

Thomas rushed back toward them, his jaw set. He gave Zack a quick shake of his head.

Kaylee stared at him in confusion. “You didn’t find the box?”

“No, ma’am.”

“But it has to be there. This is where he held me, where he held Mary. I know it.” She headed off to the left, with Zack and Thomas falling in step beside her. This time, she was sure-footed, no hesitation, her feet instinctively taking her right to the spot where she remembered being placed so many times, lowered into that dark, terrifying hole in the ground. But just as Deputy Thomas had said, there was no box, not even a depression to mark where it had been.

“I don’t understand.” She bent down, ran her fingers across the ground. “He must have moved the box. There’s no other explanation.”

Zack bent down beside her just as Carlson joined them. She and Zack both looked up in question, but Carlson shook his head, just as Thomas had done. Meaning, no campfire, no burned-out depression in the ground to mark where the killer had created his nightly fires for weeks, months. Nothing at all to show that he’d ever been here, that she and Mary had ever been here, suffering horrible punishments at the hands of their captor.

No, wait. He might have been able to hide the box, cart away the scorched earth that would have revealed where the campfires had once burned. But there was no way that he could hide everything.

She stood. “This is where he held me. And I can prove it. This way.” She marched across the clearing with all three men rushing to keep up with her. She passed the first ring of trees into the woods then abruptly stopped. She didn’t have to point or say anything. And she knew, by the shocked sounds of the men beside her that they believed her now, as all of them stared at the enormous scarred fallen tree lying on the ground in front of them.

And the bloodstains soaked deep into the wood.

Zack looked down at her. She could feel, sense his gaze on her more than see him, because she couldn’t stop staring at the tree.

“Kaylee,” he said, his voice tight, raw. “You did good. We’ll get the CSU team out here. The forensic evidence will help us put him away once we find him.”

“What are those marks all over the log?” Deputy Carlson asked. “Where the bark is missing in chunks?”

“That’s from the chains,” she said, her lower lip trembling. “He tied me up to the log with chains, put a gag over my mouth. And then, then he’d...” Her voice trailed off and suddenly she was shaking so hard that her knees knocked together. She could feel the strength giving out in her legs.

Zack swore and caught her in his arms just as she started to fall, lifting her up against his chest. “Carlson, mark this spot with a dozen of those flags. Thomas, take pictures of everything that you can, but watch your step. We need to preserve as much of the scene as possible. I’ll start back with Miss Brighton. Both of you catch up as soon as you can.”