Taken - Before her very Eyes (17 page)

“Gavin, I wouldn’t sit—”

“Don’t worry. Dickson won’t mind
one bit.”

“Yeah, not a bit. A whole fucking
lot.”

“I was thinking,” Gavin said, his
brown eyes watching her carefully, “maybe you’d like me to make the drop?”

“No.” Summer turned and leaned
back against the table. “He specifically said it had to be me.”

“But I’m sure if you mentioned it
to him, making sure to tell him that I’m an ex-convict myself, that he’d be
willing to allow us to switch places.”

Summer shook her head and hoisted
the bag onto her shoulder. “No. It has to be me. I have to be there when he
lets Sabrina go.”

“Well, how about I just tag
along?” Gavin leaned forward onto the desk. “You know, in case something goes
wrong and you can’t handle it.”

“Can’t handle it?” Summer glared
at him. “I’m a cop! You of all people should remember that. After all, I’m the
one who sent you away for eight years.”

She saw immediately that he did
remember. The vein on the side of his bald head bulged with anger. She never
should’ve egged him on, not after he’d agreed to drain the company fund for her
and Sabrina.

“I’m sorry, Gavin. I should never
have said that. It was wrong.” She shook her head and looked down at the bag
full of money. “I’m just so on edge right now waiting for him to call back.”

Gavin glanced at Dean sleeping on
the couch. “You know, for the first year in prison I wished that something
terrible would happen to you. Every night I prayed that you’d be shot or run
down while doing your job—that same job that put me inside that small cube of
steel bars.”

Summer glanced at Dean, wishing
he was awake to hear this, but he was still out cold. She knew it was good for
Gavin to express his anger at being locked away, but not now. Not while her
whole world was turned upside down.

“Then when I heard the news that
you were marrying my brother, I wanted to kill you myself. I couldn’t believe
you had the balls to stick me away then invade my personal life like that.”
Gavin closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “But when Dean came to
visit me, we had a long talk and I realized that if you could enchant my
brother and make his life so full and complete, then maybe I was just being an
asshole, sour at being bested at my own game of corruption.”

Gavin opened his eyes and leaned
forward on the desk, tenting his fingers before his face. “For Dean’s sake—and yours—I’ve
spent the last four years of my sentence trying to turn my life around. Trying
to right the wrongs that I’ve done in the past. It hasn’t been easy, but with
Dean taking me under his arm, I’m learning how to make an honest living now.”

Summer didn’t know what to say.
She was happy to hear Gavin was committed to her side of the law, and in debt
to Dean, but right now she only had one thing on her mind. “I’m happy to hear
that, Gavin. And I’m glad there’s no hard feeling between us.”

“So, about me coming along?”

Summer shook her head and opened
the door, leaving a speechless Gavin behind.

Hurrying around the corner and
down the hall, she made her way into the locker room. She had the money and
phone, but her Volvo was still out of commission and Dean’s Mercedes was
currently being processed for evidence. There was no way they’d let her take it
from the shop for at least a few more days.

When the kidnapper calls, she’ll
need to be ready to move. That meant taking a cruiser to make the drop, but
somehow she didn’t think the kidnapper would appreciate the irony of her showing
up with the lights blazing away. Instead she headed to Nate’s locker, knowing
that he would stash the keys to his Malibu inside, like always.

When Summer opened the door, she
stumbled backwards as her eyes settled on the images inside. There was an instant
swell in her stomach as it churned and threatened to unload its contents all
over the locker room floor. She took a step back and sat on the bench, drawing
cleansing breaths until the feeling passed.

“How could he do that?” She
glanced up, hoping that it’d only been her imagination, but the two pictures
were still there, side by side. A gross before and after of the woman she’d
been, and the woman she’d become, thanks to the hands of the corpse outside.
She started to look away, but forced herself to keep looking at the damage that
John Scott had done to her.

