Obsession (Southern Comfort) (45 page)

The door to the garage was still open from their earlier escape attempt, and the garage door itself stood open to the night.  He guessed she hadn’t had time to close it.

James glanced at Shelley’s car with a sort of wistful frustration. 
If they’d only managed to get out even a couple minutes sooner.

Of course if they had, Anne probably would have driven off somewhere with his brother, and he never would have seen Justin again.

If she even had Justin, that is.

But James hadn’t been willing to take that chance. 

When she directed him to stop next to her car – a sleek luxury SUV – James confirmed that she hadn’t been lying.  His brother was curled up in the back seat, unmoving.

“What did you do to him?” James gritted, noticing the absence of bonds.  The back windows were tinted, so in the moonlit garage, it was difficult to tell i
f Justin was breathing. 

“Don’t worry,” she said, her voice faintly amused.  “He’s just sleeping.
  I like to watch him sleep,” she murmured.  Recalling the camera hidden in Justin’s bedroom, James felt slightly nauseous. 

“Get in.” She pointed to the driver’s side door.  “I’m riding in back with your brother.  If you don’t follow my directions exactly, I shoot him.  You try to attract attention – flash your lights, drive erratically – I shoot him.  You breathe wrong
–”

“
You shoot him. I get the idea.”

“Good.”

She waited until James had opened the door to climb in, then she scrambled into the back seat, gun pointed at Justin’s chest.  “Here,” she said, and passed him the keys.

James started the engine, his mind racing.  There had to be a way out of this.

He eased the gearshift into reverse.  The car moved backward, but then began to vibrate and pull to the side instead of rolling smoothly.

“What did you do?” Anne demanded.

“I didn’t do anything.”  He braked, then tentatively pushed the gas again.  “I think you have a flat tire.”

“Give me the keys,” she demanded, and he
frowned, but did as he was told.

She climbed out, walked around to the back of the car, and then let out a virulent curse.  James turned, observing as she
examined the back of Shelley’s car – which, now that he looked more carefully, appeared to be listing to one side – and had the dubious pleasure of watching the crazy chick pitch a fit.

She bent down, picking up something that looked like a for sale sign.  Dirt still clung to its sharp, pointed feet.

James smiled. 

Shelley was a resourceful woman.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“TURN
here,” Kathleen instructed Mac as they drove north.

The vehicle registered to Anne Griffin had luckily come equipped with OnStar, making
pinpointing its current location relatively easy.  Despite that fact – or maybe even because of it – Kathleen’s stomach churned.  Things that came easily tended to have a way of biting one on the ass.

“Never trust a silver platter,” she murmured. Mac sent her an inquisitive glance, which she waved away with an impatient gesture.  “Nothing.  Don’t mind me.”

She studied the details she’d been able to dig up on the property which matched the GPS location.  Currently on the market, the MLS listing described it as a thirty-eight hundred square feet lowcountry style dwelling on ten heavily wooded acres.  Additional questions could be addressed to the listing agent.

An agent by the name of Anne Griffin.
 

Kathleen would have liked
some additional time to find out more about the property – including whether it was occupied at the moment.  However, the situation being what it was, time wasn’t an option.  If, as they thought, Anne Griffin had attempted to kill her sister, succeeded in murdering Mandy Hotchkiss and the orderly named Hodges, and had somehow managed to abduct Justin – with no clear indication as to what may have happened to either Shelley Kinson or James – then time, in fact, was of the essence.

“Drive faster,” she said to Mac.

“We’re almost there,” Mac murmured.  “Hang on.”

Kathleen did, literally, her fingers curling over the edge of the seat.  She studied the dark surroundings – this area, unlike most of the land surrounding Charleston, wasn’t highly developed – and tried not to think about exactly what Justin might be going through right now.  Anne obviously considered Justin… hers, which might lend one to believe that she wouldn’t treat him with undue harshness.  But Kathleen had seen the results of that sort of obsession, up close and personal
, and knew that when the object of affection didn’t adequately fulfill the fantasy role their stalker had created for them, that affection could turn to something much more deadly.

“There,” she said, looking at the numbers on the mailbox.  “The next house on the right.”

Mac turned off his lights and eased to the side of the road.  The current trend in law enforcement might be to go into each and every situation with as much force as possible – up to and including tanks – but in a potential hostage situation, Kathleen felt that tended to escalate things unnecessarily.   In this particular case, escalation was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.  She and Mac were well outside their jurisdiction, but the county Sheriff was an unknown entity.  Therefore, they’d waited until the last possible moment to contact that department.

“I’m not waiting for backup,” she said, pulling her Kevlar into place before opening her door.
  “Or permission.”

Mac sighed.  “I didn’t think you would.”

“You don’t need to risk trouble for my sake.”

“Will you just can it, Murphy?”

When Kathleen reached over and squeezed his arm, he arched a brow.  “Well, don’t just sit there.  Let’s go find your doctor.”

JAMES
reevaluated his opinion of his physical condition.  He’d thought he was in good shape, but damn if he didn’t feel like he was going to burst a lung. 

“Keep moving,” the voice behind him said.  “You’re going too slow.”

Panting, James turned and gave her an incredulous look.  “You think carrying an extra hundred and eighty-odd pounds over your shoulder is easy?”

“I think if you don’t move it, I’ll shoot you in the ass.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Funny how that threat was losing its effectiveness.  At this point, he might not mind a bullet in the ass if it meant he could sit down and rest.

