Love Inspired Suspense June 2014 Bundle 2 of 2: Forced Alliance\Out for Justice\No Place to Run (37 page)

He leaned over her again, but this time he drew back a fist and slammed it into her left cheek. The blow came so suddenly, she didn't have a chance to prepare. It knocked her to the side and she rolled onto her back, panic pounding up her spine. Pain throbbed through the side of her face and faded spots of light seemed to dance in the sky above her.

It was all starting. The abuse that each of the other victims had experienced. The gruesome photo shoot. Then strangulation. And more photos. But she wouldn't be there to experience them.

God, please help me.

She struggled to quell the rising panic. Alan was looking for her. So were others, people who cared for her and would do everything in their power to find her before it was too late.

But no one knew where to look. She didn't even know where she was. The wall of despair rolled closer.

“Sit up.” His tone held an icy edge.

When she didn't respond immediately, she was rewarded with a boot in the ribs. A half moan, half grunt escaped through her nose.

“I said sit up.”

She struggled to comply. He circled behind her to put two hands under her arms and drag her backward. Something caught for a second, an object in her back pocket. Once he had propped her against a tree, she slid her bound hands over the curve of her bottom, where they met a hard rectangular object. Hope surged through her and her heart began to pound.

Greg hadn't taken her phone. Since it was on vibrate, he probably didn't even know she had it. And he wouldn't feel a need to check. Constantly under his watchful eye, she wouldn't have an opportunity to use it. Even if she did somehow manage to call 9-1-1, she wouldn't be able to speak.

The hope that had sprung up flickered and died as thoroughly as a candle in one of central Florida's downpours. The phone may as well be a Nintendo Game Boy for all the good it was going to do her.

Greg stepped back to study her, then raised the camera to take another picture. “That's a start. But we've definitely got some work to do.”

When he approached her again, she braced herself for the second blow. It didn't help. Her head slammed backward into the tree and pain exploded across her mind. Almost immediately the side of her lower lip filled with heat and started to swell against the tape. Blood seeped into her mouth, warm and coppery. Clouds drifted over the moon and her vision blurred.

He moved away to amble back and forth in front of her, posture relaxed. “Don't worry about the appointment tomorrow evening. I'll be happy to keep it.”

She blinked several times, trying to clear her thoughts. His words made little sense. She was floating on a sea of pain, her mind refusing to grasp the simplest concept. Appointment? What was he talking about?

A name rose to the surface and she cringed. Ashley Rittman. She had secured the appointment and then given Greg everything, right down to her home address. But Greg couldn't hurt Ashley. If he did, all fingers would be pointed at him.

“It would have been easier if I could have convinced Tomlinson to let you do it. As it stands, I'm supposed to be going along with Ford. But I'll figure something out. The department will be reeling with the news of your death. No one will think anything about the eager newbie heading off alone, determined to solve the case. I'll make sure I leave thirty minutes early. I'll even bring back all of Ashley's old pictures...after I remove the ones featuring a pink tutu.” He stopped pacing to glare down at her. “Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? No, of course you don't. You beautiful, spoiled, popular women who play your games and watch the guys flock to you. Then when we're totally drawn in, you throw us away without any regard for how you've ruined our lives.”

Lexi stared up at him, trying to follow his train of thought. Who was he talking about? Lysandra and her friends? Or the girlfriend who dumped him three years ago? Was that what triggered his need for revenge?

He clenched and unclenched his hands several times, cold fury running just beneath the surface. “Trust me, it was humiliating. But you got a real kick out of it, didn't you? You just had to mention that pink tutu in briefing and hear the snickers go around the room. Ten years later and I'm still being laughed at. But now it's your turn.”

He snapped another picture and studied the display. He would probably be happy with the result. Already her left cheek was beginning to swell. She could feel it every time she blinked.

Finally he let the camera dangle against his chest. “Those beauty-queen looks of yours are fading fast. This is much more satisfying.”

He moved closer and her heart began to pound. Although she tried to twist away, the third blow landed solidly on her right cheek, sending renewed pain flooding through her. Darkness encroached from all sides, creeping inward before once again retreating.

Greg pulled something from his back pocket and eased to the ground in front of her. He would wait long enough for the redness and swelling to appear, maybe even some bruising. Then he would take another picture and hit her again. He wasn't in any hurry. He had all night.

And hopefully he would take it. The longer he stretched out the ordeal, the greater the chance that Alan and the others would find her.

She closed her eyes and let the image of Alan's face fill her mind: his warm blue eyes, his teasing smile. Except now he wouldn't be smiling. He would be driving around, handsome face contorted with worry.

And praying. Yes, he would be doing a lot of praying. The thought gave her a small measure of peace, and for the first time, she understood the comfort that Alan seemed to get from his faith.