Anger filled her body, replacing
the nauseous feeling and bringing a bitter taste to her mouth. It was the taste
of revenge not yet fulfilled. She realized at that moment why Nate kept that
picture there. He wanted to be reminded daily of the injustice in the world.
And knowing Nate, he wanted to fire himself up, and what better way than to
look at the partner he’d lost due to his own misjudgement.

Summer knew Nate still held
himself responsible for what had happened to her that day. Knew he felt like
the older brother who’d let his kid sister get harmed while under his care, and
she understood exactly where those feelings had come from. At first she’d
blamed him for not being there to stop John Scott from drugging her and taking
her away, but with time she realized that it wasn’t his fault. If it was
anybody’s fault, it was her own.

Summer snatched the key chain
from the side hook then ripped the after picture from the locker and stood
studying the image. She looked like hell, worse than being in a high speed car
crash, but, Summer glanced into the wall mirror, she was still alive—that’s
more than she could say for John Scott—and her wounds have healed. At least her
physical wounds have.

Grabbing her stomach, Summer felt
a twitch from deep inside. It wasn’t the usual muscle spasm, but more like a
tiny foot kicking and suddenly she wondered if it could be Dean’s child waiting
to be born. Just yesterday she was content to have the child and give it away
without ever seeing its face and never letting Dean know about it, but after
everything that had happened in the last four hours, she was beginning to
wonder if she’d been too distraught to make a clear decision. After all, why
hadn’t she run the tests? Why was she punishing Dean by not telling him about
the chance that he may be the father of this child, but she knew that answer.
Knew that she still held a deep-rooted grudge at him for never coming to her
rescue in that farmhouse while John…

Summer shook her head, clearing
the memory from her mind. She folded the after picture up and tucked it into
her pocket. There was a feeling of anger that seemed to be driving her now and
she suspected it was from facing her past—Facing everything she wanted so much
to run and hide from. Maybe Nate had the right idea, infuriate yourself every
day so as to focus your mind on the end result. And now that John Scott was
dead, she only had one last hurdle to overcome. She moved to the supply locker,
grabbed an ankle strap and cinched it on under her pant leg.

“Damn it, Nate, where’s my god damned
gun!”

Slamming the locker door shut,
Summer stormed to the mirror and stood looking into those green eyes. They were
focused, driven, but not yet commanding like they’d once been. She brushed back
her tangled blond hair and drew a deep breath, preparing herself for the
challenges that lie ahead. She knew that if things didn’t go down smoothly, she
would need to regain her old composure and take action. She would need to do
whatever it took to get Sabrina back—even kill if she had to.

Marching out into the hall, she
slung the bag of money over her shoulder and headed for the back door where
Nate had parked his car. She burst through the door, shoving her way through
the rouge reporters who’d gather at the back after Gavin had returned, hoping
to get the scoop from a different angle, and limped toward Nate’s red Malibu.
She placed the bag on the rear seat, tucked the cell phone in the holder and
started the car. The parking lot was crammed full so she turned the wheel
sharply then drove over the curb and tore off through the grass toward the
roadway.

She drove with purpose, feeling
settled behind the wheel and wondered where Nate was right now. Was he just
driving around aimlessly throughout the countryside, trying to think like the
kidnapper so he could find him hiding away in the corner of a back alley? Or,
Summer knew she had a better hunch, was he at the farmhouse where she’d been
held captive, searching for a clue as to who the kidnapper might be.

If she was a betting woman, she’d
have slapped down the hundred grand in the bag, because she knew a sure thing
when she heard it.

After checking the rearview
mirror and finding no news vans giving chase, she cranked the wheel and raced
down the street, zigzagging down back streets along the way, hoping to keep
anybody from tailing her. The last thing she wanted was to have the news
cameras showing up at the drop location, trying to capture footage of the
hostage release.

