Waiting for Wednesday (15 page)

“We’re in a fucking recession, Lane.” His voice was so reminiscent of their years of marriage, she felt herself fighting to stop from closing down. It was always the same.

She’d say something and he’d reply in that condescending tone, call her stupid.

“Fine. So you’ve lost everything. That’s not Tristan’s fault. It’s yours.” The words were the wrong thing to say to a man with a gun, but there was no way Lane was going to see Tristan endangered because of a mistake she’d made. Several mistakes she’d made. Starting with marrying the lunatic pointing a gun at her.

“Walk, Lane. We’re going home.”

She refused to move. If he was in the mood to kill someone, it would have to be her and it would have to be here. Besides, she knew what happened to women who moved off city streets. They ended up dead. James wasn’t going to hurt Tris. If it was the last thing she did, she would see to that.

James chuckled. “I knew you’d be difficult. See that school bus?” Lane followed his line of vision and watched as a busload of preschoolers stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the aquarium.

118

Waiting for Wednesday

“You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered.

“I have ten rounds in this handgun. That means I can take down eight of those little brats before killing you and then me.”

“So this is a suicide?”

He shrugged. “It’s a mystery. Who knows how it will all end? Now move.” She started walking, surprised when James waved down a taxi.

“We can’t exactly walk all the way to our house. Same rules apply in the cab. You say anything to the driver and I kill him first. Got it?” She nodded. As they rode in silence to James’ house, Lane cursed her stupidity.

Why hadn’t she told Tris where she was going? She’d claimed to have errands to run, promising to be back in an hour as she’d kissed him goodbye. She knew Tris. If she didn’t return home soon, he’d start calling her cell. She glanced at James and wondered if there was some way she could get her cell phone out of her purse. If she could just dial 9-1-1.

The cab parked in front of the small house she’d shared with her husband and she fought back the bile in her throat at the thought of entering it again. She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe slowly.

“Pay the man, sweetheart,” James said. She handed the driver a handful of dollars, then stepped out of the taxi. James had a strong grip on her arm and she couldn’t loosen it without putting the older cab driver at risk. The car pulled away and James directed her toward the house. Lane felt the beginnings of a serious panic attack when James locked the door behind them. “Give me your cell.” Lane’s hands trembled as she handed over her last piece of hope. He threw the cell phone on the front table and took the gun out of his jacket.

“When did you get a gun?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Start walking.”

“Where?”

119

Mari Carr

“The basement. Too many busybodies in this neighborhood. I want a little ‘alone time’ with my wife before things get bloody.”

“James,” she said. “It’s not too late to let me go. No harm, no foul. I swear if you let me leave right now, I’ll never say a word to anyone about this.” James laughed. “Get in the basement, Lane, and shut your stupid fucking mouth.

One more word from you and I’ll put a gag in it.” She turned and walked toward the kitchen and the basement door. Along the way she tried to find anything she could use as a weapon, but the hallway was empty except for piles of trash and dirty clothes. Bile rose to her throat as she was assaulted by the repugnant odors. How could he live like this?

“You’ll have to excuse my mess,” James said as she stepped over a pile of beer cans.

“My wife left me for a freaking bartender.”

As they reached the basement door, James surprised her by shoving her against the hard wood, his fingers gripping her hair. “You’re going to pay for being a slut. I’m gonna make you pay for everything. Open the door,” he added as he jerked her back by her hair. Tears streamed down her face, a mixture of pain and pure fear. She stumbled as he pushed her down the stairs, only just catching herself before falling.

At the bottom he released her and she turned. Strangely, she felt her fear, her panic giving way to something else. As she faced her ex-husband, his face demented with his desire for revenge, she realized she didn’t want to cower in the corner and take his abuse. This time, she was ready to do battle.

Her poise, her fearlessness seemed to take him aback and she watched his eyes narrow as he assessed her stance. “You’ve changed.” She smirked. Whether he realized it or not, he’d just complimented her. “Yes, I have.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t really give a shit what you like or don’t like, James.” 120

Waiting for Wednesday

He slapped her. Pinpricks attacked her cheek, but she merely continued to face him, refusing to raise her hand to her face.