God, please. I'm not ready to die tonight. Please send help.

Greg spoke again, his words cutting across her thoughts. “This will give us the best picture of all.”

He picked up the item he had removed from his pocket and her blood froze in her veins. It was a coiled bungee cord, one of those black rubber ones. He unrolled it and gripped the two ends, stretching and releasing it as he talked.

“These final pictures are the most fun. Really unflattering. Have you ever seen anyone being strangled? Their face turns red, their eyes bug out—”

A rustle sounded nearby and he stopped midsentence, growing suddenly stiff with tension. It was probably just an armadillo or a possum. But after a dog had led someone to his last potential victim, Greg didn't appear ready to take a chance.

He dropped the bungee cord and pulled a pistol from an ankle holster before pushing himself to his feet. He hadn't used the gun the last time and probably regretted it. He could have killed the old man then finished off Denise and not left a live witness.

But killing the old man would have involved killing the dog, something she now knew Greg would never do. With his concern over Wendell's dog, she should have made the connection.

“Don't go anywhere.” He gave her a cheeky grin, obviously not considering escape a possibility.

He was underestimating her. As soon as he was out of sight, she pulled her legs up and shifted her weight onto her knees. There was nothing she could do about her hands being tied. But if she could break free of the bindings on her legs, she would stand a chance.

She arched her back and gripped the rope, pulling hard to rotate the knot to the back, praying all the while. Once she had the knot where she could access it, she worked with shaking fingers, picking, pulling and grimacing as one then another nail broke off at the quick. Every rustle, every snap of a twig, sent panic spiraling through her. Greg was nearby, slipping silently between the trees, making sure they were alone. At any moment he would return and finish her off.

The last of the knot loosened and came free. She struggled to her feet and stumbled through the underbrush, feet catching on vines that threatened to topple her onto her face. She had no idea which way safety lay. She didn't care, as long as each step carried her farther from Greg.

Moments later, Greg's voice carried to her through the woods, taunting, almost playful.

“Oh, Lysandra, where are you?”

She froze in her tracks. If he heard her, he would be on her in moments. She couldn't run full speed with her hands tied behind her back. In fact, she couldn't do much more than a slow jog.

She pressed herself against a tree, her hands trapped between its rough bark and the phone in her back pocket.

Her phone.

She couldn't say anything. But if she called 9-1-1, they could use the phone's GPS to lock in her location.

She slid it from her pocket and twisted to the side, pulling her hands into view. She could see the screen, just barely. So she could dial 9-1-1.

It may not work, but she had to try.

It was her only hope.

SEVENTEEN

A
lan crept slowly down Berkley Road, scouring its edge for a vehicle tucked in against the trees. He was coming up on the last wooded area before Polk City. And so far he had found nothing. Although her neighborhood was off of Berkley, it was just one of many possibilities. The thought left him struggling to push back hopelessness.

Lord, please lead us to the right place.

He had talked to Tomlinson again. Units had already been dispatched from Polk County, Winter Haven and Auburndale. And Polk County was working on getting a chopper in the air. But it was dark. One lone Jeep or Camry would be hard to spot. It would be much easier in the daylight.

Unfortunately, by daylight Lexi would be dead.

That sense of hopelessness descended again, this time with a vengeance.
Lord, please protect her. Please don't let her die.

He scanned the roadside next to him, making frequent glances in the rearview mirror. Headlights approached, quickly closing the gap, and he tensed. As the car came closer without any signs of slowing down, he tapped the brakes and veered off the road. The driver blew the horn and swerved around him, with the passenger hanging out the window yelling obscenities.

Stupid kids. If they didn't slow down, they were going to get someone killed. They needed to be stopped and ticketed.

But not by him. And not tonight. Not only because he was in his Mustang—nothing was going to distract him from his search for Lexi.

As he prepared to ease back onto the road, the ringtone sounded on his phone. He tapped the Bluetooth, his pulse picking up speed. Lexi had her phone. Maybe she'd had a chance to use it.

With the first word out of the caller's mouth, disappointment collided with anticipation. It was Tomlinson. He apparently had news. Hopefully it was good.

“You got something?”

“She called.”

His heart was pounding in earnest now. “Go ahead.”

“She didn't say anything, but the call came from her phone. They've tracked the signal to an area off Recker Highway. There's a big wooded section near where that new extension of Main Street loops around.”

“I'm headed there now.”

He cut the wheels sharp left and stomped on the gas. Tires spun in the grass before catching and catapulting him onto the pavement then off the other side. Once his frantic U-turn was completed, he floored the accelerator and flew down the road, engine roaring. He knew the area Tomlinson mentioned. If he remembered right, just south of Main, a service road cut off Recker and went back into the woods. He could be there in seven or eight minutes. Five if he really pushed it.

