Ransomed Dreams (34 page)

Was she in pain? That could prove useful.

If she didn’t come willingly he’d be forced to resort to the handcuffs and Sig Sauer he’d purchased a few months ago. But he’d rather go slow and remain calm. They had a long trip ahead.

“What’s wrong with Akemi?”

He checked his watch again. “It would be better to explain while we’re on our way and save time. She was hysterical when I left, and I imagine it’s only getting worse.”

“Let me grab my things.” She left the door open and retrieved her backpack-looking brown purse and a long wool coat.

As Tom helped her into the coat, Gracie flinched when she put her left arm in. Good sign. Still weak from the bullet wounds. She’d put up less of a fight when his plans became clear.

He escorted her to his silver Impala and held the door open so she could slide inside. Closing the door, he breathed a little easier. Step one down without a problem.

“Would you please tell me about the situation with Akemi?” She studied the bare trees and bright skies out the window.

Settling into the driver’s seat, he willed his breathing to remain steady As they pulled away from the curb, he scanned the houses on either side of Gracie’s. No nosy neighbors peeking out from behind their curtains. Good.

“Mr. Perkins?”

“Sorry.” He turned right out of her subdivision and loosened his death grip on the steering wheel. “Akemi, like most of your class, has been unsettled since the unfortunate situation last month.” Pointing the Impala toward the interstate, he hoped casual conversation would distract her. For a while, anyway. “She’s been asking for you and became hysterical today when the substitute said you wouldn’t be back.”

She sat up stiff and straight. “I will be returning. After Thanksgiving.” Gracie studied his face and then looked back out the window. “I hope my visit today won’t make things worse for Akemi.”

He turned right onto 1-395. away from Hope Ridge Academy.

She turned from the window her brow a study in deepening wrinkles. “This isn’t the way to school. Where are we going?”

“On a field trip of sorts.” Tom caught a glimpse of her whitening face and smiled. He moved his suit coat back to reveal his loaded holster. “Don’t want you leaving the party before the final performance now, do we?”

She gasped. “What’s going on? I … I don’t understand.” Fear colored her hazel eyes.

“Give it some time. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Silence stretched over the ten minutes it took to clear the Beltway. Once on 1-95, Tom hit cruise control at seventy-five and eased his foot away from the pedal. At one-thirty in the afternoon, he couldn’t attract attention by doing ninety like he’d prefer.

The sooner he handled this mess, the better. He didn’t like the feel of blood on his hands. Or Gracie’s piercing look. Especially without a drink to numb what sliver of conscience remained.

The young widow didn’t respond for a long time. She only studied his face and then her tennis shoes. So he filled in some details to chase away the uncomfortable quiet. “Your private investigator was so close, Gracie. Too close. With the look you got that New Year’s Eve long ago and your recent police sketch, you’ve become a major problem.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. “You? You were the one who killed my family?” Her hands started to shake.

Too bad she was getting the last piece of the puzzle too late to do anything about it.

The miles flew by in silence. It felt good to be on Joe’s end of the game this time. In control. Of everything.

“Why did you run my family off the road?”

“It was an accident.” He gripped the steering wheel. “But you had to make such a fuss in the media! As if I’d planned to run your family off the road all along. I didn’t.”

“But you didn’t even stop to help.” She buried her face in her hands. Soon her shoulders shook as the sniffles increased.

“And end up in jail? No. I had enough brainpower left to realize nothing I could do would change the facts. The van came out of nowhere and disappeared just as fast. For all I knew, I had daydreamed the entire thing.”

“You killed my husband and my two children.” She uncovered her face. Her tears had stopped. In their place was a cold fire. “You’ll pay for this.”

He took a deep breath. “I figured as much, which is why we’re going to part ways in the mountains of South Carolina, where no one will find you for years, possibly And I’ll be long gone from the good old US of A.”

Gracie dove for her purse and grabbed a cell phone.

Tom unlatched his holster and pointed his new handgun at her temple.

She froze before even opening the phone. So like a woman.