“Jesus. You really are an ignorant whore. Not even smart enough to know you’ve been beaten.”

She laughed. “Beaten? By whom? You?” She used her most Tris-like voice, speaking to James as if he were nothing more than an annoyance.

He slapped her again. Her face was on fire and her eyes watered like mad, but she wasn’t going to back down. Not now, not ever.

“You were my wife,” he said, almost to himself. “Mine! He took you away.”

“I. Left. You. I walked out of here on my own two feet because you were a shitty husband. Tris had nothing to do with our divorce.” James punched her in the stomach and she felt her knees buckle. She fought to stay on her feet, knowing if she went down, James would seize the advantage. There was a pipe running from the ceiling to the floor in the center of the basement. She reached out to grab it, holding herself upright against it.

“You sucked as a husband,” she taunted, unsure where the words were coming from.

“Shut up!”

“You were lousy in bed, a nasty little snake. You repulsed me.” All the rage, the misery, the pent-up anger she’d kept bottled up during their two years of marriage came flying out.

“I said shut up.” She watched him put the gun on a table behind him before approaching her.

“Decide to fight fair?” she asked as she stepped closer to him. “I won’t stand still this time, James. I’ll hit back. Hard.”

121

Mari Carr

“You need to stop talking.” He reached up and attempted to grab her upper arms.

She dodged, pushing him hard before he managed to grip her shoulders, shaking her.

“You’re a liar. You
did
love me! It was that asshole. He told you to leave me.” She struggled to break his grip, kicking hard at his shin. He howled as her foot made contact and released her. She moved back, frantically looking around the room for a weapon. The gun lay on the table behind him, too far away to help her.

He rushed after her and she dodged again, trying to get around him, desperate to escape. His right hand captured her left arm and he spun her roughly, wrapping himself around her from behind, pinning her arms tightly to her side. She tried to kick him, but she couldn’t connect with his legs, so instead she used her head—literally. She flung it back and head-butted him in the face. She heard his nose crack and when he dropped her, she turned to see blood streaming from it.

“You broke my nose.” His voice was laced with disbelief. She tried to run around him, not sure whether she was aiming for the stairs or the gun. He grabbed her by the hair, jerking her back hard.

She cried out at the pain in her scalp.

“Bitch!” he shouted as she spun around and scratched his face. He shoved her away from him and she lost her footing. As she fell backward, she hit her head on a shelf—

hard. Stars flew and the edges of the room began to go black. She blinked rapidly, trying to retain consciousness. Panic besieged her as the blackness grew. Her last vision was that of her ex-husband walking toward her, laughing.

* * * * *

“Where the hell is she?” Tris raged, slamming his cell phone closed. There were a few customers in the pub and he was fairly sure they’d never come back again. He’d been too preoccupied watching the door to remember their orders or even refill their drinks. Pop had come down and, even though Tris knew it was too soon, his old man was taking care of business while he called Lane’s cell every thirty seconds.

122

Waiting for Wednesday

“This isn’t like her, Pop,” he said, repeating the same line he’d uttered fifty times in the last few hours.

“I agree.” His pop had been accusing him of overreacting all day so his answer caught Tris off guard.

“You do?”

“I asked Riley to call Aaron. He should be here in a few minutes. Maybe he can give us some idea of what to do next.”

Tris nodded, pleased with his pop’s suggestion. His father looked better today than he had in months. “That’s a really good idea.”

Aaron Young walked in and Tris waved the young police officer over. Aaron and Riley had been best friends since the cradle, a fact that always struck the family as funny. Aaron was the epitome of straight and narrow while Riley skirted the line between right and wrong on a daily basis. She wasn’t a criminal, but she was reckless, wild and not averse to pushing the limit on pretty much everything. He was never sure how Aaron was able to keep up with her, but Tris had to admit, the man was better at controlling Riley than the men in her family.

“Lane’s missing,” Tris said as Aaron approached the bar.

