One-Two Punch (19 page)

With barely a pause, Harry followed.

Two hours later, Harry was almost insane with worry. They had walked the neighborhood and City Park until the downpour had forced them back to the gym. Beth was still not there. They gave a wide-eyed Charlie strict instructions to call the second that Beth walked in the door before they took off in Harry’s SUV to continue their search. No one said
if
she walked through the door. Harry couldn’t even consider the possibility.
No,
he told himself,
she’s taking a really long walk. She got caught in the rain and
ducked into a coffee shop or something.
He tried to picture her, safe and warm, sipping a latté and reading the paper, oblivious to the time
.

His eyes ached from peering through the windshield into sheets of rain. They had crisscrossed the park over and over, curving around the ridiculously meandering roads and roundabouts until Harry had lost patience and turned into the muddy grass, making his own paths through the deserted park.

It was almost fully dark when Harry pulled up to her apartment building, stopping the SUV with a lurch that jerked Ky into his seat belt. As he approached the entrance, Harry saw that the front door was propped open with a brick. He kicked it aside with restrained violence.

“See?” he demanded. “It’s just left open all the time!”

Ky just nodded impatiently and shoved him through the doorway.

Ignoring the grinding pain in his knee, Harry ran up the stairs and through the dim hallway to Beth’s door. Harry hammered his fist against it, even as his twisting gut told him that no one was inside her apartment. His pounding echoed back with no response, no opening swing of the door, no annoyed Beth telling him to be quiet or he’d upset the neighbors.

Ky grabbed his arm, stopping the fall of his fist.

“She’s not here,” he told Harry, giving his arm a little shake. Harry set his jaw and tried to yank free, determined to pound on the door until Beth answered it or it fell down, but Ky held on, using his other hand to grip the back of Harry’s neck, forcing him to look at Ky.

“She isn’t here,” Ky said again and Harry finally met his eyes.

“Then where the fuck is she?” He heard his voice crack halfway through. His anger was slipping and he grabbed for it, preferring rage to the bewildered terror that rushed in to replace it. Beth wasn’t warm and dry at a coffee shop somewhere—she was too considerate for that, too conscious of his constant worry.

Ky tugged on the back of his neck and Harry slumped forward, pressing his forehead against the broad shelf of Ky’s shoulder.

“We’ll find her,” Ky said and Harry nodded without raising his head. They would find her. Harry had to believe that or he would lose his mind.

Beth woke to darkness. She was used to the constant twilight of city nights, the glow from streetlights and buildings and car headlights warming the sky to a red glow.

This was different—this was a true, complete blackness. The dark pressed in on her, not letting air pass into her lungs, choking her with fear.

Don’t panic.
She forced her breathing to slow and deepen as Ky’s words from their training session echoed in her mind. Forcing herself to ignore the darkness, Beth focused on what her other senses could tell her, examining each tiny detail in order to hold back the terror that threatened to envelop her, to overwhelm her brain and leave her helpless.

She was alive. That was good. When she tried to move her arms, she realized that her wrists were bound behind her. That was not so good. Contorting her hands, her fingers slipped across a smooth surface covering her wrists—duct tape?
It really is the
all-purpose tool
, she thought, grimacing at her gallows humor.

When she tried to shift her legs, Beth could feel that her ankles were taped as well, stacked on top of each other as she lay curled on her side. There was carpet beneath her—short, prickly nap that smelled like dust and gasoline.

Fabric, rough and musty, brushed her arm when she moved. Beth blinked and felt her eyelashes bump into something. It was almost a relief to realize that she had a blanket covering her. That explained the suffocating darkness.

The floor was shifting beneath her, vibrating and bumping against the side of her head. She must still be in the van, she figured, hearing the hum of the engine, the
whump-whump
of the tires crossing seams in the road.

Where is he taking me?
she wondered. Beth could feel the hysteria building in her chest, wanting to bubble out of her in a scream.
No
, she thought, fighting the urge.

There is no point in yelling while still in the van. All that would do is let Ed know that she was awake.