With few other drivers around them, he pulled into the far right lane and slowed a little. “Throw it out the window, Gracie. Your purse too.” He nudged her with the barrel.

She obeyed with stiff, robotic motions. The purse and cell crashed on the pavement behind them. One less clue to dispose of later.

He returned the gun to its holster. “Good girl. Keep that up and the rest of our trip will go well.”

“Except that in the end I die anyway.”

Tom could feel her frosty glare without turning his head from the road. No matter. He’d grown accustomed to that look from women.

“Sad to say but yes. If only you had given up your little crusade and settled down with your FBI boyfriend. Life could have had a happily ever after ending.”

She bowed her head and refused any further conversation.

Let her pray to her God.

It wouldn’t do any good.

Gracie’s hands felt like ice.

Just like her heart.

Why, God? Why now?

She thought back over the last few days. Steven’s kisses. James’s joy at hearing he’d be staying with his dad for good. The hope of returning to school. The lessening pain from her gunshot wound.

Alexandria had finally started to feel like home. A safe place with a future.

But now? Now she was helpless once again. And would be dead soon, at the hands of the man who’d killed her family. If this was the way God answered her prayers, what was the point of praying again?

Gracie’s last conversation with her mom haunted her.

“Deal with your lies, honey. And listen to God’s truth. Then let His truth and the resulting forgiveness set you free. Really free.”

She’d never be free now.

As she watched 1-95 turn into 1-85 outside of Richmond, the hours of silence stretched her to the point of screaming. Small talk wouldn’t help. And she couldn’t release the tension fraying her nerves—it wouldn’t help either. She’d probably end up pistol-whipped if she screamed. So she stared at the gray-black road outside her window. The one that wouldn’t take her all the way home to Atlanta. No, she’d be dead long before then.

Focusing on the growing number of pine trees and foothills, she tried to pray But the words wouldn’t come. How could God let her quest for answers end this way? Facing the man she knew she had to forgive, only to have him kill her anyway.

Maybe she could escape. Prove once and for all that she wasn’t helpless.

She sat up straighter and flexed her legs. “I really need to use the restroom. Can we stop at a rest area soon?”

“No chance of that in the daylight.” Tom kept his cold eyes trained on the road.

As if on cue, her stomach started to rumble. “A drive-thru then?” She’d been in too huge a hurry to leave with Tom that she’d forgotten her watch. But she guessed the time around four o’clock. Maybe five.

He looked around and studied road signs in silence for miles.

Praying for one small break, she counted the rest area signs flying past and held her breath as Tom slowed to exit. Her one chance.

With sweaty palms and her heart slamming against her ribs, she exited the car. Tom’s nails dug into her right arm.

“Do not make me regret this,” he growled into her ear.

Gracie walked close by his side and tried to make eye contact with the few people leaving the mostly deserted facility. No one looked. Not a good sign. Little opportunity for screams to do more than scare people back into their cars. Someone might call the cops, though. But that wouldn’t help if Tom killed her before they arrived.

Better to play it smart.

At the women’s restroom, Tom released her arm. “Make it fast. Take more than two minutes and I come in.” He raked his eyes down her torso. “Any bright ideas will cost you.”

Gracie’s mind refused to process what the cost of her escape plan would be if she failed. So she wouldn’t fail.

Opening the cold door handle to the restroom, she shot up a quick prayer. She’d use the facilities and look for another door out. The trees around the rest area wouldn’t hide her for long, but maybe she could make it up to the interstate before Tom realized she was gone.

Gracie hadn’t resumed her daily running yet, but she’d been walking with Jake. How she wished he were here. If he’d been in the house, Jake would have taken that man down and
she could have called the cops. Or Steven.

The thought of Steven made her eyes sting with tears. She’d never see him again. He’d be at her house tonight, ready for another date and she’d be … where? Dead someplace in South Carolina.

No
!

She’d show Thomas Perkins. Walking around the corner to the far end of the restroom, she noticed a door.
Thank You, God
. But coming closer, it looked like bank vault. Locked down tight. No alarm visible, though.