Aaron nodded. He’d been to the house numerous times since Lane came to stay with them as a nurse. “How long’s she been gone?”

“Four hours.”

“Tris—” Aaron started.

“Don’t, Aaron. Don’t give me the legal bullshit about it being too soon to worry. I know Lane. For one thing, she said she’d be gone an hour. It’s been four. There’s no way she’d leave Pop alone that long without calling, which leads me to my second point. She’s always got her cell phone on. She’s not answering.”

“Cell batteries die. Women get distracted. Maybe she went shopping,” Aaron offered.

123

Mari Carr

Tris narrowed his eyes, but before he could refute the policeman’s words, Aaron waved him off.

“Where was she going? What were her errands?”

Tris shrugged. “She didn’t say. Just said she had a few things to take care of.”

“You’re not giving me much to go on here, Tris.”

“Her ex was around yesterday.”

“Around?” Aaron asked. “The pub?”

Tris nodded. “He was outside. Lane and Pop ran into him. According to Pop, James asked if he could talk to her alone. She agreed.”

“What did they talk about?”

“I don’t know. Probably not much. Pop came in and got me so she wasn’t alone with the prick for more than a minute.”

“I guess you threatened him.”

Tris shrugged, knowing Aaron’s comment was rhetorical.

“I can’t just go over there and accuse the guy of kidnapping his ex-wife. For one thing, she hasn’t been gone long enough to be considered a missing person.”

“I just want you to distract him. I want to take a look around his house.”

“Oh, you just want to trespass, maybe do a little breaking and entering. Well, why didn’t you say so? Don’t know why you called me. You’ve got Riley on your team.” Tris sighed. “Can the sarcasm, Aaron, I can’t sit here scratching my ass, hoping she’ll be okay. I promised to protect her. What if it were Riley who was missing?”

“Your sister goes missing on a weekly basis, Tris.” Pop grinned and slapped Aaron on the back. He’d been quiet during their conversation, but he’d been listening intently. “And you always find her for us, son,” he said to the young cop. “Help us find Lane too.”

“This could mean my job.”

124

Waiting for Wednesday

“All I want you to do is distract James with a few questions at his front door while I peek in the windows. If I get caught, I’ll swear I was acting alone. Please. I know you, Aaron. If James is up to something crooked, you’ll sniff it out.” Aaron was an excellent cop because of his ability to read people. Tris had no doubt the man would know immediately if James was up to no good.

“Shit,” Aaron said. “Let’s go. But I’m telling you right now, if I get fired, you’re hiring me at the pub.”

“Done,” Pop replied.

“And I want benefits,” Aaron added. “Decent ones.”

“Anything you want,” Tris said, happy to finally be doing something. Lane was in trouble. He could feel it in his bones. His promise to protect her hovered in the back of his mind.

God, please don’t let me be too late.

125

Mari Carr

Chapter Nine

Lane opened her eyes, blinking at the pain in her head. Light pierced her vision like laser rays and she fought back a groan as she closed her eyes again. She tried to stand up, but realized her hands were tied above her head. It took her several more attempts to focus on the room without crying. As she took stock of her surroundings, she realized she was lying on her back on the cold, concrete basement floor. Her hands were tied together with duct tape around the pipe in the center of the room.

A quick glance around the room confirmed she was alone, but she didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious. It also confirmed James had the gun. From where she lay, she could see the weapon was no longer on the table. She needed to stand up and fight her way out of the tape. Maybe she could use her teeth.

She ignored the pounding in her head as she tried to roll to her side. Footsteps on the basement stairs told her she was out of time…and luck. She debated playing dead, but James had already seen her moving. As he walked across the room, she felt a small bit of glee at the bandage on his puffy, bruised nose and the scratches on his face. He looked like shit.

“It’s about time you woke up. No fun playing with an unconscious woman. Your damn cell phone’s been ringing off the hook.”

Tris had gone into protector mode. He was worried and looking for her.

“You didn’t answer it?” she asked, confused. “I thought this whole kidnapping game was so you could use me as bait.”