ARRESTED: A Stepbrother Cop Romance (14 page)

As my heart beats faster to the point I think I'm
going to hyperventilate, I take in deep breaths to calm myself. The chemical
smell of the room makes my nose burn. What the hell has Drew got stored here? I
don’t want to think about it. I need to get myself under control. Losing it
won’t convince Drew to let me go.

Where the fuck has he gone? Why would he drug me and
take off? Maybe he's out establishing an alibi for when it's discovered that
I'm gone. Maybe he's out there trying to determine if anyone has reported me
missing yet.

Another thought creeps into my head. Maybe he's gone
to buy things, things he might use to hurt me. The possibilities of the
instruments he might bring back sends a shiver of fear through me. While we'd
been together we'd never gone so far in a masochistic direction, but he's more
controlling now and more interested in inflicting real hurt on me.

I pull at my bindings again and moan with frustration
when I get the same result. They're not going to give. The waiting is the worst
part. Time to think about what Drew will do to me when he comes back. Time to
think about everything that I regret.

I still can't see in the darkness. It makes me wonder
if we're underground somewhere that light doesn't penetrate.

If the blow to the head hadn't knocked me out I might
have been able to figure out where I was based on the length of the car ride
combined with the turns. But I wasn't awake. I have no memory of how I got here
no matter how much I rack my brain. I didn't even come out of my unconscious
state for a moment. Maybe he'd drugged me then too, not wanting to rely on the
head injury to keep me quiet.

Has he at least cleaned my wound and bandaged it? But
I know the answer to that even though I can't reach up and touch my forehead.
If he cared about me the way that he says he does he wouldn't have left me
alone with a possible concussion after knocking me out again with drugs.

The last tendrils of the drug are wearing off and my
head is getting clearer. I wish I could sit up and look around. Is there even a
light in this room? No matter how much I peer into the dark I can't see
anything. I don't sense his presence and I'm both relieved and angry at that.
But then I hadn't sensed his presence in the room earlier either.

I try to say his name but it sounds like ‘glue’ around
the gag.

I hate the desperate note in my voice. Would he answer
if he is here? I stop all movement, strain my ears, close my eyes. I cock my
head to the right, trying to pick up any sound in the room or beyond.

Nothing.

All I can do is wait.

And hope that I’m not going to die here.

19

CORY

I should be out on patrol with Simons but we're still
at the station, Simons helping the investigation and me in the gym burning off
steam. Despite my sergeant saying I could shadow Jameson, they've banished me
from the investigation room while they follow up other tips. It's taking too
long to get results back from the various databases and if I stay in the squad
room with everyone I'll lose it. Better to abuse a punching bag then say or do
something that will get me suspended or fired.

I swing at the heavy bag in front of me, my fist
making a satisfying thud when it connects. The bag moves slightly and I hit it
again with my other fist. I punch the bag imagining it's Drew's face and that
each blow leaves his face a bloody mess. I give it a few quick jabs a little
further down like I'm punching Drew in the stomach. Then I go up high again for
the face area.

All this waiting is driving me crazy. I hate letting
other people run the searches and do the leg work when I should be helping. I
should be out there looking for her. Maybe there's a trail of some kind.
Traffic camera footage that we can piece together to determine the route he
took and therefore where they ended up.

I need to find Allyson.

Dad has been on the phone trying to find out what's
going on. But he's not having a whole lot of luck either. Sergeant says we're
both too close to this. Allyson's mom is a wreck. So much worrying that she
can’t speak in coherent sentences anymore. Dad said that she’s been sitting,
opening her mouth and then closing it again, almost as though she’s having an
imaginary conversation. Crying. Outbursts of shouting that Dad needs to do
something. That was when he called the doctor.

I can picture Dad waiting by the phone with his own
cell phone out on the counter, prepared no matter what number they call him at
to give him more information. Anything to support his fiancée. But there is no
more information yet. Why can't the database searches work faster? The more
minutes that drag into hours that tick by, the less likely we are of finding
her safe.

I hit the bag again, picturing Drew's smug face. I
imagine punching the smile right off him. I imagine him begging me to stop.
Crying and pleading like the sick, weak fuck that he is. The bag jerks each
time my fist connects with it and suddenly the bag isn't enough. I have too
much energy humming through my body to stay here. I need to be out there,
pounding the pavement.

The waiting is killing me.