A cleaning lady plopped down her yellow Wet Floor sign and began to mop, taking no notice of Gracie by the door. The woman’s bent back and leathery wrinkles seemed like a beacon of hope. Maybe she’d unlock the bathroom fortress.

Gracie’s two minutes were disappearing fast.

“Please, could you unlock the outside door?” Gracie tried to sound sane. “Or a phone. Do you have a phone I could use, please?”

“
No entiendo.”
The woman’s black eyes lifted briefly then returned to the floor.

Gracie’s insides felt like they would explode. She had less than a minute.

A large key ring on the cleaning supply cart caught her attention. She lunged for it and ran past the older woman to the locked door.

The cleaning lady screeched.

Gracie’s hands shook as she tried the keys one at a time.
Please, God
.

The woman shuffled toward her.

Then a key clicked and the door gave way.

Gracie almost tripped on the concrete but steadied herself with the door. Every instinct on full alert, she shot out of the bathroom. Her thigh muscles protested before she’d made it two strides past the door.

A tree root caught her running shoe and she stumbled. Not
able to right herself in time, she hit the dry dirt with splitting pain searing up her left side. She could hear the cleaning lady yelling behind her in Spanish.

The loose rocks bit into her sweaty palms. She ignored them and pushed herself to her feet. Gulping for air, she fixed her eyes on the gray road in front of her and stepped ahead.

But a vise clamped around her arm. “I don’t think so, Gracie.” Tom pulled her close. His narrowed eyes bore into her and burned their image on her soul. “We had a deal, did we not?”

Catching her breath was near impossible as Tom yanked her toward the front of the rest area. The clanging bathroom door echoed in her ears.

“Help! Somebody …”

Tom jerked her in front of him and shook her. Hard. “No use of that.” He pointed to the solitary car halfway down the on-ramp. “There’s no one left to rescue you now.”

Pain messages slammed into her brain from all directions as they neared Tom’s car. She should have screamed when she’d had the chance. Stupid. So stupid. No way she’d have another opportunity like this one.

And she’d failed.

What that would cost her, she wouldn’t let herself imagine as Tom shoved her into the Impala and headed back toward the interstate. Watching trees and cars blur past her window, there were no tears left to cry.

She’d be dead soon.

Worse yet, she’d just about stopped caring.

W
ith Gordon’s computer and luggage that were stashed in his rental now in their possession, Steven’s entire team worked hard putting the finishing touches on this case. It would wrap up neat and clean.

Steven floored his Explorer and headed toward Alexandria.

From Gordon’s e-mails to Thomas Perkins, they’d retrieved a series of routing numbers to an offshore account, which connected the two men with the attempt on Victoria. And they had clothing fibers that Steven felt sure would match Landridge’s.

Now all he had to do was bag Hope Ridge Academy’s vice principal and turn him over to the lockup. A few days behind bars would have the man spilling every last detail.

“You really think the mild-mannered VP of Hope Ridge made that attempt on Gordon?” Clint shook his head.

“That stuffed shirt’s been boiling under the surface for a long time.”

He punched the speed dial to Gracie’s number for what felt like the hundredth time this afternoon. No ring. No answer. He couldn’t wait until their date tonight to make sure she was okay. He dialed again.

Nothing. His gut clenched.

“Justin sent you all the info he’d uncovered on Tom?”

“That’s why we’re moving now.”

Between Gordon and Tom’s computers and Justin’s research, Thomas Perkins was looking at serious jail time. And that was only if he hadn’t touched Gracie.

If he had … the man would be looking down the barrel of Steven’s backup piece.

Clint tapped away on his laptop. “Gordon never figured he’d get caught.”

“No. But Tom will.”

Clint faced him. “Michael’s running down Tom’s recent purchases and the aliases he might be using. We’ll get an APB out as soon as we dig up a few more details from Tom’s computer.”

“That could be too late to do any good.” Steven focused on the road ahead. The one he’d driven just days ago to drop Gracie off after Wednesday’s court date.

“She could be asleep.”

“At three o’clock in the afternoon? With Thomas Perkins missing from Hope Ridge since before he took that shot on Gordon?”