Obsession (Southern Comfort) (43 page)

“A lot,” James said.  “She’s been up to a lot.  And none of it good. 
Shit. 
Where are we?”

“In the back of my car, which is parked inside
what I believe to be a garage. I heard that mechanical noise that garage doors make followed by the sound of another car starting when she left.  As to the exact location of the garage, I don’t know, because she tied me up, blindfolded and gagged me before we got here.  Well, actually, she made me tie up my own feet while she held the gun on me, which was infuriating, let me tell you.  Anyway, we’re somewhere north of where we started out.”

“You obviously managed to get the gag out.”

“And that sucked, let me tell you.  My mouth is dry as dust.”

“Did you try screaming?”

“No, my voice always sounds like sandpaper.  Of course I tried screaming.”

She couldn’t see him, but somehow she knew he was smiling. 

“No wonder my head hurts.  But since that obviously didn’t bring any concerned neighbors out to investigate, we can probably assume that we need to go with Plan B.”

“Exactly.  And since I came up with Plan A – screaming my head off – it’s your turn.”

This time she didn’t even have to guess, because he laughed. 

“Ow.”

“I’ll be happy to get you some Tylenol or something once we’re out of here.”

“Gee, thanks.”  He shifted again, testing his bonds, and Shelley knew the moment when he figured out what was what.

“We’re tied together,” she said, just in case he needed it spelled out for him.

“Yeah, I got that.  Reduces your chance of escaping if you’re tied to two hundred pounds of dead weight.  Smart, actually.”

“You can give her a badge when you see her.  Can you sit up?” she asked hopefully.

“Yeah.  I think so.  Give me a sec.” He took a deep breath.  “On the count of three?  One, two…”

They moved, with much awkwardness and difficulty, into what could loosely be described as a sitting position, back to back.

“My knees are touching my ears,” he muttered, and Shelley figured he
was
pretty cramped.  Her cargo hold wasn’t designed to accommodate two bodies, particularly when one of them was built like Thor.

“
If we can turn so that I’m facing the hatch, I think I can get my foot under the handle.”  Maybe.

“Turn?” James said, his tone incredulous.  But then he sighed.  “Okay. 
You need to move to your right.  Three count again?”

“That works.”

Except that it didn’t.  Their limbs, having been held immobile for so long, didn’t want to cooperate.

“I have new sympathy for sardines,” James said after a minute.  “But let’s try
this one more time.”

“Okay.”  On the count of three, they heaved and grunted and uttered lots of things that probably shouldn’t be repeated, but managed to shift just enough that Shelley’s feet were facing the door.

“I got this.”  Feeling around with the tip of her shoe, since the blindfold prevented her from seeing what she was doing, Shelley tapped along the metal.

“I would tell you whether you’re getting warm, but whe
n I look over my shoulder all I can see is your hair.”

“Well, when I was choosing a hairstyle, I didn’t exactly anticipate a circumstance like this.  Hey.  I think I got it.”  Her toes sank into a small depression.  “Hold on.  I’m going to have to push back against you some.”

“I think I can handle it.” His tone was dry.

Shelley leaned back, and lifted with her toes, but nothing seemed to happen. She readjusted her shoe, pushing back harder, causing James to grunt.  The hatch, however, remained stubbornly closed.

“Crap.  I think she locked it.”

“Is there a lock mechanism that can be released manually?”

“Not back here,” she told him.  “I need the remote for that.  Or the lock thingy on the driver’s side.  The other locks are childproof.”

“Do you have kids?”

“No. That’s just the way it came,” she said when he snorted. “And I didn’t bother to take the time to disengage it.”  She started trying to figure out some other way to get out when she felt more than heard James sigh.

“We have to turn around again.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a tool on my keychain that
cuts seatbelts, but you’re going to have to help me get it out of my pocket, and we have more room the other way.”

“Wait.  You have a tool that cuts seatbelts – meaning it almost assuredly cuts through rope, too – and you’re just now mentioning it?”

“I forgot about it, okay?  My mom got it for me after she saw some story about a girl who was trapped by her seatbelt and couldn’t get out of her burning car and… anyway.  I just remembered I had it.  Given the fact that there’s a lump on my head the size of Mount Rainier, maybe you could cut me some slack.”

“Fine,” Shelley said after a moment, allowing that he had a point.  “On the count of three…”

It was a little easier than the first time they’d turned, but not by much.  Panting and sweating despite the fact that the only heat source in the garage seemed to be the man behind her, Shelley drew in a breath.

“Okay.  Now how are we going to get your keys out of your pocket
considering our hands are tied behind our backs?”

“
I’m wearing scrubs,” he said.  “No front pockets in the pants, so the keys are in my back right pocket.  If I sort of push them up from the bottom, maybe you can grab them.”

“I can grab them,” she said, determined.  “My fingers are pretty dexterous.”

James’ chuckle, when it reached her, was low.  “Too bad I don’t have front pockets, then.  Okay, here we go.”

She felt him fumbling around in between their bodies, and tried to make herself as limp as possible so that she wasn’t inadvertently providing resistance.  After a minute or two, he grunted again and said: “Can you reach them?”

In theory, it sounded pretty simple, but given how closely they were tied and the fact that her hands had started to go a little numb, it took her several tries to grasp the piece of metal she could feel poking above the loose fabric.

“Got them,” she said, feeling triumphant.

“The tool is sort of a smooth oval shape with an opening at one end that offers access to the blade.  But be careful.  The blade is protected, but extremely sharp.  Try to keep your fingers out of the opening.”