Although sitting, in that case, m
ay not be the most comfortable option.  He could lie down, though.  The ground here seemed pretty soft.

“Move.”

James stifled the retort that trembled on his lips.  Settling for a glare, he shifted Justin’s bulk and trudged on through the saw palmettos that served as groundcover in these woods.

“You know that song He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother?  That’s total bullshit.”

“Did I say you could talk?”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to ask permission.  I’m new at this abduction thing, so you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t know the rules.”

He thought he heard a snort, but when he glanced back, Sister Psycho appeared to be frowning.

“You may look like him,” she said with disdain “but you’re not half the man he is.”

“Well, if he was half the man he is, he’d be a hell of a lot easier to carry.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

They trudged
cautiously through the moonlit sea of saw palmettos, James’ back aching and his lungs seriously considering looking for a different job, while his mind still turned over the possible avenues of escape.  If he wasn’t afraid of leaving his unconscious brother to the questionable mercies of his stalker, he’d risk the much-discussed bullet and simply overpower her.  Carrying Justin may have sapped his energy, but he doubted he’d have a problem taking her down.   No, the problem was that if he charged her while carrying Justin, he risked a bullet hitting his brother, and if he dropped Justin first, he’d lose a few precious seconds and the element of surprise.

What he needed, he thought, was a distraction.

“So where are we going?” he asked, tone just this side of bored.  Several seconds passed in which he thought she wouldn’t answer, but then she finally said “There’s a creek up ahead.  It borders the back of the property.  There’s no deep water access, though it is navigable at high tide.  A number of the neighbors have installed docks and keep small boats and kayaks.”

“Is that part of your sales pitch?”

She said nothing, and he figured she was remembering the havoc Shelley had wrought with her for sale sign.  Which was how they’d come to be taking this evening stroll.  Despite his frustration and fatigue, James smiled.  He hoped Shelley had run into one of those neighbors with the small crafts by now.

It was lighter up ahead, probably a result of moonlight shining off the water
. 

Since he’d failed to get
a rise out of Anne, James tried another tactic.  Because once they reached a boat, he figured his usefulness as a pack mule was likely at an end. 

“Speaking of siblings,” he said, even though they hadn’t been, “what exactly did your sister do to piss you off?  I mean, it must have been something pretty awful.  My brothers annoy the hell out of me sometimes, but I’ve never done much except punch them.  Well, there was this one time that I shaved off Jordan – that’s my middle brother.  Anyway, I shaved off Jordan’s eyebrows while he was passed out.  But shooting someone through the throat is taking it up a notch.  What, she borrowed your
sweater and stretched it out?  Because she’s got some boobs on her.”

The silence this time was of an entirely different quality.
 

“Must have put a wrench in your plans, Justin saving her life like that.  Of course, he does that, you know.  Something you might want to consider if you’re planning a future together.  You trying to kill people, him patching them up.”  James shook his head.  “I don’t see how it’s going to work out.”

“If you say one more word,” she finally said.  “I swear I will shoot you.”

“Okay,” he said.  “Oops.  Sorry.  That doesn’t count, right?  Because I was just agreeing.”

The sound she made was like a steam engine rolling into the station, and James thought
now or never.

He dropped to a crouch, allowing Justin’s inert form to roll off his shoulder.  The
n he flipped over, hoping to kick the gun out of her hand before she could get off a shot.

Something came screaming out of the trees.

James blinked, even as Anne whirled toward the sound, her finger depressing the trigger.  A bullet whizzed no more than six inches over his head.

“Shit!”
He ducked, reflexively, until the sounds began to distinguish themselves into the screeches of two very pissed off women.  James looked up, recognized Shelley literally clinging to Anne’s back, her hand yanking the other woman’s hair, even as Anne clawed behind her and tried to beat Shelley in the head with the gun.

Figuring there was no time like the present, he launched himself forward, catching Anne behind the knees.  She fell to the ground, taking Shelley with her, the gun flying from her hand.

“Bitch.  You bitch,” Shelley was saying, her hand still fisted in Anne’s hair.  James caught a foot under the chin – he wasn’t sure whose – and tasted blood as he bit his tongue.

Rolling aside, he felt through the underbrush until his hand closed around the gun.  Unfortunately, the two women rolled on top of him, and the gun skittered out of his hand.

“Shelley!” he said trying to gain her attention, but she was pretty much in a blind rage.  Freeing one arm, James locked it around the woman nearest to him, yanking her against him.  He hoped it was the right one.

“Let her go!” Shelley yelled, confirming that he had indeed grabbed Anne.
“I’m going to kick her ass.”

“I think you’ve done a pretty good job of that already,” he panted, feeling something warm run down his arm.  A glance told him that Anne seemed to have suffered a broken nose.

Because he didn’t trust her, he wrapped a leg around hers, flipping her over and pinning her beneath his weight.

“Can’t.  Breathe,” she said, bucking ineffectively, and James considered that with her nose broken, that might actually be the case.

“Tough,” he told her, though he did ease his weight up slightly.

A light pretty much blinded him then, and James blinked, unable to see the person who held it.  Then the light swept over Shelley, who stood wild-eyed and disheveled, and Anne, lying still and bloody beneath him. 

He could just make out knobby knees between the edge of a robe and the top of rubber waders, and what looked to be the double barrel of a shot gun, aimed his direction.

“What,” a
scratchy masculine voice finally said “in the sam hill is going on?”