Oh God, Ed. Her bus driver. The guy she had greeted cheerfully twice a day, who she’d always thought of as shy and sweet and harmlessly odd—
he
was her stalker. All those cards, the flowers—she jerked, pulling painfully at her bound hands. The notes had changed after she’d met Harry, she remembered. The cards had gotten cruel and angry once Harry had started walking her to the bus stop and giving her a kiss goodbye, after Ed had seen them together.

How stupid I’ve been
, she thought, giving her head a thump against the carpet. She should have sensed something was off about Ed. Instead, she had been completely oblivious. And getting into his van—even five-year-olds knew better than to get into a car with a stranger. A van, especially—how many horror movies had she seen? A van was always the serial killer’s transportation of choice.

She shivered.
Stop it
, she told herself sternly. He hadn’t killed her yet—wasn’t that a good sign? Maybe he just wanted to…keep her. Beth shuddered again. She was breathing in shallow gulps and she could feel her heart fluttering like a captured bird’s.

Be brave
, she told herself.
Harry and Ky will find you.

Beth shook her head, the scrubby carpet scratching her cheek. She couldn’t wait for the guys to save her, like some helpless woman tied to the railroad tracks in an old, silent movie.

A plan. She seized on the idea. She needed a plan. Her brain wouldn’t focus and she let out an almost silent groan. She had always been terrible at improv.

Okay
, she commanded herself.
Think.
What would she be yelling at the screen if this was a movie? She needed a weapon. No, first she needed her hands free so she could hold a weapon.
Good
, she commended herself, relieved to have something to focus on other than the possibilities of what Ed might do to her once the van stopped.

Twisting her hands, Beth investigated the tape holding her wrists together as thoroughly as she could, discovering to her disappointment that she could only brush the slick surface with her fingertips. There was no chance of getting the kind of grip necessary to tear the tape. She needed something sharp.

Feeling as far as her arms would reach, which wasn’t very far, Beth discovered only more dirty carpet. When she tipped slightly toward her back, she was able to explore a fraction farther but it still wasn’t enough. Pushing her hips over, followed by a tiny shift of her shoulders, she moved backward, just a bare inch, but it felt like a huge, obvious movement to her. Fear that Ed might notice, might guess what she was doing, shot through her. Her heart pounded so loudly that she was sure he could hear it.

The van’s engine slowed and labored as the tires dipped into ruts in the road. She tried to hold her head clear of the carpet but her face smacked into the floor several times.

It must have been a winding road as well as a bumpy one, since Beth could feel her weight shift with each curve that the van navigated. She used the momentum to slide across the floor until she could touch the side of the van. Her backside pressed against the lump of the wheel well as her hands touched everything they could reach, searching for a sharp edge but finding only smooth metal beneath her fingers.

As she felt along the side of the van, Beth tried to keep track of the turns but her head was still fuzzy from whatever drug he had given her to knock her out. She guessed,
left, left, right just a little, then…another right?

Her plan to free herself flew out of her mind when she felt the van slow. With a final lurch, the vehicle stopped completely. Her heart hammered and nausea pressed against the back of her throat as she heard the driver’s side door slam. Were they at a gas station? A rest stop? Should she scream?

She almost shrieked involuntarily as another door was jerked open, this one close to her feet, but she managed to strangle the sound before it reached her throat. He grabbed her ankles and pulled her toward him, burning her bare arm against the carpet. It was nearly impossible to stay limp, to pretend unconsciousness, but Beth did her best.

“So you’re awake.”
Obviously, I’m not that great of an actress
, she thought as her shaking returned. Although she tried to hold her muscles stiff to fight the shudders, her body ignored her efforts until she was almost vibrating.

“You might as well do the work then, and save me from carrying you in.” Ed’s voice was muffled through the blanket that still covered her head but she could understand what he was saying well enough.

Not a gas station. She felt the tape around her ankles tighten and then he pulled it free. It didn’t hurt, since her jeans and socks protected her legs, but the tearing sound made her squeeze her eyelids together.