“Don’t cut my fingers off.  Got it.”
  Shelley carefully sorted through the contents of the key ring, identifying them by touch.

“My phone wasn’t in my pocket,” James said.  “I’m assuming she took it.”

“Yes, and mine too.  I… ouch!”

“I told you to be careful.”

“Yeah, well, you distracted me.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.  It just nicked me. Now what?”

“Now you need to use the blade to cut through the ropes.”

“Me? I’m blindfolded, remember?  I’m just as likely to cut off a pinkie.” 

“
The blood will make it easier to get the ropes off.  Hey, I’m kidding” he said when she stiffened.  “I would offer to do it, but my hands are too big to maneuver in such a tight space, and besides, dark as it is in here, I might as well be blindfolded, too.  Just work on my bindings. I promise not to get mad if you cut me.”   

“
Damn chivalrous of you,” she muttered, but she felt around, and – very carefully – began to saw.  After a minute or two, the first rope gave way with a snap.  “Hey, I did it!” But when she started on another one, she felt something wet.

“Oh my God.  You’re bleeding.”

“It’s okay,” James said, and though she knew it had to hurt, he hadn’t made a sound.  “Just a nick.  Keep going.”

With even more care than she’d exercised before, Shelley sawed through the next rope.

“That’s good,” James finally said, and she felt him moving behind her, and then he took the keychain from her hand. 

“Shit, that feels better,” he said, and she gathered that he’d cut through the ropes binding his feet.  Then his heat was gone from her back, and she felt his hands in her hair as he untied the blindfold.

“Hi,” he said, his teeth gleaming very faintly while she blinked at him like an owl.  Without thinking, she leaned forward and planted a smacking kiss on his lips.

When she would have pulled back, he put his hand behind her head, holding her in place as he took the kiss deeper. One thing she could say for sure, the man had a hell of a pair of lips.

“Save that thought.”  When he bent his head to the task of sawing through the ropes that bound her feet, she could just make out the lump rising through his dark hair.

“Oh.  Ouch.”  She gestured to the wound when he looked up.

“I’ll live.  Scoot around so that I can free your hands.”

She did, and when they were free, Shelley shook out the pins and needles before running a hand through her hair.  “What do you say we get out of here?”

“Best idea I’ve heard all night.”

James climbed over the seat, agile despite his size, and reached between the front seats to reach the driver’s side door.  The locks popped with a click.  “Meet you outside,” he said over his shoulder, going out the back door as Shelley let herself out through the hatch.

Her legs when she climbed out were like rubber.

There were no windows, but her vehicle’s interior light was sufficient illumination. 
James studied the garage doors.  “No handle from the inside,” he said, then he turned around to see if there was a switch somewhere on the wall.  There wasn’t.  

Nor was there much of anything else in the garage that could be of use.  The place was barren.

Both of them turned to look at the door which apparently led into a dwelling of some sort, then they looked at each other.

“I don’t think we have much choice,” James said, and Shelly was forced to agree with him.  No telling what they’d find on the other side, or if the door would even open.

“You first,” she said, and the look he turned on her was sardonic.  He’d just opened his mouth to reply when the chain mechanism which lifted the garage door began to make a whirring sound.

“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her hand and running for the door.

She wasn’t about to argue over which one of them should go through first.

KATHLEEN’S
phone vibrated against her hip, and she removed it from her pocket.  Mac drove – they were on their way back to the station to look at the full toy store video – and so she could check the text without pulling over.  It was from Anthony.

Need to talk ASAP.

Kathleen frowned. 
Can it wait?
She typed back.

No.

Her brows shot up.  Whatever it was must be important.  With a glance at Mac, she dialed Anthony’s number.  He answered on the first ring.

“Where are you?”

“Ah, in the car with Mac,” she told him.  “Heading toward the station.  Why?”

“Turn around.  There’s a situation at the hospital.”

“A situation?” she repeated, a sense of unease beginning to chill her blood.  “What sort of situation?”

Anthony hesitated.  “James Wellington called me a little while ago.  There was a post office box he wanted me to look into.”

“The post office box on the envelope in which the silver gift tag came?”

“You know about that?”

Kathleen took issue at the surprise in his voice.  “Yes.  Shouldn’t I?”

“That’s not it,” Anthony said.  “The kid’s
just been trying to be an amateur sleuth, so I wasn’t sure if he would tell you.  I’m glad he did.”

“But clearly not until after he’d told you.” Kathleen set aside the frustration – and various other emotions – that wanted to bubble up and spill over onto Anthony.  “Never mind.  What did you find out?”

Anthony hesitated, and Kathleen knew that whatever he was about to impart didn’t particularly make him happy. “The PO box is registered to LaShelle Kinson.”

“What?” Kathleen darted another look at Mac, who arched a single brow.  The opinions of the various men in her life notwithstanding, this was sufficient evidence that they needed to have a talk with Ms. Kinson real soon.  She might have an alibi for the night Kathleen had been run off the road, but
it looked like she’d need to provide one for the night that Mandy Hotchkiss had been murdered. 

Then Kathleen recalled the other part of Anthony’s statement.  “What does this have to do with the hospital?”

“Well, I tried to contact James a little while ago, but his phone kept going to voice mail.  I thought he likely had it turned off, so I drove to the hospital to find him.  I wanted to make sure he turned that evidence over immediately, given that Shelley’s name had come up yet again.  Anyway, long story short, they’re not here.”

“Who isn’t there?”

“James.  Neither is Justin.”