When it's happening to someone else you don't think
the waiting is hard. I've told other victims, families of victims to just be
patient and let us do our job. That we were doing everything we could to find
their loved one. Fuck, did I really say that to people? No wonder they gave me
looks of hatred and disbelief. Until it happens to you, you have no idea what
it's like.

My breathing is heavy now after punching the heavy bag
for so long. It doesn't give me nearly the same satisfaction as clocking Drew
would, but even when we find the bastard I won’t be able to do that. He's not
worth getting suspended or fired over. If he resists arrest, though, I can use
all the force necessary to bring him in. For the first time in my life, I pray
for a perp to resist arrest.

If I don't find Allyson, then my dad's new life will
be destroyed. His new bride, if she still goes through with the wedding, will
be distraught. The relationship will become strained. She'll withdraw into
herself. I know she won't be able to deal with the grief of losing her only
daughter.

I can't think like that.

We're not losing Allyson. Not on my watch. Not on my
dad's watch.

Drew’s a college kid but he obviously has deep
emotional problems to resort to kidnapping. My fists clench tight and I hit the
bag harder, this time, making it swing away from me.

I take off my gloves and make my way to the locker
room, eager to get back and find out what’s going on. Simons would have come
and told me if they were ready to leave but maybe there are some leads. I
quickly rinse off in the shower, don my uniform again and stride back to the
squad room.

The moment I walk in Detective Jameson smiles and
stands.

"We've got three possible addresses as a first
step," he says holding a piece of paper up.

I reach out to grab it but he snatches it back.
"You calmer yet?"

"I worked it out. Tell me about the
addresses."

"You don't sound calmer to me."

I glare at Jameson and take a deep breath. "Trust
me, I'm calmer. Let's find her."

Jameson points to the first one on the paper.
"Drew's family's address. His childhood home. His mom and dad are still
living there."

I shake my head. "There's no way he would take
Allyson back to where his parents are. How is he going to explain his way
around holding her against her will?"

"We’ll send a unit over there. His folks should
be aware of what he’s been doing with the photos and threats. They may have
more information or other possible addresses. What about this one then?"
Jameson points to the second address. “His parents have a cabin about an hour
from here.”

I study the paper, trying to think about what I would
do in Drew’s position. An out-of-the-way cabin would certainly meet the
objective of being more difficult to find but something about the idea doesn’t
sit right with me.

“This guy, Drew. He’s just a fucked up college kid. As
much as he obviously has some kind of psychological problems, he isn’t a serial
killer yet. Is he really gonna drive her up to his parent’s holiday home?"
Detective Jameson looks at me like I’m crazy.

“That’s exactly what I think he’d do. The kid's a
sicko.”

“Maybe, but he also wanted Allyson back. What if all
this is his attempt to get some time with her so that he can convince her that
they are meant to be together?”

“Seems pretty extreme.”

“Guys can get extreme about girls, especially when
they feel like they’re humiliated. He didn’t like that Allyson dumped him. I
think he wants her to change her mind.”

“Well, the third address is his fraternity one.”

I study the address and my heart races. "That's
not far from Allyson's dorm."

Jameson shrugs. "I’ll send another unit over
there but I think we should head up and check out the cabin. I bet that even if
she isn’t at the frat house someone will have seen Drew. We can get an update
en
route."

I rub my hands over my face to take a moment to clear
my head. I hate having to make a call like this. If we spend the time traveling
to the cabin and Allyson’s found on campus, I’ll kick myself for not being
there. But I’m already on thin ice and if I kick up a stink, Sarge is going to
boot me off the case.

"Okay, let's go," I say reluctantly.

In the squad car with Jameson, my mind buzzes with
thoughts. What are we going to find there? Drew obviously has issues. I
remember the way he was holding Allyson's wrist, tightly, prepared to use his
strength against her. I suddenly feel sick when I recall the pictures of her
and Drew. How rough he was with her. I don’t know what I think about it all.
Did she like what he did to her? I find myself concerned for the first time
about what might be driving the kind of preferences we have. I know I like the
feeling of control and power. But I have to know that it’s a willing surrender
on the part of the woman. I could never get off on really forcing someone. That
shit is fucked up. I wonder what drives Allyson’s desire to play like she did.
Could it be some fucked up psychological issues from her past? I don’t feel
like mine is based on something bad, but it would be wrong to feed emotional
demons if that’s what’s behind it all.