What should I do?
she wondered frantically, frozen not through intent this time but in panicked indecision. The only movement she made was her uncontrolled quaking.

Ed yanked the blanket off her and Beth blinked at the night sky, pinpoints of light blacked out by Ed’s looming silhouette.

“Up you go,” he said, grabbing her arm and dragging her out of the van, holding her upright until she found her feet. Beth was surprised by the strength hidden in his lanky body.

The moon was only half-f and vaguely illuminated the rocky, scrubby ground peppered with evergreens. They were obviously high in the mountains—the air felt thin and cold, and her panting breaths dried her mouth. Ed had pulled the van next to a drooping cabin with small, dark windows that frightened her more than anything else had during the entire horrifying day.

“Ed.” Her teeth chattered, clicking together as she spoke. She clenched her jaw, trying to force back the shudders. Seeing his face, so familiar and innocuous, feeling the tight grip of his big-knuckled fingers around her arm, the same hands she had seen on the bus’ steering wheel a hundred times—her idea of Ed did not fit with what was happening. Beth said his name as if she were checking to see if he was really there, if her eyes were to be trusted. She wanted him to laugh, to say that none of this was real, that he hadn’t stalked her or kidnapped her or tied her up in the back of his van.

But he didn’t say any of those things. Instead he grunted, “Come on,” and pulled at her arm, urging her toward the crooked front door of the cabin.

“Wait,” she told him, instinctively leaning back away from the pressure.

Ed turned to face her, grabbing her other arm as if he was going to toss her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. As he bent toward her, Beth swung her head forward, not planning, not thinking—and cracked her forehead against the bridge of his nose.

He yelped, dropping her arms to clutch his face. Beth paused for a moment, almost as startled by the head-butt as Ed was.
Run!
her brain screamed and she did, pivoting around and bolting, her feet sliding in the loose rocks as she scrambled down a slope toward a wall of trees that promised dark shadows and hiding places. Rocks and spiky plants tripped her up and her hands, still taped behind her back, couldn’t offer balance.

If she fell, she was fully aware that nothing would stop her from landing on her face.

The trees were getting closer and Beth ran faster, fixing her eyes on the ground in front of her, trying to distinguish the actual obstacles from the shadows created by the moon. She didn’t dare glance back, didn’t want to know if he was right behind her. He could very well be breathing down her neck—Beth couldn’t hear anything except her own labored breathing and the thud of her feet hitting the ground.

So close
, she thought, flying over the final few feet of bare ground before the trees.

So—

She hit an invisible wall, sharp lines of pain running across her midsection and thighs before she bounced backward and fell to the ground. Immediately, Beth rolled to her side and then her knees, dragging in ragged breaths, fighting to regain her feet and her air as her eyes searched for the barrier that stopped her headlong flight.

She saw the narrow, dark shape of a fencepost and something in her mind clicked.

Wire fencing, hidden by the darkness, must have blocked her way and knocked her backward. Dropping to her belly, not even feeling the pain as she hit the ground hard, Beth pushed herself along with her feet, wriggling on her stomach beneath the lowest wire.

The wire grazed her hands and she sucked in a sobbing breath.
Halfway there
, she thought…

But then hands wrapped around her ankles for the second time that night, wrenching her back away from escape, scraping her stomach on the rocky ground as her tank top was dragged up under her armpits.

When her body was clear of the fence, Ed hauled her to her feet by her trussed arms, jerking a shriek of pain from her. His arm wrapped under her chin and pressed against her throat. Beth struggled, kicking backward and twisting her body in his hold, but everything went black for the second time that day.

When they got back to the gym, Ky could tell from one glance at Charlie’s face that Beth hadn’t returned. He wanted to check the loft anyway, to see for himself that the unthinkable was happening. He moved quickly toward the stairs but Harry still beat him to the door, swearing at the keys that shook and jangled together in his hand.

“Give me those,” Ky ordered, trying to take them from him but Harry shouldered him away.

“I’ve got it,” Harry snapped, forcing the key into the lock and twisting it violently.