Shortly after turning onto Recker Highway, an Auburndale police cruiser flew past him, lights flashing and siren screaming. By the time he reached the service road, more law enforcement had arrived, a sheriff's deputy and another Auburndale officer, and the sirens had been silenced. A closed gate spanned the entrance, a chain looped around the post. Closer inspection showed the chain had been cut.

One of the officers pushed open the gate and the three cruisers sped down the dirt road, engulfed in a cloud of dust. Alan followed. When they came to a stop, relief swept through him. Just off the road against the woods was a vehicle. A green Jeep.

Greg's green Jeep.

Alan approached the others. “We need to spread out and comb every square inch of these woods. More units will be arriving to give us a hand.”

The sheriff's deputy stepped forward. “I can head that up. I hear she's one of ours.”

Alan squinted at the nameplate. Sergeant Bailey. He was older, probably mid-fifties, and carried himself with an air of confidence that Alan found reassuring.

Yes, she was one of theirs. So was Greg.

Within minutes more law enforcement had arrived, and Sergeant Bailey had divided them up and given them each sections of the large wooded area.

As Alan jogged down the dirt road toward his assigned location, he listened for movement. Greg was likely close. He didn't leave his victims so deep in the woods that they couldn't be found. In fact, he wanted them to be found. It was all part of his plan to humiliate them the same way he had been humiliated.

Alan reached the bend that Bailey had pointed out on his map, clicked on the flashlight and headed in.

The undergrowth was thick. Florida's winters were too mild to kill the saplings, scrub and vines that occupied any natural areas. The tangled greenery hampered his movement and made stealth impossible. But he kept his flashlight beam aimed low and focused on trying not to sound like a Sasquatch lumbering through the woods.

Every minute or so he stopped to listen. If he couldn't move silently, neither could Greg. Or Lexi. The fact that she had been able to place that phone call made him believe that she had somehow escaped, at least temporarily. He clung to the hope that she was somewhere out there hiding while Greg searched.

Lord, please let us find her first.

A voice drifted to him, barely audible over the rustle of his own footsteps. He froze in place. The air was still, whatever nightlife the forest possessed hunkered down in silence. It was as if all of nature was holding its breath. Had he imagined what he'd thought he heard?

He had just lifted a foot to take another step when it came again. No, he hadn't imagined it. It was a male voice, higher pitched. He held his breath and listened.

“Oh, Lysandra. Where are you?”

Hope surged through him. What he heard confirmed two things—Lexi was alive and she had escaped.

He flew into action, pushing himself forward, ignoring the vines and brambles that clawed at him as he passed.

“Oh, Lysandra.” The voice was closer now. “Where are you?”

The singsong tone sent goose bumps sweeping over him. To Greg it was all a game. Lexi's life meant nothing.

Of course, he already knew that. Nothing meant anything to Greg except his perverted sense of justice.

The call came again, even closer. He was gaining on him.

“Lysandra, we're not finished yet. We still have one more photo to take.”

Dread came crashing down on him, panic on its heels.

One more photo.

He knew all about that photo. He had seen it with each of the other victims.

That final photo wouldn't be taken until after she was dead.

* * *

Lexi stood motionless, dragging in ragged breaths and trying to stem the panic rising inside. She couldn't decide whether to stay where she was or run.

“Come here, Lysandra. It's time for the last picture.”

He was moving closer. She was sure of it.

“You're not laughing now, are you? You had your fun at my expense, and now the tables are turned. It's not so funny being on the receiving end, is it?”

She took in some more ragged breaths, eyes wide, every muscle coiled and ready to spring.

“Where are you? Ready or not, here I come.”

Greg continued his taunts, enjoying his macabre game of hide-and-seek. They filled the air around her, the embodiment of evil, chilling her from the outside in. She pressed herself more tightly against the tree, longing to shut out the words and the demented pleasure behind them.

But there was another sound, faint and deep—the distant rumbling of a helicopter. Her heart stuttered as relief washed through her, almost dropping her to her knees. Her frantic 9-1-1 call had gotten through. They were coming for her.

Then another thought flashed through her mind, wiping away that brief sense of relief. The chopper in the air didn't mean anything. Alan knew Greg had taken her. And he would have called Tomlinson. Of course they would utilize all their resources, not only to save her life but to put a permanent end to the killing. The chopper was searching, just like everyone on the ground. And with dozens of square miles of woods in the county, the chances of finding her in the dark were slim to none.

She leaned around the tree to look behind her. A light flashed through the trees, sweeping back and forth. Greg had his flashlight and he was headed her way.

The panic she had struggled to keep at bay exploded and she stumbled from her hiding place. Moments later, heavy footsteps sounded behind her, moving ever closer. She emerged in a clearing and, with an unobstructed path in front of her, broke into a full run. But there was no way she could escape him with her hands tied behind her back. And there was nowhere to hide.