I sit back in the passenger seat watching the road zip
past as Jameson maneuvers the car through traffic toward the cabin. Though
we're breaking the speed limit we're not going fast enough for me. I wish I'd
managed to get behind the wheel before Jameson, or ridden with Simons. The
lights are blazing on top of the car but the siren is off so we don't alert
Drew to our approach. Two cars follow us.

Whatever happens, next I'll try to be a friend to her,
to be a proper stepbrother. I'll look out for her, make sure I vet whatever men
she dates to make sure she doesn't get into trouble again. I’ll get her
whatever help she needs after this. I just hope Drew hasn’t had the chance to
do anything bad.

I sigh and rub my face again, my hand encountering
more stubble that I normally like on my chin. I need to shave, have a hot
shower but not until I find Allyson safe and sound.

"So this girl is your stepsister?" Jameson
asks, breaking the silence and pulling me away from thoughts that would send me
spiraling into more anger.

"Soon to be stepsister," I say. "If we
can get her back."

"We'll get her back. You'll be able to dance with
her at your dad's wedding."

"I don’t know," I say. “The wedding’s gonna
be postponed, I’m sure. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to celebrate after
something like this.

“Life goes on,” he says philosophically.

"We need to get her back safely first. Whatever
happens after that can be worked out later," I say.

We’re driving up a dirt track, dense forest on either
side. Jameson has slowed down significantly as we make the approach, wanting to
minimize the crunch of the tires on the stony ground. As we pass a small cabin
nestled into the trees I strain to get a good look at it – where the doors and
windows are – planning how we might access a similar property. A call comes in
over the radio.

“Negative at both addresses.”

“Shit,” Jameson mutters and my heart sinks. That’s two
of our main leads out of the picture. If she’s not at this address, then this
is going to become a full-on man-hunt. State-wide media coverage. It’ll be out
of my hands entirely.

“The cabin is about 300 yards that way,” Jameson says
as he brings the car to a standstill. “We need to travel on foot now.”

I’m out of the car and jogging up the path, as the
others park and begin to follow. Jameson is a big guy so he’s further behind,
wheezing a little at the pace.

As the cabin comes into view I take a concealed
position behind a large trunked tree, and look around. The truck from the CCTV
is parked at the side. The windows in one of the rooms are boarded up from the
inside with what looks like flattened boxes.

"You," Jameson points to two of the
officers. "Take the back of the house."

The officers nod curtly and begin to run around in a
wide loop of the property.

"You two," he says. "Stay in front
while the rest of us go into the building. If that rat tries to jump ship,
it’ll be down to you to catch him.”

They nod and head off in separate directions, making a
tighter loop so that they end up in the undergrowth on either side of the front
of the cabin. Jameson, the last two officers and I follow one of the officers,
then make our way towards the front door. I’m crouched low so as not to alert
anyone who might be looking out of the window. Drew may be alone, but maybe
not. Jameson tries the handle and it turns but the door doesn’t open. “Fuck,”
he mumbles under his breath. There’s a window open in a room to the side. I nod
towards it, thinking it might open wide enough for me to get through. Probably
not wide enough for Jameson but I could open the front door from the inside. I
stay in the shadows, peering into the room to check for occupants. It’s empty.
I begin to pull the window outwards, slowly so as not to make any noise. The
gap is narrow but I contort myself, pulling a leg through and turning my
shoulders until I’m in the right position to slide in. It’s musty inside and I
can smell a faint underlying chemical odor. It doesn’t feel homey in the cabin
at all.

I tread softly as I make my way towards the room's
open door, drawing my weapon as quietly as I can. I need to be ready in case
Drew is in the hallway. The house is so quiet but I catch the sound of woman’s
voice, somewhere close. It’s a moaning sound, filled with frustration.

Allyson?

My heart is pumping so damn hard, adrenaline coursing
through my veins. The hallway is empty so I move backward, gun pointing into
the cabin until my back hits the front door.

If Allyson is here, she’s alive. I find the key with
my free hand, turning it slowly and quietly, eyes blinking to keep a focus on
the dark interior of the cabin. Behind me, Jameson turns the handle and pushes
the door slowly. The hinges squeak slightly, and I draw in a shaky breath.

Jameson and the other officers enter behind me,
weapons drawn.

This is it.