Once she reached Bloomfield Road,
she punched the accelerator to the floor, challenging the Malibu and herself at
the same time. The car tore down the road, picking up speed until the blurring
houses thinned and only a few farms dotted the countryside. She should’ve eased
up on the pedal, but she had to prove to herself that she could handle the
challenge of a fast pursuit. It wasn’t until she saw the overpass racing upon
her at a breakneck speed that she stomped on the brakes, sliding the car for
fifty feet until it finally came to a complete stop on the road, facing toward
the cut off.

She squinted up toward the
hillside and tried to spot the old farmhouse she’d been held inside, but it was
completely shrouded with trees, invisible to the naked eye. It was almost as if
the house was a secret hideaway, dropped from the sky into the thick of trees.

Summer saw the flash of movement
in the rearview mirror as a car pulled onto the roadway far behind. Quickly she
sped onto the gravel back road before the approaching car could spot her. She
drove past the cut through that she’d taken earlier, choosing to take the long
way around, not risking getting trapped down in the valley again.

The little alcove where the
Mercedes had been parked was all cordoned off with yellow tape, as was the worn
out driveway—except there was a police cruiser wedged under the tape. She knew
immediately that her hunch had been correct. Nate was here and he was inside
searching for a clue that Stevens and Malroy might have missed. The same reason
she’d come. To find answers when there was nothing else to do but sit and wait.

Summer pulled tight to the side
of the alcove and got out. She tucked the bag of money under the seat then
locked the car and headed around the bushes, ducking under the police line as
she tried to hold onto her new found courage.

The same feeling of dread filled
the pit of Summer’s stomach as she headed toward the farm house. She paused on
what was left of the ancient concrete sidewalk to the front porch, staring up
at the rotting structure. The place looked totally abandoned. Paint peeled in
large strips from the window trim and siding, covering the leaf strewn ground
in an array of white and grey. The cracked and shattered windows reminded her
of an eerie haunted house, but ghosts and ghouls were no match for the real
monster that had inhabited this place in the not so distant past.

How would John Scott have known
about this place? Was there a connection between this house and his past, or
was it merely a convenient place to do his bidding? Summer had hoped that
Stephens and Malroy would’ve tracked down some information as to who the
property belonged to, but seeing as they’ve left, she suspected that’s exactly
what they were doing now.

Summer took the first step onto
the front porch stairs, feeling strong knowing that Nate was inside, but as she
stepped into the shadow of the house, a shiver raced up her spine. She paused,
glancing at the location where her badge had been placed, knowing that the
kidnapper had stood exactly where she stood now.

Had John Scott told the kidnapper
about this place and what to say about that night here, or was it someone else?
Someone who took charge of them both? She wondered just how many people knew
the truth and were keeping the secret. A secret that she pledged to flush out,
and in doing so, bring everyone involved to justice.

“Nate?” Summer said, turning the
handle and opening the door a crack. “Nate, are you in here?”

She heard footsteps on the floor
above, but no response came back. It had to be Nate up there. That was his
patrol car parked outside. She was sure of it. Summer let the door go and it
swung wide open, thanks to the draft from the broken windows.

The hinges squealed slightly as
it approached the inner wall, drawing a sudden halt to the footfalls. She bent
down, reaching to the ankle holster strapped to her leg, then cursed Nate for
not getting her gun like she’d asked.

“Nate,” she whispered softly,
knowing that the person upstairs had definitely heard the squeal of the hinge.

“Summer?” Nate leaned over the
upper railing, gazing down upon her with a surprised look on his face. “What
the hell are you doing here? I figured you’d be holding down the station until
the kidnapper called.”

The feeling of relief flooded her
body, leaving her drained and weary. It felt so good seeing Nate that she
rushed into the house, temporarily forgetting her inhibitions. “What are you
doing here? I thought you were going for a ride.”

“I did.” Nate stepped to the
upper landing. “I drove around, checked my hunches and came up empty handed.
So, I came here to see how Stephens and Malroy were making out.”

“And?” Summer made it halfway up
the creaky stairs before she caught the image of the room and stopped in her
tracks. It’d been stripped down. Every item processed and tossed into a pile in
the corner.