Before she reached the middle of the clearing, he grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to her knees. The next instant the cord was around her neck, squeezing more and more tightly. She twisted and bucked and even slammed her head into Greg's chest, but nothing she tried broke the hold he had on her. She sucked in one final breath through a mostly constricted airway before it was cut off completely.

She was going to die. She had her whole life ahead of her, a life that was to include Alan, but she was going to die. Why hadn't she listened? Why did she have to be so hardheaded?
Forgive me, sweetheart.

But Alan's wasn't the only forgiveness she needed. All her life she had ignored God and pursued her own way with sheer stubbornness and determination. And look where it had gotten her.

Lexi cast her gaze heavenward.
Forgive me.

The edges of her vision darkened, her angle of sight growing narrower and narrower. Soon she would black out, and it would all be over. Her ears filled with the throbbing of her own heart, then settled into a faint ring and finally a rumble that grew louder and louder until she could feel it in her chest. A wide beam of light circled the clearing. The cord suddenly loosened and fell from her neck, and she gulped in several frantic breaths.

The rumble was deafening now, the light blinding. It surrounded her, bathing her in virtual daylight.

The chopper. They had found her. Alan would be somewhere nearby.

Relief flooded her, mixed with a sort of euphoria.
Thank You, Lord.
She would never take anything for granted again. And she would give credit where credit was due.
Thank You, thank You, thank You.

Greg hauled her to her feet and began to drag her toward the woods.

No!
She wasn't going back into the woods. She had to stay where they could see her. Already the chopper was descending. The door swung open and a commanding voice came to them through a megaphone.

“Stay where you are. You're surrounded.”

Greg ignored the command and continued to drag her toward the woods. She stomped hard on his instep then kicked at his knee. The first blow met with a grunt and curse. The second he twisted and deflected.

Neither seemed to slow him down. He bent and threw her over his shoulder as effortlessly as he would toss around a sack of potatoes. Ten more feet and they would disappear into the woods.

She reared back and twisted, hoping to throw him off balance. As she lifted her head, a figure emerged from the tree line behind them and ran forward, weapon drawn.

“Freeze.”

It was Alan. Relief washed over her. But it didn't last long. Greg spun, pulled his pistol from the back of his waistband and fired off two shots. A scream rose up her throat, muffled by the tape. But Alan dropped and rolled and came out unscathed.

Another officer emerged from the woods. And another and another. Several more burst into the clearing from various points. They really were surrounded.

“Give it up, Greg.” The words were Alan's. “Half of Polk County's police force is in these woods right now.”

Greg hesitated for only a moment, then threw Lexi roughly to the ground. She somewhat broke her fall with one foot and landed hard on her side. Pain shot through her shoulder and a muffled groan made its way up her throat. She watched Greg throw down his weapon and sprint the final feet toward the woods. But before he could disappear from view, a law-enforcement officer charged into the clearing and wrestled him to the ground. Two deputies joined the fray.

She didn't see what happened next. Because suddenly Alan was on his knees beside her, wrapping her in his arms and peppering her face with kisses. He lifted her onto his lap and whispered her name again and again, interspersed with I-love-yous and more kisses. Finally he pulled away and reached for the tape.

“I'm sorry. This is going to sting.”

He ripped it loose with a grimace, then studied her in the moonlight. When he lifted his hand to stroke her cheek, his touch was gentle, but there was a tick in his jaw and a hardness in his gaze. “He hurt you.”

She attempted a weak smile. “I'm all right.”

Yes, she was fine. Better than fine. Alan was holding her and Greg was in custody. The nightmare was over. It could have been so much worse.

“If you guys hadn't gotten here when you did...” A shudder shook her shoulders. “He had the cord around my neck and...”

Alan didn't let her finish the thought. He pulled her into a crushing embrace and claimed her mouth with his own. Then he was kissing her cheeks and her forehead and her hair and mumbling about how he was never going to let her out of his sight again. She buried her face in his muscular chest and breathed in his clean, fresh scent.

Finally she pulled away to look up at him with a teasing smile. “Would you mind untying me, please? Unless you think I'm easier to control tied up.”

He laughed, all the tension and worry and fear draining from him, then stood and pulled her to her feet. Once finished, he turned her to face him, holding both of her hands in his.

“I don't ever want to try to control you. I love you and respect you too much to try to turn you into something you're not.”

“In this case, I should have listened to you. And I'm sorry. I almost got myself killed.” She offered him another smile. “Thanks for having my back. I owe you my life.”

“I'll always have your back. Forever, if you'll let me.”

Forever? As in the rest of her life? Her eyes sought his, searching for the meaning behind his words.